A.N.: For QueenOfHearts143, thank you for being the very first to review this story! Also, a big thanks to JJ03 and jsummd for your reviews!

Also, just because Kat isn't bipolar in this version doesn't mean I'll be completely disregarding canon to make this story easier/less drama - I have plenty of chaos planned! Also, I'm curious about where Kat's father disappeared to - I intend to bring my version of him in, later. And I'll be exploring Gabe's backstory. The focus in the show seems to be Kat's bipolar, rather than the combination of that plus the emotional and psychological side-effects of caring for Serena whenever Carol has an episode. Most of this inspiration comes from Fiona Gallagher from Shameless and her interactions with her mother Monica, but a little of Ian Gallagher's struggles with bipolar, too.

I'm putting Justin's age at about 25, with Kat nearly 22; the twins are 17 and Serena is 16; Gabe is 27 and Leah is 24.

I should also probably note that all I know about figure-skating can be distilled into I, Tonya, Spinning Out and watching a lot of YouTube videos of Virtue and Moir and Torvill and Dean! The technical terms are above my head!

Oh, and the erotic novella by Cherrie Lynn, Breathe Me In, inspired Justin and Kat's night together! I can't get enough of Ghost.


Falling

02

Perfect Illusion


Locked in that hideous place between complete mental exhaustion and utter wakefulness, she tried not to fidget, not to disturb Dave snoring gently behind her, satisfied from sex and content from a life where everything had started to line up for him, and kept her eyes closed in the hopes that sleep would sneak in and allow her to rest, to forget, for a few hours, how fucked she was.

She wished sex with Dave was as satisfying as he felt it was - not that she would ever say so. He was perfectly nice. She just couldn't…lose herself to it, with him - not the way… Not the way she had before, not the way she had lost herself…to Justin. She sighed heavily, frowning in the dark, fidgeting - she shouldn't be thinking about Justin, not with her boyfriend's arm draped over her waist, dissatisfied by their love-making, mentally exhausted and overwrought… Kat couldn't help it. She had let go with Justin because there had been no danger of him…wanting more. Of wanting or even bothering to try to get too close… Kat didn't do close: And that was why sex for Kat was rarely satisfying.

She always had her guard up.

Kat was too much inside her own head most of the time, to live in the moment, to let go… Failing her senior test; Dasha's suggestion; Dave's offer. Her financial status; her homelessness; her…lack of a future…

Everything had been about skating, for as long as she could remember. Skating was all she knew, all she remembered; there wasn't a time in her life when she could remember not skating - even her fall hadn't kept her off the ice for more than a few months, and she had been irascible about being kept off it. The exquisite paradox of sheer brutal force of will paired with seemingly effortless grace, elegance and athleticism and power, showmanship and skill. Artistry and domination, creative expression and physics - defiance of the laws of physics - glamour and gruesome injuries… She loved it: She was deathly afraid of it. And she wasn't ready to let it go. Not yet. She wasn't done.

Her failed test would tell her she was.

She had popped the Double Lutz - Justin's scary Russian coach was right; Kat shouldn't be popping such a simple jump. And Kat was right: She was terrified.

And that terror had stopped her doing the one thing that could secure her future - passing the test. To qualify to become a coach. Earning enough money to get her own apartment, a safe place for her - and for Serena, to be together, to be sisters…to be safe… A haven, away from Carol. Where skating wasn't the be-all-and-end-all; where they had choices. Options. Where they could skate for the love of it. Where Serena could go to college, if that was what she wanted; where it was an option, and where Kat would support her no matter what her choice was. She wanted Serena to be happy.

Six months until the next test… It wasn't paying for the ice time that was going to be the issue. She could scrimp and save and sew and wait tables, prepare meals and house-sit, dog-walk and do whatever else it took to pay her way. It was the coaching she couldn't afford - and she didn't mean physical coaching: She knew most of her problem wasn't her physical training and technical mastery. it was her head. And how was she supposed to fix what was inside her head, when she couldn't afford therapy and wasn't willing to sacrifice her income to pay for it anyway, not when just getting on the ice was therapy enough. There, she was free. There, she was unafraid…until she overthought jumping. Her arms would start to burn, though she never raised them; and her head would start to throb. She'd remember the impact, the lights, and then…nothing… The terror of not waking up again was what stopped her from even attempting jumps that were once as second-nature and unbothersome to her as stepping from the sidewalk.

