Back on the Ice

***

Mark did call Hilary the next day and got the machine. He didn't know if she was not home, or if she was refusing to answer him so he left a message, imploring her to call him back.

"I'll take your call no matter what time, or what I'm doing," he said, not caring if he sounded like a whipped boyfriend. He still didn't think he'd done anything wrong but he just wanted the chance to talk to her again. If that meant apologizing for pushing too hard the night before, then he would.

The plane ride was uneventful and the guys gave him a hard time for calling his girlfriend as soon as they landed. He ignored them, even flipping off Brody who mocked him more than the others. He tried to focus when they got to the arena for the game later that afternoon, but he was utterly distracted. For the first time since his injury, he figured it was a good thing he wasn't playing. He'd have been a huge target without his mind on the game.

Later, at the hotel, he tried calling Hilary again and this time, Lena answered.

"She's out, Mark," she told him. "There was some friends of ours who wanted to see a movie so she went with them."

"Oh. All right," he replied dully. "How come you didn't want to go?"

"I told Anatoli I'd wait for his call after the game."

"Lucky guy," Mark murmured and ended the call.

He lay alone in his hotel bed for hours, just staring at the ceiling. He went over and over their disastrous conversation in his mind, wondering how and when he'd lost it. Hearing Hilary talk about her ex-boyfriends and how they'd hurt her had bothered him. What bothered him more than anything, was that she seemed to be comparing him to them.

When he was being objective, he supposed that most people did the same thing; compared their current lover to past relationships. It just hurt to have it thrown in your face like that. He didn't think Hilary had done it intentionally. He'd asked her to share, so she had.

She could have been nicer about it, he thought in one of his more irrational moments. She didn't have to snap at me just because I didn't like hearing about it.

That seemed to be Hilary's way. She was defensive and abrasive, rather than meek and needy, something he'd always found oddly attractive.

Maybe she was telling the truth, he pondered later, rolling over to stare out the window. That is the way she is and I should just deal with it.

He would deal with it, if she'd just call him back.

Sighing, Mark pressed his face into his pillow and groaned out his frustration. It was at that moment that his roommate, Brody, chose to walk in.

"Dude, you have got to stop beating yourself up over her," Brody said as he walked through the room and flopped onto his own bed.

"You don't even know what you're talking about," Mark snapped and rolled to face the other direction.

Brody chuckled and wouldn't leave him alone. "I can tell something's gone wrong," he commented after a minute. "You were so excited to come on this road trip, and now you're acting like you'd rather be home on your crutches again."

"No, I'm not," Mark replied and looked over his shoulder at Brody. "I've been waiting weeks to join the team again."

"Then stop being such a pansy and get over it!"

Mark scowled at his roommate before chucking a pillow at him.

"Seriously, man," Brody said, catching the pillow neatly. "What's she done to make you this way?"

"I don't know," Mark replied honestly, rolling onto his back to resume staring at the ceiling. "I just don't know."

Brody blew his breath out in a low whistle. "Well, I don't know why you and the Anatolis bother with relationships. Women are more trouble than they're worth."

Mark glanced sideways at his teammate and smiled. "Sounds like you've been burned a few times, Lang. Anything you want to talk about?"

Brody responded with a derisive snort. Chuckling, Mark put his arms behind his head and thought about the implications of that. If someone like Brody - a tough guy and a steadfast friend - can be hurt by past relationships, then someone like Hilary could easily be as well. Maybe badly enough that she unconsciously sabotaged any other relationships that came along. With another sigh, he tried to put it out of his mind so he could get some sleep.

***

Alone in her apartment after a long day at work, Hilary hit the 'play' button on the answering machine for the fourth time. Mark's deep voice filled the room and she shivered.

"Hil, it's me. I'm in Montreal and I wish you'd pick up the phone. I want to talk to you. I don't want it to end that way. Please, just... answer when I call next time." He paused and gave a short laugh. "And Lena, if you're listening to this one too, I'm sorry." There it ended.

The machine beeped and whirred to a stop. Hilary pressed 'play' again. Lena wasn't home from work yet and Hilary figured she had another hour before her roommate arrived. So she had another hour to indulge herself by replaying Mark's message repeatedly before deleting it.

