Chapter 5: Eros or Agape?

Alone in the dance studio in Lilia's mansion, Victor took up a stance with his arms at his sides and his head turned to the right, eyes closed.

Agape, he thought as he began to dance, unconditional love. To me, that means…Yakov. Lilia. Maccachin. Valentin.

He breathed softly, hearing the first strains of music in his head and hummed barely audibly as he continued to move. His eyes were still closed, so he failed to notice when Lilia entered the room and paused to watch with a calm, introspective gaze.

Beautiful.

You are a delight to the soul, Vitya. On the ice or off, your body moves with grace and I can see the story you are telling without a word being spoken or sung. I feel the music, even though it is, as yet, unwritten.

Innocence.

Love.

These things you understand and you want to embrace, but you worry that they are fleeting, like the beauty and vitality of our youth that leaves us with each tick of the clock. Still, even if you are older for a figure skater, you are a young and very beautiful man. You will be all right, as long as you can recognize and embrace all of the love that surrounds you.

She noticed suddenly that Victor had spotted her watching, and had stopped dancing to read her thoughtful expression.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"This is for the next season?" Lilia inquired.

Victor reached for a small towel hung on the ballet bar and wiped it over his sweating face.

"Yes…well, maybe. I don't know if I prefer this or something else?"

Lilia tilted her head and smiled at him.

"Is it that you don't know if you want to do this, or do you have another idea that is equally compelling to you?"

"Hmm," Victor sighed, reaching up to rub his chin, "there is something else, but I'm not sure I want to explore it."

"Why not?"

Victor's blue-green eyes slid closed again and he breathed slowly and thought for a moment.

"I…I'm not sure," he said uncertainly.

Lilia moved closer and slipped a cool palm under his chin. His eyes opened and met hers steadily.

"Show me."

Victor drew in a shaky breath and nodded, then he took up a similar position to the one he had used before, but began with a more sensual movement of his arms, then slid his hands down his sides, meeting Lilia's gaze with a smoldering, desirous expression that made her eyes narrow in reaction.

Eros, he whispered inwardly, his mind returning to the dancing at the banquet after the Grand Prix Final, the moves taken from those of his alpha mate, sexual love, passionate…rapturous, overflowing with desire.

"Stop," Lilia said suddenly.

Victor froze and opened his eyes to meet hers.

"I think I understand," the elder woman went on, "You have two equally compelling ideas, and I think you're not ready to choose between them."

"What do you think I should do?" Victor asked, "One for the short and one for the long? Or should I choose between them?"

"That, I don't know," Lilia answered, shaking her head, "It will come to you. In the meantime, have the music composed for both programs and translate those moves to the ice. I think your vision will clear as you move forward and get closer to the new season."

"Just don't forget the season that hasn't ended yet," Yakov said, walking into the ballet studio.

"When did you get here?" Victor asked, turning to greet him, "I would have thought you would go to the ice rink rather than here."

Yakov huffed out a short breath and crossed his arms.
"Well, I was already here all night, so I just haven't left yet," he answered.

"Oh," Victor chuckled, hiding a smirk as Lilia shot her ex a warning glance.

"Vitya needs to practice for the Russian Nationals."

Lilia nodded.

"He is rested, fed, warmed up and ready to perform," she replied stiffly, "But you let him move at his own speed today. He is still recovering."

"I'm really fine," Victor objected.

"No, Lilia is right," Yakov said sternly, "Listen to your body, Vitya. Do not push yourself too hard. The nationals are just a few weeks away.

Though he wanted to argue, Victor noted that both his skating coach and his ballet instructor wore the same stubborn, disapproving look.

"Fine," he sighed, "but why train at all if you are both just going to go too easy on me. Maybe there isn't anyone who can challenge me on the ice right now, but if I just take it easy all of the time, I am going to get rusty and lose my flexibility."

"Nonsense. We won't let that happen," Yakov scoffed, "Come now, we have work to do."

"It doesn't sound like I'll be working very hard at all."

"Be quiet and come now!" the older man snapped.

Victor smiled and kissed Lilia on the cheek, making the skin flush ever so slightly.

"Thank you," he said quietly, "and please thank Valentin for me. You've been very comforting, but I promise, I will be all right now."

"Call me when you are done. You will stay here again tonight?" Lilia asked.

"I really think I need to go home. I've been gone so much for competition, Maccachin and I are going to forget our address. But, I will call."

"I'm holding you to that."

"I'll call."

"You'd better."

