Archive of Our Own

It starts simply enough.

Patrick is a Mama’s Boy, through and through. His mama might disapprove of the fact that he’s dating a man nearly twice his age -- she still doesn’t believe that he’s dating said man for anything more than just his money --- but Patrick is her son. She loves him, and he loves her. The problem, however, is that Patrick hasn’t been home for an extended period of time in a very, very long time. That's not good for either of them.

Supposedly.

Jonny doesn’t have much of a relationship with his own mother, not anymore, at least. He misses her, but any attempts to mend their broken relationship always end miserably. So he doesn’t understand Patrick’s mama’s boy-ness, not like he used to.

Patrick is close to his sisters, and his dad too, but he seems to have a particular fondness and love for his mother. There are definitely signs of his mama’s boy-ness: calling her and texting her constantly, being on her side about almost every Kane family argument that they get into over Skype, ever.

Jonny usually excuses himself during those Skype conversations. Patrick’s mother isn’t the only one who doesn’t exactly approve of him; he would rather avoid the awkward tension that arises whenever the video finally connects. The Kanes are always polite, but Jonny can always catch the frown Donna sends his way, or the slight twist of disapproval on Erica’s lips.

Jonny gets it. Patrick is the only boy in the Kane family. He’s living five hundred miles away, with a man who’s old enough to be his father, who also happens to be his only means of income. Jonny knows what their relationship looks like, but he feels a mild dislike towards Patrick’s family. He’s a decent human being, all things considered. If Patrick’s family would just get to know him, then they would know that.

But Patrick’s family has already decided that Jonny is bad. No amount of gentle prodding to get them to see Jonny as anything but old and creepy ever works.

Patrick tries his best to ease the tension between them. He includes Jonny as much as he can in the Kane Family Skype Dates. He’s quick to shoot down any snarky comments that his sisters make. Jonny often overhears Patrick telling his family about him, painting him in the most positive light that he can, but there’s always a pause after a particularly nice comment, and a long, almost defeated argument back from Patrick, like he’s tired of having to defend Jonny.

To make it easier, Jonny is as polite as can be. He doesn’t try to insert himself where he’s not wanted, even when Patrick’s family’s barely concealed criticism of his life makes Patrick anxious and unhappy.

Patrick has his Good Days, and he has his Bad Days. More often than not, his Bad Days have no rhyme or reason to them, but there are some Bad Days where Jonny knows that the root of the issue is not entirely Patrick’s PTSD, but Patrick’s family’s dislike for his boyfriend.

Jonny keeps his comments about Patrick’s Bad Days that are caused by his family to himself—hell, he keeps his comments about Patrick’s family to himself, period.

There are five hundred miles between Chicago and Buffalo. The Kanes seem no more inclined to come to Chicago than Jonny is to go to Buffalo. He’ll probably have to meet them in person one day, but until that day, Jonny will continue to smile awkwardly at them over FaceTime, secretly disliking them.

Anyway, Jonny has Patrick here with him in Chicago, so he’s the real winner here.

Until Patrick decides that he wants to go home.

“Home?” gawks Jonny, as Patrick wanders about his office, picking up this knick knack and that, like he hasn’t seen them all before.

“Yeah,” says Patrick. He turns to give Jonny a sweet smile. “Only for a few weeks.”

“Weeks?” repeats Jonny.

Patrick raises an eyebrow, nodding. “Three.”

Three weeks is a very long time for Patrick to be away. He’s gone home for a few days here and there, for holidays and big birthdays, but never for as long as three weeks.

Jonny can’t deny Patrick his family, because unfortunately for him, Patrick really, really loves his family. It’s not like “no” is even a word that exists in Jonny’s vocabulary when it comes to Patrick, anyway. It’s like his mouth can’t even form the word. He’s even tried to say it in French, but non gets stuck in his throat.

Patrick collapses ungracefully onto Jonny’s lap, not even caring about who might walk by, not that it matters. Everyone who has any access to the sixth floor already knows that Patrick is Jonny’s boy.

“You won’t even notice that I’m gone,” purrs Patrick, which is a total lie. Jonny’s world revolves completely around two things: the mob, and Patrick. “Sharpy says there’s a lot of business to handle in August.”

“August?” repeats Jonny.

Patrick nods. He twirls Jonny’s tie, batting his pretty eyelashes, trying to go for innocent. “I want to leave on the ninth, and be back at least by the twenty-third.”

“August is when Arty takes his vacation.”

Patrick scowls. “Yeah, about that—”

“You want to go to Buffalo, in August, when Arty’s on vacation.”

Jonny doesn’t own Patrick. Patrick could go to Buffalo without actually having to tell Jonny his whereabouts, like he could go anywhere without having to tell Jonny his whereabouts, but one of their unsaid rules is that wherever Patrick goes, Arty goes too, or at least someone hand-selected by Jonny.

Jonny can’t—no one is going to hurt Patrick the way Kesler did, not ever again.

“I don’t like that idea,” he admits, which isn’t an outright no, but it’s not a yes either. “I don’t—you need to stay safe. Protected.”

Patrick sighs, pouting. “You’re on good terms with Gionta.”

That’s true. Jonny’s never had any problems with Gionta. The man is always friendly, and willing to let Jonny send a few of his men to Buffalo during Patrick’s short visits to act as his security.

But Jonny’s not worried about Gionta. He’s worried about other bosses who don’t give a damn about Gionta.

“I always check in with Gionta when I get there,” continues Patrick, still playing with Jonny’s tie. “I always have dinner with him and his wife. I play the perfect mob wife.”

“Gionta’s not who I’m worried about.”

Patrick blinks. Jonny sighs, wrapping an arm tight around him. He can’t deny Patrick his family, as much as he wishes that he could. But Patrick, away in Buffalo, for three weeks without Arty? No.

“Ask Arty if he’s willing to change his vacation time,” reasons Jonny. “I’ll pay him extra for his paid leave.”

“Arty’s already bought tickets for Disneyworld. Temi and the kids are really excited to go,” whines Patrick.

Of course Temi’s excited for Disneyworld. Jonny sighs, feeling a headache coming on. “See if Duncs can get his sister to watch Colton for that long, or if Dayna or Abby wouldn’t mind—”

“No,” interrupts Patrick, eyes defiant. “I don’t want any security, Jonny.”

“You can’t go—”

“Jackie noticed last time!”

There’s a heavy silence between them. Patrick sighs. He detangles himself from Jonny to sit on the edge of his desk instead, reaching for a truly, dumbly, expensive pen to fiddle with. “Arty’s good at laying low, but Jackie noticed. She thought she saw him at the mall once, and then later that day at the restaurant when we ate dinner. When she saw him at the airport when my family dropped me off to come back to Chicago, she got really antsy and worried for me. She thought he was stalking me. Every time we FaceTime, Arty has to disappear so she doesn’t have a heart attack.”

He looks at Jonny through his eyelashes. “She’ll notice him again Jonny, and probably Duncs too, if I’m there for three weeks.”

“I already told my family I was coming,” Patrick continues, a fierce determination in his eyes. “And I’m going, without Arty, or Duncs, or anyone else you swindle into babysitting me.”

“You need to be kept safe.”

“Who’s going to get me all the way in Buffalo?”

Getzlaf. Brown. Backes.

“Listen,” says Patrick, taking Jonny’s face in his hands, kissing him sweetly. “I’ll take care of myself. I’ll check in with you every day, five times a day, if you want me to. I’ll even check in with Gionta. If there were any other reasonable explanation as to why a man follows me around everywhere I go that wouldn’t make my family dislike you even more than they already do, then I’d take Duncs with me. But there isn't one.”

Jonny can feel his resolve slipping.

It’s Buffalo. None of the mobs in southern California have caused any trouble in a year. Backes has been reasonably quiet as of late. Patrick will only be an hour away by plane. It’s not like Gionta wouldn’t offer him protection if things somehow went left.

“Fine,” Jonny relents, rubbing tiredly at the space between his eyes. “Fine. You can go to Buffalo without Arty, or Duncs, or any other babysitter.”

Patrick grins happily. He pecks Jonny at the corner of his mouth, right on the scar leftover from an old mole.

“You have to check in with me every day,” continues Jonny, knowing that he sounds possessive, and more like Patrick’s father than his boyfriend, but the thought of Patrick being taken from him again makes him sick to his stomach. He’ll need the reassurance every day that Patrick is alright.

Arty isn’t just around to make sure that Patrick doesn’t adopt every cat he sees in the street, or to chauffer him around. Arty is at Patrick’s side nearly 24/7 to make sure that no one can do what Kesler did to him ever again.

“Every day,” Patrick agrees. “Five times a day.”

“You don’t need to be annoying about it,” says Jonny, even though he secretly wants Patrick to check in every hour, on the dot.

Patrick grins, all fond eyes, mouth soft.

Patrick springs the visit home on Jonny in mid June, so Jonny still has a month and some change to spend with Patrick, and to make arrangements with Gionta.

Gionta is fine with Patrick staying for three weeks. He finds Jonny’s discomfort at the whole thing mildly amusing. He promises Jonny that he will offer Patrick protection if anything goes wrong, and promises to keep a special tab on Patrick. Not a full arsenal of bodyguards, of course, but a guy here or there every now again to make sure that Patrick is really okay.

“I don’t even think Getzlaf is willing to set foot in Buffalo, not when he has all of Anaheim to entertain him,” muses Gionta.

Jonny grunts, and thanking Gionta for his time.

It’s not until two weeks before Patrick is supposed to leave, that it dawns on Jonny that he’ll be in charge of the cats.

For three weeks.

“Don’t look like that,” pouts Patrick, kissing the head of his favorite demon child, Deke. “They’re lovely.”

They’re demonic, thinks Jonny, but knows better, keeping his mouth shut. Stanley is perfect, of course, and Zamboni and Oiler are alright. Gretzky is too old to really care for anyone but himself, but Deke and Puck? Hell spawn from the deepest, darkest pits of hell.

