The Light That Wraps You

By this time, I was sure that you hated me.

How could you not? Look at what I was doing to your best friend, and to myself. It was sick. I had dried his tears, had fallen asleep on the couch with him, and when I woke with a stiff neck early the next morning, I whispered softly, “I love you” when I knew he wouldn’t hear it. How could you stand by and let me treat him that way, when even I knew it was unfair? No wonder you haunted us. If only you had been there in the room; you could’ve thrown furniture at me or pushed me down some stairs. Perhaps that would have knocked some sense into me.

I knew that now the Winter Classic was over, the guys would try to move on. They would carry those scars on their hearts, but they would eventually move past it. They would go on to defeat the Capitals again someday. In the meantime they would turn their attentions to other things: family, like Johnny and Kunitz; the next game, like Sid and Staalsy; the next chance to improve, like Cookie and Flower; and the next thing to bring them joy, like Kris.

I knew he was going to wait for me to give him my answer, about my feelings, about where the two of us stood, but I didn’t know what to do. Never in my life had I felt so conflicted. I’d always had a plan, had always known what came next when I finished something. But now here I was, in Pittsburgh (not part of the plan), in love with a hockey player (also not part of the plan), and alive because his best friend had died (really not part of the plan). I was still unsure if what I felt for him was me, or you. I didn’t feel like myself anymore, like everything I had ever felt towards anyone since I had been given your heart was a lie. It was the ultimate form of identity theft.

And even after all that, if I did tell Kris that I loved him when he could hear it and reciprocate it, and even if we decided to pursue this, how could I? How could I embark on a relationship with him, on a journey, without being honest about you and I? The three of us were connected, each one of us meaning something to the other two, whether we knew it or not, and that circle kept spinning like the snake that devours its own tail.

I felt so lost. It didn’t help that I had unwittingly caused an uproar that now other, higher-paid individuals were having to deal with.

Dan called me into the office Sunday afternoon, the day after the Winter Classic had taken place. He had sticky notes all over his desk, and a phone to his ear. Ray was perched on the corner, and they both looked up at me when I entered. I shut the door behind me and sat down in one of the chairs.

I knew exactly what it was about. I knew full well that there would be consequences for my actions, but I suddenly felt a stab of fear, like an icicle into my chest. Would they fire me? Would they tell the hospital back in Boston? I’d never work in this field again, not after that.

“Let’s not beat around the bush here,” Ray said, folding his hands and raising his eyebrows at me. “Anything illuminating you have to say?”

“Only that I realize I crossed a professional boundary, and that I’m sorry that I did it…” I took a deep breath, holding my head high, “…in front of so many people.”

Ray looked surprised at that, and Dan stifled a laugh. With quick thinking, he handed the phone off to Ray, and they switched places. Ray looked baffled and annoyed all at once, but his face brightened automatically when whoever was on the other line returned.

“Listen Lux, it was bound to happen. You’re an attractive girl, and the guys got a little excited.” When I made a face, Dan laughed. “All right, a lot excited. There was some clamor, some fake injuries--yeah, you look surprised, but you don’t know just how far they’ll go for a girl--and we all pretty much knew at some point that those feelings would be reciprocated. They’re all good guys, with the exception of Max,” he smiled when I laughed aloud, “so we’re not exceptionally upset.”

Talking to Dan was much easier than talking to Ray, and I felt some of the anxiety fade. To be honest, he was a little scary, but otherwise, he wouldn’t have been such a great general manager. Dan was the good cop, the fatherly figure and friend that the guys could relate to; Ray was the bad cop, the sturdier parent more willing to hand out discipline.

“So I’m not in trouble?”

“Not in trouble, per se,” Dan said, “but now we’re kind of dealing with a lot of media influx. Everyone wants to know who you are, and who you are to Tanger.”

“Yes,” Ray interjected, having been put on hold again. “And the official statement is that Kris Letang’s personal life is his own, and it’s not our job to babysit him or reveal unwarranted details. Your official statement, to anyone and everyone, is ‘no comment.’”

“Okay, that’s fine.”

