A/N: ...Oh fuck me.
I cannot believe we're at the final chapter of the RR arc - New York City. To be honest, I thought this chapter would be a lot longer - but it just didn't turn out the way. Sorry it took way over a month, but it's finally here.
Also, the conversation between Sanders and the ice dancers is slightly inspired by Neopuff's For the Gold chapter, titled Consider It. Neopuff has played a huge role into creating Jacsee content, I recommend you take a look at their works.
Chapter 31- The Perfect Team
The interviewer flashed a smile. "Welcome back! I'm here with promising up and coming ice dancers, Josée Boyet and Jacques Clemont." The two ice dancers smiled widely at the cameras before turning back to the interviewer, who continued: "You were telling us about your experience in New York?"
Jacques looked at Josée, who eagerly answered, "Oh it was wonderful," she started off, sweetness oozing from her voice like she practiced. "The stadium was packed with people watching us perform; there must have been millions! We're so glad we were able to perform for them."
"Is it different from Montreal?" the interviewer asked.
"Oui," Jacques interjected, with a laugh. "It's busy and crowded. So is Montreal, but not like New York is. We arrived at night, and you couldn't even tell with all the lights from the tall buildings! There were screens everywhere. It is, ah... called the city that never sleeps."
"The capital of the world," Josée remarked. "It was beautiful. I hope we'll get to perform there again."
Josée and Jacques were fourteen and sixteen then, respectively. Now, just about six years later, they were twenty and twenty-two.
First and foremost, if the Cadets didn't confront them, the ice dancers would've been overjoyed and practically squealing at the thought of returning to New York City, not even Josée would be able to keep herself composed. She and Jacques remembered it fondly - when they skated in the stadium with thousands of eyes on them; it made them a bit nervous, yes, but that was replaced with the thrill of being on the ice as well as the crowd cheering for them. Yes, this usually happened whenever they were on the ice anywhere for a performance.
But New York City was different; because dreams came true in New York City.
Had it not been for New York City, Josée and Jacques wouldn't have gotten that edge in the figure skating world. The crowd in New York City then was one of the most energetic crowds that they ever had. In New York City, they appreciated the arts. It was like Canada's Montreal, but even though Josée and Jacques were proud of their French Canadian roots, even they had to admit that New York City had the finest to offer. Madam Lizette, their old ballet instructor, would go on and on that the ultimate dream was to leave Canada and head to the States, and specifically said New York City - where she had danced on Broadway and for the New York City Ballet company for years.
Even though Josée and Jacques' dreams didn't lie with being ballet dancers, they could've been, they were certainly good enough - Madam Lizette mentioned that frequently. The emphasis on New York City was important, and Josée and Jacques knew to take this very, very seriously. Because they were heading to New York City, for one final flight, New York could either make them, or break them - and the funny part was, it had nothing to do with the arts. That just proved how groundbreaking it was.
This would be the hardest performance of their lives.
All three teams were on the same flight.
Josée was in the fetal position, not quite recovered from a few hours ago when Sanders had told her and Jacques off. Jacques was quiet as well, holding up the magazine and pretending to read it while throwing a few concerned glances in her direction. The only noise that they heard was the Cadets and Surfers playing a card game of some sort. Had Josée not been freaked out earlier over that awful round, she would've snorted at their stupidity - because of course they weren't looking ahead like she and Jacques were. The Cadets and Surfers weren't even preparing for what was up ahead, just saw this as a little game, but to Josée, it was so much more than that.
Josée hugged her knees tighter. It was about her mother, really - Josée hadn't heard from her in quite some time now, and she liked to think that because she hadn't been informed by the producers that that was a good thing. Had there been huge news, she would've received a phone call. But right now, even though she wasn't quite okay, she knew that she needed to brush that aside from the competition. It's what her mother would probably be thinking, anyway, that she was being such a baby.
Pathetic, whiny, immature baby...
Josée stopped her racing thoughts when Jacques put a comforting hand on her shoulder, presumably to shake her out of these unpleasantries. Josée let out a shaky breath and nodded that she was fine... okay, so she wasn't fine, but that didn't really matter right now. They would be fine once she and Jacques won the million dollars and restored their reputation. Too much damage throughout the race had been done, too many sacrifices were made, if they were to go home now... well, Josée didn't know what she would do.
"It's okay," Jacques tried to reassure her gently. "It's going to be okay, we... we always end up okay." That was true, but Josée found it hard to believe him. Though she liked to think all their problems would be solved if they had gotten the million, and their reputation was restored, and so on. But the truth was, Josée didn't see it that way. Things were confusing between them, they had been tested, and there are things Jacques had in mind that collided with Josée's vision on the future, and vice-versa.
She hoped that he wouldn't leave her. Though he claimed that he wouldn't, Josée still had her doubts.
"Um, hi."
Neither Josée and Jacques had spoken. Both of them turned in direction to that voice to see that Sanders was in front of them, with a guilty expression. She wrung her hands nervously and bit her lower lip. "Can we talk for a second?" Josée and Jacques raised their eyebrows in alarm.
Jacques was the first to react, scowling and returning to his magazine: "So you've taken a break from your pathetic card game to talk to us?"
Josée removed herself from the fetal position to glare, joining in. "Here to continue? Call me a cold bitch and Jacques an egotistical prick while you're at it?"
