_______

Jiri's PoV

I don't understand Chris. One minute we're so much in love that everyone around us is prepared to be violently ill, and the next, we're not speaking.

I just don't get that man. He acts like I'm nothing more than a child when we're in the locker room. He'll shun me and turn me down in front of our teammates, just to keep up his bad-ass image. And it hurts.

On nights like that, I often end up in bed with Homer. He understands me. He knows what I like. He listens to me. He cares about me.

Tomas never seems surprised when I show up at his house. He knows from the look on my face, or my slumping shoulders that I need to be with him. And he never questions me about it. He just takes me to bed and shows me that he cares about the constant ache in my heart.

I feel bad when I get up from his bed and go back to Chris. I have to be hurting him one way or another. But the thing is, I don't love Tomas. I love Chris.

Being with Homer is an act of friendship. Not love. I hope he knows that, because I would hate to hurt him like Chris is hurting me.

But he never complains when I leave. I lean over and kiss him softly. Sometimes I say goodnight, others I don't. Then I dress in silence and leave. Chris never questions me when I get back to his house. After all, we've never really talked about what is going on between us. We've never decided to be exclusive. And I don't think he's with just me. Why would he? After all, why should he care how much it would hurt me to know that he beds down with someone else?

And that's where I stand at the moment. I've been fighting with Chris and Tomas has just rolled off of me. Both of us are panting heavily, and I kick what remains of the covers off my legs. I want some space, and I should probably go home; but I know Chris won't be there. He's out getting his dick sucked by some puck bunny, or drinking himself stupid. Just like he always does when we fight.

That's the difference between the two of us. I want to talk about our problems and he wants to numb them with alcohol.

I roll onto my side, so that my back is presented to Homer. He knows how angry I am. He always does. And suddenly, he's pressed against my back; arms wrapped around me and kissing my shoulder.

I close my eyes. Chris never holds me. And I'm not sure I want him to. It just wouldn't be him to do something like that. Tears begin to well under my eyelids. Tomas deserves better than this. He deserves someone who will love him. Not me who just takes company in his bed.

"I didn't hurt you did I?" He whispers in my ear. I shake my head, "Then why are you crying?"

I swallow the lump that has formed in my throat. "We shouldn't do this anymore." I tell him.

There is silence for a long time and I'm afraid that I may have insulted or offended him. I turn in his grasp, so that we're facing each other. I expect anger or rejection, but neither comes. Just a gentle hand on the side of my face, brushing the sweaty curls of hair out of my eyes, "Why?" He asks softly.

"I just don't want to hurt you." Tears begin running down my cheeks, and I'm overcome with embarrassment.

He smiles, "You won't hurt me. I don't know what our relationship qualifies as, besides fucked up, but I do know that I care about you. This isn't anything. Just us being friends."

I close my eyes again. I'll never understand how he can know me so well. Lips are pressed to mine and I curl into him.

Time seems to fly, and before I know it, it's three am. I should go. I know I should.

But I don't.

_________

Chris' PoV

Jiri get's upset over the smallest things. He's such a girl sometimes. Why doesn't he see our relationship for what it is? Nothing. We're two guys who share a bed. We're not lesbians. There shouldn't be any of this fucking drama between the two of us.

We fuck, and that should be it.

But no. He insists on cuddling with me. Having me hold him. Talk to him about our problems. And, can I even say it, love each other? Well, I don't Jiri. At least not like you do.

I care about him. That's a given. He's a good guy. He's there if I need something. He's kind hearted and funny. I love to take him to bed, and I don't mind sharing a house with him. But for the indifference of fucking humanity, I don't love him.

He gets that somewhere else. With one of our teammates no less. I see how Tomas looks at him; so I have no doubt that it's him. But I don't care. Jiri and I are not a couple, so why should it matter to me where he beds down? As long as he comes back, that's all that I care about.

I'll tell you what I don't care for though, is when he crawls into bed next to me, reeking of sex.

It would be common courtesy to take a shower, but sometimes he doesn't. Like he wants me to know that he's just been fucked.

Which makes my blood boil.

The only time I want to see his cheeks flushed with arousal, or his brow sweaty from something other than skating practice, is when he is laying underneath me.

I just want to roll over and yell at him. But I don't. After all, I sometimes forgo the shower when I come home, just for that reason. To piss him off.

Brett gives me quite the workout, and Jiri deserves to know that he isn't the only one who can make me come. And more importantly that he is replaceable.

So why haven't I replaced Jiri with Brett? I don't know. Maybe because Brett is so much like me. He doesn't want to hold me or be held. He doesn't look sad when I get up from his bed to go home. And he doesn't look at me with those lost eyes when I leave.

He doesn't want me.

Well, he does want me, but only in the physical sense. He doesn't act like he loves me. Jiri does.

The thought of settling down, or being with just Jiri makes me run back to bed with Brett. I don't want to be like Hank and Pavs. Only with each other. Holding hands when they think no one is watching. Always so fucking happy and never with anyone else.

But I don't love him, so why does it matter?

We've been fighting again. And he left home a few hours ago. To spend some quality time with his legs wrapped around Homer's waist, no doubt. And I got home from Brett's about two hours ago.

I've showered tonight. Maybe I'm hoping for us to make up. Or more importantly, for us to have make up sex. I've learned that he won't come near me if I smell like Brett. So whenever I want to get laid, I shower his scent away from me.

But he doesn't come home. Two am comes. Three. Four. And finally, at five, I close my eyes.

Where the hell is he? He always comes home. He wouldn't stay the night with Homer.

Would he?

Would he do that to me? Leave me alone in our bed, while he gets his brains fucked out by Tomas?

The thought of Jiri being, not fucked by me, but being made love to by someone else pisses me off to no end. Being held afterwards. Kissing someone other than me. Looking up at someone else and smiling with those beautiful eyes...

And suddenly I'm so angry at Homer I could rip his head off.

Jiri had better be here when I wake up, or so help me God, Tomas is going to be sorry the next time I see him.

________

Jiri's PoV

I'm so comfortable right now. I don't remember the last time, or if I ever have, awoken in Chris' arms. Without opening my eyes, I curl into him; breathing deeply from where my nose is burried in his neck. He's warm and his scent reminds me of being outdoors after it has just rained.

And that's when it hits me. Chris doesn't smell like this. My eyes fly open and I tug my head back.

Tomas.

Oh shit. I lean up over him to look at the clock. It's ten am. I spent the night with him. I didn't go home.

I panic. With a quick jerk of my body, I'm out of Tomas' arms and sitting up; searching for my clothes.

He jolts awake and sits up with a started expression in his eyes, "Jiri, what's wrong?"

I tug my pants on and look around for my shirt. "Nothing. I have to go."

He tosses the covers back and stands up, pulling on his boxers, "Why?"

I chance a look back at him. This is the first time I've ever stayed the night. I hope he doesn't read more into it than... oh God, I can't even go there now. I have to get home before Chris freaks out.

I'm in so much trouble.

Hastily I pull my shirt over my head and make my way to the door. Without even looking back, I hurry through the hallway and down the stairs.

I know Tomas is following me. And I feel like shit for just running away, but I have to get home. There is a lot of damage control to do with Chris before I can deal with Tomas.

I unlock his front door and begin to pull it open when a hand from behind me shoves it closed again.

__________

Tomas' PoV

I can't believe this. He's running out on me.