They exchanged a look. “That’s not all, Lux.” Dan cleared his throat, readjusting his glasses on his nose. “We’re trying as hard as we can to quiet this. It’s mostly local, which is good. Luckily for the two of you, Tanger’s no Sid. I hate to even say this about him, but I’m actually kind of glad you’re just friends with the Kid. That would be a real nightmare.” I winced. “Anyway, the thing we’re getting at here is that when they find out who you are, they’re going to dig, and they’re going to find out where you’re from, where you’ve worked, and they’re going to bother your folks back in Boston. Judging by how pale you just got, I’m guessing you can see why this is a big deal.”

I nodded, black spots popping in my vision like sunbursts. All the blood rushed from my face and my head felt light, floating on my neck like a paper boat in a bathtub. This was colossal. If it got out that I was a doctor from Boston, they would call Massachusetts General, and my coworkers would known what had transpired. I could lose my medical license. That would be my entire life, gone in one fell swoop. All because of a hot kiss on an icy day.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked softly. “Tell me so we can fix this.”

“We need you to lay low, just until we can smooth all of this over.”

“But--”

“It’ll be fine, Lux. They’re all big boys; we can survive without you for a few days. Besides, Staalsy said something about you not feeling well. Get some rest, and come back on Wednesday. We’ll keep you posted until then.” I heard the conclusiveness in his tone, and I sat there, stunned.

“So that’s it?”

“I’m afraid so. Just give us some time.”

“All right.” I stood, nodding to both of them. “I am sorry, for the trouble this has caused.”

“Thanks, Lux. Just try and keep it at home next time, eh?”

I left their office, your heart heavy in my chest, like the entire world was anchoring it down. This felt like an omen. I tried to brush it off, but I was so mad at myself and so confused that it lingered in my mind. I tried to take Dan’s advice and get some rest. For four days, I avoided everyone.

Everyone except one person.

“Marc is very worried about you, ma chérie.”

I looked up at Vero. The two of us were out having lunch before the game that night against the Lightning, while the guys took their naps. I should have been at Consol, answering emails and doing paperwork to try and catch up on everything I had shoved aside, but I didn’t feel up to it. I felt exhausted, though I had been doing nothing. I had literally sat around my house and done nothing but watch the Discovery Health channel, painting my nails, and waiting for Dan or Ray to call. They eventually did, on the fourth. They used my French heritage as an excuse for being what they called “overtly friendly” towards Kris, saying that it was normal for the two of us, that there was nothing going on. Neither of us could be reached for comment, especially from each other.

Not being able to talk to him about it was killing me, but Dan had explicitly told me to stay away until things had quieted down. I was frustrated by everything, so when Vero called me and invited me to lunch, I nearly leaped out the window in gratitude. My emotions had me on edge, and I needed girl time, fast.

“Why?”

“He says you’re avoiding everyone.”

I pointed my fork at her. “I’m eating with you, aren’t I?”

“All right, all the males.” She took a bite out of her sandwich. “’E thinks someone has done something to upset you.”

“No! It’s not like that at all. I just needed to be alone for a little while.” I eyed my plate, stabbing a clump of lettuce particularly viciously. That was another official statement I was being forced to say. “I didn’t feel well and I had a lot on my mind.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shrugged and nodded at the same time. Vero pushed her plate away and sat back in her chair, gazing at me expectantly. She crossed her hands in her lap and waited patiently as I fumbled for the words to say exactly what was going on with me. I decided not to tell her about the issues with the media, and instead what was weighing more heavily on my shoulders.

“So…I think…that Kris might be in love with me.”

Vero snorted. “Tell me something less obvious. Everyone can see that, Lux.”

“They can?”

“Of course! The way he looks at you…” She fanned herself. “It’s enough to make every man and woman in the room jealous.”

“So what do I do?”

She leaned forward, as if she hadn’t heard me correctly. “What do you do? Confess your undying love to him!”

“But…” When nothing feels genuine, how do I know for sure?

“Ah, I see you. You are unsure where this puts you, no?” When I nodded, she went on. “I will tell you something that very few people know. When we were sixteen, Marc-André and I began dating. That was also the year that he was drafted by the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League. He moved to Cape Breton to play for the Screaming Eagles, and I got left behind. We kept it up for about a year, but the distance was very hard and we decided it would be better if we saw other people.” She blushed suddenly. “As far as I know, he saw no one else, but I went out with several boys. It only took me three months to realize that I was not happy.”

