(no subject)
Title: Over Time
Chapter: Fourteen
Author: firiel77
Word Count: 8594
Warnings: WIP, angst fest, schmoop, misunderstandings, regrets, men being silly and uncommunicative.
Rating:NC17 for the most part.
Fandom Hockey RPS
Pairings: Sidney Crosby/Alexander Ovechkin
Summary: Set several years in the future. Sid’s taking stock of his life and finds he’s thinking about Ovie more and more. Only thing is, he doesn’t know what he wants. Ovie knows what he wants. He just doesn’t know how to get it. And so it goes.
Beta: Thank you so much sarcasmcat for stepping in and offering to beta this thing. I’m most grateful and I’m sure readers will be too.
Disclaimer: It’s fan fiction people.
Feedback: Sure. Let me know what’s working for you.
Authors Notes: Warning. I’ve read a grand total of one fic in this fandom but I LOVED IT and I wanted to give writing a shot. Bear with me if I get things wrong. I’m not really familiar with the canon. I’m just hoping that if I set it far enough in the future that no one will notice I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. Yes, I’m totally making shit up. Hope it flies.
Previous Chapters
Sid’s at the physiotherapy department lifting weights. It’s nothing like how he used to lift when he was playing. Now the term would make him laugh if the whole thing wasn’t so fucking tragic. He’s sitting at the end of a bench doing bicep curls with a fifteen pound barbell and his left arm is shaking from the effort. That he can do it at all still fills him with a sense of accomplishment. Sid is slowly regaining the strength in his left side.
His physiotherapist Brent smiles encouragingly. “Right on, Sid. Looks good.”
Sid’s not in total agreement over the statement. He’s finding his progress frustrating but today he’s having a good day and he’s polite. He smiles back.
“Yeah, feels okay,” he agrees a little breathlessly. When he finishes his last set he drops the weight at his feet and picks up his towel to wipe the sweat off his forehead.
Each day, every day, Sid spends four hours here doing a series of exercises designed to rebuild his strength and endurance. He spends another two hours with an occupational therapist relearning how to perform tasks he used to take for granted such as tying his shoes. It’s a lot but Sid insists on doing more than most patients would be capable of because he wants to play hockey as soon as he can. Sid is used to working hard.
He tries not to think about how he used to be; he knows it can only lead to despair. No, Sid follows orders and works his way through his routine of free weights, universal gym, exercise bike and treadmill and tries not to dwell on the past. He figures, like for everything else in his life, if he focuses and meets each task with steely determination, he will succeed. He will get back to where he was. It’s what keeps Sid going.
He gets up and moves on to the universal gym. It’s time for some leg work. He makes some adjustments and sellects a weight and then sits down to do some extensions. He looks up when Brent makes a disapproving noise.
“What?”
“Not supposed to go up today, Sid,” Brent warns him. “Not until the beginning of the week.”
Sid shrugs. “Felt good yesterday,” he says mildly.
Brent only rolls his eyes before reaching down and removing the pin. Sid watches sullenly as the physiotherapist decreases the resistance by ten pounds and slides the pin back in position.
“Okay, twenty reps,” he tells Sid.
Sid doesn’t stay anything, just leans back, gets a grip on the hand holds and starts the exercises. Some days he lets the frustration get the better of him and lashes out at Brent but today isn’t one of those days. He just swallows his frustration and does what he’s told. He grudgingly admits to himself that Brent’s right. By the time he gets to twenty his thighs are burning.
Brent has been his physiotherapist since he started rehab in January. He’s young, maybe a couple years younger than Sid and a good guy. He’s into sports; not so much hockey as basketball and soccer. But he’s athletic and he can understand Sid’s drive to improve, to get better so that he can return to the game he loves.
Brent’s put up with a lot. Sid hasn’t been the easiest patient especially during the early days when he was still reeling from the bad news. It has been a nightmare. Sid has been angry and bitter about what happened to him and where he’s found himself. He’s lashed out at Brent when he’s tried to work with him or conversely he has been quiet, depressed and withdrawn.
Brent has met each version of Sid with patience and a professional cheerfulness which has made Sid feel guilty for being such an asshole. Sid has been told that the anger is a complication of his head injury and it can be difficult to manage or control. He’s working on it. There are lots of times Sid wouldn’t have blamed Brent if he’d giving up on him and told him where to go, but he hasn’t. He’s stayed on the case and Sid is well aware that Brent’s dedication is in a large part responsible for what improvement Sid is seeing.
Sid can’t believe he’s been here for nine weeks already. He wants to get out, to move home but right now it’s not feasible. He’s having recurrent and debilitating headaches from the injury and more alarming he’s been having the occasional seizure. They are decreasing in frequency but Dr. James won’t discharge him to live on his own until they can be controlled. Anyway, Sid can’t drive because of the seizures so someone would have to bring him to the hospital every day for his appointments which would be an enormous pain.
Sid’s parents have offered to stay with him in Pittsburgh but Sid has said no. He doesn’t want to tie his parents down even further. They have their own life in Nova Scotia and have been away from it two months already. Once Sid was stable and had started in on his rehab routine he’d told his parents they should go home. They had reluctantly agreed.
The Penguins have covered Sid’s care since his injury and that has included accommodation in a facility adjacent to the hospital where he moved once he no longer required acute care. It isn’t luxurious by any means, used mostly by patients having long term treatments but he has his meals provided and a room with a bed and a TV. At the moment Sid doesn’t need much more than that.
The best feature is its proximity to the hospital. It’s only a short walk from his room to the physiotherapy department, not that Sid can even walk there for the first month. No, much to Sid’s chagrin, he is so weak he has to have one of his parents or a nurse take him over in a wheelchair. The first time Sid manages to walk to an appointment on his own is what finally convinces his parents that they can return to Nova Scotia.
Brent gives him a couple minutes and then tells him, “Okay, do another set.”
Sid tucks his chin down and does as he’s told; nice and slow. He watches the muscles in his thighs stand out as he puts all he can into the extensions. He has to let out a long breath as he does the last one.
Brent grins at him when he’s done. “Excellent. So, got any exciting plans for the weekend?” he asks.
This makes Sid laugh. It’s getting to be a joke between them. Seeing as Sid is essentially living in a hospital he doesn’t really have much of a social life at the moment. He does have a couple days off though as exciting as they generally are.
“Oh, you know, the usual,” Sid smiles.
“Any of the guys coming by?” Brent asks him and Sid shakes his head.
“Nope. On a road trip this weekend,” Sid tells him. “They’re out west somewhere.”
“Vancouver?” Brent asks.
Sid shrugs. “I’m not sure.” He knows the guys probably told him when they were in during the week but he doesn’t remember. “I don’t watch all the time, you know?”
Brent nods but doesn’t say anything and Sid starts in on his last set of extensions. “It’s kind of hard,” he admits through tight lips as he lifts his legs again.
“Yeah, I bet,” Brent agrees.
“I mean, I like watching everyone play. It’s just frustrating when I’m here. It kind of sucks, hearing about the games and practise and everything......” Sid stops.
It’s getting a bit easier but yeah.... It was terrible to begin with. Sid hated to have the guys see him when he could barely walk, as unsteady on his feet as a small child. The first few visits were filled with awkward silences, his team mates as uncomfortable as Sid, not knowing what to say to him. Geno was the one who finally managed to break the ice with his clowning around. It’s gradually gotten easier although each visit still reminds Sid of what he’s lost.
“Okay,” Brent tells him when he’s done. “Half an hour on the bike and you’ll be done for the day. Make it a good one. After all it’s Friday.”
Sid nods and pushes himself up from the bench and heads over to one of the bank of exercise bikes. He glances down at the floor, careful of his footing. They’re at a spot where the flooring changes from lino to tile and the surface is uneven. He still drags his left foot a bit and if he’s not careful he’ll trip again. Brent reaches over instinctively and puts a hand on his elbow for support and Sid fights the urge to pull his arm away. He hates being like this, feeling so helpless.
Sid climbs onto the first free bike in the row. Brent watches Sid for a moment when he starts to peddle, making sure he’s using the agreed upon program and not overdoing it. Sid has a bad tendency to think he can do more than he can and has had a few set-backs. The one and only time he talked Brent into letting him do a slow jog on the treadmill instead of a walk he’d been almost immediately doubled over with a terrible headache.
Brent had been forced to half carry Sid to the bathroom where he’d been thoroughly sick. The headache had taken three days to subside even when being hit with heavy painkillers. The incident had scared both of them. They’d both been read the riot act by Dr. James and the nursing staff and after that there had been no more jogging. Nor would Brent let Sid do anything outside of the prescribed care plan. Sid hasn’t put up much of a fight.
“I thought maybe I’d go by and see the kids again tomorrow afternoon,” Sid tells Brent while he peddles.
“Over at Sick Kids?” Brent asks, referring to the affiliated children’s hospital across the street.
“Yeah.”
“Cool. I’m sure they love it.”
Sid nods. “It’s fun.”
The kids do love it. It was Jordie who’d first suggested to Sid that he visit the children’s wards and he’d liked the idea. He’s sent his mom to see if it was possible and the nurses had been thrilled with his offer. Now Sid tries to go once a week for a couple hours.
“So what do you do there?” Brent asks him.
“I don’t know. Just talk to them. Some of them are really cool. We watch some TV or play video games. That sort of stuff.”
The kids are great. They’ve all had a crappy hand dealt to them and yet the smiles on their faces when he’d show up lit up the whole room. Sid had asked the guys to bring down some hats and shit and he’d give them out too. The kids acted like it was Christmas.
The best part is when he gets to sit down and play video games and joke around with them and they can all forget for a bit. There is another benefit to the gaming; the video games are good for his hand eye coordination. Sid’s getting better but he still routinely gets his ass handed to him by some of the kids.
When Sid looks up he sees that Brent is smiling at him.
