Alright, so I'm really sorry it took two months for me to update this fic again. This semester honestly burned me tf out and it was hard finding time to work on this in between assignments. Moreover, this chapter was just generally hard to write because I am at a point in the fic where I have to think carefully about what I write. But to be fair to myself, it's not like I was totally unproductive because this chapter's long. And I mean REALLY LONG. Just how long are we talking? For perspective: my average chapter word count is in the mid-high 3000s.

This chapter is about 14,500 words long.

So hopefully you guys can find it in your hearts to forgive me just a little bit?

As always, all feedback is greatly appreciated!

At last, the final practice of the season arrived for Lara, bringing with it the promise of some time off to spend with Sam, as well as heaps of praise piled onto the team by the coach. When the time came for the day's exertions to come to an end, the coach had nothing to say to the gymnasts besides telling them to enjoy their day off tomorrow.

With that, Lara and the rest of the gymnasts strode into the locker room to get changed. After opening her locker, Lara pulled her phone out of her bag and called Sam to see what she was up to. No answer. Well, she was probably asleep or busy. Lara returned her phone to her bag and pulled her day's casualwear out to put on for the commute home.

"You ready for Friday?" Paige asked from two lockers down. Lara looked over at Paige to see that the captain was looking directly at her as she spoke.

"Shame on me if I'm not by this point," Lara replied as she switched shirts.

"As long as we beat Birmingham and pay them back for earlier in the season, I'm satisfied." Paige closed her locker as she spoke. Around them, all the other girls chatted animatedly amongst themselves. "Anyways," Paige continued as she shrugged her bag onto her shoulder, "some of us were thinking about going out tonight for a pre-celebration of the end of the season. You care to join? I get it if you're busy."

"For once I'm not," Lara replied, "but I was planning to spend some time with my…partner." Between inquisitive teammates and intrigued bar regulars, avoiding conversations about her relationship became increasingly difficult. So, 'partner' was what she settled on for referring to Sam. 'Partner' was acceptable enough to people that they didn't question any further. Not that any of it was going to matter in a couple of days anyways.

"You could bring them with?" Paige suggested. There it was: checkmate. To refuse was to draw deeper inquiries regardless. To go without Sam was to sacrifice their time together. But Lara had been turning the captain down a lot lately, and there was a part of her that wanted to go. But did her desire to go outweigh her desire to be with Sam? "I'll text you the details. Just think on it and let me know, no pressure," Paige continued, having evidently detected the conflict raging in Lara's mind.

"I'll ask them and get back to you. They haven't been feeling well lately." This was the truth, too. While Sam had become more capable of movement and daily self-maintenance again, she still had complaints of pain and soreness post-surgery. Paige nodded in understanding.

"Like I said, just let me know."

Lara finished getting changed while the rest of the gymnasts trickled out one by one. As the last few filed out, she stepped into the bathroom section to fix her hair in the mirror. As soon as she unbound her mane from the bun it was in, she paused.

She never used to fixate so much on appearances, but lately she was finding it difficult to not scrutinize herself through a critical lens. She wondered what changed. It wasn't as if her physical features changed overnight; she'd been stocky since the start of secondary school. Muscular bulk was a natural by-product of being as active as she was. And yet, Lara was left repeatedly questioning whether or not she liked the way she looked. Women were supposed to be 'pretty' and 'beautiful.' But 'beautiful' wasn't the veins that protruded from her arms, nor the callouses on her hands. 'Beautiful' wasn't her proud chin and jawline. 'Beautiful' wasn't bulk or scars. 'Beautiful' was soft and tender, not harsh and rugged.

So what did that make her? What words were there to describe herself, if any? Or was her essence so foreign that there wasn't a single word within the English lexicon to capture the concept? Did it even matter?

Lara frowned as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail, the muscles in her arms being thrown into clearer relief from flexing as she did so. When she was done, she retrieved her things without taking another glance at the mirror and left the building.

She heard music from the entry hall as she entered her unit. She wondered if someone was throwing a party when she realized the sound was coming from her flat.

Oh, Sam.

When Lara let herself in, she found herself head-bopping along to the synthetic beat, layered overtop of which was a childlike melody played on what was best described as a digital marimba. The resulting sound was very indie as a result. Lara was about to call out to Sam and ask who the song was by when she recognized the sound of Sam's vocals.

"Hey mister, mister what you want from me?"

Sam's voice was in the higher end of her register as her voice rang out through the flat.

"Been on the run just tryna break free

I'm tryna climb, but it seems so steep

Whoa-oh, hey."

Lara strode over to Sam's open door and peered inside her room. Sam, whose gaze was fixed on her computer, had apparently not noticed that Lara was home. Lara focused her gaze on Sam's computer as well and saw a bunch of audio tracks displayed on some sort of software. So Sam was well enough to make music again. That was good. The marimba ceased, and a drum kit joined the ensemble, giving the tone a more alt-punk feel as the song progressed into the chorus.

"Gloves off! I'm ready to fight

you poked me now I'm ready to bite.

You ask me what my problem is

I say you're nothing to me but a parasite-"

"Who are we fighting?" Lara asked from the doorway as the song transitioned into a post-chorus instrumental bridge. Sam jumped in her seat and paused the playback.

"I didn't realize you were home," Sam remarked, looking back at Lara.

"I'm home early both today and tomorrow." Lara strode over to where Sam sat and leaned over her shoulder to plant a kiss on her lips.

"No work?" Sam inquired when they ceased snogging.

"And no practice tomorrow," Lara added as she kicked off her shoes and flopped down on Sam's bed. She laced her fingers behind her head and nodded at Sam's laptop, "When did you start that song?"

"Today."

"Really?"

"You like it?"

"It's different from what I usually hear you playing. I like it a lot."

"You mean you don't normally like what I play?" Sam joked.

"Nope," Lara retorted, "I think your music's absolute drivel. Horrid, really."

"Ouch," Sam feigned being shot in the heart by holding a hand over her chest as she saved her work and turned her laptop off.

"I take it you're feeling good today, then?"

"I'm feeling better for sure. Might be able to start making some money soon, too." There it was: that angry-sad look of Sam's. Lara's gaze drifted from Sam's facial expression to the pile of dirty laundry decorating Sam's floor to the collection of unwashed dishes that had doubtlessly been stacking up since her surgery.

"And how do you feel mentally?" Lara continued.

"Like shit," Sam admitted as she got to her feet and made for the bed. Lara slid over to make some space for her. "I'm very stressed and depressed. Is that why they call it 'distress'?"

"Maybe," Lara replied as Sam climbed into bed beside her. She couldn't help but grin when Sam rested her head on her shoulder. She'd been quite cuddle-deprived since Sam's surgery, being that they needed to sleep in separate beds while Sam healed. Now that Sam was starting to feel better, she had full intentions to make up for lost time while she had the time to do so. She withdrew her hand from behind her head to wrap an arm around Sam once she was situated. Sam put a hand to her forearm in response and let out a contented hum.

"So your coach actually gave you guys a break for a change?" Sam cocked her head to look up at Lara.

"Yes, which means I have plenty of time to hear about your distress."

"You've already heard about it a million times though."

"And I'll hear it again."

"Then lemme tell you about my existence."

"I'm listening."

"My existence sucks right now."

"Existing is hard."

"Existing in the working class is hard. Life was not so complicated when I was rich."

"Is the money worth it?"

"No, but I hate being at such an uncertain crossroads. I just wish that I could do more to make myself feel better right now. My appendix really could have picked a better time to commit suicide."

"Your appendix committed suicide?" Lara raised a brow.

"Yup. It took a good look at life and how useless it was in the grand scheme of things and said 'nah, I'm good.' And honestly, I really respect the mentality."

"Is that how you feel?"

"Like I said, life really sucks right now."

"Anything I can do to make it better?"

"I wish I knew."

"Hmmm…"

"Honestly, I know part of the reason I feel this way is because I've had nothing but time to think."

"Sounds like you need a distraction, then."

"I would love one. I haven't had a life for the past couple of weeks." Sam sighed. Lara chewed her lip contemplatively. She wanted to go out. Sam wanted to go out. Why should she have to choose between time with friends and time with Sam? She took a deep breath to prepare herself before speaking.

"Well, would you…" Lara began before pausing to gather her thoughts, "Paige invited me out. Maybe you'd like to come out with me?"

"Come out?"

"Yeah, come out with me…as my partner."

"Your 'partner,' huh?"