This is the first time he hasn't left right after we were done to go home to Chris, and I don't understand what his hurry is. I chase him down the stairs and catch him at the door. Just as he opens it, I slam it back shut.

Grabbing his shoulders, I spin him around and press him against the door.

He can't do this to me. He's been fucking with my emotions and my mind for months now and I'm sick of it. I want to know where I stand and what the deal is with us. Are we an item? Am I just his lover? What?

And suddenly, I'm so pissed I could hit him.

Instead, I crush his mouth with mine.

He stills against me, but I don't stop. I'm sick and tired of him jerking me around, and I'm not going to take it anymore. I press him harder against the door, gripping his shoulders so hard, I'll probably have bruised them.

But I don't care. He moans and finally returns the kiss.

His hands are on me and I wrap my arms around him. The need to touch him overwhelms me. And before I know it, I'm pulling his shirt over his head and his pants are pooled around his ankles.

Hands slide into my boxers and push them off my hips. Jiri kicks his jeans away and his legs curl around my waist.

I guess he won't be leaving after all.

________

Chris' PoV

When I woke up this morning, and Jiri still wasn't back, I felt a sudden urge of panic. What if something was wrong with him? What if he was in an accident or something? What if he was hurt? Or dead?

That thought sent me jumping out of bed and throwing my clothes on.

I don't love him, but I do care about him. But I'm also not an idiot. Before searching the morgues, I headed over to Homer's house to see if his car is there. As I turned the corner, I wasn't surprised, but somehow relieved that his Explorer was parked in the driveway.

I almost stopped, but that thought was quickly driven from my mind as I realized that Jiri had not come home to me last night. But had, in fact, stayed with Homer, all night.

And that's how I find myself here. Staring up at the ceiling of Brett Hull's bedroom.

I was so pissed off at Jiri and Tomas, that I knew if I had pulled into Homer's driveway, that I would have killed them both.

My anger was taken out on my teammate. I threw him down on the bed and took him more roughly than I ever had before. So hard that he had moaned in pain and asked me to ease up.

That's never happened before. And I felt like a jerk for taking my aggression out on him, and I find it hard to look at him. But I turn and force myself to.

I place my hand on his arm and he looks at me; face still flushed, "Are you okay?" I ask. He nods, but I don't believe him. And as much as I don't want to say this, I know I should. So I will, "I'm sorry if I hurt you."

He shakes his head, "Don't worry about it."

And with a last look at me, he rolls onto his side. My cue to get lost.

I dress in silence and head for home.

Normally when I leave from having sex with Brett, I'm driving fast and blaring music. But not now. I'm once again pissed off at Jiri. I could kill Homer. And I'm fucking mad at myself for feeling bad about hurting Brett. What the hell is wrong with me?

I can't clear my head and it's driving me insane.

For the first time in months, I feel genuinely bad about what I've done to someone else.

All I know for sure, is that Jiri has a lot of explaining to do. And he doesn't have a lot of time to convince me not to hurt him.

I just hope he knows that.

_______

Jiri's PoV

Oh God! I bite down on Tomas' shoulder to keep from crying out. My legs are wrapped around his waist, and he's still thrusting inside me. It's hard. Much harder than ever before. And he's so deep that it should feel wrong. But it doesn't. If anything I want him deeper.

A loud groan is torn from my throat as he brushes my sweet spot. I arch against him and he pushes me back against the door. I drop one of my feet to the ground, attempting to aid our balance; but I doubt I'm doing any good.

I'm trapped in a world that has only me and Tomas.

And I never want to leave.

________

Chris' PoV

I'm so fucking pissed right now, I can barely see straight.

Jiri has stayed all night with that Swedish fucker, and left me by myself.

I'm going to kill him. Tomas, that is. Not Jiri.

I'm sitting on the couch, just staring at the wall, trying to regain my composure as he walks in the door, at around one am. He freezes. I can tell, even though I'm not looking at him. My hands clench into fists, and I want to hurt him.

But I don't.

I don't react at all as he shuts the door behind him and takes a few tenitive steps towards me, "Hey." He says quietly.

"Hey." I repeat.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him set his bag down. I've been preparing myself for this moment for hours. I'm ready with a thousand different arguing points. I'm ready to yell and scream my head off.

But the moment I make eye contact with him, I forget it all.

I know that very second that we look at each other, that I won't say a word about it today.

The moment seems to be too intense for him and his guilty conscience, and he drops his gaze. "I'm gonna take a shower." He says, moving quickly.

He's not getting off that easy. I stand and step in front of him, blocking his access to the stairs. Standing so close to him, the smell of sex is just pouring off of him, and I know that he has gotten laid mere minutes ago.

And I'll be damned if I don't smell the remnants of Tomas' cologne on him.

I look him up and down and he shifts uncomfortably under my intense inspection of him. He rubs at the base of his neck, and I grab his hand. Stupid boy. He should learn that movement like that gives away that something is out of the ordinary.

Pulling his shaking hand from his neck, I tug the throat of his shirt down. My eyes are met with a sizeable hickey. It's still bright blue, meaning the blood has only recently been brought to the surface.

This is a fresh hickey.

My eyes pierce through his and his go wide.

But still. I say nothing. I give a slight shake of my head and tighten my grip on his wrist.

I know he's afraid, and I just can't help it. I can't let him get away with making me worry about him.

With a quick motion, I pull him hard against me; our mouths clashing together. He moans and wraps his arms around me. I want to bite his tongue right off as it invades my mouth. Because with it, comes the un-welcomed taste of Tomas Holmstrom.

After a few moments, when his hands start to go for my clothes, I shove him, roughly, away from me; still holding his wrist. "Take a shower." I say quietly. His eyes go wide, "You fucking stink."

I release his hand as if it is burning me. With a look of disdain, I turn on my heel. Once up the stairs, I lock him out of our bed room.

__________

Tomas' PoV

After Jiri left this morning, I went back to bed.

Yeah, I know I had only said the night before that I was okay with just being his fuck buddy. But waking up with him in my arms, has somehow changed everything.

I never drempt that just holding someone so close to me all night would change how I feel about them. I stayed up late last night; listening to Jiri breathe, and just holding him. In that moment, I realized that nothing would ever be the same between us.

I want him.

More than just his body. I want his heart and soul. I want his devotion, his time, and more importantly, his love.

But I'll probably never have that, because that un-deserving asshole, Chris already stakes his claim in it.

When I started bedding down with Jiri, it was because I felt bad for him, and didn't know how to comfort him in any other way. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't pity fucking. Far from it. It was just me helping him out as a friend.

It was me taking care of him.

But not any more. Now, it feels like so much more. Sure, he freaked this morning, but he did end up staying after that. Doesn't that mean something?

I don't know. I'm suddenly very confused and kind of scared.

I'm not sure what to do, because I think I'm falling for my teammate's lover.

________

Brett's PoV

Am I surprised that Chris showed up at my house tonight? No. What surprised me is what I see standing before me.

It's been raining, and it looks like he's been taking a swim. His hair is matted to his head, hanging down in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed; his eyes are red and have that puffy look to them that says he must have been crying.

He doesn't speak, just stands there in silence.

I take his hand and pull him inside. He's kind of scaring me.