“What?”
It’s Brent’s turn to shrug. “I was just thinking that this is the happiest I’ve seen you look since we met.”
“I like hanging out there,” Sid tells him simply.
Brent gets called away to help another patient and Sid keeps peddling. Sid lets his mind wander while he rides. He watches the other patients; the pleasant guy who Sid knows has had his knee replaced, the woman around his mom’s age who’s had a stroke, and the young black kid who’d been hit by a car and was having to learn to walk again.
They all had their stories and were dealing with their conditions the best they can. It makes Sid realize that, although his life isn’t exactly what he wants it to be, it could be a hell of a lot worse. Before he knows it Brent is back and slaps him on the shoulder; the half hour is up.
“Okay, buddy. Time’s up.” Brent looks at his watch and tells Sid, “Quitting time for me too. Hang on a second and I’ll walk back with you.”
Sid climbs down off the bike and wipes it down while he catches his breathe. His legs are a little rubbery but they feel a lot better than when he first tried doing anything. Sid stretches out his hamstrings and quads while he waits for Brent to come back with his coat and backpack.
They stop at a junction in the corridors before going in opposite directions; Brent to the car park and Sid back to his room. Sid smiles when Brent pulls a Penguins toque out of his coat pocket and pulls it on. It was a gift from Geno. The guys were horrified when they found out Brent liked the Canucks and Geno had brought the toque in the next day.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you next week,” Sid tells him.
“Yup, I’ll be there,” Brent agrees.
********************************
Geno is lounging on Sid’s bed watching him stuff his clothes into a duffle bag and for the moment he’s holding his tongue. Sid keeps glancing across at him as he packs his belongings up and waits for him to start in. It’s been four months and Sid’s finally going home. he can’t wait. He’s fucking elated and he’s not going to let the silent waves of disapproval from his teammate dampen his mood.
When Sid gets all his t-shirts and sweats in the bag he zips it up and tosses it on the floor by the door. He glances at his watch and then sits down. He looks up and sees that Geno is regarding him mournfully.
“What?” he finally sighs.
“Is bad idea, Sid,” Geno tells him. “What happen with being honest?”
Sid rubs his hands over his face and looks at the floor. He can feel a headache coming on already. “I already told you. This is just temporary. Until Christine finds a new apartment. It’ll work out for me too. You know I’m not supposed to stay by myself.”
He looks up at Geno and admits, “I just really want to go home.”
“I tell you come stay with us, Sid,” Geno says.
“Yeah, I know. And I appreciate the offer, Geno. It’s just, I want to be in my own place.
Anyway, you’re busy with the team and everything. I don’t want to be in the way.”
Geno looks at him dubiously. “You tell her yet?”
Sid looks back down at his feet. He hasn’t. He knows he needs to but it just hasn’t been the right time. Christine knows the engagement is on hold, he’s told her that much. She accepted that without protest but whenever Sid tries to tell her that he’s decided he’s really only into guys, or as he’s sometimes afraid “guy”, he just can’t find the right way to start.
“No,” Sid tells him. “But I will,” he promises when Geno lets out a snort. “I’m just waiting for a good time.”
“When that be, Sid? Christmas?”
Sid’s opens his mouth to respond but then realizes he doesn’t have anything credible to say and so he just gapes at Geno. It takes him a minute to realize his mouth is still hanging open and he snaps it shut again in irritation. Sid knows he’s got nothing here.
Geno graciously lets it slide but then goes on to try a different tack. Sid never knows what the hell’s coming next from Geno. He almost chokes when Geno tells him, “You should ask Brent out.”
“What?” he hisses.
“He’s good guy. Nice looking too.”
He pronounces this with utter certainty, as if he an authority on good looking men and Sid can only shake his head. Geno is sounding a lot like a meddling aunt.
“You should ask,” he prods when Sid doesn’t answer.
“I doubt he’s gay,” Sid tells Geno dryly.
“Of course he is. Otherwise I not say,” Geno tells him patiently.
“How the hell do you know that?” Sid asks him exasperatedly. This is just getting to be too much. Sid rubs his eyes and tries to take some calming breathes.
Geno gives him a pitying look, as if he’s certainly mentally deficient and tells him, “Well, I ask.”
“Jesus,” Sid snorts. He’s actually kind of curious how that conversation might have gone. Geno is not the most subtle of people, or tactful. All Sid can do is look at Geno and shake his head.
“What?” Geno demands. “Was trying to help you out.”
“Well, don’t bother,” Sid tells him. “I hope you didn’t freak the guy out.”
Geno shrugs dismissively. “No, no, he was fine. Well, maybe look bit nervous when I first ask him.” No doubt. Just what one would want to be asked by a dower six foot three Russian. Brent probably thought he was going to be gay bashed.
“But he okay once I tell him is no problem. Only wondering because team looking for nice guy for Sidney.”
“Oh, for fuck sake,” Sid mutters. He doesn’t want to hear any more. He’s never going to be able to look at his physiotherapist in the eye again.
“I have to work out with the guy every day. Christ,” he tells Geno in exasperation.
“Sure,” Geno agrees. “You work out, maybe talk, who knows what....” he mercifully leaves any more to Sid’s imagination.
“Thing is though Sid, you just need to try. Is not all hockey, hockey, hockey. Should try to meet people and get out. Meet some guys. See what happen.”
This sobers Sid. It’s the closest any of the guys have come to saying these truths to Sid. The truths he knows somewhere in the back of his mind and only bring out late at night when he can’t sleep. Life without hockey; Sid still can’t conceive of it. If he can’t go back he doesn’t know what the hell he’s going to do.
One thing is for sure. Despite Geno’s ideas, Sid’s probably not going to be dating a swath through the gay population of Pittsburgh. He’s really not interested. Brent is a nice guy and if Sid had to say so, probably good looking, but that’s about it. There is still only one person Sid wants and he’s not around. Sid doesn’t even think he’s in North America yet, not that he’s been asked anyone. Sid’s had enough of his own shit to worry about lately.
Any further discussion about Sid’s love life is cut short by Christine’s arrival. She’s got a nurse with wheelchair in tow and the car parked out front. As usual she looks like a million bucks in, to Sid’s discomfort, a fur coat, designer handbag and boots and leggings. She’s let her hair grow or put in those extensions of whatever the fuck they are and her hair is a tawny mane around her perfectly made up face. Her legs look like they go for miles.
She smiles warmly at Sid and then gives Geno a barely civil nod before turning away before catching the semi-hostile look he gives her. It is obvious to Sid by now that there is no love lost between the two of them. They’ve just never let it become this obvious before.
Geno’s not the only one who’s not thrilled to see Christine back. No one on the team is particularly happy about it. No one thinks she’s good for Sid. They think he’s better off on his own. When Sid tells his mom that Christine is going to stay with him for a while, at least until he stopped having seizures and can drive again she manages to convey her disproval with almost no words. Mom’s are good at that.
When Sid finally gets exasperated and asks her what the big deal is she sighs and says she doesn’t think it’s a good idea. Sid doesn’t know what to say to that one because hell, he’s an adult after all and anyway, it’s only a temporary arrangement until she gets another place and Sid can finally drive his ass around again. He’s sick of being dependant on everyone.
Christine picks up Sid’s bag and hands it to Geno and then ushers Sid into the waiting wheelchair. Sid makes a token protest about wanting to walk out but he’s overruled by the nursing staff; hospital policy. He grudgingly gets settled in the chair with his feet on the rests like some kind of old cripple and gives Geno an exasperated look. Geno only shrugs. He doesn’t appear to be relishing his role as the bag boy either.
Christine muscles the nurse away from the wheelchair so that she can push Sid out to the car like the dutiful soon to be wife she probably still thinks she is. She stops at the mirror to check her hair and they are off. Sid feels like an invalid and hopes like hell there’s no one who recognizes him around.
They manage to get Sid and his belongings into the car without incident and are on their way. As he sees the hospital disappear behind them Sid can’t help but let out a sign of relief. He’s been there far too long.
******************************
The first couple weeks go alright. Christine drives Sid to the hospital for his appointments and cooks for him at night. She’s on hiatus and uses the downtime to catch up with her friends when she’s not chauffeuring Sid around. She’s not making a lot of friends among the nursing staff and therapists who’re worked with Sid but she’s been a big help to Sid so he can’t say too much.
The wheels begin to wobble a bit when Sid refuses to go out to any clubs. She gets bored sitting around the condo with him watching sports and it pisses her off when Sid won’t oblige. She does talk him into going to a few dinner parties at her friends homes but draws the line there. He still feels self-conscious about going out in public the way he is, limping around like some kind of cripple.
The problem is that Sid’s no better at fitting in with Christine’s friends than he ever was so he always regrets going along. The only thing that helps these social situations is a steady supply of alcohol. It reminds him of a t-shirt he once had that said “I drink to make other people more interesting”. He needs to find another one of those.
Sitting around the condo, the two of them don’t have a lot to talk about. In all honesty, Sid is barely going through the motions and it doesn’t take Christine long to pick up on it. The chauffer/cook role doesn’t sit well with her once she’s figured things out and things really start to go off the rails. She is quick to criticize Sid for any shortcomings and he retaliates by ignoring her most of the time.
He knows he’s being churlish but he can’t seem to stop himself. His headaches are getting worse again, no doubt brought on by the stress. He’s suffering from black moods he seems to have no control over and anger issues Dr. James warned him could be a side effect of his head injury. Sid uses more and more vicodin for his headaches and eventually just to feel better.
Christine prefers to medicate using vodka straight up in the guise of a martini. Sid finds that if he joins her for a couple drinks before dinner, coupled with his vicodin, he can almost cope. He’s still together enough to realize this is not a good basis for a relationship.
