Challenge: "Speak Out"

De' toit.

The French word meaning "where the rivers meet".

Funny how it's really only one river in Detroit. And I'm staring out at it right now.

The October wind is just like how I feel at this very moment. Cold and bitter.

I seriously thought I'd spend the rest of what's left of my young life here.

But I know now that that was just a pipe dream. One that I had been lead to believe my entire life was true.

And it was all just bullshit.

Now I have to leave. I have to support myself somehow, and I can't just give up hockey. It's my life.

But that also means leaving Steve.

And I'm absolutely torn.

His career is over, ended by a stick to the eye.

My heart shatters every time I think about it.

I try not to, especially when he's right here with me now.

We've been together for so long that I can't even fathom what my life would be like without him in it.

I woke him up early in the afternoon, after a long night of showing him how much I love him, and brought him out here to the Joe.

We stood outside for a long time, just the two of us, thinking silently, before things came shooting back to me in the here and now.

I've never loved anyone in my entire life the way I love Steve.

He's only four years older than me, and in the years that I've known him, he's taught me more about the game of hockey and life itself than anyone else ever tried.

He's shown me what is worth fighting for, and what isn't.

And as I slowly, I slide my fingers through his, I confirm to myself that this is one of those things to fight for.

He squeezes my hand back as we stare across the 'toit' to Canada.

Our homeland.

It used to be great to head back home and see my family.

But now it will be the demise of my relationship with Steve.

I feel the pressure of his head resting against my shoulder and I lean my head against the top of his.

We stand in silence again for a long time.

I don't ever want to let him go.

Especially when it took so damn long for me to actually get him.

He's my baby.

"I love you." He whispers into the wind.

I take my hand from his and slide it around his shoulders, pulling him against me. And I know instantly that I'll do anything to keep him. We just have to try.

"I love you too."

--Dallas, Texas--
Modano's PoV

I'm a farm boy at heart.

I love to saddle up my horse and take a long ride through the trails behind my house. Or just ride along the deserted dirt roads.

I like it this way. Just me and the wide open range.

I chuckle lightly to myself. I'm starting to sound like a fucking cowboy.

Oh well.

I'll have a lot more time to practice my "ye-hawing" now that I don't have a job.

A scowl briefly twitches at my features. But I quickly push it away.

Now isn't the time to think about that.

All I can do is live for what I have right now.

So I lied, maybe there is something I like more than riding through the open lands of Texas alone.

And the thing, or rather person, I like more is right here at my side on another of my horses.

Sergei and I are riding slowly and I pull my horse over next to him.

He slows even more and turns to look at me. He's going back to Russia for a few months to see his family.

He says he'll come back to me, but I don't think he will. Once he gets back there and sees all that he's given up to be with me and be with the NHL, he'll start thinking. And soon he'll decide that I'm expendable.

My eyes mist slightly as I reach over and take his hand; bringing it to my lips.

"Mike, I'll come back." He whispers, always knowing what's on my mind.

"I don't want you to feel obligated." I tell him quietly as we bring our horses to a complete stop.

His hand is on the back of my neck, pulling me closer, "Don't ever think that you're an obligation to me."

My tears begin to fall as he brings our mouths together.

I love him more than anything.

--Denver, Colorado--
Tanguay's PoV

It's fucking cold.

Yeah, I know it's the mountains of Colorado. I'm not that stupid.

But it's colder than usual because I'm standing with the sliding glass door open with only my boxers on.

I lean my head against the door frame and stare out into the capped peaks.

I feel so tired and alone right now.

"Baby, what the fuck are you doing?" Peter demands as he slides the door shut.

And I suddenly realize that I'm cold as hell. Wrapping my arms around myself, I turn back to him; goosebumps covering my body.

His voice softens, "Why are you crying?"

Peter rubs his thumbs over the harsh trails leading down my cheeks. But more tears make their way down past his fingers, "Alex, what is it?" He asks, pulling me against him.

I say nothing, but bury my head under his chin and let the last of my tears leak out.

He knows what's wrong though. He knows I don't want him to go back to Sweden.

But I won't say it.

He's been away from his family for far too long because of me.

And without hockey, I don't have any excuse to keep him here.

"You're freezing." He says, rubbing my back, "Let's get you into the shower."

I don't resist as he pulls me by the hand into the bathroom. And as steam begins to fill the room, I strip without hesitense, as does he.

Soon I'm standing under the hot spray of water with Peter. It feels like millions of needles pricking my skin, but is slowly becoming more soothing to me.

The water is still a bit uncomfortable to me and Peter takes me in his arms to help warm me up. "Please don't think about the future so much, Alex."

"How can I not?" I ask weakly.

He pulls back and looks at me, "Do you honestly think I'd get on a plane to Sweden and that would be it?"

I said nothing, but shook my head slightly. His rough hands took my face in them and I was forced to meet his intense blue eyes, "I love you, Alex. That's not going to change just because I go home for a little while."

More tears are sliding from my eyes, "You'll come back." I whispered, too scared to ask it.

He bent down and took my mouth in a kiss, holding me to him, "I'll never leave you behind."

--Philadelphia, Pennsylvania--
Roenick's PoV

Tony and I have hit many a rough spot. I'm an idiot and I don't always know how to treat him the way he deserves to be treated.

We've both lapsed in the faithful department, and left one another at least a million times. But somehow, we always find our way back to each other.

I guess that's just how love is.

Do you have any idea how scary it is to realize that you love someone?

And I mean honesly love. More than anyone you've ever come across in your entire life?

It pushed me away to make that revelation, and startled him as well.

But we fought it out and have tried not to kill one another.

And for years, it's worked. We've been together, even when we weren't, for about six years now.

And the only thing that could drive a wedge between us, the only thing that could possibly keep us, physically from one another, has happened.

The fucking lockout.

I'm waiting it out here in Philly, but Tony isn't going to.

He made a promise, should the NHL be locked out, he would play for the AHL for at least two seasons.

And as big of a jerk as I am, I don't want him to go back on his word on account of me.

Our time until January and the final decision on the '04-'05 season is dwindling and the time when Tony will be ripped away from me is approaching.

At the thought, I pull him tighter against me.

A bit too tight I guess, because he squirms and looks up at me, "Trying to smother me?" He grins.

"That's with a pillow, Sweetness." I inform him before he scoots up as best he can in my death grip and kisses me.

His head is on my chest again in a matter of moments.

I took him for a week long getaway in the Apalachian Mountains so we were gazing ahead at the fire that was blazing in the stone fireplace at the foot of the bed.

Shadows danced over his tanned skin as I ran my fingers over all of him that I could see.

We both knew of the future that was looming before us and threatning our relationship. But we also both knew that we were going to battle it out. We've been through too damn much for it to end because some miserable little man didn't want us to make the money we earn.

I squeezed him briefly before letting him rest silently in my arms.

He kissed my chest, and I knew what the gesture meant.

"I love you too, Tony."

--Tampa Bay, Flordia--
Lecavalier's PoV

Martin is crying. I can see it and I can feel it.

My hand is on his hip and I can feel the slight shaking in his body.

"Martin." I finally say.

He stills but doesn't respond.

"Martin." I say a bit louder this time.

"What?" He asks in a voice raw and cracked with emotion.

I roll over so I'm pressed against his back, "Please don't cry about this."

"Get off me." He says shrugging my hands off him.

I ignore him and wrap my arms tighter around him "Martin, please..."

"Please what, Vince?" He asks, sitting up and wiping at his cheeks, "What do you want me to do? Be happy that you're leaving? Because the odds of that happening are slim and none."

I sit up as well. The lockout has forced me to sign with the AHL. Out of state and away from Martin. He's holding out hope that the season can still be salvaged, and staying in Flordia.

"Marty, baby, it's not forever. It's just 'til January. When the season's called, you can come live with me."

He shook his head slightly and more tears coursed down his face. I took him in my arms and pulled him against me, "I don't want the season to be called." He was on the verge of sobbing, "I want us to stay here. I want everything to stay the way it is!"

I rubbed his back slowly, "Things have to change, Marty." I say, kissing his forehead, "But nothing is going to keep us apart." I lean back and take his damp cheeks in my hands, "Do you love me, Martin?"

"Of course I do! More than anything..."

I kissed him then, slowly and devotedly, "Then everything is going to be fine. You and I are going to be fine."

He smiled weakly and I kissed him again, "I love you too much to just let it be over."

--Anahiem, California--
Carney's PoV

"I'll call you when I get there." I said as I pulled my jacket on.

It's been raining for four days straight, day and night. So now, at nine pm when I'm leaving, it's cold and wet outside.

Perfect driving weather.

Jig nodded slightly, not turning from the window he's been staring out of so intently for the past few minutes.

