He hears footsteps behind him and turns, habitual friendliness. It’s Joe, grinning at him.

Tomáš sighs. “What are you doing here?”

“What?” Joe’s eyes crinkle, like he thinks Tomáš is telling him a joke, like Tomáš is still a child.

Tomáš hates this, hates that he is responsible for this today. “Joe, why are you here?”

He can see the confusion on Joe’s face and knows it will feel like cruelty to tell the truth. You’re lost, old man, he thinks. “Come on, the trainers need to see you.”

Joe follows him, the support staff in the halls all smiling gently at him. He’s here more days than not and for some of them he’s more a fixture of this building than any other Shark.

“What do—” Joe starts, still following Tomáš. The glistening spellthread anchored in his chest flickers and his eyes clear. “Oh, it happened again, didn’t it.”

“Yes,” Tomáš says simply. He doesn’t know what words will strike Joe’s slightly shamed averted gaze. He grasps Joe’s wrist at the door to the trainers’ room. “Stay, yes? You can cheer when I score. Just me, though. Fuck Erik.”

That gets a little snort of laughter from Joe and it’s all Tomáš can do before he has to go get ready.

He doesn’t score, of course. Erik does, but it doesn’t matter. They show Joe on the Jumbotron during one of the breaks in play and he waves benevolently at the crowd; he does love them, or he wouldn’t be here.

---

Logan’s talked about it to death. And still, somehow, here he is again. He and Eddie are pretty well drunk, propped up in a booth in what has to be the shittiest club in Arizona.

“No, no, say that again,” Eddie shouts over the booming bass.

“Fuck,” Logan swears wearily. “Come here.” He drags Eddie outside and presses the side of his face to the brick wall. It’s blessedly cold and quiet out here. “It's nothing good.” He shakes his head and then rethinks it as his world sways a little. “Listen, the original spell is a non-starter. Alumni who have the base level of team spirit are gonna get dragged ‘home’ if we’re shit. But the problem is the dampening overlay. They don’t know why it’s failing here and they don’t know why Jumbo’s getting hit harder than Nabby or any of the other locals. The latest theory floated by that weaselly guy in Shielding is that the Cuda in town are somehow a reflector for the NHL spellwork.”

“Ah, bullshit,” Eddie offers, squatting down with his back to the wall.

“Yeah, bullshit.”

“So Jumbo’s fucked, eh?”

“Unless you’re planning to score some goals? Or the rest of us get less shit?”

“You score some fuckin’ goals,” Eddie says, but it’s nothing more than tired banter. They’ve been doing this too long to fight each other when they know how a season stretches out. “Tomáš said he could see it, did he tell you?”

“European fucks,” Logan sighs. “What can he see?” The Europeans train people better, so even without the aptitude to do major spell work, they’re more aware of it. Some of them see it or feel it, but Logan’s even heard of people who swear they can hear the pitch of spells. It’s more important in Europe where stepping the wrong way on a ley line could turn you into a badger, but Logan sometimes wishes Canadians learned more about how to sense spells instead of differentiating ingredients for spellwork. He can identify a bay leaf and recall six uses for it, but he can’t point at a complex illusion spell and deconstruct how many people cast it like Erik can.

“He sees spells…sort of woven together I think. The threads on Ricci and Nabby are a little smaller while he describes Jumbo’s connection as some kind of enormous rope. Think the kind of thing you’d tie on a ship anchor.”

“Shit. No wonder they keep telling Joe to stay close. He can hardly drive to SF without getting yanked back in.”

Eddie looks up at him under the streetlights, face unusually soft. “You ever heard of it getting this bad?”

“Yeah, you just have to wait for the perfect storm.” Joe’s not the first guy this has happened to, though he seems to be the only one this bad right now. “Shit season, so the original spell is active. Not an original six team, because newer franchises seem to have less control on the dampening overlay. And a genuine connection to the team. Jumbo’s practically got teal blood.” He loves them a lot, Logan knows; Eddie knows too, from the way he winces. And this is how they’re showing him their love: losing so hard he can’t leave them.

