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“Welcome back to this year’s Winter Olympics, I hope you all are excited for one of the most anticipated competitions of the last couple of years,” the announcer began. “Tonight begins the Individual Men’s Short Program, where all eyes are on Team USA.

“The three competitors for the Men’s Single event are no pushovers. First, we have Ron Kerner, who is nicknamed Slider by his teammates. Kerner is a very strong competitor when he lands all of his jumps. Consistency is a what-if with him, but when it goes, it goes very well for Ron.

“Next, is Tom Kazansky, adequately named Iceman. A very technical skater, he is. His jumps are the most consistent we’ve seen from any competitor all season—he only had one fall in his first competition, and none since. His nickname comes from his competitive demeanor; he is completely locked, from start to finish.

“Finally, Pete Mitchell. Maverick is his name, which is a very nice fit for USA’s wild card. It’s his first year in the senior men’s division at 15 years old but isn’t letting that stop him. He has gained the highest Program Component Score out of all three as a result of his artistic abilities. He knows how to draw—not only the judges—but the crowd in. His technical score varies heavily though, due to risky gambles. His fate at the Olympics depends on how he lands his jumps.

“The competition is fierce between these three, and people are wondering about the companionship of the trio behind closed doors. Before Mitchell’s entrance into the senior division, it was Kazansky, Kerner, and Bill Cortell. For a few years now, they’ve been shoe-ins for the Olympic podium, but with Mitchell on the scene, things have changed.”

Yeah, things had changed. In the U.S. Figure Skating Championships, Maverick had scraped into third place, just ahead of Cortell. Cortell—or Cougar, had fallen on his triple axel, which resulted in him falling just behind the podium.

To say that Iceman and Slider were shocked was an understatement. Ever since they had been in the senior category, they had been told that they could take the podium together. Maverick had just ruined it all.

Iceman wasn’t one to say that judges had bias, but he was about to insist on the fact. Yes, judging was always very subjective, but this was different. Maverick had also fallen on a jump and somehow scraped by. This was just another case of people thinking that being younger equals being better. 

Iceman would prove them wrong.

Whenever he had the chance to watch one of Pete Mitchell’s programs, he couldn’t move past the scary attempts at some of the jumps. While yes, he had good technique on them, he was doing things that he didn’t know how to process.

One has to be his strange entrances into some of his jumps. He is known for doing really intricate footwork before some of the most difficult elements in his program. And don’t even get Iceman started on the infamous Loop-Loop combination that Mitchell has going on.

On paper, it was brilliant. A combination jump with the loop as the second element was highly rewarded in its grade of execution due to the difficulty of the transition. However, the risks outweigh the benefits. For most skaters, the loop as the second jump is already very difficult, but as both of them? There’s a reason that nobody does it at the higher levels.

He had to admit, that Mitchell was a very good artistic skater. It was what got him an Olympic spot. However, artistry alone got you nowhere—as proven by Ice’s dominance in both domestic and international competitions.

In every competition since the qualifications happened, Ice had won. He wasn’t planning to break the streak now.

“Pete Mitchell has earned 195.32 points for a combined total of 296.25 points. He is currently in third place.”

Iceman, Slider, and Cougar looked at each other in complete shock. He knew Cougar falling on the axel would hurt him, but this? How would people react—how were people currently reacting?

This was not in any of their plans. Mitchell—Maverick, they called him—was young and had hardly seen any senior competition. Yet, he beat one of the most dominant skaters in the country. In most cases, Iceman would just say that it was a part of life, but Mitchell was hardly on par with any of them. He had a lot more to learn and more time to grow.

“I don’t believe it,” Slider said. “There’s no way.”

“Even I have to admit, this is crazy,” Iceman added. Cougar just shifted awkwardly, still processing the loss. “Cougar, man, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t meant to be this way.”

“I…” Cougar couldn’t find the words. “It’ll be okay.”

Slider sat up in surprise at Cougar’s acceptance of the situation. “Cougar, how can you say that? You’ve been working for this for years.” 

Cougar shrugged. “It hurts, but if I was meant to go to the Olympics, I would’ve. Maybe I’m not cut out for this after all.”

“Personally, it’s bullshit,” Slider murmured to Cougar, hyper-aware of the possibility of cameras watching them while they sat in the arena. “You should be there.”

“Guys, don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”

“In third place and receiving the bronze medal, Pete Mitchell!”

Iceman couldn’t help but watch this kid as he waved to the crowd as he took his spot at the podium at the award ceremony. Mitchell just had this cocky energy about him that Iceman couldn’t stand. When he had slid into Cougar’s spot, he had jumped up and down and hugged his friends—who were very talented pair partners—in celebration. Mitchell didn’t even think about what he just did to Cougar, who was probably the nicest person in the figure skating world.

He still can’t believe it—he’s had almost an hour to process that instead of Cougar, Pete Mitchell will be accompanying the two 17-year-olds to Sweden.

Ice hadn’t planned for this—nobody had planned for this.

“In second place and receiving the silver medal, Ron Kerner!”

Slider entered the rink and did everything as routine; skate to the center, pose and bow to the front, and then go to the podium and give a hug to whoever placed below you. Ice almost thought Slider would skip that one, but customs were customs, and Slider gave Mitchell a hug.

“And in first place, receiving the gold medal, Tom Kazansky!”