Of all the people who seemed likely to be together forever, Fleury and Vero were the two who stole the show. Who would have ever imagined that they had once broken up, their hearts torn by too much distance and dreams pulling them in different directions?

“How did you know?”

She reached for her glass, but she didn’t pick it up. Instead he ran her fingers up and down the sides to catch the condensation. “It was the little things. I would like them at first, but then slowly they would annoy me. Nothing they did or said was right. The things I had once liked about them made me ill, and I started to grow very depressed. It hit me one day when I was talking to Marc on the phone, because he and I were still good friends, why I was so angry and sad all the time.”

“Why?”

Her dark eyes shone. “Because none of the other boys were him. They would never make me happy like he did, because I was in love with him. I told him this when he came back to visit for Christmas, and he asked me to be his girlfriend again almost immediately. I said yes, and then that summer, he was drafted. My parents didn’t want me to leave, but I refused to be left behind again. When he came to Pittsburgh, I came too, and we have been together through it all ever since.”

“So what you’re saying is…”

“That even if you are unsure now, something will happen, something will come along, and it will hit you someday and you will know, without a doubt, whether or not you love Kris in return. I cannot say when for sure, but it will happen in time.”

I wondered about that, as the topic changed to this show that she had seen on the Style channel. Would some strange twist of fate lead me to finally be sure of my feelings? This was all so new to me. I had dreamed of love and that sort of thing, but I had always considered that wishful thinking. My first instinct was to walk the left brain path of life, thinking logically and critically and always trusting my head before my heart. But then I had lost my heart and gained yours; now my world had been turned upside down, and knowing that Kris had been your best friend wasn’t helping. Would an epiphany strike me? I hoped it would, and soon, because Kris was waiting on me.

On my way to the rink that night, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I checked the message at the first red light; it was from Kris.

I miss you.

Your heart wrenched so painfully that I placed a palm against the scar, feeling it softly, as if it would bring me some sort of comfort or peace. I texted him back, hoping he understood I meant more than what lay on the surface.

I’ll see you soon.



“What do you mean, you’re playing?” I had my hands on my hips and I was trying to be as intimidating as possible, but that was difficult when the man I was trying to convince was eight inches taller than me.

Sidney threw his stick tape down in his stall, readjusting his hat like he did when he was stressed. “Exactly what I said. I am playing, and you’re not going to stop me.”

That’s what you think. We had been arguing for the past five minutes in the dressing room, and at first the guys had ignored us as they arrived and started to get dressed, but as our volume increased, they had paused to watch. I hated yelling. I felt that there was no point raising your voice when speaking calmly could get the point across just as well. But he was making me angry.

“You’re being an idiot.”

Sid raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, but did you get promoted in the last week or something? Do you suddenly work for someone else?”

One of the guys--Paul Martin, I think it was--coughed awkwardly at that and the others exchanged glances. That was not usually Sid’s forte. He was a genuinely nice guy, and for him to sling a barb like that at me told me just how much of a toll this was taking on him.

“Fine. You don’t want to be friends, we won’t be." His last name felt strange on my tongue. He had always been sweet Sidney. Not anymore. "Crosby, I’m your physician, and you can’t play unless I clear you. Since I haven’t done that, I--”

“The hell I can’t!”

Max tried to come between us, holding up his hand, a serene expression on his face. “Listen, you two, maybe you should--”

“Rester en dehors de celui-ci!” I snapped, shoving him away with my hand. That was about as useful as me shoving a brick wall, but he backed up respectfully anyway.

“All right,” He said calmly, “I’m sorry, I just thought--”

“Yeah,” Sid snapped. “Stay out of it, Max. This is between Lux and I.” His eyes were dark and fiery when he looked at me; I was gazing into the wells of his soul and I saw a man possessed. That competitive flame was going to burn him someday, I could just see it now. Why was he being so stupid? Didn’t he know that until I could do a thorough examination, he would be putting himself at risk?

“No, it’s not. It’s between your team and I.” I shook my head. “I don’t get it, Sid. Why would you jeopardize your entire career?”