Sanders' face fell. "N-no, I don't..."
"Come on, don't be shy," Josée remarked coldly, turning away from her. "I'm sure you have much more to say, and, to be frank, I wouldn't mind slapping you a second time."
"Well then be prepared for me to fight back," Sanders said assertively. Josée and Jacques didn't say anything, awaiting for the insults that would come from Sanders' mouth.
But they were surprised to see that Sanders' expression softened as she let out a regretful sigh. "I'm sorry for the things I said to you," she began, shocking the two ice dancers. They didn't react to her words, because when the cadet took a breath Josée and Jacques knew that she wasn't finished. "I was being hurtful, mean, nasty... and I wanted to hurt you in that moment. I wish I could take all of those things I said back. It was none of my business, and I overstepped your boundaries. I don't blame you for getting upset with me... but that's normally not the kind of person that I am. It was wrong to pry into your personal lives, and to make any assumptions about it."
Sanders let the words sink in for Josée and Jacques, letting them form their own thoughts and opinions on the words she carefully chose in order to apologize to them. Josée and Jacques exchanged a strange look, then turned back to Sanders. They waited several seconds, processing what she had said, and then frowned.
"Why are you apologizing?" Josée said curtly, still frowning deeply. "You obviously meant every word of it."
"Yes, but..." Sanders trailed off, pondering for a second to figure out what to say. "There are certain things that shouldn't be said, even if you mean them, and this happened to be one of them, so..." she left her sentence hanging there. "...sorry." This left both ice dancers speechless for a minute.
"Is this some sort of mind game?" Josée accused after a while, squinting at Sanders. "Don't look so incredulous. We are not that far from New York, so you could easily be trying to... trying to..." she couldn't find the words, exactly, in that moment. "...trying to sabotage us, or something, right before we get off."
Sanders lifted an eyebrow. "You're saying that I'm trying to sabotage you?"
"This is a race for a million dollars," Josée stated, matter-of-factly. She wasn't even trying to be rude, she really should've been, she thought. "I wouldn't be surprised in the least. You and your partner are not above sabotaging to get ahead as much as you'd like to think that you are."
Sanders frowned in disapproval. "You really think so?"
"We know so," Jacques added from his seat, putting down his magazine to join in on the conversation. "We don't forget what your partner has done to sabotage us."
"But you sure were quick to forget that my partner saved your partner's life," Sanders retorted coolly to Jacques, crossing her arms. "The reason why MacArthur did that is that even though she's rough around the edges, she can be a wonderful, caring person... there's a reason that I'm in love with her."
"How sweet," Jacques sneered.
"Neither of you would do the same," Sanders snipped.
"Did you come here to apologize or to insult us?" Josée snapped, scowling at the cadet. "Because I'm getting mixed signals, which leads me to believe that this is some sort of strategy and mind game against us to make us lose-"
"Have you two considered seeing someone?" Sanders suddenly interrupted forcefully. Josée and Jacques stopped, frowning at the cadet even more, lifting their eyebrows simultaneously at the absurd and vague question that could mean a lot of things. Even Sanders looked surprised that she blurted that out herself, but she figured it was too late. She cleared her throat and continued, assertively: "Because the way you're paranoid about other people isn't healthy at all."
Jacques blinked at Sanders. "What do you mean by seeing someone?" Josée had an inkling feeling what this was about, therefore her eye twitched.
"You know..." Sanders began uneasily, biting her lower lip. "...a therapist, for your problems..."
...
...What?!
Josée and Jacques' eyes widened in anger, and Sanders held her hands up in defense. "No, no, no. I don't mean it in a bad way, I promise! I used to go to therapy, it's nothing to be ashamed of-"
"Professional olympians don't do therapy," Jacques cut in coldly.
Josée snorted in agreement, still glaring at Sanders - far more angrily than before. "Therapy is for people who seek participation medals."
"But I was just trying to help-"
"Shut up and go back to your card game," Josée ordered sternly. "This mind game that you're trying to play on us won't work. Stop acting like you care so much. Not too long ago you insulted my partner and I, so why on earth should we believe you? What happened to being sorry about overstepping boundaries? Do better, Sanders. You're going to have to try harder than that to get into our heads." The sad thing was, Josée wanted to confide in her - just like she wanted to confide in her back in Australia in that cell. But once again, it was the competition that was more important.
"I was trying to connect with you-"
"No you aren't," Jacques cut in, narrowing his eyes at her. "This is a terrible attempt at a strategy, and..." he paused thoughtfully, and added: "We don't need to see someone."
Sanders let out a relenting sigh. "...Good luck," she stated evenly, and walked back to her seat on the flight. Josée and Jacques watched her go, fury soaring through their veins - how could she even suggest something like that? What business was it of hers? Jacques grumbled a selection of swears under his breath, while Josée fixated on a magazine.
"They're all out to get us out here," Josée spat angrily. "I refuse to fall for any of it."
The three remaining teams were flying over New York City, and just for a minute, everything felt right to Josée and Jacques. They watched from the window excitedly over the tall buildings. It was like they were teenagers again, when they had seen New York City for the first time - hardly anything had changed. Hell, part of them wanted to squeal in excitement like they did when they were teenagers, but the thing was, they weren't anymore - and they still had a competition to win, that meant everything.
