A/N: This has to be one of my favorite chapters for a myriad of reasons. I know some people may argue that leaving Shawshank Ridonction on its own, and then doing Down & Outback and Maori or Less together would be better episode-wise - and you would be right! But there are some very important things that happen in New Zealand outside the competition setting that I need to get into that would taken up a full lengthy chapter.
Chapter 23- The Mourning After
Josée and Jacques were startled awake by a fist hammering on their door. Jacques glanced over at the alarm clock on the nightstand, reading that it was fifteen minutes after two in the morning. Josée felt around for the light switch, flickering it on and rubbing her eyes tiredly as the knocking persisted. She exchanged an odd look with Jacques, who looked just as perplexed as she did regarding who was knocking on the door at this time of night.
"Do you think it's a prank?" Jacques groaned, rising from his bed.
Josée yawned and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't know." They waited a little bit to hear if the knocking would go away.
It did, but it was replaced by someone's voice: "It's Kyle, open up the door. There's a phone call for you and it's important."
Just like that, Josée instantly woke up fully, got out of bed in flash to open the door to reveal one of the producers. This was the same producer that had persisted on trying to get her and Jacques to do their dirty work for a better show, even with this in mind, every update regarding what happens in Quebec was important to her. "Hm?"
The producer shoved the phone in her hands, "You have five minutes."
Josée nodded. "Merci." And she shut the door behind her and spoke into the phone: "Allo?"
"It's... Isaac." The ice dancer frowned deeply, her coach sounded very defeated. "I have some news-"
"What?" Josée interrupted at once, "What is it? Is it my mother?"
"No, your mother is fine. She's not eating as much and is sleeping more, but other than that, she's fine." Josée furrowed her brows confusedly; if her mother was fine, then why was Isaac calling her at this time? She heard Isaac sigh on the other end of the line. "Am I on speaker? Put me on speaker, Jacques needs to hear this too."
Josée glanced over at her partner, who bore an exhausted expression, traced with concern. "Oui, he's here... putting you on speaker now." She motioned to Jacques to come closer, which he did, and Josée put Isaac on speaker as instructed. "What is it?"
It was eerily quiet again; other than the sound of Isaac taking even breaths, as if trying to calm himself down from whatever had occurred. Josée and Jacques exchanged a concerned look - it was rare that Isaac sounded like this, normally he was calm and steady whenever in time of crisis. Whatever this was, it must've been bad.
"I was getting ready to close up the rink," Isaac started to explain. Josée resisted the urge to sigh aloud and yell at him; he was going to beat around the bush of this issue. "I was about to leave, and I figured I would do a check up to see if there were people still there. I had checked everywhere, and then the last place to check was the locker room-"
"Isaac," Josée said sharply, almost snapping at him: "Tell us what happened."
"I found someone in the locker room," Isaac replied, and then added in a voice full of regret: "And she had overdosed."
The silence was deafening for several seconds.
"...Who... who was it?" Josée asked fearfully, although she already knew the answer. She and Jacques both knew the answer. Once again, it had fallen silent. It was quiet for entirely too long; Josée and Jacques felt their hearts pumping out of their chests; awaiting the devastating news that would come, the one final blow. Josée felt herself growing hot and impatient. She gripped the phone and snapped, "Isaac, just tell us!"
"Rachel."
Josée closed her eyes; feeling an upcoming headache. She gripped onto the phone tighter as if it would slip out of her hands at any given moment. She didn't notice anything around her - the walls felt like they were closing in. She didn't even notice Jacques slowly sitting down on his bed to absorb the sudden news, rubbing his forehead. She let out a shallow breath; the air had been sucked out of the room, she was sure of it. Her hands were starting to tingle, therefore she tried to grip the phone tighter - it was so tight that if she squeezed it any harder it would break. She tried to move, but when she placed one foot in front of the other she felt herself wobble unsteadily.
The only thing she could hear was the sound of her pumping heart; which Josée was sure had fallen to her stomach - now logically that didn't make sense, but that's how Josée felt - and Josée detested prioritizing feelings over logic; which is something Rachel hardly did, but she was doing that anyway. Josée felt the sudden urge to be next to her, how she wished she could go back in time to tell Rachel before they left for the race to get help for her issues. After all, Rachel did everything to help her.
Had it not been for Rachel, she would've never gone back to Jacques after the olympics...
Rachel...
...Why?
"Are you still there?"
SLAM!
Josée had thrown her hand onto the wall to get her balance in order, startling her partner and herself as she came back to reality. Josée opened her eyes slowly, revealing that her eyes were bloodshot and were on the brim of tears. "...Oui," she said, her voice hoarse; uncertain as to why. "I'm still here."
"It's that..." Isaac started off, unsettled: "You wanted me to tell you about any updates, and I figured you'd want to-"
"Yes, yes. Of course..." Josée interrupted; she didn't want to hear the rest of it. "I... I have to go. It's very late."
"I understand," said Isaac. "I'm sorry, Josée. Jacques." Josée looked over to her partner to see that there were a few tears that had trailed down his cheeks. "Au revoir."
"Au revoir," Josée said quietly, then hung up. She slowly sat down on the bed beside her partner, unsure of what to do. Part of her wanted to burst into tears; other than Jacques, Rachel was her best friend... she was incredibly dear to her and one of the few people that Josée found impossible to hate; she adored her.
