Author’s notes:

* * *

Jussi stared at Eric Brewer, stunned, and his mouth opened and closed multiple times before any coherent words came out. "W-what are you talking about?" Jussi asked, hoping to play this off on Eric’s ‘overworking’ imagination.

Eric glanced briefly over to Tommy, who was now arguing lightly with Janne about a shot that chipped off his mask. "Listen, I saw how you were looking at Tommy," Eric began quietly, making sure none of the other guys heard, "and you don’t look at someone like that if you don’t like them. A lot. Jussi, do you have feelings for Tommy?"

Slowly exhaling, Jussi looked off to the side, but looked up to the young defenseman and nodded. "Yeah, I do." There. It was out. He waited for the reaction he just knew was coming, but it didn’t happen. Eric didn’t have a grossed out look on his face as the young goaltender had expected, but a calm one.

"I thought so," Eric murmured, as he shot a puck that had left Rem’s stick the length of the ice. "You didn’t make it obvious, but I thought something was up."

The Finnish goaltender shifted uneasily as he caught a glance of Tommy sprawling out to make the stop from Todd’s rocket from the blue line, also having to deal with Ryan’s backside in his face, then turned back to Eric. "What do you think?" Jussi asked, more like mumbled, his words coming out soft, and running together.

Eric exhaled a little sharply, and glanced over to Tommy’s end of the rink. "I think you should tell him," he said simply. "There’s no point harbouring these feelings. You have to do something about it."

"Is that how you finally got a girlfriend?" Jussi asked innocently, getting a smack around the head by Eric jokingly as a result. "Ow!"

"Actually, yeah, that’s how I got Sasha," Eric mused. "I made it happen. Actually, I tripped and fell into her lap at a party in Salt Lake, but that is not the point. The point I’m trying to get at here is that you can’t keep these feelings in. If it’s strong enough, you’ve got to tell Tommy how you feel."

Jussi sighed heavily. "But how is he going to react? I’m almost afraid to tell him, Eric. I don’t know what’s going to happen."

The Canadian Gold medallist sighed, sucking on his teeth. "Jus, you didn’t fall in love with him on the condition he’d love you back. You just got to tell him. Promise me you’ll tell him. If not now, at least in the near future, all right?" Eric opted.

Slowly, Jussi nodded his agreement. "Yeah, I’ll do it. Thanks Eric. Not only for the advice, but for not freaking out. It means a lot."

Eric grinned, and patted Jussi on the head. "Not a problem, man. Now get back into that net and work for your money!" He put the dot on the exclamation point by wiring a shot from inside the blue line after he had skated away from Jussi. The young Finnish goaltender barely got his pads on it, a resounding ‘TWACK!’ was heard as the puck bounced wildly off Jussi’s pads.

It was 1-0 for the hometeam. I was still irate at the fact Jochen got the call for hooking when his stick barely touched the Nashville forward. The anger didn’t come from my feelings for him alone, but also as a team member. There was nothing I could do about it, however. I just had to focus on the game.

Kimmo Timonen was flying down the ice, with two of our guys behind him. I got ready, trying to read which way he was going to shoot it. He went left, so I did as well, then he redirected his shot, and went to the top right shelf. It seemed like he didn’t stop himself as he scored, since he bulldozed right into me, knocking me on my back and into the net. I wouldn’t like to think so, but I think it was intentional. There was a dizzying pain in my head, and my right hand was giving me some stinging pain. Timonen got off, and skated to his bench, but I lay there, stunned for a moment.

The trainer then came out, as the crowd watched in silence. He asked me where the pain was and how bad it was. "It’s not bad enough not to let me continue," I told him, shaking my wrist a little.

"Are you sure? Jussi can jump in here. You shouldn’t take any risks," he countered, as he checked out my hand, then my head. "It looks all right..."

"Then let me play," I said firmly.

*Jussi*

I almost jumped out of my seat and skated to Tommy. Was he all right? My stomach was in my throat, my heart in my stomach. Was the collision intentional? Would I have to play now? The guys on the bench were talking feverishly about the collision, and how intentional it was, and if Tommy would have to come out of the game.

I watched intently, not only because I might have to get ready to go in there, but because I was so in love with him. We all watched as the Trainer went out and talked to Tommy. It looked like he was going to stay out there. But I wasn’t so sure that was a good decision. Then again, Tommy knows what’s best for himself, and if he wanted to play after being bowled over, then so be it. I, nor anyone else can change his mind.

"It looks like he’s going to keep going," Ryan spoke up, after the deadly silence had lifted somewhat.

"Always a trooper," Anson agreed, grabbing his stick. He would have to go on the ice soon, with Ryan and Mike (Comrie).

*Jochen*

As soon as the collision happened, Georges and myself jumped up in the penalty box. I almost yelled "Tommy!" for everyone to hear. Instead, my mouth just opened in shock as he laid dazed on the ice. What was going on with me? I know that somehow, what I feel towards Tommy is more than friendship. But when did I start feeling this way?

"He’s going to keep playing," Georges said, breaking me out of my thoughts. "He just told Low that he’s going to keep playing."

"What!?" I exclaimed. He’s going to keep playing? Are there bricks in his head? I was shocked. We didn’t know if he was injured or not from that collision, and his wrist looked to be under Timonen’s knee when he rammed into the net. Then I remembered what I had told him in the dressing room yesterday. ‘You’re always a trooper, Tommy. I bet even food poisoning couldn’t keep you from standing in between the pipes.’ And it was true. "I just hope you don’t black out, you stubborn jackass," I muttered.