"I…haven't told anybody that I'm seeing a woman yet."

"But tonight you would be," Sam concluded.

"If you joined me," Lara affirmed with a nod.

"And you're okay with that?"

"I'd like you to join me," Lara stated simply. What was the point of keeping a secret for two more days? It didn't matter if she let the cat out of the basket before, during, or after talking to Roth. It was going to happen anyway. Might as well bite the bullet, right? Sam stared into her eyes for a moment or two before a smile stretched across her features.

"Well, I'd love to, but I also have no money for anything but rent."

"I can pay," Lara offered.

"I wouldn't feel right letting you do that," Sam countered, the smirk vanishing from her face in an instant.

"Why?"

"Because it's my fault I don't have money."

"So?"

"So these are the consequences of my actions."

"Who's a masochist now?" Lara quipped.

"Shut up," Sam spat.

"Let me take you out," Lara insisted.

"Don't you have your own money problems?" Sam demanded.

"Stop coming up with excuses for why I can't do something nice for you. Weren't you the one who once lectured me about maintaining a balance between give and take?"

"Hey!" Sam protested, "Holding me accountable to my own standards is not fair!" Lara laughed.

"Come out with me, Sam."

"Alright," Sam finally conceded, "what time and where?"

"We'd have to leave in a couple hours. It's some place called 'Al's' in Islington."

"Gotcha. You should probably shower soon, then."

"Do I smell?"

"Surprisingly, no. But I know you; you're like a cat. You like to be pet-" Sam put one finger up in front of her, "sometimes you scream for no reason-" Sam put up another finger, "and you like to groom yourself excessively." Sam put up one last finger and wiggled all three.

"Meow," was all Lara could muster in her defense. Sam burst out into laughter, her even, white teeth bared in joy. In Lara's opinion, Sam was at her most beautiful when laughing, though she hadn't seen Sam laughing as much as usual since her surgery. She resolved to make Sam laugh as much as possible that evening. "Will you pet me if I start licking myself?" She continued, flashing Sam a mischievous smirk.

"Only if you make cat noises while you do it," Sam replied. Lara, not one to shy away from a challenge, locked her gaze with Sam and maintained a serious expression as she brought her wrist to her mouth. "Okay wait, I changed my mind, this is weird."

"Prrr," Lara purred, and she slowly licked her wrist while maintaining eye contact with Sam, trying to make the moment as uncomfortable and drawn out as possible.

"Stop," Sam protested even though amusement crept into her tone.

"Brrrow?" Lara inquired, her tongue still glued to her wrist.

"You're so fucking weird," Sam laughed as she covered her eyes with one of her hands in secondhand embarrassment.

"I'm still waiting to be pet." Lara ceased licking her wrist.

"Go shower, goofus," Sam instructed Lara, removing her hand from her eyes to reach up and affectionately muss Lara's hair. If Lara were indeed a cat, she could have actually purred from the contact.

"I don't feel much like moving, if I'm being honest," Lara admitted.

"That's sweet, but I need to shower too. So if you won't go, I will."

"No, I'll go before you use all the hot water." Lara stretched before moving to get up.

"Hey, you snooze, you lose," Sam came back as Lara climbed over her to get to her feet. "Wait!" Sam exclaimed, catching Lara by the forearm before Lara could draw herself upright. Lara flashed Sam a curious glance. "Give me another kiss." Sam grinned cheekily.

"As you command, mistress," Lara drawled, planting a hand on either side of Sam and stooping over so that their faces were just inches apart.

"That's 'goddess' to you, thank you very much," Sam snarked in return. Lara let out a small snort before planting another kiss on Sam's lips.

"Yes, goddess." Lara began to pull away with the intent to make for the bathroom.

"I'm not done with you yet," Sam protested, snaking a hand around the back of Lara's head to hold her in place.

"Someone's affectionate today," Lara remarked, "you really must be feeling better."

"I'm just feeling you right now," Sam replied before pulling Lara in for another kiss. Lara grinned into Sam's lips.

"That right?"

"It's your arms," Sam continued. Lara frowned in confusion.

"My arms?" Lara felt Sam release her head. She stared blankly at Sam as Sam instead began to molest one of her biceps. "What are you-?"

"Your arms always have this nice pump to them after you workout. I find it incredibly attractive."

"I- wot?" Lara blinked in bemusement.

"It makes me think of–y'know, the Greek island warrior lesbians?"

"The Amazons?"

"Yes! You…" Sam started to feel up Lara's other bicep with her other hand, "are Amazonian."

"Oh, come off it!" Lara protested.

"What? It's the truth! You're hot as fuck!"

"I…" Lara didn't even know how to respond. Sam scrutinized her with pensivity painted on her features.

"What's on your mind?" She asked at length, running her hands up Lara's shoulders and giving them a small squeeze. Lara opened her mouth to say 'nothing,' but caught herself at the last second. Hadn't she resolved to be a better communicator?

"Ah…" Lara hung her head while she figured out how best to articulate herself. Even though she trusted Sam implicitly, every part of her screamed at her to remain retentive, to keep everything bottled up. Lara shook her head to shoo the thoughts away. Give and take. She needed to remember the balance of give and take. "Um…" she continued, lifting her head back up and scratching the back of her neck to ease her nerves, "What if I don't feel the same way about myself?" Sam's eyes widened at the question, like she found the entire notion absurd.

"You don't think you're attractive?"

"Sam, look at me."

"I am. That's why I'm confused. I think you're beautiful." Lara grimaced. There it was, that word again.

"I don't see myself as beautiful."

"Well, what do you see yourself as?"

"Rough. Bulky. Masculine."

"And that's a bad thing?" Sam asked with a hint of incredulity to her tone.

"I…" Lara's voice trailed off.

"I'm gonna let you in on a secret," Sam continued, "and I know that this might come as a shocker, but I'm pretty intensely attracted to you. Not just intellectually, but physically too. Wanna know why?"

"Why's that?" Lara replied in an unenthusiastic tone.

"Because you have an unusual kind of beauty, one that's exotic. And maybe 'beautiful' isn't the right word for you. Maybe you're more 'handsome' than anything, but I don't think that's a bad thing. It just means you're an unconventional kind of attractive. And I think that unconventional is hotter than all these cookie-cutter femmes you see in the media."

"A handsome woman?" No, that was absurd.

"Women can be handsome!" Sam countered in her defense.

"Men are handsome."

"There's absolutely nothing wrong with being a masculine woman. In fact, if this was ancient Greece, you'd be glorified as the ideal woman, a balance between the masculine and feminine."

"Well, the Greeks were also really into pre-pubescent boys…"

"Okay, look. You know who is inspired by the Amazons?"

"Who?"

"Wonder Woman. Themyscira is literally just Lesbos. Are you telling me Wonder Woman isn't hot?"

"A fictional character is hardly-"

"Okay, then what about Ronda Rousey? She's pretty buff and handsome. A lot of people agree that she's hot." Sam was just trying to make her feel better. Lara knew that. She wasn't unappreciative. It just wasn't helping, and they really needed to start getting ready to leave.

"I'm going to get in the shower now," Lara declared, drawing herself up to full height. Sam let her go without any resistance, though she did look rather crestfallen, likely because she knew she had failed to assuage the negative emotions swirling within Lara. Lara wanted to tell her that it wasn't her fault, that her efforts were appreciated, that she was sweet for trying, but found herself unable to produce the words. She exhaled the breath she had drawn in to speak and walked out before she could feel any more awkward than she already did.

She didn't take a single look in the mirror when she got undressed to shower.

Getting dressed turned out to be a whole other ordeal for Lara once she got out of the shower. Normally, she didn't pay much mind to her attire and usually chose to don whatever she deemed comfortable and practical. Today, however, she agonized over what articles she would choose. Maybe it was because she knew she'd be out in public with Sam, but she was very self conscious about appearing too, she didn't know… Stereotypical?

Lara ground the butt of her palm into her forehead. In all reality, it was a very contradictory notion: simultaneously trying to mask one's homosexuality when out in public with a same-sex partner. In the back of her mind, she knew that there was no reason to fixate so heavily on her appearance as long as she felt good. The problem was that she didn't feel good at the moment. How was it that she, who confronted danger on a regular basis working at the Nine Bells, was left feeling paralyzed and rooted in place over a few pieces of fabric?

Oh, the irony of her greatest enemy being the closet.

