'Sup, folks? I'm sorry it's taken so long to update. My primary beta reader had a family emergency and I've felt the call for a new T&D fic, so it's been an . . . interesting . . . two weeks. But have the next chapter; it's the last monster huge one, and it puts us at the last quarter of the story.

I was also reminded to ask you to continue to refrain from stabbing my voodoo doll with a sharp object; I swear there's a method to my madness and your questions (and screams of frustration) WILL be answered. Trust me a little longer?

With that said (pleaded), I hope you enjoy this one. Read on!


Strike Slip

October 17, 2012

Karen watched with her usual combination of envy, resentment, and wistfulness as Chris and Jayne came into the meeting room. As ever, they were in perfect step and that didn't waver when Chris pulled out her chair, positioning it exactly two inches to the left to compensate for Jayne's weird habit of canting her hip that way even as she nudged his chair over with her foot so he didn't trip over her when he sat down. It took a great deal more effort than it should have to push her emotions down, making her uncomfortably aware of how not-okay she was about Chris leaving her for the other woman. Despite her musings and wonderings during the July show, she'd genuinely believed that she'd be happy for him and Jayne, but the sight of them together had shattered that illusion.

And seeing how utterly besotted they looked — Jayne was actually glowing, for heaven's sake — had jealousy flaring up hot and thick, something that would have shamed her before the Olympics special. But her bruised ego and aching heart still hadn't really recovered from being so unexpectedly and coldly abandoned by the man she'd wanted her entire life, and she had started to wonder during the special if she genuinely had a chance of winning him back. One would have thought seeing how happy he and Jayne were would have cooled that desire, but as Jayne had noted, Karen Barber did not give up. Also, given that Jayne was still married, she and Chris weren't together, at least not in the strictest sense of the word, which meant that Karen still had a reasonable chance of reminding him that she loved him more completely than Jayne did.

Throughout the producers' meeting, she found her attention straying more and more to the pair, feeling bitterness rise as she observed their silent communication, subtle but still so obvious if you looked. It just wasn't fair. Jayne had every single part of Chris, including his heart — his romantic, sexual heart — but she refused to lay claim to it and yet wouldn't grant him the freedom to give that part of himself wholly and completely to anyone else.

She managed to forget his sixteen-year marriage to Jill Trenary and the two sons they had, as well as the fact that Jayne had never interfered in — had not, in fact, said so much as a word about — their relationship in the nineteen months she'd had Chris.

And she still hadn't figured out the best way — hell, she hadn't found any way — to get him to understand that Jayne was being utterly selfish by keeping him to herself while denying him the things a man needed.

She also failed to notice the contradiction in her own thoughts and observations.

"And that wraps our end up. Are there any questions or new business, as it were?"

The head producer's voice startled her and Karen had to work to keep from jumping as she turned her attention back to the room; she'd missed most of what was being said due to her wandering thoughts, but this meeting had been the same for the last six years, so it was unlikely anything major had changed. And if it had, she'd find out soon enough.

The sound of Chris clearing his throat caught her by surprise and she turned to give him a quizzical look, one that deepened when he bit his lip on seeing he had the room's attention before turning to look at his partner, who was blushing. There were several seconds of silence while they waited for him to speak, and everyone but Karen — and Robin, she noted with narrowed eyes — was visibly surprised when Jayne was the one who broke the silence.

"I, um, I have . . . well, Phil and I—" she began, clearly not wanting to say whatever it was. But Karen wasn't stupid and her stomach dropped through the floor. No. No, this couldn't be happening. Jayne couldn't be making her move now that it had finally been long enough for Chris to realize he genuinely missed Karen, that he loved her and wanted to be with her.

Jayne missed Karen's desperate plea, shattering her hope and yet shoring up her resolve in one fell swoop with her next words.

"Phil and I are officially divorced and he is no longer associated with the show," Jayne said quietly, meeting the main exec's gaze and refusing to look anywhere else . . . but her left hand flexed for Chris' and he was there instantly, rubbing his thumb tenderly across her wrist and visibly calming her. "So if he comes here — or any of the tour venues — he is to be refused entry," she finished. Her voice was still soft but a trace of steel had threaded itself through her words and everyone in the room winced, just a little. For Jayne to be one saying this visibly surprised them all, although the same couldn't be said for Chris' firm nod and the uncompromising look he turned on the room at large, stopping on one particular woman. When his partner swallowed hard, he squeezed her hand but didn't look away from the producer who liked to give Jayne a hard time, his eyes narrowed in a silent challenge.

And a threat.

Katie Rawcliffe cleared her throat, shattering the tension between the two and pulling everyone's focus back to her.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said with quiet compassion, giving Jayne an understanding smile. "I'll make sure Security knows and . . ."

She trailed off delicately, clearly waiting for something that eluded Karen, but Jayne nodded. "We'll let the skaters know in our meeting later today," she replied, her voice remarkably even, considering her overall demeanor. But her use of the plural didn't escape Karen's notice and she involuntarily clenched her fists when Chris also nodded, his free hand coming to rest on her shoulder as she subtly leaned in his direction. Their obvious intimacy was infuriating, especially since no one batted an eyelash at it — though to be fair, it was clear that everyone else was shocked stupid by this news, so they likely wouldn't have noticed an elephant tap dancing its way through the room at that moment.

