Fic, "A Broken Hold in the Storm"

[exigencyexit.livejournal.com]

Title: "A Broken Hold in the Storm"
By: exigencyexit 
Fandom: NHL
Team(s): Philadelphia Flyers, Phoenix Coyotes
Pairing(s): Implied Scottie Upshall/Joffrey Lupul
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I have no idea how Joff reacted to Scottie's trade. I can only imagine he felt this way. This story is written through my own imagination and does not relate to any truths about anyone mentioned. For entertainment purposes only. 100% fake.
Warnings: Angst. Language. Not very Carcillo friendly.
Summary: Joff and the trade.
Credit: Who the hell do I give credit to? Homer? Because he traded Scottie to another team? Wtf?
Author's Notes: I'm using lyrics from two different songs, "Broken" and "Storm", both by Lifehouse. The lyrics are italicized. Written in 2nd POV through Joff (if that makes sense). ENOY! *Edited by me :)

 

How long have I been in this storm?
So overwhelmed by the ocean's shapeless form
Water's getting harder to tread
With these waves crashing over my head...

You watched him walk through the doorway; head hung low, a new sense of fear creeping into the room. It engulfed you, took you by surprise, pushed you back against the wall and for once you couldn't say anything to him.  He didn't look at you. He didn't speak to you. The sound of the door shutting, symbolizing his presence of an eerie feeling, played over and over in your head, and the clock stopped ticking because then you realized what time it was.

3:30pm. And then you remembered what day it was. March fourth. And your world stopped, because no, Scottie should be happy and cheerful and kissing you because he was staying in Philly...right?

You had refused to answer any phone calls or watch TV all day long. You didn't want to hear anything about trades, or the salary cap, or about everyone else in the NHL. You were only worried about yourself, about him, about your team, and so you sat in your apartment all day while the rest of the world lived on. The curtains were cracked so only the littlest bit of light could shine in and it hurt, hurt to look at because out there it was so damn sunny and happy and inside your place a storm was slipping in.

A pain filled you, hit your heart and you almost fell to the floor. You just covered your face, hid the tears because you knew. Scottie wouldn't be acting the way he was if something terrible didn't happen. Scottie wouldn’t be looking like a car just ran over his puppy. Scottie wouldn't be now standing next to your, whispering "I'm sorry" over and over in your ear if he wasn't guilty of what he had to say.

And then the house phone rang, you ignored it. The answering machine played and then there was Richie's voice, cracking. "Joff? You there? Did you hear? Oh my god, please say it's not true..."

Traded. Shipped off to another team. Being replaced by someone else, someone you didn’t know and didn’t care about and didn’t want on your team. A guy that would sit in your locker room, reminding you, judging you, and forcing you to forget about the now ex-teammate you held in your arms. It wasn’t right. And you felt sick, felt heartbroken, and you wished it was all a dream.

Hands grabbed your shoulders and Scottie forced you to look at him. Tears were in his eyes too and you pulled him close, wrapped your arms around him so tight and just cried. You listened to him cry and sob and repeat your name. Your body was shaking and you just crashed inside. You felt things exploding, breaking, falling apart and you wished it would all go away. But it wouldn't, and it wasn't going to, and you were having trouble accepting it because it wasn't supposed to happen. Thoughts raced inside your head and you wanted to blame someone, but you blamed yourself and he knew, so he hugged you tighter. You both fell to the floor, tears pouring, soaking through shirts, and it didn't end until his phone finally rang.

I know you didn't bring me out here to drown
So why am I ten feet under and upside down?

It was your coach calling. Not his, just yours, and Scottie needed to go. He kissed your forehead, wiped your cheeks and tried to get you to smile. You gave him an effort, and it all failed because you were crying again and shaking your head. He left with a goodbye and you on the floor, cradling your knees close to your chest. You sat there for another ten minutes, collecting everything in your head, waiting for it all to hit one last time. But it didn't, and you were able to stand up and move.

You took a cold shower. Sat in the tub, let the water numb your body. The phone was still ringing, Richie's voice, Jeff's voice, maybe Hartnell's voice too, but you didn't listen. You weren't ready yet. You didn't care what they had to say. Because damn it, you were mad and you were afraid you would let words slip out that you would soon regret.

Later that night you took him to the airport. Scottie gave you a hug and got out of the car. Before he took the last step out, however, he turned to you.

"I'll let you know when I land in Phoenix," he said. Phoenix. In Arizona. Two time zones away, so fucking far.

"Yeah, sure." You choked back a tear and swallowed the lump in your throat. He smiled, weak but it was there, and shut the car door. You watched him disappear pass the sliding glass doors and out of Philly. He was separated now, from you, from the team, and it still hurt.

