Disclaimer: I don't own MIOBI.

Just a Number

Summary: What if Sasha never came to The Rock? He was never her coach, and she was never his gymnast. Now all that stands between them is the age gap . . . and the Atlantic Ocean. Not to mention his reputation, the competition, and the fact that everyone seems to have an opinion on how she should feel about him and nobody thinks he's right for her. Nothing between them but age, and well . . . it's just a number anyway, right?

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Just a Number – Home Is Where the Heart Is

Cruz Residence – Boulder Colorado
28 April 2012

"You know Payson gets back tonight," Lauren noted casually as she flicked lazily through one of Kaylie's magazines. She hid her smile as she came across a photo of Payson and Sasha – those two were seriously too cute for words, but she doubted that Kaylie would appreciate the sentiment.

"So?" Kaylie asked indifferently, barely looking up from her own magazine.

"Nothing, Kay," Lauren shrugged. "Just . . . I guess things are going to be tense now she's back."

"Why?" Kaylie replied, favouring one-word answers over anything more substantial.

"Well, come on," Lauren said, alluding to the obvious. "I mean, the rest of us all get picked for the invitational, and Payson's the alternate? It couldn't get more uncomfortable. Especially because we all know Payson should be on that team."

Kaylie's features tightened and she shut her magazine pointedly. "We don't know that," she said sourly. "Obviously the committee had their reasons."

"Not good ones," Lauren scoffed.

"Look, Kay, I know we totally hate Payson right now," Lauren continued, carefully stating her loyalties, "but we both know that Payson didn't deserve to be named an alternate.

"Now Kmetko . . ." she said, trailing off vaguely. It was a reminder of Emily's early days at The Rock when Lauren had been her worst critic, and earned her a small smile from Kaylie.

"Whatever the case, she screwed up by going to England," Kaylie said, flipping her magazine open once again. It was the photo shoot they'd done with People before everyone found out about Payson and Sasha – while Kaylie was still the star and personality behind the US team and Payson was just the girl that could be counted on to win them a medal.

"I would have stayed and shown them they were wrong," Kaylie continued with a bite to her words. "I wouldn't have just taken off to the other side of the world."

"Really?" Lauren asked dubiously. "Not even to see Austin."

"Can we not talk about Austin?" Kaylie asked with a pained smile.

Lauren rolled her eyes. "What's with you two, anyway?" she asked, ignoring Kaylie's requested. "You've been avoiding each other like the plague all week."

"We broke up," Kaylie announced tightly. "Now can we please not talk about it?" she practically begged, her expression pleading.

"No," Lauren replied, shutting both their magazines. There was no way she was letting this go, certainly not something as big as this. If Kaylie wanted her support in this, then she was going to have to share her story.

"What happened, Kay?" she asked gently, gripping her best friend's hand lightly.

"We broke up," Kaylie said as casually as she could. "It just made sense," she shrugged. "Boyfriends are toxic for your career. I mean, just look at Payson. She went from being the best gymnast in the world to being named an alternate."

Lauren was stunned by Kaylie's logic, but there was little she could say against it. She'd been in Saint Petersburg after all, and she'd heard exactly what Ellen Beals had to say to Payson after the loss. It had been cruel and uncalled for and it said almost exactly what Kaylie was saying now. "You're not seriously believing that," she protested weakly.

"Payson's the one that said it," Kaylie retorted. "Boyfriends are just distractions and we're better off leaving that sort of thing until after the Olympics."

"What? So you're taking advice from a sixteen year old P Keeler now?" Lauren asked sarcastically. "Payson got made an alternate because Ellen Beals is a bitch, not because dating Sasha made her a bad gymnast," she argued.

"Whatever," Kaylie shrugged. She stole back her magazine and began lazily flipping through it as Lauren gave her a cold stare, just waiting for her to give in to feeling of eyes upon her.

"Lo, I know you're all 'Team Sasha', but Payson screwed up," she said harshly, finally meeting Lauren's gaze. "She screwed up because of Sasha, and instead of fixing that right now like any normal person would, she's spending all her time with Sasha focusing on her image instead of her gymnastics.

"Now can we please just drop it?" she asked, wanting to be done with the topic of Payson and Sasha now that she'd said her peace.

"Sure," Lauren reluctantly conceded with a weak smile. "Do you think I should wear my hair like this for the invitational?" she asked, forcing a topic change by flashing a picture of an elaborate up-do in Kaylie's direction.

"Don't you think it's a bit much for Florida?" she asked superciliously.

"We're competing against France and Italy," Lauren pointed out. "That's like the two fashion capitals of the world. I bet their hair is gorgeous."

"Well then," Kaylie said, flipping quickly through her magazine, "I think something like this will be just what you're after."

