November 21, 2013, post Children in Need special, Chris' London flat
Once again, the silence was so profound, it almost hurt.
As Chris' voice faded to nothing and he abruptly stood, going to the window and standing with his back to the room, clearly needing a moment to settle his emotions, Robin had to turn away to hide his tears, because this . . . this . . . oh, he hadn't had a clue. Not one single fucking idea. And his heart was broken for both of them, because he understood so much now, and he honestly couldn't even try to guess how either of them was still sane, let alone as emotionally stable as they both were. Or told everyone they were, at least.
How they'd survived being forced to look but not touch for so long . . . it was unfathomable.
But now the timeline finally began to line up and he nodded to himself, biting his lip as what he'd just learned began to mix with what he already knew. The entire world knew that Chris had pursued Isabelle 'I'm a Bitch and Love It' Duchesnay because Jayne had been serious about Phil, and it didn't make any difference about how long he might have been attracted to her. His heart belonged to Jayne and as long as there was a chance she wanted it, he would keep it for her, even during the 'playboy years' (all four women of them) — which, ironically, were a direct result of Jayne discovering men.
But when she found someone else and meant it, Chris had once again been left floundering, despite his acceptance of her wishes. But he'd also been hurt and very likely angry as well (whether he would admit that was a different question) and had lashed out the only way he could . . . by choosing the one woman in their world who was the complete and absolute opposite of Jayne. Looks, temperament, talent, work ethic, personality . . . Isabelle was the dictionary definition of 'anti-Jayne'.
So that puzzle was finally solved. And that wasn't taking into account the sheer number of women who'd been panting after Chris, which had become a little — okay, no, it was a lot — ridiculous, even if he hadn't paid all that much attention (rampant ice skater, indeed. Chris just wasn't the type, however much he might have wanted to be), and the same was true for Jayne. Small, with adorable elfin features and the sleek, lithe body of a pro athlete, and world famous to boot . . . God love her, but she'd never really understood why her friends were so protective of her, and so picky about who they let get close to her. If Phil hadn't been a friend of Chris', he would never have stood a chance.
Oh.
Oh, Chris.
Oh, God. That had to have killed him, because there was no way on earth he didn't know. Not as close as he and Jayne were.
So yes, Isabelle made a whole hell of a lot of sense. And despite being a bitch of the highest order, the woman wasn't remotely stupid. So she would have seen the timing and put two and two together. Which rather begged the question, why accept his proposal? She knew he was in love with someone else, so . . . right. He remembered this now. She hadn't been in love with him either; she'd just wanted sole access to his skating and choreographic skills (genius, though he didn't think she'd ever let herself acknowledge that). And, given what Robin knew of her personality, she'd likely been so sure of herself and her ability to manipulate people that she felt there wouldn't be any trouble luring Chris away from Jayne.
Finding out otherwise must have shocked her stupid.
Though, having said that . . . all those bitter accusations about Chris cheating on her with Jayne? Yeah, Robin suddenly couldn't quite hold that against her. No, the pair hadn't physically cheated. They had never been lovers, not in the traditional sense of the word.
But Chris' emotional fidelity . . .
So in retrospect, it was understandable that Isabelle had tried so hard to separate Chris from Jayne. It was equally understandable that Jayne was NOT having that. It was no surprise at all that the two women had despised each other, though for so many, many more reasons than the obvious.
And all of these deeper understandings made Robin wonder: Chris still hadn't told her his own feelings, so — had Jayne realized at the time that he was in love with her? Or had she been too focused on her own feelings and revelations to see that?
. . . he hated when he asked stupid questions. Of course she'd known. Why else would she have married Phil so quickly?
And why else elope? That was the only way she could ensure that Chris wasn't there. It would have shattered him to watch her get married, and she knew it.
Oh, those two!
He had seen many couples in his life who were just as well matched as Chris and Jayne. But they were the only pair who refused to let themselves be together over a reason as nebulous as 'I'm afraid of fear'.
Still, he found that now, he did not and could not fault Chris for leaving it alone. Robin adored Jayne and would gladly do anything she asked him for or needed, but he would also readily admit that she was one of the most stubborn, bullheaded women he'd ever met. She was just quiet and unobtrusive about it, so everyone outside her and Chris' intimate circle of friends thought he was the sinner and she was the saint, and all that crap. But Robin knew from personal experience that, outside of skating, one could make water run upstream instead of down before one could change Jayne Torvill's mind.