It was his turn on the ice. He stepped past the barrier and embraced the cheer of the crowd with a smile. He hardly remembers how he got to the podium, but the next thing he knew he was there, hugging Mitchell.

How does one who is this short and lanky complete a quad jump?

Moving on, he received the medal from the volunteers and thanked them kindly. It was a nice medal, it would go well with the dozens of others. He looked to his right to see Slider observing it as well before getting ready for the photo. Looking at Mitchell, he didn’t even glance at the medal, instead just smiling widely into the crowd without a care in the world.

He wondered how Cougar felt, watching from the outside.

Iceman wasn’t even sure what would happen today because the three didn’t have the same practice slot. He didn’t know what stunt this kid was going to pull for the short program. However, if it was anything like every other competition, Iceman wasn’t going to start worrying.

Iceman had drawn for the first slot in the final group, Slider had drawn for the fourth, and Maverick had the fifth. Unlucky, his father would tell him. You want to be last, so you know how to be better than everyone else.

Iceman’s program layout was simple; it was what he’d been doing all year. His first jump was a combination of a quadruple toeloop and a triple toeloop. Then, shortly after was his triple axel, then a spin. After the spin came his quadruple lutz. That was his final jump, after which he had a combination spin, a step sequence, and then his final spin.

In under twenty minutes, he would be up to compete. In ten, he would get to hit the ice for a six-minute warm-up. Currently, his coach was with Slider trying to harp at him for a stupid mistake he made while warming up off-ice. Iceman kept running through his program in his head, envisioning perfect landings and smooth spins.

He was anticipating the minutes he would get to practice on the ice.

This warm-up could be the difference in where he stands after tonight. If he had a bad warmup, it would translate into his program, and he might be forgetting about gold after all. However, his warmups never went awry, and it wouldn’t start now.

He might be on the biggest figure skating stage in history, but he was going to walk away as the new Olympic Champion.

“Alright, you six. Time to go,” the man in charge of the rink called out to them, and they all crowded at the door to get on the ice. He noticed Mitchell in the back of the group, looking visibly nervous. Ice couldn’t blame him—being so young and at this level of competition is struggling. Unfortunately, he didn’t hold that much sympathy; he was 15 on the World Championship podium just less than two years ago.

These are the types of situations that make an Olympic Champion. Perseverance, determination, and resilience.

As Iceman practiced on the Olympic ice, he went through his traditional warm-up procedure.

First, he did a quick lap around the rink, finding a spot where he could do some jumps without disturbing others.

Next, once he found that spot, he did his jumps in order. Starting with the Toe-Toe combination. Like every time, it landed cleanly. The triple axel and quad lutz were similar stories. Iceman felt confident about the outcome of his jumps.

Then, if he had more time after (which he ended up having), he went over his jumps again, trying to make them even more perfect than before. 

These judges wouldn’t know what hit them.

Since he had this extra time, he allowed himself to study the competition—the real competition, anyway. The top six ranked skaters got their share of the final group, which was why all of the USA’s skaters were here. Even Maverick, who hadn’t been here for long, had passed up other countries’ skaters with ease. The biggest competition to the United States was Japan—their senior men were very creative and if you had too many mistakes, could pass you up before you knew it.

Iceman wouldn’t say it out loud, but even Slider wasn’t real competition. While yes, in past seasons, Iceman had a few falls, and Slider had won, it wasn’t because he was better than him. He knew that and Slider knew that, it wasn’t a discussion.

He focused his attention on Maverick, who he knew the least about, surprisingly. While they skated at all the same competitions, he never really focused on him because had no relevance to Iceman. But now, he did.

Maverick looked pretty good in practice, he couldn’t deny it. According to whatever sources reported on them, though, that was how it always was. This kid would have perfect jumps during practice and fumble on the actual thing.

However, he frowned when he saw that Maverick wasn’t even doing jumps, he was doing one of his spin combinations. 

Iceman rolled his eyes. You’d think that since his weakest point was his jumps, he’d work on them.

It was an interesting tactic. You didn’t get here for your fancy spin combinations, so why focus on them?

Soon enough, the time was up, and next was Iceman’s turn to compete in his short program.

With encouragement from his coach, he gets in position to start.

When he steps out on the ice, his brain turns off. You can ask him all day how he felt out there, skating his life away, but he can’t give you an answer other than a shrug and an “I don’t know”.

All he needed to know was he landed everything—that was what made it good.

Here was the beginning of his stardom.

Quickly after getting into position, the music began. A short program for the men was somewhere between two and a half minutes to two minutes and fifty seconds. Just under three minutes later, he would be in a perfect position to clinch Olympic Gold.

He usually thought about each of his programs in sections, separated by his jumps. For this program, there were four sections. Quickly into the program, his jump combination arrived.

Iceman took a deep breath as he set up into the jump. He trusted his training deeply, and it would lead him to the top of the podium.

His entrance was the standard one nowadays—a left outside three turn and then switching feet, letting his weight transfer easily.

His toepick struck the ice nicely, with no blade assistance involved. Four rotations later, he was setting up again for the triple.

The cheers from the crowd egged him on as he skated out of the jump combination. He could see the high grade of execution coming his way.

His second jump was the triple axel—nothing to him. Axel jumps were one of his best jumps.

It was like butter. Ice almost let out a sigh of contentment.

Next up was his first spin combination—a flying sit spin with a change of foot. He breezed past that with no issue, moving on without another thought.

Relishing the quick break he got from his jumps, he used the energy to prepare for his quad lutz; the most difficult element in his program.

