CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTEEN
Viktor cleared his throat, then held up his hand just over his chest in a gesture of introduction, "My name is...Viktor Nikiforov. Your name is...?" He then moved it out to the pale-haired woman in front of him. His accent was thick, but his English was understandable even by someone who knew next to no English at all.
Blue eyes blinked back at him, but understood what the hand movements meant well enough, "...Sophia Belmonte." She answered.
It was the morning of the opening ceremony for Trophée Éric Bompard, and a dozen or more reputable skaters were hanging out on the rink wall, preparing to be told by event coordinators what they were going to have to do as part of the show. Choreographing things like that was always fun, even if hectic, much like practicing for an Exhibition Gala. In the case of the opening ceremony for a Grand Prix Series event, the available top three from each discipline were invited to be part of the show. Viktor was there representing Men's Singles along with two other older skaters; one from Italy and another from South Korea. The Russian had singled out the Ladies' Singles skaters while they all waited to be ordered around. His hair was about half as long as it had been a few years prior, but it was still long enough to be held in a small bun high on the back of his head, and a few loose strands still waved about messily around his face.
Unsure what else to say, Viktor pulled out his phone and looked up a translator website, typed in a few words, and then tried his best to read them aloud, "...Com...comment allez-vous auj-" He tilted the phone like he wasn't sure what was written or even how to pronounce it, "...Aujourd'hui?" He nodded and smiled as he made it through, then set the phone aside a little to look past it at the woman, "Ma chére?"
The woman's face was flushed immediately, and her fellow Singles skaters started teasing her relentlessly, especially her French team on the other side of the rink wall who'd been waiting patiently for things to get started, "...Je vais bien, et toi?"
Viktor could only assume what it meant, so he started typing into the translator again. When he got his lines, he cleared his throat and spoke them as proudly as he could, like he knew exactly what he was saying, "Je suis partait maintenant que je vous ai recontré."
Yakov rolled his eyes, "Vitya...we've been here five minutes and you're already flirting? Focus!"
"I am focusing." The skater sighed happily.
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"...You're going to what?" The elder coach's tone was flat, "You can't be serious."
"I am!" Viktor explained, "I've already booked my flight back to Bordeaux after Nationals are over!"
"When are you planning on coming back? You should be staying in St. Petersburg to get ready for Euros and Worlds."
"I will be getting ready for Euros and Worlds...I'll just be doing it at the Bordeaux arena. I don't get super-powers from being in Russia." The skater explained, trying to sound convincing in front of the French skater, who really had no way of knowing what he was saying either way. They were all dragging their luggage through the Seongsa Ice Rink in Goyang, South Korea, heading for the exit after the GP Final Exhibition Gala had ended. Viktor proudly wore his Silver, and Sophia had managed Bronze in her own event, "I'll come back during the summer sometime."
Yakov coughed abruptly, "Summer!? That's half a year from now! Why even bother coming back then if not immediately after Worlds!?"
Chris was laughing at the older man's expense, "No sense trying to talk him out of it."
"You're a selfish kid!" Yakov went on, berating the silver-haired skater like he were his own son, "You can't just run off like this! Where will you even stay!? Who will feed you!?"
Viktor laughed and tried to explain it all again.
[What are they saying?] Sophia leaned to whisper at the Swiss figure. Chris' French wasn't fluent, but he spoke it well enough to get away with basic conversation.
[Yakov is trying to convince Viktor that going to France long-term is a bad idea.]
[Doesn't look like he's winning...]
[Nope.]
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[You've been there for more than seven months!] Yakov yelled in Russian over the phone; Viktor had to hold it out at the end of his arm's reach to avoid getting a sore eardrum, [Come back to St. Petersburg before you forget what country you're skating for!]
[I know I skate for Russia, sheesh!] He answered back, [But I'm finally settling in here and getting a lot of work done! If I suddenly move back now then I'll be discombobulated for weeks!]
[Quit making excuses and come back to Russia NOW!]
[I'm 20 years old now, Yakov! I have to start making choices about my own life sometime! For the moment, I'm going to stay in Bordeaux!]
[VITYA-]
The Russian hung up the phone and sighed anxiously, "...I've never cut him off like that before." He said, mostly to himself. He tapped his silver toe-pick on the rink wall, but then set his phone to silent and stuffed it into his back pocket before grabbing a small green towel, putting it over one shoulder, and skated out in the middle of the rink.