Now she was just gone? Just like that? How was that fair? She was brilliant; she could've been anything she wanted, but because of her love for figure skating that outweighed the obvious choices to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or a rocket scientist. Even if she wasn't a natural on ice, she had her perseverance to do better, and Josée admired that. She blinked back her tears; there had to be some way to honor her passing, there just had to be some way.
"Are you finished in there?" asked Kyle from the halls, "your time is up."
Oh, right.
The phone.
Josée opened the door and handed Kyle the phone. "Merci," she said, almost meekly. She sniffled and wiped her eye. "It's upsetting."
"Sorry for your loss," Kyle said neutrally.
"...Thank you," Josée replied. Then, a lightbulb went off in her head. It was outlandish, and the producers wouldn't allow it, but it was possible. "Can we ask you for a favor?"
"What?"
Josée bit her lip, it's worth a shot. "Obviously we're not going to go home after this," she started off, then: "There's probably going to be a funeral for our friend, but because of the competition, we won't be able to attend..."
"What are you getting at?"
"What I'm getting at," Josée continued, undaunted: "...is that maybe, just for tomorrow, you would allow us to dye our costumes black?"
"What?! Why should-"
"We'll do what you ask, just please," Josée nearly begged softly. "Just for tomorrow."
Kyle groaned. He seemed to ponder over it for a minute, then said: "Hand over your costumes." Josée smirked and did so, reaching into the closet and doing what was asked. "I will return these to you later, so be prepared." Josée's smirk turned into a genuine smile, incredibly grateful. "Welcome to the dark side." Then her smile vanished.
She closed the door and turned around to find Jacques, who hadn't left his spot. She bit her lip apprehensively and sat down beside him. "Our fans can't know what happened, Jacques, we have to keep it secret," she said softly, rubbing his back in efforts to comfort him. "We have to... eat the pain and smile, oui?" Jacques' mind was evidently elsewhere; as he slowly got up and made his way to the bathroom. A phrase echoed in his head that he said in Zimbabwe, over and over, that had to do with the lava rock.
An offering.
An offering.
Josée got up in concern and followed him. "Jacques?" She heard the shower turn on and frowned; it was too early for a shower. She went into the bathroom that Jacques hadn't bothered to lock, and raised an eyebrow when she didn't see any of his clothes on the ground to undress himself for the shower, yet the water was running. "Jacques?"
She saw Jacques' shadow behind the curtain. "Jacques?" she called out once more. When he didn't reply, she hesitantly pushed the curtain away. She saw Jacques, standing up fully clothed as the water soaked through his hoodie and sweatpants, gently rubbing himself like he was bathing. Josée was at a total loss. "What are you doing?" Jacques ignored her and smiled, continuing it.
Josée didn't address the incident with Jacques in the next few hours. It was almost like Jacques didn't remember, because when Josée looked at Jacques strangely when getting ready for the day, Jacques just raised an eyebrow in response. They didn't greet each other, however - Rachel's death was still fresh on their minds.
As promised, Josée and Jacques were given their costumes back, dyed black. For a nice touch, their vests were red, but still - it was appropriate, and hopefully it was a message that they knew of Rachel's passing during the airtime when the event was. The producers agreed that they weren't going to mention it and come up with another excuse regarding the change of costumes. It wasn't completely a lie; Josée thought - they figured they could seem more intimidating.
"The purple was too friendly," said Josée, for the interview. "...the black screams, 'get out of our way!'"
"And 'wash us with similar colors,'" Jacques added for good measure.
They were the last to go to the Don box. Josée read the travel tip to herself, before announcing: "Australia is our next destination." Jacques nodded from beside her, as she started to read it aloud, "Teams must travel by bus to Zimbabwe's Harare International Airport to book their flight to Melbourne. Once there, find the Don box." Finding out that the bus wasn't going to depart without the last team was a huge relief on Josée and Jacques; perhaps the producers decided to take mercy on them.
Before they could go on, Josée turned to her partner with a serious expression. "Remember... eat the pain and smile," she told him. Jacques, like before, only nodded.
When they arrived on the bus, instead of being bothered by the stares - whether it was from their new outfits or their thrill of being saved from yesterday leaving an imprint on their minds - they relished in the attention, smiling and waving to the other contestants like they hadn't completely lost it yesterday over them being almost eliminated.
They were smiling like one of their closest friends hadn't died a mere few hours ago.
This is performance.
They were quiet the entire ride on the bus. When they got to the airport and got on the flight to Australia, it was a similar experience; awkward, tense, and wanting to burst into tears - but their fans were watching, and they couldn't be disappointed by seeing them upset. Smiling was a necessity; even in their sleep. Speaking of sleep, it was beneficial.
"Should we?" Jacques said, yawning. "We haven't slept last night because..."
"Don't say it," Josée interrupted curtly, with her eyes closed. "It's a thirteen hour flight, might as well." Soon after, they were fast asleep.
HONK!
Everyone woke up on the plane some time later; startled out of their sleep.
"Attention teams!" Don's voice played on a small screen in front of each of the contestants, "This is a boomerang!" On screen, showed a red sheet of paper attached to a travel tip. "Find one attached to your travel tip and you can use it at the next Don box to send another team back to repeat the last challenge."
