Chapter 3 – Regaining Control

Ted raced along the ice for warm-ups with the team, panting hard and sucking in lungful after lungful of icy air, which burned at his chest. No matter how many times he did laps with the team, the iciness freezing and burning his chest never failed to overwhelm him; sweat ran down the back of his neck, which felt both cold and hot at the same time. Finally, Coach called for a stop to the warmups. But before he could announce that they were to scrimmage for the rest of practice, the assistant coach came over bearing Ted's pager.

"Orion!" he barked. "You've got a message! The same for Modano, Vargas, and McRae!"

"Wonder who would leave us a message," Basil panted, skating over to their assistant coach.

"Apparently, it's your buddy Gordon Bombay. He got himself into a scrape and needs some help."

Ted, Basil, Mike, and Hal Vargas all looked at one another; Ted could only assume what that meant. The last time he'd gone out with Gordon was during his case for the plea deal. He'd watched Gordon drink himself into oblivion; he nearly would've gotten behind the wheel intoxicated had Ted not intervened and offered to drive him to Jan. Still, he had a feeling Gordon had way more problems than he was letting on, and he was trying to mask them the best he could. But Ted wasn't stupid. He knew the loss of his father really messed Gordon up for years, coupled with Jack Reilly making him feel like a pathetic loser.

Sighing, Ted grabbed his pager and listened to the message.

"Teddy, I'm . . . I'm in trouble. Got hauled in last night. I need help. Please. Either you, Hal, Modano, or Basil, please."

Ted sighed and glanced at his coach and assistant coach. "I know I shouldn't. But . . ."

"Go, your friend needs you, son," Coach Gainey said, patting Ted on the shoulder.

"You need any help, man?" Basil asked. "We know how Gordo is."

"Don't worry, Basil, I've got this," Ted said, patting McRae on the shoulder. "Get back out there."

Basil, Hal, and Mike nodded, skating off while Ted went to the locker room to shower and change into his clothes: a North Stars zip-up, jeans, and sneakers. After making sure his locker area was thoroughly cleaned up, he gathered up his car keys, wallet, and pager before heading out to the parking lot, driving through the snowy November streets of Bloomington toward Downtown Minneapolis, where the Minneapolis Police Department was located.

The whole drive there, Ted's heart pounded. He could only assume what this was. Gordon got into another traffic violation. He had several of them within the past few years. And Ted knew his old friend had a drinking problem, unable to get through a night without a drink. It was safe for Ted to assume that Gordon had been caught drinking while driving, which infuriated him just thinking about it. Gordon knew Ted's feelings on drinking and driving. It had nearly destroyed his and Bella's whole world almost ten months ago, and the fact that Gordon had gone out and done that almost felt like a betrayal; it hurt worse than any check Ted had taken against the boards. He just felt so angry; it took him everything to focus on driving while feeling his anxiousness spike intensely. Some might think of him as paranoid, but ever since the accident, he had fears of driving in the snow. He guessed it was PTSD; he hadn't been officially diagnosed with anything, and he was reluctant to go to a therapist. He didn't want to have to face that possibility.

Once he parked in the spot outside the police station, he pulled his key out of the ignition and pulled out the blank check Jan had given him a while back. He'd never used it once, but he felt it would be useful now if these cops needed him to pay bail to get Gordon out.

Sighing, he headed into the police station and approached the lady at the front desk. "Hello, Officer? I'm Ted Orion; Gordon Bombay called for me?"

The gray-haired female officer shot him a look that seemed contemptuous. "He's been here all night long, son." She gestured for Ted to follow her, her body looking about as strict and no-nonsense as her tight, gray ponytail; it nearly reminded him of Bella, how she took control of the pediatric ward and ran the floor with an iron fist.

"What did he get hauled in for?"

"DWI with an open container and refusing to take a breathalyzer test," the officer said, and Ted felt his anger resurface; why would Gordon do something so stupid? He was a lawyer! He should know better!

He followed her until they were outside a cell, where Gordon sat on the bed, looking red-eyed and white-faced, still wearing the clothes he'd worn to work.

"Wow, Gordo, looks like there was one hell of a party. And I wasn't invited? I'm insulted," Ted joked dryly as the officer unlocked the cell door, and Gordon staggered out, looking as though he hadn't slept all night long. It wasn't funny at all. But he was so pissed off that it was all he could think of to say.

"Shut up, Ted," Gordon sighed, shaking his head and walking past him as Ted handed the officer outside Gordon's cell the blank check.

"Here, take that," he said before turning back to Gordon, who was already halfway across the room. "Hey! Gordon! Don't tell me to shut up! You called me here to get your ass out. You don't get to talk like that to me."

