𝑊𝑟𝑒𝑛

Every creak of the door, every breeze of the wind just made you uneasy now.

It was clear as day, that this case- this whole thing was making you go mad.

Tonight, you looked out at your binoculars.

Exhaustion seeping into your bones.

In your mind, the argument between you and Joaquín keeps replaying like a broken record.

The anger in his voice.

The defensiveness of yours.

When he walked away from you, leaving you alone just as you'd always been.

Finding stability in life can be hard, it's extremely difficult in this kind of life.

You weren't a hero, you weren't a villain.

Just doing what you needed to do to survive.

Even if it was morally wrong or right.

You just needed to feel safe.

And you did, for a quick moment with him.

Joaquín's touch calmed you a lot more than you cared to admit.

You hadn't realized you lacked a bit maturity.

Until you acted like a toddler upset about getting put in time out.

You lacked a lot of things truthfully.

Didn't know how to make genuine friends.

You weren't the type of person to greet your neighbors in the morning.

But... Joaquín did. And he was that kind of person.

If you knew any better, he was using those tactics on you.

He was good.

Deep down, that was something you'd always wanted to do.

To be good.

Do good.

And then you drove him away.

The envy and bitterness sat in your heart.

It was a sign.

You clearly was destined to be alone forever.

At least in this lifetime.

Your face scrunched up in a frown as you packed your gear.

Heading back to the hotel.

You sat on the bed, your head is in your hands.

The limited options and burdens weighing down on you.

Then... your phone starts to ring. Or buzz in this case.

Confusion flooded your senses.

When you pick up the phone, the confusion doesn't ease in the slightest.

You don't recognize the number so you do like any sane person would do.

You ignore it.

Until they call again.

This time, you answer it.

Annoyed already with who is pestering you at this hour.

You're about to tell them 'wrong number'.

When the voice you hear has been one you've been trying to forget for days.

"I have these coordinates, I'm gonna need you to write them down." Joaquín sighs before continuing. "I know we're not talking and I should hate you right now but... that doesn't mean I'm just gonna leave you with this mess."

"Sam has no idea you're calling me, does he?" You ask, grabbing a notepad.

You could feel his sheepish smile over the phone.

"Yeah, he did kinda ground me since I got kidnapped. I'm like... a teenager going through rebellion." He types onto the computer. "Ready for the cords."

"Ready, read them to me." You glance out the window.

Joaquín tells you the coordinates, nice and slow.

You wrote it down with ease.

Soon enough, you found yourself heading out the door.

When a woman stood at the end of the hallway.

Yelena.

She had this look of regret on her face. Perhaps even disappointment.

"Whatever you need to say, you should say it now." You look at her. "I already feel like shit."

She walked over to you. "So you already know you screwed up, that's good."

"And how much did Bucky tell you?" You ask.

"That you and your little birdie were dealing with... business," Yelena glanced behind you. "Speaking of which, where is he?"

You looked away. "Not exactly on great terms right now, he just gave me coordinates but..."

"You're up in your feelings again and pushing everyone away." She reads you like a book.

"I am not," You weakly argued.

Yelena looks at you, unimpressed.

You sighed, "It's better this way, I'm meant to lead this life alone."

She placed her hand on your shoulder and took an inhale.

"That's not true," She argued, "There is good inside of all of us. It only matters if you use it to the fullest potential."

"And where's you get that speech from?" You sniffled.

"Bucky had some cards lying around," Yelena smirked, "But I am serious. If I can get another chance, you will too."

"He gave me coordinates, Joaquín." You shook your head, "He's supposed to hate me and never talk to me again."

"Cleary something changed his mind if he gave you coordinates." Yelena raised an eyebrow, "He didn't have to do that."

"Because he's the embodiment of good, he's used to helping people. And I- I can't be like that." You rambled.

"Can't or won't?" Yelena asked. "Because it looks like to me you don't want to."

"I really do hate you sometimes," You mumbled.

"You really don't," Yelena grinned. "Now, you are going to drive this place and you're gonna kick ass."

"Right," You nod, gathering courage.

"Want me to come with you?" Yelena questioned, suspicious etched on her face.

You shook your head, "No, I have a feeling he'll meet me there."

"I'm coming with you anyways," Yelena walks beside you, "Gotta keep my publicity somehow."

"And to piss off Val?" You adjusted your gear.

Yelena chuckled, "Always, yes. She even asked about you, by the way."

Your posture stiffen on instinct before relaxing.

"What did she want now?" You got in the car.

Yelena got in the passengers. "Nothing, just wanted to know how you were doing."

"And what did you tell her?" You looked up the coordinates on google maps.