He seemed to snap out of it for just a moment. He glanced around at the guys watching, guilt staining his cheeks red. He met each of their eyes in turn, circling all the way around the room, before coming back to me. The fire had returned. He pointed a finger at me, his voice lowering. “Je peux jouer,” He said. “Et je vais.”

Some of the guys shifted uncomfortably on their feet, and I knew it was the ones who understood his words, like Dupuis, Kris, and Adams. I shook my head. “But--”

“Ceci est pour l’équipe.” His tone held such finality that I actually bit my tongue. Fiercely, he spun on one heel and went back to his stall, his broad back to me. I unfolded my arms, letting them hang limply at my sides. I had been defeated. I sighed, almost sad that we had fought, that it had come to us standing on either sides of the face-off circle.

“Remember this,” I said quietly. “When something bad happens, I want you to remember what you just said.”

His neck stiffened but he didn’t turn around. I flounced away, nearly bowling Dan over in my hurry to get away. He steadied me, gripping my shoulders and chuckling.

“Whoa,” He said cheerfully. “Watch it there. You okay?”

I nodded. “Have a good game tonight.”

“Thanks. How were your days off?”

“Boring. I don’t know how to relax.” I sighed. “Or so Vero says.”

“Spoken like a true friend. Did you talk to Sid at all?”

I nodded again, my lips pressed together in a thin, furious line. He was risking everything, and I had come to care about this team so much that if he let them down, I was fully prepared to show him just how angry I could really be.

“What’s wrong?” Dan asked, his smile gone. He had clearly seen the anger written all over my face. “Did something happen?”

I scowled. “If something happens to him, do not blame me. I tried, but he is stubborn as a mule.”

“He’s still going to play?”

“He is.”

Dan made a face. “I’ll talk to him.”

It didn’t work. Sid dressed for the game against the Lightning, and participated in the opening face-off. I wanted to smash my head against a wall just watching him up on the screen in the exam room. Gritting my teeth and shaking my head, I looked down at the book in my lap. It was one of the ones that Kris had bought me for Christmas, and I tried to get lost in it, to ignore how annoyed I was with Sid. “Wildly my Mind beats against you,” my mouth moved along with the words on the page, “but my soul obeys.”

The concentration lasted about seven seconds, give or take.

The crowd erupted and I looked up to see Geno had scored right off the face-off. Almost unwillingly, I cracked a smile. Perhaps I had been wrong. Perhaps the night would go better than I had ever hoped.

It felt that way after Conner scored two minutes later, and the goals didn’t stop there. Just before the ten minute mark, the guys got two goals within thirty seconds from each other, Kris getting the assist on one. I couldn’t help but stop reading and cheer, thrilled by the change of events. After the Winter Classic, I had worried about them. I had been afraid that they would let that loss keep them down, but they were certainly rising from their own ashes for an unbelievable win.

Kunitz ended the first period off right with a second goal for him, Kris’ second assist of the night. When the guys came back in to the dressing room for the first intermission, I went to meet them.

Max grabbed me outside the doors and swung me in a circle. “Did you see that?” He laughed, setting me back down in a whirlwind of sweat and my vanilla perfume. I wrinkled my nose at his fetid scent, but he didn’t even care. “If they don’t pull Roloson, they’re crazy!”

“Come now,” I chided him quietly. “You know how bad that feels. Do not scorn him for his mistakes.”

Max’s smile didn’t falter. He just waited.

I relented. “Oh, but I am very happy for you!”

He hugged me again, and I couldn't help but laugh.

The second period started off with a Stamkos penalty shot (after Benny tripped him) that failed to deliver. I watched eagerly from the tunnel, unable to stay away from the fast-paced game any longer. I watched as the guys owned the ice, treating the Lightning to some leftover anger from the Winter Classic. Perhaps it was not fair that they were facing the vengeance that was owed to Washington, but if it gave them the two points they needed in the standings, then who was I to object? Remember, they are your bosses. For now.

Letestu had a nice backhand goal just after the halfway mark, and I cheered, high-fiving the equipment guys. They started a bet of who would get the game-winner, and I threw in a couple bucks for Sid. He deserved a triumphant return to his scoring ways, and it was my little unspoken way of apologizing while he was on the ice.

