A groan from the bed beside his made Sasha chuckle as he placed his toiletry kit in his bag, "Awake, Sleeping Beauty?" he quipped lightly, zipping up his bag and was hit in the back of the head with a pillow for his cheek.

"I feel like I was run over by a Mack truck," Marty groaned.

Sasha snorted, "Close, it rhymes with Mack. Forgot how much of a lightweight you are, mate."

"Urg," Marty said, sitting up and taking note of the water and aspirin Sasha had already placed on the nightstand. "Thanks," he muttered, downing the pills with a swig of the water.

Sasha nodded and sat down on his own bed, resting his elbows on his knees. "You got pretty blitzed, you remember anything from last night?"

Marty's eyes closed and he frowned, "Yeah, Beloff, I remember everything from last night, including the part where you said I could hit you. I'm going to hold you to that, by the way. You've had one coming for a while now."

Sasha waved him off, "Right, just so we're clear, though, you're not to breathe a word of it."

"Are you kidding? This close to the games?" Marty rolled his eyes and immediately regretted it, closing them painfully, "I just never pegged you as one to go swimming in the kiddie pool."

Sasha rolled his eyes and sighed, "Payson's a grown woman, Marty and has been for quite some time, if you hadn't noticed."

Marty raised a hand to stop him, "Semantics," he dismissed Sasha's words. "I'm not talking about Payson's age. You're her coach and you crossed the line, Beloff. If it had gotten out, it would have meant the end for both of you. Did you think of that?"

Sasha felt his jaw twitch in response. "No, Marty, we flew into it blindly with absolutely no regard for the possible consequences," he snapped. "Of course we thought of that. I thought of it every second of every day, but…"

"But when you love someone it stops mattering, the risks don't outweigh the reward," Marty finished for him. "I know, Beloff, I know. So you're serious about her?"

"As a heart attack. She's everything to me," he admitted quietly.

"Good, because you hurt that girl and I will kill you. She's had enough hurt for one lifetime."

Sasha frowned, "I guess I appreciate the sentiment," he mumbled, more to himself than to Marty.

Marty opened his eyes finally looking over at him and nodded, "Crap," he muttered, breathing slowly.

Sasha grimaced, but he had little sympathy. Marty knew his limits and had ignored them the night before and now he was going to pay for it. "Get up, get dressed and packed. The bus leaves in an hour," he said, standing and grabbing his own luggage before leaving the room.

As he stepped onto the bus he looked around, for the most part iPods were firmly in place, but Nicky Russo and his future teammate at Stanford, Harrison Peters were playing cards and Lauren Tanner of all people was reading a book, pointedly ignoring Carter Anderson's initiate conversation from across the aisle. Emily was texting, he imagined to Damon Young. He'd met the kid at the Chloe and Steve's wedding, at least officially. He also vaguely recalled watching him help Emily break into the gym during his first few weeks at the Rock. He was a good kid and it was obvious how much he loved Emily, which was all Sasha cared about. He could see Payson's blonde head sticking up out of one of the seats towards the back, Austin's brown hair next to her.

The bus ride to the airport was quiet, but the reception at the gate was not. It seemed someone at the airline had figured out that the National Gymnastics team would be flying with them and they'd gone all out, decorating the gate with pictures of all the athletes, a large poster of the Olympic rings hung over the gate itself and it didn't take long before it turned into a virtual love fest. The plane's other passengers asked for pictures and autographs, as did the crew. The silence that reigned on the bus was a long forgotten memory as they boarded the plane talking cheerfully and laughing.

Sasha stored his carryon bag in the overhead compartment and sat back in his seat with a sigh. He caught sight of Payson sitting with Austin to one side of her at the window and Kelly Parker at the other, on the aisle. Now that might be the strangest group ever. Obviously the NGO photographer thought so as well, snapping a quick picture of them before moving to his own seat. Suddenly, his vision was blocked by someone standing just in front of them. He looked up to see Ellen Beals standing there, hands on her hips, smiling. This can't be good.

"I don't care what your ticket says, you're not sitting here," he said with a groan, looking away from her.