"I want one!" Josée proclaimed, while Jacques nodded with a slight smile. It was nice to see her pumped up for a competition rather than upset over the recent events. A few minutes after the announcement, when Josée and Jacques wanted to get more shut-eye, they were greeted by a new presence.
"Hi!" Kitty greeted, friendly-like. Emma crossed her arms, appearing indifferent. "I love your costumes, it's such a nice touch!"
"Merci," said Jacques, unsure of what else to say. She hoped that she didn't sound too upset. "What is it?"
Kitty nudged her older sister gently, who cleared her throat. "Do you mind switching seats with us?" she grumbled. Kitty nudged her head to the seats in front of the ice dancers, which were occupied by the Reality TV Pros.
Josée and Jacques exchanged a look.
Of course.
Josée and Jacques rose from their seats. "You didn't have to lie about the costumes," Josée said coldly. "You could've asked us right away instead of trying to butter us up."
Kitty's cheerful smile disappeared. "But I... I wasn't trying to, it was a compliment..."
"It's fine," Josée dismissed. She and Jacques stepped to the side so Emma and Kitty could get through, "Enjoy your seats." Although Kitty tried to protest that wasn't the case, neither Josée nor Jacques would hear it; she just didn't have the energy to listen to them. Always out for themselves...
Some time later, they got off the flight and ran to the Don box nearby. Jacques slammed the button on the Don box, and low and behold, there was a boomerang attached to the travel tip. Josée gasped excitedly and pushed Jacques out of the way to snatch it. "A boomerang! Yes! Woo!"
"Ow..." Jacques groaned. Josée squealed a little and helped Jacques up, that's when the camera crew asked how they felt about getting a boomerang.
"First you get the gold..." Jacques said.
"And then you get the boomerang..." Josée added.
Then, collectively: "And then you get the power!"
Jacques read the travel tip aloud, "Stop in at Geelong Maximum Security. As teams arrive, they'll be thrown into cells. Each cell is equipped one of four methods of escape; tunnels, travel doors, hidden tools, or bars. Once they break out of their cells, they're free to make their way to today's final Don box on the Barwon River. Boomerangs can only be used here. First teams to make it to the chill zone gets to make a phone call home." Josée and Jacques exchanged a look; it would probably be a public phone call broadcasted for the world to see - neither of them were comfortable with that.
They called for a taxi and arrived at the prison shortly. Almost immediately, handcuffs were placed on Josée and Jacques. They went peacefully; knowing that this was all part of the challenge. Josée groaned frustratedly in the tiny cell. "Great, we have to think..." She ran a hand through her hair in distress; the cell was too small. "Jacques?"
"Where do you want to start?" Jacques asked.
Josée took in a breath, trying to not let it get caught between her teeth. "I don't know, but I-"
"HEY! LET GO OF ME!" A familiar voice barked obnoxiously loud. Josée and Jacques ceased their discussion to see MacArthur struggling against an officer trying to break free while Sanders looked resigned, and embarrassed for her partner's actions. The ice dancers didn't understand why MacArthur would fight against it, it was for the challenge, anyway. The bars slammed shut as the officer walked away nonchalantly. "It wasn't personal. I mean yeah, it was your face I punched in." Josée and Jacques found themselves smirking a little as she went on: "But I still respect you as a fellow officer of the law 'cause you only cried a little. Super manly dude!"
Their smirks disappeared after that.
"What is wrong with a man that cries?" Jacques whispered to his partner, but she didn't answer.
"Are you gonna mock him all day or should we maybe look for a way out?" Sanders asked, sounding annoyed. Speaking of, the ice dancers were starting to get annoyed.
"Uh, pretty sure there's time for both." Now they were definitely annoyed. Josée frowned deeply; since when did the air start to diminish? She bit her lip apprehensively, the way that the Cadets were bickering away didn't help the case. "Man, sometimes I wish you were little more fun!"
"I wish you were more professional! Stop insulting and punching people. Can't you just play nice? Ever?"
Wow, Jacques thought, with the way they argued, they sounded like they were a couple.
"I play nice with you all the time."
Okay, maybe they were a couple.
Nonetheless, Josée had enough. "Can you please keep it down? We're trying to think."
"Don't worry, trying anything for the first time is hard," was MacArthur's witty reply.
Josée was not amused in the slightest.
Okay, now she was sure that the walls were closing in, and perhaps the bars had something to do with it too. She tried to make her breaths more even; Rachel would tell her that if her breathing was shallow she was entering a 'panic attack' due to her claustrophobia, but Josée didn't like the fancy terms - she didn't like it when Bernadette used it for her psychology nonsense, and she didn't like it when Rachel used it because she was one of the best scholars she knew. Nonetheless, she tried to follow the instructions Rachel tried to give her.
The first thing she had to remind herself that she wasn't dying. Rachel told her that panic attacks and heart attacks were different things, but they had similar symptoms. A pounding heart, rapid breathing, and your body tingling. It's just adrenaline being flooded into the bloodstream, and they weren't life-threatening and they would pass. Because your breathing becomes faster, to gather more oxygen, it makes your blood sugar spike - this was a "fight or flight" response. It would pass, she kept trying to tell herself.