I lost the bet.

Towards the end of the second period, Sid skated down to the Lightning’s zone in pursuit of the puck, racing Victor Hedman. Sid stopped himself on the boards, managing to get his stick up and out, knocking the puck away before Hedman could reach. Hedman was still flying, still going full-speed. I saw it before it happened, and I let out a yelp; Hedman crashed into Sid, using his body to stop himself. Sid’s head snapped forward, slammed against the glass, and the moment that Hedman released him, he fell to the ice.

My first thought was, I did this. Just like I had killed you, just like I had come here to plague Kris’ healing life, here I had cursed the man who was leading this team to another potential Cup victory.

“I can play, and I will,” He had said, his voice venomous. “This is for the team.”

And then my reply, so self-righteous and certain that I knew his body better than he did: “Remember this.” Oh, he would remember it all right.

He managed to get up, skating to the bench with a dazed look on his face. Dan gestured for me to come out, and I did, blinking at the haze of bright lights and the compressed balloon of noise from the crowd. Sid was drinking Gatorade, but he looked thoroughly shaken. I started to lean down, then thought better of it. I knew that if I asked him if he wanted to go with me now, or if he wanted to wait the remaining two minutes until the period ended, he would wait. So, I stood next to him, and placed my hand on his shoulder. I could feel his labored breaths with every second that passed.

Kunitz scored a hat trick in the remaining fifteen seconds of play. Sid and I were the only two who didn’t cheer.



I walked with him through the tunnel during the second intermission. Kris stopped me before I could get far.

“Lux, I--”

“Kris,” I said, far more sharply than I had meant to. “If this is about you and I, it has to wait. I have a patient to tend to.”

He shook his sweaty locks back away from his face. He didn’t pout or try to persuade me otherwise. He just nodded firmly. “Oui, I understand. Just…be careful with him.”

I sighed, my shoulders slumping. “How much more damage could I do?”

His dark eyes were sad. “Plus que vous savez.”

I watched as he and the rest of the guys filed into the dressing room. All of them looked so conflicted, especially Kunitz. He wanted to be happy, wanted to celebrate this momentous occasion in his career, and the other guys wanted to proclaim their excitement at the 7-0 lead, but they were worried. Their captain, their leader, had been hurt for the second time inside of a week, and the glorious future they may have seen on the horizon began to dim.

I turned to ask Sid if he needed my help walking, only to find he had vanished. I scowled, before hunting him down.

I found him in the cardio room, pacing through an aisle of treadmills. His helmet was off, and his hair was plastered to his head with sweat. He hadn’t even taken his skates off.

“Sid--”

“What, come to gloat?” He wouldn’t look at me. I wanted to ask him to please stop pacing, that it could make his head worse, make him dizzy and sick, but I didn’t want to patronize him, not now.

“I would never.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t? Why else are you here, then? Have you come to tell me how much of an idiot I am?”

“No. I’m here to take care of you. Sid, I--”

He suddenly roared, an inhuman sound that scared me, made me take several steps backward. He threw his stick savagely; it hit the wall across the room and snapped it half. He grabbed handfuls of his own hair, resuming his pacing.

“Fuck,” He muttered. “My fucking head hurts… Goddamn it!” He articulated wildly, but that action seemed to make his head hurt more, because he stopped suddenly and took a deep breath through his nose.

“Sid?”

“Dizzy,” He mumbled, releasing his furious grip on his hair.

“You probably have a concussion. Let me just--”

“Do not,” he yelled suddenly, making me jump again, “leave this room. If I faint or stop breathing, I’ll need you to resuscitate me.”

I scowled. “That isn’t funny.”

“Oh, and you think a concussion is? Ha-ha, look at the League’s biggest dumbass Sidney Crosby, the idiot who played a game with a headache!”

I gaped. “You didn’t tell me you had a headache earlier!”

“Of course I didn’t!” He shouted, flinging his gloves on in separate directions. He looked like he was going to fight me, and I took yet another step back. “I wanted to fucking play after that fucking shit last weekend and I wasn’t going to let you get in my way!”