And getting her to admit she was wrong?
Ha!
So now that he was finally getting the 'how' behind the 'why', Robin found himself much less frustrated with Chris. Yes, he could have pushed harder and quite frankly, he should have in Barbados. Then again, it was easy to say that now, with hindsight and an outside perspective. But when he remembered just how inexperienced the two of them had been at . . . well, at life in general, never mind romantic love, he could understand why Chris had made those choices.
And poor Jayne. She'd been able to keep Chris from seeing her marry Phil, but he hadn't been able to do the same. Isabelle Duchesnay elope, or even have a small, quiet wedding? She would have dropped dead from indignity at the mere suggestion.
Someone really should have done that. It would have solved so many problems.
Then there was Jill . . . literally on Isabelle's heels. And Robin liked Jill; she was, by and large, a nice, sweet woman who had the misfortune of befriending Jayne at precisely the wrong time.
But unlike Isabelle, Jill was not the opposite of Jayne. In fact, now that he was thinking about it, the similarities between those two women were a bit concerning, especially since he had a much better idea of how the 'why' tied in to the 'when'. But for the first time in years, he wondered if Chris had actually fallen in love with Jill — well, as much as he could — or if he'd chosen her because he knew what would happen if he was left alone with his thoughts for too long.
Ugh, that was a horrible thought, but Robin knew his friend, and so knew it was a fair question. It made no difference now, of course, but still . . . one had to wonder.
He'd scoffed a few times at some of the descriptors of Chris given during the Piers Morgan interview, especially the one about 'falling in love with Chris when he was in 'lost little boy' mode', but that was exactly what had happened to Jill. She'd seen Chris first while he was very emotionally vulnerable and it had only gotten worse as things with Isabelle collapsed. Which wasn't anyone's fault, but it meant that Jill hadn't really seen Chris, the stubborn, intense, passionate genius who could, would, and did focus his complete attention on Jayne and their skating partnership to the point where he honestly wouldn't notice a bomb going off in his ear.
And because he and Jayne had decided to try the Olympics again, by the time Jill really understood those aspects of his character, it was — well, no, it wasn't too late. But like so many others, she really had thought that she could change him, or at least convince him to change for her. It took no deductive reasoning at all to see that she'd been supportive of Chris' desire to truly test his competitive mettle one more time because she hadn't let herself see how deeply set in his personality that need to push himself and his boundaries was.
She'd thought it was a lark for him, with Jayne going along because that's what she did, since she couldn't possibly want it for herself (something that irritated everyone who knew Jayne; she was just as passionate and competitive as her partner and how that escaped so many people's notice was baffling). And when it became clear that it wasn't an experiment gone wrong and she was forced to understand that this drive for perfection, to not just be the best, but achieving that status by pushing the rules and reshaping the world, was simply who Chris and Jayne were . . . that was where things started to go pear-shaped.
Robin would never know for sure, of course, but he'd bet a million pounds that Jill had seen that and hungered for the recognition. It wasn't something she'd ever be able to earn for herself, thanks to some medical issues that had completely derailed her own skating career (though it was unlikely to have happened regardless; Jill was talented, certainly, but she wasn't Kristi Yamaguchi or Katarina Witt). But she had seen the adulation so much of the world held for Chris and Jayne, and she wanted some of it. And how better to get it than becoming Chris' new other half? Robin wouldn't help but pity her a little at this, because — her selfish desire aside — she really hadn't understood just who Jayne was to Chris.
Not then.
But Robin would bet another million pounds that seeing them after Lillehammer, which they should have won, touring and returning to professional competition, and thriving on it, had been a very cold bucket of water thrown in her face. And that made him consider, also for the first time in years, if she'd gotten pregnant on purpose because she'd finally realized there was no other way to stop them.
But how on earth had she convinced him to leave Jayne? Literally leave her and move halfway across the world?
When he looked up, Chris was watching him with a sardonic, yet resigned, expression, hands braced on the windowsill behind him, and after a few tense seconds, his friend sighed.
