Bringing the Devil Out of Me

fter dinner Sidney started muttering game plans to himself, watching countless tapes of both Washington goaltenders, and looking for every possible weakness in the team that he could exploit.

“Do you want a picture of Ovechkin to pin to a dart board too babe?” I asked, walking past the living room. He jumped, obviously so wrapped up in his work that he had forgotten I was in the house.

“Yes.” He growled, and I chuckled.

“Sidney you need to relax. If you keep freaking yourself out over every game, you’re eventually going to slip up. If you just take a few deep breaths, let yourself sleep, and keep calm, you’ll do great. You’re a great hockey player, so stop worrying.” I said, walking over to pause the most recent tape he was watching. He groaned and hung his head in his hands.

“I can’t stop worrying Alice. I’m just…I need to beat Ovechkin. I think I’d puke blood if I saw him with the Cup in his hands.” Sidney croaked. I simply stroked his hair and kissed him gently.

“He won’t win the Cup.” I said quietly.

“How do you know?” Sidney asked.

“Because I know that you can do it.” I said. He grinned and kissed me.

“Thanks Alice.” He smiled. I slipped into his lap and played with his hair. He closed his eyes and rested his head against my shoulder. In that moment, there was no need for words. I was there for him, I believed in him, and that was something that he needed. He had always had people who expected things from him, but I seriously questioned whether someone had ever told him that they believed in him.

TWO DAYS LATER

I opened the front door quickly, and Marc and Alice darted into the house as quickly as possible. It was pouring rain, and we had a few hours before the first game against Washington. Marc had a huge grin on his face, and so did Alice, so I immediately raised my eyebrows in suspicion.

“What are you two plotting?” I asked. Marc shook his head.

“You are so dense Sid. Geno noticed this morning when I showed up to practice. By the way, where is the big lug? He hasn’t been hanging around much lately.” Marc asked. I shrugged.

“New girlfriend or something like that. He’s been just as stressed as me, and when the two of us are freaking out things tend to get a little…” I said.

“Explosive?” Alice suggested. I nodded.

“Yeah, explosive would be a good word for that. So, what are you guys plotting?” I asked again.

“Sidney, I went to the doctor today.” Marc said. His grin grew and my eyes flew to his leg. The brace was gone.

“Oh shit, you’re out of the brace dude! I was wondering why we couldn’t hear you.” I cried happily.

“Yeah, and that’s not even the best part…” Alice grinned devilishly.

“What is?” I asked.

“My knee is completely healed. I’ve been cleared to begin skating again Sid. I might be able to make it to the last round of the playoffs, even though Brent’s been doing a hell of a job.” Marc beamed. I hugged him tightly.

“DAMMIT YES FLOWER! I MISS YOUR SEXY SELF IN OUR CREASE!” I cried, and they both laughed.

“So you weren’t ready to sign up for backup then?” he chuckled. I immediately thought back to one of our practices a while ago, when I had donned his pads and tried to block a few shots. I laughed my first real laugh in a few weeks.

“Oh definitely Flower. You know how well that would go over.” I smirked.
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I sat in the box with Marc. He was extremely nervous, even if he wasn’t playing. He donned a headset to relay info to the coaches and trainers, and I sat to his right, pointing out things as I noticed them. It was a rare privilege to be allowed to sit with the injured players, especially when they were doing what Marc was doing, but I had been given permission from Bylsma to sit with Marc. I couldn’t help but feel that Marc, Sidney, and some of the other guys I had gotten friendly with had managed to pull a few strings, but I was incredibly serious about the position. Both teams came out flying, and Sidney and Ovechkin automatically started bee lining for each other. I was kind of nervous because Ovechkin was a lot bigger than Sidney, but I also knew that Sid wasn’t going to go down without a fight. I saw them trash talking each other quite a few times, and Marc shook his head.

“They’re going to go at it one day, I just know it.” he muttered to me.

“Sidney isn’t a fighter though, especially with someone as big as Ovechkin.” I said in reply. I felt my jaw drop as Sidney dropped his gloves after a ridiculous slash from Ovechkin. Marc and I had both screamed in outrage when we realized that a penalty wasn’t going to be called, but this shock was ten times more…shocking. Ovechkin accepted, and they were going at it. Sidney was surprisingly well off in the fight, positioning himself just right, getting a great grip on Ovi’s jersey, and within two minutes, Ovechkin was down. The Penguins fans roared, and I couldn’t help but let out a few excited yells of my own. Marc simply laughed and shook his head, and Sidney had the world’s biggest smirk plastered onto his battered face as he was escorted to the penalty box. Marc grimaced as a loud roar came from his head set. Coach was obviously not happy about Cappy taking a fighting penalty.

“Coach, chill. Their lead scorer is out too, remember?” Marc said after a few more seconds of screaming.

The Penguins won the game 7-3. The media hounded Sidney, and I had some questions lined up for the guys as well, but most of my article had been written already. It was weird how much my career had started shaping around the Penguins’ schedule. In fact, I was being sent to cover the series when it headed to Washington too. Marc pulled me into the locker room with him, dodging several reporters (some of whom I had gotten to know), and we managed to make our way through the crowd to talk to Sidney. I crept up behind him and hugged him, and he jumped.

“Jesus Alice, you scared the crap out of me!” he chuckled, turning around and kissing my forehead. I smiled and looked up at him, only to feel my eyes widen. His left eye was swollen shut, a thick, black bruise shining brightly against his skin. I reached up to touch it gingerly, but Sid grabbed my wrist.

“It hurts…a lot.” he said quietly.

“Looks like it does.” I said. He shrugged and buttoned up his shirt, quickly tied his tie, and took me by the elbow. He answered a few questions as we made our way out of the locker room, but he had the look of a caged animal by the time we got to the parking lot.

“It feels like the days I want to get out the most are the days I can’t.” he sighed. Marc ran up behind us, and the three of us made our way to the big black SUV that I had driven to the game (it was Marc’s car).

“I feel ya.” I said, giving him a sympathetic smile and squeezing his hand. He smiled appreciatively and took the keys from me.

“Are you sure you should drive with one eye Sid?” Marc asked. Sidney nodded and climbed into the driver’s seat. I called shotgun, and Marc slipped into the back seat.

The next morning I felt like my head was going to explode. I still couldn’t open my left eye, and I had a raging headache. My heart leapt into my throat, and I silently prayed that I didn’t have a concussion. I knew that the doctors at the game said I didn’t, but I was always afraid of getting one now. I rolled out of bed and walked downstairs, quickly making myself an ice pack with a few cubes of ice out of the freezer, a plastic bag, and a towel. I pressed it to my eye, and grimaced at the contact. Ovechkin could punch, I’d give him that much. Luckily, he wasn’t very accurate when he hit. I surprised myself when I was the last man standing, but now I was aching all over and my pride wasn’t exactly helping ease the pain. I texted Alice, telling her to come over, and she showed up not twenty minutes later. I was relieved when I didn’t see Marc at her heels, and quickly crossed the foyer to pull her into a kiss. She squealed in surprise, smiling against my lips. I broke away, but crushed her to my chest. I wanted to hold her forever, and she seemed pretty intent on letting me do just that. For a long time, we stood like that, occasionally kissing each other, and just relishing the feeling of being in the arms of the person we loved. For a little while, I forgot everything except for her and everything seemed just right with the world.