Status: drip feed updates slower than an IV.

Master of Timing

all the small things.

Her heart beat against her ribcage faster than it ever had before. She hadn’t expected him to reply at all, yet alone so fast. Shouldn’t he be out on a Friday night? They didn’t have a game, and he was who he was, surely he must be busy with people, not texting her back at 9pm his time. Lyndsey chewed her lip furiously, staring at her phone screen and trying to reason with herself when she remembered; he was concussed.

Duh.

Of course he wasn't out.

“Mom, I’m not hungry right now I’ll eat later,” she rushed, swiping her phone from the bench and the glass of milk before hurrying to her room, shutting the door loudly behind her. “Sorry!” she called out at the slam, and she rushed to her bed, setting down the glass on her table before swiping the message open.

’I was beginning to think you forgot about me’. Yeah, like that could ever happen.

She exited his message and went to Kate’s, furiously moving her fingers across the keypad. ’HELP HE TEXTED BACK!!!!’

’SO HE SHOULD. WHAT DID HE SAY?!?’

’That he was beginning to think I forgot about him.’

She gulped again, waiting on Kate’s response while trying to come up with something that wasn’t incredibly lame to reply back to him as well. Her phone buzzed.

’Yeah, like that would ever happen.’

Sometimes, she loved her best friend.

’Tell him that. No wait, don’t. I mean, I would tell him that but I know you wouldn’t so… Ask him how he’s feeling? And see if he’s missed youuuuuuuu’

’Omg you are no help. Ever.’

’WHATEVER WHEN HAVE I EVER LEAD YOU ASTRAY?’

She waited for a few moments.

’DON’T ANSWER THAT. GO TEXT LOVER BOY.’.

Lyndsey took a deep breath and looked at her reflection in the mirror propped up against her wall on the other side of the room. “Just do it. He’s normal. You’ve seen the guy at his worst.” Opening the message, she typed slowly, trying not to sound like she was having a mental breakdown over the whole situation.

’Of course not :) How are you feeling?’

She hated that question. She knew how he would be feeling; physically he was most likely still suffering from major symptoms, if he hadn’t actually started back at training with the team yet. Mentally he would probably be even worse. He was fighting a losing battle against himself when he was at the hospital, and now that it had been closer to a month later and he still wasn’t showing any signs of getting back in the game anytime soon - she knew that people like that, athletes who had worked their whole lives to get where they were, only to have it taken away from them indefinitely didn’t really have many coping mechanisms. Sure they were people, but their bodies were made to be machines first, all the emotional stuff came later. Behind closed doors and preferably after the season ended.

’Same old stuff, different day.’

She could see the ‘typing message’ bubble appear straight away, so she waited on what he was going to say next. It made her smile across her whole face once she read it.

’I know flowers are no where near enough for what you did, but there’s not much I can do when I’m stuck here. If I’m playing when we next go out to Edmonton I’ll make it up to you, I swear.’

“Oh my God,” She squealed, throwing herself back into the pillows and breaking out into a fit of laughter. Was he serious? She was just doing her job - actually no, she wasn’t even doing that because he wasn’t her patient to begin with!- and he felt guilty that flowers weren’t enough.

Why didn’t people exist like this in every day life?

’WHAT’S HE SAYING!?!?!?! DON’T LIE TO ME.’

She ignored Kate’s text, probably for the first time in her life and went back to the conversation that interested her more. He didn’t have to do that, she barely did anything anyway and she made sure to add ’I hope you get to play soon’ to the end of the message before replying back.

’Nonsense, I owe you one… Me too, starting to talk to the trainers about getting back into. very hush hush, don’t go tweeting it or anything ;)’.

He added a wink face.

Sidney Crosby knew how to use emoji’s. You learn something new everyday.

*


Sidney stretched out along the sofa, turning the volume down on the stereo from the remote so it was just a quiet drone in the background while he looked at his phone. It still gave him a headache from time to time, but he was beginning to think that was just from the amount of questions he was getting from people around the league, asking how he was and when he was coming back, than from actually staring at the 4 inches of LED lighting.