Lara couldn't help but let out a snort at that one. It seemed that Sam's tendency to cope with stress with sardonic humor was finally rubbing off on her. And if she was being honest, having a laugh at the situation did succeed in making her feel better. She let out an emphatic sigh, as if trying to expel all of her misgivings from her vessel through her lungs. That kind of helped, too. She took a few more breaths to calm herself. In with tranquility, out with the anxiety.

When she was sufficiently fortified, she took a step towards her closet and slid open the bifolds. From what she gathered, Al's was a nicer bar than the ones students typically frequent, but it was a bar nonetheless. However, she'd be going out with Sam. So maybe she'd dress just a tad nicer than the venue warranted? Then again, Sam probably wasn't going to dress up because of her incisions. So maybe 'slightly dressier casual' was best. Lara nodded to herself. Yes, that would do.

Jeans, then. She pulled out a pair of dark denim slim fits, then she also pulled out a light blue button-down, along with her white canvas slip-ons. Good enough. She removed her towel and discarded it on the floor before garbing herself in her freshly selected attire. She rolled her sleeves up part way and retrieved her hair tie so she could fix her hair in the mirror. Try as she did to not scrutinize herself too intensely as she pulled her hair back, she couldn't help but examine her ensemble once she had tamed her mane. Her eyes drifted down to her exposed forearms. God, she really did have man hands and large forearms. Maybe she should pull her sleeves back down? Did it even make a difference?

Oh, sod it.

Lara retrieved her magatama from where she had set it aside on her nightstand. Just as she finished putting it on, there was a knock at her bedroom door. She strode over and opened it to reveal Sam, starkers save for the towel she had wrapped precariously around her body.

"Oh, you look good," Sam remarked.

"Were you knocking to tell me that?"

"I was trying to see how dressy you were so I could decide what to wear." Sam brought a hand to her chin while she considered Lara. "Hmm…"

"What?"

"Your collar's a little fucked up. Lemme fix it." Sam reached up and fiddled around with Lara's collar, lightly brushing the exposed flesh on Lara's neck as she did so. Lara had to admit, however, that she was a little more fixated on Sam's towel, which wasn't fastened securely and only continued to loosen as Sam reached up.

"Sam-"

"That's better." Sam nodded in approval at Lara's newly straightened collar. "You should also undo this button-" Lara saw the towel going before it actually fell. She immediately glued her eyes to the ceiling to preserve Sam's decency as all the heat in her body rushed to her face. An image of steam erupting from her ears as if she were a kettle full of pent-up heat popped into her brain. "Oh shit!" Sam yelped in surprise as she scrambled to retrieve the towel and cover herself back up.

Sometimes Lara swore that Sam did these types of things on purpose to fluster her.

"So anyways," Sam continued in a high pitched tone, "I'll be ready in a bit." Running with the assumption that she was in the clear, Lara looked back down at Sam to see that she, too, was red-faced and bashful.

"Sounds good," Lara squeaked in return. Once Sam had exited the room, Lara closed her door and leaned back against it as she buried her face in her hand and softly hissed out some choice expletives. She didn't see anything, but that didn't matter because she already knew what she didn't see. Now, unbidden images of what she didn't see were flashing through her mind.

Fuck.

God help her.

Were people watching? Was it obvious? Was it really okay to be out in public as they were? Was it safe? How was the team going to react? Lara had trouble allaying the anxious thoughts that zipped about her mind as they waited for the train to arrive at their stop. Every fiber of her being was screaming at her that what she was doing was wrong. Was it really wrong for her to be out in public with her partner? No. But it felt that way.

Her eyes scanned the interior of the carriage they were in. Thankfully, the carriage's occupants were either absorbed by their phones or the books they were reading. Perhaps she was just overthinking everything? After all, there were plenty of lesbians in the world; maybe the existence of people like she and Sam were matter-of-factly to people who weren't bigoted boomers?

It wasn't until they got off in Islington and started walking to Al's that the stares ensued and Lara was confronted with that familiar feeling of being a circus animal. It wasn't as if the stares were overt or flagrantly disdainful, but Lara could still see them: the double takes, the raised brows, and who could blame them? She caught a glimpse of her and Sam's reflection in the windows of shops as they walked by, and by God! It wasn't as if it was hard to tell. She was the butch, Sam was the femme, and they were holding hands. Definitely a pair of lesbians.

But also, Lara couldn't help but notice how happy Sam looked in their reflection. The spark had returned to her eyes once more, missing after days of depression. And Sam's spark had returned because they were holding hands as they walked down that very much busy street. In light of that fact, Lara felt like enduring the stares was worth it.

Sam's phone GPS indicated that they were nearing Al's, and Lara drew in a deep breath to prepare herself. Time to face the music. Sam gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and Lara looked to the side to see her smiling softly back at her. If it wasn't for that smile, Lara would have stayed home.

"You ready?" Sam asked.

"No," Lara admitted, "but I'm going in anyways."

"Just remember I'm right here with you." The only response that Lara could formulate was to squeeze Sam's hand in return. They strode through what was evidently an outdoor seating area in warmer weather and walked through the wooden double doors, where they were immediately assailed by a deluge of noise.

Lara blinked and shook her head to diffuse some of the shock to her nervous system and began looking around the bar to figure out where the team was, not that that was an easily accomplished task. Between the mild sensory overload and her own anxiety, Lara felt her heart pounding against the walls of its bony cell, begging for escape. Her mouth felt dry, and her hands were clammy, her knees weak. Was it too late for her to turn back? The sound of glasses clinking clear as day jolted her from her thoughts before she could follow them any deeper.

A few moments later, tucked away at a table in the corner of the bar, Lara spotted Paige, Lexie, as well as a few other gymnasts that she wasn't necessarily friends with but liked nonetheless. She and Paige locked eyes at that moment, and she swallowed thickly when she observed Paige frowning. She knew why. She had told Paige she was coming with her partner, yet there was Sam: her roommate.

Here came the moment of truth. Lara continued to watch as Paige's eyes widened in sudden understanding and she blurted something out. Lara wasn't very good at lip reading, but she was certain the captain said something along the lines of 'no fucking way!'

Paige nudged Lexie beside her and motioned towards Lara and Sam. Lexie's eyes followed Paige's gesticulations before also widening in sudden understanding at the sight of UCL's latest inamoratas, and the two of them motioned for Lara and Sam to come over with bright grins adorning their features.

So everything was fine? That was a good sign, right? Lara gave Sam's hand another squeeze. Sam squeezed in return. With a deep breath, Lara screwed her courage to the sticking place and approached the table where the gymnasts sat.

"I fucking knew it!" Paige exclaimed when she and Sam were within earshot.

"Knew…what?" Lara asked as she and Sam took a seat.

"Come now, you really think you were being that subtle?" Paige let out a small laugh. "You said you have this 'partner' that you always want to see, but you're also allegedly home all of the time because of Sam's surgery. Between that and the way you two talk to each other on the phone, it doesn't take an astrophysicist to do the math."

"What math?" Sam asked innocently. Lara raised a brow at her. What was Sam getting at?

"Well, I thought you two were…you know?" Paige's formerly boisterous demeanor had deflated significantly by this point.

"Oh right, you were expecting Lara to be here with her partner. Nah, her partner couldn't make it, so here I am, her roommate. Two gals being pals."

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry I jumped to-" Paige began before Lara burst out laughing, unable to contain herself any further. She understood now. Sam was just messing around. This was also probably Sam's way of getting her to admit to their affair herself.

"She's fucking with you, Paige. We're actually dating." Lara was surprised by how easily the words flowed from her mouth. She imagined this moment being more agonizing, like swallowing castor oil. But instead, it seemed that Paige and the other gymnasts didn't mind her being gay at all. In fact, they seemed to have known all along. Was it really that simple? Lara felt like crying from relief, but before her brain had a chance to indulge the whim, Paige slid a shot of Jameson over to her and Sam apiece.

"Anyhow, shall we raise a toast?" Paige inquired rhetorically, "To the end of a turbulent season, and to the lovely couple sitting across from me." Lara robotically threw the shot back with everyone else while she continued to process the fact that she spent months overthinking how difficult life was going to become for her. But maybe it was truly okay for her to be gay? Maybe she could live a normal life?

"So I gotta ask," Lexie interjected, ripping Lara from her reverie, "when did you two start dating? How long has this been a thing?"

"If you're asking about how long we've been dating?" Sam began, "Probably close to a month at this point. If you're asking about how long there's been palpable sexual tension between us? Well…"

"Sam!" Lara exclaimed.

