There's nothing like getting back from vacation to a new chapter of beta-read fic, ready for posting (thanks, lawand_disorder and mscangel2!)

So have the next-to-last chapter. Ack! This is the one from the end, guys! Seismic is almost done . . . but I do have another one ready to post once I finish this behemoth. Until then, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and as always, let me know what you think! I love hearing from you!


Harmonic Tremor

November 20, 2012

In the end, they hadn't talked. By unspoken (and wishful) agreement, they let themselves believe that the awkwardness and the tension were the result of Karen's little stunt (to their satisfaction, their idea had worked and they got nearly two full weeks of quiet, subdued Karen . . . who, interestingly, had not told Chris what had happened. It was ridiculous how relived Nick was about that, something that amused Jayne to no end. But then, she wasn't the one her partner would bludgeon with a dull ice skate for daring to touch her), and their relationship limped along . . . for another four days.

But that Tuesday, after a silent dinner where they actually ate instead of talking — including dessert — Jayne steered them to her home instead of finding something to do, because she was finally allowing herself to admit that the lack of heat, of passion, between her and Nick was quite concerning, especially after this much time.

And their intimacy was . . . odd. She couldn't say it was sibling-like, because that really wasn't it, but there wasn't anything — well, it wasn't anything like lovers should be, either. She trusted him with a lot, and he'd been a Godsend during her divorce, but she still hadn't shared anything that was beneath the surface, as it were. Of course, neither had he, so they were on equal footing there . . . but after nearly two months of dating (not to mention the four years they'd known each other), they both knew they should be further along than that in matters of trust and the development of their relationship.

And in this, Jayne wasn't willing to belabor the point. If she was wrong and there was something in her romantic relationship with Nick that could be salvaged, then this would break whatever was holding them back. And if she was right . . .

So she led him into her flat without a word of explanation, though he didn't need one. And then, after a long, still, silent moment where they simply watched each other, Nick pulled her into his arms and kissed her the way a man who wanted her and was falling in love should: deep, hungrily, his tongue slipping into her mouth while his hands roamed her back and shoulders restlessly, seeking to learn how she felt against him, like a lover. Jayne responded in kind and for an endless loop of time, they simply kissed each other, almost desperately seeking some kind of spark, any hint of true passion.

But finally, they were forced to acknowledge the truth and Jayne stepped back, unable to meet his eyes and taking a deep breath to say . . . something . . . to break the silence before it suffocated them both.

"Well."

Nick beat her to the punch. But that was all he said, and they stood there in silence yet again, one that was heavy with knowledge.

But it was also surprisingly free of tension, though not of regret.

"Yeah," Jayne finally whispered, crossing her arms over her chest. This hurt, knowing they were breaking up, because it was going to change things and she didn't want it to, even though it was the only option. She liked the way things were between the three of them.

Umm.

The two of them. She liked how easy things were between her and Nick.

"Hey, no, it's okay," he murmured as he came to her and caught her wrists, pulling her arms down so he could hug her. "It's okay. It happens. We just aren't . . . lovers isn't in the cards for us."

Tears sprang to her eyes at his gentle words and their tender truth and she buried her face in his shoulder, letting them fall because with this man, tears weren't a sign of weakness. He let her cry as he held her, his embrace unexpectedly comforting, and when the tears tapered off after a few minutes, she drew back and met his eyes, seeing again the adoration in that brilliant blue gaze but finally letting herself acknowledge the lack of passion. And she was . . . she was surprisingly okay with that, because she didn't feel it either.

But she refused to lose him over this, and he had a weird sense of honor that could easily compel him to stay away to 'spare her feelings'. Well, she wasn't having that . . . especially because she could see that he didn't want to leave her. He would, if he thought it would make her happy, but he didn't want to, which was all she needed to know. And Jayne Torvill was quiet, certainly, and could almost be described as unobtrusive. But she had a will of solid iron and what she wanted, she got.

"We're still friends, Nick," she informed him, feeling a faint spike of amusement when his eyebrows shot up and he blinked owlishly at her.

