Chapter 24

“A day or two more, tops, no more,” Mario begins but Sid shakes his head emphatically. 

“Until I can bring them both home, I’m not leaving here. I thought you, of all people, would understand that.” Mario purses his lips and then runs his big hand through his still dark hair. 

“I do understand and I commend you for being so responsible about this but what about the team? What about your loyalty to them?” It’s Sid’s turn to run his fingers through his hair and pace in front of the NICU grinding his teeth together as he thinks. She is inside trying to breast feed their son. She made him promise to stay away but he feel’s her presence nearby like a physically tug. 

“A week, ten days at the outside.... They lasted half a season without me, what’s another week?” Mario’s head swivels and his gaze focuses on the same scene Sid is currently watching. His wide shoulders lift and drop as he sighs. 

“A week but if they’re still here after that....”

“Then we’ll have Simon transferred to a hospital closer to home,” Sid replies firmly, “and I’ll be back on the ice. I promise.” 

“You understand this means I have to lie to the league, say your symptoms are back.” Sid nods and rubs at a spot at the back of his neck, sore from sleeping in that cramped hospital bed as he watches her cradle his son against her breast. There is nothing sexual in the sight before him. In fact a soft warm glow fills his chest as he watches. 

“Yeah, but it’s for a good cause.” He feels his mentor’s big hand settle on his shoulder.

“Es-tu en amour avec cette fille?” 

“Yes, I am,” he admits without a second thought, his gaze fixed on his little family, a crooked smile on his face. 

“It’s a big task,” Mario begins very quietly but in a tone that Sid knows carries a warning. “A preemie, this girl....”

“Just because it’s not easy doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing,” he replies swiftly, quoting something he’s almost sure Disco Dan has said before. Mario’s fingers dig into his shoulder and then he pats his shoulder. 

“A week Sid, c’est tout,” his mentor calls as he walks down the corridor. Sid does not answer. A week, a month...he has no perception of time in this place. Not that it matters as no amount of time that will part him from his heart, which he has come to realize is no longer his. 

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“I’m so tired. I can’t imagine if he was home,” she sighs as she steps out of the shower and wraps herself in a towel that is surprisingly soft and not at all like the starched bed sheets.

“We’ll get a nanny,” he calls from the other room. She stops and looks at herself in the mirror. There are dark circles under her eyes and her skin is sallow and pale. She hardly recognizes the woman staring back at her but she knows that it is not a woman who has a nanny. 

“No,” she calls back and then tips her hair forward and begins to wind a towel around her straight dark tresses. 

“No?” he calls back and without seeing him she knows he is smiling, probably amused by her independent streak or thinking that she’s crazy to turn his offer down. 

“It’s just...why do I need anyone else’s help?” she asks, reaching for the clothes that she has lain out for herself. “It’s not like I have anything else to do,” she adds, frowning at her still swollen, if smaller middle as she wriggles into her maternity jeans. “Or have you suddenly forgotten that you promised to help?” 

“I haven’t forgotten,” he calls back, laughter in his voice. 

“And what about all the help you said all the...what do you call them, WAG’s would give?” she adds, dragging the towel off of her head and tugging a shirt over her head that only muffles part of what she says. Looking at herself in the mirror now she almost recognizes the face of the woman looking back at her, only this woman, despite looking tired, looks almost happy. 

“I’m sure you’ll get more help than you need, it was just an offer,” he says, his hands suddenly on her waist. The sensation of him so near is still so new that she doesn’t settle into it right away. She still has to catch her breath, still wants to pinch herself to prove that it’s real. She is only beginning to allow herself to relax into him, to feel the press of his wide chest against her back when nearby voices drag her out of the almost perfect moment. 

“Honey you didn’t call, you should have had someone call.” Fern squeezes her eyes shut and curses under her breath. When she opens her eyes again her mother is standing in the doorway to the bathroom with one of those helium balloons in the shape of a soother in one hand and a bouquet of carnations in the other. Her father is not far behind with a giant blue bear under his arm. 

“Hi mom,” she says quietly but her mother’s gaze is focussed on the man standing behind her with a possessive hand on her daughter. 

“Fernie...can we speak with you...alone?” She nods but the moment she begins to disentangle herself from him his hand closes around her wrist and he pulls her back to him. 

“We do this together,” he whispers, his breath warm on the shell of her ear. “We’re a unit now, remember?” She doesn’t look back but nods, once and then lets him take her hand and lead her out into the room and to the bed where he waits until she is sitting on the side of the thin mattress with its neatly tucked sheets before he turns to face her parents, standing sentry beside her.  

“You?” Her father says, his expression flickering back and forth between outrage and awe like an old black and white b-movie. 

