Nicole had never felt more like death.
Like serious, actual death. Like kick the bucket, six feet under, dirt nap death.
Every single inch of her body ached and she couldn't, no matter how hard she tried, open her eyes. Her eyelids were impossibly heavy, and her throat burned, all kinds of scratchy from…well, she wasn't quite sure why, but it felt like she'd swallowed a pack or razor blades. She tried to move, just her neck at first, but quickly realized that it was, in fact, possible for her pain to get worse. Her head throbbed, worse than the morning after one of the few college parties she had actually attended, but why? Why did her head hurt so much? Why did everything hurt? And why couldn't she open her damn eyes?
She settled on the only logical conclusion. She, Nicole Rayleigh Haught, was dead.
Now the only question was she in heaven, or had she been sent to hell?
There was a weird floatiness and that she felt (sort of like coming out of anesthesia after getting your wisdom teeth out), and the faint scent of a familiar perfume, that told her maybe she was in heaven. But, judging by the amount of pain she was feeling, maybe she was in hell after all. (That would mean that all those bigots she tried to ignore and prove wrong would actually be right, which would've been worse than actually being sent to hell. Oh well, she thought, maybe she'd just haunt them).
She knew there was only one way to know for sure. If she could just open her damn eyes.
Come on Haught, she prodded herself, come on, just open your eyes. You've been doing it every day for twenty-three years.
She could feel her brow furrow, the muscles around her eyelids fighting her attempts. She pushed harder, mind working double-time to push the lids open, until suddenly she felt them lighten slightly, and then the action gradually became easier until…
Okay, ouch. Wow that's bright. Wait—bright and white. Maybe she was going to heaven after all. She figured she was an okay enough person anyway, so it made sense.
She squinted at the source of the light, hoping for it to eventually dim and she could find herself in heaven. Maybe she'd run into an old hockey hero of hers, or that cast of the Golden Girls. But, if she was actually in heaven, the first thing she'd do was find her aunt and uncle and they could talk and catch each other up on everything they've missed over the last five years. She decided that maybe heaven wasn't going to be all that bad. Sure she'd miss her life, and playing hockey, and the Earps—obviously Waverly (she felt her heart clench at the thought that she'd quite possibly left the love of her life behind), but weirdly Wynonna too—but if she had to be dead, at least heaven had some perks.
The light dimmed, and the room she was in slowly came into focus.
Weird, she thought, heaven looked a lot like a hospital room.
She tried to look around again, but seemed to have forgotten how much that hurt.
"Ow." She muttered, voice raspier than she would've liked.
She heard some sort of movement from beside her, but couldn't see the source and really didn't want to hurt her neck more to find out.
Lucky for her, the culprit moved again, and spoke this time.
"Woah," she heard. Nicole would know that voice anywhere. "Hiya Red!"
If she was here, then there was no maybe about it—Nicole was in hell. Definitely, one hundred percent, without a shadow of a doubt, hell.
"Ow," she repeated, all she could manage to say apparently, her brain still feeling weirdly groggy. Wynonna entered her vision from beside her. Why the woman had to be so loud, she'd never know. "Loud."
"Oh, right," Wynonna's face showed the realization of her volume, now whispering, "sorry."
"The light…bright." She complained, squeezing her eyes back shut to alleviate the thundering in her head, hating the way her voice sounded slow and weak; raspier than she would've like too.
She heard what she could only assume was Wynonna shuffling across the room, pulling the curtains closed, and suddenly the blinding pain dulled to a slightly less than unbearable aching.
She used her eyes to scan as much of her surroundings as she could without moving her head, questions forming in her mind—how did she get there? Had it been doing something stupid with Wynonna? (Probably). If it had been something with Wynonna, why wasn't she also in a hospital bed? Most importantly, where was Waverly?
"Waverly?" She asked, still scanning the room.
"She's gonna be so pissed she's not here right now," Wynonna told her. "She should be back soon. She had to run to the rink, show Mercedes the ropes."
"Mercedes?" She asked, skeptical but mostly confused.
"The Gardners volunteered to help take care of some rink duties while Waverly and I were here with you." Nicole rolled her eyes, knowing that that was a disaster waiting to happen, wincing at the pain it sent right behind her eyes. "I know what you're thinking, Haught—It's gonna be a total dumpster fire. Yeah, I know." Wynonna chuckled, reading Nicole's body language.
"What happened?" She tried a response that was longer than a syllable or two. "Why am I here?"
Wynonna looked at her seriously, calculating what she should say next.
"What do you remember?"
She thought for a moment. She remembered Brandon, an airport, Jolene telling her to watch her back, the conversation with Sherriff in his office before game seven and vaguely the beginning of the game, but anything after that was hazy at best.
"We were at the game. You and I made a bet, I think." She said, her throat still scratchy, taking more than forever to get the words out. (Why was she oddly winded from a few short sentences?) Wynonna nodded. Nicole swallowed painfully and continued. "Wynonna, did something happen at the game?"
The woman next to her looked like she was having some sort of war flashbacks, taking more than a beat to compose her thoughts into an answer. Nicole inferred from her reaction that something had happened at the game, but now she really wanted to know what could've been so bad to land her in the hospital.
