The Fear Is Paralyzing

Kris was on a road trip, one of the final ones of the regular season since the final three games of the season was at home, which always pleased the team. The Penguins needed one more win to secure their spot in the playoffs, and they were hoping that tonight against the New York Rangers would do the trick.

Quinn had stayed back this road trip, like she had the majority of them, though she was keeping up with the team via Kris, who had been texting her. He wished she was there so she could celebrate with him if the team won, but he knew that wasn’t a possibility. While most of the other guys’ girlfriends and wives had travelled to the game, even if Quinn was there, she wouldn’t have been able to celebrate with him, not as his girlfriend. They needed to keep things quiet still, and even Kris didn’t know when they were going to come clean to the world.

He couldn’t think about it much, though. He needed to focus on the game that was about to start. He was always pretty good at staying focused during a game and only thinking about what was going on the ice. But, at one point in the second period, he wasn't paying attention to the guy on his left coming right at him, and without warning, Kris was suddenly on the ground, writhing in pain.

He didn't get up quickly, and the athletic trainer came out onto the ice, telling him he was going to take him to the locker room. Kris tried standing up, but his left leg gave out from under him, and he was suddenly down on the ice again. He noticed Malkin at his side, and he and the athletic trainer helped Kris off the ice, as he hobbled down the walkway towards the locker room, muttering out a string of French curse words along the way.

He sat down on the table as the doctor came in to look at him. "So?" Kris asked when he was finished. "Can I go back out there?" he asked, even though he knew the answer was going to be a no. He could barely stand on his leg with how bad his knee hurt, but that didn't stop Kris from wanting to go back onto the ice.

"I don't think so," the doctor said, shaking his head.

"How bad is it?" Kris asked, flipping his hair back. He was partly scared to ask that question, fearful of the answer he might receive with playoffs right around the corner.

"We won't know until we get back and get an MRI. It's your MCL, I can tell you that. How badly it's torn, I don't know until we get imaging," the doctor told him honestly. Kris groaned, beating the table with one of hands. He was frustrated. He was having such a good season and now it was about to be slowed down by an injury. "Why don't you stay in here and finish watching the game. We'll get the imaging done tomorrow when we get back to Pittsburgh," he told him.

Kris didn't say anything as the doctor and athletic trainer went back out to the bench, leaving Kris alone, looking up at the tv in the locker room that showed the game. He wished he was out there, and he would have given anything to do just that. But now, he was alone.

When the game ended, the guys came into the locker room, all asking Kris how he was doing, who just told everyone "fine," not wanting to tell them the truth. He rushed out of the locker room to get to the bus, not wanting to be around everyone else. He couldn't believe he was injured now, and all he wanted to do was stay away from everyone else who was celebrating the team win.

He put his headphones in, waiting on everyone else, looking out the window while they filed onto the bus. He didn't even acknowledge when Evgeni sat down next to him. He watched as the bus pulled away and drove to the airport.

The team was waiting to get on the plane when he felt someone tap on his arm. Kris turned around to see Tyler standing there, and Kris slowly pulled his headphones out of one of his ears, raising an eyebrow, waiting to hear what Tyler had to say. "Your girl is texting me asking about you," he said rather quietly, not really wanting the other guys to hear their conversation. Sure, they all knew about Kris and Quinn, but Tyler still knew that Kris wanted their relationship to stay as quiet as possible. "Did you not call her and tell her you're okay?" he asked surprised.

"Merde," Kris cursed, shaking his head. Quinn had been the last thing on his mind when he had gotten hurt. He dug around his bag to find his phone, which he hadn't even looked at since before the game. He found it and looked at it, seeing he had seven missed calls and twenty-two texts from various people. He skipped through them all, reading the three text messages from Quinn. She had started out asking how he was doing and then had texted him, saying she was getting worried since she hadn't heard from him. Her final text told him she was sorry for being clingy but she really wished he would text her back.

He quickly typed back a response. I'm alright, I'll talk to you when I get back.

A few moments later, she had texted him back. Okay, I hope it's not too bad. Have a safe flight. I love you.

Kris didn't reply that time, instead sticking his phone in his pocket. "I texted her back," he told Tyler before putting his headphones back in. Tyler glanced over at Kris, wondering what exactly had overcome his friend who was now in an extremely bad mood.