She scoffed and leaned in closer, "Don't worry Beloff, the feeling is mutual. I just wanted to wish you an enjoyable flight." She smiled in a sickeningly sweet way that made his stomach turn.

He eyed her carefully, wondering why she seemed so smug. A smug Ellen Beals was never a good thing in his book. "Yeah, thanks, you too," he said, not allowing his curiosity to shine through.

Her eyes narrowed at him and the grin disappeared. "One day, Beloff," she whispered, "one day I'm going to bury you."

Sasha smirked, "But today is not that day, Ellen."

She shrugged and the grin was back, "Maybe tomorrow then."

Then she was gone down the aisle ostensibly towards her seat. Sasha didn't have much time to consider her words because Marty entered the plane and pushed past him towards the window seat, still looking a little green.

"You better not vomit on me," Sasha warned.

Marty just groaned in response leaning his head against the headrest and closing his eyes. Then, something falling into his lap startled him and he looked down to see a yellow legal pad. Looking to his left he saw his father standing there, holding a marker out to him. The older man sat next to him quickly and nodded towards the pad. "Write down for me your lineup for qualifying and team finals, also taking into account mid-competition injury alternates."

Sasha looked at his father strangely. It was rare Boris asked him for an opinion on anything. He took the pen and didn't hesitate. He knew exactly who he would put where.

Payson Keeler Q: AA TF: AA

Kelly Parker Q: AA TF: FX, V (alt. UB)

Isabella Ruggeri Q: AA TF: UB, FX (alt. BB)

Kaylie Cruz Q: AA TF: BB (alt. V)

Emily Kmetko Q: UB, FX TF: UB (alt. FX)

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

He handed the paper back to his father who examined it closely, muttering to himself in that indistinguishable dialect of Romanglish, as Sasha liked to call it, his own personal language.

"Dad," he said, finally, interrupting the dissertation.

Boris looked back at him and silently pulled a folded piece of yellow paper from his shirt front pocket. He unfolded it and placed his next to Sasha's, his eyes twinkling. They were an exact match.

"Huh," Sasha said, not sure whether he should be happy to have avoided yet another argument or frightened that he and his father had, perhaps for the first time in their lives, agreed on something and something important.

"This is, as they say, something else, is it not?" Boris asked, a goofy grin spreading over his face. It was an air he was unfamiliar with upon his father's face, which usually bore a scowl or at best a neutral expression.

Sasha huffed out a short laugh, "I guess so."

Boris looked around, noting Marty's presence, lowered his voice, "There is something I want to discuss with you, you are sure Payson will retire after the games?" he asked.

Sasha's brow furrowed as he nodded, "Yeah, Dad. She's done, I know she wants to go to school full time. Although I wouldn't put it past her to change her mind, women have been known to do that."

Boris nodded seriously, obviously missing the joke. He pressed his lips together and then slipped into Romanian to avoid being understood, "You know, Sasha, I am not getting any younger. Can I expect grandchildren soon?"

He stared at his father for a moment. Is the old man living in your head, Beloff? First the lineup and now this, what's next? "Dad," Sasha said, shaking his head quickly, though also speaking in Romanian, "let's get through these next few weeks…" he trailed off. He never could lie to his father, at least not very well.

Boris raised his eyebrows and smirked. That was an expression he was more familiar with, smug superiority when he knew he'd talked his son into a corner. "You have plans though. You are looking towards the future, son, aren't you?"

Sasha nodded and sighed, "Every damn day," he said, slipping back into English.

For years everyone had tried to explain to Payson the utter insanity that was the Olympics. From Nastia Liukin to Shaun White to Carly Patterson, Austin Tucker and Sasha Belov, each Olympian of her acquaintance had used different adjectives to describe the media frenzy and pressure that came with competing at the highest level of amateur sport, but as soon as she exited the plane at Heathrow Airport, she began to understand. Airport Security was there to meet them at the gate, along with what looked like several hundred people. They were quickly ushered through a roped off area straight to customs and from there through back hallways and what looked like a subbasement to a coach bus waiting for them.