Gordon turned around harshly and glowered at him. "You don't get it!"

"What don't I get? That you were irresponsible? That you got behind the wheel drinking? That you had an open container in the car? Gordon! You know what happened to me and my family as a result of stupidity like that! How could you do that to me?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Gordon roared before suddenly going quieter, and Ted could see a wave of shame pass through his old friend. "I don't know. Just . . . Just take me home, please."

Ted shook his head in disgust, fisting his car keys tightly. "Come on," he hissed. "You're unbelievable! What the hell were you thinking? Drinking while driving! There's no excuse for that!" he scolded as they got into the car. "After all I'd been through with my wife and my daughter! And you turn around and do this to me! To my parents, who treated you like family after your dad died! And this is how you repay us! There's a lot you don't get. But one day, when you become a father, you'll understand. Oh, yes, you will."

Gordon remained stubbornly silent the whole time, even as Ted pulled up in front of his friend's house. Throughout the whole car ride, Gordon's face held a stony expression, as though he knew there was no one else to blame but himself, but he didn't want to have to take responsibility for his stupid choice. Yet, he had to take that responsibility if he had any hope of keeping his job at the law firm so he could keep his mother's house. The house now belonged to Gordon because his mother, Janet, was in a nursing home, sick with Alzheimer's. She'd be infuriated if she saw her son's state, just as angry as Ted felt. He watched in disgust as Gordon trudged up the steps to his home, unlocking the door and slamming it behind him.

Ted decided he was too angry to return home, so he visited dear old Hans, who'd come home about a month ago to trade places with Jan and run the skate shop. Thinking about Hans made his anger settle significantly; the cheerful Scandinavian never failed to make him feel better over the littlest things, and honestly, Ted wanted a cup of his famous hot cocoa about now.

He pulled up in front of the skate shop within minutes and parked before heading in through the back door, where he overheard Hans sharpening some skates. As he walked inside, Hans greeted him with, "Hello, Teddy. Sneaking in through the back door, just like Gordon always did." He put the skate down and ran his finger over the blade, gasping in pain, but Ted shook his head. Hans couldn't fool him anymore like he did when he was a little kid.

"That doesn't work on me anymore, Hans," Ted said, walking over and taking the skate from the older man before hugging him. The man kissed him on the cheek lightly in that grandfatherly way he always did. "Good to see you."

"Good to see you, Teddy. How are you doing? Jan told me about your accident."

"I'm getting there," Ted said. "The guy who did it is in jail. All thanks to Bombay." The sound of Bombay's name was sour in his mouth. He still felt that stinging betrayal; he'd been stung once by a jellyfish during a family trip to Florida. Even that had hurt less than Gordon's DWI.

"I heard he's a doctor now."

"Lawyer," Ted corrected gently. "But I don't know how long he'll be a lawyer, Hans. The guy got himself hauled into the station for a DWI with an open container. I still can't believe it. After everything he knew I'd been through ten months ago, he goes out and does that!"

"He's hurting, Ted. He has been for years. He hasn't talked to me in ten years."

"You mean –?" Ted stammered. How could Gordon forget all about Hans?

"It was probably too painful for him. Hockey reminds him of his father. And he wants to run away from anything to do with Andrew," Hans said solemnly. "Could I get you some cocoa?"

"Please," Ted pleaded, following Hans through the shop. However, he stopped at the newspaper clippings covering the Peewee games he and Gordon played together as kids and felt a stab of sadness hit him when he noticed the one black-and-white photograph of Gordon missing that shot. That was one of the many things that started his best friend's downward spiral – ever since Andrew died and Gordon cost the Hawks that win, he hadn't been the same since.

He also caught a glimpse of Jack Reilly's photo. Reilly . . . maybe years ago, Ted could've said he admired the man; Reilly had played pro with the Chicago Black Hawks, one of the original six teams. But once Ted started playing on Reilly's team, his admiration just as quickly melted away like the snow in summertime. Within a day of Reilly watching him in practice, Ted's starry-eyed view of the man vanished; he only stayed on the Hawks because of Gordon, who convinced Reilly that the young, scrawny, short rookie could become one of the best the team would ever have. Ted still didn't understand how Gordon convinced Reilly to give him a shot. He supposed Gordon was just naturally a leader and very persuasive – it was no mystery why Gordon became an attorney. Gordon could use that talent for something good; Ted had witnessed that with his case against Harold Leavenworth. But for some reason, Gordon just couldn't see that – he was blinded by winning, winning, winning.

