Part One

::::::::::

"Rubbish!" Heath Ledger flung out of his seat and pointed a finger at the panel. "This is complete and utter rubbish. Where's your evidence?"

Ledger's coach and best friend, former American champion Peter Sarsgaard, put a hand on his protege's shoulder and tried to get him to sit back down. Ledger was having none of it. Throwing off Peter's hand, Heath leaned over the long table that separated him and three other accused competitors from the judges. Before he could speak, someone cut him off. Courteously, America's most promising young figure skater addressed the officials.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I know for a fact that I don't take drugs, so I have to doubt the charges against my fellow athletes as well, unless you have proof." Jake looked down and to the side where his coach sat in his shadow.

Maggie Gyllenhaal gave her brother a small nod of encouragement. She was certain Jake wasn't taking anything stronger than ibuprofen, but she had her doubts about the others, particularly Ledger. She couldn't argue with those that found the Australian appealing; he was six feet and two inches of long and lanky with broad shoulders and the ramshackle grace of a tomcat on the prowl. A mop of unruly locks, mildly exotic features and coloring that suggested words like gingerbread, cinnamon, and honey made Ledger popular with the younger female fans. Maggie acknowledged Ledger's competence on the ice and his consummate sense of showmanship, but to be honest, she didn't respect him and she was looking forward to her baby brother kicking his arrogant ass all over the rink and stealing the hearts of his fans. It wasn't a very noble thought, but she acknowledged it as hers.

"I'm afraid our decision is final," the chief judge said. "I'm sure our ruling will seem harsh, but we cannot afford even the appearance of a drug scandal. The children of the world look to the athletes of this international competition as role models. Therefore, you are banned from participating in any league sanctioned events."

"For how long?" Peter Sarsgaard spoke up.

"Forever," the chief judge said. "This is not a slap on the wrist, gentlemen. You will not be allowed to compete in these hallowed games again. You may hire lawyers to contest this ruling if you wish, but I don't like your chances."

"That's shite!" Ledger yelled. "I demand a piss test. Right fucking now!"

Jake moved away as Heath unbuttoned his pants and shoved them down. The Aussie's lack of undergarments gave proof to the rumors that he was far from tragically endowed just before his coach wrapped a jacket around his waist like a kilt.

"Jesus, Heath," Peter hissed. "You've trashed your career; don't destroy your last shred of dignity. You can still teach."

"Really," Ledger said with heavy sarcasm. "Tell me, Peter. Do you teach because you love passing on your craft, or is it because you know you don't have what it takes out there on the ice anymore?"

Peter's face registered his shock before he got hold of himself. "Bastard," he said succinctly. "I know emotions are high right now, but that was really low."

Heath pulled free of Peter's grasp on his denim jacket, yanked his trousers up and stalked from the room. After a brief hesitation, his coach went after him. There was dead silence for a moment before one of the judges called the room back to order.

"Please," Jake said, after the small crowd was quiet again. "Couldn't you reconsider? It really doesn't seem fair to ban us without a test or something."

"We believe we have ample proof, but to reveal it would expose a very well respected individual to public scandal. I'm sorry, Mr. Gyllenhaal, but this ruling is final."

"Come on, Jake," Maggie said. "We'll go stay at Mom and Dad's for a few days."

Jake took the cobalt blue warm up jacket she handed him and shrugged into it as he followed her from the room. He was still numb with shock, but it was starting to penetrate that everything he'd been working toward his whole life had been snatched away just as he was about to put his hands on it. Almost every day since he was seven, he had spent several hours of it on the ice, skates strapped securely around his ankles, gliding, spinning, inhabiting a perfect world of physics and physical adeptness, a world where he excelled, where a smooth path had already been cleared by his older sister.

"Hey Mags," Jake said softly, taking her hand as they crossed the plaza to their hotel. "I'm sorry if I wasn't supportive when you..."

"Forget it," she interrupted. "I don't want to talk about that. Ever. Jeez, I know you're reeling, but how could you bring that up?"

"Because now I know how you felt."

"No you don't. You can never know how I felt." Maggie paused, cupping Jake's cheek on her palm. "I'm sorry, okay? I know you're devastated and it probably hasn't even completely sunk in yet. We should get wasted."