"Chris, what's wrong?" I ask, sliding his soaked coat from his shoulders, and tossing it to the floor by the door. He doesn't answer me. Okay, now I am worried. "Come on." I say, "Take off your shoes."

He does without a sound, and I take hold of his hand, leading him upstairs. He needs to get out of his wet clothes or he's going to get one hell of a cold. Who knows how long he was out in the rain before he came to my house?

He stands in my bedroom as I turn on the shower, making sure the water will be comfortable.

I return to find him with his shirt off, sitting on the edge of my bed. On my way over to him, I pick it up from its spot on the floor and toss it into the hallway. Looks like I'm playing mommy tonight. Laundry and bathing. Lucky me.

"Come on, Chris." I say to him. He doesn't respond, just sits there. I don't know what the hell is wrong with him. And it's doing little to comfort me that he won't talk. With a sigh, I kneel before him and unbutton his khaki's.

As I tug them down his legs, his eyes return to life. I pull them off his feet, and before I register what's happening, he's in my lap. His mouth covers mine and he kisses me with a hunger that is frightening to say the least.

I wrap an arm around him, and use the other to balance us. His tongue is in my mouth and his hands are unbuttoning my shirt.

I almost go along with it. Lord knows I want to. But when I feel something wet on my cheek, I pull away from him.

He's crying.

What the hell has Jiri done to make him this upset?

He leans forward to kiss me again, but I stop him. He's not thinking right, and I don't know what's going on. "Chris, get up." I say, my voice a lot more hoarse than I thought it should be from just one kiss.

He looks at me, like he doesn't understand a word I just said. I take hold of his hips and push him back. He stands up on his own and I climb to my feet as well.

I look at him, he's taller than me. I've always liked that. I wonder if he does. Or if he likes having his partners be taller than him. We've never talked about his relationship with Jiri, so I wouldn't know.

We started sleeping together, soon after he and Jiri did. I'd never seen Chris so upset or pissed off than the night he came to my house for the first time. I still don't have any idea why he did. Or why I did, for that matter. But I do know that I'd do it all over again in a heart beat.

I don't love Chris. But I do care about him, and his behavior has always worried me. Why, if he loves Jiri, like I know he does, does he always come back to me. And in that moment, I can't help but wonder if he cares about me a little more than he thinks.

Quickly, I remove that thought from my mind. I'm here to help him. Not worsen his situation. Being with Chris helps me ease my own pain as well. Being without Mike has been hard enough these past two years; and having someone else who is suffering just like I am, is a great comfort.

The thing about us is, there isn't anything there. We're friends. I don't want him like that. My love is back in Dallas. God only knows where Chris' love is.

I shrug off my shirt, and take off my belt. He looks at me. Such sad eyes.

Taking his hand, I pull him into the bathroom, and remove the rest of our clothes. I don't want him to be alone right now. Even if it is just a shower. He steps in and I follow him.

Before I even know what's going on, his arms are wrapped around me, and he's kissing me again. As much as I should pull away, I don't. I let him push me up against the wall of the shower, and I let him drown his pain.

________

Chris' PoV

Hours after our shower, we lay together in his bed. But for the first time, I let him hold me. I'm in so much pain and full of so much anger over Jiri, that I wanted nothing more than to be with someone. Or to feel loved. I've never had that need before, so how the hell am I supposed to know what it feels like?

He kisses my neck, "Talk to me, Chris." He whispers.

We've never just talked before. And I don't know if I want to. If I'm going to talk to anyone, it should probably be Jiri.

But Jiri isn't here right now, is he? He's probably having his brains fucked out by Tomas. So, with a sigh, I relent. "He's with Homer." I say.

I don't mean 'at the moment'. I mean, he's been with Tomas, almost as long as I've been sharing a bed with Brett. And he knows it. He always seems to understand me without me having to understand myself.

After a few long moments of silence, he speaks. "You two really need to talk."

It's the first time he's ever given me any advice, and I know, immediately, that's he's right.

_______

Jiri's PoV

Yes, I went to Tomas' house tonight. And yes, I had the intention of having him fuck me. But when I got there, I just couldn't. I wanted to.

At least I thought I did. But not any more. I don't want him.

I want Chris.

Even if he is fucking Brett at this very moment.

I broke down in tears and have spent the last few hours sobbing to Tomas about my relationship woes. I tell him how much I love Chris, I tell him how bad it hurts to know that he's been with Brett. I tell him everything.

And by the time I'm done, I don't feel much better. Just drained and dehydrated.

What am I going to do?

_________

Tomas' PoV

Well shit. There goes everything I've been hoping for. Sure, I only realized that I have the hots for Jiri a few hours ago, but damn. This put the damper on everything.

Jiri wants Chris and I'll never have him in more than a physical sense.

I let him cry, and even held him while he did so. But all the while, I can't help but be upset. I want Jiri for myself. And who has him? Some stupid jerk who doesn't even realize what he has.

This fucking sucks.

________

Chris' PoV

I left Brett's house early this morning, with the intention of talking to Jiri.

I needed to. And I wanted to.

But, of course, when I got back home, he wasn't there. I knew where he was though. Where else would he be?

Anger was once again pumping itself into my body as I drove to Tomas' house.

And even though I expected to see Jiri's car out front, the moment I saw it, I was filled with such a hatred for Tomas that it was frightening. He'd been fucking what was mine for months now, and I'll be damned if I was just going to sit around and let it happen any more.

I parked out in the street, and tried to compose myself. There was no need for me to kill him. I just needed to walk away from here with Swedish blood on my knuckles. Not a life sentence.

Stepping out of my car, I walked around, slowly, to the driveway.

The moment I caught sight of what was awaiting me, I froze in my tracks.

There, on the porch, were Tomas and Jiri. Kissing.

My eyes narrowed, and before I knew it, I had charged up the front walk, grabbed Tomas by the shirt and had him thrown onto the front lawn.

He cried out as he hit the ground. And in an instant, I was on him. I balled my hand and threw it as hard as I could, right into his face. It felt so good to hear the sickening crack of bone on bone.

And I smiled. It felt great to hit him.

Blood was rushing in my ears and I felt absolutely drunk. I couldn't register anything except Jiri screaming my name, and grabbing at my shoulders. But I didn't heed him. I shoved him off of me and tried to hit Tomas again; but my moment of distraction cost me.

He thrust his body up and tossed me off of him. And suddenly, he was on top of me. A fist crashed into my jaw, and another into my cheek. Fuck that hurt! But I was too stunned to even try to protect myself as he attempted to hit me again.

But a hand grabbed his. Using his force of motion, Jiri successfully pulled Tomas from on top of me. Both stumbled backwards, landing with a thump on the ground.

Had I not been so entirely blinded by my rage, I probably would have stopped. But I was and I didn't.

Forcing myself up, I lunged forward. But before I could finish my attack on him, someone else grabbed me; and suddenly, I was laying fully on top of Brett.

Everything seemed to speed back up from slow motion, and I lay panting on top of him. I could feel the wet stickiness of my own blood on my cheek, as I lifted myself off of Brett. I sat, drunkenly staring at him in disbelief.

After a few silent moments, he spoke, "I followed you." My eyes widened, "I figured this was going to happen." He sat up and looked to where Jiri had placed himself between his two lovers.

I followed his gaze, locking onto Jiri, "Is this it then?" I asked, wiping blood from my cheek, "You've always wanted me to act like a lover, and now I am." My voice was growing louder as my anger did, "It's either me or him, Jiri. You choose here, and now."

