Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sam greatly admired the way Nikita moved. His grace was unparalleled, a perfect blend of strength and elegance that had thankfully helped to hide her lumpiness for the past five weeks of the show. It was mostly thanks to him that that had even made it this far in this year's strictly, because Sam certainly knew that her dancing wasn't quite up to scratch just yet. They had spent countless hours together, him pushing her to reach new heights in each new routine. As they concluded their latest performance, the applause from the live audience washed over them like a warm embrace.

The judges took their places, ready to give their critiques. Nikita was all smiles, his sharp and pearly teeth on full display. Sam noted how normal he looked, yet couldn't help but see his shaking hands too, one of them tucking behind her back, so cold. He was too cold to have just finished such a high action dance. She knew the pressure of live television was intense, but she had never seen him look quite so... frail. They waited anxiously, their hearts beating in sync with the dramatic music playing in the background.

Shirley spoke first, her voice filled with warmth and encouragement. "Sam, my dear, you've come so far. That was a delightful paso doble. You've really found your inner strength." Sam's cheeks flushed with pride. She was so glad that her hardwork was finally starting to pay off.

Anton followed, his voice as keen and bubbly, "Nikita, your choreography, as always, impeccable. But tonight, something was... off." Sam's stomach lurched. Was he referring to Nikita's health? Or had she missed something in their dance? "You weren't in synch, but I'll choose to ignore that, because I did truly love the artistry of it all."

Motsi took the microphone, her eyes searching Nikita's face, a flicker of concern hidden in her smile. "Sam, your passion shone through. And Nikita, your creativity is unrivaled. However, I do agree with Anton, that you need to work on your connection." Sam felt a pang of doubt. Did Motsi notice something too?

Craig, the sternest of the judges, was the last to give feedback. His expression was unreadable, his eyes scanning them both as if searching for flaws. "Sam, darling, you had moments of brilliance, but you need to watch your posture, your footwork was a bit sloppy, not quite up to your usual standards." The words hit Sam like a brick. She looked at Nikita, who forced a nod of agreement, but she could see the pain in his eyes, the effort it took for him to maintain his facade. The audience booed around them, creating a wall of negative noise almost synonymous with the right-most judge, "That is to say, darling, I rather quite enjoyed the theatricality of it all." The audience soon changed their tune, whooping in delight as Craig smiled at the duo.

Tess, ever the optimist, smiled brightly and announced, "Now, you two should be absolutely thrilled with those comments! You're both doing so well!" The music swelled, and the stage lights grew brighter, as if to echo her enthusiasm. Sam felt the pressure ease slightly, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong with Nikita.

They rushed off stage and up the stairs, the applause trailing behind them like a comforting shadow. As they climbed to the Clauditorium, Nikita's steps grew slower and heavier, clunkier even, his breaths shallower. Sam had to keep glancing back to make sure he was okay, his hand tightening around hers with each step. She could feel his palm growing clammier, his grip faltering.

The crowd of contestants and dancers at the top of the stairs parted like the Red Sea for them, eager to offer congratulations and reassurances. Yet, the moment of victory felt bittersweet as Nikita's knees buckled. Sam's heart skipped a beat as she watched him stumble, trying to keep her smile in place for the cameras.

Her grip tightened on his hand, but it was too late. With a gasp, Nikita's body went slack, his eyes rolling back. Sam felt the weight of his collapse, his world-class dancer's frame suddenly heavier than she could ever imagine. He was falling, and she had no choice but to let go, watching in horror as he crumpled into the open arms of Kai, the strong dancer catching him with a surprised grunt.

The Clauditorium was suddenly a maelstrom of confusion and whispers. The live audience's cheerful chatter turned into a cacophony of concerned murmurs and whispers, as people tried to figure out what was going on. The camera's red light, which had been following their every move, darted away, back down to Tess and the judges' table. Sam could see their panic as they tried to fill the awkward silence with forced laughter and small talk, their faces painted with the thinnest veneer of calm.

"It seems we have a slight... intermission," Tess said, her eyes darting to the side where a medic was sprinting towards them, their medical bag bouncing off their hip. The judges exchanged glances, their smiles frozen in place like plastic mannequins at a wax museum. The audience leaned in, their faces a canvas of worry and anticipation, "So let's discuss the dances so far, whilst we wait for Jay and Michelle to prepare for their dance." Her tone was so professional almost rehearsed, despite the situation being born of nothing but frightful necessity. The judges joined in, feeding their opinions of the first four dancers, whilst the cameras stayed firmly broadcasting them live to millions of homes across the UK.

Sam's mind was racing, her heart hammering against her chest like a caged bird desperate to escape. She watched as Kai's strong arms held Nikita upright, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration as if he could will the strength back into his friend's body. Nikita's chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, his eyes fluttering open and closed, a silent battle raging behind the curtains of his eyelids.

Then, the medic burst through the sea of onlookers, their emergency kit at the ready, face etched with the kind of urgency that sent a chill down Sam's spine. The crowd parted even further, allowing the medical professional to reach them with swift, efficient strides. They were all business, their eyes quickly assessing Nikita's condition. Sam stepped aside, feeling utterly helpless, as the medic began to check Nikita's vital signs, their calmness a stark contrast to the panic that had taken hold of everyone else.

The medic pricked Nikita's finger, a quick, practiced movement that was over almost before it had begun. They checked the glucometer, even though it was obvious to everyone what was wrong, as they had to do it for protocol. The beep of the machine was loud in the tense silence, the number flashing red and low. The medic nodded to themselves, confirming what they already knew: Nikita's blood sugar was dangerously low. They produced a small bottle of glucose tablets, their hands moving with the precision of a bomb diffuser, and instructed Nikita to open his mouth.