"Go on," he prompted, his voice even, and Robin internally grimaced. This wasn't how he would have preferred to get these answers, but . . . what he wanted and what he got didn't coincide nearly as often as he'd like, so why would this be any different?
So with a sigh of his own, he straightened in his chair and quickly flicked through the list of questions he had now, deciding which one to lead with.
Hmm.
Something soft would be best.
He swallowed as unobtrusively as he could before blinking once, allowing Chris what little dignity he could, holding his friend's eyes but making sure his compassion was shielded. Chris would take it as pity right now, and he wouldn't be entirely wrong. That would not go over well, so Robin had to tread carefully here.
Dammit.
There weren't many times he wished to be the bull in the china shop, but this was most definitely one of them.
Oh, well. He'd just have to get drunk later.
Drunker, that is. He'd known from Chris' second sentence that once this was over, he was not going to be sober for two days.
Now? He fully intended to be drunk for the next week. But there was still a long way to go until he reached the sanctuary of that hangover, so . . . once more unto the breach.
"I'm pretty sure I've figured out most of it," he began quietly, watching those dark eyes carefully. "But why — you — how . . . oh, balderdash!" he grumbled, having lost the delicate thread of the question he was trying to ask. When hazel eyes gleamed bright with amusement at his discomfiture, he deemed it well worth the prick to his own dignity. But the pause allowed him to re-form his inquiry so he'd actually be able to ask it this time. "What made you decide to move to America?" he asked as carefully as he could, shivering when that warm amber gaze went coldly black in the space of a breath. "Especially after . . ."
He trailed off, because the temperature of the room suddenly dropped and he wasn't nearly dumb enough to push it. His friend was staring at him with icy ang—no. No, Chris wasn't angry. He was in pain.
Seeing how much he still hurt made Robin regret asking and he tried desperately to think of a way to get himself out of the verbal quicksand he'd fallen into before he caused irreparable damage.
But after a very long minute of fraught silence, Chris sighed and slumped against the window sill, his eyes filling with sadness now as he bit his upper lip and slowly nodded.
"For Jayne," he said candidly, and it was very telling that this did not surprise Robin in the slightest.
Though, really, details would be nice. He couldn't ask for them, of course, but maybe he could stare the man into submission.
Or not.
Thankfully for his sanity, Chris was finally in a talkative mood, although any humor fled as the explanation slowly, tortuously, escaped into the tense atmosphere.
"She said she wanted children," he said with a shrug that was nowhere near as relaxed as he trying to portray. Also, something about his wording got Robin's attention, but he didn't have a chance to look closer. "And to do that, we'd have to stop skating for at least two years. But Jayne and I don't do anything halfway, so it was a safe bet that once she had a kid, she'd want to be a mum full-time. But we . . . well, if we lived close to each other — close, hell. If we were in the same country, we'd keep skating together. We didn't know the first thing about stopping, or reining ourselves in," he corrected himself more than a little scornfully, making Robin mentally flinch. Never in a million years would he have imagined the number of demons that would wind up being unleashed from his inquiry, well-meaning as it had been. Though, God willing, they were being exorcised as well, because they were slowly but surely killing his friend, one agonizing inch at a time.
Thankfully oblivious to his conclusions, Chris kept going. "And it wouldn't matter how hard we tried to stay apart. So the only way to give Jayne the freedom she needed to live her own life was . . . was to leave entirely."
His voice was throbbing with pain that wasn't reflected in his face and Robin's throat ached from the effort it was taking to keep his reactions in check. He knew better than most people just how brutal that decision had been for Chris.
He was less certain of the deeper effect on Jayne, but given how quickly they'd both jumped into Dancing on Ice, it didn't take Sherlock Holmes to deduce that she'd been as unhappy as her partner, though whether she'd been as miserable was a different matter. And frankly, it made no difference in the grand scheme of things.
Then Chris shattered his reverie again, but even Robin couldn't have predicted where he took them next.
Though in truth, where else could he have gone?
September, 1998, Chris' Old House, UK
"I can't bear it."
This choked, heartbroken gasp, so out of character for his partner, made Chris stop mid-step and turn to Jayne, unable to keep the surprise off his face.