It would pass.
It would pass.
...It wasn't working, because even though it worked in the past because of Rachel's logic and reasoning helping her with anxiety, now when she tried it - it reminded her that the person who gave her this method to cope was now dead. Rachel was dead. She died. Not too long ago. She died from what was an overdose. She couldn't get help.
She died.
She died.
"Josée," Jacques' voice managed to cut through, "Does this spot sound different to you? Listen." She couldn't hear.
Josée's eyes darted back and forth madly as her hands trembled in front of the bars. "It's like there's no air in here," she spat, then charged toward Jacques, putting her hands on his shoulders desperately: "Do prisoners not get air? Is that part of going to jail? No air?!" She ran to the bars in the corner of the room desperate.
She was dying.
Like Rachel did.
"There's plenty of air," Jacques tried to reassure, then he paused, taking note of her distressed appearance. "You okay?"
"Yes. I just want some air." Josée inhaled the bars, then she gasped harshly. "It's these bars!" she exclaimed, then gasped more. "They block the air."
"I don't think..."
"They're using special air blocking bars!" Josée cried desperately, then let out another harsh gasp and ran to the front of the bars. "I gotta get out!" She proceeded to knock her body against the bars harshly, much to Jacques' alarm.
"Josée! Stop it! You're going to-" CRASH! "...find the way out! Yes!" Jacques cheered, as Josée broke through the bars.
Then Josée lifted up her arms in victory from the floor. "Air..." she said, relieved.
"Wait!" Sanders shouted, from her cell alongside MacArthur. "If you help us now, we'll owe you one. You have my word."
Jacques helped Josée up and exchanged a smirk; oh, this was such a good opportunity. They walked up to the Cadets' cell. "One condition," began Josée smugly, "I want your partner to say ice dancing is the best sport in the world."
MacArthur snickered. "You think it's a sport?"
"MacArthur! Come on!" Sanders scolded.
Josée and Jacques' smirks vanished just for a moment. They exchanged a look that said everything; they definitely weren't getting helped now. As the Cadets bickered for a few seconds due to MacArthur's stubbornness, the blunt cadet finally returned reluctantly. "Ice dancing is the best sport in the world," she mumbled.
"Like you meant it. And louder," Josée ordered.
"Ice dancing is the best sport in the world!" MacArthur repeated, this time in a falsely sweet tone.
"And who is the best ice dancer?" Josée asked, smirking and raising a brow when she saw MacArthur's disgruntled look.
She growled at her. "You are." Then, in that falsely sweet tone: "You are the best ice dancer in the world!"
Satisfied, Josée walked right past the cell smugly. "That is so nice of you to say!" Jacques followed shortly behind her, his arms crossed. "Buh-bye!"
"Argh! I knew it!" MacArthur exclaimed.
"You promised to help us!" Sanders hollered after them.
"I am!" Josée insisted. "I'm helping you go home."
Now that that was taken care of, Josée and Jacques made their way out of the prison. Josée couldn't stop smirking; all that anxiety that came from today had melted, and it turned into something good, something mentally destructive. It was a mind game; a wonderful mind game, and it felt thrilling to put it to good use. After all, she was the best - no one else was going to tell her otherwise, she was the one to beat. She was the threat. The one with the power. And there's nothing those Cadets could do about it.
Josée looked ahead and smiled when she spotted what she was looking for. "There's the Don - agh!" She must've tripped over something; a rock of some sort, because she landed on the floor face first with her face and body covered in mud. A boisterous laugh filled the area. Instant shame and fury filled Josée; it was the olympics all over again. She ignored Jacques trying to help her up, clenched her fists defensively, and shouted: "Who laughed?" She and Jacques turned around to see MacArthur and Sanders.
"I believe you mean 'whom' laughed." MacArthur was cut off with mud being thrown in her face by Josée, followed by a giggle from the ice dancer. Jacques smiled fondly; it was the most genuine giggle that he had heard from her all day, it was very cute. MacArthur, however, wasn't amused. "You messed with the wrong cadet!"
When MacArthur came walking forward, Josée relished in the attention. "Oh, I am going to enjoy this." At an instant, she pulled out the boomerang she had been saving.
MacArthur stopped in her tracks, while Sanders brought up her boomerang, aiming it at the ice dancers. "Drop it."
"No! You drop yours," Josée ordered Sanders.
"None of us want to go home today," Sanders started to explain, "but if we boomerang each other..."
"Oh, she's right," Jacques said, then looked over at Josée who was entirely focused on Sanders. "This is a bad idea!"
Josée groaned frustratedly. "Ugh! Rip yours in half and I'll do the same."
MacArthur wouldn't buy it. "She's lying, she's a liar!"
"Don't call me a-"
"On three!" Sanders interrupted the bickering, "We do it together, on three."
"On three," Josée repeated, putting her hand on the boomerang while Sanders did the same. "One, two... three!"
Nothing happened.
"I knew it!" MacArthur shouted.
"It's a trap!" Jacques shrieked.
"You liar," Josée spat at Sanders.
Sanders held her hand up. "Wait! Wait!" But it was too late. Everything seemed to move in slow-motion, Josée aimed her boomerang at Sanders, while Sanders aimed her boomerang at Josée. Both of their partners desperately tried to stop it, but to no avail.