"If the other teams think they've got a chance, they're kidding themselves," Josée quipped to the camera crew.
"And the joke is on them," Jacques added, then he and Josée broke into a fit of cackling.
"We're the best. Always have been. Today is no different. We're going to win!" Josée proclaimed confidently.
All three teams arrived in New York City shortly after the confessionals. There was no time to waste, once they plane landed, Josée and Jacques ran out of the airport along with the Cadets and the Surfers. The ice dancers were the last to get the travel tip and read it quickly to themselves. It stated that they had to take a Ridonculous taxi cab and drive all the way to the Empire State Building. Once they made it, they would have to climb eighty six flights of stairs to reach the observation deck to grab a briefcase that had a travel tip attached to it.
"Fun fact: Last team to arrive is pretty much doomed," Josée read aloud. She and Jacques' eyes widened at that, and quickened their pace. They were the last to get to their taxi - with Jacques riding in the driver's seat while Josée was in the passenger seat with the map that came inside. "Hurry up! We're in last place!"
"You think I don't know that?!" Jacques snapped back, then averted his eyes back on the road: "Which way do we go?"
Josée's eyes scanned the map. "Keep going straight, but faster!" Then she jumped out of her seat, and yelled desperately: "So. Much. Faster!" Jacques didn't wait. He floored it; making the engine roar as the vehicle sped up ahead. "Take the next right!"
"Do you have to scream?" Jacques retorted, yet did what she asked.
Josée pressed her lips together as if to keep her temper inside. "Jacques," she began, through clenched teeth. "This is a race for a million dollars, and we're currently in last place, which is bronze, which is the medal of failure."
Jacques didn't reply for a while and kept driving, until he gasped in realization: "There are the cadets, up ahead!"
"Floor it!" Josée ordered. When Jacques did, they breezed past the cadets, making Josée laugh with joy. Suddenly Jacques forgot about being angry - and almost forgot about the competition - because really, like it's been said, her laughter was so infectious. But then Josée blew a raspberry at the window, getting spit all over it.
"Ew," Jacques said, making a face.
Josée rolled her eyes. "Oh grow up."
Jacques squealed. "Look, up ahead! There are the Surfers!" He and Josée broke out into devilish grins.
"And we're the sharks," Josée added, then giggled a little as Jacques sped up the taxi. They were getting closer and closer, until suddenly Jacques rammed his taxi into the Surfers' taxi a few times - causing that team to slow down. Jacques and Josée broke into hysterical cackling while doing so. Josée smiled approvingly at her partner - the adrenaline that she felt was unrealistically amazing, god - it was almost as good as dancing like the wind across the ice. "Do it again, do it again!" she cheered excitedly.
Jacques' eyes went back to the road, flooring their taxi more than before, and breezing past them in the process as the Surfers' taxi's spun insanely fast. Now they were in first place, and Josée and Jacques felt ecstatic. "That was amazing!" Josée exclaimed, relishing in the moment. "You know what..." She met his eyes briefly. "I was right before. You... you are my hero, Jacques, and I don't want you to forget that."
Jacques' heart skipped a beat. "Really?"
"Mais oui!" Josée squealed. She slammed her fist in the palm of her other hand. "Destroying the others... it's about time, too. Getting them before they could get us." Jacques smiled and his eyes returned to the road; she had a point. It was fun as well - he couldn't forget that; just because they were in a competition doesn't mean they couldn't enjoy themselves. In the process of getting rid of the Surfers, they had the gold in their hands, and now that they had it - they weren't about to let it slip from their fingers.
"The Surfers didn't see it coming," Jacques remarked, grinning.
"Did you see the look on their faces?" Josée asked amusedly, then held her hands up in victory, closing her eyes. "Priceless." Her eyes popped open when Jacques squealed again, telling her to hang on, as he hit the breaks in front of another vehicle. "What's going on? Why is everyone stopped?"
"Oh no, Josée... we're... a New York City traffic jam!" Jacques exclaimed.
Shit.
"No!" Josée shrilled furiously, while Jacques rested his forehead on the steering wheel. The car next to them told them to honk like a 'normal person' which made Josée huff. She knew that New Yorkers acted like they were in a race, but the thing was, she and Jacques were actually in a race.
Though outside of their taxi was loud - with various cars honking, turn signals beeping, tires screeching - inside their vehicle was a different story, because of all the sounds overwhelmed the two into an unsettling silence. Jacques' head was pounding, and Josée's heartbeat was pumping outside of her chest, she was sure of it. It was all muffled to them; hell, Josée was sure that her breathing was starting to get more and more shallow and that Jacques' headache only increased with each passing second.
Car honks. Turn signals beeping. Tires screeching.
Car honks. Turn signals beeping. Tires screeching.
It was like a mantra, repeated so many times that neither of those things meant anything anymore.
If this took any longer, they would fall into second place.
As Josée's mother said, "Silver was always the first to lose."
And, if this took even more longer than that, they would eventually fall into last place.
Once again, as Josée's mother said, "Bronze is the medal of failure."
Bronze is the medal of failure.
Bronze is the medal of failure.