Jake's eyes widened in pantomimed astonishment. "Alcohol, coach?"

"Come on," she said, taking his arm. "One or two drinks won't kill you."

"You sure about that?"

"No, but if anyone ever had an excuse to get 'faced, it's you. Why blow the opportunity to make a fool of yourself with impunity?"

"You have a point."

"I often do. Now, if I could just get you to listen..."

Jake leaned his cheek against the top of her head for a moment. "I always listen to you, coach. How do you think I got this far?"

"It's not the end of the world," Maggie said as they walked into the hotel bar. "You're only eighteen. This is the age when most people go out and do something with their lives."

"I just feel like a kid that's been eating all his vegetables for years, looking at the cherry pie, thinking about how good it's going to taste, and just when it's time for dessert, someone takes the pie away."

"There'll be other pies," Maggie said, beckoning the bartender with a glance. "It's time you learned to appreciate the martini."

:::::::::::::::::::::::

Jake leaned heavily against the wall in front of him and took aim at the urinal. It had taken him a while to figure out that his track pants didn't have a zipper and he was almost dancing with the need to relieve himself when Heath Ledger sauntered in. The Australian stopped in his tracks and stared at Jake over the top of his dark sunglasses.

"Bloody hell, you do have a willie. I just lost fifty dollars."

"Do you mind?" Jake said.

"No mate, I don't mind."

"I can't go while you're watching."

"You're kidding."

"Why would I joke about something like that?"

"Who knows why a whitebread Yuppie princess like you does anything?"

"Excuse me?" Jake turned his head to meet Heath's gaze squarely.

"You don't need me to excuse you." Heath unbuttoned his fly one-handed as he reached over and turned on one of the faucets. "That help?"

Jake sighed in relief as things started flowing and a strong stream splashed off the back of the porcelain receptacle. "Ahhhhh, I thought I was gonna bust a kidney."

"Are you drunk, Gyllenhaal?"

"It is possible," Jake said with a laugh that was more than half giggle.

"Fuck me dead. This is a day of unprecedented events. If Elvis walks in here to have a piss, I won't even blink."

"Very funny." Jake took his hand off the wall and nearly lost his balance.

"Strewth! How drunk are you?" Heath shook off and buttoned up, eyeing Jake uncertainly.

"It's my first time," Jake confessed.

"Christ, were you raised in a Skinner box? Lean on the basin. The sink. Good. Splash some cold water on your gob. Better? Oh man, look at you. You're a mess, Gyllenhaal."

Jake stared at his heavy-eyed, slack-jawed reflection, hair standing up in tufts, shirt untucked on one side, a smear of Maggie's lipstick on his forehead. Ledger was right. Jake was a mess. For some reason that struck the young American as inexpressibly amusing.

"It's funny to you, is it?" Heath said. "I'm barely twenty. I'm at my peak. No one can touch me on the ice. This was my year. That gold medal had my name on it."

"Whatever."

"You disagree?"

"You've never seen my routine."

Heath snorted. "You're delusional. I've seen film of you, princess. You're bloody good and you'll only get better... unless you fall down and break something major, or have a major breakdown... but no fucking way you're as good as I am today."

"I'm sure you'd like to believe that."

"Well, we'll never know will we. We can't skate in a sanctioned competition ever again."

"That wasn't fair of Them," Jake said, pulling a paper towel from the dispenser. "I never took any drugs."

"My oath," Heath held up his right hand. "I drink a little beer and smoke a little weed, a very, very little. I'm serious about my training."

"I just don't understand how this could happen."

"Of course, you don't, Dorothy," Heath said, reaching over Jake's shoulder for a towel. "Let me put it in terms you'll understand. A tornado picked you up, destroyed your life, and set you back down, drunk and slobbering in the men's room of a Swiss hotel."

"I'm not slobbering," Jake said, wiping his towel across his mouth before throwing it away. "Why are you such a dick?"

"I'm competitive, you twit." Heath reached out and straightened Jake's collar. "There. Now you can go back to the bar."

"Thanks," Jake said uncertainly as he walked away. Pausing in the doorway, he spoke over his shoulder. "Good luck, Ledger."

