Chapter Eleven

Twelve seconds.

The International Skating Union required that all lifts, which the Roslin Twist qualified as, last no longer than twelve seconds.

Twelve seconds for Lee to swing her, throw her, position himself, and catch her.

The twelve most maddeningly elusive seconds of Kara's life.

As Kara came down from their umpteenth time attempting the Twist that day, her elbow jostled Lee's shoulder and threw her off-balance as he clutched for her. They awkwardly sprawled into a landing that was so far from clean they actually had to stop and untangle themselves.

Lee cursed under his breath as they separated, and Coach yelled about his timing and positioning needing to be flawless. Next to Laura at the boards, Bill stood, not saying a word, but watching them with a furrowed brow and a scrutinizing gaze.

They tried again, and again they were off-kilter, landing in a sprawling heap on the rink. "Damn it!" Lee hollered, banging a hand down hard on the ice, as Kara rolled off him and got to her feet again. She knew how he felt. She was tired and frustrated, too. They'd practiced hard all week, but they just couldn't seem to get the split-second timing right.

Now there was just 12 hours left before they stepped onto a plane to France.

"Lee, c'mon, we can get this," Kara insisted, noting the scowl on his face. "Maybe if we—"

"If we had another six months?" he grimaced as he skated over to the boards and picked up his water bottle. "We've done this a hundred times, Kara. It's useless," His eyes flicked over to where their Coach was standing down the boards, talking quietly to his father. "I think we should tell Laura that we need to take it out of the program."

"What? No! What we need is to kick a little ass!" Kara followed, rounding on him. "If we want the gold, we have to get this. This is our secret weapon, Lee. We clinch with this move!"

He shook his head, mumbling under his breath, "Or become the laughingstock of the sport."

Kara bit back a groan of frustration. Lee was always a pragmatist, worried about the risk and the consequences of everything, but she'd lost track of the number of times she'd heard "can't" come from those lips this week. He'd never been this negative about their chances before. Not since their early days anyway. Hell, he had been the one who'd pep-talked her most of the way here. And now…now he was acting like a deflated balloon. For a second Kara was actually nostalgic for that cocksure, confident ice god who'd driven her nuts.

"OK, what is up with you?" She demanded, hands on her hips as she crowded into his personal space.

"What? Nothing's up with me," he frowned and glided a step back.

Kara skated a step forward. "Bullshit. Something has you spooked and I want to know what it is." She reached for the water bottle he was clenching, and tugged it out of his hand, lifting it and taking a long swallow, even while she kept her eyes trained on Lee.

He shifted, and his gaze skipped away from hers for a minute, flitting over to where Roslin and his father were talking. Kara didn't miss the way his jaw clenched slightly. Bingo, she thought, even as Lee said, "It's nothing. C'mon, let's skate." He took off for center rink and Kara tossed the water bottle down and followed.

"So the Old Man's been here almost every day this week," she said, slowly, mildly, trying to draw him out.

"Yup." Lee's lips were pressed into a grim line.

"Funny, I figured he'd be burning the midnight oil before we leave tomorrow."

A muscle jumped in Lee's jaw as he spoke. "Well, he probably cleared his schedule so he'd have plenty of time to detail exactly how I'll be disgracing the family name if we don't win."

Kara stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Bill was difficult, sure, but Lee could be worse than a sulking teenager sometimes. "Look, can't you just… tell him to cut the passive-aggressive crap? Why don't you just talk to him?"

"Oh, we talk. We talk all the time!" He nodded emphatically. "Sure, every night at dinner, we exhaust the finer points of all the myriad ways I screwed up that day." Lee smirked grimly, "Not without the standard disclaimer, of course," he dropped his voice in an imitation of his father's gruff tone, " 'I'm trying to help you here, son. I just want you to be your best.' "

Kara sighed. They were both so bad at talking to each other, and both so stubborn. Bill wasn't going to win Father of the Year anytime soon, but Lee could cut him a little slack on this one. "Well, he's your Dad, that's just the kind of shit families always say. "

"Maybe," he frowned, but then brightened suddenly. "Hey, so when are Karl and Sharon and Hera getting in?"

"They're not," Kara said, shrugging. She was disappointed, but she couldn't blame them. "International plane tickets aren't really in the budget."

The worry line between Lee's brows deepened, "Kara, you know that I could—"

Shit. "I know Lee, but you've done enough already. More than enough. They'll have a better view from their couch than they would up in the nosebleeds anyway, right?"