The lutz was so difficult because of the edges during the takeoff. If you messed it up, the type of your jump would change to a flip and your grade of execution would decrease.

This jump is one of the most highly-criticized jumps because in recent years, peoples’ technique on the jump has degraded in quality. However, if done correctly, you get a great reward: 11.5 points of base value plus whatever added bonus you get from the grade of execution.

Any top skater had a quad lutz in their program. The point increase was too good to deny.

He set up for the jump, making sure to emphasize the outside edge of his left foot. His toepick struck the ice once more, and the jump was nothing short of perfect…at least to him.

Whatever the judges and his coach had to say was more important.

With the most important elements out of the way, he just had a combo spin, step sequence, and one last spin left.

This spin was his most complicated—the entire name was a “Combo spin with change of foot with a flying entry”... wasn’t that a mouthful? Even looking at the element code in his scoresheets was hilarious. To any non-figure skater, “FCCoSp4” looked like a promo code for an online store.

He knew that his spins and step sequences were on the worse end of all his elements, but it was never bad enough to where he put as much effort into those compared to jumps.

Jumps are what made or broke you in this sport, even if people don’t want to admit it just yet. Artistry isn’t enough to carry you to a championship. Sure, it can help, but it’s not what matters most.

Think about it—someone jumping all triples won’t get as much credit, even with a bucketload of PCS. Someone with quads and less artistry will beat them any day.

Don’t hate the player, hate the game.

The step sequence and final spin were mindless work for him, and before he knew it he was in his final pose and the music finished.

As his awareness came back to him, he gave a bow to the judges and waved to the cheering crowd. His smile was big and he was feeling great about his performance. That might’ve been his cleanest short program yet.

He went to see his coach, who had a delighted grin on his face. With a pat on the back, his coach handed him his skate guards.

“That was awesome, Tom!” His coach was over the moon.

“Thanks,” he replied, smiling wider at his coach’s praise.

“Ice!” He turned his head to see Slider running towards them—as fast as you could run on skates. “I don’t think that’s ever looked better!”

“That’s what I was thinking,” he said cheerfully. “That felt really good.”

“You guys can talk about this later,” their coach interrupted. “Tom needs to get over to the kiss and cry.”

The Kiss and Cry, as it was known, was where the skaters sat to get their scores. The area had ‘cry’ in it because, after bad performances, you usually see crying. And during good performances…you kiss? 

Ice thinks that tradition ended a while ago. He hasn’t seen a coach and skater kiss each other…ever. That’s nasty.

He took his first real look at the area. Cameras were everywhere, but aside from that, the place was nicely decorated and the couches were very comfortable. 

He took note of the monitor in front of them, which would be used to display the scores.

A minute or two later, the camera turned on and focused on him. With a slight smile and a wave, he acknowledged the video and focused back on the screen. He’s drowning in anticipation of the results.

The music turned off, and it was time.

“The scores, please.” 

Iceman held his breath.

“Tom Kazansky has earned a total of 101.06 points in the short program. He is currently in first place.”

The crowd cheered once again, and Iceman hadn’t smiled harder in his life. As he relished in the moment, he saw Slider cheering for him just outside of the kiss and cry behind the cameras.

He was one step closer to becoming an Olympic Champion.

Walking into the green room to watch the rest of the competitors felt like the greatest thing to happen to him. He opened the door, and the middle couch was already vacant, the person who was first before him had already moved to the second couch.

“Congratulations,” the skater on the third-place couch told him.

“Thank you,” he replied politely, taking his seat to watch the next skaters.

Soon enough, the two that were in there with him switched out with other skaters, and next up was Slider. Iceman prayed for a clean skate just like he had.

Iceman didn’t need to worry, Slider had a wonderful time. Ron started with a flawless quad toe, followed by a quad flip-triple axel combination. His first spin combination looked amazing—Slider never got dizzy doing so many spins. His final quad flip never looked better. The step sequence was clean and the final two spin combinations ended the program with a bang.

Slider got a score of 100.23, landing him in second place, less than a point behind him. That’s what Slider did; if you let down your game just enough, he would slide right into first.

Then, it was Mitchell’s turn.

Now that he was only watching him, he took notice of every little thing that kid did. As he stood with his coach—an older-looking man—he was visibly taking deep breaths and wringing his hands.

When they called his name, he turned to the crowd with a smile and a wave. When he made it to his starting spot, he took one last deep breath and posed.

When the music began, Mitchell was off like a rocket. The music was fierce and Iceman could see that Mitchell embodied the role.

The lack of crossovers replaced with choreography made Iceman’s eyebrows raise. As he set up into that nerve-wracking loop-loop combination, he continued with the fancy footwork until the last few seconds.

The choreography was distracting from the jump in Iceman’s opinion, but rules said that it was good to have. To his credit, Mitchell only stepped out of the jump, but it would leave a mark on his score.

Mitchell only smiled and got right back into the program. The quad lutz came out of nowhere, the only reason Ice expected it was because of the time between elements.

The lutz was excellent, from entrance to exit. Nobody could deny the technique.

Then, the kid’s first spin combination. It was fast and fluid, and not that Ice would admit it, pretty satisfying to watch. It was pretty weird as well, you don’t usually see layback spins from men, but Mitchell pulled it off.

After a bit more choreography and extra stuff, the triple axel came and went. It looked like every other axel, nothing really remarkable about it.