"Yeah, you too. For what it's worth."

::::::::::::::::::::::::

Heath took off his shoes, tied the laces together and hung them around his neck before starting down the beach. A wintry wind was blowing off the water, but it was sunny and the sand was warm on his bare feet. He nodded to the older couple walking their Golden Retriever in the opposite direction, ignoring their curious stares as he continued toward the figure sitting alone at the base of the bluff.

"Wait up, Gyllenhaal," he called out, as Jake stood and started toward the surf. "Shite!" he cursed and sprinted after the other man. "I just want to talk to you about the ruling."

Jake stopped and turned around, a spent wave foaming around his knees, darkening the bright blue wetsuit. "It's been a year, Ledger. I've put it behind me. You should too."

"That's not what your sister says. She's worried about how disconnected you are, in her words. She told me where to find you, by the way."

"She'll hear about it, believe me. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to catch this set."

"Where's your board?"

"I'm body-surfing."

"You're in amazing shape," Heath said truthfully. The Body Glove Jake wore clung to every curve and indent of his toned physique, every line a study in aesthetics. "Miss it much?"

Jake didn't ask what the Australian was referring to. "Like a limb," he replied candidly.

"Then listen to me. It's possible we can get the ban lifted."

"No way. My family hired the best lawyers in the business. Judge after judge turned down our appeals until they convinced me I was wasting my time. I found a new sport. Why don't you go find one for yourself?"

"I already know how to surf. Look, just answer one question for me and if you don't want to talk about it anymore, I'll leave you alone. Fair enough?"

"Ask your question."

"I've been thinking about who that well-respected informant could be. Just prior to the charges were you propositioned by a judge?"

"What are you talking about? That's..." Jake paused, his face going slowly red as he remembered. "It was one of the male judges," he said at last. "At first, I didn't get that he was hitting on me, and when I did, I kind of over-reacted. But damn, you know? It was just so unexpected and weird... and gross."

"The Australian judge, right?"

"Geoffrey Rush," Jake nodded.

"I shot him down too."

"Hold on. Are you saying he cooked up the drug thing because of that? Come on. No one ruins another person's life over an incomplete pass."

"Unless he's a loon with major entitlement issues and a monumental ego. Will you go to the board with me and ask them to overturn the ruling?"

"It's our word against Rush's. They'll say we made it up."

"What if I can get Murphy and Routh to go as well?"

"They were propositioned too?"

"I don't know yet, but I'll find out. Will you do it, if they will?"

"Sure," Jake sighed, figuring it would make Heath go away, and he could always change his mind. "Keep me posted. Hey!" he called out as Heath turned to leave. "Why come all the way to Malibu? Why not just call me on the phone?"

"I had to see your eyes when I asked."

Jake nodded his understanding. "Good luck, Ledger."

"Thanks." Heath said over his shoulder. "You too."

:::::::::::::::::::

"There they are," Maggie said, taking Jake's hand as they started down the broad steps at the center of the vast mall.

Beyond some tables and chairs of a Currier and Ives themed cafe, they could see a few skaters of varying degrees of skill on an indoor rink. Jake tore his gaze from the ice and looked where she pointed. Heath Ledger and Peter Sarsgaard sat facing the restaurant with cups of coffee in front of them. Both men rose, as Maggie and Jake approached.

"Well, at least introductions aren't necessary," Maggie said as she sat. "What's on your minds, gentlemen?"

"We've lost every appeal to the ethics committee," Peter said. "And I seriously doubt they'll entertain another one."

"What?" Jake burst out, startling the waiter. "Sorry. I'll have a hot chocolate. Maggie?"

"Make mine Irish," she said.

"What the hell?" Jake said, as the waiter walked away. "Why did you drag us here if there's no hope of lifting the ban?"

Heath cleared his throat and looked over at his friend. "Peter had an idea."

"I don't care if he had kittens," Jake said. "You're wasting our time."

"Easy, Jakey," Maggie said. "We're here now. Let's listen to them."

"How badly do you want to compete again?" Heath asked.

"You know how badly," Jake answered.

"All right," Peter said. "Here's the deal. You can compete, just not in the Singles division."

