Heart of Man

Anna Trovato

“Have you experienced any heartburn, loss of appetite, or abdominal pain?” I nodded my head, leaning back into the Canadian’s shoulder. “Weakness or fatigue?” I nodded again. She had a dark look for a moment. “Nausea? With blood?” I nodded, closing my eyes. “Weight loss?” I shrugged. I looked to Jordan, feeling my eyes start to close, as the doctor pulled him out into the hallway. Kris wrapped my hand in his, his face void of anything.

Jordan Staal

“We’ll need to run a CT Scan of her abdomen. I’ll send her paperwork to her doctor in Florida. Will you be with her?”

I looked back into the room, where the nurse was prepping her for the scan. There was sweat matted on her forehead, and eyes were lifeless, the opposite of the orbs he had been used to seeing for the past few weeks. “Yes. Can you tell me exactly what’s going on with her?”

“I’ll send you with the results, if any. I know she is under a lot of pressure for playoffs. Depending on the scan results, I’ll give you a call. We’ll need to set up biopsies, worst-comes-to-worst, and she can’t fly up to Pittsburgh if something goes wrong. It didn’t look very serious, Mr. Staal. We ran a few simple tests, but there was more to be found than we initially expected. It could be something as easy as gallstones or cyclical vomiting syndrome. It might be Acude porphyria, even. But everything points in this direction.”

“So you are telling me..”

“There is a slim chance that she has a form of stomach cancer.”

Anna Trovato

Resting my arms and chin on my stick, I stretched my hips as we took place for the face-off. Dana was scratched for the flu, which was kind of dumb because he thought it was funny, but instead of pulling center, I got shoved with Vinny. Granted, Simon was with us, but it was a small change that I wouldn't have done in the middle of playoffs. At least, not until we had played at least one playoff game with our opponents. "Good luck, Anna."

“You too. Excited for the game, Ovechkin?” He laughed heartily, nodding his head. Resting my stick in front of Ovechkin's, I shoved my skate against him, hoping to get the speed and force necessary, should it be needed. I felt him push back against it, but I didn't fight against him, as I watched Harper jerk her shoulder against Gagne. Ignoring Ovechkin's last statement, and shaking my head away from the words I wanted to shout at her, I focused on Vincent, Nick, and the prized piece of rubber that was so coveted.

We lost the face-off, as they dropped the puck back before pushing against us. Their first shot went wide, Simon snatching it up, we replied back with our own force, deep into the Washington zone.

Within seconds of the eighth or ninth face-off of the game, it was relatively slow as we notched the puck into the Washington zone, keeping Michal Neuvirth on his toes. Vincent was tailed by Chimera, Johansson nearly equal with me. Reaching my stick out, I pulled it between my legs, praying Pavel was there waiting. Turning around, dodging the Swede's late check, he threw it back to Lundin. With a power slap shot in his hands, it was a bit too much, as it reflected off of the glass. Snatching the puck again and venturing behind the net, Simon came up behind Mike Green, who was currently in my way.

Facing the glass, he checked me hard into it, legs spread and keeping my left leg trapped, unable to get away easily. My stick hit his, as we wrestled for the rubber, each of us with opposite plans for it. Gagne pushed through the mass of wood, retrieving it. Green went towards him, allowing me to skate behind my linemate, Vincent hovering on the right side of the net. We watched Simon get in Neuvirth's face, attempting to slip it under his pad., Johansson on his tail. Sneaking a peek at Green, he was heading for Gagne. Pushing forward towards him, I watched the puck rebound back, just as my body collided with Green's, sending him into the back of the net. Reaching back, I shot the puck as hard as I could, happy as a kid during Christmas as it went in behind Neuvirth's back.

“Its early boys, its early! Plenty of game left to get it back! Keep up the pressure and that physicality, and we got this game! Let’s go boys, let’s go!” I cringed, hearing that voice that I had become familiar with. I was glad that we hardly were on the ice with her, Steven, Marty, and Ryan taking up most of her time.

One of the guys on Semin’s line, Brooks Laich ended up with the puck, making easy work of Victor, as he cleared it through a shot. I pushed past Arnott, trying to fall back to help, but it was too late. The buzzer already rang off, Alexander Semin notching the Capitals’ first playoff goal. I didn’t even see it, or him, coming.

I couldn't help but feel a sinking feeling in my chest, as Alex Semin's goal rang out throughout the Verizon Center. From my place a few feet off of center ice, deep into the Capitals' zone, I watched Arnott and Laich congratulate him. My fists clenched, as their bench erupted into cheers, the Russian clearly excited for his point that evened up the game.