Then, this was—apparently—where the kid shined. And yeah, Iceman could see why.

If he had thought the choreography was a bit much before, the step sequence was a whole different story. Iceman almost got dizzy watching him do a crazy amount of twizzles and footwork.

And yet, despite all of the difficulty, Mitchell kept going with a perfect expression. When Iceman and Slider caught their breaths on something he did, Mitchell would breeze through without a glance.

The two spins at the end were no different. They were just as eye-catching.

When the program was over, the kid had this goofy smile on his face and quickly made his way over to his coach. The pair partners that he had seen with him at the National Championships were there congratulating him alongside his coach. Nick Bradshaw and Carole Ryan, are currently on track for gold in the pairs category.

“He’s amazing,” the third-place skater—from Japan—breathed out after a long silence. “That was awesome.” He looked at Ice and Slider, who were just staring at the screen silently. “Don’t you agree? He’s your teammate, right?”

“Um, yeah,” Slider hurriedly agreed. “The choreography was packed.”

“Not many people can say that, nowadays. It’s all just, “Who can land the most quads?”, he gives me hope for the next generation.”

Iceman let out a forced laugh. “Yeah.”

“The scores, please.”

The three turned to the screen quickly, waiting for the result.

“Pete Mitchell has earned a total of 99.97 points in the short program. He is currently in third place.” On the video, Mitchell let out a grin and shrugged, muttering a few words to his coach.

“Alright,” the Japanese skater stood up, grabbing his things. “See you both later, good evening.”

A minute later, the kid in question opened the door, chatting loudly to whoever was with him.

“I almost ate it on the loop-loop, I’m just glad I didn’t fall.”

“It’s the little things, Mav,” the voice Iceman was registering as Nick Bradshaw replied. “See what happens when you quit worrying?”

“I know, I know. See you later, Goose.” Mitchell said, shutting the door to the green room. “Hey, guys.” 

Slider and Ice looked at him with varying expressions.

“Hey.”

“Hello.”

He shrugged off the short responses and sat to watch the final skater of the evening.

Sure enough, the three of them in the room stayed on top after the scores were finalized.

“Congrats,” Mitchell told both of them.

“Thanks.” Iceman couldn’t talk to this kid like a normal person, for some reason.

“Congrats yourself,” Slider replied in an attempt to save both of their faces. “See you tomorrow.”

Mitchell paused on his way out of the room. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, we have a practice slot together.”

“Oh, cool.” And Mitchell was gone.

Iceman was ready for tomorrow. He had a free skate to perfect.

“Welcome back to Olympic Figure Skating! Today is day two of the individual portion, where the men are practicing for their free skates.

“We’re seeing a couple of other groups come in to practice sporadically throughout the day. Even though some of their events don't start for several more days, you can’t be an Olympic Champion without practice. 

“There are certain times for each person in the free skate tomorrow evening to practice, but between each slot, the rink is open to whoever wants to come out.

“We’re seeing Metcalf’s skaters around the practice rink today. Nick Bradshaw and Carole Ryan have been practicing when possible, and Pete Mitchell walked in the rink about thirty minutes ago to prepare for his practice time.”

The camera panned to focus in on Maverick, who was warming up off the ice.

“Mike Metcalf was a champion of his own back in the day. He won Olympic gold when he competed and is hoping for his students to win medals of their own this week. Bradshaw and Ryan are projected gold medalists and Mitchell is expected to finish on the podium tomorrow night.

“In just a couple minutes, the final practice session for the top three begins shortly.”

Maverick tried to ignore the feeling of dozens of cameras watching him.

Yeah, they might not be all on him, but they were intimidating nonetheless. As someone in the top three, people would want to keep their eye on him. He hated that feeling.

It had been a recurrence for him. He got nervous when he felt the stares of thousands who were watching—either in person or on television—him compete. They were waiting for him to fail.

It frustrated Maverick when he would do so well when people weren’t there to see, but the second he had outsiders viewing it was a disaster.

When he was in juniors it hadn’t been this bad. He could ignore it because at least people were more focused on the older skaters.

He had won Junior Worlds with that mindset, but in the senior division, he didn’t have anything to counteract it.

At the most important competitions, he was letting himself and Mike down. The only reason he’d qualified for the Olympics was because he was riding on Goose and Carole’s win. He had completely forgotten to be worried.

He couldn’t have that now. Everyone was focused on the senior men.

Later today, they had the drawing to pick the order for the free skate. He had to get in some good runs before then.

He took note of Kazansky and Kerner walking through the door. He didn’t move to acknowledge them, things had been rough after Cortell—Cougar had missed out on the Olympics.

He couldn’t just say that it wasn’t his problem because he was the reason that Cougar didn’t place, it just wasn’t his fault.

“I’m really sorry,” Maverick said, and Cougar turned to look at him in surprise.

“What for?” Cougar replied, and Maverick looked down in an awkward fashion.

“You know, taking your spot.”

“It’s not your fault, if anything, you should be proud.” It was Maverick’s turn to look at the other with surprise.

“I’m the reason you don’t get to go to the Olympics.”

“And again, it’s not your fault. Just make our country proud, okay? And have fun.”

Honestly, Cougar was too good for the rest of the world. He should’ve been pissed that he didn’t have the achievement of being an Olympian.

But you know who wasn’t? His teammates.