But it was the last straw for Karen and she gritted her teeth, making up her mind that she was going to win Chris back, no matter what. Jayne didn't deserve him.

As the meeting ended and people began drifting away, she hung back, watching closely as Chris and Jayne stayed seated, their body language plainly indicating that they didn't want to be disturbed and had no intention of providing more details about the bombshell Jayne had just dropped. Thanks in no small part to Katie and Robin Cousins, they got their wish and the room emptied quickly. Neither of them spoke, but they were so clearly communicating that Karen was nearly drowned by a resurgent wave of envy at the pair's bond. Once everyone but the three of them were gone, Chris helped Jayne stand up, grabbed both of their bags, and started to the door with her, still without either of them saying a word out loud.

Apparently, they hadn't noticed Karen's presence, something that irritated and relieved her in equal measure, and she fell in several steps behind them, becoming bitterly aware that Chris really didn't have the slightest idea she was there and watching their body language and silent communication closely . . . only to nearly trip over her own feet in total, disbelieving shock when Jayne stopped in front of Nicholas du Lac, who was lounging near the entrance to the training rink in the otherwise-empty hall.

She let go of Chris and stepped into the other man's embrace, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. He held her just as tightly, nuzzling her hair before giving Chris a look that Karen couldn't read, but when he nodded in reply, their dance instructor sighed and dropped his head, pulling Jayne even closer but saying nothing, not even when she finally stepped back. He gave her a tender smile, skimming his fingers down her cheek, and Karen actually bit her tongue to stifle her stunned gasp when he bent down and brushed a kiss over her lips. She had to stuff her hand in her mouth when Jayne returned his kiss, her hands squeezing his upper arms and her body melting into his.

Dumbfounded, Karen could only stand there, teeth sunk into her forefinger as her entire worldview spun around on its axis.

Jayne? And Nick?

But . . . but Chris . . . and Jayne . . . and Chris . . .

But Jayne — with NICK?!

While she was still trying to process that, Jayne drew back from the dark-haired man, gave him a soft smile, and started walking again, taking Chris' hand as he fell into step at her side, with Nick pacing at her shoulder. Open-mouthed now, Karen gawped as Jayne made her way to the training rink, sandwiched between the two men and all of them acting like it was the most natural thing on earth.

Given that Chris bristled at anyone else — or, rather, any man — getting within three yards of his partner, especially when he was there, his easy acceptance was mind-blowing.

But as they disappeared through the door, Karen finally began to surface from her shock and work through the ramifications of this new information.

So . . . Jayne was dating the studio's resident Adonis. Something that Chris was obviously aware of — and, by all appearances, okay with. Which meant that his romantic feelings for Jayne weren't that strong . . . or he'd made a move and been turned down. Either way, he was free and Karen's chances were a lot better than she'd feared.

But he was still too infatuated with Jayne; that had to be the first thing to change. He needed to see that she didn't care about him as much as he did her . . . and the boyfriend was the obvious way to go about it. So now she needed to watch Nick with Jayne to figure out the best way to force Chris to see the truth.

As she shook herself out of her reverie and followed the three of them into the rink, she experienced a spark of hope that faded before it formed when Chris glanced behind him, saw her, and gave her a genuine smile, one that said he was glad to see her . . . and that was it. He turned back to Jayne even as Karen smiled back, his eyes finding his partner so quickly that resentment surged up once more and she felt no guilt whatsoever at telling the first woman she saw the news about Jayne and Nick. It wasn't like that would stay quiet, not in this environment, but she wanted to take control away from the other woman and blindside her by hearing the news from someone she had yet to share it with.

Even as she began plotting anew, trying to work through these new circumstances, Karen remained blithely unaware she was chasing an illusion, something Chris had realized that night on tour and was a major reason he'd ended their relationship . . . though even if she had known, she would have still pursued her goal.

But when it was all said and done, her refusal to accept reality would ultimately destroy her ambitions . . . and shatter her dreams.


October 30, 2012

As Chris set her back on the ice, Jayne felt a smile break across her face. They'd been working on this move for about an hour and had finally gotten it down. Satisfaction rose up hard and fast because now that they had the transition move perfected, the rest would come easily. In fact, Chris had already gotten most of the last minute mapped out. He gave her a laugh filled with triumph and delight, sweeping her up in a hug and twirling her around, both of them basking in the joy of creating, of dancing, for nothing but the sheer love of it. When he finally put her down, Jayne's stomach rumbled and a thought flashed across her mind, too quickly to catch, but something she felt she should remember.

Then she caught sight of Chris' watch and saw what time it was.

"Oh, no!" she gasped, horrified.

"What?!" Chris demanded, wide-eyed with surprise at her outburst.

"I was supposed to meet Nick two hours ago," she moaned, burying her face in her hands. She couldn't believe she'd forgotten they were celebrating their one-month anniversary tonight; it was a few days after the actual date, but they were both off tomorrow, so it didn't matter how late they were out. Hence, tonight, with all the stops pulled out: dinner reservations, dancing, and then stargazing and . . . whatever else took their fancy.

And she had completely forgotten.

"God, Jayne, I'm sorry," Chris whispered, sounding stricken, which made Jayne look up, puzzled.