“Hey,” the door bangs open behind them and Middsy sticks his head out. “We’re moving, let’s go, Cap.”

Logan doesn’t even think he notices Eddie on the ground before he disappears again. Logan gives Eddie a hand up and half-shoves him back through the door. They can’t solve this problem, but they might as well go get drunk with the guys and forget this night entirely.

---

James finds Joe Thornton sitting in his stall. The game is over, long over, and the boys are all gone. He’d been, well, not drowning himself in the shower, but maybe lingering to see if the water would wash his mistakes away. Now he’s standing here in just a towel and Jumbo Joe Thornton is looking entirely out of place in a suit.

James makes the joke when Joe’s eyes flick up at him. “As I recall, in this locker room, I’m dressed and you’re shirtless.”

“I could fix that,” Joe says, eyes bright, but his smile is half-hearted.

They didn’t play together long, but James knows Joe isn’t okay. He sits down on the bench, resigns himself to being a little late for his dinner tonight. “You still can’t go, huh?”

“Don’t,” Joe says. “Don’t be kind and patient and sit here. Go home to your wife, Reims. I don’t need a babysitter.”

And maybe it’s because James is nearly the oldest guy in the room, almost 15 years older than the kids they’re calling up, but he doesn’t believe Joe. He crosses his ankles casually, stares at his own bare feet next to Joe’s shiny dress shoes. “They thinking about building you a nice Jumbo-sized bed in here? Or about hiring someone to ward you regularly against the lure so you can at least go about your life?”

“I’ve been reliably informed that sleeping here might make it worse. They want me to try to anchor more strongly with something external. They suggested I get back in touch with my high school classmates.”

James laughs at that. “And you probably told them that you don’t know who the fuck went to your high school because you were very busy going first overall.” James remembers that draft, seeing Patty and Jumbo grinning on stage together.

Joe relaxes next to him a little. “Yeah. I couldn’t name a person to save my life. Hell, I don’t really keep in touch with the guys from Boston either. My whole life is here.”

“Yeah. None of them want to say it,” James snitches, “but the guys like having you here. They know this is hard on you, not having a choice, but they’ll miss you when it’s fixed.”

He can see Joe’s emotions play across his face, love and joy and wistfulness. He’s under no illusion that Joe stopped playing here because he wanted to. “You know they’d do anything for you, Joe. Even stop talking to you if that’s what you need to make that break.”

“No,” Joe says, shaking his head. “No, let’s be honest. That wouldn’t work at all. I’ve never needed another person’s participation to carry a conversation.”

James laughs and Joe grins at him. “Well, as long as you know they care. I’m sure it will work out.” He has faith, both in fate and in simple human persistence.

“God, do they care,” Joe groans, finally levering himself up. He pulls a little packet out of his pocket, wrapped in a nice handkerchief. It looks a bit like a tea bag, if James is honest. “Mario has started making me charm bags to keep me safe after I told him I stubbed my toe hurrying out the door.”

“Awww,” James teases, pulling on his shirt. “Once a rookie, always a rookie.”

“He’s a good kid,” Joe agrees, tucking the charm bag back into his pocket. It’s almost definitely an emptied tea bag, filled with dried rosemary and juniper and stapled back together.

“So how long are you stuck here tonight?”

“They’ll wrap it up in the next half hour. They don’t play with the wards during the game, you know, so it takes a while for them to fix it if I get pulled in on game day.” Joe shrugs. “I’d probably have come to half the games anyway, so I can’t complain too much.”

“Want to walk around?” James shoves his stuff in his bag. He goes to the minifridge to grab a bottle of water. “I’m still buzzing after the game and my wife’ll kill me if I go home and get the kids all antsy at bedtime. We can take a lap around and see if those magicians can manage to tell a charm from a conjuring by the time we’re done.”

“I think they pulled one of the refs from tonight,” Joe says with a grimace, but he follows James out the door well enough. “Gary Bettman’s best is on the case, so I assume they’ll do nothing worth the time.”

James refrains from commenting, but he can certainly sympathize. He’s seen no evidence that the refs are competent or motivated to help the Sharks this year. Still, he can walk around with Joe for half an hour, distract him a little while he waits for the dampening overlay to be mended.

