Chapter 8:
Jonny is really fucking pissed. He hates losing, hates losing at home, hates losing to the Red Wings. Bunch of fucking cheating pussies.
And he really fucking hates the reporters.
"Jonathan, can you tell us your opinion on Sidney Crosby coming out?"
"Jonathan, do you consider Crosby a bad image for the LGBT community?"
"Considering his recent actions, do you still consider Sidney Crosby a valued hockey player?"
"Do you think his scandal is affecting his game?"
"How does it feel having to play with a, quote from Crosby's own father, a 'queer'?"
The vein in Jonny's forehead pops out as he resists the urge to punch the reporter in the face, "How does it feel talking to one, shit face?"
Jonny pushes into the locker room. He ignores all the looks of shock as he changes and showers. He isn't in the mood to deal with this shit right now.
He's dressed in his street clothes in like ten minutes (which is like a record for him). All Jonny wants to do is leave, No more questions, no more accusations, no more hatred. He's done, done with it all.
"Jonny." Kaner's small, worried voice makes Jonny stop and face him, hands buried in his pockets.
" I know what you're going to say," Jonny begins his self rant, "What I did was stupid, reckless, careless. It was inappropriate as a captain, and I shouldn't have done it. Saying what I said was wrong, but I don't regret a damn word of it."
Kaner looks at him with those gorgeous eyes, peircing through Jonny with love and concern. Instead of speaking, Kaner cups Jonny's face and kisses him. Right there, in front of the team (and they just start clapping and hooting, Sharp even yells out 'Get it Pat!').
He doesn't think anything could dampen his mood.
That's until they all go over to Duncan Keith's house to watch the recap of that day's hockey games, just like always.
The Caps play a good game (2-1) against the Rangers. They cover the Blackhawk's loss. The Bruins blew out the Sharks. Tampa Bay actually had a decent game against the Kings, who are doing really good.
Then comes on the Penguins versus Canadiens game.
It's scoreless most of the game. Sidney (unsurprisingly) plays really well, has been all season. All his shots connect, absolutely gorgeous.
Five minutes left in the third quarter. Sidney makes one those beautiful shots to Evgeni that would make anyone swoon. Malkin taps it into the back of the net.
The whole team is so excited. Sidney is modest, throwing his arms up in the air and expecting a big group hug.
That is until Brendon Nash hits the puck and smacks Sidney directly in the face.
Jonny's air catches in his throat as he watches his best friend fall down and not get back up.
Evgeni is on the attack, pumbling Nash's face in. No one makes a move toward him. Neal skates over to Sidney, yelling at the paramedics to hurry up.
Montreal ends up winning two to one.
Jonny squeezes his eyes shut, burying his face into Kane's shoulder and willing himself not to cry.
"The faggot won't be sucking cock now, -eh-?" Nash spits into the reporter's face. Jonny looks up to watch the blood being dried off Brendon's nose before being forced into the medic's room.
Jonny presses his face into Kane's shoulder, taking in his lover's scent. It's the only thing keeping him strong, the only thing holding him together.
Sharp goes off into a rage about how bullshit all this is. That Nash should be in handcuffs and deported to a police station, not receiving medical treatment. He deserves to be punished severly. (If only they knew that a bunch of Russians were probably going to go end up murdering him slowly). And that Crosby may not be the most likable guy on the planet, but he didn't deserve that. No one does.
No one does.
...
Alex watches the recaps in utter horror. Sidney collapsing on the ground, not moving, barely breathing. He watches Zhenya beat the living shit out of Nash, something he would be doing himself if he could.
Instead, Alex grabs his phone, dialing Zhenya's number and trying to relearn how to breath.
"Sanja." Zhenya sounds exhausted.
Alex panics even more. "Is he okay?"
Zhenya sighs. "Yeah.. he's uh.. yeah. He's fine." He sounds struggled speaking his home language. "Concussion. He's done for the rest of the season and probably the beginning of the next."
"Fuck."
Zhenya's laugh is shaky and more of a painful release than anything, "I know. It's going to destroy him." He sniffles, probably rubbing his eyes. "He was so close Sanja. One more week and we'd be in the playoffs. He'd end his career high season with a long over due Cup. But now he has to spend it on the sidelines, and that's if he's allowed to get out of bed."
He can't take this. "You want me to come up there?"
"No," Zhenya resonds quickly. "I'm sure he wants to see you. But there isn't any point in trying to provoke anymore drama."
The tears start to well up in Alex's eyes, but he can't cry. He has to leave that to Zhenya, and potentially Sid. He has to be the strong one. "Okay well just.. keep me updated please."
"Of course."
Someone in the background yells Zhenya's name, probably the doctor or someone (please let it be the doctor). "Listen, I got to go. I will text you all information that I get the moment I can. I promise. Okay? I love you and I'll talk to you in the morning."
"Love you too."