"...Probably closer to two or three months," Sam finished. Lara felt like she could die from embarrassment. That said, it felt nice that Sam was teasing her like she always did. It felt nice to have everything feel so normal for them at that moment. It didn't matter that they were in public, because Sam was still Sam and she was still Lara. And that was all that should matter. With a newfound sense of jubilance, she excused herself to order some food and more drinks for her and Sam.

With each drink, Lara's senses were dulled, rendering her more able to relax and be present in the moment. She'd been spending so much time at home, at work, and on campus that she'd nearly forgotten how good it felt to cut loose from time to time, to have that one night where she didn't feel stressed about anything and could just have fun. She wasn't even worried about having her talk with Roth.

At some point, a live DJ began playing music through speakers set up on either end of a makeshift dance floor that Lara hadn't noticed was there earlier. By the time the third song began playing, everybody but Lara and Sam had gotten up to dance.

"I can't wait until my stomach heals so I can dance again." Sam looked after the gymnasts wistfully as she took another sip of her drink. "You don't have to sit here with me if you don't want to," she added.

"I'd rather be here than over there," Lara replied. Sam looked back over at her as another smile began to blossom on her face. Sam really did look so beautiful when smiling. Lara wondered if Sam even had a clue how beautiful she was? Sam opened her mouth to say something when a random guy sauntered over from the bar to where the two of them were sitting.

"Excuse me," the guy said to Sam, "I was at the bar with my mate, and I couldn't help but notice how beautiful you are from all the way over there." Sam's mouth was still hanging open as she looked over at Lara then back at the guy in disbelief. It took every fiber of Lara's being to not jump to her feet and push the guy away from Sam. She was the one who was supposed to be telling Sam how beautiful she was, damnit! How could some random bloke take that opportunity from her?

"Well…" Sam began to respond at length, "Thank you, but-"

"You have a boyfriend?"

"No," Sam responded evenly, "but my girlfriend is sitting right next to me and you just interrupted the two of us." The only reason Lara hadn't gotten involved by that point was because she knew Sam was capable of handling the situation on her own. The guy looked between the two of them before scrunching his face in disbelief.

"You and her? There's no way you two are shagging."

"Excuse me?" Sam demanded with a hint of indignation.

"You don't even look like dykes."

"Are lesbians supposed to look a certain way?" Sam laughed. If there was a way for Lara to describe herself as the situation unfolded before her, she would compare herself to a rubber band, stretching further and further. But after a while, even a rubber band is bound to-

"Come on, why don't you-?" The guy reached towards Sam and put a hand on her shoulder.

Snap. The impact of Lara's hand clasping firmly around the guy's wrist resounded around the table, though no one else was around to hear it. Lara ripped his hand from Sam's shoulder and twisted his wrist while squeezing as tightly as she could. The guy yelped in protest.

"Touch her again and I'll kick your ass, you fucking git." Lara was taken aback by the scorching heat behind her tone, but her point was certainly made as she detected fear flashing across the guy's features. She let go of his wrist only after giving it one more forceful squeeze for good measure. The guy cradled his wrist and looked back over at Sam.

"You could have just said you weren't interested, you bitch." He began to walk away. Lara was about to get to her feet and maul him when she felt a gentle hand on her thigh. Lara looked down at it then over at Sam, who was shaking her head.

"Don't. He's not worth it," Sam said.

"He just called you a-"

"Welcome to misogyny." Sam sighed. "Guys like that are everywhere. I get it, he was an asshole. Not worth getting charged with assault over, however." Lara scowled after the guy but ultimately drew in a deep breath and relaxed her muscles.

"That was bullshit."

"It was, but the way you handled him was quite impressive. Thank you for getting him off of me, by the way."

"Nobody gets to put their hands on you."

"I'm not gonna lie, it's pretty hot when you get all protective."

"Is it?" Lara asked as she continued to glare after the guy.

"Makes me feel safe, too. I'm never gonna have to worry about creeps again."

Lara was beginning to think that being a little bulky might not be a bad thing.

They wound up leaving the bar earlier than the rest of the gymnastics team on account of Sam's stomach. Lara doubted the two of them would be missed too dearly, however, given that the team was on track to be pissed out of their minds come closing. She knew the team had to be quite drunk because she and Sam were feeling quite tipsy themselves.

She must have zoned out at some point, because she didn't even notice the time go by on their train ride back and nearly missed their stop in Barking as a result. Their walk back home from the train station was filled with fits of giggles as Sam gave her best impressions of the guy Lara put in place earlier.

"Yo," Sam blurted out all of a sudden as she stopped dead in her tracks to look at a brick building they were walking by, "that's some sick art!" She pointed at a graffiti image of a mushroom that reminded Lara of the icons she used to see in church with the way rays emanated from the cap to symbolize enlightenment or holiness. Below the cap, the artist added in a rain of rainbow trickling down around the stalk. The mushroom itself was textured with paisley.

"Very counterculture," Lara remarked.

"That's talent right there," Sam continued, pointing at the image again with a flourish, "and to think, we never would have gotten to see this wonderful example of renaissance-tier art if we hadn't gone out tonight."

"You're right, seeing this mushroom is what made the entire night worth it."

"Actually?"

"No, but seeing your smile did." Lara watched as Sam turned away from the mushroom to face her.

"That's…really sweet."

"We should make this a regular thing," Lara said, "once a week or every other week. Just structured time for us to go out together."

"I'd like that a lot." Sam wrapped her arms around Lara's waist, and Lara folded her within her own arms reflexively. They stood there together, enjoying each other's warmth against the contrasting winter cold as they continued to appreciate the art. "You know…" Sam continued at length, "I had a wonderful time tonight, annoying fuckboys and all."

"I did as well."

"Seriously, thank you. I really needed this."

"Of course, Sam. I just want you to be happy." Lara wished she could feel this uninhibited all the time. It was nice to feel like she could express herself freely. And why shouldn't she feel that way? There, in her arms, was the most wonderful woman she had ever met. It really was a marvel when she thought about it, the fact that they were at the point they were together. Between the incalculable odds of them winding up as roommates, of them coming from similar backgrounds on top of that, right down to the fact that they could be so dissimilar from each other in all the right ways, Lara almost found herself admitting that there was a God.

There's a God? Maybe she had a few too many. But was random probability truly a better explanation than divine design? Did it even matter? She was lucky, that was all there was to it.

"You already make me happy," Sam replied. Suddenly, it didn't matter to Lara that they were standing out on a public street. All that mattered to her in that moment was showing Sam how she felt.

And so there they were, making out beneath the magic mushroom.

Getting back to their flat was a blur, lost as they were in the sea of their passion. Lara had hardly shut the door behind them and set her keys aside when Sam started making out with her again. The moment Sam's lips touched her own, it was like a primal beast had awakened within her and was hungry for flesh, and uninhibited as she was, she was ready to let the beast feast.

Sam raked her teeth along Lara's bottom lip, and Lara inhaled sharply through her teeth and nose, flooding her senses with the scent of vanilla and amber. She wasn't aware of much else besides her body screaming yes, yes, yes… as Sam began to explore down her neck with her mouth, the warmth of her breath causing the hairs on her neck to stand up on end. Lara drew more cold air into her lungs as she ran her hands up Sam's back, which was practically radiating heat.

Sam's mouth met hers once more. A light draft wafted over Lara as her chest was unveiled, and her every nerve ending was set alight as Sam's fingers, coarse and calloused from constantly playing the guitar, ran themselves up along her exposed stomach, eliciting a series of twitches and jerks in their wake. Lara wished Sam would run her fingers down instead. Almost as if on a cue, Sam's index finger hooked itself along the inside of Lara's waistband. Lara gasped at the small, unexpected contact.

She'd fantasized about what was presently unfolding in her most private moments, but it was beginning to register with her that this wasn't a dream or a fantasy. This was reality, and it was happening right now.

Sam froze. Lara did too.

"We can't," Sam said all of a sudden. Lara blinked in reproach, her brain too drunk off of alcohol and arousal to fully process what was just said.

"Wot?"

"You're drunk, and I have stitches in my stomach. But mostly, you're drunk." Sam removed her hands from Lara. Lara would have argued against the first point, but she couldn't contest the second point. Now that her head was starting to clear, she was astounded that she forgot about Sam's surgery to begin with.

"Fuck," was all she could blurt out in response. 'Fuck!' just about encompassed everything she felt.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, you did nothing wrong, I just…can I have a moment?"

