I Should Go

Once we parked, we went our separate ways: her to the studio, me to the press box. As I took the elevator up to the press box, I suddenly forgot about my drama with Ellie or getting back to playing. The whole at,ops here changed for me, even more so when I stepped out onto the floor. I walked down the hall, took a few turns, and arrived at my destination. I walked in to the usual hoard of journalists and newscasters. I was the only player up there though, which kind of sucked. I took my spot closest to the front and looked down.

Beautiful. Ugh. Gazing over the fresh ice, watching my teammates warm up was both killing me and reviving me. It made the yearning to play just grow stronger. However, it was like someone going through withdrawal getting a sniff of their favorite drink or drug or something. It's within reach, but I can't have it.

Everyone looked good, including the other team. I wasn't nervous, per say, but I was excited to see how my team held up against our rivals. I didn't know what to expect. I hadn't been watching, something else the doctor advised. Ellie told him how stressed I get when watching hockey, especially my own team, and he suggested that my "resting up for the game" exclude any NHL Network for at least forty-eight hours. Yeah. That was my prescription. Well, the manager, my agent, and the coach disagreed and thought I should be at the game, if I was up to it. Not only should I make an appearance to calm the minds of the fans, but also to throw of other teams. And if coach was even go into consider putting me back in the lineup, I had to prove myself ready for the lights and sounds and such.

I stared down and embraced the people that slowly filled each seat. There was maybe twenty minutes before the game started, but people were gathering at the glass to take picture of their favorite players or show signs of support (or in Shaw's and Saad's case, prom proposals). It was always interesting to be on this side of the game, where you're observing. It reminded me of being small and going to games with my dad. How could you not have fun here? Even if the Hawks lose (not that that is a normal occurrence)?

"Jon?" I turned to see Elizabeth and her new co-anchor, Chris Boden, whom I knew well by now. Ellie had on a strained smile, but Chris was beaming. "How ya feelin?" Chris questioned, stepping closer. He gave me a pat on the shoulder and I shook his hand.

"I'm hangin in there, thanks. How have you been?" I questioned, stealing a glance at Elizabeth. She wouldn't look at me. She was glaring at the ground. For some reason, I couldn't stop staring. I had to know what she was thinking, why she wouldn't look at me. It was infuriating.

"So, how about it Jon?" Chris's question brought me back to reality.

"Huh?" I looked to him, confused.

He repeated the inquiry with a hearty laugh. "Can we get a quick interview before the game?"

I shrugged out from under his firm hand. "Uh... I don't know, Chris, my agent said me showing my face was enough. I don't want to go against his recommendation."

"Aw, come on, what's the worst that could happen? We're not piranhas like the other newscasters. We all represent the Blackhawks here, right?"

Ellie chimed in, stirring the pot, "Yeah, we won't bite..." I glared at her and she shot me back an acidic smile.

"Look, Chris-" I began. I really shouldn't be doing this.

Chris boomed, "Jon, think of the fans. There's hundreds-no thousands of people hoping you're better, but how are they supposed to know if you won't tell them? There's some little mite or midget out there thinking 'I sure hope my favorite player is okay!' People look up to you. Throw them a bone, will ya?"

I looked from Chris to Ellie and back again. Ellie only raised her eyebrow as if to taunt me. It was like she was saying You gonna do it? with her eyes. I heaved a sigh and relented, "Okay.. One short interview. No questions about the concussions though! I mean nothing! I don't want this getting too personal."

With that, I was whisked away to a secluded area, where they normally gave players quick interviews on the fly before a game. Three stools for each of us, none of the press near us. Camera ready and rolling within minutes.

Suddenly, as we were sitting there, waiting for the cue, Chris sprang to life. "Yes, what a surprise, Steven! Elizabeth and I have been graced with the presence of the captain himself!" The camera, which was previously focused on Chris, slowly backed away and panned to the three of us together. I gave a friendly wave but didn't say anything.

Ellie chimed, "Stay tuned folks, you won't want to miss this stranger."

With that we were out and sitting there for a few minutes, waiting for the cue to start up again. It wasn't enough time for them to prep me for questions, but enough time for me to get a drink. My mouth got dry and I suddenly got nervous, but you can guess Ellie wasn't going to feel any sympathy for me. I kept to myself, grabbed a cup of water from nearby and sipped quietly as we waited for the commercial to end. We all had mics in our hands and mine was definitely going to be stained due to the sweat forming on my hands. I don't know why I was getting so nervous, maybe because it was the first time I'd been on in a while. Something wasn't right, as was evident by the knots in my stomach.

