Status: Still being thought out.

Carvings in the Ice

Medal

The arena was packed to capacity. There were flags everywhere- Canadian and American, mainly, but a few Russian and Slovakian ones thrown in as well. Annabelle could barely hear herself think; it wasn't that people were loud, though the energy was electric, a hum in the air they all shared. The sheer idea that she had done something spontaneous, reckless, even, made her dizzy. And all for a guy... someone she'd fallen for, more quickly than jumping a triple axel. This was completely unlike her.
And yet, she could get used to this.
"There's your BF, darling," Johnny said, nudging her. She clutched her American flag and leaned in a bit closer. Yep, there he was, all six foot two of him, brown hair curling out from under his helmet. He was serious, focused, forlorn... or maybe that was just her imagination.
"Excuse me," the person in front of her started to complain, but Johnny cut him off with, "Excuse YOU, she's got a boy down there she needs to apologize to, so you can deal with a couple of seconds of discomfort."
"Johnny," she reproved. "I'm sorry, sir." She sat back again, her heart clinging to her ribs with a frenzied rhythm. Jonathan was heading to the bench now, his red #16 burning spots into her watering eyes. She blinked, and he was sitting down, looking around. She sank down into her seat. Not yet, she thought. I can't let you see me yet.
The top line for Canada faced the top line for the U.S. She gripped her flag, feeling slightly guilty for rooting against Jon. But it was a nationalist thing. The puck dropped, and time disappeared completely.

He saw her close to the end of the third period.
His blood was pumping at top speed through his veins, the pressure close enough for him to die on the ice right now, though he knew he wouldn't. He'd scored, Perry had scored, they'd scored. His head was spinning. 2-1, Canada. So close to winning gold.
As he tried to calm down, his eyes scanned the stands across from the benches. All faces he didn't care about- and then hers. He nearly choked on his mouthguard. "Dude, you okay?" Sidney Crosby asked, clapping him on the back.
"Yeah," he choked out, his eyes watering. He spit out the plastic and looked up again. She wasn't an illusion. She was there- clear as the scoreboard, the others around her, the glass separating them. This couldn't be his life right now. She said she wouldn't be here, she said she was leaving, yet here she was, her friend next to her, smiling, looking back at him-
"Jonny, wake up!"
He flew onto the ice and tried to get to the front of his own net, where the Americans were hacking away at the puck. Suddenly, Zach Parise broke away, got to it, Jonathan tried to stop him- but it was too late. The back of the #9 jersey zoomed away, whooping with excitement, as his teammates piled on top of him. Fuck fuck fuck fuck, he thought, his breath leaving him in a whoosh as his line skated slowly back to the bench. What the hell had just happened?
2-2.
Twenty-four seconds left. The damage had been done. Twenty. Ten. Five. Two. None.
Overtime was coming, and he felt like throwing up.

Annabelle couldn't help herself; she had to feel awful. The Canadians' shoulders were slumped, heading back to their bench, while the Americans (she grinned) were like little boys. Patrick was smiling so big she was surprised he didn't cleave his face in two. But some of the blame had to fall on Jon's line... was this how it felt to have conflicting loyalties? Jesus, what was she doing...
Overtime came upon time more quickly than she thought. She realized that this was more hockey than Johnny had ever watched, so she asked, "What do you think?"
"I think it's perfect," he replied dreamily. "You guys are just great together."
"No, I mean about the game."
"Oh, that? Psht. I'd LOVE to know what trainer these guys go to, though," he remarked, then winked. "It's fun, I guess. Gosh, you little brat." He ruffled her hair.
Overtime began, and the arena was nearly silent. It was as though everyone were holding their breath, waiting for their moment, their cue to explode. One side or the other, Canada or USA. Either way, a moment of frenzy.
The puck sailed to the corner. Bodies worked for it, sweating, grunting. A Canadian player grabbed it, swung it out to open ice. Then Sidney Crosby picked it up, shot. Ryan Miller tried valiantly to stop it, but it was too fast. It hit the twine at the back of the net, and Miller saw it and slumped, crumpling to the ice as Crosby celebrated, throwing his gloves to the ice and shouting in triumph. White and red sweaters mobbed him, cameras went nuts. A goal horn was sounding. The people around Johnny and Anna had erupted, jumping out of their seats, hugging each other, crying, kissing, screaming. Anna's heart broke as she saw, through everyone, Patrick skating away slowly, his head down, completely beside himself. He'd worked so hard to get to this point... to know he'd lost when it counted the most...
She didn't know what to do now. "Do we go down there?" Johnny asked her. "It's up to you."
She looked at him, at a loss for words. It hurt to see Patrick like that... but Jonathan was whom she was here for. "Pat first," she finally said, standing. They made their way to the glass, watching as the Canadians hugged each other, whooping, grinning from ear to ear. They stood in line to receive their medals. The United States first, then Canada. Her medal had seemed like an incredible gift... was theirs just a compensation prize? She wouldn't know for sure. Patrick saw her, and his eyes widened. "Locker room?" she called to him, and he nodded. They went.

Jonathan saw her leave. He wanted so badly for her to be there, to stay, where was she going? Why? Was she really here for Pat? "Hey," Sid called to him, hugging him. "Great fucking job out there, Jonny!!"
He grinned, euphoric. Still, in the back of his mind her face lingered, refusing to fade. He could hardly wait to get off the ice and see her, even as he received thanks and congratulations, and spoke for interviews. Even through perhaps the best moment of his life. It made no sense.

Annabelle waited, nervous. It felt like an eon before anyone even poked a head out. Then, finally, the door opened and players started to stream out. Anna stopped Ryan Miller impulsively, making him look up. "Hey, I just wanted to say... you were incredible out there," she said. "Awesome job."
He smiled gratefully. "You're Pat's friend, right? The figure skater?"
"Yeah... how did you know?"
"He wouldn't stop lying about where he was going when he watched your programs." He laughed. "You were really, really good though. We watched it, too." With a wink, he patted her arm, accepted her thanks and walked past. Zach Parise walked out, still a bit teary-eyed. Then Bobby Ryan. Ryan Kesler. Then Pat, who was wiping at his eyes. "Fucked that up, didn't we?" he said softly, meeting her halfway.
"Don't say that," she soothed, putting her arms around him and holding him close. "You were awesome. Someone had to win, right?"
He hugged back, face buried in her shoulder. At length, they let go of each other, and he smiled a bit. "At least we've got matching medals," he joked.
She laughed. "Coordination."
Hand in hand, they walked down the hall into the lobby, and when they looked up, Annabelle thought she was having deja vu. There Jonathan stood, on the other side of the lobby, in his suit. His eyes widened as he saw her there. "Cue the running across and jumping his bones?" Pat whispered to her, and she smacked him before doing almost exactly that.
Jonathan walked up to her at the same time, and there were no words needed, no apologies. Just a look in each other's eyes as they approached each other, and then she was in his arms, he had swept her off her feet, and his lips found hers again, kissing her as though that alone would win him another medal. She felt tears on her face and a couple on his, and heard him whisper as they broke apart, "I thought I would never see you again. You almost gave me a heart attack on the bench."
She laughed, pressing her forehead to his. "I needed to be here. I needed to be with you."
He set her down and took her hand. Pat joined them, giving Jon a clap on the shoulder, and then Johnny was there. Four very unlikely companions given the setting, but it was all any of them needed.
♠ ♠ ♠
Music to Write By:
Linkin Park- One Step Closer
Iron and Wine- Such Great Heights (for Jon and Anna's reunion :D)