Sophia was off on the other side, practicing her double Axel, stopping only when she heard the sound of blades scratching on the ice, getting louder as they approached. She huffed to catch her breath, and then felt Viktor brushing up close, wrapping the towel over her shoulders and around the back of her neck. She turned her head to see him, [That didn't sound good.]
[He's always like that.] The Russian mused; half a year immersed in France had immeasurably grown his skill at the language, [But it's never worked on me.]
[If being yelled at wouldn't work, what would?] She wondered, using the towel to wipe her forehead.
Viktor's right hand went down around the small of her back, and he skated slowly in a circle around her, making her rotate as he went, [He's never thought to just ask me nicely.] He laughed, [I can't even imagine what his voice would sound like if he did!] He pulled his hand back and got all dramatic, [Vitya...! Please, no...don't leave me alone in St. Petersburg with Georgi!] His best impression of his elderly coach was appalling, but Sophia laughed anyway, which was the entire goal, so mission accomplished.
[Georgi...that poor guy...] The French skater, [He's always coming in second to you somehow. At skating, at life in general...you and he are of an age but his birthday is the day after yours, too. I bet that's caused him grief.]
[I never noticed!] Viktor admitted sheepishly, [We aren't exactly besties.] His hands went down around her waist and he started to pull her across the ice as he skated in reverse, [I'll pay more attention if he starts to get ahead of me.]
Deep blue eyes met slate, but the woman's expression went from amused to being a little more serious.
Viktor noticed it, [What's the matter? ...Am I being too mean?]
[No, I just...if you've made it official that you're going to stay here in Bordeaux for a while, what does that mean about us?]
[...About us? Same as it's been already, wouldn't it?] He twisted around to skate facing forward next to her and slid his hand down her arm to take her elbow into his, [Why would anything change?]
[Viktor...] Sophia said, a little in disbelief at him. She paused and dug in a toe-pick, forcing the Russian back in front of her where their linked arms pivoted him. Her cheeks were pink but her focus went down to the ice, looking at the black boots that came into view. She could feel her heart pounding, but she managed to lift her head, [We met in this very arena back in November... We made it together to the Grand Prix Final... You came to my Nationals a few days later, and then came back here after you took Gold at your own the week after that. You're a huge flirt, but I never really see you talking with any other women. Your focus has always been on me...]
[...Yes?] He gave her a weird look, like he didn't understand where she was going with the train of thought.
She pulled the towel off of where it hung around her shoulders, and twisted a corner of it nervously, [...Shouldn't we be a couple or something?] The color in her cheeks got darker, and she anxiously looked away, but quickly found a finger under her chin guiding her back to look forward, and she reluctantly did so.
[You say that like we haven't been.]
[...It's not like we've done anything.]
[Do you want to?] A smile crossed the Russian's face, and he moved his hand where it as still under the woman's chin, thumbing her lip lightly.
[Only if you mean it.]
[You think I don't?] He inched closer, silver bangs brushing her pale skin.
[...I think you're the kind of person who feels like you will always get what you want in the end.]
[With hard work, patience, and understanding...would that really be so unexpected?] The Russian wondered, [Or do you worry that if I take you, I'll leave you because the chase is over?]
[It crossed my mind.]
[I feel like I should be offended...!] He tried to make light of it, [But I'm really not that way! If I was, don't you think I'd had have chased everyone in this town already? You yourself pointed out that I don't pay them much attention.]
[...Maybe it's just nerves talking.] She admitted, tilting her face down a little to press her cheek to Viktor's palm, [...I've been burned before.]
[Let the past teach and guide you, but never let it hold you back. They're only bad memories now. We can make new ones, better ones...] Viktor said quietly, slipping his free hand behind her back to pull her closer, [I don't want you to ever have bad memories of me.]
[...Are you asking me to marry you now, too?] Sophia wondered anxiously.
The Russian shook his head, [I'm asking you to believe in me. All this time that I've been here and you still don't entirely trust that I'm being sincere. How can I get you to stop doubting my intentions? Tell me what I should do.]