Alex lets the phone drop onto his couch, covering his face into his hands. Exhaling and inhaling slowly, just like his mother taught him to do whenever he got upset and didn't want to lose control. It's effective. But nothing can heal a broken heart.
Except for the thing that broke it.
...
Geno stares at Sidney. His friend has never looked so small, so fragile. So -helpless-. It breaks his heart. Seeing him barely able to move, his mouth all but sewn shut.
All Sidney ever wanted to do was to win the Stanley Cup. To be up there with the all times greats like Wayne and Mario. So close, just a few weeks away. Then he'd be hoisting the holy grail above his head.
Instead he's laying on a hospital bed in Montreal and won't be playing for the rest of the season.
They can't do it without him. Not just because he's the captain, It's so much more than that.
Sidney is the Penguins' back bone. He supports them in everyway possible. He's always their shoulder to cry, their person to jump on. He's always there to pushes them harder, further than they'd ever go on their own.
Without him they lost a game in under four minutes. Imagine what it would be like a whole game without him.
Everyone says they want the Stanley Cup. Everyone does, it s a prestigous title to have. Just like a Super Bowl ring, a National Championship trophy, the FIFA World Cup. It's something you would like to have, but you'll live without it.
Sidney, on the other hand, needs it. He needs to feel the cool metal between his palms just like he needs air to breath. It's the only thing that will assure Sidney that it all hasn't been for nothing. That he hasn't suffered through all of this, lost his family and the respect of many, for nothing.
Geno feels like he let him down. Like he should've stepped in front of his captain and took the shot himself. Sidney wouldn't forgive him for that, but it should've been done.
It should've been him.
...
Sidney opens his eyes slowly. The room smells musty, like it hasn't been cleaned in ages. Sweat clings to his forehead, thin paper on his chest. The pillow underneath his head is unfluffed and hard. The sheets under his fingertips, rough.
He's in a hospital.
Memories flood back to him.
He remembers spending pretty much the whole day with Alex and Geno after his press conference. Then James comes in, they share Chinese until Alex has to leave and James practically passes out on Geno's bed.
Sidney remembers suiting up, playing the game against the Canadiens. He particularly remembers everyone being really pissed at him for no reason.
Then he runs over all the plays they made, ending with his pass to Geno which went into the net. Nothing comes after that. His mind draws a blank.
Weird, That's never happened.
Wait, why is he in a hospital?
Sidney turns his head poking a sleeping Geno in the face. The Russian groggily looks at him. Sidney tries to open his mouth to ask what happened, but the slight movement brings on a sharp pain to spread from his temple to the rest of his brain.
Geno stands up, spraying out fast Russian before nearly sprinting out of the room.
Sidney is confused, but he's also scared. Really scared.
The Russian comes back in a moment later, doctor in tow.
"Mr. Lemieux," Dr. Poligreno speaks with one of Jersey accents. "I am very sorry to inform you that you have a severe concussion. Before you ask, I'm expecting your returns to the ice to be at the start of the next season at the earliest."
Sidney groans, closing his eyes and hiding his face in his pillow. He really wants to be at home right now, laying in Alex's arms. Letting the sound of his voice just make the pain go away, make the bright light stop hurting so much.
"You can probably go home in a couple days," the doctor says, "but you'll have to ride on a special jet or something. Talk to make it as quiet and dark as possible."
Sidney just groans again. Words are to painful. There's no way he'll nod without making it worse. Obviously he can't just ignore the guy, that'd be rude. Believe it or not he was raised in a well mannered home. So a groan seems like a good response.
He hears some deep whispers and some shuffling. Geno sigh is frustrated.
"Mr. Malkin, you are more than able to stay with your partner past visiting hours, but he's not going to need you twenty-four seven," Dr. Poligreno asks, "I'm sure he'll be understanding if you go off and play, which you'll have to."
Sidney is about to get up and protest to the word 'partner', but the slightest movement of his head agonoizes him even more. And he's really surprised that Geno didn't make the correction. Something to talk about when the doctor leaves.
Geno sits down on the chair next to Sidney's bed. The red puffiness surrounding his eyes has dulled down a little, but you'd have to be blind not to see it. "Anything you need?"
"Why didn't you tell him we aren't partners?" Sidney asks before he can think about the consequences.
Geno gives a half hearted smile. "Listed me as next of kin, being 'just friends' not option on list. Obviously not relative. So was only choice."
Sidney has a funny thought. "We should tell Alex."
That was probably the lamest attempt at humor Sidney has ever had, but Geno finds it funny either way. Then again, Geno finds everything that's meant to be a joke. funny, so Sidney tells him that.
"I do not find everything funny," Geno objects. "I know you try, try hard. Know what you're trying to archive. So I laugh, make you smile. All matters."
Sidney is about to roll his eyes, but thankfully stops himself. He remembers the last concussion he had and he did that once. Easily the worst thing he's ever experienced (well, besides this).
Still, Geno looks troubled. Like he's having a mental battle with himself.
