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"Long time, no play." Shurik observed as he punted the hockey puck towards Tavir.

"You got that right, kid." Tavir replied, and Shurik grinned; no matter how old he got, he still seemed to be a kid to Tavir.

"Where's Reyn?" he wondered as he caught the puck and flicked it back again.

"Ah, he's sick." Fleeting worry crossed Tavir's face, then was gone again. Shurik nodded in sympathy, but secretly he couldn't help but be glad Reyn wasn't at hockey practice for a change. It had been almost a year since Reyn and Tavir had first gotten together, and nearly nine months since they had moved in together, and everything had changed. Tavir's world was Reyn now, and nothing else was quite as important. Reyn and Tavir were always paired for hockey practices, leaving Shurik to find another partner as well matched. And Shurik, who had spent most of his days loafing around at Tavir's house, had suddenly found himself with too much spare time.. too much time to sit and think. He only saw Tavir at hockey practice now, and though he'd found other things to fill his time, he'd never quite filled the empty space inside him. He missed Tavir, missed his constant presence, his gentle teasing, his quiet concern.

"Damnit!" Tavir's soft curse snapped him out of his reverie, and he glanced up in time to see Tavir stumbling, almost falling.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, worried. Tavir didn't stumble; he was too quick on his feet for that.

"Yeah." Tavir looked a little sheepish. "My knee's just been a little funny lately, is all." He tapped his right knee lightly.

"Funny?" Shurik noted the worry beneath Tavir's light tone. "Maybe you should get it checked out."

"Nah, it's fine." Tavir assured him. "Besides, the finals are soon, and I don't have time to be falling apart, now do I?" He raised his eyebrows with a smile, and Shurik smiled in return.

"I guess not." But he kept a close eye on Tavir for the rest of hockey practice. Tavir was favouring that leg far too much. How much pain must he be in? And why didn't he do something about it? If he wasn't careful, he could make it a lot worse.

Without Reyn and his car, Tavir had to walk home, a prospect he did not look forward to. Especially when Shurik hurried to catch up with him.

"Can I walk with you, Tav?" he asked. Tavir just nodded. Oh, it wasn't that he didn't like Shurik's company -- on the contrary, he loved having him around, and missed all the time they'd once spent together. But Shurik had noticed his knee problem, and he knew the kid would worry. He walked carefully, trying not to limp too obviously.

"Looking forward to the finals?" Shurik asked casually, fiddling with the wheels of his rollerblades.

"Yeah, I guess." Tavir shrugged. Actually he was dreading them, but he couldn't just come out and say that.

"Think you'll be okay to play 'em?" Shurik glanced up at him, then back at the wheels he was so intent on toying with.

"Okay? Sure." Tavir wasn't so sure he wanted to know where this was going.

"What about your knee?" Shurik's honeybrown eyes were filled with worry, just like Tavir had expected. <Damnit, I should've paired with someone else today. But that would've upset him just as much..>

"My knee's fine. Just a little twinge now and then." he lied reassuringly. He hated lying to Shurik, but he didn't dare come out with the truth.

"A little twinge? I watched you playing. If it's so little, why are you limping even now?" Shurik's eyes burned, anger born from worry. Tavir wished he could stop limping, could hide the pain somehow and stop Shurik from worrying.

"It's nothing, Shur. Just forget it, okay?" He pleaded with his eyes as well as his voice.

"But why don't you do something about it? Ignoring it won't make it go away." Shurik stopped walking, turning to stare at him.

"It doesn't matter, Shur. It's just a little pain. I'll worry about it later.."

"After the finals? Is hockey suddenly so important to you that you have to cripple yourself in order to win?" Shurik continued to stare, but all Tavir could do was hang his head, gaze on the ground in front of him. What could he say to that?

"I thought we played hockey just for fun. I thought hockey was our way of getting away from stress and pain. But I guess you've changed more than I could've ever imagined." Shurik's words were bitter, laced with his own pain, but Tavir couldn't raise his head. He didn't dare meet those wide eyes that he knew would be full of hurt -- hurt he had caused. Shurik sighed, then turned and walked away. <I'm sorry, Shur! You don't understand.. if only I could explain it to you..> Instead, he turned his own way and limped ungracefully home.

Tavir gripped the hockeystick tight, knuckles slowly turning white. The pain was bright today, intense and unwilling to let him free of its grasp. He'd downed plenty of painkillers, but nothing seemed to be helping.

"Ready to kick some butt?" Reyn's soothing voice spoke softly in his ear. He turned slightly, gazing into those green eyes that always made him feel better. He didn't trust himself to speak, though, so he just nodded. Reyn smiled, smoothing back Tavir's hair to kiss him on the forehead.

"Be strong. It's all in your mind, remember?" Reyn's words were almost reassuring. He nodded again, wishing he could convince his knee of that. But today was the finals, and once this was over, he could forget about hockey for awhile. Then maybe his knee would stop tormenting him, just like Reyn always said it would.

Time crawled, but finally they were out on the field, facing down the other team. A cool breeze ruffled his hair, drying the sweat that already dampened his brow, and he smiled. Maybe he could manage this yet.

Then the game began in a fury of movement and noise, and doubts returned as his knee betrayed him, nearly spilling him onto the ground. Gathering himself together, he gave a yell of anger, and chased down the puck and its possessor. Stealing it with a deft maneuver, he turned, skating it back up the field. He saw Reyn, ready to catch it from him, and Shurik just behind Reyn, open and waiting for a pass. He slammed the puck towards both of them, and then someone collided with him. His knee buckled, roaring a fury of pain, and everything around him seemed to burst in a blaze of white that faded to black as he collapsed on the ground.

"Tavir!" Shurik forgot hockey in an instant as Tavir collapsed with a cry of pain. He dodged between the players, leaving his hockeystick somewhere behind him, and skidded to his knees next to Tavir.

"Tavir?" he spoke softly, nearly unheard amidst the din. But Tavir was out cold, his form huddled around his knees; his hands cupped his right knee, as if they could stop the pain somehow.

The referee's whistle blew, and suddenly a crowd was gathering around them. Two men in white hurried out, lifting Tavir onto a stretcher.

"Where are you taking him?" Shurik scrambled to his feet, hastening to follow.

"Looks like he'll need the hospital, this one," was the quick reply. Shurik nodded, keeping pace with them, but a hand gripped his arm, pulling him to a halt.

"Shurik, the game!" It was the coach, Jerran. Shurik gave the field a quick glance. Reyn stood amongst the other players waiting to continue, his hockeystick held firmly and only his eyes following the stretcher. Shurik shook his head.

"I can't, Jerran. I'm sorry." He pried the coach's hand from his arm, and turned to catch up to the stretcher.