“I know this is probably a shock,” Sid begins but Fern digs her fingernails into the palm of her head and gives a barely discernable shake of her head. He falls silent and turns his bronze and gold flecked eyes towards her, perplexed.

“Now you can understand why I couldn’t say,” she tells them, her gaze holding his, silently asking him to trust her. 

“I damn well do not,” her father snarls but it is the bark of a lap dog, not the growl of a full grown mastiff like Troy Crosby. She does not flinch and neither does Sid. 

“Daddy,” she hisses, turning to narrow her eyes at her father whose expression immediately softens, “please. This isn’t easy for Sidney,” she adds with a quick sideways glance at him. “This was a...a mistake,” she adds very quietly, intentionally looking away from him though she hears his quick intake of breath. “Sidney’s an important person and he shouldn’t have to pay for my mistake.” 

“Fern,” Sid growls and her shoulders rise in a defensive reflex but she doesn’t heed the warning tone of his voice.

“He’ll damn well pay for some of it,” her father rumbles and she is just a little proud of him. He is usually quick to avoid confrontation and she knows that at least some part of him wants to shake Sidney’s hand and tell him how much he enjoys watching him play. Were Mario in the room as well she knows that her father wouldn’t be able to even form words.

“I certainly w...ouch!” She digs her fingernails deep into the palm of Sid’s hand and it silences him before he can continue. 

“Daddy, this is between Sidney and I. I really don’t need you to worry about it,” she insists with a pleading smile she hopes will make all this go away. Her father aims a thunderous look towards Sidney and even her best eyelash batting, quivering bottom lip look does not have the effect she is hoping for so she turns to her mother. “Mom just let me deal with this,” she pleads but her mother’s lips stay pressed together so tightly they are nearly bloodless. With a roll of her eyes she tries again. “You don’t know...it’s complicated and...mmmffff.” Her plea is cut off as Sid manhandles her, turning her towards him and covering her mouth with his own, again and again until she falls into a somewhat subdued silence. 

“Are you done trying to cover for me?” he asks sternly but with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes. She nods, unsmiling and with a petulant jut of her bottom lip. His smile grows to a smirk before he presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth and then turns to her parents. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Smith, this is totally my fault and I’m taking full responsibility for it and I’m really sorry I didn’t think to call you last night. Would you like to see your grandson?” 

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“You didn’t have to do that,” she sighs as she lays her head on his shoulder as together they watch her parents gaze longingly at the tiny form in the incubator.

“I’m not letting you tell a pack of lies to your parents for my sake,” he whispers, kissing the top of her head affectionately, “even though I know you thought you were helping and I appreciate that part.” His arm is locked around her waist and he thinks that it feels like she fits against him well, as if she was meant to be there, two puzzle pieces fitting together in the way they do when once their interlocked you can’t get them apart again. He smiles at the thought. 

“And what about your parents? When are you going to tell them?” she asks in a soft, hesitant voice. He keeps his gaze on the little pink doll with the clue knit cap and tries not to think about what his father would say if he knew that his son was choosing this over skating with his team. 

“I’ll tell them just...not yet.” He can feel her turn her face up to look at him but he doesn’t look down at her, afraid that if he sees the accusation in his eyes he’ll be forced to make the call he is not yet ready for. “Besides,” he adds with a smile as her father looks over the top of the incubator and aims another withering look their direction, “your father hasn’t made up his mind if he’s going to kill me yet.” 

“My dad?” she snorts and then giggles. “My dad doesn’t even kill spiders in the house.” 

“Yeah but maybe if they got his precious baby pregnant and forced her to have a kid out of wedlock he might,” he tells her, turning to gather her against his chest and reaching to brush her hair back from her cheek. She looks tired but the smile she aims at him now amplifies that warm glow he’s been feeling and makes her cheek glow as well. She might not be a Victoria’s secret model, he thinks as he lowers his mouth to capture hers but she makes his heart skip a beat. 

“Where’s the fucking cigars!” 

He groans and she collapses against his chest in a fit of giggles as they are suddenly bombarded with teddy bears and find themselves in the middle of a giant group hug. 

“I guess Mario told them,” he says, apologetically but she is grinning and allowing herself to be dragged into Pascal’s arms. 

“Flower did!” Jordan calls, pressing his face to the glass of the NICU. “Which one’s ours?”

“Ours?” he laughs, accepting a high five from Geno before TK picks him up off of his feet and swings him around. 

“What’s yours is ours what’s ours is ours and...wait...,” Kennedy puts him down, scratches his head, looks perplexed and starts counting on his fingers. 