Bronze is the medal of-
"Josée, breathe." Jacques' voice had cut through her thoughts. Josée inhaled, then released a shuddering breath, turning her head slightly to see that Jacques' head was still on the steering wheel, but had turned to face her in concern. "You had been frozen for a while, chouchou."
Josée blinked slowly at him, before shaking her head. "Jacques..." she began uneasily, "I don't... I don't think we're going to make it."
Beat.
"You said that the last time when we were in India, oui?" Jacques told her, with a small - and hopefully reassuring - grin. "Don't worry. If we are stuck in traffic, then so are the teams." Then a police siren was heard over all the nonsense that was going on. Jacques and Josée smiled. "Finally! Here come the cops to arrest all these terrible drivers."
There they saw MacArthur and Sanders, plowing ahead of the other cars.
"The Cadets?!" Josée screeched, with Jacques' eyes popping out in disbelief. "Quick, follow them!"
Jacques floored it. Soon, they managed to park right in front of the Empire State Building. Josée and Jacques were shocked that Sanders had passed that opportunity to stop in front of the building. Well, that didn't matter anymore - they were climbing all the stairs, and they would be close to winning the million, after all!
"First inside the building, first to the final challenge, first to win the million!" Josée cheered, while climbing the stairs.
But then, to her horror, Brody and Geoff came down with their suitcase.
"Hey guys!" Geoff greeted.
"Hey what's up!" added Brody.
Then they were gone.
Josée growled, her eye twitching profusely, and let out a maddening scream. Jacques could've sworn that the building shook. A few seconds later, Josée took several breaths, and continued running up the stairs. Jacques followed shortly, blinking at his partner's behavior. Eventually, they made it to the observation deck and read the travel tip for their next destination moving forward.
"Central Park!" Jacques exclaimed, in relief. "Go, go, go!" He and Josée moved quickly as possible out of the Empire State Building. They remembered exactly what the end of that travel tip stated, that the last team to arrive at the mid point chill zone would be cut from the race, and bronze was not an option. He gasped when they got outside. "Where's our taxi?!"
Josée pointed to one nearby. "There's another one!" And they stormed inside. It was the Cadets taxi, and it was so satisfying to just take it from them. Josée looked back to see their shocked expressions, and shouted after them: "So long, losers!" Then she and Jacques broke into more cackling; they had been doing that a lot more frequently. It died down a little to chuckling, after roughly five minutes - truthfully, they had lost themselves and hadn't kept track - and focused on the road. "Central park is straight ahead!"
Thud.
Jacques shrieked. "Flat tire!"
No, they weren't going to lose now when they were so close. "Just keep driving!" Josée barked. She could practically taste the gold. "There's the park I can see it!"
THUD!
One second the ice dancers were cheering over being near the park, the next they were both screaming as their taxi had been rammed into so harshly that it had scrapped the road with the hood of their taxi since it had been flipped over. "No!" Josée screamed, and spotted the cadets had been the cause of this - with them breezing by victoriously. Then the fear sunk in, Josée's breathing had worsened immediately over many things - the possibility of getting bronze, the fact that she could've nearly died, and... god the car was trapping her in here and it was going to kill her! "Get me out of this thing! I can't breathe!" Jacques did so, opening the roof of the taxi. "Thank you. Now... run!"
Josée and Jacques sprinted out of the taxi.
"Look, the cadets are scrambling!" Jacques shouted, as he ran.
"Hurry! Bronze is not an option!" Josée exclaimed desperately. Bronze is the medal of failure, she thought. From the looks of it, they still had a shot. Jacques was right; she was overthinking in the taxi just like she was in India. If she had Jacques by her side, she could do anything - the gold was theirs.
Everything would be okay; they would be okay. Well, at least eventually - the gold would certainly help. Perhaps her partnership with Jacques was something even more special; something that not even the olympics taught her.
...
Wait...
What?
"Almost... there!" Josée shouted, between breaths. Then, she added: "We can still win this!" She and Jacques breezed by the Cadets, and she couldn't help but laugh - oh yes, it was theirs... MacArthur and Sanders didn't stand a chance. "Goodbye!"
"Not on my watch, sister!" MacArthur shouted. Josée and Jacques didn't even think about the police cadets. They were so close to the chill zone, that the cadets didn't even cross their minds. This was one step to that chill zone was one step closer to the million dollars, and their reputation in the figure skating world to be saved, and - the most important part, in Josée's opinion - one step closer to her mother loving her again.
Josée and Jacques landed victoriously on the chill zone, with their arms raised.
"Cadets take second place!" Don announced.
...
...
...
Following that, a pair of voices screamed in unison.
Josée and Jacques didn't realize until seconds later, that it was their own.
Josée and Jacques' knees had buckled down to the ground, their eyes wide and frantic. Then and there, Josée prayed for a miracle of some kind - and she wasn't religious by any means. She almost reached into her skirt pocket for bun-bun, until she reminded herself that it wasn't there anymore, all because of this stupid race.
Maybe this was all just a joke, could it be a non-elimination round? It wasn't, and she knew that - but she didn't want to believe it until she heard it, that one devastating blow that would hurl them down and destroy them emotionally.
"Jacques and Josée, I'm sorry... that it took me so long to say this!" Don remarked happily, "You're cut from the competition!"
Cut, like from an audition.
Cut, like they were untalented hacks.
