Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9315128.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Hockey_RPF
  Relationship:
      Patrick_Kane/Jonathan_Toews
  Character:
      Jonathan_Toews, Patrick_Kane, Chicago_Blackhawks_Ensemble, Original_Male
      Characters, Original_Female_Characters
  Additional Tags:
      Homosexuality, HockeyPlayer!Toews, Runaway!Kane, Past_Child_Abuse, Pat
      played_hockey_before, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Prostitution, Homelessness,
      Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, NHL, Oral_Sex, Non-Consensual_Oral
      Sex, Anal_Sex, Past_Sexual_Abuse, abuse_by_coach, Pat_doesn't_have_a_good
      family/home_life, Not_Canon_Compliant, The_abuse_is_an_under_lying
      storyline, physical_assault, Patrick_gets_beat_up, Doesn't_follow_any_one
      hockey_season
  Series:
      Part 1 of Past,_Present,_and_Future
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-01-14 Completed: 2017-03-07 Chapters: 23/23 Words: 48733
****** The Past We Left Behind ******
by PensToTheEnd
Summary
     Seventeen Year-old Patrick Kane runs away from a bad situation and
     ends up in Chicago, living on the streets with a makeshift family of
     other runaways. He meets Jonathan Toews, who picks him up on the
     first night Patrick is out with other family members doing what they
     have to in order to have money to live. But Patrick quickly learns
     that Jonathan isn't what he'd expected of a "John" and as their
     friendship develops, Patrick learns that they share a love of hockey,
     and that they have a lot more than that in common... and Patrick sees
     how different his life could have been... and maybe it still can
     be....
Notes
     Branching out with my writing to other teams and pairings.... started
     this a while ago... it is mostly done and will post fairly
     regularly...
     will add tags and warnings as I go... I'm not good at it, so if you
     think something needs tagged, let me know!
     Come find me on Tumblr
***** When Patrick Met Jonathan *****
Patrick, along with a couple of the others, saw the dark colored SUV pull up to
the red light at the corner two blocks away. There weren’t many vehicles on
this street.  At this time of year.  At this hour,  All the boys standing
around know what the driver of the SUV wants.  Some of them straighten their
clothes or their hair, stand up straighter, open their jackets despite the cold
to show off hard bodies underneath.  Anything that might make the driver pick
them, get them in some place warm for a while, and get them some money to buy
food.
The SUV pulled up to the curb in front of the group of young men, the passenger
side window lowered just enough that you could see the top of a person’s head
over the top edge of the window.  All the other windows on the black vehicle
tinted so you couldn’t see in.
Jason, a dark haired teen, and the self-designated leader of their little pack,
started to approach the vehicle.
“No, not you tonight.” Came a male voice from inside.  “The little blonde
wearing the Sabres’ jacket.”
“Pat” Jason said, turning around.  “You’re up man.”
Patrick shot the older boy a look of concern, so Jason walked over to him,
bending to whisper in Patrick’s ear.
“It’ll be okay.  He’s a regular, so you’ll be fine. Okay?”
Patrick nodded his head nervously.  Although he’d gotten hooked up with Jason’s
band of runaways a week ago, this was the first night Jason had made him come
out with them to earn money to help support ‘their family’ as Jason called
them.  And this was Patrick’s first trick.  Ever.
Patrick slowly made his way over to the SUV, hearing the door lock pop when he
got close.
“Get in.” Said the voice from inside.
Patrick’s hand shook a little as he reached and opened the door.  He turned and
gave Jason a weak smile before climbing in to the passenger seat.  Jason
watched the window go up and the SUV pull away from the curb.
“Um, if you go up a block and take a right, halfway down that block is an alley
you can pull into.  That’s the spot where I’m supposed to tell you to take me
to, so they know where I am.”
“I have my own spot.”
Patrick swallowed hard, his heart suddenly racing even more than it had been. 
He stared at the driver, who was maybe in his mid-twenties, maybe, clean-shaven
with short brown hair and dark eyes, and a serious expression on his face.  He
was dressed in a business suit. 
Patrick thought about just bailing out of the moving vehicle, but something
about the guy kept him glued to the seat instead. That and Jason said he was a
regular.  Jason wouldn’t have sent him with some weirdo the first time out,
would he?
“But, Jason said…”
“My name’s Jonathan.  You can call me Jon if you like.  And I don’t care what
Jason said.  I don’t do this in an alley.  I have a place.  We’re going there.”
Patrick turned to look out the window, trying to figure out where this place
was, where he was being taken, but he really didn’t know any of the streets
that well yet.  He looked at the man, at Jon, again.  Something told him that
Jon wasn’t the serial killer type, despite the serious face.  So Patrick
decided not to worry about where he was going.
“Patrick.” He said quietly.
“What’s that?”
“My name is Patrick.”
“Well, Patrick, I’m pleased to meet you.”
---
About twenty minutes later they pull up in front of an apartment building.  Jon
parks the SUV in a spot marked reserved and gets out without saying a word,
just expecting Patrick to follow.  Patrick gets out and follows Jon threw a set
of doors and to an elevator.  When they get in it, Jon pushes the button for
seven and leans back against the wall.
“So. Um.  What do you want?”  Patrick asks, taking a step towards Jon.
“Not here.”  Jon holds his hand up in front of Patrick.
The elevator stops and Patrick hears seven beeps before the door slides open. 
He follows Jon down the hall to a door marked 721, then into what is a rather
spacious apartment.
“This is pretty nice,” Patrick says slipping out of his Sabres’ jacket and
tossing it on the floor by the door.  “So, now can I ask?  What do you want to
do?”
“That’s the closet.” Jon says, pointing at a closed door just inside the
apartment.  “Your coat gets hung up, not tossed on the floor.”
Pat thinks about picking up his coat and walking out.  Christ, this is part of
why he ran away, he didn’t need this guy to be his father.
Jon stopped toeing out of his shoes and stared at Pat.  Patrick gets his first
good look at Jonathan and realizes the guy isn’t as old as he’d thought.  His
stern look in the SUV had just made him seem older.  In reality he’s maybe only
a couple of years older than Patrick.  Wow, Pat thinks, pretty young to be
doing so well.
“The coat.”  Jon says sternly.
Patrick bends and picks it up, opens the closet door and hangs the coat up on
one of the wooden hangers.  There are a couple of Blackhawks jackets hanging in
the closet.  So, Jon is a hockey fan, he thinks, maybe that’s why he picked me,
because of my Sabre’s stuff.
Jon started walking in to the apartment, so Pat hurriedly kicked off his shoes
and followed.
“You hungry?”  Jon asks, his voice taking a softer tone for the first time.  “I
have some leftovers I can heat up.  Sorry it’s vegan stuff, but you’ll like it
I think.”
“Vegan?  Like health nut shit?” 
Pat’s taking in everything he can about the apartment.  It spacious, but not
overly huge, and sparsely decorated.  There are some pictures of what look like
family on the tables and a bookcase, but very little of anything on the walls. 
There’s an overstuffed, very comfortable looking couch in the middle of the
room, with a matching chair, a coffee table and a big screen TV.  From the
clutter on the tables, and stuff tossed on the floor here and there, Pat’s
confused that Jon would have worried about him not hanging up his coat.  The
apartment doesn’t look like it belongs to a neat freak.
Pat realizes Jon didn’t answer him and turns to see that he’s gone into the
kitchen, so Pat wanders in to that room.  It not that big, but there is enough
counter space to cook and spread out a little, and a nice wooden table and set
of chairs in the middle.
Jon is pulling some containers out of the refrigerator.
“Uh, that’s okay, I’m not really into health food.”  Pat says leaning against
the door frame.
“When was the last time you had a good meal?  And have a seat.  It won’t take
long to heat this stuff.”  Jon opened a cabinet and took out a couple of
plates.  “I have Gatorade or water, what would you like?”
“Um.  Don’t you just want to get down to business?  They’re going to wonder if
I’m gone too long.”
Jon laughs, “No.  Jason isn’t going to worry.  He knows you’re with me and that
I’ll have you home safely in the morning.”
Patrick’s breath hitches.  Morning?  This guy expects him to stay all night? 
Jon dished out some food from a container on to one of the plates and shoved it
in the microwave.  While it heated he got a glass down from a cabinet, filled
it with ice, and then sat it and a bottle of Gatorade down in front of
Patrick.  When the microwave dinged he took the plate out and sat it in front
of Patrick as well.
Pat crinkled his nose, “What is this?”
“Eggplant parmesan, over whole wheat pasta.” He watched Pat scrunch his whole
face.  “Just try it.”
Jon then fixed his own plate and put it in the microwave.  He watched Patrick
hesitantly cut a piece of eggplant off with his fork and scoop it up.  Pat blew
on the food then put the bite in his mouth.  He chewed slowly, his eyes slowly
lighting up.
“This is good.”
“See.  I told you.”  Jon took his plate out of the microwave and went to sit at
the table with Patrick.
They sat, eating in silence, until Patrick finally felt brave enough to talk.
“So, um, can I ask, how old are you?”
“19.  You?”
Pat was stunned that he’d been right about Jon’s age.  He really wondered now
what Jon did for a living, or if maybe his family was rich.  He sat letting the
different possibilities run through his head for a moment, until Jon asked him
again how old he was.
For an instant Patrick thought about lying, but something about Jon said he
shouldn’t.  “17.  I just turned 17 last month.”
“Is that when you ran away from home?”  Jon questioned.  “It’s okay.  Not like
I’m going to rat you out to anybody.”
“Yeah.  Some shit happened and I left.”  Pat looked down at his plate, shoving
the last few bites around. 
Jon didn’t press him on it, changing the subject instead.  “You want some
dessert?  I have some strawberry non-dairy stuff.  Not really ice cream, but
really good.”
“Yeah.  I guess I could try it.  You were right about dinner, so I’ll trust you
aren’t going to feed me some gross shit.”
Jon got up and while he scooped out two dishes of the strawberry dessert
Patrick finished the last bites of his food and cleared their plates from the
table, taking them to the sink and rinsing them off.
Jon laughed.  “Don’t hang up you jacket, but clear the table?”
“Habit.  It was one of my chores at home, to do the dishes after dinner.”
“Thanks, then.  That was nice of you to do.”  Jon handed Patrick a bowl and
spoon.  “What say we go in on the couch and have our dessert.  You can bring
your Gatorade if you want, too.”
Patrick poured the rest of the Gatorade into his glass, picked up his bowl of
dessert and followed Jon into the living room, sitting down at the opposite end
of the couch.
Jon was right about the strawberry stuff, it wasn’t ice cream, but it was
really good.  Pat slid a finger around the bowl to get every bit of it, licking
his finger slowly to enjoy a rare sweet treat.
“Mmmm… that was really good.  Thank you.”
“No problem.  So, Patrick.  Do you like to play video games?”
“Um?”  the question took Pat off-guard.  “Don’t you want to, you know?”
“So you don’t like video games?”
“No.  I mean, yes.  I do.  I haven’t played anything since I left home,
though.”
“There’s a stack of games by the XBOX, pick something and put it in.”
This guy was really confusing Patrick.  This wasn’t at all the way Nick or
Stevie, two of Jason’s other boys, had told Patrick it would be if he went out
to work tricks with them.  Not at all.
Patrick got up and went to where the XBOX and games were, he looked over
several before settling on one that had been his favorite at home.  He put it
in and brought both controllers back to the couch, handing one over to Jon.
“NHL.” He said.  “Is that okay?”
“Yeah.” Jon says nonchalantly, “that’ll be good.”
They ended up sitting on the couch playing the game for the next three hours,
taking bathroom and snack breaks a couple of times.  More than once Patrick
found himself looking at Jon instead of paying attention to the game.  He was
good looking, tall, well taller than Patrick, and appeared to be in really good
shape if his arm muscles were an indication of what the rest of him was like. 
Jon had changed out of his suit into a pair of sweats and a Blackhawks’ t-
shirt. 
Around 1 am, Jon put his controller down, stretched and yawned. 
“Okay.  Are you tired?  I think I’m finally worn out enough to actually fall
asleep.  Come on.”  Jon stood up and started down a hallway towards what
Patrick was sure was his bedroom.
This was it, time to earn his keep for hooking up with Jason.  He’d had sex
before.  With girls. And men.  But.  That had been different.  He wondered if
he’d actually be able to go through with this.
Jon strode over to a dresser and dug another pair of sweats and a t-shirt out
of a drawer, tossing them at Patrick.
“They’ll probably be too big,” he said as he went to turn down the comforter
and sheets on a rather massive looking bed.
Patrick just stood there.  Dumbstruck.  Not sure of what to do.
“Um, you can change in the bathroom down the hall if you want.” Jon said when
he noticed Patrick frozen in place.  He winked at Patrick, “Or are you one of
those people who likes to sleep in the nude?”
That jarred Patrick into motion, he didn’t say anything but simply turned and
headed for the bathroom as a warm flush spread over his face and down his
neck. 
A few minutes later he appeared at the end of the bed dressed in Jon’s clothes,
which hung ridiculously loose on him.  Jon was already under the covers on one
side of the bed, laying on his side facing the empty spot next to him.
Patrick walked around to that side and climbed in under the covers, laying on
his side facing Jon.
“So.  I have a day off tomorrow and don’t have to get up early.  I set my alarm
for 9 am.  Is that okay?  We can have some breakfast, hang-out if you want,
then I’ll run you back over to Jason.”
Patrick’s head was spinning trying to figure out what was going on, “so, you
don’t want to?”
“Not tonight.  I’m tired and a little sore from… work… I really just wanted
some company.”
“Um.  Okay.  Well, uh, then, yeah, that would be fine.”
They laid there, talking in soft whispers for a while, kidding each other about
different things from their video game before Patrick asked Jon a question and
didn’t get an answer.  He listened for a couple of minutes to the sound of Jon
breathing.  Slow.  Deep.  Even.  Then Patrick closed his eyes and let himself
drift off to sleep as well.
***** What Makes A Home? *****
Chapter Summary
     What he did think about was just how lucky he’d been to run into
     Jason just a few days after getting to Chicago.  Patrick was on the
     L, trying to get warm.  Jason had spoken first and by the time they
     got to Jason’s stop, he had convinced Patrick to come with him. 
     There were fifteen of them living together, six girls and nine boys. 
     Patrick made sixteen. 
Patrick slipped through the opening in the chain-link fence that surrounded the
abandoned building he currently called home.  Carefully he slid the piece of
plywood blocking a doorway aside to get in, then slid it back in place.  He
made his way over the debris that littered the floor of what probably was a
lobby when the building was new and still in use.  Patrick thought the building
was probably some sort of office building in its heyday. 
He worked his way to the stairs and then skipped up them, taking them two at a
time.  When he hit the first landing a voice called down to him. 
“Stop right there.”
“It’s Patrick, Mikey.”
“Okay.  Come on up, dude.”
Patrick looked up and saw Mikey leaning out over the rail at the second floor
landing looking back down at him.  Mikey had a gun in his hand Patrick knew,
protection against anyone who wasn’t part of their group, anyone who might
think about taking over their building or hurting them in some way.  He knew
that Mikey already knew it was Patrick coming up the stairs, one of the girls
would have been watching from a second-floor window.
“Where’s Jason?” Patrick inquired.
“Putting away groceries.  After you got picked last night he, Nicky, and Sam
also got picked up.  They made out well from some out of town dudes.  Jason
went and bought a bunch of food this morning, and not just canned stuff.  He
said he bought some fresh subs for dinner tonight as a special treat.”
“That’s great.” Patrick said as he slipped through the opening in another board
that actually took him into the second floor office area.
There was a spacious, main common area that had five hallways leading out at
different angles.  Down each hallway were rooms that Patrick guessed had been
offices.  No one was in the common area, it was too big and too cold this time
of year to hang out there.  Instead, there would be small groups of people in
several of the offices, huddled together for warmth. 
Each room would be heated by a small fire contained in what had been a portable
charcoal grill, they burned whatever they could find in that grill in order to
generate heat.  A second fire was kept going and fueled only by clean wood they
could find so that they could cook over it.  Over the time they’d been together
as a family they had collected numerous blankets, pillows and even several
mattresses.
The windows of the offices they slept in were boarded over during the cold
months and opened up in the summer.  A blanket hung over the doorway kept the
rooms private.
The core of the group had been living in this building for almost a year now,
led by Jason and his girlfriend Kristi.  Nobody seemed to bother them or care
that they were in this place, it was as if it had been completely abandoned by
its owners and well, as long as they didn’t cause problems or set the place on
fire, the cops left them alone, too.
Patrick made his way to where Jason was putting away several cans of food.
“Here,” he handed Jason the sealed envelope Jon had given him. 
“So, did it go okay?  Jon’s a nice guy, huh.”  Jason ripped the envelope open
and pulled out several twenties.  He handed Patrick forty dollars back.
“Thanks.”
“That’s more than you’ll get most nights.  Jon’s really generous, that’s how I
knew I could get us some subs and extra stuff for tonight.  So. Not what you
expected?  I should have said something, but you never know.  He could have
decided to change his game plan last night.”
“I guess I didn’t know what to expect.  And, yeah.  He was a nice guy. But…”
“You played video games and then slept.  Did he feed you, too?”
Patrick nodded his head, “You’ve gone with him before?”
“A few times.  And yeah, it’s always the same.  Never had sex with him yet. 
You’re the only other person he’s ever picked.  Truth, that was good.  If he
starts picking you, then you won’t have to go out with anyone else.  I’ll make
sure of it.”
Jason knew about Patrick’s past, and he really didn’t like the thought of
Patrick having to turn tricks.  He hadn’t been going to send him out at all,
but Patrick had insisted that he’d pull his weight and help support the group.
“Isn’t that kinda… weird?”  Patrick asks, confused about his night with Jon
even more now that he was hearing this information.
“I guess.  Some guys just want company.  He’s only 19.  I think he’s lonely and
misses his family.”
“What’s he do?  I mean, does he work?  Go to school?  He’s got money it seems. 
I don’t get a 19 year-old living on their own with that kind of place.”
Jason shook his head, “I don’t know.  He doesn’t talk about it, and I don’t
ask.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Patrick went out again that night, to stand on the street corner with the
others.  It was a slow night, only Jason and Mikey got picked up.  That was
okay with Patrick, he still wasn’t sure he could actually go through with it. 
Having sex again.  Having to do things.  Having to. 
He stopped himself from thinking about it. 
What he did think about was just how lucky he’d been to run into Jason just a
few days after getting to Chicago.  Patrick was on the L, trying to get warm. 
Jason had spoken first and by the time they got to Jason’s stop, he had
convinced Patrick to come with him.  There were fifteen of them living
together, six girls and nine boys.  Patrick made sixteen. 
During his first week with them, Patrick found out a few things about his new
family.  For the most part, this group had been together for over a year. 
They’d come together by happenstance.  Jason met Mikey and Sam first, standing
on a street trying to get picked up.  Jason had been new to the streets then,
and when he went to go with an older guy, Mikey had stopped him. 
“He’s bad news,” Mikey had said.  “Likes things really rough.  You don’t need
that.”
And that is how it started, the looking out for each other.  Eventually Jason
introduced them to Kristi.  The small band found a place they could stay
together under an overpass.  They’d been there over a month when Jason came
back one day and told them they were moving.  That’s when they’d started living
in the abandoned building.
Over the course of their first year together, other kids had come and gone. 
Brought in for a night or two to help them get a meal or whatever they needed. 
A few stayed.  Most didn’t.  Those that did found a way to make this all work. 
They do better than just survive.  It may not be a home in the way most people
think of it, but they are not homeless.
While the guys go out and turn tricks, none of the girls do.  Ever.  It’s a
hard and fast rule that Jason has.  And in fact, only the guys that Jason and
Mikey think could defend themselves if a pick-up got aggressive went out.  And
the two boys carefully scrutinized the men who they did let pick-up one of the
boys.  In over a year, only one or two times had they been wrong and one of the
boys got hurt.
They had worked the same street corner for long enough that they very seldom
got picked up by strangers anymore, not that they knew all the guys’ names, but
Jason had found that a lot of men come back if they like what they get, so he
made sure they did.  None of the group did drugs, another hard and fast rule. 
They were clean looking, the boy next door a lot of these men were looking
for.  So men came back.  And paid well. 
The money they made kept them fed and paid for extras along the way, like
getting a hotel room once on a while for showers.  Kristi took care of the
money, setting a strict budget at first, until they managed to have something
saved.  It was an emergency fund, and part of everything anyone made was put
into it.  It had paid medical bills when needed.  Paid for medicine.  And on
occasion, it was also used to help anyone who wanted to go home, or go to
another city.  There was always enough money for a bus ticket to anywhere. 
Jason had told Patrick right up front that everyone got to keep part of what
they earned.  But even if you didn’t earn anything, you were still taken care
of by the family.  If you needed anything, they’d find a way to get it for
you.  It was a great set-up.  It worked.  Jason made sure it worked.  And
Patrick was thankful that he’d run into him that day.
They were all running away from their pasts Patrick had discovered.  They were
all good kids.  But bad things happen to good kids.  Patrick knew that from
personal experience.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Nobody went out the next couple of nights as a severe cold snap hit Chicago,
plummeting temperatures into the low teens with a wind chill making it feel
well below zero.  Patrick stayed curled up under a blanket huddled with a
couple of the other boys for warmth.  They only ventured out to get wood for
the fires. 
He thought about Jon, wondering more about what the other teenager’s life could
possibly be like.  What did he do?  If he was a student at one of the
universities wouldn’t he be living on campus, or closer to a campus.  Patrick
had figured out where Jon’s apartment building was from what Jason told him. 
He talked to Jason about Chicago every day, trying to learn the city.  And,
Jon’s apartment wasn’t close to any of the universities that he knew about.
So maybe Jon’s family had money.  Maybe he didn’t have a family.  That was
possible.  His parents had died in some horrific accident, Patrick imagined,
and left him money, or he’d gotten some insurance settlement.  Or maybe Jon was
a wonder kid, some kind of tech genius who worked for some huge corporation
making video games.  Jon did say something about being sore from work.  So
maybe it wasn’t a tech job.  Patrick imagined all sorts of possibilities which
helped pass the time as they waited for the temps to get warm enough to go back
out.
When they finally did go back out, Patrick hoped that Jon would stop.  He
really, really… really…hoped Jon would stop, but he didn’t.  Patrick ended up
getting picked by a forty something guy who drove a red sports car.  The guy
was nice enough, and Patrick had managed to get through it okay.  The guy had
wanted to suck him off first, and then have Patrick give him a hand job. 
Patrick closed his eyes while the guy did him, trying not to think about it. 
Trying not to remember all those other times.
He got through it.  The guy paid him and offered to drop him back off at the
corner.  Patrick declined, climbed out of the car and waited until ‘call me
Joe’ drove away before he turned around, dropped to his knees and threw up.
He didn’t tell Jason he’d gotten sick.  He didn’t want to not be able to help
out these people who had so easily taken him in and made him a part of their
family.  So, he just endured what he had to do, like before.
Jon didn’t come around for two weeks, which made Patrick worry that maybe
something had happened to him.  Jason told him that it had happened once
before, too.  That he thought maybe it had to do with Jon’s work.  So, Patrick
tried to relax.
He couldn’t help but get excited, though, when he saw Jon’s SUV at the red-
light a couple of nights later.  When Jon pulled over to the curb, Jason didn’t
even ask, he just motioned for Patrick to go with him.
“Hey.  Long time no see.” Patrick said after he’d climbed in and buckled his
seatbelt.
“Hey.” Jon had said, but nothing else.
“Glad to see you aren’t dead.” Patrick said light-heartedly.  “Or that I’d done
something to make you not want to come around again.”
Jon didn’t answer, but just kept his focus on the road, so Patrick quit
talking.
When they got to the apartment, Patrick hung his coat up and followed Jon to
the kitchen.  He sat at the table silently watching Jon fix something for them
to eat.  Looked like chicken stir-fry with brown rice.  It smelled wonderful. 
Jon dished up their plates and sat down at the table with Patrick.
“Everything okay?”  Patrick inquired as he took a bite.
“Huh?”
“Is everything okay?  You’ve barely said two words.”
“Just… I had a bad night.  Really don’t feel like talking, but didn’t want to
be alone.  Sorry.  I shouldn’t have… sorry.” 
“It’s okay.”  Patrick assured him.  “And this is really good.  Thank you.”
Jon looked at Patrick and smiled.  “We can play a game after dinner if you
want.  I’ll try to be more social.”
“Up to you.” Patrick took a sip of his water.
“I’m really tired.  Maybe we could just watch a movie or something.  I’ll
probably fall asleep on you.”
“That’d be okay.  Sounds kind of fun.  Don’t get to watch many movies anymore.”
“Hey, I didn’t think last time.  Do you want to take a shower?  I let Jason
take one a couple times.  He really appreciated it.  I can get you some sweats
or something to wear, too.  And if you want, we can throw your clothes in the
wash.  Always got to be nice to have clean clothes to put back on, eh.”
“Eh?  Oh my god.  You’re Canadian.  I knew I could hear that accent.  And a
Frenchie at that, I’ll bet.”  Patrick giggled.
“You have a problem with Canadians?”  Jon deadpanned.  “No shower for you,
then.”
“No.  No problem.  It just explains a lot.”  Patrick stated.  “In the two times
I’ve been around you, you’ve been overly serious, and overly polite.  In other
words… Canadian.”
“You know those are just stereotypes.”
“And you have been the epitome of those stereotypes.”  Patrick laughed, and
poked at Jon’s ribs.  “Come on, you have to admit it.”
Jon stared at him, showing no emotion.
“Jon?”  Patrick stopped laughing, suddenly worried that he was mad, until a
thin smile spread across Jon’s lips, and he laughed.
----------------------------------------------------------
Jonathan cleared their plates and washed them while Patrick took his shower. 
The hot water felt wonderful and there was more water pressure than at the
hotel where they got a room to shower.  Patrick stayed in there probably too
long.  When he stepped out to dry himself off there was a pair of sweatpants
and a t-shirt waiting on the vanity for him, along with a brand-new toothbrush
and toothpaste.  He hadn’t even heard Jon come in to the bathroom.
He came back out to the living room to find Jon asleep on the couch, sitting at
one end with his head lolled against the back cushion.  Patrick found a couple
of blankets, covering Jon with one, then he curled up next to him and covered
himself with the other blanket.  He turned the TV on and found a movie to
watch.  It wasn’t long, however, before he was sound asleep as well, his head
resting on Jon’s shoulder.
When he woke up the next morning, Jon was gone, but there was a note and an
envelope on the coffee table.
Had to be at work early.  Here’s the number for an Uber.  Just call and let
them know when you are ready to go and they’ll pick you up.  All paid for
already so don’t worry about that.  Help yourself to whatever food you can
find.  Leave me a list of what foods you like and I’ll get them.  Or maybe
take-out next time?  Let me know.  See you again, soon.  Jon
***** What Jonathan Knew *****
Chapter Summary
     Jon left Patrick on his bed, stretched out under the covers.  Jon had
     told him that he was going to go get ready for bed, instead he found
     his laptop in the living room and went to the kitchen with it. 
     Something Patrick had said, that he’d played hockey and was from
     Buffalo had sparked an interest in Jon.  Something he remembered
     hearing about back in November, about the time when Patrick had said
     he’d run away from home.  He pulled up Google and typed in what he
     wanted to search.
Buffalo – Six Years Earlier
“Your son has the potential to be an exceptional player, Mr. Kane.  It would be
a shame if he were to have to give up hockey.”  The man said to Patrick’s
father.  “Definitely good enough to play major juniors someday, or get a free
ride to a good college.  I can even imagine he could get to the NHL.”
Patrick Kane, Sr. watched his son skate down the ice and shoot the puck at the
goal, celebrating with his teammates as it went in.  Even if this was just a
practice, the eleven-year-olds loved their cellys. 
“We just can’t afford it.” The elder Kane told Patrick’s coach, William
Anderson.  “I’m sorry.  Things have been tough lately, and with another baby on
the way.  I’m working extra shifts and his mother has been having a difficult
time with this pregnancy.  Neither of us really have the time it takes to make
sure he gets to practices and games.  I’m sorry for him, but he’ll just have to
understand.”
“What if I made sure he got to where he needed to be?  Practices and games.  He
could ride with me.  And as for the money, I’ll cover his league fees and
incidentals.  I’d just really hate to see him lose out on the opportunities
hockey could provide to a kid with his skill.”
“You’d be willing to do that?”
“Of course.  I like Patrick, he’s a good kid.”  Anderson professed. 
Patrick’s father looked at his son, who saw him, smiled and waved.  Patrick
deserved a chance, he thought.  “Okay.  We can try it for a while and see how
it goes.”
--------------------------------------------------------------
Chicago
Jon didn’t stop that night, but did the next.  Patrick climbed in and his eyes
lit up as he sniffed the air.
“Tacos?  You got tacos?”
“You said it was one of your favorites, so yeah.” Jon grinned, obviously in a
much happier mood than the last time Patrick had seen him.  Jon motioned to one
of the cups in the center holders.  “And I brought you a latte.  I wasn’t sure
on the flavor, so it’s just a mocha.”
“Mocha’s cool.  I like strawberry flavored stuff normally, but this is good. 
Haven’t had something like this since I left home I think.”  Patrick picked up
the cup, blowing into the small opening in the cap before talking a sip.  “Hot.
Hot. Hot.”
“Well, duh.”
He smacked Jon’s shoulder.  “Shut up.”
They rode for a couple of blocks in silence before Patrick spoke up again. 
“So, must have had a better day at work?”
“Yeah.  We waa… yeah, it was a good day.” 
Patrick wondered what Jon had been going to say.
“Can I ask?  What do you do?  I mean, you’re only 19.  I’ve been trying to
figure out what kind of job you have.”
Patrick saw Jon’s expression change from happy, or what he thought was happy
for Jon, to the more serious Jon.
“Nevermind.  It’s not really important.  I mean, probably better not to share
too much personal information, right.  Keep it all professional and stuff.” 
Patrick offered, turning his attention back to his drink.
“I’m sorry.  I just.”  Jon sighs.  “Yeah.  I don’t know that I feel comfortable
sharing too much.  It’s not you, it’s just that what I do, well, discretion is
the better part of valor as they say.”
“I understand, man.  No problem.”  Patrick reassures him.  “So, what kind of
taco did you get me anyway?”
Jon hesitates for a moment, glancing at Patrick, who is looking a little
apprehensive.  Patrick had listed a few things he really didn't like, but could
eat if that was all Jon had. 
"Fish.” He says calmly.  “You need to eat healthier, I think.  It’s healthier.”
The look that comes over Patrick’s face is priceless.  “You did not.”
“Yep.  You said it smells great.  You’re going to love it.”  Jon says, relaxing
again as he kids Patrick.
“Jon, come on, dude.  Fish?  How could you ruin a taco like that?”
Jon steals another look over at Patrick who looks deeply hurt at the thought of
a fish taco.  Jon can’t hold in his laughter in any longer.
“You asshole!”  Pat admonishes him.  “You can’t fucking joke about tacos like
that!”
------------------------------------------------------------
“What do you want to do tonight?”  Jon asks as they sit on the couch eating
their tacos.  Spicy chicken for Patrick.  Tofu for Jon.  “You sure you don’t
want to try mine?”
Patrick just looks at him and takes a huge bite of his taco, cracking the hard
shell in two.  Some of the chicken and other fillings fall onto the wrapper in
his lap causing Jon to laugh out loud at him. 
“See what you made me do?”  Patrick lamented, picking up a piece of the lost
chicken with his fingers.
“I didn’t do anything.” Jon giggles.  “You’re just a messy eater I think.”
“Whatever.  I thought maybe we could play NHL again.”
“Okay.  Whatever you want to do.”
“Thanks.  I like playing it, I mean I know it’s not like playing real hockey.”
Jon tensed.  Patrick said he didn’t know what Jon did, but…
“It’s about as close as I’m ever going to get to playing again,” Patrick
continued, sounding a little forlorn. 
“You played hockey?” Jon asked.  Relaxing when he realized that was what
Patrick meant.  “I figured you were a fan, with the Sabre’s jacket and all. 
But you played?”