"Uh—" he began, looking uncertain, but she wasn't about to let him recover and then talk her into a corner, something he was irritatingly skilled at doing — which was why, in the last two months, she'd eaten food that on her own, she would never in a million years put on the same table she was at, much less in her mouth . . . and not just the one time (this was a feat Chris was secretly envious of, because trying new foods was one of the few things he couldn't easily talk her into).

"No, we are," she insisted, refusing to let him look away. "All we have to do is be friends. We didn't stop, did we, just because we were dating?"

There was another long minute of silence while he thought that over, and she relaxed the second she saw him accept her logic and reasoning. They were going to be okay.

"No," he agreed, offering her a small smile. "No, we didn't. So . . ."

He trailed off, giving her another uncertain look, but she couldn't begin to fathom what he was asking, so she merely raised her chin and one eyebrow at him and waited in an expectant silence. He snorted softly with amusement at this, because it was her favorite method of getting him to talk when he didn't want to, and it worked every single time.

"So do I still get to kidnap you on Tuesdays and drag you out on skateboarding excursions and to new restaurants with weird food you have to try at least three bites of?" he asked in a rush, blushing a little as he said it, and her heart melted. He was such a sweetheart and the woman he finally fell in love with was going to be incredibly lucky.

And the answer to his question was 'oh, hell, yes!' because she had come to cherish those crazy, unpredictable dates with him — even the weird foods. He was always willing to do anything she wanted, but he was also firm in pushing her boundaries and asking her to try new things. In that, he was very different from Chris, who knew her so well, he didn't generally need to have her try it; he knew just from doing it himself what her reaction was going to be. Although, now that she'd been introduced to the advantages and perks of spontaneity, she decided to start doing it with her partner. If nothing else, watching him attempt to master a skateboard was going to be hilarious.

"Oh, you'd better, young man!" she said sternly, and he burst out laughing. Neither of them had thought twice about their age difference, though Jayne had taken a startling amount of enjoyment in shutting up the bitchy pro who had been so hateful about it due to raw jealousy. She'd been trying to get Nick's attention for the better part of two years, to the point of having a 'wardrobe malfunction' one day; when he'd simply given her a bland look and asked Matt to fetch her a towel while heading to his Friday training class — without ever breaking stride — her outraged mortification had amused everyone for days. So him rejecting the twenty-something brunette bombshell for Jayne had not gone over well.

Though after watching them do the Argentine tango down the hall from the training room to the rink — music blaring, eyes locked, touching even more intimately due to the narrow space, and absolutely nothing of the sensual, passionate heat of the moves held back — she had miraculously taken the hint and any further seething was done silently and well-away from Jayne.

(This had been a dare from Robin, who had heard Nick telling one of the celebs that if he knew the dance, he could do it anywhere, regardless of size or available space. But Robin didn't for a minute believe there was enough room in the hall to do any kind of tango halfway properly and so challenged the pair to prove it. To most people's surprise, it was Jayne who accepted first, though Nick didn't hesitate for a second either; she could (and did) ignore challenges from Chris as easily as breathing, at least off the ice, but not so much from Robin. Nick never turned down a challenge, full-stop. And the stakes were karaoke, to be recorded and added to the annual blooper reel that circulated the studio at the wrap party — the private reel, not the one edited for the DVDs. The resultant video of him singing 'You've Lost that Loving Feeling'was unforgettable for all the wrong reasons and Robin was much, much more cautious about challenging Nick and Jayne to a bet.)

There really wasn't anything else to say, but Nick didn't leave; instead, he gave her TV a speculative look and then collapsed artistically on the settee, cueing up Ramin Karimloo's Phantom of the Opera before holding out his hand and silently asking her to cuddle with him. Wary but willing — she was, after all, the one who'd demanded that they stay friends — she did. He held her easily, loosely, letting her curl into him as she wanted, and they settled in to enjoy the beginning. They'd seen this a dozen or more times before, since it was a collective favorite . . . and after the fourth or fifth watch, they had developed their own drinking game, which involved a pair of dice and a deck of cards and sounded like the perfect thing to get them on an even keel. So she got up and padded to the kitchen, coming back a few minutes later with several bottles of Gatorade, juice, and water. They were both off the next day, but she had plans with Kieran and didn't want to risk a hangover.