How does he do this to me? she asked herself, closing her eyes as Mark's deep voice slid through her. His message, even as brief as it was, did more to her body than any man had ever been able to do in person. A message!

Shuddering, Hilary smacked her hand down on the machine and clicked 'erase' before the message stopped playing. She ran her hands through her hair and pressed her palms to her closed eyes while trying to get her breathing under control. Eventually she straightened and walked into the kitchen, looking for something, anything, to take her mind off of Mark and his earnest message.

Five minutes later, the vodka was burning a trail down her throat and she was staring mindlessly at the blank television screen. Even as she lifted the bottle to her lips again, she thought, this isn't going to help at all.

It just dulled the pain a little bit.

He's just mad that he won't have his regular booty call when he gets back, she thought and swirled the vodka in her mouth before swallowing. I'm sure he hooked up with some hot chick as soon as he hung up the phone!

Scowling now, Hilary took a big swig of the liquor and sputtered as it went down the wrong way. Groaning, she set the bottle on the table in front of her, deciding that drinking was the wrong thing for her. She lay sideways on the couch and lifted the remote control, flicking the TV on and gaped when she saw the Capitals game.

Unbelievable, she thought, shaking her head. I can't even escape into mindless programming.

She lifted the remote control to change the channel but couldn't quite bring herself to do it. Instead, she turned up the volume and listened to catch up on the game. Washington was winning and Hilary smiled, glad that her team was doing so well tonight.

I wonder if Mark's on the ice yet, she thought and chewed on her lower lip as her eyes scanned the moving shapes on screen. Then she saw the players changing lines and there he was; number 52, moving swiftly and smoothly up the ice with his teammates.

Hilary didn't realize she was holding her breath until Mark skated off after his shift and she let it out. Leaning back on the couch, she pressed her hand to her forehead and stared at the screen. Play was halted for an offside call and the ice crew skated out to clear the ice in front of the goalies. In the meantime, the commentators spoke about Mark Gaines and his return to the line-up.

"He's been in practice for about a week now," the first speaker said as the camera zoomed in on Mark where he sat on the bench, sandwiched between Oborotenski and Lang. "And we were getting reports that his injury wasn't as bad as they'd originally suspected."

"It certainly looks like he's made a quick recovery," the second reporter agreed. "He's had a few great shifts out there already and doesn't appear to be favoring his leg at all."

The screen changed from Mark sitting on the bench to highlights of his play so far in the game. Hilary bit back a gasp as Mark made a couple hits and covered her eyes altogether when he took a hit from one of the opponents. She didn't hear another word that was said between the two commentators as they finished discussing Mark Gaines and in another minute, play resumed.

Hilary couldn't watch anymore. Her anxiety over watching Mark, so fresh from an injury, was too much for her to deal with. After shutting the TV off, she went to her room and closed the door. For a minute, she just stood in the middle of her bedroom, staring at the walls, her desk, her bed. Her eyes lingered on her bed and her body flushed as she recalled all the time she'd spent with Mark in it.

He really is a great guy, she thought and walked over to sit down on her bed. He can't help it that I'm a mess with relationships.

Of course, she'd never beaten herself up quite so badly over a guy before. It was always their fault, after all. She was the victim.

As the thought rushed through her, she sat down on her bed and stared wide-eyed at the opposite wall.

Am I? she asked herself. Am I always the victim or am I the one ruining my relationships?

She scoffed a second later, reminding herself of the times when she'd definitely been the wronged party. Like when John, her college boyfriend - a hockey player- had cheated on her while at an away game.

That wasn't my fault, she told herself, still staring at the wall. Her mind started to recall memories of her other boyfriends. The reasons for some break-ups were very clear, like John, but then there were others that made no sense to her now.

"Holy shit," she breathed and touched her cheek.

Her mind was whirling. John, the jerk, had cheated of course, making that decision more than easy for her. There was also Henry, a nice guy who had come on a little too strong, too soon. What's wrong with that, really? she asked herself. And Tyler; he spent his weekends playing SOCOM with his friends. That's harmless enough, isn't it? He'd been a perfect gentleman to Hilary the rest of the time.

Rob, with the funky haircut. Paul, who drove a rusted pick-up truck. Jamie, who laughed through his nose. Peter, who'd said he loved her and freaked her out so badly, she'd never even called to tell him it was over.