"Why? You aren't the one who forgot," she replied, her voice full of recrimination even as she squeezed his hand to reassure him and tilted her head until she found his eyes.

"And I'm the one who's been sitting here, ogling you both, for the last hour and a half," came a familiar voice from the stands, making them both spin around in shock.

Nick was leaning back in his seat, dead in the center of the row, dressed casually in jeans and a jumper, grinning at them.

"What—?" Chris started to say, only to shake his head as he clearly decided against asking, and Nick's grin widened.

"When you didn't meet me or text me, I figured you'd just lost track of time," he told Jayne, his grin softening into an understanding smile. "So I came down to see."

There was a beat of silence at this before Jayne rallied enough from her surprise to answer.

"You came . . . to see," she repeated slowly, eyebrows drawing together as she processed that. Nick nodded.

"Yeah," he replied. "I knew you were starting a new routine this week but you couldn't work on it yesterday because of that meeting, so it didn't take a genius to figure you started today. And I hate to tell you, but I'd rather watch you two practice any day of the week. The routines are beautiful when you get 'em done, but seeing you designing them is just . . . please tell me you record it," he begged, eyes wide with hope.

He got nothing but stunned silence in return, because neither Chris nor Jayne had the wit to answer him. Since 1981, no one but Betty Callaway had been accepting of their tendency to lose track of time when they were just starting to work on a new dance and learn what the music wanted. For thirty years, 'You've been practicing for six hours now, you need to stop' had been common, as had 'how much practice do you really need?', and the ever-popular 'it's only one step; how hard can it be?' had featured far too prominently in their lives.

And yes, they'd heard all of these tropes multiple times over the years, in every possible variant, from friends, rivals, lovers, family . . . everyone, really, except Betty.

So not hearing it now was . . . well, to be frank, it was mind-boggling. Especially from a romantic partner.

"I . . ." Jayne began, only to trail off and give Nick a bewildered look.

"Really?" he asked in obvious surprise, only to blink and take a closer look at the pair of them when he still got no response.

"Oh. Really?"

Now his voice was full of what sounded like sympathetic understanding but couldn't be, which made Jayne swallow. The anger would come any second now and she—

"Well, that just sucks," he announced, startling the partners once more. "But then, people can be really stupid sometimes."

Wait.

What?

"What?" Chris demanded, sounding as stunned as she felt, and they both stared yet again at Nick.

"People are stupid," he obligingly repeated, leaning forward as he spoke, his voice full of intensity now. "Any artist will tell you that when you get in a groove, a rhythm, you don't stop — you can't stop — until you've taken it as far as you can go."

Yet another disbelieving silence filled the rink before Jayne finally spoke, her voice hoarse.

"Yeah," she murmured, licking her lips. She badly wanted to ask what this meant for them, but at the same time, she didn't. And if she eventually chose to do so, it wouldn't be in front of Chris; that wouldn't be fair to him. But right now, it was time to go, though she really didn't want to, because there was so much more for them to do. But that wouldn't be fair to Nick, especially given how patient he'd already been. "Umm . . . I'm sorry, I just — give me a minute to change," she said to him, only to be shocked into silence yet again.

"Are you guys done?" her boyfriend asked, his voice firm and his eyes demanding the truth.

"Uh . . . we . . ." her partner stuttered, beyond shell-shocked now, and Jayne took his hand, needing that connection as badly as he did, because the entire situation felt surreal and neither of them really trusted it.

"It's an easy question," Nick insisted, sounding surprisingly gentle now. "Are you done?"

There was another minute of silence and then Chris shook his head. Even now, with all the tension they were being flooded with, the music was still calling them, demanding to be shaped and molded into the magic that was theirs alone.

"No," he answered, sounding both guilty and defiant as he shifted just a little in front of Jayne to shield her. If Nick noticed this, he gave no sign.

In fact, to their ever-deepening shock, he smiled.

"Then have at it!" he said, waving his arms grandiosely and looking more than a little ridiculous in the process. "And if you want, I can grab food."

Jayne, who had finally let herself take this at face value because she simply couldn't do anything else, shook her head and answered before she could think about it.

"No, that's okay. We have a place we always go after we're d—"

She stopped abruptly, horrified at what she'd just told her boyfriend, and threw Chris a panicked look that had him edging even further in front of her. Phil hated it when she and Chris did that, going out after successfully finishing a routine, and though it hadn't stopped them, she hadn't realized until now how negatively it had affected her . . . even as anger began to grow at the reminder.

"Jayne."

Nick's voice startled her and she almost jumped, feeling Chris' hand tighten on her arm to help keep her stable — and also to protect her. Her boyfriend was standing at the edge of the ice now, barely an arm's length away, but his expression was so warm and understanding, she felt like she was in quicksand and being swallowed too quickly to make sense of anything.

"It's fine, cara mia," he told her tenderly, making no attempt to move past Chris but turning his gaze to him to include him in the conversation. "I get it, really. Like I said, I've been watching you guys for the last couple of hours. I could have spoken up, but like hell I was gonna interrupt. Do I look stupid?" he asked, clearly rhetorically, and received only two puzzled, still slightly-wary stares. "And I feel like the luckiest bastard in the world, because I got to see what your work looks like uncut," he added, something that sounded a lot like awe in his voice now. "So you two make magic and eat something horrendously greasy to celebrate and I will call you tomorrow. Okay?"

