Sasha stared down the quasi-busy street of downtown Indianapolis. Not exactly the intense flow of people found in New York or London, but it was where the 2012 National Championships were being held and thus, the only place he wanted to be. It was almost a relief to be back at Nationals, where the thumb of the National Committee could not push down on him too hard. Here he was simply a club coach with an entire lineup of gymnasts competing at all levels. Also, he distinctly did not have to share a room with Boris, as the Rock paid for the team's expenses at this event and not the NGO. His relationship had been strained to say the least with the old man since before the Pacific Rim championships. He shook his head at the irony of it all. Even when Boris was expressing his concern, he couldn't help but offend his son in the worst possible way. Any progress they'd made was completely washed away with the utterance of a few words.

Sasha nodded his head in approval as Lauren ran through her beam routine. She was solid, as usual. Her degree of difficulty was exactly where she needed it to be going into the last push before the Olympic Games. She would be an incredible asset to the team in London, where your beam rotation could make or break a competition.

"Excellent Lauren," he murmured as she completed an intricate aerial series.

Suddenly he was aware of a presence just beyond his shoulder. He turned to see Boris, posture rigid, arms crossed over his chest. He looked ready for battle and Sasha sighed inwardly, wondering what he'd done wrong now. It was a familiar feeling, one that had begun in childhood and only increased in frequency as he grew older.

"I must speak with you," Boris grumbled, his voice kept unnaturally low. It made Sasha take notice.

Boris was not a subtle man and rarely contained himself. Sasha turned towards the older man, his face was flush and his nostrils were flaring. He was upset and Sasha could think of only one thing that would make Boris this angry. His eyes flicked over to Payson who was speaking with Isabella Ruggeri.

"It's not what you think, Dad," he said, not taking his eyes off of Lauren as she completed her routine. "Great job, Lauren."

"Thanks," the confident blonde said with a smile for both of them as she pranced away.

"It is not what I think?" Boris snapped quickly as his son. "I never expected, I thought she would be the one to be hurt by this, never you. She made a fool of you with that boy and you have just taken it? That is not what I expected of you. You have no pride? No coaie*."

Sasha's eyes flew to his father's in anger. "Enough," he slipped into Romanian to mask their conversation, "it is not as it appears. We were forced into an impossible situation and Payson did what she had to. Don't blame her. Her actions were necessary. Our love is strong, stronger than ever, but it would be foolish to remain together when so much is at risk."

Boris joined him in their native tongue, "It was not risky before? I will never understand you, Alexander."

Sasha reeled around, practically nose to nose with his father, "Don't ever call me that," he ground out between clenched teeth. "And don't ever question Payson's integrity."

Out of nowhere Payson appeared, as if he summoned her from across the gym by coming to her defense, "You two are beginning to draw an audience. You explained?" she asked, her eyes lifting to his.

Sasha nodded, but swallowed roughly. It was the most intimate contact they'd had since Thanksgiving, this little bit of eye contact and he held on to it fiercely, though it seemed she was reluctant to look away as well.

Boris coughed roughly, forcing them back into reality. He shook his head as he stomped away from them, "Proşti tineri," he muttered to himself.

"What did he call us?" Payson asked, quietly as she began to stretch out against the beam.

"Young fools," Sasha whispered and as their eyes met again, he'd never admit it aloud, but he thought perhaps his father was right.

Things were different now and his father had been right, they were being foolish. Sasha was thankful that they'd figured that out, but his father's inherent ability to come down on him had worn thin long ago and the uneasy peace they'd made more recently had come to an end as far as Sasha was concerned. He was tired of biting his tongue. Sasha had been dealing with this kind of thing from Boris since he was a small child. Disapproval disguised as concern was one of Boris's oldest tricks and he'd stopped allowing himself to care about it a long time ago.

Sasha turned towards the hotel entrance and nodded when he saw his girls emerge, dressed in their club tracksuits, bags over their shoulders, ready to board the bus. Several parents bustled out behind them including Kim Keeler, whom he smiled at; he thankful she was around to keep everyone on schedule.

The trip to the arena was uneventful and quiet. The girls knew a lot was at stake today, the second day of competition when the all-around champion would be named, as well as the medalists in each of the events. For most of them it would be their last chance at a National Championship, though it would take a disastrous day from Payson for anyone else to have a shot at the gold. Mostly it was a chance to prove they belonged on the Olympic team, but for Sasha, these championships represented one step on the path towards freedom. Just three major events, these Nationals, the Olympic trials and then the Olympics themselves stood between him and Payson finally being free to be together, if not publicly for the entire world to see, at least openly with their friends and family.