Apparently the Australian swim team had made the mistake the day before of believing they could simply walk through the terminals without being accosted by media and fans alike. They were wrong. They were informed by the IOC official that came to meet them that they weren't taking any more chances and all arriving teams and athletes would be escorted to the Olympic Village.

"Sounds like a logistics nightmare," Payson mumbled and Austin who was standing next to her nodded in agreement.

The scene at the Olympic Village wasn't much better. Reporters were camped out along the streets, their satellite trucks going on for what looked like miles down the long street.

"This is…" she said trailing off, looking out the window.

"This is the Olympics," Austin said as their bus pulled to a stop and the door opened.

The Olympic Village very simply looked like a huge apartment complex, several tall buildings, large tracks of grass and hundreds of people wandering around, most with ID tags hanging around their necks, wearing athletic gear of some kind, track suits, t-shirts and shorts, usually with a national emblem.

Payson closed her eyes for a moment and her stomach flipped pleasantly, not unlike when Sasha kissed her. She opened her eyes again and took it all in. It was hot out and muggy. The sky was grey and it felt like it could rain at any moment, which being London, wasn't all that shocking. An official looking woman approached them. She had on an ear piece usually seen on security officials and an iPad in her hands. She was scanning through something on it very quickly.

"United States Men's and Women's Gymnastics," she said, finally, looking up at Boris and Greg Hanson, the men's head coach. "All of you follow me; we'll get you to the credential office and get you into your rooms as quickly as possible. Your bags will meet you there as long as it's all been labeled to our specifications."

The official, whose name was Bonnie and would be serving as their contact for the duration of the games, was true to her word. The lines were long, filled with athletes of every shape and size, from countries both familiar and obscure, but some efficiency expert had obviously done their homework, because they were photographed, credentialed and issued their room keys and maps of the village within a half hour.

As they moved through the complex, taking in the facilities as they went, landmarks they passed, like the food court, the salon, to the great excitement of most of the girls, as well as several shops, Sasha sidled up to her. "Listen, after the Ceremonies tonight, I…" he whispered, and she put a hand on his to silence him as she slowed her pace so they fell slightly behind the rest of the group.

"After the Ceremonies, a car is going to come pick us up," Sasha said and her eyes flashed to his, trying to read his intentions.

"We're going on a field trip?" she asked, a small smile appearing as his eyes twinkled at her.

"Of sorts," he said, nudging her with his shoulder a little. "Just have a bag packed with clothes for tomorrow and no questions, it's a surprise."

"I like surprises," she murmured.

He smiled down at her wickedly and she could see him physical restrain himself from reaching out to her, his hand twitching towards hers. "I know."

Their rooms were comfortable enough, hotel style and their luggage was waiting for them, along with packages from the USOC containing their outfits for that night's Opening Ceremonies along with clothing that would keep them in Team USA gear the entire week.

"I'll give them credit," Kelly said, holding up the white pleated skirt and the navy blue polo shirt they would be wearing as they marched in the parade of nations that night, "we are going to look really hot in these."

Payson nodded, "They gave it to Calvin Klein this year. So listen, I'm going to be gone tonight after the ceremonies. You don't have to cover for me or anything, but I won't be back until tomorrow."

Kelly stopped digging through the large box of clothing and other goodies and stared at her, mouth agape. "Wait a minute, you don't say something like that and then expect me not to…where are you going? Are you meeting A? Is he here? He's an Olympian too? God, PK, spill or I'll…I'll totally rat you out to Beals."

Payson snorted, "No, you won't."

"Fine, I won't, but you've got to give me something and why don't I have to cover for you? Boris the Terrible will go ballistic if you're not here at bed check."

"I have Boris's permission," Payson said simply, which wasn't exactly true, but she knew Sasha probably ran the idea past his father if they would be leaving the village. "This isn't a secret rendezvous, KP, I'm going out. We don't have any commitments for tomorrow, so it's not like I'm needed here. Perfect," she said as she discovered a small Team USA duffle bag in her box of presents.