You whispered his name and looked down at your lap. And then you screamed.

I'm failing apart
I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart
That's still beating

Sleeping that night was the worst part. He wasn't there to hold you, kiss you, fuck you, laugh with you and be there when you fell asleep. You talked to him for an hour before you closed your eyes, talked about the plane ride and how he was getting settled in. Scottie wouldn't be there for long, though. The Coyotes were in the middle of a road trip and when he said it, "Jersey next Thursday", your heart skipped a beat because you had a home game that day and you could see him.

When you said goodbye to him on the phone, you whispered his name again. You whispered things to him and his smile was loud over the phone.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Hanging on another day
Just to see what you will throw my way
And I'm hanging on to the words you say
You said that I will, will be okay

They introduced him before you went out on to the ice. He shook hands with some of your teammates but he didn’t shake yours. You were out in the hallway, maybe ignoring him, before he could say your name and look at you. There was no point in trying just yet. About three quarters through the season and who knew if he would be back next year.

Practice ended up only hurting a little. Things reminded you of Scottie, but that was okay. You shot pucks with Jeff, talked to Richie, Marty made a joke and you actually laughed. Your heart still ached, and you wanted him back but you were accepting things, and every time he called you answered. It was a little weird at first, but then became like a routine and before your game he texted you, "Good luck" and you smiled to yourself.

They wanted to interview you. You wanted to refuse but you couldn't. Part of the job, so you answered the questions carefully. Of course the trade was mentioned, and you were good with holding back the tears. You said nothing to imply, push, amplify what was really going on and when you skated away, the cold air became colder and you felt like you were freezing. It pinched inside, worked its way up your spine and you cracked your neck. Forget it, and when Richie gave you a smile you did because you knew what that smile meant.

The first game failed and it was expected. Drained, lost, chemistry out the window and you were pissed. You knew if Scottie was there things would have been different. They always were and you wondered why Homer did it. Sitting in that locker room, listening to the pathetic excuses Richie gave the media, you punched the bench and then stormed past everyone. Another cold shower, the water lingering through you hair and over your face. No one could see the tears and you were thankful.

I'm failing apart
I'm barely breathing...
I still see your reflection
Inside my eyes...
So I'm holding on
Barely holding on to you

Things were starting to wind down after a couple days. You went out a couple times, hung out with the team. Richie and Jeff took you to a golf course. You went to see a couple movies, rented some to watch at home. You ate the same, drank the same, and when Richie suggested it you simply let him down easy. You didn't need it, not then, and you only wanted one person. You told Scottie that and you could have sworn you heard him start crying. But he wasn't, and instead he laughed, because he's Scottie, and he made you laugh too.

The second game was a lot better. Everyone was on cue, everyone worked together, and you even played like you were supposed too. On the ice, it still felt different. There was a different number on that third line, thirteen, and you wished it was nine instead. You still didn’t care too much for the guy yet. He was a fighter, an enforcer, maybe a waste of ice time with stupid penalty minutes. You heard that Homer was going to make sure he was disciplined, and you could only laugh at that, because the team needed energy and heart and Homer just traded it away.

It was during that second game you got your first taste of Dan Carcillo. His first fight as a Flyer, you could say he won, but that wasn't it. It was when you scored your second goal of the night. Rushing hard to the net, Carcillo made a pass and you knocked it in for another point. The crossbar had hit your chest and you sighed, a small smile there on your face.

I am here still waiting
I still have my doubts
I am damaged at best
Like you've already figured out

Things suddenly seemed to slow down in time. The buzzer rang, the light flashing. The crowd was slowly standing to their feet. You looked around, took everything in. You remembered back in November when Scottie was on your line. He gave up a pass and you took a shot. You both celebrated the goal, on the ice and off, and it was magical. Coming back into reality, you knew that it wasn't Scottie that time. It was the new guy, the guy who replaced Scottie, and your stomach turned.

The fast pace of things simmered and you felt hands at your back. You turned and had to do it. You gave Carcillo a hug to celebrate the goal, but you didn't like it. You didn't want it, didn't want to see his toothless grin, and you didn't want to know what it would feel like if that happened more than once. No, you didn't like it one bit.

And seeing Carcillo, skating up to the rest of the team to give high-fives, your heart sank a little lower.

Because he wasn't Scottie.

Comments

[need2keep2myslf.livejournal.com]

omg that made me cry. i think the fact that the flyers lost to the red wings when they had the early lead which of course really upset me & i'm still not over scottie being traded, so many emotions spiraling - i couldn't help but cry. wow. great writing.