"But Kara, I want—"

"And I want you to forget it and focus on this move, alright?"

He sighed, shaking his head, "I just don't think—"

"Good! DON'T THINK." She slid closer, her hands on his shoulders. "Stop thinking, Lee. It's making you doubt yourself. Just forget everything else, alright? Your dad, Coach even. They're not the ones skating this program." His head turned slightly, almost instinctively back to where Bill and Laura were standing, and Kara lifted a hand to his jaw, turning him back and forcing him to stay focused on her. "Hey! Right now, all we can count on is you and me. And I know we can get this."

He stared at her for a long moment, as his face softened with a combination of surprise and amusement. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she breathed, eyes holding his intently, before her lips quirked slightly. "Cause you're Lee and I'm Kara, and the rest of it isn't worth a damn, right?"

His eyes widened slightly, and Lee's face rippled slowly into a smile, as he said softly, "Hey, isn't that my line?" His gaze was warm as he focused only on Kara, and then he lifted a hand to her waist, his palm sliding around her hip to splay against her lower back. The smile faded away as an intensity stole across his features. His eyelids lowered as his glance flickered down to her mouth, and Kara's pulse went into overdrive.

Dimly something registered in the far reaches of her brain that this was neither the time nor the place. But it wasn't the first time since they'd patched things up that she'd felt it. The same full-blown hunger that she'd felt in his hotel room at Nationals was racing through her, lighting her up. And Kara wanted it. Wanted this. Wanted him. She sucked in a breath. Lee's palm pressed harder against her back, pulling her closer, and her fingers tightened reflexively on his jaw, tugging his chin down to her.

She could already feel his breath on her lips when Bill's voice suddenly boomed out from the other end of the rink. "Are we talking or skating? Time's wasting. Let's get back to work."

And Lee reared back, his entire face closing down like a shutter being pulled. His hand dropped and his body stiffened. Kara blinked, reality rushing back to her. She looked to Lee, but he was already striding away, that muscle jumping in his jaw once more as he stroked down the ice, his grim game face firmly affixed again. She wasn't sure if she should curse or cry. Instead, she just swallowed hard, tamping it down like she always did.

The Old Man wasn't wrong. They had to focus on skating, there was no time for anything else right now. But as she pushed off to catch up to Lee, doubts filled her. If they didn't nail this move... if they went to the Olympics and didn't get the gold... what would happen then? She'd been hired to do a job. To get it done. And if they couldn't...

Well, then maybe they'd never get their timing right.

***

Kara checked her watch, grimacing, and picked up the pace. They'd finished up practice hours ago, the second half no better than the first, and as they'd changed out of their skates, Kara had insisted Lee needed to talk to his father, tell Bill how he was making him feel. Maybe if the Old Man eased up, Lee would calm down, be able to focus. Once they got to France, they'd have four days after the opening ceremonies before the pairs events began. There was still time to perfect the move, solidify everything.

Right now, however, Kara was nearly out of time. It was almost midnight. Their flight left in eight hours, and like usual, she'd left packing to beyond the last minute. Laura was already asleep, so she tried to be stealthy as she hurried into the living room and grabbed a few DVDs off the shelf for the plane ride. The cramped writing on one of the spines caught her eye. It simply said Calgary. Curiosity piqued, she plucked it off the shelf and shoved it into the DVD player, turning the TV on and bumping the sound down low.

Kara recognized the footage almost immediately. It was the last Olympic Games. That arena had starred in a hundred nightmares. And there was Lee, looking just like he had when she'd seen the routine on a YouTube vid one night back when they first started skating together. She smirked. He looked stiff and uncomfortable in his costume, the fabric of which appeared to be bedazzled within an inch of its life.

She watched as the camera angle widened to encompass Anastasia Dualla, looking polished and completely at ease. The music started and they moved gracefully through the routine until they came to a routine dismount from a lasso lift. She winced, knowing what was coming next, Anastasia taking the big fall that cost them the medal. But to her surprise, the camera angle changed from the traditional long shot she'd seen before to a tightly focused frame on Lee, his face grim. She scooted forward on the couch, elbows propped on her knees, hands clasped together. The camera angle shifted again, this time to a close up of Lee's hand…fumbling…losing its grip on Anastasia's. The petite woman went crashing down to the rink as Kara gasped.