"Uh…yeah, kinda," Wynonna scratched at the back of her neck. "You kinda got crunched into the boards, and kinda sorta got knocked unconscious and broke your leg." Nicole looked down to her right leg, splinted in a soft cast. Well at least that explained the pain that started in her knee and radiated down to her ankle. "Total cheap shot though—that bitch grabbed you by the collar and then plowed you into the wall all defenseless and shit."
She'd been grateful (she admits begrudgingly) for Wynonna's inability to beat around the bush with anything. Nicole cringed at the thought of the hit, but figured she should get around to seeing what happened at some point.
"Wynonna?"
"Yeah?"
"How long was I out?"
"You were out the whole night Monday night after the hit, and most of yesterday."
"So, it's Wednesday then?" She asked; Wynonna confirmed. "Did you get to see who hit me?"
"Mhm," Wynonna nodded.
"Was it Jolene?"
"Yeah, how did yo—did you remember more from the game?" The brunette looked at her, surprised.
"No, I just had a feeling," Nicole said, "she confronted me in the airport bathroom after game six, I think it was…She told me that they had to eliminate the threat…should watch my back. Just putting two-and-two together."
"Jesus Christ, Haught." Wynonna said incredulously. "I was only kidding when I said you should watch out so you wouldn't get kneecapped in a back alley, but holy shit. The Swamp Witch actually put a hit out on you."
The two laughed softly, sharing the unbelievable nature of the story.
"Did we at least win?" She asked once she'd caught her breath, winded yet again by something so small as a half of a laugh.
In the grand scheme of things, she supposed it wasn't all that important, but the competitor in her wanted to know.
"Yeah, your team's at practice right now, actually; getting ready for the second round." The woman beside her explained. "They were all here, right after it happened."
"All of them?" she asked.
"They wanted to stay the night, until you were good." Wynonna said as she nodded her response to Nicole's question.
"You didn't let them stay on uncomfortable hospital chairs overnight, did you?" She hoped that Wynonna had had the sense to send them home.
"No, but they fought me on it." (Good, she thought to herself. There was no need for them to ruin their backs or waste their time in a hospital waiting room for little ol' her). "Vic and Shan stayed after most of them left," Wynonna told her. She figured that if anyone would've stayed it would've been those two anyway. "But…you should probably talk to Shae."
"Why?" She furrowed her brow. Last she remembered, the captain couldn't stand her. Why on earth would she need to talk to that woman?
"Just, whenever you see her, you should let her talk." Wynonna nodded knowingly, but didn't give further explanation.
The door to the room creaked open, and Nicole heard the gasp before she even saw Waverly standing in the doorway.
"Oh my god!" She yelled, sending another shock through Nicole's head. She guessed it was just an Earp thing. Waverly all but ran across the room to the bed, depositing the tray of coffees onto a table beside Wynonna. "You're awake. You're actually awake, right?"
"Uh, yeah, I think so. Kinda feel like I might be dead though." She tried to joke, but even the smallest of chuckles sent ripples of fiery pain all long her right side. "Ow," she grimaced.
"Don't joke about that, Nicole," Waverly scolded her. The look on both the Earps' faces telling her that whatever she'd been through was no laughing matter.
"Sorry."
"No, god, no it's okay. I'm just happy to see your big, beautiful brown eyes."
"I love you, Waverly Earp."
She saw Waverly pause at her words, taking in a sharp breath and shifting her eyes toward Wynonna. What, had she said something wrong? Had she missed something? Clearly she must have.
"Y-you remember. You remember me? Us, right? You remember."
"Of course I do Waves, why wouldn't I?"
"Last night when you woke up," Waverly started, clasping her hand in hers. She didn't even remember waking up last night at all, though she would've loved to know that Waverly was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes. "You were really, really out of it," her girlfriend said with a watery laugh, "and you were all sad because Waverly Earp had a boyfriend and would never like you back. I thought it was funny at first because you were all drugged up still, but then I got to thinking what if it was something serious? It was like you forgot the last six months ever even happened. You kept telling me all about the things you loved about this girl, but didn't recognize me—you said I looked just like Waverly Earp."
"Oh god, baby," she smiled at her, trying to raise her hand to reach up to Waverly's face but putting it back down when she realized that the strain also pulled on her aching ribs. "I could never forget you. I promise." Waverly's smile, already her favorite thing, lit up her entire mood, and she swore that for a millisecond, it took all of her aching and throbbing and pains away. "Waves?" She asked after a moment of shared smiles.
"Yeah?"
"I wanna kiss you real bad right now…but I can't exactly move without…feeling like someone's taking a flamethrower to my entire body," she flashed her a smile, though she was sure her face showed just how much pain she was in. "How 'bout you come meet me halfway?"
Waverly didn't miss a beat, lowering herself to capture Nicole's lips. Nicole found it odd that Wynonna didn't scoff or gag or make some kind of comment about PDA, but she was too happy to be kissing her girlfriend to really care. She'd endured enough Wynonna Interruptus over the last six months and wanted to enjoy this moment.
However, a sharp knock on the door interrupted them nonetheless.
"Good morning—or should I say afternoon?" A woman in a white coat entered the room with a clipboard, looking at her watch to see it was just past twelve o'clock If she were a betting woman (which apparently she was, based on the number of times she allowed herself to be drawn into bets with Wynonna), Nicole would say that this woman was her doctor. "Was nobody going to tell me that Nicole was awake?" The doctor had a joking tone in her voice, actually looking pleased to see that she had woken up. She crossed the room over to the bed, the sisters allowing her access. "Hi Nicole, nice of you to join us. I'm Dr. Valdez."
