FIC: Out Of Bounds - John/Rodney - NC-17

[icarus]

Guys, I just want to say how great you all are for sticking with Out Of Bounds for so long, through sleet and snow, past deaths in the family, and a long break where I had to learn a heck of a lot more about figure skating in order to keep writing.

You all have remarkable stamina.

Believe it or not, the story was started in February 2006, just after the close of the last Olympics. You guys are amazing and your enjoyment and encouragement have kept me going on a fic that today just topped 100,000 words. I hope that you've enjoyed the ride as much as I have. Thank you, and Merry Christmas to you all.

You can get caught up here: Out Of Bounds.


Title: Out Of Bounds
Author: Icarus
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: John/Rodney
Summary: "Maybe the Olympics weren't meant for people like us. Maybe you need to be like my brother, where you will do anything."
A/N: Thank you to perfica for playing OOB beta badminton with me all these months. This part is posted unbeta'd due to the holidays. Thank you to libitina and roaringmice for inside intel and spywork at Skate America. Special thanks to sarka for all the help with Czech history and language (not to mention the cool music).

Previously in Out Of Bounds: Known more for his jumps than his artistry, figure skater John Sheppard hires ex-skating champion and 'artiste' Rodney McKay to be his coach. Back in 1990, Radek and Rodney talk about Rodney's '86 Olympics.

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Out Of Bounds
by Icarus


Radek's chest rose and fell in sweaty gasps, his glasses abandoned on the table next to the hotel lamp, his jacket dumped on the floor. The pillows behind his head were askew. "I take it you're not seeing anyone...."

Rodney fell to his side with an inelegant whump next to Radek. "If I were, he'd have to stand aside for old friends." He wiggled his legs until he managed to get them under the crumpled sheets.

Reaching for his glasses, Radek sat up. He reached down and fumbled in his jacket pocket for his cigarettes.

"Those cancer sticks will kill you." Rodney nodded to them.

"You used to smoke," Radek said, cupping his hand around the match as he lit one.

"That's when I was young and foolhardy," Rodney said. "Next month I'll even hit the drinking age. And it's about time."

"Oh? Do you still drink or have you become so virtuous?" Radek smiled at him, deliberately blowing smoke that Rodney wafted away from his face.

"I think I've adequately proven my lack of virtue, on many fronts." Rodney rolled to his elbow and quirked his head at Radek. "So, what happened to you? You fell off the face of the earth."

"I was in a communist country," Radek reminded him. "But, in 1989 the wall came down...." He shrugged with his hands. "It changed many things."

"Oh yeah... I heard about that," Rodney said in a musing tone, and Radek rolled his eyes. "What? The two years after I got back were hell!"

"How is your, ah, skating anyway?"

Rodney drew back, chin set, puffing out his chest. "Oh, much better, thank you, a hundred times better. I did pretty well at my last competition and I'm climbing the standings like a tiger."

"What about your injury?" Radek asked.

"Injury-?" Rodney asked in a faint voice.

"I was told you had not skated in over a year."

"How—? Who told you that?"

"It's not true?"

Rodney blinked rapidly and took a breath, his voice raising a little higher. "Well, I—at my last competition a couple years ago I did very well, and people thought I might even make a come back." He made brushing gesture with his hands. "I'm only... taking a bit of a break, that's all. I just need to get my bearings."

"I see."

"What about you, eh?" Rodney abruptly changed the subject. "What have you been up to?"

Radek looked at the blankets, drawing one up to his waist. "For two years it was ... very bad. For my whole family. My brother, though, he did not care."

"Selfish little prick," Rodney commented.

Radek shook his head, pursing his lips. "He's a hero these days. I think he believed that what he did was right, no matter what it cost, he had to do it."

"Yes, well, Olympic medalists get treated like gods. It goes to their heads if you ask me," Rodney sniffed.

"Oh no, no one cares about the medal. All that matters is that he jumped with that sign—during the worst of the cold war." Radek gave Rodney a little sad smile. "It meant a lot to my countrymen. Everyone remembers it."

He took a long thoughtful drag at the cigarette before stubbing it out.

"You realize this is a non-smoking room, right?"

Radek snickered.

"What are you doing nowadays? Here to get your master's in engineering?" Rodney frowned. "I got that right, didn't I? It was engineering, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was. But, Rodney." He leveled a steady gaze over his glasses. "They did not even let me finish high school."

"What?"

"They moved my father's job, then they moved my mother's job," Radek said with a tired circle of his hand, "and then they lost my school records and I had to redo all my classes. And then they wouldn't let me take the final year because my marks weren't good enough."

"You were an 'A' student! You said so," Rodney squeaked.

"The instructors in the new district were ... very harsh," Radek said delicately. "I am a student now but I have to go to the junior college and then, maybe. Maybe."

Rodney let out a huff. He shook his head.

"Jesus. The Olympics really screwed us up."

"The Olympics were a disaster," Radek agreed. He turned thoughtful, gazing off into the distance, rubbing his chin with a knuckle. "Maybe the Olympics weren't meant for people like us. Maybe you need to be like my brother, where you will do anything."

"'Meant for'? What? When did you get so fatalistic?" Rodney said. "You sound like a Russian."

"Oh! Don't be insulting."

"Anyhow, he didn't pay. You did." Rodney waved a hand, continuing. "I mean, you, you were supposed to be an engineer while I was meant to win gold. Instead...."

"—Three years later, I just finished a general education degree and you're not even skating."

"I skate!" Rodney said, affronted.

"Lie to yourself, Rodney, but not to me."

Rodney scowled down at the bed. "They're destroying figure skating. They just eliminated the compulsories!" He made a broad flailing gesture. "I'm not even complaining because it's one of my best events that puts me solidly in the lead every single time—well, not only because of that—but, you see, the compulsories are our quality control. Without actually sitting on the ice and measuring the marks you made in your perfect figure eights with a slide rule, figure skating is just a circus: Nothing but jumps and flash." He snorted in disgust. "It might as well be an ice show."

Radek shrugged. "So quit your circus and do something about it."

"Like what?"

"You could teach. You'd be good at it."

Rodney gave a nervous little snigger. "Can you picture me as a coach? They'd have me assassinated within a week."

"I didn't say they would like you. They only need to respect you."

"Huh." Rodney looked mystified as he considered it. "Respect would be a nice change of pace from being hated...."

"They did not hate you, Rodney," Zelenka said, tipping his head to the side. "They just enjoyed to see you fail."

"Well," Rodney said, his forefinger in the air, "I, for one, don't ever want to see those people again."

Zelenka gave him a wary glance. "As a coach you would have to go to competitions."

"No, I wouldn't. If I'm the coach it'll be my rules. Mere students would just have to deal."


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Comments

[mathmusician.livejournal.com]

may your muse talk to you muchly

Yes, I know I'm quoting myself here but I just thought it might give you a laugh to know that that line kept going around my head and eventually turned into something quite scary (http://mathmusician.livejournal.com/1074.html)! It's all *your* fault...

mm