The guys drop in when they can but they’re wrapped up in the last few weeks of the season and each game is significant. They’re having extra practises and there’s nothing optional about any of the skates anymore. Christine isn’t knocking herself out making any of them feel welcome either. They take to calling first to see if the war department is in before they’ll stop by.
The first time Jordie sees Sid drinking again he raises his eyebrows in thinly veiled concern. He’d been around in the early hospital days when Sid had been read the riot act by the nursing staff about the pain and seizure medication he was on and how they couldn’t or shouldn’t been combined with alcohol. Dr James has told him emphatically not to drink until the complications of his head injury had abated.
Sid’s stuck to the rules while he was at the hospital but it’s only taken him three weeks at home to fall soundly off the wagon. Sid’s discovered he can phone in orders at Whole Foods for beer and premade foods that are far better than anything he or Christine can make. They will also sell him boxes of Grey Goose at a discount and have it all delivered right to the door. He’s got the whole food thing organized like a boss.
Christine isn’t terribly impressed with their sleeping arrangements. Sid’s assigned her the spare room, telling her that he’s having a terrible time sleeping at night and will only keep her awake. Some nights when the two of them have had a few drinks they slid back into familiar patterns and will mess around on the couch but Sid has absolutely no desire to fuck her. He’ll plead exhaustion, or a headache, or fucking fake a seizure before it comes to that. Sid knows he has to tell her. He’s not really sure why he can’t.
Christine is quite persistent but so far she hasn’t gotten anywhere. Sid’s secretly afraid his injury has messed up more than his career. He doesn’t get hard anymore, not since the coma. Sometimes, when he can fit it in with the rest of his crappy life he worries that he’ll never be able to get it up again. If he ever does Sid doubts very much it’s going to be with Christine.
The shit really hits the fan one night when they’ve been out with Chris’s friends at a yuppy restaurant; one of those ones that charged too much for too little food. Sid gets home piss drunk but irritable because he’s still really hungry. Okay, it’s partly because her friends can still make him feel like a complete loser. But that’s nothing new.
He rifles through the fridge for leftovers and when he emerges with cold pizza he takes it eat in front of the TV while he watches Sports Final. Christine sits down beside him and out of the corner of his eye Sid can see long expanses of skin; she’s wearing one of her silky robes and not much else.
She nudges Sid’s leg suggestively with hers and Sid looks across at her. Christine puts her hand down on his thigh and runs her long fingers up and down the inside of his leg so that Sid puts down what’s left of his pizza on the couch beside him because she’s leaving no doubt as to her intent.
“Look Chris,” Sid starts, intending to tell her he doesn’t want to start anything.
“Come on Sid,” she cajoles. “Let me make you feel good.”
To emphasize her point she runs her hand up over his dick and squeezes gently. Half of Sid is afraid nothing’s going to happen but the other half fucking wants to see if anything can. He’s got enough of a buzz on to not really care who it’s with so he leans back and shuts his eyes before nodding his consent.
Christine is down on her knees and working away at Sid’s zipper immediately. Sid spreads his legs obligingly and then lifts up his hips so that she can slide his jeans off. When his pants and shoes are gone and Christine has free access to his dick Sid is relieved to see that it’s showing some interest in the situation. Sid glances down looks from his cock to Christine’s glistening lips and then back and then leans back and shuts his eyes again. He’s ready or at least he wants to give it a try.
Christine leans in and gets to work jacking him. She’s good at this, there’s no doubt. But the long hair dragging along his thighs is wrong and so is the sweet floral smell she wears and the finger nails, especially along his cock. The mechanics are okay but Sid’s not getting what he needs from the situation so he thinks about someone else blowing him.
Things are immediately better. He pictures large hands gently grazing over his thighs, positioning him firmly, dark brows and blue eyes studying him for every reaction to the touch. Sid groans when he feels the first touch of lips but it’s not Christine’s lips he’s picturing. She works the head with her mouth and fists the rest and it’s really porny and good and Sid starts to thrust his hips up into her mouth.
Christine puts a hand on him, holding him down but she sucks harder and it’s still pretty great. He’s just so fucking relieved that things are still working he could almost cry. Without realizing what he’s doing Sid gasps out a name he’s not said in a long while. Finally he dissolves into the first orgasm he’s had since the accident.
Christine sits back when he’s done and studies him a moment. She’s clearly not amused with his faux pas and though he’s still recovering Sid silently kicks himself for the slip. Christine tidies up silently and then goes to the kitchen to fix herself another drink. Sid’s relieved to see when she gets back that she’s made him one too and he takes a mouthful when she hands it to him.
She sits down again beside him and Sid gulps down another mouthful. She looks like she means business but it’s business of a different kind now. Sid’s terribly afraid it’s time for the talk. Christine doesn’t waste any time.
“Who’s Alex?” She asks tightly.
When Sid doesn’t offer an explanation she continues with her questions. Christine is many things but stupid isn’t one of them. She sits down beside him and Sid uncomfortably covers himself up while she watches him closely over her glass. Sidney, are you gay?”
The words hang there in the silence and Sid thinks he can actually hear his heart beating while he struggles for words. He lets out a long breath.
“Um, yeah, I think I probably am,” Sid admits. “Or at least bi.”
Christine nods thoughtfully. It’s obviously not a total shock to her. “And obviously there’s someone you’re thinking about.....” she muses and makes a vague gesture at his lap.
Sid nods. There’s not a lot he wants to tell her about Alex. There doesn’t seem like any point. Luckily she doesn’t follow up on that line of questioning.
“So how the hell did you end up with me?” she asks him. It’s a very good question. The answers are not something Sid is proud of but he feels he owes Christine the truth. Even if the result will be that she tells him to go fuck himself.
He looks at Christine sadly. “I’m really sorry, Chris. I’ve been so messed up. I never really knew what I wanted. It took me a while to figure it out. And you were always around and didn’t mind me and it was easy with you. I feel bad. You deserve better.”
Sid hazards a glance at Christine to see what her reaction is and sees that she’s nodding in agreement but at least she doesn’t look furious. It’s better than he’d hoped.
Sid sighs. “I just wanted to be normal,” he concludes pitifully. When Sid finally stops talking he looks at Christine again.
He’s surprised to see she’s laughing softly. She reaches across and takes his hand. “Sid, as much as I like you, you are probably the least normal person I have ever met.”
Sid nods his head sadly. He really is that fucked up. It’s a lucky thing he has any friends at all.
Christine crosses her legs and looks at him. “So, why am I here, Sid? Really?” she waits for an answer.
“Ahhh,” Sid starts. “Well, you needed somewhere to stay until you can find another condo and I’m not supposed to stay on my own, so........” Sid shrugs. Christine doesn’t really look like she’s buying it and starts to tap one perfectly manicured foot impatiently.
“I was thinking a little more long term, Sidney,” she explains and he can suddenly feel his face go red. “You can’t be serious about getting married, surely?”
“Yeah, no. I’ve been meaning to tell you but with everything that’s happened....” he winds down. “I was looking for a good time.”
Christine snorts. “Well, I guess it’s now.”
“Look, I’m really sorry Christine. It was a bad idea. I wasn’t thinking very clearly.”
“Why did you ask me at all?”
Sid sighs. It feels so long ago now. “Um, I kind of panicked. There were pictures of me with the guys and then Alex came out and everyone was asking who I was dating....”
“And you just figured, good old Christine will be into it, I’ll ask her,” Christine mutters.
‘I’m so sorry.” Sid tells her sincerely. “I’m an asshole.”
Christine just shakes her head and then lifts her eyes skyward. “I still having a hard time getting my head around this. You’re really not into girls?”
Sid shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s okay, I guess. But no, it’s not the same as.....” he’s having a hard time explaining how it works.
“You’re pretty decent at it, I have to say,” Christine smiles.
“Um, thanks?” Sid tells her and Christine just shrugs. Credit where credit is due.
“I would never have known. Well, except for the moaning a guy’s name part. That’s a red flag, Sidney. I have to say.”
Sid blushes again. “Yeah, I didn’t mean to do that, obviously. But Christine,” he starts. He knows he’s got to get this all out now before he loses his nerve so Christine knows there’s never going to be anything between them.
“I really appreciate you being here and driving me around and the cooking and everything but that’s all it’s ever going to be. Okay?”
Christine sits for a minute and doesn’t say anything. When she finally does she takes Sid’s hand again and squeezes it. “Okay, Sid. I’ll start looking for a place right away but sure, I’d still like to help you out. Like I said, you are one strange guy but, and I’m not really even sure why, but I like you and I’d like to be friends.”
“I’d like that too, Chris,” Sid tells her. His voice is tight. “You can stay as long as you need.”
Christine waves that off. “You don’t want me hanging around here.”
Sid shrugs again. “It’s not a big deal. It’s not like there’s anyone.......” he starts before he realizes it’s a subject he doesn’t really want to get in to.
Christine looks at him and frowns. “Sidney, honey. Excuse me, but I think there is. I mean if you’re calling out his name when I’m blowing you then there’s something still there.”
“It’s over now,” Sid tells her reluctantly. “We broke up. It was for the best.”
Christine doesn’t even know who he’s talking about but Sid can see she’s not buying it. “So where exactly is “Mr. It’s for the Best”?” she prods.
“I don’t even know. I haven’t seen him in a long time. Maybe in Russia?”
“Is he a hockey player?” she asks and then stops herself and answers herself. “Of course he is. Who does he play for?” she asks. He can see the wheels turning already.
“You can’t tell people this, Christine,” Sid hisses at her reflexively. And then he thinks what the fuck, this is what got them, he and Alex, in to the state they’re at. Sid realizes he’s going to have to stop caring about this shit.
He’s about to confess his gay love for Alex Ovechkin to Christine when she puts two and two together on her own. “Was it that big Russian guy in Las Vegas? The one who looked like he wanted to rip my arms off?”
