It is here! The answer to who, what, when, where, why, and how (because I'm thorough that way, dontcha know?). Once more, a huge, HUGE acknowledgement needs to go out to lawand_disorder and mscangel2 for their stellar beta work. This story would not be nearly as good without their editing, encouragement, and, yes, the occasional cries of 'are you crazy?! No, don't do that!'.

So thank you, guys. You are appreciated beyond measure.

And — well, that's it, really. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this.

And please review to tell me your thoughts; I love hearing from you guys!


Fault Line

November 16, 2012

When Daniel Whiston cornered him ten days after his brother's visit, it was all Nick could do to hold back a frustrated scream. Chris and Jayne had accepted the notes of apology the men had given them, but forgiveness (from Chris) was another matter altogether and there was only so much Jayne could do. So despite everyone's extreme professionalism, things between Chris and Dan and Matt were still a lot on the icy side (pun definitely intended), but the two of them were so genuinely remorseful that a thaw was finally beginning to manifest. Still, 'beginning' was the operative word there, which meant the pros were reluctant to approach Chris unless it was absolutely necessary — and for them, 'absolute' had acquired a whole new meaning.

So had 'necessary'.

Even though she didn't hold any kind of grudge (and since neither of them was actually stupid), they also left Jayne the hell alone . . . to the point they could cut themselves with a skate and would bleed to death before asking her for a plaster, something that amused and yet saddened Nick (and Robin, who had made it clear that in this, he was Switzerland, and so was off-limits for any kind of intervention) to no end. Jason was . . . well, Jason, not to mention the fact that he hadn't been there. And they wouldn't have asked Karen even before they saw her behavior during the Olympics special.

Which left Nick as their best bet when they needed something from Chris. Or Jayne.

And yeah, he understood, dammit, so most of the time, he was willing to at least consider it, but not today. He was tired and irritable despite just finishing his session with Jayne and Chris, because the producers had waited until flipping 4:30 to ask all of the coaches and trainers for a meeting at six and since none of them could just stop what they were doing, that meant no one had the chance to eat, because there was no getting anywhere that fast at this time of day, delivery service or not. So now everyone was ticked off, hungry, borderline exhausted, and getting tetchier by the second.

And that was on top of the agitation Tristan had unknowingly stirred up. Nick had meant every word he said to his brother, and that hadn't changed, but the questions and concerns his sibling had so recklessly, albeit well-meaningly, raised had still lodged in the back of his mind. They weren't causing him any doubts, but they also would not go away, and he found himself ruminating over them a hell of a lot more often than he would have imagined — or wanted to admit.

So between his personal irritation and his professional annoyance, he wasn't remotely in the mood to deal with 'can you ask?' from one or both of the pair of pros.

Which was why he completely missed the new level of respect in Dan's eyes (and also why he never grasped the reason Karen decided to change tactics when it came to him; she refused to understand his point about expecting Chris and Jayne's relationship to change when they became romantically involved with someone else, but it was still glaringly obvious that her plan of using Chris against him wasn't going to work).

He did manage to keep himself from screaming, but couldn't do a damn thing about the aggravated sigh, so it startled him when Dan only nodded and then took a step closer, coming just shy of actually standing on top of him.

"Uh . . . what's going on?" Nick asked warily as he tried to ease away, a little creeped out by this odd behavior.

Dan bit his upper lip and cast a furtive look around him before leaning even closer and almost whispering his words.

"Um . . . I accidentally overheard you and your brother talking that one day," he began, eyes wide and earnest. Nick blinked in response, unable to figure out why Whiston was acting like it was a state secret.

"Okay . . ." he said slowly, hoping it would prod the man into talking, and grateful that it worked.

"Well, so, um, so did Karen," Dan continued, and Nick went still.

Oh, bloody hell. That wasn't good. It wasn't the end of the world or anything, but she had proven in spades that she still wanted Chris and thought she had a chance of getting him back. Which, fine, they all could have dealt with — and were, in Jayne and Chris' case.

Nick, however, had found himself the subject — or maybe 'target' was a better word, because she was there every time he turned around now, and she wasn't trying to be remotely subtle about it — of what could easily be termed 'stalking' by the woman, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why. Karen genuinely believed that if she could somehow find or manufacture 'proof' that Jayne and Nick were in love and well on their way to 'happily ever after' (which they weren't anywhere near close to), then Chris would miraculously stop loving Jayne and run straight into Karen's arms.

One of the great criminal masterminds of the world, she wasn't.

