The arena was buzzing, much more so than it had during Nationals only a few weeks before. There was something special in the air. Olympic Fever. That was what Kim decided to call it and it was sweeping the nation. Reporters called almost every day, several had camped out outside of their house, unaware that Payson no longer lived there. Now they were in San Jose, at the Olympic trials and the tension was mounting. Despite all the preparation, the thirteen girls currently on the US Senior Elite National team, joined by the age eligible juniors, and others, girls hanging on to the fringes of the senior elite level, were feeling the pressure. This was it. Everything they'd worked for their entire lives led them to this moment and very little was a guarantee. A misstep, a fall, a freak injury and it was all over, despite how close they came. It would only be that, a close call and the dream would be dead, especially for the older girls.

She glanced to her right and saw Becca sitting there, practically vibrating with excitement. Kim wasn't sure if it had to do with the event itself or because Damon Young was sitting in the row just ahead of them to support Emily, but either way she was almost relieved that Becca wouldn't turn sixteen until next year, thus leaving her ineligible for the London games. Going through this with one daughter was one thing, but two might have put her over the edge.

She watched as the girls set up into their rotations, the five Rock girls in one single rotation to make it easier for Sasha to coach them. It was almost a sure thing at this point and it was astounding that one club could possibly be sending five of the six athletes on the team to London. Isabella Ruggeri had only trained at the Rock for a year, but it was remarkable nonetheless. She hadn't taken the time to look it up, but she was sure that nothing like this had ever occurred before and she couldn't imagine it ever happening again. Especially when Sasha leaves the Rock after the games, that'll put a dent in recruitment for a while.

She looked down towards the floor again and easily caught sight of Payson standing next to her coach and Kim sighed. If only it were that simple, a coach and his athlete standing next to one another, but as she saw Sasha reach out a hand and squeeze Payson's shoulder lightly a mere show of encouragement to most, but something entirely different now to Kim. She found herself looking for deeper meanings in every conversation, every touch or celebratory hug. Despite knowing intellectually that Payson, who would be turning nineteen later this week, was confident about her relationship, Kim couldn't help but have reservations. They didn't seem any different than before and she didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She frowned, biting down on her lower lip. She was flying blind on this one and there wasn't anything she hated more than that. Maybe that was her problem? Not the relationship itself, though she obviously had her concerns, but that she'd been in the dark for so long that while Payson and Sasha were comfortably settled into a long term relationship, her brain wasn't capable of seeing it for what Payson repeatedly insisted it was: a healthy, loving partnership, despite the different circumstances. Kim desperately wanted to believe it, so much so that she'd begun defending them whenever she and Mark discussed them.

She watched as her normally even tempered husband ran an agitated hand through his hair. "Damn it, Kim," he said, "whose side are you on here?"

"Payson's," she said, raising her voice. "Our daughter's side, Mark. Our beautiful, intelliegent, successful, daughter who has never, ever given me reason to doubt her."

Mark rolled his eyes at her, "She lied to us, Kim. She lied for two years. That girl you're talking about, she wouldn't do that."

"What else could she have done? Really, Mark, what if that had been us? We met when I was twenty, but what if we met when I was seventeen. Are you saying you wouldn't have fallen in love with me? Would we have waited?"

"That is not the same thing," Mark said, his mouth set firmly in a line. "And even though you were twenty, we did wait, as I recall, something our daughter and that – that –," he trailed off, not finding an adequately nasty word to describe what he was feeling about Sasha. "Why are you defending them? They lied to you, to your face, every day, Kim. For two years."

Kim sighed and shook her head, "I know that, Mark. Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I've been going over every conversation I had with the both of them? They lied to me, over and over again and that's what," she swallowed thickly, "and that's what starting to convince me that they really do love each other."