Before I could change my mind, we were rolling again. "Welcome back, so, as I said earlier, we have Jonathan Toews, captain of the Hawks here with us tonight. How you feeling Jon?"

I gave the camera a smile but tried not to focus on it too much; it old have intensified my anxiety. "I'm feeling a whole lot better and I'm excited to see my teammates play a good game tonight." I was calculating every word that was coming out of my mouth, because I knew A. my agent would be watching B. I didn't ask anyone if I could or should do this interview C. this could have seriously hurt my team if I wasn't careful about it.

"How do you think they'll fair tonight?" Elizabeth asked. I turned to her to answer. She had on that face that you could frequently catch during interviews, like she really cared about what your answer was. However, most people don't notice because they're focused on whatever player she's interviewing.

"Well, I think it'll be a tough game, it always is against this team, but were tough too. We'll have to see, but I have all hope rested in my team. They can do it easy," I answered as relaxed as possible. The smile Ellie gave me after I answered made me calm down a little.

Chris continued, "And that's good, because as we get deeper into the season, games get more and more important. And you're usually in the locker room, so what are the guys thinking right now?"

I shrugged and looked back at Chris. "Nothing much to be honest. We try and treat every game the same. Same plan every time: go out and win. Don't stress about all the other games ahead, focus on winning this one first." I explained matter-of-factly.

"Alright, thanks Jon, we appreciate you taking the time to sit with us tonight and-" Ellie began to close out the interview.

Then, what I feared would happen did. "One more thing, do you know when you think you'll be back on the ice Jon?"

I tensed up. Fuck fuck fuck me. What am I supposed to say to that? Yes? No? Damnit I hate this guy. "Uh... I really can't say at this point. I'm just taking it one day at a time."

"Honestly, do you think you'll be back at all-"

I gaped, at a loss for words, but Ellie saved me. "As much as I'm sure we'd all love to hear about how Jon's doing, the game is starting, so were going to send you rinkside to watch all the action. We'll see you all at the first intermission," she concluded with a bright smile. We all smiled until we were told we were off the air.

As soon as the camera was lowered from our faces, the smiles were gone. "The fuck was that Chris?!"

Chris put his hands up defensively, "I know, I know, but my supervisor-" Chris motioned for the earpiece in his ear. I shook my head. Un-fucking-believable. I left the guy standing there and took my place by the edge of the press box. I tried my best to focus on the game and how the guys were doing, ignoring how that interview could be affecting my career.

It was hard to pay attention though when you hear, "Chris, you realize, not only did you betray your subject's trust, but you made a cool of this organization on television. For the sake of the team, don't listen to everything your supervisor says, they only want views, they don't care about the integrity of the team or its players." Ellie boomed furiously.

Chris mumbled something and sulked away, and before I could get up from my seat, Elizabeth was next to me. I felt her hand on my shoulder, consoling me. "Hey, I'm sorry about that... He really was out of line-"

I rolled my eyes. "It's what you wanted, right?" I looked at her but she only blinked her eyes confusedly. I turned back to the game to watch the puck drop.

Just as the puck hit the ice, she clamored, "Wait. What are you talking about?"

I missed the faceoff, but I saw Pat got the puck and was taking it into the Wings' zone. I pried my eyes away for a millisecond to respond. "First the gym card, then you're blatantly rude to me in front of my friends, and you don't even speak to me before the game. It's obvious you don't want me playing more than anyone else, so don't pretend you weren't happy to hear Chris badger me about it." She looked hurt, but I was hurt too. Clearly that drunk chat we had didn't solve the underlying issue: no matter what, Ellie couldn't handle me going back to hockey.

Elizabeth sluggishly took her hand away and shrunk back in her seat. "I.... I know, I'm sorry. I'm not fond of the idea, but that doesn't mean I'm happy about what just happened. Chris was being heartless," she insisted.

I didn't respond, just watched the game. Stalberg was setting Kaner up for a slapshot, which went wide. However, it bounced off the boards behind the goal and rebounded right back to Sharpie. Sharp controlled the puck, just long enough to get in a good wrist shot and just quick enough to avoid the defender that was coming for him. As he was pummeled to the ground, the puck went in and the stadium erupted, including us in the press room. I stood up and cheered, genuinely excited for my team for the first time in a while.

I was so pumped, Ellie and I hugged in our moment of euphoria. I looked back down at the ice to see Kaner and Stalberg helping Sharpie up, which was followed by a group hug. Moments later, Chelsea Dagger blared across the stadium. I felt home right then, but still nostalgic for something more. The only thing that would have made that goal better was me being on the ice for it.