"Hi," she said, not bothering to nod.
"I'm just going to do a quick assessment okay, and then you can ask me any questions you might have, sound good?"
"Mhm."
"Okay, good. First off, I'm sure you know this, but can you tell me your name?"
"Nicole Haught. Nicole Rayleigh Haught."
"Good," Dr. Valdez said. "And do you know where you are?"
"Hospital. Not sure which one."
"Northern Memorial," the doctor told her, "And can you tell me who the president is?"
"That's a trick question," Nicole smirked, proud of herself, "We're Canadian."
"And don't you just thank god for that every day?" Dr. Valdez laughed, but overall appeared pleased with her answers. "Cognitive function appears to be intact, unless there are any concerns?"
"Um," Waverly spoke up, "last night it seemed like she had some memory loss, is that something to worry about?"
"Well, we can definitely keep an eye on it," The doctor nodded at Waverly's concerns, but her face didn't show any worries. "As far as you know, can she remember now?" Waverly answered the question affirmatively. "Alright, like I said, we'll watch for any signs of that, but more than likely it was a side effect of the medications wearing off."
"Okay," Waverly breathed, relieved.
"Very well then, Nicole, I'm just gonna check out a couple more things, alright?" Dr. Valdez returned her focus to the redhead.
"Whatever you need to do."
"I need you to follow the light with just your eyes," the doctor produced a pen light from her pocket, shining the beam across her field of view.
"Ow," she hissed; Nicole couldn't help but flinch at first, but eventually adjusted. "Bright."
"Sorry," the woman apologized, finishing her test after another moment and replacing the pen in her pocket. "The reaction is a bit sluggish, but that was expected. You hit your head pretty hard there Nicole."
"Sure does feel like it."
"You've got a pretty nasty concussion, so I'm gonna need you to tell either me or the nurses if your head starts to hurt more than beyond just a normal headache." Nicole hummed her understanding of the request. "Okay, perfect. Now, I need to test your motor function, so I'm gonna grab your hands and I want you to squeeze mine back as hard as you can." Nicole did as she was told, glad to see that something appeared to be mostly fine—her right shoulder was sore, but other than that her arms seemed to be no worse for wear. "Lovely, and if you can wiggle your toes for me," Nicole complied again, though doing so had sent a shot of pain up her right leg and she had far less control over the toes on her right foot than she would've liked.
"Oh my god!" Waverly squeaked from beside her, taking her hand and squeezing it. "That's good, right? She's not paralyzed?"
Nicole supposed she should've figured a serious collision with the wall would have come with the threat of paralysis; should've known that Waverly would be terrified of just that.
"No, she's not paralyzed," Dr. Valdez chuckled at the outburst. "Though I do want to get you up to surgery sooner rather than later, Nicole. Decreased movement in this bad leg is expected. We'll take care of everything in the OR."
The doctor, with the help of Waverly and Wynonna, guided Nicole to a sitting position so that she could listen to her lungs. Nicole wasn't sure there was scale high enough to rate just how badly the entire exchange hurt. Apparently, as Dr. Valdez explained to her, she had five broken ribs, one of which had punctured her lung (that had also, apparently, collapsed—whatever that meant. She just knew it hurt like a bitch).
"Is that why my throat hurts?" Nicole asked, still very much in pain after being returned to her original position.
"We had you on a ventilator overnight; there was a tube helping you breathe."
Well now the razor blades in her throat made sense.
The doctor offered to have a nurse come in to up her pain meds, seeing how much discomfort she was in, which Nicole accepted without hesitation. Satisfied by her assessments, Dr. Valdez said that they would begin to prep her for surgery shortly. Before she left, she asked if Nicole had any more questions for her.
She couldn't think of any for the woman at the moment—she figured she'd hear enough about the surgery on her leg during prep, and she'd gotten the gist of most of her other injuries throughout the assessment—and Dr. Valdez left the three alone for now.
Nicole did have one question, actually. Well, it was more of a request.
"Hey guys?" She asked, the sisters' heads both perking up. "Is there video of the hit?"
Wynonna nodded slowly, eying her warily; Waverly looked at her with a mix of concern and warning, and strangely like she was going to start crying.
"There is, but," Wynonna paused for a second, "are you sure you want to see it? It's kinda graphic."
Yeah, no shit.
She figured it was pretty gnarly if it had landed her in the hospital. She also wondered if Jolene was off somewhere smirking contentedly, taking pride in the fact she had that kind of power.
"Yeah, might as well."
Wynonna took a deep breath, looking like she was giving Nicole one more chance to back out, pulling her phone out when she realized Nicole wasn't going to.
"Barber—point to point to Jackson," the voice of the play-by-play commentator narrated, "Tries to feed it diagonally to Clanton—deflected into the corner by Pressman. Haught in pursuit, DiMoni on her tail—and WOW! What a hit by DiMoni—Haught slow to get up—pandemonium breaks out on the ice, but Haught still hasn't moved and she looks like she might be in trouble…"
Nicole watched the whole thing, feeling oddly detached from the whole experience. The slamming of her head into the boards, the zoomed in footage of her leg bending at an unholy angle, and then the obscenely unnecessary thirty seconds of the camera focused on her lying motionless in the corner. She figured she'd been knocked unconscious right then and there, and she was almost glad she couldn't remember it. Wynonna was right, it was a cheap shot, and right again (shocking, truly) that the video was graphic, but Nicole wasn't fazed by it. Maybe she should've been; maybe she should've had some sort of reaction—the body does have a way of remembering its trauma, but she wasn't as affected by seeing it as would've been reasonably expected.
