The District Sleeps Alone Tonight

Two days almost passed before I had to face Sidney again. I was on way out the door to meet some of the Russians for dinner, and I opened the hotel room door to find him pacing back and forth in the hall. I quirked an eyebrow and cleared my throat. He nearly jumped out of his skin, whipping around to look at me.

"What're you doing here Sidney?" There had been a reason I had been avoiding him like the plague since we last saw each other. "You weren't supposed to meet Isabelle for another fifteen minutes; she's not back yet..."

"I know..." he trailed off. I sighed. He shoved his hands in his pockets as I leaned against the doorframe, smoothing the skirt of my short, black dress. We were locked in an uncomfortable stare. Neither one of us dared to say a word. Or maybe neither of us knew the right thing to say.

"Sidney!" a soft voice suddenly exclaimed, causing both of us to jump this time. We both turned and looked down the hall to see Isabelle heading toward us. My stomach twisted into knots. "I didn't expect you for another few minutes."

"I know, Belle, but I decided to show up early," Sidney replied. Isabelle smiled sweetly at him before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. I actually had to look away.

"You know, Sorchie, you could've let Sidney in, instead of staring at him in the hallway," Isabelle giggled, grabbing her boyfriend's hand and pulling him toward the hotel room door. I stepped back inside the room and allowed them to enter. I exchanged a look with Sidney, and then shrugged.

Things were silent in the sitting room for several minutes. Sidney watched as the both of us finished getting ready - Isabelle was reapplied her makeup while I was pulled on my black flats and grabbed my coat and scarf from my room.

"You look nice, Sorcha, are you coming to dinner with us? You're more than welcome to," Isabelle wondered curiously as she put back on her coat and grabbed Sidney's hand.

I shook my head, "I already have plans, Belle."

"Same person you've had plans with for the past week and a half?" Isabelle asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Perhaps," I smirked before heading towards the door. "I'll see you later, Belle."

* * *

"I think she's dating someone. Maybe an athlete," Isabelle said aloud once Sorcha had left the room. "She won't tell me, though, but she's been out every night since we arrived." Sidney tried to justify the pang of jealousy he felt.

Isabelle continued as they exited the hotel room and headed toward the elevator, "It'd be nice, though, if she was seeing someone. God knows it's been long enough since Andy died, like seven freaking months. I mean, I get that she's upset, but Andy's death really shouldn't have come as such a surprise, the boy was a total reckless alcoholic. I'm surprised they even lasted such a long time - almost five years, I think; they were the poster children for a dysfunction.

"But they sure seemed to love each other, and since he's died, she doesn't seem interested in anything any more, at least that's what I've gathered from people who've seen her, not like she talked to me for almost seven months. I just think it's time for her to get over it, I mean how much more grieving can you do after you try to kill yourself, you know?"

Sidney was surprised by how heartlessly his girlfriend was acting. He had been witness to two of Sorcha's breakdowns about her boyfriend on two separate occasions, and they were absolutely excruciating to see her go through so much pain and self-blame over his death. So what if it had been seven months, she had every right to grieve over him as long as she wanted, as long as it wasn't self-destructive, that is.

Sighing, he tuned out the rest of Isabelle's rant as they walked to the restaurant, which was only a couple of blocks from her hotel. It had been given rave reviews and they had made reservations days ahead of time to ensure they would be able to go while they were in the city. Except now, Sidney thought he might have lost his appetite.

Finally, by the time they entered the restaurant, Isabelle changed the topic and began asking Sidney about his thoughts on Canada's upcoming game against Russia tomorrow. He was expressing the mix of excitement and nervousness he was feeling as they were being led to their respective table by the hostess when he suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

Only a few tables away he and Isabelle were seated was Sorcha along with several of the Russian hockey players, including Ovechkin. Yes, he most certainly had lost his appetite.

* * *

Of course, out of all the restaurants in Vancouver, Isabelle and Sidney had to walk into the same one I was in with some of the boys. And, of course, they had to be seated only a few tables away from us as well. Lovely.

I did the best to ignore them and focus on my food and my company. Thankfully, it wasn't too difficult since I needed to pay acute attention to the conservation, since it was spoken in a mixture of English and Russian. It had been like this for the entire week and a half. As soon as the guys found out I somewhat understood and spoke Russian, they began using their native tongue as frequently as possible and I didn't blame them. I was actually surprised how much I understood; I guess I paid more attention to Finn's vain attempts to teach me the language than I thought.

I was halfway through my meal when my phone vibrated. Sighing, I set down my fork and fished my cell phone out of my back pocket. I had a new text message, but it wasn't from a number I recognized. I hit View Now out of curiosity.

What the fuck are you doing with Ovechkin?

My eyebrows knitted together. I glanced over at Isabelle and Sidney's table and, sure enough, Sidney was gripping his phone and glaring at me while Isabelle chattered on obliviously.

Where did you get my number?

I received a response a few seconds later.

Doesn't matter. Answer the question.

I grumbled softly to myself and responded.