I heaved a sigh and sat back down. "Way to go boys!" I cheered and clapped my hands as if they could hear me. They were in the middle of giving each other high fives when I cheered them on. Ellie suddenly nudged me and pointed up at the jumbotron. I looked up to see a replay of me leaping up and cheering like a goon. I personally didn't remember that, but everyone else got a kick out of it.

I massaged my temples as if I was annoyed, because that's what Captain Serious does. Ellie patted me on the back and I looked up again and the camera was on me, live. I waved to the crowd and to my team, who was now looking up at me. I gave a small embarrassed smirk and looked back to the game. All I could think was: fuck I miss hockey. The camera stayed on me though and the crowd only cheered louder, my teammates raised their sticks as if to say "this ones for you". I really miss hockey.

I waved again and eventually, the camera returned back to the ice and the game continued on. I thought I was going to cry, I was so overrun with emotions. I was pissed at Ellie and Chris, I was touched by my teammates and the crowd, and finally, I had the worst desire to be playing, worse than before. I settled back comfortably into my seat and watched the game. Hjalmarsson was now setting up a pass to Shaw. A beautiful saucer pass went across the ice to Shaw's stick and-

"I'm sorry." I heard Ellie mumble. I glanced over at her, curious to see how serious she was being. I couldn't detect a hint of deceit. She reached over and put a hand on mine. I took it away, only because it was unprofessional and the camera could return to my face at any moment. She seemed hurt, and she didn't say anything else for a while.

The game lost its momentum by the end of the period. There was an even amount of shots, but it wasn't a super physical game. We didn't have to be physical, we were winning without it, so we didn't feel the need to use aggressiveness. However, I predicted that the Wings would heat up after the intermission and that the next two periods would be intense.

There was one thing that did make the period important. I knew how it felt to have your apology shirked off as if it was nothing, especially when you're being genuine; it sucks. So, the end of the period was nearing, and Elizabeth and Chris had to head back downstairs to the studio before the buzzer sounded. She stood up to go, after a silent period next to her boyfriend. I took her hand and stopped her and gave her a long kiss. No chance of the camera catching us because it was in the middle of a play. It was fast enough and spontaneous enough that none of the reporters had time to take out their cameras or phones to snap a picture. She smiled at me and left the room.

Now things were fixed. Sort of. During intermission, I grabbed a soda and just sat back in my seat, staring at the ice. It was so hard to endure another minute without hockey.

The next periods were as expected. It was insanely aggressive on both ends. Nick Leddy got pretty pissed about a hit Bertuzzi took on Keith; he ended up getting into a fight about it and left the ice with maybe three minutes left in the second period.

Kaner got an equalizer shortly after the Wings scored to tie things up in the third period. Right after he scored, he set Nick up for a beautiful goal, making it 3-2, Hawks. Unfortunately, just seconds later, Nick got Kronwall-ed and was knocked flat on his ass. He didn't get up for a little, Nick just sat there for a minute. In that short time he was getting his bearings, everyone lost it. Kaner, who has nowhere near the same power that Kronwall has, dropped the gloves and went after him. Stalberg, shockingly enough, started something with Jakob Kindl. The rest of the guys on the ice followed suit. It was mayhem. Half the team was sent off the ice for the last few minutes of the game.

In the end, the Hawks were victorious, and any concerns I had had about my team were put to rest. They stuck together whether I was there or not, and tonight proved that. So why was I still somehow disappointed. I should be happy that they're getting on without me, they're resilient! Maybe that was it. Maybe I kind of wanted them to need me more than they did. Now coming back, would I screw that new chemistry up? They clearly didn't need me anymore...

"Great game boys!" I cheered as I came into the locker room. There was already a buzz in the room, one that is expected after and rough game and an amazing win. However, when I came in, it hit me like a wall and seemed to almost intensify.

I heard a chorus of "Woooo!"s erupt as I entered. "Great game, eh Captain?" Sharpie questioned as he nodded at me with a smile. He tossed his sweaty towel at me before getting up to go to the showers. I rolled my eyes and flicked it off.

Of course, then they all had to join in. Kaner and Nick immediately followed suit, then Stalberg, Keith, Hjallmarson, and so on and so forth. I was having a full on towel war, incited by Sharp, in my smooth three piece suit. Definitely a hockey player.

"Ay!" a gruff voice echoed from the back of the locker room. We all froze and looked over to see Coach Q standing there, stern face glaring at us all. The boys quickly returned to their post-game activities, leaving me standing in the center of the room, alone. He waved me over. I took a hard gulp and walked over, everyone's eyes on me as I went.