He didn't bother trying to suppress his own pain. There was no way he could, not now, and he knew better than to waste the effort. Not even to spare Jayne, though her agony seared through his blood, the exact mirror of his own.
Rather bitterly, he observed that even in this, they were the perfect match.
And for the first time in more than a year, he found himself cursing Jayne's stubborn refusal to face her fears and her feelings, and in so doing, subjecting them both to this torment.
"Why do you have to go?" his partner wailed, wrapping her arms around her torso to keep from touching him. Despite his desperate need to feel her hands, he was also grateful for the lack; it was the only thing that might let them get through this without breaking.
And Jayne had asked him a fair question. He wished he could be annoyed or frustrated at both the belated inquiry and the shitty timing, but he knew perfectly well why she didn't understand and despite his own anguish, he couldn't hold it against her. Not when she was looking at him with eyes full of agony and tears and the same soul-deep heartbreak he was suffering.
As he took a few deep breaths, trying to figure out how best to answer, he also took a second to be thankful that they'd managed to convince their spouses to leave them alone while they finished this last task, though he knew he was in for an irritating confrontation later. Being pregnant had only added to Jill's strong dislike of his closeness to Jayne and she had been very vocal about staying behind — which, frankly, pissed him off for a lot of reasons, primarily the facts that he'd a) married Jill, b) already moved to America with her, and c) never said a word about the fact she'd gotten pregnant so she could force him to stop skating with Jayne.
So her jealousy was neither understandable nor acceptable, though he wasn't stupid enough to actually say that out loud to her.
Yet.
Still, her continuing refusal to accept that he loved her deeply and in a very different way than he loved Jayne was dangerously close to pushing him and his temper over the edge, so when she'd whined and moaned and pushed back about letting him and his life partner close this chapter together, he'd finally reached the point of not giving a damn and his parting words had been . . . not pleasant at all, because he simply could not take any more grief about the way he needed to do this. He was leaving the woman who held the other half of his soul and while Jill had been the one to broach the idea of moving to America, Chris had agreed of his own accord. He couldn't bear watching Jayne playing happy families with Phil, something that he didn't deny, but his primary motivation was, as always, her well-being. And he knew that if he stayed in England, he'd be living next door to her before a month was out, the two of them planning their next skate, and that wasn't what Jayne wanted.
So he would break his own heart for her again and give her the freedom she needed, away from him, to flourish in the new life she'd chosen. Jill was just going to have to live with the way they had decided — no, the way they needed — to do it.
"I'm going because there's no other option, sweetheart," he told her softly, a tiny smile coming to his lips when she pouted at that, though there was no humor in it. He was already mentally unsteady from the last few months, living so far from Jayne, though it had tempered by the fact that they'd still been skating together. But that was done, now, and this was the final severance. When they walked out the door today, it would not be as partners and soulmates, and they never would be again. When this last task was complete, they would leave as nothing more than friends.
And he honestly couldn't begin to imagine how he was going to live with that. Jayne was so much a part of him that he couldn't prevent the stab of fear at the dark knowledge that living without her might just end up destroying him, even though he did truly love Jill and their unborn child.
But he was going to have to learn how to be plain Chris, husband and father, instead of Christopher Dean, Jayne Torvill's partner.
He was going to have to learn to live without her.
"How can you say that?" she whispered back, sounding shocked, and he gave her a sorrowful look.
"Because if I'm here, Jayne, we're going to be together. We're going to skate. And we're going to go places and do things and push limits and not stop because that's what we do. And we wouldn't give our families the attention they deserve," he said gently, taking her hands and pulling her to his chest as she began to softly cry, unable to deny the truth of his spoken words — and the ones he would never say.
If I stay, we'll just fall deeper in love. And we'll either finally succumb or suffer the never-ending agony of touching without being able to have and lose our minds.
And our love will eventually turn into hate and destroy us completely.
For a long, long time, they simply held each other, swaying to the silent melody of Bolero echoing in both of their minds and feeling their hearts break because they could no longer deny or ignore the brutal reality of their situation.
Chris was drifting, seeking the numbness that might shield him from this pain, when Jayne kissed him.