Jiri couldn't seem to comprehend what I was saying. And I knew why too. "How can you say that?" He asked, "How can you even dare to tell me to choose when you've been fucking Brett the whole time we've been together?!" Tears were burning at his eyes, and he fought not to release them, "You've been with him, longer than I've been with Tomas!" He cried.

I didn't know what to say to that.

As much as I didn't want to admit it, he was right. I was the one who left the night of our fight to take comfort in Brett's bed.

Jiri hadn't started sleeping with Tomas until weeks after I started fucking Brett.

But still, he was getting me off subject, I shook my head, "It's me or him Jiri."

Silence.

For almost a minute, there were no words spoken. Just the two of us searching one another's eyes for the truth. But I couldn't see it. Or he wouldn't let me.

And that's when I knew.

"Him." I said quietly. "You're picking him?"

Jiri's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak; but I didn't want to hear any of it. I stumbled to my feet and pointed at him, "I want your shit out of my house by tonight. And don't think for a moment that you can come back."

Without another look, I turned on my heel and hurried off to my car.

As I turned around the corner and away from Tomas' house, my tears overwhelmed me. Jiri had chosen Tomas. Not me. It was over.

And the realization fucking killed me.

_______

Brett's PoV

This had gone way too far. Jiri took off as soon as Chris did, leaving me with Tomas. Both of us sat, stunned on the grass. Yuck, I had forgotten that it had been raining. I was soaked and muddy. I looked over at him.

Avoiding my gaze, he pushed himself to his feet and extended his hand to me. I looked at it for a moment before grasping it. He pulled me up and we dropped our hold. I muttered a thanks and turned to go. I hadn't gotten more than two steps when he stopped me.

"Brett..." I stopped and turned my head, waiting for him to continue. "How long?" He asked.

Without him saying anything else, I knew exactly what he meant, "Before you and Jiri."

He nodded and looked down, seemingly deep in thought. I waited patiently, giving him the time he needed. But he looked up at me and shook his head, as if to say "never mind." So I flashed him a quick smile before walking off down the walkway.

But this couldn't be it. There was something nagging at me, and I wasn't sure what it was.

I turned back and he was still standing there. Arms folded protectively across his chest, biting his lower lip.

We needed to talk.

________

Jiri's PoV

I saw Chris drive away, and I wanted to go after him. To tell him that I hadn't chosen Tomas over him. That I wasn't sure who I was choosing.

But I knew I didn't. Partially because I was afraid of his temper. Would he hurt me if I chased him? I sure as hell hoped not, and I didn't think so. But I wasn't about to push it. So I got in my car and drove off.

I knew he wouldn't go back to his house. So I did.

After all, I had to get my stuff out by tonight.

And here I sit, on the bed we've been sharing. I look around the room. It's so like him. Deep colors, and reserved tones. It seemed quiet, but it was explosive with personality. Just like him.

Had I driven us to this? Was this my fault?

Yes.

Well, at least half of it was. He was just as guilty of cheating.

But what was there to cheat on? Chris and I had never established the boundries of our relationship. If you even want to call it that. We had never spoken about what we were, or what our encounters were.

Were we boyfriends? Not likely. Did he love me? Probably not.

Tears burned at my eyes as I moved throughout the house, collecting my things. I didn't have a whole lot of stuff over here, but it was enough to bring me back for a second trip. Mainly due to the hockey equipment I kept here.

Back at my house, I just kind of threw my stuff in the living room. I didn't want to deal with it right now, because I knew I would end up crying.

On my way back out the door, I spied one of Chris' hats. His favorite black one. There was an NHLPA logo on the front, but on the underside of the brim was a message written to him from Patrick Roy in silver Sharpie.

It was all in French, so I didn't know what the hell it said. But Chris told me they used to be lovers. It was only a fling, he said. But still, he kept the hat.

He'd only come to my house once or twice, so I knew that he had left it there during one of his brief stints here. And I kept it on the chair by my front door. I kept reminding myself to take it back to him, but I never did.

I don't know why. Maybe because it smelled like him. Maybe because I think he left it here on purpose; so I'd always have an excuse to see him. Who knows?

I stopped by the chair and hesitated. But finally I picked it up. Turning it lightly in my hands, almost as if I were afraid to damage it. Or damage Chris.

Bringing it close to my face, I closed my eyes and inhaled.

It reminds me of when I would stay the night at a friend's house. When I came home, my pillow would smell like their house. In a day or so, the scent would fade and it would return to a smell that I could no longer detect.

But that never happened with this hat. It'd been here going on five months now, and it still smelled like he just wore it over here.

His smell invaded my body as I breathed deep. Do you know how Chris smells?

Endless.

Breathing in Chris is like going to the ocean before anyone else is even awake, and watching the sun rise. The soft calls of the gulls, and the tiny waves falling to nothing on the damp sand. And you feel like you could just sit there on the undisturbed white sand and watch forever.

That's what he smells like.

Raw beauty.

Tears stream down my face and I quickly wipe them away.

Opening the front door, I tuck his hat under my arm. It's time to return it.

__________

Tomas' PoV

Brett and I spent quite a long time talking. And together, we had come to the same conclusion.

If we wanted Chris and Jiri to be happy, then we needed to back up.

They had to be with just each other if they wanted to have any sort of relationship. And who were we to deny them that? We were both just intruding, and as much as it hurt to comprehend, it was true.

If either of us stood a chance with them, they wouldn't keep returning to one another.

Chris and Jiri belonged together.

Now, if only they would realize that.

So, with a heavy heart, I agreed with Brett. He would no longer sleep with Chris.

And I would, in turn, let Jiri go.

_______

Chris' PoV

It wasn't until about ten o'clock at night that I finally got home. The sun had long since set, and I was sitting around in the dark, picking at the corner of my black leather chair. Jiri had come and gone. I could tell just by stepping into my house.

It seemed dead without him.

Even though it was just his stuff that was gone, it felt like more. Probably because when he took his things, he took everything away. Including him.

And now I was alone.

This sucks.

I continued to sit in my living room, watching out the sliding glass doors that lead to the backyard, as the stars began to pop up in the night sky. I always liked to watch this happen. It was comforting to me to see it.

Why?

Because it happened every night, no matter what. If we lost a game, the stars would come out anyway. If I was having a shitty day, the stars would still come out. If I was depressed or anything at all, I knew that I could look out the window at night as see those same stars.

Because it was a phenomena of nature, that I could depend on.

It felt like I was crying. But I didn't care. I brushed at my cheek, feeling the soft wetness of my own tears.

Bringing my hand to my face, I studied the small drop of water clinging to my finger. I haven't cried in a long time. Well, before today, that is. I hadn't cried since before Jiri and I got together.

After he came into my life, I just didn't have any reason to.

I dropped my hand as the front door opened. My first reaction was a little bit of fear, I was ready to jump up out of this chair and kick someone's ass. But he stepped through the door. Jiri.

He closed it quietly, and walked over to the coffee table a few feet away from me. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a folded slip of paper and set it down, along with the key I had given him to my house. And on top of that, he set a hat.

My hat.

The one that Patrick gave me. The same one that I left at his house almost five months ago. The hat that I left with him so I would always have an excuse to see him.