’Lucky for you I don’t have twitter. That’s good though, I’m sure you’re going mad not being able to play.’

He took a deep breath and moved the pillow behind his head a little, his eyes flicking to the signed Gretzky stick he’d hung on the wall that Mario had got signed for him after he got made captain. Yeah, it sucked not being able to play.

’You think I’d be used to it by now.’ He pouted at the truth in the statement, and nearly cleared the message. He wasn’t usually one to feel sorry for himself, so he didn’t need to burden anyone else with it as well.

In all honesty, he had been dealing with his injury a lot better than he had the first time around. The doctor that had treated him last time in LA had actually flown out to Pittsburgh to see him, and was pretty impressed by the lengths Crosby had gone to in order to make himself better on his own. He knew that most of it was a mental battle and that waiting out the actual symptoms was easy in comparison to getting lost in the frustration and restriction of it all.

“Just keep staying positive, Sid. I know you’re pretty limited to what you can do to take your mind of things, but find something that keeps you happy in the interim, yeah?” Dean had given him the last bit of advice last week when Sid was having a particularly bad day, only having just started to walk - walk, like he had a knee problem or something - on the treadmill before a wave of nausea went over him like a tonne of bricks and he had to sit down right there on the floor before he passed out.

Geno freaked out, naturally, so of course within 30 seconds half the team was standing around him and the trainers, making sure their captain was okay. He loved those guys, he really did, but sometimes they didn’t know when to leave things alone.

Deciding it wasn’t enough, he quickly typed ’But overall it’s okay. Some days are worse than others but I think I’m recovering quicker than last time.’ and sent it back to her.

Thinking back to the last time he saw her, he smiled at the memory of how she read to him, and how he had to write anything he wanted to say down. And here he was again, writing to her instead of having a real conversation. He promised himself that if she didn’t give him a sign that she wanted him to leave her alone, he’d try and set up a Skype session, so he could say everything he wanted to as face to face as he was probably ever going to get.

’I was going to get all medical on you then realised that’s probably the last thing you need.’ He laughed to himself a little, noticing the time and decided to move to his bed, considering it was getting late and he bargained with himself that if he could get through the afternoon without a headache, he was going to head to the training centre and back to the gym for a early morning work out. So far so good. He just had to wake up okay.

That was a battle in itself, these days.

’So just know I’ve got my fingers crossed for you… I know it’s a random question, but guess what’s on TV here?’

Stripping himself of his shirt, he threw back the covers and the extra pillows the woman at the store told him he had to buy to complete his bed set to the floor, sliding in and setting his phone on charge, his alarm good to go for 6.30am.

’Haven’t got a clue?’

Now that his head was against the pillows, his eyelids began to feel heavier, and he rolled over onto his side and held his phone in his face so that the light would hopefully keep him awake. He didn’t want to fall asleep on her, and sometimes he passed out straight away, especially if his brain decided enough was enough.

’The Outsiders. Great timing, huh?’.

He smiled. ’Always been my specialty. I’m still not supposed to watch TV, so I hope you’re enjoying it. I’m absolutely wiped so I’ve got to get some sleep. Talk to you soon?’ He frowned a little, mostly at how desperate he sounded but for whatever reason that he was yet to figure out, he couldn’t let this girl go.

The screen faded to a dim light and his eyes slipped shut. He’d get her ’I prefer the book. Have a good sleep :) and of course.’ the next morning.

********


He wasn't sure if it was the pounding headache or the dizzy spell that tore him from sleep the next morning, but he didn't have much time to think it over before he was racing to the bathroom, hunched over the toilet bowl. Considering he'd eaten a light dinner and was still half asleep, there wasn't much for him to throw up anyway, but that didn't make Sidney feel any better.

Has he mentioned how much he hated concussions?

