Keep Me Close- Chapter XIII
Team: San Jose Sharks
Pairing: Joe Thornton/Evgeni Nabokov
Rating: Not quite PG-13, but enough language to make it a little more than PG
Summary: Not all in San Jose is sunny as the path to the Stanley Cup proves to be as difficult as ever; falling in love might be the simplest task on this year’s agenda.
Editor: Sherlockelly
Chapter I Chapter VII
Chapter II Chapter VIII
Chapter III Chapter IX
Chapter IV Chapter X
Chapter V Chapter XI
Chapter VI Chapter XII
Disclaimer: I would kill to have this be real. But my record is clean so it’s not. Unfortunately.
Chapter XIII
The next five minutes ticked off the clock ever so slowly, until it read 0.0, the score still tied at four. Joe looked to his goaltender from his vantage point on the bench, and realized that he was not as nervous as he probably should have been. He had complete faith in his friend, but he just wished that it would never have to come to this point to decide the game.
The sudden-death hit Joe like the back check he never saw coming. He leaned forward in his seat as Berglund picked the puck from center ice and gained speed towards the goal, towards Evgeni.
The rookie leaned to his right and Evgeni followed his movements. Joe sucked in a breath and held it as Berglund waited to find his chance to shoot. Evgeni waited longer, and forced the puck to go wide when he extended his left leg out. The game was won, 5-4.
Joe whooped and hollered, jumping off the bench to share the win with Evgeni. But as he glided over, Evgeni did not get up.
As he lay there on the ice, his face buried in his arms and his legs bent at a strange angle, Joe was certain that his heart had stopped beating.
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"Where is he? Is Evgeni okay?" Joe stormed into Todd's office after the game, not bothering to knock first.
The coach glanced up from the forms in his hands, shuffling and setting them down. Interlacing his stubby fingers, he placed them under his chin, waiting for Joe to calm himself.
The man standing was still fully clad in his sweaty equipment. It weighed him down and he breathed deeply to restore some of his energy he had lost from running through the locker room on his skates. Taking one last step, Joe let himself fall boneless into the chair opposite Todd.
The coach remained unmoving, watching Joe alertly. Finally, Joe managed to catch enough of his breath to speak. "Wh...where is Evgeni? I need... I need to make sure... he's okay." His chest heaved again from the exertion of talking.
Todd 'hmph'ed, untangled his fingers and looked back to his papers. "He's with Ray at the moment, getting his knee checked out. It's possible that he hyper-extended it on the last save."
The memory replayed in Joe's mind like a bad dream. Starting from when Berglund picked up the puck, and up until when Evgeni was helped off the ice. The fans went home happy, but Joe would have rather taken the loss than have his friend be hurt. "Well how the hell did he do it? I mean, that could’ve been avoided, right?" Joe asked frantically, leaning forward in his seat and gripping Todd's desk without mercy.
The calm man shrugged his shoulders slightly, and pulled his collar down to straighten his jacket afterward. "I don't know, Joe, why don't you go ask him that? I'm not a goaltender."
Joe crinkled his brow, and forced himself lot not lash out at the man. But recalling Evgeni’s pained face spurred more distress to grow inside of him. He screwed his jaw tight and hissed through his clenched teeth, "I didn't know where he was."
Todd's face remained impassive as he stared Joe down. "He's with Ray."
"I know who he's with!" Joe snapped, uncaring that the man before him could take his career away in a second. All he knew was that he needed to see Evgeni, and he needed to see him now.
Looking back to his papers and pulling out a yellow sheet, Todd nodded toward the open door. "Ray isn't here then, if that's what you're wondering," he stated shortly, picking up a pen and circling something on the page.
Acid bubbled in Joe's stomach, churning inside him and clouding his vision with red. He slammed his hands onto the desk, disrupting the papers and causing McLellan to give him the time of day. "Excuse me if I want to comfort my teammate after I saw him go down. I need to look out for him because no one else seems to be!"
His chest heaved and he stood up, anger blazing under his skin. That fact that Joe was unable to protect Evgeni from horrible people like their coach made him restless, as though a hungry lion was pacing impatiently inside of him.
Joe glowered at the man, clenching and unclenching his fists at his side, before he turned on the heel of his skate. One of Todd's papers had fluttered to the ground and now lay in Joe's path. He crouched down to pick it up, snarling when he thrust it under McLellan's nose. "What's this? What's so important that you can't check up on your starting goalie?"