And since they weren't drinking alcohol, they went to town. It was kind of amazing, the things they found to drink about, because it changed with each viewing (hence the card deck). This time, it was every occasion of poor grammar, each reference to money, and — because liquor wasn't involved — they went with it when the roll of the dice gave them every second utterance of 'Christine'. As always, they were quickly laughing so hard that they missed most of the show itself, though Jayne was insistent about watching the song Phantom of the Opera. She'd always wanted to skate to it, but had never been able to get everything lined up.

Once the final bow had been taken, with Jayne sniffing back tears as she did every time she saw Michael Crawford's emotional response to the audience's love and genuine appreciation, Nick carefully eased himself off the sofa and then just stood there for a long minute, watching her with eyes that that held a bit of lingering unhappiness, though it was overshadowed with a depth of emotion she'd not seen from him before, one that promised he would be there as long as she wanted him.

But he didn't say anything, and just as she was starting to feel nervous from the silence, he gave her a soft smile and bent down, taking her mouth so tenderly, tears rushed to her eyes again. He kissed her without reservation, reassuring her that he wasn't going anywhere and promising that they were going to be just fine. She kissed him back just as fervently, telling him the same and relishing the knowledge that this wouldn't wreck them or ruin their relationship. It was intense and deep and emotional and they both poured everything they felt into this last kiss.

And then he was gone.

For the second time in three months, Jayne Torvill sat in the dark, contemplating the end of a romantic relationship.

But there were no tears, no anger, no disbelief this time. She was sad, certainly, and regretful, but the normalcy of them just watching a movie had soothed most of that, because she knew for sure now that she hadn't lost Nick. Actually, truth be told, she was more worried about how Chris was going to take it; he'd been very supportive of her and Nick (to a weird extent sometimes), and with his penchant for drama . . .

Hmm. Might be best to tell him tonight, actually; then he could get all of that drama and whatnot out of the way, which would make Thursday a lot less awkward. And, honestly, she just wanted to see him; it had been a few weeks since they'd had any work-free 'them' time and now that she was . . . available . . . it would be stupid to waste the chance. Feeling her usual spark of anticipation at talking to him, she scrolled to his number and hit 'call', mentally counting the seconds unt—

"What's wrong?"

His worry was obvious and his instant assumption that there was a problem because he knew this was her and Nick's date night had Jayne smiling through a fresh bout of tears. She was so incredibly lucky to have him and vowed in that moment to never again take him or their partnership for granted.

"Jayne? Jayne, what's wrong? Are you okay?!"

Her failure to answer had pushed him beyond casual worry to genuine concern and his voice was full of alarm. That made her smile again even as she hurried to reassure him before he sent the cops and an ambulance over. And a firetruck — all of whom he would beat to her flat because when it came to her, Chris was never less than thorough.

Fine, he was obsessive. But for them, it worked.

"I'm fine," she soothed him, pitching her voice to a cadence that she knew would help him calm down. "I just needed to talk to you."

He paused at that, unconsciously slowing his breathing to match hers, and she waited patiently, knowing he needed a few seconds to shift gears from 'Jayne needs help!' to 'Jayne needs me but she's calm so why I am panicking?'.

"Talk to me?" he finally said, sounding both confused and knowing, and her smile widened. "I th—aren't you with Nick?"

"No," she replied easily, biting her lip when he took a sharp breath through his nose.

"Do I need to kill him or come over?" he asked, utterly sincere, and she nearly broke down crying again. God, she loved him.

It took a great deal of effort, but she managed to keep herself together, because if he heard her tears, he would instantly assume the worst despite her reassurances and go find Nick, who would let her partner beat him to a pulp without a qualm. He wouldn't even try to defend himself . . . which would only further convince Chris that Nick knew he deserved it for hurting her.