Nick wasn't thrilled about hearing this, but it could be worse . . . though why Whiston felt the need to tell him, he still didn't understand. Nor could he figure out why the man was being so secretive.

Thankfully, his questions were answered without the need for any prompting.

"Well, I happened to overhear her yesterday, muttering something about catching you and . . . well, you and Jayne having s—um, well, in a—a—"

Blushing furiously, he stopped there, but he didn't need to continue. Nick bit back a groan and massaged his forehead, trying in vain to keep his looming headache at bay. Really? Could there be a more childish plan? And why was he surprised? But at least he knew; forewarned was forearmed and all that. Which meant that neither he nor Whiston needed to continue this extremely awkward conversation. So it was with great relief on both sides when he nodded and said, "Gotcha. Thanks for the head's up," and without even a return nod, the other man actually bolted down the hall.

Good grief. Nick loved his job, he did, but sometimes it was like wandering around a live-action episode of Coronation Street.

Oh.

Oh, hey.

Now, that was an idea, wicked and a little mean though it was. Planning ahead did have its benefits, after all. And if Jayne agreed . . . they might just be able to turn this back on Karen and stop her in her tracks, something that would be an enormous relief to all of them. Whiston hadn't been able to bring himself to say it (something that would make him laugh much later, that a grown man working in both the figure skating AND reality TV industries was unable to say the word 'sex' out loud), but it was fairly obvious that he believed Karen was hoping to walk in on Nick and Jayne shagging: it would both humiliate Jayne and let Karen take 'proof' of his partner's . . . well, in her mind, it was unfaithfulness to Chris, with the obvious conclusion being that he would be so upset at this (or jealous or hurt or whatever), he would fall into Karen's arms and they'd get back together.

That this would never happen was obvious to everyone but her, something that was fast becoming an irritant to the world at large.

But if he and Jayne knew she was coming . . .

So long as Karen believed she hadn't succeeded in her intentions, it would stop her cold, at least for a little while. She lacked the ability to improvise, something that, again, the entire studio knew, so if her plan didn't achieve the desired results, she would be utterly stymied and have no choice but to pause and regroup.

It had a lot of potential, but — ugh. Convincing Jayne was going to be difficult, even as aggravated as she was getting at her friend's antics (Former friend? Frenemy? No one was quite sure what was going on there). Especially since his idea wasn't just wicked (and yes, mean); it was also going to push them toward a new level of intimacy that he wasn't at all sure she'd be okay with . . . and he wasn't ready to go there himself.

Frankly, this plan didn't fill him with joy, either, but while he didn't know Karen very well, there had been several occasions where she had amply demonstrated her flat refusal to give up. Or maybe it was that she simply refused to see things as they really were. Either way, she wasn't going to stop on her own — and that wasn't taking into account her lack of the concept of middle ground.

Trying to talk to her would also be useless; he'd seen that too many times as well. And if she had become desperate enough to try this, barging in on Jayne in an intimate act with the ultimate goal of destroying her relationship with Chris despite knowing what that would do to him — or even worse, because of it, then . . .

No. No, he had no qualms about what he had observed would be the best way to shut her down, though for everyone's sake, he really wished otherwise.

This did not mean that Jayne would see his point, never mind agree with it. For the third time since he'd met her, Nick wasn't looking forward to talking with her.

That had been yesterday. Because, despite everyone's best intentions, that damned meeting had lasted more than two hours and when they stumbled out of the room, none of them could see straight from both boredom and utter exhaustion. Walking upright was a challenge; having any kind of serious conversation was out of the question. Hell, they were so punch-drunk from the aforementioned bored exhaustion that none of them was safe to drive. And that was a literal statement: not a single one of them drove themselves home. There were so many taxis in the parking lot that it looked like Departures at Heathrow (and it was actually worse the next morning, to everyone's renewed frustration).

Since he and Jayne now lived in opposite directions from the studio, they'd only been able to exchange a quick kiss before she and Chris had slipped into one cab while he took his own and they headed to their respective homes. And though they'd all been at the studio since the crack of dawn this morning, even though the show itself wasn't due to start until January, this wasn't a short day. It was non-stop work for hours.

The seasoned pros had long ago realized that as a rule, the celebs did better if they were introduced to both the punishing schedule and the feel of a live show well before it actually happened. Also, it was good for conditioning . . . and, quite frankly, one final test for the official cast. Making it to the show and the reality (ha!) of the show were two very, very different things and for more than a few of the celebs, it was quite the shock. Which was the main reason Nick was there on a Saturday, in addition to the other 'non-essential' trainers; they would all work weekends until the show started, and then it would depend on the needs of the surviving skaters.