She heard Waverly choke back what she assumed was a sob at the point in the video where the sound of her head hitting the corner boards with shocking volume for a TV broadcast, and she didn't have to see her girlfriend's face to know that she'd been trying not to cry.
"Baby," she shifted her eyes over to her girlfriend, extending her hand, the smaller girl taking it and squeezing it tightly.
"I'm sorry," Waverly sniffled, meaning that her attempts to curb the tears had been unsuccessful, "you're the one who got hurt, so I don't know why I'm crying."
"Don't apologize…you were scared."
"Nicole, I thought I was going to lose you."
"I'm here baby," she tried to soothe, pulling gently on Waverly's arm to bring her closer. "I'm here. I'm gonna be okay."
Waverly chewed on her lip, trying to bite back the rest of her tears, looking hard at Nicole's face.
"Can I kiss you again?" She asked when she looked semi-composed.
"As if you even had to ask."
A young nurse introduced herself as Joria after a doctor Nicole didn't recognize escorted Wynonna and Waverly out of the room.
"That's Dr. Del Rey," Joria told her, noticing that Nicole was scrutinizing the strange-looking man. What kind of doctor had a bleached mohawk like that? (Never mind whatever the fuck was going on with his beard). He looked more like a Mighty Ducks villain than he did a hospital professional. "He's kinda a maverick, does things outside the ordinary, but he's one of the best surgeons in the hospital—in Alberta, too."
"A surgeon?" Nicole questioned, not really put at ease by the nurse's explanation. She wasn't sure if doing things outside the ordinary was something someone would want in the doctor operating on them.
"Mhm," the nurse nodded. "The best damn orthopedic surgeon I've ever seen."
Wait—orthopedic? That meant…
"He's not—"
"—Dr. Del Rey is your surgeon, yes." Joria explained over Nicole's question. Sensing her nerves, Joria added, "He's the best. He was highly sought after by big city hospitals, but chose here to get away from the hustle and bustle of that kind of life, I promise he's not some trailer park owner in a lab coat. He knows what he's doing, there's no one else you'd rather have doing this procedure, alright?"
Still skeptical, but a little more at ease, Nicole hummed her approval. She still wasn't necessarily sure about the doctor, but the nurse had been calming enough to take her mind off of it, if only just a bit.
Joria continued to work around her, prepping her for the surgery, explaining as she went along. The nurse told her of the broken bones in her foot that would heal themselves with time, but her leg needed an internal fixation, and she'd have some plates and screws holding the lower part of the limb together. Dr. Del Rey would have to work on ligaments and tendons in her knee and ankle too, Joria told her as she listed her injuries.
Nicole didn't know much about all of this stuff, but she did pass the anatomy course she took as an elective her second year at university, so she knew vaguely where everything was. Hearing words like ACL, LCL and patellar tendon, she knew she was dealing with a pretty serious knee injury. She also knew that people had had their careers ended over things less serious. She didn't want to get negative, but the anxiety that she may never play again crept in.
The universe had been nothing of a cruel joke to her her entire life. Being born to parents who very clearly did not want a child; the only parental figures in her life dying just as she was entering a new, scary world; finding out she was gay in one of the most awkward and embarrassing interactions of her young life; the number of people who doubted she'd even make it as far as she had (which included herself most days). Nicole had finally reached a point where she felt like she belonged, like she was meant to be exactly where she was, doing exactly the thing she loved, surrounded by a found family who loved and supported her. She was finally, dare she say, happy, and now that happiness could be blown over so easily by the actions of one person. It'd be pretty fitting for her life if this was how this part of it ended.
Before she knew it, she was being wheeled toward the operating room, trying to keep the negative thoughts away. Maybe everything would be fine, and she'd back on the ice before she knew it. She had to hold onto that hope, at least for now—it's what Waverly would tell her, at least.
"Hey there, Nicole," she heard a male voice overhead. "I'm Dr. Del Rey, but I'll tell you what— I'm gonna have to cut into your leg to but it back together, so I think you and I should be on a first name basis—you can call me Bobo, sound good?" Nicole had agreed verbally, but all she could think about how fitting his name was—a ridiculous name for a ridiculous looking man. "Perfect, we're gonna put you under now and get started, if you can count backwards from ten for me."
Nicole started counting as the anesthesia mask was placed over her mouth and nose, already making her feel lightheaded and sleepy.
"Ten…nine…eight…"
She was out before she could even remember what number came next.
When she wakes up, Wynonna's at the foot of the bed with a sharpie in her hand.
Why on earth Wynonna Earp continues to be the first thing she sees when she wakes up, she's not sure, but chalks it up to the jokes the universe so very clearly loves to play on her.
"Not that I don't love you," she croaked out, "but you're not exactly the Earp I was hoping to wake up to."
Wynonna looked up at her from where she sat, but didn't stop scribbling away at the light blue cast on Nicole's right leg.
"Mmm, you'd think you'd be a little more grateful to have such an artist to wake up to."