She couldn't believe it. Kara flashed back to the first day she got here, recalling Lee acting like a superior asshole, and, that conversation with Bill about needing a go-to girl. It was all crap. Lee was the one who'd screwed up. Suddenly she remembered Nationals, all those digs from Gaius, the slightly chilled and regretful bypass between Lee and Dualla, D'Anna Beers' insistent questions about Lee's failures….

God, how could he not have told her? He'd never once even tried to tell her the truth. So much for being partners. After all this time, he still didn't trust her. The knowledge settled like a lump in Kara's chest but anger bloomed swiftly behind it.

Quickly, she slipped on a pair of sneakers, not even bothering to change out of the old sweats she wore to bed. It was late, but she didn't care. Lee Adama was getting a piece of her mind… and maybe a piece of her right hook too.

She strode out of the carriage house and crossed the lawn to the back door of the mansion. Luckily it was still unlocked, and she moved through the darkened kitchen and down the hallway to the grand foyer. Kara had one hand on the banister of the staircase and was just about to head up to Lee's room when she heard voices.

"What the hell were you thinking out there today?" Bill Adama's harsh tones rang out in the quiet hallway.

She followed the sound and saw the door to Bill's study was ajar up ahead. Kara creeped closer, leaning against the wall to the side of the doorway.

"Look, Dad, I'm trying, okay? It's a difficult lift, and-"

"I'm talking about you and Kara." Bill clarified, then paused, clearing his throat. "I understand that the two of you have become...close," His words were clipped, stiffly and awkwardly uttered, and Kara's own face flushed with embarrassment. "But son, you can't let that cloud your focus. Our personal feelings can't interfere with what we're trying to accomplish here. We've worked too hard for too long to get this far and throw it all away again!" His voice rose with passion, his argument becoming more urgent.

Silence answered him. Kara pressed an eye to the crack beneath the door hinges. Lee was staring down at the glass case that was designed to hold a medal. His medal. Their medal.

"Look at this thing." Disgust dripped from his words. "Just sitting there empty."

"Well, it won't be staying that way for long," the low rumble of Bill's voice held a note of stubborn pride. "We're almost there, son."

"Didn't you say that the last time?" Lee's voice was cold. "And the time before that."

"Well, this time, it's going to happen." Bill's confident tone brooked no argument. "This is it, Lee, what you've dreamed about. This is what you've always wanted."

"Is it, Dad? Or is it what Zak always wanted?" The plaintive question had Kara's hand involuntarily raising, as if she could reach out and touch his shoulder.

"What!" She didn't need to see Bill to picture the stony set of his face. "Don't—"

"Don't what? Don't talk about Zak? Don't say his name?" Lee's voice rose, twisting bitterly. "Don't tell the truth?"

"I don't understand where this is coming from," Bill said, his tone stiff and unyielding.

"What are we doing here, Dad? I mean, why…" he trailed off, sounding confused and incredulous. "All these years... why am I doing this?"

There was a long pause, then Bill said quietly, "You should get some sleep, son. You're just tired."

"No. No, I'm not! Stop trying to tell me what I feel!" Lee's voice rang out louder now. "You don't have the slightest goddamn idea how I feel! About skating, about Kara, about any of it!" Kara swallowed hard. "You couldn't possibly know because you have never once bothered to ask me what I want!"

"Lee!" The name was a whipcrack of frustration and anger, ringing in the deep timbre of Bill's voice.

"God, forget it. You know what, Dad? You're right once again. I am tired." The sarcasm rang out loud and clear in his voice as he moved toward the door and worry panged in Kara's chest even as she backed away, retreating into a shadowy alcove behind the stairwell. "These little pep talks can be so exhausting," she heard Lee say, coldly, followed by the rapid thump of his footfalls on the stairs. Seconds later, the heavy study door slammed shut with a crash.

Kara stood frozen, wondering what to do. Part of her wanted to race up the stairs after him, make sure Lee was alright. But another part of her was still smarting that he hadn't told her the truth about Calgary. Still, more grief and pressure wasn't what he needed right now. Kara had half a mind to march into the study herself and confront Bill, but what could she say to him? Give your son a break? Stop trying to make Lee into his dead brother? Yeah, that'd go over like a lead balloon. In the end, at a loss, Kara decided maybe they all needed a little space. Quietly, she headed back to the carriage house, more certain than ever that sleep would be eluding her completely that night.