Cut, like they were inferior.
...Bronze.
They were a sham.
Even by using Leo & Liv's methods of mind games, Josée and Jacques weren't even good enough to win a game show, like they had won the olympics. Nonetheless, Josée and Jacques held their arms up victoriously - just because they lost, it didn't mean they couldn't act like champions, they figured. After all, their fans were still watching.
Not only were their fans watching, Josée thought, but everyone was watching. Suddenly she grew very, very hot. She had failed too many people to count; and their names flew through her head like swarming bees, which attacked her brain. She thought of Rachel, who she had promised to win for after her death. Then there was Isaac, who had told her repeatedly to stay in her own lane and to not get involved, and now look where she was since she didn't listen. But most importantly; she thought of her maman - who would probably call her the disgrace and failure that she was; she couldn't blame her maman at all. If her mother could fight through cancer, why couldn't she win one fucking race?
Then, Josée grinned widely - and her eyes began to shimmer.
Eat the pain and smile...
Eat the pain and smile...
Josée let out a scream of anguish, after that, well, it was a bit of a blur.
...which was a massive understatement, she remembered nothing.
...
...
"...Josée, no!" Josée blinked out of her tantrum and paused thoughtfully. Where was that voice coming from? It sounded familiar, but... oh. She glanced over to see that Jacques had rushed over to her. Why did he look so distraught? If she didn't feel this rage, she would comfort him. "It's over... we... we lost!" Then Josée remembered, and let out a wail and instinctively curled up on Jacques' chest. Unfortunately for them, Josée hadn't realized that her adrenaline was so intense that she had held a hot dog cart, which had fallen on the two of them.
Josée and Jacques, truthfully, wanted to lay there for hours - suffering in their own defeat. They would've, had not a few producers had barked at them to get up and now they had to move on. Josée and Jacques blinked confusedly; they didn't know where to go when they got eliminated, because again, they never thought it through - they were positive that they were going to win once they saw the Cadets scramble.
"We need to get a few more thoughts," said Kyle. Then, he handed them their cell phones. "We've made sure to let the people know that you've been in contact with that your old phones could now be in use."
Josée and Jacques took the cell phones, however the latter of the two spoke up. "Thoughts on what?"
"The final two teams, and their rating."
Josée and Jacques scoffed, but relented.
"This finale is terrible!" Jacques exclaimed, with a huff.
"Where's the talent? Where's the passion?" Josée added.
"We give both teams a zero point zero," said Jacques.
"They know why," Josée stated bitterly.
Beat.
"Are there any final thoughts that you have on the race?" one of the producers asked. Josée and Jacques blinked confusedly, making him sigh in annoyance. "For the overlook."
Realization dawned on Josée and Jacques as they exchanged a look; this was their conclusion - truly their way of saying goodbye and that they were eliminated for good. This wasn't a joke, or some prank - it really sunk in, the reality of what had happened which was that they lost. Not only that, but when the word 'overlook' was mentioned, a wave of memories flooded each of their brains - they weren't that nice. Yes, winning was important and that they wanted to hurt them, but... some of it wasn't necessary - in the process of desperation to climb back to the top, they became the people they despised the most. Josée looked at Jacques as they walked, she wanted to hear what he had to say first.
"I wish I could leave saying I'm proud of what we did, but... I can't," said Jacques.
That being said, Josée took over. "Maybe we didn't deserve to be champions... the way we behaved."
"But... we can learn from this."
"I'm going to be a better person, starting now!"
Jacques smiled beside her as they walked, "Ah, Josée, I am so proud of you!"
Josée was still mad, of course - had smacked an older woman into the fountain. "Or maybe now!" After they finished filming that, Josée turned to the producers. "Where exactly are we going?"
"We're driving you to the finale," the producer said. "We've gathered all the teams together that were eliminated to watch the final two teams race to the chill zone."
Dread filled both ice dancers.
"Please tell me you're joking," Jacques said, his face pale. Oh, this was embarrassing. He glanced over to his partner who had looked practically green. "Is there a way we can... I don't know, not do that?"
"Sorry. It's apart of the contract you signed, and... we need everyone together for the final shot at the end," the producer replied. Josée and Jacques couldn't argue against that, but the worst part would be having to face everyone - of all the people that probably despised them, and it shouldn't have bothered them as much as it did. They hated them, too - because they were all losers that didn't care enough like they did... but then they remembered themselves, that there was a reason that they were going to sit with them.
It was silent on the way to the peanut gallery. Once they arrived and got out of the car, Josée and Jacques stood there like deer in the headlights when they saw - Josée and Jacques frowned and silently counted all of the contestants... yep that was everyone - thirty pairs of eyes set on them. The teams that they eliminated, the teams that they had spats with, the teams they didn't bother caring for, and the team that they thought they could trust, were there. These were eyes of total disbelief - and naturally, Josée and Jacques couldn't blame them, because they themselves had trouble accepting this loss of theirs.
The silence was deafening. The interesting thing about this was that Josée and Jacques expected hoots of laughter, they expected tomatoes to be thrown at them, and they expected people to cheer happily upon their placing on the podium. If not that, then they expected to be jeered at, booed, and vilified - though one could argue they were vilified enough. But Josée and Jacques were met with none of that; the contestants were just staring at them, like they were wild animals that were ready to pounce on them.
