Work Text:
He doesn’t mean to say it.
He never talks about it and he’d never intended his first meeting with the superstar actress who’s work he’s always been crazy about to be the moment that he broke that silence.
But then Rose finishes up talking about all the times that she’s been kidnapped in movies with a laugh and turns the question back on him.
“What about you?”
“I mean it was only once.” he finds himself saying. “And it was… well, I’m fine obviously.”
Her eyes widen, jaw dropping slightly.
“You’ve been kidnapped?” she asks. “Like… for one of those commercials you’re always doing?”
He winces.
He can see her cataloguing them in her head, trying to figure out where she’s missed it and realizes that she’s probably not going to let this go.
“No. Uh… I was thirteen.” he says carefully. “I was. Well, I was never really in any danger. Probably.”
Mr. Simmons had gotten a lot more erratic there toward the end but he doesn’t think… has always tried not to think that anything could have happened.
Rose reaches out, covering his hand with her own.
“Hey.” she says softly. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
He doesn’t but… they were having a good time prior to this.
He’d been a little star-struck when he first sat down but he’s actually really enjoyed talking to her.
Worries that if he says no, lets her try to change the subject, they probably won’t get back to that easy, light conversation they’d been having before.
“I, uh, I got selected over my friend, Jason, for this crazy competitive tournament.” he says quietly. “It was this huge visibility opportunity to help get agents’ eyes our direction and he was disappointed but chill about it. His dad was pissed though.”
Her eyes are locked on his face and he looks away, wanting to avoid even periodic eye contact.
“He lost it with the manager who made the announcement.” he admits. “Threw this whole fit about me being a diversity pick. That they’d only picked the one Asian kid on the team because they wanted to look more inclusive and it was bullshit that his son was losing out on an opportunity because of it.”
“That’s so shitty.” she says.
“Yeah.” he agrees. “Jason was mortified. Anyway, we were leaving practice the next day and he stayed behind to talk to coach about something. My mom was at a business meeting and then got stuck in traffic so she was running late. Mr. Simmons was waiting at the curb for Jason and I was on the sidewalk waiting for my mom and then he just got out of the car and popped the trunk. And that was so weird cause I would never put my gear in the trunk and neither would Jason. And then he grabbed me. One arm around my chest and the other over my throat and I couldn’t scream cause I couldn’t breathe and then he threw me in the trunk. I must have hit my head cause I was dizzy, uncoordinated. Couldn’t figure out where I was and what was going on for a long time.”
“He was that mad about it?” she asks.
“Apparently, he saw me standing there and just… started thinking that if i disappeared and couldn’t play that they would have to send Jason.” he says with a shrug.
“How long before you were found?” she asks. “And before he realized how stupid of an idea that was?”
Shane sighs.
“It.. it was a long couple of days.”
Ottawa, 2004
It helps when they stop moving but he’s still dizzy, struggling to figure out what’s going on when the trunk pops open again.
“Don’t waste your time screaming.” Mr. Simmons says darkly. “Sent Jason out for a run and Mary is at book club.”
“What.. what are you…?” he stammers, trying and mostly failing to string together a sentence.
“You’ll be missing that tournament.” Simmons growls. “They’ll have to send the backup. Once it starts, I’ll let you go.”
It’s still a week away.
Shane doesn’t – he wants to go home.
“Not your fault those dumb folks are too woke.” Simmons says, face actually softening. “You work hard. But surely even you know my boy works harder, is just better.”
Shane doesn’t know how to answer that.
“Up you get.” Simmons says, grabbing his arm. “Can’t stay in that trunk all week.”
He lets himself be pulled out of the trunk.
His head is finally starting to clear but he still has to lean heavily on the man as he’s lead out of the garage and across the yard.
There’s a hatch near the back fence and Simmons pulls it open, shoving Shane down the steps.
He helps him sit down against the wall and jogs back up the steps, closing the hatch behind him and Shane hugs his knees to his chest.
He isn’t gone long and Shane considers the items in his hands with trepidation.
“Sorry kid.” Simmons says. “Jason and Mary won’t be gone forever. Can’t have you screaming and attracting attention.”
“Please.” Shane whispers. “Just let me go home. I can talk to them, tell them Jason needs this more.”
Shane already has scouts and agents watching.
He doesn’t need the visibility of this tournament the way Jason does.
Simmons’ face twists in anger.
“You think they’re watching cause you’re a better player?” he snarls, stepping forward.
Shane recoils against the wall.
“You’re a novelty, Shane.” he spits. “An Asian kid playing a sport where ninety-five percent of players are white and four -point – nine percent are black. You’re a mediocre player at best that gets hyped because everyone wants to pretend that Asians can play hockey too.”
He shoves him down onto his stomach, jerking his arms behind his back.
Loops a zip tie each around his wrists before connecting them together and then repeats the process (albeit thankfully looser) above his elbows.
Presses duct tape over his mouth and then rises to his feet.