"I don't understand. You think that they actually…"

Kim suddenly felt a stab of guilt. She'd noticed things over the last two years, which in isolation hadn't seemed like a big deal, but now looking back, she couldn't believe she hadn't put the pieces together sooner. "I do, I think they actually love each other. You remember, Payson said that they put on the breaks after the World Championships in Istanbul? When they came home from that meet, Mark, they were both so different from before. I remember noticing the change, wondering what could have caused it. I feel like an idiot now, I should have figured it out then. They were so sad, the both of them, so completely and utterly sad. You can't fake that and why would they have? No one knew about them. They weren't putting on a show, not for me or anyone else, it was real. And then it changed again, when they got back from Australia. I've never seen either of them so happy. He makes her happy, Mark. What more could we possibly want for her?"

Mark hadn't answered her and they sat in silence for a while before he said he was going for a drive. She begged him to take it slow and he'd left after pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She'd gone to Payson's house then, wanting to confirm what she'd just voiced to her husband and it seemed Mark had a similar instinct, having gone to the gym to talk to Sasha. When they saw each other later that night, they both felt marginally better, but it was still difficult to say the least. She watched as the music in the arena came to a sudden stop, signaling to the crowd and competitors alike that the trials were about to start.

Payson landed on her feet, almost softly, an aesthetic she'd been working on for her bars dismount for months. Landing lightly after a double layout with two and a half twists wasn't something the judges were necessarily looking for, mostly they'd be thrilled with her landing on her feet, but it was her signature skill now, the only gymnast to land it successfully in competition and she wanted to make it look easy. And she did, saluting quickly to the judges and allowing just a small glimmer of a smile to appear across her face as she looked to Sasha standing just off the mat ready to spot her.

"Excellent," he said, as they embraced quickly, but she moved away, allowing him to immediately focus on Kaylie who was next.

"Great job, Pay," her friend said as they passed each other.

"You got this," Payson said, as they bumped fists lightly before she moved back down to the floor, with the rest of their rotation. She looked over at Emily who smiled and nodded, then to Lauren whose face was blank, a sure sign she was nervous. The bars were easily her weakest event and despite the fact that Boris has no intention of allowing Lauren to compete on that apparatus in London, Payson could practically see the tension radiating off her friend.

She sat down next to her and began pulling off her grips, nudging Lauren's thigh with her knee. "Hey," she said, drawing her attention.

"What?" Lauren asked, obviously startled out of her thoughts.

Payson smiled at her and rolled her eyes, "Relax," she said, though her tone was not serious in the slightest. She felt the tension melt off of Lauren.

The beam specialist took a deep breath and shot her a smile, "Thanks," she said, before standing up to get her own grips on and prepare for her turn.

"No problem," Payson said, depositing her grips into her gym bag and wiping the chalk off her hands with a towel. She looked up and saw Kaylie land her double straight with a full twist dismount cleanly. The former National champion saluted and smiled brightly for the judges. Payson nodded, Kaylie looked on today and had since warm-ups. It was necessary. Andrea Conway and Justine Turner were hovering on the fringes of these trials and after Kaylie's rather lackluster seventh place finish at Nationals this year, watching her land a more than solid bars set was encouraging.

"Great job, Kaylie," Payson said as her friend bounced down the stairs back to the floor. They embraced quickly. She could practically feel the relief in Kaylie's hug.

There were scores posted at the trials, but it was obvious no one was really paying attention to them. Scores weren't important, impressing Boris Beloff was. Boris, much like National team coordinators of the past, was sitting at a table observing, surrounded by national committee members, all of whom thought they should have a say in who would be a part of the Olympic team. It was laughable really, as if Boris Beloff would let anyone, let alone some paper pusher from the NGO, tell him what to do. Payson was gratified to see he'd watched Kaylie's routine. A bars set like that would help them out tremendously in the team competition and if she nailed it, Kaylie would have a shot at the event finals, should another American gymnast slip up.

Payson looked up as Emily landed out of her dismount and smiled confidently. So far, so good. Just Isabella and Lauren's sets left. The Rock girls were setting themselves up for a great first day. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. These trials are a formality, but in the end, no matter the results, it's Boris who'll make the decisions. It doesn't hurt if we make his decision a little bit easier though.