Win.

Win.

Win.

It's not worth winning if you can't win big.

Ted scoffed.

He was so wrapped up in thoughts of the past that he barely smelled the hot chocolate. He took the mug from Hans and sipped it as he said, "I see you still have that up."

"You've always got to remember the past, even the unpleasant parts, Teddy."

"Yeah, well, that was the start of Gordon pushing away from everyone," Ted said. "And now his life is a mess. He's in shambles. And God only knows what'll happen to him now. I just hope he learns his lesson."

"It's going to take him time, Theodore," Hans said gently. "The best thing you can do is be there for him; even if he pushes away, continue to be there. You can't abandon family."

"Even if he doesn't want me to be there for him?" Ted asked weakly, sipping more hot chocolate and suddenly wishing it were spiked with some Baileys.

"He needs you even if he won't admit it. You cannot give up. You mustn't. Because Gordon may say that he doesn't need you, but he's alone. He's hurting. He cannot live in such a way forever. And I know you, Teddy, you never abandon a friend. If I recall correctly, aren't you the same little boy who left the Hawks after his best friend quit because of Jack Reilly's coaching methods?" Hans looked at him with those sparkling eyes, a gentle smile gracing his face.

Ted sighed. Hans was a walking fortune cookie, rarely ever wrong about anything. He managed a weak smile in return. "Yeah, you're right, Hans."

"That's my boy." Hans gently patted him on the cheek before running his hands through Ted's hair.

A week or so passed, and word spread that Gordon was now coaching Peewee. Ted wanted to laugh at the irony of it all – the guy who claimed to hate hockey and children now had to coach a group of eleven-and-twelve-year-olds to be of service to the community, and he needed to attend AA meetings regularly. At least, that was what Hans told him.

Ted guessed karma was a bitch.

So, he went to the District Five team's game against the Jets. District Five had always been a crappy team; they were founded sometime after Ted and Gordon finished Peewees, and had only gotten worse and worse as the years went by. Nobody wanted to coach them; any coach they found never stuck around for long. When Ted watched the District Five-Jets game, he quickly learned that none of those children had proper equipment. They didn't even have uniforms. They duct-taped their names and numbers to the backs of hoodies, their skates looked worn out, and they wobbled on their feet, unable to skate at all.

But Ted saw something that stood out in particular: there was only one girl among a group of young boys, and the kids were all taking falls. He guessed Gordon was trying to teach them to win by cheating. He recognized the dirty tactic as something Reilly used on him and Gordon as kids, and the Varsity Warriors at Eden Hall used it all the time.

Watching from the crowd, he picked out one little boy in particular; he was smaller than the rest of them, with a head full of curly dark hair. The back of his hoodie read CONWAY, and the little guy wasn't stable on his feet at all. Ted had seen his puck handling; it was wild and uncontrolled. If only they had someone teach them the proper basics.

But Ted guessed Gordon was in no mood for patience or teaching. He could only watch as Gordon kept ordering the kids to cheat, but the refs saw right through all the bull. Ted could tell they weren't buying it one bit. And as Conway got shoved into the boards, Ted noticed the refs weren't calling anything; there was a clear high-sticking penalty against the kid, with the stick handle underneath the kid's helmet. That alone should be enough to get them a power play. The refs not calling anything legitimate made Ted shake his head, but when Conway didn't take the fall, he saw Gordon screaming in anger, but he couldn't hear what he was saying.

Ted winced. He knew those children would be in for one hell of a lecture, and he had no interest in sticking around to watch Gordon scream at them. Even Ted knew screaming at those kids and not giving them constructive criticism on how to make it better wouldn't get them anywhere, and he didn't see himself as the Peewee coaching type, either – teenagers were much more his style, because high schoolers had a little more maturity to them and already understood everything that needed to be done.

He left the rink and headed home, happy to see Bella there; she'd gotten the day off from work and appeared to be cooking up his favorite lunch: split pea and ham soup, and she'd picked up a fresh loaf of bread from Goldberg's Delicatessen, the little Jewish deli and bakery owned by that nice family who moved from Philly about a year or two ago. He picked out their son as the goaltender.

He removed his coat and said, "Belles, that smells so good."

"I figured I'd surprise you since I have the day off." Bella turned and smiled at him as he walked into the kitchen and kissed her before leaning down and kissing Lucy on top of the head, lovingly picking his baby daughter up and rubbing his nose against hers. His little girl giggled fiercely, her fingers running through his scruff.

"Well, thank you," Ted said, sitting down at the table and bouncing Lucy up and down on his lap. As Bella served him the soup and bread, he said, "I went down to the rink to watch the kids Gordon's coaching."