"What're you doing?"
"Ah, ah, ah," Wynonna tutted at her, "I can't show you my masterpiece until I've finished it. You think Picasso or Michelangelo or Donatello ever let anyone see their work before it was done?"
"Wow," Nicole muttered, mildly impressed, "I didn't know you knew those were all artists."
"You underestimate me, Haught." Wynonna tells her, air of offense in her tone. She shakes her head for a second before adding, "Waverly told me they were painters. I thought that the last two were just Ninja Turtles."
Well that made more sense.
"Speaking of, where is Waverly?"
"Talking to some doctor, I think." Wynonna didn't look up from her drawing. "She's better at the paperwork stuff than I am, so I let her take over."
"Oh, okay," Nicole answered, but noticed a change in Wynonna's demeanor, almost like there was something more she wanted to say. "Wynonna, you good?"
Wynonna put down the marker for a moment, sitting back in the chair with a heavy sigh.
"That was a really shitty thing you did, Nicole," she said plainly after a moment.
"I-I'm sorry," Nicole was taken aback, not really having a clue as to what Wynonna was referring to. "I don't know what you're talking about." Had she done something she couldn't remember? Did she say something while still barely functional after anesthesia?
"You made me your emergency contact." Oh. Right. "And you didn't tell me."
"Wynonna, I'm sorry, I—"
"I was in charge of making decisions for you, but I had no idea what to do. No idea if I was helping or hurting—I was practically useless." Wynonna said, continuing before Nicole could get another word in. "Did you know you were allergic to thiopental? Because I didn't, and you almost died in surgery because of the reaction."
"I had no idea."
"I know," Wynonna backed down after snapping just seconds earlier. "It was just such a huge responsibility dropped on me. I didn't know anything that could be helpful to the doctors in charge of you, and then there was Waverly in the back of my mind—if you weren't okay and you left her behind because of a wrong decision I made, I-I couldn't live with myself."
Admittedly, when she made the decision to pick Wynonna as her emergency contact, she knew she should've told the other woman, but she couldn't bring herself to it. They still hadn't known each other all that well and it was a big ask.
"Look, Wynonna," she started, seeing how heavily affected she was by the responsibility. There was a vulnerability to the older woman that she rarely saw. "When we ran into my parents back in Edmonton, I knew that I wouldn't let them be responsible for making decisions for me now, because they weren't responsible for me growing up. You were the first person I could trust with this—"
"—Why not Waverly? I'm sure she would've known better what to do."
"You and I both know Waverly wouldn't be in sound mind to make decisions if it got really bad." Wynonna nodded in concession. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. When I changed my emergency contact, we didn't know each other all that well and I was worried you'd think I was weird."
"Of course I would," Wynonna said, "but because you're a fucking doofus, not because you were trusting me with something so important."
"Thank you Wynonna."
"For what?"
"For being a good emergency contact."
"Even though you almost died?"
"Yeah, yeah." Nicole rolled her eyes.
The two sat in the comfortable silence of their heart-to-heart, Wynonna returning to scribble away at Nicole's cast, using her body to shield it from the redhead's view. Nicole tried to sit up to sneak a look at Wynonna's work, but her ribs still hurt too much, and she released a disgruntled groan as she settled back into a more comfortable position; Wynonna snickered.
A few minutes later, Waverly reentered the room, stopping shortly after walking through the door, eyes bulging at the sight of her sister.
"WYNONNA! Why are you drawing dicks all over my girlfriend's cast!?"
Her first non-Earp visitors (since she first woke up, at least) were Powers and Finning.
Nicole had heard them coming, the secretive whispering outside the door giving them away. Joria let them into the room, the two walking in more carefully than she'd ever seen them. Those two were akin to bulls in a China shop most of the time.
"Listen, if anyone asks, these two," the nurse gestured between Vic and Shan, "are your sisters, alright?"
Nicole made an OK signal with her fingers, knowing that technically only family was allowed up, and that Joria was essentially sneaking them in.
"Dude," Vic said to her once the door to the room was closed again and her two teammates had taken the seats on either side of her bed. "You look terrible."
"Gee, thanks."
"I personally think you look good to go for Game One on Friday." Shan shrugged.
Nicole frowned, wishing that were true.
"Who do you guys have?" She asked.
"Rangers." Vic answered, deepening Nicole's frown for a moment, immediately trying to hide it with a smile. "Don't act like you're not bummed out, Nic."
She'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little bummed to miss any game, but especially a playoff game, and double especially one against PA. They were a great squad, no doubt, but for some reason, she'd been able to go off against them all year. Out of every team they played this year, her stats against the Rangers were easily the best.
"Yeah, I guess," she shrugged, wincing at the tugging on her ribs caused by the action. "But mostly I'm excited for you guys. Second round, that's huge."
"It is, but I'm not gonna lie—and don't let this go to your head—we're gonna miss your goal-scoring out there."
"You guys will do just fine without me, I promise." She said, trying to be supportive of her teammates, but coming off more sadly than intended.
"Shut up and take the compliment, Haught."
"Thanks guys, for being here." She smiled at the two women, thankful for their friendship. "And for everything, you don't even know how helpful you two have been for me through this whole season. Dare I say, you've been good influences for me."
Vic and Shan both snorted.
