The District Sleeps Alone Tonight

Sidney was a complete mess of nerves on the plane ride to Washington. He had opted out of the usual PSP playing, choosing to stare out the window and fiddle with his cell phone. He could feel Fleury watching him with concerned eyes, but he tried his best to ignore the gaze as it burned into him.

The past couple weeks should have been glorious. After all, he had come through for his country. Yet, the only thing he could think about was the heartbroken blonde in Sewickley and the breathtaking brunette in DC.

Isabelle still didn't want anything to do with him, which he was slowly but surely getting used to. Sure, Sidney did not like the idea of it at all (he and Belle had been really close for almost two years, especially as friends), but after all the shit he had pulled, he really didn't have much of a say anymore.

As for Sorcha, the Nova Scotian had considered calling her numerous times, especially after his confession to Fleury. Only, he could never bring himself to do it. To be perfectly honest, Sidney was terrified about what would happen if they got into contact again. He had an overwhelming feeling that she'd reject him. If not for the basic fact that he was captain of the Pittsburgh Penguins, a team she hated more than the Flyers (which was saying a lot), she surely would reject him for the way he had treated her. Because, even if she wasn't completely blemishless in this whole ordeal, Sidney knew he had caused more harm than good.

But, no matter how nervous, or anxious, or absolutely terrified, he was feeling, the twenty-two-year-old knew he couldn't continue like his. He knew he needed to speak to her, to work things out, to tell her how he felt. If he didn't, he was going to lose his mind. He had knots in his stomach 24/7; he was having trouble sleeping; he could barely concentrate during games... Sorcha was having a maddening effect on Sidney, and he needed to sort things out before his head exploded.

* * *

"If win tonight, we go out," Alex announced as he came to a stop in front of my apartment building.

In the past couple of weeks, it had become customary for him to drive me home after work when the team was in town and had practice. Of course, he always insisted it was because he needed to stay after to work out some more, but even an athlete as dedicated as he was had no concrete reason to stay so long after practice ended. I never said anything, though; I liked the attention.

I smiled at him, "Okay, where are we going?"

"Not telling. Surprise," he said, shaking his head and smirking, "But dress nice."

"Will do. I'll see you later, Alex. Good luck tonight." I pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek and slipped out of his expensive car. A silly grin was firmly planted on my lips as I climbed three flights of stairs to my apartment.

* * *

Sidney knew he needed to concentrate on the game. Even if they had a 3-1 lead just three minutes into the third, he knew the Capitals were not a team to underestimate. They had proven themselves again and again to be a comeback team, and they easily dominated the third period. But Sidney simply could not keep his head in the game. He found himself glancing up at her every chance he got. Whenever he was anywhere near the net, his eyes were fixed on her, not the puck.

And when the Caps managed to win it in a shoot out, Sidney knew he should've been ashamed, should've been pissed off, but he wasn't. The only thing the center was feeling as he methodically worked out of his gear and into his suit was nervous. He knew what he had to do, and he was terrified to do it.

* * *

Sighing, I wrung my hands as I paced back and forth in the apartment. Sadie was long asleep, with an early shift at Kettler in the morning, so no one was there to question my erratic behavior. To an outsider, it would look like I was nervous for my date, the date in which I had actually pulled on a dress and done my hair for, but a knowledgeable person knew that wasn't the case.

Alex never made me nervous, even though he was one of the best hockey players in the world. When I was with him, it was easy to forget who he actually was. He was sweet and goofy and an all-around nice guy when we hung out, and I liked spending time with him, looked forward to it. We always had a lot of fun and there was never an awkward moment between us, and there was never any sort of butterflies, no matter what he said or where he touched me.

So no, I wasn't nervous about Alex and I going out on what was probably our first official date. What had my head in a spin and my stomach in knots was the owner of the hazel eyes who hadn't taken his eyes off me the entire game. Believe me, I tried my best to ignore his gaze, tried my best to focus on the game, but I could feel his eyes burning into me, and when our eyes connected, it was painfully hard to look away. Only once I remembered all the shit that he'd put me through, all the shit I had put him through, all the shit we had put Isabelle through, was I able to drop the gaze. But it still left me trembling the entire rest of the night.

And here I was, nervous as fuck over a guy who, I had thought, clearly didn't want me, but after the way he had been looking at me, who knew.

I dug my fingers into my neatly styled waves, trying to ignore the anxious itch that was racing through my body. I knew there was something that would make me feel better, and I knew I had a mostly full bottle of it hidden beneath my bed. If another minute went by, I would surely have it in my grasp.

But, as that thought passed through my mind, there was a knock on the door. I stopped pacing immediately and nervously tried to fix my hair and straighten my dress as I walked to the door, pulling it open with a grin… A grin that dropped as soon as I saw who actually was on the other side of the door.

"What're you doing here?"

"Hi…Sorcha…"

I glared, "What are you doing here?"

"I…uhm…" he began nervously, eyes downcast as he shifted from foot to foot in front of me, "…can we talk?"

"We are talking," I said, crossing my arms.

"I meant…" he trailed off. I sighed, muttering obscenities to myself as I took a few steps backward, allowing him inside. I didn't know why I was doing this.

"Talk."

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" I quirked an eyebrow at him.

"For being a dick, for stringing you along in this shit when I clearly didn't have my priorities sorted out, for what I said to you at the hotel, for not calling, for not being there enough... For everything, really," he confessed. I tried to ignore the butterflies in my stomach.

"You're not the only one at fault, Sidney. I fucked up, too, and probably a lot more than you. And that's why this could never work. I'm not a good person."

Sidney sighed, "I don't want to keep going through this, Sorcha. I don't care whether or not you think you're a good person1 I like you. Fuck, I love you, isn't that enough?!"

I opened my mouth to snap at him, but froze, mouth agape and eyes wide. Had he just said what I thought he said?

"You…you…you what?"

"I love you, Sorcha," Sidney announced confidently, "I think I have for quite awhile; I was just too stupid to realize it. And I think you love me, too…"

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what I could say. Was he right? Did I love him? Was the butterflies and the knots and the dry throat and the headaches and the confusion and everything else I had been feeling for the past year been love? I didn't really know what love felt like, honestly. I loved my brothers, sure. I loved Sadie and Dave. And I certainly loved Andy, but I didn't even remember what that had felt like anymore, after all the meaningless sex and alcohol and drugs. I couldn't remember how much Andy's touch made my heart pound and how safe his embrace made me feel and how his kisses made my knees weak and how his words of endearment made my heart soar and how utterly amazing it always felt to be with him.

I honestly couldn't remember what love felt like anymore.

"Sidney, I –"

I didn't have a chance to finish my sentence. Sidney had pressed his lips firmly against mine, pushing me lightly against the wall. My body arched into him, into the warm and familiar touch. I was drowning in the scent of cinnamon. And I felt my heart pound, and my knees go weak, and my heart soar, and it all felt utterly amazing, but this wasn't Andy. This could never be Andy.

I pushed Sidney off of me, as gently as I could. I gasped for breath as the twenty-two-year-old looked at me with a mix of lust and anxiety. Part of him must have known what I was about to say.

"Sidney, I-I can't… It's just…"

"I'm not him… I'm not Andy…" His voice was shallow, and I felt tears prick my eyes. I nodded. I opened my mouth to say something, to say anything, but he stopped me. "I get it, Sorcha. I won't bother you again."

And then he walked right out my door.

I tried to chalk up how my heart was breaking to thinking about Andy as I slunk into my bedroom, kicking off my shoes and slipping into pajamas, and grabbing the friendly bottle of Absolut that was hidden carefully under my bed.