It’s a quiet night and Joe’s always a laugh, even under trying circumstances. The guy just doesn’t know how to be any other way.

---

Joe is a little tired. It’s the middle of winter (a California winter, thankfully) and he’s still being dragged into SAP center at least once a week.

They have given him jobs to do, but he has no idea whether he’s succeeding or being placated like a toddler with a coloring book. Still, a purpose is better than just being a spectator.

So he looks at stats and listens to the GM and coaches talking. He watches the games and takes notes; when Mike asks him about his notes, he answers honestly. He never thought he’d leave hockey anyway, so maybe when they solve this, he’ll have a way to stay with the game.

But the job is a distraction from everything else. His former teammates look at him and he can hardly stand it because they look at him like he’s their grandfather, ambling around in his own memories. They love him and he is humbled by the extent of their love, but he can’t bear the way his fears are reflected in their eyes.

He’d hoped (dreamed, wished, prayed) that he and Patty would come home together. Sure, he hasn’t officially retired, but that’s not far off. And Patty’s supposed to come back for his retirement ceremony in a month or so. But Patty’s been traveling and he hasn’t been sucked in by the spell yet.

Nabby and Ricci are similar to Joe, though he thinks they’ve stayed for slightly different reasons. Ricci chose this, long before the Sharks were losing and the luring spell was reactivated. Nabby just can’t stand the jet lag from getting pulled from overseas. Joe knew he was probably a little too fond of San Jose to ever really leave; hell, he has American citizenship now. But he didn’t think it would be this bad. They can’t even explain to him why the dampening overlay on the original spell is so ineffective for him compared to every other alumnus. It’s not like Nols is being pulled in and he still even lives in the Bay Area.

He texts Scotty while he’s thinking about it, since he knows he’ll be in town for Patty’s retirement.

>>when are you getting in?

<<For Pat? Night before. Btw I’m sleeping at ur place

>>Duh

>>I’ll send a rookie to pick you up from the airport

<<Damn you’re still stuck huh?

>> No luck yet. Just don’t want to leave you stranded if I get lured in and can’t leave right away

<<I’ll be fine. Did u know Uber exists?

Joe responds with a rude emoji because he’s still allowed to be Scotty’s bratty little cousin even now that they’re both grown.

They’re in the planning stages for the ceremony and Joe is sure he’ll have to give a speech. How he’ll do that without just saying “I love you, Patty,” on repeat for ten minutes might be a struggle. He doodles it in the margins of his notebook anyway, way up in the rafters; what else is there to do during intermission?

He doesn’t text Patty. Patty wanted space and Joe understands that. Every guy who retires has to find himself again, has to figure out what the hell you do with all the hours in the day when you’re not training your body to the limit. Joe hasn’t formally retired but he’s started building a different life anyway. He’ll probably announce his retirement this summer and then work with the Sharks to figure out if he really has something to offer the team.

So Patty gets his space and whenever he decides to pick up his phone again, Joe will be waiting.

---

Tomáš can feel the frisson of excitement in the air as they build up to Patty’s retirement. Sure, the team is shit and they’re all keeping an eye on Joe, but they’re happy for Patty. There are fewer of them now who played with Patty, but a lot of the old guys are coming into town. It’ll be a fun weekend.

Logan’s hosting a party at his place before the big alumni game, so everyone who can will be showing up. Tomáš shows up early to help out, which is good because Logan’s white-knuckling a bag of plastic forks and panicking about where to put everything.

By the time everyone gets there, the food and drinks are in disarray and the party has spilled through the first floor of the house and out into the backyard.

“Hey,” Cranky hollers, very shortly before he yanks Tomáš into a rough hug. Tomáš hugs him back and then shoves him on his way. He and Boyler live close enough that Tomáš sees them at least once a year.

When Patty finally arrives a great big cheer goes up and he’s mobbed by anyone near the door. Tomáš waits, out on the patio, for Patty to make the rounds. He’s got a beer and he’s comfy.