Maggie set down her drink. "You're talking about Pairs," she said.

"Yes, I am," Peter confirmed. "Jake and Heath can still compete with a partner."

"I don't know," Maggie said. "It's a completely different style, accommodating a partner, learning to do lifts, throw jumps. That's a lot of work. And before we can even start, we'll have to find an unattached skater of Jake's level of skill. Good luck."

"But you know how to coach Pairs. It's worth a try, don't you reckon?" Heath said.

"There's more, isn't there?" Jake said suspiciously.

Peter nodded. "We've scoured the sport looking for a suitable partner for Heath. Like the song says, all of the good ones are taken. Unless we pick one off the vine and train her up for a couple of years, we're pretty much shit out of luck."

Heath smiled at Maggie. "Unless you want to come out of retirement?"

"Cute," she said. "But I hung up my blades for good."

"What's the rest of it?" Jake prompted.

"I know how badly you want to compete," Heath said. "But how badly do you want to get revenge on Rush?"

Jake's biscotti snapped in half in his fingers, showering crumbs on the linen tablecloth. "I'd like to see justice done," he said in a controlled voice.

"How about making history?" Peter said. "How do you feel about that?"

Jake and Maggie exchanged a glance. "What do you want?" Maggie asked him.

"I want to skate in the International Winter Sports competition and rub Geoffrey Rush's nose in my victory."

"Me too," Heath said. "Maybe we could do it together."

Maggie stared at him and then at Peter. "You're not serious," she said.

"What?" Jake looked at her.

"A male/male Pairs team?" Maggie went on. "They'll be laughed off the ice."

"Two guys skating together?" Jake finally got the whole picture. "I should have known. Why did I trust you, Ledger? You're a buffoon."

Heath raised an eyebrow. "Buffoon? That's like a clown, right? Well, I'm not laughing. I'm dead fucking serious about this. Ask Peter. I came up with every argument that's going through your head right now, every objection; I guarantee it. Skate with a bloke? No fucking way!" The Australian leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. "Then I looked at it another way. If my purpose is to win and simultaneously burn Rush's arse, what do I care what anyone thinks about how I choose to do it?"

"Forget it," Jake said. "It's absurd. They wouldn't even let you sign up."

"Technically, the rulebook defines a pair as one man and one lady, but feminists are contesting that term in court as we speak. The way things stand at this point in time, there's nothing that actually says two guys, or two girls, can't skate as a pair," Peter said. "The board might not like it, but they can't keep us out."

"There is no 'us'," Jake said.

"Why am I not surprised?" Heath said, rising from his seat. "I told you, Peter. Didn't I tell you the princess would never have the balls?"

"Yes, Heath," Peter rolled his eyes. "You spoke those very words. Are you happy now?"

"No, not really. Damn it, Gyllenhaal! At least try it once and think of the look on Rush's face when we win the gold."

"I don't see how that's possible," Jake said.

"Then open your eyes. We're the two best male skaters in the world, right? If we team up, who could possibly beat us?"

"It's not that simple," Peter said. "But Heath's right. You two are phenomenal athletes and we could put together a routine that would change figure skating forever."

Jake swirled the remnants of his whipped cream with a forefinger. "I don't know. It's just so insane."

"Think about it," Peter said. "Just don't say no right away. That's all we ask."

"All right," Maggie said. "You have indeed given us a lot to think about. Now if you'll excuse us, we have to go bust a gut laughing where you can't hear us."

There was silence for a moment before Heath chuckled and then the other three joined him. "People are going to laugh," Heath shrugged. "Like hyenas. I think I can take the humiliation, and it'll be worth it."

"We'll call you," Maggie said, as she rose. "Thanks for the drink, gentlemen."

Jake's eyes followed the figures gliding around the rink as he got to his feet. "You practice any, Ledger?"

"Every day."

Jake nodded, and followed Maggie out of the mall. "I need a reality check," he said, as they slid into her Range Rover. "This is a crazy idea, isn't it?"

"Crazy as putting chocolate with peanut butter," she said, as she started the engine. "Crazy enough to work."

Read Chapter 2 of Bailey's Pairs