His stomach was still rolling in violent waves, so he flushed the toilet and pressed his forehead into the cool tile floor, his face and neck breaking out in sweat. He knew if he looked in the mirror he'd be paler than normal, and when he opened his eyes slowly, he could see his hands shaking slightly as he tried to calm down. 

He wasn't sure how long he was in the bathroom, but it was long enough for him to move more comfortably, lying on his side and pressing his face against the tiles again once he got settled. He didn't want to chance moving back to his bed when he was sure being up higher than 3 feet was going to make him faint.

"Sid? You here?" He groaned a little in response, and hoped that Mario heard it from where ever he was down the hall. "I thought I'd give you a lift to the press conf..." His voice trailed off as he pushed open the door, and the Pittsburgh Penguins owner crouched down to Sid's torso. "Jesus, kid. You okay?" Sidney groaned again, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, as he gingerly pushed himself up to a sitting position. He squinted against the light coming through the window and covered his face, Mario standing up to close the blinds that came with the house. He filled up a glass of water from the sink and handed it to his top line center.

"Morning," Sidney muttered grimly, bringing his legs up to lean against, his hands still shaking as he crossed them on his knees.

"Yeah, you're not going anywhere." He fished his cell from his jacket pocket and Sid was pretty sure he was calling the Pens office, but he couldn't say 100% as his stomach rolled again and he lurched for the toilet.

*

He normally tried to stay on the optimistic side of things. It was easier to do when he was playing; good games naturally left everyone on a high, and bad games left everyone with a foul taste in their mouth, and a hunger to win again. All the emotions, good and the bad, were shared with the other 25 guys in that locker room, so it wasn't like he actually suffering on his own. But as he lay in bed - where Mario had convinced him to move to after about 20 minutes of close calls, but no actual vomiting- and cuddled into one of his pillows, he was glad his mentor had gone downstairs to make him something to eat, so that no one was around to see him all pouty and depressed.

It was making him feel old. He was still a few years away from 30 and here he was, bedridden and anxiously waiting down the days until maybe his body wanted to co-operate and let him do the only thing he knew how. He'd be lying if he said that the thought of what he would do if he had to retire early hadn't crossed his mind, but that whole concept of changing his life left him feeling like the whole house was spinning, not just his room. So after he had a mini freak out and called his Mom, who told him to stop thinking about the future and focus on each day at a time, he hadn't entertained the idea at all. It didn't do him any good to stress about things he couldn't control, but that didn't stop him worrying that he had possibly already played his last game of professional hockey.

And it was against the Oilers.

That fact alone made him want to get better to at least play one more. Preferably against the Flyers. And with a 7-0 win.

He knew Flower would get him a shut out if he begged enough. The whole team would.

His phone buzzed at the same time Mario came back, his hands holding a mug with steam rising from the top and a granola bar. "I'm heading into the offices, I asked Nathalie to come check in with you later once she's dropped the kids at school." Sid nodded into his pillow, extremely grateful for his stand in parents but not trusting himself to open his mouth to verbalise a 'thanks'. He heard something drop onto his bed and looked to see his phone near his hand, Mario giving him a smile and a wave before he left the room, closing the door shut gently behind him.

He reached for his cell and stared at the screen. For a split second, he had forgotten all about the conversation that he'd fell asleep to last night, but welcomed the feeling of relief as he saw her message, unsure of why he anxious about not hearing from her in the first place.

’If what I'm going through right now is what death feels like, I plan on living forever.'

It was only after he'd hit 'send' that he realized he should've probably said 'good morning' first. But his throat was dry, he was still shaking and he couldn't find it in him to deal with the niceties. He made a promise to himself to never complain of anything that could be compared to the 'man flu' again.

So you've had a good start to your day, huh?’

’I’ve spent enough time on the bathroom floor to realize my tiles are really dirty.’

He closed his eyes for a moment, then propped himself up on one elbow to reach for the mug on his dresser. He was glad Mario had thought to make him tea because he was sure he couldn't handle something heavier like coffee at the moment, but the thought of the granola bar was enough to make him try really hard to not hurl all over his comforter. He settled back against the headboard, eyes closed.