He didn’t really hold anything against the two, but there was a time and place for pissing contests, and the Olympic stage was not one of them. Kazansky—Iceman, whatever they called him nowadays, was number one for a reason, and Maverick wasn’t trying to threaten anything.

Any time someone from the press would ask them about him, it was met with some awkward comment about how “Maverick is a great skater, it was just unexpected”. Come on, get a grip. Facial expressions tell it all—at least Maverick knew that.

Yeah, he might be unnecessarily harsh on the two skaters, but they were older than him and were acting like children. U.S. Nationals happened way too long ago and Cougar had forgiven him, so what’s the big deal?

Older skaters were supposed to help the younger ones acclimate and deal with the challenges of being in front of the world. Slider and Iceman were not those people.

At the Grand Prix? ISU international competitions? They kept to themselves, leaving Maverick without any sort of guidance.

Yes, he loved his coach dearly, but Mike was old. He didn’t have any other skaters competing at this level, so it was basically the blind leading the blind.

This season was a confusing mess for them, figuring out the modern senior skating life. It was different for pairs, and while the basic things were the same, they had their own traditions and things that they did. Maverick didn’t know anything about that for the singles.

The juniors didn’t interact like the seniors did—the juniors mostly focused on interacting with those their direct age, since they would be competing with them for the rest of their lives.

The seniors made friends not only from different ages but different countries. Maverick had met a few from Russia, Japan, South Korea, and others. They gave each other gifts from their country, even to those they didn’t know.

Nick and Carole, while they were his closest friends, were also older and—no matter how much they denied it—didn’t want to spend the time spent not competing looking after him.

“How long have you been here?”

Maverick was thrown out of his thoughts by none other than Slider, who was standing a couple of feet away from him. Iceman was near where they had placed their stuff stretching out his muscles.

“Uh, about thirty minutes ago, why?”

“Just wondering,” Slider replied with a shrug. “How long until they’re letting us on the ice?”

“Probably a couple of minutes, Carole and Nick are finishing up now.”

“Okay.” And that was that.

See, that was how a normal conversation was between Maverick and either of them. It wasn’t unkind, but not friendly either. 

He finished what he was doing and sat down to put on his skates. Goose and Carole were practicing some jumps and throws. Maverick always loved watching the two because they were so in sync with each other.

When it was those two on the ice, everything stopped. They just had that thing about them that made everyone’s attention snap to them. They were made for each other, nobody could doubt it.

They were also in love, but Maverick was currently sworn to secrecy.

Surprisingly they told him that with their own volition. He didn’t walk in on them, they sat him down and told him while yes they were dating, no they didn’t want him to feel left out. They also made him pinky promise that he would say nothing.

He had said nothing.

Maverick had finished tying the laces and tucked them in so they wouldn’t get caught on anything. He stood up and went to the person guarding the door to the rink to ask if he could go in yet.

She let him in and he thanked her, quickly going out to do a lap or two around before starting.

The second he looked away, he heard a crash and quickly turned back around. His eyes widened in horror as he saw Goose curled up next to the rink wall and Carole laying on the ice a couple feet away.

“Oh my God!” Carole yelled out which prompted Maverick to quickly skate over to see Goose. Carole, after regaining her bearings, was right behind him.

“Goose!” He yelled frantically, and Goose tried to sit up before resting back on the wall. “Are you okay?”

“Mav, I’m so dizzy…” Maverick looked at Carole who was watching Goose with tear-filled eyes. 

“It’ll be okay, Goose. Come on, let’s go.” Maverick got on his knees to stabilize himself as he began to pull Nick off the floor. After Carole realized what was going on, she helped him get Goose off the ice.

When they got to the door, they were met with medical personnel. They quickly took Goose from Maverick’s hold and Carole rushed after him. Maverick was going to follow but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Pete, you need to stay here,” Mike said and Maverick shook his head. “No. You have to compete tomorrow, you need to practice. If it’s bad, I’ll come get you. I promise.”

“You think I can properly focus when Goose is injured?”

“Well, you have to.” Mike pushed him back in the rink before shutting the door on him. “Goose wouldn’t want you to sacrifice your practice for this,” He told Maverick before walking away.

Curse that man, he knew he was right. But, so was Maverick. How was he supposed to keep practicing while Goose’s condition was unknown?

He surely had a concussion, but would that mean that Goose couldn’t compete? After everything? He knew that a minor concussion could be healed in enough time for pairs to begin, but how bad would it affect Goose?

Would he hesitate? Would he hesitate enough to where something like that happened again?

“Mitchell.”

It was Kazansky.

“What?”

“Come on, practice started.” Maverick just looked at the older skater in irritation.

“Fuck you,” he snapped and Kazansky was visibly taken aback. “Have some sympathy.” Maverick skated away from him angrily.

Are you serious? He just saw Goose get rushed away and is telling him to get over it, just like that? What the hell was wrong with him?

_________

“This just in, Nick Bradshaw was injured in practice not even five minutes ago. He and his partner, Carole Ryan, were practicing a throw when things went south. Bradshaw fell into the side of the rink, hitting his head.

“There are no updates yet on his condition, but the assumption right now is that they are out of contention for Olympic gold.

“The fall happened as their teammate, 15-year-old Pete Mitchell, was beginning to warm up for free skate practice. It shook the kid up pretty badly. Video shows him trying to go after his teammate before being stopped by his coach, Mike Metcalf.”

“I would want to go after my teammate too, if that happened.”