Hilary's mind was reeling as she took stock of her past relationships. She lay back on her bed and held a hand to her forehead. She hadn't been lying to Mark when she'd told him about her boyfriends. None of them had been right and, after finding John in bed with another woman, it had skewed her view of other men afterward.

In fact, after John had stomped all over her heart, she hadn't even been attracted to the same type of guys as she had before. She'd started to deliberately go for the bad boy, the ones she knew would treat her badly.

I don't deserve that, she thought, feeling tears prick her eyes.

The phone ringing startled her. She jumped off the bed and raced down the hallway but couldn't get to the phone in time. The answering machine beeped and recorded a familiar voice as he left a message.

"Hi Lena, and Hilary!" Anatoli Oborotenski chirped in his thick Russian accent. "I hope you guys aren't sleeping and you're watching our game."

Hilary giggled as she listened. Anatoli was such a good guy and had such a great sense of humor. Even Hilary, jaded as she apparently was, smiled when Anatoli was around.

"I shouldn't be calling and I bet Mark is trying to call right now, too," Anatoli went on and his mention of Mark made Hilary's stomach tense up. "I just wanted to say 'hi' and that you'd better call me when you get home, my Lena. You know I have to hear your voice before I sleep."

Hilary suddenly felt like she was eavesdropping. Blushing, she walked back to her bedroom and shut the door. She heard the muffled sound of Anatoli's voice for another minute before the machine clicked and whirred at the end of his message. As she sat back down on the bed, the phone rang again and she laughed, shaking her head. This time, she didn't bother rushing for the phone; she merely stuck her head out of her room to listen to the message instead.

"Hil, it's me. I thought you'd be home from work by now," Mark said, making Hilary's heart skip several beats. "I guess you might be and maybe you're just ignoring me." Here he sighed noisily. "I wish you'd answer. I just want to talk to you. I don't want to leave things the way we did. I don't... I don't know. Hilary, please, just call me. I... I miss you."

Hilary gasped as the message ended, surprised when tears left wet tracks on her cheeks. She hadn't even realized she was crying until one slipped over her lip. Patting her cheek, she walked out to the front room to play Mark's message again. As she stood there, letting Mark's deep voice wash over her, the phone rang again, scaring her almost out of her skin.

Without thinking, she reached over and answered.

"Hilary!" Anatoli's jubilant voice cried on the other end. "I just called and no one answered."

"I just... got home," Hilary replied lamely.

"I left a message for Lena but I forgot to tell her when I'll be at the hotel. Can you tell her?"

"Of course," Hilary agreed, relieved that it hadn't been Mark trying to call again. She made a note as Anatoli told her when he'd be back at the hotel.

"How are you, Hilary?" Anatoli asked after.

"I'm fine," she answered. She didn't think Mark would have told his teammates everything that had happened between them, but maybe Lena had spilled the beans to Anatoli. "Shouldn't you be going over a game plan with the team right now?" she asked, trying to sound light.

"I don't need it," Anatoli scoffed, making Hilary laugh. "I would rather talk to you."

"Oh, that's so sweet, Obie. I won't tell Lena."

"And I won't tell Mark."

At the mention of Mark's name again, Hilary's stomach clenched and she sucked in a breath.

"Hil? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she whispered. "Actually, I'm kind of tired."

"You know, Mark talks about you all the time," Anatoli said, not taking her hint. "I think you've..." he paused, trying to come up with a word. His English was outstanding, considering how long he'd been in the country, but every once in a while, he couldn't think of the right phrase or word. "He's different," he finished.

"Different?" Hilary repeated. "How?" Do I want to know? she added silently.

"He was happy when he was injured but now he's playing and he's not so happy. I think he misses you."

There was no unit of measure to tell how much that pleased Hilary. She desperately wanted to believe that Anatoli was telling the truth. "I don't know about that, Obie," she replied. "I think he just needs to get his focus back and he'll be fine."

"No, he's OK on the ice. But he's sad and doesn't talk when the games aren't on. I think he misses watching them with you."

"I think he'd much rather play the games than watch. Wouldn't you?"

"Of course," Anatoli agreed with a laugh. "Are you watching the game tonight?"