*

Lyndsey frowned at her phone as she sat in the locker room, her bag at her feet. She honestly wasn't expecting Sid to text her at all, but she was glad she had finished her shift so that she saw the message straight away. But her heart broke a little at his reply and her overwhelming sense to go nurse him back to health scared her. It wasn't even that it was her job to help sick people, or even that he was number 87 and a face of a city, she wanted to help him.

’Is someone with you?’

She picked up her bag and started to walk out of the room, her phone clasped tightly in her hand as she made her way out to the parking lot. The walk only took her 5 minutes, but that's a long time when you're waiting for someone with a concussion to text you back. Even if they weren't supposed to be texting at all.

’Mario just left. His wife should be coming around later.’

She sighed, leaning back in her seat before starting the engine. She would have to wait it out for a few minutes for her car to warm up anyway, considering the temperature had decided it didn’t want to go any higher than 3 degrees. Her phone pinged again before she had a chance to reply.

’I’m so over this. I hate feeling like shit’

‘I can only imagine how crap you feel right now but just try your best to get through the next couple of hours, okay?’. The uneasy feeling in her stomach didn’t go away though. ’You really should call someone to come over. Even if it’s just for some company.’

The text bubble appeared after a few seconds. Lyndsey knew it wasn’t a good idea to keep talking to him, but at least this way she knew he was awake. Maybe she’d have to keep him talking until someone got to his house to make sure he didn’t pass out on the floor, or something worse.

’I don’t want anyone here. Not when I feel like this’

‘Like what?’


She bit her thumb nail.

’Like it just won’t end. I don’t mean to put all this negative shit on you, I just… don’t really have anyone to talk to about it right now. Sorry.’

That sound right there? That would be Lyndsey’s heart cracking. How is it that she came to be the person he turned to? Six weeks ago he didn’t even know she existed!

Taking a deep breath, she poised her hands over the touchscreen. She knew what she really wanted to say would be a little too daring for her face to face, but she figured she could do her best over a text.

’It will get better. It’s going to take time and it’s going to suck major crap until it does, but you’ll get through it. Because you’re Sidney Crosby, and if you can get through 2010, you can get through anything.’

She put her phone in her bag and threw the car into reverse, wanting to get home and be warm and fed as soon as possible. She heard her phone ping when she was five minutes from home but ignored it, the roads were icy enough as it was and she didn’t need to be distracted by a text.

It wasn’t until she has rushed inside, hanging her coat, scarf and gloves in the hall and made her way into the kitchen to make a cup of tea did she fish it back out, swiping right to open the texts.

’Thank you. I know I’m being a downer…’

‘it comes with these kinds of injuries’
she replied, flicking the switch on the wall to turn the toaster on.

’I wish you could read to me again. That was fun.’

She smiled to herself.

’Yeah, it was :) Maybe one day we’ll meet up again. I’ll carry the book, just in case.’

Lyndsey busied herself with the boiling kettle, dropping the peppermint tea in her ‘Nope, Go Away’ mug. Her phone pinged over and over, and she quickly glanced down to see him filling up the screen. She was glad her cup was on the bench, otherwise she would’ve dropped it.

’Uh, turn that maybe into a definitely. No books. Din’

‘Crap. Dinner?’

‘I mean, next time I’m there, we should get dinner. if you’d like to?'


Holy.

What?

Lyndsey took a deep breath and stared at her mug. Did Sidney Crosby just ask her out on a date?
♠ ♠ ♠
short and sweet because i wrote a chapter in advance and now i have no idea how to get to it. and i know that's going to drive Lyndsey up the wall because she loves it already haha. sorry dear.

Speaking of: miss Lyndsey wrote a one shot for me! So consider this a shameless plug, but if any of you are Tyler Seguin fans, go lookie here.

comment/subscribe/recommend/adopt a puppy and have a great weekend.