The pale-haired figure could feel herself shaking a little, but it eased off as she felt her hip touching his. She drew in a deep breath and finally looked at the man squarely, putting one hand over the center of his chest, [...Make me yours, and don't ever let it change you.]
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"CHRIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" Viktor hollered, spotting the Swiss figure from the far end of the Arrivals terminal at the Norman Rogers Airport. By sheer luck, all three of them shared their first event at Skate Canada in Ontario, "HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!"
The target of the call turned his head, his coach nearby as well, and they both spotted the Russian and his French girlfriend waving at them excitedly.
"Viktor! Sophia!" Chris waved back, then turned to whisper something to Josef before leaving his luggage to meet the pair as they came galloping closer, "Sorry I didn't answer your call earlier. I was on the line with someone else at the time."
"Yeah?" Viktor huffed as he caught his breath, adjusting where his carry-bag strap sat on his shoulder, "Someone wishing you luck?"
"Yup. A friend from Juniors. He's in Japan right now though so I didn't want to let him go to voicemail."
"Yeah, the time difference would be brutal. Have I met him before?"
"Don't think so. He's a massive fan of yours. I'll introduce you if we're ever all at the same event."
"Perfecto~! Hey, have you spotted Yakov anywhere yet?"
"Not yet. You'll probably hear him before you see him though." Chris winked at him.
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Official Practice for the morning of the Ladies Free Skate had started early for Rostelecom, and Sophia yawned terribly on the way to the rink. Viktor had finally come back with coffee, and she took hers with a tired groan.
[...I shouldn't have let you keep me up all night.]
[But you had a lot of fun, right?] The Russian mused, sipping his latté innocently, [Moscow is great if you know where to go!]
[It's a shame you aren't on the list for this one.] She answered, finally looking up from where she sat on the rink-side bench, halfway through tying the laces on her white skates, [Must be a thorn in your side to be in Russia again but not getting to skate for your people.]
[I'm sure they'll survive without me for a weekend. I'll show them my love at the Final. Not participating in the Rostelecom Cup though, it just leaves me with all the time in the world to show my love to you instead!]
[Hah, my own dedicated cheering section. How thoughtful.]
[Never leave home without one!] He sipped at his drink again, but then set it down onto the bench to go in front of the woman. He finished tying her skates for her while she sleepily starting tasting her own drink, then put his hands gently on her knees and looked up at her, [You've improved so much since last year. Everyone's been really impressed with your triple Axel. I think you should try it in competition!]
[...Really? But I can't land it most of the time...the double is my only certainty...]
[Show them all how strong you are. You nail the triple more often than you give yourself credit for...and if you under-rotate, then it'll get counted as a double anyway, so what's the harm?]
[I guess...]
[That's the spirit!] He said excitedly, leaning forward to kiss her before standing back to his full height, [You should get out there before time runs out.]
[I'm going.]
Practice went off without a hitch, with a dozen or so other skaters on the ice, each working on last-minute adjustments to their skill set. Sophia was gliding along effortlessly. Jumps were something of an Achilles Heel for her, especially the Axel, the only jump to launch from a forward-facing progression...but she'd been getting better. As she rounded the far end of the rink, she decided to try the triple just to see how it felt. She vaulted, spun, and landed easily enough. Then, a second time. Viktor was clapping excitedly for her from rink-side.
That's when everything took a turn, though.
Sophia lined up the jump, spun to face forward, launched...and ended up on the ice.
Viktor winced, expecting her to get up in short order like any other time she'd fallen, but when she rolled from her stomach to her side and was reaching for her right knee, realized something had just gone horribly wrong. He rushed quickly for the rink-side entrance closest to where she landed, and ran carefully across the ice to check on her.
[Sophia! What's wrong!?]
[...M...My knee... I felt a pop, like glass breaking inside...!] She explained, trying to hold back the tears, but failing as the pain increased. The swelling was already obvious even in just the minute or so after she'd fallen.
Viktor tried to help her up, but it was painfully obvious in rather short order that she couldn't put any weight on it.
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[It's a complete tear of the ACL.] A doctor was saying in Russian. Viktor was leaning against a wall, listening, watching as the woman scrolled through several slides of an MRI, [There isn't a lot that can be done about it except surgery, or leaving it alone.]
Sophia looked from the doctor to her partner, [What's she saying?]
