The Tanner house, Sasha imagined normally the picture of modern chic, was decorated in what only could be described as tacky, pseudo-Latin decor, complete with slightly cheesy samba hovering in the air. He'd studiously avoided setting foot in this house in his year at the Rock, despite Steve's numerous invitations for drinks, especially early on when Tanner thought that his favor could be bought. Yet now, here he was, the night before he and his girls would leave for the most important meet of their careers and he was spending it in the one place he'd rather not be, because she was here, she was hosting this party with her fiance, and he suddenly felt like an intruder, and interloper who had no place in this world, this world she'd chosen over him.

He'd barely made it more than a few steps into the room when he caught sight of her petite figure conversing with a woman. He quickly diverted his gaze. You need a drink, Belov. A strong one. Just do what you came here to do, mingle and then get the bloody hell out of here as quickly as possible.

At the sound of high heeled pumps determinedly click-clacking in his direction, he surpressed the instinctive flinch. He could feel her next to him suddenly, hovering at his shoulder and matching his much longer stride with her small, quick steps.

"Um, Ellen Beals is here," Summer said, conspiratorially, as if she were still his ally, as if their conversation of just a few hours before hadn't occurred, as if their history wasn't sordid and painful and impossible.

"Good for her," he said, finding he didn't even have to feign his indifference. He glanced out over the rest of the party, studiously avoiding looking at her in what he was sure was some expensive designer number and that flashy diamond cross Steve Tanner had given her dangling around her neck like a bloody leash.

"When we invited the NGO members, we never dreamed she'd have the nerve to show her face."

Again, with the tone, as if she were defending him, still. As if she hadn't gone running back to Steve Tanner like a lost little kitten terrified of the big, bad, secular wolf.

"All I'm concerned with now is finding a drink," he said, allowing himself a small glance at her, before turning away. "There's one," he said, noting the open bar, blessedly at the other end of the room. "Excuse me." He stepped away quickly, before she had a chance to respond. He could feel her eyes on his retreating back, so he maintained his quick stride, disappearing into the crowd.

A half hour later, Sasha saw his opening, Steve Tanner, in his all pomposity, was about to give a speech. With everyone gathered, it would be easy to slip away from the party once the crowd dispersed. He listened with half an ear as Steve thanked everyone for coming, doing what Sasha thought was an imitation of a boxing promoter, drawing applause from the crowd, pumping up their team and predicting the result everyone in the room was hoping for, team gold. Then suddenly he could feel her eyes upon him again though just for a moment when his ear caught the tail end of Steve's speech.

"...I'm going to put some gold on my fiancee's finger, well, a gold wedding band that is. Summer and I have decided to get married in Rio, right after Worlds and we'd love you all to come."

Sasha couldn't help it. His eyes drifted in her direction. He heard Lauren's small shriek of joy and he saw her beaming at her father, the crowd around them applauding the news. Sasha nodded to himself. He watched Lauren and Summer join Steve at the front of the crowd. That's it, Belov. Throw in the towel. It's over.

The only exit he knew of was at the front of the house, but there had to be another way out, so he turned his back to the crowd and marched away purposefully, though what his purpose truly was, he had no idea. He passed the bartender and huffing out a short breath, stopped and ordered himself a bourbon. May as well have one for the road. He took a large sip and let the alcohol burn pleasantly down his throat, settling into his stomach. He'd give Tanner one thing, he didn't skimp on the liquor.

His purpose suddenly sliding away from him, Sasha wandered towards the back of the house, half looking for escape, half hoping he'd run into Summer, though how she'd teleport from the front of the house to the back he had no idea. Taking another sip of his drink, he wasn't sure if he'd kiss her or rail at her, which was why he was relieved when he found a back door leading out into the Tanner's back garden.

Looking behind him to ensure his escape went unnoticed, he stepped out onto the stone patio, into a pleasantly cool Colorado night. He let out a heavy sigh, raking a hand through his hair before taking a small sip from his drink. She's made her choice, Belov. She chose to feel safe; she chose to spend her life with a man she doesn't love. You've been here before, remember? Or is ten years too long to recall the wrenching pain in your chest? Time to move on, Belov.

He stared out at the gorgeous view from the Tanner's patio, the moon shining brightly against the backdrop of the Rocky Mountains. This house would be her house and that thought was enough to renew his ambition to make a hasty exit from this sham of a party.

Inhaling deeply, gathering strength to brave the crowd one last time as he made to leave the relative safety of the garden, he turned, only to catch a glimpse of cream colored fabric peaking out from a hidden corner of the patio. He took a step in that direction and distinctly heard a sniffle, then a sigh as whoever it was moved into full view, head down, hair hanging in a long golden wave over her face. His eyes flickered lower, taking in the generous curves encased in a gauzy cream colored blouse, the neckline cut low and yet still demur somehow, a charm nestled tantalizingly between her breasts, sliding gently into an hourglass figure, her linen skirt stopping short at mid-thigh, highlighting her long, toned legs, down to almost delicate looking ankles strapped into heels that actually made his stomach flip. Then he blinked. He knew those legs, saw them every day, in fact he knew the small bruise blooming on the right leg's knee. She'd fallen today on beam during her punch front, bashing it against the side of the four inches.

"Payson?" he rasped, as the figure shook her hair away from her face, staring up at him in shock, tear tracks staining her cheeks. Panic immediately set in, all thoughts of curves and lithe muscle and delicate ankles flying from his head. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" he asked, though he couldn't imagine how she'd hurt herself at a party.

"I," she began, wiping at her cheeks with her fingertips, "I'm fine...I just...I'm fine."