"Yeah," Sam said without question. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but instead settled for giving Lara a quick peck on the lips before leaving her alone in the entryway.

And so there she was, tits-out, tipsy, and awash in her ardor.

When Lara awoke the next morning, the other side of the bed was empty but still warm. Sam had gotten up before her for a change. That was unusual. She stretched with a groan and threw the covers off of herself. She'd had a very vivid dream the night before, one of those smutty ones she had from time to time. Only this time it felt so real, she could still feel Sam's calloused fingertips brush along the length of her abs…

Lara's eyes snapped open. That wasn't a dream. That actually happened. All the shame and sheepishness she should have felt from the night before came crashing into her with the force of a freight train. She and Sam nearly shagged. She would have let Sam see her starkers if not for the stitches in Sam's stomach that stood in the way. The mortification of such a realization caused her to cover her eyes in her shame as she felt herself go hot in the face. Would it really have been that easy for her?

Growing up, it had been preached to her that sex was sacred, and should be saved for marriage. Lara had put her ring on and said her purity vows with pride, but of course she did; she was a child. She didn't even know what sex was, let alone what it was like to be attracted to someone. At least, not until Sam. But since it was already taboo for her to be with another woman, did doctrine even matter?

Lara had to think about that one. It didn't matter in all reality, but it was all she knew. And while perhaps she didn't ascribe to every ideal of Christianity anymore, sex did seem to be an awfully intimate affair to share with another person. She had fantasies, sure, but the actual reality of laying bare every inch of one's body for someone to behold was, well…embarrassing. It felt embarrassing to Lara and she felt nervous just thinking about it because it was such a scarcely-discussed topic for her. It wasn't as if she had a mother or female role model to talk about these kinds of things with. Roth was great as a parent, but that one time that he tried to give her 'the talk' was enough for her. So Lara simply…never talked or thought about sex.

Fast forward to the past few months and the night before in particular, and it was obvious that it was a topic she could no longer avoid. Did she trust Sam implicitly and adore her? Of course. Was she certain that she was incredibly attracted to Sam? Absolutely. Was she ready to dive into that next level of vulnerability and intimacy? Well…

She wanted to. But she certainly would not have been ready the night before had she been sober. She felt bashful just thinking about sex where she lay in bed. However, there was a part of her that wished that she and Sam had just gotten it over with while she had the liquid courage in her system. The shame. The awkwardness. The embarrassment. Her own inexperience. She wished she could push right past all of that instead of laying there fixating.

But imagine if they had actually followed through with the act. How would she have felt in that scenario? How would she have reacted to waking up naked next to Sam? More heat rushed to Lara's face. She probably would have been a combination of mortified and traumatized, if she were being honest.

Thank God for Sam stopping everything in its tracks, then.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a crash come from the kitchen, followed by Sam swearing loudly. Figuring she'd better see what the damage was, Lara gave herself another good stretch before getting to her feet and walking out of Sam's room to see what happened. She found Sam rinsing her right hand in the sink. Below it, in the basin, was a broken bowl. Lara's heart stopped when she saw blood oozing from a cut on Sam's palm.

"I'm sorry," Sam pleaded when she saw Lara enter, "I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright," Lara replied calmly, "let me see your hand." She strode over, turned the water off, and took Sam's hand up in her own to observe the damage. Thankfully the cut didn't seem to be deep enough to warrant stitches, though it was bleeding a lot. Lara lightly ran her thumb over the cut. Sam winced.

"I'm sorry," Sam repeated, "I was trying to clean, and the soap made my hands slippery, and-"

"It's alright, Sam," Lara assured her, "it's just a bowl. Frankly, the only thing I'm angry about is the fact you're trying to clean right now when you still need rest." Lara looked up at Sam's face as she spoke. Sam looked back at her as her bottom lip began to quiver.

"I just wanted to do something nice."

"And I appreciate that. Why don't you take a seat and try to stop the bleeding while I look for something to take care of your hand with?" Lara folded Sam's fingers inward before letting her hand go.

"What about the-?"

"I'll clean up the mess, don't worry about it. Just take a seat." Sam chewed on her bottom lip before nodding in understanding. Lara went to her bedroom. She knew she had a first aid kit somewhere, she just couldn't remember where she put it. She checked the top shelf in her closet first. Nothing. She checked the drawers of her desk next. Also nothing. She had to resist the urge to swear aloud; Sam was hurt and bleeding in the kitchen, and it was taking her ages to find some bloody medical supplies!

Underneath the bed. That's where she put it. Lara clambered onto her hands and knees and fished around underneath her bed until her hand found the handle of the plastic box. Cargo secured. With the first aid kit in town, she returned to the kitchen, where Sam was now sitting in wait at the table with a wad of paper towels held to her palm. Lara took a seat beside Sam.

"Let me see your hand again," Lara said. Sam removed the paper towels from her hand and held it out to Lara, who received it in her own hands as if it were a delicate kitten. The wound was still oozing a bit of blood, but it wasn't flowing as intensely as it was before. That was good at least. "Sorry," Lara murmured as she tore open a packet of antiseptic with her teeth and squeezed its contents onto Sam's wound. Sam winced again when she began to spread the ointment across the cut but otherwise didn't protest.

Lara had absolutely no knowledge about the coital arts, but if there was one good thing that came out of her being raised exclusively by men, it was the fact that she damn well knew how to dress a wound–not that it was a skillset that she relished employing. She pressed a gauze pad overtop the wound and began to wrap Sam's hand. She started at the wrist, wrapping the bandage around it twice before pulling it up from the inside of Sam's wrist, around the back of her hand, up to the nail of her little finger. Then, she passed the bandage around the front of Sam's fingers, diagonally down the back of her hand to the outside of her wrist, and wrapped it under her wrist.

She repeated this figure eight pattern multiple times over until only the tips of Sam's fingers were peeking out from beneath the bandage. When she was done, she held the end of the bandage in place with one hand while she tore off a piece of medical tape with her teeth and used that to fasten the bandage. Sam removed her hand from Lara's to examine Lara's handiwork.

"You should probably put some ice on that," Lara said as she began to pack her first aid kit up, "and be more careful. I'd hate to see you in the hospital again."

"You're one to talk. But thank you for patching me up, Doctor Lara." Sam flashed her a smile. Lara hummed in acknowledgement as she got to her feet to clean up the broken bowl in the sink.

"Are you hungry?" Lara asked as she carefully scooped up the shattered ceramic and disposed of it in the rubbish bin.

"I was actually about to cook breakfast after cleaning."

"Well now I can cook us breakfast while you ice your hand," Lara stated simply.

"Do you even know how to make anything besides eggs and bacon?" Sam jibed.

"...Tea?" Lara answered tentatively. Sam laughed. "But I actually do know how to cook other things, I just normally don't have the time. Would you like something else?" Lara asked as she washed her hands and dried them off.

"Nah, eggs and bacon are fine," Sam said. Lara let out a small snort of amusement as she opened the door to their refrigerator and retrieved a carton of eggs and some bacon. As she retrieved a pan from one of their cabinets, she let her mind wander once more. Should she talk to Sam about what happened the night before? Was it a good time to do so? Perhaps she should just focus on cooking for the time being? Was she just being avoidant if she decided to focus on cooking, however? "What's on your mind?" Sam asked as she walked up and hugged Lara from behind.

"Hm?" Lara hummed in response, mostly to stall for time while she figured out how to articulate herself.

"You have that look in your eyes."

"There's a look in my eyes?" Lara actually hadn't realized that she was that easy to read.

"Whenever you're thinking about a difficult subject, your eyes kind of gloss over and become distant. What's bothering you?"

"My own thoughts."

"Does this have anything to do with what happened last night?" Sam asked. Lara sighed.

"Kind of," she admitted before quickly adding, "I've just been thinking."

"About?" Sam continued. Lara drew in a deep breath, her ribs expanding against the firm pressure of Sam's arms wrapped around her.

"It's rather uncomfortable for me to talk about."

"I'm not going to judge you or anything if that's what you're worried about."

"I know that, I just…" Lara clicked her tongue on her teeth exasperatedly. All she wanted to do was cook her eggs. She really didn't want to have such a deep, vulnerable discussion first thing in the morning. But now they were on the topic, and the feeling of Sam's arms around her was rather disarming. "Fuck," she murmured under her breath. Being a good communicator was so excruciating.

"What's on your mind?" Sam repeated.

"I guess…I'm a little embarrassed."

"Embarrassed?" Sam asked. Lara shrugged.