I didn't press anymore, but picked up my suitcase and started heading out the door.

"Keith." I heard as I stepped into the darkened hallway.

I set my suitcase down and walked back in, "Yeah?"

"You're not gonna say goodbye?"

I sighed and stepped up behind him, wrapping my arms around him and kissing his shoulder, "I thought we already said goodbye."

As a matter of fact, he was still dressed from our goodbye. Wearing only his pajama bottoms, standing near his messy bed.

He didn't say anything more, and I set my chin down on his shoulder. I always know what he's thinking. "Jiggy, I promise, this was not the last time."

He sniffed and shrugged my arms off him, "Whatever."

"Jean." I said sternly as he started to walk away from me.

Stilling, but not looking back at me, he spoke, "Let me drive you."

"I'm gonna need my car, Jig." I said softly.

"Then I'll drive behind you."

I closed my eyes. Now was not the time for us to try to figure out what was going on between us. "You won't know the way back."

"I have On-Star." He said, turning slowly so I now had a side profile of him.

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, "Jig, this isn't making things any easier."

"Like you even care if this is easy for me!" He snapped.

Startled at the tone he had taken with me, I looked up at him, "Jean, please. I have to go, but it's only for three months. We can call, vist, write, the whole nine yards. But I have to go, and I have to go now."

"Fine. Just fucking go."

He tried to storm out of the room but I quickly stepped up and grabbed his arm, "Jean, when I get back in February, we're gonna talk about this. I mean, really talk." His eyes were watery as he looked at me and my tone softened as he closed the space between us.

My arms wound around him and his smaller frame fit perfectly against me, "We'll work this out, I promise."

"But what if you don't come back?" He whispered against my neck.

I lifted his chin so our gazes could meet, "No fucking lockout is going to screw this up." I kissed him softly, "I'll always come back, Jig. Always."

--Vancouver, Canada--
Jovanovski's PoV

I've always found northern Vancouver to be kind of boring.

City life tires me quickly and I long to be somewhere... anywhere else but here.

And luckily, I'm leaving for that somewhere with a certain special someone.

"Get your ass out of bed." Markus demands, smacking my bare ass playfully.

He's dressed and ready to go, but I'm still laying in his bed.

"Too sore." I rasp out.

His smile fades rather quickly as he crawls over to me and begins stroking my hair back, "I'm sorry."

I rolled onto my back and grinned as I shook my head, "Don't ever be sorry for that."

He seems to relax a bit and kisses me softly. So far a contrast to last night's frenzy we called 'lovemaking'.

I'm not sure whether it was the alcohol coursing through us, or just the fact that tomorrow we'd be leaving Canada for who knows how long, that made us so desperate for each other. But we fucked frantically for literal hours, until we collapsed into a tense sleep.

I brushed my fingers through his hair when he pulled away from me. Then he laid down beside my naked form, resting his head on my chest.

"Do you think we'll ever be back here to play?" He asks.

It's un-nerving and scares me a little to have my Captain be so un-sure of things.

I kiss the top of his head, "It's not going to last forever." I tell him with faux confidence.

He senses my false words, but ignores it; hearing only what he wants to be true.

I rub my hands up and down his back, "Don't think about it. Soon we'll be at Pebble Beach, and you won't have time to worry about it any more."

Feeling his grin against me made me smile.

Even though we were ignoring the fact that should the lockout continue, we're both going to have to take jobs elsewhere.

It's not even the money, it's the fact that we need hockey in our lives as much as we need each other.

I've got an offer from the CHL and he's going back to Sweden.

We won't be with each other much longer if this drags out past January.

But I'm not going to erase our hope.

I squeeze him a bit tighter and kiss the top of his head again.

My mind is telling me to get as much of him as I can now, becuase who knows how much longer I'll have him all to myself.

And my heart is regrettfully agreeing.

--St. Louis, Missouri--
Tkachuk's PoV

Ozzy has always been like an overly hormonal teenager. And I don't mean that in the good way.

He cries a lot and likes to talk about his feelings. I swear he was meant to be a woman, but God made a mistake and gave him a dick.

But then I remember that God doesn't make mistakes and that if he didn't have a dick, I wouldn't love him the way I do.

I grin slightly when I see him walk groggily into the kitchen.

I've been staying at his house since early October. Not seeing the need to go home when I can just stay here with him.

He looks up at me, "Get off the counter."

I arch my eyebrow and don't budge an inch as he walks past me to the sink. He pulls out a glass from the cupboard and fills it to the brim with water. I watch as he drinks it all down without stopping for a moment.

I say nothing and continue to pick at the left over Chinese food in the container I'm holding.

He turns back to me, "I said get your fucking ass off the counter."

My eyes widen and I stare at him. Chris never speaks to me like that.

I set the carton down and slide off the counter onto my feet, "Who put sandpaper on your toilet seat?" I ask, not looking at him, but digging in the container again with my chopsticks.

He sighs dramatically and slams his glass down on the counter, "Fuck you."

"Woah, woah, woah." I say, setting it down and pushing away from the counter, "What the hell is your problem?"

He turns icy eyes on me, "You. You come over here, you stay in my house, you sleep in my bed, you're around me 24 fucking 7, and you don't even have the decency not to put your ass on my fucking counter! That's what the hell my problem is!"

If I weren't so hurt by what he just said, I'd have hit him.

I swallow, "I didn't realize I was such a burden."

His eyes soften and instantly fill with regret, "You're not." He says quiter than before.

"Well apparently I am!" I snap. "Here I thought you wanted me to be here with you. After all, what else should I think when you're the one who fucking told me you wanted me here with you!" I'm a lot taller and I've stepped right up to him, glaring down as I yell. "You want me out? Fine! I'll go!"

As I turned to storm out of the room, he grabbed my arm, "Keith, I didn't mean it."

"Well then what did you mean, Oz, what did you mean?!"

"Don't call me that." He whispers, eyes starting to mist.

I never call him Oz or Ozzy. It's always Chris.

I say nothing, but stand still for a long moment. "What is it, Chris?"

He sighs and sits down on one of the barstools, and I follow suit. He covers his face in his hands and his shoulders begin to shake like he's crying.

My heart begins to crack, "Baby, what is it?" I ask, full of sympathy as I wrap my arm around him.

"The lock out." He sniffs, still covering his face, "I... I don't want this to happen." He hiccuped, "It's going to break us up."

Broken.

I gather his weeping form in my arms, "Shhh..." I whisper into his blonde hair as he continues to cry while holding onto my shirt, "Chris, baby, don't cry. Nothing is going to break us up." He slowly looks up at me; eyes red and cheeks blotchy and stained, "I love you."

"I love you too." He whispers.

I lean in and kiss his forehead, then his lips, "No matter where we are, together or not, I am not going to leave you."

He wipes his eyes and kisses me again, slowly and full of emotion; hand coming up to cup the back of my neck, "I need you, Keith."

"I need you too."

More than he'll ever know.

--Edmonton, Canada--
Brewer's PoV

Tommy was sitting on the side of the bed, still slightly shaking from our encounter mere moments ago.

His elbows are resting on his knees and his forehead is pressed to his palms.

I sit up slowly, and crawl up behind him. My ass is absolutely throbbing as I spread my legs and situate myself behind him.

I press a kiss to the back of his neck and lean my cheek against his shoulder.

"You okay?" He asked, taking one of my hands in his. He rarely is the one to fuck me and is probably now worried about the state of my ass. Which, as I said before, is killing me.

But it's the good kind of hurt. The kind that I wouldn't mind experiencing over and over again for the rest of my life.

"Fine."

He nods and let's go of my hand. I slide them down his flat stomach and onto his thighs; rubbing them gently.

"Are you all right?" I ask.

"Yeah." He says standing up. And without another word, walks into the bathroom.

I rub at my eyes, bringing my hand slowly down to cover my mouth.

He's still pissed at me. Not that I can really blame him.

I told him that even if there was a lock out, I was going to stay here with him in Edmonton.

And I lied.

Not even two weeks after it started, I signed to an AHL team in Michigan.

It ended with us breaking up for three weeks until I finally broke down and voided my contract.

And of course, I went crawling back to Tommy, begging for him to forgive me.

Reluctantly, he did.

Made all the more surprising to me by the fact that he had no idea that I had decided to stay here with him and wait it out.

I don't know how much longer I can stand him ignoring me like this. It's time to let him know.

Gingerly, I got up and walked into the bathroom. He was standing by the shower, waiting for the water to become warm enough for his liking.

He looked up at me, but didn't otherwise acknowlede me as I leaned against the doorjam.

He obviously sensed that I wanted to say something, so he straightened up and waited for it.

"I voided my contract with the Griffins."

His eyes widened, "When?"

"The day before I asked you to take me back."