The end result of all of this was that nobody (other than Jayne and Chris, who would make time to hug in the middle of the Apocalypse) had had time for anything more personal than a nod of greeting until well after lunch, which most of them ate on the run. So it was only now, at nearly four in the afternoon, that Nick had the chance to give Jayne a 'hello' kiss, much less actually talk to her, which he still wasn't looking forward to. Naturally, there was a knock on her dressing room door as he opened his mouth to do just that because of course. Growling with sheer frustration, Nick yanked it open, a blistering diatribe on his tongue, only to pull up short and blink in surprise when Dan Whiston met his eyes.

"I think she's coming," the young man told him, looking unusually grim . . . and when had he become the town crier?

No, seriously. Why was he—

Oh.

Oh!

Oooh.

He still hadn't had a chance to say a word to Jayne, but it looked like they were out of time. Particularly since it hadn't been thirty minutes since they'd left the training rink, where Karen had been with them for the last three hours. Well. She didn't waste time, did she? Her assumption that the first thing he and Jayne would do was have sex was a little insulting, despite their habit of hitting her dressing room after a long rehearsal; apparently, Nick gave amazing foot rubs, if Jayne's appreciative moans were anything to go by.

. . . ah.

Okay, Karen's assumption made more sense now. And wasn't quite as insulting. Still, even if he and Jayne were at that stage, they would never (well, probably never) have sex at the studio . . . though on second thought, that assumption said a lot about Karen's relationship with Chris.

Dammit. He did not want to let her get away with this. Yes, he could do nothing, stay away, and let it be one more slightly-awkward conversation between the two women — but he just flat-out didn't want to. He was tired of the sugarcoated little jabs and hateful, snotty, not-quite-under-her-breath comments directed at Jayne — and by implication, Chris — and he wasn't remotely appreciative of her insinuations about him, though he would freely admit it was because he couldn't stand the woman, not because he gave a damn about her opinion.

Even so, that only fed his desire to get Karen to leave him the hell alone, because he hadn't done a single thing to her. He hadn't even said anything obnoxious, either to her or about her . . . though, again, that was mostly because he knew Jayne wouldn't like it. But that restraint meant he was now willing to do something so alien to his personality that Tristan's jaw would be on the floor from shock (though he would appreciate the Machiavellian nature of it).

So . . . leave it alone or try to convince Jayne in less than five minutes with a — okay, it couldn't even be called a plan. It was a thought, backed by an admittedly malicious desire to knock the mouthy woman down a peg. Or a ten-story building. He wasn't picky.

What he was, however, was inventive. And . . . well . . . you know what, he could improvise. He was doing it even while he argued with himself, teasing the idea he'd had yesterday into something a little more coherent. Yeah, why not? The worst Jayne could do was kill him when he asked her to help.

Okay. Decision made. Unto the breach it was.

"Thanks," he said hastily, giving no external sign of the war he'd just waged with himself, stepping back and shutting the door in Whiston's face without feeling any guilt at being so abrupt. He did pause when he met Jayne's wide, startled eyes, but only for a second. They didn't have time to waste.

"You up for screwing with Karen's head?" he asked — well, demanded, to be honest — bluntly, giving her a look that said he was utterly serious.

She blinked.

"Now?" she asked even as he nodded. "Why?" she added, sounding torn between 'oh, hell, yes' and 'bloody hell, why me?'.

He sympathized.

But they really didn't have time. Unless he missed his guess, he was actually hearing her footsteps rounding the corner (there was a really odd echo right there, so every sound was amplified despite the distance, and her steps had a distinctive pattern), which meant they had, at most, four minutes.

"Do you trust me?" he asked her point-blank, stunned by the relief that flooded him when she nodded instantly. "I'll explain after, I swear," he promised, pulling her to him and tugging at her shirt. Shock flared in her eyes and she grabbed his hands to stop him, a scowl on her lips. Internally, he cringed, sure he was about to get a sharp knee to the groin. He had to start remembering to use his words before he did things.

"What do you th—" she snapped, outrage coloring every word, only to stop mid-word as comprehension washed over her face, nearly causing his knees to buckle with relief.

"Seriously?" was her next irate question. "That's her plan?"

"Apparently," Nick replied, so grateful for both her understanding and her indignation that he'd cry from it if they had the time.

