CHAPTER NINE

Suburban streets dissolve into freeway junctions dissolve into stretches of nothingness dotted with strip malls. The truck cab is a cocoon in the dark. Payson stretches out in the passenger seat – her seat – and watches taillights and gas stations and patches of cloudless star-filled sky streak past the window. Sasha keeps one arm jacked on the window, his hand barely skirting the steering wheel during the miles of straight road. They could be anywhere, could be anyone; Payson has never quite appreciated the anonymity of darkness as much as tonight

An hour gone, Payson looks at Sasha's profile, dimly lit by the dashboard clock.

"I know where we're going," she informs him, calmly. It may be dark but Payson's driven this route many times.

Continuing to look out at the road, Sasha turns the radio dial. "I thought we were just driving," he says, frowning until he finds a station spilling out blues.

Payson shakes her head and returns to looking out her window, her rueful smile reflected back at her in the dark pane. "Of course we are," she says, quietly.


When the truck rounds the corner of the long dirt track, dim lights are visible from some of the lodge windows. What money can buy in the middle of the night, Sasha thinks, with slight disgust, as he eases the truck into a parking space at the front of the lodge. A few of the floodlights have been turned on too, though Sasha suspects that even in the dark the ostentatious SUV would be gleaming.

Flicking off the engine, the radio going dead, Sasha steels himself before turning to wake Payson. The gentle "Pay" he whispers is unnecessary though, she's already awake.

"You're very predictable, you know that, Coach?" she says, without looking at him. She's staring at the 'Team Tanner' sign printed on the SUV next to the truck.

Sasha had been expecting another torrent of abuse as soon as they'd arrived and Payson's suspicions of their destination of the gymnastics camp had been confirmed. Instead, she just sounds tired.

"Just hear her out is all I'm asking." Sasha sits back in his seat, lets his head loll back against the headrest.

"You know," Payson turns to him, "you could have staged this intervention in Boulder, saved you having to drive two hours to hear me say. Not. Happening." And there's the anger Sasha was anticipating. Payson folds her arms across her chest and sits back, stubbornly glaring out the windshield at the lodge.

"I didn't want to stage this 'intervention', as you call it, two hours ago in Boulder, because you from two hours ago would have punched Lauren in the face, as you repeatedly told me."

"And what makes you think that me right now won't punch her in the face?" Payson asks, feigning curiosity.

Sasha sighs. "Because you're a professional, Payson."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Payson snaps, still refusing to look at him.

"Worlds are in a month. Lauren is one of your team-mates. You need to be able to work together or you haven't a hope in hell of winning any team medal, let alone gold. And you need to sort this out tonight because we don't have the luxury of wasting a day or a week on some personal vendetta."

Payson glares at the SUV again.

"And that's why you've forgiven her so easily? Because of Worlds?"

Sasha pauses. "Yes and no. I'm also choosing to try and forgive her because I know that this time there are people in her life who won't."

Payson absorbs the reasoning with a frown.

"I won't be her friend," she says, slowly.

"I'm not asking you to be. But you need to figure out how to be her teammate."

Payson continues to look at him with suspicion. "Fine, I'll talk to her," she snaps, "but only because we're here anyway." Shoving the door handle down, Payson swings her legs out of the truck and jumps to the ground. She leaves her coat in the car; the forecasted cold wind has yet to materialise. Rounding the back of the truck, she meets Sasha by his door.

"Was this place your suggestion or hers?" she asks, still wary of him, hands in her jeans pockets and remaining a few feet away.

"Mine," Sasha says, as he pulls a flashlight from the truck dash then slams his door. "I figured neutral ground might be a good idea." They start to walk a well worn track into the trees. When the floodlighting from the parking lot fades, Sasha flicks on the flashlight.

"Last time we were here, Lauren told Kaylie she'd slept with Carter. Very neutral," Payson says, sarcastically.

They follow the path in silence, flashlight beam bouncing away into the dark. Unseen insects skitter and chirp, tree branches creek as leaves rustle; in the distance, water gurgles as it makes its way through the rocks to the lake. As the track curves, an orange glow appears in the open space suddenly revealed amidst a glen of tightly packed trees. Two silhouettes stand by the fire.