This last was directed at Jayne, but once again, she and her partner were struck silent and after a few seconds, Nick shook his head, his lips curving in a fond smile.

"I'm gonna go," he told them, his face rueful now. But in his eyes, they could both see understanding . . . and a hint of anger that Jayne missed. Chris didn't — and he didn't misunderstand its cause, because he'd seen that same anger in his own eyes. "Just . . ."

But he trailed off there and said nothing else; he simply blew Jayne a kiss — earning a massive eyeroll from her partner, who had relaxed a fair bit on realizing that Nick was a lot more aware of things than he'd given the man credit for — before making his way to the stands to grab his jacket and head for the exit. He didn't look back, but his body language was calm and easy . . . and she would never know how close he came to hunting Phil down with the express purpose of maiming him for life after what he'd just learned.

The pair watched closely, unable to believe what had just happened, and after they were once again alone, Chris looked at his partner. He wasn't nearly as stunned now, not after seeing that understanding in Nick's eyes. But when he realized that Jayne wasn't coming out of her shock (and what he suspected were unhappy memories), he said, "What the hell just happened?" to jolt her back to the here and now, with him. He knew she wouldn't respond well if she realized that he got it — 'it' being a male thing — so he decided to play the 'shocked' part a little longer and coax her back by asking questions with obvious answers.

"Umm," she replied eloquently, meeting his eyes, hers still filled with bewilderment and a heartbreaking amount of hope.

"Did . . . did we just deal with a mature adult?" Chris almost whispered, biting his lip as he waited for her answer and hoping his tactic was working. Swallowing, she slowly nodded.

"I think so," she replied, her voice hushed. "If . . . if . . ."

She wasn't able to articulate what she meant, but then, she didn't need to. Chris nodded, his expression suddenly taking on a serious cast.

"Well, he's never lied to us," he observed slowly, to which Jayne nodded again. "So . . ."

"So," she repeated, taking his other hand. "Let's trust him and get back to work. If . . . if we're wrong—"

"—then we'll deal with it," Chris filled in before he hugged her, Jayne murmuring her agreement into his neck as she hugged him back. It went unspoken that if they were wrong and Nick wasn't who they thought he was, Chris would do him grievous bodily harm. They both knew Jayne wouldn't stop him this time; she simply could not go through that again, and frankly, neither could Chris. Though after what had just happened, they were a lot less worried about it than they would have been otherwise.

It was several minutes before he was able to tear himself away, heading for the sound system to restart the song while she skated a loose, mindless circuit of the rink. Neither of them said another word about Nick or what had happened, but it took three tries before they could submerge themselves in the music and their choreography.

And once they did, nothing in the world existed but Chris, Jayne, and their joy of creating.

When they had coaxed everything they could out of their dance and could go no further, they got ready to head out. Once she'd changed, Jayne took a deep breath and checked her phone with a trepidation that flared into disbelief so quickly, she actually collapsed in a chair while staring blankly at the screen.

"What is it?" Chris asked in concern as he jogged to her side.

Wordlessly, she held up her mobile, where Nick had texted a picture of himself, Robin, Jason, and several of their skaters in a bar, clearly having a good time. Or at least good alcohol.

The message read Evans just killed it in karaoke. Very Scary. Ears may never receover. And did U know Cousins is a freaking pool shark?!

That was it. No demands to know where she was and why she wasn't home yet, or a snide command to call him. There wasn't a spiteful 'are you done yet?' or 'how long can two minutes take?'.

There was nothing but him sending a perfectly normal message, like they'd both done a hundred times.

Her fingers shaking and her heart pounding, Jayne answered him because she had to know how he would respond. It took a few seconds to decide what she wanted to say before she simply texted Careful. He's a card shark too .

Almost thirty seconds later, Nick sent NOW you tell me? Gotta go. Talk 2morrow. Have a good night

That was it. There were still no questions about where she was or what she was doing. He hadn't even been expecting an answer, it seemed, because his original message had been sent almost an hour ago and he'd only sent the one . . . so she would know where he was and that he was not remotely bothered about rearranging his evening.

He actually, honestly seemed to trust her.

At yet another example of how different he was from Phil, Jayne bit her lip and just stared at his last text until the words blurred, stunned that something as simple as an exchange of text messages could affect her so profoundly. A gentle hand coming to rest on her shoulder jarred her back to the present and she glanced up, watching as Chris read the message thread, looking as astonished as she felt.

"My God, Jayne," her partner breathed, sounding awed. "You've found a man who actually gets it."

She could only nod in slightly-dazed agreement with that (they both completely missed the tinge of jealousy hiding under the approval), leaning into him with the familiarity and security borne of a lifetime of trust. And for the first time, she really allowed herself to think that this thing with Nick had the potential to go somewhere. He wasn't mad that she had a life outside of him. He wasn't upset that sometimes, she got sidetracked and had something other than him on her mind. And he hadn't asked her to choose. To her eternal shock, he genuinely seemed to understand her and Chris, and at this moment, that might be the sweetest thought she'd ever had.