She hated not jumping. She missed it. The adrenaline - the conquest - knowing she was dominating, she was skating to the very best of her ability, and pushing that limit all the time… She had been working on her Triple Axel before her fall - it hadn't been part of either her short programme or her free skate - she had intended to use it to get herself to Nationals the next year if she could land it consistently - and as Dasha had said, she used to land all her triples consistently. There had been no reason for her to believe that she couldn't land the Triple Axel too. She'd thought she would add her name to the very short list of women who had landed Triple Axels in the most elite competitions in the ice-skating world. Then.

If she spent the winter sewing competition costumes for anyone who set a blade onto the ice who could be convinced to purchase a custom costume from her, she might be able to cover her skating fees at the Arena, and put her waitressing pay-cheques and tips toward contributing to wherever she was staying that week, and the rest into savings… But she couldn't afford the coach. She couldn't afford to get her head fixed. She couldn't afford to keep going.

That was it.

She couldn't keep torturing herself over it. As she had told Justin, it was what it was. And it wasn't all her fault. She had tried; and whatever she chose to do next, she would dominate. It was her nature: She didn't know how to live without striving for something impossible. So maybe she just switched focus: Take her talent for costumes and sewing and invest in that, make a business out of her costumes and enjoy proximity to the ice and occasional forays in her skates - just for the love of it. Put the money she made toward her own apartment, and do her utmost to create the world, the life, she had always yearned for herself.

Or…London.

She couldn't believe he had even asked her - as if it was even an option for her. He was the med student with the bright future… Without skating, she was just Kat. Kat, who got her diploma with a hope, far in the back of her mind where impossible, intangible dreams lived, of going to college. She had no degree; no real skills. She sewed; and she tutored home-schooled kids in math; she babysat; and she waited tables; she worked in housekeeping; and she did dog-walking. She baked; and cooked meals-on-wheels for elderly neighbours. She was paid well to dance at some of the clubs in wintertime to get kids dancing - to get them thirsty and buying overpriced drinks at the bar. She prepped time-shared houses for the ski season, cleaning them, airing them out and filling the refrigerator.

Whatever she had to do, to carry herself - to create an emergency "squirrel fund" to cover Carol when she inevitably got fired or quit in the haze of one of her manic episodes. To pay the mortgage on the house - to keep a roof over Serena's head, even if Kat no longer lived under it with her. Kat could've had her own place several times over not for Carol coming off her meds and spiralling into one of her episodes, forcing Kat to cover her finances while they got Carol back on her feet, dosed up and gainfully employed, no-one any the wiser that Carol was an unfit mother. Anything to keep Serena safe. To keep her at home, with her family, doing what she loved.

Kat jumped as someone's phone started vibrating on Dave's desk where it was charging, the screen illuminating violently. Squinting, groaning as she sat up, hissing at the cold as the comforter slid away, Kat reached for her phone - if it was Jenn drunk-dialling her for a ride from the club, she was out of luck. It wasn't Jenn.

She checked the time on Dave's alarm as she accepted the call. Half-past two in the morning?

"Serena, what are you doing up?"

Serena's voice came through crackly and breathless, as if she was moving, and slightly slurred. "Mom told me I have to do thirty laps around the block every night if I want to make it to Worlds."

Shit. She clamped her phone between her ear and shoulder, turning on the lamp and reaching for her clothes. "Where are you?"

"I'm on Oak," Serena panted. "I just managed to cut across the park to call you - she's following me in the car, Kat."

"Serena, run home, now," Kat told her sternly. "Did Mom refill her meds or did she just stop taking them when they ran out?"

"I think there's a bottle in the bathroom," Serena panted.

"You think? You're supposed to be checking she's taking them," Kat frowned.

"She hasn't been like this in ages, we've had a really good time."