With a gentle nod, Nikita parted his lips, and the medic placed the tablets on his tongue. His eyes remained closed, his breathing still shallow, as he waited for the sugar to work its magic. The room held its collective breath, the only sound being the muffled thud of music as Jay and Michelle began their dance routine downstairs, the live audience blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding above them.

The tablets dissolved slowly, and with a grimace, Nikita swallowed. His eyes fluttered open, and he tried to focus on the medic's face, his vision no doubt swimming with stars. The medic spoke softly, their voice a lifeline in the chaos. "Just hold on, you're going to be okay." Kai's grip on Nikita's shoulders tightened, a silent promise to stay with him.

Sam watched, her heart in her throat, as the medic worked quickly and efficiently. They managed to guide Nikita to a nearby chair, moving him out of the camera's line of sight, as the live broadcast continued below. The other dancers and contestants hovered nearby, their expressions a mix of shock and concern, but no one dared to interrupt the medical professional. They knew the show had to go on, but their friend's health was more important than any dance routine.

Vito, who was scheduled to dance next with his partner Dianne, couldn't be there to sit beside his friend, so Dianne took his place instead. Her eyes were wide with worry, and she placed a comforting hand on Nikita's knee. Kai remained on his right, his strong arms ready to catch him if he should sway again. The medic knelt in front of him, their focus solely on bringing his blood sugar levels back to a safe range.

Sam felt a strange mix of emotions. Relief that Nikita was getting help, fear for his health, and a peculiar sadness that they hadn't even had the chance to hear their scores. This moment of victory, which should have been a celebration of their hard work, was now shadowed by an unexpected crisis. She forced herself to listen to the music and the distant sound of Jay and Michelle's dance, trying to distract herself from the chaos around her. She knew the show had to continue, but the rhythm of the samba seemed so far away, so irrelevant compared to the quiet struggle Nikita was facing.

As the music faded and the applause grew louder, signifying the end of Jay and Michelle's performance, Sam stole glances at the medic, who was now placing a glucose gel into Nikita's mouth. His eyes were open now, but they were glazed, unfocused, as he fought to stay conscious. Kai and Dianne whispered to him, their voices a soothing background to the beeping and murmur of medical instructions.

The medic nodded to the glucometer again, the red number slowly inching towards normal. Sam's heart began to ease from its frantic pace. The medic turned to her, their eyes kind but serious. "He'll be okay, but he needs to rest and eat something substantial as soon as possible." The words brought a small sigh of relief, but the weight of the evening's events remained heavy.

As the live show carried on, the other dancers performed, their vibrant movements and music a stark contrast to the quiet drama in the Clauditorium. Each time the camera swept over to the contestants' area, Sam would plaster on a smile and clap politely, trying to keep the facade of normality. But her mind was elsewhere, with Nikita, who was slowly coming back to himself. Kai and Dianne had never left his side, whispering words of comfort and encouragement, their concern for their friend palpable.

Twenty minutes passed, and the medic finally stood up, nodding to the group. "He's stable for now," they assured, before packing up their kit and slipping away, disappearing into the wings. Sam knew they were just out of sight, ready to jump back into action if needed. She felt a wave of gratitude towards them, their quick thinking and calmness had likely saved Nikita from something much worse.

Nikita's eyes remained closed, his breathing shallower than normal, but the color was slowly returning to his cheeks. Kai and Dianne had never left his side, their whispers and gentle touches the only things keeping him grounded in the noisy backstage area. As the live show continued, the air grew thick with tension, the sound of Nikita's breathing seeming to echo louder than the music and applause from below.

The camera lights dimmed slightly, signaling the end of Vito and Sarah's dance. The crowd erupted in applause, and as the judges began their critique, Sam watched as Vito's gaze darted to the Clauditorium, his eyes searching for his best friend. He kept up his bubbly personality whilst chatting with Claudia, bobbing up and down with anticipation, that he hoped fans would interpret as being for their scores. As soon as those scores were revealed and the camera swiveled away, he broke into a sprint, his dance shoes clicking against the floor like a caffeinated tap dancer's.

"Nikita!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with concern. He saw the glucose gel and the glucometer on the floor, and understood immediately. Dianne, bless her, had been keeping a watchful eye on him, but she was no match for Sam and Kai's combined worry. "Move aside," he said with a playful jab to Dianne's shoulder. She giggled, stepping back, allowing Vito to take her spot next to Nikita, his hand reaching out to cover Nikita's.

"I'm okay," Nikita murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Vito didn't believe him, not fully. But he knew Nikita well enough to know that he'd rather be out there dancing than lying here, his body failing him.

"Don't you dare do that again," Vito scolded, heis voice firm but filled with care as he crouched beside him, his gentle hand reaching for Nikita's forehead, checking his temperature.

Nikita's eyes fluttered open, his hands moving to brush through his well-kempt hair, "I didn't even plan it once," he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. The room's tension seemed to ease slightly, the weight of his words landing like a soft pillow on everyone's shoulders.

Sam's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of improvement, any spark of the vibrant personality that had been buried beneath the shock of his collapse. "How're you feeling?" she asked, her voice trembling with the effort to keep her emotions in check.

Nikita's eyes focusssed on hers for a moment, although they were still jittery and slightly glazed. "Our scores," he whispered, his voice still frail. "They didn't announce them, did they?"

And Sam almost wanted to punch him, because of course all he cared about was the scores - he could've died, and yet he was still more interested in the competition.

Vito playfully swatted him, and Nikita found himself smiling for the first time since before the dance.