As she and her partner headed out, joking about the extremely unhealthy food they'd been looking forward to all day, she was struck by another understanding: her fear of his — no, not Nick. Her fear of Phil's anger might still linger, but she also remembered her own anger at the thought, as well as Chris' defiance. And she knew with a bone-deep certainty that if Nick had tried to force her to choose, she would have ended things right then.

Never again would she be forced or guilted into choosing anyone over Chris. He would always come first for her.

Always.


November 5, 2012

Tristan du Lac had to exert considerable effort not to gawk as he followed the young woman down the hall, taking everything in (ohmyGod, that was Robin Cousins!) while trying to ignore (though still inwardly amused by) the startled looks he was getting from the people he passed; the resemblance between himself and his brother was very strong, to the point they could be twins, apart from Nick's half-inch height advantage and Tristan's grey eyes. He was also trying to ignore — or, well, at least downplay — the knowledge that at some point today, he would get to meet Christopher Dean and Jayne Torvill. He wanted to do a little dance of exultation right then, but managed to restrain himself.

Barely, but he managed. Though he made no promises when he met Torvill and Dean.

Jayne Torvill. Who his older brother was dating and yeah, he still couldn't wrap his head around that. Neither he nor Nick — or their cousin Adrian, actually — dated much, so the fact that Nick had not only broken that pattern but done so with one of the most famous sports figures on the planet was . . . a lot of things, really. Amazing, for sure. But it was also concerning, because his brother lacked the self-preservation to keep a little of himself in reserve. He didn't fall in love often, but when he did, it was all the way. And since he had yet to fall for a woman who wanted him instead of his looks, money, or connections, each time he hit the ground, it was devastating.

So yeah, Tristan was happy for Nick, sure, but he wanted to see things for himself. It had been more than a month now since they'd started dating and this was the first time he'd been able to get off work long enough to visit his brother. And, given that the entire world knew how close Jayne was to her partner, his concern had risen hard and fast, drowning out his happiness for Nick.

Miracle of miracles, his flight had arrived on time (which, to be honest, neither of them had expected), so they were still rehearsing when he got to the studio. But that was awesome; like his brother, Tristan had a profound appreciation for watching the raw, unfiltered process slowly transform into the polished final product, though his interests leaned toward painting and martial arts rather than dancing, and this was likely the only chance he'd ever have to see this kind of phenomenal talent in its element. Nick saw him come in but gave him nothing more than a nod of greeting . . . which, given he was currently holding a woman a few inches off the ground at what looked like a very awkward angle, was understandable. Tristan nodded back, settled himself in the most out-of-the-way seat he could find, and just watched — alright, gawked.

It was incredible. Never in his entire life had he seen two people who were so in sync with each other, so in tune. He would not have been surprised in the slightest if they'd both been blindfolded and still moved with perfect synchronicity across the ice, never missing a step. It was truly a thing of beauty and he knew he was unbelievably lucky to have gotten to see them work like this, experimenting and playing as they let the music show them what it wanted — and he wasn't even watching them build a routine for themselves. This was them working on moves for the celebs.

Seeing them design their own dances must be like seeing the Sistine Chapel come to life under Michelangelo's fingers. Yes, he was waxing rhapsodic. Yes, it was a little nauseating and a lot over the top. No, he didn't care. He was the in the presence of greatness . . . and was suddenly incredibly jealous of his brother, who got to see their artistry build, from the first step to the final flourish, and turn into the magic that was theirs and theirs alone, even as he was delighted for the same reason.

But as beautiful as the pair was when they moved together, as mesmerizing, it was also alarming to Nick's baby brother. Because to his sorrow, he found that his worry was well-founded as he watched Nick and Jayne interact. They behaved circumspectly, which he'd expected . . . but Jayne showed no such restraint with her partner. They touched each other so often and so freely, it made Tristan blink more than a few times in sheer surprise at their complete lack of boundaries. And when they weren't touching, they watched each other. Even on opposite sides of the rink and talking to or working with someone else, Jayne and Chris were so aware of each other, it was tangible.

It was also unreal, seeing the legends up close and personal. Their chemistry was electrifying and watching them skate together was . . . well, to tell the truth, it was humbling. Especially when they worked with someone else and the difference was clear as day. Utterly professional, completely competent . . . and stilted, compared to the way they moved with each other. The contrast was staggering.

And Nick, when he wasn't working with one of the celebrities, just sat back and watched, an easy smile on his lips and utter appreciation in his eyes. There wasn't so much as a hint of jealousy, anger, or even concern. The only thing Tristan saw, in fact, was pride and a disturbing level of adoration, given the closeness between his girlfriend and a man who wasn't him and she wasn't related to.

Another graceful spin into an equally graceful lift caught his eye and he returned his full attention to the ice, smiling despite himself as he watched them bask in the joy of skating together and the more subtle enjoyment of trying to show the others how to find that joy for themselves.

Despite his awe, seeing this only heightened Tristan's fears and he firmed his resolve to talk some sense into his brother, because anyone with eyes could see this wasn't going to end well.

Nick suddenly caught his gaze and grinned, raising his eyebrows suggestively, and Tristan grinned back, hiding his uneasy feelings. He would definitely speak to Nick.

After he'd met the best ice dancing couple the world had ever seen.