“You going to the alumni game?” Erik asks, lightly kicking Tomáš's chair.

“Yeah. Gonna watch the old guys play,” he says, just loud enough for Hanner to look up from where he’s talking to Eddie and flip him off.

Erik laughs and says, “Should be fun.“

“Hey, guys,” Patty says from somewhere over Tomáš’s head.

“The man of the hour,” Erik says gracefully, lifting his glass in a toast.

“I appreciate everyone coming,” Patty says distractedly. Tomáš twists to look at him. “Do you know where Jumbo is?”

“Uh, no?” Erik digs out his phone. “Maybe ask Logan if he heard from him.”

Tomáš fishes around in his pocket and holds up his phone to Patty. “I can call?”

“No, no,” Patty declines, but his brow is still furrowed. He continues down the stairs to the yard, carefully greeting everyone. Tomáš likes to watch him work; San Jose does something to its captains, down deep in their bones.

“Call,” Erik advises and Tomáš makes a face because he was going to anyway. Joe wouldn’t miss out on something like this.

Joe picks up on the first ring, helpfully.

“Joe?”

“Hey, buddy. Patty arrived?”

“Yeah, where are you?”

“Two guess and the first one doesn’t count,” Joe suggests, which is a silly sentence.

“Rink?”

“Yep. I’m about to steal Kaapo’s pads and take a nap because I gotta wait for the off-duty magicians to come on site and join Vinny here.” That’s probably at least partly a joke, but Joe sounds tense.

“Oh. How long will you be there? Patty is missing you.”

“Tommy, I don’t have a fucking clue. Unless you’ve suddenly become a much better wizard than I remember and you can solve the entire NHL’s lure spell?”

“Joe,” Tomáš chides gently. “I’ll say to Patty that you’re stuck—“

“No! I haven’t…I don’t want to worry him. If he asks, I’m on my way.”

“Lying…” Tomáš frowns to illustrate how he feels to Erik who’s half listening. “Right now Patty is saying hi to everybody. He’ll wait for you.”

“Just,” Joe sighs gustily over the line, “keep him distracted.”

“Okay. We’ll save you cake too,” Tomáš offers. That might actually be harder than keeping Patty distracted.

“Thanks,” Joe says. “Just, uh, keep it on the down low. Maybe tell Scotty if I’m really late because he’s supposed to crash at my place.”

“Okay, yeah, we will.”

“Hopefully, this will be done soon.”

“Soon,” Tomáš agrees. Joe hangs up and Tomas immediately stands.

“Joe’s stuck?” Erik looks discomfited and Tomáš wonders a little meanly if he’s worried about Joe or worried that he’ll be trapped forever between Ottawa and Sam Jose.

“Yeah. I’m gonna give Cooch the heads-up. Joe said not to say anything to Patty though.”

“Stupid,” Erik comments, so Tomáš messes up his hair as he walks back in.

Logan’s not hard to find, hovering in the kitchen. He fusses so much. A couple of the rookies are sitting at the bar stools at the counter, so Tomáš very discreetly grabs a fist of Logan’s shirt and hauls him out to the hallway.

“Tommy?” Logan looks more worried, which is not very becoming on him.

“Joe. He’s stuck again. And he said not to tell Patty anything.”

Logan frowns, which Tomáš agrees with in principle. Since this is not a Best Friend Gossip, however, Tomáš wants a little more.

Since Joe and Patty are former captains, this clearly falls on the head of the current captain.

“He has to wait for Vinny’s backup, he says. I don’t want him stuck there until tomorrow’s game.”

“I’ll make some calls,” Logan agrees. “Can you make sure Seto doesn’t eat all of the puff pastry things? And for god’s sake don’t let Greggy try to open another bottle of wine. He massacred the last cork.”

“Sure,” Tomáš agrees with a shrug. Logan jogs upstairs, presumably for an ounce of quiet while he makes his calls.

Tomáš takes up his guard station near the snacks, which mostly means he gets to mindlessly graze on these little sausage things and some bacon-wrapped dates. It’s actually kind of a nice area to linger since everyone passes by eventually.