Keeler Residence

It was nearly midnight by the time MJ's town car finally pulled up outside Payson's house. The house was dark, with only the porch light and dim glow from the kitchen indicating that anyone was still awake.

MJ waved for the driver to go see to Payson's bags, leaving the two of them alone for a few moments to talk privately. The serious expression on MJ's face surprised Payson a little, and she could only think of one other time when she'd seen her agent looking so pensive.

"Payson, I want you to call me if anything happens," MJ said in her clipped, cockney accent. "No matter how small it seems I want to hear about it.

"That Beals woman obviously has some sort of vendetta against you and I don't want you giving her any fuel, no matter how unexceptional."

Payson frowned, MJ's caution unsettling her more than she would have liked. "You said she couldn't do anything," she said, remembering MJ's firm stance in London.

"Not gymnastics wise," MJ said carefully. "Marty assured me that the only reason that the committee followed her advice this time was because they don't need you to win the invitational.

"They can't beat China or Russia without you," she said in a plain, factual manner. It wasn't about flattery or ego stroking – it was simply the truth. Payson's all-around DOD was higher than anyone else's on the US team – maybe even the world – and without it, it would be a close race for third.

"You don't need to worry about your gymnastics," MJ continued with absolute certainty, "but I am worried about your endorsements.

"But that's my job to worry about it, not yours," she added reassuringly. "I just need you to be wary of her. Don't let anything slip that might be used against you."

Payson let out a frustrated sigh, annoyed at the underlying politics. "Anything I should be looking out for?" she asked in reply.

"If I knew that, love, I'd be a lot less worried," MJ admitted ruefully. "But it's nothing I can't handle," she added with a self-assured smile.

"Night, love," she finished as the driver opened the side door, offering a hand to Payson as she slipped out of the car. "If they ask, you can tell your folks I've got everything under control. And I'll see you all at Nationals."

"I'll see you then," Payson agreed. She waved goodbye to MJ and thanked the driver for his help, before turning up the path to her house. Her mother was already waiting in the doorframe with a warm smile on her face. "You didn't have to wait up," Payson told her.

"I did for my own peace of mind," Kim disagreed. "It was no bother." She smiled and wrapped her arms around her eldest daughter's shoulders. It seemed to her as though years had passed in the five days and her daughter had come back as a different person – a happier, slightly less reserved person, who was becoming increasingly more comfortable in her own skin. It wasn't a huge difference, but it shone through so blatantly in everything that Payson did that Kim couldn't help but notice the change.

"You look so lovely, sweetheart," Kim said sincerely, holding Payson at arms length to examine her. There wasn't anything in this world more beautiful than a young girl in love.

Payson eyed her mother with some suspicion. "Did Becca do something to my room while I was gone?" she asked coolly. "Because her selling my stuff on eBay isn't cool."

"Don't worry, Pay. I kept her out of your room this time," Kim assured her with a laugh. "I don't think she was actually serious about that threat anyway."

Together they brought Payson's two bags inside, and shut the door behind them. "Are you sleepy?" Kim asked as Payson quietly made her way to the lounge and settled into one of the armchairs.

"Not really," Payson answered vaguely, shaking her head. "I slept on the plane."

"Is everything alright then, Payson?" Kim asked cautiously as Payson's quietness uneased her. She hadn't seen Payson looking so serious and quiet in years – not since the obsessive 'focus' of her junior years.

Payson said nothing for at least a minute, and let herself silently dwell on her own thoughts before finally giving in to her mother's gentle prodding. "I'm fine, I just . . ." Payson began before trailing off as suddenly as she began. "It's stupid," she insisted.

"It can't be stupid if you're feeling bad about it," Kim assured her. "What's wrong, Payson?"

"Nothing," Payson said firmly. "I'm just missing Sasha. That's all.

"I guess I really am one of those sappy girly-girls," she joked weakly. "Missing a guy when it hasn't even been a whole day. How pathetic," she criticized.

Kim shook her head and sat on the arm of Payson's chair, manoeuvring her arm around her daughter so she could hold her comfortingly. "There's nothing wrong with missing someone you care about, Pay," she said simply. "When you love someone it doesn't matter if they're gone a day or a year. It feels the same.

"When your dad was in Minnesota," she continued. "I'd miss him as soon as I left the airport. He hadn't even left Colorado and I'd already be missing him and counting down the hours until we all saw him again. It's not something you ever get used to, but I don't think we're supposed to."

She pulled Payson close and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Now are you going to tell me what's really bothering you, Pay?" she asked with a knowing look.

Payson glanced up, sending her mother a rueful smile. "Nothing ever gets passed you, does it?"

"No," Kim said proudly. "It's called being a mother. You get all kinds of fun super powers like knowing when your kids are lying to you and being able to turn any four ingredients into an edible meal.

"Now spill before I bring out the heavy artillery," she said with mock forcefulness.

