AN: Sorry this took so long--I'm moving and I had to fit it in between packing and cleaning. We did get some great news though! Tami & I are THRILLED that we were nominated for three Twilight Awards! Yes! Going for the Gold has been nominated for Best AU, Best General Romance and Best Edward/Bella. This means so much to us, thank you!!!!!
EPOV
I finished my last set of joint-defying stretches and eyed Tyler, who was still warming up two lanes down. Though I hadn't even told Bella, I had a feeling that if I was going to lose, it would be to Tyler. The 200 backstroke definitely wasn't my best event—but it did happen to be Tyler's.
I kind of thought he was betting on the fact that I was likely to be distracted this morning by the amount of press that had been hounding me ever since they'd discovered Bella in my arms, her lips on mine. He probably figured that my mind was on everything but the race. And it was, until the moment I felt the water wash over me, when I knew I had to focus, and the world around me collapsed into just this pool.
But right now, I was still full of anxiety, both over the race and over what Bella's reaction to our 'outing' by the press would be. I hoped that she'd stick with me and know that I would never let her face the indignities of the media outlets alone.
In fact, I'd even done my best to deflect the questioning off Bella and our relationship but the press, like she well knew, were like dogs after a particular tasty bone, and I knew they wouldn't give it up all that easily. In fact, as I prepped for the race today, I knew that was probably what the announcers up in the booth were talking of—my relationship with the pretty reporter instead of the race at hand.
I hated the press even more than I ever had before, and that was saying something.
I knew that if I turned on E! right now, I'd probably see some blond airhead Jessica Rabbitt-lookalike rhapsodizing about "budding Olympic love." The last thing I'd wanted to do was expose Bella this way for rabid worldwide consumption but it appeared that the situation was too far gone to contain anymore. Now I just had to prove to everyone—Bella included—that my intentions were honorable.
The electronic bell sounded, indicating the warm-up period was ending. I shed my warmup suit and pulled my goggles down over my eyes, checking them quickly for any cracks or fractures. I'd learned my lesson and there was always a backup pair sitting a few feet away if I found anything wrong with my goggles right before a race.
But these were fine and I breathed a little sigh of relief. Apparently Jacob didn't find it necessary to sabotage my goggles when we weren't in the same race. Still, I was keeping my eyes peeled, waiting for another one of his tricks, because I had a feeling that he wouldn't try the same thing twice.
And that's when it hit me. The reporters showing up outside our room, right in my hallway, this morning—that hadn't been a coincidence. They hadn't psychically known where to go; they'd been told.
A surge of pure unadulterated rage tempered with hate swelled through me. That man had dared to hurt me by involving my Bella. I would take him apart limb by limb. Everything around me had gone red and hazy, and I was sure that if Jacob had been anywhere in my vicinity, nothing could have kept me from killing him. Even about a hundred video cameras trained on my every move.
Of course, like the goggles, it would be difficult if not impossible to prove anything. No doubt the tip had been an anonymous one. Still, that made me even more determined to swim my best today, and to ultimately break the record. Nothing would make Jacob Black angrier than seeing me win the admiration of millions.
The final bell rang and I took a small quick jump into the water. Like always, the world collapsed around me and my focus narrowed to just this pool and my fellow competitors and even Tyler was suddenly no longer a friend, but an enemy to conquer.
I wiggled my toes into the smooth hard concrete of the wall and gripped the inset handles with my hands, feeling the rush of adrenaline wash over me, all the anger that had earlier coalesced deep in my belly becoming simply fuel to the fire.
The prep bell sounded and I lifted myself effortlessly out of the water, poised and ready to spring into action. My ears strained hard to listen for the starter horn and my leg muscles strained and contracted, ready for the moment I'd use them to spring powerfully from the wall.
Suddenly the horn blared through the water, and it only took a split second for me to register the sound before my legs tensed and I pushed off hard from the wall, kicking hard and fast through the water. It was a good start I decided, before settling down to powerfully stroke my arms through the water. I reached toward the far end of the wall with every part of my arms, through my fingertips until with only slightly burning lungs, I executed a perfect turn and came out kicking even harder than when I'd gone into it.
I made it a practice of never checking others' positions relative to my own until after the first turn. I did a quick check to my right and was a little surprised I didn't see anyone, then I looked left and I was confused for just half a second.
Was it possible that I was that far ahead? That nobody was even close? That I was already halfway across the pool and they were all still on the turn? No, it wasn't possible. Tyler was faster than that. He was faster than I was. We both knew it.
He must be really, really far ahead. I felt a sudden surge of disappointment, followed closely by determination. I could catch up. I could catch up to almost anyone if I wanted it enough. And I really, really wanted it.
I burst ahead with speed, my legs kicking hard and fast. I completed another turn, still didn't see anyone, and pushed myself harder, ignoring the burning in my lungs and in my muscles. I had to win. For me. And, more importantly, for Bella.