Georges gave me a funny look, but said nothing and concentrated on the clock left in our penalties.

*Tommy*

The play had just started. It was 2-1. Yachmenev ripped a slap shot and I moved to get my glove on it, but as I turned back, I saw the red light go on. They scored? How the hell did that beat me? Suddenly, it came back in a tidal wave flashback. The Belarus goal bouncing off my mask into the net. It was so similar, and I couldn’t believe it had happened again. Half-angrily, I shot the puck out of the net, making the referee chase after it. After that, I dropped to my knees. It was Belarus all over again. The goal was a reasonable facsimile, and I could have sworn I saw Vladimir Kopat beyond that blue line.

Now I was sure I was delirious. Shaking my head and getting back up, I stood in my crease. I had to get over this. I had to get over Kopat’s fluke goal in Salt Lake. My breathing was shaky, and I tried hard to regulate it. As I looked over to the face-off circle, I saw Jochen skating over to me. "Jochen?" I whispered.

He skated right up to me, and said, "don’t worry about it, Tommy. Don’t let the Belarus ghost scare you out of your game tonight, all right? We’re going to try and keep them off your back, all right?" I nodded numbly, thunderstruck, as Jochen skated back to take the face-off on the next play. Slowly, a grateful smile crossed my lips as I got into the ready position to handle any shots that would come my way after this.

Thank you, Jochen Hecht.

It was still tied at two. I had made the biggest save of the night, sprawling out in front of the net, keeping my legs plated at the posts, to keep out a sure-fire goal to defeat us tonight. But I kept it out, remembering Jochen’s words. I looked at the clock. 1:35 was now left in the period, as the boys started to get it to the Nashville zone.

Suddenly, Nashville stormed back, and Martin Erat found the loose puck--had I seen it through the mass of bodies, I would’ve yelled something to Mike Comrie--at the left face-off circle and suddenly wristed it top shelf. I had no chance against it, and it went in, giving Nashville a secure 3-2 win tonight. "Shit," I cursed, the first real time I had cursed under my breath since the Belarus goal.

Try as the guys might, there was nothing to tie up to the scoreboard and we had lost. Again. As the fans cleared out, so did we, and I was the last one off the ice. We had a day off tomorrow before we played St. Louis--who might not have Doug Weight as I soon heard-- on Saturday. As soon as I sat down, I ripped off my mask, letting it clank to the ground. Even though we lost as a team, why did I feel the majority of the blame would be on my shoulders? "Because I let in another Belarus goal," I hissed to myself.

Apparently, the guys heard me, and instantly defended me. "Tommy, don’t think like that," Jason, being the Captain, was the first to speak up. "It was our neutral zone play that allowed that shot to even happen."

"Even if it did, I should have stopped it," I countered, my voice losing it’s soft edge and was now angry and fustrated. I wasn’t normally like this, and the guys knew it. "I thought I was over Belarus," I said softly.

Jochen, who was sitting beside me, cuffed me (with his glove on) and not even gently, and I looked at him for an explanation, while holding the right side of my chin. "Tommy," he began, almost gently, but firmly, "you can’t get over something like that in one game. While you are a spectacular goalie, you’re not Superman. Mentally or physically. You can do all the ‘would’ve’s, and ‘could’ve’s, and ‘should’ve’s, but it’s not going to change that we lost. And certainly it’s not on your shoulders."

"But--" I began, but was silenced by a finger on my lips from his un-gloved right hand. How long I had waited for his hand on my face, and it was to silence me. Something that was both ironic and disappointing.

"Shut up and let me finish," Jochen said, almost fondly, and the guys watched this with interest. "Now there’s something I thought I’d never have to say to you. But nothing though, Tommy. It wasn’t just your fault that we lost, it was everyone here. We lose as a team, not as individuals, you hear me? We can’t get back to our winning ways if our star goaltender, if any of us, is feeling worthless. Got it?"

I nodded, on the verge of tears. He was always so nice to me, sitting with me on the plane rides to games, and now Jochen was giving me the speech of my life. "Yeah, I got it," I managed, my voice half-choked with tears. "Thanks for the speech, Jochen. I got the point drilled into my head. Thank you."

Jochen smiled, and patted me on the shoulder. "Not a problem, man. It’s all true." Suddenly, he hugged me, and the guys erupted into cheers. I hugged him back, taking in the scent of him, something I had wanted so badly to do, and the tears finally released. "Hey, don’t cry! I didn’t want you to cry!" he exclaimed jokingly.

"This is so happy!" Ryan exclaimed happily, wiping a tear from his eye and hugging Jussi. "Isn’t this great, Jus?"

Jussi nodded, and although he smiled, I could see something was clouding his eyes. What was going on? "Yeah, it’s great!" Jussi agreed, hugging Ryan back jokingly. "I never knew you were this clingy, Smytty."

"Hey Jochen?" I asked quietly, and he barely heard me, and turned from a conversation with Mike (Grier).

"Yeah, Tommy?" Jochen responded, his helmet now off, his messy blond-dyed hair now out for all to see. It was...I don’t know, adorable.

"Thanks again for talking me out of...whatever it was I was in...a funk," I said, breathing in deeply. "It means a lot."

Jochen smiled again. "You’re welcome Tommy. Anything for one of my closest friends." Right then and there, I wanted to melt. Maybe I could tell him how I felt. But would it ruin the best friendship I’ve ever had here in the NHL? Who could I talk to about this? It was another great debate, and I was glad to have tomorrow off. 24 hours to debate my feelings and telling them to Jochen Hecht.

In all honesty, I’d rather play Detroit than do it...