"Yeah," Hilary lied, glancing guiltily at the blank television screen across the room. "You guys are doing great."

"I know," Anatoli agreed, making Hilary laugh again. "I'll tell Mark you're watching the game and maybe he'll feel better."

"No, you don't have to, Obie," Hilary said.

"I will. If he knows you're watching, then he'll do better."

"I don't know about that."

"Trust me," Obie told her.

Just then, the door to the apartment opened and Lena walked in. They met each other's gaze and smiled in greeting. "Oh, Lena just walked in. You want to talk to her?" Hilary asked Anatoli.

"No, that's OK," Anatoli replied. "I've got to go back to work. You tell her I called to talk to you, not her!"

Hilary laughed and agreed as Anatoli ended the call. She hung up the phone and smiled at her roommate.

"Who was that?" Lena asked as she embraced her friend with a tired sigh.

"Obie," Hilary said. "He said he only wanted to talk to me."

Lena laughed along with her, not in the least threatened by Hilary's words. They both knew how devoted Lena's boyfriend was, which was why Anatoli could get away with jokes like that.

"Man, I'm exhausted," Lena exclaimed as she plopped down on the couch.

Hilary joined her on the couch and they chatted for a few minutes. Lena picked up the remote control and turned on the game as they spoke, smiling when she saw the highlights from the first period.

"I think I'm going to go put on my PJ's and watch the end of the game," Lena announced. "You want some tea?"

Hilary nodded and walked into the kitchen to put the water on to boil.

"Oh, there's a message on the machine," Lena said as she walked by the table with the machine. She clicked the 'play' button and Anatoli's voice filled the room.

Hilary made a show of plugging her ears against the intimate message, making her friend laugh as the message ended.

"He said to call after the game is done and they're at the hotel," Hilary added as Hilary deleted the message.

"All right," Lena said and watched as the machine clicked on to the second message; Mark.

"Oh jeez," Hilary exclaimed and rushed to try to delete it, but Lena scowled. She held Hilary off, listening to the entire message.

"Hil," Lena breathed as Mark's voice ended and the machine whirred back to the beginning. "Why didn't you tell me he's been calling?"

Hilary shrugged. Somehow, in the past few days, she'd managed to keep Mark's messages from Lena. After their fight, Hilary had told Lena that they were through, even if the exact words hadn't been spoken. Now she was horribly embarrassed to be caught red-handed, so to speak.

"Hilary, he's over the moon for you!" Lena exclaimed, holding her friend's arms and looking into her face. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"I don't know," Hilary replied in a small voice, feeling tears gather behind her eyelids. She felt herself being tugged into a warm hug and her breath stuttered in her chest. She hugged Lena back and after a few minutes, her roommate got the entire story out of her, including her thoughts about punishing herself.

"Don't be stupid," Lena admonished her after listening. "You don't deserve all the jerks you've dated."

"Then how else do you explain it?" Hilary asked, wiping the dampness from her cheeks. Somehow, they'd moved back to the couch and the TV was quietly playing the Capitals game.

"You're just making bad decisions," Lena replied. "Like now. You're pushing Mark away because you think you don't deserve him."

Hilary stared at her friend and blushed before mumbling, "but I don't deserve him."

"Why don't you let him decide?" Lena asked. "If he's been calling you every day since he left, he obviously doesn't want it to be over." She paused and gave Hilary a hard look. "Do you want it to be over?"

Hilary shrugged, unsure of anything anymore. Did she want to give Mark up? Did she think she didn't deserve someone as fantastic as him? Had her relationship with John screwed her up that badly? Or was she just making excuses because she was scared that someone might actually care for her?

Slowly the thought settled in her mind, along with the other details from her break-up with John, and Hilary stared up at her friend.

"What?" Lena asked, smiling at Hilary's bewildered expression.

"I just... I think I know what's wrong," Hilary replied.

"Good!" Lena exclaimed and patted her shoulder. "You want to tell me?"

Hilary shook her head. She loved her roommate but she wanted to figure this out for herself. The kettle on the stove whistled, announcing that the water was boiled. Lena went to change out of her work clothes while Hilary poured their tea. They chatted a little while longer as they watched the rest of the game, but neither of them brought up the subject of Mark again.