"Holy fuck," one of them muttered at last. Josée and Jacques refused to make eye contact as they moved to the back seats of the peanut gallery. They could feel the stares on them; and these weren't stares of admiration like they had gotten from fans, these stares that bore into your soul and destroyed every fibre of your being. Instead, they stared down at their shoes - shame plaguing both ice dancers.
"...Hey," a feminine voice softly called out to them. Josée and Jacques' heads snapped up at once to be met with concerned faces. Tom and Jen. It didn't help much, but for some reason, the sight of the Fashion Bloggers made Josée and Jacques relax just a tad. Jen, who had spoken up, looked seriously into their eyes. "I'm sorry about the race."
"...Don't be sorry," Josée said quietly. "I'm sure the other teams told you what happened; we deserved what we got." Jacques nodded in agreement.
Tom and Jen exchanged a look.
"They did. we've heard a lot of what you guys had done when we got here at the peanut gallery." Tom took a breath. "...and we still said we were rooting for you." Josée and Jacques barely hid back their gasps. Tom continued, undaunted by their shocked eyes, "I think that you guys were probably the most dedicated competitors out there, even if it wasn't necessarily for good. I think..." he hesitated for a second, "I think you got caught up in the wrong things at the wrong times, and that really hurt you in the race. It was probably a misunderstanding, because I think... not just me, but Jen too..." Jen had nodded to confirm that he was, in fact, correct. "...that you guys are actually good people."
Josée and Jacques were too stunned to speak for a minute. But it looked like Tom and Jen didn't mind, and gave them time to compose their thoughts.
"How could you say that?" Jacques murmured. "We yelled at you, we cursed at you... we assumed-"
"Stop," Jen cut in, making Jacques close his mouth shut. She took over from Tom, "I don't think you're bad people, neither does Tom, and I'm sure if people got to know you like we did at the hotel - that you aren't bad people, you're just... you're just tragically misunderstood."
Josée and Jacques' eyebrows shot up.
Tragically misunderstood.
That was a new one.
Even though they were still reeling from their loss, Josée and Jacques greatly appreciated it, and they wanted very much to believe the Fashion Bloggers.
...But they couldn't.
"Listen," Josée whispered to the Fashion Bloggers, taking a breath to compose herself. "I... Jacques and I... we both are really happy that you're being nice to us, but... we... well I don't know about Jacques, but I want to be alone right now." She turned to Jacques, who was nodding in agreement, so she turned back to Tom and Jen. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize," Jen said, smiling sadly at them. "We can always talk later, yeah?" Josée nodded gently; though it was unlikely she and Jacques would ever see these people again, and hell, she didn't want to see them ever again - but she would make an exception for Tom and Jen. "We'll see you soon." And they went back to their seats.
"It's the last dash to the chill zone," Don narrated, "After twenty-one countries and multiple challenges, it comes down to this."
Josée and Jacques scowled; it's like he had to remind them.
"Who is going to win this million dollars?"
Not them, that's for sure. The other teams began to cheer as the Cadets and Surfers were now neck-and-neck; it really was anybody's game.
...
...
"The Cadets win!" Don announced.
Getting bronze was already awful, but the Cadets getting gold...
That was criminal.
Sanders held her arms up in victory and cheered. "Yes! We did it!" Josée and Jacques didn't hear much after that; all they could think about was that they would rather have any other team win besides those Cadets, kind of like how they felt when they got silver and Leo & Liv had gotten gold despite being so undeserving, so cruel, and Josée and Jacques would've preferred anyone else to win if they were to lose.
"Looks like everyone's happy," Don remarked.
Josée couldn't take it. "We're not!"
"For the last time, I don't care!" Don snapped.
She took a calming breath. So the Cadets won... that wasn't... that wasn't too surprising, she thought. Had the Cadets not retaliated against them with their stupid hot dog car then they would've had the chance to be a finalist - so really, the Cadets had to play dirty to win. It's like what Josée had told Sanders on the plane. They weren't above it all.
Bronze, Josée thought, shuddering in disgust. There was no turning back from this, along with the dirty tricks they played.
After the Cadets and Surfers had done their outlook confessionals, the camera crew and producers asked if everyone could gather around for one final shot; which included the Cadets with their million dollar prize on one side of Don and the Surfers on the other side of him. As for the rest of the contestants, they were allowed to go wherever they pleased, as long as the teams were together. Josée and Jacques winced as other contestants glared menacingly; there was no way that they would let them stand beside them.
That is, except, for one team.
"You guys can stand by us," Jen offered kindly, and Tom nodded in agreement. Josée and Jacques thanked them quietly. The producers and camera crew told everyone that they were about to start recording at that Don would lead them out, to just stand there and smile. Josée and Jacques, despite loving to smile, couldn't bring themselves to do so.
"Okay, we're-"
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
"...Cut." Then: "Who's phone is that?"
Jacques gently nudged Josée's shoulder. "Josée, that's yours..." Josée blinked and glanced over to the many stares that were sent her way. She averted her eyes away from them and quickly shut her ringer off. Jacques had peeked over at the Caller ID and saw that it was Isaac's. Jacques' heart began to race.
"Okay, and..."