I finally reached the last turn, and knew that Tyler was probably on world record pace, because I knew I'd never swam this fast in my life, and neither had he.
By the time I was nearly to the wall, I felt like gasping and dying, but I'd conceded it to him because if anyone could really swim that fast, they deserved the Olympic gold.
My fingers finally touched the smooth concrete of the wall and my head broke through the water.
I pushed my goggles up and looked around. I was the only one at the wall. In fact, I was the only one even near the wall. Tyler, the next lane over from me, was only halfway across the last length of the pool.
The building seemed to rumble with cheers and screams. It took at least ten seconds before what I'd done hit me. I'd won. By a lot. I looked up at the scoreboard and had to blink the water out of my eyes before I could be sure that what I saw wasn't a figment of my imagination.
Not just an Olympic record, but my god, was that my time? 1:53.94? That was good couple of seconds faster than I'd ever swum the 200 backstroke before.
It not only broke the world record; it shattered it.
Tyler came in to the wall about then, easily capturing the silver.
"Dude," he panted, "you were on fire."
I smiled happily, unable to contain the elation that was surging through me. Tyler held his hand up for a high five and I emitted a yell of triumph.
I didn't swim because I wanted to win, but I sure did love to win.
Five minutes later, I was out on the deck, being interviewed by the primetime coverage reporter. I'd done this drill a million times—all I had to do was say how gratified I was that I'd won, that no, there was not any more pressure on me to break my father's record, blah blah blah.
But this time, she threw a total wrench into the questions.
"So, Edward, tell me about Bella Swan. We all saw the pictures of you two today, and the question everyone wants to know is did you meet here or have you known her longer?"
The reporter extended the microphone forward, and the implication in her question was undeniable. In her opinion and I was sure, in many other people's minds, Bella was simply an Olympic diversion—not someone to take seriously.
I knew I could tell the truth: that I'd met Bella at the Olympics and that she was someone I took very seriously indeed, but I knew the press well enough to know that only the first part would be given any credibility whatsoever.
So I smiled straight at the camera and uttered the words that every reporter dreads hearing. "Sorry, Valerie, but I don't comment on my personal life."
She recovered quickly, like the consummate professional she was, but I was already thinking what action I could do that would prove to everyone just how much I cared about Bella Swan.
Words, to the media anyway, were ultimately meaningless. I was going to have do something radical and totally out of character to get them to give any kind of real respect to our relationship. It was hard enough, sometimes, to get Bella to feel like she was a legitimate partner for me—we didn't need anyone else giving her that impression.
Finally, the interview was over, and I hurriedly walked away, before Valerie could ask anymore, off-camera, questions about Bella.
I searched through the stands for her as I slowly made my way to the locker room, and prayed that she hadn't already gone back to meet me. Please, I thought, let her have stuck around.
I was lucky; she was standing at the edge of the stadium seating, trying to get my attention. I walked up to her, and grabbed her hand through the railing. She looked a little surprised because up to this point, I'd never been this demonstrative in such a public place with so many cameras about.
"Edward," Bella said, "you were amazing. I've never seen you swim like that before."
She was glowing and so beautiful she took my breath away. Nobody wore happiness better than Bella did.
"You want to know a secret?" I whispered in a mock conspiratorial voice. "I had no idea I could swim like that."
"Really?" Bella giggled, and I held her captive hand up to my lips and brushed the back of it lightly. She looked at me in surprise again, but little did she know that this was just the beginning of what I had in mind.
"Really," I assured her, "and I know that my swimming today has everything to do with having you next to me last night. Promise me you'll stay over again tonight."
"I don't know," Bella said skeptically, trying to casually reclaim her hand back, but I held firm.
"Bella, please. Say yes."
She hesitated for a moment, and I knew she wasn't just thinking of her answer, but of all the people in the huge building that were all watching us. Pretty much thousands of people and none of them were making it much of a secret. Bella wasn't used to all this attention, but I told myself that it was necessary and that she'd have to try to get used to it—if she wanted to be with me.
"Sure. Yes." Bella's face broke out into a huge smile, and I decided this was the perfect time. I dropped my warmup suit to the ground along with my iPod and slipped my feet out of my flip-flops. I effortlessly climbed up the railing, until my head was even with hers.
"Edward," she hissed, "what are you doing?"
"Kissing you," I murmured, right before I took one arm off of the railing and wrapped it around her. I closed the distance between us and unsurprisingly, she didn't resist.
The kiss was long and lingering, and though I usually lost myself in Bella whenever we kissed, I couldn't help but be aware of the thousands watching us—and no doubt the millions who would watch later. They were sure to be taping it to show on the news channels later. I told myself firmly that this was exactly what I had in mind, and to not be afraid of doing what I had to do to get my point across.
Finally Bella pulled away and she looked seriously into my eyes. "Edward, why did you do that?" she asked quietly.
"Did you enjoy it?" I asked, pointedly not answering her question and delaying the inevitable.