"Oh, well, I'm so glad for you," Kat said sardonically, rolling her eyes, anger swelling inside her chest. Of course, Kat was Public Enemy Number One; she refused to coddle her mother or excuse Carol's lack of commitment to staying healthy for her daughters. They constantly clashed - but Serena had always been a mommy's girl, Carol's champion, her favourite - because Kat had done her job, and protected Serena from the worst of Carol's disorder, so they could have that kind of relationship, that bond that Carol had forfeited with Kat a very long time ago.

"Would you just come?" Serena panted.

"I'm at the college, you'll have to distract her until I can get there," Kat warned her. "You're getting too old not to deal with this yourself, Serena." When she was sixteen, Kat was skating all day, doing whatever she could to earn some cash in the evenings, ensuring Carol took her lithium, cooking for Serena and preparing snacks and meals for the next day, helping eleven-year-old Serena with her home-schooling, as well as doing her own, cleaning the house, learning to drive and keeping it from everyone when Kat returned from summer training camp to find Carol having one of her worst episodes since Reggie had left. They'd had to invent an elderly uncle to explain away Carol's notable absence - people had never known she was gone not for two weeks, tidying up her dying uncle's affairs, but two months, voluntarily signing herself into a psychiatric hospital without a single thought of the repercussions for her underage daughters: Kat had kept her and Serena safe from do-gooders who would drop them in 'care' and never think of the lasting damage they had done by interfering. Kat had spent two months walking a tightrope, living in absolute terror of discovery - and loving the independence from Carol. She had kept Carol's secret: She had kept Serena safe.

Of course, Kat was such a good sister that Serena knew none of that - so Kat couldn't really blame her sister for being a spoiled brat reliant on her to clean up the messes Carol made…except, she could. She had left home knowing Serena would face a steep learning-curve when it came to Carol's disorder. Kat had had to take a step back, to actively distance herself from her mother.

But when Carol's disorder directly threatened Serena's safety?

"I didn't think she'd get like this."

"She always gets like this," Kat muttered, scanning the dark dorm-room for her tights. She'd driven over to the college in her skating costume and coat; her clothes were in her go-bag in the trunk of her car. She grabbed her costume from the floor and started tugging it on, stuffing her thong and bra into the pockets of her coat. "If you couldn't be bothered to check she was taking her meds, why did you wait 'til now to say anything?"

"Like you'd care if I had told you," Serena wheezed.

"Fuck off, Serena," Kat swore, zipping up her coat and grabbing her purse. "Just - get Mom back to the house. And keep her keys away from her."

Carol wasn't particularly violent when she was having an episode - beyond the few, memorable slaps she had delivered Kat over the years - she was erratic and more aggressive, verbally abusive, unheeding of consequences, and joyous because of it; Carol felt like herself when she wasn't swimming through the lithium, and for a split-second, she would think she was fine, she was amazing, she could handle anything…until she couldn't. Carol's disorder was like a triple flip - like a Triple Axel…it was dizzying, awing, and you could never predict how much damage not sticking the landing would cause.

The trick was catching Carol before she fell - even better, before she attempted the jump. Learning her tells. Kat was fluent in Carol's physical tells; she knew the warning signs. After eighteen months without Kat at home, she had assumed - incorrectly - that Serena had started to pick up on them too: Perhaps she had, and just ignored them. For a raging bitch everywhere else in her life, Serena was…timid when it came to Carol's bipolar: She lacked Kat's experience, her resilience. Easier to capitulate to Carol rather than trigger something messy only Serena would remember to suffer the emotional backlash from. How often had Kat wished she could just ride out Carol's mania, because the damage of confronting her was so devastating, and harder on her than on Carol?

"What's going on?" a soft, male voice asked; she paused at the door, tucking her phone into her purse. Dave. He looked so cute, rumpled and sleepy, and their conversation earlier played through her head. London. His fellowship; her freedom… He'd asked her to really consider it, consider her answer. Consider moving thousands of miles away, so they could live

And then Serena had called.

Kat knew her answer. She had known it as Dave was asking her, No!