"I lied and told her you were doing fine," She glanced at you.

You sighed, "How thoughtful of you,"

The two of you drove in continued silence.

The trees and lights became a blur as you passed by.

"Wait, there." Yelena spoke up.

Pointing at something in the distance.

It looked like a hotel, the lights were still on.

A select few, anyways.

And a man, stood alone just a couple meters from it.

Joaquín.

"There's your birdie," She mutters.

You exited the car and walked towards him.

Yelena followed but a few steps behind, purposely.

Wanting to give you and Joaquin a moment.

As if sensing you, he turned around.

A flicker of recognition flashed across his face.

"Was scared you wouldn't show up," Joaquín admits.

You take the time to really look at him.

The moonlight highlighting his already defined features.

It also highlights the blotch of red and purple around his eye.

"Yeah, I um, I really want to end this with Mario." You nod.

"He hurt you?" He moved closer.

You avoid his eyes, "Yeah, he has a habit of doing that kind of thing with people like me."

Joaquín didn't need to ask and knew not to.

Your words and defensive walls were being built up again right before his eyes.

It was enough of an answer.

"And I know I hurt you with what I said and for that, I'm sorry." You looked back at him.

Joaquín shook his head, "No, I'm the one who's sorry. I was way out of line with what I said about you and your past. I was just-"

"Angry," You finished for him. "That I wouldn't tell you the truth, and the truth is I do trust you. And I'm scared of a lot of things."

Joaquín nods, "It's okay to feel scared."

Yelena checks her watch and whistles lowly to herself.

That was a cue to wrap things up.

Or as if to tell you both that this was getting sappy.

You reach your hand out. "Can we please be partners again?"

Joaquín smirked, "Sounds like you actually like having me around."

"I value your skills and nothing else-"

Your words were muffled as you were being bonecrushed by Joaquín.

He hugged you tight. "You like me," He grins.

You wanted to groan before Yelena spoke up.

"They absolutely do, now hug him back. We can't wait out here for long."

You sighed into his chest before hesitantly wrapping your arms around him.

Connor hadn’t been to many theater performances. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d even been to one. But when Nick texted to say that the Blackhawks had been sent a few tickets and invited to the show Hadestown at the CIBC Theater, Connor wasn’t sure it was an event he could get out of.

Nick was always going on about how shameful it was that Connor knew almost nothing about anything that didn’t somewhat resolve around hockey. It looked like the Blackhawks captain was finally getting his chance to show Connor some culture. 

That was how he ended up just a few rows away from the stage, wearing navy dress pants and a black dress shirt. Nick sat to one side of him, flipping through his Playbill. Frank sat on the other, playing Block Blast on his phone as they waited for the show to begin. 

“I still can’t believe they invited us,” Nick said, setting the program on his lap. “This show is supposed to be amazing.” 

“What is it even about?” Connor asked, his fingers fidgeting. “Is it boring?” 

“Dude, it’s Greek Mythology,” Nick rolled his eyes. “Didn’t you learn anything in school?” 

“Like Percy Jackson?” Frank cut in, picking up his head from his game. 

Nick rolled his eyes again. 

A few moments later, the theater lights dimmed, and the show began. 

And there you were, dressed in a ratty coat, ripped tights, and a black slip dress. Your skin seemed to glow, your hair pulled back to show your face. 

Connor’s mouth parted. 

You might have been the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen—until you started singing, and then he wasn’t sure how anything else could compare.

He was enraptured, leaning forward in his seat as your character fell in love with Orpheus. His eyes followed you as you moved about the stage. He found himself clenching his fists as the Fates ripped your coat from your body. 

The way you moved on stage made everything else feel secondary.

When intermission began, he hadn’t yet taken his eyes off the stage, hoping to catch another glimpse of you. 

“You good?” Frank asked, elbowing his best friend. 

Connor blinked, shaking his head lightly. “That girl, the one playing… fuck, what’s her name?” 

“Uh,” Frank scratched his head. “They’re all kinda hard to remember.” 

“Eurydice.” Nick helped, giving both boys an annoyed look. “Honestly, it’s not that hard.” 

“Yes,” Connor said quickly. “She’s incredible.”

Nick made a small sound like he was trying not to laugh. 

Frank gave them both an odd look. “I mean, they’re all fine. I’m confused about-”

“Shut up, Frank,” both Connor and Nick muttered. 

A few minutes later, the lights dimmed once more. Connor straightened in his seat, causing Nick to smirk. 

He leaned over, “you think she’s more than incredible, don’t you?” 

Connor didn’t take his eyes off the stage, fully prepared for the show to resume. He didn’t want to miss a second. “She’s beautiful.” 