He was tired of sneaking around and so was she. An edginess had seeped into their relationship, one he didn't appreciate, other than perhaps during the night when that unease erupted into increasingly intense encounters. She was passionate and almost desperate in her need to be close to him and he was more than happy to oblige. Where slow and sweet had done it for her in the past, rough and hard were what she practically begged him for long into the night, until they fell asleep in an exhausted heap, barely enough energy to wrap their arms around each other. Despite the overwhelming satisfaction they both took from it, the underlying tension was obviously wearing on them both. They were so close and yet, it felt like the moment would never come. He awaited that moment with both anticipation and trepidation.

He looked over the heads of his gymnasts as they shuffled off the bus and into the arena and saw Kim Keeler again. He knew she wasn't blind. Payson told him months ago that Kim suspected her feelings for him. He knew anyone who was paying attention at all would be able to read his feelings for Payson easily, especially if they were looking for it. Most people explained it away as affection and respect, but more and more he thought that maybe Kim Keeler knew more than she was saying, though he knew she probably didn't have much evidence if she'd kept quiet and maintained her friendly, almost family like relationship with him at work. Family, that is the plan one day, isn't it Beloff? You'll be her son-in-law one day. You'd be halfway there already if you had your way, wouldn't you? It was the truth. He'd been more than a little serious when he'd awkwardly asked Payson to marry him in the bath just a week earlier. Her reaction hadn't surprised him, but he knew it was only a matter of time, though perhaps more time than he'd like. As if he didn't remind himself hundreds of times a day, he let the thought run though his head again. She's still very young.

He grimaced. She was only eighteen and while she was mature, much more mature than anyone he'd ever met at that age, eighteen-year-olds simply didn't get married unless they had to and that certainly wasn't going to happen. Briefly, his thoughts flashed to that scene he seemed to conjure in his mind more and more, the closer they got to the Olympics. This time they were lying in bed, his bed in Wimbledon, Payson's head cradled against his shoulder. She was sound asleep and so was a small child laying atop his chest, a little boy, his curly blond hair tousled gently by Payson's breath each time she exhaled. He was awake, staring at them, awe clear as day written across his face.

Sasha was suddenly jolted out of his little fantasy by a security guard letting him know that the teams would be lining up shortly. He nodded and moved towards the group of coaches and competitors waiting to march onto the floor and begin the second and final day of competition. He had to stop that train of thinking, it would be a long time coming. They both had goals, her involved a degree, his a brand new gym, developing a program from the ground up. For so long it seemed as if the time would never come and now that it was close, it still felt removed, as if their dreams were just that, dreams and would never happen. Stupidity, Beloff. That's what that is. If you want something to happen, you make it happen, just like you have since you were a boy.

A woman with a headset nodded in his direction and he cast his eyes downward towards Payson,standing next to him confidently. Just two more, after today, Beloff. Two more and all the waiting will finally be over.

It was almost fait accompli, Payson thought as she stood atop the podium, though she'd learned long ago never to take anything for granted, she knew going into this day that she would probably become the National Champion, successfully defending her title. Now the medal was around her neck and it barely seemed real. She wasn't overwhelmed by it, far from it, the victory almost seemed hollow. She was the national champion, a title that she nearly killed herself over just two years before, but now it was not enough. Now suddenly, a national championship couldn't satisfy her. She needed more, wanted more. Olympic gold, six Olympic golds were the goal, and suddenly it seemed possible.

As they descened after the medal ceremony, she turned to a reporter who shoved a microphone into her face, "Payson, how does this feel? Your second national championship in two years and a sweep of the golds in the event finals."

She put on an even brighter smile and responded, "This is just one step this year. I'm headed in the right direction."

The reporter looked taken aback and Payson grimaced. She knew it wasn't the answer he was looking for, but she wasn't in the mood to smile and pretend to be satisfied when she wasn't.

"The right direction?"

She nodded, "Obviously I'm pleased with winning here, but the ultimate goal is in London."

The reporter finally seemed to pick up on her tone, "And what would you consider a successful trip to London?"

She smiled,finally getting the question she wanted, "My goal has always been to win."

"Win? Win what? Everything? All six?" the reporter asked, his professional persona dropping as he gaped at her.

She shrugged, a small smirk pushing through, "That's the idea."

The reporter realized that he'd stumbled upon a story and he nodded to her in thanks, before facing the camera, "Well there you have it folks. Payson Keeler will be headed to London on a Phelpsian quest for six gold medals."