“I used to, not anymore.” Patrick diverted his eyes from Jon’s questioning
expression. “I grew up in Buffalo, so they’re my favorite team.”
Jon saw the telltale glistening in Patrick’s eyes and looked away.  He sat his
food on the coffee table and got up get the game and the controllers, using
that as an excuse to let Patrick get past the moment, or memory, that was
evidently pretty painful.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Patrick wipe
his eyes a few times.
When he sat back down, he put Patrick’s controller on the couch next to him. 
Patrick seemed to be in control of his emotions again, the brightness returning
to his eyes when he looked at Jon.
They played two games and Patrick won both.  He didn’t seem to notice that Jon
kept glancing over at him, like he was studying Patrick all of the sudden.
Before they went to bed, Patrick asked if it was okay if he took another
shower.  Jon told him absolutely and, once again, when Patrick stepped out of
the shower there were clean clothes waiting for him.  The toothbrush Jon had
left for him before had gained a cover and was in the cup next to what he
assumed was Jon’s toothbrush.
When Patrick walked into the bedroom, Jon was sitting on the edge of the bed
talking on his cellphone.  He was speaking French.  He recognized a few words,
enough to know that Jon was talking to his mother, but not enough to know about
what.  It seemed to be a happy call, Patrick thought.  No yelling and
screaming.  Nothing like the last time he’d talked to his mother.
He knew that Jon said I love you, too before he hung up.  So, Jon had a good
relationship with his mother, Patrick surmised.  Well, one theory shot down. 
Jon’s mother, at least, wasn’t dead.  He was pondering that when Jon stood up,
said he was going to go brush his teeth and walked out. 
When he didn’t come back right away, Patrick considered going to look for him,
but thought that might be seen as over-stepping some boundary, so he just
closed his eyes.
----------------------------------------------------
Jon left Patrick on his bed, stretched out under the covers.  Jon had told him
that he was going to go get ready for bed, instead he found his laptop in the
living room and went to the kitchen with it.  Something Patrick had said, that
he’d played hockey and was from Buffalo had sparked an interest in Jon. 
Something he remembered hearing about back in November, about the time when
Patrick had said he’d run away from home.  He pulled up Google and typed in
what he wanted to search.
hockey player missing
The story he was looking for was at the top of the list that came up.  He’d
heard the kid’s name before, knew he was a few years younger.  They hadn’t
crossed paths in Juniors, because Jon was older and had played for UND instead
of in one of the Major Junior leagues.  But, the kid was good enough that he
got a lot of talk.  Jon had heard of him, even if he’d never met him.
Jon clicked on the article.  He stared at the picture that came up as part of
the story.  The blonde, curly hair.  The blue eyes.  The wide, warm smile. 
There was no doubt now.
“Holy fuck.” He said under his breath.  He read the story, clicked on a couple
of links to follow-up articles, then cleared his browser and shut his computer
down. 
When he made his way back to the bedroom, Patrick was asleep, so Jon carefully
slipped into the bed next to him.
“Patrick Kane.” Jon whispered as he looked at the young man sleeping soundly in
his bed.  “So, this is what happened to you.”
***** That Which We Endure *****
Chapter Summary
     “He’s not really a regular, but I think he was the guy that Mikey
     went with a week ago.  Wasn’t a problem.”  Jason said quietly.  “But
     you don’t have to if you don’t want to, he, uh, he wants to fuck
     you.  Offered $100, Patrick.  That’s a shitload of money.  That’s
     almost all night with Jon type money, ya know.  But, I know what you
     went through, man, and I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want
     to do, ya know.”
     Patrick stared at the ground.
     “I’ll tell him no deal.”  Jason started to walk away.
     “No.”  Patrick grabbed his arm.  “I’ll go.”
Buffalo – Five Years Earlier
“You can’t leave, Coach.”  Patrick sat in the locker room with his teammates,
shocked and hurt by the statement their coach, William Anderson just made.
“I’m sorry, boys.  I know this is short notice, but I got a really good job
offer in London.  It could lead to a job with the Knights in a year or two. 
So, I’m going to take it.  You know I love you all.  Love coaching you.  I’m
going to miss all of you very much, but you’ll do okay with Coach Marcus.  And
I promise, I’ll come back to watch you play for the championship.”
An hour later, Anderson sat in his car in front of the Kane house, Patrick
sitting in the passenger seat next to him looking very dejected.
“You know, Patty.  I had a thought.  You know that really good players
sometimes leave home, to be able to go play something where it’s more
competitive for them.  So they can get better and have a better chance of
getting noticed and drafted someday.”
“Yeah.  I know.  Like Chris did last year.”  Patrick said, mentioning his
former teammate.  “But you have to be really good.”
“You’re really good, Patty.”  Anderson smiled.  “And I already talked to some
people in London.  They would like you to come play, for the team I’m going to
coach.”
“Really?”  Patrick’s mood improved.
“I was going to talk to your parents about it.  If it’s something you’d like to
do, that is.”
Patrick thought about his family.  His parents fighting all the time. 
Complaining that they had too many kids and there was never enough money.  His
mom spending all her time with his baby sister.  His dad never home, and when
he was all he ever did was yell at Patrick.  They never paid any attention to
him anymore.  Never watched him play hockey.  They wouldn’t even know he was
gone probably. 
He escaped from it all by going to hockey.  He spent a lot of time with Coach
Anderson already.  Often going over to eat dinner at his coach’s house.  His
coach spent time with him, and not just for hockey.  He helped Patrick with his
homework, talked to Patrick about things that bothered Patrick, and took
Patrick to non-hockey things, like the movies or to the zoo or to the amusement
park.  Coach Anderson was more of a father than his own father, Patrick
thought.
“Would I live with you?  Cause I don’t know if I’d want to live with some
strange family.”  Patrick asked hesitantly. 
“Of course you would.  I’d take care of you, Patrick.”
“Okay.  Can we talk to them now?”
“Sure bud.”  Anderson smiled. 
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Patrick wrapped the scarf around his face.  He told Jon he didn’t need it, but
Jon had insisted, telling Patrick that it wasn’t good for him to stand outside
and breath in the cold air.
“Uh, from Buffalo, remember?”  Patrick had stated, “winter’s far worse there
than it is here.” 
“Yeah, and you should have worn a scarf there, too.”  Jon admonished.  “Don’t
need you getting sick.”
“Whatever.” Patrick had finally given in.  As the fierce Chicago wind stun his
face, he had to admit to himself that the scarf was a good thing, even if it
was a Blackhawks scarf.
Jon had fed him breakfast and then dropped him off a couple of blocks from the
abandoned building.  Patrick spent the day getting firewood to cook over from a
park several blocks away.  They managed to stock pile enough for about a week. 
Some city workers were cutting up a tree that had come down.  It wasn’t a big
tree, Patrick and Sam had thought they could break off some of the branches
when they’d seen it, but then the city guys showed up.
The two boys kept their distance, and a wary eye of the guys working, who they
knew had seen them gathering branches.  They hoped they were allowed to do that
and the guys didn’t call the cops.  When the work crew left, Patrick wandered
over that way to see if they’d cleaned up all the branches and twigs.  What he
saw kind of restored his belief that there were still nice people in the
world.  The guys had stacked up a bunch of logs and left a note that said Hope
we made these small enough that you can carry them to wherever you are
staying.  Stay warm!  Good luck!”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
----
They were out tonight, despite the cold.  They needed some money for a girl
that Mikey had brought home a couple of days ago.  She had a bad cut on her
arm, and some nasty cuts and bruises other places.  Compliments of some asshole
who’d tried to drag her into an alley.  Mikey had seen it and stopped the
assault.  All the medicine and stuff would be covered by the emergency fund, no
problem.  They needed extra money, though, for some winter clothes and more
substantial food for her for a few days while she mended.
Patrick thought about Jon, who’d told him that he wouldn’t be able to stop for
a few days.  Out of town for work, Jon had said.  That had just piqued
Patrick’s interest even more.  What exactly does a nineteen-year-old do for a
job that would involve travel?
Outside of going with Jon, Patrick had only gotten picked up by a few other
men.  ‘Call me Joe’ had stopped and asked for Patrick again.  This time, asking
Patrick to blow him.  Then there was the cowboy.  Some dude driving a pick-up,
who kept his cowboy hat on and played country music on the radio while he held
Patrick’s head down on his cock and fucked up into his throat. 
So far that was all Patrick had to do, blow jobs or hand jobs.  No one had
asked for more than that.  Yet.  Patrick was sure the day was coming when he’d
have to do more.
As it turned out, that day was today.
The blue sedan pulled up to the curb and Jason leaned down to talk through the
open passenger side window.  He shook his head at the guy, and Patrick heard
him say ‘he’s not available for that, how ‘bout I just go with you?’.  Jason
straightened a couple of minutes later and turned around to look at Patrick. 
He nodded for Patrick to follow him as Jason stepped away from the car and away
from the group.
“He’s not really a regular, but I think he was the guy that Mikey went with a
week ago.  Wasn’t a problem.”  Jason said quietly.  “But you don’t have to if
you don’t want to, he, uh, he wants to fuck you.  Offered $100, Patrick. 
That’s a shitload of money.  That’s almost all night with Jon type money, ya
know.  But, I know what you went through, man, and I don’t want you to do
anything you don’t want to do, ya know.”
Patrick stared at the ground.
“I’ll tell him no deal.”  Jason started to walk away.
“No.”  Patrick grabbed his arm.  “I’ll go.”
“You got condoms, right.  Make him wear one.” Jason reached in his pocket and
pulled out a small object.  “Lube.”
“Thanks.”  Patrick said, taking it. 
Patrick walked over and got in the car.  The guy was way older, Patrick
thought, but then again when you’re seventeen everyone seems old.  He was
stocky, but maybe it was the winter jacket that made him look that way. 
Patrick wasn’t sure.  He directed him to a spot a few blocks away where they
could park and wouldn’t draw attention. 
“Backseat.” The guy said, kind of coldly.  He left the car run for heat as he
got out and climbed in the back with Patrick. 
“So, how do you want?”
“Turn around and kneel on the seat.  Put your hands against the door and stay
that way.”  The guy said as he slipped his winter jacket off. 
Patrick reached in his pocket and pulled out the condom and the lube.  “You
have to use these, or no deal.”
The guy took them and put them on the back window ledge.  “Deal.  Now turn
around.”
Patrick started to unbuckle his belt. 
“Leave it.  Just turn around.  Put your hands on the door and stay that way.” 
The guy ordered.
Patrick thought about just getting out and taking off.  He looked the guy up
and down.  He wasn’t as stocky as he’d looked in his jacket, but he was
muscular.  If he wanted to stop Patrick from getting out he probably could. 
So, Patrick just kneeled on the seat with his back to the guy and put his hands
against the door.
He felt the guy’s hands on his waist first, as they slid up under Patrick’s
jacket.  One hand roamed down then, to palm over Patrick’s cock through his
jeans.  The hands worked Patrick’s belt, unbuttoned his jeans, and pulled the
zipper down.  A hand reached into his pants and covered his cock, pushing at it
over his briefs.
“You feel so good.” Patrick heard the guy say.
He hooked his fingers in the waistband of Patrick’s briefs and pulled them down
along with the jeans, exposing Patrick’s ass. 
The hands went away then and Patrick heard the guy undo his own pants and pull
them down.  He heard the condom package open and tried to glance over his
shoulder to make sure the guy put it on.
“Give me your hand.”  The guy said.
Patrick shifted so he could keep his weight on one arm and reached around
behind himself.  He felt something cold spread across his fingers.  The lube. 
Then he felt the guys cock in his hand, with the condom on it.
“Get it ready.”
Patrick stroked his hand up and down the shaft and over the head, spreading the
lube as he did.  The guy felt pretty big and a moment of panic washed over
Patrick.  He clenched his eyes shut.
“Okay,” the guy swatted his hand away.  “Put it back on the door.”
Patrick did as he was told and braced himself.  He tried to breathe, tried to
stay calm.  He knew if he was all tense it would be worse, but he couldn’t help
it.
He felt the hands spread his cheeks and then he felt the head of the cock
against his opening.  Then he felt it pushing against him.  Pushing in.
Patrick bit his lower lip to keep from making any noise as the cock entered
him.  He felt the tear roll down his cheek.  Memories of those other times
flooding into his mind.
The hands grasped his hips, holding him steady, as the guy started thrusting. 
Long, hard strokes drove the guys cock into Patrick. 
“Fuck.  So fucking tight.” The guy moaned out.  “Oh my god.  Yeah, fuck yeah.”
Patrick tucked his head down, determined to get through this.  Thankfully the
guy didn’t last long.  With a grunt, he drove his cock in and held it there,
his body shaking as he came.  When he was done, he pulled out slowly and leaned
back against the door on his side of the car.  Patrick reached down and pulled
up his pants, turning around and sitting down after he did. 
“That was great kid.  The guy reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out
some money.  “Here.  Now get out.”
Patrick took the money, opened the door and climbed out.  He paused just long
enough to make sure the guy hadn’t shorted him, then left.  This time, he got
two blocks away before he had to stop and throw up.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Jason sent Patrick home when he got back to the group.  When he finally came
home himself early in the morning, Patrick was in one of the rooms, alone by
himself.  The others had cleared out and given him some space when he’d come
in, crying and upset.
Jason sat down on the mattress next to Patrick, who had a blanket pulled up
over his head.  Jason was only 20, not that much older than Patrick, and really
just a kid himself.  He didn’t try to ‘father’ the group, but acted more like
an older brother.  In addition to looking out for the others physical safety,
Jason was always there to provide emotional support when needed.  And Patrick
needed it right now.
“Patrick, you awake?”
Patrick pulled the blanket down.  His eyes were red and puffy.
“I’ll be okay.  I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.”  Jason nudged him.  “Slide over.”
He laid down beside Patrick, who opened the blanket so Jason could climb
underneath.  Jason pulled the blanket back up over both of them and let Patrick
settle in with his head on Jason’s chest.
“I shouldn’t have asked you to do it.  I should have just told him no.”  Jason
rubbed his hand up and down Patrick’s back.  “I’m sorry.”
“It was okay.  He didn’t do anything to me that hasn’t been done before.”
“Patrick.  Just because…”
“Can we not talk about it.  Please.”
“Okay.  But never again.  You don’t go with anyone who wants more than a blow. 
And I’m not so sure that I should let you go out at all.  Except, maybe… with
Jon.”
“No.  I want to make sure I help out around here.  I want to be able to stay
with you guys.”
“You’re family, dude.  Always have a home here.  You know that.  Here for a
day, here forever.”
“Thanks.  I’ll... I’ll think about it then, not going out.  If you’re sure that
would be okay.”
“I’m sure, Patrick.  You don’t even have to go out with Jon if you don’t want
to.”
“No.  I, uh, I…”
“You like him, don’t you? I see it when you come home.”
“He’s nice.  He’s nice to me.  As a friend.”
“He is.  And I think that he likes you, too.  I told you, he’d never asked for
anyone other than me before. And now, he keeps coming back and asking for you. 
I told you I think he needed a friend, and I wasn’t it, but you, yeah, I can
see him liking you.”
“Yeah.  He does seem like he’s lonely some times.”
“And you don’t have to do anything with him.  He’s safe.”
“Yeah.”
“Hey, you probably didn’t sleep very well.  Tired? Let’s sleep for a bit, then
we can get up and you can help me go get some groceries.  Okay?”
“Thanks, Jason.”
***** He Needs A Friend, Maman *****
Chapter Summary
     “Change of plans?” he asks, cautiously, leaning in the open passenger
     window instead of getting in the vehicle right away.  “Not going
     home?”
     “No.  I, uh, I was wondering if you’d like to spend Christmas with
     me, at my place.”
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
On the first night that Jon should be back in town, Patrick goes out with Jason
and the boys.  It’s the first he’s gone back out since ‘blue sedan man’.  He’s
surprised when Jon shows up earlier than his normal time. 
“Hey.”  Patrick smiles at Jon as he buckles himself into the passenger seat. 
“Good trip?”
“Very good.”  Jon smiled back.
They chat about nothing in particular on the drive to the apartment, and when
they get there, Jon asks Patrick to help him with several bags of groceries
that he has in the back seat.  A few minutes later they are in the kitchen
where Jon starts unpacking the groceries.
“I thought I’d make us something special tonight.”
Patrick surveyed things as Jon set them on the counter, picking up and
examining various packages.  “I don’t see any meat here, Jon.  This shit all
looks suspiciously healthy.”
“It is.  And you’ll like it.”  Jon snatched a package of large portabella
mushrooms out of Patrick’s hand.  “It’ll take a little bit to fix, why don’t
you go grab a shower and change.  I laid some clothes out on my bed.”
Patrick grinned, “Thanks.  Care if I throw a load in the wash, too?”
“Make yourself at home.”
Patrick opened the fridge to grab a drink on his way to shower.  He froze when
he looked inside.
“You said you liked strawberry flavored stuff, I hope you meant milk, too.” 
Jon says nonchalantly when he sees Patrick staring into the open fridge.
“Um.”  Patrick can’t believe Jon paid attention to him.  There are several
bottles of strawberry milk on the top shelf.  He reaches in and picks up a
bottle. “Thanks.  Yeah.  I like this kind.”
Jon grins as he watches Patrick practically skip out of the kitchen, a big
smile on his face as he looked down at the bottled drink.
------------------------------------------------------------
Patrick finds Jon on the couch when he finally comes back out from his shower. 
He’s sitting watching some TV show that Patrick doesn’t recognize.  Whatever
Jon is fixing for dinner smells amazing.  Another mystery, Patrick thinks, Jon
can evidently cook.  He finds that odd for someone Jon’s age, more indication
that maybe Jon has lived on his own for a while? 
“So.  You just took a guess at what size I wore?”  Patrick is wearing a ‘Hawks
sweatshirt and new pair of jeans, that are mysteriously his size and not
Jon’s.  He flops down on the couch next to Jon.
“I looked at your tags when I put your clothes in the wash the last time you
were here.  Thought maybe you’d like something that actually fits you.  You
don’t have much, I’m guessing.  I hope that’s okay.”
“You don’t need to buy me things.  I mean, you’re already paying and not
getting anything out of this.”
“I get your company.”  Jon looked at him intently.  “But if you want, consider
it a Christmas gift.”
“Christmas?  Holy shit, I forgot about Christmas?”  Patrick gasps.  “Did I miss
it?  What day is it?”
“No. Relax, you didn’t miss Christmas.  It’s in a few days.”  Jon chuckles. 
“Whew.  Okay.”  Patrick looks around the apartment.  “Okay.  But if it’s
Christmas time, how come you don’t have any decorations?”
“I don’t know.  It’s just me, and I’ll be going home for a couple of days over
the holiday, so I didn’t think I needed to put up any decorations.”
“Really?  Jesus, Jon.  You need a tree at least, even if it’s just for you.”
“I don’t know.”  Jon pondered.  Patrick went on, however, with all the reasons
that Jon should at least put up a tree.  As he watched the small blonde go on,
getting more and more excited, something stirred in Jon.  Patrick’s eyes
sparkled as he talked about having multi-colored lights instead of all white,
about needing a star not an angel on the top, and about the virtues of a live
tree over artificial.
Jon wasn’t really listening, he was too intent on watching how Patrick’s face
lit up, how his cheeks turned red and the wide smile that spread across his
face.  Patrick waved his hands around as he talked, the animation increasing
with his level of excitement.  Jon couldn’t help but laugh.
“What?  What’s so funny about wanting to have a real tree?” Patrick quipped,
pulling Jon back from his thoughts.
“I’m sorry.  I wasn’t laughing about that.  I was just thinking that you’re
really excited about this.  You must have some pretty good memories of
Christmas.”  Jon saw the look on Patrick’s face change instantly, going from
pure joy to hurt.  “I’m sorry, Patrick.  I shouldn’t have…”
Patrick seemed to shrink in on himself.
“Patrick?”  Jon reached over and put his hand on Patrick’s shoulder.  “I’m
sorry.”
“It’s okay.”  Patrick sniffled, but no tears fell.  “I… I guess I do have good
memories.  About Christmas at least, if not anything else.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Okay.  If you ever do, I’d be happy to just listen.”  Jon said sincerely.  “It
has to be hard, being away from your family.”
“No.  It’s not.”  Just as quickly as he’d gotten upset, Patrick was back in
control.
The buzzer on the oven went off then, signaling dinner was ready. 
“Come on,” Jon got up.  “Let’s go eat.”
Patrick sat at the table and looked at the plate of food in front of him
skeptically.  It smelled great.  It looked great.  It was gross, healthy, vegan
food, though.
“Take a bite.  If you don’t like it, we’ll order in.”
Patrick scooped up a bite on his fork, closed his eyes and hesitantly stuck it
in his mouth.  He chewed.  And opened one eye, looking at Jon.
“Damn.” He mumbled.
“It’s good, isn’t it.”  Jon grinned.
“Yes.”  Patrick took another bite.  “Very good.”
“It’s vegetable lasagna.  My mother found the recipe for me.  So, you like it?”
Patrick shoved another forkful in his mouth, making happy noises. 
“I take that as a yes.”  Jon snorted.  “So, I have the day off tomorrow and I
was thinking about what you said.”
Patrick tipped his head sideways, looking at Jon quizzically.  “About what I
said about what?”
“Well, would you want to go with me tomorrow and pick out a Christmas tree? 
And we’ll have to go buy some decorations, too.  I mean, if you’d like to, I
think I might like to have a tree after all.”
Patrick’s eyes lit up again, the way they had earlier.  Jon smiled.
----------------------------------------
Two days later, Jon sat on his couch gazing at the small, decorated tree in the
corner of the room.  He and Patrick had gone shopping and gotten all kinds of
decorations and lights, then gone and picked out a five-foot tree.  Jon had
listened to Patrick go on about whether to get a spruce or a fir, as excited
and animated as he had been the day before. 
Jon watched him, thinking about what he had read on the internet about Patrick
Kane.  Patrick Kane, who left his home at twelve to go live with his coach in
order to play in a more competitive area.  Patrick Kane, who had been a scoring
phenomenon at 15 and got drafted by the London Knights in the OHL.  Patrick
Kane, who had led the OHL in goals at 16.  Patrick Kane, who had disappeared
from his coach’s home two days after his 17th birthday, having left a note
saying he didn’t want to play hockey any longer.
Evidently, he had been estranged from his family for a couple of years, having
had no contact with them at all.  His coach was worried and was looking for
him, convinced Patrick had in fact just runaway.  “He couldn’t take the
pressure,” he’d said.  “Patrick is a very sensitive boy, but I don’t think he’d
hurt himself.  I think we just pushed him too hard.”
Jon thought about the Patrick he was getting to know.  He wondered what could
have happened that would make Patrick runaway, to not want to play hockey any
longer.  He thought about his comment about the video game being as close to
getting to play hockey as he would get.  Patrick hadn’t sounded like someone
who hated hockey and wanted to give it up.  He sounded like someone who missed
hockey.
Jon thought about his own experiences in playing hockey growing up.  He
suspected that he knew what really happened.  He’d heard stories.  If what he
thought happened, if it had happened, Jon realized just how lucky he had been. 
His parents had cared.  They’d gotten him out of a situation before it became a
bad situation.  Patrick’s parents must not have cared.
He picked up his phone and called his mom.
“Maman?  Would you be upset if I didn’t come home for Christmas?”
“Jonny?  Why wouldn’t you come home?  You’d be all alone there.” 
“I met someone, Maman.  He’s, well, he doesn’t have any family or anywhere to
go for Christmas.  I thought maybe I would let him come stay with me while I’m
on break.”
“Oh?  You haven’t mentioned you’re dating anyone.”
“Well, we’re not actually dating.  He’s just someone I met.  He’s become a
friend, I think.  Anyway, I think I would like to make sure he’s got someplace
to go. He helped me get a tree and decorate it.  He seemed happy while we did
it, but then sad, too.  I just think he is alone and needs a friend, Maman.”
“We could come there?” 
“No.  That’s okay.  With travel and everything, I’d only really be home for
Christmas day anyway, and it is short notice to get you a flight here.  We can
talk on the computer that day.  If that’s okay with you.  I don’t want to hurt
your feelings by not coming.”
“It’s okay.  You really want to do this?”  She listened to her son’s voice,
hearing what he wasn’t saying.  He and this other young man might not be
dating, but it was more than just being friends to Jon.  And, if Jon, who she
knew needed a friend, thought that this young man needed a friend... well that
said a lot.  “Then stay and have Christmas there, with your new friend.  I’ll
send your packages in the mail, they may not get there on time.”
“That’s okay.  Thank you, Maman.  I love you!”
------------------------------------------------------
Jon pulled up at the curb that night, looking for Patrick.
“He’s not here, man.”  Jason tells him, leaning close to the SUV’s window.  “He
stayed in tonight.  Didn’t think you’d be coming, said something about you
going home for Christmas.”
“Change of plans.  Will you ask him to meet me here tomorrow morning, 9 am.?”
“Sure thing.”
The next morning, Patrick is waiting for him when he drives up.
“Change of plans?” he asks, cautiously, leaning in the open passenger window
instead of getting in the vehicle right away.  “Not going home?”
“No.  I, uh, I was wondering if you’d like to spend Christmas with me, at my
place.”
Patrick appears taken off-guard by Jon’s invitation, hesitant.  “I don’t know. 
Jason and everyone, we were going to have Christmas.  Splurged and got a tree
ourselves.  No lights, but we made decorations out of shit we found.”
“Would you want to come after that, whatever you are doing with them?”
Patrick contemplated Jon’s offer for a few minutes, looking down as he scuffed
his foot on the ground.
“Could you give me a ride over to the building?” he opened the door and climbed
in.  “I need to get a few things.”
Jon parked a block away and sat and waited while Patrick went to retrieve
whatever he needed.  He was gone over a half-hour, but eventually came back
down carrying a backpack.  Jon smiled when Patrick got back in the SUV.
“I got everyone a little something, with some money I’d saved from, well, you
know.  I wanted to give them their presents, and to let them know I’d be gone a
few days.  Thanks for waiting.”
“No problem.”  Jon assured him.  “All set.”
“Yep.”  Patrick beamed, then he got a serious look on his face.  “Hey.  Do we
have cookies and milk to leave for Santa?  And do you have carrots for the
reindeer?  Wait, Mr. Healthy Eater, I’m sure you have carrots.”
Jon just laughed as he drove away from the building.  “So, a stop at the store,
then home.”
Chapter End Notes
     Okay... so other than Maman, which he has used before in tweets... I
     have no clue about French, which I know Jon uses when he speaks to
     his mom... I don't trust online translations... so the conversations
     are in English...
     Thanks all for the kind words and support... glad you are liking the
     story so far...
***** Just Jon *****
Chapter Summary
     To Jason, and now Patrick, Jon was just Jon.
There is an arm across his back.
Whose?
Patrick’s brain starts to panic a little, which shocks it awake.  He opens his
eyes and looks around, taking in the room.
Jon’s.  He’s at Jon’s.
In the several nights over the past month that he’s spent with Jon, he’s never
woken up with any part of Jon touching him.  Or with him touching Jon.  They
are always on their own sides of the bed, separated by a pillow usually.
Not today.
Today, Jon is lying on his stomach, as is Patrick, but Jon’s arm is draped over
him and Jon’s leg is pressed against his, from hip to foot.
And…
It’s not a bad thing.
Patrick turns his head to look over at Jon, who is still sleeping soundly.
Strong jawline.  Cheekbones that turn bright red when he gets frustrated at
himself when he’s losing at a video game.  Brown eyes that light up when he’s
happy and smiles, and get dark and intense when he’s focused on something. 
Dark brown hair, cut short.
Even sleeping, there’s a serious set to Jon’s features, Patrick thinks.  It’s
what made Patrick think Jon was older than he is.  There are times though,
Patrick sees those features soften.   It usually takes a little while after he
picks Patrick up for it to happen, for Jon to unwind and relax from work.  It
is there more readily on days Jon doesn’t work, which makes Patrick wonder all
the more about what Jon does.
He stopped asking when Jon had said the thing about discretion being the better
part of valor in his line of work, not wanting to do or say anything that would
make Jon not want to have him around.  And really, Patrick kind of understood
that.  Jon didn’t know much about him, only that he was from Buffalo, that he’d
played hockey when he was younger, and that he’d run away from home. 
He didn’t even know Patrick’s last name.  Patrick knew as much, or as little,
about Jon.  He was Canadian.  He’d come to Chicago because of work.  His
mother, at least, was living.  But, Patrick didn’t know what Jon did for a
living.  And, he didn’t know Jon’s last name, either.
Oh, he also knew that Jon liked hockey and he assumed he was a Blackhawks fan
because of the various sweats, t-shirts, and jackets he had.  Must be nice,
Patrick mused, being able to afford all that.  Patrick had his Sabre’s jacket,
and a sweater he’d had to leave behind when he left, because it would have
taken up too much room in his backpack.  And, because it was from him.  Patrick
had saved his allowance to buy the jacket.  He had bought him the sweater.  And
well… fuck him.
Patrick tried to put it out of his mind then, but his body shuddered
involuntarily at the memories, enough of a movement to wake Jon.
“Hey.  Good morning.” Patrick said softly.
“Good morning.  And, Merry Christmas.”  Jon replied.  “What time is it?  Can
you read the clock?”
Patrick lifted his head a little, looking over Jon to the clock on the
nightstand.  “Only a little after eight.”
“Do you want to get up?”
“Do you?”
“Well, I’m betting Santa came last night left presents.  So, maybe we should
get up and go see.”
Patrick raised an eyebrow, “Presents, Santa?”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------
Patrick had taken a peek in the living room on the way to the kitchen and there
were indeed several wrapped presents under the Christmas tree.   Jon, however,
had suggested they have breakfast first, then open presents.  Patrick said he
could wait.  He could.  He wasn’t five anymore.  It wasn’t like he was dying to
go open those presents.  Really.
“Jon,” Patrick paused in the doorway to the kitchen.  “Maybe, we could, uh,
maybe we could just go open one present?  Before breakfast.  Maybe.”
Jon turned around, Patrick was looking longingly back into the living room. 
When he looked at Jon, his eyes were bright and sparkling blue, wide with
excitement.  Jon couldn’t resist.
“Okay.  We can go open presents and then eat.”  He barely got the sentence out
before Patrick was bolting into the living room. 
Jon followed, and plopped himself down on the floor next to Patrick and the
presents.  He carefully reached out and picked up a medium sized box, handing
it to Patrick.
“This seems to have your name on it.”
Patrick started to just rip open the paper and then stopped, looking up at Jon
with an embarrassed blush across his cheeks.  He made himself slowly unwrap the
present, then pulled the top off the box.
“Holy shit.” He exclaimed. Inside were a pair of Buffalo Sabre sweatpants. 
“I figured that I shouldn’t force you to wear ‘Hawks shit, just cause that’s my
team.”
“Thanks,” Patrick said with a sarcastic hint.  “These are great.”
Jon handed Patrick another box. 
“More?  You really didn’t have to buy me stuff, Jon.”  Patrick opened this box
carefully, finding a matching Sabre’s hoodie.  “This is too much, really.”
“It’s not.  Really.”  Jon grinned back at him. 
“How’d you find Buffalo stuff out here?”
“It wasn’t easy.  I spent the other day after I dropped you off looking for a
sports store that had them.” 
“Wow, thank you.”  Patrick leaned over and wrapped his arms around Jon, giving
him a long hug.  Jon hugged back.
“You’re welcome.”
There were still a couple presents under the tree, Patrick surveyed them
suspiciously.  “Is there something under here for you?”
“No.  They are all yours.  My Maman is sending my presents down, they’ll
probably get here in a day or two.”  Jon picked up a larger wrapped box and
handed it to Patrick.  “Here, open this one next.”
Patrick opened the rest of the presents.  Jon had gotten him some other
clothes, another pair of jeans, some socks, and some t-shirts.  There were also
a couple of video games. 
Patrick looked over his haul, not sure what to think.  Jon saw the strange look
Patrick was giving everything, like he was happy, but… not.
“Something wrong?”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with everything.” Patrick seemed unsure,
embarrassed again, but differently than he’d been when he’d been excitedly
ripping into the wrapping paper.  He held the sweats in his hands, staring at
them, his head down.  “It’s not like I have a bedroom and a clothes dresser.”
