Drunken Minds Speak Sober Hearts

Deep breaths, he tells himself. Inhale. Exhale.

This right here, this whole entire day, it was everything Jonathan has ever dreamed about. He couldn't go out there and fuck it up, not when he had the weight of an entire city resting on shoulders. He couldn't let them--the fans, his teammates, his family, even himself--down. He just couldn't. Imagining the aftermath after failing to hoist the Stanley Cup is enough to make him sick.

Jon was sitting in a crowded room, his teammates bumping chests, hitting gloves, shouting. They were horrifically loud, yet Jonathan couldn't seem to hear any of it. He was in his own world entirely. Head in his hands, staring at the floor beneath him. The guys knew better than to bother him.

Checking the clock, he feels his heart beat a little faster. Ten minutes until he takes the ice in hopes to kick Philadelphia's ass.

"Jon," he hears a voice whisper. He must be imagining such things. There is no way it's possible to hear a whisper over all of this madness. Alas, he hears his name again.

Swinging his head in the direction of the whisper, his eyes go wide upon seeing her. She gives him a grin, waving slightly before motioning for him to come to her. Jonathan smiles back sheepishly as he stands up, glad that she still, after all this time and after what he did to her, wants to see him.

"Hey!" Kaner yells, noticing his captain's sudden movements. "Where are you going? There's like-" he pauses, checking the clock, "-nine minutes left until we have to be out there."

"I'll be right back," Jon replies before exiting through the locker room door, disappearing from his team only to appear in front of her.

"Lorraine," he says, unhappy about the way her name has become some foreign to him.

"Hi, Jonathan."

"What are you doing here?" he asks the tall brunette.

"I just came to see how you were doing and to wish you good luck."

He has to blink just to make sure this is real, that she's really in Philadelphia. "I didn't expect to see you here. I mean.. Why? Not that I don't want you to be here or anything, because I do. It's just that I don't know why, after everything, that you would still want to see me."

"Because that's what friends do, right?" she says, offering him a sad shrug.

He feels like the biggest son of a bitch. A guilty, disgusting son of a bitch who doesn't know what to say to the beautiful woman standing before him. An apology would be good, a voice inside of him says.

"Lorraine, you have no idea how sorry I am for-"

She cuts him short as she shakes her head. "Jonathan, stop. Don't worry about that now. You have the biggest game of your career tonight. Don't let me get in the way of that, okay? That's not why I came down here."

Jon sighs, reluctantly agreeing.

"So you're alright? You're not scared or anything?"

"Terrified."

Lorraine frowns. "How come?"

The answer is obvious, though.

"What will they think if I let them down?" he asks.

"I'm sure they'll still love you. I know I will," she says, hoping that he doesn't catch the last part. He does, though, and he feels his breath catch in his throat.

He tells himself that she doesn't mean it the way he wants her to mean it. He forces himself to think that she probably just loves him as a player, for what he can do on the ice, not as a person. So he looks to the ground and keeps quiet.

"Two minutes, man," one of them--he's not sure who, nor does he really care--yells from the door.

"You should go," Lorraine nods.

"Will you be here when the game's over?"

She nods again.

"Win or lose?"

"Win or lose," she promises.

A moment of silence passes, both of them unsure of what to say or do next.

Then she wraps her arms around him. "Go get 'em, tiger," she says before pulling away and turning on her heal, heading down the hallway.

Jonathan watches her with sorrowful eyes until he can't see her anymore. Only then does he make his way back inside, his teammates slapping his back in hopes of pumping him up. Cracking his neck left and right, he closes eyes.

Focus. Just focus.

Seconds later, he's running out onto the ice. There is no turning back now.