“Life isn’t a competition, Sidney!”

“My life is. If we don’t win--”

“Exactly,” I said fiercely. “We. You are not this team, no matter how much everyone else seems to think so. You are part of this team, and through your own selfishness, you have jeopardized not only your career, but your chances as a whole to achieve another Stanley Cup victory. Did it ever occur to you to think of them first?” When he didn’t answer, I shook my head. “I am ashamed of you.”

He didn’t seem to have heard me at all. His eyes were closed and he was muttering.

“Sidney!”

“This isn’t happening to me,” He proclaimed surely, his voice a mirage of confidence. “When I wake up, this will be the ending of the first intermission. Kunitz will be telling me how he hopes he’ll get a hat trick in the second and everyone will be chanting Fleury's name for a possible shutout."

“I wish it were that easy. Come on, open your eyes.”

He did as I said. That small action seemed to disorient him. He frowned, focusing on me for a second, before he bent at the waist and threw up all over his skates.

I was at his side in an instant, ignoring the fact that I had just said some mean albeit true things, and ignoring the fact that he could snap me in half, just like he had done to his stick. He dropped to his knees and I went with him. While he heaved, I brushed his hair back from his face and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of my jacket. When he grabbed my hand, I didn’t pull away. He squeezed so tightly that I was sure I felt something shift and pop, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was he was my friend, he was patient, and he needed me.

Then it was over, and he leaned back to breathe.

“Oh god,” He gulped, his voice weak. He wiped the corner of his mouth on his jersey. “I--this--I can’t…”

I shushed him. “Calm down. We’re going to make it through this, okay? I need you to take some deep breaths. Don’t try to talk, just breathe.” Together, the two of us sat there for a long time, and I listened to him breathing, judging how well he did it. He was shaky and barely holding it together, but he didn’t seem to be in any immediate danger.

“Sidney, look at me.” He did. “Stay right here, okay? I’m going to go get my bag and your clothes. Wait for me; do not move. It will only take me a few minutes. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

He nodded wearily, resting his forehead against his knees. I took this as my cue to leave.

Once I was out of the doors, my feet took over. I was running and I couldn’t stop. I flew past the equipment guys who were preparing for the game the next day in Montreal. They were packing bags full of sticks and gloves, and they stared after me as I whizzed by in a flash of black and blue. The colors of my bruised heart, I thought, skidding into my exam room and grabbing everything I could. I didn’t walk to the dressing room, even when my bag was banging against my legs. I kept running, fueled by an urgency that whispered Sidney’s hurt over and over again in my mind like a mantra.

When I dashed into the dressing room, I discovered most of the guys were still there, waiting around anxiously for what I guessed was my diagnosis. As if they didn’t know. Still, I couldn’t fault them for their optimism; I too had it once.

TK was the only one who asked. “Is it bad?”

I just shook my head, mute. Bad didn’t even come close to describing what was happening to Sid right now. This was a nightmare; this was hell. I pawed through his stall, making a mess, but I finally came up with a Penguins t-shirt. Unfortunately, he had arrived in a suit as the guys always did, but luckily Max was there with a pair of sweatpants.

“Tell him to keep them. His ass will stretch them out too much for me.”

Whatever created laughs inside of me had been broken. I just snatched the sweats from his hand and bolted off back to the cardio room.

I wanted to cry just looking at him. He had done exactly what I had said, and hadn’t moved at all. I ran around in front of him, and knelt down. “Sid?”

“Hm?”

Good, he was still awake. I dumped my bag on the floor with the clothes and reached for his skates. I managed to loosen them as well as I could despite the mess he had made, and he helped me yank them off. I asked if he wanted to stand, but he said he was too tired, so instead I had him spread his legs and I knelt in between them, balancing my bag on one of his thighs. I felt around his head, pressing gently at the base of his neck, at his temples, by his ears. Nothing was broken that I could tell.

Next, I used a light to test his vision. His pupils weren’t dilated and he followed it well. I tossed that back into my bag, before I began the questions.

“Tell me your name.”

“All of it?” I nodded. “Sidney Patrick Crosby.”

“Good. What day is it?”

“Wednesday. January 5th.”