He sounded a little sad, Jon thought.  Well it was Christmas, and Jon wouldn’t
tolerate a sad Patrick today.
“I thought about that.”  Jon offered.  “So, maybe, you’d like to keep them
here?  I really like having you around, to hang with, and well.  You seem to
like to come here.  I mean, maybe, we could kind of like be friends.  And,
well, you could have your stuff here.  And well, but if not, or well, if you do
even, but then decide to leave or whatever.”
Jon was rambling.  Patrick lifted his head, his brow furrowed.
“We’re like friends?” he said timidly.  “Yeah?”
“Well, yeah.  If you want to be friends. Anyway.  Here.”  Jon handed Patrick
the last present under the tree, which was larger than the others had been.
Patrick opened it, inside was a ‘Hawks backpack.  He stared at Jon.
“Well, I couldn’t not get you something from the ‘Hawks, now could I?”  Jon
snickered.
“You couldn’t find a Buffalo one?”  Patrick smacked him on the arm.
“I had enough trouble finding the sweats.  Come on.  I thought maybe you could
keep some clothes here, but if you left or whatever, you might need an extra
bag to carry things in.  Or if you didn’t want to leave stuff here, you could
keep them in the backpack.”
“You really wouldn’t care if I kept some things here?”
“Nope.  Whatever you’re comfortable with doing.”
Patrick unexpectedly jumped up, darting towards the bedroom.  He returned a
minute later with a small present, handing it to Jon as he sat down.
“It’s not much, but I got you something, too.  For being so nice to me.  But
now, it doesn’t seem like enough after all this.”
Jon unwrapped the item and gently lifted it up off the paper.  It was an
ornament, homemade it looked like.  A star made out of small pieces of wood,
with a polished piece of what looked like glass suspended in the center.
“Patrick, this is beautiful.  Thank you.  Did you make this?”
“Yeah.  Some of the girls go up to the beach once in a while, they have a whole
collection of the glass so I traded them for it.  I used to go to the lakeshore
with my mom when I was little, along Lake Erie, and collect lake glass.  I’ve
always liked it.”
“Wow.  This is so special.  Thank you, again.”  Jon leaned over to give Patrick
a hug this time.
A little while later Jon stood over the stove fixing them breakfast.  Patrick
sat at the kitchen table, wearing his new Sabre’s sweatpants and hoodie,
smiling like he’d just gotten a hat trick, Jon thought. 
----------------------------------------------------------------
Jon’s apartment was fairly spacious.  A living room, kitchen, full bath, and
two bedrooms.  Patrick had noticed that every time he was there, the door to
the extra bedroom was kept closed.  Out of curiosity, because well, Patrick was
always curious about shit, he’d tried the door one day and found it locked.  It
wasn’t a problem, but he wondered why you’d keep a bedroom door locked.  It was
just one of the many mysteries about Jon that Patrick wanted to ask about, but
wouldn’t.
Jon was in his second year with the ‘Hawks.  He’d lived with Brent Seabrook his
rookie year, and it had been okay.  But Jon really preferred living in his own
place, it was just easier to not have a roommate when you have things to hide,
or as Jon preferred to say, private.  When he’d been at the University of North
Dakota for those couple of years, he’d had his own room by request.  He’d
gotten used to it, to living alone.  Which is why, at the start of this season,
he’d gotten his own place. 
He quickly found out that he’d really gotten used to having someone else
around.  He didn’t want to admit it to Seabs, who had told Jon that he should
just keep staying with him, but he was lonely a lot.
There were a few guys on the team that knew Jon’s sexual orientation, that he
liked guys.  It was harder to keep a secret here than it had ever been before. 
The ‘Hawks were a very tightknit group, and given the amount of time that a pro
team spent together, practicing, training, traveling, playing.  It wasn’t easy
to have a life without someone on the team knowing about everything you did. 
It was especially hard when you were 19 and named the Captain in only your
second year.  He tried to keep his private life private, but the pressure had
been too much, so he’d confided in Brent, and a few others.  And asked for
advice.
He didn’t want to just randomly pick-up guys, but he didn’t know how to go
about doing it.  And, well, maybe too, he wasn’t just looking for sex and a
one-night stand.  Sharpy had suggested using an escort service.  Jon thought
about it, but that didn’t seem like an answer.  He wasn’t sure why he thought
what he did end up doing was a better idea.
He’d seen them standing on the street corner as he drove to his new apartment. 
He knew who they were.  Homeless, most likely runaways.  He knew what they were
doing, why they were there.  When he’d finally gotten up the nerve in late
October, he’d stopped and picked up one of the older boys.  Jason. 
Jason had seemed surprised, and a bit leery at first, when Jon told him he
really just wanted some company.  They’d played video games and watched TV that
first night, then he’d driven Jason back to the corner and dropped him off. 
The next morning, Jon had about had a heart attack when he’d realized he’d left
some of his hockey stuff laying out in the living room.  Afraid Jason had seen
it and knew who he was.  Although, he thought, Jason hadn’t said anything.  It
still took him a week to get up the nerve to stop and pick-up Jason again.
Jason didn’t say anything again, even when Jon casually mentioned something
about hockey, to see what Jason would say or do.  The other boy said he had
never really watched it and didn’t really know anything about it.   Jon had
breathed a sigh of relief, but he had hidden everything, locking it away in his
spare bedroom.  He made sure that any of the ‘Hawks stuff that was out was just
stuff that any fan could have, nothing that had his name or number on it,
pretty much de-Toewsing the entire apartment.  Nothing that gave any clue as to
his full name or what he did.    
When he’d stopped at the red light that night, the first of December, he’d
spotted Patrick standing with the group.  He was first drawn to the Sabre’s
jacket, then when he pulled up, he was struck by how cute Patrick was, with his
blond curls and bright eyes.  He knew it was riskier, picking up someone who
appeared to be a hockey fan.  But the kid was a Buffalo fan, so maybe he
wouldn’t recognize Jon.  Jon debated for the time it took the light to turn
green.  He really missed being able to talk hockey or play his NHL game, Jason
always picked something else.  So, he’d asked for Patrick to come with him.
When Jon got a good look at Patrick, he thought that there was something
familiar about him.  Then when Patrick said he had played hockey, Jon started
putting two and two together.  That had led him to look up the stories about
Patrick Kane.  It had also made Jon worry that Patrick might know who Jon was,
even though he hadn’t said anything.  But, then again.
Patrick was two years younger.  They had never played against each other.  They
had played in different parts of the country, and in different divisions.  Jon
never played against Patrick.  So, while he could maybe remember hearing about
this hotshot young player coming up in the OHL, he wouldn’t have recognized
Patrick Kane if not for the article about him going missing.  It was easy to
think that Patrick wouldn’t know who Jon was.  The more time he spent with
Patrick, the more relaxed Jon became about it, convinced Patrick didn’t know.
To Jason, and now Patrick, Jon was just Jon.
***** I Kissed A Boy *****
Chapter Summary
     Slowly, deliberately, Jon bent his head down until there was barely a
     sliver of space between their lips.  He lightly brushed his lips
     against Patrick’s.  They are soft and warm and moist, and Jon wants
     to taste them.  He parts his lips and lets the tip of his tongue
     swipe over them, ever so lightly, ever so gently.
     Patrick’s stomach is doing summersaults.  Jon is going to kiss him. 
     Really kiss him.  Not like the peck on the cheek he gave Jon on
     Christmas.  Not like kissing his mom or grandmother.  But a kiss.  A
     real, honest to god, open mouth kiss.  He’s never kissed anyone like
     this
Chapter Notes
     This includes the scene where Patrick's coach first has a sexual
     encounter with him. It is not overly descriptive or graphic, but it
     could be disturbing to some people... proceed with caution if it's
     not your thing, or skip to second part of chapter...
     The second part of the chapter is Christmas and New Year's Eve with
     Jon and Patrick's friendship moving to maybe something more...
London, Ontario, Canada – Five Years Earlier
Patrick had been living with Coach Anderson for two months, playing on one of
the local teams and doing really well, standing out here more than he had in
Buffalo.  Maybe it’s because he has nothing to focus on except his hockey and
school.  No stressful home life.  No having to take care of his sisters.  No
having to cook and clean and help his mom with everything.  When he thinks
about his parents, about his sisters, he misses them a little, but he doesn’t
miss the fighting and yelling. 
Living with Bill has been better than Patrick thought it would be.  Patrick
goes to school and hockey.  When they get home in the evening, Bill fixes
dinner while Patrick does his homework.  After dinner, Patrick clears the
dishes, washes them and puts them away.  Aside from keeping his room clean,
that’s his only chore. 
After dinner, he and Bill sometimes watch TV together, especially if there is a
Sabre’s game on like tonight.  Patrick usually lays on one end of the couch,
his feet towards Bill, who sits at the other end.  Sometimes, though, if
Patrick is having a tough night, missing his mom or if he had a bad game,
Patrick will lay with his head on a pillow on Bill’s lap.  If it’s really bad,
Bill will lay on the couch behind Patrick, letting the youngster rest up
against him.
It was all innocent enough, Patrick never thinks it’s weird that Bill is more
affectionate than Patrick’s own parents had ever been.  Bill will rub his hands
up and down Patrick’s arm sometimes, or give him a back rub, or an all-over
rubdown, as Bill calls it, some nights.  Bill tells him it, the rubdown, is
what trainers did for the pros to help them unwind and work out kinks after a
game.
That’s how it starts.
Today, Patrick had a bad game, getting two penalties, which was really
uncharacteristic for him.  He hadn’t been able to score, even though he had a
couple of breakaways, and his team had lost 4-1.  He’d moped through dinner,
and was laying with his head in Bill’s lap.  Bill’s fingertips brushed up and
down Patrick’s arm.
“It was just one game, Patty.  Don’t let it get you so down.”  He offered
encouragement to the twelve-year-old. 
“I know.  But I know I should be, no, I can play better.”  Patrick whines. 
“Tony is playing with the older kids.  I’m better than him, I know I am, but if
I keep screwing up, they’ll never give me a chance.”
Ah, that was it.  Patrick had made a friend when he and Bill had moved to
London.  Tony was the same age, but he’d had the advantage of having parents
with money.  He was home schooled and could focus only on his hockey, hence he
was playing at the next level already. 
“Give it a little time, Patty.  You’ll be there before you know it.  You know,
there are things you can do, that the older kids do to help with their
hockey.”  Bill tells him.  “Things I do with my players.”
Bill coaches the team Tony plays on.  The one Patrick thought he’d be playing
on at first. 
“What do they do?”  Patrick picks his head up.  “I want to do better.  I’ll do
whatever I have to do.”
“I’ll show you, okay.  But not right now.  Just watch the game for now, okay?”
“You promise?”  Patrick asks.  “You’ll show me?”
Bill nods and Patrick settles his head back down on Bill’s lap, smiling for the
first time since he got home.  About midway through the second period, Patrick
can’t keep his eyes open any longer and he drifts off to sleep.
He feels a hand on his chest, not sure if he is dreaming.  The hand moves lower
and Patrick opens his eyes.  He’s in his bed.  He doesn’t have his pajamas on
anymore.  He goes to say something, to lift his head, but another hand covers
his mouth.
“Ssshhh, Patty.  It’s okay.”  Bill’s voice sounded a little funny.  “You want
to do what the older kids do, right?  I’m going to help you get better, but you
need to stay still for me.”
Patrick nods against the hand over his mouth and Bill takes it away. 
The hand on his chest slides down over his stomach, and then down lower until
it’s cupping over his private parts.  Patrick tenses.  Bill takes Patrick into
his hand and starts to rub up and down.  Patrick tries to squirm away, tries to
pull his hips down away from Bill.
Patrick feels his dick getting hard.  He knows enough about things to know what
Bill is doing.  He’s jacked himself off, too.  He’d learned by trial and error
what to do, and this year in school, they’d learned about things in health
class.
“Hold still, Patty.”  Bill says firmly, in his strictest coach voice.
Patrick’s training tells him to do what he is told.  His instincts are telling
him this isn’t okay, however.  His body doesn’t know what to do, so he lies
there, frozen in place.  This can’t be what Bill meant would help his hockey. 
This can’t be what Bill really does with the older kids.  This is wrong. 
Everyone says this is wrong.
No. No. No.  Patrick’s brain is telling him this isn’t right and he tries to
roll away again.  Bill shifts his leg and drapes it over Patrick’s, holding him
down.  His arm presses down on Patrick’s chest.
“Patty.  I said don’t move.  You said you wanted to do whatever it took to get
better.  Remember.  Well, this will make you better.”
Patrick froze again.
He felt Bill’s mouth cover the tip of his dick, and, oh… oh…
------------------------------------------------------
Chicago – Present Day
They spent the rest of Christmas day playing video games, napping, and eating. 
Patrick smiled and laughed a lot, which made Jon happy.  Hopefully, Patrick
really was having a good holiday.  That night, they laid in bed talking until
neither could stifle their yawns any longer. 
“Thank you, again.  For all the presents.  You really didn’t have to do all
that.”  Patrick said.
“You liked everything, didn’t you?  And you had a good Christmas?”
“Yeah, it’s been better than I thought I’d have this year.”
“I’m glad.”
“Can I do something?  And you not freak out or think it’s weird?”  Patrick
asked.
“Okay,” Jon said guardedly.
Patrick shifted over on the bed a little, so that he was closer to Jon. 
Hesitantly, he tipped his head, leaned up, and gave Jon a quick peck on the
cheek.
Jon’s skin warmed as a bright pink flush covered his features. 
Patrick stayed close to Jon as he settled his head back down on the pillow.
“Merry Christmas, Jon.”
“Merry Christmas, Patrick.”
-------------------------------------------------------------
Jon drove Patrick back to the building late the next afternoon.  Patrick had
carefully packed his new clothes and video games into the ‘Hawks backpack and
left it sit, leaning up against a dresser, in Jon’s bedroom.  Jon had offered
him part of a dresser drawer, but Patrick had declined.  He wasn’t sure about
something that seemed that permanent.  Yet.
The week between Christmas and New Year the Blackhawks played three home games,
and Jon picked up Patrick each night after those games.  The third one was on
New Year’s Eve.  The ‘Hawks played an afternoon game that day, it went into
overtime and then a shootout.  The ‘Hawks lost.
Jon stopped and picked up Patrick outside the abandoned building, since
Christmas he’d been doing that, so that Patrick didn’t have to go over to the
corner with the others at all.  It had been Jason’s suggestion.  Patrick smiled
and was bouncing in the seat, in way too good a mood for Jon after the tough
loss.
“It’s New Year’s, Jon.  New year, new start.  Isn’t that what they say?”
“I guess,” Jon mumbled. 
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.  Just a bad day at work.”
“Well, get over it.  Cause I want to celebrate.”  Patrick reached into the
paper bag he had brought and pulled out a bottle of cheap champagne.  “I got
some guy to buy this for me.”
Jon paused for a moment, taking in the excitement written all over Patrick. 
“Okay.” He smiled.  “I’ll try.  Just for you.”
Jon made a stop at a store, running in and coming back out with a couple of
bags of groceries.  When they got home, he unpacked the food.
“Is that a steak?  Wait.  Two steaks?” Patrick asked incredulously.
“Yes.  Why?”
“Aren’t you a veggievegan or whatever?”
“No.  I never told you that I was, I just like vegan foods, sometimes.”
Jon took out a fresh, shrimp cocktail ring.  “You like shrimp?”
“Wow.  Spoiling me, Jon.”
A couple of minutes before midnight, Patrick popped the cork on his champagne
and poured them each a glass.  They watched the local celebration on one of the
Chicago channels and joined in with the count down.
“five, four, three, two, one…”  Patrick counted enthusiastically, “Happy New
Year, Jon!”
“Happy New Year, Patrick!”
They drank down the champagne, both making faces at the taste, then Jon took
the glasses and sat them down.  He turned to Patrick and slipped his arms
around him, pulling him into a hug.  Patrick let his arms wrap around Jon,
feeling warm and happy.  After a minute, he leaned back a little.  Jon didn’t
pull his arms away, but held on to Patrick, who tipped his head back and looked
up into Jon’s face. 
Slowly, deliberately, Jon bent his head down until there was barely a sliver of
space between their lips.  He lightly brushed his lips against Patrick’s.  They
are soft and warm and moist, and Jon wants to taste them.  He parts his lips
and lets the tip of his tongue swipe over them, ever so lightly, ever so
gently.
Patrick’s stomach is doing summersaults.  Jon is going to kiss him.  Really
kiss him.  Not like the peck on the cheek he gave Jon on Christmas.  Not like
kissing his mom or grandmother.  But a kiss.  A real, honest to god, open mouth
kiss.  He’s never kissed anyone like this, not even… him.  For all the things
he did to Patrick, he never tried to kiss him.  Patrick tried not to think
about it.  But, he couldn’t stop.
Jon didn’t know what happened, what he did, but Patrick abruptly pulled back
and jerked out of his arms, jumping up off the couch and taking a few steps
before stopping.  He’s shaking, panic in his eyes as he stares back at Jon.
“Patrick?”
Jon didn’t know for sure what he should do.  Should he go to Patrick?  Should
he talk to him?  Should he just do nothing? 
Patrick covers his face with his hands, shaking his head back and forth.  Jon
decides doing nothing is not an option.  He stands and steps next to Patrick,
gently placing his hands on Patrick’s shoulders.
“Patrick?”
“I’m sorry.”  Patrick mumbles into his hand.  “I’m sorry.”
“No, Patrick.  I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”
Patrick unexpectedly stepped closer to Jon, into his arms, his hands dropping
to his sides as he laid his head on Jon’s chest. 
“It’s okay.  It okay.”  Cautiously Jon slid his arms around Patrick to caress
comfortingly up and down the younger boy’s back.  He can feel Patrick’s body
shudder under his touch.  “I shouldn’t have just assumed that because you,
well, I just shouldn’t have.”
“No.  You didn’t.”  Patrick said into Jon’s chest.
“Didn’t what?  Think?  You’re right.”
“No.”  Patrick lifted his head.  “Assume.  I wanted.  I…”
Patrick rocked up on his toes, bringing him up to Jon.  He tilted his head a
little to the side and closed his eyes.  “Jon.”
Jon brought his lips to Patrick’s, this time with more confidence.  Patrick’s
lips parted, opening his mouth to Jon, kissing back softly.  The kiss was
tender, and loving, spreading a warmth through Patrick that he’d never
experienced before.  The feelings inside Patrick strange and unknown, being
with him had never felt like this, ever.  This was so different from anything
Patrick had ever felt for anyone in his life.
Jon’s mouth worked against Patrick’s as he deepened the kiss, letting his
tongue lick into Patrick’s mouth.  He tasted vaguely like the champagne,
Patrick thought.  A small hum of contentment came from the back of Patrick’s
throat, which made Jon pull him even closer. 
“That was okay?”  Jon questioned when he finally pulled away from the kiss.
“That was okay.”  Patrick responded, stretching up to kiss Jon again.
---------------------------------------------------------------
The next morning, Jon woke up with Patrick’s head resting on his chest,
Patrick’s one arm tucked between them, his other draped over Jon’s waist,
Patrick breathing slow and steady against his skin.  They hadn’t done anything
more than kiss, but it had been the most amazing kissing of Jon’s life.  
He knew what he’d told his mother, that they were just friends, but Jon also
knew that wasn’t true.  He knew he was developing feelings for Patrick.  He
hadn’t been sure that Patrick might be having the same feelings, though, or if
he could have those kinds of feelings for Jon.  But, when they’d finally gone
to bed, Patrick had shyly asked Jon if it was okay if he curled up against him,
and that gave Jon hope.
Jon wanted to ask questions, wanted to know what had caused Patrick to
initially pull away.  It made him think that his suspicions about why Patrick
had runaway were right.  Something had happened with the coach Patrick was
living with, he thought.  The problem was, Jon didn’t know how to talk to
Patrick about it.  Or, if he should.  He was afraid that it would make Patrick
run away from him, too.
This subtle change in their relationship increased that worry in Jon.  There
was a lot that he realized could go wrong.  How would Patrick react if, no
when, he found out who Jon was, that he was a professional hockey player.  Or
when Patrick found out that Jon knew who he was.  There was just so much that
could go wrong.  There was no if on any of this, just a matter of when.  It
would be improbable to believe that he could keep that information from Patrick
forever.
Jon slipped out from under Patrick, trying not to wake him.  Patrick had
stirred, then just pulled the comforter up, burrowed into the pillows, and gone
back to sleep.  Jon went about his morning routine and just gone out to make
breakfast when Patrick was still sleeping as he came out of the bathroom. 
With a cup of tea and some fruit to eat, he sat at the kitchen table with his
laptop.  He pulled up the latest news about Patrick.  There weren’t as many
articles, but still enough to know that the police, his coach, and his team
were still actively looking for Patrick.  The articles said that they believed
he may be in the Buffalo area, but that his family had not had any contact with
him as of yet.
When he heard Patrick shuffling down the hall from the bedroom, Jon closed his
browser and shut his computer down.  He was flipping the lid down as Patrick
walked into the kitchen.  Patrick shuffled over to the fridge and poured
himself a glass of orange juice before sitting down at the table next to Jon.
Since Jon had the day off, the boys spent the day watching movies, eating, and
napping on and off.  And kissing, they definitely did some more kissing. 
Patrick really liked kissing evidently, Jon discovered.
***** The "Patty" Incident *****
Chapter Summary
     Jon stopped trying to grab Patrick’s hands, which continued to tickle
     his ribs mercilessly, and instead grabbed him by the waist and pushed
     him off his lap, pinning Patrick down on his back on the couch in one
     swift movement.  Jon started tickling Patrick back.
     “Now you’re going to get it.”  Jon returned the tickling torture. 
     “And you can call me Jonny if I get to call you Patty.”
     Patrick stopped squirming.  Stopped laughing.  His body tensed for a
     split second before he started pushing at Jon’s shoulders.
The next morning, Jon dropped Patrick off at the building.  Patrick had been
disappointed when Jon told him he wouldn’t see him for a couple of days because
he was going out-of-town for work again, but he assured Patrick he’d pick him
up Tuesday night when he got back. 
Tuesday night, however, Jon didn’t show up.  Instead a grey colored sports car
pulled up to the curb.  Jason leaned down to the window and then stood back up.
“Patrick, he wants to talk to you.”
Patrick gave Jason a puzzled look, he wasn’t supposed to be going with anyone
but Jon.  Jason had told him that was okay, so why would he let this guy talk
to Patrick.  Did he want Patrick to go out?
“Hey, I’m Brent.” The dark-haired driver said.  “I’m a friend of Jonny’s.  He
sent me to get you.”
“Why?” Patrick asked suspiciously.  “I mean why isn’t he here himself?” 
“Look kid, why would I say I know Jonny?  I mean, who in the hell would even
know Jonny knew you if he wasn’t a good friend, right?  He had a little
accident, gonna be laid up for a couple of weeks, so he asked if I’d come find
you and take you to his place.”  Brent quipped.  “You getting in or what?  I
don’t have all night.”
Patrick opened the door and got in, concern for Jon over-riding his uncertainty
about this guy, “What kind of accident? Is he okay?”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“You fell down some stairs?” Patrick stared at the brace on Jon’s knee.  “What
a klutz.”
“Well, you know, what can I say.”  Jon stared at Brent, who was standing behind
Patrick, giving him the evil eye. 
Jon had been back-checking and got tripped up, sliding into the boards at an
awkward angle and jamming his knee.  The medical staff thought if he stayed off
of it for a couple of weeks he could be back on the ice by then, and maybe
playing again in four weeks.  Maybe.  But he needed to stay off of it.
The guys had all offered to let Jon come stay at their places, even Stan and Q
had said he could come, offering their wives as nursemaids to take care of
Jon.  He’d told them that he preferred to just stay at his place, especially
when the thought that maybe Patrick would come and stay with him crossed his
mind. 
When he’d asked Brent if he would get Patrick, Brent had given him a lecture
about picking up some strange boy off the street, and for evidently developing
feelings for that boy.  When Jon told him who Patrick was, that had been a
whole other lecture.
“You need to come clean with him, Jonny.”  Brent had scolded him.  “Lying isn’t
good, it will just blow up in your face eventually.  Besides, this kid’s family
need to know he’s alright.”
“I know, and I’m sure you’ll be the first in line to tell me ‘I told you so,’
Seabs, but for now I don’t want to scare him off.  I think he’ll just take off,
then what good will that do.”
“Whatever.  I’m guessing you don’t want anyone else to know about him?”
“I’m going to tell Sharpy.  If you two could run interference with the guys,
keep them from just dropping by.  I’m already taking a real chance that he
won’t know you.  Please, just don’t say anything.” Jon implored.  Brent had
given in, resigned that it was useless to try and reason with Jon over this.
When Jon asked Patrick if he’d like to stay with him for a couple weeks while
he mended, Patrick’s whole face had lit up and he had looked like he was going
to bounce out of his skin with excitement.  Brent told them that if they needed
anything to call, then he left, giving Jon once that ‘tell him’ look on the way
out.  Patrick came back in and sat down next to Jon.
“So, do you need anything?  Something to eat?  Drink?  Anything?”
“Nope.  Just glad you said yes to staying.”  Jon leaned his head over on
Patrick’s shoulder.  “They gave me some pain meds, making me sleepy.  Want to
take a nap with me?”
“Nah, but you can sleep here.  I may play some video games if that’s okay.”
They rearranged themselves on the couch so that Patrick was sitting at one
end.  Jon was stretched out, his head on a pillow in Patrick’s lap, his knee
elevated on several pillows at the other end.  He closed his eyes and was
asleep in no time.
------------------------------------------------------------
They spent the first week of Jon’s recovery lounging around on the couch
playing video games and making out, well, still only just a lot of kissing
anyway.  Patrick had suggested they watch the ‘Hawks’ game one night and Jon
had panicked, he’d pretended his leg hurt worse that it did and Patrick had
helped him in to bed and stayed next to him, forgetting about the game.  It was
going to be tough to keep avoiding them, however.
The next time Patrick suggested it, they were in the middle of a game of FIFA
soccer. 
“Hey, think there’s a hockey game on tonight?” Patrick asked.
“Don’t know.  Maybe.”  Jon knew very well there was a game that night.
“If there is, maybe we could watch?”
“Okay.  Hey, I was thinking about having Brent pick me up a few things at the
store, anything you need?”  Jon tried changing the subject.
“Yeah.  Could we get stuff to make Buffalo wings?  I’ve been kind of craving
them.  One of the things I do miss about home, I guess.”  Patrick looked at Jon
with a half-grin.  “Oh, and I was going to ask you something, Jonny.  How come
you never told me people call you Jonny, Jonny?”
“Cause, people don’t call me Jonny.” Jon nudged Patrick in the ribs.  “Not if
they want to live.”
“Brent did.  He’s still alive.”  Patrick tossed his controller aside and
scrambled over onto Jon’s lap, straddling his thighs, careful of Jon’s knee. 
“He’s my friend.  Only my friend’s get to call me that, and live.”
“You mean, I’m not your friend?  I thought you said I was your friend.  Jonny.”
He started tickling Jon. 
“Jon-ny.  Jon-ny.  Jon-ny.” He teased, singsonging the name.  “I like that
nickname.”
Jon tried to grab his hands to stop the torment.
“Patrick, stop,” Jon gasped for air, trying to stop laughing.  “We are
friends.”
“Make me.  Jonny.”  Patrick bent his head down and stifled Jon’s protest with a
kiss. 
Jon stopped trying to grab Patrick’s hands, which continued to tickle his ribs
mercilessly, and instead grabbed him by the waist and pushed him off his lap,
pinning Patrick down on his back on the couch in one swift movement.  Jon
started tickling Patrick back.
“Now you’re going to get it.”  Jon returned the tickling torture.  “And you can
call me Jonny if I get to call you Patty.”
Patrick stopped squirming.  Stopped laughing.  His body tensed for a split
second before he started pushing at Jon’s shoulders.
“Stop it! Get off me! Stop!”  Patrick yelled.
“Patty, what’d I do?”
“Don’t!  Don’t fucking call me that!”  Patrick started hitting Jon’s chest. 
“Get the fuck off me!”
Jon sat back and Patrick scrambled up off the couch.
“Patrick?”
“Don’t call me Patty.  Don’t you ever fucking call me that.”  Patrick swore at
Jon.  His eyes wide with panic and fear, tears building in his eyes.
Patrick bolted down the hallway and Jon heard the bathroom door slam shut a few
seconds later.  Jon sat on the couch, stunned, not sure what had just happened.
Jon retrieved his crutches from beside the couch and hobbled his way down the
hall to the bathroom door.  He could hear Patrick sobbing on the other side.
“Patrick?  I’m sorry.  Can I come in?”
Silence.
“Patrick?  Please.  Did it, did it have something to do with what happened? 
With why you ran away?”
The door knob turned and Jon stepped back, waiting.  The door opened just a
crack, but Patrick didn’t come out.  Jon pushed it open.  Patrick was sitting
on the edge of the tub, hunched over, his head in his hands, his shoulders
shaking as he cried.  Jon sat down next to him.
“Do you want to talk?”
Patrick shook his head.  “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”  Jon wanted to put his arm around Patrick, wanted to comfort him,
but he was afraid of that touching Patrick would upset him more.  Cautiously he
let his knee bump Patrick’s, to see what his reaction would be.  When Patrick
didn’t react badly, Jon let his thigh bump against Patrick’s and stay there.
Patrick didn’t pull away, much to Jon’s relief, instead he leaned over against
Jon’s shoulder.  Jon tentatively reached around Patrick, letting his arm drape
over Patrick’s shoulders.  Patrick raised his head from his hands, pausing for
a moment to look at Jon, eyes red, tears staining his cheeks.  Timidly, Patrick
laid his head on Jon’s shoulder and nuzzled into his neck.  Jon wrapped both
arms around Patrick then, enveloping him in his embrace.  They sat like that
until Patrick calmed down.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jon didn’t pressure Patrick to talk about what happened, but Patrick left at
the end of the two weeks when Jon said he was going to be able to go back to
work.  Jon wanted to ask Patrick to stay, but since the incident Patrick had
been different.  Jon wasn’t sure if Patrick was embarrassed by what happened,
or what, but Patrick had been quiet and subdued, far less touchy feely than
he’d become with Jon.  He had gone back to just chastely giving Jon a quick
kiss goodnight, not wanting anything more than that.  Jon didn’t push the
issue, but just gave Patrick his space.
By the next time Jon picked him up, Patrick was better, and the open affection
had returned. 
***** Boyfriends *****
Chapter Summary
     You’re a boy.  You’re my friend.  Does that mean you could be my
     boyfriend? 
Jon is back on the ice and playing four weeks after injuring his leg, he’s
happy, but it means he only sees Patrick if he picks him up after games, which
for now has been fairly often as the ‘Hawks have an extended run of home games
over the first half of February.  But even with that, Patrick never stays more
than a night, or two if Jon has the day off after a game. 
They settle in to that comfortable routine, and for the time being Jon let’s
Patrick set the pace for anything physical, never pushing Patrick beyond
kissing, even though he is hoping their relationship is becoming just that, a
relationship.  And, even for what it is, Jon still gives Patrick money, despite
Patrick’s protests at this point. 
Jason had agreed that Jon’s relationship with Patrick was no longer what it was
at the beginning.  Jason told Patrick he would much rather Patrick had Jon as
Jon rather than as a ‘John.’  Jon was good for Patrick, Jason could see it,
Patrick wasn’t the type of kid who would do well having to work the streets. 
Jason saw it whenever Patrick had gone with some guy other than Jon, he’d come
back sullen and withdrawn.  The hurt from what had happened to him, what made
him runaway, still a raw nerve.
But with Jon, Patrick was different.  Jason saw it.  Patrick told him.
Patrick had confided in Jason almost from the beginning, for some reason
feeling that he should be truthful with this person who took him in and gave
him a place to stay.  Besides, who better to understand than someone else who
had run away from home.  Jason had listened, and comforted, as Patrick told him
all about his coach.
Jason completely understood, escaping his own abusive relationship, and having
heard similar tales from others in their little make-shift family, from those
who stayed, and those who came and left.  Jason never pushed for more
information than they were willing to share, and he never made them feel
pressured to work the street or do anything they didn’t want to do. 