So she summoned the discipline to ensure her voice didn't shake and held no hint of her sadness when she said, "Come over. And bring wine. And M&Ms."

"Okay," he replied quietly, knowing perfectly well that she wasn't telling him everything, but just as clearly choosing to trust her, and she fought down another sniff. She wasn't brokenhearted, but it did hurt and she was disappointed. Part of her really had hoped they'd last, even if another part had known it was pipedream; she and Nick were simply too much alike, which was exactly what she'd needed after Phil, but not something that would be sustainable in the long run. Still, she cared a lot about him and while she was fairly sure things would be fine, she just . . . in a way, it was like breaking up with her first serious boyfriend. She was hurt and sad and just wanted her best friend.

And once again, he proved in spades why he was the only person she trusted unconditionally, the only one she called when she was drowning and needed a lifeguard.

"I'll be right there."


December 13, 2012

The sound of the door being shut brought Jayne out of her reverie and she glanced up, meeting Nick's eyes. He gave her a ridiculously overdone leer and she was hard-pressed to hold back her laughter; since they'd realized that romance wasn't in their future, Nick had taken a fiendish delight in flirting with her like he was trying to reinvent the sport, and Jayne had to admit that she enjoyed it just as much. It was completely safe and had no meaning, so they could and did go to truly outrageous lengths, trying to see who could make who crack first.

That this frequently annoyed the hell out of Chris amused her, though it puzzled her as well, because she couldn't for the life of her figure out why . . . or understand why it pleased her, too, at times.

That both their flirting and Chris' irritation about it so clearly grated on Karen's nerves was icing on the cake, though it also aggravated her, because what right did Karen have to be upset?

(in the opposite direction, it was a good thing for Tristan that Jayne never knew about the short text exchange between him and Nick after he'd heard the news. In the way of siblings the world over, Tristan's first response had been both sarcastic and sympathetic: Am I sorry or did I tell you so?

Nick hadn't bothered to deal with the sympathy; his reply had been 'Die in a fire', just in the original German . . . and with a few more umlauts than was strictly warranted)

She bit her lip as Nick made his way down the wall, appreciating anew just how beautiful he was. Unlike Jason, she didn't drool, but damn, he was gorgeous and as he came to a stop beside her chair, she felt that now-familiar, tiny twinge of regret that they hadn't been able to make things work, though he had since become one of her non-Chris best friends. He'd kept his promise and once a week, he'd 'kidnap' her for an afternoon or evening of fun, just the two of them, something that had quickly become a highlight of her week and had also, to her surprise, helped her regain her enthusiasm for the show, which had started to wane some months before . . . before That Night.

She'd also kept her promise to herself to start doing the same with Chris — and watching him try to master a skateboard had indeed been as hysterically funny as she'd expected (and if she failed to mention her own difficulty with the sport, well . . . yes. Yes, she had.). And like her, those little excursions that were just the two of them, playing for a few hours, had done wonders for his mood as well. She had forbidden any talk of work or family during these times, which had been a lot harder to stick to than either of them expected, but they persevered and were so much better for it, mentally and emotionally, that it was a little startling at times to see the contrast in how unhappy they'd both been just a year ago.

And now that she had Chris back properly, she was realizing that her life wasn't lonely anymore. Without Phil demanding all her non-DOI time, she was reconnecting with friends and actually developing a social life again, and Chris . . . well, Tammy (and Pearl, somewhat to her bewilderment) had joked the other day that he was about two suitcases shy of moving in with Jayne and damn if they weren't right. Which . . . well, now that she was aware of it, she was actually considering asking him to go ahead and just move in, at least during DOI. Nobody would be hurt or offended by it now, and it would make practical sense.

(she ignored the anticipation of his agreement because he was her partner and best friend; of course she wanted to spend more time with him)

Nick gave her a smile as he let his duffle bag drop softly to the ground and she'd only just returned it when, on her other side, her partner suddenly heaved a frustrated, though quiet, sigh. Her attention immediately shifted to him, but before she could ask, Karen provided the answer by deciding that now was the best time to go all-or-nothing in her campaign for Chris' heart.