I wasn't moving, and he obviously hadn't seen me. The room was almost pitch black dark, so I really couldn't fault him on that. He stood, and just as I was about to let him walk out of my life forever, he sniffed.

I looked up at his face. Even in the extreme darkness of the room, I could see that his face was damp. Completely soaked by his tears.

And my heart broke.

He turned to go, and I called out to him, "Jiri."

He jumped, and spun back around, spying me in the chair.

He grabbed his heart, "Jesus, Chris! Don't do that!"

I couldn't help but grin.

After a moment, he calmed down, "What are you doing in the dark?" He asked.

I shrugged, "Thinking."

"What about?"

I looked down at my lap, not really believing that I was about to have this conversation, "Us."

Jiri was shocked, to say the least. "Us?" He questioned.

I nodded. Looking back up at him, I sighed. He was so damn beautiful. He must have seen what I wanted to say in my eyes, because he stepped around the table and sat on the couch. He was very close to me, and I could now see how tired he looked. As if he had been crying for hours.

"How did this happen to us..." I asked. Not really a question.

"I didn't know there was an 'us'." He whispered, looking down at his hands, which were folded in his lap.

There was a long silence before either of us spoke.

"Why did you start sleeping with Brett?" He asked in a quiet voice.

We still weren't looking at each other.

Well, if it was over, I didn't see any reason to lie, "I was angry. And a little scared."

"What were you scared of?" He asked, looking up at me.

I still refused to meet his gaze, "I'm not sure. Probably because you made me feel differently. You were always different than the other guys I'd been with." I shrugged, "You were the first person I wanted to be with again."

"Patrick." He said.

I shook my head, "It wasn't like that with us. He was using me the same way I'm using Brett. The same way you're using Tomas."

He looked away, "I don't love him Chris." He whispered.

"I know you don't." I told him.

"Do you love Brett?"

I could hear a slight fear in his voice. I shook my head again, "No."

"But you care about him."

"Of course I do." I said.

He glanced down at his hands, before he looked at me again, "More than me?"

I took a moment. Then I turned my head, looking right into his eyes. "No."

Again, his gaze returned to his hands, "Do you still care about me?" He asked, almost inaudibly.

I was silent once more; waiting for him to look at me before I spoke. Finally, he looked up at me, tears forming in his eyes, "Yes."

"I care about you too." He said.

Then I did something that I'll never be quite sure why I did. I reached over and took his hand. His eyes widened and he looked at where our fingers were now laced together.

"I'll stop sleeping with Tomas." He said suddenly; head snapping up, tears streaming down his cheeks.

His shoulders were shaking with suppressed sobs, and his bottom lip was quivering. He was silently begging me not to end our relationship. And the funny thing was, I was glad he didn't want it to end. Because I didn't either.

"Jiri..." I whispered. Our eyes met again, and I tugged on his arm.

Before I knew it, my arms were full of a crying Jiri. He was curled on my lap, arms around me as he sobbed into my neck.

And I smiled.

Gently, I wrapped my arms around him, rubbing his back. I gave him the time he needed to cry. And before long, his sobs had subsided, and he was left with a few rogue tears. I softly took his face in my hands and tilted it up.

Our eyes locked, "I'll stop sleeping with Brett." I whispered.

His eyes widened again, as tears filled them once more. A quick, grateful smile flashed across his face before I pressed my lips to his.

He melted into my arms, and I held him.

It was so good to have him back. He was mine, and I was willing to try to make our relationship work. Both of us had made a commitment to each other, and I felt nothing but satisfied inside.

We didn't move all night. Jiri and I stayed awake, me holding him. The two of us exchanging kisses in the early light of the morning, until finally he fell asleep.

I gently woke him and led him into the bedroom, our room. And laid him down. It only took a moment, before he was in my arms once again, sound asleep.

I didn't sleep for a long time after that. I just lay awake in bed, holding him. Listening to his deep breaths.

Pressing a kiss to his forehead, I whispered my goodnight; before burying my nose in his hair and taking a deep breath.

He was home.

_______

Chris' PoV

Have you ever woken up with your arms around the only person who ever really meant anything to you?

Me either.

Until this morning, that is.

When I started to return to consciousness, my face was assaulted by a head of wild brown curls. I was a little startled at first. I didn't know what the hell was going on, or why Jiri was in my bed after that fight we had.

Then it all came rushing back to me.

Last night.

We sat in my favorite leather chair until he fell asleep on me. I brought him in here and I had spent most of the night just breathing in his scent, and running my fingers lightly along his arm.

I looked down at the top of his head and smiled. He lay on his side facing me, his face buried in my chest. His arms were about me, and his legs were sticking through mine.

His breathing was getting lighter, meaning he was going to wake up soon.

Which was fine with me. I had spent all last night alone with my emotions, and with more than enough time to think about the two of us. I came to the conclusion that I needed him. More than I would ever admit.

Sure, it was going to be hard as fuck, not to go running to Brett everytime I was pissed off at Jiri. And I knew he was going to have a hard time letting go of Homer. But I figured that at this point, we had tortured each other, as well as ourselves, long enough.

I wanted him.

He wanted me.

Cut and dry.

There were just a few bumps in the way that we were going to have to get past. I wasn't ready to jump into this with both hands and feet and go all boyfriend with him. That would probably never happen (which was damn fine with me). But I honestly don't think he wants us to be like that either.

I leaned up over him and looked at the clock. Three in the afternoon.

That was quite the nap. But I was rested and ready for the perks of our relationship.

With a grin, I looked down at him. It was probably only going to be a matter of minutes before he woke up. And I'd be here waiting for him when he did.

________

Jiri's PoV

My nose was confronted by a soft smell. Soft, but wild. It smelled like Chris.

Without opening my eyes, I smiled.

I was with Chris.

Not only that, but he was holding me. He must have all night, because I remember falling asleep with his arms around me.

I knew he was awake, but I wasn't ready to jump out of bed and greet the day. No, I'm pretty sure that I'm fine right here. With Chris touching me, his endless scent floating through my head.

Not too long after, I opened my eyes and pulled back a little. Sure enough, he was wide awake. His face livened as our gazes met.

I'm not sure if I've ever seen him so docile. He's never held me before. It must be because he's finally noticing me and my needs. It's amazing that this had all transpired, very literally, over night.

It was a whole new Chris.

But I was sure I could get used to it.

Repositioning myself near his head, I laid my head on his pillow. One hand came to rest on his chest, while the other wormed it's way down, under his side. He shifted to allow my touch; which made me smile.

He was still the same Chris. I knew that. He hadn't changed into a new person in a day. And I sure as hell didn't want him to. I loved this Chris. The one who drove me from his bed and into Tomas'. The same one who made me cry every time he got up and went to Brett.

I loved that man.

And I knew he was still with me. Just with a few softer edges.

His promise, along with mine, to sleep with only each other, had opened a whole new set of doors to us. And along with it, a whole new set of problems. But I was okay with that. Because I knew I wouldn't be alone any more. I had Chris, and he had me.

One of his arms curled under my neck, pulling me closer to him, as the other one traced my jaw line and went on into my hair. I could feel him twirling my curls in his fingers, and it caused me to smile.

He was a little different. Not a lot, because no one, not even me, could ever extinguish his firey personality. And I didn't want to. I turned my face into his palm as it came down along my face again.