Patrick had been one of those that he felt guilty about sending out actually. 
He knew it made Patrick anxious and upset to the point that he got sick. But
Patrick had gone a few times, and maybe in the end that was a good thing,
because he’d met Jon.
--------------------------------------------------------------
The ‘Hawks had an away game for the first time in February on the thirteenth,
Friday the thirteenth to be exact.  They would be gone from Thursday to Sunday
night, after games in Dallas and Arizona.  Jon had told Patrick he would get in
late Sunday night, but if Patrick wanted, he would pick him up because Jon
would then have Monday off.  Patrick asked what time, and said he’d meet Jon at
what had become their pick-up slash drop-off spot.
Patrick had been thinking about things for a little while now, ever since he’d
stayed with Jon for those two weeks.  Patrick knew he didn’t like girls, even
though he’d had a girlfriend in London for a little while when he was 16, about
the time he’d started playing for the Knights in the OHL.  They’d had sex a few
times, but then she decided she liked one of the other guys on the team better
and had broken up with Patrick.  Patrick hadn’t been upset about it.
Patrick had also hooked up with a couple of other girls, local high school
girls who liked hockey, and hockey players it seemed.  He never felt much for
them, it was sex.  He did it because they weren’t his coach. 
Having sex with a girl made Patrick feel normal, or what was supposed to be
normal.  Okay, Patrick knew that guys liking guys wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t
want to like a guy.  Letting himself do that, to think about liking a guy that
way, was too close to feeling like he wanted what his coach was doing.  At
least that’s what he told himself every time his coach touched him, or made
Patrick do something.  What his coach did with him, that was wrong.  He knew
it.  He couldn’t, no, he wouldn’t let himself believe that he could like doing
that with another guy.
But, now he was thinking about Jon.  He’d felt different about Jon after the
first couple of nights he spent with him.  He kept telling himself he didn’t
like boys, but he couldn’t help what he had started feeling for Jon.  He liked
kissing Jon, mostly because Jon was the only person he’d ever really kissed
like that, even with the girls he’d been with, it was different somehow.  They
never made him feel the way Jon makes him feel. 
He liked being around Jon, he felt safe, and warm, and cared for.  No one had
made him feel like that in a long time.  The more Patrick thought about it, the
more he realized that maybe he’d been wrong.  Maybe he could like boys.  And,
so, maybe, he could try doing more with Jon than just kissing.  Maybe with Jon,
it would be… different.
But the fact that Jon insisted on giving Patrick money every time he stayed
made Patrick worry that Jon didn’t feel the same way about him. 
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--
Patrick stood tucked into a doorway near where Jon was to pick him up.  It was
late, or early, depending on how you looked at things, almost two in the
morning.  Jon had said he would be there about 1:30. Patrick wasn’t worried,
yet, just a little concerned.  Okay, a lot concerned.  He wasn’t really sure
how long he should wait.  It wasn’t safe to be just standing around outside
this time of night.  He stepped back into the shadows and pulled his hood up
when he saw a couple of strange men walking across the street, relived when
they kept walking, evidently not seeing him.  A half-hour, he thought, I’ll
give Jon a half-hour.
Luckily, he didn’t have to wait that long, as Jon pulled up about 15 minutes
later.  He looked tired when Patrick got in and leaned over to give him a kiss.
“Everything okay?”
“Flight got delayed due to weather from where we were.  Freak ice storm.  We
were lucky we even flew out tonight and they didn’t just cancel it.”  Jon told
him.  “I’m sorry.  I was afraid you wouldn’t be here, and I didn’t have any way
of letting you know, and…”
“It’s okay.  I was going to take off.”  He wasn’t sure about what he said
next.  “I was worried.  I thought something bad happened.  I’m glad I waited. 
Here.”  Patrick handed Jon a small item.
“What’s this,” Jon looked over the box, wrapped in red.
“Some chocolate. I got it for you for, um, well, Valentine’s Day was Saturday. 
I wanted to get you something.  It’s not, ya know, a thing, it’s just for being
my friend.  Friends can do that for Valentine’s Day too, I mean, at my school
you could get flowers, carnations, for your friend on Valentine’s Day and
well….”  Patrick stumbled over the words, not sure if the warmth in his cheeks
was from having come in from the cold or from blushing from embarrassment.
“Thank you, Patrick.  Yeah, friends can do that too.”  Jon smiled at him.
As he drove, Jon reached over and took Patrick’s hand in his, holding it the
whole way home.
When they got to Jon’s apartment, Patrick took a quick shower to get warmed up
and he could change into some clean clothes.  They sat up for a while talking
while Jon unwound from the whole plane thing, finally going to bed around 3:30.
Monday morning, Patrick woke up, looked at the clock and sighed.  It was only a
little after eight, and the other half of the bed was empty.  He’d discovered
that Jon very rarely slept in, even on days off, even if they’d been up late. 
He dragged himself out of bed and down the hall to the bathroom.  When he
stepped out of the bathroom a little while later, Patrick could smell bacon and
eggs cooking. 
“That’s smells great,” he smiled at Jon, stepping over to give him a hug and
kiss good morning.
“Thanks.  And good morning.” 
Patrick looked at the table, which was already set.  There was also orange
juice and bowls of fresh cut fruit sitting there. 
“What’s the occasion?” Patrick asked.
“No occasion.  Just thought it would be nice to have a good breakfast.”
“Oh, okay.”  He hoped he didn’t sound too disappointed.
They sat and ate breakfast and talked some more, all the while Jon had this
stupid grin on his face.  It was starting to annoy Patrick a little.
“What?” He finally blurted out.
“What what?”  Jon had been leaning forward with his elbows on the table,
sitting back when Patrick said that.
“You have this stupid look on your face, and you keep staring at me.  What?  Do
I like have something in my teeth?  Or in my hair or something?”
“No.  I didn’t think I was looking at you funny.  But if it bothers you, I’ll
quit looking.”  Jon stood and picked up his plate.
Patrick huffed, then stood up and picked up his own plate to take it to the
sink, but stopped when he saw something had been on the table under his plate,
a red envelope with his name written neatly across the front.  He glanced at
Jon, who kept his back to Patrick and just went about rinsing his plate and
putting it in the sink.  Patrick sat back down, laid his plate down and picked
up the envelope.
On the front, it looked like a folded piece of paper, Patrick had seen the
memes about times before everyone had a cellphone to text, when kids passed
notes back and forth in school, that’s what this looked like to him.  Written
on ‘note’ was Do you like me?  Check Yes or No.
Patrick opened the card.  Inside was the same note, with the Yes checked,
circled and highlighted.  Underneath was a hand-written note.
You’re a boy.  You’re my friend.  Does that mean you could be my boyfriend? 
He sat there holding the card, dumbfounded.  He looked back and forth between
Jon and the card several times, Jon never looked back or turned around, just
kept his attention focused on the dishes in the sink.  Could Jon really be
thinking about him that way?  The way that Patrick let himself dream about Jon
when they weren’t together? Or was Jon making fun of him, the look on Jon's
face had been more joking than Jon's usual serious face.
Patrick got up and walked over to stand behind Jon.
"Making fun of me, Jon?  Because of what I said last night?  Because I gave you
some chocolate?"
"No.  I had the card before that, Patrick.  I bought it, but wasn't going to
give it to you, because, well, I wasn't sure you felt that way.  Then you gave
me the chocolate, and I decided that maybe..."
“You mean it then?  It's not a joke?"
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.  I wouldn't joke about something like that
with you.” Jon sounded like his serious self.
Patrick slipped his arms around Jon’s waist and snuggled up against his back,
letting his head rest against Jon’s shoulder.
“Only if I can call you Jonny,” he breathed into Jon’s back.
Jon turned, taking Patrick into his arms. 
“You can call me whatever you want, Patrick.” Jon whispered against Patrick’s
mouth just before bringing their lips together.
***** Can I Tell You Something? *****
Chapter Summary
     “Jonny?”  Patrick spoke softly, barely above a whisper.
     “Patrick?”
     “I, uh, was that okay tonight?”
     “Yeah, it was, it was really good.  I feel kind of funny saying thank
     you for a blow job to you, but, um, thanks.  You didn’t have to do
     that, if it upset you to do it.”
     “I wanted to.”  Patrick said.  “Can I tell you something?”
Being boyfriends doesn’t really change the nature of their relationship at
first.  Patrick still doesn’t stay at Jon’s unless Jon is home.  Which is fine
with Patrick, who isn’t sure he wants to stay by himself.  When he’s not able
to be with Jon, he still has his pseudo-family around. 
When Patrick is with Jon, they spend their time playing games, watching movies,
or just talking.  With each passing night, or day, he spends with Jon, Patrick
is becoming more sure of his feelings and what he wants.  This all feels like
the kind of home Patrick never had and never realized he could have.
Towards the beginning of March, Patrick is spending the night at Jon’s.  They
sit on the couch playing Mario Kart, Patrick glancing nervously at Jon, not
really paying attention to the game.  Jon is really into it, moving his body
when he moves the controller, hyper focused. 
“I win again, Patrick!”  Jon exclaimed, as his character crossed the finish
line first.  When Patrick doesn’t respond, Jon turns to look at him.  Patrick
is just gazing at Jon, a far-away look in his eyes.  “What?”
No response.
“Hey, earth to Patrick.  Hello?”  Jon waved the controller in front of
Patrick’s face.  “Something wrong?”
Patrick blinked a few times, letting his thoughts come back to the present.  He
reached out and grabbed the controller from Jon, setting it down along with his
own on the coffee table.  When he turned back to Jon, he let his hand cup Jon’s
check as he leaned up to kiss him.  Jon murmured something, but Patrick
couldn’t make it out.  He just focused on the way his mouth worked against
Jon’s, the warmth of Jon’s tongue in his mouth, Jon’s hands that quietly slid
around him and pulled him tight.
They kissed like that until their lips were red and getting a little puffy. 
Patrick pulled away first, just enough so that he could stare into Jon’s eyes,
dark and intense.  He gave Jon a short kiss before he dipped his head down to
Jon’s neck, kissing and nuzzling against the warm skin for just a few seconds
before he made his way down Jon’s chest, kissing him through the fabric of his
t-shirt.
When he had his head at Jon’s waist, he slipped his fingers into the waistband
of Jon’s sweats and briefs and gave a light tug.
“Patrick?” Jon said softly.
Patrick didn’t say anything, just tugged again.  Jon lifted his hips so that
Patrick could pull the sweats and briefs down around Jon’s thighs.  Patrick
hovered over Jon’s cock, a wave of uneasiness coming over him.  Jon sensed
Patrick’s hesitation.
“Patrick, you don’t have to…”
“I want to.”  Patrick said softly, pushing back his trepidation.  “I want to,
Jonny.”
Jon let his fingers twine into Patrick’s blond curls, not pushing, but
steadying him.  Patrick took Jon’s cock in his hand and lifted the tip to his
lips.  He let his tongue lick over the slit, which caused Jon to moan softly. 
Patrick parted his lips again and lowered his mouth over the head of Jon’s
cock, letting it slide in slowly along his tongue. 
Images of him filled Patrick’s mind and he stopped.   This isn’t him,he told
himself several times, the voice in his head becoming more forceful each time
he said it.  This.  Isn’t.  HIM.  The voice yelled inside his head and then,
silence. 
Jon.
This is Jon.  The voice changed.  Became softer, calmer.  Jon.  Jon. Jon.  It
said his name over and over again.  Jonny.
Patrick felt his body relax.  He realized he’d been just sitting there with
Jon’s cock in his mouth, not moving.  Jon was saying his name, gently holding
his head, trying to make him lift it up.  Patrick shook his head slightly
against Jon’s hands and then focused again on what he was doing, moving his
mouth further down Jon’s cock, licking against the shaft. 
Patrick worked his mouth up and down Jon, alternating from sucking on just the
head to holding all of Jon in his mouth and pressing his tongue against Jon’s
cock.  After a few times doing that, he pulled his mouth off and kissed up and
down the shaft, which was hard and thick in his hand.  Patrick stroked up and
down a few times, twisting his wrist to rub over the tip which was wet,
glistening with precome and Patrick’s spit. 
Jon groaned, low and deep in his throat, his head tossed back against the
couch, eyes shut, mouth gaped open when Patrick glanced up at him.  Patrick
went back to work, sucking and lapping at Jon’s cock.  Every sound Jon made,
every twitch of his hips, every time he arched up seeking to drive deeper into
Patrick’s mouth filled Patrick with new and exciting sensations, new and
exciting thoughts and images flooding into his mind.
Doing this with Jon.  For Jon.  It was all so different than any other time
Patrick had done it and he let that thought fill his mind.  For the first time
in his life, Patrick was doing this, giving this to Jon, because he wanted to
do it.  Because he, Patrick, chose to do this.  The feelings building behind
that simple thought began to be too much.
Jon was close to the edge.  “Patrick, I’m gonna.  Patrick, you need to…”
Patrick took Jon as deep as he could and hollowed his cheeks, sucking
intently.  That was all it took, Jon curled over Patrick as he came, spurting
warm fluid into Patrick’s mouth and throat.  Patrick gagged for a second, until
he stopped sucking and made himself focus on breathing through Jon coming.  He
lifted his head a little and swallowed, then sucked and swallowed a few more
times until he was sure Jon was done.
He sat back up slowly.  Tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Oh, Patrick.”  Jon mouthed, no sound coming out.  He took Patrick’s face in
his hands and kissed his cheeks.  Patrick fell forward against Jon’s chest and
Jon enveloped Patrick in his arms, holding on to him tightly.
“I’m okay.  I’m okay, Jonny.”  Patrick sniffled.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-
Jon held Patrick as they laid in bed a short time later, Patrick’s head on
Jon’s chest, his arms tucked between them.  Jon’s arm rested against Patrick’s
back, curled so that he could play with the soft, blond curls of Patrick’s
hair. 
He’d hugged Patrick earlier, until the younger boy could collect himself. 
Patrick hadn’t seemed upset, just very emotional.  Patrick didn’t say anything
about why, but when he’d gotten himself together, he’d let Jon kiss him for
what seemed an eternity before they’d gotten up and gone to bed.  Jon hadn’t
tried to touch Patrick, or reciprocate in anyway, and Patrick hadn’t asked him
to.
“Jonny?”  Patrick spoke softly, barely above a whisper.
“Patrick?”
“I, uh, was that okay tonight?”
“Yeah, it was, it was really good.  I feel kind of funny saying thank you for a
blow job to you, but, um, thanks.  You didn’t have to do that, if it upset you
to do it.”
“I wanted to.”  Patrick said.  “Can I tell you something?”
“What?”
“I’ve never done that with someone I, someone I really liked, that I wanted to
do it with.  Before it was because, well, you’ve never really asked about why I
ran away from home.  Or why I don’t play hockey anymore.”
“I figured you’d tell me if you wanted me to know.  Do you want to talk about
it?”
“Yeah.  I think, you said that first night you picked me up that you wouldn’t
rat me out.  You won’t will you?  Tell anyone?  Or, make me leave or anything?”
“No.  I won’t if you don’t want me to, I won’t tell anyone.  Brent knows about
you, that you ran away from home, you know that.  I kind of had to tell him
when I asked him to pick you up that time.”
“I know, but, like, you won’t tell the police or anything.  I can’t go back,
Jonny.  I can’t.”
“I wouldn’t let anyone make you go back to an abusive situation, Patrick.  I
wouldn’t.”
Patrick took a few seconds before he continued.  As they laid there in the
dark, Patrick told Jon about Bill Anderson and what he had done to Patrick over
the last five years.  Through sniffles and tears, Patrick detailed how his
coach threatened to take hockey away from him. 
How he threatened to send Patrick back home to Buffalo.
Back to his parents.
Back to a house with too many kids and not enough money.
Back to a place that offered no hope for a future. 
Jon listened as Patrick told him that he took it, took everything his coach did
to him, until he couldn’t take it anymore. 
How finally, even hockey hadn’t been enough. 
***** Jonathan Toews *****
Chapter Summary
     “Patrick?  Hey, it’s okay man.”  Jason says, “So he’s a hockey
     player.  So what?”
     “No.  You don’t.  No!”  Patrick yelled at Jason. 
     Jason gave him a worried look.
     “He’s, fuck, Jason he’s… god, you don’t get it.  He’s not just some
     hockey player.  He’s the fucking captain of a fucking NHL team.” 
     Patrick swore at Jason.
“Kane.  My name is Patrick Kane.” Patrick says at the end of his story.  “I
played hockey in the Ontario Hockey League, for the London Knights.  If you
look it up on the internet, I’m sure there’s probably a story about me running
away.”
“I don’t know much about that league,” Jon said.  It wasn’t exactly a lie, Jon
had never really followed the OHL much.  “Do you know if your family is looking
for you?  Or if your coach is looking for you? I mean, you aren’t just like any
runaway kid, evidently.  I’d think a lot of people would be looking for you.”
“My coach is, I think.  I was in a store in Buffalo about a week after I ran
away and there was already a poster up saying I was missing.  He was listed as
my family.  That’s when I got scared that somebody would recognize me and I
took off.  That’s when I ended up here.”
“How’d you get here?”
“Hitched.  A trucker picked me up just outside of Buffalo and he was headed
here.”  Patrick explained.  “I got hooked up with Jason not too long after
that.”
Jon couldn’t believe what Patrick had been through.  It was what he had
thought.  He wasn’t sure what to say or what to do.  He didn’t know how to tell
Patrick that he’d almost been Patrick.  That he had been able to say no,
though.  That he’d been able to tell his parents.  But if he told Patrick that,
then Patrick would know that Jon played hockey and that would lead to questions
that Jon wasn’t ready to answer yet. 
“So,” Patrick lifted his head, looking up at Jon, making out a general form
more than seeing Jon in the dim light.  “You know my name.  Will you tell me
yours?”
“Jonathan Bryan.” So, again, not a complete lie.  Just not the entire truth.
Patrick laughed.
“My name that funny to you?”
“Nah, just, my grandfather used to say never trust a man with two first names.”
“Is that so?” Jon poked Patrick in the side and the younger boy jumped.
“Yeah.  But I don’t know.  He may have been wrong.”  Patrick laid his head back
down on Jon’s chest.
“Why’s that?”
“Cause, I don’t know, I just feel like I should trust you.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------
March for Jon and the Blackhawks meant a final push towards the playoffs, and
the added stress that brings.  Patrick noticed it.  Jon was even more serious a
lot of the time, if that was possible.  Patrick had learned early on that Jon
wouldn’t talk about what he did for a living, and over the course of March he
stopped even asking how work had been because Jon would just huff and get all
moody and never say anything anyway.
The ‘Hawks March schedule was weird, too, a couple of home games, then a couple
of away games, then back home.  Jon just explained that he had a lot going on
at work and that this was their busy time for traveling.  Patrick accepted that
explanation, which made Jon feel guilty at times.  Patrick had started to trust
him so much.  He kept telling himself he needed to come clean.  He didn’t,
though.
After the night Patrick had given Jon a blow job, things had changed in their
relationship.  Patrick had opened up to Jon, and a couple of nights later, he
had let Jon return the favor.  There had been exchanged blow jobs in the
shower, hand jobs, but nothing more than that.
Jon had also stopped giving Patrick money every time Patrick came over.  That,
to Patrick, marked a significant change in the way Jon saw him.  He had to
laugh when he thought about his evidently brief life as a male prostitute. 
He’d gotten paid by Jon when they didn’t have sex and then, not paid when they
did.  Well, he guessed, that was screwed up just  like the rest of his life. 
--------------------------------------------------------
Jon was gone, out of town for a couple of days, so Patrick was with Jason and
the others.  It was late March and the weather had been nice for a couple of
days, so the boys had removed some of the boards from the windows, letting the
rooms air out a little after the long winter.  Jason had decided to go shopping
and asked if Patrick wanted to go along.  Usually he avoided the stores,
worried that he’d see another poster, or that someone would recognize him. 
When he did go shopping, it was always to the little mom and pop corner store
several blocks away.  He figured the elderly couple that ran it wouldn’t be
into OHL hockey, so his chance of being recognized was pretty low.
Today, though, he decided to risk going with Jason to one of those big stores
to help him carry stuff.  It had been just over four months since he had run
away, and he was half-way across the country.  It would be okay, he reasoned
with himself.
Jason had stopped in front of the magazine racks, saying that he wanted to
splurge a little and get Kristi a couple of puzzle books for her birthday which
was coming up.  He was looking them over, so Patrick took the opportunity to
check out some of the sports related magazines.
He was flipping through a few on the rack, when something caught his eye. 
Tucked behind one stack was a hockey magazine.  He stared at the cover, feeling
like he’d been kicked in the stomach.  He couldn’t breathe.  He couldn’t
think.  He stood there, paralyzed, looking at… Jon.
Blackhawks’ Young Captain Leading Team to Playoff Berth read the headline.
Blackhawks.  Captain. 
Patrick’s hands started to shake as he picked up the magazine.  He turned and
looked for Jason, holding the magazine cover up towards him.
“Jason.  Look.” He managed to stammer out.  “It’s… holy fuck… Jason… Jon’s… Jon
is…”
“Patrick?”  Jason looked over at him and saw the magazine cover.  “Oh holy
shit.  Hey, that’s Jon.”
“Did you know?  Did you fucking know who he was?”
“No, Patrick.  Honest.  I don’t know anything about hockey, I’ve told you
that.  How would I have known who he was.”
“Fuck.” Patrick swore, flipping the magazine over so he could stare at the
cover again.  Jon.  His Jon.  His Jonny was a professional hockey player, and
not just any player, but the god-damn captain of the Chicago Blackhawks.  “That
fucker.”
Suddenly everything made perfect sense to Patrick.  All the out of town trips
were road games.  The hurt leg.  That wasn’t some accident, he knew now, Jon
had gotten hurt in a game.  Which meant that Brent, holy shit.  Brent had to be
a teammate.  And Brent knew about Patrick.  A jumble of emotions flooded over
Patrick.  Anger.  Fear.  Hate.  Betrayal. Hurt.
“Patrick?  Hey, it’s okay man.”  Jason says, “So he’s a hockey player.  So
what?”
“No.  You don’t.  No!”  Patrick yelled at Jason. 
Jason gave him a worried look.
“He’s, fuck, Jason he’s… god, you don’t get it.  He’s not just some hockey
player.  He’s the fucking captain of a fucking NHL team.”  Patrick swore at
Jason.
Jason stepped towards Patrick, reaching out a hand.  Patrick jerked away, then
bolted away from Jason, the magazine clenched tight in his hand.  He stopped at
a register and paid for the magazine, trying to hold back his tears, but not
wanting to draw any attention because he tried to leave without paying for the
magazine.  Jason was coming across the store as Patrick dug the money out of
his pocket.
“Patrick, wait,” he called.
“Keep the change,” Patrick said to the clerk as he grabbed the magazine and ran
out of the store.
Jason ran to follow him, but by the time he got outside, Patrick was across the
parking lot and then gone.
------------------------------------------------------------
Jon pulled up to the curb expecting Patrick to be waiting for him at their
regular spot.  He searched the doorway and area, but there was no sign of
Patrick.  Jon waited a little while, hoping Patrick had just been delayed. 
When he didn’t show up, Jon left and drove to the corner where Jason and the
others would be.
“He’s not here, Jon.”  Jason leaned in the passenger window.  “He took off a
couple of days ago.  None of us have seen him since then.  He, uh, he found out
who you are, Mr. Toews.”
Jon’s eyes grew wide, shocked at the use of his last name.  “You know?  He
knows?”
“Yeah, we were at a store and he saw you on the cover of some magazine.  He got
really upset and he took off.”  Jason explained.  “He was pretty shook.  You
should have told him before, man.  Especially when you found out about his past
with that bastard of a coach.  I’m really worried about him, we’ve been
looking.  I’m afraid he’s like really gone, left Chicago.  I just hope he
didn’t do something stupid, if you know what I mean.”
“Fuck.”  Jon ran his hand through his hair, “I fucked up pretty bad, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you did, but for what it’s worth at this point, you don’t have to worry
about any of us letting your secret out, ya know about picking me up, or
Patrick.  You were good to him.  I hope he realizes that and comes back.  If we
find him, I’ll let you know, okay man?”
“Thanks, Jason.”
***** Lost and Found *****
Chapter Summary
     The trip to the storage unit took over an hour and Jon was pretty
     tired by the time he pulled back into his reserved parking spot in
     front of his apartment building.  He’s about to shut off his
     headlights when something catches his eye in the shadows, a dark
     figure lurking behind the bushes next to the building.  He picks up
     his phone, thinking that it might be a burglar, or mugger, and
     intending to call 911.  Something makes him stop before he dials the
     first number.
     He leaves the headlights on and steps out of the SUV.
     “Patrick?” he calls, hesitantly.
Chapter Notes
     Talk in this chapter about Patrick's past abuse... a few more
     details... so if it's a trigger or a problem or not your thing... you
     could probably skip this chapter and still get the rest of the
     story...
     thank you all for the nice comments and kudos... as said, my first
     venture outside the Pens and I hope I am doing okay with 1988....
Three weeks.  It had been three weeks since Patrick had found out and taken
off.  Three weeks of Jon worried sick about him.  Three weeks of driving past
that corner, hoping that Jason would have news, hoping that Patrick had come
back.  Three weeks of doing double takes everytime he saw blond curls through a
crowd.  Three long weeks.
Brent noticed that Jon had been distracted at practice a lot over the last few
weeks, so did the rest of the team.  His game had been off, too, through the
last games of the season.  It hadn’t hurt them, they had their playoff spot
clinched, but the season had ended and they needed Jon on the top of his game
for the post-season run.  Something needed to be said.
Jon wasn’t expecting Brent to be outside his apartment door when he answered
the knocking.  Nobody ever visited him, so he had been hoping that maybe, just
maybe it was Patrick.  The disappointment was evident on his face.
“What do you want?”
“Nice to see you, Seabs.  What a pleasant surprise, come on in.”  Brent
answered sarcastically, pushing past Jon as he stepped into the apartment.  “We
need to have a talk, Tazer.”
“Well, yeah, come on in, Seabs, make yourself at home?”  Jon responds, equally
sarcastic. 
Brent wanders in to the living room and flops down on the couch.  “Okay, Cap,
what the hell is going on?  What’s been wrong the last few weeks?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Jon snapped sitting down in a chair.
“Really?  You’re distracted a lot, moody, irritable.  You snap at everyone. 
You’ve been like a dog who had his favorite chew toy taken away.”  Brent
scolded him.  “So again, what the hell is wrong?”
Jon leaned forward and rested his face in his hands.  “Patrick.”
“The little guy?  The runaway? What happened?”
“He found out who I am.  By accident.”
“Fuck.  I told you that you should have told him.  Or wait, is he trying to
blackmail you or something?  Is that what’s going on?”
“No.  No, nothing like that.  He took off.  Nobody’s seen him for weeks.”  Jon
scrubbed at his face, as if he could rub away the worry that was probably
showing. 
“Fuck.  That’s not good, huh.”  Brent said.  “You’d gotten pretty close to
him.  I’m guessing, really close?”
Jon glanced up at Brent.  Yeah, he wasn’t hiding anything from Brent.  Of all
his teammates, Brent knew him best, it came from having lived with Brent during
his rookie year.
“I think I love him.” Jon sighed.  “No.  I know I do.  I fucked up Seabs.  I
really fucked up.”
“Is there a chance he went home?  Do you even know where home is?”
“Buffalo.  And no, I’m sure he wouldn’t have gone back.”  Jon sat back in the
chair.  “I guess I should tell you everything.”
Brent gave Jon a puzzled look.  “What's everything?”
“Do you remember hearing about that top player from the OHL, from the London
Knights, that disappeared, ran away they figured, last November.  It was big in
the news for a week or so, then kind of just faded away.”
Brent nodded his head, “Yeah, something about he couldn’t take the pressure or
something.  What his coach said I think.  You don’t mean?  Patrick?  He was
that kid?”
“Patrick Kane.  Yeah.  I knew a while ago, but didn’t let on like I knew.  He
told me back at the beginning of March.  And he didn’t leave because of the
pressure.”  Jon paused for a second, debating on whether he should tell Brent,
quickly deciding he should.  “He was being abused by his coach.  Sexually.”
“Holy fuck.  Are you kidding me?”
“The guy was his coach in Buffalo for his U10 team.  Patrick didn’t have much
of a home life, so when the coach got a job offer in London, he talked
Patrick’s parents into letting Patrick go with him.  For his hockey, he told
them.  Patrick really was a pretty gifted player from all I’ve seen about him. 
And Buffalo didn’t have much to offer him.  Anyway, the abuse started a couple
of months after they got to London.  Patrick was 12, I think.”
“He didn’t tell anyone?”
“No.  You’ve heard the stories.  Hell, you've met Theo Fleury, read his book. 
It happens and nobody says anything.  It started out with the coach having oral
sex with Patrick, then making Patrick do him after a few times.  That’s pretty
much what happened for a long time, just things like that for a couple of
years.  That’s when things changed and he started doing more.  Patrick, well,
he didn't fight his coach, because he was afraid of getting sent back to his
family.  The coach kept threatening him, telling him that Patrick only played
hockey because of him.  That kind of shit.”
“Shit.  So that’s why Patrick ran away.”
“Right around his birthday.  He turned 17 last November and well, he evidently
couldn't take any more.  He told the coach he wasn’t doing it any more, that he
was quitting hockey if that’s what it took to get away from him.  That’s when,
that’s… the coach forced himself on Patrick.  Beat him up and then, well, raped
him.”
“Jon.  Fuck.  He told you all this?  Fuck.”
“Yeah.  It took a couple of days before he felt well enough, but as soon as he
did, Patrick said he took off.  He went back to Buffalo, but his family life
had always been a mess.  He didn’t even try to contact them, just lived on the
street for a few days before he came here.”
“Wow.  I can’t.  Wow.”  Brent didn’t know what to say.  “So okay, then I guess
it’s good you didn’t try to contact anyone about him.”
“I should have.  Fuck, Seabs, I should have, cause then he’d at least be with
someone and he’d be okay.  He’s out there all alone.  He hasn’t even been in
touch with Jason.  He was safe with them, at least, and because I fucked up, he
lost another home.”
“Look, you can’t beat yourself up over this.  Jon, the kid was probably all
messed up emotionally and mentally by what happened.  It would have just ended
badly regardless, so maybe it’s good it ended now.”
“Fuck you!”  Jon yelled.  “It’s not good.  He was not messed up, he was scared
and hurting, and he fucking trusted me and I… I… oh fuck, Seabs.”
The tears rolled down Jon’s cheeks as he barked at Brent, who stood and walked
over to Jon.  He draped his hands over Jon’s shoulders and pulled him forward,
so Jon’s head rested against his stomach.
“I’m sorry, Jonny.”  Brent cooed, trying to comfort his young teammate.  “I’m
sorry.  It’ll be okay.”
------------------------------------------------------
The Blackhawks got through the first round of the playoffs, taking the
Predators in six games.  Unfortunately, they lost to the Stars in the second
round.  Jon isn’t looking forward to the off-season as he cleans out his
locker.  It’s early May, which means four long months away from hockey, well
away from Chicago hockey and his team. 
It’s been seven weeks since Patrick took off.  Jason keeps telling Jon that no
one has seen him.  At first he wasn’t sure he should believe Jason, thinking
that the other boy may be hiding Patrick from him.  Jon knew where Jason and
his group lived, so he had staked out the building for a couple of days, hoping
to see Patrick, but there had been no sign that he was there.  Jon’s hope of
ever seeing Patrick again was fading.
He was going to spend a couple of weeks here, getting his apartment cleaned out
and making arrangements to store a few things.  He’d decided to move to a
different place when he came back in September.  He didn’t want to stay in that
neighborhood.  It was too hard driving past that corner, seeing Jason and the
others, and also, it was hard being in the apartment without thinking about
Patrick.  Jon couldn’t believe how much a part of his life Patrick had become
in such a short time.  The apartment just felt empty and cold to him now.