"G, what's wrong?"
Geno literally almost bursts into tears, very close to. But he does hold them back while he spends the next hour trying his hardest to explain how he wishes he stepped in front of Sidney and taken the puck to his head. And how this was supposed to be their year, the year they won the Cup. How they can't do it without Sidney being on the ice. Geno is so disappointed in himself, he takes all the blame.
Now it's Sidney's turn not to cry from both the pain and Geno's heartbreaking words. "Geno, don't you ever fucking say that again. There's nothing you could've or should've done."
Geno rubs his eyes, pulling out his phone. "Sanja pissed."
Sidney perks up at Alex's name. "You.. you talked to Alex? When?"
"Few hour ago." Geno yawns, trying to hide the small movement with his hand.
"We play the Kings next and then the Blackhawks before the season ends, right?" Sidney asks, "Well you should go back to the hotel and get packed wouldn't want to disappoint Brooks." (since Brooks is the favorite alternate captain that sort of makes him captain in Sidney's abscence).
Geno blushes, looking down at his phone. "They gave me 'A' too. Then everyone say they like me more."
Sidney smiles, or at least tries to. "That's good. You deserve it."
At that time a nurse comes in, hooking Sidney up to a bag thing while explaining that it's morphine. Then telling Geno that it will make Sidney sleep a lot and that he'd be totally fine to leave his partner in their capable hands.
Geno does get up, slowly and stiffly. "I win for you." He says before pressing a kiss to Sidney's forehead and disappearing.
"He's not actually my partner." Sidney tells the nurse.
She giggles, going slightly pink in the face, "I know. Not all the good ones are gay."
He wants to make the correction that they -are-. But he can't because Geno would probably be pissed and because she bounced off.
Women. No wonder he could never like them.
He lets his eyes slip close, his lids shading him from the harsh light. Sidney feels empty, like a piece of him has broken off and floated away. His chest is hollow and everything feels so.. so.. wrong.
He hasn't talked to Alex in at least twenty-four hours. Which is probably the longest time since their.. feelings or whatever came out.
It sucks, it really fucking sucks.
Sidney hasn't realized before how much of an impact that Alex has had on his life. How the silly texts, the meaningless phone calls, or the hours they'd spend on Skype talking about nothing important. It's amazing how you truly never know how good something is until it's gone.
And it's not technically.. gone. It's just unavailable at the moment. He'll have it back sooner or later.
He hopes it's a lot sooner rather than later.
It's really quite a shocking feeling to think that your views on people can change so quickly. A year ago, Alex was someone Sidney tolerated, for Geno. Merely an aquantince, nothing more. And Sidney was more or less convinced Ovie just liked making fun of him because it was so easy, or he tolerated Sidney for Geno as well. It's like the Russian was common ground.
Yet now, Alex is the only thing that matters to him. The only thing he can think of and the only thing he's going to think of.
He really hopes that maybe the concussion or something is really messing with his mind right now. Because thinking like this could be dangerous to everyone. Even it's about someone you lo-
Okay, he's not going there.
He tries thinking of happy thoughts that don't involve Alex. But there aren't any. So he lays there, imagining the breathing of the Russian hot against his neck and the warmth of his sleeping body encasing Sidney's. It's a soothing hallucination. Probably a little disturbing, but it puts him to sleep.
And it's not weird that he has a dream where he gets married in Moscow.
Notes:
I'm sorry if this is weird, choppy or awkward. My mind has been.. wandering onto other much more important chapters. And I also wanted to do a little explaining.
For anyone who didn't get the picture. Nash hit the puck at Sidney's helmey, which led to his concussion. I couldn't think of a .. better thing than that. It was originally going to be the puck that broke his jaw. But then I decided a concussion would probably be better for the storyline. So, there was some adjusting.
Before writing this chapter, I realized I wasn't doing a lot of Jonny/Kaner in here. And I decided just to give him the spotlight. Then I decided to do the same with Alex and Geno just to lengthen this thing out and to spread out the horizon on people's hidden opinions and stuff. It's not going to happen often, but if I decided it's necesarry then I'll do it.
So about the whole Geno mate thing. I'm currently at a three way tie. Which isn't really helping. So I'm going to narrow it down to James, Tanger and Niklas.
I was originally going to do James. Because I love James and because he's fucking amazing.
Then I heard about that whole thing with Tanger and his stroke and I noticed that there were like five works on here for that couple, so I was at a struggle.
Then I was like 'Hey, it'd be awesome if he got a Russian to torture Sidney with even further'. But then I thought nah because I need some cultural differences in here. But I did feel bad.
So please please please PLEASE comment after you read this because then I'll have to spend like years trying to pick between them and then hate myself afterwards.
Omg, I am so sorry for how long this is. But I promise it was all completey necesarry for my survival. And I'm sorry for any mistakes and stuff I made because I didn't do a thorough check because I'm lazy.
So thank you and I shall let you leave.. after you comment.
-Candace