"I don't know what other word to put to my feelings besides maybe 'ashamed.'" Lara scratched the back of her neck. "I know we haven't talked about this, but I've never had s-"

"You're a virgin, yeah, I know," Sam replied. Lara blinked in surprise.

"You do?" Lara turned her head to look back at Sam.

"Sweetie, it's really not that hard to do the math. You've never dated anybody before, you only just recently figured out you're attracted to women, and you went to an all-girls Christian boarding school. I would have been shocked if you weren't a virgin, honestly." Sam laughed as she rested her head on Lara's shoulder. "Not that I wouldn't have stopped things regardless, but that's a big part of the reason why I didn't fuck you last night." Lara felt a fresh wave of appreciation for Sam wash over her.

"Thank you for that, by the way." Lara felt Sam shrug against her back.

"You don't need to thank me for respecting basic rules of consent."

"Even so-"

"It's essentially the same as thanking me for not sexually assaulting you," Sam continued, "which is something that's expected, not praise-worthy or above-and-beyond."

"Regardless, Sam, you're a treasure."

"Meaning you really dig me?" Sam wiggled her eyebrows at Lara, who stared back at her with her jaw agape.

"Did you just make an archaeology pun?"

"I prefer the term 'argayology,' but yes!"

"Oh my God, Sam." Lara shook her head in mock disgust as Sam let out another laugh.

"Hey, I'm a cunning linguist."

"Is that another lesbian pun?" Lara demanded. The shitheaded laugh that escaped Sam's mouth was the only answer she needed. "Oh, you are just vulgar, Samantha Andrea!"

"Damn, we're dropping my full government name now?" Sam jested.

"Go ice your hand," Lara commanded.

"Yes, madam." Sam removed her arms from Lara to retrieve an ice pack from the fridge. As she did so, Lara began to make their breakfast. She nearly dropped the egg she had in her hand when she felt something terribly cold and wet slide down her back. She let out a yelp of surprise. Sam's laughter, coupled with an ice cube clattering on the floor, told her all she needed to know.

"You are such an irksome bint!" Lara spat as she picked up the ice and threw it in the sink, though it was all she could do to keep an amused smirk from creeping upon her lips. "Don't think that just because you're a cripple I won't get you back later on."

"Hey, I just felt like you needed to cool down!" Sam countered in her defense as she took a seat at the table. Lara shook her head with a smile as she continued to cook. "So," Sam continued at length, "you ready for tomorrow?"

"I'm trying to not think about it if I'm being honest," Lara replied. "What about you? You said you're going to speak to the Daily Mail, correct?"

"Oh, God," Sam groaned, "I have no clue what kinds of questions they're gonna ask me. I feel so unprepared."

"Good thing you're good at talking," Lara replied.

"I guess. I think I'm more nervous about what's going to happen after this interview though."

"You think your father would take any action?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted, "I didn't even think he'd go as far as he has. But I also feel like it's a lot harder to twist a story about suing your own daughter than it is to twist a story about a custody battle with your brother. So I at least have that going for me, I guess."

"Indeed."

"You haven't talked to Roth yet, have you?" Sam asked. Lara froze. She knew this question was coming sooner or later.

"I couldn't have if I wasn't too scared anyway. He's not getting back into town until tomorrow." Lara began to cook their bacon. "I will talk to him at some point though."

"Gotcha." Sam paused. "You going to be okay without me there?"

"Needing you there would imply that things are going to go badly, which they aren't. Everything is going to be fine." Lara was more-so talking to herself rather than Sam with the last sentence.

"You're right," Sam agreed, "everything's gonna be more than fine. It's gonna be great."

Maybe if they spoke it into existence enough, things actually would turn out fine. Lara hoped so, anyway. She finished cooking and switched the burner off after plating their food. Sam didn't mention anything else about the next day when she brought their food over and took a seat, for which she was grateful. They had an entire day to spend together. She wanted to enjoy their time together as much as she could while they had it.

Come what may, she'd face it tomorrow.

Heart fluttering. Stomach churning. Hand sweating. Mouth dryness. Leg bouncing. Endless trepidation. The past five months had led Lara to this very moment, and now that she was here, she found containing her emotions to be an arduous ordeal. As she spectated from the sidelines with the rest of her team, all she could fixate on was just how talented the gymnasts representing the other schools were. The all-around gymnast from Birmingham in particular had scored a 9.8 on the vault. A 9.8! How was she supposed to top that and win the all-around event? She was good, but not that good.

Besides which point… Lara looked back at the stands, where Roth was sitting. He gave her a cheerful wave, which she returned halfheartedly. Would he still be so cheerful after finding out that she was dating another woman? The question was like a splinter lodged in her flesh, and the longer she left it unacknowledged, the more deep-rooted and painful it became.

She was beginning to wish she had just plucked the splinter out before the competition.

She was called up to the vault next. Lost in her thoughts as she was, she was barely cognisant of herself running up the runway, nor did she notice herself launching off the springboard. She only tuned back into reality when it was all over and she was receiving her score.

9.04.

Focus, Lara! She mentally berated herself. She couldn't afford to be distracted right now. She had trained hard all season to be there. She couldn't let all the effort she put in, all the time she invested amount to naught. Swallow it all. She needed to swallow her feelings and focus on the task at hand. Still…

She looked over at one of the many clocks mounted on the walls of the complex. Two o'clock. Sam was probably starting her interview. Lara found herself wondering how that was going. She wondered so much that she barely heard her teammates half-heartedly telling her 'good job' even though she did awful. She barely noticed the pats on her back as she rejoined her team and stood amidst them. She barely registered that the next event was beginning.

Uneven bars. Lara cursed herself for not having been more focused on the vault. The uneven bars was the event she was most uncomfortable with, whereas the vault was typically one of her best. On her best vault ever, she scored a 9.67. For comparison, her best score on the uneven bars was a 9.13. She had been counting on a good vault score to compensate for her deficiency in the bars. Instead, she now needed to defeat her personal record in order to keep herself in the top of the pack. Things couldn't have possibly gotten any worse. Unless, of course, she botched the bars as well, then things could get worse, which was entirely possible because she was complete rubbish-

Stop thinking like that! I just have to do it somehow, she told herself. She couldn't let the championship be over already. She just needed to focus. She just needed to direct all of her restless energy. She started bouncing in place to keep her muscles loose and pliable. Focus. Focus. Focus. She started shaking her leg when the bouncing was no longer satisfying. She could do this. She shook her hands out before putting her hand guards on.

She saw the coach coming to talk to her out of the corner of her eye, but it was too late. She was already being called up to the bars. She shot the coach an apologetic glance before rushing to take her place by the apparatus. A pep talk wouldn't have helped her, anyway.

The event staff had just finished chalking the bars and setting up a springboard for her mount when she approached. The mount she used was of moderate difficulty, at least, and would certainly give her a score advantage over the other girls who employed simpler mounts. She just needed to keep it clean.

Did it even matter? She already botched the vault.

Lara shook her head to clear it. Of course it mattered! She couldn't give up so early into the competition! Fight or flight, which was it going to be? Was she going to shy from the pressure, or was she going to confront adversity head-on regardless? She knew which one she'd like to choose. It was the option she always chose, whether she liked to or not. She was going to fight.

She drew in a deep breath to brace herself before she made her approach.

As soon as she struck the springboard and was airborne, she tucked herself forward into a flip. She'd done this so many times in practice. She knew where her body was positioned, how long she needed to hold the flip before… She snapped out of the ball shape she was in and threw her hands up to catch herself facing forward on the tall bar. So far so good. Keeping her legs straight and her toes pointed, she used the bottom half of her body as a pendulum, swinging back with great force to help generate speed and power.

She swung forward. Then, she swung backward. She swung herself completely around the bar once, then twice, with the bar bending beneath the force of her movement. Even though wearing hand guards helped diminish the impact of the bars on her hand, her hands still hurt nonetheless from the friction generated by her movement. Lara gritted her teeth even harder as she brought her legs around over top the bar once more.

She really hated the bars.

The thing she really hated about the bars was that she had to keep track of the rotational motion of her body on top of the acrobatics she had to execute in mid-air. She had a good center of gravity, but if she wasn't careful, it was very easy to lose track of where she was when she didn't have the bar in her hands as an anchor point for her motion.