Things had gotten heavier between them because…well, she'd had nowhere to sleep that week and his comforter was really warm; she hadn't minded the sex if it meant she could sleep on a comfortable mattress and not someone's too-short sofa or her car. She hadn't minded things going to a new level; because he was a kind, generous guy who didn't push for more than she was prepared to give, even the emotional stuff. He never pressed the issue…never pushed back. He was perfectly nice.

He deserved better than someone half-assed about their relationship.

So did she. Not that she thought he was; it just wasn't…what she wanted - or perhaps what she needed. He wasn't what she needed.

She needed shock therapy, to even be considering giving up life in London with her doctor boyfriend so she could stay in Idaho and look after her spoiled bitch of a sister and their bipolar mother who would never appreciate it.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, she approached the bed, sinking down onto the edge of the mattress as Dave struggled to sit up, blinking slowly and cringing away from the lamp. She sighed softly, memorising his features.

"I have to go," she said softly. "Family emergency."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I mean, it will be, I just have to take care of some things," Kat sighed. He didn't know the particulars, but maybe he'd guessed things weren't as picture-perfect as blonde, beautiful Carol Baker and her two pretty figure-skater daughters seemed to be; he'd seen the bruises where she had bitten into her arm for release. She'd started biting that fall, when she was sixteen, hiding everything from everyone, letting Serena take it out on her that Carol was gone for weeks at a time and her dad had disappointed her yet again by not showing through the summer to take her camping while Kat had been away at camp having an amazing time.

"You sure you're okay to drive, it's late," Dave murmured, already half-asleep. Kat smiled sadly to herself, realising what she had to do.

"I'm good," she told him; she'd wind the windows down and crank the stereo up all the way back to Hawkley - she always enjoyed that drive. It got her psyched up for a long shift or let her wind down after a long day. And she knew she'd get no sleep tonight. "Look, I won't - I can't… I can't go to London with you."

Dave woke himself a little, frowning at her. "Because of skating?" He knew how much of her life was controlled by her need to skate, her love for skating. How much it meant to her - to fail her test; to quit.

"Because of…Serena," she admitted, her phone-screen illuminating with a more recent selfie of them taken at Serena's favourite café. They'd shared mochas and sticky pecan buns - Kat's were better, though; not as stodgy. And she served hers warm with extra caramel - especially when Mom was at work and couldn't know to scold them for their carb-intake. Half the joy of baking for her sister was because it was illicit. Some people's contraband was cocaine; hers was triple-chocolate muffins.

"She's sixteen," Dave sighed. "She'll be going off to college soon."

"She won't," Kat said grimly, sighing heavily. "Especially not if I don't stick around. I wanna make sure she can keep her options open, you know? My mom… I can't just leave her."

"You're gonna say no to London so you can keep an eye on your sister who you don't live with, and who's nasty to you all the time?" Dave asked dubiously, waking up a little more. It was the closest she had ever heard him close to anger.

"She's that way for a reason," Kat said softly. Serena was a hideous bitch because Kat had walked out - the same thing Reggie had done, years ago. In her mind, Kat was just as bad. Leaving her with Carol, the way Reggie had left them. Only, Kat had protected her all those years; it was the last eighteen months Serena had had to really understand exactly what Kat had protected her from - what Reggie had left them to. She hadn't, before. She was just a kid; but Kat had decided it was time to peel the film from her eyes, to immerse her in their hideous reality - to force Serena to take accountability for things in her own life, even if she couldn't do anything about Carol's choices.

Not the way pit-bull Katarina could. One way or another, she'd get Carol back on her lithium. She always did. Because she didn't put up with Carol's behaviour - she knew what to expect, and after all this time, she'd seen it all; it didn't faze her, didn't scare her the way it used to. She was desensitised - and her tolerance had worn thin years ago. In refusing her lithium, Carol had ceded control, had ceded all parental responsibility, to Kat. There was no going back from that. She had betrayed Kat's trust too many times to ever go back, to ever build the kind of bond Carol had with Serena because Kat had been there to protect it.

"So…what… What happens now?" Dave frowned.

"What happens now is…I go help my sister and get on with things, and you get ready for your amazing life in London," Kat said regretfully. Truthfully, she was a little regretful; London was home to the Globe Theatre and the Royal Opera House, two places she would love to see live performances. It was full of museums and culture and more opportunities she, a girl from a small snowbound Idaho mountain-town, could ever dream of.