“Deke will be on his best behavior, won’t you?” says Patrick to the cat, who takes one look at Jonny and hisses.

“Maybe you and Deke should stay on different sides of the apartment while I’m gone.”

“Maybe we should find Deke a new home,” mumbles Jonny.

Patrick’s frown deepens, betrayal sweeping across his face.

“I’m only kidding.”

Patrick would never forgive him if Jonny were to rehome the cat, not that Jonny could even find the hell spawn a new home if he tried. Deke is temperamental; he bullies the other cats, and swipes at Jonny whenever Jonny draws too close. The damn thing only loves Patrick. No one in their right mind would even take the cat in.

Except for Patrick, of course.

“He tries his best to be nice,” he defends.

Jonny can’t believe—“I’ll just stay on my side of the apartment, and he’ll stay on his, okay?” Patrick’s lip twitches. “Stop giving me that look. The damn cat will be here when you get back.”

“I’ll talk to him,” says Patrick.

“Why are you the way that you are?” asks Jonny, in total disbelief that after thirty-eight years of existence, this—this tiny human being who’s obsessed with fucking cats of all things is who the universe decided would be his better half.

“Stop judging me,” says Patrick, turning dramatically on his heel to walk away.

Jonny sees Patrick off at the airport like a good boyfriend.

“Dude, stop,” says Patrick. “I’m going to Buffalo, not fucking Syria.”

Close enough, Jonny thinks, but keeps that comment to himself.

Patrick looks at him sideways, irritated. “I know you don’t want me to go, you ass, but it’s my family.”

Jonny ignores him to stare out the window at the plane. Patrick wanted to fly on a regular passenger flight, but Jonny didn’t buy a private jet for his boyfriend to fly economy.

The crew has been double-checked for security. Arty is making the trip to Buffalo with Patrick; Jonny’s arranged a private jet out of Buffalo for him. Temi, Ksenia, and the kids are already on their own jet to Orlando. Arty won’t even have to leave the tarmac, making it impossible for Jackie to get a look at him.

“You’re being way too overdramatic about this,” says Patrick.

Jonny might be, but he’ll never admit that aloud.

Patrick rolls his eyes, shaking his head. He taps something away on his phone, and then sighs again, rubbing tiredly at his eye. “My mom can’t believe I’m flying in on a private plane.”

“Is she upset about it?” asks Jonny, even though he’s sure that Donna is. Maybe if he sends her a diamond necklace, she’ll start to love him.

“My sisters think that it’s cool,” answers Patrick, which definitely means that Donna doesn’t like the jet.

It doesn’t take long for the jet to be ready. Jonny goes out with Patrick and Arty onto the tarmac.

Patrick hesitates at the bottom of the steps. “I’ll call you every day.”

“You’re only going to Buffalo,” jokes Jonny. “It’s not like you’re going to Syria.”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “I’ll text you when we land.”

Jonny steps forward to hold Patrick’s face in his hands, kissing him. He watches Patrick climb the steps, give one feeble wave, before Jonny has to return to the terminal to watch the plane take off.

Patrick will be fine.

He’ll be eight hours away by car, and only an hour away by plane. Gionta will protect him if anyone tries to go after him. There’s never been any trouble before, and there won’t be any trouble now.

Patrick will be perfectly safe in Buffalo.

The first night without Patrick is relatively all right.

Patrick texts as soon as he lands as promised. He sends a picture from the back of the car with Erica and Jackie. He looks happy, baby blues bright and wide. Jonny lets him know that he received the text, and then leaves Patrick alone to enjoy his family.

The cats seem to sense that something has changed in their routine.

Patrick is usually at home to feed and tend to their every whim and need. They’re fed every morning at six a.m., and every night at six p.m., not a minute earlier, not a minute later.

When Jonny steps off the elevator at ten minutes after eight, he’s greeted by six angry cats. They meow at him, weaving their way between his legs as he tries to make his way to the kitchen.

“Okay, okay,” he says, as Zamboni nips gently at his ankles. “Jesus. You act like it’s been two days.” Zamboni meows her annoyance.

The cats get more insistent as Jonny fills their water bowls and opens the pantry where their wet food is kept. Patrick feeds the cats the best, grain-free, hypoallergenic wet cat food on the market. Jonny frowns at the fact that this is where all of his completely hard-earned, illegal, money is going to.

He’s careful not to step on any cat tails or toes. The cats meow at his feet, standing on their back legs against the counter as Jonny pries open the food lid.

He has to pause momentarily to gently pick Stanley up from the counter and drop her on the floor, but it’s a battle Jonny soon realizes that he’s never going to win. As soon as he has Stanley out of the way, Oiler is up on the counter, trying to steal a bit of food. It’s a never-ending battle to get the cats off the counter and their food in each individual bowl.

Jonny gives up. He’s too tired to deal with the cats. Instead he opens each can of food and leaves them on the counter. He makes sure that each cat has their own can, and that Gretzky, the largest and oldest of the cats, isn’t bullying poor Zamboni away from her food.

He loosens his tie, grabbing a bottle from the fridge, taking one, long chug of beer. Usually Patrick would be here, chatting away about his day, while keeping the cats in order, but he’s in Buffalo, enjoying dinner with his family. He promised to call later, but Jonny knows that Patrick will probably forget; he gets wrapped up in his family too easily.

Jonny bats the cats away when the cans are empty. Instead of scattering, they hang about the kitchen. They haven’t seen Patrick in hours, and maybe sometimes that isn’t so unusual, but it’s like the cats seem to know that their savior is gone, and that their routine is going to be especially different.

Usually after their dinner, Patrick spends time playing with the cats as Jonny winds down from a long day of work. Jonny will recline on the couch with a beer, as Patrick waves laser pointers across the living room for the cats to chase. Puck, of course, is the only cat who doesn’t participate, but Patrick has a special toy for her to play with.

The cats stare at Jonny. And stare. And stare, until Jonny grunts defeat, grabbing the laser pointers from the junk drawer.

The cats follow him from the living room, meowing excitedly, even Deke, who seems to understand that if he ever wants to eat again, that he’s going to have to be at least somewhat nice to Jonny.

Jonny plays with the cats for a good twenty minutes, and then Puck by herself for ten, until he’s had enough. He hasn’t bonded to the cats as much as Patrick has. He adores his girl Stanley, of course, but the other five he’s accepted as part of his life, only because they’re a part of Patrick’s; he has no qualms about leaving them to their own devices.

Stanley follows Jonny through the study and to the bedroom, where she takes her rightful place on his pillow. He scratches between her ears until she purrs; Jonny’s accepted the fact that his pillow will never be his pillow, ever again.

Jonny strips, showers, and brushes his teeth. Gretzky is reclining on Patrick’s pillow when he’s ready to climb into bed. Jonny is used to sleeping with a number of cats in the bed, but he was hoping that with Patrick’s absence, that the cats, except for Stanley, would sleep elsewhere.

He’s wrong, of course. Oiler comes slinking in, settling at Jonny’s feet, followed by Zamboni, and surprisingly, Deke. Puck comes last, flopping down on top of Oiler, who doesn’t protest. The bed’s a King, so it’s not like there isn’t any room.

Jonny has to push Stanley gently out of the way to lay his head down, but she curls up on top of his head where she always sleeps.

The damn things wake him up at six a.m. sharp the next morning. Jonny doesn’t have to wake for another hour. Usually he manages to sleep through Patrick crawling out of bed to deal with his demonic children, but they meow and nip at Jonny's ears until he’s had enough.

“Demons,” he mutters, as he pries open cans in the kitchen. “All of you. Even you, Stanley.”

Stanley ignores him to eat her breakfast.

Patrick texts soon after Jonny has cleaned the counter. He doesn’t even ask how Jonny’s doing, just reminds him that he needs to feed the cats.

Jonny is so offended by Patrick’s lack of love, that he doesn’t reply until he reaches the office.

Patrick ignores him back in turn.

Patrick doesn’t keep his promise of calling every day, because he’s awful.

He checks in with Jonny every day via text, sometimes five times a day, and sometimes only twice. Jonny tracks Patrick’s iPhone like a total creep. He has notifications set up to alert him if the phone leaves the greater Buffalo area.

It’s quite stalkerish, Sharpy reminds him daily, but Jonny’s biggest fear is that Patrick will be taken from him again. This way, if Patrick is forcibly taken out of Buffalo, then Jonny will be able to track his phone, if the kidnapper doesn’t have the sense to discard it in the first place.

Patrick finally calls five days after he’s gone to Buffalo.

He FaceTimes Jonny on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Jonny used to never take Sundays off, but Patrick put an end to his seven days a week work schedule right away. Sundays are usually spent doing sickeningly domestic things, like shopping at Lowes for new paint, or checking out the local Farmer’s Market.

Today, Jonny hasn’t even left the apartment. He hasn’t shaved, or even showered. He’s still in his boxers when Patrick’s face pops up on the screen.

“You look gross,” is the first thing Patrick says, and then, “Where are my babies?”

“I’ve missed you too, sweetheart,” grunts Jonny. Patrick smiles prettily. He looks lovely, like he always does. There are freckles scattered across his nose, like he’s been spending all of his time in the sun.

Jonny grabs the first cat that he can find. Gretzky meows his displeasure about being drawn out of the sun, struggling in Jonny’s arms until Jonny lets him go. “They don’t want to talk to you.”

Patrick frowns. “Do they even miss me?”

“No,” lies Jonny. “They haven’t even noticed that you’re gone.”

“What horrible children,” sighs Patrick, but he’s smiling. He shifts about, showing the childhood bedroom he grew up in, the one Jonny’s only seen via Skype and FaceTime.

“I miss you,” says Patrick.

During the day, when he’s at work, Patrick’s absence isn’t so bad. Jonny has Sharpy to distract him, and the work of running a crime organization. It’s at night, when it’s just Jonny and the cats, that he begins to get lonely.