I skated close to the Capitals' bench, my glove under my left arm, my right hand snagging his jersey and pulling him to face me, before he could get close. I couldn't even think, I was beyond pissed. Let his bitch of a captain see, for all I care. "Ебать было то, что Семин?" The fuck was that, Semin?

His elation from the goal was still there, which only added the fuel to the fire. He only looked at my hand that held onto the side of his jersey, as he skated a bit closer to me. "Проблема?" Problem?

The urge to wipe the grin off of his face was extremely overbearing, as my breath quickened. A few of his teammates had noticed the winger hadn't come yet, which would have been a proud. Glaring at him, I ripped my hand away from him, and skating off to find Gagne, to return to the bench for the line change. This wasn't even close to being over. He thinks he can just show us up when we aren't watching, then he's sadly mistaken.

The smirk on his face was enough to send me into hysterics. Tapping Simon with my stick, we ventured past their bench. "But I heard her say fuck!"

"Not kind you think." Harper's laugh could be heard from the Russian's response, through the smirk he continued to wear. Shoving open the bench door, I stomped over, dumping myself onto the seat. My face turned considerably red, at the thought of what they were talking about. What the hell was that all about?

"Uh, Anna?" I looked over to Simon, cocking an eyebrow, who looked about ready to keel over from laughing so hard. "What brought up the word 'fuck', you, and Semin, in same sentence?"

Pulling my hands out of my gloves, I rubbed my cheeks, trying to get the red to vanish from my face. With everything going on recently, it would have been pretty noticeable. "Shut up, Gagne."

~

We took the ice moments before, loosing the puck to the Capitals' quickly, who seemed to be on fire after Semin's excuse for a goal. I pulled back in front of the net, only to turn and watch Hannan slam Simon against the glass, and then to the ground, his head bouncing off of the ice.

The whistle blew, when he didn't move. Within seconds, Vincent and I were watching our medical staff attend to him. I narrowed my eyes at the man standing by, but the anger wasn't there so much. Not towards him. He wasn't to blame. Backing away a few feet, I felt the simmering anger rise, as I broke my stick against the glass.

Skating behind the man guilty for Simon's injury, and the Capitals' captain, I couldn't help but hear a few of their words. Between "it’s all at Semin" and the announcer, I made my way for the bench. No doubt that this was going to mindfuck us.

After grabbing my back-up stick, I sat on the boards of the bench, listening to Boucher talk about the changes we were going to have to make. I was moving up to the first line, with Steven and Marty, and sending Ryan down to the third and final line. Adam Hall was going to be our sub, in case we were dying.

I couldn't explain where my anger came from. Whether it was watching my friend on the ice, unmoving for seconds, or the fact that the Capitals' seemed to care. It could have been watching Semin skate away with that smirk, and continue to talk about what I said to Harper, still as smug as could be.

My grip around the stick tightened, only for Marty's gloves to cover my own. "Don't break another, Anna. Take it out on the ice." Not even bothering to say anything, I could only nod, as we listened to the newly shuffled lines. The moment Simon made it into the locker room, I felt a slight burden lift off of my shoulders, but by how mad I was, I could hardly even think straight. They think they can just.. get away with it?

~

I couldn't help but grin, as we watched the reply of Harper's goal. She looked like a fish out of the water,
which was immensely enjoyable. There was no way that they would allow the goal to count. Stepping out with Steven and Marty, we didn't venture far, as the play continued to be reviewed.

"Nothing like overconfidence that really kills the mood, eh?" Grinning, I tapped Steven with my stick in response. The Capitals' offense had been consistent throughout the past few minutes, and you could tell that our thoughts were on our teammate, who was currently facing a possible concussion.

We were winded. Out on the ice much more often, much faster, and much longer. The first period was barely even over, but I couldn't help but feel good. The ice was smaller, and with shorter times, you play better. Same ice size, longer time that we normally used in Europe to travel across the larger arenas, it was just like normal.

Way to pull some hellacious, deformed optimism out of a situation like that. We watched the referee put the cords back through the glass, and skate out to the center ice area, and adjust his microphone, poker face ready.

I felt bad for the ref that had to break the bad news to the Verizon Center. “Upon further review, the goal was kicked in by the players skate. No goal.” The Verizon Center erupted in boos, and I simply shrugged, took another swig of gatorade, and focused the rest of my energy on the game. There wasn’t anything that could be done when it was the truth.