It was a fool's dream to think she could ever get away from her family's history of mental illness.

"That's it?!" Dave blurted, sitting up properly, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Even if I left with you, I'd always be here," she said honestly. She leaned forward, and gave him a gentle kiss. "I'm sorry things can't be different." At the door, she paused, glancing over her shoulder. "You're gonna make an amazing doctor, I mean it."

She left the dorm and never looked back.

Kat cranked the stereo up, connected to her most obnoxious pop playlist, and didn't surprise herself by not crying all the way back to town. Some wounds took a little more time to feel than others. And she had other things on her mind: Getting home to clean up another one of Carol's messes.

Her ears ringing from the stereo, she parked behind her mother's car, steam still rising from the front of the car where the engine was cooling, snow whorling lazily around her face, clinging to her eyelashes as she headed to the front-door, her keys in her hand. It was a quarter after three and the windows were all illuminated, music pounding from the living-room. From the outside, the house looked almost perfect - small, but neat and tidy, a little dingy in the winter when the snow was so stark and blinding, but it was home. She had as many good memories about this house as bad: It was just that the horror of the bad memories now outweighed the good ones.

She let herself into the house. Bon Jovi blasted from the stereo, and her mom didn't hear her come in: She had her back to the door, dancing, laughing charismatically as Serena looked up from the armchair, holding her wrist, her eyes sparkling, her smile tremulous. It always hurt to see Carol like this: Free. Kat knew the cost of that delight, of those smiles, her laughter. Kat hung up her coat, glad to have changed into leggings and a sweater before driving back to town. Out of instinct, and muscle-memory, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail: Nothing for Carol to grab on to.

"Mom… Look who's here," Serena said, as she turned the dial on the stereo. Carol spun, and Kat knew immediately that Carol wasn't just having a manic episode; she was also drunk. Anyone who was unfamiliar with Carol's disorder wouldn't notice the difference. But she also noticed the debris littered around the living-room: The coffee-table laden with shot-glasses, crushed lime wedges, makeup and smaller shopping-bags, jewellery still in the packaging, nail-polish bottles and magazines, purses and gym-gear. Cardboard packaging littered the carpet, online deliveries torn open in a fervour. Victoria's Secret, Morphe, Nike and Scechers, ASOS and Glossier, Levi's, Target, Ulta, Nordstrom, Apple

Carol had been on a spree.

Carol gasped, leaping forward to fling herself at Kat and wrap her arms around her, beaming. "My baby's home! Serena, your sister's home! Now we can really party - you know, I taught your sister to drink. Don't let her fool you, Serena; Kat's a naughty little kitty when she wants to be."

Kat caught her sister's eye, then dropped her gaze to Serena's wrist.

"You've been drinking," she said softly to Carol.

"Uh-oh," Carol grinned, cooing mockingly to Serena in an exaggerated whisper, "The Fun Police are back, Serena, ssshh, we're gonna get in trouble!"

"Who were you drinking with, Mom?" she asked sternly. Half the bottle of tequila was gone. Serena shifted uncomfortably, refusing to meet her eye when she said severely, "Serena?" She sighed heavily, shaking her head. "Un-fucking-believable."

"Hey, don't you dare use that language in front of me, I am your mother," Carol stammered, already raising another shot to her lips. "I didn't raise you to have a crotch-mouth."

"I'll take a lecture on my vocabulary from anyone who didn't spend the night getting my sixteen-year-old sister drunk on tequila shots," Kat said sharply, scowling and taking the shot-glass from Carol, placing it down on the coffee-table and reaching to cap the tequila bottle.

"She's gotta learn sometime," Carol slurred, shrugging unconcernedly. "Don't want some asshole kid trying to get her drunk at a party and take advantage."

"Right. What's wrong with your wrist, Serena?" Kat asked her sister sternly. Serena couldn't meet her eye; she mumbled to the carpet. Carol migrated to the kitchen, where she clattered around; it looked like she had started baking and been distracted. A glass bowl of dough was rising on the countertop; junk-food and candy littered the butcher's block, with dim-sum takeout containers.

