Chapter Text
The hit was…brutal.
It’s the best word Hayden’s shell-shocked mind can supply.
Brutal.
The sound of the helmet hitting the ice retching him to his feet like a puppet on strings.
His first instinct is to get onto the ice, drop his gloves and start swinging, in fact his leg is already half over the board when the coach's hand clamps painfully on his shoulder like a vice.
“Sit down, Pike.” He grits through his teeth, his eyes on the scene unfolding in front of him, locked like a magnet.
“Coach he’s my—“ Hayden began, trying to shake him off, but was cut off by Theriault’s harsh voice.
“I don’t recall a fucking medical degree in your educational history, Pike. Stay out of the fucking way and let the medics work, last thing we need is more shit heads on the ice.”
Hayden fell back onto the bench, huffing in frustration. The words, still on his lips. What was he even going to say? He's my captain? he’s my best friend? he’s my fucking kids godfather? he’s basically the closest thing I have to a brother?
Hayden was so unbelievably angry; every cell in his body wanted to be moving, to do something, but the fact remained annoyingly steady.
Theriault was right.
The last thing they needed on the ice was another fucking hockey player getting in the way, and even as far away as he was, he could see that the brawl that was happing was absolutely not helping.
It was all a blur anyway, red and blue mixed with gold and black as punches flew, and gloves lay strewn around them like debris in the aftermath of a hurricane.
The medics were a stark contrast in their green uniforms, a strange point of calm in the centre of the storm of bodies around them.
“That was a nasty hit, and it looks like Hollander is out for the count!” The announcer's voice was like a knife in Hayden’s side. “Play will be paused until we know what’s happening.”
Of course it’s going to be fucking paused, everyone can see that. He thought to himself, angrily. Shane got hit so hard that the stick had broken against his face for god sake, what an idiotic thing to say.
Finally the referees got a hold of the situation, and players were being hauled back to their respective benches, revealing the scene in horrible clarity.
Shane was sprawled out on the ice, blood splattered around him like halo as the medical team gently checked him over, a neck brace already in place. Even from a distance Hayden could see that something was very wrong, Shane’s face already swelling and it was…off. Hayden couldn’t put his finger on how specifically, but the proportions were off, his mouth sitting at the wrong angle.
He pulled in a sharp breath as the medics pulled him onto the spinal board, his arm dropping lifelessly before the medic quickly pulled it up and strapped it into place.
“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath, unable to stop the panic.
“Putting it mildly.”
Hayden’s eyes snapped to the man in front of him, J.J was flushed, a large red welt already forming high on his cheek.
“What the fuck happened dude?” Hayden could feel his voice tremble, almost wishing he hadn’t asked as soon as the words left his lips. J.J blew out a sharp breath as he wiped his sweat soaked brow.
“I don’t even know, all I saw was Cap go down and my gloves were off.”
Hayden nodded, his thoughts spinning at a thousand miles a minute. He knew what happened next and he tried desperately to pull his fried thoughts together; they would reset the ice and he would be expected to play on, as if he could focus on anything else than his best friend being rushed to the hospital.
It was at that moment that he heard one of the guys down the line.
“Who is still on the ice?” A voice came from someone along the line, causing Hayden’s eyes to drift back to the scene.
Hayden hadn’t even noticed that someone was still there, but sure enough right next to the spray of blood knelt a man, the gold of his uniform almost soaked through.
“Is that Rozanov?”