Kurt was shaking. He was waiting to do his routine on the parallel bars, to win gold for America... and his wrist still shot pain up his arm every time he put pressure on it. He wasn't about to just drop out, though. Oh, no. He was going to try no matter how badly he might mess up. Yes, it could be dangerous. He could miss a bar because of the pain, or his wrist being too weak, and he could fall. But he wouldn't be a Hummel if he weren't fiercely stubborn and determined. He'd managed his practice session. He could totally do this.

Blaine and Seb had tried their best to comfort him - Kurt knew that, and he was grateful. Of course he was, but this was the biggest thing ever in Kurt's life. This was huge. A gold medal at London 2012. People would know his name. They would talk about him and refer to him as Kurt Hummel; Olympic gold medallist. He didn't just want this; he needed this.

"Hey, uh... Kurt," Ice slid down Kurt's back at the voice, and he squared his shoulders before turning towards it. He said nothing, just raised an eyebrow at the swimmer standing before him.

Karofsky quickly looked away from Kurt's hard gaze to the floor in front of his feet.

"Uh... I just wanted to say that... that I'm sorry. I'm sorry about yesterday, I... I shouldn't have been like that with you and-"

"Oh, give it up," Kurt snapped, and folded his arms when Karofsky looked up at him in surprise. "If I miss out on this gold, it's your fault, and I'm not going to forgive you for it, ever. So just don't even try, okay?" He stared at the swimmer until he turned and walked away with his stupid ‘hurt' expression. Kurt wasn't about to forgive someone who had made his life hell in one of the places he should fit in, should be safe and comfortable, and could have ruined his chances at something that meant so much to him. No.

It was a few moments after that Kurt spotted Blaine and Sebastian making their way towards him, both giving Karofsky a threatening look as they passed him.

"Blaine! Seb!" He called, and their expressions softened into smiles.

"Hey, Kurt," Seb nodded at him.

"Hi," Blaine said and gestured to where they'd come from. "What did he want?"

"Oh," Kurt unfolded his arms and rolled his wrist a little. "He actually apologised. Can you believe that?" Blaine's eyes widened and he glanced back at the Olympian incredulously.

"Really?"

"Did he seem genuine?" Seb asked, frowning.

"I don't care if he was being genuine or not," Kurt answered, "I'm not forgiving him." There was a moment then that hung in the air around them; Blaine looked to his friend beside him as if he was wary, and Seb narrowed his eyes somewhat desperately, and opened his mouth to say something.

"Seb," Blaine cut in, taking him by the shoulder. "This isn't the same, okay? That idiot is nothing like you, this is completely different." The shooter frowned for another second, then nodded a little unsurely.

"Yeah, just... Okay, I'm going to... I'm going to go." Kurt watched, confused, as Seb walked away. After he turned the corner and was out of sight, Kurt turned to Blaine, who looked at him tiredly and ran a hand down his face.

"He..." Blaine started, sighing and glancing back to where his friend had disappeared. "We weren't always friends, he-"

"You don't have to tell me, Kurt interrupted gently. This was clearly hard for the boxer, whatever it was, and anyway, it wasn't necessarily his business.

"No, I... You'll find out anyway. People love to gossip here." Blaine took a breath and folded his arms. "Seb used to... Well, he was dealing with a lot of stuff when we met. He'd put up a sort of defence system; cocky, forward, and a little bit mean. He was reckless and hurting and wouldn't let anyone close. But then he, ah... he was drunk one time and mistook me for someone who... who he didn't trust. One of the people who were causing all his problems. He got pretty upset, and... pushed me down some stairs." Kurt gasped. He couldn't help it. He wasn't expecting that. "It put me out of action for a while and they thought that I might have to retire from boxing altogether. Seb felt awful and finally explained everything. I helped fix things and we're good friends now, but he's really adamant about second chances, because I gave him one and it worked out for the better." Blaine shrugged at the stunned look on Kurt's face. "It's in the past. But Seb still feels guilty sometimes. I try to tell him not to, but he doesn't usually listen."

"Wow," Kurt breathed. "That's... quite something."

*

"...that was perfect! Absolutely perfect! Kurt Hummel of America, specifically Lima, Ohio, takes the gold from China with such ferocity. This is... amazing. Just amazing, there are no other words for it. He's incredible."

*

"Kurt!" The gymnast whirled around, a huge, elated smile lighting up his face. Blaine couldn't believe it. Well, he could, because Kurt was just... fantastic. But this was so awesome. He'd won gold. "Oh my god, Kurt, just... wow." He wrapped his friend in a hug, and both of them were laughing in shock.

"I won, Blaine. I won! I mean, my wrist hurts, but it held up and I... I still won!"
The two were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't notice a large, hulking shape lumber up behind them.

"Well done, Kurt." Karofsky said, and both boys' faces fell as they turned towards him. Blaine pulled away from the hug, unable to keep himself from tensing all over.

"Hey man, just leave. He doesn't want you here." He said icily, glaring at him.

"I'm sure he doesn't need you to speak for him, Anderson," Karofsky snarled, and Kurt bristled.

"Shut up, David." He snapped, starting forwards. "I'm sure I didn't need you harassing me yesterday, either, did I?"

"Oh, come on, Kurt, I already apologised-"

"And nobody believes you. So you'd better leave." Blaine was trying to keep his cool, but he felt himself losing it a little bit. God, he hated Karofsky. Self-centred, bullying, son of a bitch.

"Look Anderson, you'd better back off, or I'll-"

"You'll what? Try and fight an Olympic boxer? Is that what you're gonna do?" He let go of Kurt completely and leaned towards the swimmer threateningly.

"Blaine, I don't think you should-"

"Shut up, Hummel."

Blaine saw red.

"Oh no, you don't get to tell him to shut up." He ground out, angling his body menacingly.

He wasn't expecting it, so he couldn't block it. He never actually anticipated that Karofsky would slug him in a room full of people and security. He also didn't anticipate that his delicately honed reflexes meant that he would automatically punch him in the face in response.

The swimmer slumped to the floor, eyes fluttering, barely conscious. Blaine barely had time to register what had happened before security was on him, pushing him to the ground while he cried out in pain.

"My ribs! Let go, my ribs."

"Stop; don't hurt him! He's a competitor!"

"That was self-defence! He's done nothing wrong!"

It was a few minutes before the story got sorted out, and he was finally allowed to stand up without being restrained. Karofsky was taken away and a medic came over to check him out.

"It looks like you've got a fractured rib, son." She said, and his heart dropped.

"Are you sure?" He asked weakly, and she nodded with a sympathetic look.

"I wish I could tell you otherwise." He smiled feebly at her and nodded. She patted his knee sadly and moved away, and Kurt took her place. He said nothing, just gave him a questioning but serious look and Blaine sighed.

"I have a fractured rib. I might not be able to fight in the final." He closed his eyes as the reality came thundering down on him. I might not be able to fight in the final. All the training and everything I've done could be for nothing.

Kurt pulled him in for a hug, which he returned gratefully.

"Kurt, I need that gold. I need to prove that I can do this. I can't just drop out. I can't."