"I was doing push-ups…I think I sprained it," she admitted: Kat could tell by the glimmer in her eyes that she had helped Carol tidy away a healthy dose of the tequila.

"Was this before or after the tequila?" Kat asked, cupping Serena's chin in her hand so she would be forced to meet her eye. Serena mumbled, "After."

Kat inhaled sharply, shaking her head. She shouldn't be surprised. Carol went to the stereo to turn her favourite Bon Jovi song up louder.

"Go and drink some Gatorade, make yourself some toast…" Kat said, and Serena nodded. One thing at a time, she thought. Remove Serena from the situation, then move on to dealing with Carol: It was Kat's way. Her strategy, tried and true. Serena retreated, relieved, to the kitchen, where she helped herself to the jug of purple Gatorade in the refrigerator. Letting Kat do what Kat did: Fix everything. Kat looked around at the clutter; it looked like a boutique and a shipping depot had collided and had really messy little babies. "What is all this?"

"Gifts! I know you must be devastated about failing your test, honey - I got you some things to cheer you up!" Carol beamed, making Kat grunt with the force of her embrace as she hugged Kat tightly. She released Kat, who kept looking around the living-room as Carol scooped up things, thrusting them at Kat with a delighted, glazed smile. Earrings, satiny tops, expensive black mesh-insert yoga pants, admittedly gorgeous earrings, face-masks, lacy unlined bras Kat preferred if she had to wear any at all, lipsticks, eyelash curlers, dresses, eyeshadow palettes, new jeans, a skirt…

"Where did you buy all this, Mom?" she asked, her heart sinking. There was a reason Kat knew to the cent what was in her bank-account, and her wallet: She'd had to learn through watching Carol's hideous example to watch her money with such scrutiny Ebenezer Scrooge would build a shrine in her honour. Especially after that time Carol had drained her account… She'd never asked how Carol found the money to repay her the next time she was back on her lithium and remembered vaguely what she had done to Kat - enough to remember and be guilt-stricken and horrified that she had stolen over fifteen-hundred dollars from her own daughter.

Carol had zero impulse-control when she was having an episode: Kat had learned to hide the cash and credit-cards when Carol was having an episode, and to squirrel away her own money, and ensure Carol had absolutely no access to any of her finances… Someone had to keep it together, for Serena's sake.

"We went to Boise today for some shopping!" Carol beamed. "I really wish you could've come with us, honey, we had so much fun - we had crab alfredo and bubble waffles stuffed to bursting with ice-cream and candies and mini-cupcakes! And facials."

"Boise?" Kat glanced at Serena, who hovered over the toaster looking very small.

"And online," Carol chirped delightedly, loading Kat's arms with more things. "I got some great stuff! And such great deals, too! You don't like it? It's the wrong colour?" Her face fell as she watched Kat deposit everything on the sofa, neatly folding a very pretty rose-pink satin top with tiny straps and fluttery draped cold-shoulder sleeves, stacking several tubes of shimmer on top so they didn't roll underfoot - the last thing anyone needed was to trip and injure themselves.

"Mom, you can't afford all this," she said gently.

"Oh, it's on my credit-card, honey," Carol beamed, waving her hand carelessly.

Kat's heart sank again. "You're already three grand over your limit on one of your credit-cards, Mom; the other is maxed out."

"Well, I'll just get another," Carol shrugged.

Kat watched her mother carefully. "Do you have work tomorrow?"

"Hm? Oh, sure. I'll call in sick."

Kat sighed heavily. "Yeah, you will. You'll tell them you have the flu and won't be coming in for a few days. Serena, go and get Mom's pills - go take a shower, get an ice-pack for your wrist and go to bed." Serena glanced at her, and nodded, disappearing into the bathroom still holding her refilled glass of Gatorade. Kat turned to her mother, glaring. "I can't believe you got her drunk and then forced her run laps around the neighbourhood at two a.m. Do you know how dangerous that is? She could have been seriously hurt."

