by me
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Mine, all mine.
Summary: In which Park gets semi-injured and Chris gets really injured.
Notes: Apparently the Exposure muses are functional, too. Now if only I could wake up Maddux and Glavine...I
I swore under my breath as an elbow dug into my neck as I battled for the puck in the corner. "Up, up!" Dame's voice rang clear, and I summoned enough strength to push the other guy back just enough to kick the puck in Dame's direction. Just as I did, another defenseman joined in, slamming me hard against the boards. Losing all my wind, I gasped for breath, my neck crying in pain. I squinted my eyes shut as I heard the ref's whistle.
Our trainer knelt at my side. "You ok, Park?"
"Yeah," I managed, through clenched teeth.
"Can you stand?"
I sat up gingerly, still short of breath, and winced as I moved my head. "I'm ok."
"You sure?"
"Just a bruise." I got to my feet, skating gingerly towards the bench. The guy that hit me said something in French that I ignored. He got two minutes for boarding, anyway.
Our power play was hurting without Billy, but it still wasn't bad, and we managed a quick goal to go up 1-0. It wasn't enough, though, and we ended up losing to the Montreal-based team 3-2. I sat down in my locker after the third period ended, rubbing my aching neck, completely exhausted. A hockey game hadn't tired me out like that in a while, but I guess I'd taken a lot of abuse, especially behind the net. "Good effort, boys," Coach Brown said. "Obviously not quite enough, but you played hard. Let's get healthy fast, we've got a Calgary team in 3 days."
We tied them, but lost to a team from Toronto a week later. We were getting abused pretty badly by these teams, but it wasn't like we were playing the easy ones, either. Coach made sure we played the best they had to offer. And my line was especially hurting without Billy. Damon and I just didn't play the same without him. But Kevyn was playing really well, and our defense was, too. We just couldn't score. We were in Ottawa a week and half after our first game in Montreal, and it was pretty late. We'd actually been sightseeing, as this was the capital of Canada. And we were all pretty tired. The rooms varied in size, but ours was one double bed and a single, and Dame and Stormy were in there with me. Chris' fingers brushed over my neck. "You ok, Park?"
It was still bruised, and still painful. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just need to get some rest for tomorrow."
There was a little more pressure on my neck as he massaged gently, easing the tightness of the muscles. He bent, and kissed the yellowing bruise, and I reached back and caught his hand, pulling so he was lying next to me. "Tired?"
"Yeah," I sighed.
"Go to sleep, then." His breath was warm on the back of my neck, and I relaxed against him, letting my eyes droop shut.
The game against Ottawa actually started well. We were skating fast, and I felt better on the ice than I had in a while. Late in the third, I took a pass from Link, who'd moved to our line in Billy's absence, and outmaneuvered two defensemen and beat the goalie over his shoulder. It was nice, I'd been in a bit of slump lately, and seeing the puck hit the back of the net lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. Well, and we were up 1-0, too.
But of course, good feelings like that don't last very long. The won the center ice faceoff and brought it in to our defensive zone. Stormy was doing a good job keeping his man to the outside, though he was spun around and lost a glove in the process. Still, he trapped the puck up against the boards, bracing himself with his bare hand, waiting for help to get there. Before anyone on our team did, their biggest winger came in, hitting Chris hard. I could see his arm collapse between the wall and his body, and as soon as the guy backed off a little, he crumpled to the ice.
But the play wasn't whistled yet, and the puck squirted free towards the corner. The Ottawa first line center, whose abilities I definitely respected based on this game, came in trying to help. About this time, I realized that Chris' bare hand and arm were on the ice, and there were a lot of skates around. His defensive partner, Michael Fischer, must've thought of this too, because he grabbed the guy who'd hit him from behind, hauling him away from our downed player. I started moving before I had finished my thought, just wanting to get the center's skate blades away from my player.
But I was too late. Chris, who hadn't moved since being hit, cried out and clutched his already-injured arm to his chest. I slammed the unsuspecting center against the boards and held him there as the whistle blew. I realized that it had only been a few seconds since the original hit, but it seemed like a lifetime. As the guy I'd hit quit struggling I let go and threw off my gloves, kneeling beside Chris. I pulled off his helmet. He was pale with shock, his eyes wide. He was trembling. Before I could say anything, Coach Brown and our trainer, Marcus Kramer, were there, and the refs were making the players back off. I ended up standing next to the guy who'd caused the damage, and our eyes met.
"Please...tell him I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I didn't realize-"
He sounded pretty scared, actually. "Whatever." My voice was actually less harsh than I expected. But then again, I told myself, he really didn't mean to. It was his linemate that hit Chris in the first place that really caused the damage.
Coach motioned me to help get Chris off the ice. His arm was wrapped in a towel that was quickly turning red. There was urgency in Coach's voice as he ordered Vinny back to help Marcus get him to a hospital.
As we delayed the game to clean blood off the ice, I looked up at the scoreboard. These next 3 minutes and 34 seconds were going to be the longest of my life.
I couldn't think about him. If I did my mind would start giving me too many scenarios. He'd bleed out before they could get him to a hospital. That the skate had severed a finger or two. That his hockey career could be over. So I concentrated just on the finale of the game. I played furiously. I was on the ice for all but about 15 seconds of the end, and there was no one who was going to stop me, no defense, no goalies. I scored twice more for the natural hat trick and a 3-0 victory. But there wasn't time to celebrate as we all went back to the locker room, quiet, subdued. We were all too worried.