"You hear that Shan? Us—good influences? Two-hundred and fifty combined penalty minutes last year—good influences?" Vic said, laughing heartily, looking at her teammate across the bed. "Who'd've thunk it?"
"Not me." Shan shared the same laugh.
"God, why do I even bother with you two?" Nicole rolled her eyes.
"Because you love us." Shan dragged out the vowel, giving her a Cheshire Cat smile.
"Yeah, what're friends for?" Powers said, slapping her hand down to pat Nicole's leg a little to roughly. Nicole yelped as her teammate's hand made contact with her casted leg, the pain from her injury making a rather unwelcomed reappearance. "Oh fuck, right—sorry."
"God dammit Victoria, gentle with the broken child." Finning scolded.
Vic, at the mention of her full name, stuck her tongue out at her linemate.
"I said I was sorry, Shannon."
The two bickered like siblings (like little kids) for a second, which Nicole appreciated, the interaction helping to distract her from the pain that exploded in her leg.
"Guys, it's fine…" she said through deep breaths, pouting as she crossed her arms and added. "And I'm not a child."
"You're still a rookie," Shan said pointedly, "you're a child."
She muttered a whatever under her breath, but cracked a small smile nonetheless.
"Nice cast you got there, but I think you drew the wrong parts on there," Vic snorted, switching conversation. "I thought you weren't into—"
"—Wynonna has the mental maturity of a sixth grade boy." She explained with a roll of her eye at the work of her best friend.
"I knew I always liked her." Powers smiled, bemused. "So, recent moments aside, how's the wheel?"
"Being held together with plates and screws."
"Plates, screws, faith, trust," Vic listed, "maybe a little bit of pixie dust."
"Do you at least get to keep them?" Shan asked, swatting at the air in Vic's direction, weirdly interested in Nicole's answer.
"No, they'll remove them in six to eight weeks." She recalled what Dr. Del Rey had explained to her when he had come to check in on her shortly after she had woken up from surgery.
"Lame," Finning grumbled, unimpressed. "You could've had a whole RoboCop thing going for you once you come back."
Nicole bit her tongue to refrain from saying "If I come back". There was still a lot of uncertainty on just how much mobility she'd be able to regain. She really didn't want to dwell on it.
"Who was your surgeon?" Vic asked.
"Dr. Del Rey."
The other two shared a knowing look across the bed, eyes widening.
"Dude, no way."
"What? Is that a bad thing?" She asked, her voice betraying a new level of anxiety within her. "Oh, god, I'm never gonna walk again, am I?"
"Jesus Christ, Haught. Quit being so dramatic." Finning chided. "The freaky weirdo's the best god damn surgeon for a hundred miles. Fixed up my ACL three seasons ago."
"Mine too." Vic seconded. "Not the same season, but yeah—same surgery. Good as new." She knocked on her own knee as if that proved her point. "For how weird of a dude good ol' Bobo is, he's one hell of a surgeon."
She released a sigh of relief. Nothing was guaranteed for her, obviously, but that had to be a good sign that both Powers and Finning had surgeries done by Bobo and they seemed to be just fine. Maybe, just maybe, she'd have her own similar, favorable outcome.
Nicole readjusted herself in the bed slightly, grimacing as a new wave of pain washed over her.
"So you gotta relax yourself, and get better," Shan said, a soft laugh escaping as she watched Nicole, "because when you get back on the ice, we are so teaching you how to avoid hits."
When three firm knocks in moderate succession echo through her door, she invites the knocker in, seeing Randy Nedley emerge with scratch marks across his chin. She can't help but give a half-chuckle under her breath.
"I, uh…went to your apartment. Made sure your cat was fed." He said, instead of a formal greeting.
"I take it Calamity Jane wasn't too keen on a new visitor."
"That she was not," the Sheriff nodded in agreement as he took the seat vacated by her teammates a few minutes earlier.
"Yeah, she doesn't really like men."
"Well who does?"
Nedley looked at her, eyes full of caring, though Nicole could tell he was trying to cover it up with a strong, coachly front.
"How are you feeling?" He asked, seemingly when the silence got too awkward for him.
"Great, good as new." She lied. She knew she had done so terribly by the admonishing look Nedley gave her, his mustache (of all things) twitching, telling her he was not buying it in the slightest. "Okay fine, I've been better," she conceded.
"You know, yours was one of the worst injuries I've ever seen?"
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" She asked, skeptical of where Nedley was going with this.
"I, well no, I suppose not." He muttered, thinking inward to calculate what he would say next. "I was awful terrified for ya, Haught. You're one of the toughest players I've ever had, that I've ever seen, so when you didn't get up right away, I knew it was somethin' serious. It was bush league, what that Jolene did to ya—you haven't seen it yet, have you?"
"I have. Wynonna showed me."
"Right," he said, though Nicole swears she heard him mumble something about damn Earps under his breath. "Well, uh, I'm glad you're alright. You would've made a lot of people real distraught if you weren't. Waverly Earp loves you somethin' fierce ya know. I ain't never seen her in such a tizzy as I had while you were out."
"Oh, I know it." She said with a soft smile. Her heart still fluttered, like it was something brand new, almost unbelievable, at the thought of the woman she was far too lucky to have.
She could tell Nedley was thinking deeply about something, had something on the tip of his tongue that he wanted to say. His demeanor was oddly pensive, reserved—not Nedley-like.
"Earlier this season, I told you about draft night, d'you remember that?"