He had a life without Patrick for over twenty years, but Patrick has managed to fill in the spaces that Jonny hadn't realized needed filling. He knows that his life shouldn’t be filled with just Patrick, but Patrick gives Jonny a sense of belonging and home that he hasn’t felt in years.

“Stop pouting,” says Patrick. “I’ll be home before you know it.”

“I’m not pouting,” mumbles Jonny.

Patrick rolls his eyes, and fills Jonny in on the family. Jonny doesn’t particularly care, but he listens intently, commenting from time to time, just to hear Patrick’s voice. Before they know it an hour and a half has gone by, and Jonny’s phone is close to dying.

“I’ll FaceTime you in a couple of days, yeah?” says Patrick.

Jonny grunts his agreement. “Text me when you can.”

“Of course I will, darling,” replies Patrick. “I love you, talk to you later.”

“Love you too,” says Jonny, and hangs up.

Stanley meows at his feet. “If you wanted to talk to him, you should have come and said ‘hi’ sooner.”

Stanley meows again. Jonny scoops her up, stroking down her back as she purrs. “I miss him too,” he says into her neck. Stanley licks his face comfortingly.

Patrick continues to check in every single day via text, FaceTiming Jonny sporadically.

Sometimes Patrick is with his family. Jonny endures pleasantries with them. Patrick’s fraternal grandmother adores Jonny, at least. She calls Jonny a handsome young man, and when Patrick is a complete dick and informs her that Jonny is two years shy of forty, she replies that Patrick takes after her: they both like their men like their bananas—mature. Jonny is smitten. Grandma Kane becomes his favorite Kane, right after Patrick, that is.

After two weeks of Patrick being away in Buffalo, and nothing bad happening to him, besides one particularly nasty panic attack, where Jonny had to stop threatening the Chicago police chief to talk him down, Jonny stops worrying about Patrick’s safety.

Patrick keeps a low profile while in Buffalo, checking in with Gionta regularly. Jonny’s kept tabs on all of his enemies. No one’s made any moves towards the East Coast, and the mobs on the East Coast seem to have some sort of truce between them. No one is moving up towards Buffalo, and unless Gionta decides to turn evil and pull a fast one on Jonny, Patrick is safe.

“I told you you were being overdramatic,” yawns Patrick, in his ‘I am always right, you are always wrong’ voice. He’s very sleepy, blinking at Jonny over the screen. He spent all day on the lake tubing with his family. He’s tired and exhausted.

“I want you safe,” mumbles Jonny. “I couldn’t stand—I already let someone hurt you.”

Patrick makes a pained noise. “Jonny, that wasn’t—”

They’ve had this conversation a million times before. Right afterwards, when Jonny had brought Patrick home from the hospital, before Patrick had started to go to regular therapy, sometimes Patrick would get mad. Mad at his broken hand, mad at his pierced lung, mad at Jonny. He would scream and yell at Jonny, about how this was all his fault. How if Jonny had just let him go, then he would have never been on Kesler’s radar in the first place.

It had hurt, because Jonny knew that it was his fault. If he hadn’t pulled Patrick in so deep, if he had just kept Patrick his secretary and nothing more, then Patrick would have escaped Kesler’s wrath. If he had just let Patrick go, then Patrick wouldn’t have been a bruised, broken thing.

It had taken weeks of tiptoeing around the subject, of long silences, of teary apologizes, of long sessions with Dr. Rowlings for both of them to accept the fact that the only person truly at fault for Patrick’s assault was Kesler.

Sometimes it doesn’t matter that Jonny knows that the only person at fault for Patrick’s kidnapping is Kesler. He still feels responsible.

“No one’s going to hurt me, Jonny,” says Patrick, quiet.

Jonny clears his throat. “Just. Just let me know if you start to feel unsafe. I’ll come and get you.”

“Darling,” sighs Patrick.

“You should go to sleep,” forces Jonny. He feels exhausted, all of a sudden. “You’re tired.”

Patrick looks at him through the tiny screen on the phone. His eyes are sad, soft. “I love you, dumbass.”

“Yeah,” agrees Jonny. “Love you too.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” yawns Patrick. “Give my babies kisses for me.”

Jonny rolls his eyes. “Get some sleep, Patrick.”

Patrick is so tired, all he can do is yawn and lift his eyebrows mockingly. He always looks so lovely on the cusps of sleep; his face always manages to get softer. Jonny marvels at Patrick’s everything, before he ends the call.

Patrick’s family pretty much pretend like Jonny doesn’t exist, so he’s honestly surprised when his wet behind the ears secretary, Charlie, turns to him one day and says, “Mr. Toews,sir, there’s a Jackie Kane on line one for you.”

Jonny looks at Charlie with suspicion. Charlie flushes and says, “She says it’s urgent, sir.”

“Urgent?” repeats Jonny.

Charlie nods. “She sounds a little panicked, sir.”

Jonny rubs at the space between his eyes.

Patrick has only had one Bad Day while away, so far. Jonny still isn’t sure what caused Patrick’s panic attack, but it had been a bad one, and unable to understand or calm her brother down, Jessica had called Jonny to sort Patrick out.

That’s probably what’s happening now. Something is terribly upsetting Patrick, and despite how much they seem to dislike him, the Kane sisters are incapable of calming their brother down, and need Jonny’s help.

Jonny breathes a long breath out his nose, steeling himself to answer the phone. “Hi Jackie. What’s up?”

“What did you do?!” screams Jackie.

Jonny clenches his teeth. “Jackie—”

“Someone took him!” interrupts Jackie. She’s breathing raggedly, like she’s on the verge of hyperventilating. Jonny feels his blood run cold.

“Jackie, I need you to—”

“What did you do to him!?”

“Jacqueline!” cuts in Jonny, voice sharp, angry. His blood is pounding in his ears. Someone took him. “I need you to breathe. In, and out. Deep breaths.”

Jackie sucks in a deep breath, before she lets it out, the noise shaky over the line. Jonny breathes with her, to help her, but mostly to keep himself calm. Someone took him.

“Tell me what happened,” he demands, when Jackie no longer sounds on the verge of hyperventilating.

“Someone took him,” Jackie repeats, sniffling. “We were—we went to the mall, because I needed new clothes for school, and these men, they just—they were in suits. Like the Men in Black. Pat saw them coming and he just—he handed me his phone and told me to call you as soon as possible, because you’d know what to do.”

She starts to sob. “Who were they?”

Jonny snaps his head up at Charlie, who’s been hesitating in the doorway. He snaps his fingers to grab Charlie’s attention, pointing down the hall to Sharpy’s office. Charlie scurries off to grab him.

“I need more details Jackie,” says Jonny. “I need you to tell me everything.”

“I—”

“How did they take him?”

“What?”

“How did they take him?”

“They just—they just walked up to him. They said ‘you need to come with us’ and then they let him hug me, before they walked away with him.”

Jonny’s heart stops stammering. It’s not like Getzlaf, or Backes, or even Brown to be so peaceful about a kidnapping. “Did Patrick seem scared?”

Jackie make a confused noise. “No, no. He—they seemed so nice.”

“How many men were there?”

“Three,” answers Jackie. “They were young, too. No older than Pat, and uh…”

“And what, Jackie?”

“Well, they were kind of—if they weren’t kidnapping my brother, I would say they were handsome.”

That doesn’t sound like any of Jonny’s rivals’ M.O.s. Backes, Getzlaf, Brown—none of them would trust kidnapping someone like Patrick to one of their young guns, and they would never do it so nicely.

“Jonathan,” says Jackie. “Who took my brother?”

“I don’t know,” replies Jonny, honest.

He rubs tiredly at his face. When he lifts his head, Sharpy is leaning in the doorway, along with Seabs. Both look concerned. Jonny puts the phone on speaker.

“Jackie, I need you to listen to me carefully,” he instructs, as Seabs and Sharpy step into his office, closing the door. “I need you to go straight home. Don’t call the police. They can’t do anything to help Patrick. Go straight home, and don’t leave the house. I’m coming to you.”

“My brother’s been kidnapped, and you want me to go home?”

“Yes,” answers Jonny, as realization dawns on Sharpy and Seabs’s faces. “Don’t tell your sisters, or your parents. If they ask where Patrick is, cover for him.”

“Wha—”

“Can you do that?”

“I—”

“Jackie, can you do that?”

“Yes,” Jackie finally relents.

“I’ll see you in a few hours. Try and stay calm. We’ll get Patrick back, I promise.”

Jonny ends the call, looking up at two of his best men. “Once I get him back from whatever scumbag took him, he’s never leaving my sight, ever fucking again.”

“You’re being oddly calm about this,” remarks Sharpy, as he looks at the crack in the glass from the paperweight Jonny threw the last time Patrick was kidnapped. Jonny keeps meaning to get that fixed.

Jonny’s heart feels heavy. He will rip apart whoever kidnapped Patrick with his own bare hands, but something about it not being his top three most hated people on Earth reasonable for Patrick’s kidnapping makes him remarkably calm.

Whoever took Patrick didn’t mean him harm. If they did, they would have surprised him, taken him quickly and violently. The fact that they took him in the middle of the mall, without Patrick suffering any trauma, means whoever took him isn’t necessarily out to hurt him, or Jonny. There’s something fishy about this whole thing, which makes Jonny not want to throw a paperweight at the wall, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not worried.

His throat is dry, his heart hammering away in his chest, going ninety miles a minute, as his mind keeps replaying images of Patrick tied to a chair, drugged and hurt, Jonny helpless to do anything to make the pain go away.

Even if Patrick’s mysterious kidnappers don’t mean him harm now, that doesn’t mean that they won’t cause him harm later. And it doesn’t negate the fact that someone took his Patrick.

“It’s not our usual suspects,” he says, voice surprisingly calm to his own ears. “Now get your shit together. We’re going to Buffalo.”