"That was two weeks ago." He said, almost astonished. I nodded as tears filled his eyes, "Why'd you do it?"

I swallowed hard, "Becuase I want to be with you more than anything else. More than hockey."

Tears began coursing down his cheeks as he quickly closed the distance between us and threw his arms around me.

At the time, I wasn't sure if I had done what was right for me by giving it all up to be with Tommy.

But now, we're standing here, arms around each other and he's crying into my neck with relief; I know I made the right choice.

--Colombus, Ohio--
Nash's PoV

Andrew Cassles is the love of my life.

I'm young, I haven't been around the block, and Andrew is the first man I've ever been with.

So how do I know that I'm in love with him?

Well, it certainly had taken me a long while to accept that I was in love with another guy. In fact, I had broken up with him four or five times because I was so confused and hesitant.

But he was always right there waiting for me with open arms and a forgiving heart.

I owed him so much for taking me back. The entirety of the time I had been away from him I had been so fucking miserable.

Just thinking about all the time I've spent away from Andrew pisses me off. I hate myself when I think about all the pain I've caused him.

And at this moment, I squeeze him a bit too tightly and he is pulled from his light slumber.

His hands leave my back and clasp my arms, "You okay?" He murmurs.

I nod slowly. But I doubt that he believes me.

His fingers slide through my hair, "What's wrong?"

I sit up, pulling myself up beside him. Taking his now wide awake face in my hands, I press my mouth to his. I'm sure it's a bit harder that he expected it to be, or I even meant to make it.

Andrew sat up, bracing himself with one of his elbows while cupping my neck with the other as he responded to my kiss.

Our tongues ran over each other's for a few moments before he pulled back, panting slightly. He sat up fully and wrapped his arms around me, kissing my heated cheeks.

"Rick, baby, it's all gonna be okay." He whispered into my ear before kissing it.

I close my eyes and rest my head on his shoulder, letting him hold and comfort me. He's fifteen years older than me and much more experienced in what I'm feeling. Not exactly what I'm feeling because it hasn't happened to either of us before this past September, but close.

In June, six days before my 20th birthday, he surprised me by asking me to move in with him.

I, even in my immense, but pleased shock, readily agreed.

The day before my birthday, after I had gotten home from seeing my parents, (they still didn't know that I had started batting for the other team or else Andy would have come with me, but luckily he understood and supported my decision to not tell them) he picked me up at the airport and informed me that he was taking me on a little trip.

He ushered me into his Escalade and an hour and a half later we were in Cedar Point.

He knew how much I loved roller coasters and I about sucked his face off right there in the line for the Raptor when it hit me that he had just taken me on our first trip together.

I think that's the moment I realized that this wasn't just a crush or massive amounts of lust. I really cared for Andrew.

We spent the night at the Hotel Breakers then the rest of the day at the park, ending with a quiet dinner, a romantic walk on the beach, and him giving me a silver Rolex with both of our initials on the back.

I cried, of course and hugged and kissed him for all I was worth.

The following morning, he gave me the second part of my birthday gift. A house. Not just any house. Our house. In Port Clinton, a half hour from Sandusky and a foggy view of our homeland.

And that's where we are now. Our house. In our bed. Holding each other.

I think it's because I'm so young that Andrew declined the chance to play for the CHL and stay with me.

I wasn't about to leave Ohio, even if it does smell like smoldering iron ore.

It's become my entire world with Andrew. And I know that it will remain so, once this bullshit with the lockout is over.

And with one final kiss to his lips, I decided that I couldn't bear it if things were to ever change.

--Phenoix, Arizona--
Doan's PoV

"I so whiped your ass." Ladislav laughed as he jumped onto the kingsized bed we were sharing. I set my golf clubs down and dropped his onto the floor.

He bolted up on the bed, "Hey! Those cost me six hundred dollars!"

I laughed and skulked over to him as he pouted.

Climbing onto the bed, I pushed him back down and placed myself half on top of him.

"I'm sure I can make it up to you one way or another." I grinned, pressing my mouth to his.

His lips parted to mine and my tongue slid into his mouth. After a few moments of teasing him, I moved to the side to allow his tongue to explore my mouth.

His breathing was beginning to pick up and I reached my hand between us, intending to stroke him to hardness, but he stopped me.

"I'm so happy you brought me here." He said, breaking away from me.

After a few days of begging, he allowed me to take him away for a week long stay at a hotel complete with incredible golfing.

He had been so distraught over the call of no more hockey that he fell into a depression like I've never seen before.

I brushed my hand up and held his hair back while I kissed his forehead.

"I'd do anything to make you happy." I told him truthfully.

His eyes misted slightly and he kissed me again.

"What happens now?" He asked after a few moments of silence.

My hand had been in the process of snaking down between our bodies again when he had spoken.

"Well..." I started and kissed him on the neck, "I was hoping something we both wanted."

He grinned at the look in my eyes.

"I mean, what happens now? We don't have jobs." His Slovakian accent is so cute coming from his mouth and accenting his words.

I sighed heavily, "I was thinking," I said, rolling off of him, only to have him roll on top of me. I smiled softly, "That we'd take a little while off."

"What if this lasts a long time?" He asked.

"Well, we're gonna have to sign somewhere else."

"But what if no team wants us both?"

I felt bad that he didn't understand where I was going with this.

"Baby, the odds of any team wanting the two of us aren't that good."

His brow crinkled as he tried to piece together what I was telling him.

"You mean, we sign to different teams?"

I nodded slowly and he immediately climbed off me.

I sat up and placed my hands on his arms to keep him from getting off the bed, "Baby, that might not happen, okay? Let's not think about it now."

His breathing was increasing as though he was about to cry. I gathered him in my arms and he clutched my shirt.

"Don't think about it." I repeated, "Not yet, Ladislav. Not yet."

--Calgary, Canada--
Saprykin's PoV

Rhett was traded to the Flames on August 3rd, 2003. He's from Shaunavon, Saskatchewan and he's twenty-eight years old.

I've known all of his stats since the day he was traded to us and I know almost everything about him.

Though it probably doesn't help that I'm sleeping with him, but it was before that, that my knowledge of his life seemed odd.

I developed a crush on him soon after he was traded to us.

Three weeks into the season, we kissed.

The next four weeks, we spent dating.

And the past eight months we've been sleeping together.

He's not the first guy I've fucked nor the first guy I've had strong feelings for, but he is the only man I've ever loved.

Rhett can read my mind. He knows everything I want to say, everything I mean when I speak the wrong words, and everything else in between.

It's no wonder I love him. Especially when I grew up in Russia, where my feelings would never have been encouraged.

I roll over and touch his arm. We turned in pretty late and decided to watch "Desperado".

I didn't understand it and few DVDs have Russian subtitle options. So once Rhett fell asleep, I was fucked.

I just turned it off and watched music videos on MTV for a while, before I turned the TV off altogether.

And just my luck, it started to rain. I turned my light on, on the bedside table. And before long, it was thundering and lightning out.

I know that I'm a grown man, but damn do I hate it when it thunderstorms.

I took a book that I was reading and tried to occupy myself, but when a bolt of lightning struck the sky a little too close, and a crash of thunder rumbled a little too loudly, I whimpered.

Instantly, Rhett awoke at my side.

He blinked a few times at the light and I tried to bury my face in my book, to look as though nothing had happened.

But he knew me.

He knew that sound.

"Oleg?" He asked in a voice cracked with sleep.

"Hmm?" I responded.

"You okay?"

I nodded and stayed focused on the words in front of me that were all blurring into nothing.

I think he nodded back and I watched him lay back down. And I'll be damned if the next strike of lightning, a few seconds later, didn't make me jump.

He pushed himself up and looked at me, "Done lying?"

I swallowed and closed my book, setting it down on the night stand and curled up to him.

I shook again thunder rolled through the night sky. "I hate storms." I told him, my voice thick.

His arms wound around me, "It's okay, baby." He told me, reaching over me to shut off the light.

"Leave it." I asked.

I'm twenty-three years old and I need to sleep with the light on.

But Rhett made me feel like I wasn't a child, like I wanted to feel.

He enclosed me in his arms and held me tight.

I so loved this man. The only man that I've ever felt these true feelings for.

Two days ago he declined a contract offer with a Canadian hockey team to stay with me here in Calgary.

Damn the NHL for this. Damn Gary Bettman for threatening everything I hold dear to me.

Tears welled in my eyes as Rhett's hands ran up and down my back, soothing me.

I don't know how much longer this is going to last, but I pray to God that Rhett stays with me.

I'll die without him.

--Toronto, Canada--
Sundin's PoV

I'm thirty-three years old and an NHL Captain.

Well, was an NHL Captain anyway.

I don't know what I am anymore.

