Michigan 3:1 Wisconsin, 3rd period

Adam sat anxiously on the bench, dressed in his jersey, but no gear and no skates. It felt odd to be sitting, watching his teammates play, and he felt himself slipping a little into a stage of frustration, where he cursed his misfortune with his wrist, and then kicked himself mentally for not having listened to Charlie earlier. His only consolation was that the coach now saw him not only as strong and focused, but tough as well.

Out on the ice, Charlie was having perhaps the game of his life. Everything was flowing well: his passes were finding teammates, his shots were on net, and his anticipation was right on. He'd assisted the second goal, and started the counterattack that had led to the third.

But Division 1 hockey was never all fun and games. Now in the third period, the Wisconsin defense had finally toughened up, and Charlie was finding it harder to make things happen. He took several checks into the boards, and hit the ice hard twice. The ref was letting things slide, now that it was down to the wire, and through the haze of action, Charlie heard Adam yelling at the ref for a call. Two seconds later, he hit the boards hard, and something jerked out of place in his back. Numbness took over for several minutes, replaced then by pressure and then pain. There were only 2 minutes left, but Charlie was sure they were the longest 2 minutes of his life, and when the buzzer sounded, he crouched down on the ice for a minute, trying to ease the pain.

"Hey, you okay?" Adam was standing next to him, offering him a hand up.

"Yeah, my back…" Charlie straightened slowly and felt a jolt of pain run through his lower back. He grimaced and grabbed Adam's shoulder for support.

"Come on. Let's get back to the dorm."

Adam felt his heart leap into his throat when they rounded the corner at the far end of their hall in the dorms. His father was standing outside his dorm, looking thoroughly ticked off.

"Uh…Dad? You're really not supposed to be in here," he said, slowing his steps. His father turned towards them, and Adam swore he saw a scowl start as his eyes slid over Charlie, then him.

"Mr. Conway, would you excuse us? My son and I need to talk," he said, with obvious forced politeness. Adam hated him for that.

"You can handle this alone?" Charlie asked quietly. Adam nodded.

"Yeah. Go get some ice for your back." Charlie nodded and a few moments later disappeared into their dorm. The instant the door shut, Adam found himself backed up against the wall, his father's hand gripping his collar.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me you were sitting?" Adam refused to let himself be bullied.

"It just happened. Besides, it was a good game anyway," he replied with exaggerated casualness. He didn't even see it coming. The slap knocked him sideways, snapping his head around and making his cheek burn painfully.

"How did you let this happen? Right at the start of your Division 1 career and you go and get yourself injured? You think that'll get you anywhere?"

"It wasn't my fault, Dad. I've been having problems since high school."

"It's all in your head, Adam. There's no room for pain in hockey, especially college." Adam fought the urge to roll his eyes. He'd heard this plenty of times—too many times, really—before.

"Well, maybe I'm just not cut out for college hockey," he muttered.

"You're damn right you're not. The way you're playing? Huh, you'd be lucky to make juniors. Your skills are absolutely juvenile."

"The hell they are!" This last outburst got him another blow across the face.

"Don't talk to me that way."

"Dad, I'm 19 years old. You can't bend me to your will anymore." Adam knew the instant the words left his mouth that he'd stepped over the line. His father's face darkened, and he drew his hand back so fast that Adam had no time to flinch. The world seemed to explode in front of his face, and the next thing Adam knew, he was on the ground, blood dancing on his tongue and trickling down his chin.

"You're my son, and I expect you to act like it." The rational part of Adam's brain was acting up again, telling him to just back off, not make it any worse than it already was, but he was in no mood to hear that.

"I'll act however I damn well please," he spat angrily. He was rewarded with a vicious kick in the stomach that ripped a howl of pain from his throat. An instant later, door 418 opened and Jade was in the hallway.

"Sir, what's going on here?"

"I'm having a conversation with my son. A private conversation, so if you don't mind-"

"Sir, these dorms are private, and I'm going to have to ask you to leave." She instilled as much authority as possible into her voice, and Adam thought she sounded very much like an upperclassman who knew what they were talking about. Evidently, that's what it sounded like to his dad too, because he mumbled an apology, then glared down at Adam before turning on his heel and leaving. The instant he disappeared around the corner, Jade knelt at Adam's side to examine the damage.

"Well, I guess now I see why your dad has such a prominent role in your life," she said after a moment, sitting back on her heels. Adam sat up a little, trying to ignore the pain in his stomach.

"Yeah, he was never one for subtlety," he replied a little bitterly, "Ow…" He wrapped his arm around his stomach, feeling the ache there increase as he tried to sit up straight.

"It's probably a bruise," Jade said, reaching for his arm, "Take it easy." With her help, Adam managed to find his feet and make his way to his dorm. Charlie opened the door for them and he didn't need to guess as to what had taken place. He'd heard the confrontation, but he hadn't wanted to interfere or make things worse, and his back was giving him problems of his own.