"When you said there are other people in Lauren's life who won't forgive her, who did you mean?" Payson leans toward Sasha and whispers as they enter the clearing. Sasha doesn't answer.

Hand outstretched, haloed by the firelight, Steve Tanner approaches them.

"Sasha."

"Steve."

The two men shake hands. When Steve glances at Payson, she's shocked. She's never seen him look guilty before.

"I'm so sorry, Payson." His sincerity is either so true or so well faked that the sarcastic retort Payson conjures stays in her throat. She cedes a curt nod instead, then, before Steve can offer anything else, turns her attention to the other person hovering beside the fire.

The coaches would light a fire every night of gymnastics camp. Payson used to watch them pile up the branches within the permanent ring of stones, learned by observation which woods to place on the bottom, how to arrange the logs to burn most easily, where to light the initial spark. She wonders if it was whoever Steve paid to turn the lights on at the lodge who built the small blaze that throws heat up into her face as she comes to stand beside it.

"Pay..."

Payson can see Lauren in her peripheral vision shifting uneasily. "Why?" She wants to ask how? how could you do this to me, to Sasha? but opts for the less emotional question.

"I..." Lauren tucks her arms round herself. Payson glances at her. Lauren's hair is dragged back in a messy loop of a pony tail. She's wearing a black fleece jacket so big Payson suspects it's Steve's; fleece and fire yet she's still shivering.

"I don't know," Lauren murmurs.

"Yes, you do," Payson replies, immediately. "Start talking Lo or, I swear, I'm gone."

For the first time Payson meets Lauren's eyes. If Lauren is expecting Payson to melt at the desperation and remorse in her expression, clearly she doesn't know Payson very well.

"I was jealous," she says, sniffing away tears. "Sasha was always busy coaching you, taking you places; I didn't think he gave a damn about the rest of us." She glances up at the sky. The stars are bright out here beyond the lights of the freeway.

"And you thought trying to get him fired was a better option than, I don't know, talking to him? Or me?"

A shade of Lauren's usual spoilt attitude creeps into her face but it's a fraction of what Payson usually has to deal with so she's unfazed.

"Why else?" Payson spits.

"What?"

"Don't play dumb, Lo; you had another reason didn't you?"

Lauren's face crunches into stubbornness. "Summer obviously told you so why do you need me to say it."

"Because I want you to be completely honest for once in your life," Payson nearly snarls.

"Fine," Lauren concedes, "I wanted to get rid of Sasha so Summer would get back together with my dad. I said it, happy?" She sniffs hard, tears starting to roll again.

"Ecstatic," Payson murmurs to the fire before raising her voice again. "Even if Sasha was gone, why did you think Summer would get back with your dad?"

Lauren shrugs. "I figured I could make them realise how much they still loved each other."

"You can't force people into a relationship just because it's what you want."

"We can't all come from perfect Brady Bunch families, Payson. I don't expect you to understand."

Silence lingers for a few minutes; it's only broken by the crash of a log collapsing in the flames. A flurry of embers rise into the darkness, spattering the ashy smoke with needle-point light.

One question rises above the torrent of Payson's mind-chatter. "Why come clean now?"

Lauren is working the toe of her sneaker into the charcoal coated soil beside the fire stones. She continues to scrub at the soil as she talks, almost shyly.

"At the Spruce Juice the other day with Kaylie...you... you called me your sister. Well, kinda anyway."

Payson's eyes close of their own accord.

"I know that you were mostly talking about Kaylie," Lauren continues, "but no one's ever said that even half about me before and... and it meant a lot. I didn't want to lie to you anymore."

Payson doesn't trust herself to speak for a while. She waits until the tell-tale prickle of water under her eyelids subsides.

"How did you even get hold of the training video?"

Lauren sighs. "You guys just left the camera on the floor and I thought I'd take a look. So not what I was expecting to see, believe me." Her eyes widen.

Smoke catches in the air and wafts into Payson's face. She coughs and winces as ash flutters into her throat. "Did you not stop for a second to think how many people you would be hurting by using it?"

"You want me to be honest? Then, no, I didn't," Lauren admits. "I found the tape, I saw you guys kissing, and...I don't know...it just kind of happened."