Being Karen, it lacked both subtlety and grace, which had Jayne mentally shaking her head. Honestly, the woman really should have known better, given she'd been friends with Chris and Jayne for nearly forty years now. Well, shoulda, woulda, coulda, as Diana was fond of saying. It was just Karen and they'd all learned to live with it.

Though . . . why was she looking at Nick like he was catnip and she was a cougar?

Ugh, bad analogy. She was nauseous just from the thought. But still; Karen had never had the slightest interest in him, so what—

Her eyes held a malicious glint when she abruptly turned to Jayne, who was suddenly both a little nervous and a lot annoyed. She sympathized with Karen at losing Chris; she really, truly did. But it had been his choice, not Jayne's, and she was beyond tired of being blamed for it. And yes, she knew that Karen was refusing to yell at Chris because, again, she had this fantasy that if she didn't hurt his feelings or upset him, he would somehow forget all the realizations he'd come to and go back to her. But that didn't make her treatment of Jayne any easier to accept, much less deal with.

Especially when one considered that Chris had a habit of verbally eviscerating people who didn't treat Jayne with the respect he felt she deserved. Karen had, thus far, been spared the vicious side of his tongue because neither partner wanted their work environment to become even more awkward than it already was, but Chris had reached terminal velocity not that long ago and Jayne's patience was also finally starting to give way . . . particularly since there was no way on God's green earth that the other woman's plan would ever work. She didn't want to sound arrogant, she really didn't, but if Karen insulted Jayne and murdered a person (in either order), Chris would be a hell of a lot more forgiving of the murder. Which, again, Karen knew very, very well.

So Jayne had to wonder where this newly-delusional aspect of her character was coming from.

She did not get an answer to that question.

But she got quite a bit more insight into the meaning of life. It wasn't nearly as helpful as one would have imagined.

"You know, Jayne," Karen drawled as she glanced over the table, pointedly ignoring Chris. Her voice was so saccharine, it made Jayne's teeth ache even as her hackles rose. There was no possible way this could or would end well.

For Karen.

But how much damage was she going to do to everyone else in the process?

"You're the only woman I know who would dump an actual, walking Adonis for . . . nothing," she added snottily, raking Jayne with a contemptuous look that actually made her feel a little dirty . . . and had Chris sucking in a sharp breath as he tensed beside her, while out of the corner of her eye she saw Nick blink in surprise, though he made no verbal response.

But Jayne stayed silent and completely motionless for several seconds, because with that one sentence, she finally understood what Karen's problem was.

She refused to accept that Chris had ended things because he didn't love her, which, yeah, no one wanted to hear that. So she'd convinced herself that he'd done it to be with someone else — Jayne herself, unless she missed her guess. Only, he hadn't gotten together with Jayne. Or anyone else, for that matter. And then Jayne started dating Nick, which didn't make Chris change his mind, and Karen just couldn't handle that. So her hurt, fury, and inability to deal with reality had all collided into the dream that if she could force Chris to accept the fact that Jayne didn't want him, he'd . . .

Yeah. Yeah, 'delusional' was a good word for it.

But Jayne was done. It was none of Karen's business who she and Chris did or didn't get together with, and since this entire production . . . no, the last seven months . . . had been about nothing more than soothing her bruised ego — and trapping Chris into another relationship he didn't want and wasn't happy in — Jayne saw no reason whatsoever to keep indulging this childish, obnoxious, selfish behavior.

So she took a deep breath and put herself into 'Diva Manager' mode. Karen was about to meet the Jayne Torvill who kept Christopher Dean in line and sane when he had reached Olympic-level breaking point and was only a breath away from shattering.

"Well, Karen, I'm sorry to ruin your vicarious soap opera," she answered in the same saccharine tone — and quite deliberately made more than one point with that statement. The combination caused everyone in the room to cringe, though only Robin (who was one of three people who hadn't been surprised when she'd started dating Nick) completely understood the reason why. "But kissing Nick was like kissing Chris."