"And? Is he changing?"

"Doesn't look like it," Ted sighed. "You can tell it's just a job for him, that he just wants to do it and get it over with. He doesn't care. He tried getting them to win by cheating. Only one didn't do it; his name's Conway."

Bella hummed. "That boy sounds like you. You were always about winning fair, and you always stuck with your principles of what was right. You were never afraid to stick up for what you believed in. And you always stuck up for the little guy."

"I watched him play; I saw me out there," Ted admitted, slowly bringing the soup to his mouth as he wistfully reminisced on his Peewees days; some weren't so glamorous. He remembered how awful he was when he first started, how Reilly would put him down constantly and constantly told him how much he sucked, and how Gordon took a chance on him, the skinny little guy who could barely skate in a straight line and was much smaller than all the other boys, teaching him how to get better; Ted had told Gordon back in their Peewee days how he'd make a good coach. Now, it appeared that Gordon had forgotten himself.

"I remember I was the worst one on the Hawks," he continued. "Coach Reilly had me on the fourth line. He was this close to throwing me off the team. But then Gordon helped me, and I got better. And suddenly, I was either his linemate or protecting him out there. We were equal by the time we were twelve years old."

"Well, Gordon's gonna have to open his eyes and see that. He needs to remember what that was like," said Bella. "Because if he doesn't, he'll lose much more than a volunteer coaching position."

"If only he can," Ted said bitterly, swirling his spoon through the bowl.

"Ted, I know you wanna save him. But you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. You know that. The only thing you can do is just be there."

"Hans and Jan told me something similar."

"They're really wise men, then. Listen to them once in a while. They know what they're saying."

Ted decided to follow Bella's advice. Gordon needed a friend, whether he knew it or not. Ted would continue to be his friend until the day he died.

He pulled up in front of the Bombay house. Everything about this house was familiar: the tire swing on the front tree where he and Gordon often played as children, the driveway where they'd practice hockey together, and the front porch with rocking chairs where their mothers often sat and watched them play. Growing up, this place was Ted's home away from home; Janet and Andrew were his second set of parents. After Andrew died, though, a profound sadness seemed to reap the house; every Saturday for a year after Andrew passed away, Janet would be found sobbing. It got to a point where the house felt like a funeral home, and Gordon often spent nights with Ted and his parents to escape the sounds of his mother's crying. Even Gordon's older sister couldn't stand to be in there seeing their mom depressed. No wonder she moved out a while ago after starting her own family. Pulling up in front of the house now, it lost its cheerfulness. That died after Andrew died. Gordon looked for every excuse to get out of the house, to the point where Ted's mom and dad practically adopted him as a third son.

Sighing, Ted walked up the steps to the front door; if he recalled correctly, a spare key was always kept in the flower pot. He dug his hand inside and found it, inserting it into the lock and jiggling it a few times. The door opened with a loud creek, and he stepped inside.

"Gordo! Are you home? I need to talk to you," Ted called, but when he entered the kitchen, he was greeted with something he didn't want to see, which knocked the air out of his lungs.

Broken glass was everywhere. There were broken picture frames on the ground; Ted recognized the pictures of Gordon, Renee, Andrew, and Janet, and he also saw what looked like whiskey on the floor, the bottle broken, along with a bottle of pills wide open on the floor. But lying next to the mess was Gordon; his lips were blue, his shirt was stained with vomit, and he seemed to be twitching on the ground.

"Oh, God!" Ted ran to the phone, punching in three numbers. His hand shook harshly as his knees grew weak; he honestly felt like he would be sick.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"Hello? Operator? Um, I need an ambulance right now!" He rambled off Gordon's address into the phone. "It's my friend; I think he overdosed after drinking. His lips are blue, I don't think he's breathing . . ."

"Okay, sir, go and help your friend. See if you can wake him up and get him breathing. Do you know how to administer CPR?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, do that."

Ted sighed shakily, setting the phone down and rushing to his friend's side. He tilted Gordon's head back and got his mouth open before pressing his ear to Gordon's chest and his finger to his neck; Gordon's pulse was erratic under his touch, beating hard like a hummingbird's wings, not a good sign.

He pressed hard on Gordon's chest to keep his heart beating before leaning down and breathing for Gordon. He gave Gordon mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, tasting vomit on his lips, but he hardly cared. He continued administering CPR until he heard the wailing sirens outside the door, and he watched as the EMTs came rushing in. They knelt near Gordon, working over him to try and save his life.