“Well, isn’t this exciting,” says Sharpy, as they make their way to the Kane home. “You’re going to meet your in-laws for the first time.”

Jonny glares.

He spent the entire plane ride on the phone, trying all of his connections. He knows Gionta isn’t responsible for this—he wouldn’t be so stupid as to cross Jonny, knowing fully well that Jonny would move mountains to rescue Patrick. No, this is the work of someone else—someone who Jonny isn’t used to dealing with.

Jonny turns his nose up as the Tahoe turns a corner, starting to slow. He’d been too busy, double-checking with his connections that the West Coast hadn’t made any moves, to really think about the repercussions of visiting Buffalo.

“If Kaner’s parents try to kill you, I’m not intervening,” comments Sharpy as the car slows to a stop.

“Fuck you,” says Jonny.

Patrick’s childhood home is nothing spectacular. It looks like every other house in the neighborhood: well-manicured lawn, wrap around porch, an old Highlander in the driveway. The house looks like any other house out of suburbia.

Jackie opens the front door immediately.

She looks panicked, racing down the front steps towards Jonny.

She’s the youngest of the Kanes, brown hair cropped around her round face. She looks the most like Patrick, with big, brown eyes, and fair skin.

“Jonathan,” she says, when she’s close enough.

Jackie smiles—a tiny smile, with only one dimple, just like her brother. “Thanks for coming.” She makes a confused face when Sharpy exits the car, coming around to stand beside Jonny.

“Hello,” smiles Sharpy, charmingly.

Jonny rolls his eyes. “Jackie, this is my friend, Patrick Sharp.”

Jackie smiles weakly back at Sharpy. “Can he get Pat back?”

“I’ll do just more than get him back,” answers Sharpy, face tight. Unfortunately for Jonny, the two Patricks have become inexcusably close. They manage to make his life ten times more complicated than it needs to be, but he’s secretly glad that the two have become friends. Patrick goes to Sharpy for brotherly advice, and has wormed his way into being Uncle Patrick to Maddy and Sadie. Patrick has another family with the Sharps, one that Jonny can’t offer.

Sharpy’s face is tight and angry. He’ll do nearly damn anything to get Patrick back too.

The front door opens and closes. Jessica and Erica are standing on the porch, staring at Jonny with mild surprise and dislike. “You didn’t tell them why I’m here?”

“No,” agrees Jackie. “But I’ve been crying ever since I got home.” She wipes at her eyes, which are red at the corners. “They know that something’s up.”

“It’s okay,” Jonny reassures. “You did what I asked. And your parents? Where are they?”

“Wedding anniversary trip,” answers Jackie. “Won’t be back until the end of the week.”

“Oh bummer,” mutters Sharpy. “Jonny was looking forward to meeting them.”

Jackie snorts, and then frowns. “I’m sorry that they’re always—that we—”

“It’s okay,” interrupts Jonny, giving Jackie his most comforting smile. He’s always sort of liked the youngest Kane. She’s never been outright dismissive of him like the rest of his family, and always offers a comforting smile over Skype. She even wished him happy birthday last April.

They make their way down the walk to the front porch, where Jackie’s sisters are waiting for them. Erica looks about ready to launch herself from the porch at Jonny. Jessica looks about ready to follow suit.

“Hello girls, you look lovely today,” says Sharpy when they stop at the bottom of the porch steps.

Erica stares at Sharpy, and then at Jonny. “What are you doing here?” She seems to realize the rudeness in her question, because she clears her throat. “I’m sorry, I’m just surprised to finely meet you, especially since Patrick isn’t here, and Jackie’s been crying ever since she came back from the mall.”

“Jackie didn’t seem surprised to see you,” adds Jessica, because apparently the plan is to tag team him with suspicion and guilt, “which makes me think that you have something to do with our brother’s sudden disappearance.”

“It’s not like Patrick to abandon us in the mall, or to make Jackie cry,” continues Erica. “And it’s definitely not like him not to answer his phone, especially when he knows that his boyfriend that we’ve never met before is coming to town.”

Jonny has stared down the barrel of a gun. He’s been shot numerous times, has murdered men with his bare hands, and has had Patrick taken from him before, but he has never felt as powerless as he feels now, staring down Erica and Jessica Kane in the middle of the Buffalo suburbs.

Sharpy clears his throat awkwardly.

“Your brother’s been kidnapped by a mob,” says Jonny. Jessica and Erica already hate him; there’s no point in lying.

“A mob?” repeats Jessica.

“There’s one in every city.”

“The Buffalo mob kidnapped Patrick?” says Jackie, looking ready to cry again. Jessica wraps an arm around her, pulling her close.

“Gionta would never kidnap Patrick,” says Sharpy. He’s trying to be reassuring, but all three girls look confused. “He’s the head of the mob here,” he adds for clarification.

Jackie stares at him, mouth wide.

“I don’t know what mob kidnapped Patrick,” says Jonny, looking right at Erica. “But a mob took him, and I plan on getting him back.”

Erica doesn’t say anything. Sharpy clears his throat. “We really shouldn’t be discussing this outside. Seabs will be done soon. We should go inside.”

Erica doesn’t look like she wants to move, but Jackie says, “Erica,” sharply. That gets Erica to step aside to allow Jonny and Sharpy to step onto the porch.

Jackie detangles herself from her sister, leading them inside to the living room. It would be a spacious room, but it feels claustrophobic with the amount of pictures and family memorabilia on the walls. Cozy is probably a word that some would use, but Jonny isn’t used to coziness. He hasn’t been back to Winnipeg in years, and the apartment in Chicago is all sharp, modern furniture.

“Do you want something to drink?” asks Jackie, seemingly unsure of what to do with her hands. She reaches for a throw pillow, holding it.

“We’re fine, thank you,” says Jonny, settling onto a worn couch as Erica and Jessica watch him sharply.

“Why would the mob take Patrick?” asks Jessica. Her eyes are wet at the edges. She looks at Jonny like a bug that she wants to squash, but can’t bring herself to do.

“Jonny works for the mob,” answers Jackie. When everyone looks at her, she shrugs. “I’m right, yeah? I mean, you flew Pat out here on a private jet, you live in like, the biggest apartment I’ve ever seen. Pat’s always Skyping us in these huge rooms, and there’s like, a million of them. I told you Pat was kidnapped, and you were super matter of fact about it, like this is a regular occurrence. And then you showed up in an all black SUV, wearing an all black suit, with a guy who has a gun under his suit jacket.”

Jonny glares daggers at Sharpy, who buttons and straightens his jacket. “The safety’s on.”

“Jesus Christ Sharpy,” mutters Jonny.

“Jesus Christ you,” barks Erica. “You’re a criminal.”

She looks at Jonny like she’s ready to crush him. Like she could kill him. “You’re a criminal,” she repeats. “You’re a criminal, and you got our brother kidnapped.”

“I’m going to get him back,” promises Jonny, but he knows that his words mean nothing to her. She hates him, has always hated him, will always hate him.

“Get out,” spits Erica. “I’m calling the police.”

“Erica,” says Jackie, voice quiet.

“I’m sorry Erica,” says Jonny, steeling his resolve. He’s faced down Kesler and a gun—he can handle an eighteen-year-old girl. “But the police aren’t going to do shit.”

“The police—”

“The police are owned by the mob.”

Erica stares at him. Jonny runs a hand through his hair tiredly. He’s fucking exhausted. “Gionta runs the mob here, and he likes Patrick, so he wouldn’t touch him. The police won’t be able to do anything more than what we can do. Gionta already has them out looking for Patrick, but if he’s been taken out of Buffalo, no other law enforcement agency is going to get involved. No mob wants the FBI snooping around.”

Jessica and Jackie look terrified. “Listen,” says Jonny. “I’m going to get Patrick back, and I’m going to make the bastard who took him pay, but I can’t get him back, safely, without your co-operation.”

Jessica looks ready to argue, but Jackie places a hand on her elbow. “Jess, Jonny can get Pat back. We have to trust him.”

Jonny’s grateful for Jackie. She’s his favorite Kane, after Patrick and Grandma Kane.

“Please,” she begs. “Give Jonny a chance. If anyone can get Pat back, he can.”

Erica swallows harshly, sniffling. She has to be the most stubborn person on the planet, right after her brother. She closes her eyes, taking a minute to herself, before she sets her hard gaze on Jonny. “You need to make these men bleed.”

Jonny lets out a breath of relief through his teeth.

When they had arrived in Buffalo, Jonny had sent Seabs to the mall to meet with some of Gionta’s men to retrieve surveillance footage from the Walden Galleria, while he and Sharpy had headed straight to the Kane house.

Seabs arrives ten minutes after five, after Erica has reluctantly made them all dinner. Sharpy is secretly thrilling at the tension between Jonny and Erica and Jessica. Jonny wishes he had sent Sharpy to Pittsburgh to ask for Sid’s help instead of Duncs. Duncs would never find this funny.

Seabs isn’t too happy that they’re involving Patrick’s sisters in all of this, but Jonny knows the Kanes, and he knows that they would never sit quietly by as Patrick remains missing. Jonny plans on keeping them informed, but away from anything dangerous. He knows that he would never be forgiven if any harm came to Patrick’s beloved sisters.

The girls have promised not to tell their parents. It’s easier to keep Donna and Patrick Sr. out of this, for now. If this goes on longer than a week, then Patrick’s sisters can tell their parents, but until then, Jonny doesn’t want to hear Donna accusing him of being the root of the blame.

Which of course, he is.

If he had just—if Patrick weren’t his boyfriend, Patrick would be safe.

Jonny rubs tiredly at his forehead, where he feels a stress headache forming, as Seabs pulls out his laptop and sets up the surveillance footage.

After this—after Jonny gets Patrick home safe, he’s going to—

This relationship has to end.

There isn’t a place where Patrick can be safe, not as long as he’s with Jonny.