"The picture emailed itself?" Payson rolls her eyes, disgust flaring and eclipsing the light surge of sentimentality that had begun to gather. "That's one fancy computer you must have."

Needing to move, Payson drops onto one of the log seats that frame the fire, arms wrapping around her chest. Lauren follows but leaves a wide space between them.

"I'm sorry, Payson," she says, so quietly the apology almost drowns in the crackling fire. "You have no idea how much I wish I'd never sent that stupid email to Ellen Beals."

"Why? Because you got caught?" Payson feels her throat start to tighten. With effort she breathes deep; she will not let herself get emotional about this.

"No," Lauren impeaches, looking at Payson's profile, "because...because I hurt you. You're my sister, Pay, one of my best friends. One of my only friends," she says quietly, glancing at the fire.

"Right," Payson scoffs bitterly, "because humiliating someone is a great way to show them how much you care. Just like sleeping with someone's boyfriend."

Lauren flinches like she's been slapped. It's a low shot but Payson keeps talking, refusing to feel remorse, blood stirring with years of swallowed rage. "It's always game playing with you, isn't it, Lauren? Always manipulating people to get what you want but god forbid you would ever take responsibility for what you've done. Oh no, it's always someone else's fault. Kaylie didn't tell you she was dating Carter; Emily came to the gym and deliberately stole your spot. Of course that justifies screwing them over."

Lauren sits, absorbing Payson's accusations with increasingly tense shoulders. "We can't all be as perfect as you, Payson," she spits back, defensive side starting to flicker.

"Here we go," Payson shakes her head in frustration, "so it's my fault you sent that video. Because I stole your coach. Because Sasha stole Summer. Got it."

"If you think I'm such a bitch why are you even here?" Lauren cries shrilly, her voice ringing loud through the grove.

Payson waits for Sasha or Steve to interfere. Nothing. "Because, like it or not, we are on the same team," she says, coldly. "And it's a bad enough atmosphere with Kelly Parker's attitude poisoning everyone; if we can't figure out how to be around each other either then the team is going to collapse."

Lauren scoffs, but there's more pain in the noise than derision. "Of course: gymnastics. Like you would bother coming here to try and salvage our friendship."

"I'm sorry?" Payson growls with disbelief. "I'm the one that doesn't value our friendship? Wow, this knife in my back must be affecting my understanding," she snaps sarcastically, hunkering down on the log and glaring at the fire.

"That's not what I meant," Lauren frowns.

"Then what did you mean?"

"I made a mistake Payson, I've made a lot of mistakes. You may think I don't get that but I do, ok?"

Payson scowls into the flames.

"I know I can be a bitch and that I manipulate people to get what I want but..."

"But what?"

"But I figure that if I don't look out for me, no one else will."

A gust of wind shakes the heavy branches. The fire swirls and stutters. Payson picks up a stray stick and coaxes the flames back to life.

"Did you ever think that if you just gave people a chance they might prove you wrong?" Payson asks, quietly.

Lauren shrugs a shoulder. "Or they might prove me right."

The murmur of male voices floats across the grove. Payson looks back over her shoulder. Sasha and Steve are standing side by side a couple dozen feet away, watching the fire too. That conversation's probably as fun as this one, she thinks as she turns back.

"Do you hate me, Pay?" Lauren's voice is so young that Payson closes her eyes in annoyance.

"I don't like you right now that's for damn sure," she answers truthfully round a sigh. "But no," another sigh, "I don't hate you, Lo."

Shuffling closer on the log, Lauren pushes at the too long sleeves of her dad's jacket. "Just tell me what I have to do to make things better."

Orange and red tinged with yellow and the lightest inkling of blue. Payson lets the flames hypnotise her.

"Pay?"

Kaylie, Emily, last time Payson watched this fire they were all there together; before Nationals, before the back injury, before Kaylie's anorexia, before Emily's pregnancy. She watches the flames crackle, smoke swirling into the air, embers gusting away like fireflies. Time and chances slip away so quickly.

"Payson?"

"Things have to change," Payson breathes slowly. Her tenacious heart has more than once had to drag her through challenging circumstance and she feels it start to beat harder again, a pulse of encouragement.

"They will," Lauren says quickly, too quickly, and Payson whips round.