I left a soft kiss on it, before it ran down to my chin. He tilted it up. Our eyes met, and I melted. Just like I always do.

Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to my mouth. I sighed into his mouth as I parted my lips, allowing him entrance.

It wasn't long before our kiss grew more demanding, and I almost cried with relief that he was still the same, passionate man that I had fallen in love with months ago.

________

Chris' PoV

I can't tell you how good it felt to kiss Jiri. Quickly, I cradled his head in the crook of my arm, and ran my other fingers through his hair. When he sighed, I let my eyes fall shut and my tongue slip into his mouth.

Shyly, his slid between my lips. And I couldn't contain the groan that fled my mouth as I pulled him closer to me.

I couldn't explain it, but it felt to me, for some reason, as though this was the first time we'd ever kissed. And in a way, I guess, it really was. This was the first time we'd ever kissed like this, with our new understanding of our relationship.

It was like our first time all over again.

The thought of that made me moan and slip my hands under his shirt. He shivered against me as my fingers ran along his flat stomach, bringing his shirt up with them. He sat up a little, not parting our lips until absolutely necessary.

As soon as I had his shirt off, he tore mine up over my head, and his lips were back on mine before I knew he had even set about undressing me. I smiled against his lips before sinking my tongue back into his mouth.

Gently, but with my usual command, I rolled him onto his back, half on top of him. Our mouths were still hard at work as I unbuttoned his pants. With a quick tug, I had them down around his knees.

And I would have pulled them off, but one of my hands had found its way back to his hair, and the other was busy rubbing the growing bulge between his legs. He gasped and moaned into my mouth; pulling me closer with one hand around my neck. The other was left to rid himself of his pants.

He reached for his boxers, but I stopped him. He cried out in protest as I removed my hand from his now, raging erection, to pull his boxers off myself.

After I threw them to the floor, I took a moment to look at him.

God, he was fucking beautiful.

Snaking my tongue into his ear, I wrapped my hand around his cock; stroking it to fullness.

He panted against me, and tried desperately to control his shaking hands long enough to get my pants off. But it was proving to be too much of a struggle for him. His hand grabbed my wrist, putting my stroking to an abrupt halt.

He was still shaking as he let go of me and set to work on the rest of my clothes.

I held still for him, not wanting to torture him too much. And as soon as my pants and boxers had joined his on the floor, I was on top of him; pressing him hard into the bed sheets. I wrapped both of my arms around him as we kissed with a passion I had never experienced before. His hold around my neck tightened and he thrust against me.

Not being able to control my groan, I ground my hips against his; bringing our erections into direct contact with each other's.

Soon we were both panting and moaning as we bucked and thrust against one another. I could tell he was ready to come. He broke off our kiss and buried his face in my neck. Just like he always did when we would fuck in the past.

He was shaking within my arms, and emitting a low moan that I had grown used to. It meant he was tensing up. He was going to explode at any moment.

Suddenly, I brought all of our grinding to a hault; stilling completely against him.

Once again, he cried out in protest and tried to continue the motion. But I pressed myself harder against him, rendering him motionless.

Pulling his head back from my neck, he panted and pleaded with me, "Chris... please... don't stop!"

I shook my head. This wasn't any easier on me than it was for him. But I didn't want it to be this way. I didn't want us to rub against each other until we came. We weren't teenagers trying to get off before his parents came home.

I wanted to be buried to the hilt in his tight, hot ass before I came.

And more importantly, I wanted it to mean something.

So I kissed the tip of his nose and told him so, "Not yet. I want to be inside you." I whispered in his ear, pressing gentle kisses along his jaw bone. He moaned in protest, but complied.

It took a few minutes of deep breathing, but we were soon both under control of ourselves.

I lifted myself up onto my knees, sliding between his muscular thighs. He eagerly spread his legs and wrapped them around my waist.

Running my hand along his abs, I reached for the nightstand. Just as I got my fingers on the handle, he grabbed my arm, "No." He whispered.

I looked back at him. We always used condoms. Never had we bare-backed. We locked gazes, and I started to protest, "Jiri I don't..."

But looking down at him, his eyes darkened with unmistakable lust, spread out before me with no shame, and only trust radiating through him... I just couldn't say no. And I couldn't deny that I wanted it. Coming inside him, fully, and raw, was a secret fantasy of mine.

But knowing that he was with Tomas, I didn't want to do that. The thought of planting my seed inside him, right next to Tomas' sickened me.

But he wasn't with Homer any more, was he?

No. He was all mine. And I didn't see a damn reason why we shouldn't be able to fuck the way we wanted to.

So, with an honest smile, I let go of the handle and slid my fingers up to his lips, "Open." I whispered.

Parting his lips, we locked onto each other's eyes as two of my fingers slipped into his mouth. His tongue curled around them, soaking them with his saliva. I didn't leave them too long, all of this was making me rather hot.

My desire for Jiri couldn't wait to be satisfied much longer.

I placed my middle finger at his entrance, and gently pushed inside. He closed his eyes and relaxed his muscles. This was also pretty special for us. I rarely ever opened him up like this. Usually we were too aggressive to prepare one another before sex.

I'd either go in dry, or sometimes I'd rub some lube onto my dick. But that was about it.

And I could tell that he was enjoying my finger inside him. Another gasp slipped from his lips as my other finger pushed inside him. I stretched him gently, not wanting to hurt him. I pushed deeply though. Trying for something that had been done to me before. And as my fingers slid further up inside him, I feared I wouldn't be able to do it. But when he moaned and arched against me, my name on his lips, I knew that I had just brushed his prostate.

Okay, that's it. I can't wait any more. Hearing him moan my name like that was too fucking hot. I pulled my fingers from him, and took myself in hand. Our fingers laced together and I pushed myself inside him.

He gasped in pain, but I kept moving. It was best to just go all the way on the first thrust rather than to draw it out. It hurt less that way. And within moments I was buried deep inside his hot body.

Raw.

There was nothing between us now. It was so hot. The thought made me want to come. But I held back, biting my lip to keep from crying out.

I took a moment to steady myself before I pulled back and thrust my hips forward.

Jiri cried out beneath me. I pulled back and snapped my hips up again. This time he moaned. I knew that I had hit his sweet spot again. Falling forward onto him, I caught his mouth in a passionate kiss; forcing my tongue between his lips.

After a few minutes of this, he pulled back from me. Wrapping his legs tightly around me, he opened his eyes. Our gazes locked.

And I knew in that moment.

That was all it took.

"I love you." I gasped as I rocked against him.

His eyes went wide, and closed briefly again as I hit a particularly sensitive area inside him. But they were open and burning into mine again in no time. He threw his arms around me, and pulled me down hard.

Our mouth's met again, and he broke it off, "Chris..." He panted, "I love you so much." He groaned as I found that spot once more. "I always have."

And with our admission, we fell to each other like ravenous wolves. Our pace increased. We were clutching and kissing, biting at one another's lips. It was all too much.

Grabbing onto his solid erection, I pumped it hard; wanting us to come together. In no time, he was brought to the brink. He screamed out my name as he climaxed hard; arching beautifully against me.

At that exact moment, I thrust deep once more and exploded inside him; moaning his name.

Our lips crashed together as we both shook in the wake of our orgasms. My lungs burned for air, but still I kissed him. I never wanted to let him go.

I knew he felt the same way, but we were forced to break apart.