Jonny will get him set up somewhere nice. In his own penthouse, anywhere Patrick wants to live. He’ll keep supplying Patrick with whatever financial means he needs. It’s the least that he can do, after all of this bullshit he’s put Patrick through.

He’ll keep Patrick in his will, keep providing him with a home for his cats, cars to drive, food in the pantry, as a way to say sorry for ruining Patrick's life.

Seabs pulls up the surveillance footage.

On screen, Patrick and Jackie are shopping happily. Jackie is looking at a display, while Patrick stands behind her, bored, but something seems to catch his attention. He looks up from the display to look behind him. Jonny can’t make out what’s caught Patrick’s eye, but suddenly Patrick is jerking Jackie away from the display. They exchange a few words, and Patrick hands over his cell phone, presumably telling Jackie to call Jonny like she had said, before three young men appear in frame.

They’re young and handsome, just like Jackie said, dressed in matching, well fitted gray suits. Jonny can tell by their constant fidgeting that they’re nervous—this must have been their first real job.

“What did he say to Patrick?” asks Sharpy, as on screen Patrick talks to one of the men. He’s slightly shorter than his two companions, with brown hair and a large nose, but he has a kind face.

Jackie's been watching the footage over Seabs’s shoulder. “He said Patrick’s name, and then told him that he had to come with them. They didn’t want any trouble. He promised not to hurt Patrick or anyone, if Pat came with them quietly.”

On screen, Patrick nods, turning to give Jackie a long hug. The Jackie on screen looks petrified, as she watches the tallest of the three kidnappers—a young man, with his jaw length hair brushed back behind his ears—places a gentle hand on Patrick’s lower back, guiding him away.

Patrick, surprisingly, looks neither anxious nor terrified as he walks away. Sometimes, the wind knocking against the window causes Patrick to have a panic attack, but he smiles at the youngest looking of the abductors as they finally disappear off screen. He was either amazingly not frightened by his abductors, or was fighting back his anxiety to put on a brave face for his baby sister, who was obviously distressed, if her immediate crying on screen as her brother and his kidnappers walk away is anything to go by.

Video Jackie stays for a long minute, before she runs off screen. “I immediately went to the bathroom to call you,” she admits sheepishly. “That’s what Pat said to do. To call you as soon as they were gone, because you would know what to do.”

“Kaner knew that they were coming,” says Seabs, rewinding the tape to the moment that Patrick notices the men approaching. “They didn’t call his name before they approached. Kaner noticed the men before Jackie did.”

Sharpy pulls out a chair from the kitchen table, sighing heavily. “I wish the idiot hadn’t given you his phone, it would have made it much easier to track him.”

“His abductors would have dumped it anyway,” comments Seabs, dismissing Sharpy to pull up more surveillance footage, this time from within the mall. “Like I said, Kaner saw these guys coming.”

In the new footage, Patrick is sitting on a bench while Jackie orders a drink from Starbucks. Instead of being on his phone as he waits, or watching Jackie, Patrick’s eyes are trained elsewhere. Seabs pulls up another video, this time from a different angle, and there—Patrick’s eyes are trained on the young man who guided him out of Macy’s. He’s standing across from Patrick, leaning across a wall, watching Patrick right back.

Seabs brings up more and more footage of the three men stalking Patrick from a safe distance, Patrick sometimes aware and unaware of their presence. Not once does Patrick look anxious, or afraid.

“This doesn’t make sense,” says Jessica. “If he knew that they were after him, then why didn’t he call the police?”

“Like I said,” says Jonny. “The police won’t help in these situations. Patrick knows that.”

“Then why didn’t he call you?” asks Erica.

“He’s used to this,” cuts in Sharpy, watching the screen. “He has security with him at all times.”

“Security?” repeats Erica. “Where was his—”

“He didn’t want any,” interrupts Jonny. “He didn’t want you to know what I did for a living. Jackie, remember that man you saw last time he visited? The one you thought was stalking him? That’s Artem. He’s Patrick’s personal security. He tails Patrick wherever he goes, but Arty slipped up last visit, and you spotted him. Patrick just—he wanted to visit without his security. Gionta and I are friends, and he keeps Patrick under his thumb while he’s here. Patrick probably thought his abductors were Gionta’s men. He probably only realized that something was wrong when they approached him. Security isn’t supposed to do that.”

“Why does Pat have security with him at all times?” asks Jackie, voice quiet, small, like she doesn’t want to know the answer, but she has to ask.

Jonny doesn’t want to say because the last person who kidnapped him beat him to a bloody pulp. Patrick’s family thinks that his PTSD comes from a violent mugging, not a violent kidnapping. Seabs saves Jonny’s ass for him.

“Jonny isn’t just some lackey,” he says, voice gruff. “He runs the damn mob.”

“You’re the boss?” marvels Jessica, looking surprised, and maybe just a little impressed.

“One of the best we’ve ever had,” offers Sharpy.

“Patrick needs security exactly for that reason,” adds Seabs, sighing irritably. “I can’t believe you let him go without Arty.”

Jonny grunts. “You know how persistently annoying he can be when he wants his way.”

“Jesus,” muses Sharpy. “He has you wrapped around his damn finger. I hope you found someone to feed the cats. He’ll kill you when he gets back if they’ve all starved to death.”

“I have it covered,” snaps Jonny. “Teuvo and Trevor are taking care of them.”

“You’re both fucking annoying,” mutters Seabs, as his phone rings. He answers it with a grunt. “Yeah, okay. I’ll send it to you. No, he’s still alive. They aren’t here, but that might change sometime soon.”

Jonny glares at Seabs. He knows that the man is gossiping with Duncs. “Yeah, yeah,” continues Seabs, as he pulls up his email, sending the footage to Duncs. “I sent it. Yeah, you too. Bye.” Seabs sets down his phone, shutting down the laptop. “Crosby’s willing to help. I sent Duncs the video. Crosby will watch it and show it to his men. Hopefully one of them might recognize the abductors.”

“Who’s Corsby?” asks Jackie.

“Sidney Crosby,” answers Jonny. “Head of the Pittsburgh mob.”

“Do you know every mob boss?” wonders Jessica, looking both amazed and a little cautious.

“Everyone knows everyone,” explains Jonny. “Some of us like each other, some of us don’t. I keep my nose out of East Coast business, but Sid and I go back.”

“And Gionta?”

“Never had any problems with him.” Jonny shrugs. “We play nice so Patrick can visit.”

Jackie opens her mouth to ask another question, but Erica stops her with a stern, “Jackie, that’s enough.”

“I just want to know,” whines Jackie.

“You don’t need to know,” says Erica. Suddenly, she looks tired, exhausted. “What do we do know?”

“We wait,” says Jonny.

“Wait,” repeats Erica. “We just wait.”

“There’s nothing more that we can do,” says Jonny, feeling exceptionally helpless. There’s no way to track Patrick, and without a ransom note or clues, there’s nothing that they can do. At least the last time Patrick had been taken, Kesler had been nice enough to let them know where he was within a couple of hours.

“I hate this,” says Jessica.

Jonny grunts his agreement.

The girls seem exceptionally antsy when Seabs packs up his laptop.

“We need to book a hotel.”

“We should stay at the Hampton,” suggests Sharpy. “Hand over the card, To-es.”

“You’re not staying at the Hampton, Sharpy.”

“Kaner gets to stay at the Hampton when he wants to stay at the Hampton,” whines Sharpy, batting his eyelashes at Jonny.

“And you’re not Kaner,” snaps Jonny.

“You’re leaving?” says Jessica, sounding anxious. “I mean—there’s not a chance—they won’t come here, will they?”

“Who?”

“The mob,” Jessica clarifies. “They won’t come for us, will they?”

Jonny doesn’t want to say “you’re not important enough to me for the mob to give a damn about you,” breaking the thin truce he has with Patrick’s sisters, so instead, he says, “I’ll spend the night here.”

Jessica looks relieved. “You can stay in Pat’s room.”

“Are you sure that you want to stay?” asks Seabs, as Jonny collects his duffel bag from the Tahoe. “This could all be some sort of elaborate plan to murder you to free their jailbait brother from your evil, perverted hands.”

“I expect this kind of shit from Sharpy, not you,” says Jonny, shoving a few extra magazines and an unloaded pistol into his duffel.

Seabs raises his eyebrows. “You’re going to have a sleepover with Kaner’s sisters.”

“They’re scared,” mutters Jonny.

Seabs shakes his head.

Jonny steps away from the curb. Sharpy’s already in the front seat, using Jonny’s credit card to book two rooms at the Hampton downtown.

When Sharpy’s done, Seabs hands Jonny his card through the front window. “Call us if you need anything.”

Jonny watches them pull away.

On the front steps, Jackie is sitting, waiting. “I’ll show you to Pat’s room,” she says, smiling.

Patrick’s room is small, cluttered with hockey trophies and old equipment.

Jonny’s always known that Patrick loves hockey. He names every cat after the damn sport, insisting on owning Blackhawks season tickets, even though his heart belongs to the Sabres. Patrick frowns at Jonny spending a hundred grand on a new car, but he won’t bat at an eyelash at dropping ten grand for glass seats at Game 6 of the Stanley Cup Finals at the United Center.

“He’s always loved hockey,” comments Jackie. “He used to play a lot when we were kids. He wanted to go pro. I swear that he could, he was that good, but then he got sent into the boards too hard, and he broke his clavicle. It was just—he stopped playing. Mom and Dad had to pack all this away, he hated seeing it.”

Jackie’s eyes are large, sad. “It took him a couple of years to take everything out of storage.”

Jonny runs his hands over a few sombreros in the corner, shaking his head amusedly.

“That’s why he likes cats so much too,” adds Jackie.

Jonny raises an eyebrow in curiosity.