A bored expression remained on the coach's face as he snatched the paper from Joe's hand. "These are Evgeni's insurance papers, so I can make sure he's covered in his contract."
The blunt statement wiped away Joe's disgusted look instantly. The two men stared at each other, until Joe declined his head humbly and stepped out of the room with out another word.
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“They say it’s a lower bhody injury and that Iya am day to day.”
“Anything else?”
“Um… no? Ray said I’ll be bhack on the ice early December.”
“What did you do to it though?”
Joe and Evgeni sat together in the locker room before the Dallas game. Evgeni’s left leg was bandaged and his crutches were leaning in between the two men.
He rolled his eyes and straightened his hurt leg. “I lhanded on it funny, alright? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the game?” Evgeni questioned after scanning over the bustling room. He rubbed his neck and turned to Joe with wide, imploring eyes.
Looking down, Joe smiled skeptically and shook his head. “What are ya talking about? All I have to do is put on the jersey,” he laughed and grabbed one of the crutches by his side.
Evgeni took the other crutch in his left hand and hoisted himself up with a grunt. “Knowing you, you’d prohbably go out there shirtless,” he mumbled, while holding his right hand out expectantly, snapping his long fingers for his other crutch.
Pouting as he held the walking device just out of Evgeni’s reach, Joe looked the man in the eye to show his affronted appearance. “What’s that supposed to mean, cripple?”
It was Evgeni’s turn to pout as his crutch eluded his fingertips once again. An indescribable whine rose from the back of his throat when Joe yanked his arm back at the last second. The intense concentration displayed on Evgeni’s face made Joe’s constant teasing worth it. The expression was too amusing for Joe, and he would have done anything to make it stay.
He found himself staring at the tongue and bottom lip taking turns being gnawed upon. He kept watching until both were pink, wet and swollen. The puffy lips parted and it took Joe a second to realize that Evgeni was talking to him. He finally managed to rip his eyes away at the end of Evgeni’s sentence.
“…unlike you though,” he finished with a sly smirk plastered across his face.
Joe was about to make up an answer, but shut his mouth when he saw Patrick waving to him and pointing at the clock on the wall. It was almost game time.
He handed the crutch back to Evgeni, who mumbled a ‘thanks’ and backed up a step to let Joe get to his bench. After slipping the jersey over his head, Joe grabbed his helmet and turned back to Evgeni. The man stood by himself, watching Joe’s movements with grey eyes as he took his bottom lip between his teeth again.
Joe slapped the helmet onto his head and reached the same hand over to ruffle Evgeni’s already messy hair. A sound of protest escaped through the flustered man’s mercilessly bitten lips and Joe offered another smile. “I’ll see you during the intermission then?” he asked hurriedly, risking the precious time he had before the team was supposed to step out onto the ice.
Sighing out a ‘yeah,’ Evgeni leaned his weight to his right and punched Joe lightly on the arm with his left hand. “Jhust… play good for me tonight?” he whispered while giving Joe a push towards the exit, his palm flat on Joe’s chest.
Joe nodded curtly, eager to please. He backed out of the room with an apologetic smile until he lost sight of the man around the corner. With a slouch to his shoulders, he turned and jogged to catch up with his teammates, snatching his stick propped against the wall along the way.
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The first period ended with a goal from Dan and all saves from Brian. Joe could not remember if he had an assist on the goal or not, but he did not worry about it as he entered the locker room for the first intermission. Standing on the toe of his skates, he grinned when he caught a glimpse of wild, dirty-blond hair.
For the next ten minutes the two talked. Joe at his bench, changing his damp equipment, and Evgeni hunched over on his crutches beside him. In his black Vaughn shirt and jeans, Evgeni appeared positively scrawny when compared to the men walking around with ten pounds of equipment on. Joe told his observation to Evgeni with a laugh, forcing a small smile from the man, who claimed that he was glad that he did not actually possess the stomach that his padding gave him.
Far too soon, Joe was supposed to get back to the ice for the second period. He mumbled a sad goodbye and left swiftly to avoid seeing Evgeni’s downtrodden face, for he knew that he would stop himself from leaving if he did.
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The next twenty minutes passed with no goals for either team. Joe was not even sure what he and Evgeni talked about during the intermission, it passed by so quickly. Evgeni pointed out the time and once again, Joe was forced to wave reluctantly back as he left the locker room and Evgeni’s side for the final time that night.
He shouted “wish us good luck!” over his shoulder as he bounded down the hall, but he figured that Evgeni did not hear him when he received no sarcastic comment in return.