***

The next four days passed in a whirl of pomp and circumstance, press conferences and practices. One minute they were processing into the huge stadium with the rest of the American athletes and the next they were here, warming up behind the curtain that led to the arena, listening as the Russian team's short program music blasted through the sound system, and waiting for their names to be called.

Nerves twisted Kara's gut, and she took slow, deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Her gaze kept skipping to Lee, who was staring at the floor, his face blank of emotion. He'd been quiet, withdrawn all week. Kara had thought that not having to compete until late in the Games would be a benefit, but the extra time hadn't helped at all. Try as they might, they still couldn't seem to get their timing right - on or off the ice.

The Twist still eluded them. At their final private practice this morning, Coach had called them together and asked if they wanted to take the move out of the program. Kara knew their routines were solid and they could probably medal without it, snag a bronze, or maybe even a silver to match her previous one for hockey. But she wanted-no, she needed-the gold, so Kara had insisted they keep trying. She'd been ready for a fight, since Lee had been suggesting they take it out for over a week. To her surprise, however, he'd just shrugged when Laura asked, and said, "Whatever Kara wants."

Ironically, that had annoyed her more than if he'd argued. If he'd argued, she could have yelled right back, challenging him. Hell, that's how they worked. But this…this quiet, self-defeat…she didn't know what to do with. It was like he had checked out already, given up before they'd even gotten on the ice.

It was scaring her. And that was pissing her off.

The officials came by and called for them to standby to take the ice and they stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting with Laura as the rink girls cleared the bouquets and stuffed animals tossed by adoring fans. Kara's glance skipped over to Lee again, taking in his blank face, then sliding down to where his shirt was biting into his neck, the collar taut.

"Christ, Lee, you look like you're about to choke. You should loosen the top button."

"It's fine."

"It doesn't look fine, it looks like you might pass out halfway through a sit spin."

"Leave it, Kara," he said, tightly. "I said, it's fine."

She stared at him in surprise, her temper piquing a bit more. So this he would fight her on, but when it came to the important things, like their routine, he didn't give a shit? "Oh, so now you wanna take a stand Lee?"

"What?" He grimaced, the cool facade finally breaking. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Undo the damn button." She practically growled the words, the anger and frustration she'd tried so hard to keep a lid on all week finally clamoring to the surface.

Laura stepped between them, laying an arm on each of their shoulders, as she interjected. "Enough squabbling! Let's focus on the program, yes?" The speakers crackled as the announcers introduced them, and Kara and Lee glared at each other.

"We're on," he said, and stalked off first to take the ice. Laura squeezed her shoulder, "Good luck." As Kara skated away after Lee, she thought she heard the coach mutter "We're gonna need it."

They squared off at center ice, palms pressed against each other, as they waited for their music to start. Kara's heart raced, her blood pumping, as she stared into his stoic, cold face. Her gaze slid down to his tightly closed-off collar once more, and she narrowed her eyes. Somehow that small clear plastic disc had come to symbolize all the fear and frustration that had slowly been catalyzing inside her. Kara hissed, "For the last goddamn time, undo the button."

Lee's face tightened. "God, I am so damn sick and tired of everyone thinking they know what's best for me. If it were 140 degrees out and that button meant the difference between a long satisfying life and a short, brutal death of heat stroke, I still wouldn't give you the satisfaction." His lips curled into a sneer over gritted teeth, as the rhythm of pounding drums started to fill the arena. "Skate."

They pushed off each other, anger and adrenaline fueling Kara as she circled the ice and completed the fancy footwork pass at the start of the routine. Somehow she finished a few seconds before Lee and she cursed inwardly, knowing the judges would mark them down for the poor timing. She was flustered by it and dwelling, and it didn't occur to her until they were already starting the approach into the quads that they hadn't done their customary hand-brush during the lead-up. It struck Kara suddenly as a bad omen, but she was already swinging her leg back and picking hard to launch. She rose into the air and twisted—one, two, three…crap, she was slowing, she wouldn't make four—and Kara was forced to triple the move instead.

Even though they didn't need the quad—a triple would easily fulfill the technical requirements of the short program—Kara was disappointed. Dread filled her. They were out of sync, messing up, and she wondered how they'd get through the next minute and a half.

They circled the ice separately, a few feet apart, and then Kara reached her hand out behind her, waiting for Lee to grasp it. A second passed and he didn't, and all of sudden Kara was acutely aware that for the first time, she couldn't sense Lee's presence on the ice with her. Horror flooded her. She couldn't feel him. Their connection was just… gone.

