March 1983
Helsinki, Finland
The late winter weather in Helsinki is somehow worse than home. More humid near the water with frequent bouts of rain, the temperature fluctuates in a narrow band between freezing and-
"It's fucking freezing!" Ben complains every time they leave the hotel for the rink.
Rey grows tired of his act quickly and she finally snaps, "You could've just stayed home, then! I'm sure I could do this without you!"
She's not sure, but she thinks she sees Luke hide a smile by winding his scarf over his face while Ben looks at her in shock. All that she spies is Luke's winter-blue eyes dancing between his cap and his scarf and she crosses her arms in satisfaction that their coach is on her side. The shuttle bus pulls up and they board in silence.
It is their last practice before the long program this evening and Rey feels giddy when she surveys their competitors in the group ahead of them on the ice. They are second after the short, in striking distance of first and their East German rivals are having a bad practice.
Not just bad, Rey revises her estimation. The woman is skating by herself, hands on her hips, and her partner is gesturing after her while yelling at their coach. The other pairs keep flying around them but it's clear everyone has one ear turned towards the fray.
It is one thing she appreciates about Ben, his complaining about small things aside: he is always civil to her in public. Luke insists they act like friends even when she's sure he's indifferent to her at best, though his mood has been a bit glum since Europeans where his dalliance with Bazine finally came to an unceremonious conclusion.
Things had already been patchy with them since Maz's New Year's party and escalated when Bazine started dancing with a skater from Canada at the gala party following the exhibition on Sunday. Instead of cutting in as he normally did, Ben watched coolly from his table while sipping his drink, chatting with a friend and paying no attention to her. Rey was dancing with Finn and Poe and minding her own business when one of them had pointed out the silent conflict escalating behind them.
Baz finally stormed to him and after an exchange of words no one could make out over the music, she flounced from the ballroom with a gaggle of girls throwing eyes at Ben trailing after her.
Rey waited until the following week to ask him about it as they stroked warmup patterns around the rink. In some ways, it was her favorite part of their training: the two of them alone, no music or coaches, their blades making small noises on the ice as they glided silently over the newly-groomed surface.
"Everything okay with you?"
He shrugged, looking straight ahead. "I'm fine. It was never going to last."
Rey tucked her lips and chin inside her turtleneck and nodded. She hoped it looked understanding, but she could not deny the small bead of victorious satisfaction that blossomed in her chest to hear this.
He takes her hand now, chin high and looking over the fracas as they wait at the gate to enter the ice. Skate guards are piled on the boards and coaches file to the edge, close to one another but far enough away not to be overheard.
In a way, practice is as important as the competition itself. Judges and officials saunter in and out, observing their time and making pre-judgements on their elements. If they miss an element five of six times in practice, who would believe they will hit in competition when the pressure's on? Everyone always says ice is slippery but they are trained to the limit. Competition seems like a break in comparison with their normal routine.
Seeing what happened ahead of them, Luke is calm. "Just take it easy. Don't wear yourselves out. Godspeed."
They glance at each other, and Rey knows exactly what Ben has in mind.
Sure, they go easy-but they show off. It's a bold statement, not doing their hardest elements to their fullest in practice. Why bother, when their closest competitors just imploded?
We don't even need to. We're saving ourselves. Everyone is beneath us.
Luke glowers at them as they fly by him, but Rey can put that aside when she focuses on Ben. They move as one, assured and confident in their connection on the ice. Every hold, every lift - they've done them hundreds of times by now and could do them in their sleep. Their competitors are a blur and her attention is trained only on him.
By the time they hit their final position, he offers a cocky smile and she returns it.
"That's not exactly what I meant," Luke deadpans as they fit their guards to their blades to return to the locker room. "You could've just done as I asked."
They don't apologize.
The afternoon is long and she idles in her room, first reading, then not napping, until it is finally time to begin putting on her makeup for the evening. Competition is the only time she really wears it so it's slow going, making sure she's applying all the things in the right order to achieve the effect she wants. The fake eyelashes are especially troublesome with their tiny vial of glue but once they're on, she feels irresistible.