“Me too, Sasha. Tom Kazansky could be seen trying to get Mitchell back to practicing, much to his displeasure. They exchanged some harsh words before Pete skated off.”

“The Iceman isn’t known for his comforting words, I must say.”

“However, Mitchell does need to get it together. This would rattle anyone up, but he competes tomorrow. A mistake might cost him a medal.”

____________

God, why can’t he focus?

He needed to get it together, or else he was screwed. Bailing from jumps was not the solution.

Nothing was going—not his jumps, anyway. He didn’t have the same concentration in his step sequences, and he knew that without the emotion, he might be the second coming of Iceman.

He needed to get it together. Mike still wasn’t back, which made him more and more concerned as time went on.

He saw as Kerner and Kazansky practiced with no issue. Why couldn’t he be like them, able to shake off anything in their way?

He would have to, though. If he wanted any shot of staying on the podium. So, he decided to start easy. The edge jumps—Loop, Axel, Salchow—were his easiest. He worked his way up from triples to quads to get his confidence back.

It might not be the best way, but it sure was efficient.

Before he knew it, he was doing triple axels with ease and a clear head. Quad Salchows were as smooth as could be, and his loop combination was going.

It was never an easy feat, to land the quad loop-triple loop combo. It was the nature of the jump. To Maverick, loops were quick and harsh. They were done before you knew it, but the skill left you dizzy.

Seven rotations in the shortest time frame of any other combination were bound to cause vertigo.

After his jumps were putting a smile on his face, he switched to his spins. Earlier, he was spinning out of them and bailing out of the faster parts. Now, he is calmer than ever.

He was in his element. The ice was his to rule.

The step sequences had him feeling on top of the world. These were his things, after all. He had the artistry to put everyone else to shame.

He was confident. He would do it—for Goose.

He would win, for Goose.

_____________

“Welcome back to the Winter Olympics! I’m your host, Johnny, and today is the final portion of the men’s singles event. As the final skaters gear up to leave themselves out on the ice, let’s take a look at the last few days.

“In the short program, Tom Kazansky, the Iceman, took the lead with a score of 101.06. His teammate, Ron Kerner, is not too far behind with a 100.23, and Pete Mitchell with a 99.87. With a fall, Mitchell is still keeping up with the greatest skaters of this generation.”

“I think that says a lot about these skaters, Johnny. But, today is the real test for the next generation. 15-year-old Pete Mitchell, also known as Maverick by his country, was shaken up yesterday from a teammate’s injury on the ice. 

After a while, he was able to shake it off, but that was yesterday. Will the Maverick have enough mental power to deliver in the free skate?”

The camera panned to the three USA skaters, warming up on the side of the rink.

“They drew for placements last night, and the order for the last three are Kazansky, Kerner, Mitchell, just like last time. Looking at their faces, Mitchell looks like he’s out for blood.”

“He has to make it up after his step-out, though. Kazansky isn’t one to let things slide.”

Maverick watched as Kazansky walked off to go onto the ice for his free skate. The crowd was gearing up for the number-one skater in the world. Maverick turned up the music in his headphones.

He wanted to drown the crowd out. He needed to focus.

He was going to perform his heart out for Goose.

Thankfully, his concussion wasn’t major and with rest, the possibility of competing wasn’t off the table. But still, Maverick felt guilty for having the opportunity. Goose still might not be cleared to compete.

What would he do, if Goose and Carole had to sit by and watch as their competition went on without them? What would he do, if he walked away with a medal and they didn’t?

So, today he would perform for them.

“I’m going to do it for you, Goose.”

“Maverick, do it for yourself.”

“I perform every other time for myself. Tomorrow, it’s for you guys.”

“I love you, Mav. Never change.”

“I love you too.”

Maverick didn’t break his promises. Today wouldn’t be the beginning of it. He was going to perform his best. Screw everyone else.

He didn’t care about placements—if Goose felt good about it, it was good enough. Nothing else mattered to him.

“From the USA, Ron Kerner!”

He had completely missed Kazansky’s turn. What did he get? How did he do?

He registered the music in the background as Kerner’s program began. A four-minute program followed by a couple minutes of scores, then it would be his turn.

The final act of the night.

A couple more axels, and Maverick began to put his skates on. He laced them with care and determination. The next time he took off these boots, he would be a new person. He felt it in his bones.

He walked around for a couple of minutes to get the feel just right, and Kerner walked past him with an impassive look on his face. What happened? Did it go well? Maverick didn’t know.

“Ron Kerner has earned 199.02 points, for a total of 299.25 points. He is currently in second place.” Maverick didn’t care about scores. He cared about this performance.

It was a blur as Maverick got on the ice and started to skate to position. He was ready for this, the only uncertainty was if the world was ready for him.

It started. The music played on the speakers, and Maverick’s face started expressing a story.

His music was meant for him. He could play the part.

He skated to the rhythm and danced to the beat. First up, the infamous combination.

He knew in his setup that it was going to be good, and it was confirmed for him on the takeoff. Quad loop, landed. The triple loop took off immediately, and he knew that this was the one.

He landed on the outside edge of his blade with ease, smiling wider than before as the crowd cheered. This was going well, and it was only going to get better.

Next, the quadruple lutz. This was one of his favorite jumps because it was so difficult. He never let the label of difficulty stop him from trying.

The sound of the toepick striking the ice made his ears sing. Truly, it was a beautiful sound.

Four rotations later he had landed one of the most difficult quads.