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The game looked like it was going into overtime, Joe thought grumpily. Forty seconds left and tied 1-1. He muttered a ‘sorry’ under his breath to Evgeni and watched the clock tick down slowly. Each second mocked him by keeping him the last place he wanted to be.
Thirty-eight seconds.
Thirty-five seconds.
With thirty-two seconds left in the game, Brad got the puck and passed it through the neutral zone for Patrick. The captain released his shot, but it was controlled by Marty Turco, who then guided it to the side with his stick. One second passed and Patrick was picking the puck from the goaltender’s control. Two seconds passed and the puck was in the back of the net.
Joe sighed heavily with joyous disbelief and congratulated Brian on the win, itching to celebrate with the other netminder instead.
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He entered the locker room first with a smile so large it hurt his cheeks, only to find Jay Woodcroft there by himself to pat them on the back. Disappointment filled Joe’s limbs and suddenly his adrenaline from the game was sapped from him. When he asked the assistant coach where Evgeni had gone, Jay merely offered a sympathetic smile, saying that Evgeni did not feel well and went home.
Joe packed up and left the rowdy room as soon as possible, not joining his teammates’ exuberance on the rematch victory.
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After the Stars game, Joe hunted frantically for Evgeni before he had to board the plane to Phoenix.
The uncontrollable burn for closure pushed Joe to look faster, to try harder. His worry was finally put to a rest when his phone buzzed with the message that stated ‘sorry I had 2 leave, nice win.’ He received the text just as he was about to turn off his phone for the sake of the flight.
He stared blankly at the message until the stewardess asked him to put it away with a seductive smile on her ruby red lips. Joe’s bored eyes never strayed from hers as he huffed reluctantly in compliance.
He liked naturally bitten lips better.
His mind lingered on the text message he received, reassuring him of Evgeni’s safety and approval, though keeping his flight to Phoenix lonely nonetheless.
Gazing dreamily out the window with his cheek resting in his palm, Joe was entranced by the vast space and the endless stars, in the sky and on the ground. He watched them and their modest beauty, making Joe feel so incredibly small.
The black materialized into a gloomy grey, the stars still sparkling just out of reach, and suddenly all Joe could see were Evgeni’s eyes. He drifted off to sleep with a nostalgic smile on his face.
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Joe was staring detachedly at the flashing screen of the hotel’s television when Evgeni called him the next day.
“I mhiss you,” the man stuck in California whispered, longing woven discreetly into his words.
Unknown excitement bubbled in Joe’s stomach and he smiled, happy to just hear Evgeni’s voice again. He glanced at Patrick who was on the other bed napping deeply before the game. Joe opened his mouth to voice his agreement, but a vengeful thought crossed his mind before he managed to say anything.
Contemplating his choices, he clicked his teeth together and his lips formed a devious smirk. He was not going to be victim of the sarcastic comments for once. He waited, not saying a thing, and turned off “Snakes on a Plane” which played quietly in the background.
There was a pause on the other end, as if Evgeni was waiting for Joe to say something in return. When he did not, Evgeni stumbled over more of his words. “So, um… h-how are you?”
Joe had to press the phone into the mattress as he chuckled. He calmed himself quickly and brought the speaker back to his lips. “Oh… you know,” he sighed, trying to sound aloof.
Evgeni’s confusion could be felt through the phone, and Joe was only the slightest bit guilty for taking such pleasure in torturing his friend. But he did deserve it for not saying goodbye to him again.
“Okay? What does that mhean?”
“Eh, I guess I’m alright.”
“Um…”
“I mean it’s not like I left someone without acknowledging their existence.”
Evgeni sputtered, and Joe choked on a snort of laughter. “W-what? This is what you’re upset about? Look, I-I didn’t fheel well-”
The image of Evgeni’s face sprang into Joe’s mind and he accidentally let a snicker slip. Both men were silent, and Joe bit his bottom lip to keep from bursting into laughter.
Then Evgeni growled into the phone, “Oh, you are a bhastard. That is not funny.”
Found out, Joe gave up on suppressing his humor and chuckled into the phone. “Haha, ahh…’m sorry, but you deserved it,” he admitted, gazing up at the ceiling with his forearm resting on his brow.
Evgeni scoffed with disbelief and muttered “whatever” away from the phone’s speaker. After a few seconds of rustling on Evgeni’s end, Joe could hear another huff. “Asshole.”
Joe brushed of the comment with a nod and a guilty smile. “Maybe, but you could have just woken me from a nap, ruining the entire game for me. That’s a little asshole-ish too. How’d you know I wasn’t sleeping?” he asked, genuinely intrigued with Evgeni’s timing.
