A.N.: After bingeing Spinning Out, I realised I've watched too much Shameless US: What if Kat wasn't bipolar, and had become Serena's primary caregiver before her fall, due to Carol's bipolar? In this version, Kat and Justin's mothers were skaters together when they were young; Kat and Justin knew each other better when they were little. Also, Kat knows from the beginning that the fall was Carol's fault.

Did anyone else get whiplash more from Jenn's emotional boomeranging than from Kat's mania? And how nasty Serena was from the very beginning? And who wants more Gabe in their lives? I desperately want to see him skating solo next season, dressed as Loki.

Where do I sign up to the Mandy Davis Fan Club? Because she's seriously an amazing woman.

Virtue and Moir are of course huge inspiration for Kat and Justin's potential: And Torvill and Dean's 1984 Olympic performance to "Bolero" is one everyone should watch if they love pair-skating, my dad introduced it to me last night - he still remembers watching it!

Falling

01

Lutz

"You ever put your arms out and spin really, really fast? Well, that's what love's like. It makes your heart race. It turns the world upside down. But if you're not careful, if you don't keep your eyes on something still, you can lose your balance. You can't see what's happening to the people around you. You can't see you're about to fall" - Practical Magic

She always forgot how handsome he was, until he was right up close. He'd rattled her this morning, catching him watching her stretching, those pretty hazel eyes warm and content, self-satisfied smirk in place, the fat cat savouring the dish of cream, drinking her in…remembering, maybe.

All she could seem to do, if her thoughts lingered on Justin Davis too long, was think of that night, the toe-curling mistake she had made - if she could even think of it as a mistake - one of the few things recently that she did not regret, at least not for it having happened. And that was bad, right, when she now had a boyfriend? Was she an awful person to compare? Thinking of their night together last year still made her go hot all over, a flush appearing from her cheeks to her chest. She was the worst for blushing. She felt like that smirk X-rayed her mind - as if, somehow, he knew she was constantly thinking of their night together. When she took matters into her own hands, it was him she thought of, his patient, talented fingers, those infuriating, smirking lips. He'd taken the time, paid attention to every detail. He'd explored, and luxuriated in it. He'd left her breathless.

She'd bet he remembered every detail too, from that look he'd given her this morning, the one that had set her blood on fire - a thrill she rarely experienced off the ice, the one that confused her and got her brain going into overdrive about all the wrong things.

They all knew Justin's M.O.: He never looked back. And yet he looked her way constantly.

It was irritating, actually - only because she didn't know what to do with it.

She also didn't know what to do with this quiet, dejected Justin sat with his shoulders hunched, worrying the thumb-hole of his Under Armour. He looked…anxious. Guilty, almost. An unfamiliar expression on Justin Davis' face. As she lingered, he seemed to blink himself out of whatever thoughts had him so introspective, focusing on her, almost surprised to see her; his signature smirk felt half-hearted. "How's Natalie?"

"Uh…the E.M.T. managed to get the blade out, but it was wedged in there good… Guess she's in surgery, fixing whatever damage was done," Justin sighed heavily, looking glum. He grimaced, shuddering, as if suffering his own visceral reaction to Natalie's injury. She noticed him still worrying the hem of his sleeve.

"You know it wasn't your fault, right?"

He scoffed gently, shaking his head. "You're probably the only person in this place who thinks that. She won't think that."

"Why would Natalie think it's your fault?"

"I guess my head wasn't in it today," he said, giving her another one of those weird looks she couldn't figure out - didn't want to. Flustered, she glanced away as she tucked her skirt beneath her and sat beside him on the bench, reaching for her bag of snacks to hide her face. She guessed what he was implying - didn't want to flatter herself…but she knew he watched her whenever they shared the ice. She wasn't brave or stupid enough to read too much into it, to risk opening that can of worms.

"Today?" Kat countered, raising her eyebrows expressively, and realised Justin was watching her again. She cleared her throat gently, suddenly embarrassed because of the look that flickered across his face - taken aback, almost hurt. She shrugged slightly. "You've been bored with her for months." He gave her a confused half-smile.

"What?"