Lilia sighed anxiously as she watched the two men leave the ballet studio. She breathed in Victor's gentle lingering scent and her mind replayed the sight of him dancing to the two very different themes.

Vitya.

Do not let the world be too heavy on your shoulders. When life is cruel, let us be there for you. Yakov and I…will not fail you.

XXXXXXXXXX

(3 weeks later)

"Have you found it yet, Yuuri?" Phichit asked excitedly, flopping down alongside his roommate on Yuuri's bed in the dorm room they shared, "It's almost time for it to start, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Yuuri affirmed, "I have it."

"Got the snacks here," Phichit chuckled, indicating a pile of snacks on the bed and two large drinks set on a table next to it, "I can't wait to see Victor perform."

"I don't think there's anyone competing who can come close," Yuuri speculated, "A few of them are pretty good, but…"

"But, Victor's amazing," Phichit finished, "Look, is that him practicing in the background?"

"Uh-huh!" Yuuri answered, squinting to get a better look as the Russian skater dropped slowly into a full side split.

"Man, I hope I'm still that flexible when I'm twenty-seven," the Thai skater laughed.

"Don't we all," Yuuri agreed.

Yuuri frowned and looked closer as Victor climbed back to his feet and reached over to grab a cloth from his coach to wipe over his face. Yakov moved closer, meeting the younger man's eyes questioningly.

What's going on there? Yuuri wondered, Is he all right? He looks kind of pale.

At the Moscow rink, Victor dried the sweat from his face and tilted his head slightly as Yakov studied him for a moment.

"Are you feeling all right, Vitya?" the old coach inquired, "You look pale."

"I always look pale. For the millionth time, I'm fine. Stop worrying," Victor complained, turning away to start an off-ice run through of his short program.

"You are sweating more than usual."

"It's warm back here, away from the ice," Victor lied.

"What? No, it isn't."

"Oh, fine. Take my temperature, if it will stop you from nagging me about it," Victor offered.

Yakov gave him a scolding look and took out a digital thermometer that he slipped into the Russian skater's mouth, then removed when it beeped.

"See there," Victor chided him, "It's perfectly normal. Now, will you stop bugging me? It's almost my turn."

"If you feel off…"

"I don't feel off!" Victor snapped.

"Well, if you do when you get out there, you drop the lutz at the beginning of the program and just do the quad flip and triple axel with the toe loop combination in the second half."

"I don't need to scale back," Victor argued, "I have plenty of energy for the quad lutz and flip combination."

He turned away as the signal came for him to enter the ice and completely ignored Yakov's continued rant.

I don't know what he's so worried about. I've been fine except for a little stomach upset and my heat being thrown off by the incident in Sochi.

He skated out to center ice and took up his starting position, waiting for the music to begin. He could feel Yakov's unhappy eyes watching him like a hawk.

I don't want to hear that I don't have to go all out. I'm sick to death of holding back. How can I surprise the audience? How can I hold my head up if I am not out here, giving my best performance?

The music began and he moved easily through the beginning segment and a lovely combination spin. He smirked as he threw his body into the air, landing the quad lutz with ease before dazzling with a series of graceful moves that included a difficult cantilever. As he rose back up from the laid back position, he felt a sharp twinge through his lower abdomen and experienced an unexpected swell of nausea.

Ugh…

Determined that Yakov was definitely not going to be right, he launched his body into the quad flip, but gasped on the landing as a sharper pain radiated in his abdomen. He barely remembered to finish with the triple toe loop and wobbled barely noticeably on the landing. But even so, he could feel Yakov cringing and gritting his teeth.

It hurts.

God, I don't know what will happen on the triple axel, at this rate.

He was grateful that the step sequence was next, as even though the movements were complicated, they didn't put stress on his aching belly. But as the sequence came to a close and he wound up for the axel, he felt a quiver inside and a knot of worry forming. He threw his body into the air and barely made the final half turn before landing.

Damn it.

Yakov with have my head for that.

He was supposed to leap into his final spin, but felt another warning twinge and opted for an easier entry.

It isn't my best performance, but it got the job done. I need to find out what was making me hurt like that.

He was still spinning as a thought occurred to him that jolted him soundly and almost made him miss the timing of the exit from his final spin combination.

No, he told himself firmly, it's not that. I've just eaten something that didn't agree with me. It happens sometimes. I'll be fine. I'm fine. I. Am. Fine.

He struck his final pose, pointedly ignoring the fact that Yakov looked like he was chewing on nails.