I collapsed on top of him, panting heavily. He lay beneath me, gasping for breath.

And hugging each other tightly, our breathing slowly returned to normal and eventually, we fell asleep like that.

_______

Jiri's PoV

I awoke some hours later. Around seven that night.

Chris was awake, brushing his fingers through my curls. I smiled up at him.

He returned it lightly, and pressed his lips to mine.

I didn't want to get up. I was completely satisfied with laying here in his arms forever. But I knew I couldn't.

Slowly I disentangled myself from his arms, and sat up, "I think I'll go for a run."

He sat up as well, "What?"

"Well, I haven't been getting much exercise lately. I never tend to be very active when I'm depressed." I explained.

He arched his eyebrow, "I happen to think that you just got quite the workout."

I laughed and he grinned. Planting a soft kiss on his lips, I said, "Come with me."

He sighed and rolled his eyes. I knew he was about to say no, but I silently pleaded with him. And I won. With another great sigh, he relented, "Okay. But then we're coming back here and taking a shower."

"Together?" I grinned.

"Of course." He said kissing me lightly again.

It didn't take either of us long to get dressed for our run, but Chris couldn't find his jogging shoes. I swear, he is such a girl sometimes. "Here they are." I said picking them up from the floor near the garage door.

I was waiting for him, but I was anxious to get going. He must have been able to tell.

"Just go, I'll catch up with you." He said as he sat to tie them. I was all ready to go, so I didn't see why not.

I leaned down and kissed him softly. "See you in a minute." I said with a wink before setting off down the driveway.

I'd been practically living with Chris for the past few months, so I knew my way around his subdivision pretty well.

Running had always been a great gift. I could run until I dropped. I loved it because I was alone with my thoughts and I got to focus on me for a while. Recently, running had been my prison. I didn't want to be by myself.

I didn't want to think about the pain I was in.

But not anymore.

I had Chris.

No. Scratch that.

I really had Chris this time.

I smiled. I was so fucking lucky.

Everything was perfect.

"Jiri!" Chris called.

Glancing back over my shoulder, I laughed, he was running like mad to catch up with me. Well, I was almost half his age, and I'll be damned if I'm going to just let him catch up to me without a fight.

Turning back I began to run faster. I knew Chris would catch up with me. After all, he was in incredible shape, and I still couldn't push myself too hard with my knee.

I knew he was gaining on me. I looked back again, he was smiling; that evil glint in his eye. He must have been about six yards behind me.

I was coming to the cross of the street we were on with another one. Looking back again I grinned at him. About three yards from me.

Facing forward once again, I neared the crossing. All was clear, so I headed out.

Glancing back at him, his face was no longer fun-filled. It was a mask of pure terror, "Jiri!" He screamed, running at full tilt. "Jiri! Stop! Look out!"

What the...?

I never saw the truck.

_______

Brett's PoV

I couldn't believe it.

Absolutely could not believe it.

Jiri had been out for a run with Chris, when he was hit by a truck.

Un-fucking-believable.

And that's where I am now. Sitting in the waiting room of one of Detroit's hospitals. Tomas is sitting next to me. No one else knows yet. Otherwise, I know our entire team would be here too.

Tomas has his face buried in his hands, and I know he's crying. We've been here for over four hours. Jiri's went in for emergency surgery about five hours ago, and he's been in the ER ever since.

Silently, I reach over and pull one of Tomas' hands away from his tear-stained face. He refuses to look at me, and covers his eyes with his remaining hand. The other griped mine. He feels as helpless as I do.

We both look up as the door opens.

Chris is walked in by a nurse. And I stand. He was in shock by the time he and Jiri were brought to the hospital, and he had to be under observation for a few hours.

I let go of Tomas' hand and walk over to him. The nurse offers a sad smile and leaves. "Chris?" I whisper.

His eyes look blank, I know he can't believe this has happened. I sure as hell can't. It's like some fucked up dream.

Some really fucked up dream.

Tears begin to fill his eyes as he looks at me, and I wrap my arms around him. Soon, his face is buried in my throat, his hands are clutching at my shoulders, and he's sobbing uncontrollably.

My poor Chris.

I rub my hands in soothing circles on his back, whispering softly in his ear. Slowly, I begin to rock back and forth.

I don't know what else to do to comfort him.

I'm more than a little worried for him. I've never seen him cry like this before. I'm not sure I've ever seen him cry.

So I hold him. There's little more I can do.

________

Chris' PoV

It's been three days now, and Jiri is still in a coma.

Just the thought of him laying there all cut and bruised makes me want to vomit. It wouldn't be the first time I've been physically ill over the past few days, so what the hell? I stager into the bathroom. I feel so shitty.

I just want to crawl into a hole and die. Dropping to my knees I stick my finger down my throat, forcing myself to throw up.

I know it sounds disgusting, but I've learned that it's the only way I can make myself sleep. If I feel completely empty, both mentally and physically, I can go back to bed and pass out for a few more hours.

I flush the toilet, force myself up and wash my mouth out. Looking up at myself in the mirror, I see for the first time how terrible I look. I'm pale, my eyes are red and have dark circles under them. I haven't shaved, and I'm shaking slightly. I look like fucking shit.

Suddenly, a hand is placed on my shoulder, and I jump.

It's Brett. "Are you okay?" He asks.

I shake my head, "I'm fine." But I know I don't sound fine. My voice is hoarse, and shakes as bad as I do.

He wraps his arms around me, "I heard you throw up again. Chris, you have to stop forcing yourself. It's not healthy."

I push away from him and walk back into the bedroom. His bedroom.

I've been staying at his house ever since the accident. I just can't go home. I can't be alone.

He takes me by the hand, and leads me back to bed. He crawls under the covers first, and holds out his arms for me. I slide in between them and they close about me. I'm taller than him, but I force myself down further so I can tuck my head under his chin.

I hold onto him tightly. I know it's only a matter of time before I relive the events of three days ago. It's inevitable.

So I close my eyes and wait for my mind to take me back there.

Sure enough, as soon as I close my eyes, I can see him. I can see the truck. I see myself running harder, trying to reach him, screaming for him to stop. But he doesn't. I hear the squealing of tires, I see his face.

I grit my teeth as I watch through my mind's eye, the truck crash into him.

Overcome with anger, I suddenly force myself out of Brett's arms and sit up.

He does as well, and tries to touch me. But I shove his hands off me. I don't want him to touch me. I feel so angry. How could I be so fucking stupid? I could have stopped him. God damnit!

I sink my face into my hands and sob.

Again, I'm assaulted with memories.

We were only allowed to see him through the window of CCU. His face was swollen and stitched. There were cuts and bruises all over his neck and shoulders. I knew there were more, but his covers kept them from sight. Wires and tubes were sticking out all over.

And that's when it hit me.

What if he dies?

I had to make a dash for the bathroom. I was physically ill at the very thought of it. He couldn't die... I wouldn't allow myself to think like that.

That's when Brett walked in. I hadn't had time to lock the door, and I was sitting on the floor, shaking and crying. Brett held me as I did so.

Tomas wasn't much better off than I was. Nick had come up to the hospital soon after Jiri was released from surgery. He took Tomas home with him, and he'd been there ever since. I felt for him, but I couldn't get past my own grief.

I wasn't able to be in the room with Jiri yet because he was still in critical condition. Not to mention unconscious.