"Boomerang!" Josée and Sanders announced.
MacArthur groaned while Jacques dramatically fell to the floor.
SLAM!
The Ice Dancers and Police Cadets were thrown into what was called the mother of all Geelong cells, "the Black Hole."
"Perhaps a temporary truce is in order?" Jacques suggested. MacArthur and Sanders exchanged skeptical a look. "Just until we're free?" he added for good measure.
It was quiet for a few seconds, then MacArthur started to bark orders to each person. "Trapdoors," to Sanders, "Tunnels," to Josée, "Tools," to Jacques. Then she pointed to herself and said, "Bars. Go." No one bothered to argue with her. Neither team wanted to go home, and this was probably the best temporary solution.
That didn't mean Josée was happy about it. "Why did you suggest to team up with them?" she whispered fiercely to Jacques as they looked around for a way out.
"Do you want to lose, Josée?" Jacques asked desperately, then in a hushed tone: "Do you think Rachel would want us to quit?"
...It hit her hard.
"...not now, Jacques. Please." But he was right; she knew that. Rachel wouldn't want them to quit, she wanted them to win - and if that meant teaming up with the Cadets temporarily, then so be it. At least she wasn't confined to a small cell this time. It fell silent again between them, that is until a conversation with the Cadets popped up that the Ice Dancers couldn't help but overhear.
"We could've used that phone call home, MacArthur," Sanders said softly. "My grandmother-"
"She'll be fine..."
"You don't know that, she's sick."
Josée stopped searching and felt her stomach churn; she looked over to Jacques, who was probably thinking something similar to what she was thinking - they knew someone who was sick back home, too.
"Hey, hey, hey," MacArthur said, it was the most gentle sounding that Josée and Jacques had ever heard the police cadet the entire, "...whatever happens, it'll be okay." Josée briefly turned to see MacArthur peck Sanders on the lips. Josée raised her eyebrows and exchanged a look with Jacques, who shrugged, then returned to their search.
"Did you find anything?" Sanders called out. Josée and Jacques turned around; seeing Sanders look incredibly distraught - likely due to not being able to call her grandmother who was sick. Josée felt guilt well up in her; after all she was able to call to check in on her mother because of the producers' agreement, but Sanders didn't have that luxury - at least she didn't think so. Jacques had shaken his head. Sanders brows furrowed in confusion as Josée fixated her stare on her. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Then and there, strangely enough, Josée wanted to confide in her. She wanted to tell her about her mother who had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and that she was fighting tooth-and-nail to live, and that she wanted to see her and Jacques win and redeem themselves. She wanted to tell her that she knew how it felt to have a loved one back home that was sick. She wanted to apologize for her behavior, for shoving her down to the ground in Romania and for lying about the cell.
Josée took a breath. "You know, uh... my..." Before she could confess her long held secret, the logic suddenly zapped into her brain and ceased her words at once - she had a competition to win, there was no time for this. She shook her head abruptly. "Nothing, nothing..." She went back to searching, ignoring the look Sanders and MacArthur exchanged; one of oddity.
Time passed, and Sanders pointed to the sky. "Trap door!"
"Yes!" Jacques exclaimed with relief.
"If we get onto each other's shoulders, we can reach it," Sanders explained. Then, one-by-one, each of them were hoisted up to reach the trap door. MacArthur was at the bottom, followed by Jacques, who was holding up Sanders, who was holding up Josée. Sanders threw Josée out the trap door. Josée held her hands out so Sanders could get up. Jacques smirked, getting ready to jump up to reach the top.
Until a voice below him belonging to MacArthur interrupted, "Hey, once you're up there, if you double-cross us, I'll make you pay."
Jacques scoffed. "Pffft, You don't scare me - agh!"
MacArthur easily had thrown him back down, gripping his collar tightly with one hand while holding up a threatening fist in the other. "I'll break your limbs, tie you into a knot and throw you off a cliff."
"Okay, that actually does scare me - wah!" His sentence was again cut off with him thrown into the air, with Sanders and Josée catching his feet. Now they had to lift MacArthur, which they struggled with.
MacArthur rolled her eyes at everyone's grunting and complaining. "Come on. Glutes, people. Glutes!"
Once they were out, their truce was broken. Josée and Jacques started to built their rafts just like the Cadets were doing. Soon after, both teams landed in the water and started to paddle at the same time; it was neck and neck - a race for not last place. The chill zone was just up ahead, and Josée desperately tried to paddle faster.
"Who's going to take it?" Don announced.
All Josée could think about while they paddled was Rachel. Because earlier, Jacques was right - Rachel wouldn't want them to quit, she would want them to keep fighting for gold, to keep fighting for the competition. She wanted them to win; and Rachel's death wouldn't be in vain - Josée was going to win this for her. By any means necessary.
Wherever you are Rachel, this is for you.
Josée stopped paddling, held up her oar, and swung it - colliding with the Cadets bodies that were now in the water.
"Tenth place to the ice dancers," announced Don. Jacques broke into relieved cheer while Josée held her arms up in victory. When they were picked up by the producers to give an interview on why they were so excited over tenth, they were quick to clarify.