They started to film as the Cadets tossed their money everywhere, and Don exited them out: "Yes, throw all your money on the ground, very smart. That's all for now. We hope you enjoyed our incredible race around the world. Be sure to keep an eye out for more of... The Ridonculous Race."
And then they were done.
The show had wrapped up it's filming.
The other teams cheered, but Josée and Jacques did not. They casually slipped through the crowd. "Josée, what's going on?" Josée didn't answer. Jacques knew why - she needed to get somewhere private away from all the other contestants.
"I feel nauseous," Josée admitted. "Isaac called me... and the phone kept vibrating when I put it on silent, I... I know that something's happened." Speaking of, Josée's phone began to vibrate again - Jacques peeked over once more to see that it was Isaac. Josée didn't waste any time. She picked up the phone. "What is it? We just finished filming."
Jacques' heart stopped. He nervously glanced over to his partner to see a change in her facial expression as Isaac's voice filled her ears, but she remained neutral and, possibly at the very worst, almost annoyed. Josée let out a sad sigh. "No, unfortunately we didn't. We've gotten bronze." Another pause, then Josée rolled her eyes: "Isaac, don't try to say it's okay, because it's not... maman would be ashamed - wait... what is it about maman?"
Jacques looked horrified.
Josée's eyes grew wide. "Wh-what?" Jacques watched very, very carefully in anticipation - part of him wanted to yank that phone out of her hands. Josée's eyes shimmered ever-so-slightly, with her mouth dropping just a bit - letting out a shuddering breath of horror. That's when Jacques knew. He was ready to put his arms around her and for Isaac to call back later because she needed to process this. But instead, Josée took a few more breaths as she gripped the phone tighter, and asked, lowly and defeated: "When?"
Beat.
Josée put her hand over her mouth. "Oh my god, okay, um..." she met Jacques' eyes - he could see the fear in hers. "Can we call you back? It... I need to process." She didn't wait for an answer, Jacques could tell because she immediately hung up.
"What happened?" Jacques asked, like he didn't know.
Josée blinked back her tears. "She died. About an hour ago."
"Josée..."
"IN YOUR FACE, ICE NERDS!" An obnoxiously boisterous voice cut through. Josée and Jacques turned to see that it was MacArthur, with that smug grin on her face - and even Sanders looked proud of herself. Jacques felt anger well up in him; not now, not now, not now... Josée's eyes were watering again. "We won the gold! You didn't!" she gloated. Josée glanced over at Sanders, who looked a little less smug, in fact, she was now frowning completely. "We won, you lost! You got bronze-"
"MacArthur," Sanders interrupted calmly, her eyes still on Josée's. "Leave them alone."
"What?! Sanders come on, this is a perfect opportunity-"
"MacArthur," Sanders hissed, this time more assertively. "Stop it."
Josée took several breaths and gave the Cadets a shaky smile. "Congratulations," she managed to muster out. Jacques raised his eyebrow at his partner's unusual composure toward the Cadets, because if it were him, he would've lashed out at them. "You..." she stopped, taking another breath, and stated: "...good for you."
Suddenly MacArthur didn't look so cocky anymore.
Jacques stepped in. "Josée, let's go..."
"Eat the pain and smile," Josée told Sanders, smiling widely. "Remember?"
That being said, she turned around and left. Jacques was about to follow her, before turning on his heel to face the Cadets, who bore confused expressions. Jacques wasn't having any of it. "You don't know the first thing about Josée," he sneered. "Congratulations. Enjoy your stupide million." And he stormed back to catch up with his partner. Jacques knew that Josée needed him right now, even if she managed to compose herself when confronting the Cadets.
'Bronze is the medal of failure.'
That simple sentence, one with so many more layers now, was ingrained in Josée's head by her mother. She made sure to drill it in her mind, over and over. There were many other things that her mother had said to her. One of them happened to be that "Silver was always the first to lose." These two sayings were especially prominent in Josée's life by the time she was six-years-old, which was a little after she and Jacques met and became ice dancing partners. While most parents - Jacques', for example - were just happy to see that they made the podium, Josée's mother thought that gold was the only option, and anything else below that was unacceptable.
But now, bronze had a whole other meaning, and this was not about their ranking on the Ridonculous Race.
Her mother wasn't here to yell at her anymore.
The ice dancers walked to a hotel, eeriness in each step. Jacques grew increasingly worried for Josée as he glanced at her every few minutes. The way that she began biting her ponytail was a sign of a potential panic attack and something else very, very worrying. How was she going to take the recent news? When they did enter their hotel room, it was still quiet, but both could feel the tension rising.
Finally, Jacques dared to call her name: "Josée?"
"I don't know," she stated quickly, evenly as she could muster. She shook her head in total disbelief. "I just don't know."
It was silent for the next five minutes after that.
But then, Jacques heard a familiar whimper - he looked over to see that Josée had sunken to the floor on her knees, a solemn expression on her face. "I failed her."
Jacques immediately rushed over and knelt down, putting a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. "Mon petit chou, you did your very best! You didn't fail..."
Josée shrugged the hand off. "I promised Mama I would win!" she snapped as tears streamed down her face. "This embarrassed her so much that... I... I killed her!"
