The Crosby Life

Marc-Andre’s PoV:
I was watching her from the net on the other side of the ice as the team dominated this period. Only a few shots had come my way, and I was starting to get bored, so I watched Sierra whenever she was on the ice. Her way of play was always so interesting, so fascinating, even though I have seen her play so many times.
Sierra had the puck now, handling it with an expertise that not even some of the best in this game have. She dashed from one end of the ice to the other, heading towards the net, seeing a player coming at her, and passing the puck as soon as she could.
The player I could not make out slammed into her and she went down with a cry just as the puck was driven to the net and people were surrounding the net, attacking the puck. I know what was happening before anyone else; I felt it in my gut. “No, Sierra!” I faced forward and the whistle blew. A player was tossed to the side, the blade of his skate bloody as Sierra’s hand settled on her neck, blood pouring over her hand and body in a speed that was too fast to describe.
I pushed everyone out of the way, screaming her name as she looked up at me with pure terror in her crystal eyes as the medical trainers were trying to stop the bleeding. The vein in her neck was split in two, the vein that is a main life source- the jugular vein.
I dropped to my knees and pulled her into my lap. “Marc.” She said quietly, the light fading from her eyes. The word love settled on her lips.
“No, no no no!” I screamed repeatedly as all the officials moved everyone off the ice. “SIERRA!”

I sat up straight in bed, panting and wiping the sweat from my forehead. I pushed my hair back from my face and looked over at the sleeping Sierra next to me, and immediately sighed in relief as tears fell from my eyes.
“Only a dream, Marc.” I said to myself, noticing that Sierra shifted at my voice.
Sierra was sleeping on her back, her left arm crossed over her body and resting on her chest, a position she got used to after having to wear a wrist brace for so long. Her head was tilted in my direction, and the gentle look of sleep made her look so innocent. A thick strand of her chocolate hair fell down in her face. I brushed the strand away gently, and she stirred under my touch. “Marc.” She whispered through her sleep, rolling onto her side and curling up, facing me.
I laid back down and stroked her delicate cheekbone. Her cheekbones were not too pronounced, but they were pronounced enough that they gave her face a certain elegance that made her shine.
I pulled her slender body against my trembling one as gently as I could. She automatically snuggled against me and I held her close. “I won’t ever let you get hurt like that, my love.” I whispered to her in my native language. “I promise to always take care of you.”
A gentle moan came from her in response, and I tried to drift back to sleep as I held her against me for the rest of the night.

Sierra’s PoV:
I would be missing the game tonight against the Devils, although I wasn’t too upset. The game was atrocious. We started off wonderfully, but I believe that all of them got the Devils in their heads, and they gave the Devils way too many turnovers- and multiple of those turnovers turned into breakaways, which four ended in success of goals.
I was furious. I was so furious at them all, since I was sitting on the bench, that I couldn’t even speak with them.
After the fourth goal, they pulled Marc-Andre, even though it wasn’t his fault in the least, and he went straight down the runway to leave the game. I looked at Coach Dan, who nodded, and I ran down the runway after him.
I saw him throw his stick and tossed his gloves as he strode to the locker room, tossing his helmet more gently. “Marc.” I called quietly, still chasing after him. (The man is fast, I tell you.)
He turned around, the shock on his face as he realized that I follow and then his face contorted into the anger and sadness I was expecting. “Marcy?”
Marc-Andre dropped onto the bench and put his head in his hands. He didn’t say anything, he just sat there.
I walked up and stood in front of him and placed my hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me and I saw the tears of frustration swell in his eye. They didn’t fall, but there were there. I placed my hands on both sides of his face and used my thumb to stroke his cheekbone and temple softly.
“Why?” He asked, voicing all his problems in a single word. I could tell that he was upset and frustrated, and I felt some of the embarrassment as well in his voice.
I continued to stroke his cheek and then used a finger to wipe under of his eye. “Baby, it is not your fault. You know that.” I said softly.
He shook his head in my hands and dropped his eyes. “I could have stopped those goals. I should have stopped them.” He tried to argue back.
“Marc-Andre Fleury.” I started, which grabbed his attention and he looked up at me with those sad eyes that made my heart ache. “You know that this is not your fault. It is not your fault that those guys out there on the ice were screwing up and giving turnovers left and right to the Devils. You did make some amazing saves, hun, and some absolutely beautiful ones. You can’t stop every single puck coming at you, it isn’t humanly possible. It doesn’t help that they were turnovers which turned into breakaways, there was no one on defense to help you out.”
I could see Marc thinking, trying to come up with something. “But shootouts are the same thing.” He whispered, barely audible.
I bent down and kissed his forehead softly. “Honey, it isn’t the same thing. You know that. In a shootout you only have to worry about the puck, but on breakaways like that, you have to be aware of if any of their other players coming up and passing. And you have to try to see if any of our own will be able to come up and help you out.”
Marc-Andre dropped his eyes and then rested his head on my shoulder. I stroked his hair gently. “What about them?”
I knew what he was talking about. “Sweetheart, everyone watching saw all those damn turnovers. They know as well as we do that it is not your fault. It is their fault, and I will be chewing them out for it.”
Marc sat up and a small smile was on his face. “You sure?”
I pulled him into a hug and he wrapped his arms tightly around my waist. “Yes, Marc. And anyone who doesn’t is an idiot.” He chuckled softly. “You shouldn’t worry about what others think anyways.”
Marc-Andre sighed. “I guess I don’t. I just care what you think.” He said quietly.
I pulled away from the hug and he stood up, so he was looking down at me now. I placed my hand along his cheek and stroked him softly. “You are always amazing and brilliant in my eyes.” I smiled and he returned it. “I am always proud of you, and I always will be. That will never change.”
Marc-Andre pulled me against him and kissed me with a gentle passion. I was on the very tip of my toes since he is easily 6’4” with skates. “I love you.”
I smiled at him. “I love you too.” I kissed his nose and noted that the period had ended. “You better head to the locker room angel.” I smiled at him. “I probably shouldn’t go in there. I may smack them all.”
Marc-Andre chuckled slightly with a sigh, and I handed him his equipment. “Ok. Thank you for making me feel a bit better.”
I nodded. “I will always be here to make you feel better.” I noticed a strange look pass through his eyes. “Go change. I’ll join you once the third starts.” He nodded and disappeared into the locker room as I shot glares to all of the Penguins as they walked by.
Some even met my look, and looked away nervously, knowing that I was upset. And when I am upset, I tend to get fairly crazy and snappy. The number one rule for our team is don’t piss Sierra off. I found it flattering that they created that rule after me.
We lost the game- although I don’t think you needed to be told that, but we did get another goal in the third and the Pens played really well. I probably wouldn’t be able to play tomorrow since I haven’t had a lot of practice time since my millionth injury, but I was really hoping that my team carried their momentum over into the game against the Bruins- a team who is desperate to win so they can get a playoff spot. And especially since our last meeting didn’t end too well, the Penguins will need all of the momentum they have.
It will be a nail biting game. Everyone should watch it, or I will find you… Ok just kidding, I am not a creeper.
To be honest, I am fearful for this game because of all of the hatred the Bruins have and I fear that they will hurt my guys. If that happens, the number one rule will be broken, and I may have to hurt something.
I will be on the bench, cheering on my friends and family itching for a win.
I shook my head and smiled. My team would be just fine; I knew it in my heart. They are strong and willful, and they had a passion to keep them safe.
I walked into the locker room as third period started, and strode over to where Marc-Andre was taking his gear off. Tomorrow would be a great game, and everything will turn out just fine.