"We weren't cheering our ranking," said Jacques. "Finishing in tenth place is shameful and disgusting."
"But knocking the Police Cadets out of the competition, literally?" Josée smiled. "That's worth celebrating!" Then she broke into laughter. What was also worth celebrating was that Rachel, wherever the hell she was, could see them compete more - they were not going to be eliminated; they were going to win.
"Sanders. MacArthur," Don started off. Josée and Jacques smirked from afar. Here it comes... "I am very sad right now. You two are such a good team." Josée smirked even more - he was milking it on purpose and then he'l give them the final blow. "I wish you nothing but the best... in the next round because this one is non-elimination!"
Their smirks vanished right after that.
What?
What?!
Back-to-Back?
MacArthur lifted Sanders while she cheered happily upon finding out they were still in the game.
Josée and Jacques? Outraged.
Directly after filming when they got to their hotel, MacArthur was sure to gloat in their faces. "Looks like you didn't get rid of us after all!" Josée and Jacques glared at the cadet, while Sanders looked indifferent to the matter. Josée could feel her fists shaking, wanting to land one right in MacArthur's face.
"I just have one question," Sanders said. "Who's Rachel?"
The color drained from Josée and Jacques' faces immediately once they realized that Sanders had overheard their exchange. Josée could feel her heart starting to race again, and the way there were tears threatening to leak from her eyes; she had tried to keep them concealed all freaking day - and now she was struggling?
"None of your business," Josée spat, and stormed away, motioning Jacques to follow her, which he did. Just when things couldn't get any worse, there was tap on Josée's shoulder. Josée whipped her body around fast. "What?" Then she was met eye-to-eye with Carrie and her stomach just dropped. Josée couldn't handle it; her eyes were bordering on tears now - Carrie looked way too much like her and Josée didn't know how to handle it. Josée blinked back the tears. "Just go away!"
Carrie blinked confusedly. "Josée... what's... what's wrong-"
"Please, don't!" Josée interrupted. She meant for it to come across as harsh, but it seemed more desperate than anything. "Not you. Especially not you. Don't act all concerned-"
"Wh-what?" Carrie stammered. She looked to Jacques, who looked bewildered by his partner's emotions, and then back to Josée. "What did I do-"
"You know exactly what you did!" Josée hissed at the blonde girl. "Don't play dumb, you're smarter than that. You and your little high school nonsense with Kitty, you whispering while looking directly at me on the plane ride-"
"But I-"
"Let me be perfectly clear with you," Josée began icily, "Number one; don't talk to me about your nonsense with Devin. I don't want to hear it. I never cared for it, and you seemed to be fine making friends with Kitty and gossiping with her - presumably about me, so you can burden her with that garbage. Number two; this is a competition. I told you before that not everyone is going to be your friend, and there will come a time when Kitty will put your friendship with her aside for the sake of competition, that's just how things work, so there's hardly a point in trying. And finally, number three; say what you have to say to my face!"
Josée left Carrie's jaw dropped wide open that she could've sworn a fly flew in. Nonetheless, Josée huffed, and stormed upstairs - presumably to the hotel room. Jacques looked at Carrie, unsure of what to say, then when she tried to speak - Jacques wouldn't hear it. He held his hand up, signaling for her to be quiet, and joined his partner upstairs.
Jacques woke up startled. His body just made the stupid decision of waking up painfully early... or late. He was still fuzzy on what time it was. He looked at the nightstand and saw that it was two in the morning and groaned. He and Josée would have to be up in four hours for the next challenge, and it looked like he was already wide awake.
Speaking of Josée she was lightly snoring in the other bed - still fast asleep. Jacques tried to settle back into his bed to try and get some needed rest, to fight off the feeling of being wide awake. It took roughly five minutes, but he was settled to drift right back to sleep...
...Until a whimper interrupted him. Jacques sat upright and looked to his right to see where the source could've come from, and he knew it wasn't himself. The next thing he heard was uncomfortable shifting of blankets. The next thing he heard was incoherent mumbling. Jacques' eyes went wide and slowly got out of bed to listen closely. Most of it was in French, for one thing - Jacques knew that Josée talked in her sleep often, but this was different - it sounded like she was being tormented. Soon, the uncomfortable shifting turned into increasing her movements gradually, followed by her voice getting louder.
"Non... non..."
She was having a nightmare, and Jacques wasn't sure what to do.
Taking a cautious breath, Jacques shook her shoulder gently. "Josée..."
"No!" Josée shouted, as she shot upright wide awake. Although the light wasn't on, Jacques was sure that Josée's eyes were laced with panic. Blinking slowly, she took in her surroundings. It was dark, which wasn't good. But it wasn't cramped, so that was good. "No, no, no..."
"Chouchou, it was only a dream..." Jacques tried to soothe. The sound of Josée's harsh breathing filled the silence. "Josée-"
"It was that closet," Josée spat uneasily, her breathing still shallow. "The walls were closing in..." She leaned into Jacques' touch, burying her face in his chest. "It was horrible. And then... and then I saw Rachel. I can't stop seeing her, I could only imagine her body, how scared she must've been, she was probably choking... or, I don't know - and then my maman... the closet-" Her rambling had ceased; cutting herself off to sob uncontrollably.