She knew where he should be, of course, but that just happened to be in her blind spot, a hair beyond her limited peripheral vision, so Kara whipped her head around just as Lee finally brushed her fingers, their grasp fumbling and locking together. She could clearly see the panic on his face now, and Kara flashed back to the footage from Calgary, the close up of his hand losing its grip on Anastasia Dualla's, and she squeezed his fingers tightly, afraid to lose hold again.

They completed the rest of the routine without errors, the reverse lift and throw at least raising cheers from the crowd. But Kara knew they'd been off, out of sync both physically and emotionally, and it had no doubt shown. They were silent as they bowed to the crowds and skated off the ice. Nearly the moment they passed the boards, a tall blonde reporter came towards them, microphone outstretched. Kara couldn't remember her name—Shelley something, perhaps—but she reminded her of that German skater Lee had thought was such a hot number, Ms. Sechs. Her irritation kicked just that much higher as the blonde ignored her and turned a big toothy smile to Lee.

"Was the altitude a problem tonight, Lee?" She asked, sympathy dripping from a honeyed voice.

"No," he answered tersely, as his eyes lifted towards the scoreboard.

Her long eyelashes blinked, clearly ruffled by his terseness, but she quickly forced her smile back into place."So, your long program. We've been hearing all week about the new surprise move you've been working on." She flashed more teeth. "Can you tell us what it's called?"

Kara leaned over, butting in. "The Roslin Twist."

The reporter looked startled, but recovered admirably, moving the microphone closer to Kara. "I see, and that's clearly named after your coach, Laur—"

"We're not doing it," Lee cut in.

Kara's head swiveled around so fast, she nearly gave herself whiplash. "What?"

He grimaced, his lips a tight line, and his eyes flicked to Kara's briefly as he spoke. "We're taking it out of the program. It's not ready."

Then he turned and walked behind the curtain and Kara was left staring after him, the outstretched microphone before her waiting for a response she couldn't give.

***

"A button?" Bill exploded. "You mean to tell me this was all because of a button?"

The four of them filed into the dining room back at the mansion Bill had rented. The room was cozy and warm, a fire roaring in the fireplace, the table set elegantly for a late supper. The effect of it was lost on its occupants however, as tension and strife simmered between the quartet.

Laura stared at them, her tone sharp with annoyance. "I told you both to let it go! How could you let that interfere with what you've worked for?"

Lee glared at Kara, muttering from the end of the table. "She kept pushing, like she always does..."

"Oh, please, give me a fucking break," Kara shouted, turning towards him. "You're saying it's my fault?"

He crossed his arms and leveled a stare at her. "You're the one who brought up the stupid button in the first-"

"MY GOD." She exploded. "The button does NOT matter! Forget the goddamn button!" Kara took a deep breath, gritting her teeth. "Let's talk about why we spent five weeks on a move you were never gonna do!"

Lee's jaw tightened, his brow creasing, "We've done it a million times in practice and we haven't once landed it clean, Kara!"

"So you just yank it out of our program? Without even talking to me first?"

"Forget the move," Bill rumbled. "We can win without the move."

"No," Laura's quiet insistence cut through the tense silence. "Actually, we can't."

Bill rounded on her, face furious. 'And just where the hell were you when all this was going on?"

"Where was I?" The coach's face tightened and she snapped. "I was babysitting!"

"Well, this was your idea, wasn't it? It was risky, foolish. I never should've let you-"

"Let me?" Laura protested, at the same time that Kara snapped, "Don't blame Coach! It's not her fault!"

"Well, someone needs to step up and take responsibility here," Bill glowered, voice harsh. "We went out there today and we didn't get it done. And all because of a ridiculous fight about a button!"

Kara stared at him, eyes wide with incredulity, then she sneered. "You want to point a finger? Maybe you should start with the ice prince over here!" She jerked a thumb towards Lee, then hissed, "My God, you people are all excuses!"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Bill thundered, his face turning a mottled red.

"Today it was about a button," Kara paused, bitterness and anger swelling in her chest as she swiveled her head. "Was it a button in Calgary, Lee?" she bit off, her tone low.

She thought she saw panic flicker in his eyes as he asked slowly, warily, "What are you talking about?"

"I saw the damn footage!" Lee stiffened, color draining from his face as he stared at her, and Kara swallowed hard, feeling sick, but needing to say this. "It wasn't Dualla's fault. And it sure as hell wasn't a wardrobe problem. You screwed up the lift. You let go. You let her fall!"