Late that night, a spasm of pain woke Charlie from his restless sleep. He lay motionless for a few moments, letting the pain subside. Then he got up and went to the freezer for some ice. It would numb the pain at least for a few hours and allow him some rest. He'd already maxed out on painkillers and they weren't working anyway. As he made his way back to bed, he stopped for a moment beside Adam's bed and glanced at his friend. A part of him told him to let his friend sleep, he'd had a rough night, this wasn't the time to talk, but the other part of him wanted to talk to Adam, wanted to help him sort out whatever crap was running through his head right now. The latter part won over after a brief debate, and Charlie lowered himself onto the bed. He reached out to shake his friend awake, but recoiled when he felt how cold his skin was. Dread crept up his spine as he shook his friend's shoulder insistently.

"Adam, wake up." No response.

"Adam, come on, man. Wake up." Adam groaned in his sleep and stirred slightly. Terrified of what he was going to see, Charlie reached over to the table and turned on the lamp.

"Oh god!" A wave of nausea hit Charlie like a brick and he turned away, praying that this was a bad dream. Only after taking several deep breaths and quelling the urge to throw up could he turn back. Adam's left wrist was cut from elbow to palm, sliced viciously and without hesitation, and the blood was flowing seemingly without end. In the light, Charlie could see Adam's face was pale, and in his right hand, held loosely in his fist was a pocketknife, the edge rimmed with dark red.

Hands trembling, Charlie grabbed the phone and called 911. His voice shook throughout the entire call, and he had to really concentrate to give the operator his dorm number and address. When he hung up, he realized there were tears in his eyes.

"Adam, come on…wake up, man, wake up…" He went back to his friend and shook him perhaps harder than he would regularly. Adam moaned and managed to open his eyes with great difficulty. Above him, Charlie's face was blurry, and the rest of the room seemed to have disappeared. His eyelids felt heavy and his tongue felt thick. Everything hurt: his arm, his wrist, his muscles.

"Charlie…" He felt pressure against his arm and glanced down to see Charlie pressing an old t-shirt against his inner forearm. There was blood on his skin, blood on his shirt, blood on his sheets, and memory flooded back to him suddenly in a cold rush.

"Charlie, I…"

"I can't…I can't believe you did this, Adam." Even his half-unconscious state, Adam could hear the fear in his friend's voice, and the guilt weighed on him like an anvil on his shoulders.

"I just wanted…I just wanted it to end."

"Well it can't end, Adam. It can't, okay? It can't."

When the medics came, it roused pretty much everyone from their sleep, and the entire dorm was in the halls, trying to figure out what was going on. Jade was the only one who had an inkling of what might have happened, and she quietly made her way down to Charlie and Adam's dorm, where she found the way blocked by one medic. Charlie was standing on the other side, leaning against the wall, looking dazed.

"Charlie," she exclaimed. He roused slightly and glanced in her direction.

"Let her through," he told the medic. His voice was hoarse. As she approached him, she saw the medics in the dorm, gently lifting Adam onto a stretcher.

"He didn't…" she murmured, her gaze moving to Charlie, who shook his head sullenly.

"He did. One cut, that's all. Elbow to wrist, clean and straight." His voice shook, his body trembled, and Jade did the only thing that came naturally. She opened her arms to him and he stepped into them, leaning his head against her shoulder. The tears came before he could stop them and she let him cry, let the emotions run because she knew he needed it. It was going to be a long night, and she knew that he would probably cry more than his fair share of tears before it was out.

Midnight found the two freshmen sitting in the waiting room at Mercy Hospital. Several members of the hockey team had shown up, and Charlie somehow drew comfort from their presence. If nothing else, it was a consolation to him to know that the guys he was on the ice with weren't just brainless, heartless goons who had nothing better to do. He drew the most comfort, however, from Jade, who sat next to him in silence, offering her strongest support through her actions, not her words.

"Do you have classes tomorrow?" Jade asked finally. Charlie nodded slowly.

"I'm not going, though," he answered. Jade nodded.

"Good. I was going to ask you to skip anyway. Adam's going to need you." They lapsed back into silence, and Charlie chanced a glance sideways at Jade.

"How do you know so much about all this?" he asked after a moment, gesturing around the waiting room, "I mean, it seems like you've been through this before."

"I have," she replied without hesitation, "Twice."

"Twice?" Charlie couldn't hide his shock.

"Once it was me, second time it was my brother." She turned to look at him, eyes calm. He didn't quite know what to say. She wasn't upset or distraught by having to explain this information.

"Did…did your brother…did he pull through?" He was almost afraid to ask.

"Yes. With a lot of help from his friends," she said, rather pointedly, and Charlie knew instantly what she was getting at.

"Listen, Charlie. Adam will pull through. That's not the issue. The issue is the aftermath. He doesn't need psychiatrists or psychologists, okay? He needs a best friend," she said, "Now…I get the sense you guys may have had some rough spots, and those can't get in the way. He needs you, Charlie. He needs his best friend." He nodded slowly, taking every word to heart. This wasn't a time to abandon his friend, nor to rekindle old grudges. He closed his eyes briefly, suddenly feeling as if he was carrying a 200-pound load on his shoulders. If he had to be strong for Adam, who would be strong for him?

What about me, then?

"You got me, Charlie." He realized he'd spoken out loud, and glanced at Jade. She rubbed his shoulder reassuringly.

"You got me."