The Sailor and the Hawk

I checked the missed call I had when I left the hospital ship on base. I had my psych evaluation earlier and from there, they would decide if I were fit for duty again or if I needed more time. I was thankful that they weren't hopping on the PTSD discharge wagon, like so many other sailors had happen to them. It was from Jon, making me raise an eyebrow. He left me a voicemail, saying if I got the message by noon, to swing by the United Center. He wanted to talk to me about something. It was only nine now, so I decided to go and change first. I drove down into Chicago and sat in my car, wondering how to get inside.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” I heard a familiar voice say, with a hint of amusement, as I walked towards an entrance. I turned and saw Patrick, a big duffel bag thrown over his shoulder and a hockey stick in his hand.

“Uh....Jon asked me to come. He wanted to talk to me.” I said, a little bit confused. He strolled up to me with a grin and took my hand in his.

“I gotcha, come on.” he said, nodding towards a small side door. I let him pull me along, the only sounds were of our shoes kicking the pavement and the trees rustling their golden leaves.

“How's your nose?” I asked softly, looking up at his face. He smiled this time and turned a little more towards me, his nose having turned black and blue. “Oh my god!” I gasped, a hand flying up to cover my mouth.

“It's okay, it makes me look tough.” he said proudly, still smiling. He held the door for me and he sent a smile to the security guards just inside the hallway.

“I'm really sorry about that.” I said as he took my hand again, keeping a tight grip.

“Seriously, don't worry about it. I know you didn't mean it.” he said, shooting me that signature smirk and pulling me along. We stopped outside the locker room and he let go, looking over at me. “I'll grab Captain Serious.” he said, smiling at me one last time and then going inside.

I leaned against the wall and looked at the pictures that hung on the walls. I played with my dog tags, a habit I had formed when I was trying to look busy. I paced a little bit, walking in a straight line, heel to toe. I smiled a little to myself when I thought about my days in boot camp, marching everywhere on base. I heard a door and then sneakers scuffing towards me. I looked up to see Jon, a shy smile on his face. I was glad he was wearing ball shorts and shirt. Ky had told me about all that spandex...

“Hey, glad you got my message.” He said, rubbing his neck a little bit. His ball cap was hiding a lot of his face but you could tell by the flush in his face, he had just come inside.

“What did you wanna talk about?” I asked, crossing my arms loosely, my hip popped out as I stood relaxed. I was slowly re-adjusting my posture for the civilian world.

“Uh....well, the Hawks organization does a lot of work with the military. They found out that you came home from deployment. Probably Sharpie's wife, her and Ky gossip a lot....uh, that's Patrick Sharp's wife.” Jon rambled. I almost laughed at him, he was pretty comfortable talking to me when Ky was around. But he was being really weird without her here. I shrugged it off as just him being in the zone.

“So.....what are you trying to get at?” I asked, rolling my wrist to signal he needed to roll it along.

“Right....they want you to drop the puck tonight. Like....in uniform and stuff. You'd go to center ice, they introduce you and then you drop the puck, shake my hand and the Flyers Captain's hand. His name is Claude Giroux. Then you can go change if you want and go to your seat.” he rambled again. He looked really nervous for some reason.

“Jon, I'm not gonna punch you or anything....” I stated, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry, I know.....if you feel uncomfortable, I can walk out with you....well skate I mean. Or Kaner, or your sister can. Whatever you want....if you want to do it.” he said, finally dropping his hand from his neck.

“Uhm....I mean....I guess so....okay, yeah.” I said, nodding a little to reassure myself.

“Cool.....just come about an hour earlier than originally. Our PR people will give you the run down.” he said, just as the door opened and Patrick stepped out in full spandex. Lord help me, Ky wasn't kidding.

“You done?” Patrick asked Jon. Jon nodded, patting my shoulder and going back into the locker room. Patrick smiled at me as he walked over to me. “So....you know, I don't have your number...” he said, crossing his arms to match my posture.

“Really? I wonder why....” I teased at him.

“Kaner, leave her alone!” Jon's voice boomed from the slightly cracked door. Patrick rolled his eyes slightly but smirked at me.

“I'll get it tonight....right?” Patrick asked with that smirk.

“Maybe....I'll see you later.” I said, squeezing bicep as I walked by. It was just pure muscle, making me blush slightly.

“Yeah, yeah...cop a feel but won't call me later! Whatever!” he shouted dramatically, cackling like an idiot as he walked back into the locker room. I shook my head slightly and got into my car, sitting for a moment. I wondered if Ky had talked to Jon about the puck drop and I wondered if I would be able to handle the Madhouse crowd tonight....