None of your business. Pay attention to your girlfriend.

I set my phone on the table and went back to eating. Datsyuk, who sat a few seats away from me, was finishing up a joke, told completely in Russian. I had missed the beginning, so I had no idea what was going on, but it must have been funny because the entire table broke out into boisterous laughter. The small smile that grew on my face disappeared when my phone vibrated again.

Why the hell are you hanging out with them?

I replied with a straightforward: Fuck you.

Of course, by the time I set my cell phone back down, I was again completely lost in the conversation. I swear, if my cell phone vibrated one more time I'd -

You already have.

My head shot up in his direction immediately and I shot him the coldest glare I could muster. It took everything I had not to chuck my phone at him and hit him square in his big, stupid head.

"You okay, Sorcha?” Ovechkin wondered from beside me. A small smile inched onto my lips at his pronunciation of my name. "Why you so angry?"

"Nothing, Alex, I'm fine," I replied politely, maneuvering to tuck my phone back into my pocket. Of course, Ovechkin had much faster reflexes than I did, so he grabbed it before I had a chance. A discontent noise escaped my lips as he read through my recent texts, holding the phone out of my reach.

"Who this?" he finally asked. I couldn't stop my eyes from flickering toward the table before shrugging. Unfortunately, Ovechkin caught me and followed my line of sight... right to Sidney Crosby. He sneered.

"He say this to you? I kick his ass," Ovechkin growled and started to get out of his seat, but I managed to grab his wrist and stop him.

"Please Alex, no, just sit back down. Ignore him."

Ovechkin grumbled, but complied. The others at our table were looking at the two of us curiously, but we both shrugged it off and continued with our dinner.

Sidney and Isabelle left well before we did, which was fairly late since we spent more time talking than we did eating. Ovechkin offered to walk me back to my hotel, but I declined his offer, hugging him briefly before scurrying off in the opposite direction as he and the others. It was freezing outside, one of first really cold nights since we'd arrived in Vancouver, and I was desperate to get back to the warm hotel.

I arrived at the hotel in record time. Sighing in relief, I pressed the button for the elevator, anxiously waiting so I could get upstairs in time to watch the Slovakia game against Norway that began in a couple of minutes. Finally, the elevator arrived and the doors slid open, but, much to my horror, inside stood Sidney.

We stared at each other for a moment before I swallowed my pride and entered, pressing the button for my floor and standing on the opposite side of the elevator.

"So, are you going to tell me what you were doing with a bunch of Russians?"

I shot him a glare, "Who are you, Joseph McCarthy? Are we living in the 50s? Are you gonna accuse me of being a communist?"

Sidney stared blankly at me and I rolled my eyes.

"Senator Joseph McCarthy? Red Scare? Lots of people were blacklisted and accused of being communists?" Still a blank look. "Christ, what do they teach you kids in Canada?"

I turned away from him again, but then I felt a light tug on my hand. I ripped it out of his loose grip as quickly as I could.

"Don't touch me," I growled as I tried to inch further away.

"Sorcha, just tell me why you were with them, why you were with Ovechkin... Was he the one you slept with last week?" Sidney inquired.

"I don't see how that's any of your business, Sidney," I said coldly, "because last time I checked, you aren't my boyfriend. I can hang out with and sleep with whoever I damn well please."

"Sorcha -" he began softly.

"No, Sidney, you have a girlfriend, who happens to be one of my friends. And I'm not doing this because I give a shit about her feelings because honestly, I don't. Which is why you should stay away from me, Sidney. I'm not a good person. I never have been and I never will be. I cheat and I lie and I cuss and I smoke and I drink, or at least used to, and I don't care about anything except art, my brothers, and the Capitals.

"So it's about time you realize that and we can stop this - this fucked up thing we've been doing for almost a year. If you got to know me, Sid, you'd hate me. You've got a good thing going with Isabelle; she's the type of girl you marry, not me," I announced.

Sidney stated at me contemplatively for a while; I kept my eyes trained on the floor number, desperate for them to reach thirty-four.

"I don't care what you say, Sorcha," he stated finally. I turned my head fast enough to get whiplash; my eyes meeting his. "I don't care if you think you're some terrible person. I don't care if you think I'd hate you once I get to know you. I don't care if you think I should stay with Isabelle, marry Isabelle. I don't want her, Sorcha; I want you. I want to get to know you. I want to be with you. Like you've said, we've been doing this thing for almost a year, so it's about time you just accept it."

I opened my mouth to argue with him, but he cornered me, pushing me against the wall of the elevator, covering my mouth with his. My body reacted almost immediately, not giving me any strength to protest. I just gave in, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. I felt his tongue slid along my lower lip and I opened my mouth without a second thought. I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears as the kiss deepened. My chest felt like it was going to explode. My body felt hypersensitive, like every nerve on it was alive and multiplied by a million. I couldn't stop myself from moaning loudly if I had wanted to.

The elevator door opened with a ding, but neither of us paid any mind, we were too wrapped up in each other to notice. Well, until we heard a gasp.