"He'll have to get his stomach pumped; he'll also need electrolytes, a blood transfusion . . ." rambled one of the EMTs before turning to Ted. "Are you riding along?"

"Yes," Ted said immediately, following them out the door. "I know I'm not family, but I'm close enough. He doesn't have anyone around."

"Then come with us."

Ted didn't hesitate; he jumped into the ambulance and watched as the EMTs worked on reviving Gordon, who continued laying there lifelessly until Ted finally heard weak choking from him. Ted felt he could sigh with tremendous relief, knowing he hadn't lost his best friend. But when Gordon woke up, Ted decided that was when he'd kill him because clearly, this was the sure sign that Gordon had hit rock bottom and needed a lot of help desperately.

The next morning, Ted stood in the hospital room, waiting for Gordon to wake up again. The nurse said he'd woken up briefly, but he'd just as quickly fallen back asleep, exhausted. While Ted was relieved that his friend was physically okay, he didn't know how Gordon was doing mentally.

He could only guess that Gordon was deeply depressed. The guy truly was alone.

Hans, Jan, and Bella were right.

Gordon did need him. He needed his family.

He watched as Gordon stirred with a low groan, and Ted was grateful he'd thought to grab a lox and cream cheese croissant sandwich from Goldberg's Delicatessen; Gordon was probably starving, and he'd need carbs and protein, considering he spent the night getting his stomach pumped. Ted sighed as Gordon's eyes opened, and he went closer to the hospital bed.

"Here, Gordon, I bought you some breakfast. That crap from the lunch room would kill you," he chose by way of greeting.

Gordon glanced up at him, taking the sandwich gratefully. "Thank you!"

"So, what the hell happened last night?" Ted demanded, cutting straight to the chase and crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Gordon eat his breakfast. "I stop by to check on you, and I find you passed out, drowning in your own vomit and drool, surrounded by broken liquor bottles and pills. What exactly did you do? Have another party without telling me? What's the occasion this time? Job promotion?"

"Don't joke with me, Ted," Gordon groaned.

"I'm not joking," Ted said seriously. "God, I knew you had a problem. I just didn't know how bad it was until now. And I was at that game the other day; I saw you screaming at that Conway kid about him refusing to cheat."

"Don't remind me!"

"No, you need to be reminded," Ted said, hearing the anger lacing his voice. "Gordon, I can offer to help you all I want. But until you help yourself, I cannot do anything. How much did you drink last night? How many pills did you take?"

"I don't know. I lost count after five glasses and three pills," Gordon admitted. "It's all a blur after that."

"Look, I may not know everything that's happening in your life right now, but I do know you're going in a very dangerous direction, Bombay. And I do know that in the first couple of weeks after the accident, I felt tempted to do something to myself, too; after I got discharged from the hospital, I went out and got drunk. Until Bella slapped some sense into me and reminded me that our daughter needed both of us if we had any hope of recovering her. Just like how if you have any hope of getting better, you need to let others in and let them be there for you. And if you ever need anything . . ."

"I'm fine, Ted," Gordon cut him off harshly. He crossed his arms over his chest, a sign that Ted recognized as defensiveness, as though he were keeping something closely locked inside him; the problem was, when you locked so much away in a box, it came out explosively; it was released in dangerous forms of substance abuse, bursts of anger, self-harm . . . Ted shivered internally. He didn't want to imagine Gordon doing anything else to himself.

"Really? This is 'fine' to you?" Ted questioned. "Because you're a mess, man. Really? Teaching those kids how to take falls? Pulling from Reilly's playbook? Give me a break. I mean, really, what the hell's happened to you? When I saw you last night, I was scared to death. I see you, and I don't see someone who's okay, I see someone who's lost and . . ."

"I said I'm fine, Ted!" Gordon said irritably. That stung. But Ted knew the only way he'd be able to get Gordon to see reason was if he kept coming around.

"Fine, but my offer still stands. You know my family is your family, too, as long as you want us," Ted said seriously before backing out of the room, leaving Gordon there with his thoughts; he just hoped he'd gotten through to his friend, that things would get better from here on out.

But the pessimistic part of his mind wasn't sure if it would be.

A/N:

I added in one of my OCs from the Game Changers rewrite saga, Hal Vargas. But I also threw in the detail of Ted watching the Ducks play, because we know for a fact that he saw the Ducks' tapes before he coached them in D3, but I'm under the impression that he'd watched more than just their tapes, that he'd always been watching them and had secretly seen them play since the first movie. I also got the impression that Ted and Charlie had some similarities to them, like Gordon did with Adam, because why else would he and Charlie butt heads so much if they didn't share something in common?