Actually, as corny as I know it's gonna sound, I know that I'm in love.

The '03 trade that brough Owen Nolan to the Leafs is, as far as I can see, the best thing that's ever happened to me.

It brought not only an incredible right winger to the team that I've been leading for so long, but it brought me an incredible friend.

He lived with me, Captain's honors, when he was traded to us, and we became friends fairly fast.

And by the time he found a house he actually liked enough to buy, we were sleeping together.

He never did buy that house.

I smiled to myself as I thought about it.

"Loosen up, Owen." I grinned as I slid my hands down his arms to take hold of his fingers.

He looked back over his shoulder to look at me, "You don't really mean that." He winked, his Irish voice filling my head.

I looked around to make sure we were alone on the course before I leaned over and kissed him full on the mouth.

"Bend your knees a bit." I told him, nudging my own into his, pushing them forward a little.

For some reason, he straightened up and dropped the club, "You're never going to show me how to do this."

"I will if you would actually let me finish showing you the proper stance." I said, hand on my hip.

"I don't wanna play golf." He told me, a look of sadness suddenly appearing in his eyes.

I tried my best to ignore it. "You're Irish baby, you have to know how to golf."

He grinned slightly, "You make it sound like we invented the game."

"Didn't you?" I challeneged.

"The Scotts." He stated.

I walked over to him and slid my arms around him. He immediately tensed up, but I didn't give a shit if two or two thousand people were standing around watching us.

He seemed to relax a bit when he realized that we were indeed alone right now, on this slightly cloudy day.

"So I'm no golf history buff." I said, leaning in close and kissing his nose.

"Why do you want me to learn?"

"So we can play together."

He raised an eyebrow, "I thought we already did that."

"On the green."

"I'd rather it was on the ice." He said, the sad look back.

I held him against me and kissed him slowly, tongue rolling over his, "We'll be back there soon. This can't last forever."

He knotted his fingers behind my neck and kissed me again, "I hope it doesn't."

I shook my head, "It won't."

He smiled slowly, finally allowing himself to believe in the hope I was preaching.

But deep inside... I didn't believe myself.

--Chicago, Illinois--
Zhamnov's PoV

I had to laugh when Tyler suggested that we buy these things.

Where the hell were we gonna use them? Was my first protest.

In the trails behind his house. Was his absolution.

I'd never ridden one before.

There was more than enough time to learn.

I didn't know the first thing about 4 wheelers.

He'd teach me.

I swear, getting involved with a man nine years my junior made me wonder if I was in over my head.

But then I just had to look at him, see that look in his eyes that showed me that he loved me more than anything, to know that he was all I was going to need to the rest of my life.

Even if that turns out to be incredibly soon. Which I don't doubt becuase I've just fallen off this fucking 4 wheeler and am laying on the ground, the world spinning and my head throbbing.

"Alex!" I hear Tyler's panicked cry as he flies over to me, "Alex, baby, what happened?!" He asks, pulling off my helmet.

"I hit a tree stump." I tell him, closing my eyes to block out the dizziness my vision is now incased in.

"Are you okay? Did you break anything? Do I need to call an ambulance?"

"Tyler," I say, eyes still closed, "I'm fine. Just dizzy."

He nods, still a bit frantic. "Do you want to sit up?"

I shake my head but he pulls me into a semi-up right position anyway, resting me half on his lap.

"Tyler, please... I'm fine." I say, a bit queazy at the sudden movement.

I really am fine, I can just feel the beginnings of a massive headache moving in.

Tyler's hand caresses my cheek as we sit in the middle of this muddy trail in the woods. We bought and paid out the ass for these 4 wheelers, we've been riding around for hours and now I almost busted my head open on one.

But for some reason, I start to smile.

And he feels it or sees it, I'm not sure which because my eyes are still shut.

"Alex, are you all right?" He asks, panic leaking into his voice.

I've just realized that we've been doing what he wanted us to do by buying these things. Spend what are our most unsure days together.

None of us European players really know how much longer we'll get to be here in America and Canada doing what we love to do.

Because, in the back of our minds we know eventually, we'll have to leave and go elsewhere to play.

Tyler has already gotten an offer from an AHL team, so he won't have to leave his country. And I don't want him to have to. Just as long as he's happy, and we get to be together as long as possible, I know that I'll also be as happy as I am now; laying here in the mud, in the mild chill of November, with the man I love more than life itself.

"I'm great baby." I say, reaching up and pulling his head down for a kiss. "I'm great."

--Washington DC--
Gonchar's PoV

I came to the NHL in 1992 from a life I'd rather have forgotten back in Chelyabinsk.

I put up with a lot. The facist government and the facist hockey. My bitch of a father who pushed me too hard and an unforgiving mother who never could see past my fault of being male.

Literal years of my life were spent on the ice, trying so damn hard to become good enough to get out of that fucking country who saw their players, not as talented individuals, but as part of a machine. Pieces. Tools.

And overall useless.

Needless to say, by the time I got out, I had quite a few scars to keep hidden, because there was no time to try and heal them.

It was my sophomore year in the league when it all finally caught up to me.

I couldn't cover my scars and I no longer had the strength to mask my pain. I wanted to end it all.

That night, I sought out a bar and decided to drink myself stupid.

And it worked pretty damn well, except for the fact that I ended up, somehow, stumbling over to Olaf's house.

He took care of me, even after I threw up all over him. Twice. And gave me somewhere to stay while I tried to get myself cleaned up.

It took a few weeks, but after a lot of tears and intense therapy, I was finally at a point in my life where I was okay with things. And once again grateful to be out of Russia and for my life here in America.

Ollie had saved my life.

I wanted to thank him for it, and ended up sucking him off in the shower one night.

I thought it was merely lust and a good way to say thanks, but when he dragged me up off my knees and pressed his mouth to mine, I knew it was so much more than that.

I clung to him desperately as he lifted my legs around his waist, and was in love with him by the time he set me back down.

Things had been perfect ever since.

That is until this damn fucking lockout.

And that was the object of all of my ire and focus right now, as I paced back and forth in front of the window in his bed room.

"I thought you were coming up here to get some rest."

Olaf's voice jolted me from my angry walking. When I turned to him, his playful smile vanished instantly.

Tears were swimming in my eyes, begging for me to blink so they could be let loose.

"Sergei..." He said, crossing the room and taking me in his arms, "Baby, what's wrong?"

I blinked.

Tears came pouring down my cheeks as I grasped him tightly.

"Ollie..." I gasped in between my sobs.

He rubbed my back and rocked me, "Baby, what is it? What's wrong?" He sounded pretty frantic.

"I can't... can't go back... to Russia." I whimpered as I sobbed into his neck.

A team in Moscow had made me a deal, and so far that was the only one. Olaf, on the other hand, had two deals. One in Canada and one right here in D.C.

I didn't want to play there. I couldn't go back to the country I so hated.

He held me tight and stroked my hair back, "You're not going back. You're staying here where you belong."

I wanted so badly for that to be true.

"Everything is gonna be all right baby." He assured me, still petting my hair back like I was some sort of exotic cat.

I closed my eyes as he continued to speak, "I love you, Sergei." He told me, kissing my neck, "I love you."

I took a shaky breath, "I love you too."

--St. Paul, Minnesota--
Bombardir's PoV

The only thing I love more than hockey is my partner, Marian.

Yes I said partner.

He may be ten years younger than me, but I know this is the real thing. He's so much more than just my boyfriend, it would be an insult to call him that.

So, a few moments ago, after a lot of planning and thinking, I asked him if he would be with me forever.

He cried, of course, then practically tackled me to the floor.

"Does... this... mean... yes?" I asked each word between a kiss, as he pulled my shirt open and started working on my pants.

"Yes." He whispered, dipping his tongue into my mouth before loosing my belt.

I held onto the back of his head, running my fingers through his curls for a moment as we kissed.

As he unzipped my pants, I broke away from him, "Wait, wait, wait." I told him, digging into my pocket. "You almost made me forget." I said, grinning and pulling out a velvet covered ring box.

His eyes widened as he looked from it to me, "That's not..."

I opened it and held it up for him to see that it was indeed what he thought.

A solid gold wedding band that cost me a pretty penny.

More tears filled his eyes and he was honestly shaking with excitement as I slipped it onto his finger, then kissed his hand.

He attacked my mouth again and tried to sink to his knees. I grabbed him under his arms and pulled him back up, "I love you, Marian." I told him.

"I love you too, Brad." He said, running his fingers through my hair.

I reached into my pocket and slipped on my own ring, matching his and took his hand in mine.

He felt the cold metal against his fingers and looked down, "I was hoping you'd say yes." I told him with a grin.

Marian smiled at me, one of those smiles that tells me more than any words ever could that he loves me to death.