Jacques' eyes grew wide. "Josée, non! You did not kill her... she had been very sick-"
"And I finished her off, didn't I?!" she interrupted bitterly. "I can still hear her... she's dead now, and I could still hear her..." She let out a wail and began to punch his chest in a fit of fury. "How is this fair?!" Jacques was still. Josée eventually stopped punching him and collapsed into a fit of sobs. "It's not fair..." Jacques gathered Josée in his arms and rested his chin on top of her head. "Even when she's dead, she still calls me a failure..."
Jacques' heart broke then and there; he had failed his partner. Again. He had told her, he had promised that they were going to win the race, just so Josée's mother would for once in her life, be proud of her, that she would hopefully forget about what happened at the olympics before she passed. He was going to achieve that goal by any means necessary. This is for her, he kept telling himself, over and over. You're doing this for her. Because why wouldn't he do this for her? He couldn't exactly comprehend his best friend's relationship with that awful woman, that pathetic excuse for a mother, but Josée wanted this, so of course he did this.
Anything for Josée.
To see the woman that he had grown to adore way past friendship break down like this... it obliterated him. Although they had known each other for almost fifteen years, there was a lingering feeling in Jacques, one that he did not fully acknowledge until much later. He was in total denial before then, with a bunch of complicated feelings and internalization that drove him absolutely mad - the race contributed it to them even further, and deep down, Jacques was still afraid. Not that she knew that he harbored such feelings for her, after all. He was working on how to tell her that.
This was not the time for that.
So for now, Jacques held Josée and pressed a kiss on her forehead. "You're not a failure, mon petit chou," he mumbled softly into her hair, as she continued to sob into his chest. "You were never a failure." Jacques rubbed her back comfortingly, as his mind drifted back to where it all began.
...It was all too much. From when they met, to going through many rough patches - ranging from petty high school troubles, romance troubles, to family troubles, the olympics, and death - especially death, because it was one thing to lose a close friend, it was another thing to lose a family member, which was something that both Jacques and Josée had gone through. The race was supposed to seem to minor in comparison, yet somehow, it was the straw that broke the camel's back. Jacques felt his own tears slipping out of his eyes, because they weren't just crying together because of getting bronze, no - they were crying from everything.
Josée stood up abruptly and sniffled. "Well... I know what I need to do now," she said quietly.
Jacques wiped his own tears and stared at his partner confusedly. "What do you mean, chouchou-" he cut himself off when Josée eyed the closet in their hotel room. Jacques connected these dots rather quickly when Josée started to walk toward it. Jacques stood up immediately. "Josée, don't. Stop it." But she didn't listen. Instead, she walked faster.
"It's what maman would want, Jacjac," Josée spat miserably.
Before Josée could lay her hand on the doorknob, Jacques quickly grabbed her free hand and spun her around. "What about what you want, Josée?"
"LOOK AT US, JACQUES!" Josée snapped, letting more tears flow down her cheeks. "We went absolutely mad!" She tried to turn around again to put herself in the closet, but Jacques was quicker and blocked the door. Josée let out a frustrated growl. "Let me do this, Jacques! I need to! Maman would..."
"No," Jacques said assertively. "Don't do this to yourself. You've done so well-"
"WE GOT BRONZE!" Josée shrieked furiously. She shook her head roughly. "She hates... hated bronze... and what did we get in return for bronze? All we did was lose many things. We lost our sanities, we lost bun-bun, we lost Rachel, we lost my maman..." Josée sniffled and wiped her blotchy red face. "I hate this... there's something wrong with us, no - there's something wrong with me... I'm a monster, and..." she averted her eyes, "I left you before... so I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted to stop being partners."
Jacques' eyes popped out of his head. "What?!" he exclaimed, full of horror. "You are wrong. You are not a monster, and I would never stop being your partner."
"Please don't lie to me, Jacjac. If you want to stop being partners... then-"
"Non," Jacques stated calmly. "Josée, please look at me..." She did, although she looked incredibly reluctant to do so. Jacques took a breath and met her eyes, gently brushing her thumb against her hand. "There is nothing you could ever do to make me stop being partners with you. There is no one else I would ever consider doing this with. I would never be able to be partners with anyone else going into a race like this. If we can get through a little over a month's worth of that show... living together... working together on things we've never done before which involved a competition every single day, while dealing with so much outside of it, then we can get through anything."
"How do you know?"
Jacques gave her a light small smile, though his eyes were sad from seeing her in pain. "Because it's us, Josée. We're the perfect team."
Josée released a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. "But... we lost... I need to be punished."
"Josée," Jacques began softly, his heart hurting, "Haven't you punished yourself enough?"
Josée broke down at once, which made Jacques hug her again. His heart was racing, he knew he was in love, but he knew that there would come a time where he could tell her how he felt about her, and it wasn't now. Because right now, Josée needed a sense of familiarity - which was Jacques being her closest companion and friend. Adding onto her emotional baggage - and in this scenario, he didn't know how she felt about him - would not help her case. So for now he held her, like he always did, and waited for her sobs to turn into quiet sniffles, and for her to fall fast asleep. The race was forgotten entirely. There were bigger things to be concerned about.
They would be okay, Jacques tried to think positively. They weren't now, but they would be.
Jacques pressed a kiss on Josée's forehead - yes, he was madly in love, and because he was madly in love, he would keep this to himself until the time was right.
For her.