“Jason is going to play at that tournament and then the whole world will see what an incredible player he is.” he hisses into Shane’s ear. “And then everyone will forget all about you.”
Shane doesn’t move, doesn’t try to get off his stomach as the man goes back up the stairs.
Montreal, Present Day
“He’d bring me water from time to time but I was mostly alone down there after that.” Shane says with a shrug, pulling himself out of the memories. “I could see him realizing that it wasn’t going to be as simple as letting me go once Jason was playing at the tournament but he was so angry about everything after that so I was too scared to push it.”
“Of course not.” she says, shaking her head. “How did they find you? Did he realize he was in over his head and give up, or?”
“He tried to interject himself into the investigation.” Shane says. “Kept hovering around my parents’ house pretending to be worried about his son’s best friend. But he messed up. Said the wrong thing to my dad and he noticed. Had him slammed up against the wall before he even realized he’d messed up.”
He finds himself smiling.
“Mom says he gave him a black eye before the officers hanging around pulled him back and then he jumped right in the car and drove over to Simmons’ house.” he says.
Ottawa, 2004
Shane shifts, trying to settle more comfortably against the stone wall behind him.
He’s never felt this hot before and from how cold he remembers it being when he was first brought down here, he’s pretty sure he’s getting sick or something.
He thinks this could be a dehydration thing since its been a while since he was given any water but that doesn’t change the fact that he feels like shit.
The heavy doors fly open with a bang and he can’t help but flinch away from the noise – from the bright light.
“Shane?” a familiar voice calls down. “Shane, kiddo, you down there?”
Dad?
He can’t make much more than a muffled whimper in response but it’s enough.
His dad thunders down the steps, crashing to his knees in front of him.
“Oh thank god.” he breathes, pulling him into a tight hug and Shane just buries his face in his dad’s chest.
They sit there for a long moment, Shane drawing comfort that he’s been so sorely lacking in and his dad clinging to him in an attempt to reassure himself that he’s okay.
Then he pulls back, gently peeling the tape away from his mouth.
“You alright?” he asks, pressing the flat of his palm to his son’s cheek. “You’re warm.”
“Think I’m just dehydrated.” Shane says, shaking his head. “I’m okay.”
His dad crushes him back to his chest.
“You are.” he says. “I’ve got you.”
Shane nods, whining slightly when his dad pulls back again.
“Not going anywhere, buddy.” his dad says. “Let’s get you up, huh? Think the police might be behind me but we’ll call them from the house if they aren’t.”
Shane lets himself be pulled to his feet, stumbling slightly as he gets his legs underneath him.
His dad retrieves a knife from his pocket, cutting the zip ties away from Shane’s wrists and then leading him up the stairs.
A pair of cops come around the house just as they exit the storm cellar and one of them stops, raising his radio.
The other hurries to meet them.
“We’re calling an ambulance now.” he says. “And then we’ll get a crime scene unit out here. Is he okay?”
“Dehydrated.” his dad says, wrapping his arm a little tighter around Shane’s shoulders as he unconsciously presses closer. “Maybe coming down with something but I’m hoping the fever is just the lack of water.”
“I’ve got some water in the cruiser.” the officer says. “I’ll grab it.”
Shane’s dad helps him sit on the front porch and then the officer is back, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders and handing him a bottle of water.
His dad sits next to him, an arm around his shoulders and for the first time in years, Shane just leans closer.
His mom arrives just as the ambulance does, racing across the lawn toward him and crashing to her knees in front of him.
She grabs his face with both hands, studying him intently before pressing a kiss to his forehead and pulling him into a hug.
“It’ll be okay, baby.” she promises him. “You’ll be okay.”
Shane nods.
Montreal, Present Day
“I never mentioned the concussion.” he tells Rose conspiratorially, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I was afraid they’d tell me I couldn’t play that weekend if I mentioned it.”
She lets out a surprised laugh.
“Shane.” she chides.
“The hospital did all kinds of blood work and checkups anyway.” he defends. “They didn’t find anything to be worried about so I just.. didn’t say anything.”
“Did they let you play?” she asks.
“Tournament MVP.” he says with a wink before sobering. “Jason dropped out of hockey though. He was horrified by what his dad did, refused to take my spot when they offered it anyway. But the other guys never treated him the same afterward.”
“Did you guys stay friends?” she asks.
“I wanted to.” Shane says. “But I… well there’s a reason they alway mention that I’m not the most sociable in the same breath as talking about my hockey IQ. And I could never go back to his house afterward so we just.. drifted apart.”
“That’s so sad.” she says.
He just shrugs.
“Yeah.”
Then he forces a smile.
“So, have you ever filmed in Montreal before?” he asks.
“Well, I was here a few years ago.” she says, letting him change the subject. “Shooting this horrible FBI movie.”
“Under Dark?” he guesses. “Kidnapped again?”
“Come on.” she says, looking horrified. “No!”
He laughs, saying something about how he flies a lot and watches a lot of movies and the conversation moves along.
Maybe talking about it wasn’t so bad.