Instinctively, Jacques wrapped his arms around Josée, her muffled cries against his chest. "Shh, I'm sorry, chouchou. But everyhing's okay now, hm?" He rubbed her back soothingly as she hiccupped. "I'm sorry you got scared, but I'm here now." He kissed the top of her head. "You're okay." He held her closer to him. "Go back to sleep. Nothing will happen while I'm here."
That was all Josée needed to hear. Eventually, her cries subsided and went back to sleeping, snoring soundly. Jacques carefully got up, as if not to startle her, and tucked her in. He wasn't planning on going back to sleep anytime soon. Rachel's death was weighing heavily on her, Jacques knew - and it was probably going to get worse from there.
It was time for something new.
Josée knew that this nightmare of hers must've been a sign to fight harder, as well as to not be a baby. Her mother had said that in part of her nightmare when she was shoved into that wretched closet. Her mother wanted her to win this competition, and Josée knew that if she won this competition she would be a winner in her eyes, and would welcome her back with open arms. This was the one thing Rachel was wrong about regarding her mother; because Josée... well, she couldn't hate her own mother like she could.
It was one of the few arguments that they had together. Like it has been said, Rachel was too quick - she would always find a rebuttal to Josée's excuses.
But now, Josée thought bitterly, Rachel had followed into her mother's footsteps.
Even with this in mind, Josée couldn't bring herself to despise Rachel, even though she insulted her mother a few times. Rachel was incredibly dear to her, and held a special place in Josée's heart; she knew that much. So Josée came to a rough conclusion; that she was going to win for her mother and Rachel.
"It's an All-In," said Josée, reading the travel tip. "Bunny bagging." She felt nausea envelope her at the mention of bunnies, likely due to bun-bun. Nonetheless, she pushed this feeling to the side and read on: "Each team must collect ten rabbits in a sack and turn them in. As an added bonus, somewhere on this farm is an albino bunny. The team that finds it can skip directly to the next challenge." All the teams charged across the farm to spot the bunnies.
Josée glared at MacArthur from her spot; it was time for a change, indeed.
Jacques tried to lift up a bunny who was eating. "Un lapin - ow!" He desperately tried to keep the bunny away from his face that scratched him. "A little help?" he asked Josée.
"Not now, I'm busy glaring," Josée replied, not taking her eyes off MacArthur - who had met her eyes, looking confused. Josée couldn't help but scowl; why the hell was she looking so damn incredulous? The producers pulled she and Jacques aside for an interview.
"They boomeranged us," Josée said.
"We boomeranged them," Jacques added.
"I want revenge!" Josée proclaimed, slamming her fist into her hand determinedly. "Winning's no longer enough, I need to be the one that makes them lose!"
"I think winning is still enough..."
"You're wrong!" Josée shouted, scaring Jacques onto the ground, then stalked away. She began to grumble frustratedly while Jacques looked on with growing concern. "Stupid cadets are going to get it. Desperate times call for desperate measures, we got tenth... we need to fight back."
"What are you saying?"
"Maybe..." Josée began, although a little hesitantly: "Maybe sabotage isn't such a bad thing, especially in this case!"
"Are... are you sure, Josée?"
Josée nodded, she couldn't be soft anymore. "I'm sure. We need to sabotage the cadets!"
Jacques raised an eyebrow. "And how are we going to do that?"
Josée's eyes scanned the farm at the other contestants. Her eyes landed on Ennui; he and his partner had helped Josée and Jacques with the lava rock, maybe he would be willing to help them again. Based on his makeup, it's likely that he had to have that on his person because of the cameras - also because of the fear of it getting ruined like in Finland. She decided to take that Kitty approach to the situation; she hadn't forgotten when the girl tried to butter her and Jacques up for their seats. So fine; she could channel the energy of the petty high school girls she went to school with.
Josée cleared her throat. "Oh, uh... hey there, buddy. Do you mind if I borrowed some of your makeup?" She even chuckled a bit for good measure.
"Don't pretend to be friendly, it's gross." Josée's smile disappeared. He was absolutely right. "But you can use my makeup if you tell me where you scored that unitard."
Josée's smile returned. "I'm assuming you're referring to yesterday's?" Ennui turned around and nodded slowly. "Oh, it's the same as this. They were just dyed black, I'm sure the producers can tell you about it. I think the company is..." Josée told him where it was, therefore, Ennui handed her the makeup.
"Cool," he said monotonously. "You should've kept it."
Josée laughed nervously. "Well, uh... yeah." It was uncomfortable. She bit her lower lip. "I'll see you later." She was about to leave, until...
"You don't have to smile all the time either."
Josée turned around, blinking slowly at the goth who had uttered that so simply. "...I... I know that." That being said, she quickly got out of there. She met Jacques behind one of the trees nearby the Cadets. "Give me one of our rabbits."
Jacques gasped. "What?!"
"It's all part of the plan," Josée remarked, smirking.
"Freeze! Everyone down on the ground! Hands behind your ears! That's right bunnies, the salad bar's closed."
Jacques frowned deeply at his partner. "I don't understand. How is giving up one of our rabbits going to sabotage them?"