She snorted rather sardonically at this, though it was tinged with something he was pretty sure was sadness, and then he watched as, for the second time since she'd chosen to embark on a romantic relationship with him (the first being to choose to embark on a romantic relationship with him), she threw caution to the wind and decided to let herself indulge in a bit of revenge.

Nick's reasoning wasn't complicated, after all, and she knew Karen a hell of a lot better than he did, so she knew his idea would actually work. And since it would give them all a reprieve from the constant bitchiness, she gave in to her darker impulses.

Just this once.

Quickly, she started to undress herself, though she left her knickers and t-shirt on, since they weren't anywhere near this point in real life. He did the same, keeping his underwear, but just as he started to pull her to the bed, she had a thought and leaned precariously over his arm to snatch a pair of knickers from a drawer, very deliberately tossing them on top of her bra. The right impression needed to be created, after all.

"You evil woman!" he gasped in utter appreciation, earning himself a wicked laugh before she tumbled them to the bed, yanking at the sheet until it was artistically covering them while giving a tantalizing glimpse of their upper bodies (after a beat of complete shock at seeing this ability, he decided he did not want to know why or how. Ever.).

Then he shifted, his hand brushing the side of her breast, and they both froze, looking at anything but each other, as the reality of what they were doing slammed into them like a lorry.

After an incredibly tense few seconds, Jayne tilted her head until she found Nick's eyes. She stared into that intense blue gaze for three heartbeats, seeing more than a little frustrated anger and resentment, though on whose behalf, she couldn't quite say . . . other than for her and Chris, that is.

But there was also a great deal of trust and understanding. When she saw it, she knew if she changed her mind, he'd disappear to the bathroom in a heartbeat and let her handle Karen however she saw fit. And she almost did, came so close to stopping this that the words were on her tongue and he was moving to get up . . . until she heard someone say Karen's name, only to be totally ignored while her footsteps got louder and faster as they approached the door. And she made not a single attempt at all to ask if Jayne was there or even let her know someone was coming.

That selfish, deliberate rudeness was the final straw and she committed herself fully to this, sliding a little further down before wriggling free of her shirt, and Nick went still, kneeling above her and not once looking away from her eyes.

"Thank you," he whispered, awed yet again by her trust.

"You're welcome. Now make her believe it," she whispered back before tangling her fingers in his hair and bringing his mouth to hers, losing herself for a moment in the sensation of kissing him. There wasn't any passion, which was only to be expected under the circumstances, but their collective irritation with both Karen and her behavior gave their actions an edge and a feeling of authenticity that couldn't have happened otherwise.

They had only just gotten into a mostly-comfortable position, his hand high on her thigh (and how was it still strange that it wasn't Chris?), which was curved around his hip, and were kissing around slow, gentle movements when the door banged open and a woman's loud, genuinely shocked gasp echoed through the room. Jayne groaned and pulled away, craning her neck to look behind Nick and making no attempt to disguise what it looked like they were doing.

"Oh, for — what do you want, Karen?" she demanded, somehow sounding bored — should he be offended? — but also so unsurprised that he had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.

"Uh . . . I — you—" Karen stuttered, and that was more than he could take. She didn't even have a believable excuse prepared? Seriously? Oh, now that was downright insulting. Or, more likely, she really had been expecting them to be utterly mortified and so worried about her seeing them that they wouldn't wonder why she was there.

He took great pleasure in crushing that fantasy.

"Is the building on fire?" he snapped, twisting around and making damn sure that Karen couldn't mistake what she saw . . . though he was very, very careful to protect Jayne's modesty. From everyone.

"No . . ." came the dazed reply, and he huffed.

"Then what do you want?" he asked again, grinning internally when Jayne shifted against him and then moaned softly into his neck. Karen clearly heard her, because her face went tomato-red, only for all the blood to promptly drain away, leaving her looking remarkably like a fish: mouth open, eyes bulging, nostrils flaring, and sucking in short, heaving breaths.

"I—I don't—" she tried, absolutely gobsmacked, and Jayne heaved a sigh. Pulling back from Nick but leaving one arm around his neck, she sat half-up and gave the other woman a disgusted look.

"Whatever it is was so important that you barged in here without even bothering to knock, but you can't remember?" she said, her voice so thick with sarcasm that Nick could no longer keep the surprise off his face. Clearly, he'd underestimated how much the other woman's childish behavior was affecting her.

Guilty silence was Karen's only answer and Jayne heaved yet another sigh before sinking back down to the mattress and bringing him with her. "Well, it's clearly not that important," she stated, giving the other woman a second hard look before turning back to Nick. "Lock the door behind you, will you?" she added in a clear dismissal, and smiled slightly at the choked gurgle she got in reply. Nick muffled his own laugh in her throat and they necked for a few minutes, deliberately ignoring their unwanted intruder while trying to make her as uncomfortable as possible.