She inwardly rolled her eyes at the comparison to Michael Phelps, but kept the smile on her face until he cut the feed. "Thanks Payson," he said before moving away towards Kelly Parker.

Payson looked beyond the reporter's shoulder and saw MJ smirking in appreciation. "That was savvy," her agent said and Payson shrugged.

"The rest of the world should know what they're up against."

"Or be intimidated out of their minds," MJ added. "I like this ruthless Payson Keeler. Unapproachable or not, this I can sell."

MJ spun on a pointed stiletto heel and moved away, nodding to Sasha as he approached. "Why does she look so happy?" he asked, warily.

Payson pulled her gold medal over her hand and examined it, "She's seeing dollar signs."

"Another national championship will up your endorsements?"

Payson smiled and shook her head, "No, but the gauntlet I just laid down for myself in London will. I told a reporter about the sweep."

Sasha rolled his eyes, "Of course you did."

They began walking off the floor, stopped every few feet by someone wanting to congratulate her. "What? He was asking about this win and I told him it didn't mean anything unless I won in London."

Sasha looked at her, concern written across his expression. "What ever happened to living in the moment?"

She looked at him seriously, "I haven't been living in the moment since the day we decided to be together."

She kept her voice low, but her eyes spoke volumes to him, she was sure. She knew he understood. There was a new seriousness surrounding them recently, a sense that everything was somehow coming to an end, though really they were approaching a beginning. The last few barriers between them were falling quickly and the intensity of their bond increased on a daily basis. She felt like she couldn't get close enough. The night before, heedless of the danger of being caught, she left Emily alone in their room, taking Sasha completely by surprise. Normally the night before an important competition, a good night's sleep was the key,but she'd found herself feeling restless,unable to keep her thoughts from racing. She'd only been able to think of one thing that could calm the storm raging inside of her. She wasn't even sure what she'd said to Emily. It was probably an extremely lame excuse. Just minutes later she'd been on her back, nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, screaming his name in pleasure, begging him for more. Finally, hours later they'd collapsed in a sweaty tangle, eyes drifting closed, their bodies pressed close together.

"Payson!" Payson startled at the sound of her mother's voice. She looked up to the stands. Her mom and dad were leaning over the railing.

She smiled, "Mom," she said, reaching up and taking her hand. "Dad."

"We are so proud of you, Pay."

Mark nodded, "You looked great out there.

Payson's smile wavered a little, "Thanks guys. I'm going to go change. I'll meet you back at the hotel." She turned towards Sasha's who nodded to her parents.

They walked back into the tunnel together and moved towards the locker room. "We can tell them, soon," she said, letting out a shaky breath. It was getting harder and harder.

She felt his hand squeeze her shoulder gently, a gesture of support. "Soon," he agreed.

Payson continued down, away from him towards the locker room to change. Most of the girls were almost finished, but she was greeted by a chorus of congratulations.

A quick shower later and she emerged from the locker room. slinging her gym bag over her shoulder.

"Payson," a gruff voice said. She looked up to see Boris Beloff, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, a stance not unlike the one his son often took.

"Boris," she said with a nod. She knew that he and Sasha hadn't been on speaking terms for a while. They'd actually had a fight over it, albeit a small one, after they arrived home from Australia.

"Well, your Dad will be happy," she said as she placed a steaming plate of pasta primavera in front of him.

Sasha looked up at her confused, "What do you mean?"

"He was upset that we were apart, wasn't he?" she asked, sitting across from him.

Sasha rolled his eyes and shook his head, "Yeah, I suppose so. It doesn't matter. I haven't spoken to him since."

"Why not?" she asked. She'd thought their relationship had come a long way. Payson frowned. "I don't understand. I thought you said you were going to work on getting along with him."

Sasha shrugged, "I changed my mind. He's never going to change. It's always the same things, over and over again with him. I never measure up to whatever impossible standard he sets for me. I've spent my life trying to do that and I'm finished. I was finished before that. It was a mistake to ask the National Committee to bring him on as a coach."

Payson rolled her eyes, "He's better than Ellen Beals and he is a great gymnastics coach."

"A great gymnastics coach and a terrible father. Look, can we drop this? I have no desire to talk about him and it's really none of your business."

Payson drew back at his words, her mouth dropping open a little in shock, "I'm sorry, I was just..."

She saw him take a deep breath and then shake his head, "No, I'm sorry. I didn't meant that. I just really don't want to talk about him. We're together now and we're happy and that's all that matters." He reached out and took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. "This pasta looks amazing, Pay."