Sid nods. “Yeah, that was him,” he confirms softly. “Alex.”
Christine looks sceptical. “The one with the wild hair?” Sid nods again.
He was missing a tooth,” Christine points out.
“Yeah,” Sid agrees and he can’t help but smile at the memory. Christine takes one look at the sappy look on his face and shakes her head.
“Sid, you’re not over this guy yet. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now but at some point you’re going to need to work this out one way or the other.”
Sid only shrugs noncommitally.
******************************
Christine graciously agrees to keep driving Sid around while she’s at his place. Like she says, it’s the least she can do. And Sid appreciates it. Now that the pressure is off to act like a boyfriend he finds that the two of the manage to forge a comfortable friendship.
Sid admires Christine in many ways. Her uncompromising disregard for what others think of her is something he knows he should take to heart. Christine has always been one to live by her own standards. She’s very similar to Alex in that way.
A couple weeks later she’s probably regretting her decision to stay on and Sid will be the first one to admit that he can be a total asshole. His irritability can be a challenge at the best of times but things come to a head after the latest visit with Dr. James.
It’s not good news. Sid’s been pushing to be allowed back on the ice, to at least go down to the rink and skate with the guys. He’s walking pretty well now and his neuro deficits are much less pronounced. Sid figures it’s time to try skating again.
Dr. James flatly refuses to consider it despite his can do attitude. She does a few neuro assessments and tells Sid he’s coming along steadily, orders some more tests, and then informs him that skating is out for the time being. She tells him to schedule another appointment for September and to relax and enjoy his summer.
Sid is curt but civil to Dr. James during the appointment but once he’s in the car his mood deteriorates. Christine gives him concerned glances at each light but she’s been around him long enough to know when it’s a good time to keep your mouth shut. She wisely gives him some space to digest the news but it’s a slow, tense drive home through afternoon traffic.
Sid’s not even angry at his doctor in particular but at everything, at the whole fucking world and how it’s preventing Sidney Crosby from doing what he loves the most. His mood didn’t improve when they get to his place and he throws his workout bag across the room when he get in and kicks his runners against the door. Christine just raises her eyes.
His head is pounding so he goes to his room to get some painkillers. He shakes a couple out into his palm and goes to the kitchen to make a drink. Christine frowns when she sees him washing his vicodin down with straight vodka.
“You sure you should be doing that?” she asks him.
Sid snorts. He’s been mixing the two since they met so he’s not sure why it’s suddenly an issue although there’s no denying the worried look on her face.
“What?” he demands.
Christine sighs. “Look, Sid. I’m no angel, I’ll admit. But I just think you should maybe slow down on the drinking. It’s one thing to party, but this is getting to be something else.”
“I can handle it,” he tells her.
He takes another couple mouthfuls of vodka and refills the glass before going to the living room and turning on the TV. He flips through the stations to find a hockey game to watch. It’s the first round of the playoffs and the Bruins are playing.
Christine follows and sits down on the couch beside him. She doesn’t look like she’s going to let things go and Sid’s irritation increases. The last thing he needs right now is Christine telling him how to run his life. He congratulates himself silently for having the presence of mind to have brought the bottle of vodka along with him from the kitchen.
“Do you think maybe you should talk to someone, Sid?”
“Like who?” Sid snaps, still watching the game.
“I don’t know. Maybe Mario or someone from the team could suggest someone?”
Sid finally turns to her. “Just keep the team out of this, okay, Christine. I’m fine.” He grabs the bottle off the coffee table and refills his glass before sitting back and stubbornly crossing his arms across his chest.
“Look, Sid. I’m just trying to help,” she tells him.
“Yeah, well I don’t need your help.”
Christine just watches him while he takes another drink. The booze and pills are starting to kick in so that his headache is dulling but they’re not really touching the anger that’s still threatening to burst out.
“Look, Sid. I just think you’ve had to deal with a lot and it just might help to talk to someone about everything,”
“Like a shrink?” Sid mutters.
Christine only shrugs. “It might not be a bad idea. I mean, it must be tough. You’ve played hockey all your life and now......”
“And now what?” Sid snaps out. Christine is really starting to irritate him and he finds himself squeezing the glass in his hand.
“Well, now that you can’t play anymore, you have a lot of adjustments to make.”
“I’m going to play again,” Sid tells her stubbornly.
Christine looks at him in complete sympathy. “Oh honey, I know you want to but I think you need to be realistic here. You’re not going to be going back.”
Something snaps inside Sid when she says that. Before he knows what he’s doing Sid stands up and leans over Christine and starts raising his voice.
“Don’t say that. You don’t know anything about hockey. I’ll be going back. I’m getting stronger all the time. Everyone says so,” he yells.
“Calm down, Sid” Christine soothes.
“Well, stop saying that shit. You don’t know,” Sid yells. He cringes inwardly and how shrill his voice has gotten as he’s filled with completely irrational anger over what she’s suggested. He notices Christine glancing at his clenched fists and tries to relax them. He belatedly realizes he probably looks like he’s going to hit her.
Christine shakes her head. She’s not one to let people go on living in a fantasy and she’s got guts, Sid has to give her that. She’s not backing down.
“No, I don’t. But I don’t think it would hurt to see someone. Maybe think about not taking so many pain pills. I’d just hate to see you get....”
“I’m not a druggie, Christine.”
“I’m not saying you are. I just think it’s something you need to be careful with. Lots of people get in over their head. I’ve seen it happen, baby.”
“I told you I could handle it.”
Christine sighs. “Alright. Just consider it,” she suggests.
“And start to think about what you might want to do after hockey.” Christine’s voice drops on the last part as if she’s afraid of how Sid will react. She’s not wrong.
“What are you talking about?” Sid demands, his fists clenching involuntarily. Christine sighs.
“Sid, you’re going to have to face facts. The guys just can’t bring themselves to tell you because they’re afraid of how you’ll react but it’s still the truth. You won’t be playing again. You’re going to have to figure out what else you want to do with your life. There are a million things. You just need to decide.”
Christine tries to take his hand, to pull him back down so he’s sitting again but Sid pulls his hand away from her. He doesn’t want to be comforted right now.
“Get out,” he tells her.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sid,” Christine tells him.
“You heard me. Get the fuck out of my place.” Sid can feel himself loosing it. He’s almost shrieking as he tells her again to leave. As angry as he is he’s afraid of what he might do and he blinks back tears.
“I don’t want to leave you alone like this,” she insists stubbornly. “I’m going to call someone on the team.”
Christine glances at Sid’s phone. He’s left it on the coffee table. When she makes to pick it up so she can get someone’s number Sid beats her to it as drunk as he is. He snatches it up and tells her, “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Sid, you’re not yourself right now,” Christine tells him. But he can tell she’s faltering. For the first time she looks afraid of him.
“Get out,” Sid repeats. Christine just stares back at him with a stubborn set to her mouth. Damn that woman.
When it looks as if she’s not going to go Sid emphasizes his demand by throwing his glass against the wall. Christine jumps as pieces of glass and ice cubes fly everywhere and they both stare at the last of the vodka as it runs down the paint.
Christine says no more. Sid watches as she gets up and silently walks to her room and shuts the door. It’s probably for the best. If she were to argue with him anymore he doesn’t know what he’d do. His loss of control frightens him and he can feel himself shaking. He sits down and puts his head in his hands and fights to hang on.
Sid grabs the bottle of vodka and leans back into the couch. He finishes it, straight from the bottle, while he watches the rest of the game. He passes out before it’s over and when he wakes up in the morning he has no idea who won.
The condo is silent. Christine must have turned off the TV. When Sid pushes himself upright he sees that she’s also swept up the broken glass and wiped the alcohol off the wall. He goes to the kitchen to get a drink of water and sees that there’s coffee made. There is also a note from Christine saying that she’s left. She’s staying with a friend until her place is ready.
Sid’s just as happy to be on his own although he’s not sure how everyone else will react to that. He considers maybe not telling anyone for a while. He takes a couple more vicodin and collapses back on the couch and watches TV all morning.
He decides to skip physio. What’s the point? In the back of his mind he knows he’s not going to be playing hockey again. Christine is right. So there’s no reason to work out all the time. Fuck it. He deserves a break from it. Christine calls but when he sees who it is Sid won’t pick up. He doesn’t feel like getting nagged any more than he’s already been.
A couple days later Sid runs out of vodka so he calls the supermarket and orders a crate. They deliver it a couple hours later and he gives the guy a big tip. Without Christine there Sid doesn’t have to make it look like he’s just drinking socially so he hits it pretty hard. When he wakes up in the mornings with a pounding headache well, the vicodin helps with that.
He tries to watch hockey but to be honest it just hurts to damn much. The Penguins are in a tough series with the Oilers and Sid wishes he could help. It’s terribly frustrating to sit by and watch as his friends go down to defeat in first one and then a second game. Midway through the third game he changes the channel; he can’t watch any more. Sid doesn’t watch game four when they are eliminated.
A few days later it dawns on Sid that all the booze and pain pills in the world aren’t helping the dark mood that’s threatening to overwhelm him and he starts to cry. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this hopeless in his life.
It’s not even panic this time it’s more of a dark, bleak despair. No matter how fucked up he’s been Sid’s always managed to find the positive when he’s tried hard enough but even that glimmer seems to have escaped him now. He just doesn’t seem to have the energy to even look anymore.
He phones home one night just to say hi because it’s just hit him suddenly how much he misses his mom and dad. They aren’t home. When the familiar message on the answering machine comes on Sid dissolves into tears. He chokes out a brief message about how much he loves them and that he will call them again soon and then hangs up. He begins to cry in earnest.
It takes him a few minutes to pull himself together and when he does he gets a new bottle of vodka and settles down on the couch. His head is throbbing so he shakes out a handful of pills and washes them down with a swig from the bottle. It’s not long before he’s enveloped by a familiar darkness.