"I know I block everything out when I'm on the ice, but even I could tell that you and Natalie weren't…well, I - it's not my place, because I think she's sweet and talented, but…you were holding yourself back," Kat said, wincing apologetically. She hated - hated - the rink-side politics, loathed the Ice Queens who lingered, circling, hoping for blood, sacrificing cheap chardonnay to heathen gods so the competition would suffer shin-splints and contusions. Nobody was under any illusions that the mommies-dearest wouldn't sell their souls and slit each other's throats if it meant their daughters would get just one spot closer to the podium during competition season. But Justin looked so sad, she wanted to give her honest opinion: Try as she might, Natalie could not get to Justin's level. He could only carry her so far.

"Hey, I don't hold myself back for anyone," he said, giving her a lewd smirk, and she rolled her eyes.

"Come on," she said softly. "Your face needs deliverance. You might wanna brush up in acting class if you don't want people seeing how you really feel about them."

He raised an eyebrow, giving her a pointed look she didn't care to decipher. He smirked when she frowned, her cheeks warm. "I haven't gone to acting classes in five years."

"Yeah, it shows," Kat quipped. Justin winced, glancing at her.

"You think she knows?"

"Natalie?" she asked. She nodded slowly. "The gossips around here…they'll be doing their utmost to psych her out before competition season starts. Everyone knows your average by now, Justin. She was the third in three years."

"Think we both know my average is way higher," Justin said, giving her a lingering look.

She narrowed her eyes, even as she felt warmth spreading across her skin. "Don't be an ass when I'm trying to be nice."

"You're right," Justin backpedalled, cringing. "I'm sorry. You're the only one who hasn't given me side-eye since Natalie was wheeled out of here." She realised something, then: The smooth, unflappable Justin Davis - was shaken. He was shaking; his fingers were trembling. And she had the sudden urge to hold them.

"I'm just saying…it's easy to let things get into your head," Kat said softly, and Justin nodded to himself.

"Speaking of…how's yours?" Justin asked, glancing at her hair: Kat's hand went instinctively to her head, to the long, thin scar hidden by her thick, dark hair, something inside her going stark, whatever warmth from his lingering gaze cooling. She couldn't feel it, usually - unless she used the wrong hairbrush, and the bristles snagged against the scar. But when people asked her about it, the scar may as well have been the Grand Canyon, it seemed so conspicuous - even though she took care to hide the scar with her hairstyles. Not easy to do when she relied on a compact mirror most mornings; but she was learning her scar, as she had learned to make up her face and dress her figure to flatter. She set her hair to hide her scar.

"It is what it is, I guess," she said hoarsely, clenching her hand into a fist beside her thigh, not wanting to show how rattled it made her, people drawing focus to her fall, to the scar she could hide but would always have with her, a constant reminder three inches from her left ear, curving around her skull. She opened the Ziploc full of protein balls she had made earlier in the week, and offered the bag to Justin. His eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Chocolate?"

Contraband. She might as well have brought cocaine to the rink: The mommies would be turning their noses up and smirking about Kat's future cellulite - but the protein bites were just that - a healthier, more satisfying alternative to energy bars.

"Chocolate brownie protein balls," she said, smiling warmly. "They're like eating brownie batter - without the guilt." Justin moaned, nodding to himself in enjoyment as he chewed the protein ball. They were one of her favourite tried-and-true recipes. She'd finally found couch-space with someone who appreciated her early rising and her abilities in the kitchen - she'd taken on the unofficial roles of early-morning alarm and live-in chef - so she'd been enjoying the opportunity to cook and prep: She couldn't afford to buy ready-made snacks. Hers were healthier anyway, and tasted way better. She startled slightly when Justin reached for the mandarins nestled in her lap, but he just picked one up and deftly started peeling it.

"Still hate peeling them?" he asked, as he opened up the peel like a flower, taking care with the pith. Kat gave him a funny look, watching him.

"I can't believe you remember that," she said softly. She did hate peeling oranges, and always had. She hated getting the stuff under her fingernails; she had trained herself not to put her hands anywhere near her mouth while she was working, too tempted to clean her fingernails that way. And Carol slapped her hands anytime she thought Kat was biting off her nail-polish. Presentation was half of skating, Carol always said.

Appearances were everything.