"Can I have a cup of tea first?" Payson asked sweetly trying to bide herself some more time. Kim gave her a dubious look. "I drink tea," she protested flatly.

"Of course, dear," Kim conceded, clearly still disbelieving. "And how do you like this tea?"

"With lemon and cumin seeds," Payson retorted glibly. "But just the lemon will do."

"Just the lemon will do," Kim repeated, shaking her head. She led them both to the kitchen and turned on the kettle as she went to the pantry to get what she needed. "I suppose you'll be wanting fresh lemon?" she asked, poking her head out of the pantry.

"Preferably," Payson nodded. Kim wasn't sure which surprised her more – the fact that her daughter had become so picky, or that Sasha was so indulgent with her. Actually, the latter didn't surprise her at all. The few times she'd gotten to see Sasha with Payson, he'd practically fallen over his feet just to please her. And somehow, Payson still had no idea of the sort of power she wielded over her hapless boyfriend.

The tea took a few moments to prepare – the lemon part more than anything else – but eventually the two steaming beverages were prepared and Kim stared down her daughter over a cup of lemon flavoured tea. "So?" she asked meaningfully.

Payson sighed. "I'm just . . . not ready to be home," she admitted reluctantly, a large part of her feeling guilty for saying as much to her mother. "I was only there five days and I was working most of the time. I got a day at best.

"It just doesn't seem fair," she groused. "After everything that happened, I still only get to see Sasha for a day. And I have to come back to all this drama that I just don't feel like dealing with right now.

"I . . . wish I was there instead," she finished in a small voice staring down into her drink.

Kim murmured something consolingly as she sat her tea on the counter and took Payson in her arms once again. "It'll be alright, sweetheart," she assured her. "You and Kaylie will be friends again."

"I don't know if we can be," Payson shrugged tiredly. "I don't even know what the problem is. I can't believe one of my best friend's would just turn on me like that for no reason," she sighed.

"I'm sure it'll work out," Kim said, trying her best to reassure her and stay optimistic. "You girls have been through so much together. You're like family. I know you'll get past this, whatever it is."

"And if we don't?" Payson asked. Her mind jumped to the worst-case scenario, running through her options for when things turned out as bad as she thought they were.

"You will," Kim assured her.

"You don't know that," Payson protested, her expression fierce. "We're supposed to be a team, Mom. How are we supposed to get through Nationals or the Olympics like this? How am I supposed to do this without my friends?"

"Oh, Pay," Kim sighed, holding her daughter against her shoulder. "It'll all work out, sweetheart. I know it will. One way or another."

Payson nodded against her shoulder and Kim tsked lightly as she ran her hand against her daughter's hair. "This isn't like you, Payson," she noted, remembering what had started this conversation. "I've never known you to run away from anything."

"It's not that I want to run away, Mom," Payson said, pulling back to look her in the eye. "I just . . . when I'm with Sasha everything is better," she admitted, shyly biting her lip. "I suppose I just forgot about everything else while I was there, and it all hit me as soon as I had to say goodbye."

Kim cooed sympathetically as a teasing smile formed on her lips. "I'm sure that magic works long distance too," she grinned at her daughter. Payson flushed a little and ducked her head.

"For what it's worth, Pay, I'm glad you got to forget for a little while," Kim said softly, smoothing out her daughter's hair. "I'm glad that Sasha makes you happy."

"He does," Payson agreed with an irrepressible smile. Her eyes glimmered with happiness and her smile was so brilliant it made Kim stop in awe.

"You really love him, don't you?" Kim asked gently, although she already knew the answer.

Payson nodded solemnly. "More than anything," she whispered sincerely.

FLASHBACK: Billesley Manor Hotel – Warwickshire
27 April 2012

Payson gingerly held the garment – if you could call it that – in her hands, giving it an apprehensive look and studying the details intently. Her hands caught in the shoestring latticed straps, unsure of what went where or how they intertwined, letting the remainder of the blue/black garment hang down in front of her, barely reaching her knees even with something of a head start.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered disparagingly. "It's just like pyjamas. You can't be afraid of pyjamas."

Except it wasn't really like pyjamas at all. Pyjamas were just things you wore to bed with no regard to anyone else. They were comfortable and light and in Payson's case usually said something stupid about 'forking' or had fluffy sheep printed all over.

Pyjamas were not normally made of silk and lace. They were usually far more decent than the garment, which hugged her curves like a second skin. They didn't usually have low cut necklines that just barely covered the lower part of her breasts. This was certainly not pyjamas.

She continued staring at the garment – just as she had for the last fifteen minutes – wondering what the hell she had ben thinking when she pulled it out of her luggage fifteen minutes earlier. She hadn't even wanted to buy the thing, let alone take it with her to London. Lauren had insisted on taking her shopping for 'something sexy' and Payson had been too embarrassed at the thought of her mother accidently finding it to leave it behind.