After he got everything settled, he’d head home to Winnipeg.  He wasn’t looking
forward to that either.  He’d told his mother about Patrick leaving, about what
had happened.  He hadn’t told her that he and Patrick had been more than just
friends.  Jon knew that the moment he saw his Maman, that the game would be
over.  She’d always been able to read him like an open book, he couldn’t hide
his emotions and feelings from her.
He’d been packing boxes all day, carrying them down one-by-one to his vehicle. 
It amazed him how much stuff he had acquired over the last two years in
Chicago.  Not everything there was his, he reminded himself.
Patrick's Blackhawks backpack sat next to the door.  He hadn't been able to
make himself do anything with it.  Patrick had taken his sweatshirt and left
his winter jacket the last time he'd been there, saying that the weather was
getting warmer and he didn't need the coat for now.  Jon thought about just
taking it to the storage unit on his next trip.  He picked up the backpack and
held it for a few minutes, standing with it over top of a box.  Finally, he set
it back down by the door, still unable to get rid of it.
Jon figured he'd make one more trip to the storage unit tonight.  He wasn’t
paying attention to the clock, though, and before he knew it, it was after
midnight.  He had access to his unit, 24/7, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to
venture out at this late hour.  He looked at the amount of things still to be
packed and decided that he just needed to bite the bullet and make the trip, so
he picked up another box and headed downstairs.
The trip to the storage unit took over an hour and Jon was pretty tired by the
time he pulled back into his reserved parking spot in front of his apartment
building.  He’s about to shut off his headlights when something catches his eye
in the shadows, a dark figure lurking behind the bushes next to the building. 
He picks up his phone, thinking that it might be a burglar, or mugger, and
intending to call 911.  Something makes him stop before he dials the first
number. 
The figure isn't a big person, someone on the smaller size.  Well smaller than
Jon's six foot two anyway.  The person is wearing a sweatshirt.  Jon catches a
glimpse of a logo.  It can't be.
He leaves the headlights on and steps out of the SUV.
“Patrick?” he calls, hesitantly.  He strains to see who is there.  The figure
takes a step forward, and collapses. 
Jon bolts across the sidewalk, running to the fallen figure.  The person has
the hood pulled up over his head, and he is lying face down on the rough mulch,
arms clutching his mid-section.
“Patrick?” Jon whispers. He puts his hand on the figure’s shoulder and rolls
him gently, holding his breath.
What he sees knocks the wind completely out of him, shaking him to his core. 
Patrick’s face is battered and bruised, dried blood around his right eye and
lips.  Jon pushes the hoodie back to get a better look.  Patrick’s hair is
dirty and matted with mud and what looks like more blood.
“Jonny,” Patrick moans out.  “Jonny, please.”
“Oh my god, Patrick.” Jon sucks in his breath in shock.  “I’m here.  It’s gonna
be okay.”
Jon runs back and shuts off his vehicle, then runs back to Patrick.  He helps
him get to his feet, Patrick wincing and crying out when Jon touched his side. 
He tries to get Patrick to walk, but Patrick just wants to slump against Jon,
so finally he just scoops his hands under Patrick’s legs and back and picks him
up, carrying him to the elevator and up to the apartment.
***** Hurt and Comfort *****
Chapter Summary
     “Then why’d you come back?” Jon countered, bristling at Patrick’s
     attack.
     “I shouldn’t have.”  Patrick tried to stand up, but doubled over in
     pain.  “Fuck.”
     “Patrick!”  Jon stood and grabbed him.  “You’re hurt, aren’t you? 
     How bad is it?”
     “It’s fine.  Let go.”  Patrick protested, trying to push Jon away.
Jon laid Patrick down on the couch, thankful that he wasn’t sending his
furniture to the storage unit for a few days yet.  Patrick had managed to wrap
his arms around Jon’s neck as he’d been carried up to the apartment, holding on
to him tightly, softly whispering his name over and over again into Jon’s neck
as he rested his head on Jon’s shoulder.  He winced again and grabbed for his
side when Jon set him down.
“Patrick what happened?  Where have you been?  I’ve been so fucking worried. 
Oh, god, Patrick, I’m so sorry.  I’m so sorry.”  Jon carefully brushed at the
dirt on Patrick’s face.  “I should have told you.  I’m so sorry.”
Patrick rolled away from Jon, turning towards the back of the couch and closing
his eyes tightly.  His arms guarding his sides and stomach.  He didn’t say
anything else at that point.  Not answering Jon’s questions.  Not looking at
Jon.
Jon got up and went to get a wet washcloth and a towel.  When he came back, he
gently wiped the dirt off Patrick’s face, relived to find that a lot of what he
thought was bruising was just dirt.  He couldn’t figure out where the all the
blood had come from, though.  Patrick did have a cut lip and a cut on his
cheek, just under his right eye, but Jon couldn’t find anything that would have
bleed the amount of blood that seemed to be matted in Patrick’s hair. 
When he tried to pull some of the dirt and blood out of Patrick’s hair with the
wet cloth, Patrick groaned and swatted at Jon’s hand, then curled himself up
into as tight a ball as he could on the couch.  He buried his face into the
crevice between the pillow and back of the couch.
“Don’t.”
“Are you hurt?  Patrick I need to check to see where all the blood came from.”
“Don’t.”  Patrick repeated into the pillow, not lifting his head.  “Please.”
“Okay.”  Jon tried to not sound as panicked as he felt.  “Okay.”
He covered Patrick with a blanket and left him on the couch, sitting nearby in
a chair watching the younger boy.  Jon saw Patrick’s body start to relax, it
only took a few minutes for Patrick to be sound asleep.  Jon tried to stay
awake, tried to watch over Patrick, but the late hour and the crash that
followed the major adrenaline rush soon proved too much to overcome and Jon
drifted off as well.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Jon’s eyelids flickered back and forth, the rapid eye movement of deep sleep. 
He was running towards Patrick, who was laying on the ground outside the
apartment building again.  This time, when Jon rolled him over, there was
bright red blood pouring from Patrick’s head and Patrick wasn’t breathing.  Jon
woke with a start, jolting upright in the chair.  He looked around the room,
afraid that last night had been a dream.
Patrick was still on the couch.  Jon stared at his form, watching for the slow
rise and fall of the blanket that signaled that Patrick was still alive.  Jon
sighed and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.  He found his phone and checked
the time, not quite eight o’clock.  He stood up and strode over to the couch. 
Patrick looked better this morning than he had last night.  Some color had
returned to his cheeks and it didn’t look like there was any fresh blood on his
face or head.
Jon brushed a stray curl off Patrick’s forehead and bent down to leave a light
kiss in its place.  He went to the kitchen then and started fixing something
for breakfast, letting Patrick sleep for a while longer. 
He was flipping pieces of turkey bacon a little while later when he heard a
noise behind him, he turned to see Patrick leaning against the door frame, arm
still wrapped protectively around his side.  Jon put down the utensil he was
holding and hurried over to Patrick.
“Come sit down, you shouldn’t be up.”  He slid his arm around Patrick’s
shoulders and guided him to one the chairs at the table.  Jon sat down in a
chair next to him.
“I… I’m so sorry, Patrick.”
“Fuck you.”  Patrick retorted.  “Jonathan Fucking Toews.”
Jon dipped his chin to his chest, unable to maintain eye contact with Patrick,
who’s normally sparkling baby blue eyes were boring holes through Jon with the
intensity of his glare.
“I’m sorry.  I should have… I should have told you.”  Jon apologized.
“Fuck right you’re sorry.”  Patrick swore. “You fucking lied to me.  Lied about
everything, even after I told you who I was and what happened.  I fucking
trusted you.  I thought I could trust you.  I thought you cared about me and
then, imagine my fucking surprise.  My friend, who said he wants to be my
boyfriend, the fucking captain of the fucking Chicago Blackhawks.  What the
fuck, Jon.”
“Then why’d you come back?” Jon countered, bristling at Patrick’s attack.
“I shouldn’t have.”  Patrick tried to stand up, but doubled over in pain. 
“Fuck.”
“Patrick!”  Jon stood and grabbed him.  “You’re hurt, aren’t you?  How bad is
it?”
“It’s fine.  Let go.”  Patrick protested, trying to push Jon away.
“You came back for a reason Patrick.  You need help and you know it, now shut
up and let me help you.”
Patrick grumbled something, looking at Jon’s stern expression, before letting
his body lean into Jon’s.  Jon helped him back to the couch.  Once he had
Patrick settled on the couch again, he returned to the kitchen and finished
fixing them both breakfast.  Patrick glared at him the whole time he ate his
eggs and bacon.
“Do you think you can stand to take a shower, or should I run you a bath?”  Jon
asked as he came back from taking their plates to the kitchen.
“I don’t know.”  Patrick stated coldly.  “I think I may have some broken ribs.”
“You need to go to the hospital?  That could be serious, Patrick.”
“No.  No fucking hospital.  They’ll send me back again.”  Patrick snapped at
Jon. 
“Okay.  Let me help you then, we’ll get you cleaned up, then we’ll check it
out.”
Together they managed to get Patrick undressed without having to cut his
sweatshirt, which Patrick was adamant about.  Patrick didn’t think he could
stand by himself, but also didn’t want to try and get down into the tub, so Jon
stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the shower behind Patrick. 
Patrick let himself lean against Jon.
Patrick wasn’t very big for a hockey player, barely 5’ 11” and maybe 175 pounds
on a good day.  At 6’ 2” and just over 200 pounds, Jon seemed to tower over
Patrick.  As he leaned back, letting Jon slide an arm around his waist to help
support his weight, Patrick was pretty thankful for that size difference.  He
let the hot water stream down over his head, down across his shoulders and down
the length of his body, rinsing away the dirt and blood.
Patrick tipped his head forward when Jon poured some shampoo into his hair. 
After setting the bottle back down, Jon used his free hand to work the shampoo
into a lather.  He couldn’t find any cuts, but Patrick had a rather large goose
egg on the side of his head, flinching when Jon’s hand rubbed over it. 
While Jon washed his hair, Patrick used the bar of soap and a washcloth to
scrub his arms and chest as best he could.  Jon heard Patrick’s breath hitch a
few times as he raised his arms to wash his shoulders and when he ran the
washcloth over his ribs. 
“Can you lean forward?  Brace yourself on the wall with your arms?”  Jon asked
Patrick when he thought he had all the mud washed out of Patrick’s hair. 
Patrick put his hands against the shower wall under the showerhead and leaned
forward.  Jon took the washcloth and lathered it up, then carefully washed
Patrick’s back, squatting down to wash each of Patrick’s legs, stopping short
of washing his ass or other private areas.
“Um, can you take care of…” Jon held the washcloth around in front of Patrick,
clearing indicating what he was asking.
“Just do it.”  Patrick bit out.  “I’m having enough trouble standing here
without having to move.”
Jon slowly washed over Patrick’s ass, soaping between the cheeks with the
washcloth, then he reached around and washed Patrick’s front.  When he was
done, Patrick straightened up again and pressed his back to Jon’s chest so that
the water rinsed off his chest and down the rest of his body, then he turned in
Jon’s arms and let the water rinse down his back.  He leaned his head onto
Jon’s shoulder and let Jon hold him up while he let the spray of hot water work
over his sore muscles.
Jon held Patrick, standing there in the shower, until the water temperature
started to change from hot to tepid, neither boy saying anything else. 
Finally, Jon reached around Patrick and turned off the water, then pulled the
shower curtain aside.  He helped Patrick dry off and put on a pair of Jon’s
sweats and a t-shirt.  Then Jon led Patrick into the bedroom and tucked him
into the bed, climbing on to sit next to the smaller boy.
“Let me check your ribs.”  Jon started to pull the comforter and sheets down. 
“You said you think they’re broken?”
“They’re fine.”  Patrick held on to the comforter as tight as he could, holding
it up to his chin.  “Just leave me alone.  I just want to sleep, okay.”
“You need to let me take a look.”  Jon insisted.
“No.”  Patrick pulled the comforter over his face, leaving just the top of his
head showing.
“Fine.” Jon relented, shifting so he was sitting propped up against the head
board of the bed, his legs stretched out next to Patrick.  He reached over and
let his fingers play with the damp curls sticking out of the comforter.  “I’m
sorry I hurt you.  And… I’m glad you came back.  I was so worried, Patrick.”
Jon twirled a curl around his finger.  “Where did you go?  What happened that
you got hurt?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”  Patrick mumbled from under the covers. 
“Jonny?”
“What?”
Patrick peeked out from under the comforter.  “You were worried about me?”
“I thought... I thought I'd never see you again.  I missed you... a lot.”  Jon
swept Patrick’s hair back off his face. 
"I wish I could stay with you."  Patrick whispered.
"Why can't you?  Patrick I knew who you were when I asked you to be my
boyfriend.  And I told you I'd never let you go back to an abusive situation,
remember."
"What?"  Patrick glared up at Jon, anger in his eyes again.  "You knew who I
was? Before I told you?  Fuck.  Anything else you've been keeping from me,
Toews?"
"Yeah."  Jon bent over and pressed his lips to Patrick's, giving him a quick
kiss then sitting back up.  "I love you."
Patrick started to say something, then froze, his brain registering what Jon
just said.
"You what?"
"I said, I love you, Patrick."
Patrick didn't say anything, just gingerly scooting himself over closer to Jon
and resting his head in Jon’s lap.  A few minutes later, he was sleeping
soundly as Jon gently stroked his fingers through Patrick’s hair.
***** Seven Weeks *****
Chapter Summary
     Out of money, hungry, cold, and tired.  He’d made the decision that
     he wanted to head back east.  Maybe go to Pittsburgh.  Maybe go
     further east to New York City.  He made his way to a truck stop along
     Interstate 90 outside of Gary, Indiana.  Hopefully he could find a
     ride that would take him as far as Erie, Pennsylvania and from there
     he could either go east or south.
     ... the seven weeks between when Patrick left and Jon found him
Chapter Notes
     Sorry for the delay in getting this posted. Shall we just call it a
     short hiatus and carry on from here.
     Thanks for the comments and encouragement... most appreciated as
     always....
Patrick bolted out of the store and sprinted across the parking lot, Jason
hollering for him to stop, but he kept running.  He ran for blocks, as hard and
as fast as he could, hoping that Jason wasn’t chasing him, or that he had out
run him at least.  When he finally slowed to a walk, his chest was heaving for
air and his sides hurt more than if he’d just been through the worst bag skate
of his life.  He realized just how out of shape he’d gotten since leaving
London.
He walked slowly, getting his breathing settled down and trying to figure out
where he was.  He’d turned the opposite way from how he would have gone back
home.  Home.  He wasn’t sure he could ever go back to this home either, now. 
He felt betrayed, hurt, afraid.  He had thought he could trust Jon.  He had
told him everything.  Then to find out this.
Jonathan Toews.  His Jonny was the captain of the Blackhawks.  He couldn’t
believe it. 
He wondered if Jason had told him the truth about not knowing who Jon really
was.  He wanted to believe him, Jason had been good to him.  But, so had Jon. 
Patrick wandered down the street, feeling alone and wondering who he could ever
trust in this world.
His stuff was at the building with the others, what little he had, or at
Jon’s.  All he had was about twenty dollars and the clothes on his back.  He
kind of regretted just throwing the ten-dollar bill down for the magazine and
not waiting for his change.  He hadn’t wanted to get stopped for shoplifting
it, but he hadn’t wanted Jason to be able to catch up to him either. 
He didn’t even have his driver’s license, having left that in London when he
first ran away.  Not a lot of money.  No identification.  No food or water. 
Patrick didn’t know what to do.  All he knew was he didn’t want to go back to
Jason’s group, or to Jon’s, ever again.
Jon.  His Jonny.  Patrick knew he had to stop thinking about him that way right
now.  Jon wasn’t his.  Could never be his.  Maybe he’d been stupid, or naïve to
believe that he could have been with Jon, that he really meant anything to
Jon.  Jonny was a professional hockey player.  Patrick, regardless of what he’d
been before, was a homeless runaway that Jon had picked up for sex.  That’s
what everyone would see, and oh, shit, wouldn’t the press just love to get
ahold of that story.  Yeah, it would go over big in hockey if it came out that
Jon was gay, and that he liked to pick up young boys.
Patrick found a spot where he could sit and rest, and read the article in the
magazine.  Jon was in his second year with the ‘Hawks, named their Captain
after a successful rookie season.  Pat had heard of Jonathan Toews, but had
never seen a picture of him.  Jonny had gone early in the draft two years ago,
but at that time, Patrick had started to not want much to do with hockey, even
though he was drafted into the OHL that year.  That was the year his coach had
started doing more things to him.  The year Patrick had started to dislike
hockey.
Thoughts swarmed through Patrick’s head, none of the possible outcomes for a
relationship with Jon had a happy ending.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
---
For over a week Patrick wandered the streets of Chicago, working his way south,
away from where he had lived with his friends, away from where Jon lived.  He
was thankful that the weather was warmer, given that his jacket was at Jon’s. 
The milder weather also meant he could sleep outside without freezing.  A
couple of nights were rough when it dipped down into the thirties, with the
wind coming off the lake making it seem colder.  Patrick tucked himself up
under an overpass, or into an alley and against a building as best he could
those nights.  He’d thought about seeking shelter or warmth at some of the
little homeless camps he’d seen, but fear kept him from approaching any of
them.
He stopped and got a candy bar and drink when he got really hungry.  What
little money he had wasn’t going to last very long.  He needed to make a
decision about what he was going to do.
That’s where Patrick found himself after another week.  Out of money, hungry,
cold, and tired.  He’d made the decision that he wanted to head back east. 
Maybe go to Pittsburgh.  Maybe go further east to New York City.  He made his
way to a truck stop along Interstate 90 outside of Gary, Indiana.  Hopefully he
could find a ride that would take him as far as Erie, Pennsylvania and from
there he could either go east or south.
The guy saw Patrick sitting alone at the diner’s counter, sipping on a cup of
coffee that he’d bought with the last of his money.  He watched Patrick’s eyes
follow every plate of food that came out of the kitchen, watched him lick his
lips and swallow a few times, watched him add sugar to his coffee to try and
give his body something to use for energy.  He’d seen his fair share of
homeless kids on his travels across the country.  Patrick was just like so many
others.
He motioned to the waitress who came over, giving her his order, then he moved
over to sit next to Patrick, who gave him a wary eye before just turning his
focus back to the sugared coffee. 
“You look like you could use a friend,” the man said casually.  “My name is
Daniel.”
Patrick didn’t look directly at Daniel, but glanced over out of the corner of
his eye.
“That coffee isn’t going to help.  And all that sugar will just make things
worse, it’ll make you hungrier and thirstier, and well, it just won’t be good.”
The waitress returned and sat Daniel’s meal down in front of him, and then sat
a plate down in front of Patrick.  She came back in another minute with a soft
drink.
“I didn’t order this,” Patrick said.
“Daniel did,” she replied.  “He’s got you covered, Sweetie, don’t worry about
it.”
Patrick turned and looked at the man, who nodded at him.  “Eat up son, before
it gets cold.”
Patrick debated, but his stomach was rumbling, so he picked up his fork and dug
in to the free meal, hot roast beef, mashed potatoes, all smothered in gravy,
along with a side dish of peas and carrots.  He was wiping his plate with the
last bite of roll, shoving it into his mouth when he finally said anything to
Daniel.
“Thank you.  That was really good.”
“You’re welcome.  Would you like some dessert?  Mary Jane has some of the best
pies I’ve ever tasted, don’t you honey?”  Daniel winked at the waitress.
“That’s right.  How ‘bout a piece of pie, Sweetie.” She smiled at Patrick.
Patrick hesitated for a moment, then nodded.  “Apple?”
“Warmed up with some ice cream,” Daniel added, “Make it two, MJ.”
As they sat and ate their dessert, Patrick opened up to Daniel, just a little. 
He seemed like a nice guy, and he’d bought Patrick food without looking for
anything in return.  Patrick had asked him, rather bluntly, if he did and the
older man had shaken his head and said, no, he wasn’t into that. 
Daniel explained that he drove truck, was married, had two sons of his own, and
just liked to help out youngsters like Patrick if he could.  He knew Mary Jane
because his regular hauls brought him through Gary pretty much every other week
and the diner was his favorite stop.  Before long, he had learned that Patrick
was looking to head east, and Daniel offered him a ride.
There was a cross stuck to the dash, and one of those funky dancing hula girls,
which Patrick thought an odd combination as he stared at the small doll as she
shook to the vibrations of the big rig traveling down the roadway.  Daniel was
a talker, which Patrick thought was okay, because then he didn’t have to talk. 
He just listened to story after story until finally, the hum of the engine
lolled him to sleep.  The last road sign he remembered seeing showed Cleveland
still 250 miles away.
-----------------------------------------------------------
When Patrick woke up, it was dark in the cab of the truck.  It took a minute
for his brain to register that the truck was parked as well, and that Daniel
wasn’t there.  Patrick had been slumped down in the seat, leaned up against the
door when he fell asleep.  Cautiously he sat up and looked out the window. 
The rig was parked at another truck stop.  Patrick searched the parking lot and
found Daniel almost right away, he was standing talking to two men, pointing at
the truck.  Patrick focused on the men.  There wasn’t a lot of light where they
were standing, so he strained to see them.  When they started to walk towards
the truck, they stepped into the light from another truck’s headlights.
Fuck.
Patrick’s heart started to race as panic washed over him.  The two men with
Daniel were wearing Ohio Highway Patrol uniforms.  Yeah, Daniel was nice
alright, he’d called the police.
Patrick undid his seatbelt and scrambled across to the driver’s side, he pushed
the door open and climbed out.  The troopers saw him, yelled for him to stop
and gave chase when Patrick took off across the parking lot.  Patrick managed
to duck under a trailer and hide behind the wheels while the two troopers and
Daniel searched for him.  He stayed tucked in there until he thought they had
given up looking.
When he finally came out two hours later, Daniel’s truck was gone and he
couldn’t see any sign of the troopers.  He had no clue where he was at the
moment, or what he was going to do.
“Hey!  What were you doing back here?”  A male voice yelled from behind Patrick
as a hand clamped down on his shoulder and wheeled him around.
“I… I was hiding,” Patrick stuttered out at the large man who had a firm hold
on his arm now.  Patrick tried to run, but the man just squeezed his arm
harder, making Patrick wince in pain, his knees nearly buckling.  “Ow, fucker,
let me go.” Patrick whined.
“Hiding from who?  You wanted by the police?  Or, you hiding ‘cause you back
here stealing?” the man interrogated Patrick.
Patrick kept his mouth shut, teeth clenched at the pain the man’s fingers were
sending through him as they dug into his arm.
“Boy, you need to start talking or I’ll be calling the police myself.”
“I was hiding from the police because they’d send me back home.”  Patrick
blurted out.
“You a runaway?  Where you from?”
“Buffalo.  I ran away from home.  Please, you’re hurting my arm.”  Patrick
begged, his fingers trying to pry the man’s hand off.  “Please, I didn’t take
anything.  Just let me go.”
“I let you go, you just gonna run away again.  Come on, you need to come with
me.”  The man dragged Patrick by the arm back to the cab of his truck.  “Climb
up in there, boy.  You gonna hide from the police, you hide inside the cab, not
under the trailer.  That’s a good way to get your ass run over.”
Patrick stared at the man for a few seconds, then scrambled up into the cab of
the tractor trailer.  He thought about just going right on through and out the
other side, but something made him stop.  He settled down in the passenger seat
and looked back at the large man climbing up into the driver seat.
“Name’s Thurgood, most folks just call me Goodie.” He smiled over at Patrick
and stuck out a huge bear paw of a hand.  Patrick reached out and shook it
cautiously.
“Patrick.”  He said.  “Nice to meet you, Goodie.”
“So, Patrick.  I know where you’re running from, so where you running to?”
“Where are you going?” Patrick asked.
“Seattle, Washington.”
“Well, I guess that’s as good a place as any to run to.”
“Well, alright then.”  Goodie grinned.  “There’s some sandwiches in that cooler
between the seats, and something to drink, too, if you want.”
Goodie started up the truck and pulled out of the parking lot as he talked to
Patrick, headed for the westbound lanes of the interstate.  Patrick opened the
cooler and took one of the sandwiches and a bottle of water, then sat back in
the seat to eat, watching his host as he did.
Goodie had to be the one of the biggest men Patrick had ever met, which said a
lot since he’d met some tall, muscular hockey players.  His frame fit snuggly
into what had to be a custom-made seat, his hands made the steering wheel look
like something you’d find on a kid’s toy.  Goodie’s skin was dark, like really
rich, black coffee. 
As they rode and he talked, Patrick learned that Goodie’s smile was warm, his
laugh bellowing and infectious, and his voice deep, calm and comforting.  He
was named after Thurgood Marshall, the first African-American on the Supreme
Court.  Goodie had been born before Marshall was on the court, though, he
explained. 

“He argued the Brown versus Board of Education case before the Supreme Court,”
Patrick said, “We studied him in school.”
“Yep,” Goodie replied, “My momma thought he was something else, she was young
and getting involved in the whole civil rights movement.  So, she named me
after him, Thurgood Marshall Williamson.”  He explained to Patrick.
The more Goodie talked, the more at ease Patrick felt and the hours and miles
passed quickly. 
Patrick spent the next four weeks traveling the country with Goodie
Williamson.  They talked about history a lot over that time, Goodie was like
talking to a walking encyclopedia and Patrick was completely enthralled with
his stories about the different places they traveled to around the country. 
They talked a little bit about sports, too.  Goodie had played football growing
up, a knee injury keeping him from playing past high school.  He loved
traveling as a kid, so he’d decided to become a truck driver.
Patrick told him about playing hockey, and eventually about his coach.  He also
told him about meeting Jon, and about finding out that Jon wasn’t who he
thought he was, but not about him being a hockey player.  Goodie had listened,
and when Patrick got done with the story, Goodie looked at him and asked only
one question.
“Do you love this boy?”
They had ridden in silence then, for over a hundred miles as Patrick thought
about that question and how he felt about Jon.  How he really felt about Jon. 
“Yes.” He finally answered, quietly, almost afraid to say it too loudly.
“What’s that, Patrick?”  Goodie asked.
“Yes.  I love him.”
“Well then, I think we need to make a detour to Chicago.”
Almost seven weeks to the day after Patrick had fled Chicago, Goodie dropped
him off near where Interstate 90 and 290 intersected out by O’Hare Airport. 
Goodie wanted to take Patrick in to Jon’s, but Patrick had insisted that Goodie
had already gone way out of his way to just bring him this far.  Goodie handed
Patrick 50 dollars, a sandwich and some water.  Patrick had hugged the big man,
thanking him for everything, and he may have had a tear in his eye when he
waved good-bye as Goodie pulled away.
He climbed over the guiderail and headed towards the city proper. 
-------------------------------------------------------
Patrick wasn’t sure of where he was, somewhere he’d taken a wrong turn he
thought.  It was getting dark and he knew that he’d have to find a place to
sleep unless he could get to Jon’s soon.  He decided to stop in a convenience
store and see if they had a map of Chicago, or could at least tell him where he
was and how he could get to where he wanted to be. 
He ended up buying a map, which he tucked into the pocket of his hoodie as he
walked out of the store while reading the directions the clerk had also been
able to give him.  Patrick didn’t notice the three teenagers standing outside
the entrance to the store as he started walking down the street or that they
started following him.  They waited until Patrick walked in front of an alley
way and then they jumped him.
They threw Patrick to the ground and began kicking at him, connecting several
times with his ribs and head, before two of them grabbed his arms and pulled
him up off the ground.  Patrick was slammed up against a wall, the two holding
his arms as the third punched him several times in the stomach.  Patrick’s head
hurt, his ribs hurt, and everything was getting foggy.  When he felt the boy
reach for the button of his jeans, Patrick’s instincts kicked back in, his mind
grasping what was happening.  He started kicking and struggling furiously.
He managed to get an arm free and swung at the boy that had been holding it,
hitting him in the face, then he turned and hit the boy holding his other arm,
bringing his knee up into the boy’s groin as well.  The third boy, the one
who’d been trying to get his pants down wrapped his arms around Patrick,
pulling him into a tight bear hug and pushing him face first into the wall. 
Patrick’s face scrapped against the rough brick as the boy held him.  Patrick
brought his hands up and planted them against the wall, then he pushed off as
hard as he could, as he did, he threw his head back against the other boy’s
face. 
Blood gushed from the boy’s nose and he released Patrick, yelling in pain. 
Patrick tried to squirm away, but the first boy he hit reached for him again,
trying to grab Patrick’s arm and throw him to the ground.  Patrick kicked him
in the shins and broke his hold.  Somehow, he ducked out from between them and
ran until he was sure they weren’t following, then he ducked into the first
alley he saw and collapsed.
When he came to it was light again, he’d evidently been out for several hours. 
He took stock of his condition.  His ribs hurt.  His face was bruised.  There
was a cut by his eye and his lip was bleeding.  His hair was sticky, wet from
blood and mud, but he couldn’t find any cuts.  It must have come from the boy
who he head-butted, he figured.  He hoped he broke the fucker’s nose.
Patrick tucked himself behind a dumpster and fell asleep again, this time when
he woke it was dark.  He made himself get up and walk out of the alley.  It was
after midnight when he saw Jon’s apartment building a block away.  Jon’s care
wasn’t in his parking space, though, and Patrick’s heart sank.  The ‘Hawks
season was over.  What if Jon had gone back to Canada for the summer.
Patrick made his way to the building and hid behind the large bushes that lined
the front.  His whole body ached.  He was tired again from the effort to get
here.  It hurt to breathe and his head was throbbing.  He’d sleep here for a
while and then make his way to Jason and his friends, he decided.  He was just
drifting off when the car pulled into the parking space.
“Jonny.”  Patrick whispered.  “Please be Jonny.”
He forced his aching body to move, pushing through the bushes before he
collapsed.
***** That's What Friends Are For *****
Chapter Summary
     “Don’t take this wrong, Jon, but you’re the big-time hockey star
     here.  Don’t you have anyone you can call who’d help out?  Who’d
     understand?  I can’t imagine anybody who you’d know would want to
     send Patrick back.”
     Jon shook his head, “I don’t know.  It’s… well… it’s complicated with
     me.  I mean, if people found out, what would that mean for me?  For
     my career?”
     “Right.  I guess I didn’t think about that.”  Jason quipped.  “That’s
     what’s important here.  Not Patrick’s safety or anything.”
“Who the fuck are you?  What do you want?” came the voice from the landing
above Jon, who froze in his tracks.
“I’m looking for Jason.” He replied.  “Tell him it’s Jon.  And… and that
Patrick came back.”
“Stay there.” The voice said.
Jon fidgeted as he waited, his hands shoved in his pockets, nervously playing
with his car keys.  He was worried about having left Patrick alone, afraid he
wouldn’t be there when he got back.  He hadn’t told Patrick where he was going
either.  Patrick had been sleeping and Jon just left a note saying he’d gone
for some groceries and would be back. 
Since Patrick had shown back up the day before, he hadn’t let Jon check his
ribs or anything, and he just wanted to sleep a lot, claiming he had a
headache.  Given the goose egg, Jon surmised that Patrick might have a
concussion.  He needed to know what to do, so he’d thought immediately of
Jason. 
He heard a noise behind him and turned quickly to find Jason standing there.
“He came back?”
“Yeah, and he’s hurt.” Jon stated.  “Maybe broken ribs. Think he’s got a
concussion.  He won’t tell me what happened, or let me check him out.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Come with me.  See if you can talk to him, get him to go get looked at by a
doctor.  Is there a clinic or anywhere I could take him where they wouldn’t ask
a lot of questions?”
“There’re a couple of places we’ve found, but I don’t know if Patrick’s gonna
be willing to go, even with me.  He’s pretty afraid of getting sent back to his
coach, ya know.”  Jason told Jon.  “I can come with you.  Let me go get his
stuff, okay?”
Jon nodded.  A few minutes later, Jason returned carrying Patrick’s bag.  On
the ride back to the apartment, they talked about what other options might be
available.
“Don’t take this wrong, Jon, but you’re the big-time hockey star here.  Don’t
you have anyone you can call who’d help out?  Who’d understand?  I can’t
imagine anybody who you’d know would want to send Patrick back.”