Tomáš is interrupted in an interesting conversation with a slightly drunk Rob Blake by his phone buzzing incessantly. He apologizes and pulls it out to find five messages from Eddie, sent one after the other.

>>hey

>>watch out

>>Patty on the warpath

>>Tommy

>>seriously he’s pissed

That gives Tomáš about two seconds before Patty shows up, peering over Rob’s shoulder with a tight smile.

“Sorry, I just need to borrow him,” Patty says before his strong hand latches on to Tomáš’s elbow and yanks him along.

“Patty?”

“Where are your keys?” Patty asks, still smiling as they pass through the crowd at speed.

“My pocket,” Tomáš says nervously, feeling his own accent thicken in his mouth. “Why?”

They make it out the door, somehow, without anyone questioning them and Tomáš thinks that’s maybe down to Patty’s captainly aura. “Logan has disappeared, Eddie’s fucking toasted, and I’m running low on rookies I can use to guilt Jumbo about being the stupidest motherfucker alive.”

Tomáš wisely does not respond to that accusation and simply leads Patty to his car. “So I’m driving?”

“Yes.” Patty opens the door ferociously and flings himself into the passenger seat. “I could have brought Mario, I guess, but he’s never calmed a situation down in his life. Do you know what I would give to have Cobra, right now?”

“No?” Tomas pushes the button to start the car and carefully pulls out of the culs-de-sac.

Patty has moved on apparently. “And I had to hear about this from Scotty? Fucking Scott Thornton? Of course Jumbo couldn’t pick up a phone.”

Tomáš hazards a glance at Patty and sees the fire in his pale eyes, the way his brows are furrowed. He looks like he’s ready to take the most important faceoff of his life.

“Maybe Joe didn’t want you to worry?”

Patty almost snarls. “That asshole has been moping around the rafters of SAP center and ignoring the advice of every magical professional to get a fuckin’ hobby elsewhere so he doesn’t have to actually live within the warding. The easiest way to make me not worry would have been to listen to them.”

Tomáš doesn’t have anything tactful to say to that, so he keeps his mouth shut. Patty’s legs are flexing like he’s pressing down an invisible gas pedal while Tomáš drives; Tomáš is mostly grateful that San Jose is neither big nor busy at this time of night. The dark streets are mostly empty and if Tomáš pushes the speed limit a little, no one will ever know.

The private parking lot on the side is still open, the gate propped to the side. It’s not hard to get in, the building still half lit as they clear out the ice rink and fully clean the concourse. Under the streetlights, the spellthreads seem even brighter than in the sunlight. Tomáš studies it for a second, looking at Patty’s connection to the lure spell and wondering whether bringing him here was a mistake. His threads are not as thick and shining as Joe’s but they’re not small either.

“Well?” Patty asks impatiently, leaning on the hood of the car.

“Am I coming?”

“Yes, yes, come on. Practice making a sad and disappointed face for him.”

Tomáš does not, in fact, practice that as he follows Patty through the halls. “Wait,” he interrupts.

“Yeah?”

There’s a glimmer to the left, not the right, so Tomáš thinks the spell locus is that direction. “I can see, you know, the magic. It’s stronger here so that must be where Joe is.”

“Lead the way,” Patty suggests, gesturing for Tomáš to go on.

Tomáš follows that little spark he can see, away from the corporate offices and down to the kitchen. The light is on, so he tilts his head at the frosted glass door. “In there, I think.”

Patty opens the door and marches in, letting it swing mostly shut behind him.

Tomáš hears Joe say, “Patty?” in equal tones worry and delight. He lingers out of sight by the doorway, presuming some privacy might be nice if Patty’s about to shout at Joe for not telling him.

“Scotty told me everything, you dumb motherfucker,” Patty starts. “What the hell were you thinking? If the team magicians tell you to go get a hobby or get out of the rink, why can’t you listen? The whole world is out there, you idiot.”

“You weren’t,” Joe says and Tomáš can feel his heart drop because even with Joe’s characteristic honesty that felt like an unplanned confession.

“Joe,” Patty says, exasperatedly fond and then there’s a loud slamming noise and Tomáš hurriedly steps inside.