"I'm glad you asked." He grinned, kissing me again and again.

I took him by the hand and led him into our bedroom. Slowly, I laid him down on the bed, undressing him and myself as we went.

I laid myself on top of him and continued to kiss him slow and hard.

Soon we were both well on our way to being hard; grinding softly against each other. "You're so beautiful." I told him, kissing along his neck and rubbing his bare chest with my hands.

He shivered, "Brad... promise me..."

"What?" I asked, kissing at his open lips.

"Don't go back."

"Where, baby?" I was slightly confused, but watching him lay under me, eyes shut in pleasure as I moved my thigh against his erection until it was tight against his stomach.

"Canada."

The word came out more like a whimper, and I was suddenly afraid that under his closed eyes, tears were welling; even as he spread his legs for me to manuver in between.

I took his face in both of my hands and kissed him deeply, "Never."

"Promise." He panted, pulling me close by the neck.

"I promise, Marian. I won't leave you." He kissed me again and held me down to him, and I whispered against his lips, "Ever."

--New York, New York--
Barnaby's PoV

Darius and I are both enforcers. Maybe me a bit more than him. But we both are.

We're both tough, and love a good rough fight as much as a good rough fuck.

We got together when both of our roommates were sick on a road trip.

We were paired together and ended up fighting with each other almost then entire night because we had lost the game, and various fights therein.

It finally got to the point where I turned on the light and told him to either get up and hit me, or fucking shut up.

My heart skipped a beat when he actually did stand up. I stood as well, but he pushed me back down onto the bed.

Before I even had a chance to get up, he was on me, mauling my mouth with his own. It didn't take long before we were fucking like crazy on my bed that night.

And it didn't take us long after that road trip to get together.

So here, a year later, I'm sitting on the edge of our bed, watching him pack.

"You don't have to do this." I tell him again, even though I know it's in vain and will probably cause us to fight again.

Along with being tough on the enemy, we're tough on each other.

"Matthew," he begins in a stern tone and I can tell I'm in for a lecture.

He straightens up and tosses the clothes in his hand towards the bed, "I made a deal with Sweden and I can't go back on it now."

He signed to the first team that made him an offer, without even asking me if I was okay with it.

Probably because he knew I wouldn't be..

"Well you could have at least waited until January. I mean, at least until the season was called." I sighed.

I thought he'd be mad, but instead, when he walked over and kneeled down in front of me, his eyes were wet and his voice was soft.

"Matthew, I'm thirty-two years old. I can't afford to sit around and wait."

I placed my hand on his arm, "Yes you can, Darius. Look at Chris Chelios. He's over forty for God's sake."

I knew I was whining, but I didn't want to let him go. And before I knew it, a tear had slid down my cheek.

He reached up and wiped it away, "Matthew, you've made me so happy this past year, and there's no way I can ever repay you for that." He sensed what I was about to say and beat me to it, "And don't say I would repay you by staying, because you know I'd be unhappy without hockey in my life."

I hung my head, "I'll be unhappy without you in my life."

He was silent a moment before he leaned up and kissed me, "When they call the season, I want you to come to me in Sweden."

"But what if they don't?"

"Then I'll finish out the year and come home." He promised.

Another tear rolled from my eye, "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too. But it's not forever, Matthew, it's just a few months." He consoled me, kissing me again.

But how am I supposed to tell him that a few months without him is going to be like years to me.

I don't know how, but I've somehow, literally, fucked myself into a corner.

I love Darius. And it took me 'til just now to realize it.

--San Jose, California--
Thornton's PoV

I sat in front of my computer, eating potato chips and drinking more C2 and Bud Lite than should be legal.

And all because I was worried about Brad.

He was off in Chicago for the weekend, being taken care of by none other than Theo Fleury. Yes, the same Theo Fleury that was kicked out of a strip club early last year. The same Theo Fleury that has bounced in and out of alcohol rehab for the past few years. Yes indeed, the very same Theo Fleury that had been arrested not once but twice with posession of illegal substances.

Yes. That was the man I was entrusting the life of my four year boyfriend to.

Shit.

I cracked open another can of Bud and drank almost half of it in one go.

What was he doing there you may ask?

He's checking out a Chicago based AHL team.

Not that I have any problems with just letting him fly off across the country without me to stay with another guy to check out another team which he may very well sign to and leave me here all by my fucking self after four Goddamn years!

Okay, calm down there, Scott.

It was just a trip, and he'll be back early tomorrow.

You'll pick him up at the airport and tell you "I hated it! I'm never leaving you!" Then blow you on the drive home.

Yeah. My mind doesn't run away from me.

I clicked onto an NHL chat and just watched all of the fans ramble on about how much they hated Gary Bettman.

I sat pretty amused for a long time when my buddy list made the noise that signaled Brad had just signed on.

Before I could even IM him, he IMed me.

"Hey baby." It said.

I responded, "Hey, how's it looking out there? Ready to pack up and leave me yet?"

"Not likely. I missed you." He replied.

"I miss you too." I'm such a sap for Brad.

"Go outside." He told me.

"What for?"

"Just do it."

I shrugged to myself and pushed away from the computer, "All right, I'll be back in a second."

Even though I knew there was no way he'd know if I actually went outside or not, I couldn't lie to him. So, barefoot, I opened the front door and walked down the front steps.

I looked up at the sky, "Okay baby, I'm outside. What am I doing here?"

"I hope you're not being serious."

I jumped at the voice and spun to see Brad sitting on the hood of my car, grinning at me.

"Brad!" I cried, then covered my mouth. Our neighbors have two very small children who were likely to be asleep right now. I trotted over to him as he stood up and held his arms out to me.

I quickly filled them and he kissed me for a long moment.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming home early? I could have met you at the airport."

He was still holding me close, leaning back against my car. Kissing the tip of my nose, he sighed and looked at me, "I hated it."

If I hadn't been so releaved to hear those words, I would have laughed at the irony.

"You'll find another team." I said, one of my hands running down to grab his butt.

He grinned and kissed me again, "I don't want another team. I want what you want. What I should have wanted from the beginning." He could not be saying what I think he's saying. "I'm not signing anywhere. I'm gonna stay here with you and wait it out."

"Even when we're broke and have to teach little league?"

"Do they let queers teach little boys?" He asked as though he were really shocked and I swatted his ass.

"Fine, we'll teach girls. And yes, Scott. Even when we're broke." He kissed me. "I love you."

I grabbed his head and kissed him back, "I love you too. I just hope he doesn't change his mind when he gets inside and sees the letter from the WHL on the kitchen table addessed to him.

--Atlanta, Georgia--
Kovalchuk's PoV

I guess in some way, I've always loved Dany. Even before we became lovers.

I could go in to some long drawn out story about how after Dan was killed in that car accident, that Dany fell into a very severe depression. He drank, skipped games and practices, and even used for a short period of time.

After I caught him in our hotel bathroom, one night before a game, holding a bottle of Valum and a can of beer, he finally broke down and came clean about all he was feeling.

I took care of him, not because I felt sorry for him, or even because he was my teammate and best friend. But because I cared for him.

Much more than I should have.

I loved Dany.

And now, after months and months of therapy and tears, he's begun to build himself a great life.

Far away from his problems with his family in West Germany and the bad publicity behind him, that once threatened him with jail time for vehicular manslaughter; he was finally at a new crossroad in his life.

"Shit! Ilya!" He groaned as he came under me.

I stayed atop him for a moment, breathing heavily, before rolling onto my side.

Another new attribute of his personality is that he lets me know when I need to be more aware of him. More supportive. More dominant.

And I don't mean that entirely in a sexual manor.

I just know when I need to be taking care of him.

He curled against me and I wrapped my arms around him, kissing his forehead.

"That was great." He whispered.

I lay my head next to his on the pillow, "You are great."

He grinned and kissed my neck, one of his hands rubbing up and down my arm.

We lie there for a while, breathing calming back down from our passionate interlude.

I held him close to me, feeling his hand slide slowly over my heart, "Thank you Ilya." He whispered.

"For what?" I asked.

"You know."

Oh. That. "I couldn't leave you." I told him honestly.

It hadn't taken long after the lockout began for him to start showing signs of being depressed again. There was no way I could have left him.

Not for anything.

"I know what playing for your country would have meant to you." He said, leaning back slightly.

I shook my head, "I couldn't leave. Maybe, if the season is called, we can both sign to another team... but not yet."

He said nothing, but tucked his head under my chin.

Soon after, I felt a slow trickle of tears on my neck.

I just held him tightly and continued to rub his back. Kissing his forhead once more, I confirmed to him what I've been telling him for months now, "I need you, Dany. As much as you need me, I need you." He was silent. "When are you going to start believing that?"