Jon shook his head, “I don’t know.  It’s… well… it’s complicated with me.  I
mean, if people found out, what would that mean for me?  For my career?”
“Right.  I guess I didn’t think about that.”  Jason quipped.  “That’s what’s
important here.  Not Patrick’s safety or anything.”
“You don’t understand.  I’ve worked hard to get here.  I can’t just throw it
all away for…”
“For what?  For love?  For a friend?  For someone who could be you?”  Jason
didn’t back down.  “He could have, you know, been you.  After we found out who
you were, I went to the library and used their internet to look you up.  And to
look up Patrick, too, to see if there was any word that he’d returned home. 
Wow, I had no idea when he said he played hockey that he was like, a really
good hockey player.  Everything said he’d probably end up in the pros.  Just
like you.”
Jon didn’t say anything.  Didn’t tell Jason that he too had watched for stories
that Patrick had been found, hoping that he was safe, fearing that he’d see an
article that said he’d been killed.  And while he didn’t say anything, he did
let Jason’s words run through his brain.
“What if the situation was reversed, Jon?  What if what happened to Patrick had
happened to you?  Wouldn’t you want someone to help you if they could?”
They rode the rest of the way in silence.
Patrick perked up a little when he saw Jason.  Reluctantly, he let Jason check
his ribs, grimacing and doubling up when Jason touched his side.
“I really think you should go to one of the clinics, Patrick.” He told the
teen.  “You could be hurt bad.”
“No.  They’ll send me back.”  Patrick declared, pulling the covers back up over
his head.  “I’m fine.”
Jason walked out of the bedroom to find Jon.
“He’s stubborn.  I can’t make him go any more than you can.”
Jon thought for a few minutes, about what Jason had said on the ride over,
about how much pain Patrick was in, and about what he could do about it.
He picked up his phone, found the number he wanted and hit the call button.
“Hey Mike, it’s Jonny,” he said when the person answered the phone.  “There’s
something I need help with.  What?  No, I’m not hurt.  It’s… well it’s a long
story.  But could you come to my place, please.  And bring your travel bag? 
What?  I… I can’t tell you on the phone.  I just need some help, okay. 
Thanks.  Yeah.  See you in an hour.”
Jason stared at Jon while he listened to the one side of the conversation. 
When Jon hung up, he looked for another number in his phone.
“I hope I’m doing the right thing.” He sighed at Jason.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------
A little over an hour later, Mike Gapski, the Blackhawks’ head trainer rang the
doorbell at Jon’s apartment.  He was surprised when Brent Seabrook opened the
door.
“What’s going on, Seabs?  Jon wouldn’t say anything.  Is he hurt?”
“It’s not Jonny, Gaps.  Come on in.”  Brent held the door open for him.
Gapski saw Patrick Sharp sitting in Jon’s living room talking with Jon and
another young man he didn’t recognize.  Jon stood up, shook the trainer’s hand
and thanked him for coming, then he led him into the bedroom.
“Mike, this is Patrick.  Patrick, this is Mike.”
“Patrick.” The trainer said.  “I’m guessing I’m here to see you?”
“Patrick got into a scuffle.  I think he may have some broken ribs and a
concussion.”  Jon informed the trainer.  “Patrick, you said you’d cooperate so
don’t give me that look.”
Patrick scowled at Jon and the trainer. “Fine.”
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Jon said as he turned and left.  “Good luck, Mike.”
A half hour later, Mike joined the others in the living room, looking
exasperated.
“Wow.  He’s a stubborn little cuss, isn’t he?” he grumbled.  “Okay, I don’t
think his ribs are broken, but I don’t have x-ray vision.  If they are broken I
don’t think they’ve done any damage, but again… I don’t have x-ray vision.  So,
what I'm saying is he needs to get them x-rayed, it will also show if there's
any internal problems, like pneumonia or anything.  As for his head, mild
concussion.”
He flopped down in a chair, “Now, would someone like to explain to me who he is
and what exactly is going on?” 
“Are you sure you want to know?”  Sharpy chuckled.  “I’m not sure I wanted to
know.”
“Uh oh.”  Gabski looked at Jon warily.  “What don’t I want to know?”
With that, Mike became the third of Jon’s friends to learn about Patrick. 
After he’d heard the whole story he made a suggestion to them.
“Doc T.” he said.  “Take Patrick to see him, he’ll be able to x-ray his ribs
right at the office.  And, I don’t think he’ll give you guys any hassle.  I’ll
give him a call.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I don’t want to know, do I?” Dr. Michael Terry took in the scene in front of
him as he opened the door to the exam room. “Gaps told me not to ask
questions.  Jesus, I hope I don’t live to regret this.”
Jon and Sharpy stood next to the exam table where a young blond that the doctor
didn’t recognize laid.
“No.” Sharp stated, glaring over a Jon who dipped his head sheepishly, “You
really don’t want to ask too many questions.”  He saw the doctor’s expression
change from puzzled to concerned.  “At least for now, Doc.”
Terry, the Blackhawks team doctor, carefully examined Patrick’s ribs, then had
the two players help him to his office’s x-ray room, a benefit of having an
orthopedic doctor as the head of the team’s medical staff.  He came back into
the exam room a few minutes after Jon and Sharp had helped Patrick back onto
the exam table.
“They aren’t broken,” Terry explained.  “Luckily.  Look.  I know I don’t want
to know, but are the injuries a result of child abuse?  I’m a mandated reporter
boys, so I could get in a lot of trouble.”
“No.  They weren’t.”  Sharp says, giving Jon the evil eye again.  “Look, if you
can just make the x-rays go away, we were never here.  We just really had to
make sure the kid was okay.  No internal injuries, or anything.  You’ll know
everything at some point, Doc.  We just need a little while longer without
having anyone know about the kid being here.  Okay?”
Terry glanced back and forth between the two players, then looked at the
youngster on the table.  Gapski had filled him in a little, just that the kid
was a friend of Jon’s who’d gotten hurt and didn’t have any insurance.  At
least, that was the story they came up with.
“Okay, boys.  You were never here.”  He agreed.  He gave them some instructions
for caring for Patrick, telling them to just give him ibuprofen for the pain,
that it would help with the concussion symptoms, too.  They thought about
giving Jon a prescription for something stronger, but determined they couldn’t
risk it.  There could be no trace at all that they had seen Terry.
An hour later, the three were back at Jon’s apartment.  Jon helped Patrick back
to bed and went back out to talk with Brent and Jason again.
“You don’t think he’s going to give us up, do ya?” Jon questioned Sharpy.
“Nah.  Doc’s okay.  We owe him big time, though.”  Patrick replied.  “It’ll be
okay, Jon.  Relax.”  He turned his attention to Brent and Jason.  “Okay, what
did you find while we were gone?”
“Well, I think we’ve figured out how to keep Patrick from having to go back to
his family.  But, we don’t know what he’ll want to do about the coach.” Brent
explained.  “I mean, I think he needs to go to the cops, but, well, is he going
to want to do that?”
“I hope he does.” Jon asserted.  “Bastard deserves to go to jail.”
“Yeah, he does.  But it’s up to Patrick.  I mean, if he goes after him then his
story becomes public, or probably does, you think he wants people to know?  Or
do you?  If he wants to play hockey again, it could make things tough for
him.”  Brent paused for a second before adding, “And you.”
***** Because I Love You *****
Chapter Summary
     “What’re you doing?”
     “Getting the fuck out of here.”  Patrick fumed.  “I’m not going back
     and I’m not going to the police.”
     “Patrick.  Stop.”  Jon closed the distance between them in two quick
     strides, reaching out and wrapping his hands around Patrick’s
     wrists.  “Stop.  Okay.  We’ll find another way.  It’ll be okay. 
     Please, please don’t run again.”
     Patrick’s face was flushed red, he was breathing hard, his fingers
     clenched around the straps of the bag.  Jon wasn’t sure if the look
     on Patrick’s face was from anger, or fear.
     “Why’d you come back?” he asked softly.
     “What?  It doesn’t matter.  Let go, Jonny.”  Patrick tried to pull
     out of Jon’s hold.
     “It does.  You came back.  Why?  You could’ve just kept going, where
     ever you were, but you came back.  So, why?”
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Jon had called his parents and told them he wouldn’t be coming home right now,
then he told them all about Patrick.  Who he was, the whole story.  It had
gone… okay.  At first his father had been angry, more so that Jon had been
stupid and picked up some stranger.  He was upset that Jon’s mother had
evidently known about Patrick for months and not said anything.  He was mad
that Jon would risk his career over some boy.  After he’d ranted for several
minutes, Andrée spoke quietly to her husband.
“Bryan, he was lonely.  So far from home, on his own.  Afraid someone would
find out about him.  He just needed a friend.  And then, he fell in love.” She
said, her voice calm and firm.  “What if that were Jonathan?”
“What?” her husband questioned.  “What do you mean.  Aren’t you talking about
Jonny?”
“No.  I was talking about Patrick.  But yes, I could just have easily been
talking about Jonny.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone, which made Jon nervous.
“Maman?” Jon whispered into the phone, waiting for someone to say something.
“Do you really love this boy, Patrick, do you love Patrick, Jonny?  Are you
sure about this?”  his father finally spoke.
“Yes, Papa, I do.”
There was a heavy sigh, and a moment of silence before his father spoke again. 
“Then we are here for you, for you both.  Whatever you need from us.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--
Jon had slept on the couch every night since Patrick returned, afraid of
hurting Patrick more, physically, and emotionally.  He’d told Patrick he loved
him, and Patrick had fallen asleep that first day with his head on Jon’s lap. 
But he’d slept fitfully and had woken with a start, pulling away from Jon with
fear in his eyes.  Jon had gotten him calmed down, but then Patrick had turned
away from him and asked him to just leave him alone.
Jon had gone and gotten Jason.
Patrick hadn’t been happy about going to see the team doctor, but he’d gone. 
Jon had been relieved that Patrick wasn’t seriously hurt.  When they’d gotten
home, Patrick had gone back to bed.  Jon thought maybe that he’d want to leave
with Jason when Jon took him home later that day, but Patrick had said he’d
stay with Jon.  Jon was sure that was only because Jason had talked to him,
explaining how it was better he was with Jon.
Patrick wasn’t sure.
The next few days he got up only to eat, take a shower and put on clean
clothes, then Patrick would climb back in bed and ignore Jon.  The only time he
said anything was if he had to ask Jon for something. 
Jon talked to his friends every day, Seabs and Sharpy both calling or stopping
to check on the boys often.  Sharpy, much as he hated to admit it, liked that
stubborn little ass, as he called Patrick.  He’d even given him a nickname, a
sure sign that Patrick had been accepted into the family. 
“Hey, Peekaboo.” Sharpy said coming in to the bedroom one day to check on
Patrick, who, as usual, had the blankets pulled up so just the top of his head
was showing.
“Fuck off.” Patrick responded from under the covers.
Sharpy, undeterred, walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, his hand
going to ruffle Patrick’s hair.  “Awe, come on, ‘lil Peeks.  You know you can’t
hide in there forever.”
“Yes I can.  And don’t call me that.”  Patrick huffed.
Sharpy tugged at the sheets and comforter, pulling it down.  “Ha.  Peekaboo… I
see you!”  He joked.
Patrick yanked the covers back up.  “Fuck you.  Go away.”
“Okay,” Sharpy stood up and started to leave, “but I brought you lunch. Spicy
tacos, extra guac.  From the place Jon says you like so much.  But ya know, if
you don’t want them, Peeks, guess I’ll just have to eat them.”
As Sharpy stepped into the kitchen, he heard Patrick coming down the hall.
“Where’s Jonny?” he asked, sitting down at the kitchen table.
“He and Seabs are running an errand, they’ll be back later.”  Sharpy sat down
across from Patrick, putting a glass of strawberry milk in front of the teen. 
He pulled two containers of food out of a bag and put one in front of Patrick. 
“I got you some rice and beans, too.  Toe-es said you liked that, too.”
“Thanks.”  Patrick grinned.  “Toe-es?”
“Uh huh, that’s how you really pronounce his last name.  Didn’t you know that? 
Bet he told you it was taves, but nope.  Toe-es is right.”  Sharpy said,
completely stone-faced and serious.  He watched Patrick’s confused expression
and couldn’t control himself any longer, breaking out into a loud laugh.
Patrick rolled his eyes at the older man, “Oh I’ll bet he loves that.”
While they ate, they talked about hockey.  Sharpy saw how much Patrick really
loved the game by the way his eyes lit up and his smile widened.  The kid knew
the game, the history of the game.  They debated over who was the greatest
goaltender of all time, the greatest d-man, and the greatest forward of all
time.  Patrick argued by giving statistics, stuff that Sharpy had a hard time
remembering just for himself, let alone being able to tell you that some goalie
had so many saves in a given year.  Jesus, he thought, the kid is some sort of
hockey savant.
They ended up sitting out in the living room for the afternoon, watching some
old movie, until Patrick fell asleep with his feet in Sharpy’s lap.  Sharpy had
leaned his head back on the couch cushion and fallen asleep not long after. 
Jon and Seabs found them that way when they got home just before five o’clock.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
After Seabs and Sharpy left, Jon fixed he and Patrick dinner and they ate in
silence.  Jon cleared the table and did the dishes while he presumed Patrick
had retreated back to the bedroom.  He was surprised when he found Patrick
sitting on the couch when he walked into the living room.  Cautiously he went
and sat down next to him. 
“Where’d you go today?”  Patrick asked after a couple of minutes.
“Just to run a few errands, why?”  Jon responded.
“I heard you talking to them, before they left.”  Patrick turned towards Jon,
glaring at him accusingly.  “You were talking about Buffalo.”
“I thought you were sleeping.”
“Do you think you’re gonna send me back?  Fuck that, Toews.  I’m out the door
now.”  Patrick started to get up, but Jon grabbed his arm stopping him.
“I’d never do that, Patrick.  I told you that.”
“Then what were you talking about?”
“I’ve been waiting until you felt better.” Jon said, then quietly added, “And,
you haven’t acted like you wanted to talk to me.”
“Well, I’m mad at you, remember?”
“I know.  How’re you feeling?”  Better to just let the other drop, Jon thought.
“Still sore, but better.  Why were you talking about Buffalo?  What’ve you been
waiting to tell me?”  Patrick wasn’t about to let it drop.
Jon glanced down at his hands, fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, cleared his
throat and hemmed and hawed a few times before Patrick told him to just say
whatever it was.
“We have a plan.  So that you don’t have to go back to your coach, or your
family, but, well, I don’t know if you’ll want to do it.”  Jon stuttered out.
“Why wouldn’t I?”  Patrick perked up at the thought of not having to go back. 
“So what is this big plan?”
“You’d need to go to the police and tell them what your coach did and then…”
“Fuck that whole idea!”  Patrick jumped up off the coach and turned to stare
down at Jon.  “If that’s your plan, you can fucking forget it right now!”
“Patrick, he needs to go to jail for what he did.  What if, what if he does it
to someone else?”
“How do you know he already hasn’t?  He fucking said he did it with other
players.  Jesus fuck, Jonny.  No.  No.  That would mean, that would mean…” 
Patrick bolted down the hallway to the bedroom.
Jon followed him, cursing in French under his breath.  He told Seabs that
Patrick wouldn’t go for this.  He stepped into the bedroom as Patrick was
grabbing his bag.
“What’re you doing?”
“Getting the fuck out of here.”  Patrick fumed.  “I’m not going back and I’m
not going to the police.”
“Patrick.  Stop.”  Jon closed the distance between them in two quick strides,
reaching out and wrapping his hands around Patrick’s wrists.  “Stop.  Okay. 
We’ll find another way.  It’ll be okay.  Please, please don’t run again.”
Patrick’s face was flushed red, he was breathing hard, his fingers clenched
around the straps of the bag.  Jon wasn’t sure if the look on Patrick’s face
was from anger, or fear.
“Why’d you come back?” he asked softly.
“What?  It doesn’t matter.  Let go, Jonny.”  Patrick tried to pull out of Jon’s
hold.
“It does.  You came back.  Why?  You could’ve just kept going, where ever you
were, but you came back.  So, why?”
“Because.  Just because.”  Patrick looked away, refusing to meet Jon’s stare.
In one swift move, Jon released Patrick’s wrist and hauled him into a tight
embrace.  “I’m not letting go until you tell me.”
“Let go, fucker!”  Patrick protested.  “I just came back because I did.”
“Nope.  I don’t believe you.”  Jon held firm as Patrick squirmed in his arms. 
“I didn’t know where else to go, I was hurt.”  Patrick tried that.  He dropped
his bag so he could get his hands against Jon’s chest, pushing at him.
As abruptly as he’d grabbed him, Jon let go and Patrick stumbled backwards. 
“Fine.  Then go.  If that was why, and you’re better.  Just go.”  Jon said,
sitting down on the edge of the bed. 
Patrick snatched his bag off the floor and ran out of the room, a few seconds
later, Jon heard the front door open, then slam shut.  He buried his face in
his hands, trying not to start crying.  He thought about just getting up and
running after Patrick, but he didn’t.  Jon loved him, he had hoped that Patrick
loved him back, that that’d been the reason he came back, but if Patrick could
just leave like that again.  Jon didn’t know how long he sat there, silently
crying to himself.
“I came back because I love you.”
Jon raised his head, not trusting that Patrick was there and his mind wasn’t
just playing tricks on him.  Patrick stood in the bedroom doorway, tears
streaking his own face.  Jon slowly stood and walked over to him, standing in
front of the smaller boy, his arms at his side, hands flexing nervously.
Patrick looked down at the floor, then brought his gaze up to meet Jon’s.
“I came back because I realized that I love you.”  He brought his hands up to
cup Jon’s face, thumbs gently stroking over Jon’s tear stained cheeks.  Patrick
rolled up on his toes and brought their lips together, kissing Jon softly.  “I
love you.” He breathed against Jon’s lips.
Chapter End Notes
     The italicized conversations are Andree speaking French.
***** We're More Alike Than You Know, You and I *****
Chapter Summary
     “Does he know you’re here?  Jesus, Patrick, you didn’t just take off
     without telling him where you were going did you?”  Jason ran his
     fingers through his hair.
     “I, uh, I just left, before he got up.”
     “Shit.  He’s gonna freak, Patrick.”  Jason fumed, looking even more
     irritated with Patrick at the moment.  “You need to get your ass back
     there.”
     “No, he doesn’t.” Jon said from the doorway, startling both Jason and
     Patrick who spun around to face him.
Chapter Notes
     this past week was difficult for me, haven't had the time or really,
     the desire to write for the last few days... if you read my other WIP
     you know that my uncle has been sick... he passed on the 17th...
     today, I found my words again... so I hope you enjoy this chapter as
     well...
     thanks to all my friends here and on tumblr for the support and kind
     words... life is life... and it goes on...
“I love you.”  Patrick whispered again as he pulled away from Jon, his hands
still cupping Jon’s face. 
Jon let his hands come up to hold Patrick’s hips as he tipped his head down to
plant soft kisses on Patrick’s cheeks.  Patrick let his hands drop down. 
Taking Jon’s hands in his, he led him over to the bed. 
“Are you sure?”  Jon asked him.
Patrick just nodded as he settled back on his knees on the center of the bed. 
Jon kneeled on the bed, too, facing Patrick.  He reached out and brushed a curl
from Patrick’s forehead.  Patrick pulled his shirt off.  Jon carefully touched
the remnants of the bruises on Patrick’s side.
Jon bent over, kissing the yellowish-brown reminders of Patrick’s time away
from him.  Patrick ran his hands up and down Jon’s back.
“Jonny.” He whispered.  “Could we?  I mean, would you?”
Jon sat back up.  Patrick’s head was down, avoiding Jon’s gaze.  Jon hooked his
finger under Patrick’s chin and tipped his head back.  Patrick’s blue eyes were
dark, pupils wide.  He looked unsure of himself, of what he was asking Jon. 
Patrick let his hand slide to the back of Jon’s neck, then he pulled him in for
a soft, tender kiss.  
Clothes were quickly shed, and Jon had Patrick on his back, his body covering
Patrick’s as he plied the younger boy’s mouth with deep, needy kisses. 
Patrick’s legs hugged Jon’s waist, pulling his hips closer as Jon rubbed their
bodies together.  Patrick kept his eyes open, looking at Jon to ensure that his
brain, his body, knew that this wasn’t him.  That this was Jonny, his Jonny, in
his arms.
Jon eased his upper body away from Patrick, propping himself up on his elbows
which rested against the mattress on either side of Patrick’s chest.
“Are you sure?” he needed to hear Patrick say it again, knowing about Patrick’s
past, knowing what this step meant for their relationship, for Patrick.
“Yeah, Jonny.  Please.”
Jon stretched over to the nightstand and fumbled in the top drawer for a condom
and some lube before he sat up, kneeling between Patrick’s legs.  He tore open
the package and rolled the condom onto his erection, then squeezed some of the
lube onto a finger.
Carefully, Jon pressed the tip of his finger against Patrick, watching for any
sign that this really wasn’t okay.  He pushed in.
Patrick’s hissed through his teeth, “Fuck.”
“What?”  Jon pulled his finger back.  “Am I hurting you?  Am I doing something
wrong?”
Patrick looked down at Jon, whose brow was furrowed, facial muscles drawn tight
in concentration, and concern. 
“No.  It’s okay.  It’s always just a little…”  Patrick started to explain, but
then he stopped.  “You’ve never done this.”  It was a statement, not a
question.
“Um, no.”  Jon was already flushed from his arousal, but that flush spread down
his chest as his embarrassment become evident.  “Not this.”
Patrick pushed himself out from underneath Jon, who he made lay down on his
back on the bed so that Patrick could straddle Jonny’s hips.  Patrick took the
lube and coated his own fingers, then he leaned down and kissed Jonny while he
reached around and fingered himself open.  When he was ready, he sat up and
took Jon in his hand, lining himself up.
Patrick rocked his hips back slowly, feeling Jon’s hard cock push against the
tight rim of muscle.  He pressed back until he felt the head slide in.  He
closed his eyes, letting the sensation of Jon entering him, the feeling of
tightness, of fullness, spread through him.  When he had taken Jon in
completely, Patrick opened his eyes and looked down at Jon.
Jonny’s dark eyes stared up at him, pupils wide, a look of wanton desire,
something Patrick had never seen, on Jonny’s face.  He rested his hands against
Jon’s chest and started to slowly work his hips up and down, sliding Jonny’s
cock in and out with long, slow strokes.
“God, Patrick.”  Jon moaned.
Patrick kept his eyes fixed on Jon, the emotions flooding over him so different
than anything he’d ever experienced before.  It had never been like this with
him.  Never.
Jon couldn’t hold his hips still, arching them up to meet Patrick’s ass as it
rocked down, driving his cock deep into Patrick with each movement.  Patrick. 
So warm and tight around him.  His hands slid down Patrick’s back to grip his
hips, pulling him down and holding him firmly as he ground their hips together.
For a moment, Patrick closed his eyes, his mouth gapping open, his breath
coming in short pants.  He opened his eyes again after just a few minutes,
biting his lower lip, eyes focused again on Jonny.  He leaned forward, bringing
their mouths together he let Jonny’s tongue lick into his.  Their kisses no
longer soft and gentle, but hot and desperate as the pressure, the need for
release built between them.
Jon rolled them over, keeping himself seated deep in Patrick as he did, his
arms coming up under Patrick’s shoulders to hold them together.  He started
driving his hips harder against Patrick once he had him underneath his body. 
Patrick pulled away from their kissing and buried his neck into Jon’s, his
breath now coming in short, sharp intakes of air.
“Jonny.” He wrapped his arms tightly around Jon’s shoulders, holding on to him
as if his very life depended on it, on making sure that Jon was there, that Jon
was the one above him.  “Jonny, please.”
Jon dipped his head and whispered into Patrick’s ear, his own breathing
quickening.  “I love you, Patrick.  It’s okay.”
“Jon, I’m gonna… jesus…”
Jon felt Patrick come, the warm, thick fluid spurting between their bodies,
Patrick’s whole body tensing beneath him.  He felt Patrick clench around him
and with a few more strokes into that added tightness, Jon came himself.  He
thrust in and held himself deep inside Patrick.  When he finally felt himself
coming down, he slipped out of Patrick and rolled off of him, pulling Patrick
over and tight against his side. 
Patrick kept his face buried in Jon’s neck, and it took a few minutes for Jon’s
brain to be able to register the wetness against his skin.  Then he felt the
soft, shuddering sobs racking Patrick’s shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Patrick.”  Jon kissed Patrick’s curls on the top of his head over
and over, his hand running up and down Patrick’s back reassuringly.  “I’m
sorry.  We… I shouldn’t have let…”
Patrick shook his head against Jon’s shoulder, sniffling.  “I wanted to… it’s
okay Jonny.”
He lifted his head and reached up to wipe his eyes, his cheeks damp.  A warm,
rosy blush filled Patrick’s cheeks and his eyes glistened, but he didn’t look
hurt, or sad, or anything bad to Jon.  Instead there was a kind of happiness, a
contented peace in his eyes.
“That was the first time I’ve done that, too.  I mean… because I wanted to do
it, not because… not because I had to do it.”  Patrick told Jon, just as he had
that first time he’d given Jon a blow job.  But this time, this was so much
more.
That simple statement, that simple declaration, that simple admission to Jon
and to himself was more than Patrick could bear.  In that moment, Patrick knew
his coach hadn’t taken everything from him.  He loved Jonny.  He could let
Jonny love him, like that.  It was emotionally overwhelming to him.  He closed
his eyes and buried his face into Jonny’s neck again, letting the tears come as
Jonny just held him.
They laid like that until Patrick was able to quiet himself, then Jon got them
both up and into the shower to get cleaned up.  Afterwards, they went back to
bed.  Patrick’s head rested on Jon’s chest, his fingers drawing lazy circles
around one of Jon’s nipples. 
“What’s the other part of your big plan?  I didn’t let you tell me all of it.” 
“Well, there are a couple of things that I think we could do, without you
having to tell anyone about him.”  Jon casually played with the soft curls of
Patrick’s hair, twisting a ringlet around his finger.  “A good thing in all
this is that you’re seventeen, so one thing would be for you to petition for
emancipation, or we could get someone appointed as your legal guardian if that
wasn’t going to work.”
“So, I’d be on my own.  Or, would I live with you?” 
“You could, or, you could live with a billet family.”
Patrick’s head shot up.  “That would mean I’d have to play hockey again.”
“Don’t you want that?  Don’t you miss it?”
“No.”  Patrick tried to push away from Jon and roll over on the bed, clearly
upset, but Jon held him steady.
“Okay.  I’m sorry.  I just thought, the way you talk about hockey sometimes.  I
figured you’d want to be able to play.”
“I don’t…” Patrick didn’t finish his thought, but just closed his eyes and
buried his face into Jon’s neck.
“It’s okay, Patrick.  We can talk about this all tomorrow.”  Jon kissed
Patrick’s forehead.  “Let’s just go to sleep, okay?”
Patrick nodded his head and snuggled in closer to Jon.  It wasn’t long before
they were both sleeping soundly.
When Jon got up the next morning, Patrick was gone.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--
Patrick made his way up the steps to the second-floor landing.  Nicky gave him
a big hug when he got to him, telling Patrick how much they’d all missed him
and been worried about him.  Soon, everybody was out in the commons hugging
Patrick and asking all kinds of questions.  He told them all about where he’d
been, about Daniel, about almost getting picked up by the cops, and about
Goodie.
Patrick watched Jason, standing off at the edge of the group looking at
Patrick.  Jason’s arms were crossed across his chest and his stance definitely
gave off an irritated vibe.  Patrick excused himself from the group and stepped
over to Jason.
“Can we talk?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the floor where he was scuffing his
shoe.
Jason didn’t say anything, just turned and walked down the hall to one of the
rooms.  Patrick jogged after him.
“Why aren’t you at Jon’s?”  Jason turned and glared at Patrick.
“He wants me to, well, they have this plan, and, it would mean I’d have to, he
said that if I didn’t want, he wouldn’t make me , but I don’t know, and then he
said something about playing hockey again, and I don’t know, but he keeps
saying he won’t make me go back, and I just, I’m confused, and he said he loves
me and I told him I love him and well, but he’s like Jonathan Toews, and it
can’t work cause of hockey and well, so I don’t know I just…”  Patrick’s words
came out in a flurry of incoherent ramblings.
“Pat.  Take a breath, man.  Slow down.”  The commanding tone of Jason’s voice
broke Patrick’s train of thought, or lack thereof.  “Okay.  What’s the
problem?”
“What do you mean, what’s the problem?  Weren’t you listening?”
“Well, you really weren’t making much sense.  And I know about their plan, I
helped them with it.  I think it’s all good.  You get away from your folks and
that asshole.  You play hockey again.  You have the whole future you dreamed
of, the chance to get to the NHL.  What’s wrong with that?  Oh, and you get to
be with Jon, cause yeah, the dude is pretty much gone on you.  His attorney
told him he was nuts, but he told him money was not object, whatever it cost
for court to get your paperwork filed when it was time.  Man, he’s got some
great friends, they’ve all been working to set stuff up as soon as you were
better, and doing it without letting the authorities in London and Buffalo know
you’re here.  It’s been something, better than the FBI’s fucking witness
protection program if you ask me.”
“What?” Patrick looked confused, and maybe a bit stunned. “He talked to an
attorney about me?”
“Yeah.  He and Sharpy, I think that’s who it was.  Getting info on the
emancipation thing, or, if Sharpy could be named your guardian.  And then,
they…”
“What the fuck?” Patrick interrupted him.
“Didn’t Jon tell you when he told you about their plan?”  Jason seemed
confused.
“Um, well, I really didn’t let Jon tell me the whole plan.  He just got to the
part about a billet family, playing hockey again and well, I freaked on him.”
“Does he know you’re here?  Jesus, Patrick, you didn’t just take off without
telling him where you were going did you?”  Jason ran his fingers through his
hair.
“I, uh, I just left, before he got up.”
“Shit.  He’s gonna freak, Patrick.”  Jason fumed, looking even more irritated
with Patrick at the moment.  “You need to get your ass back there.”
“No, he doesn’t.” Jon said from the doorway, startling both Jason and Patrick
who spun around to face him.
“Jonny.”  Patrick took a step towards him, then stopped.  “I…”
“Don’t say it Patrick.  I brought your stuff.  I can’t.  I tried, but, I can’t,
if you don’t want help.  I can’t make you do anything, but I thought, I thought
we were…”
Jason walked across the room and stepped around Jon, “I’ll let you two talk.”
Patrick sank down to the floor, sitting cross-legged, his face in his hands. 
“I’m sorry.  I was going to come back.  I swear.”
Jon walked over and sat down in front of Patrick, putting Patrick’s backpack
and bag on the floor next to them.  “You just left, again.  After you said…
fuck Patrick.”
“I’m sorry.   It was just, you said about me going back.  I can’t Jonny.  I
just can’t.  You don’t get it.  You can’t understand, how could you.  I mean,
fuck.  You’re the captain of the ‘Hawks, you have everything.  You wouldn’t get
it, what he did, what he… why I… I just can’t.”
“I do get it, Patrick.”  Jon let his hand rest on Patrick’s knee, “I get it,
because, well, it almost happened to me.”
Patrick raised his head slowly, letting Jon’s words sink in.  “What?  When?”
“When I was twelve.  I had just moved up to play on a new team, to play with
the U14 team in Winnipeg.  My coach, he well, he made me have oral sex with
him.”
“Jonny?”
“It only happened once, in his office after everyone else had left after a
practice.  I told my parents.”  Jon said.  “I guess that’s what’s the
difference between us.  I had my parents, my family.  I knew I could go to them
and it would be okay.”
“I didn’t have anyone.”  Patrick whispered.
“You do now.”  Jon countered.  “You have me.”
Patrick dropped his chin to his chest.  “What happened, when you told them?”
“It wasn’t good.  They went to the police, my coach, who everyone loved, was
arrested.”  Jon explained.  “I ended up having to go to a new team.  But, it
was okay.  I was able to keep playing hockey.  Eventually, I ended up at the
University of North Dakota and then here.”
Patrick raised his head, tears in his eyes.  “I don’t think I can.  Everyone
would know what happened.  People would find out I’m, that I like guys.”