"No, sorry," Kelly said, standing up, "not good enough. I need more information than that."

Payson sighed and sat down on her bed, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. "It's none of your business," she said finally.

"Oh," Kelly said, looking at her, the hurt unmistakable in her eyes. Payson had suspected before that Kelly didn't have many friends. The entire time she'd known her she'd always been surrounded by an entourage of adults, agents, managers, sponsors, sometimes her parents, but never anyone their age, teammate or not.

She sighed and bit her lip. "Look, the only people who know about this are family or those I consider my closest friends…"

Kelly's shoulders straightened and her expression hardened as she looked away, "And I'm not one of those," she said. "Whatever Keeler, its fine, don't tell me."

Oh, so we're back to Keeler, now are we?

Payson rolled her eyes, "Would you shut up for a second," she said, her exasperation clear in her tone. "As I was saying, only family and my closest friends know about this, so if I tell you, you have to keep it quiet."

Kelly looked at her in obvious anticipation, but then a mask came up again, "God PK, you act like the world would end if people found out. I mean you're famous and all, but I don't think who you're dating is…"

Payson cut her off, knowing she could go on in this fashion for a while, "Do you want to know or not?"

"Yes," Kelly said, kneeling on her bed, leaning towards Payson conspiratorially, though there would be no need to whisper.

"A stands for Alexander, but he doesn't go by that name," she began. "He goes by..."

"Sasha," Kelly finished for her. "Alexander Beloff." Then for the first time in all the years Payson had known her, Kelly Parker went silent. She allowed her time for the idea to sink in and then finally she spoke again, "I mean, not that he's not totally hot and all, in that rugged sort of way. Holy shit, PK, you're boinking your coach…"

Payson couldn't help it, it might have been the complete shock and not a little bit of awe on Kelly's face or her ridiculous choice of words to describe her relationship with Sasha, she started to laugh. "Boink, KP, really?"

Kelly rolled her eyes, "Boink, shag, fuck, screw, take your pick."

"Well, it's not just that. We're together, have been for a while."

"Like in a relationship?" Kelly asked, wrinkling her nose at the word.

"Yeah, in a relationship. He's my, I don't know, I guess you could call him my boyfriend, though that word has always seemed so insufficient."

"You know, anyone else and I would be totally skeeved out right now, but you and Sasha, that kind of fits," Kelly said.

Payson nodded, "That's what most people say once they've gotten over the shock."

"I gotta say, PK, you've got brass ones. Seriously, I wish I'd known about this back when I didn't know you and actually, you know, liked you."

Payson furrowed her brow, "Thanks?"

The Opening Ceremonies were everything she'd ever imagined and more. They'd watched most of the performances just outside the Olympic Stadium, on a big screen and then one by one the countries marched in. There were over six hundred athletes on Team USA, in addition to their coaches and staff, so it was a giant sea of white pants and skirts, navy blue polo shirts, topped with scarlet fedoras as they marched into the arena to raucous cheering from the British crowd.

It was a night charged with emotion and happiness. For a group of extremely competitive people, everyone was simply happy to be there, at least for those few hours. The spirit of the Olympics was felt in full force by everyone as they sang and danced and celebrated the great achievement of becoming an Olympian.

Payson was near exhaustion, more emotional and mental than physical when they arrived back at the Village, but that didn't stop her from grabbing her hastily packed overnight bag and leaving a smirking Kelly in their room.

There was a car waiting for her at one of the village's secure pick-up points, away from the prying eyes of the media and as she climbed into the back seat she saw Sasha had beaten her there.

"Hey," he said, as she slid into the seat next to him, the driver shutting the door behind her.

"Hi," she said, immediately leaning into him, pressing her lips against his softly.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him, letting her rest against his chest. They sat in silence as the driver got back in the car and pulled away from the curb, quickly exiting the village, weaving his way expertly through the London streets towards a highway.

She sighed contentedly, "So where are we going?" she asked, after sitting quietly for a while, simply relishing being with him.

"I told you, it's a surprise. Close your eyes for a little while. I'll wake you when we get there."