“Félicitations à vous deux,” Kris adds, draping his arms around both of them. “How is the little one? Flower said...” 

“Doing okay, thanks” Sid interjects before the dark haired defenceman can say more.  

“Que de bonnes nouvelles. I’m glad for you both,” he says sincerely, pressing a kiss to both of their cheeks and quickly dances out of the way before Sid can shove him out of the way. “Are those the out-laws?” he adds with a quick glance towards the window through which Fern’s mother is staring back in obvious alarm.

“My parents...yes,” Fern replies with amusement, a light glittering in her dark eyes that makes him want to kiss her until her lips are swollen. This idea surprises him less than the fact that he doesn’t like her being separated from him even this much. 

“Can you guys keep it down?” he snaps, suddenly irritated to have any of them there, to have to share this with anyone but her. 

“Sid...it’s alright,” she says quietly, reaching past Tanger who still has his arm around her as if he has a right to, to touch his arm, to placate him. 

“No, it’s not. There’s sick kids in there and these guys are not even supposed to be here. The only reason no one’s saying anything is because of who we are,” and for the first time in a long time he wishes he isn’t. He wishes he could be just another parent, no one special, so he could be alone with her and with their son. 

“They’re your friends,” she reminds him quietly, moving away from Kris and wrapping her hands around his arms, or as much as she can, and looking up at him in that way that she does that makes him feel like he is even more than Sidney Crosby, like he is a super hero. “Let them be happy for us,” she adds and he feels it, like a cross check to the back and two handed slash to the back of his knees at the same time. 

“Us?” he more mouths the word than says it and she nods and offers her mouth and he takes it in a long, warm soft kiss that makes the small hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and his heart try and claw its way out of his chest. He ignores the wolf whistles and the other sarcastic, teasing sounds his teammates make and holds her in that kiss as if he could make the entire world go away. 

“Better?” she asks when he lets her up for air, her face suffused with a soft glow. He nods and smiles sheepishly, knowing his face is fiery red. He feels the heat up to the tips of his ears. “You haven’t eaten in ages. Go down to the cafeteria, let them bug you for a while and then come back...to us, okay?” 

“Okay,” he agrees and kisses the corner of her mouth softly before turning like the pied piper and leading his team of merry men down the hall. 

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Still floating on a cloud of new and fluffy emotions she makes her way to the side of her mother who is still standing beside the incubator, her gaze locked on the too small form inside, her father having joined the boys on their search for decent hospital food or at least a hot coffee. 

“I am sorry I didn’t call mom, it’s just...when it started...I didn’t think about much and I was so scared,” she admits. Her mother, without taking her eyes of her grandson, leans over and presses a butterfly light kiss to her daughter’s cheek.

“I can imagine. I’m just sorry you had to do that all on your own baby,” she says, reaching to squeeze Fern’s hand. 

“Oh...yeah, I didn’t. Vero...that is, my friend Veronique was there and then Marc brought Sidney and then he was there,” she explains, feeling suddenly flushed and in need of a chair. Back peddling, she collapses into the nearby rocking chair and fans herself with her hand. With her own child in immediate need, her mother tears her gaze from her grandson and turns a concerned and appraising eye on Fern.

“So how long has this been going on with him?” her mother asks, hands on her hips in a recognizably ‘I do not approve’ stance. Fern blows out a breath and shrugs her shoulders. 

“It’s complicated,” she whispers. Her mother raises a single eyebrow and Fern sighs. “Honestly I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you because I don’t really believe it myself.”This explanation causes her mother to make a face but just as she opens her mouth, probably to ask for a better explanation, all kinds of alarms go off and both women start to look around, trying to discern from which of the little plastic bubbles the cry for help is coming. 

The nurses know. Every set of free hands makes a beeline for Simon’s incubator and Fern is at once on her feet, trying to see. 

“What’s going on?” she shrieks, scratching at her mother’s arms when she tries to pull her back out of the way. 

“Let them do their job Fernie. They know what they’re doing,” her mother tells her sternly but Fern’s own maternal instincts are on overdrive and she fights to get to her son. 

“Tell me! Someone tell me what’s going on?” She looks to the monitors, seeing spikes in the usually gentle waves and feels her heart racing in her chest. 

“We told you this might happen.” Another, firmer pair of hands push firmly down on her shoulders and Kammy, the resident’s calm face, hovers into view. “He’s having some trouble with his oxygen, it happens, try not to panic.” She is panicking, she knows, and appreciates that the almost doctor does not tell her not to. She is far past control over that. 

“Is he going to be alright? Is he?” she shrieks, watching hands moving, wires being placed and moved, her son’s skin turning a frightening shade of grey. “Well, will he?”