It wasn't soft or gentle or friendly; her mouth was bold and hungry as it claimed his and he responded just as fiercely. He'd wanted her so much and had been forced to submerge that desire for so long that his control, which had been steadily eroding as they packed up the last bits of his life with her, gave itself up with a whimper as he gathered her to his chest and kissed her like it was the last thing he'd ever do. His mind was blissfully empty of everything but Jayne and how good, how right, she felt in his arms, and when she ran a hand down his back and rubbed it over his buttocks before wrapping her leg around his hip and rocking against him, fireworks went off behind his eyelids. Oh, she felt so good.
She gasped into his mouth and it was the most erotic thing he'd ever felt, but when she slid that same hand around and palmed his throbbing cock, the shock was so extreme it felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown straight down his throat.
What were they doing?!
"No, Jayne," he said harshly, tearing himself out of her embrace so roughly that she scratched his neck and stalking to the window across the room. He was shaking — with lust and anger and heartbreak and anguish and grief and a love so deep, he was terrified it might finally consume the last part of him that was still just Christopher Dean, giving him wholly to Jayne.
And his desire for her was hot and dark and intense and so all-encompassing that it was taking every ounce of his control just to be in the same room with her.
"Chris . . ." she whispered. The mere sound of her voice sent still more fire sparking through his blood and he bowed his head, sucking in a deep, unsteady breath that didn't do a damn thing to help calm him down and gripping the windowsill with hands that were fisted so tightly it hurt, because his need to touch her was overwhelming and he didn't dare risk it. "Please."
His control wavered dangerously at that soft plea and he spun to face her, his eyes devouring her beloved face and body so hungrily, she actually took a step back — and then moved forward again with solid determination, coming even closer to him, her entire body displaying a want that he'd never seen before and he knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he should be afraid.
But he was too far gone to care, now. The only coherent thought in his head was the mantra he'd lived with for more than a decade, which had helped numb the pain of seeing everything he wanted being given to someone else.
forJayneforJayneforJayne
"No, Jayne. I can't. I won't," he rasped, licking his lips as he forced himself to hold her gaze, unable to be anything but brutally honest now as the protective chains he'd wrapped around his heart shattered. "You're the fire in my blood, in my heart, in my very soul. If I touch you again, I'll take you."
It was both a warning and a promise and silence fell as the last feverish word faded away, full of everything they would not let themselves acknowledge. And for an eternal moment, there was nothing in the world but them.
And the choice they had to make.
Jayne swallowed once but never looked away, holding Chris' blazing eyes with her own and not remotely afraid of the intensity of his feelings. More importantly, he realized with near-hysteria, somewhere along the way, she'd apparently come to terms with her love for him. He could see in every line of her body that she'd finally accepted how much they loved each other, how deeply in love they were, unacknowledged though it had to be.
But now . . . now it was time. Their time. And she went to the edge without a murmur of hesitation or the fear that had shackled them for so damned long.
"Then touch me," she breathed, taking the last step to his side . . . but she didn't touch him. She waited patiently, looking at him with eyes that were full of love and trust . . . and an inferno of desire that brought his roaring to life. His heart stopped when he saw it and he whimpered, because he no longer had the will to resist. But he dug deep and somehow found the strength to give her one final chance to stop this, to let him let her go, if she would only take it.
"Jayne . . ." he moaned, trembling uncontrollably. He was burning for her and his heart was screaming for him to claim what she was offering him, the thing he wanted more than anything else . . . but he was also terrified and the divide had paralyzed him. He wanted to rush to her, bury his body inside hers, and hold her to him forever, even as he wanted to run for his life and not stop until his soul could no longer feel the call of hers.
But Jayne was sure and with beautifully serene features, she reached for his hand . . . but she didn't take it, because they both knew she'd made her choice. Now he had to make his. As they stared at her outstretched arm, Chris nearly hyperventilating from her nearness and what it meant, the silence between them churned with lust and regret and love and passion and sadness until his eyes fell closed and a harsh moan clawed its way free of his throat. His entire world had shrunk to Jayne and she held his honor and his future now. He had nothing else to give her but himself.
Then she put a gentle finger under his chin and made him meet her eyes. They were dark with love and the same passionate hunger he'd been living with for fifteen years and when he saw it, his own desire flared hot and bright, incinerating the last thread of his control, and he reached for her even as she breathed his benediction and his damnation into his mouth.
"Take me."