Nick hummed thoughtfully but wasn’t able to say anything else as the show began once more.

Just like before, Connor found himself lost in your performance. At one point, you were singing Eurydice’s solo, knelt at the front of the stage, pure pain and longing on your face. Your performance and voice alone seemed to transport Connor into a different world. 

He sucked in a breath when you briefly made eye contact.

And then, at the end, when Orpheus turned and you were sent back to Hadestown, Connor had to blink rapidly to keep his eyes from tearing up. 

During the curtain call, the audience rose to their feet, clapping thunderously. Nick had to pull Connor out of his trance, encouraging him to stand and clap as well. When you came to take your bow, your eyes locked with his once more, and you smiled softly. The theater's volume crescendoed as you bowed, your hair slipping into your face. 

The light in your eyes at curtain call was something Connor had seen before in himself—after a goal, after a hat trick—but never quite like that.

The cast and crew disappeared backstage, the lights came on, the audience began to trickle out. But Connor was still standing there, staring at the wing you’d exited through. 

“Someone is supposed to meet us here to give us a backstage tour,” Nick muttered, glancing at the email on his phone. “I’m not sure when, or–”

“We get to go backstage?” Connor finally tore his eyes from the stage to turn to Nick. “Do we get to meet them?” 

“Down, boy,” Frank joked. “I’m pretty sure we’ll see some of the actors.” 

A few moments later, the actor playing Orpheus, now dressed in street clothes, was weaving through the seats towards them.

“Hey guys,” he stuck his hand out for them to shake. “It’s an honor for you to be here. I’m a big fan.” 

Nick and the actor exchanged a few pleasantries. 

“I’m supposed to give you the tour. Originally it was gonna be someone else, but when I heard you guys would be here I volunteered to do it.” And with that, he led the three hockey players through the theater, through a set of doors, and into a hallway. 

“I’ll show you the dressing rooms first. Most of the cast will still be here if you want to meet any,” the man said, giving them a smile. 

Connor’s heart jumped into his throat, blood racing in his ears. 

“Oh, Connor would love to meet–”

Connor elbowed Frank quickly, shooting him a glare. 

The actor just smiled, glancing between the two of them.

He took them into a hallway beneath the stage where doors lined each side. He knocked on the first one, opening it and peering into the room beyond. 

“Y/n? Do you wanna meet the Blackhawks players I was telling you about?” 

“Yeah! Just one second…” 

Connor stilled at the familiar voice. Because it was yours, he’d nearly memorized its sound from when you’d been performing. 

A rustling sound was heard from your dressing room, and Connor felt like the hallway was shrinking. 

Connor didn’t even realize he had stopped breathing until Nick shifted, bumping him lightly as if to say, don’t be an idiot. 

A second later, you stepped into the doorway, a used makeup wipe in hand. You’d taken your hair down, and it tumbled freely down your back. You had changed from your costume into a pair of sweat pants and a matching tank top. 

Without the stage makeup, without the distance of the stage between you and the audience, you looked real in a way that made Connor’s brain stutter.  

And then your eyes landed on him.

It wasn’t dramatic. No spotlight, no music swell. Just you. 

Just a pause, like you recognized something in him too. 

“Oh,” you gave a small smile, your eyes finally moving off Connor to flick over Nick and Frank. But then they landed back on Connor, and your smile seemed to soften even further. “Hi.” 

“They watched the show tonight,” the actor said, gesturing towards them. 

Nick stepped forward, offering a hand towards you. “Hi, yeah, the show was great.” 

You took his hand, shaking it with a smile. “I’m glad you liked it!” 

Frank nodded. “Yeah, uh, really good.” At his words, your smile seemed to grow. 

And then it was Connor’s turn. Connor didn’t move right away, his brain scrambling for something, anything. Nick’s brows pinched together, like he was begging Connor to say something normal. 

But Connor’s attention was stuck on you, noticing how your voice felt softer off stage. More like you, and less like the character you had played. 

Finally, Connor stepped forward, offering his hand. You gripped it immediately, eyes locking onto his, your hand soft yet firm in his. 

And warm, so warm and all encompassing. 

“Hi,” he said, and then immediately regretted it. Because it didn’t feel like enough for what he was trying to say. 

Your touch was solid and centering, a sensation that was so at odds with the chaos in his chest. Up close, Connor could see the faint traces of makeup you had missed while wiping it off. Little pieces of Eurydice that he thought clung to your skin like stardust. 

“Hi,” you echoed, like you were saying it specifically for him. And then, “I think I saw you.”

“You- you did?” Connor had never felt like such a bumbling idiot in his life. 

