Blackhawks & Ballerinas

THIRD PERSON POINT OF VIEW FOR THIS CHAPTER ONLY!!

Harley rapped softly on Patrick’s door. When there was no response, she barged in any way.

He was lying on his side, with one arm propping up his head, his hand buried in his soft golden curls. His eyes were sleepy but he grinned when he saw how surprised she was to find him awake.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked her.

Harley shook her head and gave an exasperated sigh and then blew the loose strands of hair out of her face, but they came right back into her face again.

He lifted up his covers as an invitation for her to climb into bed with him. Again she shook her head and walked over to the chair in the corner of the room instead, and sat down. Patrick then pulled the covers over his head and crawled under so that he was completed covered up.

“Patrick come out of there! I need to talk to you!”

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Patrick teased from under the covers.

Harley rolled her eyes and got up. She pulled up an edge at the end of the bed and stuck her head in, and soon her whole body so they were both fully under the covers. He wrapped his arms around her like a child with his security blanket and pulled her into his chest.

“You are a child,” she laughed, combing her fingers through his blonde locks.

All the sudden it became hard to breathe. There wasn’t much air under the covers and Harley struggled out of Patrick’s arms to pull her head out. She put her head on one of Patrick’s pillows and gazed up at the ceiling, lying flat on her back. He joined her but latched his arms around her, and buried his face into her neck, nuzzling her and causing her to laugh uncontrollably. After awhile he began to place small kisses starting around her ear and traveling down her neck. Harley jumped on his chest and pinned him down to try and get him to stop; eventually settling comfortably in his arms.

“Patrick?” she asked after some time.

“Mhmm.” She could feel his chest vibrate on her face.

“Has anyone ever died playing hockey?”

She was playing around with one of his large hands, tracing the letter of her name into his palm with her fingers. His other hand had sneakily traveled underneath her tank top, gently raking up and down on her back, but stopped when he heard her question.

“What kind of a question is that?” he asked.

She shrugged. Not once looking him in the eye.

“Sure,” he answered, addressing her question, “people have died. But normally it’s just severe brain damage or paralysis.”

“Oh,” she managed to squeak out.

It was then that he remembered the hockey game that night. That hit Dustin had taken had probably shaken her up a bit. Realization flooded through him. He pushed her chin up so she was looking into his eyes. “Oh Harley, relax! Don’t worry about stuff like that!”

“You promise nothing will ever happen to you?” she asked hopefully.

His silence was so loud that neither of them even noticed the front door open and shut.

“What about Catherine? What would become of her if something ever happened to you?” Harley raised her voice.

“She would live with Jon and Colby,” Patrick responded without a second thought.

“WHAT?!” she screeched, “JON AND COLBY! I’M HER REAL MOTHER! IF ANYTHING EVER HAPPENED TO YOU I WANT TO BE…”

But she couldn’t finish because Catherine had barged in the door. She looked confused, a thousand ideas and possibilities were running through her mind.

“What do you mean, you’re my real mother?” Catherine said as calmly as possible, but the edge in her voice was clear.

“Cat…” Patrick started but Harley cut him off.

“Stop. It’s time she knows,” Harley sighed and Catherine’s eyes started to become restless, “about 18 years ago I was raped at a very young age. I became pregnant and out of fear I ran away to Paris. I had to put my baby in an orphanage there was just no other choice at the time.” Harley was in tears now.

“Who was that baby,” Catherine demanded, with an urgency that still had hope that Harley would say any name but her own.

“It was you,” Harley said in almost a whisper. Catherine just stood there silently, letting the information sink in. “It was for your own good. I wanted to keep you from my problems. It was what was best for you.”

When Catherine finally had the words she needed to say, she didn’t yell. “For 17 years, I’ve needed a mother, and for 17 years, you were the closest thing I had to one. If you had wanted to do what was best for me, you would have married the one person who loves you more than anything and moved with us to Chicago so that I could have had a family. I always wanted a mother and now I’m staring at her and I can’t help but think that I was better off without one,” Catherine turned to Patrick, “Dad, how could you lie to me for twelve years?”

With that Catherine ran out of the door, slamming it shut behind her.

An emptiness settled into Patrick. He knew the feeling like a long lost friend, remembering himself standing outside his apartment in Chicago, watching Harley’s taxi drive off into the distance. It had been twelve years since that morning. Twelve years ago he never would have pictured himself in this position. Yet, he still felt as if he was standing on that sidewalk, watching what he loved most in the world drive away whenever he got too close. He knew what he had to do.

“She’s right Harley. You’re going to have to make a choice right now. I’ve been praying for 12 years that things would just work out. But now I see that someone as special as you isn’t just going to fall into my arms. You’re someone worth fighting for and someone worth doing what scares you the most. I love you Harley Anderson.”