"She's fine," Carol sneered, and Kat knew they were in the danger-zone. "She's a lot tougher than you, one little fall and you can't even land a fucking Double Lutz." She was so used to the meanness now, Kat's resilience could endure anything. Serena reappeared, her lips parting at what Carol had said, and her brown eyes were warm and contrite and a little devastated as she handed Kat a small bottle of pills. She uncapped it, counted out Carol's dose, and fixed Carol with the stern look she had learned from other moms.

It should have been the other way around. It should have been Carol lecturing Kat on carelessness of finances, inappropriate behaviour, setting a bad example for her sister…but it wasn't. It was Kat, playing the parent.

"Serena's hurt, Mom. She won't be able to skate for days. So you're gonna take your lithium. I know you didn't mean for her to get hurt," Kat said gently, reasonably. Sternly. Off-kilter, Carol stumbled and bit her lips, blinking quickly at the pills in Kat's hand. She knew her mother's dosage. Carol bit her lip but took the pills. "Take them." Carol put the pills in her mouth. "Swallow." To make sure, Kat gripped her mother's jaw, prising her mouth open to check she wasn't cheeking them.

"Get your hands off me!" Just like that, Carol lashed out; she swatted Kat's hand away viciously, fury glinting in her eyes.

"You're going to bed," Kat said severely. "Do I have to put you in your pyjamas?"

"No! I'm the adult! I'm the mom!" Carol exclaimed. She was rarely coherent when she was having one of her manic episodes, especially when that line had been crossed. It would take the lithium a few hours to kick in; she'd need several days to adjust to it. Her next words were the characteristic nastiness Kat was almost immune to by now: "I could've gone to the Olympics if I hadn't gotten pregnant with you. All I want is for Serena to do what I couldn't! She's not gonna end up like me, stuck with you!"

"I know," Kat said simply. As Serena shrank into her bedroom, shrouded in shadow, Kat guided her mother into her room. Carol started weeping; as soon as it started, it stopped, and she climbed into her pyjamas morosely.

Kat tucked her mother in. "I love you, honey," Carol sighed, as she sank into the mattress, calming down. The lithium didn't work this quickly: Kat had gotten the lithium in her just in time. After soaring to such great heights, the only way she could go now was down - the lithium would cushion the fall.

Kat sighed, and bent over her mother. "I love you, too," she said, kissing her mother's brow.

She loved her mother.

Kat didn't trust her at all.

She closed the door, crossing the hall to Serena's calm purple bedroom, where she was righting the bedding; Kat took a corner and helped neaten out the sheets and comforter, retrieving a cushion from the living-room to raise Serena's on, an icepack wrapped in a dishtowel soothing whatever damage had been done.

"Did Mom use your computer to order things online?"

"No, she used her phone," Serena sighed, nestling into bed, looking sleepy. All-day practice, her first drink and an impromptu pre-dawn training session would do that.

"Damnit," Kat sighed.

"What's wrong?"

"I'll have to comb through all the invoices to figure out what can be returned," she said softly, tucking the comforter over her sister, whose damp hair would look a riot in the morning.

"I think you should keep the stuff she got for you," Serena said sleepily.

"She'll only snatch it back tomorrow," Kat said, from experience. Until the lithium had really kicked in, and Carol had committed to her twice-daily medication routine again, Kat knew Carol was still going to be volatile.

"The moms keep saying your wardrobe is tired," Serena sighed, just a pair of dark warm eyes surrounded by floral sheets, hugging Rufus with her good arm. They kept trading off with him, Kat sneaking him into Serena's bag, Serena passing him to Kat through their intermediary Eddie, whom Kat tutored in math.

"They have too much time on their hands," Kat sniffed.

"At least they're talking about Natalie's fall, now," Serena sighed, her eyes sliding closed.

"They'll be dining out on that for weeks," Kat said hollowly. She vividly recalled the gossips when she returned to the rink for the first time after her fall. None of them had expected she would ever return to the ice - they had all hoped she wouldn't. They were nasty bitches who put Serena to shame: At least Serena had the excuse of youth. She remembered how they'd snickered and whispered about Kat and Justin just sitting and talking yesterday - by the end of the week, Carol would be accusing Kat of filming a porno in the foyer with Justin and half the junior hockey team. That was how Ice Whispers worked: It was like Chinese Whispers, only played by adults, and a hundred times more vicious and damaging.