“So what.”
“So.  Would you want…”  Patrick protested. 
“Everyone knew what my coach did.  And besides, Patrick, I told you, you won’t
be alone.  People will know that you’re with me, that you have me.”
Patrick took in the implications of what Jon just said, and he shook his head,
“No.  Jonny.  No.  You can’t do that.”
“I can.  I’ve talked to the ‘Hawks, to Coach Q and the GM.  Stan’s a great
guy.  I’ve got their support, and my friends, my teammates are all okay with it
if I come out.  And if I do, then I can be there for you, to support you
through whatever happens.  With going to the police about your coach.  I want
to be able to be there with you, so if that means I need to go public with
things, well then, so be it.”
“But, your career.  Your family.  Jonny, you can’t give up everything.  I’ve
already lost all that.  I can’t let you give it all up for me.”
“Aren’t you listening?  I’m not giving up anything, Patrick.  My family,
they’re behind this.  The Blackhawks.  It’ll be okay.  The only one who isn’t
okay with anything is you.  And, well, you’re the most important one, so if you
really don’t want to do this, or can’t do this, it’s okay.  We’ll figure out
how to do this without you having to tell people about your coach, or about
us.”
Patrick sat there, silently contemplating everything, weighing Jon’s words in
his mind.
“You’d really do all that for me?”
“Yes.”
“And, you really think it will be alright?  I mean, you’ll be alright?  We’ll
be alright?”
“Yes.  I do, Patrick.  I really think things will be okay, that this is what
you, no, what we need to do.”
“Okay then.”
“Okay?”
“I’ll go back,” Patrick acquiesced.  “I’ll do it all.  But, I’m still not sure
if I want to play hockey again.  Is that okay?  I just, I don’t know if I can
do that.”
“Okay.  We’ll see what happens as we go, okay.  First things first, we need to
go to the Chicago PD tomorrow.”
----------------------------------------------------------------
A week later, Patrick stepped off a plane at the London Airport in Ontario,
Canada.  He was accompanied by a Chicago Police Department Detective, Jon’s
attorney, and Jon.  They were met by an Investigator with the London Police
Department’s sexual assault and child abuse division.
The next day, William Anderson was arrested for the sexual assault of a minor.
***** Betrayed *****
Chapter Summary
     “Jonny?”  Patrick was now really confused.  “What’s going on?”
     When the two attorneys left, Jon shifted in his chair so he was
     facing Patrick, who’s brow was furrowed, fear and confusion both
     showing in his eyes.
     “What?  What did Richard tell them?  They’re making me go back,
     aren’t they? 
Chapter Notes
     kind of a short chapter... but a good place to break before the next
     chapter... (ominous music plays)
Patrick sat in the Crown Attorney’s office in London, for the fourth day in a
row.  The Crown’s prosecutor was asking him to go over details of his time with
Anderson, again.  She patiently explained to Patrick that they really needed to
nail down the dates of when the abuse started, and when certain things took
place.  She wouldn’t tell Patrick why he needed to be so specific other than
that it was for the prosecution, to help them build a better case, she said.
He wished Jon could be there with him, more so than the court appointed
attorney sitting next to him.  The man had been appointed to be Patrick’s
Guardian ad litem to look out for Patrick’s interests since he was a minor.  A
couple of days after they’d arrived in London, Jon’s attorney had gone to
Buffalo to start the process for Patrick to become an emancipated juvenile, so
Patrick had needed a lawyer here in Ontario.
“It was a couple of months after we’d moved here, I think.”  Patrick explained,
again.  “I really don’t remember the exact date.”
She’s been working in this office for over ten years.  She’s learned to read
body language and people’s tells well and she knows Patrick still isn’t being
completely forthcoming with her.
“Are you sure?” the she questioned him. 
After talking to Patrick over the past few days, she was convinced that he did
remember more details.  She just couldn’t get him to tell her.  Patrick kept
asking why it was important.  She hadn’t wanted to tell him, but this morning,
she’d talked to the District Attorney in Buffalo and they’d gotten a
confirmation on some new information about William Anderson and his
relationship to the Kanes.
She knew what this might do to the seventeen-year-old sitting in her office,
who was fidgeting nervously.  It was hard for assault victims to talk about
what happened.  She didn’t like pushing him, but she needed to confirm things
on her end, and he was the only one with the information.
She stood and excused herself for a moment, leaving him alone with his
attorney.  When she came back a short time later, she had Jon with her.
 Patrick’s eyes lit up when Jon sat down next to him and took his hand, lacing
their fingers together and holding it in his lap.
“Patrick, I spoke with the DA in Buffalo this morning.  He confirmed some
information that, well, it could be very difficult for you to hear.”  She began
as she sat back down.
Patrick looked at Jon, who squeezed his hand.  “It’ll be okay.”
Patrick turned back to the prosecutor.
“Patrick, did you know that Coach Anderson was sending money to your family
every month?”
“What do you mean?”  Patrick looked back and forth between the others in the
room.  “Why would he?”
“I need to know when the abuse started Patrick, as specific as you can be.  We
need to confirm the information we received today from your parents.”
“I don’t understand.  Why would he be sending them money?”  Patrick was
confused.
“Patrick, you moved here with Coach Anderson in August, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you said the abuse started a couple of months later, right?”
Patrick nodded again.
“At one point between those two dates, you and Coach Anderson were back in
Buffalo.  Do you remember when that was?”
Patrick hadn’t mentioned that to the police or to her, so how did she know. 
And why was it…
An image flashed through Patrick’s mind.  He was in his living room at his home
in Buffalo, alone with his coach.  He was complaining about his neck and so the
older man had Patrick sit on the floor between his legs and he’d rubbed his
neck and back.  Patrick had looked up at one point to see his father standing
in the doorway to the room, staring at the scene before him.  He hadn’t said
anything or come into the room, he just turned and walked away.  Patrick
clenched his eyes shut.
“That was a week before Coach, before he…” Patrick said quietly.  “We were back
there for a tournament.  October 5th and 6th.”
“So the abuse started after that?” she questioned, “You remember the date,
don’t you, Patrick.  You know the exact date.”
“October 12th.”  Patrick dipped his head, looking at the floor.
“That’s what I needed to hear.  You’re sure of the date?”
“Yes.  It was a Saturday.  I had a game that afternoon and there was a Sabres’
game on that night that we watched.  They were playing Boston.”
“Thank you.   Mr. Bernard, if you would join me please.  We’ll leave you two
alone, Mr. Toews.”  She said, standing up and motioning for the other attorney
to join her.
“Jonny?”  Patrick was now really confused.  “What’s going on?”
When the two attorneys left, Jon shifted in his chair so he was facing Patrick,
who’s brow was furrowed, fear and confusion both showing in his eyes.
“What?  What did Richard tell them?  They’re making me go back, aren’t they? 
Why was he paying them?  Jonny?” 
“He was paying them to keep you, Patrick.  So that he could do what he did.”
“What?  No.  They didn’t know.  They wouldn’t…”  Patrick started shaking.
“They knew, Patrick.  You’re dad saw him with you when you were home for that
tournament.  There were rumors about Anderson, it’s part of why he left Buffalo
evidently.  Anyway, your dad saw him and figured out that was why he was so
interested in you.  He thought the coach was already abusing you.”
Patrick was shaking his head back and forth, “No.  No, they didn’t know.  They
wouldn’t have let him…”  The tears were building in his eyes.
“Your dad confronted Anderson.  Told him that if he sent them five hundred
dollars every month, he wouldn’t go to the police.  Richard said his exact
words were, ‘I told him he could have the boy.’”
The dam holding back the tears broke.  Patrick pulled away from Jon.  He got to
the door before Jon was able to get to him, grabbing his arm and spinning him
around into a tight embrace all in one, quick move.  The hurt, the devastation
on Patrick’s face broke Jon’s heart.  Patrick strained against his hold for a
few seconds, then his body went limp.  He slumped against Jon, and completely
cocooned in Jon’s arms, he sobbed uncontrollably, crushed as the realization of
what his parents had done hit him.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
When confronted with the information provided by Patrick Kane, Sr., William
Anderson took his attorney’s advice and entered into a plea agreement.  He had
been facing a lot of years in prison, and the high likelihood that if he took a
trial he’d be found guilty.  Most of the charges he faced fell on the
indictable side of the spectrum, what the prosecutor explained to Patrick were
the equivalent of felony charges in the states. 
A sentencing date was set quickly, more quickly than Patrick or Jon expected. 
The prosecutor told them that everyone agreed that given the nature of the
crimes that it would be in the best interest of all parties to expedite the
proceedings as much as possible, especially since there was no need now for a
drawn-out trial.  What Jon read that as was that it was in the best interest of
the Canadian hockey leagues to be able to bury this story as quickly as
possible.
Patrick was allowed to make an impact statement at the sentencing.  Jon sat in
the back of the courtroom, his heart filled with pride as Patrick stood and
faced Anderson.  Patrick kept looking back at Jon for support, but he was able
to tell Anderson just how much he had taken from him.  Anderson couldn’t even
look Patrick in the eye, just sitting with his head down the whole time.
The judge hearing the plea listened to Patrick’s statements about what had
happened, then he weighed in all of the other factors, including Patrick
running away because of the abuse and what he’d gone through.  The agreement
had been for Anderson to plead guilty to two of the most serious offenses, each
carrying a maximum possibility of ten years in prison, and all the other
charges would be dropped.  They expected the judge to have the sentences run
concurrently.  The judge had other ideas.
Citing the fact that the coach had used his position to assert his will on
Patrick, that he had paid Patrick’s parents to cover-up the abuse, and that the
abuse had taken place regularly for a number of years, the Judge sentenced
Anderson to the maximum number of years on each count, to run consecutively. 
He added that, while the coach had fully admitted to his actions, at no point
during his allocution had Anderson shown any sign of remorse, nor had he ever
openly apologized to Patrick. 
Patrick sat in stunned silence as he heard the sentence.  Twenty years.  He
wouldn’t have to worry about ever seeing Anderson for twenty years.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
A couple of days later, Patrick stood looking around the apartment.  It was the
first time he had been back since November.  Anderson hadn’t done anything with
his stuff, which surprised Patrick.  He would have thought that when he didn’t
come back for so many months that the coach would have thrown out all of
Patrick’s things.
All he’d really wanted to do was get his driver’s license and the other
documents he’d needed to get his papers to play in Canada.  But then he’d
changed his mind and there was now a small box of items that he’d gathered,
things he actually wanted to take with him.  A few photos of his friends.  His
trophies.  There wasn’t much more that he wanted.  Too many bad memories
attached to too many things.
“Ready?”  Jon asked, stepping behind Patrick and resting his hand on Patrick’s
shoulder.  “They said the plane would be ready in an hour.”
“Yeah.  I’m ready.”  Patrick sighed.  He picked up the box and let Jon lead him
out of the apartment.
They had been in London for a month for all of the court proceeding.  Now, they
were heading to Buffalo. 
It was time to face his parents.
***** Buffalo - Part I *****
Chapter Summary
     “How could you do that?  How could you let him take me if you knew
     what he was going to do?  I don’t understand.  I don’t understand how
     you couldn’t…” his voice caught, “how you couldn’t love me, or want
     me.  How you could just.  Did you even fucking care when I took off? 
     Did you try to find me?  Or did you only care that that bastard
     stopped sending you money?  The only reason you’re probably
     contesting custody is because you think you can find some way to get
     money out of Jon.”
     Patrick kept clenching his fists that he had on the table top.  Jon
     reached over and put his hand on top of Patrick’s.
Chapter Notes
     I definitely know more about Canadian and New York law than I
     expected. Hope this meets expectations and answers questions... the
     charges are real... the sentence guidelines too...
     Thanks for reading... and thank you for all the great kudos and
     comments!
     Come find me on Tumblr - PensToTheEnd there too!
Jon’s attorney had booked them all into a suite of rooms at one of the hotels
near the airport, saying it was better if they were all together.  There were
two bedrooms and a fold out couch.  In addition, they had a small kitchenette
and fridge, so they really wouldn’t need to go out for meals and things.
It had been a media circus in London when the news of Anderson’s arrest and the
nature of the charges had come out.  When Patrick had returned at the same
time, it was pretty easy for everyone to put two and two together although as a
minor and had never been publicly named as the victim.  The fact he was there
with the ‘Hawks’ captain fueled even more rumor frenzy and speculation.
It was sure to be worse in Patrick’s hometown.  Especially with the addition of
another prominent Blackhawk into the mix.  So, the less the boys were out in
public, the less chance of them getting jumped by the press.  They would stay
in the hotel except to go out as needed to meet with the Buffalo DA and for
court proceedings.
“Hey, Peeks!  Toe-es!”  Sharpy greeted them when they came into the suite.  He
was sitting on the couch watching TV.
Jon gave him his standard fuck you look for the use of his nickname.  Patrick
on the other hand, tossed his suitcase down and went over to give the other
Patrick a big hug, then settled down on the couch next to him. 
“What’re you doing here?”
“Well, Jon’s lawyer says this family court judge is being a real prick. 
Balking at the emancipated thing every time he’s met with him.  So, he said I’d
better come.” Sharpy smirked and gave Patrick’s shoulder a shove.  “Looks like
I’m getting an overgrown brat to watch over.”
“You love me and you know it.”  Patrick chirped.
They had talked about Jon being Patrick’s guardian, but despite his being over
18 and the Captain of a pro hockey team, they felt the court might hesitate to
give him that responsibility.  And while there was nothing illegal about his
relationship with Patrick, it could give the judge cause to not grant the
guardianship as well.  Sharpy was older, more settled on the team and in his
life.  And, he’d offered, making it clear from the beginning when they first
talked about their plan that he would gladly step up to help Patrick.  Oh, and
Jon, of course, he’d said.  Jon just shook his head, not at all sure about the
odd connection those two had.
Jon’s attorney came in then, having been at yet another meeting with the family
court judge.  He looked exasperated.
“What a jerk.  Family Services told me they have no clue how this idiot got
appointed to Family Court.” A broad smile brightened his face when he saw
Patrick and Jon.  “And hello, boys.  How was your flight?”
“Uneventful.”  Jon said, standing to shake Richard’s hand.  “Remind me just how
much I owe the ‘Hawks when my contract negotiations come up, though.”
The Blackhawks organization had been nothing but supportive of Jon when he told
them about the situation with Patrick.  They offered to have the team lawyers
represent Patrick if needed, but Jon said he thought he should just use his own
attorney.  Stan Bowman, the General Manager, had informed Jon that all of their
resources were available.  They had flown the boys, Richard, and the Chicago PD
detective to London on the team’s charter.  Then they’d flown Patrick and Jon
to Buffalo, as well.  Whatever, Jon needed, Bowman told him over and over. 
Whatever.
For part of Jon’s plan to work he’d need to take Bowman up on that offer, so he
truly hoped he meant it.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
---
“We haven’t filed any charges, yet.”  The Buffalo District Attorney, Simon
Bancroft, explained to Patrick at their first face-to-face meeting the next
day.  “I wanted to wait and talk to you, go over things, before we did
anything.”
Patrick nodded his head.  Jon sat next to him, holding his hand, there for
support.
“There are a several ways we can proceed.  What he did falls into several areas
under the crimes statutes.  What I need to do is determine what is most likely
to get us a conviction.  I think I could convince a grand jury to indict on
charges of promoting prostitution of a minor, a felony that would carry some
jail time, but I don’t know if we’d win that case in court.  I could also try
to get him indicted on coercion charges, because I could argue that he was
blackmailing Coach Anderson.  The problem is that I can’t argue both theories
at the same time, and he could use one charge as the defense for the other.  By
that I mean his defense on a prostitution charge, could be that that he thought
it had already taken place and he was blackmailing with the idea it had
stopped.  I know, that’s far-fetched, but I’ve seen defendants have stranger
defenses for more serious crimes and get off.   If I argue the blackmail, he
says that it was a sex for hire deal. It’s a catch 22. You see my dilemma
here?  And neither charge carries the kind possibility of the kind of jail time
I’d like to see him get.”
“You only want to go to court if you think you can win.”  Patrick said
bluntly.  “But what he did was wrong.  What he let… what he let him do to me. 
He knew.  Jon said he told you he knew, or thought that my coach was abusing
me.”
“I know, Patrick.  The problem isn’t knowing that the crime was committed but
being able to convince twelve people that it was.  If they can’t make up their
minds as to which story to believe, they will likely not come back with guilty
verdicts on either of them.  And, I can’t argue both theories of the case at
the same time, his attorney would have a field day with that.  I know it
doesn’t really make sense.” 
Patrick didn’t understand.  He didn’t understand how there was a way that his
father could get away with doing what he did, for selling him, basically, to
his coach.  The wetness built in his eyes again, so he looked down at the front
table where they were sitting.  He felt Jon squeeze his hand.
“What’re the other charges you’re considering?  You said there were several
ways, those are only two options.”  Jon asked.  “What about the abuse.  Any way
you could you charge him, or Anderson, for that?”
“As for Coach Anderson, it took place outside our jurisdiction so we have no
legal standing to charge him for anything.  But the fact he took a guilty plea
can help us with the charges that I think we’d have the best chance of making
stick.  Mr. Kane could be charged for conspiracy to commit sexual acts on a
minor.  But, there’s an issue with that charge.”
“Of course there is,” Patrick stated, starting to stand up.  “Fuck it.”
“Patrick, wait.  He didn’t say that he wouldn’t charge him.” Jon made Patrick
sit back down.
“The problem is getting the jury to buy in to the conspiracy, that by taking
the money, your father was aware that the abuse had taken place or was taking
place.  I think we can do it, but you’re going to have to testify if it goes to
trial.  I know you didn’t have to in London.  It could be very hard for you.”
Patrick closed his eyes, then looked up at him.  “I can testify.”
“Okay.  That’s what I wanted to hear.  So, here’s another issue that has come
up.  I spoke with your father’s attorney just before you got here.  I
understand he was meeting with Mr. McGrath, which is why he’s not here with
you. He informed me that your mother intends to contest your petition for
emancipation or if it comes to that, Mr. Sharp’s petition for guardianship.”
“What the fuck?”  Patrick swore again, his eyes darting back and forth between
the DA and Jonny.  “They can’t be fucking serious.  What do they think they’re
going to get by doing that?  I’m not going back with them, Jonny.  Never.”
“I don’t know, Patrick.  I don’t.  We’ll talk to Richard as soon as we get out
of here.  It’ll be okay.”  Jon tried to reassure Patrick.  He spoke to the DA. 
“I can’t believe that any judge would make you go back.  And doesn’t it help
that Patrick is almost 18?”
“Judge Miller might, regardless of Patrick’s age.”  Bancroft said.  “I’m
assuming Mr. McGrath told you that he’s being a prick, at least that’s how he
put it to me one day.  Miller is all about keeping families together.  He
wasn’t the judge you wanted to get.  And, your father claims your mother didn’t
know about the payments or the possible abuse.  Whether that’s true or not
would be hard to prove without Anderson testifying that he had direct dealings
or conversations with her about the payments.  I don’t see that happening.  I’m
giving you a heads up, because we may be able to work all this into our
advantage.”
He turned around a picture that was sitting on his desk so that the boys could
see it.  It was of a youngster, maybe seven or eight, in hockey gear.  Patrick
thought the kid looked a little familiar. 
“As a DA, I’m not supposed to let cases get to me personally.  But yours has. I
watched you play hockey, you’d played with my son when you were both eight. 
Cody Bancroft?”  Patrick remembered him now, a d-man, not good enough to ever
probably play more than junior hockey in some league, but a really nice kid. 
The DA kept talking, “All I can think of is what if Anderson had abused Cody. 
I could never… your father letting it happen is inexcusable to me.  So, I’ll
take the conspiracy case to trial even if I have doubts we can win.  But I
don’t think it will get to that point.”
Patrick didn’t understand, looking at him with a puzzled expression.  “What do
you mean?”
“I’ll file all the charges, every conspiracy charge that I can link to any of
the sexual assault charges that I could have filed against Anderson if it had
happened here.  Your father would be facing a significant amount of jail time
if we could get him convicted on all of the charges I’ve looked at.  I like to
think of it as throwing mud at a wall and trying to get as much as we can to
stick.  But also, we’ll sort of be playing a game of chicken with your dad’s
attorney and see if he blinks, because, I’ll offer your father a plea agreement
similar to what they offered Anderson.  But in this case, I won’t necessarily
be looking for maximum sentences.  I’ll pick the one or two that would carry
the most minimum sentences.  There will be a condition attached.  Your mother
will have to drop her opposition to the guardianship, and all legal claims to
custody.  I think I can get them to agree to that.  One of the charges is a
Class A-II felony which could carry a life sentence.  It’s actually the charge
I think might stick, considering the abuse took place over the course of five
years.  So, it would be the one I’d take to trial first.  I think he’d rather
take a plea and look at 8 1/3 to 25.”
“You can do that?”  Jon sat up.  “Really?”
Patrick perked up at that suggestion.  He’d wanted Bill Anderson to rot in hell
for what he’d done, that was a given.  He wanted his father sent to jail, too,
or better yet, get run over by a herd of hippos, or something.  If he was
truthful with himself, though, he’d didn’t want anything to happen to his mom. 
He didn’t want to think about his sisters having to get by without both
parents, regardless of what happened to him.  Family services told him they
were inclined to leave them with her.  Deep down inside him, there was still
that small part of him that said they were his family. 
He just really wanted to never have to have anything to do with his family
again. 
“Do you think,” Patrick asked apprehensively, “do you think that would be an
option?”
“Yes.  Tell you what, why don’t you talk it over with McGrath.  I know the
family court hearing isn’t scheduled until next week, so take a day and think
it over.”  He stood up and showed the boys out.  “I’ll call McGrath in a couple
of days.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------
They got the family court hearing postponed when Patrick’s father’s attorney
said they would be interested in discussing a plea agreement.  Two weeks after
his initial meeting with the DA, Patrick, Jon and Richard sat in a conference
room in the DA’s office.  His parents and their attorney sat on the opposite
side of the table, with the DA at one end between them. 
His mother had given him a hug, which he hadn’t returned.  His father hadn’t
been able to look him in the eye.  As they sat, Patrick glared at him, which
made the man keep his head bowed.  Under the table, Patrick’s leg bounced
nervously until Jon finally reached under the table and clamped his hand on
Patrick’s thigh, making him sit still.
“Mr. Kane, you understand what it is you are agreeing to?”  The DA directed his
remarks at the elder Kane.  “In agreement for your guilty plea to a charge of
conspiracy to commit rape in the first degree and to conspiracy to commit a
course of sexual conduct against a child, both Class B felonies, we’ll drop the
conspiracy to commit predatory sexual assault against a child, the Class A-II
felony, as well as the additional charges.  And you’ll except a sentence of 8
1/3 to 25. In turn, Mrs. Kane agrees to sign off on any parental rights to your
minor son, Patrick.”
Patrick saw his mother start to protest. 
“Don’t Donna.  We aren’t discussing it anymore.  It’s a chance for parole in 8
years and not a life sentence.” His father growled at his mother.  “Yes.  Mr.
Bancroft.  I understand what I’m agreeing to, and I’ll take the plea agreement
you’re offering.
“Patrick, is there anything you’d like to say to your parents?”  Bancroft
asked.
“How could you do that?  How could you let him take me if you knew what he was
going to do?  I don’t understand.  I don’t understand how you couldn’t…” his
voice caught, “how you couldn’t love me, or want me.  How you could just.  Did
you even fucking care when I took off?  Did you try to find me?  Or did you
only care that that bastard stopped sending you money?  The only reason you’re
probably contesting custody is because you think you can find some way to get
money out of Jon.”
Patrick kept clenching his fists that he had on the table top.  Jon reached
over and put his hand on top of Patrick’s.
“Jesus Christ.” His father hissed.  “I’m going to prison because of you?  You
probably enjoyed what he did to you, fucking little faggot.”
“Mr. Kane.”  Bancroft admonished.
“Don’t say another word.”  The elder Kane’s attorney ordered.
“I’m done.”  Patrick spat at his father.  “Fuck you.  I could have guessed
you’d be some homophobic asshole on top of it all.  I can’t stand to be in the
same fucking room as you.”
He stood and stormed out of the room, Jon following behind him.
“I’ll have my assistant file the plea agreement with the court this afternoon. 
Mr. O’Neill,” Bancroft stood and addressed the Kane’s attorney.  “I assume you
have the parental rights waiver for Mr. McGrath.  If you’ll give it to him now,
we’re done here.”
***** Meeting The Parents *****
Chapter Summary
     “Um, Maman, Papa, what are you doing here?”  Jon had recovered and
     jumped up to greet his parents who had walked in with Richard.
     Patrick sat in stunned silence and he watched Jon hug his parents, a
     blush for having sworn in front of them reddening his cheeks.  He
     looked to Sharpy, who was getting up himself to go greet Jon’s
     parents.
Jon and the two Patricks were engaged in a rather competitive game of Mario
Kart that they’d rented to have something to do in the hotel room.  None of
them paid attention when they heard the door to the room open, figuring it was
just probably Richard coming back.  Jon gave a quick glance up, to acknowledge
his attorney’s presence.  He froze, his mouth dropping open in shock.  His
attention diverted from the game, his kart crashed into Patrick’s, wrecking
them both and allowing Sharpy to fly past them to the finish line.  He was
laughing at them as Patrick swore at Jon.
“What the fuck, Toe-es!”  Patrick quipped at Jon. 
“Um, Maman, Papa, what are you doing here?”  Jon had recovered and jumped up to
greet his parents who had walked in with Richard.
Patrick sat in stunned silence and he watched Jon hug his parents, a blush for
having sworn in front of them reddening his cheeks.  He looked to Sharpy, who
was getting up himself to go greet Jon’s parents.
“Andrée.  Bryan.  What a great surprise.” Sharpy said.  “It’s good to see you
both again.”
So, evidently Sharpy’s met the parents, Patrick surmised.  And he likes them,
that’s good.  He cautiously got up and stepped over to stand just behind Jon as
he and Sharpy talked to the elder Toews.  Jon’s mother looked up and saw him.
“And you must be Patrick,” she practically squealed, pushing between Jon and
Sharpy.  She threw her arms around Patrick and pulled him into a warm embrace. 
“Aren’t you just so handsome.”
When she let him go, Bryan Toews was beside him.  Patrick expected him to just
offer his hand for Patrick to shake, and was taken off-guard when he too threw
his arms around Patrick and pulled him into a hug.  “Jon’s told us all about
you, son.  Glad to finally meet you.”
When Bryan released Patrick, the teen stepped back, completely unsure of what
to do or think at the moment.  He stared blankly at them for a few seconds
before excusing himself and darting off to one of the bedroom.  He was sitting
on the edge of the bed shaking when there was a soft knock and Jon opened the
door and came in.
“Patrick?”  Jon sat down next to him and draped his arm over Patrick’s
shoulders.  “What’s wrong?  Are you okay?”
“Your parents, they’re here.”
“Well, yeah.  I’m as surprised as you, they never told me they were coming.”
“Why?  Why are they… what do they think…”
“They wanted to come help, they said.  Be here for support tomorrow.”  Jon
explained.  “And, you don’t need to worry or be upset.  They don’t bite, ya
know.”
“I just, well… they hugged me and I just didn’t know what to say or do and…”
“Yeah, I should have warned you about that, they are huggers.  I’m sorry.  I
can tell them that you don’t want them to do that.  Okay.  Come back out and
visit.  They really want to get to know you, and you know that they’re out
there alone with Sharpy at the moment.  God knows what shit he’s telling them.”
That made Patrick chuckle.  Sitting up, he took in Jon’s expression.  His dark
eyes shining brightly.  A broad smile making his whole face light up.  Patrick
felt the now familiar warmth spread through him as he looked at Jon.  A feeling
of comfort, safety… love.  He’d calmed down and stopped shaking, so he nodded,
then followed Jon back out to face his parents.
Andrée Toews was not like Patrick’s mother in any way, shape or form.  Nor was
Bryan Toews like Patrick Kane, Sr. in any way.  They were complete polar
opposites from the parents Patrick had known growing up.  They were warm and
friendly, and a lot like Jon.  It didn’t take long for Patrick’s fears about
meeting them to slip away.  They spent the rest of the day sitting around just
chatting.
The boys filled Andrée and Bryan in on what they expected to happen at the
Family Court hearing the next day.  With the waiver of parental rights in hand,
they didn’t think this judge would give them any opposition.  Richard had
huffed at that and called Judge Miller a choice name, though.  Jon’s parents
laughed at that. 
With the criminal case settled by the plea agreement, the interest by most of
the Buffalo press had started to die down.  There were a few sports reporters
hanging around, looking for a story about the involvement of the two Blackhawks
in this case.  The team, and Jon’s agent, had informed them that a statement
would be released when all of the civil proceedings were wrapped up as well.
Because it was quieter, Richard thought it would be okay for them to slip out
for dinner at a nice restaurant since Andrée and Bryan had come.  He had the
hotel’s concierge make reservations for them at an upscale place not too far
away, where they’d have a table tucked off in a private corner.  It would do
Jon and Patrick to get out as well, he thought.  The stress of everything and
being cooped up in a hotel room was starting to show.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
---------
Jon noticed that Patrick was quiet and reserved all through dinner and then
back at the hotel, too.   Patrick didn’t say much, just laughed a few times
when Andrée and Bryan shared some embarrassing story about Jon growing up. 
Patrick sat and watched the others, and Jon sat and watched Patrick.
When everyone decided it was time to turn in for the night, there was almost a
war over who would sleep where.   Richard had the single room and the two boys
had been sharing the other bedroom with Sharpy, because none of them wanted to
sleep on the pull-out sofa bed.  
Richard could move out of the single bed room, giving it to Bryan and Andrée,
Sharpy had said that Richard could then share a room with him, while the boys
moved out to the sleeper sofa.  Sharpy informed Jon that he had the right to
the regular bed because of his age.  Jon had informed Sharpy that being captain
beat the age thing.   That’s when it almost got ugly, but Richard said he’d
just get another room for the few days they expected to still have to be in
Buffalo. 
Crisis averted, they all said good night and headed to bed.
Around 3 am, Jon rolled over and found Patrick’s side of the bed empty.  When
he didn’t hear Patrick in the bathroom or up moving around, he got up to go
find him, a little worried that Patrick may have taken off.  He found him
sitting on the couch out in the main room.
Patrick had his knees drawn up, his arms hugging them tightly to his chest. 
His head was resting on the back couch cushion.  Jon could hear the quiet
sniffling.
“Patrick?  You okay?”
“Yeah, just go back to bed, Jonny.”
Jon sat down next to him, letting his hand reach over to stroke through
Patrick’s curls.
“It’s not okay if you’re sitting out here in the dark crying.  What’s wrong? 
Worried about tomorrow?”
Patrick shook his head, “Un uh… it’s nothing.”
“Come on, Peeks.  Talk to me.”
Patrick changed his position, moving so he could lean against Jon’s chest.  Jon
slipped his arms around Patrick, soothingly rubbing one hand up and down
Patrick’s back.
“I like your parents.  They’re great.”  Patrick began softly.  “You were,
you’re really lucky to have them.”
“They like you.  Maman told me she thinks you’re pretty cute.”  Jon kissed
Patrick’s temple.  “They want us to come back to Winnipeg with them to stay
until I have to be back in Chicago.”
“I guess that would be okay.”  Patrick sighed.
“What?  What’s wrong, Peeks.”
“I wish, I wish my parents, my family.  I wish they’d have been more like
yours.”
“I know.  I feel so bad, Patrick, that you had the kind of life you’ve had.  I
can’t imagine.  I can’t even think about what that would have been like.”
“I let it happen.”  Patrick whispered, his voice a little shakier than it had
been.  “I let them send me with him.  I wanted to get away from them, away from
all the yelling, and having to do all the work to help my mom because of my
sisters.  Because she was always just taking care of them.  She never had time
for me.  So, when he suggested I go with him to play hockey, I wanted to go.”
“Patrick, what happened wasn’t your fault.  Talked about this, remember.”
“I know but, I feel like I did something wrong.  Like it was wrong of me to
want to get away from them.  They’re my parents.”