She swung under and around the pole, using her built up momentum to throw herself up in the air. The key was making sure she released the bar at just the right time so she didn't fly astray. This time, her timing was just right as she went straight up into the air. Now all she had to do was keep her body tight as she flipped and turned herself around. Her eyes caught the tall bar once more as she came out of the flip, and she stretched her arms out toward it-

Lara winced as she caught herself and continued to spin. By this point, the pain in her hands was all she could think about as she executed move after move. On the bright side, at least the pain gave her something other than her own mental distress to think about. Maybe the pain was a good thing, then. Maybe the pain was the only thing keeping her grounded enough to execute the moves she needed to. Maybe she should relish and embrace the pain, then.

Relish and embrace the pain she did. Every time she swung around the bars, every time she threw herself up in the air and caught herself, she embraced the pain in her hands. The pain was a sign of her success. She was in pain because she was still on the bars. She was in pain because her movements were just that powerful. She was in pain because she was putting on a superb routine.

When she released the bars for the last time and flung herself up into the air for her dismount, she knew she had done it: that was the best she had ever done on the bars. She still had a chance. Maybe the anxiety and pressure were good. Maybe the stress forced her to evolve. After all, wasn't that how man's every success was forged?

She landed with only a small hop, but a huge victory for herself. She threw her hands up over her head to indicate the finish of her routine. Then, she waited for the judges to deliver their verdict.

9.48.

Lara could hardly contain herself as she fist pumped her elation. Compared to what she just had to endure, the rest of the competition seemed like a walk in the park. The beam was easy; she'd spent most of her early upbringing parkouring around the structure of the manor, and even more of her upbringing thereafter climbing anything in sight, much to Roth's chagrin. Precariously perching and balancing on ledges was second nature to her. Moreover, her floor routine was so polished she'd have no choice but to shine. She could do it. She had a chance to come back.

The coach had evidently realized that whatever was going on in Lara's head had passed and didn't deem it necessary to talk to her once she had rejoined the team yet again. This worked just fine for Lara, as it gave her time to decompress before the next event. She took a seat in one of the padded folding chairs made available to athletes and removed her hand guards. When she looked down at the palms of her hands, she saw that the skin was peeled off in places, leaving newly exposed, dark pink flesh in its wake. The newly-exposed flesh stung and smarted when exposed to open air, drawing a grimace out of Lara.

Well, things just got worse.

"Yikes, that looks painful," Paige remarked as she took a seat beside Lara, "you should get that taken care of before your next event."

"Can you get me some tape and clippers?" Lara asked.

"Yeah, give me a second." Paige got to her feet.

"I'm going to go wash the chalk off my hands," Lara said as she also got to her feet. By this point, she could feel her hands pulsing with her heart, sending volts of pain through her fingers with every beat. She grimaced again. She was going to have a lot of fun with the second half of the competition.

Her eyes caught Roth looking at her concernedly from the stands as she walked by to the nearest bathroom. He frowned and mouthed what Lara was pretty sure was 'are you okay?' to which she responded by grimly pursing her lips and holding her hands up for Roth's observation. He nodded in understanding as his frown deepened. Lara continued to the bathroom, wondering as she walked whether or not Roth would have the same level of concern for her if he knew she was gay. How tragically common the stories were, the stories of parents turning their backs on their own blood. Except she and Roth didn't even have blood in common.

When she entered the bathroom and stuck her hands under the automatic faucet, Roth was ripped from her mind and replaced by the constant stream of pain emanating from her hands as the water ran over the angry, exposed flesh. Good. She'd rather focus on the pain in her hands than the pain in her heart, anyways. Putting soap on her hands also hurt. That was also good. She felt like she was cleansing herself of mental duress. She shook her hands dry when she was done and exited the bathroom.

"I got what you asked for," Paige said when she returned from the bathroom, "you need help?"

"Help would be appreciated," Lara replied. She watched the other gymnasts compete as Paige got down onto a knee and set about clipping off as much of the loose skin on her palms as possible. Sadly enough, as gross as clipping skin off of someone else's hands was, it was something that one got accustomed to as a gymnast. Lara couldn't even begin to count how many rips there were amongst the team throughout the season. She let out a hiss through her teeth when Paige finished clipping and began spreading a thin layer of ointment overtop the open wounds.

"Sorry. You know you're doing a great job, right?"

"I'm in sixth place right now, Paige."

"So you had a hiccup. You still have two events left, and I know how good your floor routine is. You still have a chance."

"I suppose," Lara murmured as Paige put some gauze over the wounded sites then taped her hands up to prevent further injury.

"I'm serious. Just keep doing what you're doing and you've got this. Anyways," Paige continued as she finished taping Lara's hands up, "I'll spare you of any further pep talks now. You're all set." She had finished just in time, too, because the event officials had begun to call all-around gymnasts up for the beam. Lara got to her feet and made her way over to the apparatus.

True to expectation, her beam routine went well. Her eyes never left the beam. When it was all said and done, she earned a 9.54 for her efforts, leaving the final standings as follows: she was in fourth place with 28.06 points, Manchester was in third with 28.21 points, Oxford in second with 28.36 points, and Birmingham in first with 28.62 points. Getting first was nothing more than a fantasy by that point. Even she could see that. There was, however, a good chance she could nick a spot in the top three. It all came down to a single ninety-second performance. All she could do was her best.

She had nothing left to lose since she was already losing.

When her turn came to take her place on the floor, all that mattered to her was the music. When the familiar EDM fusion of classical Beethoven came on the speakers, she let everything out: the pain, the pressure, and the anxiety. Every split leap was a leap for freedom from the cage of her mind. Her pent up angst was expressed through the crispness of her movements as she flowed from pirouette to street to acrobatics. Whatever wanted to flow out, came out. She was putting everything she had within her into her routine.

The music and her body were one as she made her way to the corner of the floor for her first tumbling run. For the first time in a long time, she finally felt free and unconstrained as she floated through the air. The key to a good tumbling run was to just keep moving. When she landed at the end of her first run, she knew she did a good job because the audience applauded her.

She launched into her next set of dance moves without hesitation.

She really, really wanted this. She'd be damned if she didn't fight for what she wanted. She'd be damned if she let her hands, throbbing as they were, stop her from getting that title. And she wanted to make that tenacity known. She was not going down without a fight. Stick. That. Landing. Lara. Now, tumbling run!

Months of pent up frustration and desperation were put into her movements. She snapped her hips over her head and back to the ground with agitated speed and precision never before achieved. No matter how much life absolutely shit on her, no matter how much the odds were stacked against her, she'd be damned if she merely submitted to circumstances. That's not who she was. She'd found herself in far worse situations. She'd rather use up every drop of her power than relinquish it. She was the master of her own destiny, and she was going to make sure the judges, the gymnasts, and everyone in the stands knew that. Not even gravity would contain her.

The spectators clapped again as she emerged from her second tumbling run with a solid landing just as the track for her routine entered into the final movement. She was so close. There was only one last tumbling run between her and the end of the competition. Blood roared in her ears, making it harder to hear the music. She was almost there. She could feel the anticipation welling up within her.

She maneuvered herself into the corner one last time. This was it. She squared herself off and drew in a deep breath. Then, she ran, planted her hands on the ground, and rounded off into her last series of acrobatics.

She couldn't hear anything besides the blood roaring in her ears, the sound of her own breathing, and the sounds of her feet impacting on the floor apparatus. She didn't feel anything besides the pain in her hands every time she sprang off of them. She didn't feel connected to her body until she landed in the corner and finished her routine. When she struck her finishing pose, the crowd applauded her once more. Panting for breath, she looked over at the judges and waited while they deliberated.

9.87.

She could hardly believe it. That was the highest score she'd ever gotten on her routine. The crowd cheered her on once more as she exclaimed her joy. All the heaviness in her soul had finally lifted. She had done it, she-

Wait.

Lara stopped and looked over the overall standings. Birmingham was in first. That was to be expected. She wasn't going to win without catastrophe striking the opposing gymnast. She could live with that. But she didn't see 'University College London' anywhere in the top three. Manchester got second, Oxford was in third with a score of 37.94, and she…

She was in fourth with a score of 37.93.

One hundredth of a point.

Lara ran her hand through her hair, messing up the neat bun it was gathered in as she hurried away from the floor apparatus. A hundredth of a point. A hundredth of a point cost her the top spot. If only she hadn't fucked up the vault! If she had put on at least a half-baked performance on the vault, she could have won. She definitely would have been in the top three. She hated crying, let alone in public spaces, but there was no holding back her disappointment. She had set two personal records, and still it wasn't enough to compensate for her initial mistake. And it was all because she hadn't gone and just plucked the sodding splinter out!

