Post-traumatic stress
Title: Post-traumatic stress
Characters: David Krejci, Milan Lucic, Zdeno Chara, Marc Savard, Phil Kessel
Rating: PG-13
Time: 2008-09 season, a few days after the events of "Revenge is sour"
Summary: Krejci is in extreme distress after not one but two recent assaults.
Author's note: I originally wrote this for my own benefit, as David Krejci was storming around in my head and I couldn't go on and write other things without letting him express himself. However, after some consideration, I decided to post this as it has relevance to his character and most probably events to come.
Disclaimer: A fictional story, written for entertainment purposes only.
Zdeno Chara heard the sounds of chaos even before he entered the locker room at the practice arena. Loud Czech cursing. Phil Kessel's voice, shrill with anger: "Jesus, Krejci, what the FUCK?" A crashing sound. Marc Savard's voice, pitched low, the words indistinct, trying to act as peacemaker. Chara sighed and opened the door.
David Krejci, his chest heaving, nostrils flaring, looked like a bull ready to charge. Kessel, petulant, turned wounded eyes toward the door. Savvy, exasperated, was bending over to pick up what looked like David's helmet, still spinning on the floor.
"David, go skate," Chara said. Marc handed over the helmet and Krejci stormed out. Kessel opened his mouth, then shut it with a snap at Savard's warning growl and turned back to his locker. The rest of the Bruins on hand, most of whom had been standing open-mouthed, watching the goings-on with expressions ranging from dismay to worry, tried to go back to what they'd been doing. All but Milan Lucic, who looked at Chara imploringly. The Bruins captain dropped his equipment bag next to his locker, sat down, and motioned Lucic over.
Milan sat next to Chara. "Zee, he's getting worse," he said, his voice low, strained with worry. "He's just... he's just not himself anymore. He's pissed off all the time. Not just at me -- it's like he's mad at the whole world. I don't know what to do."
Chara sighed. He'd hoped David would be able to recover from his encounter with Joffrey Lupul (he'd found that was how his mind kept referring to it, veering away from the words attempted rape with something like horror) with Milan's help, but could see that was a foolishly optimistic notion. Not for the first time, he missed Sobotka. Vladimir's natural cheerfulness would help tremendously, he was sure; he was like comfort food for Krejci, a balm against David's occasional tendency to sink into moodiness. Of course, he had a damn good reason to be feeling moody right about now.
He looked at Lucic, whose brow was knotted in concern. "I'll talk to him after practice, Milan."
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David remained wordless during the workout, not engaging in any of the usual banter. Afterward, Chara put his hand on the young center's arm as he started to leave the ice. "David, I want to practice one-timers. Could you stay and feed me some passes?"
Krejci nodded. "I'll get some pucks," he said; picking up a full bucket, he skated to the faceoff circle as the other players departed. "Here OK?"
"Fine," Chara said, setting up at the blue line. "Whenever you're ready."
The passes came at a steady pace and he wound up and fired at the net, pondering what he should say. "Give me some backhanders, would you?" he asked as he and Krejci refilled the bucket; David nodded and set up again, methodically putting the puck on Chara's stick until they were all gone.
"Thanks, David," Chara said, stretching his shoulders. "You've been doing a good job on the power play. Your passes are almost as good as Savvy's."
Krejci shrugged at the compliment and started gathering up pucks. Chara sighed quietly; nothing to do but just plunge ahead, he decided.
"You want to talk, David?" he asked.
Krejci looked up, his eyes blazing. "NO!" he shouted. "I don't want to fuckin' talk!"
Chara just looked at him for a long moment. Then: "OK," and bent to pick up the pucks.
"Everybody wants to fuckin' TALK to me, like that's gonna help, you know?" Krejci said, the words tumbling out. "Milan thinking it's his fault, fuckin' Savvy telling me he knows how I feel -- he doesn't know how I feel!"
"How DO you feel, David?" Chara asked, quietly, as they skated over to the bench.
"I'm sick of it, Zee! Fuckin' SICK of it!"
"Sick of what?"
"I'm SICK OF BEING A VICTIM!" Krejci screamed. "I'm NOT a victim, I'm NOT! God DAMN it!" He turned and raised his stick high, smashing it down on the boards. It shattered, pieces flying everywhere, and he threw the remains into the bench. Wordlessly, Chara handed over his own stick. Krejci raised it high, then hesitated and heaved it the length of the ice. It made a chilling, skittering sound as it landed. Zdeno shuddered.