--Boston, Massachusetts--
Boynton's PoV

"Joe, please." I asked as I followed him down the stairs.

"Nick, we've discussed this for weeks now. I have to go back to Nobleton for a month. I'll be back after I check out the team."

I continued to follow him as he strode through the kitchen, picking up random things that belonged to him.

"But what if you decide to sign?" I continued.

"Then I decide to sign." He turned to me and I stared.

"You're gonna leave me?"

He groaned, "Please Nick! Not this shit again!"

"What shit?!" I demanded, grabbing his arm and holding him in his spot.

"Us."

That threw me. "Us?" I asked quietly.

"Not that 'us'." He groaned.

"What the fuck are you talking about? What are you saying?" I demanded, willing the tears out of my eyes. Becuase there was no way in hell I was going to make myself any more vulnerable to him than I already had made myself out to be.

He rubbed his forehead for a moment before pulling out one of the bar stools and sitting down, "Nick. I love you. And you know that." He reached out and took hold of my hands, pulling me closer, "But we have got to think about our financial situation." I nodded, not looking at him. "We can't continue to live the way we do without working."

"I know." I said, my head dropping slighly.

Suddenly, I felt really weak. I staggered back a few steps before hitting the counter with my back.

"Shit!" Joe cried, jumping up, "When was the last time you tested yourself?"

His arms wound around me as I wobbled slightly, "A while."

"Fuck, Nick! What the hell?!" He demanded, yanking open one of the kitchen drawers and pulling out one of my insulin shots. As he prepared it, I pulled my shirt up slightly, exposing my stomach to him.

"Just hold on baby." He said, pinching the skin above my right hip and sticking the needle in.

I closed my eyes, I hated it when other people gave me my shots. They never did it in a way to make it not hurt.

He pulled the needle out and wrapped it up in the dishrag, before thowing it all in the garbage.

Hands held onto my cheeks, forcing me to look at him, "Baby, please watch yourself." He told me, his voice filled with concern.

I knocked his hands away and staggered away from the counter, "Don't tell me what to do."

There was a tense silence between us for a few moments before he spoke again, "Go upstairs and pack your shit."

I turned around, "What?"

"I want you to come with me." He said, offering me his hand. "Please."

"Becuase you don't think I can handle myself?" I snipped.

"No. That's not it." He licked his lower lip, "Because I want you with me."

My eyes started to mist as I reached back and tightened my fingers through his, "Are you sure?"

He nodded, a smile on his face; before pulling me in and kissing me chastely.

"Hurry. We've got traffic to beat."

I smiled back.

That was all I needed.

--Montreal, Canada--
Sundstrom's PoV

Have you ever had to do something you really didn't want to do?

I've had a few instances of this. But mostly as a child.

Not wanting to tell my mom that I had broken something, or having to tell my dad that I had slipped up and said a bad word. Even skating laps when I had been talking during practice.

Nothing like this though.

Nothing that was actually going to effect someone else's life.

Nothing that I knew, that when I said it, there was no going back.

And nothing, that could possibly break the person I love's heart.

I'd been offered and signed a deal with a Swedish team for the next season.

I'd have to move at the beginning for January to go to training camp, and then stay there for a year.

I'm very hesitant though. I love my home land. It's nothing like that, it's just... Theodore.

I sighed and my head dropped back against the headrest of the seat.

He reaches over and takes my hand, I squeeze it tightly, not bothering to open my eyes. Slowly, I bring his fingers to my lips and press a gentle kiss to the back of his hand.

"I love you, Teddy." I whisper.

He's smiling. I know he is.

He loves my nickname for him, even though the guys would crucify him should I ever say it in the locker room.

But who knows the next time we'll all be in there anyway?

Theodore is driving us to the airport. We're taking a trip to Quebec to see his family for a week.

"Thank you for coming with me." He says as we pull to a stop in the drive through at Tim Hortons for our daily coffee.

"You're welcome, baby." I say back. Opening my eyes, I see that he's grinning back at me. It only takes me a moment before I decide that I don't care who's looking, and I lean over and take his mouth with mine.

I'm sure the people in car behind us don't notice that we're the hockey players they see on TV most nights of the year, but that we're two men locking lips.

I open my eyes and look back. From what I can tell, they're gaping.

So I reach over and pull his mouth back to mine again, really kissing him this time. There's a lot of tongue and movement of our heads as he groans and holds my neck.

When I break away from him, I can see their eyes are wide. Even through the tinted windows of his Youkon.

We both laugh.

I'm going to miss moments like this when I'm gone.

We always do shit like this to screw with people. Our world, as advanced as it is, cannot handle seeing two men showing affection for one another.

So we do it a lot in public when we're sure people won't recognize us.

We turn back and pull up a little, the line is long. Again, I bring his hand to my mouth and deliver a small kiss to the smooth pale skin.

I was going to tell him about Sweden yesterday, before our trip. Then I was going to tell him this morning. But just seeing him so happy is ruining my plan to do so.

I know he won't be happy about it. How could he be? But it's going to hurt me too.

And I think to myself, maybe I'll just wait 'til we get back from seeing his parents.

Maybe I'll just keep us alive for one more week.

--Nashville, Tennesee--
Arkhipov's PoV

It took Marek and I about three seconds to decide that we couldn't live our lives without hockey.

It took us about three days to decide that we couldn't continue to live by our now-jobless means.

And it took us three months to decide that we could live without each other.

After almost three years together, we were deciding that we had to put our careers ahead of our personal happiness and go for what we needed to do.

Neither one of us is from this country, and we were not bombarded by teams begging us to play for them.

The only options that lay out there for us were beyond the borders of this country we now called ours, in our homelands.

Russia for me and the Republic for him.

I didn't want to leave and neither did he. We were safe here. We belonged here. And now we had to leave.

Mostly, though, I didn't want to leave him.

If there was one person in the entire NHL that I had bonded with more than anyone else, it was Marek.

He was, in three words, my soul mate.

I loved him so much, and it was breaking my heart to have to say goodbye. And I knew it wasn't any easier on him than it was proving to be for me.

We tried to avoid one another as we packed up our belongings, because every time we saw the other with a suitcase, we'd cry.

It wasn't easy for either of us to come to the conclusion that we had to leave each other. It wasn't my idea and it wasn't his idea. It was just something that we sort of knew had to be done. And without words, we knew.

Our plans were made without the other one having to see them. Because he knew before we did.

And our goodbyes were said with every touch we bestowed upon the other.

When we we done packing, we spent the last few days together. Never leaving the other's side, and always telling the other that we loved him.

And that's about where we are now.

I'm pressed against the wall of the shower, having kisses bestowed upon my face and worshipful touches placed upon my wet skin.

"I love you." He whispered, sliding his hand over my stomach and on down to where he could feel just how much I wanted him.

I groaned, "I love you too, Marek."

There was no need for us to talk about our departure in a few days, because it was all we could think about.

He brought me to release and I dropped to my knees to give him what he needed as well.

Hands gripped my hair and pulled me close.

And even as I tasted his pleasure, I cried. Because I knew there were only so many more times we'd be able to share these things with each other.

No, we weren't breaking up, and we were going to come back to Nashville the moment the lockout was over, but... we knew without having to say, that this, was the end.

If only for now.

It was the end.

--Ottawa, Canada--
Redden's PoV

I'm not even a year older than Chris Phillips, but I feel like I'm sixty years older than him.

He likes to play around and joke a lot more than I do.

He can run longer than I can, he can skate around the ice faster. Fuck, he can even go longer in the bed than I can.

He makes me feel old with all of the energy that radiates from him.

And the only thought I can think right now, is if only I had his energy right now, I might not be crying.

I sniff and run my hand up my face, clearing it momentarily from tears.

It takes seconds for it to be covered again.

I'm so glad that Chris is sleeping, because if he saw how agonized I am at his decision to sign with that CHL team in Alberta, he'd change his mind and not go.

I know it sounds shitty, but I don't want him to stay. I want him where he'll be happy. And without hockey, that will never be here.

Slowly, my feet swing back and forth in the air as I lean my head forward and press it to the bars in front of me.

We're at a hotel right now, close to our house. He brought me here yesterday, kind of as a goodbye present.

Chris is insistant that we stay together, that no distance should be able to break us up, but I know he's just living a pipe dream. He's moving across the country from me. He'll get lonely when our phone calls and e-mails are no longer enough for him.

He'll start to notice how cute his teammates are. There'll be drinks and Chris will fall into bed with one of them. Probably another defenseman. Someone a little shorter and a little older than he is.

That's how it's been since he started batting for the other team, and as we all know, history repeats itself.

I wipe at my eyes again, but it's no use. I can't stop crying.

"Chris," I whisper, my eyes shut, "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Wade."