Lee just stared, his chest heaving as he took a long, shuddering breath. The silence in the room was absolute.

"And you never said a word about that either. Not once." Kara shook her head. "We're supposed to be partners, Lee!" her voice wavered. "But you didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth." The words tumbled bitterly out of her mouth and left a hollow space behind, like her chest had cracked open. Lee's head bowed and he said nothing.

She blinked and had to look away, her gaze drifting to Laura and Bill on the other side of the table. "None of you did." She glared at Bill. "Gotta find that go-to-girl, huh?" Her temper flared as she remembered his words, remembered the derision Lee had heaped on her at the start. "Guess you shoulda started with a go-to-guy!"

Bill frowned. "That's quite enough."

But Kara wasn't done. She turned toward Lee, the anger making her heart pound, her blood race. "You won't do the move because you are completely fucking terrified to take a chance on anything or anyone." He didn't lift his eyes from the table, and panic rushed through her, but Kara couldn't stop. "You're too damn scared to put your heart into it. You're a coward, Lee Adama!"

Laura frowned, but Bill turned nearly apoplectic, his face turning purple as he shouted. "Alright! That does it! You are-"

"Right," Lee interjected quietly, and all of their heads turned his way. "She's right. She is. All of it." He nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the floral centerpiece on the table, as though he were a million miles away. "We worked so hard for two years, and..." he sounded like he was in a stupor, bemused almost by the words coming out of his mouth. "I just went and threw it all away."

Kara stared at him, speechless finally. Across from her, Laura said softly but urgently, "Lee." But he lifted his head and looked at Kara instead.

"Why'd you stay with me?"

Her gut twisted, but Bill's deep rumble cut in. "Lee, don't-"

"Don't what? Tell the truth, Dad?" he cried. "We can't buy back what happened today. We can't start over." His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. "I have busted my ass working for the same goddamn goal since I was six years old, and I can't even remember why anymore."

"Lee," Bill said, quiet and sharp, a look of defeat washing over his own face. "What do you want?"

"Well now, that's the question, isn't it?" Lee huffed a mirthless laugh. "I don't know, Dad," he shook his head, his face rippling with pain. His voice was husky with emotion, as he said, slowly, "I guess I'd like to go back to the beginning and hear you say that, win or lose, I could just be your son."

The Old Man frowned, confusion overtaking his stern countenance, and he opened his mouth to say something else, but Laura reached over and laid a hand on his arm. He looked at her and she shook her head, almost as if she were admonishing a child, and Bill remained silent.

Lee's brow creased and he turned then, took one step towards Kara, but stopped. "You came every day and you skated," he said quietly, staring directly into her eyes. "I gave you a million reasons to walk out the door, and you never did." He paused, frowning. "I- I didn't know it was gonna end up like this. I'm sorry, Kara." Lee turned slightly, his eyes skipping to Laura. "I'm sorry...for everything."

Then, before Kara could move, before she could breathe even, he turned and left the room. Kara was rooted to the spot, unable to process what had just happened. Across from her, Laura and Bill were also frozen, her hand still clutching his forearm. Then, Laura shook her head suddenly, like someone shaking off a bad dream, and snatched her hand back from Bill's arm, her face twisting unpleasantly. "Excuse me," she murmured. "I need some air." And then she walked briskly towards the door to the hall, slipping through and disappearing just as Lee had.

The Old Man's dulled eyes followed her out the door. His lined face was weary; he looked just as awful as Kara felt. She sagged down into the heavy chair before her, elbows propped on the table, dropping her head into her hands. Her anger had subsided entirely with Lee's apology and subsequent exit; now Kara was exhausted, numb, wrung dry by the drama. She wondered what would happen now. Would they even skate tomorrow?

She let her eyes flutter shut, and rubbed her forehead.

"I never wanted Lee to skate."

Bill's voice was quiet, rueful, and she opened her eyes to look at him. He sat at the head of the table, staring down at the fine linens and cutlery. "What?"

"Carolanne came to me one day. The boys were young, Lee couldn't have been more than five or six. But she said he was good, a natural talent, and that he wanted it." The Old Man chuckled softly. "I hated the idea. Zak, our older son, was just like Carolanne. He didn't look like her, that was Lee, but he took after her every other way-great laugh, big heart," he nodded, smiling faintly. "And he was already training, winning medals for his speed skating."