"You can't just say it," she bites, "you have to prove it."

A thin frown of determination creeps through Lauren's miserable expression and she sits up a little straighter. "How?"

"The log over there," Payson gestures with one hand.

Lauren glances across the grove. "The one where we carved our names and 2012?"

"Do you still want that?"

Lauren doesn't answer immediately this time. She stares past Payson's shoulder, picking at the sleeves of her too long fleece, thinking.

"Yes." The firmness of her voice turns it from simple agreement to pledge.

Payson studies her teammate, heart thumping hard. "No more drama, no more games, no more manipulating. We do it by the book this time. We work hard, we don't get distracted, we don't lie to each other."

As Lauren nods, her tears still shine in the firelight, but Payson knows that set of her mouth. Lauren's always had fortitude and dedication; she's just never pointed it in the right direction. Maybe this time...

"We build a strong team. We don't let any NGO bullshit get in the way of the gymnastics," Payson continues. "This isn't about friendship Lo, it's bigger than that. We're teammates," she puts emphasis on the word, infuses it with the emotion and power she believes it holds.

"Teammates," Lauren repeats.

Payson looks a Lauren a beat longer – maybe she's the sucker who's bought Lauren's big eyes and little girl tears this time – then nods sharply and looks back at the fire. She thinks of the Olympic torch. Lauren has scooted closer, is sitting next to Payson now. The truce is tenuous, they can both feel the fragility, and it's a while before Lauren risks a conversation.

"Summer's gone," she says, with a hitch in her voice she can't avoid. The tears start to swell again.

Payson frowns. "For how long?"

Lauren wipes her eyes and sniffs. "For good." She has to pause and cough before she can continue. "She said she loves me and dad but...but she didn't trust us. We'd both broken our promises too many times. She said you can't have a family without trust so," Lauren shrugs and swallows a sob.

"I'm sorry," Payson murmurs. Now she knows what Sasha meant: Lauren's lost the mother she always wanted.

"It's my own fault," Lauren says with a grim, tearful smile. "I had everything, it was all perfect; she was going to marry dad and she wanted to be my mom. And I wrecked it," Lauren sniffs and looks toward the trees. "I screwed up, Pay, I know I did," she says, looking back at Payson. There's a sincerity in her expression that is unfamiliar. "Gymnastics, the Rock, it's all I have left. You have my word I won't jeopardise that again. Just...please don't walk away from me too."

She may still be furious, may still feel betrayed despite Lauren's repentance and promise of a new start, but Payson is not a stone. She lifts an arm and drapes it around Lauren's shoulder, tipping her head to make room as Lauren drops onto her shoulder and starts to sob. Payson sighs and rubs circles on Lauren's back, face hot from the fire.

Across the grove, Sasha and Steve watch the girls.

"She's got some heart," Steve says, almost in awe, as Payson take his daughter in her arms and comforts her.

Sasha doesn't reply. He's remembering himself at seventeen; a tangled mess of entitlement and grief and aggression with little control, blinded by glory lust. His respect for Payson grows even greater.

"Look," Steve sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face, "I know I have no right to ask this, and you're perfectly free to tell me where to shove it but," another sigh, "your old job's yours if you want it."

Sasha huffs a laugh that holds no humour and blinks a few times to clear his vision. "You're something else, you know that, Tanner?"

"So I've been told," Steve replies, laugh just as painful.

The small lake lies just behind the grove, reeds and rushes intermingling with wild grass as the bank drops away from earth to water. Sasha walks to the edge, listens to the lapping slap of water as he watches the solid looking black mass stretch beyond sight into the dark. Steve would never make a fisherman or a hunter; Sasha hears him snap five twigs as he cautiously makes his way over.

"If I come back," Sasha takes a deep breath once Steve has been standing in nervous quiet for a few moments, "things have got to be different. No more trying to run things through the parents' board. If I'm in charge, I'm in charge; I'm not having you conspiring with the NGO every time you disagree with one of my decisions."

Pale face catching in the reflected moonlight, Steve nods vigorously.

"And no more playing politics to get Lauren ahead. She achieves through hard work or not at all," Sasha scowls as he uses every inch of his height advantage to glower down at the shorter man.