***

Kris hadn't texted or called Quinn when he had gotten back to Pittsburgh like he had told her he was going to. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to her per se, but he didn't want her sympathy that he was injured. So, instead, he had gone home and gone straight to bed. He woke up the next morning to a text from Quinn, but he didn't respond, already running late to go in and get an MRI on his knee.

He had gotten that done and was now headed to the rink to meet up with the athletic trainer. He had just walked into the arena and turned the corner when he ran right into Quinn, having to hold his arms out to steady her so she didn't fall. "You okay?" he asked her.

"Kris, how are you doing?" she asked, ignoring his question. "I didn't hear from you last night or this morning, I was getting worried," she told him.

"Sorry," he replied. "I just didn't feel like talking."

"Oh," Quinn said, her face falling. "How's your knee?"

Kris shrugged his shoulders. "Just got an MRI."

"Do you want to come over tonight?" she asked him hopefully.

"I've got some stuff to do," he said, and Quinn knew he was lying to her. He just didn't want to come over.

"Oh okay," she said, not making a big deal of it, though she was sad that he couldn't just tell her the truth. "Well, I hope the MRI comes back with good news," she told him, and Kris simply nodded his head before walking away, leaving Quinn standing there, watching him.

He walked into the training room, seeing Mike, the athletic trainer, standing there. "Hey man, how you doing?" Mike asked him.

"I've been better," Kris replied, hopping up on a treatment table, running his hand through his hair, moving it out of his face. "When do we find out the results of the MRI?"

"Already have them," Mike replied, and Kris just stared at him, waiting to hear the results. "You sprained your MCL pretty badly," Mike began, and Kris just groaned. This was exactly what he did not want to hear right now. His personal life was already chaotic with the whole thing with Quinn, but at least his playing game had been going well. Now, that was a mess, too. "You're going to be out for a few weeks."

"Weeks?" Kris practically yelled. "But, Mike, it's the end of the season. I need to be out there."

"Your knee isn't stable enough to play on right now. You're out for a couple of weeks, and then we'll see if you can get in there for the playoffs. I'm sorry, man, but you're out right now," Mike told him. Kris let out a string of French curse words, slamming his hand on the table. "Ice is your friend right now," Mike added, but Kris was too angry to even listen to him right now, storming out of the room.

He didn't know what to do right now, where to go. He could go home and sulk on his own. Or he could go to a bar. That sounded like a good option right now as he walked to his car. He got in, beginning to drive. He didn't really know what bar he wanted to go to, and the more he drove, the more he didn't want to stop, aimlessly just driving around Pittsburgh. He continued to drive for well over two hours, not having any place in specific to go. He finally ended up in front of a familiar building.

He walked up the stairs, stopping in front of the door, his hand in the air, stopping himself from knocking. He ran his hand through his hair, wondering if this was the best idea, but he didn't allow himself to debate it any longer before he finally knocked, not able to take it back. He heard footsteps from inside and a few moments later saw Quinn open the door.

"Kris, hey," Quinn said, giving him a small smile. "I thought you weren't coming over tonight, you had some stuff to do?" she questioned, referring to what he had told her earlier.

"Do you think I can come in?" he asked, not answering her question, and Quinn nodded her head, moving aside to allow him to enter her small apartment. He sat down on her bed, running his hand through his hair again.

"What's wrong, Kris?" she asked him, knowing something was wrong with him.

"I hurt my knee, and I'm out for a couple of weeks," he said, looking at the ground. She was the first person he told. He hadn't even said anything to his teammates or his parents yet. And, while this injury may not seem bad to some people, it was devastating to him.

"Oh Kris," Quinn said sympathetically as she sat down on the bed next to him, putting her hand on the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry I've been distant," he apologized. "That's how I get when I get hurt."

"I understand," Quinn nodded her head. "I was just worried about you," she tried explaining all of her texts she had sent him.

Kris looked over at her and she could see in his eyes how upset he was. She was just about to tell him that if he preferred to go home and be by himself that she wouldn't stop him when he opened his mouth instead. "Can I stay here tonight?" he asked so quietly that she almost didn't hear her.

"Of course," she replied with a soft smile. He didn't say anything back, but instead leaned over and kissed her softly. He didn't want or expect the kiss to lead anywhere, but instead he wanted her to know how grateful he was that she was there with him, even if he hadn't exactly been open with her since the accident.

"Merci," he whispered against her lips.

"You're welcome," she replied just as quietly, putting her hand on his cheek.