Chapter: Fourteen
Author: firiel77
Word Count: 8594
Warnings: WIP, angst fest, schmoop, misunderstandings, regrets, men being silly and uncommunicative.
Rating:NC17 for the most part.
Fandom Hockey RPS
Pairings: Sidney Crosby/Alexander Ovechkin
Summary: Set several years in the future. Sid’s taking stock of his life and finds he’s thinking about Ovie more and more. Only thing is, he doesn’t know what he wants. Ovie knows what he wants. He just doesn’t know how to get it. And so it goes.
Beta: Thank you so much sarcasmcat for stepping in and offering to beta this thing. I’m most grateful and I’m sure readers will be too.
Disclaimer: It’s fan fiction people.
Feedback: Sure. Let me know what’s working for you.
Authors Notes: Warning. I’ve read a grand total of one fic in this fandom but I LOVED IT and I wanted to give writing a shot. Bear with me if I get things wrong. I’m not really familiar with the canon. I’m just hoping that if I set it far enough in the future that no one will notice I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. Yes, I’m totally making shit up. Hope it flies.
Previous Chapters
Sid’s at the physiotherapy department lifting weights. It’s nothing like how he used to lift when he was playing. Now the term would make him laugh if the whole thing wasn’t so fucking tragic. He’s sitting at the end of a bench doing bicep curls with a fifteen pound barbell and his left arm is shaking from the effort. That he can do it at all still fills him with a sense of accomplishment. Sid is slowly regaining the strength in his left side.
His physiotherapist Brent smiles encouragingly. “Right on, Sid. Looks good.”
Sid’s not in total agreement over the statement. He’s finding his progress frustrating but today he’s having a good day and he’s polite. He smiles back.
“Yeah, feels okay,” he agrees a little breathlessly. When he finishes his last set he drops the weight at his feet and picks up his towel to wipe the sweat off his forehead.
Each day, every day, Sid spends four hours here doing a series of exercises designed to rebuild his strength and endurance. He spends another two hours with an occupational therapist relearning how to perform tasks he used to take for granted such as tying his shoes. It’s a lot but Sid insists on doing more than most patients would be capable of because he wants to play hockey as soon as he can. Sid is used to working hard.
He tries not to think about how he used to be; he knows it can only lead to despair. No, Sid follows orders and works his way through his routine of free weights, universal gym, exercise bike and treadmill and tries not to dwell on the past. He figures, like for everything else in his life, if he focuses and meets each task with steely determination, he will succeed. He will get back to where he was. It’s what keeps Sid going.
He gets up and moves on to the universal gym. It’s time for some leg work. He makes some adjustments and sellects a weight and then sits down to do some extensions. He looks up when Brent makes a disapproving noise.
“What?”
“Not supposed to go up today, Sid,” Brent warns him. “Not until the beginning of the week.”
Sid shrugs. “Felt good yesterday,” he says mildly.
Brent only rolls his eyes before reaching down and removing the pin. Sid watches sullenly as the physiotherapist decreases the resistance by ten pounds and slides the pin back in position.
“Okay, twenty reps,” he tells Sid.
Sid doesn’t stay anything, just leans back, gets a grip on the hand holds and starts the exercises. Some days he lets the frustration get the better of him and lashes out at Brent but today isn’t one of those days. He just swallows his frustration and does what he’s told. He grudgingly admits to himself that Brent’s right. By the time he gets to twenty his thighs are burning.
Brent has been his physiotherapist since he started rehab in January. He’s young, maybe a couple years younger than Sid and a good guy. He’s into sports; not so much hockey as basketball and soccer. But he’s athletic and he can understand Sid’s drive to improve, to get better so that he can return to the game he loves.
Brent’s put up with a lot. Sid hasn’t been the easiest patient especially during the early days when he was still reeling from the bad news. It has been a nightmare. Sid has been angry and bitter about what happened to him and where he’s found himself. He’s lashed out at Brent when he’s tried to work with him or conversely he has been quiet, depressed and withdrawn.
Brent has met each version of Sid with patience and a professional cheerfulness which has made Sid feel guilty for being such an asshole. Sid has been told that the anger is a complication of his head injury and it can be difficult to manage or control. He’s working on it. There are lots of times Sid wouldn’t have blamed Brent if he’d giving up on him and told him where to go, but he hasn’t. He’s stayed on the case and Sid is well aware that Brent’s dedication is in a large part responsible for what improvement Sid is seeing.
Sid can’t believe he’s been here for nine weeks already. He wants to get out, to move home but right now it’s not feasible. He’s having recurrent and debilitating headaches from the injury and more alarming he’s been having the occasional seizure. They are decreasing in frequency but Dr. James won’t discharge him to live on his own until they can be controlled. Anyway, Sid can’t drive because of the seizures so someone would have to bring him to the hospital every day for his appointments which would be an enormous pain.
Sid’s parents have offered to stay with him in Pittsburgh but Sid has said no. He doesn’t want to tie his parents down even further. They have their own life in Nova Scotia and have been away from it two months already. Once Sid was stable and had started in on his rehab routine he’d told his parents they should go home. They had reluctantly agreed.
The Penguins have covered Sid’s care since his injury and that has included accommodation in a facility adjacent to the hospital where he moved once he no longer required acute care. It isn’t luxurious by any means, used mostly by patients having long term treatments but he has his meals provided and a room with a bed and a TV. At the moment Sid doesn’t need much more than that.
The best feature is its proximity to the hospital. It’s only a short walk from his room to the physiotherapy department, not that Sid can even walk there for the first month. No, much to Sid’s chagrin, he is so weak he has to have one of his parents or a nurse take him over in a wheelchair. The first time Sid manages to walk to an appointment on his own is what finally convinces his parents that they can return to Nova Scotia.
Brent gives him a couple minutes and then tells him, “Okay, do another set.”
Sid tucks his chin down and does as he’s told; nice and slow. He watches the muscles in his thighs stand out as he puts all he can into the extensions. He has to let out a long breath as he does the last one.
Brent grins at him when he’s done. “Excellent. So, got any exciting plans for the weekend?” he asks.
This makes Sid laugh. It’s getting to be a joke between them. Seeing as Sid is essentially living in a hospital he doesn’t really have much of a social life at the moment. He does have a couple days off though as exciting as they generally are.
“Oh, you know, the usual,” Sid smiles.
“Any of the guys coming by?” Brent asks him and Sid shakes his head.
“Nope. On a road trip this weekend,” Sid tells him. “They’re out west somewhere.”
“Vancouver?” Brent asks.
Sid shrugs. “I’m not sure.” He knows the guys probably told him when they were in during the week but he doesn’t remember. “I don’t watch all the time, you know?”
Brent nods but doesn’t say anything and Sid starts in on his last set of extensions. “It’s kind of hard,” he admits through tight lips as he lifts his legs again.
“Yeah, I bet,” Brent agrees.
“I mean, I like watching everyone play. It’s just frustrating when I’m here. It kind of sucks, hearing about the games and practise and everything......” Sid stops.
It’s getting a bit easier but yeah.... It was terrible to begin with. Sid hated to have the guys see him when he could barely walk, as unsteady on his feet as a small child. The first few visits were filled with awkward silences, his team mates as uncomfortable as Sid, not knowing what to say to him. Geno was the one who finally managed to break the ice with his clowning around. It’s gradually gotten easier although each visit still reminds Sid of what he’s lost.
“Okay,” Brent tells him when he’s done. “Half an hour on the bike and you’ll be done for the day. Make it a good one. After all it’s Friday.”
Sid nods and pushes himself up from the bench and heads over to one of the bank of exercise bikes. He glances down at the floor, careful of his footing. They’re at a spot where the flooring changes from lino to tile and the surface is uneven. He still drags his left foot a bit and if he’s not careful he’ll trip again. Brent reaches over instinctively and puts a hand on his elbow for support and Sid fights the urge to pull his arm away. He hates being like this, feeling so helpless.
Sid climbs onto the first free bike in the row. Brent watches Sid for a moment when he starts to peddle, making sure he’s using the agreed upon program and not overdoing it. Sid has a bad tendency to think he can do more than he can and has had a few set-backs. The one and only time he talked Brent into letting him do a slow jog on the treadmill instead of a walk he’d been almost immediately doubled over with a terrible headache.
Brent had been forced to half carry Sid to the bathroom where he’d been thoroughly sick. The headache had taken three days to subside even when being hit with heavy painkillers. The incident had scared both of them. They’d both been read the riot act by Dr. James and the nursing staff and after that there had been no more jogging. Nor would Brent let Sid do anything outside of the prescribed care plan. Sid hasn’t put up much of a fight.
“I thought maybe I’d go by and see the kids again tomorrow afternoon,” Sid tells Brent while he peddles.
“Over at Sick Kids?” Brent asks, referring to the affiliated children’s hospital across the street.
“Yeah.”
“Cool. I’m sure they love it.”
Sid nods. “It’s fun.”
The kids do love it. It was Jordie who’d first suggested to Sid that he visit the children’s wards and he’d liked the idea. He’s sent his mom to see if it was possible and the nurses had been thrilled with his offer. Now Sid tries to go once a week for a couple hours.
“So what do you do there?” Brent asks him.
“I don’t know. Just talk to them. Some of them are really cool. We watch some TV or play video games. That sort of stuff.”
The kids are great. They’ve all had a crappy hand dealt to them and yet the smiles on their faces when he’d show up lit up the whole room. Sid had asked the guys to bring down some hats and shit and he’d give them out too. The kids acted like it was Christmas.
The best part is when he gets to sit down and play video games and joke around with them and they can all forget for a bit. There is another benefit to the gaming; the video games are good for his hand eye coordination. Sid’s getting better but he still routinely gets his ass handed to him by some of the kids.
When Sid looks up he sees that Brent is smiling at him.