Sasha eyed her in disbelief. He'd seen Payson Keeler cry only one time and that's when she'd thought her dreams of Olympic gold were dead. That certainly wasn't the case tonight. "You don't look fine," he said simply.

She frowned at him in that way of hers, so much like her mother that he nearly laughed, "I don't want to talk about it," she insisted, refusing to meet his eye.

Sasha kept silent, knowing her well enough to know if he just stayed quiet for a moment, she wouldn't be able to, she would have to fill the silence and she would likely confess what caused her tears.

"My parents are letting me take the Healthy Bar sponsorship," she said, instead. "They're offering twenty five thousand dollars against two hundred and fifty thousand dollars if I medal at Worlds, plus up to a million in bonuses based upon sales." Her voice was steady and clear as she still avoided his gaze, looking out at the spectacular view he'd just been admiring.

"And those were tears of joy?" Sasha said, unable and unwilling to be diverted. If something had her this distressed he didn't want her taking it with her to Rio, though he still couldn't imagine what had the most focused gymnast he'd had the honor of coaching looking so bloody distracted.

Finally she looked towards him, her eyes meeting his harshly as she glared at him. Payson had the uncanny ability to scold him with a simple glance, and he felt thoroughly chastised for his sarcasm. "I thought Healthy Bar was going after Kaylie?" he asked, allowing the change of topic.

Looking relieved, she nodded, shrugging her shoulders, "They were, but Kaylie felt uncomfortable with the tone of their message, eating healthy, getting fit the right way," she said at a whisper, "so she thought maybe they'd be interested in me. Max put together a presentation for the reps and it was phenomenal. He totally blew them away. I couldn't believe that he..." she trailed off, knowing she'd given herself away with the wistful tone of her voice.

A boy, that's what had her like this, outside, away from the party. She was crying her eyes out over some boy. Austin's friend, Max Spencer, Men's National Team member, a good vaulter, decent on pommel who generally planted himself in front of the beam to watch Lauren Tanner flit and flirt her way across the four inches.

Sasha grimaced as Payson's head dropped, suddenly finding the patio's brickwork fascinating. He had no idea what to say to her, no idea how to console her or make this better, he was completely out of his element. A quiet sob escaped her throat and he felt his heart clench at the sound. A completely different kind of pain enveloped him, something sharper and somehow deeper than what he'd been wallowing in just minutes before.

Don't just stand there, Belov. Do something!

He sighed and took a step closer and then another before placing his drink on the rod-iron table to his left. He gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She took her cue as seamlessly as if his hand had spotted her through a tumbling combination. She stepped closer, her heels scraping lightly against the brick before she leaned against him. He hushed her lightly as he felt her tears begin soaking through his dress shirt. He ran a comforting hand over her hair, letting the silky strands slide through his fingers. Then suddenly the words came, "I know it hurts," he said softly, "believe me, I know, but I promise, it doesn't hurt forever, even if it feels like it will."

He felt her take a shuddering breath against him, her fists clenching into his suit jacket. "Promise?" she whispered, her voice catching on a fresh batch of tears.

Sasha nodded, though he knew she couldn't see him. "I promise," he said, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, then tightening his embrace.

They stood there, holding each other, two fools in love with people who wouldn't love them back, both giving and taking comfort, though they were both unaware of the give and take. Suddenly the music from inside started up again intruding harshly upon their sanctuary. He felt her stiffen in his arms. He relaxed his hold and allowed her to step away as she wiped at the stray tears.

"I'm sorry," she said, her shoulders straightening, her head held high. Sasha's universe thunked back into place. This was the Payson Keeler he knew, confident and strong. "I soaked your shirt." She bit her lip in contrition.

"Worse things have happened," he said, shrugging lightly. He studied her carefully.

"Don't worry about me, Sasha," she said, obviously hoping to avoid any further exploration of what exactly had made her cry. "I'm fine. You can go back inside, you're missing the party."

He quirked a brow at her in both disbelief and her obliviousness that he'd been avoiding the party as much as she had. His expression must have read loud and clear because she gifted him with a small smile and shrugged before sighing heavily.

Sasha gave her an out. "You know you can tell me anything, Payson, anything at all, but tonight I'll settle for a yes or no. Are you going to be okay?"

She looked away up at the sky and then down at her feet, before looking at him dead in the eye. "I will be," she said, hedging a little.

Take what you can get, Belov.

"What about you?" she asked, flicking a manicured nail against the crystal tumbler on the table. The sharp clink made him grimace at her ability to read him, though perhaps his situation was more obvious than hers. "Sasha?" she asked, her brow furrowing as she tilted her head sweetly in concern.

"I will be too," he said, giving her a small smile and a nod.

She returned his smile and they stood there for a moment in a comfortable silence before a sharp buzzing followed by a shrill ring coming from his jacket's inner pocket filled the air. He shook his head. Anyone who would be calling him was at this party, except his father and his father would only call him if something was wrong. His throat constricted as his fumbled with the device for a moment.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Sasha?" a shrill, panicked voice echoed from the other line. "Sasha, it's Summer. Lauren's been in a car accident. The ambulance took her to University Hospital. I'm on my way there right now, can you meet me?"

"Yeah," he said, imagining the worst case scenario. "Yeah, I'm headed to my car now."

He snapped his phone shut and looked to Payson, who must have read the panic on his face. "Go find Kaylie. Lauren was in a car accident."

Payson's jaw dropped in shock and her eyes grew wide, but she nodded and together they moved quickly back into the party, each a little stronger than when they'd left.