I wish I'd remembered to bring earplugs for after.

He sighed resignedly as he waved and bowed, then skated to exit and headed for the kiss and cry with Yakov scolding him every step of the way. The scolding didn't stop for a moment while they waited for the star skater's scores.

"I told you to drop the lutz and do the quad flip and the quad toe loop combination. I know you heard me, Vitya!"

"Of course I heard you, but you said to do that if I needed to. I didn't need to."

"You don't know what you need. I could see you cringe every time you landed. What's wrong with you? Are you sick? Does it hurt somewhere?"

"Ah, I don't know. I have a stomach ache."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I didn't have one before."

"Grr!" Yakov snarled, "You're impossible!"

"I'm not trying to be. I had an off night, but it will be fine."

The two paused in their exchange as Victor's scores posted. Watching in their room in Detroit, Yuuri and Phichit sighed as the scores flashed on the screen.

"It wasn't his best performance, but he was still way better than any of the other skaters," Yuuri reflected, "so I guess he can get away with it."

"It doesn't look like he's getting away with anything," Phichit laughed, pointing at the screen.

Yuuri snickered and shook his head.

"Victor's really headstrong," he commented, "I hear Coach Feltsman yells at him all of the time, but it never does any good."

"Yeah, well I guess when you're as good as he is, no one can really tell you anything," Phichit concluded.

Back at the Moscow ice rink, Victor exited the kiss and cry with Yakov a step behind him, and still scolding him mercilessly. He felt another twinge in his belly and quietly breathed through it. Another feeling of nausea and slight dizziness followed and the Russian skater realized all at once that his coach had stopped yelling at him and had an arm around him, supporting him.

"Get the team medic!" Yakov hissed, guiding Victor to a bench and angling his body to shield his skater from the cameras that were focused in their direction, "Vitya, are you okay?"

"Oh…ah, I think so. I just feel off. Sitting down helps."

A stronger feeling of nausea passed over him and he swayed a little.

"Or…Yakov, I think I'm going to…"

He broke off and grabbed his midsection as Yakov shoved a small trash bin in front of him just in time for Victor to lean over and vomit into it.

"I told you that you looked pale," Yakov complained, rubbing his student's back gently as Victor leaned over and threw up again, "You look white as a ghost."

"Hmm, thank you, Yakov," Victor deadpanned, "I don't know what I would do if I didn't have you to tell me these things."

The team medic hurried to join them and began a quick examination.

"What exactly are you feeling?" he asked, swiftly taking Victor's temperature and studying his pale, sweaty face and throat.

"I've been a little nauseous for the last couple of hours," Victor admitted.

"I knew it!" Yakov snapped, "You should have listened to me, you idiot!"

"Yakov, don't be mean. I don't feel good," Victor groaned.

"You don't feel good? Now, you admit you don't feel good?"

"I thought I would be all right," the Russian skater continued, but I felt pain in my belly when I was landing on my jumps today."

"Can you show me where you felt the pain?"

Victor indicated the area and breathed slowly as the medic continued to examine him and ask occasional questions.

"I know your last heat cycle was off. We talked about that in our conversation in Sochi.

Victor flinched visibly as he remembered.

"I'm sorry," the medic apologized, "We just need to eliminate pregnancy as…"

"I am not pregnant," Victor said firmly, "I just ate something bad. Can we please go, Yakov? I want to lie down. No, wait, I have to…"

He leaned over and threw up again as his coach and the medic exchanged sympathetic glances and shook their heads.

"Come Vitya," Yakov said more kindly, helping him to his feet as his nausea eased slightly, "Let's get you back to your room."

"I'm sorry," Victor panted softly, "I just need to rest."

"We're going to stop by the clinic near the hotel and have you looked at again," Yakov insisted as the two left the venue and climbed into the rental car.

"Did you not hear me?" Victor argued, "I just want to lie down and rest."

"We're getting you checked out and that's final."

Victor sighed and fastened his seatbelt, then turned slightly sideways to curl his body a little.

"Fine, if you think it's important, but it's just something I ate or it's a flu or something."

I'm not pregnant from that night.

I'm not.

He breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the clinic and a pregnancy test came back negative.

"This is still not a guarantee that it's not pregnancy, as you had intercourse less than a month before the testing today, and while you were in heat. It can take a month or a little longer for it to be detectable in an omega," the clinic doctor warned him, "Please remember to get a follow up test if you don't feel better."

It's not that, Victor told himself fervently, I am not pregnant. I'm not.

I can't be.