And yes, it was a little (okay, a lot) cruel, but Karen had been badmouthing Jayne — and not just to Chris — picking at her, and generally trying to commit character assassination for weeks, and Jayne was beyond sick of it. As was Chris. And Nick. And Robin. And Katie. And Brianne. And Dan and Matt. Actually, pretty much everyone in her immediate circle (both personal and professional) was tired of it. But even with all of that, if the woman hadn't been so ridiculously obvious about her intentions, Jayne would never have agreed to this in a million years.

The fact that it took a good two minutes before she finally left did not help her case. And she didn't lock the door.

On realizing this, they both rolled their eyes before Nick took a deep breath and started to ease himself up and away from Jayne — only for her to catch his bicep and hold him still. "Wait," she breathed in his ear before moving around to make noise while once again moaning into his shoulder. He blinked at her hair in confusion but obeyed, groaning in genuine pain when she pinched him, her eyes narrowed in both annoyance and a warning, one that took him entirely too long to understand. And then he was beyond thankful that Jayne did know Karen, because he timed it and the woman didn't walk away for three fucking minutes.

Wow. What a bitch. Even he hadn't expected that, and she was a person who would deliberately walk in on people having sex.

But it was finally safe to end the charade, so he carefully shifted off the bed, studiously keeping his eyes on the wall while pulling his workout shorts on. As he went to lock the door, Jayne sighed and sat up, the bedclothes rustling around her. He stayed where he was, unable to look at her yet. He was beyond confused at this, because he badly wanted to look, to admire the beauty he'd spent four years trying not to notice . . . and yet, he didn't. Something about it felt . . . well, it just felt wrong. And it wasn't the first time he'd felt this way.

Although he had to wonder how much of it was the fact that he felt no guilt about what they'd just done. He was desperately hoping that was all it was . . . but a glance at the clock told him speculation was all he was going to get, at least for today, and the relief nearly flattened him, because he seriously wasn't up for talking about this now. He was done for the day (in every sense of the word), but Chris and Jayne still had another two or three hours to go, and he had no place in what they were doing, which gave him an unexpected but welcome reprieve.

Of course, it also gave him a completely expected and very unwelcome bucket of guilt, which really wasn't fair. But it was what it was and he needed to muster the courage to look at Jayne. Taking a deep breath, he tried to think of something, anything, to say that might break this tense, awkward atmosphere.

"I think I should feel guilty."

Startled, he pivoted to face his girlfriend, eyes wide with shock at her words. He absently noted that she'd pulled a shirt back on and was both relieved and disappointed that it wasn't his.

"I don't," she continued, sounding remarkably matter-of-fact. "But I feel like I should."

"Yeah," he rasped, the word almost inaudible. "Me, too."

There was another long moment of uneasy silence, finally broken when Jayne stood up and crossed the room, burrowing into his arms. The feel of her, warm and soft against his bare chest, made him shiver.

He just didn't quite know why.

"I know," she whispered into his shoulder. "Her timing could not be worse, damn her. Can we — can we talk tomorrow?"

The sudden hesitancy in her voice made him want to hurt something — someone — even though he'd been thinking the exact same thing. But she'd come so far, shaken off so much of Phil's influence, that hearing her sound so uncertain infuriated him. He made a monumental effort to control it, though, because she would take it badly in her current state and he wasn't having that, so he nodded, his chin rubbing her hair.

"Of course," he replied, forcing himself to sound normal. "Call me when you're done and I'll . . . come . . . pick you up?"

He trailed off into a question at the end, suddenly feeling presumptuous and hating it. God, he hated it. He hadn't felt this awkward around Jayne since a week or so after they'd met, and he'd been such a dorky fangirl then, he hadn't just blotted the incident from his mind; he refused to remember the entire week. Jayne, bless her, once again pretended not to notice.

"Sure," she agreed, giving him one last squeeze before stepping back and catching his chin with gentle fingers. "It'll be okay, Nick. I promise."

He badly wanted to believe her, so he nodded, took a deep breath for courage, and bent down to kiss her, soft and tender. And then she let him walk away, a shiver of trepidation running down his spine as he left, because something had irrevocably changed between him and Jayne. Something fundamental.

But he couldn't begin to tell if that change was for better or worse.

And he didn't have a clue what to do with that.