"Let's go, Izzy," she called to the junior National champion, who smiled to her, as she set up her spring board for her round off Arabian mount. Much as she was at Nationals and during training, Izzy Ruggeri was nearly flawless on the uneven bars. Payson turned and saw a tiny smile appearing on Boris's face from his point of observation just a few feet from her. She could almost see the cogs in his mind turning. They were going to bring an incredibly strong team to London and what had begun to take shape months ago during National team practices was finally coming to fruition. It was only the first day and there would be another day of trials tomorrow, but as Payson watched Boris turn and move towards where Kelly Parker and several of her Denver Elite teammates were working on vault, she knew, almost as if he'd told her himself. It didn't matter what happened here today or tomorrow. It was that expression, almost amused, as if he was in on a joke that everyone else missed, a cocky, self-assured countenance accompanied it and Payson knew what it meant. She'd seen that look on Sasha's face more than once, usually after he'd make a decision about something important. And what could be more important that choosing the members of an Olympic team? Boris had his team now, she was sure he'd made up his mind. Now the question was simply this: who was on it?

The uncomfortable knowledge caused the rest of the rotations to fly by for Payson. She performed well, as had her teammates, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it was all a farce, a complete waste of time.

She stood patiently waiting to be interviewed by NBC sports, trying to shift her mood into a positive place.

"Payson Keeler, two time National and World Champion is with us and you have to be very pleased with your performance today," Andrea Kremer asked. The closer they got to the Olympics, the bigger media names were brought in to work their events.

She nodded and smiled, "I was. I'm really just trying to consistently land my routines. There are only so many chances in a year to compete in front a crowd this large in a pressure packed environment like we're going to experience in London, so it's really important to stay focused."

"Much has been made of your stated goal, a challenge you laid down for yourself this year after winning your second straight National championship, six gold medals, a feat never before accomplished at an Olympic games. What inspired that decision and what do you think your chances are?"

Her smile brightened, "The decision to go for the sweep wasn't difficult. I'm at a place right now where everything is clicking on all four events and I believe that we're going to go to London and take the team gold. I have total confidence in my teammates and our coaches. As far as my chances, there are a lot of incredible gymnasts in the world right now, girls from China, Romania and my own teammates who are going to make it extremely difficult, but I'm up for the challenge. What would be the point of competing if you didn't want to win?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow up and smirking at the reporter.

Kremer nodded and shook her head, "I couldn't have said it better myself," she said into the microphone. "Back to you, Al." The camera feed cut and she looked towards Payson again. "Thank you," she said. "I just wanted to let you know, we're all going to be rooting for you, everyone at NBC, our affiliates, it's all anyone talks about in our meetings."

It was a genuine statement, almost heartfelt, that much Payson could tell, so she smiled and nodded towards the reporter, "Thanks. That means a lot." And it did. Sometimes it was nice just to hear that people were rooting for her. Long hours in the gym, working her body to the point of perfection, solidifying her mental approach, it was exhausting sometimes and knowing that people were out there cheering her on, it really did help.

She left the floor, briefly looking up into the crowd, seeing her mom and Becca sitting near the rest of the Rock contingent before heading straight to the locker room to change. Almost everyone had made the trip, except for her father. Payson tried to comfort herself with the fact that her dad hadn't planned on coming to San Jose, even before she'd told him about her relationship with Sasha, but it didn't stop the small pang of regret. She spoke to him before they left Boulder, stopping by the house to say goodbye and they'd studiously avoided the topic hanging over their heads, instead he wished her luck and hugged her tightly. She knew her father was a man of few words, so the embrace meant a lot more than anything he could have said. They were on the right path and much sooner than she thought they'd be, but she still hated the awkwardness and the obvious disappointment in her father's eyes. They would get past it, she knew it, but for now she had to live with it.

What a bloody, long ass, slog of a day, was the only thought running through his mind as Sasha lay back on the hotel room bed. He'd coached both sessions on the first day of the Olympic trials for the men and the women, followed by a torturous dinner with the NGO National Committee. He exhaled deeply, letting his eyes drift shut for one blissful moment before a loud pounding on his door caused them to fly open. He launched himself to his feet and in three steps had his door opened, gaping at who was on the other side.