He doesn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t Patty pressing Joe against the fridge and kissing him like he wants to devour him. The bowl of fruits that usually sits on the fridge has been knocked to the floor and Tomáš has the distant, stupid thought that someone will have to collect all the apples and oranges that are rolling to the farthest corners of the room.

He must make some noise because Joe opens his eyes and startles.

He shoves Patty behind him and says, “Tommy. I don’t—I didn’t know you were here. How long were you here?”

“I drove Patty,” Tomáš says, pointing at where Patty is not so much cowering behind Joe as draping himself over Joe’s back.

“Did you…see anything?” His eyes are wild, slightly red, mouth a thin line.

And oh, now Tomáš understands what Joe is saying. “No.” He doesn’t know how to say to Joe Everyone knows, old man. he doesn’t think Joe would like that. He certainly doesn’t have the words in English to explain when I was 19 you threatened to whip your dick out because a reporter was making a happy night sad for me and I think maybe I would do anything to make you happy now. All he can say is, “No, I am European. You know we greet our friends very…strongly.” He sounds like a fool, but Patty is smiling at him, those soft eyes over Joe’s shoulder. “I’m going to go wait outside if Patty needs a ride home, but I will be on the phone so you’ll have to tap my shoulder to get my attention.”

Joe smiles at him faintly now, eyes still damp. “Thank you.”

Tomáš makes it to the door and starts to close it behind himself. He can’t resist though, turning to cheekily ask, “Please don’t fuck in the kitchen?”

Joe laughs at that, big belly laughs of relief that Tomáš can hear even after he’s pulled the door shut.

Usually, they meet him part way home, where the lights of the city dim and the crowds thin. He is therefore surprised to see a flickering orange glow floating jauntily outside of his work at two in the morning. 

“Hello?” Kevin says, uncertain, but attempting to be polite. 

He gets the distinct impression that the orange blob is waving at him, so he waves back tentatively. 

“Hello!” The orange blob sounds very cheerful and Kevin relaxes a little bit. “Trains are broken. I walk you home.”

Kevin nods. He’s too tired, really, to make much conversation. They only make it a few blocks until his companion breaks the silence. “Why do you work so late?” The orange glow washes out slightly, ebbing to reveal a sympathetic round face. 

“Project,” Kevin sighs shortly. “I’m supposed to present a final report to a client the day after tomorrow. Or, I guess, now tomorrow. One of my team members was out sick this week, so I had extra work.”

 “Oh no,” the Super says sadly. “You need sleep.” He holds out his arms, hands emerging from the shifting orange glow slowly. He looks like he’s asking for a hug and his ambient warmth is just making Kevin sleepier. “Want me to take you home?”

Kevin sways forward and then blinks slowly. “I don’t even know your name.”

The Super smiles disarmingly and says something that sounds familiar and yet incomprehensible. He tilts his head when Kevin just stares and then says, “Ember.”

Kevin nods, brain still slowly processing. “Uh, Kevin. I’m Kevin.”

“I know,” Ember says, looking pleased. “Now, let me take you home?”

Kevin walks into a warm hug and gets lifted like a child. It’s comfortable and his arms are only loosely wound around the Super’s shoulders as they drift upwards.

Kevin’s staring blearily at the city lights below, cheek squished against Ember’s broad shoulder. “Wait,” he says abruptly, almost directly into the Super’s ear. He’s lucky he doesn’t startle the Super into just dropping him. “Are you all European?” The accents were pretty heavily European, but Ember said something that reminded him of hearing his cousins talk. His own Slovak is dreadful, to the absolute despair of his mother, but he recognizes it somewhat.

“You’re so smart,” Ember says, patting him on the back fondly. Kevin feels proud for a moment and then a little stupid for basking in that praise.

“Do you speak Slovak?” Kevin asks quietly.  “My parents spoke it with each other so I know some, but my grammar is really bad.”

“No,” Ember says. “I speak Czech. Not so different though!”

He sets Kevin down very, very slowly, just inches from the lobby door of his building. “Go sleep.”