“What?”
It’s Brent’s turn to shrug. “I was just thinking that this is the happiest I’ve seen you look since we met.”
“I like hanging out there,” Sid tells him simply.
Brent gets called away to help another patient and Sid keeps peddling. Sid lets his mind wander while he rides. He watches the other patients; the pleasant guy who Sid knows has had his knee replaced, the woman around his mom’s age who’s had a stroke, and the young black kid who’d been hit by a car and was having to learn to walk again.
They all had their stories and were dealing with their conditions the best they can. It makes Sid realize that, although his life isn’t exactly what he wants it to be, it could be a hell of a lot worse. Before he knows it Brent is back and slaps him on the shoulder; the half hour is up.
“Okay, buddy. Time’s up.” Brent looks at his watch and tells Sid, “Quitting time for me too. Hang on a second and I’ll walk back with you.”
Sid climbs down off the bike and wipes it down while he catches his breathe. His legs are a little rubbery but they feel a lot better than when he first tried doing anything. Sid stretches out his hamstrings and quads while he waits for Brent to come back with his coat and backpack.
They stop at a junction in the corridors before going in opposite directions; Brent to the car park and Sid back to his room. Sid smiles when Brent pulls a Penguins toque out of his coat pocket and pulls it on. It was a gift from Geno. The guys were horrified when they found out Brent liked the Canucks and Geno had brought the toque in the next day.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you next week,” Sid tells him.
“Yup, I’ll be there,” Brent agrees.
********************************
Geno is lounging on Sid’s bed watching him stuff his clothes into a duffle bag and for the moment he’s holding his tongue. Sid keeps glancing across at him as he packs his belongings up and waits for him to start in. It’s been four months and Sid’s finally going home. he can’t wait. He’s fucking elated and he’s not going to let the silent waves of disapproval from his teammate dampen his mood.
When Sid gets all his t-shirts and sweats in the bag he zips it up and tosses it on the floor by the door. He glances at his watch and then sits down. He looks up and sees that Geno is regarding him mournfully.
“What?” he finally sighs.
“Is bad idea, Sid,” Geno tells him. “What happen with being honest?”
Sid rubs his hands over his face and looks at the floor. He can feel a headache coming on already. “I already told you. This is just temporary. Until Christine finds a new apartment. It’ll work out for me too. You know I’m not supposed to stay by myself.”
He looks up at Geno and admits, “I just really want to go home.”
“I tell you come stay with us, Sid,” Geno says.
“Yeah, I know. And I appreciate the offer, Geno. It’s just, I want to be in my own place.
Anyway, you’re busy with the team and everything. I don’t want to be in the way.”
Geno looks at him dubiously. “You tell her yet?”
Sid looks back down at his feet. He hasn’t. He knows he needs to but it just hasn’t been the right time. Christine knows the engagement is on hold, he’s told her that much. She accepted that without protest but whenever Sid tries to tell her that he’s decided he’s really only into guys, or as he’s sometimes afraid “guy”, he just can’t find the right way to start.
“No,” Sid tells him. “But I will,” he promises when Geno lets out a snort. “I’m just waiting for a good time.”
“When that be, Sid? Christmas?”
Sid’s opens his mouth to respond but then realizes he doesn’t have anything credible to say and so he just gapes at Geno. It takes him a minute to realize his mouth is still hanging open and he snaps it shut again in irritation. Sid knows he’s got nothing here.
Geno graciously lets it slide but then goes on to try a different tack. Sid never knows what the hell’s coming next from Geno. He almost chokes when Geno tells him, “You should ask Brent out.”
“What?” he hisses.
“He’s good guy. Nice looking too.”
He pronounces this with utter certainty, as if he an authority on good looking men and Sid can only shake his head. Geno is sounding a lot like a meddling aunt.
“You should ask,” he prods when Sid doesn’t answer.
“I doubt he’s gay,” Sid tells Geno dryly.
“Of course he is. Otherwise I not say,” Geno tells him patiently.
“How the hell do you know that?” Sid asks him exasperatedly. This is just getting to be too much. Sid rubs his eyes and tries to take some calming breathes.
Geno gives him a pitying look, as if he’s certainly mentally deficient and tells him, “Well, I ask.”
“Jesus,” Sid snorts. He’s actually kind of curious how that conversation might have gone. Geno is not the most subtle of people, or tactful. All Sid can do is look at Geno and shake his head.
“What?” Geno demands. “Was trying to help you out.”
“Well, don’t bother,” Sid tells him. “I hope you didn’t freak the guy out.”
Geno shrugs dismissively. “No, no, he was fine. Well, maybe look bit nervous when I first ask him.” No doubt. Just what one would want to be asked by a dower six foot three Russian. Brent probably thought he was going to be gay bashed.
“But he okay once I tell him is no problem. Only wondering because team looking for nice guy for Sidney.”
“Oh, for fuck sake,” Sid mutters. He doesn’t want to hear any more. He’s never going to be able to look at his physiotherapist in the eye again.
“I have to work out with the guy every day. Christ,” he tells Geno in exasperation.
“Sure,” Geno agrees. “You work out, maybe talk, who knows what....” he mercifully leaves any more to Sid’s imagination.
“Thing is though Sid, you just need to try. Is not all hockey, hockey, hockey. Should try to meet people and get out. Meet some guys. See what happen.”
This sobers Sid. It’s the closest any of the guys have come to saying these truths to Sid. The truths he knows somewhere in the back of his mind and only bring out late at night when he can’t sleep. Life without hockey; Sid still can’t conceive of it. If he can’t go back he doesn’t know what the hell he’s going to do.
One thing is for sure. Despite Geno’s ideas, Sid’s probably not going to be dating a swath through the gay population of Pittsburgh. He’s really not interested. Brent is a nice guy and if Sid had to say so, probably good looking, but that’s about it. There is still only one person Sid wants and he’s not around. Sid doesn’t even think he’s in North America yet, not that he’s been asked anyone. Sid’s had enough of his own shit to worry about lately.
Any further discussion about Sid’s love life is cut short by Christine’s arrival. She’s got a nurse with wheelchair in tow and the car parked out front. As usual she looks like a million bucks in, to Sid’s discomfort, a fur coat, designer handbag and boots and leggings. She’s let her hair grow or put in those extensions of whatever the fuck they are and her hair is a tawny mane around her perfectly made up face. Her legs look like they go for miles.
She smiles warmly at Sid and then gives Geno a barely civil nod before turning away before catching the semi-hostile look he gives her. It is obvious to Sid by now that there is no love lost between the two of them. They’ve just never let it become this obvious before.
Geno’s not the only one who’s not thrilled to see Christine back. No one on the team is particularly happy about it. No one thinks she’s good for Sid. They think he’s better off on his own. When Sid tells his mom that Christine is going to stay with him for a while, at least until he stopped having seizures and can drive again she manages to convey her disproval with almost no words. Mom’s are good at that.
When Sid finally gets exasperated and asks her what the big deal is she sighs and says she doesn’t think it’s a good idea. Sid doesn’t know what to say to that one because hell, he’s an adult after all and anyway, it’s only a temporary arrangement until she gets another place and Sid can finally drive his ass around again. He’s sick of being dependant on everyone.
Christine picks up Sid’s bag and hands it to Geno and then ushers Sid into the waiting wheelchair. Sid makes a token protest about wanting to walk out but he’s overruled by the nursing staff; hospital policy. He grudgingly gets settled in the chair with his feet on the rests like some kind of old cripple and gives Geno an exasperated look. Geno only shrugs. He doesn’t appear to be relishing his role as the bag boy either.
Christine muscles the nurse away from the wheelchair so that she can push Sid out to the car like the dutiful soon to be wife she probably still thinks she is. She stops at the mirror to check her hair and they are off. Sid feels like an invalid and hopes like hell there’s no one who recognizes him around.
They manage to get Sid and his belongings into the car without incident and are on their way. As he sees the hospital disappear behind them Sid can’t help but let out a sign of relief. He’s been there far too long.
******************************
The first couple weeks go alright. Christine drives Sid to the hospital for his appointments and cooks for him at night. She’s on hiatus and uses the downtime to catch up with her friends when she’s not chauffeuring Sid around. She’s not making a lot of friends among the nursing staff and therapists who’re worked with Sid but she’s been a big help to Sid so he can’t say too much.
The wheels begin to wobble a bit when Sid refuses to go out to any clubs. She gets bored sitting around the condo with him watching sports and it pisses her off when Sid won’t oblige. She does talk him into going to a few dinner parties at her friends homes but draws the line there. He still feels self-conscious about going out in public the way he is, limping around like some kind of cripple.
The problem is that Sid’s no better at fitting in with Christine’s friends than he ever was so he always regrets going along. The only thing that helps these social situations is a steady supply of alcohol. It reminds him of a t-shirt he once had that said “I drink to make other people more interesting”. He needs to find another one of those.
Sitting around the condo, the two of them don’t have a lot to talk about. In all honesty, Sid is barely going through the motions and it doesn’t take Christine long to pick up on it. The chauffer/cook role doesn’t sit well with her once she’s figured things out and things really start to go off the rails. She is quick to criticize Sid for any shortcomings and he retaliates by ignoring her most of the time.
He knows he’s being churlish but he can’t seem to stop himself. His headaches are getting worse again, no doubt brought on by the stress. He’s suffering from black moods he seems to have no control over and anger issues Dr. James warned him could be a side effect of his head injury. Sid uses more and more vicodin for his headaches and eventually just to feel better.
Christine prefers to medicate using vodka straight up in the guise of a martini. Sid finds that if he joins her for a couple drinks before dinner, coupled with his vicodin, he can almost cope. He’s still together enough to realize this is not a good basis for a relationship.