"Watch and learn," said Josée, taking one of the rabbits out of the bag and applying heavy white makeup to it. The plan was brilliant; there's no way it wouldn't work. MacArthur was dense and hyperactive enough to buy it. She let the rabbit go in MacArthur's direction.
"Well, that's the last one," said Sanders, putting the last rabbit in the bag.
Then, MacArthur saw the fake albino bunny and gasped. "It's the ring leader..."
Sanders frowned and tried to reason, "But we have more than enough rabbits right here-"
"We got a runner!" MacArthur yelled while dropping the bag to chase the rabbit, much to her partner's distress.
"MacArthur, wait!" Sanders cried out as the bunnies went free, "Oh! Stop!"
In the confessional, Josée and Jacques were hysterical. They don't know how long they were laughing for; but it was certainly one of the best feelings they've had in a long time. It was so satisfying, it was so wonderful, it was... a little evil, even - but it felt good. It was the first time since Rachel's death that they both truly laughed together.
"Take that, junior pigs!" Josée said to camera, while Jacques wiped a tear from his eye.
The show wasn't near over yet. Josée and Jacques watched as MacArthur proceeded to chase that fake albino rabbit by all means necessary. If Josée wasn't so angry and hellbent on revenge, she would've made a comment on how determined MacArthur was, and how it was almost admirable how much she was dead set on getting the rabbit. But then again, Josée thought it was also total ignorance. It was absolutely entertaining; right up to when MacArthur along with the tractor she was heading into the water.
"Woo hoo!" Geoff cheered victoriously, "We got our ten rabbits."
Josée knew MacArthur was fine, but she took one look at Jacques, who grinned at her. Josée grinned back; he already knew what she was thinking. "Whoah! Did you see that tractor take a dive?" she asked, pointing.
Jacques tapped his chin in mock thought. "Ah, oui. Deadly. I wonder who's driving?"
"MacArthur," Josée answered, loud enough for the Surfers to hear.
Jacques let out a mock gasp. "That's why I heard her scream, 'Help me, Brody!'"
Brody gasped. "I'm coming!" And started to run to the water.
Geoff looked ready to protest. "Dude! Wait! We need to..." he groaned, then put the bag down and ordered it, "Stay little bunnies. Brody!" Then he followed his partner.
Josée and Jacques walked right up to the bag of rabbits. "Oh, look!" Josée said, then snickered: "We've got our ten rabbits!"
"Ooh, so evil!" Jacques added. And it felt immensely good.
"Tricking those surfers is as easy as a triple salchow in Saskatchewan," Josée said in the confessional. When the producers asked to clarify if that meant it was easy, Josée smirked and said matter-of-factly: "Very easy." After the interview, Josée dropped the bag in front of the local. "Here, now tip us." He did so, handing it to Jacques.
"Glide asunder from the great Down Under?" Jacques asked confusedly. Then, he turned to Josée, who finished reading the tip: "Teams must now take one of these gliders and fly away from Australia to the chill zone at New Zealand's mountain."
Jacques and Josée were strapped in, with Jacques taking the front. It was alarmingly fast; with Josée and Jacques' eyes popping out of their heads at the speed. But they melted into it; it was similar to the feeling they had on the ice - the rush, the adrenaline, the way their hearts were pumping out of their chests.
They never felt so alive.
They got out of the glider and ran to the chill zone, where Don was there to greet them. "Ice dancers..." he paused for dramatic effect, "You're in first place!"
Jacques put up his hands in victory and squealed. "Yes!"
Josée openly put her arms around him as Jacques pulled her in for a hug. "The gold is finally ours!"
"Again, there's no gold. But congrats. You won using skill, and good sportsmanship." Josée and Jacques looked at Don strangely. "Kidding! Your win is highly suspect. I just don't care enough to look into it."
Later they waited eagerly for the other teams to arrive, when the Cadets showed up and glared at the ice dancers for their deceitful tricks, they merely grinned at them - it's what they deserved, after all. Josée and Jacques didn't forget the things MacArthur did throughout the course of the race. They were giddy all the way to the hotel room they were staying at; it was their first win in such a long time - and everything just felt right again.
Once they were alone, Josée squealed and hugged Jacques tightly. Jacques smiled and hugged her back. "We did it, Jacques!" she beamed happily. "We got the gold!" She was so overcome by excitement that she suddenly jumped up, startling Jacques for a moment, before he caught her in his arms. He found himself twirling her around as her laughter filled the room, "We're going to win the gold! We're going to win!"
"Of course we are, chouchou! We're the perfect team!"
First place.
They finally got first.
Josée smiled; Rachel would be proud.
Maman would be proud.
Jacques put her down and squeezed her hands tightly; then he noticed something. Though he wasn't a stranger to calling Josée beautiful, or gorgeous, or other synonyms describing how great his partner is, it was the first time he really saw how whenever Josée was animated, her eyes would glimmer - and when she laughed, it filled the whole room, it was wonderfully contagious, because Jacques couldn't help but laugh with her. He had vowed to always make her laugh; it was one of the best sounds he's ever heard.
"Jacques?" Josée voice cut through. "Is something the matter?"
That's when Jacques remembered himself. He brushed those thoughts to the side, and smiled - this time, much weaker. "Oui." He wasn't. Not at all. "I'm just happy we've won."
He had so many questions.