Then, a triple axel. It was no match for him. Like he said, edge jumps were his easiest.

As he went into his first spin combination, he was only failing to keep in character because he was smiling so hard. The spin was great from beginning to end. His hardest spin combination was done with no issue.

Next on the itinerary, he was going for another quad lutz, only this time it was accompanied by a triple toeloop. He remembered the feeling from the first lutz and envisioned the same outcome. When the lutz was done, he continued into that triple toe with no delay and it landed spectacularly.

What’s so difficult about a quadruple flip? Nothing, because Maverick landed it next with no issue.

His step sequence was going to be good, he could feel it. He danced his way through it with the performance quality of a seasoned veteran. He tried his hardest to speak to the judges with only his face. He stared some of them dead in the eyes, making them feel his emotion.

As he finished the step sequence, he quickly prepared for his second-to-last jump in the program. It was his easiest element; a triple toeloop connected with a triple salchow. 

At this point in the program is where most skaters began to get tired. Maverick had just landed the salchow—the eighth element in his and had four more to go. 

He pushed on through the lethargy and weariness. For Goose, he told himself. If Goose wasn’t able to skate, he would give him a show worth remembering.

Now, he was entering his second spin combination and did so with high energy. He was nearing the best part and was determined to end this program with a bang.

After the refreshing spin was over, he had his final jump—another triple axel. And just like the first one, the axel was beautiful from start to finish. This was where it got good.

The smile on his face must’ve been infectious—he was going to have a mistake-free program. At the Olympics, of all places.

For Goose.

This choreography sequence was so fitting for not only his program but for himself. The choreo fit each moment perfectly like the artist of the song had personally made this music for his program.

This was the time when Maverick could express the character of his program to the judges. This was his last real chance to tell them what they needed to know. This was what would make this program great. He felt every movement, jump, and spin in his bones. Every expression conveyed the image they needed to see. He was determined to get it across.

The last part of the program was here. Ten seconds left as he entered into his final spin. The rotations were quick and sharp, giving no sign to any spectator that he was exhausted.

He exited from the spin and landed in his final pose with ferocity. As soon as the music ended, he sat back on the ice in an attempt to process what had just happened.

He opened his eyes with his first sign of clarity since the program had begun. He looked to find Goose immediately. When he found him, he and Carole were literally jumping up and down in celebration.

Once Goose caught his eye, he raised his hands up in the air, pumping his fists in excitement. To his left, Carole was trying to find a way to express her excitement without jumping onto the ice to get him.

On Goose’s right, Mike was clapping so hard that Maverick thought his hands were going to fall off. When Mav looked closer, he was almost sure that his coach was about to cry. Mike never cried.

He turned his attention back to the crowd, which was cheering so loud. His smile was so big that he was almost sure his facial muscles were going to cramp.

He stood up, regaining his balance and skating over to the exit. He got enthusiastic congratulations from the volunteer at the door before being swarmed by Goose and Carole.

“Mav, I’m gonna cry!” Carole yelled over the noise.

“I’m so proud of you, I don’t think you know.” Maverick looked up at Goose, who was hugging him tightly.

“I did it for you guys, you know that,” he told them, and Carole actually began to cry. “Wait, no—”

“I love you so much!”

“I love you too,” he smiled at her and hugged her when Goose let him go.

“Pete, you son of a bitch!” They all whipped to stare at their coach—who never cursed.

“What?” Maverick asked.

“If Goose getting injured is all it took for you to do that, I might have to knock him around the head a few more times.”

“Hey!”

“I don’t know how I did that,” Maverick admitted. “I think I was possessed.” They all got a laugh out of that one.

“C’mon, kid. You gotta get your scores.”

When Maverick said he didn’t care about scores, he might’ve been lying. It would’ve been true if he had fallen or stumbled through his program, but it was a clean skate.

What would be the outcome?

They sat down in the Kiss and Cry, Maverick wringing his hands together in nervous excitement. “Hey, whatever happens, it’s going to be okay,” Mike said to him and Maverick tried to give a reassuring smile in return. It ended up looking like he was about to crumble in anxiety. “You’re going to be okay.”

“I know, but I’m scared.”

“Do you want Goose and Carole to come in here?”

“Can they?” The pair were standing right behind the camera waiting.

“I don’t think they’ll say no.” Maverick waved the pair over and they sat down next to him on the couch.

Goose was the first to offer reassurance. “Whatever happens, I’m proud of you.”

Maverick smiled again, and Carole took his hand. “I did it for you.”

“I know, buddy. You did amazing.” The gentle reassurance was making him relax a bit. He leaned on Goose, still anticipating the results.

“The scores, please.”

All the anxiety and worry flooded back into him with those three words. He sat up straight and gripped Carole’s hand hard.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Pete Mitchell has earned 204.86 points, earning a total score of 304.83 points…”

The scores came up on the screen, but Maverick had frozen, staring at the spot where the placement would appear.

“...He is currently in first place.”

Maverick couldn’t move, his eyes were locked on the monitor in shock. If he moved, he would wake up. However, the pain in his hand from Carole’s grip told him that this was real.

Goose was shaking him, but Maverick was frozen. Had he really just won?

The big 1 on the screen was telling him yes.

“Oh my god…”

“Maverick!” Goose and Carole were shouting at him in excitement, and he was going to start crying for the same reason. “You crazy bastard!”

“Oh my god.”

