Family ties

[savvyfan.livejournal.com]

Title: Family ties
Characters/pairing: Marc Savard/Vladimir Sobotka
Rating: PG-13
Time: 2008/09 season
Summary: The Bruins go to Marc's home town of Ottawa; Vladimir says no when Marc invites him to dinner with his parents
Author's note: Angst ahoy
Disclaimer: A fictional story, written only for entertainment purposes 

Marc Savard wasn't a literary guy, not by a long shot. But there was one line from Charles Dickens (he'd had to read the damn book in some damn English lit class oh so long ago) that kept hammering through his head whenever the Bruins went to Ottawa.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..."

He remembered reading it the first time and wondering what the hell the old fart was talking about. How could anything be best and worst at the same time? But now he knew. Ol' Chuck knew exactly what it was like to travel to his home town with Vladimir fuckin' Sobotka.

"Vladdie, I want you to go out to dinner tonight with me and my parents."

"No."

"Whaddya mean, 'No'?"

"No, Savvy, you need time alone with your parents. I'll go out with Milan and David."

"Well, at least meet them, OK? They'll be at the hotel when we get there."

"I don't think so."

"What? Come on. You're a teammate. Just say hello."

Vladimir was silent, and Marc took it for acquiescence. Which was why he was surprised in the hotel lobby when he waved to his mom and dad, went over to give them hugs, and turned to find... nobody?

"Vladdie?" he said, and glimpsed a blond head disappearing around a corner toward the elevators. He sighed, forced a smile, and turned back to his parents. "Sorry, lost my teammate."

They smiled, the way they usually did when he started spouting nonsense, and off they went to dinner, spending almost the entire time talking about Marc's children and how fast they were growing. Savvy plastered a smile on his face, trying to still the aching in his heart. He'd see the kids tomorrow, a short visit, too damn short for words, but thankfully they'd be accompanied by their nanny and not the damn bitch (mother of your children, she's the mother of your children) he called an ex-wife.

Marc much preferred their visits to Boston; though it turned his life upside down in a thousand different ways, he'd rather have them there, all to himself, if only for a little while. He sipped at his wine, remembering their last visit....

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The Bruins were in an optional pregame skate, mostly leg stretching and fooling around, and the kids were there, sitting proudly on the bench, watching their dad. The boys were clamoring to get on the ice, and he kept telling them to be patient, just a little while longer, when he suddenly wondered where Isabel had gotten to. Had she wandered off somewhere? A seed of panic started to grow in his stomach, and he headed for the tunnel to the locker room, only to stop short when he saw Vladdie.

He was crouched on his skates, his back against the cement wall, with Isabel perched on his knee, chattering away a mile a minute (just like her daddy) as he listened, quite seriously. Probably not understanding a word -- Isabel had a tendency to babble -- but giving her his full attention all the same. As Marc watched, Vladimir slipped his arm around the little girl and gave her a gentle squeeze, resting his cheek on the top of her head and closing his eyes. She stopped babbling -- a minor miracle -- and put her arms around his neck, hugging him back. Marc quietly stepped back, to the bench, and moments later Isabel appeared, holding Vladdie's hand and calling for her daddy, now running to him, insisting they were going to skate now, daddy, now! He caught her in his arms, smiling, looking for Vladimir, but the young Czech had turned away and was heading for the locker room.

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"... and the young ones are doing so well!" his father said, and Marc jerked out of his reverie with a start.

"What was that, dad?" 

"The young players, your young Wheeler, Krejci, even -- what's his name, Sobotka? -- are making quite an impression," he father said. "I've never seen any of your teams play so well."

Marc smiled. Such praise from his father was rare and treasured. "Yeah, they are. We're doing pretty good, dad."

They lingered over dessert, Marc enjoying his parents' company, wishing Vladdie had come along. He knew they'd get along fine. Damn Vladimir being so skittish. It wasn't like Marc was going to introduce him as his boyfriend, for crissakes. They were teammates. Nothing wrong with going out with your teammate's family.

His parents dropped him off at the hotel fairly late, but he doubted Vladimir would be there, sure that he'd gone out and had a good time with some of the younger guys. He was so sure that he flipped the light on as he entered the room without a second thought, only to be shocked by a loud "Shit!" emanating from one of the beds and the sight of Vladdie's mussed blond hair on the pillow.

"What are you doing in bed?" he asked.

"I WAS sleeping," Vladimir said grumpily.

"I thought you were going out."

"I had room service."

"Room service? The fuck, Vladdie? Why didn't you go out?"

"Didn't feel like going out."

"You feel all right?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine."  Marc sat down on the bed and pressed a hand againt Vladimir's forehead. Vladdie knocked it way.

"Leave me alone, OK?"

"Geez, OK." Marc stood up and began to undress. Vladimir sighed.

"How are your parents?"

"They're fine. I wish you woulda come."

Vladimir grunted.

"Look, Vladdie, you don't have to worry, they have no idea, for crissakes. You're my teammate. You can just BE my teammate, sometimes, you know."

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"Nothing."

"Goddammit, Vladdie, what is it?"

"I'M HOMESICK!"

Marc stopped short, his shirt half off. "You're what?"

"I'm homesick, dammit, I'm HOMESICK! You happy now?" 

"Happy? What?"

"You've got your family. You should be happy. I didn't want you to know... how I felt." What sounded suspiciously like a sob caught in Vladdie's throat. Marc winced. He knew there was little Vladdie hated more than crying, Especially in front of a teammate. Even him. Especially him.

"Everybody gets homesick, Vladdie," he said quietly. 

"You got to go home for Christmas," Sobotka said, his voiced choked. "I miss my mother, I miss my sister, I miss my father. I miss home." 

"Vladimir, Jesus," Marc said helplessly.

"I can't be with your family, Marc," Vladimir said. "I can't do it, I can't pretend, I can't be your teammate. I want... more, you understand? I want to be part of your family. And I can't. I can't." 

Marc didn't know what to say. He couldn't argue, couldn't deny what Vladimir was saying. It was true. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. So he did the only thing he could do. He climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around the distraught young man.

"Miluji te, Vladimir Sobotka," he whispered.

"Miluji..." Vladdie broke into sobs, and Marc held him tight as the Ottawa night closed in around them.

Comments

[cpexplosion.livejournal.com]

Omg that just crushed me. Poor Vladdie.. home's so far away for him >.

[savvyfan.livejournal.com]

Thank you. It's really not hard to imagine how difficult it must be for these guys sometimes, especially at such a young age. And of course poor Vladdie carries extra burdens.