“After his surgery, Pat got super depressed,” she explains. “You know, not wanting to leave his bed, always just—just sad. Mom and Dad tried to put him in therapy, but he hated it. He used to get in such bad fights with them.” Jackie sighs sadly at the memory. “Mom’s friend’s son got back from Iraq, and he was having problems with PTSD. She suggested getting Patrick a dog, ‘cause having a dog really helped her son.”

“He’s afraid of dogs,” interjects Jonny with a smile.

Jackie rolls her eyes. “He teased a Chihuahua once when he was like, five, and the damn thing chased him around our neighbor’s backyard. He totally deserved it.”

Jonny snorts.

“Anyway,” continues Jackie. “Mom and Dad couldn’t get him a dog, and no way in hell was Mom gonna let any sort of rodent in the house. She didn’t want to deal with a kitten, so one day Dad just went to the animal shelter, and he came home with the fattest, ugliest cat anyone had ever seen. He was like, a nasty brown color and fourteen with a snaggletooth. It took him, like, twenty minutes just to get up the stairs, but Patrick loved him.”

“He make everything better for Patrick?”

“Not right away,” answers Jackie. “But you could tell that Pootie helped.”

“Pootie?”

“That was his name when we got him. I wanted to change it, but Patrick insisted on keeping it.”

“Jesus Christ,” mutters Jonny. “What did I get myself into?”

Jackie giggles. “He’s a weird one, my brother.”

“You have no idea,” says Jonny.

“But he names them all after hockey now, yeah?” asks Jackie.

Jonny nods. “Every last one.”

It’s Jackie’s turn to shake her head. She looks around the room before she sighs. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to get settled. Um, we’re going to watch a movie tonight, you know, to distract us from the fact that our brother’s been kidnapped.” She frowns. “You’re welcome to join us.”

She’s looking at Jonny, hopeful.

Only a few hours ago she hated him, but she’s extending an olive branch now. Jonny isn’t sure if the branch is being extended because Jackie's afraid that Jonny won’t get Patrick back if she’s not nice, or if she generally enjoys him as a person.

Jonny just knows that he’s not ever going to be forgiven him he makes Jackie Kane cry.

“Sure,” he forces.

Jackie breaks into a brilliant smile, similar to the one Patrick throws Jonny’s way when he gets his way. It makes Jonny’s gut twist in worry.

He’s only here, getting along with Jackie, because Patrick was kidnapped. They’re going to watch a movie, while Patrick might be beaten and tied to a chair in some abandoned warehouse.

“He’ll be okay,” says Jackie, like Jonny’s the one who needs the reassurance.

Jonny follows her down to the living room.

Someone’s made popcorn. Jessica and Erica are curled up on the couch together, with a spot open for Jackie. Jonny takes a seat in the arm chair.

A DVD case for John Tucker Must Die is lying on the coffee table. “This okay?” asks Erica.

Jonny has never heard of it, but he’s watched enough dumb movies with Patrick to not really care. “It’s fine.”

John Tucker Must Die is one of those movies from the early 2000s that Jonny never bothered to watch for good reason. It’s ridiculously stupid, but Jonny’s seen far worse. He puts on a brave face, laughing when appropriate, aware that Erica and Jessica are watching him out the corner of their eyes.

They’ll always be suspicious of him, he thinks.

Jonny leaves the Kane sisters in the living room when the movie is over. He’s exhausted in that bone deep way, where everything seems to ache and pain him, like he’s ran a marathon. He hasn’t felt this way in years, not since his rookie days running around Vancouver, where he operated on three hours of sleep, cocaine, and coffee.

It’s emotional exhaustion, he knows. His Patrick—his fucking Patrick has been taken, again. He should have never let Patrick come without Arty. Patrick isn’t safe where ever he goes.

Jonny’s the reason why, and he’s going to fix that.

Jonny doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have, because he’s woken by his phone ringing obnoxiously loud. It’s not even light out.

The clock on Patrick’s dresser glares 4AM.

“What?” Jonny says aggressively into the phone.

“I have a lead for you,” replies Crosby, chipper as ever, like it’s not ass ‘o’ clock in the morning.

Jonny blinks up at the ceiling. It’s popcorn style. No wonder Patrick has such bad taste in everything. “Where is he?”

“Somewhere in Washington.”

“Washington?”

“D.C.,” Sid clarifies.

Ovechkin.

“What the fuck does Ovechkin want with Patrick?”

“I don’t know,” says Sid. “I had Geno call him, but Ovie isn’t much of an early riser.”

“Ovie,” says Jonny, incredulous. “You and Ovechkin are friends?”

Jonny can just see Sid making a face over the line. “No,” he mumbles, and then, “Well, perhaps.”

“I can’t believe you, Crosby.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” sighs Sid.

“You’re sure Ovechkin has him?”

“Mhhm,” hums Sid.

“How do you know?”

“Beau recognized the three men who took Patrick from the video. They’re Ovie’s favorite rookies.”

Jonny stares up at the ugly popcorn ceiling.

“Listen,” says Sid. “Ovie isn’t an angel, but I don’t think he has malicious intentions. As soon as he calls Geno, I’ll let you know.”

Jonny says his thanks and hangs up. He continues to lie in bed, staring at the damn popcorn ceiling. What could Ovechkin want with Patrick? What could he possibly want from Jonny?

He keeps his nose out of the East Coast. It’s too much work, keeping up with the gangs out East when he has to worry about the West. Jonny is only friends with Sid because of a few friendly run-ins as rookies. Gionta is an ally only because of Patrick. Jonny keeps his business out of the East Coast.

He knows Ovechkin in the way that every mob boss knows every other mob boss: personally, or through word of mouth. Ovechkin is the latter.

They’ve never met in person. Or even actually spoken a word to another. Brouwer went out East and joined up with Ovechkin before moving to St Louis, but that’s Jonny’s only connection to the eccentric Russian.

What could he possibly fucking want?

The Kane sisters are up, moping over bowls of soggy cereal when Jonny finally makes his way downstairs.

“Any news?” asks Jackie immediately.

Jonny helps himself to the Captain Crunch. “He’s in D.C.”

“Why D.C.?” asks Erica.

Jonny sighs as he pours milk over his cereal. “I honestly don’t know. Ovechkin—”

“Who?” interrupts Jessica.

“Alexander Ovechkin, the boss of the Washington mob. I’ve never met, or spoken to him. I have no idea why Ovechkin decided to kidnap Patrick.”

The sisters look between each other. “So how are you going to get him back?” ventures Jackie.

“I don’t know,” answers Jonny, honest. “Sid’s—from Pittsburgh, remember?—right hand man has more of a relationship with Ovechkin than either of us. Sid has Geno on it.”

“And Sid’s sure Ovechkin has Patrick?” asks Jessica.

Jonny nods. “One of Sid’s men recognized the guys in the videos.” He looks at each of the woman, who don’t look comforted by the information. “Listen. Sid doesn’t think Ovechkin means to hurt Patrick. I don’t know why he decided to take Patrick, or how I’m going to get our boy back, but I will. I will kill everyone from here to Washington if I have to.”

“Please don’t,” says Jessica. “We don’t need another reason for Mom and Dad to hate you.” She offers a small smile—it’s a joke.

It’s the nicest she’s ever been to him.

Jonny offers a smile back.

Jonny checks in with Seabs and Sharpy, who have no further information than what Sid gave him. He checks in with Teuvo and Trevor to make sure that Patrick’s beloved cats are well taken care of, and when he’s given the affirmative, he begins the long wait.

Patrick’s sisters are too worried about their brother to continue their daily lives, so they all come to the silent agreement to watch movies together in the living room.

Jonny is still banished to his recliner in the corner, but he’s at least allowed to pick a movie.

It’s mid-afternoon by the time Ovechkin calls. Patrick’s sister are all napping on the couch. Jonny takes the call on the back porch.

“Ovechkin,” he spits.

“Toews,” drawls Ovechkin, unfazed. “It is nice to hear from you!”

“Where the fuck is he, Ovechkin?”

“Please,” says Ovechkin. “Call me Alex.”

“Ovechkin,” grits Jonny. “Where. Is. He?”

Ovechkin sighs. “You know how difficult police make business sometimes. I try, very hard, to work with the police chief, but he doesn’t want to work with me, you know? So I have to resort to other ways.”

“I swear to fucking God—”

“D.C. police chief has a lover in Buffalo,” continues Ovechkin, ignoring Jonny completely. Jonny feels his blood boil. “News reporter, I think. But he is also married man. My plan was to borrow the police chief’s lover, and get information about their affair.”

That’s a reasonable plan, Jonny thinks, but he doesn’t give a fuck.

“I can’t travel to Buffalo, you know rules,” Ovechkin carries on. “So I send new boys. Very lovely boys, some of Backy’s protégés.”

“Ovechkin,” snarls Jonny, tired of Ovechkin’s game. “Get to the fucking point.”

“I think we kidnap wrong blonde,” says Ovechkin.

Jonny blinks, taken aback. “The wrong—”

“This is one is very pretty,” muses Ovechkin. “I see why boys get confused.”

“I—”

“Hi Jonny!” yells Patrick, from somewhere in the background.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” says Jonny.

He’s momentarily shocked into dropping the phone. The wrong blonde. They kidnapped the wrong blonde.

“Ovechkin!” Jonny snarls when he retrieves his phone. “If you harm one fucking hair on his head, I will skin you fucking alive.”

“So violent,” says Ovechkin, not at all fazed by Jonny’s threat.

“Ovechkin!” yells Jonny, startling a squirrel.

There’s shuffling over the line.

“Jonny,” says Patrick, voice calm.

Jonny sucks in a deep breath, heart thundering in his ears. “Patrick. Patrick.”

“Jonny,” says Patrick. “I need you to breathe for me.”

“Fucking Ovechkin,” growls Jonny. “Are you—”

“I’m fine, old man,” snaps Patrick. “Now can you just breathe?”

Jonny squeezes his eyes shut, counting to ten before he reopens them. “Did they hurt you?”

