Chapter Text
You Don’t Get to Leave.”
They weren’t just girlfriends.
They were Olympic medal favorites.
Katlyn — Team USA. Power starter. Aggressive lines. Ice in her veins and blue hair braided tight beneath her helmet.
Bridge-It — Team Ireland. Precision rider. Lighter, technical, graceful. White hair tucked neatly under green and gold.
Together, they were unstoppable.
Separately?
They were rivals the world had tried to keep apart.
It wasn’t supposed to happen.
Double luge partners are almost always from the same country. Funding, training facilities, federation politics — everything said Katlyn and Bridge-It shouldn’t exist.
But they were too good together.
Their unofficial test run at a neutral training camp had broken track records.
So the federations did something unprecedented:
A special dual-citizenship Olympic entry.
Half the world called it revolutionary.
The other half called it cheating.
The fight started three days before the Olympic final.
Practice run. Curve 14 — the most dangerous turn on the track.
Katlyn pushed too hard on the entry.
Bridge-It felt it instantly beneath her — the micro-adjustment too late, the pressure slightly off-axis.
Their sled clipped the wall.
Not enough to crash.
Enough to rattle.
When they crossed the finish, Bridge-It pulled her helmet off, breathing hard.
“What was that?”
Katlyn didn’t look at her. “We were slow in the split. I fixed it.”
“You overcorrected.”
“We’re fine.”
“We were not fine.”
Katlyn’s jaw tightened. “We didn’t crash.”
Bridge-It stepped closer. “That’s not the standard.”
The tension had been building for weeks.
Media pressure. National pride. Irish commentators whispering that Bridge-It was being “led” by an American powerhouse.
American reporters asking if Katlyn carried “the real weight.”
It got inside them.
Even if they pretended it didn’t.
In the locker room, it exploded.
“You don’t get to make those calls alone,” Bridge-It said, voice shaking — not from fear, but from hurt.
“I’m the bottom rider,” Katlyn shot back. “It’s my job to control the power.”
“It’s our job to survive.”
Katlyn finally looked at her.
“You think I’d ever risk you?”
Bridge-It’s expression cracked. “You already did.”
Silence hit like a dropped blade.
Katlyn’s voice dropped. “I would never—”
“But you did,” Bridge-It whispered. “Because you’d rather win than trust me.”
That one landed.
Katlyn stepped back like she’d been struck.
“You think this is about winning?”
“It’s always about winning with you.”
Katlyn laughed once — sharp, humorless. “I left my federation for you.”
“And I left mine for you,” Bridge-It snapped, tears finally spilling. “But lately it feels like I’m just holding on while you decide everything.”
The room felt smaller. Colder.
“You like when I take control,” Katlyn said, softer now.
Bridge-It’s hands curled into fists.
“I like when you choose me,” she said. “Not when you override me.”
That was the real fight.
Not about ice.
Not about turn 14.
About fear.
Katlyn was terrified of losing.
Bridge-It was terrified of disappearing.
“You don’t get to shut me out when you’re scared,” Bridge-It said.
Katlyn’s voice dropped to something raw. “I can’t lose you.”
Bridge-It stepped forward, despite everything.
“Then stop trying to carry me like I’m fragile.”
Katlyn’s shoulders finally sagged.
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“I don’t need protection,” Bridge-It whispered. “I need partnership.”
That word hung between them.
Not dominance.
Not control.
Not sacrifice.
Partnership.
The next morning, they didn’t speak during warm-ups.
But when they laid down on the sled before their final practice run, Bridge-It reached back blindly.
Katlyn laced her fingers through hers.
No words.
Just pressure.
Just trust.
On the final run before the Olympic event, they approached Curve 14 again.
Katlyn felt the instinct to force it.
She didn’t.
She adjusted — with Bridge-It, not over her.
The sled carved clean.
Fast.
Perfect.
At the bottom, Bridge-It lifted her visor and looked back at Katlyn.
“Together.”
Katlyn pressed her helmet lightly to Bridge-It’s.
“Together.”