Sequel: Picking Up the Pieces

Bringing the Devil Out of Me

Thirty One

It was December 29th. The Penguins were playing the Montreal Canadiens. I had gotten a front row seat (Sidney knew I preferred sitting in the crowd). Sidney was set up for a goal, which, if he made it, would be his third of the night. The puck was passed to him. P.K. Subban flew down the ice, and the look on his face showed that he was determined to help his goalie out. Sidney brought his stick back. Subban prepared to make the check. Sidney fired off the shot. Subban slammed into Sid. As the puck found twine, Sidney's body found the boards. The red light lit up, the horn sounded, and the crowd erupted, hats soaring onto the ice. However, the crowd grew silent just as quickly as they heard the referee blow his whistle. He pointed to Subban.

"Five minute major, game misconduct, boarding," were the only words I needed to hear to know that something was wrong. I stood up so that I could get a better angle, and saw Sidney laying crumpled on the ice. His face was pale, his eyes were shut, and he wasn't moving.

"Sid..." I muttered, worry flooding my chest. Some of the coaching staff ran onto the ice. A coach felt his neck for a pulse, motioned something, and then paramedics ran onto the ice, carrying a back board.

"Sidney!" I cried, tears welling in my eyes. The paramedics quickly strapped him to the board, but as they carried him off of the ice, his gloved hand twitched in my direction...a feeble attempt at a wave to let me know he was alive. Hot tears spilled onto my cheeks and I gathered my things. Across the ice, every member of the Penguins looked grim. I did the only thing I could think to do, and ran. I didn't stop running until I reached my car, which was in the player's lot. A guard ran up to me, and before I could say anything he told me where they were taking Sidney. I peeled out of the parking lot, not caring if I was following the speed limit or not.

When I arrived in the emergency room I was faced with stony faced nurses who wouldn't tell me anything about Sidney, but told me that I could wait if I felt like it. I paced back and forth for what felt like hours, silently praying that Sidney was going to be okay, when Evgeni and Marc ran it. Mario, the GM, was close on their heels.

"Where is he?" Evgeni asked me. His face was wracked with worry.

"I don't know! They won't tell me anything!" I said, tears filling my eyes once again. Marc reached out and pulled me into a tight hug as my entire body began to shake.

"Shhh...il est fort...tout va bien," he whispered, rocking me from side to side. Mario, whom I had never spoken to before, looked at me, Marc, and Evgeni, and then grabbed a nurse. They argued quietly for a good five minutes before she walked away and a doctor approached us. Mario and the doctor talked briefly before Mario turned and walked over to us.

"The doctor says that Sidney was knocked unconscious by the check because his head crashed into the boards. Sidney regained consciousness shortly after he was taken in the ambulance, and the doctor said that he is showing minor concussion symptoms. That's relatively good, considering the blow to the head he took last year. Now, the bad news is that his arm was fractured. Other than that, there are no serious injuries. The doctor also informs me that while Sidney was still disoriented he kept asking for Alice. I take it that you're her," he said, turning to me as he said the last part.

"Yes," I said quietly. His eyes were full of concern, but the kind of worry that a father would show for a son.

"Come with me," he said quietly before walking down the hallway that the nurse had disappeared down earlier. I followed him in an almost sleep-like stupor. The smell of cleaning products mixed with the smells of injury and illness made my head reel, and my heart raced as we turned down another hallway. Mario stopped in front of a door, 174 E, and motioned for me to enter the room. I walked in and almost let out a whimper. Sidney lay on the bed, his skin almost as pale of my own, and his right arm enclosed in a heavy black and white cast. IVs ran through his other arm. I walked over to the side of the bed, pulled a chair over, and slipped my hand into his. His skin was cool, and if it weren't for the steady rise and fall of his chest, I would have thought he was dead. Tears found their way onto my cheek once again, and Sidney's hand suddenly tightened around mine.

"Sid?" I said quietly. His eyes fluttered open.

"Hey there..." he muttered.
"Hey," I smiled weakly. He let go of my hand, reached up, and wiped the tears from my cheeks.

"Why are you crying?" he asked. He was very groggy.

"I was scared," I squeaked.

"Did we win?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, although I didn't know if I was telling the truth or not.

"What happened?" he asked.

"You scored a hat trick, and then P.K. Subban hit you." I said. He nodded, smiled slightly, and squeezed my hand.

"At least I got the trick," he smiled before falling back asleep.