So she followed his advice, letting the soft vibrations of the car and the warmth her body took from his lull her to sleep.

"Payson," his voice edged into her consciousness. "Love, we're here."

For a moment she simply snuggled closer to him and then his words penetrated her mind. Her eyes flickered open and she smiled. "Where's here?"

"See for yourself," he said, nodding towards the door, which the driver opened moments later.

They moved out of the car quickly and she found herself standing on the gravel driveway of a stately looking house, a finely manicured lawn in front, the house brick and stone, columns lining the entryway. It was old, but obviously well maintained. She suddenly knew where she was. They were in Wimbledon, at the house his mother left him.

"Gorgeous, isn't it?" he asked, the pride obvious in his voice.

"This is where you grew up?" she asked and he nodded.

"Come on, let's go inside," he said, taking her hand in his and lifting it to his lips. "I want to show you around."

And so they did, practically dancing through the house, which exuded class and obvious good taste. Until finally they found themselves in a bedroom that while decorated beautifully, didn't exactly match the rest of the house. When she commented on it, he actually blushed, "After my Mum died, I had the master suite redone. Leaving her bedroom intact was just too morbid for me."

Payson nodded, eyeing the very masculine furniture and linen. "Sasha," she said, turning towards him, not having a clear idea of what she wanted to say, but he anticipated her, his hand cupping her cheeky quickly and drawing her mouth to his.

It had been a week since they'd been free to be together and it was like a dam bursting, as their mouths met ferociously, trying to devour one another as they battled for control, their bodies pressing together tightly.

She quickly ran her hands under his shirt, caressing the warm skin of his back before fisting her hands into the fabric and drawing it over his head. She reached out and ran her fingertips over the contours of his chest, having memorized the solid planes and valleys long ago and simply began to reacquaint herself with them. She leaned forward and pressed her mouth against his breast bone, feeling his heart beat strong and fast against her cheek.

He ran a finger over her cheek to her chin, tipping her face up towards his. "I love you," he said simply before crushing his mouth to hers again, entirely dominant. She knew this kiss, he was claiming her, telling her as simply as he could that she belonged to him. Her stomach warmed pleasantly at the feeling, as his hands gripped her waist before sliding up under the hem of her shirt and then quickly divesting her of the garment. It was a race then, hands flying to belt buckles, buttons and zippers as his jeans and her khaki shorts quickly joined their shirts on the floor.

His bed was as large as hers back in Boulder, if perhaps not as soft, but that didn't lessen the pleasure of having him pressed against her, full length, her body arching against his, as they made love slowly, taking the time to explore each other. The week spent apart felt like a lifetime and as they lay together afterwards, her head pillowed upon his chest, Payson finally felt that sense of peace and balance that she'd found whenever she was with him. Austin was right, they had been stupid. This was where she belonged.

"Be right back," Sasha said, reaching down to the floor to pull on his boxer briefs. She rolled back onto the pillow and sighed, pulling the cool sheet up over her body. He returned moments later, with a glass of water and something else held tightly in his fist. He took a few sips before offering it to her and she finished it off, placing it on the night stand as he climbed back into bed with her.

"What's that?" she asked, tapping his closed fist lightly and he smiled.

"Part of the surprise," he answered mysteriously.

"There's more?" she asked, and his smile grew.

Nodding, he propped himself up against the headboard and looked down at her lovingly, "A few months ago, you told me I should do this properly and I thought about it and I couldn't think of a better moment than tonight, with the world at your feet, just before your dreams come true. I wanted this to be a part of it. You are the love of my life. I can't imagine a future without you in it, loving you, spending the rest of my days with you," his voice lowered to a whisper and Payson began to feel tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. "Payson Keeler, will you marry me?" he asked his voice rough with emotion, as he opened his hand, a diamond solitaire ring resting in his palm, twinkling at her as it reflected the light of the lamp on his nightstand.

She looked up at him as the droplets spilled from her eyes. His shined right back at her, reflecting the love and passion they felt for one another. She held out her left hand to him and silently he slipped the ring onto her fourth finger.

"Yes."