The guys drop in when they can but they’re wrapped up in the last few weeks of the season and each game is significant. They’re having extra practises and there’s nothing optional about any of the skates anymore. Christine isn’t knocking herself out making any of them feel welcome either. They take to calling first to see if the war department is in before they’ll stop by.
The first time Jordie sees Sid drinking again he raises his eyebrows in thinly veiled concern. He’d been around in the early hospital days when Sid had been read the riot act by the nursing staff about the pain and seizure medication he was on and how they couldn’t or shouldn’t been combined with alcohol. Dr James has told him emphatically not to drink until the complications of his head injury had abated.
Sid’s stuck to the rules while he was at the hospital but it’s only taken him three weeks at home to fall soundly off the wagon. Sid’s discovered he can phone in orders at Whole Foods for beer and premade foods that are far better than anything he or Christine can make. They will also sell him boxes of Grey Goose at a discount and have it all delivered right to the door. He’s got the whole food thing organized like a boss.
Christine isn’t terribly impressed with their sleeping arrangements. Sid’s assigned her the spare room, telling her that he’s having a terrible time sleeping at night and will only keep her awake. Some nights when the two of them have had a few drinks they slid back into familiar patterns and will mess around on the couch but Sid has absolutely no desire to fuck her. He’ll plead exhaustion, or a headache, or fucking fake a seizure before it comes to that. Sid knows he has to tell her. He’s not really sure why he can’t.
Christine is quite persistent but so far she hasn’t gotten anywhere. Sid’s secretly afraid his injury has messed up more than his career. He doesn’t get hard anymore, not since the coma. Sometimes, when he can fit it in with the rest of his crappy life he worries that he’ll never be able to get it up again. If he ever does Sid doubts very much it’s going to be with Christine.
The shit really hits the fan one night when they’ve been out with Chris’s friends at a yuppy restaurant; one of those ones that charged too much for too little food. Sid gets home piss drunk but irritable because he’s still really hungry. Okay, it’s partly because her friends can still make him feel like a complete loser. But that’s nothing new.
He rifles through the fridge for leftovers and when he emerges with cold pizza he takes it eat in front of the TV while he watches Sports Final. Christine sits down beside him and out of the corner of his eye Sid can see long expanses of skin; she’s wearing one of her silky robes and not much else.
She nudges Sid’s leg suggestively with hers and Sid looks across at her. Christine puts her hand down on his thigh and runs her long fingers up and down the inside of his leg so that Sid puts down what’s left of his pizza on the couch beside him because she’s leaving no doubt as to her intent.
“Look Chris,” Sid starts, intending to tell her he doesn’t want to start anything.
“Come on Sid,” she cajoles. “Let me make you feel good.”
To emphasize her point she runs her hand up over his dick and squeezes gently. Half of Sid is afraid nothing’s going to happen but the other half fucking wants to see if anything can. He’s got enough of a buzz on to not really care who it’s with so he leans back and shuts his eyes before nodding his consent.
Christine is down on her knees and working away at Sid’s zipper immediately. Sid spreads his legs obligingly and then lifts up his hips so that she can slide his jeans off. When his pants and shoes are gone and Christine has free access to his dick Sid is relieved to see that it’s showing some interest in the situation. Sid glances down looks from his cock to Christine’s glistening lips and then back and then leans back and shuts his eyes again. He’s ready or at least he wants to give it a try.
Christine leans in and gets to work jacking him. She’s good at this, there’s no doubt. But the long hair dragging along his thighs is wrong and so is the sweet floral smell she wears and the finger nails, especially along his cock. The mechanics are okay but Sid’s not getting what he needs from the situation so he thinks about someone else blowing him.
Things are immediately better. He pictures large hands gently grazing over his thighs, positioning him firmly, dark brows and blue eyes studying him for every reaction to the touch. Sid groans when he feels the first touch of lips but it’s not Christine’s lips he’s picturing. She works the head with her mouth and fists the rest and it’s really porny and good and Sid starts to thrust his hips up into her mouth.
Christine puts a hand on him, holding him down but she sucks harder and it’s still pretty great. He’s just so fucking relieved that things are still working he could almost cry. Without realizing what he’s doing Sid gasps out a name he’s not said in a long while. Finally he dissolves into the first orgasm he’s had since the accident.
Christine sits back when he’s done and studies him a moment. She’s clearly not amused with his faux pas and though he’s still recovering Sid silently kicks himself for the slip. Christine tidies up silently and then goes to the kitchen to fix herself another drink. Sid’s relieved to see when she gets back that she’s made him one too and he takes a mouthful when she hands it to him.
She sits down again beside him and Sid gulps down another mouthful. She looks like she means business but it’s business of a different kind now. Sid’s terribly afraid it’s time for the talk. Christine doesn’t waste any time.
“Who’s Alex?” She asks tightly.
When Sid doesn’t offer an explanation she continues with her questions. Christine is many things but stupid isn’t one of them. She sits down beside him and Sid uncomfortably covers himself up while she watches him closely over her glass. Sidney, are you gay?”
The words hang there in the silence and Sid thinks he can actually hear his heart beating while he struggles for words. He lets out a long breath.
“Um, yeah, I think I probably am,” Sid admits. “Or at least bi.”
Christine nods thoughtfully. It’s obviously not a total shock to her. “And obviously there’s someone you’re thinking about.....” she muses and makes a vague gesture at his lap.
Sid nods. There’s not a lot he wants to tell her about Alex. There doesn’t seem like any point. Luckily she doesn’t follow up on that line of questioning.
“So how the hell did you end up with me?” she asks him. It’s a very good question. The answers are not something Sid is proud of but he feels he owes Christine the truth. Even if the result will be that she tells him to go fuck himself.
He looks at Christine sadly. “I’m really sorry, Chris. I’ve been so messed up. I never really knew what I wanted. It took me a while to figure it out. And you were always around and didn’t mind me and it was easy with you. I feel bad. You deserve better.”
Sid hazards a glance at Christine to see what her reaction is and sees that she’s nodding in agreement but at least she doesn’t look furious. It’s better than he’d hoped.
Sid sighs. “I just wanted to be normal,” he concludes pitifully. When Sid finally stops talking he looks at Christine again.
He’s surprised to see she’s laughing softly. She reaches across and takes his hand. “Sid, as much as I like you, you are probably the least normal person I have ever met.”
Sid nods his head sadly. He really is that fucked up. It’s a lucky thing he has any friends at all.
Christine crosses her legs and looks at him. “So, why am I here, Sid? Really?” she waits for an answer.
“Ahhh,” Sid starts. “Well, you needed somewhere to stay until you can find another condo and I’m not supposed to stay on my own, so........” Sid shrugs. Christine doesn’t really look like she’s buying it and starts to tap one perfectly manicured foot impatiently.
“I was thinking a little more long term, Sidney,” she explains and he can suddenly feel his face go red. “You can’t be serious about getting married, surely?”
“Yeah, no. I’ve been meaning to tell you but with everything that’s happened....” he winds down. “I was looking for a good time.”
Christine snorts. “Well, I guess it’s now.”
“Look, I’m really sorry Christine. It was a bad idea. I wasn’t thinking very clearly.”
“Why did you ask me at all?”
Sid sighs. It feels so long ago now. “Um, I kind of panicked. There were pictures of me with the guys and then Alex came out and everyone was asking who I was dating....”
“And you just figured, good old Christine will be into it, I’ll ask her,” Christine mutters.
‘I’m so sorry.” Sid tells her sincerely. “I’m an asshole.”
Christine just shakes her head and then lifts her eyes skyward. “I still having a hard time getting my head around this. You’re really not into girls?”
Sid shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s okay, I guess. But no, it’s not the same as.....” he’s having a hard time explaining how it works.
“You’re pretty decent at it, I have to say,” Christine smiles.
“Um, thanks?” Sid tells her and Christine just shrugs. Credit where credit is due.
“I would never have known. Well, except for the moaning a guy’s name part. That’s a red flag, Sidney. I have to say.”
Sid blushes again. “Yeah, I didn’t mean to do that, obviously. But Christine,” he starts. He knows he’s got to get this all out now before he loses his nerve so Christine knows there’s never going to be anything between them.
“I really appreciate you being here and driving me around and the cooking and everything but that’s all it’s ever going to be. Okay?”
Christine sits for a minute and doesn’t say anything. When she finally does she takes Sid’s hand again and squeezes it. “Okay, Sid. I’ll start looking for a place right away but sure, I’d still like to help you out. Like I said, you are one strange guy but, and I’m not really even sure why, but I like you and I’d like to be friends.”
“I’d like that too, Chris,” Sid tells her. His voice is tight. “You can stay as long as you need.”
Christine waves that off. “You don’t want me hanging around here.”
Sid shrugs again. “It’s not a big deal. It’s not like there’s anyone.......” he starts before he realizes it’s a subject he doesn’t really want to get in to.
Christine looks at him and frowns. “Sidney, honey. Excuse me, but I think there is. I mean if you’re calling out his name when I’m blowing you then there’s something still there.”
“It’s over now,” Sid tells her reluctantly. “We broke up. It was for the best.”
Christine doesn’t even know who he’s talking about but Sid can see she’s not buying it. “So where exactly is “Mr. It’s for the Best”?” she prods.
“I don’t even know. I haven’t seen him in a long time. Maybe in Russia?”
“Is he a hockey player?” she asks and then stops herself and answers herself. “Of course he is. Who does he play for?” she asks. He can see the wheels turning already.
“You can’t tell people this, Christine,” Sid hisses at her reflexively. And then he thinks what the fuck, this is what got them, he and Alex, in to the state they’re at. Sid realizes he’s going to have to stop caring about this shit.
He’s about to confess his gay love for Alex Ovechkin to Christine when she puts two and two together on her own. “Was it that big Russian guy in Las Vegas? The one who looked like he wanted to rip my arms off?”
Sid nods. “Yeah, that was him,” he confirms softly. “Alex.”