[Your ACL is done for.] He said bitterly, feeling rather angry about the whole thing, [The only way you'll skate again is with surgery.]
[But...that means.. I'll have to withd-] Her words cut off as the reality sank in, and the tears came uncontrollably after that.
Viktor moved in quickly to comfort her, but he already knew what the prognosis was. Both of them did. No one in sports was ignorant to the realities of torn ligaments, especially those in aggressive sorts...like figure skating.
[We'll wait a few days for the inflammation to go down, but we can fix this rather soon.] The physician started, speaking to Viktor, [She should be able to skate again by next year, assuming she doesn't overdo it just because it'll feel fine again within a few months. You athletes are your own worst enemies.]
[Next year, the year after that...what difference does it make? Rostelecom is happening now.]
[She can't even walk, Mr. Nikiforov.]
[I know!] He barked, but then paused and sighed, [...Sorry, I'm just saying things.]
[Think it over. She can have the surgery here or we can send her imaging back home with her to get it done there instead. In either case, if she ever wants to skate again, the surgery will have to be done.]
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[Don't worry about me so much.] Sophia said from her end of the phone line; she was back home in Bordeaux while Viktor was getting ready to do his Free Skate at the GP Final in Quebec City, [You'll mess up your Free Skate too if you don't focus.]
[I wish I could've been there.]
[There's no sense in having you withdraw from the Grand Prix over me being injured.] She insisted, [The surgery is done and over, so now all either of us can do is wait. Healing doesn't happen faster just because two people are worried about it.]
[I know...]
[It's fine now. Honest. It doesn't hurt anymore.]
[...Okay...]
It didn't help though. The Russian Legend couldn't shake the worry, and he came out the other end with a score that was barely average. 81.5 for the SP and 176.1 for the FS. It wasn't last-place, but it wasn't enough to get on the podium either.
Skipping French Nationals was hard. Leaving Sophia behind for Russian Nationals was harder. By Euros, the stress of their divergent paths was enough to start arguments.
[...It hurts too much to watch you falling apart out there.] The French former-skater lamented, [I'm barely at a point where the doctors are even letting me jog. You've stopped practicing because you think you have to take care of me all the time! You're too good for this!]
[...But...]
[No! Viktor...please! You're going to lose everything if you stay here...]
[I can't just leave you like this...] He insisted, [What good am I if I take off when you need me?]
[You're just making it harder!] She said cruelly, holding onto the kitchen counter, [And it just makes me feel even worse when I see you go to competition and fall short of your own standards! You haven't medaled since before the Final, and it's my fault!]
The Russian was left a little speechless. Dark circles had been under his eyes for weeks by then, but the whole thing was wearing him down even more as the conversation went on.
[I love you, Viktor...and the only thing I can do for you is let you go.]
There was no sense arguing. It would just make him look desperate.
The flight back to St. Petersburg was miserable, and the absence of a lecture from Yakov was even worse. It would've made more sense to him if his coach had given him the 'I told you so' speech instead of the silent treatment. The only argument he got in the end from Yakov was the lecture about his decision to withdraw from Worlds. In the end, Yakov had made him go anyway though, but all Viktor did was watch from the sidelines. Not even Chris could cheer him up.
When he finally got home again from that miserable event, Viktor had his hair cut short...and it stayed that way from then on.
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The Russian's unblinking, wordless stare continued, and he felt his fingers going stiff at his sides. He watched as the two techs with the camera and audio equipment were saying things that he couldn't hear, and tried to convince Sophia to do the interview like she was supposed to, but even she didn't seem that interested.
[I told you I didn't want to interview him!] She said through grit teeth; too quiet for anyone but Chris and Yuri to hear, even though only Chris understood it, [This was a terrible idea!]
"Yuri." The Swiss skater said suddenly, getting his junior's attention like a rattlesnake's jangle, "Get your things. We're leaving."
"Huh?"
"Just go. I'll call you if you don't find us."
"Why would you have to? Where are you going...?" He was even more anxious now than before, but when he looked from Chris to Viktor, he realized why. There were tears already falling from Viktor's face, and Chris had moved quickly past him to gather the Russian up and start moving him away. It was a retreat with no planned destination. All Yuri could do was watch them go, shake his head with worry, and try to follow Chris' instructions and catch up to them as quickly as he could.