Coach held the door open back into the hallway. I followed him down to his office where he sat behind his desk, looking as intimidating as ever. I sat down across from him in a brown, leather chair, the same one I sat in a few years back when he called me in to offer me the 'C' on my jersey. I cleared my throat and waited for him to say something.

"You went on the air tonight..." Coach commented. I stiffened. It didn't dawn on me that he would have found out about it so quickly. I opened my mouth to defend myself but there wasn't any time. "I'm not mad." I stared at him, perplexed, but I didn't say anything. "It was stupid, and you know better, but judging by your face during it all, I'd assume you were under the impression that the topic of your concussion was going to be avoided. I know it's not your fault, but when I or your agent or anyone else in management tells you not to take an interview, believe that there's good reason behind it."

I gave him a curt nod, not sure what else was to be said. I came up with, "I know.. I'm sorry, I just wanted to do it for the fans."

He smirked at me then shook his head. "You're a piece of work, Toews." he sighed as he stood up. "Don't apologize, your heart was in the right place." Coach started pacing the floor, and I knew what was coming next, more or less. "I think that's both a strength and a weakness for you, actually."

"How so?" I wondered. This can't be good.

"You're that way in all aspects of your life, you mean well, but it may not be what's best... I feel like you're doing that here with this hockey club." coach elucidated, anxiously rubbing his neck. I froze, but my blood was pumping rapidly to all parts of my body. In my head, my future hung on the next words to escape this man's mouth, and the wait was unbearable. "Are you sure you're ready to come back to the team?"

I nodded vigorously and stood up. "Yes of course!" I insisted. I hadn't realized it, but in the excitement, I gripped the desk with my hands.

"Jon, I know you mean well, as I said, I'm just making sure that you're not also hurting yourself, and possibly the team, in the process. Do you really feel up to it?"

I shook my head. "I feel fine-"

"It's only been a month or so-"

"A month is enough for me!"

"The team will always be waiting for you if you need more time to-"

"I've had all the time I need."

Coach was silent for a moment. He looked hard at me then pursed his lips, as if debating something in his head. He nodded and sat back down. "Okay... Clearly I can't fight you on this. I'll see you tomorrow then. Practice is at eight. Get some rest."

I could feel the corners of my mouth curving up; instead of fighting it, like I normally do, I allowed it to evolve into a full-blown, glistening grin. I opened my mouth to thank him for listening to me, but my thought was interrupted.

"Mr. Quenneville, it's time for your interview." somebody, I'd assume a publicist of some sort, stated as she opened the door. "Oh, sorry... I didn't mean to-" she began nervously, looking between me and Coach.

I waved it off and turned back to Coach. "It's okay, I was just leaving. Thanks coach." I reached across the table to shake his hand.

He gazed down at it for a moment, then looked back to me. "Don't thank me yet," he teased. He stood up and shook my hand. "You got your work cut out for you... And remember, if you change your mind-"

"Not possible." I breathed assertively as I let go.

Coach gave me a reproachful look to silence me. "I said 'if', smart ass. If you change your mind, just give me a heads up."

I rolled my eyes jokingly then walked out of his office. Finally, things were coming together. In less than twelve hours, I'd be out, practicing with my teammates, just like old times.

"Hey, how ya feeling buddy?" I questioned as I re-entered the locker room. I patted Nick on the back; he was bent over as he sat in the stall. He looked up at me and gave me a small smile. The fact that I didn't get a normal Nick-Wright-post-game-grin was evidence enough that he was still shaken up, especially considering he scored! "You took it like a champ. And that was an awesome goal. Deke then shot top shelf! What a goal!" I encouraged with a smile.

Nick's eyes brightened at the compliment. "Thanks, Jon. Glad you could make it tonight."

I gave him one more firm slap on the shoulder before moving over to Kaner. "And he wouldn't have been able to score it without this guy." I joked with a smile as I sat next to him in his stall. Pat stopped in the middle of taking off his skated to look up and roll his eyes playfully at me. "And, he scored a goal himself and stuck up for his teammate to take on a monster!"

Pat ran his hand through his hair and chuckled, "He's a monster alright, but I definitely didn't beat him."

I shrugged and nudged him playfully and insisted, "Well, if I'm not mistaken, that sounds like a Gordie Howe Hat-Trick to me." Pat smiled and returned to his skates.