Nick gestured him to come over as Jayne skated across to him, her partner at her shoulder, and Tristan almost stumbled as he got to his feet, the sudden reality that he was about to meet Jayne Torvill and Christopher Dean in person blowing his mind.

Literally. There were sparks flashing behind his eyes and he felt a little lightheaded. On seeing his inelegant attempt to get up, Nick rolled his eyes and murmured something to Chris that made him smile and shake his head. Well, there were no prizes for guessing what the brat had said, so Tristan sucked it up. He was fangirling, after all; it wasn't like he didn't have it coming. He made a supreme effort to keep his excitement under control and managed to walk over to them without tripping. And when he shook their hands and introduced himself, he didn't stutter.

He was proud of himself for this achievement, because it was an annoyingly near thing.

To his immense surprise, Chris had a very dry sense of humor, as evidenced by what he said after names and handshakes had been exchanged.

"That's freaky," he observed to Nick, gesturing to Tristan and making both brothers sigh. Here it came: 'are you sure you aren't twins?'

"What?" Nick asked, resigned, giving Jayne a droll look when she snickered.

"You two are wearing the same watch."

There was a beat of startled silence at that before Tristan burst out laughing, the other three following suit. This dry — and true — remark broke the remaining ice (no pun intended) and the four of them had a relaxed, easy, witty conversation. It didn't last long, as Chris and Jayne had a meeting, but it was a great deal of fun. And very informative. Jayne didn't speak much, but when she did, it was generally an ego-puncturing remark to either her partner or her boyfriend . . . only to then promptly turn around and defend them to the other, which always resulted in Nick and Chris exchanging commiserating looks — and then getting whacked in the arm by the woman they both clearly adored. Chris loved a good joke and was also insatiably curious; on hearing that Tristan was a professional bodyguard, he tried his level best to get the complete history of the business in three minutes, to his partner's fond amusement and Nick's obvious surprise.

Other than answering those questions, Tristan also said little, preferring to observe, and seeing the dynamics between the three of them was fascinating. Chris and Jayne, Jayne and Nick, Nick and Chris . . . and Chris, Jayne, and Nick. The entire time they were talking, Tristan saw not a single ounce of friction. From anyone. No one showed any hint of jealousy and there was no . . . no . . . well, 'possessiveness' was the best word the younger du Lac could think of.

In fact, all three of them seemed perfectly fine with the familiarity between everyone. And that startled him, because the world at large knew how close Chris and Jayne were, so for him to be so easy about Jayne's relationship with Nick was . . . not what Tristan was expecting. Particularly when he kept catching these quick glances between the skating pair . . . looks that he didn't think were intentional. It was just a way they communicated. But the intimacy between them was yet another sign that things couldn't be as tranquil as they appeared on the surface, which deepened his concern.

Still, as the pair said goodbye and headed off, he easily understood why his brother liked Chris so much . . . and why he had fallen so hard for Jayne. Hell, Tristan was half in love with her now himself.

He turned to Nick, intending to ask where the best place for greasy pub food was, only to see him watching her with a fond smile — no, not fond. His brother was positively besotted. His concern spiked again on seeing it, but he hesitated for a few seconds before deciding that there had to be an empty room somewhere in this building where they could talk. This conversation wasn't one he wanted to have in public. And given how long it had been since they'd seen each other, it was unlikely they'd be sober by the time they called it a night. So, yeah, it was better to get it over with.

But where? He didn't want to utter that dreaded sentence 'we have to talk', but they did . . . and he had no knowledge of the studio.

When Nick left to go change, he took the chance to watch the remaining people and had a stroke of inspiration, so when he came back, Tristan asked as casually as he could if he could see The Training Room. He was actually curious about it, because Nick had waxed nostalgic about it on more than one occasion. Something about the perfect size and amazing acoustics . . . if pressed, Tristan would admit he zoned out after about a minute; he loved his brother and his enthusiasm for dance and music, but the technical details bored him stupid. Also, it was a training room. Not the Sistine Chapel.

But it was a little out of the way and empty, which was what he needed. And it was a nice room, he admitted, though the mirrors along one wall creeped him out, despite his own martial arts training. It was unnerving, constantly seeing yourself out of the corner of your eye, so he firmly turned his back to that wall and met his brother's defiant gaze.

Nick clearly knew what was coming, so Tristan didn't bother to mince words. And he didn't need to waste time with any lead-up, because his brother knew full-well what he'd seen.

"How can it not bother you?" he asked with genuine confusion, because he wasn't angry at all. He just didn't understand how any man could be so complacent about his woman being that . . . close . . . with a man who wasn't him, although he didn't think Jayne was leading Nick on.

Well, not intentionally.

And his brother was so easygoing, he blinked in shock and took a step back when Nick actually growled in irritation, his hands clenching so hard the knuckles went white.

"Why the hell would it?!" he shot back, pushing away from the door and starting to pace.

Well, actually, he was stalking, but it was in a very neat, very precise circle, so . . . pacing.

Tristan swallowed at this second unusual display of temper but decided to press on anyway. He was simply too curious, and having seen for himself just how close his brother's girlfriend was with her partner, he was freely acknowledging his concern. Nick adored Jayne, which was not something that happened a lot, and his brother didn't want to crush that if he didn't have to. But Nick and Jayne — and Chris — also had an equally good professional relationship, and Tristan, quite simply, did not want to see his brother get hurt or lose a friendship he cherished so much because he was too infatuated to see the obvious.