"ебать да!" I couldn't help but latch onto Marty, as shouts and jeers filled the Center. Squeezing him tightly, I couldn't help but feel elated. "Did you hear him, Marty? It doesn't count!"

He smiled, while trying to wrench my arms off of him, so we could get ready for the face-off. "I'm pretty sure I heard, Anna. Pretty sure I heard."

We watched Ovechkin make the shot against Roloson, only for it him to catch it in his glove. It slipped out, maybe two seconds later, going behind the Russian. I leaned forward from my place on the bench, ready for the line change. Alex Semin spiraled out of no where, with a speed I didn't know he possessed, knocking the puck left against the boards, before Downie hip checked him against the boards.

It looked clean, until Semin hung onto him, bringing my teammate down underneath him. The winger still out there, Adam and Dominic game back to the bench, allowing my line to head back out while a probable roughing penalty was getting ready to be called.

Steven and Marty standing back, I couldn't help but skate closer to see Semin ramming his stick against Downie's back, sending him to the ice from where they were kneeling. I couldn't have been prouder, as he turned around, returning the favour to the Russian.

Something was said, as Downie stood up, causing Alex Semin to shove his stick against him again. This time, my occasional line-mate shot his hand out at his neck, slamming him against the glass, before the referee was separating the scuffle.

The grin of my face was probably unnecessary, as they released the two, no penalty called. Why, I couldn't understand, but that bastard deserved it. He deserved it all. Watching Downie escape the mass of bodies, he was smiling like a kid who got away with stealing cookies out of the cookie jar. Skating up to him, I wrapped him in a hug as hard as I could, sending us into the glass a little bit.

"Where the hell did that come from, and where can I get some?" He smirked, returning the hug, before skating off to the bench. Making my way to the faceoff-circle in our zone, I noticed Washington made a line-change, and that my best fucking friend was out there, chilling out next to Kubina. It didn't last long, before Nick was sent out of the circle, Ovechkin taking Harper's spot, and the woman herself taking over Backstrom's job.

~

Not really understanding why I wasn't being chased, I sought after Alex Semin, deep into the Washington zone, and behind the next. Jerking my stick out, I hooked it around his legs, causing him to crash into the ice and boards.

A whistle was blown, but I ignored it as he climbed to his feet. A feeling of sick satisfaction came over me, as he skated in my direction, face unreadable. I cocked an eyebrow, meeting him across the short distance. "Having a bad day?"

I expected him to be angry, to be infuriated, to know how angry I was. The only thing on his face, as he rubbed the extra ice off, was that irritating smirk that he wore earlier. "Maybe you should clear your head, and not be as reckless."

"What's it too you, asshole?" The satisfactory feeling had long since vanished, leaving me fuming at his expression. If he thinks it’s funny to pull shit the entire game, and not expect me to be happy about it, then he needs to back off.

"I'm just trying to play hockey. Maybe you should go back to school and learn how to play fairly." His words struck me deep, his smirk widening, eyes trained on my own. I skated closer, hoping to keep our conversation somewhat more private, as a few of our teammates were getting closer.

"Fuck off."

"Are you intimidated by me, Anna?" I shivered, listening to him use my first name. However, he apparently didn't like my silence, repeating his question. "Are you intimidated by me?"

The urge to punch him was growing larger and larger by every syllable. Moving my face to only inches from his, I could hardly even think straight. What had happened? I never blew up during games. "You don't know anything about me, Semin. Nothing."

Standing back, I gripped my stick, trying to push him back, but it did absolutely nothing. Moments later, I was face to face with Erika Harper. “Hey! Listen, I don’t know what you’re problem with this one is, but you need to calm yourself down and let it go. We have a game to play here. I’m tired of delaying the puck drop for you two.”

I just watched Harper shove herself between us, narrowing my eyes at her, before looking over her shoulder at Semin. "You should put your captain on a leash, Semin. It's not good for her to run wild." Not waiting for his response, I glanced back at her. "I'm calm enough, so do not order me around, and mind your own fucking business."

If you’d leave my good friend alone, I’d fucking leave you alone. Clear enough? You’re loosing control, and you can’t even deny that fact. Because I promise you, everyone knows you have it out for Semin. I don’t want any trouble Anna, so kindly just back off.” She was calm, almost too calm, for me to relax. Was she trying to prove something? That she had the upper hand? She already had every person in the National Hockey League under her command.

I just watched Harper shove herself between us, narrowing my eyes at her, before looking over her shoulder at Semin. "You should put your captain on a leash, Semin. It's not good for her to run wild." Not waiting for his response, I glanced back at her. "I'm calm enough, so do not order me around, and mind your own fucking business."