The sudden voice from behind me scares me and I jump, turning around before I can clear my cheeks from tears.

His tired and contented face quickly changes to one of worry and fear.

He's at my side instantly, "Wade, what's wrong?" He asks, kneeling down next to me on the balcony.

I shake my head, "Nothing baby."

He frames my face with his hands, "What is it?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." I tell him, taking his hand in mine and kissing the back of it.

"Don't lie to me, Wade." His voice is tinged with anger.

I look up at him and pull him down by the back of the neck. We're silent for the few moments before I kiss him.

His arms wind around me and the kiss is instantly deepened. Our tongues slide over the others, and I try to memorize the way this feels. How he tastes, how he holds me... everything.

He breaks away to get a breath and runs his lips back over mine.

I kiss him softly for a few moments before pulling back a little and whispering against his lips, "I'm missing you already."

--Buffalo, New York--
Biron's PoV

If there's one thing I hate, it's feeling like I'm old.

I know, I know, I'm only twenty-seven years old. I'm in my hockey prime, and I'm doing very well for myself.

But there are those few times when I wake up in the morning and my back cracks when I sit up, or the occassional knee being sore... but it's to be expected, isn't it?

Being sore, I mean.

I stop pucks flying at me for a living.

I'm allowed to be sore.

At least that's what Alexei tells me.

Sometimes I think that maybe I'm with him because he's five years older than me.

But then I remember that that's bullshit and I'm with him because I love him and he makes me feel incredible.

Which is making the current situation all the more frustating.

"But where are you gonna stay?" I ask, following him around the kitchen.

Miroslav had gotten this great idea that a bunch of us should all go on a road trip to Boston to check out some WHL team, and I couldn't go because I had agreed to play in a charity golf event.

"Martin, will you please stop worrying?" He asked as he finally sat down.

I plopped down in the chair across from him, "I don't want you to go." I grumbled.

He laughed and took my hands, "I couldn't tell."

I tried to snatch my hands back, but he held on to them tightly, "Baby, this is why we don't do charity events." He was joking, but I didn't want to hear it. He sensed this and started lightly stroking the back of my hand, "Martin, please. It's only for two days. I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Is that what you'll be saying when you sign to this team and leave me here?"

He took on that, 'so that's what this is all about' look and sighed deeply.

"Marty, I will not sign to another team until we've talked about it. I'm not going up there with the intent of even really looking at it. I'm just going for Miroslav." He explained.

I still wasn't looking at him.

He stood up and walked around the table, kneeling in front of me, "Martin Biron." My full name got my attention, "I love you, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

His voice was soft and it warmed my heart.

A small smile worked it's way onto my lips. And he, grinning, leaned up and kissed me.

This is another reason I love him being older than me. That no matter how much taller I am than him, it's still okay for him to hold me, because I'm his baby.

I smiled into his neck and kissed his pulse, "I just don't want you to leave me, Alexei."

He rubbed my back slowly, "I'm not going to Martin. I'm not going anywhere unless you come with me."

I shut my eyes and prayed to God that he was telling me the truth.

--Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania--
Straka's PoV

Kris Beech is just like any normal man.

He like's beer, fast cars, video games, sports and porn.

The only difference between him and Joe Blow down the street is that he also likes dick.

Mine to be more specific.

He's twenty-three years old and hasn't had a lot of time to come to terms with his sexuality though. There are still times when I'll be touching him, or kissing him and he'll sort of freak out.

He'll tell me not to touch him, to get the fuck off, something like that.

And I don't really blame him. He's still just a baby, and I'm nine years older than him. I've had a lot more experience than he has. Not to mention, much more time to think about myself and my sexual prefrence.

I know he cares about me, but I'm not sure I've ever really believed him when he's told me he loves me.

Not that I don't want to.

Kris is everything I've ever wanted in a partner.

But I don't know if we'll last. Because somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm afraid that he's going to up and leave me, should he ever get too afraid.

I remember once, we screwed up royally. And our mistake led to an opposing team member finding out that we were lovers.

Even though the guy promised not to tell anyone, Kris freaked.

He wouldn't talk to me for weeks.

It was the worst month of my life, because I've known I was in love with him since I came to this team in '01. He, on the other hand, still needed to come to terms with the fact that we were sleeping with each other.

I tried not to think about it too much as I walked outside. It was freezing, the grass crisp from the frost last night.

Kris has been out in the back garage, working on his car since we fought late last night.

I sniffed slightly, becuase I knew this was probably the downfall of our relationship.

I had gotten an offer from a not-so-local AHL team in Phoenix.

Hockey has been my everything for forever, and I don't want to immagine my life without it. But on the same note, I don't want to immagine my life without Kris.

When I brought up the subject of going to Arizona to check it out, he flipped and told me to fuck off; before retreating to the garage for the rest of the night.

I stepped inside, it was really hot in the garage, so the side door was wide open. Seeing him stand there and wipe off his forehead with the back of his hand, and his bare chest... I just wanted to jump on him.

I grinned, "Hey." He jumped a bit, "Sorry." I appologized for scaring him.

He shrugged and picked some tool up. I'm not exactly a car expert, so I didn't have the slightest clue what he was doing.

I sauntered further in as he studdied the old car, twirling the silver metal in his hands. When I stood next to him, he looked down at me. I was a half a foot shorter than him, and I still found it hard to believe some times that we were together.

My hands found his and I turned him to face me, taking the tool from him and setting it down, "I won't go if you don't want me to." I told him.

He tried to shrug me off, "I don't care what you do."

I grabbed his shoulders and made him stand and face me, something I'd never done in the past.

"I hope you don't mean that." I whispered harshly.

A few moments of silence passed between us, with him staring in my eyes, searching for something. And all of a sudden, I felt his hands on my elbows, pulling me closer to him. His arms wound around me, and I closed my eyes, resting my head on his chest.

His cheek was pressed to the top of my head, "Just ask me, Kris. Tell me you don't want me to go. Show me you care about me."

I could feel him shaking slightly. It was time for him to deal with who he was, if he didn't want to lose me.

And I meant it. If he would only say the words, I'd never leave his side.

The silence was thick between us, and just as I thought my hoping and praying for him to realize that he really did care about me was in vain, I heard him whisper.

"Please don't leave me."

--Raleigh, North Carolina--
Francis' PoV

There's nothing like being forty-one years old. Except maybe being fifty-one.

And I'm not quite there yet.

People may say that I'm past my prime, but we all know that's bullshit.

I'm the Captain of my team, and I'm damn deserving, if I do say so myself.

But sometimes, I can't help but feeling a little old. I don't have the energy of my years past all the time, and I find it harder and harder to do the things I used to.

I'm feeling a lot like that right now.

I know that I was the one who pushed Rod to move on, to sign with the WHL.

To leave me behind.

I bit my lip. It had been a mistake to my heart to tell Rod that it was okay with me if he left. And while I really did want him to make the most of his career while he had the chance, I didn't want to be alone again.

The past four years with him have been great, and I don't want to start looking for a new soul mate.

I had life by the ass up until I confirmed his leaving.

Oh yeah, we'd done the whole, "No matter where I am, I'll still love you" and "This is not the end of us" thing. But I don't think he really believes it.

I know I don't.

I sighed and covered my face with my hand, trying not to cry.

I'm a grown man and I still let boyfriend troubles make me tear up.

And of course, this is the moment he chooses to walk into the room.

He's a big guy, and it amazes me how quiet he can be.

But I know him, I can feel him wherever he is and I know what it feels like when he enters a room.

"Ron?" He asks.

I wipe my eyes angrily and look over at him, "Yeah, babe?"

Nothing like a thirty-four year old boyfriend to make me feel young again.

He walks over to me slowly, examining my face. He takes notice of the flush I feel high on my cheekbones, and knows instantly that I was trying not to cry.

Without a word, Rod lowers himself onto my lap and wraps his arms around me.

I fold him in my embrace and kiss his neck while rubbing his back.

"I don't have to go right now..." He started. But I didn't want to hear it.

"I want you to go." I pulled back and tucked a strand of his ever-growing hair behind his ear, "Becuase I know it's gonna make you happy to be on the ice again."

He sighed and took my hand in his, "I can't be happy without you, Ron."

My eyes welled with tears and I looked away to keep them from falling. A mouth sealed over mine and I was forced to turn my head back to him.

I cupped the back of his neck and held his face close to mine as I spoke to him, "You can be happy. And you will be. I want you to be."

I tucked that strand of hair behind his ear again, "I love you Ron." He told me, sincerely.

Slowly, I kissed him again, as if it were our last one ever, "I love you too, Rod."

--Los Angeles, California--
Frolov's PoV

Who would have ever thought that at the age of twenty-two I'd have been working full time for four years at hundreds of thousands of dollars pay, doing what I had wanted to do since before I even knew what a job was?