"They're assholes," Serena sighed.

"Yeah."

"How long will Natalie be off the ice for?" Serena asked, and Kat glanced at her sister, remembering Dasha Federova earlier.

"I don't know; I heard she quit. I don't know if she quit pairs or quit skating, but… I guess Justin's down a partner," Kat sighed, turning to stretch out beside Serena, resting her head against the pillow lightly spritzed with lavender for restful sleep.

"Not for long," Serena tittered gently. "He won Nationals last year. Girls'll be clawing each other's eyes out to skate with Justin."

"Yeah…he's a hot commodity," Kat acknowledged. Male skaters were few and far between: Male pair skaters were fought over viciously. Justin would have his pick of skaters.

"He is hot," Serena grinned, her eyes closed, snuggling up against Kat, who was fighting exhaustion. Finally, blessed sleep… Serena's clock said 04:09. Kat groaned. She had to be at work in two hours' time, to help with breakfast-prep and her housekeeping shift.

"That boy is nothing but trouble," she murmured, thinking over what Dasha Federova had suggested; that Kat pair skate with Justin. Her? Start pair-skating at twenty-one - when female pair skaters were notorious for getting the most injuries across the ice-skating community, when pair skating required flips and lifts - the more complicated, the more daring the better.

And with Justin?

She'd watched Justin and Natalie practicing.

Hands ended up where they oughtn't be, and that was Justin being purely professional: They couldn't pair skate without having an intimate knowledge of each other's bodies, not with the flips and lifts. Just the thought of such intimate choreography made Kat a little breathless.

A little snore from Serena roused her from her reverie; she groaned, but dragged herself off the bed. She had to be at work soon: She couldn't leave the house looking like it had been burgled. So she did what she had trained herself to do over years, after many experiences just like and worse than this: She tidied up the mess.

She neatened Carol's hauls on the dining-table, folded up the plastic shopping-bags to reuse, recycled the cardboard boxes, tidied the kitchen, and turned the risen dough into sticky pecan buns while she put on a load of laundry, vacuumed the living-room and went through the receipts and invoices from Carol's spree.

Mentally calculating how much Carol had spent, how much more debt she was in, Kat glanced at the bottle of tequila. She took a tiny swig, capped the bottle and tucked it into the deep pocket of her coat, making sure there were no other bottles lying around the house: Alcohol didn't go well with lithium, and she didn't want to make it easy for Carol to hurt herself.

She should have called in sick; Marcus would be cool about it, Kat never abused her position or his friendship - she was reliable, a team-player who would cover anyone's shift, conscientious and hard-working, charming and polite. She had worked very hard to be seen to be that way, to be a model employee worth a pay-raise and the choice shifts where she earned better tips. But she couldn't. She was saving her money. If she took the morning off today, what happened the next time?

Because there would be a next time.

So, she did what she could: She showered, got herself fixed up and wearing the spare uniform she kept in her car. She folded the laundry, and pulled the sticky buns out of the oven as she dialled Mary-Ann's phone, telling her about the potentially sprained-wrist. She called Dr Parker for an appointment after her shift ended, and then she used her mother's phone to find the contact information for Serena's new coach, Mitch. She told a white lie, saying Serena had fallen while jogging last night; he offered to take Serena to the doctor's office for her appointment.

Kat let him.

And she asked to meet so they could discuss Serena's training.

She didn't like that he swatted her ass with his gloves - it was inappropriate. But she was more concerned that Carol had hurt Serena last night, pushing her so hard to get her above the rest of the competition, she risked Serena getting to the podium at all. Kat remembered those days.

Kat wanted to make sure Mitch would get Serena to the podium in one piece - healthy, and vibrant as Kat knew her sister was, in love with skating.

That no matter what, he had her best interests at heart.

Because Carol couldn't be trusted: And Kat…couldn't be close.

She always found a way, though.

Always.


A.N.: What do you think? Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed. The chapter title was inspired by the Lady Gaga song - I think it fits in a lot of ways!