Kara stared in rapt fascination as the Old Man spun the story. "Lee, on the other hand... he had my wife's eyes, but that's it. Lee was quiet, more serious. Whenever I could slip away from the business, which unfortunately wasn't very often even then, I'd take Lee with me, to this cabin we had, down by this lake. We'd go fishing, spend the whole day together, and we'd just talk. I'd tell him stories about the family, books I'd read. He'd hang on every word, and ask questions too. So many questions." Bill sighed heavily. "Lee was mine. And I knew that would change if I said yes to letting him skate."

"But you did, anyway." Kara said, softly, afraid to break his reverie for fear he'd stop talking.

"I did. He wanted it and I couldn't say no to him. I never really could," he said. "But I was right. He started training and things changed. No more fishing trips. And then..." Bill's mouth tightened. "Then Zak died and Carolanne left us."

Kara waited, watching as the Old Man took heavy breaths. "I didn't handle it well," he said finally. "The house was so empty with just the two of us, and every time I looked at Lee, looked into those blue eyes, I saw his mother." He cleared his throat. "So I started traveling more, threw myself into the business, expanding it. And I built the rink, got Lee his own private coach, made sure he had the best of everything." His voice turned sharp, bitter. "I no longer knew how to talk to my son, but I could give him what he wanted most, I could make sure he got that gold medal."

"That's not what he wanted most," Kara corrected. "He wanted his father."

Bill frowned his face crumpling. "I was afraid. I'd left it too late." He swallowed. "I was a coward."

Kara's heart panged for him, and for the boy Lee once had been. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because Lee was right. You were right." He reached out a hand and laid it atop Kara's, squeezing gently. "I think it's time we all stop making excuses."

"You need to talk to your son. Tell Lee what you told me. And tell him..." Kara paused, aware of her presumption, but knowing she was right about this, "tell him that you're proud of him and you love him." Thoughts of her own mother flickered briefly in Kara's mind but she pushed it aside. "That's what he wants, boss. He needs to hear it."

Bill smiled at her, slowly, and patted her hand. She smiled back at him and his hand tightened around hers again, as he nodded, then said "Wise advice. Perhaps you should take it yourself."

She stared at him, confused.

"You're in love with my son, Kara."

It wasn't a question. Kara's eyes widened and her heart raced.

"You should tell him."

"I-" she floundered for a second, but couldn't lie to the Old Man. "How did you..."

"I may be an old fool, Kara, but I'm not a blind one." He reached up and took off his glasses, cleaning them on his shirt, as he smiled again. "Not yet anyway."

Kara flushed, feeling embarrassed and put on the spot. "But I heard you tell Lee...before we left for the Games...you said he had to focus, not let personal feelings interfere..."

Bill frowned. "I think I was wrong about that too. After Zak and Carolanne...I couldn't let myself feel that way again, so I just focused on the work, and look what happened? My only son hates me," he paused, emotion finally choking his voice. "He's all I have."

It was Kara's turn to reach out, her hand squeezing Bill's. "No, he doesn't. And no, he's not." She smiled softly at the Old Man. "And, boss? While you're doing all that talking? I think you really might want to talk to Coach too."

His eyes widened and Kara grinned.

"Laura," he paused. "She doesn't... She's never..."

"Just...talk to her."

Bill looked at her for a long moment, confusion and wonder on his face as a slow smile formed. And then he pushed his chair back and rose, circling round the table. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I suddenly seem to have quite a lot of pressing business to attend to." His eyes twinkled slightly as he stopped next to Kara's chair and reached out, smoothing a lock of hair behind her ear then squeezing her shoulder. "And youshould think about what I said, Kara. I think it's high time we all start taking some chances around here." The Old Man actually winked at her then. "If you want to win, sometimes you just have to roll the hard six."

He swept out of the room on that pronouncement, his step nearly able to be classified as "bouncy" and Kara couldn't help but laugh. Then she dropped her head into her hands again. Her mind was racing. Should she really try to talk to Lee now about how she felt? It seemed crazy, with everything else going on. No, he needed to talk to his father. That was more important. Whatever was going on between them-or, more accurately, wasn't going on between them-could wait. For the night at least.

Once Bill talked to Lee, maybe all that weight he'd been carrying around would be lifted. Maybe skating would stop feeling like an obligation. Lee would get his confidence back and he'd remember what it felt like again to just want to keep skating, and never stop.

Yes, Kara assured herself, that would fix everything. Things would be better in the morning.

They just had to be.