"I can't break your stick," Krejci muttered, turning toward the big defenseman.
"It's just a stick, David," Chara said. "You're much more important."
Another Czech curse. Zdeno caught something about pigs and their diseased offspring. "Just who are you angry at, David,?" he asked, mildly.
Krejci stared at him. "Who? WHO? Everyone who think they can just fuckin' USE me, that's WHO! Make me feel so damn helpless! I'M NOT HELPLESS!"
Chara nodded. "You're not." He looked closely at David, who was standing with his feet wide, chest heaving, his eyes filled with unshed tears. The young Czech glared back at him. "And I'm not going to cry!"
"Why not?" Zdeno asked.
"I told you -- because I'm not helpless! I'm not weak! I'm not going to cry!"
"David," Chara glided forward and placed his hands on Krejci's shoulders. "Cry."
"Ne," Krejci choked, and then the dam broke. A sob exploded in his chest as he clutched at Chara's arms. Zdeno held him and bent to whisper in his ear. "Let it go, little one. Let it go."
He sobbed, tears gushing from his eyes, soaking Chara's practice jersey.
"My fault, all my own fault, it's my fault, if Milan hadn't been there, if you hadn't been there, all my fault, so fucking STUPID, why am I so STUPID?"
Chara waited until the sobs had muted to hitches and hiccups, then bent David's head back and looked into his eyes. "Listen to me, little one. It's not your fault. Do you understand me? Not. your. fault. No more your fault than someone bitten by a rabid dog. You just happened to be in the way. Stop being so angry at yourself."
"I can't -- can't -- help it," Krejci gulped, swiping at his nose.
"Yes, you can," Chara chided, gently. "Milan, Savvy, the rest of your teammates -- don't push them away, David. Let them be there for you. That's what we're here for, because we love you."
A tangled sound broke from Krejci's throat, a mixture of a laugh and a sob. "I don't -- don't -- deserve it," he said.
"Of course you do," Chara replied. "Tomorrow it may be Savvy, or Kes, or anyone. We'll be there for him, too, as will you. Remember, you wear a spoked B on your chest, David Krejci, and you're not going to escape your responsibilities so easily."
David smiled and wiped his eyes. "I love you, Zee," he whispered.
"I love you too, little one," Zdeno said. "Come on, let's go. Milan will be waiting."
Characters: David Krejci, Milan Lucic, Zdeno Chara, Marc Savard, Phil Kessel
Rating: PG-13
Time: 2008-09 season, a few days after the events of "Revenge is sour"
Summary: Krejci is in extreme distress after not one but two recent assaults.
Author's note: I originally wrote this for my own benefit, as David Krejci was storming around in my head and I couldn't go on and write other things without letting him express himself. However, after some consideration, I decided to post this as it has relevance to his character and most probably events to come.
Disclaimer: A fictional story, written for entertainment purposes only.
Zdeno Chara heard the sounds of chaos even before he entered the locker room at the practice arena. Loud Czech cursing. Phil Kessel's voice, shrill with anger: "Jesus, Krejci, what the FUCK?" A crashing sound. Marc Savard's voice, pitched low, the words indistinct, trying to act as peacemaker. Chara sighed and opened the door.
David Krejci, his chest heaving, nostrils flaring, looked like a bull ready to charge. Kessel, petulant, turned wounded eyes toward the door. Savvy, exasperated, was bending over to pick up what looked like David's helmet, still spinning on the floor.
"David, go skate," Chara said. Marc handed over the helmet and Krejci stormed out. Kessel opened his mouth, then shut it with a snap at Savard's warning growl and turned back to his locker. The rest of the Bruins on hand, most of whom had been standing open-mouthed, watching the goings-on with expressions ranging from dismay to worry, tried to go back to what they'd been doing. All but Milan Lucic, who looked at Chara imploringly. The Bruins captain dropped his equipment bag next to his locker, sat down, and motioned Lucic over.
Milan sat next to Chara. "Zee, he's getting worse," he said, his voice low, strained with worry. "He's just... he's just not himself anymore. He's pissed off all the time. Not just at me -- it's like he's mad at the whole world. I don't know what to do."
Chara sighed. He'd hoped David would be able to recover from his encounter with Joffrey Lupul (he'd found that was how his mind kept referring to it, veering away from the words attempted rape with something like horror) with Milan's help, but could see that was a foolishly optimistic notion. Not for the first time, he missed Sobotka. Vladimir's natural cheerfulness would help tremendously, he was sure; he was like comfort food for Krejci, a balm against David's occasional tendency to sink into moodiness. Of course, he had a damn good reason to be feeling moody right about now.