Brett helped me up and back to the bed. I sat slowly, feeling Brett sit behind me; wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing my shoulder. "People wake up from coma's." He said quietly.

I nodded, even though I didn't really feel it, "I know." I whispered hoarsely.

He turned me around in his arms and wiped my face dry, "Everything's gonna be okay, Chris. Jiri's tough. Remember when he knocked Scotty Hartnell on his ass last season?"

A soft laugh escaped my lips. I was so proud of him that night. Not to mention it was fucking hot to watch him drop his gloves, run his fingers through his hair and proceed to beat the hell out of that little shit.

Brett's brushed his fingers through my hair, his hand settling on my cheek. I looked into his eyes, and my heart almost stopped. I felt so alone, but here he was taking care of me. Just like he always did.

I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.

His eyes went wide before slowly closing. His mouth opened for me and I met his tongue with my own. I was starved of physical contact. I needed this so bad.

His hand pulled me closer by the neck and I gently began to push him onto his back.

But suddenly, he broke away from me, "Chris. We can't do this."

His voice was thick and I could tell that he wanted to. But he wouldn't. And he was right. What the hell was I doing? Jiri was laying unconscious in a hospital bed, and I was trying to get into my ex-lovers pants.

Fuck!

I tore away from him and stumbled out of bed. I was tripped up but I managed to get out into the hallway. Brett was right out after me, "Chris!" he yelled as he grabbed my arm, spinning me around.

I took a swing at him. I don't know why, I just wasn't thinking straight. I wanted to be left alone, I needed to get the hell away from him; but he wouldn't let me. "Get the fuck off me!" I screamed.

There wasn't enough force behind my swing, and he grabbed my hand, pulling me hard against him. I shoved him, trying desperately to get away from him. But my vision was blurred with tears, and my head was pounding. I couldn't see and I couldn't hear.

I fell to my knees in my confusion and frustration. And as soon as I hit, I gave up my battle. I gave up everything, and cried.

He too was on his knees in a matter of moments, holding me once more as I sobbed against him. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." I whimpered, grabbing onto him.

His hands rubbed my back and he pulled me onto his lap. I couldn't stop crying. My God, what the hell is wrong with me.

"It's okay." He whispered in my ear, "It's okay, Chris."

I continued to sob as he rocked me slowly back and forth. I wanted to die. I couldn't take this any more. The pain was just too much for me. I clutched desperately at his shirt, as tears continued to fall from my eyes.

Each one left a hot burning trail down my cheeks.

Each one was a painful reminder of why I was crying in the first place.

Oh God, my heart was breaking.

Crying out, I tried to push myself away from Brett one final time. But he held strong. At least one of us was able to be strong.

Because I knew I sure as hell wasn't able to.

And finally, I just gave in. I let him hold me, and he let me cry.

Until I was left with nothing.

I had no where left to fall.

_______

Brett's PoV

Six days after Chris' breakdown at my house, Jiri was released from CCU. I drove Chris to the hospital, and Nick brought Tomas. Nick and I did our best to keep them away from each other at all times. There was obvious tension between Homer and Chris, and I didn't want to see it boil over.

We sat in the waiting room until Jiri's surgeon came in and gave us a run-down on his situation. At some point in the explanation of how he was hit, and why it cracked his neck bones, Chris' hand slid through mine.

I squeezed it, this was all a lot for him to take. Not to mention the fact that it was going on the ninth day of Jiri's coma. We were all dealing with the underlying fact that he might not wake up.

When finally it was time, we stood outside Jiri's room. Chris was hesitant, and I could see that. He didn't want to freak out or cry, and especially not in front of Tomas. So Nick took Tomas in to see Jiri first, while Chris and I waited.

He excused himself to go to the bathroom about five minutes after Homer and Nick had entered Jiri's room, and he wasn't back ten minutes later when Nick escorted a teary-eyed Tomas out.

Biting my lip, I debated about going to find him. Part of me was scared, but I knew I had to. I turned and walked down the hallway towards the visitors restrooms, and almost ran right into him.

He looked pale and he was shaking, "Are you okay?" I asked. Of course, he nodded that he was fine, but he sure didn't look it. "We don't have to do this." I told him. "We can come back later. We can come back when you're ready."

"I'm fine." He whispered.

And fuck me if I didn't want to believe him. But too bad for him I wasn't an idiot. Grasping his hand, I lead him back to Jiri's room.

We stood outside for a moment while he composed himself. I wanted to ask if he was ready, but I knew that he was probably as ready as he was ever going to be. I did a quick check of the hallway. We were alone.

I took his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. When our eyes met, I pressed my lips to his. A completely platonic display of support. "I'm here for you." I said quietly when we broke apart.

"I know." He whispered hoarsely.

He took a deep breath and I opened the door, leading him in by his hand.

________

Chris' PoV

I don't know if I've ever been so scared in my life. I wanted to see Jiri. I had to.

But, holy fuck, was I afraid.

I mean, this was Jiri. My Jiri. The only man that I have ever had any real feelings for in my entire life. And I was so angry at the same time. I had just discovered the way I really felt about him ten days ago.

This was so un-fucking-fair.

Shaking slightly, I was escorted to the side of his bed. The swelling in his face had gone down quite a bit. The cuts were closing, but there was still dried blood on them and a few were leaking.

My stomach lurched and I clutched Brett's hand. He squeezed it.

We came to a stop right by the head of the bed. Jiri's head was tilted towards me slightly, as if he knew I would be standing here. But that was impossible, now wasn't it.

Taking a deep breath, I studied his face. Even though he was breathing well enough to go without a respirator, there were air tubes in his nose. Looking down at his hand, I saw even more tubing that led to his IV.

Gently, I removed my hand from Brett's and he backed away from me. Hesitantly, I reached out. My hand was trembling and I tried to still it. But it was no use. It shook like mad as I softly took his hand in mine.

Trying to give me some space, Brett stepped out of the room and shut the door.

And I stood there. Just like that. Not moving. Just holding his hand and looking at him. Dispite the cuts and light swelling, he looked completely normal. I reached my other hand out and very gently, placed it on the side of his face, where there was no damage.

He didn't move at all. Without feeling it, I shook my head. This wasn't Jiri. My Jiri was full of life and laughter. This... this was a shell of a man. Not him. This Jiri was empty.

Tears of frustration filled my eyes. And suddenly, I was so overcome with anger that I just wanted to hit him. Why the fuck wouldn't he wake up?

I leaned in close to him, "Jiri." I whispered. Nothing. Not that I really expected any sort of real reaction. He probably couldn't even hear me. But I spoke still, "Jiri, it's Chris." I brushed my hand lightly through his hair. My voice shook as I talked to him, "Come back to me... Please." Tears began to drip down my cheeks, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I cleared my throat, "I love you." A sob escaped me, and I choked back another one, "I love you so much. Please wake up. Please Jiri."

I was crying openly now. I couldn't have stopped if I wanted to. Touching the side of his face again, I leaned over him and pressed my lips to his. I closed my eyes, and lingered. I didn't want to pull away, because... Because...

Fuck.

Because if he died tonight, this would be our last one.

Another sobbing sound burst past my lips and I pushed my mouth, just slightly, harder against his.

"I love you." I whispered once more. I caressed his face, brushing my fingers over his lips; and turned to leave.

The next day the call came from the hospital.

Jiri had woken up.