“No,” says Patrick, sounding remarkably alright. “No, they didn’t hurt me. Everyone’s been very nice, actually.”

“Very nice, Patrick? Are you insane?”

“It’s the truth,” says Patrick. “Even before they realized their mistake, everyone was nice to me.”

“Rookies,” says Ovechkin somewhere in the background. “Still very soft around the edges.”

“Hey!” cries an unknown voice.

Jonny paces back and forth. “You couldn’t have called?”

“I wasn’t allowed access to a phone until now, you ass,” says Patrick. He breathes heavily through his nose. “Did—Did Jackie call you?”

Jonny grunts. “Yeah.”

“She okay?”

Jonny shrugs, even though Patrick can’t see him. “She’s coping. Jessica and Erica wanted to kill me, though.”

“You actually went to Buffalo?”

“Your little sister called me screaming about how you had been kidnapped. Of course I went to Buffalo.”

Jonny can see Patrick smiling, even over the phone. “Can I talk to them?”

“Give me a second. They’re napping,” says Jonny, as he reenters the house. “Are they going to bite me if I wake them?”

Patrick snorts a laugh. “Probably.”

Jessica’s actually awake, playing on her phone. She snaps her head up when Jonny enters the room. “Wake your sisters. I’ve got Pat on the line.”

“Fucking shit,” says Jessica, shoving her sisters awake.

“Jessica, what the fuck?” groans Erica as Jackie shoves Jessica back.

“Pat’s on the phone!”

Jonny puts the phone on speaker, handing it over to Erica. “Pat?” she asks, voice rough.

“Hey,” says Patrick.

When all three girls break into tears, Jonny excuses himself to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

He rests his head against the refrigerator for a long, drawn minute, taking deep, ragged breaths. Patrick is okay. Patrick is unharmed. Patrick is alive.

“Jonny?” says Jackie, appearing in the doorway. Her eyes are red, tears on her cheeks. “He wants to talk to you.”

Jonny takes the phone. “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” says Patrick, who’s obviously been crying.

“You’re an idiot if you even thought that I wouldn’t tear the world apart to save you.”

Patrick laughs. “I meant thank you for going to Buffalo. I know it hasn’t been easy. My sisters—”

Jackie is still in the kitchen. “Your sisters have been wonderful.”

“Don’t lie,” says Patrick.

“They’ve been nice.”

Jackie flushes in embarrassment, avoiding Jonny’s eyes.

“I’m coming to get you, tonight,” says Jonny.

“I’ll have Ovie text you the address.”

“Ovie?”

“He’s quite nice, once you get to know him.”

Jonny runs a hand tiredly over his face. “You’re never leaving Chicago ever again.”

“Okay,” agrees Patrick, dismissive. “I love you, Jonny.”

“I love you too.”

After Jonny’s hung up, Jackie says, “When are we leaving?”

Jonny stares at her. She has the Kane Determined Look in her eye. “As soon as someone gets us a damn plane.”

“Well,” says Sharpy, on the plane down to D.C. “I’m a little disappointed that I didn’t get to shoot anyone this time around.”

Jackie says, “Well that’s morbid,” just as Erica says, “This time around?”

“It’s a very exciting job being a criminal,” says Sharpy.

Erica raises an eyebrow.

Jonny ignores them, sure that Sharpy won’t let anything damaging slip, to stare out the window.

They’re somewhere in Pennsylvania.

It took a few hours to get a plane ready, and it’s dark outside. Jonny can see little specks of lights as they travel across Pennsylvania. His head hurts.

He’s getting Patrick back, which is the most important thing, but this has to come to an end. Patrick’s been kidnapped twice in two years, which is two times too many. They were lucky this time around that Ovechkin had made a mistake, and that that mistake hadn’t cost Patrick his life.

It’s too dangerous, being with Jonny. Patrick isn’t safe anywhere he goes. He has to be followed around like a child, has to check in every time he leaves the penthouse, has his phone tracked and his personal information open to the organization.

It’s not a fair life for Patrick to live.

“You don’t seem particularly happy to be getting lover boy back,” says Seabs, voice low as he settles into the seat across from Jonny.

Jonny lifts an eyebrow at Seabs, head pounding.

“We’re lucky that Ovechkin’s lackeys are idiots,” says Seabs.

“Don’t remind me,” mutters Jonny.

Seabs takes a sip from his water bottle. “Whatever you’re thinking Jonny, I’m telling you now that it’s a stupid idea.”

Jonny ignores Seabs to look out the window again. Seabs stands, sighing. “Don’t do anything stupid.” He taps Jonny’s knee gently before leaving him be.

It’s thirty minutes later when they land.

There are four black SUVs waiting for them on the tarmac.

“Really?” says Erica, disembarking. “Is there a handbook on how to be a mob boss? Do you all have to drive the same car?”

“You could always walk if you want,” says Jonny.

“I’m telling Patrick,” says Erica.

They drive for a while, finally entering the city, and then passing right out of it. Jonny has all three sisters in the car with him, with Seabs and Sharpy in a car of their own.

“We’re leaving the city,” whispers Jessica, panicky.

“Everything will be alright,” reassures Jonny, gun loaded in the holster under his suit jacket.

They drive right into another city, or at least a cluster of tall buildings and restaurants. They pass momentarily under a bridge that says Ballston, before stopping outside an apartment building.

Waiting outside of the building is Ovechkin. He grins at Jonny as he exists the car. “Jonny!”

“Where is he?” barks Jonny.

Ovechkin sighs, waving his hand dismissively. “Upstairs with the boys.”

“Can we see him?” asks Jackie.

Ovechkin looks between all three girls. “These Patty’s sisters? Just as pretty as him!”

“I’m going to shoot you if you don’t bring me to Patrick,” says Jonny.

“You’re terribly mean,” says Ovechkin.

Jonny reaches for his gun. “Fine, fine. Follow me.”

Ovechkin leads them through the building until they enter a normal looking apartment, equipped with a welcome mat right outside the door.

Jonny isn’t sure what he’s expecting, but it’s definitely not Patrick playing a game of ping pong with one of his kidnappers.

“Patrick!” cries Jackie, causing Patrick to startle and drop his paddle, missing the ball that jumps and disappears somewhere into the living room, where two more of Patrick’s kidnappers are lounging on a giant couch.

The girls don’t wait for an okay, just barrel into the apartment to attack their brother. They end up in a heap on the floor, Patrick buried somewhere under his sisters.

“What the fuck,” says Jonny.

“He was telling truth when he said we were nice,” says Ovechkin.

“Hello,” says the kidnapper who was just playing ping pong with Patrick, voice tinted with a Swedish accent. “Sorry for kidnapping Patrick.”

“Yeah,” chimes the kidnapper with the long hair. “Sorry about that.” His companion on the couch grunts his apology.

None of the kidnappers are even dressed appropriately. They’re all in lounge clothes. This must be their apartment.

“You didn’t even keep him at your own house, Ovechkin?”

“Backy say it was better to keep him with boys his own age,” answers Ovechkin, helping himself to a slice of pizza that’s been left out on the counter.

Patrick’s finally managed to detangle himself from his sisters. He hugs Seabs first, and then Sharpy, the asshole.

Finally, Patrick collapses right into Jonny’s arms. “I’ve missed you.”

Jonny pulls him in close, burying his nose in Patrick’s curls. “You’re never leaving my side again,” he whispers into Patrick’s ear, even though it’s a lie. He’s already arranged to have two separate planes at the tarmac tomorrow. One to take Jonny and his men back to Chicago, and the other to take Patrick and his sisters back to Buffalo.

Jonny eventually pulls Patrick away from him, holding Patrick’s face in his hands, checking for any bruises or signs of trauma. Patrick doesn’t have any physically marks, but this whole ordeal couldn’t have been easy on him.

“I’m okay,” he says. “Willy has panic attacks too.”

Jonny raises his eyebrows. “The one with the long hair,” says Patrick.

“You learnt your kidnappers’ nicknames?”

Patrick shrugs. “That’s all they call each other.”

“Burky is the Swedish one,” Patrick continues. “And Latts is the lazy one. They’re really nice Jonny, if not a bit stupid.”

“Hey,” whines Willy from the couch.

Jonny just shakes his head, incredulous.

Ovechkin has rooms booked for them at the Jefferson, and that’s where they go, after Patrick’s said goodbye to his kidnappers-turned-friends.

Patrick has no clothes of his own to change into. He’s borrowed clothes from Ovechkin’s boys, but as soon as they’re alone, Jonny strips him of them to get a thorough look of his body.

“They didn’t hurt me, Jonny,” he insists, as Jonny checks every inch of his body.

Jonny just grunts.

When he’s done, Patrick changes into Jonny’s spare night clothes. Jonny grabbed Patrick some of his own clothes from the suitcase he brought with him to Buffalo, but Patrick ignores them.

Jonny crawls on top of him, covering Patrick’s body with his own as Patrick breathes deep beneath him. He wants to treasure this moment, because after tomorrow, he won’t ever feel it again.

“I missed you,” says Patrick, turning his face to say the words against Jonny’s jaw.

“You were the one who wanted to go to Buffalo.”

Patrick hums. “It was a stupid idea.”

“You wanted to see your family.”

“Next time they can come visit us,” says Patrick, Jonny’s heart stinging.

Patrick’s sisters are treating their visit to D.C. more like a vacation, and not like the aftermath of their brother’s kidnapping.

“Can we see the National Mall before we head back?” asks Erica, as they huddle in the lobby, waiting for Ovechkin’s cars.

“No,” says Jonny.

“We can see the monuments after breakfast,” says Patrick.

It’s Willy, Latts, and Burky who show up with the cars. They’re dressed appropriately, in dark blue suits. Dressed up they look like gentleman.

“Don’t even think about it,” Patrick says to his sisters.

“What?” says Erica, smiling flirtatiously at Burky, who smiles right back at her. “You can have a mobster for a boyfriend, but we can’t?”