She studied him carefully for a moment before squeezing his hand back lightly and smiling, deciding that it wasn't worth a fight and that his father was a sensitive subject. "Thanks. Dig in, there's plenty."

Now, looking at him from across the hallway, she realized she hadn't spoken to him since Australia and that had been strictly gymnastics related.

"Will you walk with me?" he asked, extending his hand in the direction of the exit.

"Sure," she said, looking up into his crystal blue eyes, something else he shared with his son. Most of Sasha's features came from his mother, but those eyes, those belonged to Boris.

"How is my son?" he asked, cutting to the chase. Boris never was the type to beat around the bush.

Payson smiled up at him, "He's doing really well, we're doing really well."

He nodded, "You both seem different than before. I told him that what you share is special and that he should do everything in his power to hold onto it. You will rise to great heights in London."

Payson looked up and grimaced. "Our relationship isn't just about gymnastics," she said.

Boris scoffed, "It is the sport that brought you together. You and Sasha, you will always be about gymnastics."

She stopped and looked up at him, "We're about much more than that," she said.

Boris shrugged and shook his head. "No, gymnastics, it is where you both begin and end. It will be different when you are finished competing. It was very different for Rebecca and I."

Payson frowned. She hadn't known that Sasha's mother was a gymnast. They very rarely talked about her. "What do you mean?"

"Afterr she retired it was very different for us. We had few things in common. Our days were spent apart; our lives did not match anymore."

Was that what was going on with them? The tension, the intensity. Were her instincts telling her that things would be different after the Olympics? She knew, intellectually, that everything would change, but she hadn't really thought about it. Would they grow apart? Would they last or would their lives not match, as Boris put it. "Excuse me," she said, increasing her pace, nearly running out towards the car that was waiting to take her back to the hotel, as MJ arranged.

The trip flew by, her mind swirling again, much like it had the night before, though this time it wasn't nerves, this time it was fear, pure unadulterated fear that drove her from the car, up the elevators and straight to Sasha's hotel room door. The confidence from earlier, as she stepped onto the podium to receive her gold medals was gone. The attitude that allowed her to reveal her goal of a gold sweep at the Olympics to the rest of the world was replaced by a need to speak to Sasha, to have him reassure her that they would not be like his parents after she finished competing.

At her knock, Sasha answered almost immediately. Looking back and forth down the hallway quickly, she stepped under his arm and into the hotel room.

"What's wrong?" he asked, taking in her expression.

She shook her head and just fell into his arms. He stood stock still for a moment before she felt his arms come around her, holding her tight to his chest. "Payson, tell me what happened."

"I spoke to your father on my way out of the arena," she said, pulling back slightly.

Sasha rolled his eyes, "And what did the old bugger have to say?" She took a shaky breath and shook her head again. "Payson, what did he say?"

She avoided his eyes and waved her hand in the air vaguely. "He mentioned how he and your mother grew apart after she stopped training and I was just thinking…"

Sasha shook his head, "You think too much," he said and moved closer to her, his hands coming to rest on her arms, squeezing gently, reassuring her with a simple touch. "My parents grew apart because my father was a arrogant bastard and my mother was strong enough not to put up with his crap. It had nothing to do with gymnastics."

Payson met his eye, "I thought, that maybe this new thing between us, what's been happening when we're together, I thought maybe it was because we knew what connected us was coming to an end."

Sasha smiled at her slowly, a crooked smile, as he lifted a finger to trace the line of her cheek, "Payson, what's happening between us, it's normal." She raised her eyebrows at him doubtfully. "Maybe normal is the wrong word. It's far from normal. I mean the change is normal."

She sighed, "Good," she said simply, "that's a relief."

He smiled at her wickedly, "Oh yeah, and why's that?"

Reaching out to smooth imaginary wrinkles in his shirt, she caressed his chest lightly, "Because what happened between us last night, that was…" she trailed off, her meaning abundantly clear.

"It definitely was," he agreed.

She pushed up slowly on her toes as he leaned in to kiss her, but just as their lips touched she pulled away. "Shit, I forgot. I have to meet my parents and Becca at seven. We're going to dinner." Her shoulders slumped. "I wish you could come."

Sasha sighed and pulled back. "We'll be able to tell them soon."

She smiled, "And then maybe after a decade or so, they'll finally be speaking to us and then we can all have dinner." She was joking but neither of them laughed. Sasha brushed a soft kiss across her forehead.

"Go on. I'll see you later."

She left the room feeling much better than when she'd gone in, but that tension was still there, that need to go back and be close to him, as close as she could possibly get and she didn't think that was going to change any time soon.