She would never know why she felt the need to make that analogy; for one, it wasn't anyone's business, least of all Karen's. And two, she and Chris had never been like that, so why would they start now?

Naturally, her partner decided to throw oil on that fire and point out that she had, in fact, never kissed him.

Since she hadn't, not really, it wasn't a point she could hold against him, but why on earth would he go there?

She gave this a few seconds of genuinely puzzled thought before catching sight of Karen's 'just bit into a lemon' expression, along with what looked oddly like triumph in her eyes, and abruptly decided that she didn't give a damn about why he thought going there was a good idea. She was going to run with it and shut EVERYONE up about her and Chris in the process.

So she gave her partner a curious, thoughtful look . . . and Robin, who was two seats away from him, actually swallowed and pushed his chair back a little before he could stop himself, which amused her more than it should have. She so rarely lost her temper that people always overreacted when it happened, but this wasn't her losing her temper.

This was her putting the fear of God into Karen Barber, because it was long past time for the woman to grow the hell up. It — she — was going to be calm, composed, and utterly civilized, but she was officially done with this bullshit.

(when a new cult worshipping her sprang up at the studio as a result, everyone who hadn't been there blinked and then shrugged, making a note to start bringing M&Ms and high quality wine as offerings. After all, she was clearly worthy of such adulation. And when Chris rolled his eyes at this and whined about not having his own, they all nodded sympathetically . . . and carefully didn't notice his position as Club President.)

She made very sure not to give Karen so much as a flicker of a look as she said, "That's true. I haven't."

This came out a lot more speculatively than she'd expected, though it did make sense, that night on tour notwithstanding, because that hadn't been a kiss in the truest sense of the word. They'd made the practical decision long ago to keep things platonic and she'd known him so long, he might as well be part of the furniture, but he was also gorgeous and could be very sensual. And they loved each other so very much that of course she'd wondered on the odd occasion what kissing him might be like.

And now she was about to find out.

But she couldn't start with him; with both her and Karen bringing Nick into things, she had to go with that. Set the scene, so to speak. But he wouldn't mind, she knew; hell, he'd probably record it if she asked, just to get one over on Karen. So there wasn't an ounce of hesitation on her part when she stood up, caught the front of his shirt, and pulled him into a deep, admittedly over-the-top kiss. He responded enthusiastically, catching her hips with both hands and kissing her back so eagerly, she almost moaned. There weren't any romantic feelings between them, but damn, Nicholas du Lac was a fantastic kisser.

After nearly a minute, she pulled back and he released her immediately. His eyes were dancing with so many things she couldn't begin to guess at half of them, though humor was definitely at the forefront, and his smile was so wide and so amused, it almost broke her façade. "Yeah, no," he drawled, looking absurdly delighted, and then nodded to Chris, who slowly stood up. As Nick watched her partner, his amusement deepened to something that strongly resembled knowing, which was a touch perplexing, but she shrugged it off. It was time to end this so they could all get on with their day.

When she turned to face Chris, his expression almost made her burst out laughing: it was an intriguing mix of chagrin, alarm, resignation, curiosity, acceptance, and anticipation. And more than a little 'oh, hell, what have I done?!' panic was there, too.

Well, at least he knew this was his doing. She wouldn't hold it over his head.

Okay. Not too much. Just for the rest of their lives.

She gave him a wicked smile, which made him swallow, but a second later, the competitor in him rose to the surface and he laughed softly even as his eyes narrowed and he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and meeting her gaze with no hesitation. This was going to be real, and his eyes flared when he saw her challenge to go all the way, just this once. But a split-second later, he gave her a tiny nod that said 'done; hope you can handle it' and her smile widened as she rose up on her toes so she could slide her hands behind his neck. And then they simply stared at each other for another few seconds, silently promising that this would not change them or hurt their relationship.

Then she tightened her hands, tilted her chin up, and closed her eyes while he lowered his head, his eyes falling shut as well.

And their mouths met.