Together Until We Die...

Patrick Kane and Jonathan Toews were loaded into the back of the ambulance at cheetah speed. Adam, Andrew and Patrick Sharp hoped in as well, gathering around their unconscious comrades. The doors were shut behind them, closing them in with the two, who were hooked up to lifelines by two professional field doctors. They had been covered up, with some blankets and robes.

The vehicle zoomed off, with siren blaring. It sped toward the Chicago hospital as quickly as possible. While, the professionals worked diligently, trying their best to revive the two hockey stars, but after a few minutes, they sighed. They attempted to bring the body temperatures of the two men back down. But it didn’t help any.

Patrick Sharp moved and sat in-between them, thinking he could somehow give them some positivity, so that they would awaken. He grabbed both of their heads in his arms, hugging them closely. “You’re gonna make it! Don’t die on me, not now! You’re gonna make it!”

No one made any jokes about gayness or anything. It wasn’t the time. This wasn’t a joke. They weren’t playing games. Adam and Andrew watched in sorrow, as Patrick felt for a pulse on the kids again, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. He froze and suddenly snapped his head up backward, his eyes filled with tears. “They’re gone!” the older man wailed. He embraced them tighter to him, sobbing harder.

“I will remember you” by Sarah McLaughlin played in the background, soft and faint, but it drifted into the trio’s ears. It didn’t help the situation or mood any. It only made things more gloomy and depressing.

“No!” Andrew gasped. His hands flew to his mouth and covered it. Tears welled up in his hard brown eyes.

Adam’s eyes teared up as well. He shook his head. “This is my fault! Prongs killed Chicago’s Dynamic Duo, because of me! I murdered two innocent men!”

“No you didn’t,” Andrew spoke, putting a hand on Adam’s arm. The San Jose Shark rotated to the side. He dropped his head. He was clearly upset about this and he blamed himself.

Patrick Sharp was devastated. The last words from the duo had been his nickname. Though it had been muffled, at the time they were relieved to see him and still alive, with hope. But it was a false hope, he hadn’t moved quick enough. They had been too badly burned in the fire. The cause of death was confirmed by the professional, as the burns from the searing flames. They had been exposed to the heat too long and they’d overheated slowly dying.

When they arrived at the hospital, word reached the trio that Pronger, Rinaldo, the woman and all the assistant henchman were hunted down, found and arrested. That was good news, but Chicago had lost two of their best forwards. And they would have to move on. But could they? Without Jonathan Toews and Patrick Kane, how could they?

Patrick Sharp had thought that they were going to make it. He was set on it. If only they’d worked a little faster. If only the rescue had happened a few minutes earlier. However they didn’t make it, and they died in Patrick Sharp’s arms with the last words of “Sharpy!” being muffled by tape.