"Christ, Dad, did you have to make it sound like a bloody earthquake?" he asked, rolling his eyes at Boris, who'd been conspicuously absent after the trials and at dinner.

"I am sorry, did I wake you?" his father asked, though Sasha could tell from the tilt of the old man's eyebrows and the deep rooted frown that he wasn't sorry at all. "Here," he said, thrusting a piece of paper towards Sasha's chest and he took it, rubbing at his eyes, trying to clear his vision.

"What's this?" he asked, though he was rapidly figuring it out. There it was, laid out on paper in his father's sloppy scrawl: the Olympic lineup or at least what looked like one. There wasn't supposed to be an Olympic lineup yet. There was another day of competition tomorrow, followed by what were supposed to be extensive meetings with the NGO's committee and perhaps even a final practice or two before it was narrowed down to six names and the events each athlete would compete in, both for the qualifying and team finals, but again, that was all beside the point, because obviously Boris Beloff had made his decision. Five girls on each apparatus in the qualifying round and then their top three on each event in the team finals:

Payson Keeler Q: AA TF: AA

Kelly Parker Q: AA TF: BB, FX, V

Isabella Ruggeri Q: AA TF: UB, FX

Emily Kmetko Q: UB, FX, V TF: UB

Lauren Tanner Q: BB, V TF: BB, V

Andrea Conway Q: BB, UB, FX

Alternate: Kaylie Cruz

"You've got Kaylie as the alternate?" Sasha asked, ready to fight for his gymnast. It wasn't lost on him that this was the first real conversation he'd had with his father in a long time.

Boris raised a hand to stop him. "She did very well today, but she has become too inconsistent. This is the Olympics. She cannot be counted on to perform under the pressure, so she must be the alternate. You have four athletes on this team; you should be celebrating, not complaining to me."

Sasha shook his head, "You're not supposed to do this yet, you know? There's a whole day of trials tomorrow and then the committee…"

"Bah, that committee is not knowing a thing about who should be in London. Too many opinions and no leadership. No, this is the team we will take to London." Sasha recognized that tone of voice and it grated on him.

This was ridiculous. Andrea Conway was a nice gymnast, but Kaylie's degree of difficulty, not to mention success on the international stage completely blew her away. A knock at the door interrupted Sasha as he opened his mouth to argue further with Boris. His father, obviously sensing that he could avoid a long drawn out battle with his son if he opened the door, did so with alacrity.

"Payson," Boris said, waving her into the room. "Excellent work this afternoon, noră," he said, leaning forward quickly and kissing Payson on the forehead before making a hasty exit. Sasha sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

Payson looked at him, her head tilted in confusion and he just shrugged and shook his head. "Noră? He's called me that before," she said, looking towards him for translation.

He smiled crookedly at her, "It means daughter-in-law."

Her face lit up at his answer and he couldn't help but smile wider in return. "Oh!" she exclaimed, looking a little flustered, but also extremely pleased. "I guess that's, well that's kind of sweet, isn't it?"

Sasha shook his head, "My father is about as sweet as a bee sting."

She rolled her eyes at him and shrugged, "What did he want?"

For a moment he wanted to tell her, wanted to show her the crumpled up piece of paper in his hand, talk it through with her, but he knew that he couldn't. It wasn't official yet, not by a long shot and at the end of the day, for another four weeks, until the closing ceremonies, he was still her coach. They'd walked that fine line for two years now, trying to avoid the natural conflicts and pitfalls of that part of their relationship and he wasn't about to change that now. "Oh, you know, the usual nonsense," he said, shrugging before stepping closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest, inhaling the beautifully familiar tang of her shampoo and perfume, intoxicating to his senses as the first time he'd caught that scent.

"Mmm," Payson sighed as she buried her head against his chest. "Everyone did really well today," she said.

"Yes, they did," he said and it was the truth. Everyone had done well, but as Sasha leaned down to kiss her, he couldn't help by feeling he'd just lied and he was going to light into his father tomorrow for putting him in this position at all.