Maverick hadn’t pulled his eyes away from the screen, and Goose carefully nudged him. “Hey, bud. You okay?” Maverick turned to look at him. “Mav?”

“I won?”

“Yeah, are you okay?” Goose looked at him with concern. Maverick hugged him out of nowhere, clinging to him. “Hey, come on now. You just won.”

“I know,” was the muffled reply. 

“Why are you hugging me?”

“I did this for you, Goose.”

“Yeah, you’ve said it about ten times.” Maverick looked at him, leaning back for a moment.

“I wouldn’t have done that without you, you know? That was for you.”

Goose smiled warmly and hugged him again. “Aw, you know how to make a man cry.”

“Shut up.”

___________

“Pete Mitchell has earned 204.86 points, earning a total score of 304.83 points. He is currently in first place.”

Iceman froze on the spot, Slider turning to look at him with shock on his face. What in the world?

Iceman had scored 302.69 overall, which was on the high end of his scores—Mitchell had beaten him by two whole points. That wasn’t even mentioning that the kid had beaten him by three points in the free program score.

What?

Iceman couldn’t believe his eyes. As he sat there in shock watching Mitchell mirror his expression for an entirely different reason, he couldn’t process it.

After so long on the top, he got beat when it mattered most. He couldn’t even be angry with Mitchell.

The free skate was breathtaking. The loop-loop combo—Iceman could finally understand why Maverick did it. When it went, it went well.

And yeah, the artistry paid off. That extra grade of execution was what let him win.

Iceman had lost.

“Ice?” He looked at Slider, who was sitting there in apprehension. “You good?”

“Uh.” Iceman wasn’t so sure. “Not right now.”

“What does that mean?”

“Not right now.”

Iceman really didn’t know. His coach was going to be upset, his father even more so. He had come all this way just to get silver.

If you told him yesterday that he would get beaten by Mitchell, he would’ve laughed in your face. But now, he was doing anything but laughing.

He didn’t like being faced with his own shortcomings. He knew exactly why he didn’t win. He would’ve been far enough ahead had he been more dedicated to improving his artistry.

He had been telling himself all week that artistry wasn’t what got you here.

But, it was what made you win.

______________

“Come on, the medal ceremony starts in ten minutes.”

Maverick had already done all the emotional crap. He cried, laughed, and hugged everyone, all of it. He still wasn’t sure what to think about being the new Olympic Champion.

What was Iceman going to say? He had to be upset, right?

“I’m coming, Mike. I need to grab my sweatsuit.” It was the dress code for the awards, strangely. Most other competitions wanted you in your costume, but not the Olympics.

Ten minutes later, he was standing behind the middle of the podium.

“In third place, from the USA, Ron Kerner!” He stepped up onto the platform with a smile.

“In second place, from the USA, Tom Kazansky!” Maverick watched as he gracefully took his spot on the second-place section without any theatrics.

Oh, yeah. He wasn’t too happy. Not his problem.

“And in first place, from the USA, Pete Mitchell!”

He smiled wide as he stepped up onto the highest part of the platform. He embraced the cheer from the crowd as he waved in excitement. The president of the International Skating Union put the gold medal around his neck and Maverick thanked him profusely. The man congratulated him and walked away so they could take pictures.

Maverick smiled for the camera, knowing that these would end up on media outlets across the world. After a minute, the photographer made them get together on the center of the podium for a close shot. 

Iceman and Slider held up their medals and Maverick followed suit. Maverick felt like he was rubbing salt in the wound by being happy about his first senior win—at the Olympics, but this was his moment. Iceman being upset won’t dampen the mood.

Realistically, anyone would be upset by missing out on gold. Hell, Maverick would’ve after the free skate he did. He was more weirded out by Slider’s casual acceptance of it all. After living in Iceman’s shadow for so long, wouldn’t he be upset by Maverick passing them both up?

It didn’t matter now. What’s done is done.

Maverick had won.

______________

It was the exhibition gala for figure skating. All of them had just finished performing their programs created for the gala, and Maverick had ended up in a room with Iceman.

“Mitchell.”

Maverick turned to look at the silver medalist, surprised that he was even acknowledging him. “Yeah?”

“Congratulations,” Kazansky said, and Maverick let out a surprised smile.

“Thanks, you too.”

“Don’t flatter me,” the older skater said in a joking tone.

“I’m not. I mean it, congratulations.” Maverick watched as the other processed that he wasn’t being snotty with him. “You did great.”

“If I had done great, I would’ve beat you.” True, Maverick admitted to himself.

“You can still do great and not win,” Maverick replied. “What do you think all of us did when you beat us? We weren’t upset with our performances.”

Iceman stopped to ponder that statement, and Maverick wondered if he had gone too far.

“Sorry if that was too blunt,” he added in an attempt to repair the situation.

“Don’t be, you’re right,” Iceman brushed off the apology. “I’m sorry for how we’ve been.”

Maverick paused. “For what?”

“You know, Cougar… We weren’t the most accepting of that outcome.”

“Oh.” Maverick shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, I understand why.”

“Okay…”

An awkward silence filled the room. 

“I’m happy for you,” Kazansky said quietly, Maverick strained to hear it.

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Maverick smiled at him and got a tiny one in return. “Friends?” He held out a hand for a handshake.

Maverick wasn’t one to hold grudges, apparently. Iceman raised an eyebrow before nodding and taking his hand.

“Sure, friends.”