“I’m dating the boss,” says Patrick. “And no, you can’t.”

“I’m riding with Willy!” announces Jackie, slipping away before Jonny can reasonably figure out the car arrangement.

They wind up with each sister in a car, with Seabs and Sharpy acting as their bodyguards, but mostly as their chaperones.

“Erica’s the only one who we have to worry about,” whispers Patrick, as they make their way out of the city and out towards the suburbs of Virginia. “Willy and Latts sleep in the same room.”

“They could be roommates,” whispers back Jonny, as Jessica sits up front, chatting away animatedly to Latts, who is smartly paying attention to her. Jonny would have shot him if he hadn’t.

Jesus, he’s becoming protective of Patrick’s sisters.

“Right,” drawls Patrick. “Just like we’re roommates.”

They stop at iHop on Jackie’s insistence.

“That can’t be healthy for you,” says Jonny, as Patrick covers his strawberry banana pancakes in even more strawberry syrup.

“No, it’s not,” agrees Patrick, proceeding to eat the pancakes anyway.

“Hey,” says Jackie, after everyone’s eaten and Jonny’s taken care of the bill. Patrick is nestled against his side, sleepy. Jonny feels the headache from last night coming back. He had nothing to eat except for a bite of Patrick’s sickening pancakes, and a cup of coffee. He won’t be able to go through with it, he thinks, once they hit the tarmac. “Why did you take Pat in the first place?”

Ovechkin’s boys have joined them for breakfast. Willy and Latts are playing an obvious game of footsie under the table.

“That is my fault,” admits Burky, looking sheepishly into his cup of chocolate milk. “I heard Backy only say ‘Pat Kane’ because my connection was bad. Backy said we go after the police chief with very scandalous information, and well, there is no Patricia Kane in Buffalo, only Patrick Kane. The police chief’s mistress’s real name is Sarah Powell. Patricia Kane is her show name, but I did not know that until yesterday.” He takes a deep breath, finally looking up from his milk. “I thought it was very scandalous if police chief’s mistress was a man.”

It’s an honest mistake, a rookie mistake, which all three of them obviously are.

“Don’t worry about it,” says Patrick. “You didn’t beat me up, I worked on my ping pong skills—I want a ping pong table, Jonny—and you made my sisters like Jonny.”

“Who says we like Jonny?” says Jessica.

“Your ass if you don’t want to walk home,” says Patrick.

They’re going to hate him again in an hour, thinks Jonny.

The girls want to see the monuments, but Jonny puts his foot down. He’s feeling nauseous, and wants to get this—this break up over.

Usually Jonny is swayed easily into what Patrick wants, but he tells Latts to head straight to the airport. Latts seems to know better than to argue.

When Patrick sees the two planes waiting on the runway, he gives Jonny a quizzical look, but doesn’t say anything, not until Latts and Jackie exit the car. “Why are there two planes?”

Jonny could put Seabs and Sharpy on the plane to Chicago, and return to Buffalo with Patrick and his sisters. Spend a few more days with them, getting to know Patrick’s sisters without the threat of Patrick’s safety looming over their heads. Have the girls on his side to win over Patrick’s parents. Have Patrick’s family visit them in Chicago.

“One plane is taking me back to Chicago, and the other is taking you back to Buffalo.”

Patrick is confused. “We haven’t seen each other in weeks, and I was just kidnapped. Don’t you want me to stay with you?”

Jonny could tell Patrick that he was joking, and get on the plane with Patrick. “You’re going back to Buffalo.”

“And I’m coming back on the twenty-third?”

“No,” says Jonny, steeling his face into an emotionless mask, even though on the inside his head is throbbing, his heart pounding. He wants to be sick. “You’re staying in Buffalo.”

Patrick searches Jonny’s face, eyes wide, mouth turned in a frown. “Then when am I coming back?”

“You’re not.”

“What?”

Jonny swallows. He feels his heart breaking, but this is for the best. Patrick needs to be kept safe. As Jonny’s lover he will never be safe. “You’ll still have access to your financial accounts. I’ll add your monthly allowance to them at the beginning of each month.”

“Jonny, what the fuck are you talking about?” Patrick’s voice is almost shrill.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

Patrick stares. “Why?”

Patrick is stubborn. Jonny will break up with him, send him back to Buffalo, but Patrick will use Jonny’s own money to fly back to Chicago and worm his way back in. Jonny has to make it hurt.

“I don’t love you.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“I’ve found someone else. Someone who won’t wake me up in the middle of the night with nightmares, or their stupid fucking cats.” Jonny looks directly at Patrick, watching his face break. “I’ll have Teuvo hand delivery the damn things to you.”

Patrick works his mouth, saying nothing. His eyes are watering. “Why are you doing this?”

“Don’t you ever listen?” snarls Jonny, proud that his voice doesn’t crack. “I don’t love you. I’m fucking someone else. Now get out of my car. Your sisters are waiting for you on the plane.”

Patrick shakes his head, face turning from heart break to anger. “You’re a fucking ass, you fucking piece of shit.”

“Get out.”

“I’m getting out of the car, you dick, but you’re either getting on the plane back to Buffalo with me, or I’m getting on the plane back with you to Chicago.”

“Patrick—”

“You’re a horrible fucking liar, you fucking piece of shit,” snaps Patrick. “You’re not fucking someone else. You don’t have time to fuck someone else. You love my fucking cats. And don’t pretend like your nightmares don’t wake you up as much as mine.”

Jonny’s quiet, in shock.

“You’re freaking out because you don’t think I’m safe being with you. You think sending me back to Buffalo, breaking my damn heart, is somehow going to keep me safe. Well it’s not, you dumbass. And you don’t get to decide this on your own. You don’t.”

“I want to be with you. I know the danger of being with you. Why do you think I never left? Not after that shit with Kesler? Kesler fucked me up. But I stayed—I stay because I love you. Now get your shit together. I’m going to get on one of those planes, and you’re going to get on whichever one I choose.”

Patrick exits the car, slamming the door, without looking back.

Jonny sits alone, stunned into silence, until Seabs opens the door. “Are you coming, or not?”

Jonny stares at him.

“Didn’t I tell you that whatever you were thinking was a stupid idea?” says Seabs.

“Did you tell Patrick—”

“Just get on the damn plane before Patrick steals a gun and shoots you,” says Seabs, shutting the door in Jonny’s face.

Jonny exits the car, because it’s a real possibility that Patrick might actually shoot him.

Patrick and his sisters are nowhere to be seen. Sharpy and Seabs are hanging near the steps to the second plane while Ovechkin’s boys huddle around.

“He’s on the plane back to Buffalo,” says Sharpy when Jonny approaches. “You’re not allowed on our plane.”

“Did he say that?” asks Jonny.

“No,” says Sharpy. “But he’s pissed. And we want to make it back to our wives and kids in one piece.”

“It was nice knowing you,” says Seabs, clapping Jonny on the back. “We’re flipping for the penthouse, Sharp!” he calls, as he and Sharpy board their plane.

Jonny is ready to get shot the second he boards his own plane.

Patrick and his sisters are huddled near the back. All four shoot him a look of death, strong enough to make Jonny’s balls recede into his body. He settles into an arm chair as far away as possible, avoiding their gaze as the plane readies for takeoff.

Jonny closes his eyes, feigning sleep. He can’t tell if his plan was incredibly stupid, or if Patrick is just incredibly stubborn.

“You’re not asleep,” says Patrick, as he slides into the seat across from Jonny.

Jonny opens his eyes.

Patrick is still upset, but his face is soft. He no longer looks as furious. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know,” says Jonny.

“I should leave your ass for the sheer stupidity of what you said earlier.” Patrick glares. “But I won’t, because I love you. And I know that you love me too, and that this must have been one of the scariest moments of your life, thinking I’d been taken from you again.”

“I know you just want me safe,” Patrick continues. “But sending me back to Buffalo isn’t going to keep me safe, and you know it. Too many people know that I’m important to you now. Even if you did ever manage to get rid of me, I would still be a target, and you would still move heaven and Earth to get me back, and everyone knows that."

“Patrick—”

“I’m not finished, Jonathan,” interrupts Patrick.

He moves from his seat to settle on Jonny’s lap. “You’re such an idiot sometimes.”

Jonny rests his head against Patrick’s sternum.

“I’m still mad at you,” says Patrick, playing with Jonny’s short hair. “You’re an idiot. But I understand—I get why you’re scared, I do. But if you ever say some stupid shit like that again, I’m shooting you, and then leaving your ass for good.”

“I’m sorry,” says Jonny.

Patrick cups Jonny’s face, tilting his head up to plant a kiss on his mouth, the first real kiss they’ve had in weeks. “Never do that to me again, Jonny.”

“I promise, I won’t,” murmurs Jonny, now fully aware that he’s immovable against Patrick’s stubbornness. There will be no getting rid of Patrick.

They spend two days in Buffalo with Patrick’s sisters before they head out, just barely managing to miss Patrick’s parents. The girls swear up and down that they won’t mention anything ever about Patrick’s kidnapping, each surprisingly give Jonny a hug goodbye.

“I guess you’re not that bad,” jokes Erica.

“I’ve always liked you,” insists Jackie.

“I want a vacation to the Bahamas for Christmas,” says Jessica.

Jonny rolls his eyes at all three of them.

The cats are ecstatic to have Patrick back.

They circle around Patrick’s ankles, meowing their excitement while conveying how tragic and dramatic their lives have been without him. Patrick spends a long few hours with the cats, sitting on the floor, stroking them and petting under their chins.

“Jonny tried to kick me out,” he tells them. “Hack up a hairball on his pillow.”

“It was for your own good,” Jonny insists. “The further away from me—”

“Oh shut it,” interrupts Patrick. “There’s no getting rid of me, Toews.”

Jonny rolls his eyes.

It’s so, fortunately, true.