Their long program is her favorite of theirs so far. It's an adaptation of Stravinsky's Firebird and the story fits them well. Her dress is red and Ben's black-on-black outfit is accented with gold metallic thread that catches the lights as she struggles to keep from being caught by his Prince Ivan. It's a classic ballet, it's Russian, and it suits their style, the tension she feels between them. Some of it is acting, but she gets a rush each time they've performed it. They end with their death spiral and he doesn't let her go when he helps her back upright, instead drawing her close to his chest to pluck a feather sewn to her bodice from her in triumph. The look he gives her makes her stomach flutter and she knows it's just acting, but there's something about the way his dark eyes rake down to her bosom and then back up to her face that makes her breath harder.
They will skate next to last, in reverse order of their placement in the short. It can be hard to shut out the noise of the crowd but they are practiced at it now. By the time the volunteer comes to escort them to the rink, Rey feels completely calm. The Canadian team ahead of them are in first for now, but that won't last. Their skills are harder and this program makes them shine.
When they take to the ice there is a huge round of applause so they take their time circling into their starting pose; they may as well act the part of the champions they are about to become. This close to home they have many admirers in the stands and a few rows hold Soviet flags aloft.
The music flutters to life over the loudspeakers and they are away, skating separately until Ben catches her for their spiral as she looks backwards at him, prey caught by a hunter. She breaks free only for him to catch her waist again for their throw element, and when she turns away in an arabesque after landing he grasps her ankle to draw her close once more, lifting his magic prize overhead. A smattering of applause swells as she hits her lift position and then she is falling, falling only to be caught against him with him supporting her by her back and knees before finally returning to the ice.
The crowd is on their feet when they grasp fingers and she wraps her foot over and begins to lean on her outside edge. Ben's sinking down into a crouch and she with him, her body as stiff as a board as she circles him in a death spiral. She floats her free arm out and up, ready to catch his hands to end.
That is when it happens.
She feels her bun graze the ice, and then the cold shock of it touching her bare shoulders. The crowd gasps as one and she realizes she's on the ice.
Without thinking she lets go and pushes up with her hand, circling around Ben who goes to his knees as though this were all planned.
She comes to a stop in front of him and plucks her own feather, bestowing it on him as if granting him a favor and he has the sense to grasp the backs of her thighs in time with the music.
There is a moment of stunned silence in the arena before someone starts applauding and the rest join in.
Rey stares down at him and he mouths, "I'm sorry."
She helps him to his feet and tucks the feather into the illusion netting at her neckline. They take their bows and wave to the crowd again, but they feel far from triumphant as they exit the ice and head to the kiss and cry with Luke at their side. His lips are set in a grim line beneath his moustache and he doesn't say much, just hugs them one at a time. Like always.
Rey zips her jacket over her costume and dabs at her upper lip with a tissue she'd secreted in its pocket.
"What the hell happened?" She hisses this when her mouth is covered so the cameras can't see.
"My pick slipped," Ben mutters as he pretends to cough into his hand. "I sat down a little by accident."
The East Germans take the ice as their scores are being read. They've taken the deduction for a fall and they didn't get full credit for completing the death spiral. She can't believe their season is going to end like this. On a stupid fluke mistake that could cost them the gold.
"Well," Luke assesses the damage, "You certainly left the door open a little."
They sit in first by the narrowest of margins and it is the longest five minutes of their lives. It is a horrible position to be in, knowing the gold rests on their competitors' potential failure.
It feels like time has stopped when, to everyone's surprise, their rivals hold it together. It' s as if this morning's practice didn't even happen and they skate beautifully. Perfectly, or better than. They have the skate of their lifetimes. They have the kind of skate Ben and Rey had at nationals in December, where it didn't even matter.
"Fuck!" Ben swears into his clenched fist. "I can't fucking believe this!"
Rey tucks her hands beneath her thighs and doubles over momentarily. She eyes the potted plants that decorate the area, wondering if she might throw up the granola bar she ate while she was doing her makeup. That was hours ago and her stomach is roiling now.
"Alright, up!" Luke stands decisively. "We have to congratulate the champions! Remember, they are komrades too. Their finish is our finish."
It takes fifteen minutes to drag the podium and carpet to the ice for the medal ceremony and Rey cannot stop staring at their names on the scoreboard.
Skaia/Solokov - USSR - 2nd
They accept their silver medals and she holds the bouquet she is given, but tears begin to leak out of her eyes when she sees their flag hanging lower than the winners'.
Ben's hand tightens on her waist and she glances back at him to find he is staring straight ahead, but his eyes are wet too.