"Not like he did it sober though..." I heard Nick mumble under his breath. I turned to look at him. He was being completely serious. He didn't say another word as he took off the last of his gear. I glanced back at Kaner who hung his head in shame. Just as I was about to destroy him and tear him apart, Nick called, "Tell the girls I'm not feeling up to dinner tonight." And with that, the half-naked, sweaty, and clearly annoyed, Nick disappeared into the showers.

I sat and stared at Kaner silently, hoping my silence would be more effective than my screams. Pat continued taking off various pads, peering up at me every so often to see if I was still glaring. I was. I did so until he finally cracked. "Look... Jon-"

"You don't owe me an excuse. You don't owe me anything." I spat, lacing my words with guilt. I stood up and walked toward the door.

I had my fingers wrapped around the handle when he shouted hurriedly, "I'm sorry!" I paused, grip easing up on the handle. "You... You don't understand Jon. It's not what you think."

I didn't turn to face him, but I dropped my hand to my side. "I'm listening."

"Goddammit, look at me!" he commanded. I reluctantly turned around to see him standing there, shirtless, but still in his pants, and, of all things, crying. Not sobbing, but his eyes were red and it was clear he was starting to tear. I broke down. He's crying in a hockey locker room. And he looks like a puppy dog. The man's desperate… or drunk.

I shook my head. "Pat, don't cry, come on. It's not a huge deal, just don't do it-"

He furiously rubbed his eyes and glared at me. "No, you don't get it. I can't just stop. I... Tonight... It keeps happening! It won't stop. The last few games, I've been sober. I promise. This one... This one though, it was all hyped up because you were there, and I got nervous and jealous again. No matter how well I play, they only care about you-"

"Pat, they care about you too. They care about everyone on the team. It's just because I was injured," I tried, sympathetically.

He shrugged. "Does it matter? Regardless, I caved again. I.. I only had one. One beer. Just to steady my nerves. I mean... I guess when you think about it, that's not so bad-"

I could see the stress in Pat's eyes receding as a new, unwanted, calm took its place. Little by little, he was allowing himself to downplay it. "Who says its not so bad? Kaner, this isn't some pre-game ritual for good luck. You're going on the ice, impaired. Whether its one beer or seven, it affects you immediately."

"I'm just saying! It could have been worse! I've been worse." he insisted, more to himself than me. Pat slowly took his place back in his stall and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm trying. I've been worse."

"But you could be better." I reminded, trying not to be so harsh.

His head snapped up as fast as a Corvette speeding down a straightaway. "Why are you trying to push me so much? I told you, I'm trying, but you still want more! Shouldn't you be proud that I've come this far?"

I rushed across the room and put one hand on the top of the stall. I took the other and pointed at him as menacingly as possible. "I'm pushing you because I know what you're capable of, and believe me, you can do better than one beer before a game. I've seen it. Tonight, you got into a fight with someone twice your size. The sober, smart, Pat would have known better."

"Well he's not here anymore!" Pat exploded. He swatted my finger away and stood up, right in my face.

I was angry enough, that I considered duking it out with him right then and there. The look on his face and the fury behind his cold, icy blue eyes told me he felt the same. I could almost hear our hearts racing faster and faster as we stood there, toe to toe. Before I could think of what to do next, the door to the locker room swung open. Pat and I both looked over to see Ellie and Logan smiling and laughing about something. Upon seeing Kaner and I, their faces dropped and went from happy to concerned. Pat and I immediately separated, him going to his stall and me stepping towards the middle of the room.

"Hey... Is everything okay?" Logan asked, looking between us anxiously.

I sneered sarcastically, "Perfect." I took one more look at Kaner, who was glaring at me, and made my way towards the door. I stopped just before the girls and commented, "By the way, Nick says he's not up for dinner tonight. I can't say I disagree with him." And with that, I stepped out, trying to maintain whatever composure I had left.

Of course, I didn't make it halfway down the hall before I felt a tug on my arm. "Hey!" i stopped just long enough for Elizabeth to hop in front of me and put her hands on my chest in an attempt to keep me still. "Whoa there, wait a minute!" I reluctantly stopped. "What's up?"

I heaved a sigh. "I... I don't want to talk about it right now. Can we go home first?" I pleaded. Between the nostalgia of being back at the United Center, the excitement about getting back on the ice within hours, and the anger about Kaner's drinking, I was exhausted and desperate for a break from it all.

Elizabeth just nodded and guided me down the hallway. She clung tightly to my arm while simultaneously stroking it affectionately. It was at this point that I truly felt like things were fixed for good between Elle and I, just by a simple touch.