He looked at Lucic, whose brow was knotted in concern. "I'll talk to him after practice, Milan."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
David remained wordless during the workout, not engaging in any of the usual banter. Afterward, Chara put his hand on the young center's arm as he started to leave the ice. "David, I want to practice one-timers. Could you stay and feed me some passes?"
Krejci nodded. "I'll get some pucks," he said; picking up a full bucket, he skated to the faceoff circle as the other players departed. "Here OK?"
"Fine," Chara said, setting up at the blue line. "Whenever you're ready."
The passes came at a steady pace and he wound up and fired at the net, pondering what he should say. "Give me some backhanders, would you?" he asked as he and Krejci refilled the bucket; David nodded and set up again, methodically putting the puck on Chara's stick until they were all gone.
"Thanks, David," Chara said, stretching his shoulders. "You've been doing a good job on the power play. Your passes are almost as good as Savvy's."
Krejci shrugged at the compliment and started gathering up pucks. Chara sighed quietly; nothing to do but just plunge ahead, he decided.
"You want to talk, David?" he asked.
Krejci looked up, his eyes blazing. "NO!" he shouted. "I don't want to fuckin' talk!"
Chara just looked at him for a long moment. Then: "OK," and bent to pick up the pucks.
"Everybody wants to fuckin' TALK to me, like that's gonna help, you know?" Krejci said, the words tumbling out. "Milan thinking it's his fault, fuckin' Savvy telling me he knows how I feel -- he doesn't know how I feel!"
"How DO you feel, David?" Chara asked, quietly, as they skated over to the bench.
"I'm sick of it, Zee! Fuckin' SICK of it!"
"Sick of what?"
"I'm SICK OF BEING A VICTIM!" Krejci screamed. "I'm NOT a victim, I'm NOT! God DAMN it!" He turned and raised his stick high, smashing it down on the boards. It shattered, pieces flying everywhere, and he threw the remains into the bench. Wordlessly, Chara handed over his own stick. Krejci raised it high, then hesitated and heaved it the length of the ice. It made a chilling, skittering sound as it landed. Zdeno shuddered.
"I can't break your stick," Krejci muttered, turning toward the big defenseman.
"It's just a stick, David," Chara said. "You're much more important."
Another Czech curse. Zdeno caught something about pigs and their diseased offspring. "Just who are you angry at, David,?" he asked, mildly.
Krejci stared at him. "Who? WHO? Everyone who think they can just fuckin' USE me, that's WHO! Make me feel so damn helpless! I'M NOT HELPLESS!"
Chara nodded. "You're not." He looked closely at David, who was standing with his feet wide, chest heaving, his eyes filled with unshed tears. The young Czech glared back at him. "And I'm not going to cry!"
"Why not?" Zdeno asked.
"I told you -- because I'm not helpless! I'm not weak! I'm not going to cry!"
"David," Chara glided forward and placed his hands on Krejci's shoulders. "Cry."
"Ne," Krejci choked, and then the dam broke. A sob exploded in his chest as he clutched at Chara's arms. Zdeno held him and bent to whisper in his ear. "Let it go, little one. Let it go."
He sobbed, tears gushing from his eyes, soaking Chara's practice jersey.
"My fault, all my own fault, it's my fault, if Milan hadn't been there, if you hadn't been there, all my fault, so fucking STUPID, why am I so STUPID?"
Chara waited until the sobs had muted to hitches and hiccups, then bent David's head back and looked into his eyes. "Listen to me, little one. It's not your fault. Do you understand me? Not. your. fault. No more your fault than someone bitten by a rabid dog. You just happened to be in the way. Stop being so angry at yourself."
"I can't -- can't -- help it," Krejci gulped, swiping at his nose.
"Yes, you can," Chara chided, gently. "Milan, Savvy, the rest of your teammates -- don't push them away, David. Let them be there for you. That's what we're here for, because we love you."
A tangled sound broke from Krejci's throat, a mixture of a laugh and a sob. "I don't -- don't -- deserve it," he said.
"Of course you do," Chara replied. "Tomorrow it may be Savvy, or Kes, or anyone. We'll be there for him, too, as will you. Remember, you wear a spoked B on your chest, David Krejci, and you're not going to escape your responsibilities so easily."
David smiled and wiped his eyes. "I love you, Zee," he whispered.
"I love you too, little one," Zdeno said. "Come on, let's go. Milan will be waiting."