But the man clicked his tongue, a smile probably on his lips. “You dhon’t take naps. This is when we whatch bad movies on TV. I know you Joe.”
Joe sighed exaggeratedly, knowing that he had been figured out. “You’ve got me down to the schedule, Yevi. I’ll give ya that.”
“What movie were you whatching without me?” Evgeni asked, wasting no time with questions he did not want to hear the answers to.
Joe blushed and covered his eyes with shame. “…Snakes on a Plane,” he mumbled quietly.
A mock gasp came from the other. “Whe saw that in Philadelphia! I can’t believe you.”
“There was nothing else on, I swear!” Joe tried to defend himself.
“Sure there whasn’t,” Evgeni sighed into the phone and both fell into a comfortable silence.
After a few minutes of listening to the combined breathing of Evgeni and Patrick, the former finally spoke up. “You should prohbably get ready for the game,” he whispered slowly.
Joe checked the clock over his shoulder and frowned with displeasure when he saw that Evgeni was right. “Yeah… I’ll see you tomorrow?” Joe added hopefully, anxiousness knotting in his stomach.
“Hmm, yeah, if it’s alhright with you. I mhight need some help because of the leg,” the man huffed, obviously tired of his handicap only after a few days of it.
Joe’s frown turned into a friendly smile. “I’d be happy to help.” And he truly was.
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“You okay in there?” Joe yelled with his mouth pressed up against the door.
“Iya think- AHH! No I’m not!” Evgeni screeched from the other side.
Grimacing, Joe tried the door handle. Finding it unlocked, he pushed the slab of wood open.
There Evgeni was, half standing, half sprawled on the bathroom floor. He remained petrified, clinging to the wet shower curtain for dear life. Water dripped down from his shivering body and pooled under his unstable feet. His chest, flushed from the hot steam circulating the room, grew with his rapid breathing, while his face turned pink from a mix of horror and embarrassment.
He wore his boxers, just incase Joe’s help was needed. At the moment, the darkened fabric either hung sadly or clung tightly to the wet skin, leaving little to the imagination of what it was hiding underneath.
With a furious blush that Joe blamed on the steamy air, Joe snapped his line of sight back to Evgeni’s panic stricken face, which silently begged for help. Crossing the space between them in three long steps, Joe took Evgeni’s left hand in his to steady them both and turned to grab the crutches an arms-length away.
Evgeni took them gratefully, sending a small grin to Joe, which he returned, hopefully less embarrassing than how he felt.
After a moment of suffocating silence, Joe nodded stiffly and muttered “I’ll make us some lunch” under his breath.
They stood in the bathroom, both diverting their eyes toward the ceiling, or the ground. Anywhere except to the man before them.
Pursing his lips, Joe swiveled around partway, but managed to run his head into the door frame. Joe jerked back and glanced wide-eyed to Evgeni; then slipped out the door without causing anymore problems.
Hurrying down the hall, Joe noticed his face remained heated, even though he escaped the all encompassing steam.
-----
Stagnant air is crystallized before him. It dews on his skin, pulses against his body, and burns deep in his lungs.
Coldness grips him from the inside out, and he takes it in. There is only nothingness around him, except for the ice.
Only the ice.
Only Her.
But then she stretches out a white limb and parts the veil of white to reveal another.
“Joe?” Evgeni asks, his voice echoing around him.
“Why?” the man questions back, his face hard, but accepting.
Evgeni swallows and brings his arms around himself as a cover from the piercing stare. “W-what do you mean?” Evgeni bites his lip and cold fingertips begin to dance over his skin, for he has an idea of what the man was talking about.
“You lied to me,” Joe stated simply. As the words left his mouth, the ice begins to circle around them. Joe asks again, “Why?”
Evgeni cannot breathe, he is suffocating and even the cold air is too thick for him to swallow.
The vice-like hands which grip Evgeni’s lungs finally release their hold, and the man inhales greedily. “I-I didn’t… I didn’t know what to do! What was I supposed to say?” he cries, gripping his shaking arms closer to himself. His knees grow weak and he begins to fall, but his bones stop moving as if they are frozen in place.
Joe takes a small step forward. “You could have told me the truth.”
But Evgeni scrunches his eyes closed and shakes his head in defiance. “No, I couldn’t… can’t you understand? Why I can’t let you in?” he glared back with his self-hatred directed at the man before him, suppressed fury in his eyes. The fire in his soul melts the clutches the ice has on him.