Of course she had. It was one of the first times she'd felt like she had a place here, with the team.
"Mhm."
"I had my eye on you all night, kept watching, seeing your name hadn't been called yet. Had to fight everyone in that room to be the one to do it. I knew that you just had to be on this team."
"No offense coach, but you already told me all this."
"I know I know," he said, sitting up from his previously laid-back position in the chair, elbows perched on his knees. Nicole knew that whatever her was going to say next was important. "Do you remember the Flames camp—Lord, it must've been thirteen, fourteen years ago now?"
Nicole did remember. It had been one of the first big things she'd done with her hockey career. God, she must've been nine, maybe pushing ten, at the time. Kendra and John had driven her from Edmonton to Calgary when Nicole showed them the invitation that had come in the mail—her parents off god knows where, doing god knows what. A hockey camp of that caliber wasn't something you just ignored, her aunt and uncle knew that and made sure that she was given the chance to capitalize on the opportunity.
"Yeah?" She questioned, not sure of the relevance.
"I was there, helping to run the thing. God awful experience," Nedley chuckled with a look of fond remembrance in his eyes. "I tend to forget how little attention span kids have, and even less coordination." Nicole nodded slowly along with the story (she'd figured out how to do so and not to start the expressway of pain in her neck). "You were a lanky little redhead, only one with the gall to show up in an Oilers jersey," he nodded with a laugh at the memory. "You were skating circles around all those boys there. You weren't the biggest or the strongest, but you listened, and you were determined to get the drills just right, like you had something to prove. I knew you'd be a kid I'd have to remember. Had my eye out for your name ever since; been rootin' for ya. When you were still on the draft board at the end of the night, I just had to make sure you got your shot. I'll tell ya, Haught, the only difference between you and that lanky little kid is maybe ten or twelve inches. You're still just as scrappy, and I can still tell you're still out trying to prove your worth." He paused, misty-eyed, very much not the strong, composed coach she knew. "I've been proud, like very truly, honest to god proud of very few things in my life—my daughter, learning all the words to Mambo No. 5 in less than a day—but I am so proud of you, Haught, it's unbelievable."
"I—coach," she said, holding back tears. She hadn't the slightest clue that Nedley had cared so much for so long. That she'd had someone in her corner, even when she didn't think she'd had anyone. "I had—thank you. I'd give you a hug, but…" she motioned to the general vicinity of her entire body, and she knew Nedley understood. For as much of a fatherly figure she saw him as, Nicole also knew that the coach was more than a little awkward when it came to visibly displaying emotions.
"Of course, Nicole," Nedley nodded, the gesture looking a bit funny to Nicole with the absence of the Sheriff's usual headwear. There was a mutual understanding of their shared connection anyway. "You know you've got, uh…" he motioned toward her leg, "on your cast?"
"Wynonna," she said, and that had been enough explanation for Nedley.
Exhausted isn't even the word to describe the way she felt after the events of the day. She knew it was just past the end of visiting hours, and would be lying if she said she wasn't looking forward to getting some sleep. Recovering from a massive head injury and a long surgery would do that to a person. She assumed the knock on the door (so soft she'd barely heard it in the first place) was a nurse coming to do a last nightly check before Nicole knocked out for the night.
She assumed wrong, naturally.
"Hey," Shae said, standing awkwardly at the foot of the bed. Nicole wasn't really expecting her, and was far too tired to deal with whatever posturing and standoffish behavior the captain was going to show to her. But, she remembered that Wynonna Earp of all people told her to listen to whatever Shae had to say, so she sucked it up no matter how much she'd rather just go back to sleep.
"Sit, please." She offered weakly. Shae shuffled to the seat, taking it tentatively.
"Wynonna?" The woman asked, gesturing to her cast.
"Bingo." Nicole smiled fondly, "She's an idiot."
Shae smiled at her, very much looking uncomfortable. Nicole could tell she was going to have to break the silence, seeing as Shae just sat there, looking down at her hands.
"Wynonna said I should talk to you," she said once she figured the best way to phrase it without sounding like a complete asshole. "Well, she said I should let you talk. So…" she left a pause, prodding Shae to begin.
"I, um, I'm sorry Nicole. For everything. I was an idiot and so, so, so wrong." Nicole nodded. Okay, an apology is a start. As far as she knew, Shae Pressman would sooner die than ever admit she was wrong. "From the second you got here I was such a dick to you, and really, there's no excuse to make it okay. I know sorry probably doesn't mean shit, but I am. Really, truly sorry."
"Shae," she tried, but the woman continued.
"You didn't deserve any of it. You showing up just brought back memories from a time I tried to forget. It's like the universe was sending you to haunt me. Like it was punishing me for something. I realize now I've been lying to myself for far too long. Scared of the consequences, scared of what people like Bunny would say."
"Okay," she dragged out the vowel as she quirked an eyebrow, "but don't you think that was just as shitty for me? I mean throwing me out and calling me disgusting? And then you double down and make it worse years later. You accused me of outing you to Bunny, made the team suffer because of it. God, Shae, who does that?"
"Me, apparently." The captain said, hanging her head ashamedly. "Listen, Haught. I don't expect you to forgive me right away—or at all—but I needed you to know that I really do regret everything I did to you, and I'm sorry."
