June 1982

Their first season unfolds almost exactly as Luke planned it, and for that, he is grateful. They made their debut, earned decent placements, and now it is time to break them down to build them up further. Their national teammates rallied to top finishes at Worlds and they again have three spots for next year. He makes sure a nice bottle of vodka is delivered to their coach.

The season before the Games is more important. With the whole world watching, their judges always hold up teams they know, the ones they know have performed in the past. Sometimes skaters don't win on the day they skate best, but the best skaters usually win.

The summer stretches out ahead of them and while the long days don't cure the distance he's sensed between them for some time now, it feels like a fresh start.

That is, until just after Rey's seventeenth birthday.

At first Luke thinks she is favoring her right side, then her left, and his brain can't quite work out why she looks different as they idle through warm-ups. Injury is an omnipresent concern, whether it's her ankles and knees from the jump landings or Ben's shoulders or wrists from lifts, and Luke squints at them as he counts the number of beats she glides on each foot before changing. They've been lucky so far, sustaining nothing more than minor muscle strains from repetitive motion, but the anomaly persists.

She starts falling on her jumps, even the easy throws they mastered a year ago. Their lines no longer match the way they did as recently as Europeans, and no matter how much Luke corrects them, they are slightly out of sync.

Ben's resentment at this setback is palpable and he knows he needs to intervene when his nephew snaps at her within earshot, "How much are you eating?!"

They are standing before him, not touching, when it occurs to Luke what to do.

"Tomorrow we're taking vitals," he announces. "The federation is compiling files and they need your stats. Then you need a day off," he looks pointedly at Ben. "Go outside, get some light."

Of course this is bullshit and they probably know it, but the moment he rests the caliper on Rey's hair, he sees the problem.

She is growing.

She came to them at one meter sixty-five, and while that was already taller than some of their elite singles girls, she was a perfect height for Ben. Now she measures an even one-seventy and while he's still a full head taller than her, it's just enough to make them clumsy all over again. With it she has gained almost two kilos.

He doesn't let them see the numbers. For his part, Ben is the same as he's been since he got his growth spurt, and he's gained a bit too but Luke chalks it up to muscle from lifting a heavier partner. It is a cruel truth of the sport that weight doesn't matter so much for the men; as long as they perform, they are left in relative peace about their diets.

The file goes right back in his desk drawer under lock and key.

"Ben," he beckons his nephew back into the office as Ben makes to leave. "It would be nice of you to come by for dinner this evening."

Ben's stare is withering. "I thought you wanted us to have a day off."

Luke returns the stare without blinking. "You're still family, aren't you? Come by at seven-thirty. It'll still be light, we can sit out."

"Fine." Ben says it with his back turned and he is out the door.

He arrives promptly to Luke's with a bottle of vodka in hand-his sister's doing, no doubt-and stands silently at the entrance to the kitchen watching Luke cook.

"It's been awhile, huh?" Luke offers.

Ben shrugs. Luke takes it in stride, remembering how Ben used to want to be around his uncle all the time, sleeping over on the couch to go with him to the rink first thing in the morning until his mother came by and insisted he go to school.

Things change. He accepts this as part of life. Nothing is permanent.

He hands Ben a bowl of olivie salad to deliver to the tiny cafe table on his balcony, a mixture of cooked diced potatoes, carrots, peas and pickles swimming in a creamy white dressing and topped with fresh dill. He follows a moment later with the shashlik skewers, two glasses, and the bottle Ben brought tucked under his arm.

"There," Luke settles into his chair and takes in the city. "Drink?" He begins to pour without waiting for Ben's answer.

They toast and tuck in without speaking and Luke lets it ride. No sense in getting Ben's hackles up when he's hungry.

The sun sinks lower, bathing the city in a golden light and they are halfway through their third glasses before Luke broaches the topic after casual small talk.

"How do you think things are going with Rey?"

Ben leans back in his chair, stretching his arms overhead and Luke is struck by how much he looks like his father for a moment.

"I knew you were going to ask," Ben looks smug. "She's taller, isn't she." He makes a helpless gesture with his enormous hand at the inevitable fact of their situation.

Luke turns his glass in the ring of condensation on the metal table before he replies simply, "She is. I meant aside from that."

A scowl darkens his nephew's face now and he shrugs. "She's fine. We did well enough last year."

"You did," Luke praises easily. "Better than you had any right to. Next year will be different, though. You need to start presenting a united front and building up your momentum towards the Games."

"How are we not doing that," Ben's eyes narrow in suspicion.

Luke sighs. He hates to do this, truly, but Ben is not a normal twenty-year old. He's very mature in some ways, but very stunted in others, and Luke knows it's the focus on their training that makes him this way.

"All I'm saying is, you might want to get rid of any… distractions heading into this season."

Ben stares at him for a long moment before something seems to dawn on him. "She told you?" The hurt is evident on his nephew's face and Luke takes a sip of vodka to cover his own surprise.

Rey knew about this? He heard through the grapevine from the other team's coach, who asked politely for him to speak to Ben about it. Suddenly their behavior since February is less mysterious.

"No," Luke shakes his head. "If she knew, she's apparently better than keeping secrets than you, because I heard it from someone else."

"We're not going to skate forever," Ben fairly growls. "I'm not allowed to have a life?"

"Ben, you need to end it." Luke is firm now. "I know it's hard, but you have to use this talent now. You have the whole rest of your life for love."

"Is that what you call this?" Ben gestures caustically at Luke's bachelor apartment. "I can't live like this. I'm not like you and Mom."

Luke sighs and looks out over the city. Ben really knows how to twist the knife in a fight, that's for sure.

"End it," he repeats and drains his glass. "We have too much work to do this summer."