Your smile widened. “Yeah. Three, maybe four, rows back? You were…” your eyebrows drew together as you thought of the word you wanted to use. Connor thought that it was adorable. “You were really focused.” 

Behind him, Frank made a soft, strangled sound like he was trying to hold in his laughter. 

Connor ignored him.

“I was,” he admitted. 

That seemed to amuse you. Not in a mocking way–more like you were pleasantly surprised that someone would say something so honest. 

Neither one of you had let go. Your hand still felt soft in his. 

“I’m glad,” your smile was genuine. “It’s a long show, people don’t always stay with it.” 

“I stayed with it,” Connor said immediately. Then, he flushed slightly at the intensity in which the words poured from his mouth. 

Nick, watching the entire exchange unfold, cleared his throat like he was witnessing something he wasn’t supposed to.

You glanced at him briefly, then back to Connor.

“What did you think?” 

Connor’s mouth opened and closed. 

Because there were a lot of answers. He was blown away by the way you were able to sound when everything was falling apart, by the way that you had clung to every little bit of hope, even when it had been stripped away. 

“I didn’t know people could do that,” he finally admitted.

You paused. “Do what?” Your voice was quiet, maybe even a little unsure. 

Connor didn’t hesitate before saying, “make it feel like that.” 

For a moment, everything around the two of you seemed to fall away. Neither one of you noticed the looks that Frank and Nick were shooting at each other, or how Orpheus’s actor had begun fidgeting with his sleeves, or the thud of the stage crew resetting the props. 

You felt completely swallowed up in Connor’s gaze. Your eyes were the only things that Connor could look at. 

Then, you smiled. “That’s kind of the nicest thing anyone has said to me.” 

Connor’s ears warmed, his cheeks flushing. “It is?” 

“Yeah,” you said simply. “Usually I get a “great show,” and then people leave.” 

Connor frowned at that, like the idea didn’t sit right. “That’s… not enough.” 

That made you laugh softly, eyes sparkling. “No?” 

“Why don’t we continue the tour, and you guys can stay here and chat?” Nick finally cut in, popping the bubble that had grown around you and Connor. 

Connor went to nod, and then looked at you, waiting. Your cheeks warmed when you realized he was checking to see if that was something you wanted. 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you nodded.

With amused glances–and a pointed look from Nick–the three disappeared down the hallway, leaving just you and Connor. 

“Do you want to see my dressing room?” You asked tentatively, watching his face closely for any reaction.

Connor’s nod was immediate, causing your smile to bloom. You turned, pushing your way back through the door. Connor was at your back, eyes following you as you moved.

Inside the room, you had countless letters taped to the edges of your mirror. Letters from friends, tabloid reviews, fan mail. Things that helped give you confidence before you poured your heart out on stage.

The vanity was cluttered with makeup, a spare pair of tights, skin care, anything that you might need.

“This is where the magic happens,” you said jokingly, smiling at Connor in the mirror. He was looking around, really taking it all in. 

You couldn't deny how handsome he was—broad shoulders, dark clothes, and eyes that seemed to take in every little thing.

Eyeing the letters on your mirror, Connor asked, “Do you still get nervous?” 

“Of performing?”

He nodded.

“Every night.” The admission came easier than you expected. Because, if anything, it seemed like he would understand. 

“Don’t you?” You returned, turning fully to look at him head on. 

He didn’t shy away when he said, “every game.” 

He got it—the way you gave pieces of yourself away every night to a room full of strangers and hoped they'd hold them gently. To the show, the music, the audience. It wasn’t so different than stepping onto the ice; how it felt like the approval of the entire city of Chicago sat on his shoulders. 

Slowly, you stepped forward. “I could show you a few more musicals. If you wanted.” 

Connor wasn’t able to take his eyes away from yours. “I’d like that.” 

You grabbed your phone from the vanity, unlocking it and handing it over to him. “Add your number then.” 

He typed in his number and name before handing it back.

Connor Bedard.

You grinned. “I guess I’ll have to pick a good one.” 

“A good what?” Connor asked, a small smile tugging at his mouth as he looked down at you.

“A good musical. Can’t scare you off too soon.” 

Connor laughed, the sound filling the small dressing room. Your cheeks warmed.

“Hey!” A shout was heard from the hallway, causing both of you to pause. It was Nick. “Connor! Are we leaving you here, or what?” 

Connor glanced back at you. “You’ll text me?” 

You nodded, a pretty blush filling your cheeks. “I will.” 

Connor’s smile was more calm, reassured. “Good,” he said quietly, like he believed you.

And then he was slipping into the hallway, his heart racing in his chest. Somewhere behind him, you started humming one of the songs from the show.

Connor smiled all the way back down the hall.