Control? What do you know about restraint? Absolutely nothing. "What do you know about control? You've never had any. You go insane, every time you step on the ice, allowing your ego to influence your actions. Face the facts, Erika Harper. This is not your game. You are its player. I don't have it out for your darling winger. Don't tease yourself, because you don't know everything. I've hardly gone out of my way, to go after him tonight, so don't flatter yourself. Coming over here was asking for trouble, and one of your many mistakes tonight."

I tried reciting Shakespeare's sonnets in my head, to calm down, but I doubted it did any good. I didn't need to be angry. I considered myself driven, but never uncalm. Maybe pushing the limit, that line one tip-toes over occasionally, but not out of control.

“I’m sorry that I actually bring my personality onto the ice, I didn’t know that was a crime. We all have different ways of playing the game, and one isn’t any better than the other. And if we’re facing the facts, why don’t you stop being in denial about your actions tonight as well? It’s only fair that you acknowledge it, otherwise you’re just a big, fat fucking hypocrite.” I raised my brow, pushing away her words. I couldn’t afford to let her affect me.

“Erika, let me.” Semin placed his hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her out of the way. Nice to know he wasn’t so selfish as to let her speak for him. However, his words hit me. All night, I was been tailing him, determined to fuck up his game. “The fuck is your problem, huh? If you have a problem with me, take it up with me, not her.”

"It's a crime to have an opinion? Stop being a hypocrite, Harper. We all have different ways of expressing ourselves, but I suppose I will just have to be a big, fat, fucking hypocrite myself, because I don't have it out for him." I looked away from her, towards the Russian who now stood in front of me.

"Tell her to not come over here, unless she wants me to explain myself to her. Don't leave yourself so open to vulnerabilities, Alexander. You think i'm the only guilty party in this? Don't touch my teammate like that ever again. Don't allow your teammate to critically injure my linemate. Если вы все еще сердится из-за Олимпийских игр, я прошу прощения за хлопая вас.Честно говоря, меня, но я не жалею, и не жалею, как я действовал, потому чтоочевидно, это все-таки необходимо. I swear to you, Alexander Semin, I hate every moral fiber of my being. If I wasn't in agony right now, I'd drop my gloves. I'm sick of you, your face, your attitude, and everything to do with you." If you're still angry because of the Olympics, I apologize for slapping you. Truly, I am, but I am not sorry, nor do I regret, how I acted, because it's obvious it's still necessary.

"You know, ever think you shouldn't be too high and mighty of yourself? You may not intend it, but you're coming off that way. Accidents happen, you know that, and no one wants them to, and you know you're taking out your anger on the wrong person. But when it comes to my captain... did you ever even consider that she's a person with feelings too? Think twice before you immediately judge who she is because I promise you, she's ten times better than the person you are being right now. She doesn't deserve your shit. I'm sorry that my existence is such a burden on you."

"When she disregards my feelings, I cannot help but do the same. I don't judge who she is, only what she does. Maybe that's an error on my end, and I'm sorry, but so long as I am treated with equal respect, I will show it in reverse." I bit my lip, the argument echoing everything my father ever said to me, when I did nothing right. When I forgot to do dishes, when I forgot to wash my shorts. You aren’t a burden.

When I brought home second; silver. Not gold. Not what he asked. When I wasn't good enough.

He was right. I wasn't good enough. I deserved everything I threw at her. She was twenty times better than I was on a consistent basis. I'd never be more than anything but in someone else's shadow.

"I'm.." I gulped, trying to evade the guilt that I felt. Playing guilt-ridden was like not even showing up for the game.

His face darkened, smirk and teasing attitude gone. "She never said she didn't respect you, and neither did I. Maybe you're jumping to your own conclusions. You shouldn't always assume the worst in people, Anna. That's only going to leave you with broken relationships that could have potentially been strong bonds."

"She treats me that way." Every ounce of anger left my mind, as Semin continued to point out my flaws. The five words sounded pathetic, my face flushing with the flood of memories. I wasn't sure if I was getting ready to cry, or punch him in the face. I felt conflicted, so much that I had never felt so vulnerable. "It's something I learned young, If you've never had those relationships, you haven't lost anything."

"What a sad, lonely life you will have then. Sorry all of us around you just make your life worse." I felt my heart drop, as he skated away towards his own bench, his words hanging in the air. The brunette still stood near me, and I looked to her.

"I'm sorry." Making my leave, unsure if she heard me, or if she'd even care, I made my way for the away bench, feeling worse than my father could have made me feel. I shouldn't fucking care so much.