"You got it." Steve puts his hands up in the universal gesture of surrender. He glances back at where his daughter is still leaning against her teammate. "Something's got to change," he murmurs, mostly to himself.

Sasha slips his hands in his pockets and stares back out at lake. The water looks like oil.

"I'm guessing my first task is finding a new co-manager for Kim?" he asks, gruffly.

Steve shifts his weight between his feet and glances to the sky. "Summer's gone to her parents for a while," he coughs out, tone strangled and embarrassed. "She's going to write to Lauren once she's settled; she doesn't want to just drop out of her life completely but..." Steve trails off, uncomfortable.

"She couldn't be what Lauren needed," Sasha finishes for him. Something splashes out on the lake.

"She felt so bad," Steve sighs, "but I told her you can't force unconditional love even if you wish it was there."

Sasha's lips twitch. "I'm sure she loved getting advice on relationships from you."

Steve shucks his eyebrows and puffs out a laughing sigh, the most self-deprecating noise Sasha's ever heard from him. "Trust me; there were a few ornaments that didn't appreciate my attempts at wisdom. I'm just thankful she aimed them at the wall and not my head." He waits a beat for the levity to drift away. "So, do we have a deal?"

Sasha runs a hand through his hair. "Let me talk to Payson," he says, not waiting for an answer before he turns and noiselessly walks across the grove to the girls. They're sitting side by side, both with their hands in their pockets, leaning forward as they watch the fire.

"Pay?"

Payson jumps a little as Sasha crouches down in front of her. The fire's heat licks his back.

"Should of bought some marshmallows," Sasha's lips twitch and draw higher when Payson smiles too.

"Not very organised of you, Belov," she teases, though her eyes are bloodshot and tired.

Sasha pats Payson's knee and then turns to Lauren. She's got her head down but Sasha sees her terror.

"If it's ok with Payson," he says to her, as kind as possible, "I'm coming back to the Rock."

Lauren looks up in surprise, glances at Payson whose eyes are just as wide as hers.

"Seriously?" Payson breathes.

"Only if you're ok with it." Sasha looks at Payson from his crouched position, his knees touching hers.

"Of course I'm ok with it," Payson assures, then sobers a little as she glances at Lauren and realises why Sasha thinks she might have reservations.

"We've made a deal," Payson tells him. "Things are going to change." She won't go into more detail now – they've got a two hour journey back to Boulder for that – but her expression seems to be enough to convince him she's not just saying it for his benefit, though she does still have doubts as to whether Lauren will actually follow through on the declaration of intent.

"Sasha?" Lauren squeak is barely audible. "I..."

Bad knee fast making it clear that it does not appreciate the position it's in, Sasha eases himself to standing, hiding a wince, and, slowly so as not to spook her further, sits down beside Lauren. He waits.

"I'm so sorry for what I did," she pushes out finally, wringing her hands together.

Sasha doesn't speak words of reassurance or condolence; Lauren's starting to face up to the concept of consequence for the first time and he won't ruin that. Instead, he simply says, "I accept your apology."

Lauren hesitates as if she's expecting more; an 'I forgive you' maybe or an 'everything's going to be ok' but Sasha won't promise what he can't guarantee. Eventually, she dips her head in acknowledgement.

Steve suddenly steps into the fire's glow; he's looking at his daughter. With wordless understanding, Sasha stands and beckons for Payson to do the same.

"Come on," he places a hand on Payson's lower back and she sinks back slightly into his grip, lets him steer her toward the track that leads to the parking lot. When she looks over her shoulder, Payson sees Steve standing in front of Lauren, both haloed with flame, and understands; now it's their turn to talk.

"I'm proud of you, Payson," Sasha tells her in a night-time whisper as they walk slowly along the track, the flashlight beam once again revealing the way. His hand is still on her back and she's grateful; she feels a little unsteady on her feet.

"I don't know if it'll work," she admits, as usual not wanting praise she hasn't earned.

"I'm proud of you for trying," Sasha confirms, with a small chuckle at her stubbornness.

Payson's quiet until they reach the end of the track, then she pauses her stride and peers back into the dark grove they just came through.

"I had to. We're all that's left," she murmurs, thinking of a log carved with four sets of initials and the numbers 2012.