"I remember a lot," Justin said, his smile fading as he handed her the mandarin segment by segment, picked clean. She couldn't help notice his hands as he ate half the mandarin - strong, with slender, clever fingers and neat fingernails. She remembered those hands, the way he used them so expertly, even those neat fingernails dragging lightly against her skin, over her nipples as he cupped her breasts…she fought the hot flush threatening to sweep through her body. "I think you were the only person who loved my mom's snacks more than I did."

"The snacks were great; it's your mom I loved most… It's nice that your stepmother comes to watch you practice every week," she said softly, ignoring his eye-roll; they all knew Justin's attitude to the new Mrs Davis. Kat didn't blame him for it, just wished he wouldn't take it for granted that his dad's wife cared. Justin's mom had been dead for nearly eleven years, and Justin's dad had remarried five years ago - around the time Justin had attained a new level of asshole. Kat had cried every day for a month when Mrs Davis was killed by that drunk driver…her friend's death, combined with Reggie's abandonment, had put Carol into another one of her tailspin manic-depressive episodes, refusing to take her lithium, and Kat couldn't afford to think about anything but providing for Serena, not letting her see the very worst of their mom…

"Shitty timing, Natalie's fall…you have your senior test today, right?" Justin asked, and Kat nodded, trying to psych herself up to it - and at the same time, not let herself worry too much about the ramifications if she failed. The tightrope… "Are you gonna be okay to skate?"

"I'll have to be," Kat said honestly, sighing.

Justin shook his head. "My dad would love your attitude. Can anything stop you?"

"Only the judges... I keep popping jumps that used to be second-nature," she confessed, though everyone knew it. There was no such thing as private ice: They all shared the rink and every flaw was catalogued and snidely smirked over, every triumph inspiring dread and envy. She shook her head, trying to rally. "I'm…rattled."

"You split your head open like a cantaloupe and you got back out on the ice," Justin said, shaking his head.

"Thank you for that visual," she grimaced, and sighed. "Maybe I did have brain-damage after all."

"That's the working theory among the mommies," Justin smirked, shooting the gathered women a nasty look as they tried and failed to look like they weren't watching their every move, trying to lip-read their conversation across the foyer.

"Ass," she smiled, shoving him gently with her arm.

"Doesn't change the fact you outskate every one of their daughters on your worst day even with the contusion," Justin said, his voice low - oddly earnest. "If you're unsettled, why don't you put it off? Take the test in another six months? Give yourself time, you know?"

"No, I - I have to take the test today. I can't afford the rink-time to keep in shape if I fuck up today," she admitted, wondering where this was coming from - she hadn't told anyone about her finances, any of that, not even Jenn. Carol had told all the regulars that Kat, World's Most Ungrateful Daughter, had thrown a "fit" and walked out on the family. They all knew Kat was sofa-surfing, sneaking into her boyfriend's dorm, house-sitting or sleeping in her car, depending on how her luck was that week. Most people had guessed Kat's financial situation was pretty dire, and like Justin had said…even with a reduced number of sessions due to the stretch on her finances…Kat still outskated them all. If they couldn't reduce Kat to tears over her performance on the ice, they could tear her down about her situation outside of the rink. As if they had any idea what her life was like to judge her.

"You won't," Justin said easily, and she scoffed gently.

"I just…need to start coaching," she said softly. "If I can find anyone willing to let me coach their kid after my fall, that is."

Justin frowned, as if he was going to say something serious, then shook his head, changing his mind. He teased, "Need to get out of the hotel, huh?"

"Not that I don't love bringing your girls room-service," Kat jabbed back, and Justin grinned. "But, yes, eventually I would like to leave the hotel. Get some clients, get my own place, get Serena away…just skate when I feel like it, for the love of it."

"You won't miss competing?" Justin asked curiously.

Kat sighed, reflecting. She'd had opportunity to do a lot of that recently, ever since her fall. She'd woken up in the hospital and started making some decisions that surprised even her - she'd made some enemies out of it, but ultimately…she had to think of herself, and her safety. It wasn't her instinct to be selfish, after twenty-one years of her mother's emotional abuse, sixteen years of thinking of how best to protect Serena from the realities of their mother's mental illness…she'd cut ties, and that wasn't a popular decision, for anyone involved - but it was the safest decision Kat had ever made. She knew it was the right decision, even if it felt wrong to leave Serena behind.