But the sun’s warming rays are stopped short; they wither away as the star sets in the West, replaced by the darkness of a new moon. The man before him is no longer Joe.
“Why?” the man before him repeats, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Because I broke you.”
-----
Joe left early for the Sharks’ father/son weekend to Chicago and Nashville. He did not feel too guilty about leaving Evgeni to fend for himself, they exchanged proper goodbyes and Evgeni said he could get around on his crutches better. But still, the guilt was there.
In the hotel before the Blackhawk game, Joe’s father asked why he was not taking a nap like everyone else. Joe simply shrugged his heavy shoulders and said that he was in the mood to watch “The 40-Year-Old Virgin.”
The flight from Chicago to Nashville was too long for Joe’s taste. It was not as though he disliked spending time with his father, in fact, he loved the man dearly and the time they spent together was always treasured. But his father kept on talking to him when all he really wanted was to stare out the airplane window and watch the stars.
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She wraps her bone-white arms around him from behind and places kisses along his jaw, making his skin burn like frostbite. He stares numbly ahead, glazed eyes watching the man before him transform from Joe to another and back again.
The scene is heartbreaking and Evgeni just stares at it, too exhausted to do anything but.
Sometimes… when the apparition remains as Joe just a little bit longer, Evgeni’s mind pleads that he is there to stay. He reaches out a hand to grab him, to hold him, and to demand for him to never let go. But when he moves, Joe always disappears to a sneering face.
So he stops trying to reach out, and allows his hand to fall to his side, quickly to be claimed by her cold, greedy grip. The illusion, the trick, whatever it was, has gone on long enough and Evgeni does not know if he wants to continue playing along.
He closes his eyes as the touch becomes rougher, colder. Teeth nibbling at his shoulder grow sharp and bite down hard; surrender the poison which enters his body.
It infests Evgeni’s system, claiming his limbs and crawling up his body through his veins thickly. It creeps under his skin, as if it is alive. Then it claws at his chest and his head, chipping away at the sliver of hope that Evgeni holds on to.
But he still believes in this hope, however tattered it may be. It is still flickering in and around him, giving him reason by merely being.
The black surrender slows its advances to Evgeni’s heart as he forces his eyes open one last time.
And there is his hope, standing before him with a hand outstretched.
“Joe,” Evgeni whispers sadly.
The man stays unchanging, his palm turned upward as if asking for Evgeni to take it.
Evgeni sobs out a breath and the cold hands on his body still. “I don’t know if I can stand this much longer.”
-----
Joe flopped back onto the couch and pressed play on the remote. The feeling of home invaded his weary mind and made his vision fuzzy. The couch was so comfortable, the smell of his house was so familiar, and Evgeni’s body nearly pressed against his was so warm. Joe’s eyes drooped even lower.
Evgeni insisted that they should watch a movie when Joe returned to make up for the ones that they did not see together. The idea was appealing and Joe was excited to watch “Anchorman” at the time, but now he was just so tired.
As he drifted off to sleep, he vaguely made out Evgeni move his crutches to the ground through his hooded eyelids.
When Joe awoke, the mock fight scene of the movie had just begun. He shifted slightly and glanced around hazily. He noticed that Evgeni was not sitting on the couch with him, but his seat was still warm, so he must not have been gone long. Yawning, Joe stretched out his stiff legs, only to have them knock into something on the floor.
Mind still processing slowly, Joe could not remember what he kept in front of the couch that he might kick. Rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, Joe leaned forward to see what he had contacted with his foot.
Joe was even more confused when he saw both of Evgeni’s crutches lying on the ground.
Curiosity fueling him, Joe sat up noiselessly from the couch, and slunk over to the hallway to the rest of his apartment. Thousands of thoughts flew rampant through Joe’s mind, and he did not know which thought to focus on the most. So he chose to stare dumbly at the crack of light beneath the bathroom door.
It seemed like an eternity before running water was heard being turned on then off; the twist of the door handle and the flick of the light. Evgeni emerged from the bathroom, his head bowed as he fixed the bottom of his large sweatshirt.
If thoughts eluded Joe before, they all died at that moment. Joe stared, wide-eyed and lips parted, as Evgeni did not even so much as limp down the hall. Just hours ago the man was complaining about having to use his crutches for few days before he could walk on his own, let alone play hockey.
Finally coherent thoughts crashed into Joe like a waterfall when Evgeni finally lifted his head and jumped back in shock. They just stared at each other, both at a loss for words.
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