"Well, given that—" he began.

"No!" Nick snapped, giving him a hard look that made Tristan swallow again. "I never thought I'd say this about my own brother, but you're acting as stupid as their exes. How is it that none of you are able to grasp the fact that for fifteen years — from the time they were FIFTEEN YEARS OLD — they were basically the only person in each other's lives? Yes, they had parents — who all worked different, hard, and sometimes brutal jobs. So while they supported Chris and Jayne, they couldn't be and weren't all that involved in their skating. Or anything that went with it, especially once they got past the need to be transported to and from the rink. And neither of them had siblings."

This made Tristan pull up short, because that was, quite honestly, something he'd never once thought about. Oblivious to his slightly stunned acknowledgement of this, Nick barreled on; he'd clearly been holding in his anger at the constant insinuations for much too long, and Tristan grimaced (internally; he wasn't a complete idiot, current circumstances to the contrary) when he realized that he'd inadvertently set it off by jumping the gun in having this discussion, and was about to get unloaded on.

He really needed to start thinking before he opened his mouth.

"On top of that," Nick raved, resuming his frustrated pacing, "they were competing in a sport that requires complete and total trust. And clearly, I understand that; God knows you lot never shut up about Mariana."

Tristan winced at that as well; none of them had realized just how irritating the constant (and not really subtle) intimations had been for the pair, so they'd collectively been shocked speechless when Nick, who was the easygoing half of the couple, finally snapped one day and leveled a small mining town up the road in the process of unleashing his frustration with their idiocy and explaining the way the world worked, at least according to Mariana and Nick.

The First Thing on that list was 'Our business, NOT YOURS.'

It had also been the last thing on the list.

When they mutually decided to stop competing after almost four years, no one had been stupid enough to say anything about breaking up . . . well, actually, no one said a word at all. The pair stayed in touch, though their closeness naturally dissipated, made worse when the du Lac family moved to Spain for a few years. But when she died in a car wreck at twenty-eight, Nick had been crushed and disappeared for a solid day after the funeral to deal with his grief.

Still, the parallels were obvious and Tristan grimaced again. Due to his own stupidity, he had this lecture coming, but it was going to just massively suck.

"So, they became best friends by proximity and by circumstance and, you know, they like each other. And they have a lot in common, Tris," Nick continued, still oblivious to his sibling's thoughts. "And from that and through trial and time and . . . necessity . . . they formed a deep and abiding trust that laid the foundation for them to become the absolute best, something the world will never see again. God will never make another pair as great as Chris and Jayne."

No, He wouldn't, Tristan silently agreed. Something as amazing as Jayne Torvill and Christopher Dean was a once-in-forever treasure.

"So why on earth would I be jealous of that?" Nick asked rhetorically, still pacing but slower now and not nearly as angry. "Why would anyone want to take away from that?"

Also a good point.

"And of course it follows that they know each other quite literally inside-out," his brother continued passionately. "They have to, which is also why I don't give a damn how touchy-feely they are. In a partnership where she has to knowthat he'll catch her no matter what and he has to trust that she'll be exactly where he needs her to be, they can't have any inhibitions about touching each other. They just can't. Mariana and I never got to that point because we weren't together long enough, and I doubt that we would have anyway, but I still know exactly where and why and how they got so comfortable with each other. So why would that bother me?" he snapped, agitated again because his brother was just the latest in a disgustingly long line of people who couldn't see past the nose on their face when it came to Torvill and Dean.

"On top of those fifteen years where they pretty much only had each other," he added, throwing Tristan a speaking glare that made him swallow again. "They were together almost another decade after they formed outside relationships and got married — and they've been doing DOI for the last seven, eight years. So y—I mean, even if you ignore the fact that they actually do like each other a lot, hence 'best friends for life', why on earth would anyone ask them to stop doing the very things that made them the most successful ice dance pair in the history of the world?" Nick demanded, throwing his hands up and pivoting to give his brother a bewildered look.

Yeah, that was an extremely good question, Tristan thought with another mental wince. And so very logical when it was laid out in words of one syllable. He really hated it when he was stupider than God intended him to be.

"But that's exactly what everyone has done, even their friends," Nick said, sadness filling his voice now. "They think that since Jayne and Chris give everything to each other on the ice, it shouldn't be a problem giving it to someone else off the ice . . . them, in the case of apparently every romantic partner they've both had. They see the partnership, the unconditional love and trust, and think it doesn't bother them when they're 'just friends' with Jayne or Chris."

Sadness had been replaced by sarcasm, which dripped off every word of that last sentence, and Tristan swallowed hard. Damn; Nick was absolutely furious about this. Well, at least he was getting the brunt of it; he had a much better chance of surviving mostly-unscathed than the average bystander.

"But once they start dating, it's like every person expects them to — I dunno, transfer, all that love and trust and emotional connection because apparently, when sex gets involved, it trumps everything," Nick continued, his voice dark with frustration. "It was okay for them to constantly touch each other and watch each other while they were only friends with whoever, but once friends become lovers, it's like . . . well, no, they are telling Chris and Jayne 'you have to pay attention to me, not her. You're supposed to touch me, not him. You can't be so close now that you're with me'."