She was so caught up in the perusal of the garment that she didn't even notice Sasha re-enter the room after his nightly rituals until he was wrapping his arms around her from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder. Out of habit and instinct, she relaxed into his warm body, breathing in the scent of cedar and citrus that he carried with him.

His lips brushed against her neck, working their way up towards her ear in a trail of feather light kisses that made her skin burn underneath. He grinned wolfishly as he eyed the garment in her hands. "Were you planning to seduce me, Miss Keeler?" he teased, his voice turning low and gravely on its own accord as he consider that rather appealing prospect.

But then he felt her stiffen in response to his comment, making it clear that seduction was not on her mind at the moment. Her head dropped to her chest and she gave a loud sigh. "I don't know," she uttered, clutching the garment in her hands.

"Oh, Pay," he said softly, his mood changing to match hers. He tightened his hold on her for a moment, squeezing her reassuringly as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

She turned in his arms and he held her as close as humanly possible. "You don't need to wear that for me, iubită," he said firmly.

"I'm such an idiot," she complained with a frustrated sigh and self-directed eye roll, her mood dampened more by embarrassment than anything else. "Today has been perfect and then I go and ruin it all by freaking out over something stupid."

"You're not," he disagreed. "And you haven't ruined anything.

"Now go change into that sexy 'forking' number of yours," he teased, feeling relieved when this made her crack a small smile, "while I turn the bed down."

She smiled weakly and rose on her feet so she could kiss him softly on the lips, trying to convey what she felt without words. She pulled him close, tugging gently at the baby hairs at the nape of his neck while the other hand ghosted against his cheek.

"Thank you," she said pulling slightly away and meeting his gaze. "Thank you for making today so perfect and for putting up with me when I'm being stupid. This is all I could ever ask for.

"You are the . . . Sasha, you . . ." she began several times, struggling to find the exact words she wanted.

So she just gave in to the niggling desire and said what she felt.

"I love you, Sasha," she told him with a wane smile and an apologetic shrug.

He gaped, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing without making any sounds. He tried to process and determine how to respond to the words that he couldn't or wouldn't say.

"I – "

She kissed him firmly, cutting him off before he went and ruined it by telling her he really liked her and hoped he could feel the same, or that he loved spending time with her. He would say anything to make her feel better – to avoid hurting her – but she was sure that might just kill her.

"You don't have to say anything," she said gently, as she pulled back slightly, staying close enough for her nose to brush against his as her fingers trailed reassuringly against his jaw. "I just wanted you to know." There was no pressure or expectations. She just wanted him to know how much he meant to her – how happy she was to be with him – and how much she appreciated everything he did, and that was the only way she knew how to say it.

He smiled gratefully and cupped her face in his hands, bringing her lips back to his in a gentle kiss. Their lips pressed together, just moving gently against one another as his hands slipped down her sides and hers slid around his neck, fingers threading into his hair. And then the kiss deepened, as Payson pulled him closer and slid her tongue across the seam of his lips, enticing him into a fiercer kiss.

The mood had changed once again, and they both seemed to sense that this night would take them further than they had been before. The fire and passion in their kisses built faster than usual, and soon enough his shirt had been discarded on the floor and he was helping her out of her dress, revelling at the sight of her in nothing but a matching bra and panties.

His hands slid over the curves suddenly revealed to him, his every sense set alight by the feel of her warm, smooth skin under his fingers. She moaned lightly in response to his attention and he felt her breath hot against his skin as her lips set trails from his throat to his chest. Her fingers searched for his belt, attacking the device with gusto so that she could begin even out the imbalance in their state of undress.

She was thoroughly intoxicating, making it impossible for him to think of anything beyond her dextrous lips, delicate hands, and impossible curves. Together they backed towards the bed, not even bothering to disengage themselves to find their bearings or check for obstacles in their path. It was like nothing existed beyond the two of them, not even the four-poster bed as the mattress hit the back of her knees and the two tumbled together into the decadent sheets.

He felt his resistance crumble as they kissed, nothing about it sweet or gentle. It was fierce and ugly as passion dictates. Teeth scrapping against skin, tongues wrestling for dominance, hands grasping possessively at newly revealed expanses of skin as his will was tested beyond all reasonable limits.

"Tell me to stop," he begged as he loomed over her, pressing her into the mattress beneath them.

She shook her head, breathless under his ministrations, and meeting his heated gaze with hooded eyes.

"Not yet."

~ to be continued ~

Yup, so back to Boulder and the drama filled world of The Rock. And just a week until the meet against France and Italy and all that that entails.

And I'm sure all you really want to talk about is the flashback at the end. I'll just let you take from that what you will.

Notes:

Translations:

Iubită:My love/beloved