Nicole wasn't really sure what to say. It'd been nice to hear Shae's remorse for her actions, but she couldn't bring herself to forgive and forget just yet. She'd been too hurt by the woman's words and actions for that.
"That's a nice shiner you got there." Nicole settled on that as her response.
"You should see the other guy." Shae snickered dryly.
"Who's the other guy?"
Shae scratched at the back of her neck, almost like the answer to that question was a hard one.
"Jolene."
"She hit you too?" Nicole asked in disbelief. What a fucking bitch, she thought. When she said "eliminate the threat", I guess she really meant it.
"Something like that." The captain explained, and Nicole looked back at her expectantly waiting elaboration. "I uh, I was the first one to the boards after the play. I pulled her off of you, she clocked me a good one I guess."
Nicole remembered the video. She had seen what Shae was referring to, but hadn't been able to determine who it was, until now she supposed.
"D'you hit 'er back?" Nicole asked, her words starting to blend together with her exhaustion.
"Yeah. I think she ended up breaking her nose, needed a couple stitches on her lip last I heard." Shae shrugged, looking more uncomfortable than Nicole thought she would. She figured the woman would've been bragging about a Shawn Thornton type knockout she'd handed Jolene, but she was weirdly humble about it.
"Thank you. For defending my honor."
Shae rolled her eyes playfully, but nodded anyway.
"Needed to do something." Shae said, thoughtful. "I was such an ass to you. I'm sorry it took something so drastic for me to see the error of my ways."
"Well," said Nicole, "harboring old grudges won't make anything heal faster. So, I think the best we can do is try to move forward on a better note."
She'd surprised herself, but she believed everything she said. Hating Shae wouldn't help any part of her recovery, and the woman seemed genuinely remorseful for her past actions. Nicole took a leap of faith, deciding it was high time they stopped fueling the animosity between each other.
More than an hour after visiting hours were supposed to have ended, Nicole found herself still awake, more exhausted than she'd been in her entire life. She was waiting for her nurse to come in, give her one last check over before she could finally knock out for the night.
Thankfully, Joria entered a few minutes later. Less thankfully, and more curiously, the nurse was dragging in a cot behind her.
"What the hell?" She murmured, though she wasn't sure it even came out as English at this point.
"No more visitors, I promise." Joria laughed as she set up the small bed next to Nicole's own. "Although, I do think you'll quite like this one."
Behind the nurse, the most beautiful angel she'd ever seen emerged in the doorway. The bleariness of her eyes and the backlighting in the hallway created a halo of light behind Waverly that Nicole found so fitting for the woman.
"Hi baby," she smiled, though she could really hear the tiredness in her voice now.
"Hi," Waverly's smile could've split her face in half, her eyes creasing into little crescent moons as she practically jogged over to Nicole in the bed. "The best nurse in the entire hospital," she nodded toward Joria, who bobbed her head with pride and faux importance, "pulled some strings, said I could spend the night here—if you want me to, of course."
"Is that even a question?"
Joria went through her nighttime checklist, excusing herself once she deemed everything satisfactory, leaving the two alone.
"You know what I just realized?" Nicole asked. Waverly perked her head up from where she sat on the cot. "This is the first alone time we've had since I've been here."
"I know," Waverly said, almost sadly. "I've missed you. Been worried about you."
"Missed you too," she said through a yawn. "Sorry, just really tired."
"I bet," her girlfriend nodded, giving a squeeze to Nicole's hand. "You had quite the day, didn't you? Lots of visitors, lots of conversation."
"Much rather would've been talking to you." Nicole charmed, putting on her winning smile. "How was your day?"
"Long," Waverly said through her own yawn. "Lots of paperwork and talking to doctors. Not to brag, but I'm pretty sure I could've done your surgery with the number of questions I asked all those doctors." Nicole laughed, thinking of how cute Waverly would've looked in a set of baby blue scrubs (maybe she'd don a pretty purple butterfly scrub cap).
"I think you'd make an excellent surgeon. May be a bit biased though," She told her, pausing for a moment to take in the angel in front of her. "I'm so in love with you, Waverly Earp."
"I love you. I love you. I love you." Waverly told her between kisses to her hand. "I'm gonna tell you that a hundred times a day for the rest of your life."
"How ever did I get so lucky?" She smiled at Waverly dreamily, seeing the sadness still behind her eyes, knowing the events of the last couple of days were wearing on her. She may have been the one injured, and in a hospital bed, but Waverly had to sit and wonder if Nicole would even be okay. She'd said it herself—she was terrified that Nicole wasn't going to make it out; Wynonna told her she'd almost died in surgery; she'd apparently been breathing through a tube a little over 24 hours ago. "I'm not going to leave you. Not if I can help it." She tried to comfort, though she was sure it was hard to understand—they'd upped her morphine after Shae left, and she was more than a little drowsy at this point. She squeezed Waverly's hand back. "God, I wish I could hold you right now."
Waverly frowned. They both knew that Nicole's wounds were still too fresh and she was still connected to too many machines for Waverly to even think about climbing into the bed with her—no matter how badly she wanted to.
"I know, baby, I know." Waverly sighed, rolling herself over onto her side, getting as comfortable as she could possibly get on a hospital cot. Nicole saw the brunette's eyes grow heavy, and she had little doubt that her own looked very similar. "Soon, soon everything's gonna be just perfect," she yawned, "and it's gonna be all back to normal."