Tristan blinked when Nick paused to take a few deep breaths, because for a second, it looked like steam was actually coming out of his brother's ears. He blinked again and the illusion vanished . . . but not the impression. Nick was shockingly passionate about this. Which, really, wasn't surprising in the least now that he was thinking instead of reacting. And had seen for himself the friendship the three of them shared.

Well. He was a bit stupid, wasn't he?

Oblivious to this minor epiphany, Nick carried on.

"Nobody seems to understand why that can't happen . . . and even if it could, not one of them is willing to work for it. They honestly think 'we're together now, so you have to give that to me instead of them' and completely ignore — well, reality. And then they get upset and blame Jayne and Chris when reality bites them in the ass."

As Tristan had teeth marks on his arse from that very assumption, he could only nod.

"Well, again, why would I want that?" his brother asked almost plaintively. "I know damn good and well that Jayne will never trust me the way she does Chris, and we'll never know each other that completely. It's not possible, no matter what I say or do. So I can destroy her feelings for me by being jealous and resentful of what might as well be a law of physics. Or I can embrace reality and understand that she'll give me what she can — and wants to — with the knowledge that I am not Christopher Dean. But here's the kicker, see?" he said, leaning against the wall now and looking a lot more at ease than Tristan would have expected. "Neither of us wants me to be Chris. I'm perfectly happy being Nick du Lac and so is she. She chose me, after all."

There was a hint of pride in his voice that Tristan well understood, though it did not completely alleviate his worry.

"Now, having said that, I'm not going to be a doormat," Nick continued seriously. "If I never get to take her out because she's always got something with him, then we'll talk about it. I mean, there's no point in dating if you don't actually get to, you know, date, and it hasn't been a problem yet. Well, other than the aerial ballet; it's the first three-way date I've ever been on," he added as an aside, sounding fondly reminiscing now and rousing his brother's curiosity . . . not enough to ask, mind. But it did help explain Nick's ease with Chris.

Perhaps more importantly, it told him a lot about Chris' acceptance of Nick.

Once more unaware of this new understanding, Nick turned serious once again, meeting and holding his sibling's eyes with an unusual gravity.

"But I'm going to be second in her priorities most of the time, whether she means to or not," he said baldy, looking and sounding utterly accepting of this. "And I'm okay with that, because I get it. Chris has been the cornerstone of her life for longer than I've been alive, and he is a huge part of the reason she is who she is . . . and who she is, well, that's the woman I want. So yes, I'm going to encourage their relationship and be secure in the knowledge that what she has with me is what she wants to have with me. Because I know Jayne will never ask for more than I'm willing to give, so why would I do otherwise for her?"

All of which were excellent points, Tristan freely admitted.

But.

He still had one major concern.

"But how can you be okay with never being first for her, Nick?" he asked sincerely but without malice, steadily holding his brother's gaze.

Nick hesitated for a minute before shrugging and slumping down into his own chair.

"I don't know that I will be, in the long run," he replied with the blunt honesty that took everyone aback until they got to know him. "Right now, it doesn't bother me in the slightest. Will that change? It's — I . . . well, God only knows, and since none of us can predict the future, all I can do is wait and see. I refuse to get paranoid about it and see landmines hiding around every corner; what's the point in being together if I do? But if — you know, if it does become an issue, then we'll talk about it. And if that doesn't resolve things, then we're mature, reasonable adults. If we can't come to a compromise, then . . . well, then we'll know the relationship has run its course. I'm not going to stay with her if I'm not happy or getting what I need, and I can guarantee she won't," he finished in a voice ringing with the surety of knowledge.

This was more reassuring than it probably should have been, but Tristan knew his brother spoke the literal truth. Even when they were kids, Nick had never been one to stay where he perceived he wasn't wanted (to the extreme frustration of the girls who tried to win him by playing hard to get; those had been some entertaining times, the younger brother had to admit).

"Okay," he said with a nod. "Then I'm thrilled for you, Big Brother."

Nick blinked a few times, clearly expecting more of an argument, before slowly nodding.

"Thanks," he murmured, looking away as a faint blush came to his cheeks.

Tristan hesitated for just a few seconds before deciding to say one more thing. It was understood at this point, but he was man enough to see that it really did need to be said out loud.

"You're welcome," he replied sincerely. "And . . . I'm sorry."

That got him a sharp look of surprise, though Nick didn't actually speak; he merely waited with the patience of a man who knew there was more.

"I was worried about you, but I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions," he confessed with a little shame, though he managed to hold his brother's eyes. "And I promise it won't happen again."

Gratitude warmed that vivid blue gaze and Nick nodded again. "I know," he said. "And I appreciate it. All of it."

Nothing more needed to be said, so the brothers packed up and headed out, having a sudden desire to start a pool tournament. And maybe play some darts as well; it had been entirely too long since Nick had trounced his little brother at the game and he was in the mood.

Neither of them knew that their conversation had been overheard . . . and once again, neither eavesdropper reacted the way they should have to this new and unexpected knowledge.

But truthfully, even if they had, it wouldn't have changed a thing.