Short NHL One-Shots

#77 TJ Oshie [2]

"If You Could See Me Now"- The Script

******

I walk through the doorway to (y/n) and I's house, expecting to see her up to greet me. All I hear are small noises from the bedroom, and I peek in to see her sobbing on the bed. "Baby, what's wrong?" I ask softly, the bed dipping as I sit beside her. She just shakes her head, leaning into me while tears course down her face. 

"You-you know how--how my family w-was take-taking a p-plane out h-here?" She stammers, and I nod, getting nervous. "It was the-the same plane in-in the c-crash." My heart skips about five beats, and she sobs, "They're gone, all o-of them!" On the news last night there was a plane crash somewhere in Virginia, pretty close to Washington DC. I didn't think anything of it until now.

"Shh, babe, it'll be okay, I'm right here..." Deep inside I know it won't be completely okay, but I can try my best to comfort her. I'm all she has left now. 

"It w-won't be o-okay!" I feel tears well in my own eyes, and I pull (y/n) into my arms as we cry together. There's nothing worse than losing a family member--except losing all of them. 

"They'll be with you still," I whisper, "They're watching over you right now, telling you that you're strong enough to make it through. I know it and they know it." 

Her entire family lived in (your/hometown)--all two brothers, parents, a pair of grandparents, six aunts and uncles, and a bunch of cousins. All were in Flight 387 that crashed into another plane at 9:39 last night. I heard that every single person on the plane was killed, and that the crash was caused because of a miscommunication from the towers on the ground and the pilots. 

***

"(y/n), do you want anything for dinner?" I ask softly, my face halfway through the bedroom door, but she shakes her head. She's refused to eat all week, still in horrible shock over the death of her family. There's no one to pay for the funerals but her, so I've offered to do it. She still hasn't told me whether she wants me to or not. I'm completely willing.

"I'm not hungry."

"You've said that all week," I say, "You have to eat something."

"I don't want anything!" She cries, her face contorted into an expression of pain, anger, and sorrow. "All I want is the chance to say goodbye, that's all I want for Christmas." Did I mention Christmas Eve is in two days?

"Baby--"

"Go away." I sigh and come over to press a kiss to her forehead, but she sits unresponsive as tears threaten to fall. "Away." 

"I can't leave you here to hurt," I murmur, pulling her into a hug as she bursts into loud sobs. In her hand is a photo of her, her brothers, and their parents. They all look so happy, so perfectly stuck in the past. I remove it from her hands and set it on the bedside table without breaking the tight embrace. 

"I l-love you," (y/n) breathes between coughs and tears. "S-so much."

"I love you too, baby, I love you to the moon--to the ends of the universe and back."

***

"How's (y/n) feeling?" Andre asks as I step in the locker room. I look at the floor. 

"She's still not eating, and she won't leave the house," I answer quietly. "She'll barely even leave our bedroom..."

"Have you arranged the memorial yet?" I nod, running a hand through my long hair as I struggle to keep my cool. 

"Yeah, it's this Saturday in her hometown. I won't be going to Edmonton and Calgary with you, in case you're wondering." He bobs his head in understanding, patting me on the back and heading to his stall. 

"How're you holding up?" Tom asks, but I simply shake my head. 

"I don't know what to do," I get out. He pulls out a Sharpie, along with his jersey, and writes something between two of the stars on the front of his uniform. "What's that for?"

"Her initials," he says simply. "I'll tell all the guys to do it if you want." I bite my lip and take the marker, copying him. He takes that as a cue to follow through. "Everybody listen up!" He shouts, and the locker room goes silent as he continues, "In honor of TJ's girlfriend's family, I put her initials right here on my jersey."

"We'll all do it," Alex says in his Russian accent, and the rest of the guys nod. Tom didn't even have to finish his thought before everyone understood and agreed. That's amazing. 

The Sharpie is passed around the room, with each guy writing her initials in their own handwriting between two of the stars. No doubt people will notice, and someone will be asked... Hopefully not me. I might cry when I explain. 

***

A reporter tugs me aside, and I internally curse the hockey gods. I mean, I did score and get a couple assists in the win, but couldn't they have picked on Alex? Ovi is way more entertaining than me in my current state. "TJ, before we get started, there's been some buzz about your uniforms," the woman begins. Here we go... "What do the two letters mean on every player's jersey?"

"Well," I begin, a lump in my throat as I think about it. "My girlfriend's entire family was just in a plane crash, and their memorial is on Saturday, and--" I pause to calm myself. "And I wanted to honor her by writing her initials on my jersey. It was actually Tom's idea, and-and I thought i-it was a go-good one." I can't control the tears that begin to flow. "Excuse me." 

I hear the reporter say one last thing to the camera, and I'm off air as I cry openly. It's not even my family, I know, but it still hurts like hell. I met most of them--her brothers and parents I was most familiar with. They'd visit a few times a year, with her aunts, uncles, and cousins visiting less often. I still knew them though. I remember her grandmother being extra fond of me and my hockey skills, repeating over and over that (y/n) was the luckiest woman alive. 

They're gone, every one of them. I still can't believe it. The love of my life lost her entire family in one moment--I don't know how she hasn't collapsed under the pain and hurt. She went back to work today, but I can tell she wasn't ready. If I were her--well, I'd lock myself up for months. Years, even. 

All I know is that I'm all she's got, and I'll do anything to help her along her journey.