~

Hoping he still had my number, I had sent the text in high hopes. The last few minutes of the game, I was terrible. A perfect train wreck, to be honest. We closed the game 4-2, with Dominic taking the last goal for himself, but I had hardly even noticed. I didn’t even have the will to celebrate with my team at center ice. I just didn’t care anymore.

Instead of my usual hot shower, it was ice cold, but I couldn’t remember feeling it. Drying my hair, Marty offered to help me finish brushing it. I had ended up just sitting there, staring at the piece of plastic. Finding my shirt, shorts, and necessities, I could hardly remember. It would have been funny, should I have forgotten to get dressed before following through with my self-preservation.

Self-preservation indeed. Simon was at the hospital, as they wanted to keep him overnight. With that added bit of news, I was shaky as hell. Not really thinking about anything, but fixing my mistakes. Pathetic mistakes that I couldn’t live without. Meet me outside?

I stood, in mix-matched socks and no shoes, no less, outside of the Capitals’ dressing room, waiting for him to come out. Hell, who knew if he even would, at this point. Something about Alexander Semin just got under my skin. Just the thought of him alone frustrated me. “Anna?”

Looking up to see the man himself in similar attire, his hair wet, I tried to relax. Leaning against the wall, I sighed, watching him move to stand in front of me. “Hey, can we talk for a moment? There’s something I need to say.”

“If you would like.” I couldn’t help but wonder if his smirk was back, but if it was, it didn’t last long, as his features softened. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I just..” My sentence trailed off, as I tried to clear my head and focus my eyes. I wasn’t sure how I made it out of the game alive. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“You want something from me, Anna? Tell me, why should I help you, after that fuckfest you pulled on the ice?”

“I need to talk to you. It’s beyond the point of wanting.” I rubbed my eyes, trying to wipe the few tears that were beginning to form, before I choked up. “I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry for it all. In Vancouver, you were just so confident, and it..”

“Intimidated you?”

I looked up at him, his words from earlier registering in my head. “Don’t rub it in, but you did. Something about you, brought me crashing down into reality. I couldn’t stand you, because you could beat me at something I was training for my whole life at. I was scared to play you. I had rarely been beaten, at that point in my life, in the long run, and you just weren’t something I could deal with.” Crossing my arms and pulling them close, I avoided his gaze. “Recently, I’ve just been so used to not caring on the ice, and then I met your captain, and her Bruin friend, and my life’s been shifted upside down even more so. I hadn’t been teased in forever, and I can’t cope with it.”

“So it’s a bumpy road. Change is good, and it will make you stronger. I know you spoke out of anger, but you really hurt my friend’s feelings. Erika has to deal with a lot. You don’t have to be her friend, but don’t make things worse for her. I’m asking you as a person, who cares about someone else, to just let it go.” He took a few steps closer, but I couldn’t really bear to look at him. Taking about how I felt alone was making it worse. My father would not approve.

“I could never make friends, when I was younger. I always said the wrong thing at the wrong time, saying things playfully, them taking it seriously. When I went to Omsk, there were a few people that I got along with, but that’s it. Here, I love each and every one of my teammates, and they deal with my stupid, pathetic self.”

“You aren’t pathetic, Anna. Don’t be hard on yourself. So you’ve had a few off games, it gets better.”

“It was my fault Simon got hurt so badly, and why he wasn’t paying as much attention.” Sniffing, I could feel the water starting to slide down my cheeks. Semin took a step closer, but I paid no attention. “He tried drinking some of the water in our water bottle, and I drank the last of it, teasing him. He didn’t have a chance to get any more before we had to go back out. It’s my fault he might be out of the rest of the playoffs. It’s my fault.”

I felt warm hands grab my shoulders gently, before pulling me into a hug. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, as I hesitantly slid my own around his waist. “It’s alright to cry, Anna. It’s alright.”

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier to you. I didn’t mean it. I just felt so angry..” He squeezed me tightly, as I continued to cry into his shirt, hiccupping occasionally. I just wanted to beat you so badly; prove that I was as good as you and your captain, even though I never will be.

"Let me in, Anna." I breathed in at his words, calming myself, and relaxing into him a touch. He paused for a few moments, not letting go of me. If I listened close enough, I could hear his heart beating, but only for a second or two. Continuing to inhale and exhale, I tried to relax my nerves that were on edge, hoping to stop the flood of tears that might have soaked his shirt. “You vented to me, meaning you trust me, and I think I want you to trust me"