Not me.

Who would have thought that at the age of twenty-two, a few months later, that I'd be jobless?

Certainly not me.

Everything was perfect. I had my dream job, I was getting massive amounts of money, I was living in a great country and I'd had a steady boyfriend for just short of four years.

Now it was all over and I was fucking fucked.

I didn't want to go back to Moscow.

More than anything, I didn't want to go back to the country from which I had come.

Not that it was that bad in Russia, but America had a lot of things that I loved.

Freedom, my job, the option of doing whatever the hell I felt like. And most importantly, it had Mattais Norstrom.

I sighed again for probably the eighty-forth time since I had woken up today, just thinking about it.

Suddenly, arms wound around my waist, causing me to jump, "Morning sunshine."

"Hey baby, you scared me." I told him, rubbing his chilly arms with my hands. He mumbled a 'sorry' against my neck. "Why are you so cold?" I asked, still rubbing his arms.

"It's kinda cold outside." He shrugged, "Went for a jog."

I nodded, not really listening, just enjoying the feel of him holding me.

"Mattais?" I asked quietly.

"Hmm?" He murmured into my hair.

I didn't really want to ask, but I knew I had to. Even if this wasn't the best time.

"Are you going back to Sweden?"

He had been rocking me slightly back and forth, and that movement was brought to a hault.

Obviously he didn't want to think about it either.

There was silence for a long time, and I wasn't sure wether to pretend I hadn't said anything or to press the issue.

Thankfully, he spoke.

"Yes."

I think my heart stopped.

My throat was suddenly dry as hell. I forced myself to swallow and my heart to beat again.

"When?"

My question came out as nothing more than a squeak.

"Alexander." He said, turning me around and forcing me to look at him; my eyes filled with tears, "I don't want to go back to Sweden."

I nodded, trying to cut him off, because I wasn't sure if I could handle what he was going to say.

"Listen to me baby. The only way that I will go back," He waited until I met his gaze, "Is if you come with me."

I think my heart stopped again. "You want me to go with you?"

He nodded, pulling me against him, "I want you to. I want us to be together." I clutched his shirt, holding him tightly and trying not to cry, "I want us to get married."

My eyes widened, and I instanly pulled back. The tears I was holding back rolled down my cheeks, "I love you." I told him, my voice cracking.

"I love you too, Alex."

--Meadowlands, New Jersey--
Stevens' PoV

It's hard to believe that it's already snowing.

It seems like just last week I was laying out by my pool.

Sighing, I turn and stare out the window of the resturant I'm in. It's our sixth year anniversary, and he's late.

Leave it to Marty to screw tonight up.

Okay, that's not really fair. I've been quite hostile towards him ever since he signed that fucking contract with the CHL.

He shouldn't be leaving me or New Jersey.

And I can't believe that he is willingly giving it up. And giving me up.

We have it made here, but I guess he just can't live another damn day without hockey.

I sigh again, looking out into the snow filled night.

Five more minutes and I'm leaving.

Just as this thought crosses my mind, Martin slides into the booth, covered in snow.

I lean back in the booth and look at him.

"I'm sorry." He says when he notices that I'm pissed.

"Forty-five minutes." I state.

He tries to take my hand but I pull it away and fold my arms over my chest.

"I'm sorry, Scott. My dad called."

"Whatever." I said, waving him off.

"Baby..." He started, but was forced to stop as our waitress approached.

The resturant was pretty much vacant where we were seated, which was what I requested. I wanted us to have a peaceful evening together. But he had other plans, evidently.

I went ahead and ordered and Marty quickly made a selection, leaving us alone again.

Before I could fold my arms again, he took my hand in his cold on, "I'm sorry, Scott. Please don't be pissed."

"Marty," I sighed, "We only have a month left together, then you're leaving forever. Don't you think when we have plans you should honor them?"

"I said I was sorry, and it's not for forever."

I rolled my eyes and he squeezed my fingers, "Please, Scott. Don't you trust me?"

"What? To come back? After you've gotten your taste of Canadian hockey again?" I scoffed.

He looked hurt when I made that remark. Which was my intent a second ago, but now it didn't seem like such a good idea.

I slowly laced our fingers together, and pressed my forehead to my other palm. "I just don't want to lose you, Martin." I said quietly.

He stared across at me for a moment before standing up and coming around to sit next to me. A quick once over of the room showed him that no one could see us. So his arm went around my shoulders, holding me to him while his other hand turned my chin to face him.

"Scott, I love you." He whispered, fingers playing with the dark strands of my hair, "Nothing is going to change that. I told you that I was only going for the end half of their season, then I'm coming back."

My eyes were kind of swelling up with tears, but I bit them back.

"I'm coming back to you." He whispered before pulling me in by the back of my neck and pressing his lips over mine.

Closing my eyes, I let my hand rest on his shoulder. I love you too, Martin. More than you could ever immagine.

--Miami, Flordia--
Cullen's PoV

Six months.

That's how long, Viktor and I have been together.

It seems like it was just the other day that I was a hesitant virgin in his arms as he touched me for the first time.

We had been dating for a week and he hadn't even laid a finger on me. Which was probably good, since I had never been with a man in any way at all before this. He took it slow with me and dated me every night that week, easing himself into my life.

It was on the seventh night, when we were sitting on his couch, that his arm came around me and pulled me closer to him.

I don't mean that he hadn't touched me at all. We held hands, he hugged me, held on to me and he's kissed my cheek a few times. But he's never touched me in the sexual sense.

I just wasn't ready for that.

But in that moment, sitting there with him, watching some movie that I can't even recall anymore. Even though I remember everything about him.

The way his eyes looked as I placed my hand on his jaw.

The feel of his hands low on my back as I moved closer to him.

The movement of his chest as his breathing picked up when he realized that I was going to kiss him.

It took me a minute. I paused, hesitated, almost stopped.

But I finally just let my eyes slip shut and pressed my mouth to his.

That's what started it all.

It took almost a month for me to feel comfortable enough to get into bed with him. But it turned out to be the perfect choice.

Viktor was the one for me, and I knew that he loved me.

I slide my fingers through his as I think about that night. The night when I gave myself to another guy for the first time.

We're lounging in his hot tub as the sky turns from blue to black above us.

He smiles as he leans over and kisses me.

And I can't help but wonder how much longer the two of us are going to be able to share moments like this.

I've never loved anyone like I love Viktor, and even though it scares me sometimes, I know that my life without him would be absolute hell.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" He asked, his Russian accent thicker than usual.

I looked over at him and forced a smile, "Just how much I love you, dear." I said, kissing him again.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me onto his lap, kissing me soundly and deeply.

My hand came up and held the back of his neck.

I don't know how much longer the two of us can ignore the fact that we're now jobless and don't have much hope of finding a team to sign the both of us.

So far, we're doing a damn good job.

But I also know that even though you ignore something, doesn't make it not true.

And it doesn't stop reality from happening.

--Long Island, New York--
Yashin's PoV

I awoke in the mid-morning to the sounds of silence.

There was nothing going on in the house.

And everything outside was silent as well.

My head was turned to the right, and I opened my eyes to see the light of the new day seeping into the windows.

Without even realizing it, I started rubbing the back of the person on top of me.

It took me a while to realize that someone was actually there.

I started a bit and he groaned, snuggling down further under the covers.

Mark, my baby.

I forgot that as of last night, he was moving in with me.

I smiled and wrapped him up in my arms, just listening to him breathe against me, and feeling his heart beat against mine.

After a while, he began moving around, "Alexi?" He whispered.

"Yeah?" I asked quietly.

He just shook his head and tightened his grip on me, placing a kiss on my chest.

We didn't move, even though we were both wide awake now. Together we stared out the window into the dull brightness of this November morning. This morning that was our first of, hopefully, many more together.

Finally, he lifted his head and kissed me.

My fingers slid through his blonde locks, holding the back of his head.

"I love you." He whispered against my lips.

"I love you too." I told him, closing my eyes and kissing him again.

He rolled off of my body, pulling me over on top of him. He always tells me how much he likes feeling my weight against him.

Little does he know that I like the feeling that I'm a bit stronger than him. I like being the one to protect him.

He gives me purpose in life.

He gives me the love I crave and I return it with all that I have.

"I love you so much." I whispered again, kissing along his jaw, letting my hands roam over his warm body.

"Love you too.." He said, running his hands up and down my back.

Both of us had made the decision, back in August, that no matter what the outcome of the CBA negotiations, that we weren't going to leave New York, and more importantly, each other, for the first year.

We were going to stay here, lockout or not, no matter what.

Because he told me he couldn't bear to be without me.

And little did he know, I couldn't bear to be without him.