Christine looks sceptical. “The one with the wild hair?” Sid nods again.
He was missing a tooth,” Christine points out.
“Yeah,” Sid agrees and he can’t help but smile at the memory. Christine takes one look at the sappy look on his face and shakes her head.
“Sid, you’re not over this guy yet. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now but at some point you’re going to need to work this out one way or the other.”
Sid only shrugs noncommitally.
******************************
Christine graciously agrees to keep driving Sid around while she’s at his place. Like she says, it’s the least she can do. And Sid appreciates it. Now that the pressure is off to act like a boyfriend he finds that the two of the manage to forge a comfortable friendship.
Sid admires Christine in many ways. Her uncompromising disregard for what others think of her is something he knows he should take to heart. Christine has always been one to live by her own standards. She’s very similar to Alex in that way.
A couple weeks later she’s probably regretting her decision to stay on and Sid will be the first one to admit that he can be a total asshole. His irritability can be a challenge at the best of times but things come to a head after the latest visit with Dr. James.
It’s not good news. Sid’s been pushing to be allowed back on the ice, to at least go down to the rink and skate with the guys. He’s walking pretty well now and his neuro deficits are much less pronounced. Sid figures it’s time to try skating again.
Dr. James flatly refuses to consider it despite his can do attitude. She does a few neuro assessments and tells Sid he’s coming along steadily, orders some more tests, and then informs him that skating is out for the time being. She tells him to schedule another appointment for September and to relax and enjoy his summer.
Sid is curt but civil to Dr. James during the appointment but once he’s in the car his mood deteriorates. Christine gives him concerned glances at each light but she’s been around him long enough to know when it’s a good time to keep your mouth shut. She wisely gives him some space to digest the news but it’s a slow, tense drive home through afternoon traffic.
Sid’s not even angry at his doctor in particular but at everything, at the whole fucking world and how it’s preventing Sidney Crosby from doing what he loves the most. His mood didn’t improve when they get to his place and he throws his workout bag across the room when he get in and kicks his runners against the door. Christine just raises her eyes.
His head is pounding so he goes to his room to get some painkillers. He shakes a couple out into his palm and goes to the kitchen to make a drink. Christine frowns when she sees him washing his vicodin down with straight vodka.
“You sure you should be doing that?” she asks him.
Sid snorts. He’s been mixing the two since they met so he’s not sure why it’s suddenly an issue although there’s no denying the worried look on her face.
“What?” he demands.
Christine sighs. “Look, Sid. I’m no angel, I’ll admit. But I just think you should maybe slow down on the drinking. It’s one thing to party, but this is getting to be something else.”
“I can handle it,” he tells her.
He takes another couple mouthfuls of vodka and refills the glass before going to the living room and turning on the TV. He flips through the stations to find a hockey game to watch. It’s the first round of the playoffs and the Bruins are playing.
Christine follows and sits down on the couch beside him. She doesn’t look like she’s going to let things go and Sid’s irritation increases. The last thing he needs right now is Christine telling him how to run his life. He congratulates himself silently for having the presence of mind to have brought the bottle of vodka along with him from the kitchen.
“Do you think maybe you should talk to someone, Sid?”
“Like who?” Sid snaps, still watching the game.
“I don’t know. Maybe Mario or someone from the team could suggest someone?”
Sid finally turns to her. “Just keep the team out of this, okay, Christine. I’m fine.” He grabs the bottle off the coffee table and refills his glass before sitting back and stubbornly crossing his arms across his chest.
“Look, Sid. I’m just trying to help,” she tells him.
“Yeah, well I don’t need your help.”
Christine just watches him while he takes another drink. The booze and pills are starting to kick in so that his headache is dulling but they’re not really touching the anger that’s still threatening to burst out.
“Look, Sid. I just think you’ve had to deal with a lot and it just might help to talk to someone about everything,”
“Like a shrink?” Sid mutters.
Christine only shrugs. “It might not be a bad idea. I mean, it must be tough. You’ve played hockey all your life and now......”
“And now what?” Sid snaps out. Christine is really starting to irritate him and he finds himself squeezing the glass in his hand.
“Well, now that you can’t play anymore, you have a lot of adjustments to make.”
“I’m going to play again,” Sid tells her stubbornly.
Christine looks at him in complete sympathy. “Oh honey, I know you want to but I think you need to be realistic here. You’re not going to be going back.”
Something snaps inside Sid when she says that. Before he knows what he’s doing Sid stands up and leans over Christine and starts raising his voice.
“Don’t say that. You don’t know anything about hockey. I’ll be going back. I’m getting stronger all the time. Everyone says so,” he yells.
“Calm down, Sid” Christine soothes.
“Well, stop saying that shit. You don’t know,” Sid yells. He cringes inwardly and how shrill his voice has gotten as he’s filled with completely irrational anger over what she’s suggested. He notices Christine glancing at his clenched fists and tries to relax them. He belatedly realizes he probably looks like he’s going to hit her.
Christine shakes her head. She’s not one to let people go on living in a fantasy and she’s got guts, Sid has to give her that. She’s not backing down.
“No, I don’t. But I don’t think it would hurt to see someone. Maybe think about not taking so many pain pills. I’d just hate to see you get....”
“I’m not a druggie, Christine.”
“I’m not saying you are. I just think it’s something you need to be careful with. Lots of people get in over their head. I’ve seen it happen, baby.”
“I told you I could handle it.”
Christine sighs. “Alright. Just consider it,” she suggests.
“And start to think about what you might want to do after hockey.” Christine’s voice drops on the last part as if she’s afraid of how Sid will react. She’s not wrong.
“What are you talking about?” Sid demands, his fists clenching involuntarily. Christine sighs.
“Sid, you’re going to have to face facts. The guys just can’t bring themselves to tell you because they’re afraid of how you’ll react but it’s still the truth. You won’t be playing again. You’re going to have to figure out what else you want to do with your life. There are a million things. You just need to decide.”
Christine tries to take his hand, to pull him back down so he’s sitting again but Sid pulls his hand away from her. He doesn’t want to be comforted right now.
“Get out,” he tells her.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sid,” Christine tells him.
“You heard me. Get the fuck out of my place.” Sid can feel himself loosing it. He’s almost shrieking as he tells her again to leave. As angry as he is he’s afraid of what he might do and he blinks back tears.
“I don’t want to leave you alone like this,” she insists stubbornly. “I’m going to call someone on the team.”
Christine glances at Sid’s phone. He’s left it on the coffee table. When she makes to pick it up so she can get someone’s number Sid beats her to it as drunk as he is. He snatches it up and tells her, “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Sid, you’re not yourself right now,” Christine tells him. But he can tell she’s faltering. For the first time she looks afraid of him.
“Get out,” Sid repeats. Christine just stares back at him with a stubborn set to her mouth. Damn that woman.
When it looks as if she’s not going to go Sid emphasizes his demand by throwing his glass against the wall. Christine jumps as pieces of glass and ice cubes fly everywhere and they both stare at the last of the vodka as it runs down the paint.
Christine says no more. Sid watches as she gets up and silently walks to her room and shuts the door. It’s probably for the best. If she were to argue with him anymore he doesn’t know what he’d do. His loss of control frightens him and he can feel himself shaking. He sits down and puts his head in his hands and fights to hang on.
Sid grabs the bottle of vodka and leans back into the couch. He finishes it, straight from the bottle, while he watches the rest of the game. He passes out before it’s over and when he wakes up in the morning he has no idea who won.
The condo is silent. Christine must have turned off the TV. When Sid pushes himself upright he sees that she’s also swept up the broken glass and wiped the alcohol off the wall. He goes to the kitchen to get a drink of water and sees that there’s coffee made. There is also a note from Christine saying that she’s left. She’s staying with a friend until her place is ready.
Sid’s just as happy to be on his own although he’s not sure how everyone else will react to that. He considers maybe not telling anyone for a while. He takes a couple more vicodin and collapses back on the couch and watches TV all morning.
He decides to skip physio. What’s the point? In the back of his mind he knows he’s not going to be playing hockey again. Christine is right. So there’s no reason to work out all the time. Fuck it. He deserves a break from it. Christine calls but when he sees who it is Sid won’t pick up. He doesn’t feel like getting nagged any more than he’s already been.
A couple days later Sid runs out of vodka so he calls the supermarket and orders a crate. They deliver it a couple hours later and he gives the guy a big tip. Without Christine there Sid doesn’t have to make it look like he’s just drinking socially so he hits it pretty hard. When he wakes up in the mornings with a pounding headache well, the vicodin helps with that.
He tries to watch hockey but to be honest it just hurts to damn much. The Penguins are in a tough series with the Oilers and Sid wishes he could help. It’s terribly frustrating to sit by and watch as his friends go down to defeat in first one and then a second game. Midway through the third game he changes the channel; he can’t watch any more. Sid doesn’t watch game four when they are eliminated.
A few days later it dawns on Sid that all the booze and pain pills in the world aren’t helping the dark mood that’s threatening to overwhelm him and he starts to cry. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this hopeless in his life.
It’s not even panic this time it’s more of a dark, bleak despair. No matter how fucked up he’s been Sid’s always managed to find the positive when he’s tried hard enough but even that glimmer seems to have escaped him now. He just doesn’t seem to have the energy to even look anymore.
He phones home one night just to say hi because it’s just hit him suddenly how much he misses his mom and dad. They aren’t home. When the familiar message on the answering machine comes on Sid dissolves into tears. He chokes out a brief message about how much he loves them and that he will call them again soon and then hangs up. He begins to cry in earnest.
It takes him a few minutes to pull himself together and when he does he gets a new bottle of vodka and settles down on the couch. His head is throbbing so he shakes out a handful of pills and washes them down with a swig from the bottle. It’s not long before he’s enveloped by a familiar darkness.