“What venue are we at?”

He looked down at his jersey, and I clenched my teeth. “Consol.”

“What period are we in?”

“Second. Intermission.” He thrashed, trying to stand. “I gotta get back out there and play, I--”

I grabbed his arms. “No, calm down Sidney. You’re done, remember?” He quieted once more, and I continued. “Who scored last? Can you tell me?”

That one seemed to take him longer. “Kunitz,” He finally said. “Hat trick. It made me a little jealous.”

“All right. Did your team win your last game?”

“I…”

“Sidney?”

“No,” He croaked, lowering his head. I could still see his chin quivering. “No, we didn’t.” I reached for him, to grab his hand or pat his arm, something, but it felt odd. Instead, I let my hand hang there in suspension, before I slowly dropped it back down, where I clenched it into a fist.

He looked up at me, and your heart broke right in half. His eyes were swimming with tears. “Lux, are you really ashamed of me?” He whispered.

“No,” I replied, my voice soft. “I shouldn’t have said that; I was angry. I should have known you can’t be something you’re not. One thing I’ve learned about you guys is you’re a tough, determined breed. I should have known you would have wanted to play at any cost.”

“At any cost,” He repeated, shaking his head. He blinked rapidly, the movement hurting him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought too. But this cost may have been too f-fucking high…” His shoulders shook.

I bit my lip. Dan Bylsma and Ray Shero be damned. If I was going to know my patients, to follow behind their big lives with my med-pack and my quiet respect, I was going to hug them. I was going to show them how much they had made me care, and how much they had made me fall in love with every single one of them. I threw my arms around him and hugged him as tightly as I dared. His hands, trembling though they were, appeared at my back, sliding up to my shoulders where he grasped fistfuls of my jacket. His sobs were raw and broken against the fabric, and I could barely breathe through the pain I felt in him. Like twins, I felt in that moment that we were sharing all the frustration, all the guilt and the sadness.

He didn’t stop for a long time. Even when he did stop, it was only to take a breath before another tidal wave would hit and he would cling to me like I was his last hope. Even when my knees ached from being on the floor so long and my eyes began to burn from exhaustion, I held onto him. He needed it more than I needed to stand to work out my kinked muscles, and more than I needed to wash the vomit from my hands. He needed me.

“Lux,” He sniffed, raising his head. His face was a blotchy mess, and he had smeared snot all over my jacket. I didn’t care. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“We’re going to take this one day at a time. If not, you’ll drive yourself crazy.” I ran my fingers through his hair, gently. “First, we’re going to get you changed." I checked the watch on my wrist. "The third period has already started, so I'm going to tell Dan that you're hurt." His eyes filled again, but I plowed on. “After that, I’ll drive you to the hospital and they’ll do a CT scan to make sure your brain hasn’t been traumatized.”

“And then?”

“Then I’ll drive you home and tuck you into bed.” Only to wake you every quarter hour afterwards and assault you with questions once more.

“Okay.” He moved to stand, but I hadn’t released him yet. “What’s wrong?”

It was my turn to hang my head. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea this would happen, and I would never, ever tell you that I told you so.”

“It was my fault, though.”

“If we try and find a scapegoat, that will only make things worse. It’s nobody’s fault, as far as I’m concerned. Que sera, sera.”

He blinked sleepily. “What does that mean?”

“Whatever will be, will be. Sometimes things happen, things we can’t explain. They aren’t always good for us. Sometimes, they hurt us. Sometimes, the bad guys win and we’re left all alone, wondering what to do now. That’s what makes life so worth living. There are bad things, oui, but they make the good times shine all the brighter.”

“But how do you know?” He asked, wiping his nose on his sleeve again. “You’re always so happy.”

Suddenly, you were there, just out of sight. Tell him, you mouthed to me, before your presence vanished from the room once more. Like you were Peter Pan chasing after his pesky, stubborn shadow, you were suddenly dogging me. But I knew you were right. It was time.

I cupped his face, pressing a friendly kiss to his forehead. “I'm not always so happy. I'll prove it to you. On the way to the hospital, I’m going to tell you a story.”

“About what?”

“A girl named Lucinda, and how she stole somebody’s heart.”