“They may be your parents, but that doesn’t mean they were your mother and
father.  And that’s what hurts about Anderson, too.  He was more of a father to
you than your own dad, and what he did, when he broke that trust.  That hurt.”
“What my dad did hurt, too.  It hurts so much.”  Patrick sniffled a few times
and Jon felt him shake when he took a few breaths, trying to hold in the sobs
Jon knew.
“I know, Peeks.”
“I loved them, Jonny.  Despite it all, I loved them.  When I went with him, it
was so hard to do.  I just wanted to feel like they loved me back.  But I never
really think I ever felt like they did.”
***** Buffalo - Part II *****
Chapter Summary
     “So.  Ms. Callahan tells me that Mr. and Mrs. Kane have signed a
     waiver relinquishing all parental rights.  Is that still true, Mr.
     McGrath?”  Judge Miller questioned Richard.  He wanted to sigh,
     Miller knew it was true.  His attitude was really beginning to annoy
     Jon’s attorney, but he remained the professional and answered the
     judge’s questions.  Play nice, he kept repeating in his head.
     The judge addressed Patrick then, making him come up and sit in the
     witness box next to the judge’s bench area.  He made Patrick tell him
     everything about his relationship with his coach, about the abuse,
     and about what his parents had done. 
Donna Kane was waiting outside the courtroom, Patrick’s three sisters gathered
around her.  Patrick stepped off the elevator, laughing at something Sharpy had
said.  When he saw her, he froze in his tracks.  Since she had waived her
parental rights, he hadn’t expected to see her at the hearing. 
“Who’s that?”  Andrée looked around Jon to see what had made the boys stop.
“My mom.” Patrick said apathetically.  “Why’s she here, Jonny?”
“I don’t know.  Want me to tell her you don’t want to talk to her?”  Jon asked,
concern in his voice because of the look of apprehension on Patrick’s face.
“I’m gonna give that woman a piece of my mind.” Andrée said in French, starting
to step around Jon, her mother bear instincts kicking in.
“Maman, no.” He took her arm to stop her at the same time his father did. 
“Don’t you dare.”
“Well, she hurt Patrick.  She needs to be told just how horrible a thing they
did to him.”  She protested.  “Just give me five minutes.”
“Andrée, you need to stay out of this.  She’s still the boy’s mother,” Bryan
told her, watching Patrick’s reaction to seeing his mother.  There was anger in
Patrick’s expression, but hurt also.
“No.  It’s okay.”  Patrick spoke up, he didn’t understand Andrée’s words, but
Jon and Bryan’s reaction, along with her tone, gave him an idea of what she was
saying.  “Just ignore her.”
Patrick led the group towards the courtroom.  He stopped in front of his
mother, telling the others to go in without him.  Jon had protested, but Sharpy
took him by the arm and dragged him into the other room, leaving Patrick alone
with his mother and sisters.
“What do you want?”
“I thought you’d like to see the girls,” Donna said.  “You haven’t seen them in
over a year.”
That took Patrick by surprise, made his stop and think.  It had been over a
year.  More like a year and a half.  The last time he’d been home was for
Christmas when he was 16.  It had been a short visit, Patrick wanting to get
out of there as quickly as he could, afraid someone would figure out what his
coach was doing.  Afraid they’d make him stay there.  That, and things were
very strained between his parents and him.  Now he knew why.
“Did you know?”  Patrick asked bluntly, not acknowledging his sisters.  “Did
you know about the money.”
Donna Kane hung her head down, unable to look at Patrick for a moment.  Then
she slowly nodded.
“How could you let him do that to me?”
“Erica, Jess, Jackie, go wait for me over by the elevators.”  She directed the
girls. 
Patrick watched them walk away, following orders.  He barely knew them, not
even Erica, who was the closest in age to him.  In the six years he’d lived
with William Anderson he could count the number of times he’d been home for a
visit on both hands, he realized.  And it was never for more than a few days. 
He’d been close to Erica once, when they were little, but all his feelings for
his sisters had slipped away over the last few years.  They were just as much
strangers to him as his parents had become.
“He didn’t hurt you.”  Donna said once the girls were out of earshot.  “What he
did.  And he took care of you.  Gave you a home, clothes.  Made sure you had
the best of everything to play hockey.  You always seemed so happy when you
came home. Your father said…”
“I don’t give a fuck what he said.  You let Coach Anderson abuse me.  You let
him pay you so he could.  What the fuck?  That is just so, so, I don’t know. 
And you think he didn’t hurt me?  Jesus fucking Christ.”
Donna raised a hand as if to slap Patrick across the face, but stopped when she
saw the defiant glare in his eyes.  “Don’t blasphemy, Patrick.”  She admonished
instead.
“I’ll do whatever I want.  You gave up the right to tell me what to do a long
time ago.”  Patrick snapped back.  “Do you even care that he raped me last
November?  That was why I ran away.  You think that wasn’t hurting me?  He
fucking beat me, held me down and raped me, Mom.”
Patrick was on the verge of falling apart.  He knew he couldn’t, not when he
had to be in control in front of the judge in just a few minutes.  He clenched
his fists at his sides, trying to keep back the tears and the emotions.
“You just need to go.  I don’t want anything to do with any of you.” He hissed
through clenched teeth.
Donna stood there, not moving.  She acted like she was going to say something
else, but was stopped by the commanding voice that came from behind her.
“You heard him.  He said you need to go.”  Andrée Toews said in a voice that
made it clear where Jon had learned his captain’s voice. 
Donna stood, stunned for a few seconds as Andrée pushed past her to put her arm
around Patrick and stand next to him.  “Patrick doesn’t need you or want you. 
He has a family that loves him now.  That wants him.”
“He’s my son.” Donna retorted.
“You should have thought about that when you sold him to that man.  Now go on,
before I call court security.”  Andrée reprimanded the other woman.  “Come on,
Patrick, honey, we need to go in for the hearing.”
Patrick let Andrée usher him through the doors and into the courtroom, leaving
a shocked Donna Kane standing in the hall.  Patrick sat down next to Jon while
Andrée went and sat with Sharpy and Bryan.  Patrick was shaking and trying to
get his breathing to slow down.
“Your… your… your mom…” He stuttered out to Jon.  “She just told my mom off.”
“She’s pretty protective of her children.”  Jon said softly, his arm across
Patrick’s shoulders, steadying him.  “I saw her get up, should’ve followed
her.  I’m sorry.”
“No.  I mean.  Holy shit, Jon.  She… she did that… for me.  Holy shit.”
“I told you she liked you.  You’re stuck with us now.”  Jon joked, trying to
get Patrick to relax.
It took a few minutes, but Jon was able to get Patrick calmed down before the
judge came in.  They all stood, then Patrick and Richard moved to a table on
the other side of a partition railing.  A woman from Family Services sat at the
other table.
“So.  Ms. Callahan tells me that Mr. and Mrs. Kane have signed a waiver
relinquishing all parental rights.  Is that still true, Mr. McGrath?”  Judge
Miller questioned Richard.  He wanted to sigh, Miller knew it was true.  His
attitude was really beginning to annoy Jon’s attorney, but he remained the
professional and answered the judge’s questions.  Play nice, he kept repeating
in his head.
The judge addressed Patrick then, making him come up and sit in the witness box
next to the judge’s bench area.  He made Patrick tell him everything about his
relationship with his coach, about the abuse, and about what his parents had
done.  Jon’s heart ached for Patrick having to reiterate his story again.  It
had been bad enough when he’d had to detail it to the prosecutors in London and
here in Buffalo, as well as to the people from Family Services.  Every time
Patrick had to go through this, he was always so withdrawn for the next day or
two.
Finally, the judge asked Patrick to tell him why he ran away and where he’d
been.  Patrick told him about the rape, his voice faltering, obviously
distressed.  Jon wasn’t sure the judge wasn’t getting off on causing Patrick
pain.
Patrick paused for a moment before he talked about running away.  No one had
asked him much about it before this, and Patrick had not offered much
information.  What he said next would have huge ramifications for both he and
Jon if he didn’t say it convincingly. 
“I hitchhiked my way to Chicago.  I fell in with this group of other runaways. 
We all looked out for each other and well, did what we could to get food and
stuff.”
“Did you prostitute yourself?”  Miller questioned.  Yeah, Jon thought, he gets
off on that stuff too.”
“No, Sir.”  Patrick lied.  “I didn’t have to, the guy, the guy that was in
charge, he didn’t make anybody do anything they didn’t want to do.  So I didn’t
do that.  I just helped with stuff where we stayed, you know, finding fire
wood, just asking people for money, um, panhandling, isn’t that what it’s
called?  I didn’t do anything else.”
“And, I’m curious.  How did you meet Mr. Toews?”
“I was outside a store with a couple of other kids and he recognized me.  Being
a hockey player and all, he’d seen my picture before and knew who I was.” 
Patrick tried his best to stay calm and sound convincing.  “He called the
Chicago PD.  And while everything was getting straightened out, and I was
telling them about my coach, he stuck around at the PD, and we talked a
little.  That’s how we became friends.  I told them I wouldn’t take off if they
let me stay with Jon while they worked out details to take me back to London. 
He was nice, and generous, offering to have his lawyer help me and to support
me through all of this.”
“That is an extremely generous thing to do for a stranger.  Don’t you think?” 
Miller sounded skeptical.
“I played hockey.  We kinda bonded over that I guess.”
“How do you plan to support yourself, Patrick?”  Miller asked, evidently
satisfied with Patrick’s answers about Jon.
“I’m planning on going back to Chicago.  Jon, and Mr. Sharp, have offered to
help me get settled.  I intend to find a job and maybe go to college.”  Patrick
looked at Jon and smiled.  “They’ve offered to help me financially until I do
get a job and can pay them back.”
Miller shuffled through the papers in Patrick’s file for a few minutes, as if
pondering what he wanted to ask him next. 
“Ms. Callahan, the state has no objection to the emancipation of this minor?”
“No, your Honor.”
“Okay.  The court is going to take a short recess to review the information
you’ve provided today.  We’ll reconvene in one hour.”  He slammed his gavel
down, stood and walked out. 
When they exited the courtroom, there was no sign of Donna Kane and Patrick’s
sisters.  Thank god for small favors that they had apparently left and Patrick
wouldn’t have to face them again.  Jon and Sharpy walked down the hallway in
search of a restroom while the others sat down on several benches outside the
courtroom.  They came back to find that Patrick and Andrée had gone for a walk.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--
A half-hour later, Jon heard laughter and looked up to see his mom and Patrick
exiting the elevator.  His mom had her arm looped in Patrick’s as he escorted
her down the hallway.  Patrick was smiling and looked happier than he had since
they left Chicago.  Andrée patted Patrick’s arm and gave him a kiss on the
cheek as she thanked him for the nice walk.
It wasn’t very long before the court clerk was calling them back in, Patrick’s
smile faded as he sat down next to Richard again.  Jon was sitting next to him
this time, having refused to sit in the galley, saying that Patrick needed his
support.
Judge Miller came in and they all stood again.  Once everyone was seated, he
called to proceeding back to order.
“So, I have reviewed all of the information.  And, I am reluctant to grant the
petition for emancipation.”  He began.
Patrick’s heart sank.  He couldn’t believe the judge would really do that.  Jon
reached under the table and took his hand, squeezing it. 
“It’ll be okay.” He whispered to Patrick.  Patrick just looked down at the
table.
“I have my doubts as to the truthfulness of your statements about your time as
a runaway.  I also question your ability to take care of yourself, to make wise
choices, given the fact you did run away from your home, regardless of the
conditions.  You should have gone to the authorities or someone instead of just
running off.”
Patrick looked up at him, even more startled by this guy’s attitude.  He
couldn’t have seriously thought Patrick should stay with his coach, that the
abuse didn’t matter.  And for a judge working family court, the guy had unreal
expectations about how a child could deal with abuse.  Like he could have told
anyone, be real, he thought.
“Your Honor,” Richard started to protest what he knew was coming, but the judge
held up his hand and waved him off.
“I said I was reluctant to grant the emancipation, counselor.  I think that Mr.
Kane, while being close to 18, still needs some guidance.  Mr. Sharp, would you
please join the others at the table.”  He directed.
Sharpy got up and went to stand next to the table, giving Patrick a wink to
reassure him that he thought it would be alright.
“Mr. Sharp, are you sure you are willing to take responsibility for Patrick? 
Someone you barely know?”
“Yes, your Honor.”  Patrick replied.  “It would be similar to billeting a
younger player, or having a rookie live with me, so yes, I would be happy to
take in Patrick.”
“Very well.  I am inclined then to grant the petition making Patrick Sharp the
legal guardian for Patrick Kane.  Effective until Mr. Kane’s eighteenth
birthday.  I wish you all the best and good luck with your future young man. 
Court adjourned.”  With that, he slammed his gavel down and got up and left.
Patrick wasn’t sure he’d heard right.  The judge had said okay to the
guardianship at least.  He wouldn’t have to go back to his mom or to a foster
home.  He could go to Chicago with Jonny.  Jonny, who had pulled him into a
bear hug. 
Sharpy hugged him next, then Andrée and Bryan.  Patrick thanked Richard over
and over again.  The attorney said he really hadn’t done anything, but he
hugged Patrick, too.
To celebrate, Patrick asked if they could all go to the Anchor Bar that night
for wings.  Before then, though, he and Jon took a taxi to one of the beaches
along Lake Erie.  They walked hand-in-hand up and down the shore collecting
beach glass all afternoon. 
***** A Fresh Start *****
Chapter Summary
     Every day Patrick relaxed more, the past slipping further and further
     away from his thoughts.  He started to let himself believe that he
     could have a life with Jon, with Jon’s family.  And he started to let
     himself dream about the future.
July was almost over by the time everything was settled.  Patrick and Jon flew
back to Winnipeg to spend what was left of the off-season with Jon’s family,
away from the press and prying eyes. 
The ‘Hawks had issued a press release regarding Jon and Sharpy’s involvement
with Patrick, repeating the story Patrick told Judge Miller with some added
details.  They weren’t sure the press bought it any more than Miller had, but
they made it clear that as far as the team management was concerned, it was a
non-story.  They would deal with Patrick and Jon being together when the two
got back to Chicago, if needed. 
Patrick loved Jon’s family.  Andrée and Bryan made him feel the way he’d always
wanted his parents to make him feel.  And David, Jon’s brother, was the best. 
He was a year younger than Patrick and they’d bonded instantly, banding
together to torment Jon most of the time.  The three teen age boys spent most
days just hanging out.
They spent a week in August at the Toews’ cabin on a nearby lake.  Every day
Patrick relaxed more, the past slipping further and further away from his
thoughts.  He started to let himself believe that he could have a life with
Jon, with Jon’s family.  And he started to let himself dream about the future.
“I need to find a job when we get home,” he commented to Jon one day as they
were lying in the sun drying off after a swim.  “And do you think Sharpy’s
gonna make me live with him?”
“I don’t know.  We didn’t really talk about it.”  Jon sat up.  “Can I ask you
something without you getting mad?”
“Maybe.”  Patrick sat up, too, taking in Jon’s serious tone.  “Depends.  Ask at
your own risk, Toe-es.”
“Do you really not want to play hockey anymore?”
Patrick’s initial reflex was to blurt out a strong no, but he didn’t.  He
reached down and fidgeted with the towel he was lying on, smoothing the
material against the wooden dock.  Thinking.
“Peeks?”  Jon put his hand on Patrick’s, stilling it.  “I’m sorry.  I’ll quit
asking.  Not mad are you?”
“No.”  Patrick said, softly.  “I’m not mad.  I, uh, I just, I don’t know.  I
don’t want to go back to London, or play in the OHL, I guess.  But, I don’t
know.  I loved hockey.”
“So, you’d maybe play if you didn’t have to play there?”  Jon questioned.
“What are you getting at Jon?  Where would I play if not there?  The Knights
drafted me, so they hold my rights still.”
“What if,” Jon rubbed the back of Patrick’s hand with his thumb.  “What if you
could play in Chicago?  Would you want to play again?”
Patrick tipped his head to the side, confused.  What did Jon mean if he could
play in Chicago.  Patrick thought about it for a few minutes.  If he was honest
with himself, it wasn’t that he had loved hockey, it was that he loved, still
loves, hockey.  Deep down inside.  Skating.  A puck on the end of his stick. 
Beating a goalie and burying the puck in the net.  It was what had made his
life growing up better.
Until Anderson did what he did. 
Patrick wanted to be the best at hockey.  He was good already, but he wanted to
be better, and Anderson had used that against him.  And no matter what anyone
said, in his mind, Patrick had let him.  Well, twelve-year-old Patrick had let
him, because it meant extra ice time and extra practice time and special
instruction time to work on skills.  But as he got older, as what his coach did
changed and became more than just blow jobs and hand jobs, Patrick had started
to resent hockey.  Hockey was what kept him with his coach.  Hockey was what
made him let his coach do things.  At some point, the threat of taking hockey
away started to lose its power.  And Patrick became willing to give up hockey. 
But…
“I think, maybe, I love hockey.  I did miss it, more than I thought.”  Patrick
finally admitted to Jon.  “Why, what do you mean playing in Chicago.”
“Just something that I’ve been thinking about.  If you’re interested.”
“Okay.  You’ve got me curious.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Two days after they got back to Chicago, Patrick and Jon sat in Stan Bowman’s
office.  The ‘Hawks GM was on the phone with Dale Hunter, owner and president
of the London Knights.  Jon had taken up Stan on his offer of ‘anything’ to
help Patrick.
“I know, Dale.  I know.  But when it comes right down to it, isn’t it more
important to do what’s in the best interest of this kid?  Okay then, I’m glad
you agree.  So, we’ve set up a try-out for him with the Steel.  If they’re on
board, you’ll release him to come play out here?  Yeah, yeah, I know.  You’re
giving up a good prospect.  But from what I’ve seen of him, you’d only be
losing him for one season.  I’m thinking he could make the league the next
year.”  Stan winked at Jon and Patrick.  “Great, Dale.  I’ll have my people
send over a written agreement for the Steel.  Thanks, again.  It’s the right
thing.  I think he deserves a chance and a clean slate.  Yeah.  Okay, thanks. 
Bye.”
Stan hung up the phone, a broad smile on his face.  “Well, it’s a done deal
boys.  Patrick can play for the Steel.”
“You told him I had to try out.”  Patrick sounded confused.  “When do I have to
do that?”
“Well, about that.  I may not have been quite honest about that.  The try-out
will be just a formality.  I’ve already talked to their GM and coach and well,
you’re set to start their training camp next week.”
Patrick looked back and forth between Jon and Stan, unbelieving that the ‘Hawks
GM would do this for him, pull a few strings so that Patrick would be able to
live with Jon and play hockey.  It was a bit overwhelming.
“Thank you.” Patrick shook Stan’s hand.  “Thank you so much.  I can’t imagine. 
I mean, all you’ve done.”
“Not a problem, son.  Let me put it this way, you’ve become part of Jonathan’s
family, which makes you part of the ‘Hawks’ family.  And we take care of our
family.  I’m glad you got out of a bad situation, and what I said to Dale,
about you deserving a chance at a fresh start, I meant that.  If I can do
anything any time to help you, all you need to do is ask.”
“One thing.”  Patrick paused as he stood to leave.  “You told him you thought
he’d only be losing me for one season.  That you think I could play in the
NHL.  You really believe that?”
“I’m counting on it son.” Bowman winked at him.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
---------------
Sharpy.  Wise, all knowing – his words – seasoned veteran Sharpy.  He had taken
Patrick to lunch when he got back to town and had a serious conversation with
the teenager.  They had discussed Patrick’s living arrangements, the
possibility that Patrick could or would play hockey again, and how Sharpy could
help him out with things.
Sharpy wasn’t opposed to Patrick living with Jon, if that was what the boys
wanted.  But he wanted to make sure that Patrick knew what kind of scrutiny it
would bring.  The ‘Hawks and Jon were prepared to issue a press release stating
that Jon and Patrick were in a relationship and that they had the full support
of the team, Jon’s teammates, and Jon’s family.  If that was what it came to,
that is.
If Patrick lived with Sharpy and his wife, there would be fewer questions.
“What do you think I should do?”  Patrick had asked.
“Well, here’s what I think.  It’ll be tough on both of you if you come out. 
You starting on a new team in a new league, but then again, from what Stan has
said, the Steel should be okay.  It depends on how much you think you can
take.  There’s likely to be a lot of guys who’ll try to push your buttons,
especial given the rumors and stories about your coach that have spread.  As
for Jonny, it’ll be tough on him, too.  But not in our locker room.  Jon
already came out to everyone last spring, when he needed help for you.  Around
the league and with the press, maybe.  But Jon’s a pretty strong kid, I don’t
see him backing down to any pressure or harassment.  He’ll weather whatever
shit storm blows through.”
“I’d like to live with Jon.  If you’re sure it’ll be okay.  I think that I can
take what would come from it.  I’m done running away.”  Patrick smiled weakly
at Sharpy.  “I’ve got Jon.  As long as I do, I think I can handle whatever
happens.”
Sharpy grinned, “That’s what I thought.  Okay, so Jon’s got a good contract,
and he told me that he’s got no problem supporting you while you play.  I told
him I feel like I should do something, you are my responsibility after all. 
So, I’m going to get you a vehicle of your own, so you can drive yourself to
practices and games.  It’ll make things easier.”
Patrick’s face lit up.
“Okay, don’t get too excited, I’m not springing for anything fancy.  Something
used, low mileage, good condition.  Okay.”
“Yeah.  A car is still a car.  Thanks.”
“No problem, Peeks.  You just play your best, okay.”  Sharpy got a serious look
on his face then.  “One more thing.  I want you to see a counselor, or
therapist, or someone.  To talk to about what happened with your coach, and
well, everything you’ve gone through.  Would you be willing to do that?”
Patrick hesitated, uneasy about the thought of therapy.  “Can I think about
it?”
“Yeah.  But not long, okay.  A few days.  I got a recommendation from Doc T for
someone.  I think you ought to start it before things get more complicated with
you and Jon coming out.”
“Okay.  I’ll let you know tomorrow.” 
They finished their meal while they talked about the Steel and Patrick getting
to play hockey again.
---------------------------------------------------
"Where am I supposed to put these boxes?" Patrick yelled at Jon from the living
room of their new house.
"What do they say?"
"Books."  Patrick yelled back.  "And they're heavy."
"Um," Jon came out of the kitchen.  "How bout we make the second room on the
right down the hall into an office.  They could go in there."
"Fine," Patrick huffed as he adjusted the box in his arms and carried it down
the hall.  Jon heard it thud against the floor.  Patrick reappeared a few
minutes later.
"So, you haven't really said, Jonny.  Which bedroom do you want?"
"Well, I thought we'd use the back bedroom.  It's away from the street so it
should be quieter."  Jon said as he put dishes away into the kitchen
cupboards.  "If that's okay.  We can make the other one into a guest room for
when my parents visit."
Patrick strode over and wrapped his arms around Jon, squeezing him tightly to
his chest.  "I'm so happy, Jonny.  I can't believe we got this house.  A home. 
I have a home, a real home."
Jon turned around and kissed Patrick, letting Patrick melt against him. 
"I love you, Peeks."  he whispered into Patrick hair once he broke away from
the kiss.  "I'm glad this is our house, too.  Our home."
"Our home."  Patrick sighed.
***** Leave The Past Behind *****
Chapter Summary
     Patrick looked up into Jon’s eyes, taking in the love that Jon
     offered him.  His future was in those eyes, that smile.  His future
     was wrapped up in the feel of Jon’s arms around him.  His future was
     written across his back, the name KANE in bold letters.  His future
     looked full of hope and promise for the first time in a long time.
Chapter Notes
     This is a wrap up chapter... I could have drawn out the story longer,
     but I think this was a good way to end this part of the story...
     surprisingly, I like these two in this AU and think I will come back
     and write more, making it a series at some point. But for now... this
     is the happy ending I have promised in response to several
     comments...
     Thank you for reading. Thank you for all the kudos and wonderful
     comments. Thank you... thank you... thank you...
     Oh... and I know it's all roses and rainbows... and a bit of a cheesy
     line at the end... but hey... it happens...
Jon had gotten the idea after talking with Patrick one day about Jason and his
group.  They’d brought up again how lucky Patrick had been to fall in with
them, how things could have ended very differently for him.  Patrick wanted to
do something to help them out, and that got Jon thinking.
He’d gone to his teammates to pitch the project, and as he expected, they were
all on board right away.  A group of them had then gone to the team management
to ask that the Blackhawks organization match whatever money the players
raised.  By the time they were done, they had enough to purchase the building,
complete the renovations, and set up a trust for the day-to-day operations and
expenses, at least enough for the first year, with plans for ongoing
fundraising. 
Jon and Patrick had then gone to Jason’s group and explained the project to
them.  They’d been stunned at the offer, completely overcome by the generosity
of those involved.  Engineers and architects had taken over their home a few
days later, checking for structural integrity and drawing up the renovation
plans.  That was in October.
The group had been moved to a hotel while the renovations were completed over
the next several months.  It was set to open by mid-April.  Patrick, Jon, Jason
and all the others were being given a tour prior to the official opening.
“What should we call it?”  Jon asked Patrick, as they toured the finished
building.  He already knew what his choice was, but he’d give Patrick the
option to name the new place.
“I don’t know.  What were you thinking?”  Patrick replied.
“I like Patrick’s Place.”
Patrick blushed and dipped his head to his chest, embarrassed.  “Come on. 
Really?”
“Uh huh, and I talked to Jason and the others, they agree.”
So, that settled it.  Patrick’s Place would be the name of the renovated office
building that would become a shelter for homeless teens.  Jason would be the
director of the facility and several of the others, Krista, Mikey, Nicky,
Tonya, and Jessie, would be on the staff for now.  They would all live there,
too; the fourth floor having been made into apartments for them.
While they worked, they’d be able to go back to school if they wanted as well. 
Jason had already started taking college classes online.  Basically, they would
be doing what they’d been doing.  Living, working – but no longer on the
streets – and finding wayward kids to help out.
The first floor was set up as an intake center, with offices and meeting
rooms.  The second floor was the girls’ dormitory style living quarters and the
third floor would house the boys.  Technically, it was supposed to be only for
ages 18 to 21, but no questions were going to be asked if kids under 18
happened to find their way into the shelter.  In addition to a place to stay,
the facility would help those that wanted find a job or housing.  It was an
ambitious project to be sure, but Jon and Patrick had faith that Jason would
make it work.
The best part to Patrick was that it got his friends off the streets and into a
safe environment.  He couldn’t wait to be able to come volunteer at the
shelter.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
June…
The Blackhawks had made the playoffs, but got knocked out in the conference
finals this time.  They were getting closer and Jonny was still doing well as
the captain.  His relationship with Patrick had been made public about half-way
through the season.  There’d been some initial backlash in the press, but when
the ‘Hawks, players and management alike, took everything in stride, the story
soon became a non-issue. 
Patrick loved hockey again.  It was evident every time he stepped on the ice. 
By December, he led the Steel in goals and overall points.  That was when Stan
Bowman had come up to him at the ‘Hawks’ Christmas party and had a rather
interesting talk with him.
“Patrick, son!” Stan had bellowed from across the room.  “We need to talk.”
Patrick had let Stan lead him to a quiet corner of the room, where the older
man stood with his arm over Patrick’s shoulders.
“You’re having a hell of a season so far.  Really tearing up the league.”
“Thank you.  I like playing for them.” Patrick smiled.
“Well, that’s great.  But,” Stan looked around and then lowered his voice. 
“Just don’t play so well that you draw too much attention.  Okay?”
At first Patrick thought Stan was making a comment about drawing attention to
his relationship with Jon, that had just been made public.  But then Stan had
winked at him and added, “Don’t want the competition to get any ideas about
stealing you.”
Patrick hadn’t quick gotten what he meant, well, he did, but surely Stan Bowman
couldn’t be implying what Patrick thought.  Stan had patted him on the back and
walked away after that.  He hadn’t said anything else along those lines
whenever he saw Patrick for the rest of the season.
Patrick didn’t expect to get drafted, even though he was eligible this year. 
He hadn’t gone to the combine, an indication that a player was open to be
drafted.  He’d told Jon that maybe the next year he’d go.  Jon had just smiled
and said okay, but he’d insisted that Patrick travel with him to the draft,
which was being held in St. Louis that year.  Jon told him that the ‘Hawks had
asked that the captain be there to welcome their new draftees to the team.
They were sitting in the audience watching the proceedings when the ‘Hawks got
their first pick late in the second round.  Jon was practically bouncing in his
seat Patrick noticed.
“Jesus, Jon, relax.  All you have to do is go down and hand the guy a
sweater.”  Patrick remarked.  “Who do you think they’ll take?”
“I’m guessing a winger.” Jon said, looking at Patrick sheepishly.
Patrick saw Bowman and Quenneville get up and walk to the stage.
“Shouldn’t you be going with them?” Patrick nudged Jon.
“Uh, no.  Just wait.”
Patrick stared at Jon for a minute, taking in the stupid grin across his face
and the way his eyes were focused completely on Patrick.  His attention then
darted to Stan Bowman standing at the podium.
“Chicago selects, from the United States Hockey League Chicago Steel, Patrick
Kane.”
Patrick’s jaw drops.  “No way.  Jonny?  No way.” 
Jon stands and pulls Patrick up into his arms, hugging him tightly.  Patrick
can’t move, can’t think.  This can’t possibly be happening.
“Go on, Peeks.  This is all about you right now.”  Jon whispers in his ear. 
Patrick makes his way down to the stage where he slips on a ‘Hawks’ sweater,
shakes hands with all of their reps, then stands between Stan and Joel for a
picture.
“Took some doing to keep a couple of the other teams from grabbing you,” Stan
tells him.  “Welcome to the team!”
Patrick thanks them all, still in shock as he’s interviewed by several media
people.  Finally, he makes his way back to Jon, who’s standing just off stage. 
Jon pulls Patrick into his arms again, giving him a quick kiss.
“You knew.  You fucking knew and didn’t say anything.”
“I was hoping nobody else picked you.  God, it was a little nerve-racking.  But
Stan was pretty sure he’d covered his bases with everyone.”  Jon looks much
more relaxed, but still excited.  “He was going to make a trade with Dallas if
he had to, because they had the pick in front of Boston, and Boston was pretty
interested in you and the guy they took.  At the last minute, they told Stan
they would take the other guy.”
“I can’t… I just can’t fucking believe this.  Holy fuck, Jon.  We could be
playing together in a year or two.”
“I’m thinking next season, Peeks.  I’m betting you have no problem making the
team this fall.”
“You think?” 
“I think we’re gonna win the Cup together, Peeks.  I know it!”
Patrick looked up into Jon’s eyes, taking in the love that Jon offered him. 
His future was in those eyes, that smile.  His future was wrapped up in the
feel of Jon’s arms around him.  His future was written across his back, the
name KANE in bold letters.  His future looked full of hope and promise for the
first time in a long time.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------
The following June…
Patrick knew the minute the puck crossed the goal line.  Nobody else saw it. 
The official didn’t even signal it at first.  The goal light didn’t come on
right away.  But Patrick knew.
He skated past the bench, yelling, throwing his gloves and stick in the air. 
He skated to the other side of the ice as he pulled his helmet off and threw it
in the air, too.  Patrick headed straight for Jon, screaming at him.
Jon had been trailing the play, just crossing the blue line as Patrick got to
the net.  He didn’t see it go in, but saw Patrick’s reaction.  When Patrick
threw his gloves, Jon knew.  That was about the time the red goal light went on
and the crowd erupted.  Jon threw his gear as he watched Patrick turn and head
straight for him.
“Goal, baby!” Jon yelled.  “You did it Peeks!  You fucking did it!”
“Holy fuck, Jonny!  The Cup!  We won the fucking Cup!”  Patrick jumped into
Jon’s arms.
The others quickly swarmed them, all of them falling down into one large pile
on the ice as they celebrated. 
A short time later, Patrick stood next to Sharpy as Jon hoisted the Cup over
his head.  He watched as it was passed from one teammate to another until it
was finally his turn.  As he skated with the Cup, hearing the fans cheer,
hearing his teammates yell for him, Patrick realized that he had finally,
completely left his past behind.
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