She needed fresh air.

"Lara!" came Roth's voice from behind her as she tried to make her way out of the competition floor.

Please not now, Lara thought. If she had to talk to Roth now, she wouldn't be able to maintain her composure. She was going to fall to pieces. She really didn't want to fall to pieces with so many people looking.

"Lara!" Roth repeated a little louder this time. Lara swallowed thickly and clenched her jaw as she turned around to look at her adoptive parent. "Listen, you did a really good job, you made me proud-" The waterworks broke.

"Sam and I are dating!" Lara blurted out as tears began to stream down her face. Roth's mouth was still hanging open from being mid-speech when she cut him off. He closed his mouth and stared back at her, evidently at a loss for words. But Lara needed him to say something. "Can you not just stare at me? Tell me it's going to be fine! Tell me that you aren't angry!" Lara was shouting at that point, drawing many stares from the people around them. Roth scratched the back of his neck nervously as he looked around at all the spectators. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"Why don't we go get some dinner?"

Lara wished Roth would say something. Instead, he kept his eyes fixated on the road while they sat in silence. Was he angry? He was taking her out for dinner, so wasn't that a sign that things were okay? If that were the case, why wasn't he saying anything? Almost as if to drown her unspoken questions out, Roth turned the radio on and flipped to a rock station. Lara recognized the song that started playing as being by the Cranberries. It was the titular song from the album, Wake Up And Smell The Coffee. It was incidentally the last album of theirs that she'd listened to.

She'd nearly forgotten how good the sweet siren of alternative angst, Dolores O'Riordan, was at serenading her stress away.

Lara rested her head against the window and watched the buildings and pedestrians alike drift by. The music made her nostalgic, but a good kind of nostalgic. Her mother had been the one to get her hooked on the band initially. She had distinct memories of listening to Bury The Hatchet on vinyl nearly every day, to the point she knew every song on the album by heart. She wondered if that vinyl was still at the Manor somewhere. She figured she ought to make a point of retrieving the record player next time she returned to Guildford.

God, she missed her mum. She wondered how her mother would have reacted to the news she just told Roth. She was an unconventional woman, right? She wouldn't have cared about her daughter being a muff diver, right? Lara found herself wondering how long it would be until they got to their destination. It was very stifling, being cooped up with her own thoughts and uncertainty. She needed to air it all out. She rolled the window down. Roth shot her an understandably curious glance, given that it was a little less than zero degrees outside, but said nothing and turned the heat up. That irritated Lara. If there was an issue, couldn't he just get on with it and say what it was?

Yet Roth didn't say anything when they arrived, nor when they parked, nor when they walked into the pub they'd be eating in and took a seat. Lara had begun to wonder if they'd go through their entire meal without talking when he finally broke the silence.

"So," Roth began, "how long have you and Sam been dating?" Lara blinked in bemusement. It had taken him so long to ask that?

"About a month," she replied coolly.

"I see." Roth tapped his finger on the tabletop. "And that's going well?"

"Aren't you upset?" Lara demanded abruptly. Roth considered her with a contemplative brow for a moment before clearing his throat.

"Shocked? Yes. Upset? No. I mean, it makes sense. You were hardly a 'princesses and unicorns' type of lass growing up."

"So why did you decide to make me wait until we got here to talk about it if you're fine with it?" Lara couldn't help but let an irritated bite creep into her tone. She'd been so worried for nothing, and Roth could have saved her the duress.

"Because…I'll admit, it's something I wasn't prepared for and I needed a moment to process."

"Something you weren't prepared for?" Lara raised a brow and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Lara-"

"Because having a gay child isn't ideal, right?"

"Stop that!" Roth admonished, "It's nothing like that. I'm just worried. You do understand that there isn't a single openly-"

"-gay member of the English peerage?" Lara finished for him, "Yes, I'm acutely aware of that."

"Then you should understand why this is a lot to take in. I was prepared to beat the piss out of any boy who breaks your heart. But how can I protect you from society? How can I protect you from the press? How can I protect you from women, for fuck's sake? They're vicious creatures, Lara!"

"Roth-"

"Besides which point, Sam is a nice girl but don't you think you're rushing things a bit? You live with each other and you haven't known each other for that long-"

"And?" Lara interjected.

"I'm just concerned-"

"Sam would never do anything to intentionally hurt me."

"Even so, I know how impulsive you can be and I'm worried-"

"Can you stop treating me like a child?!" Lara demanded indignantly, "You act like I haven't thought of every single thing you've mentioned in excruciating detail already!" This succeeded in abating Roth's onslaught for the time being as he took his time to consider his next words.

"You're right," Roth admitted, "I am treating you like a child. I apologize for that." He let out a long sigh and folded his hands in front of his face. Lara looked down at her hands and began to fidget with her fingers to keep herself occupied. "You can't blame me for being concerned though, lass. You're such a private person, and once the press gets wind of this-"

"I'm going to be getting attention from the press either way," Lara interjected.

"Wot?"

"It's a really long story."

"I have plenty of time to hear it," Roth replied. It was Lara's turn to sigh. "What's the press want from you?"

"It's not me they're interested in."

"Who, then?"

"Sam."

"Sam? Why Sam?"

"Oh God, I haven't told you anything, have I?"

"No…?" Roth frowned. Lara braced herself for his reaction before she continued speaking.

"Right…so, let's start with the relevant background information. Sam's dad is the head of Nishimura Corporation."

"She- Wot?!" Roth exclaimed, drawing a few angry glares from the people sitting around them. "That's a hell of a family to be involved with, Lara!" he continued in a hoarse whisper.

"I'm dating her, not her family," Lara stated simply. Roth drew in a deep breath and leaned back in his seat. He considered her for a moment before he spoke again.

"Continue with your story. What's this have to do with the press?"

"Do you want the long version of the story or the abridged version?"

"Start with the abridged version."

"Sam's family situation is…complicated. Her father and uncle are in a custody battle over her sister. Her father's been very public about the matter with the press. Sam really doesn't want her sister to live with her father, so she decided to schedule an interview with the Daily Mail–fighting fire with fire, if you will. That just happened today, so you can expect a story to be released within the week."

"Is that really a smart idea?" Roth asked, "I mean, if her father is who you say he is, then the man can afford a damn good lawyer. It feels like you two are provoking a sleeping bear."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

"Lara." Roth shook his head. "I really don't like this. Not because you're with another woman, either. You can date whatever the hell you want for all I care. It's just this specific woman. You're asking for trouble getting involved with those people."

"Roth-"

"Hisao Nishimura is a sketchier figure than people realize-"

"I really like her, Roth," Lara cut in earnestly, "Sam isn't anything like her father! She's witty, she's kind, she's patient, she's talented, and she's easily the most intelligent person I know but she'll never admit it!" Lara was surprised by how easy it was to articulate how she felt in that moment when expressing herself was normally such an ordeal. But there she was, boldly confessing her rabid affections for another woman in the middle of a pub. "She's different, Roth! There's something special about her!" Roth let out an exasperated huff of air.

"You sound so much like your father right now," he murmured, "he said something similar about a certain someone when he was younger. If ever there was a man who ran on instinct and intuition…" Roth's voice trailed off. Lara let the statement pass unacknowledged as continued to fidget with her fingers. There was a pregnant pause.

"So why do you trust my father's intuition but not my own?" She asked tentatively. She looked up at Roth, who looked like he'd been caught in the spotlight with stage fright. It took him a while to find an answer to her question.

"It's not that I don't believe you have a good head on your shoulders. I know you're a smart girl. I suppose I'm just being overprotective."

"But I can protect myself, Roth."

"And God only knows, both I and the Earl of Derby's daughter both know that!" Roth held his hands up in defense with a small chuckle, "It's just hard for me, lass. It's hard for me to remember at times that you aren't the young girl in penguin pajamas anymore. It's just that after everything you've been through in your short life, I am worried about your happiness. But…you are right. You are an adult now and I need to remember that." He picked up his menu and began to look it over. "Can you just tell me one thing and then we'll change the subject?"

"What's that?"

"Does being with Sam make you happy?"

"It does," Lara replied without hesitation. It really did.

"Then I suppose that's all that matters, then," Roth replied as a server came to take their order. He shook his head in apparent disbelief and let out another laugh. "Good thing I've already gone white from stress a long time ago. Now I've gotta worry about two girls…fuck me."

And that was the moment Lara knew everything was truly okay.

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