"Of course I did," she said, the corner of her lips turning up a bit into a smile. "But you didn't answer my question.
I sighed. "Bella, I want everyone to know you're not just an Olympic fling."
"Aren't I?" she challenged, and fear lanced through me, because her voice was both teasing and serious. I hated the thought that Bella believed I wasn't serious about her.
"You know perfectly well you aren't," I told her firmly, pulling her close again for another quick kiss. "I've got to go cool down. Will I see you back there?"
"Yes," she agreed, but I noticed that her eyes were still guarded, reserved. I hoped again that the action I'd just taken hadn't been too precipitous and hadn't pushed Bella the wrong way.
"I'll see you in a few," I said, climbing down the railing and exiting the swimming area with a full blown round of applause.
Esme POV
"Carlisle," I counseled, trying to keep my voice calm and even, "you know exactly why he did that. And it's not a bad thing."
"It's distracting," he groused. "He should be focusing on his events."
"He clearly is. Look at how well he swam this morning," I replied, unable to keep the tinge of frustration out of my voice.
"One swim. That was just luck."
Carlisle turned away from me and I knew he was angry not just at Edward for pursing Bella so openly, but also at me for taking his side.
I wanted for Edward what every mother wanted: professional success and a happy personal life. Up until now, he'd had the former in spades, but the latter had been a big empty hole filled up with interviews and media spotlights and an empty apartment and long grueling days at the pool. I wanted to see Edward fall in love and find that final piece that he'd been searching for.
From almost the moment we'd landed in Beijing, I'd known that piece was Bella Swan, and I'd spent hours fruitlessly trying to convert Carlisle to my point of view.
"I just want what's best for him," I told Carlisle's back, hoping that maybe I'd still be able to get through to him.
There was silence. He was looking at something intently in the distance. No. Not the distance. Something only rows away.
It was Bella, leaning over the edge of the seats, over the railing, and she was talking to Edward, who was looking up at her intently.
Unfortunately we were not the only two people staring at them. The whole enormous auditorium was too.
Carlisle was mumbling angrily under his breath, and when Edward climbed up easily to meet Bella and kissed her, the words only grew more vehement.
He turned toward me. "What is he doing?" he exclaimed, ranting. "He is going to ruin everything!"
"No, he knows what he's doing," I soothed. "It's going to be fine."
"The press caught him sneaking her out of his room this morning. You know that and you still try to tell me it's going to be fine?" Carlisle sounded unusually bitter and I was beginning to wonder how much the stress of these Olympic Games was beginning to wear on him. Maybe he was handling all this a lot worse than I'd expected or noticed.
"Well," I began, but Carlisle abruptly stood up. "I'm going to go talk to him," he said, clearly not wanting to hear my thoughts on the subject.
"Wait," I said, raising my voice to get his attention. He turned back toward me and I took a deep breath.
I rarely crossed Carlisle. He'd been in charge of everything that involved Edward and swimming almost since he was born, and I'd never argued a single point with him. But I was not going to see Edward victimized because he'd chosen this time to fall in love.
"No," I told him firmly. "Let him be. He's a smart boy and he's been training his whole life for this. He's hardly going to throw it all away just for a girl. You taught him to handle himself—now let him try."
Carlisle looked surprised at my little speech, but he didn't respond right away. Thankfully though, he sat down in his seat, and had clearly abandoned the idea of going to talk to Edward.
I continued on the offensive. "When you set the record, we were married. I was at the Games with you."
Finally, Carlisle sighed and I knew that sound. He'd given up. Maybe temporarily. Maybe permanently.
"You're right, Esme. You were with me. But it's different."
"Not really. Edward loves her. You loved me. Not so different."
"We'd been married for a year," he argued, and I knew he expected me to defer to his decision, like I always had before. But I had never had a future daughter-in-law to fight for before, and I wasn't going to give up that easily.
"So? Edward is in love with Bella. He'll probably marry her. Marriage has very little do with it. He's happy, and for once in his life, not just because he's winning swimming races. He's happy because he's fallen in love. Let him, Carlisle."
"I could hardly stop him," Carlisle grumbled, and I could sense him weakening and I went in for the kill.
"Let him," I insisted more firmly. "You put up roadblocks every five minutes and half the time I have to prevent you from forbidding him to see her. He's doing incredibly well so far, and he's been setting his own rules with Bella. You've got to learn to trust your own son."
"I just want this so bad for him," he said, his eyes meeting mine and I was used to the intensity that was in them. That same intensity was one of the many reasons I'd fallen in love with Carlisle Cullen so many years ago.
"And he'll get it, if it's meant to be. Bella isn't going to change anything about his swimming. If anything, he seems twice as determined since he met her."
"Just like I was with you," Carlisle said, smiling and reaching for my hand. He laced his fingers through mine and I felt that familiar wave of warm love rise over me. "Thank you, Esme. Again. You ground me. I love you."
"And I love you."