She was no good to Serena dead.

"I have enough trophies," was all she told Justin. He didn't need to know the rest. This was the first time they had really talked in months: They were both pretending they hadn't slept together. And she was fine with that: She actually quite liked just talking to him. Sometimes he reminded her of the kid she remembered, when they were little, and his mom snuck her and Serena snacks after their sessions, somehow instinctively knowing that there wasn't enough food at home or money coming in to provide their own.

Sometimes she saw the glimmers of the sweet kid she remembered; maybe he saw glints in her, of the kid she'd been, too. They had both changed.

They said experience was a brutal teacher.

They'd both learned.

Justin smirked, as the guy Kat recognised as his personal trainer spotted Justin lounging and snacking and scowled, striding over. "You can never have too many trophies, Kat."

"Are you gonna go see Natalie later?" she asked.

"Probably. Dasha will likely drag me to the hospital after my session," he sighed, rolling his shoulders and starting to stretch his arms as his trainer appeared, glowering, Justin's scary, redheaded Russian coach strolling behind in her fur coat. "Back to the Gulag."

"You know, you'll get a longer sentence for sass," Kat warned, smiling gently, and Justin grinned. He did that walking-backwards thing as he blatantly checked her out, smirking. She couldn't help smiling back - flattered, in spite of her better judgement: It was nice to flirt sometimes. The scary Russian gave Kat a long look, eyebrows arched, before following Justin to the weight-room: Kat still wasn't used to her scrutiny, even after the months of her watching, ever since she had returned to the ice after her fall.

People were still surprised Kat had laced on her skates and glided back on the ice. As if there was any other option, any other way of life she could revert back to. All Kat knew was skating. It was what she loved: It was all she wanted to do. It was all she could do, after her upbringing: There had never been any other option open to her. She was never going to go to college: She was going to the Olympics. Anything less was inexcusable - and a waste of Carol's time.

She'd told Kat as much.

Gold, or go. The ultimatum was simple, really.

Lithium or no, Kat knew where her mother's priorities were.

Kat had raised her arms before her jump.

She had cracked her skull open, her blood staining the ice.

She had been shaken to her core. And she'd had to evaluate what mattered. What would make her safe? She'd had to make the choice: to live in her car; or on the generosity of friends offering their couches; to spend more nights with Dave than she was prepared for just so she had a warm place to sleep, rather than live under her mother's roof where she knew she was unsafe.

It said something about Carol Baker that Kat would rather risk the dangers of sleeping in her car in an empty parking-lot than return to the home she had grown up in, the home drenched in memories of Carol's bipolar episodes, and every scar they had given Kat over the years as she took the hits rather than let Serena share in the damage.

Until now…

She had moved out of her mother's house, cut ties with her mother - did her utmost to maintain contact with Serena, no matter how selfish and spiteful and hurtful Serena was - but the ice… The ice would never let her leave. If her life was ever turned into a horror-movie, it would be a psycho-thriller about the sentient rink's psychic control over her every move, forcing her to skate until she dropped dead… Almost dead.

Her love of the ice outweighed her hatred and distrust of her mother, her better sense about her finances - even her PTSD couldn't keep a hold on her for long when faced with the threat of a life without skating.

Kat popped the fucking Lutz.

She saw Carol waiting, watching.

In the back of her mind, the back of her head - the scar sweeping from above her ear toward her neck - she remembered…lifting her arms, though instinct told her not to listen to the last-minute instruction that contradicted all her training…

She remembered the steady beep…beep…beep of monitors, the scent of antiseptic, the lethargy from pain medication…

Carol's passive-aggressive guilt - her shame, and her lies…

She remembered Vicki's confession.

Kat remembered that her mother had almost killed her.

She failed her test.

A.N.: I do feel for Kat and Serena, as Carol has obviously put all their eggs in one Olympic-sized basket instead of letting skating be one part of who they were, allowing them to have an education and healthy, fulfilled lives off the ice, with a lot of opportunities open to them (also Jenn, but her attitude toward Kat sucks toward the end).

Never been the first to post a story to a new category before!