When you're fed up shedding too many tears
And your memory seems like just so
many souvenirs
I will come to you to ease the pain
If you want me, tell me now
If I can be of any help, tell me how
Let me love you like a friend
Everything is gonna come right in the end
When you’re crying like a poor little child
And you feel like you never could
be reconciled
Don't forget a word of what I'm saying - oh
If you want me, tell me now
If I can be of any help, tell me how
Let me love you like a friend
Everything is gonna come right in the end
Well, I can hold you too tight
I could never let you go
But that wouldn't be right
So, why don't you let me know, let me know
Let me know what you want to do
Everybody's got a handful of fear
But tomorrow it may only be a souvenir
Of the way it is 'til it went away
If you want me, tell me now
If I can be of any help, tell me how
Let me love you like a friend
Everything is gonna come right in the end
Well, I can hold you too tight
I could never let you go
But that wouldn't be right
So, why don't you let me know
Let me know what you want to do
If you want me, tell me now
If I can be of any help, tell me how
Let me love you like a friend
Everything is gonna come right in the end
Souvenir
No, not another souvenir
No, no, no, no, no, souvenir
~Paul McCartney, "Souvenirs"

===

We spent the night in Phoenix, before jetting aboard RedBird II to Dallas for our game against the Stars.

We pulled out a 2-2 tie, and, quite frankly, we were lucky to get the tie. If it hadn't been for the stellar goaltending at either end, the game would have been decided in regulation. AND in the favor of the Coyotes.

As we were on the plane to Dallas, you looked over at me, grim-faced and tight-lipped.

"What is it, Max?" I asked, careful not to let my true feelings for you show.

"Scotty doesn't use me anymore," you said, plaintively. "He uses you a lot. I don't play."

"It's because you're rough," I said, trying to make you feel a little better. "As you go on, you will get more experience, and then he'll use you all the time."

You nodded. "I hope so, Fishy."

"I KNOW so," I said, firmly, patting your knee in a platonic way, as not to rouse the suspicion of our teammates. "Don't worry."

You nodded and smiled, letting down your guard a little bit. "You are good to me," you said, haltingly. "That was right, right?"

I nodded, smiling, taking your hand in mine and giving it a squeeze. "Just fine, Max."

You smiled. "I use your shoulder for a pillow?"

"Are you sure?" I asked, my eyes darting about the plane. Mathieu Dandenault was rattling off Russian swear words with Pavel Datsyuk, Sergei Fedorov was chatting with Chris Chelios, Steve Yzerman and Brendan Shanahan were doing crossword puzzles, and Kris Draper and Darren McCarty were running off their lists of the top movies of 2001 with Kirk Maltby. "I don't think anyone would notice... I don't see why not."

You smiled, settling down in your seat and resting your head on my shoulder. I titled my head back, closing my eyes.

Just as I was about to nod off, I heard you whisper, "I love you, Jiri."

===

I stared at my roommate, as I paced the hotel room. "He LOVES me. He said he LOVES me."

"Well, isn't that a GOOD thing," he chided, his eyes twinkling merrily.

"Come on," I scoffed, folding my arms across my chest. "You're not helping."

"I know, I know... Fishy, if he loves you, why are you so uptight," he asked, arching one dark eyebrow.

I shrugged. "Because these things never work out," I explaned, weakly, with a shrug of my shoulders. "I mean, look at US. We failed."

He smiled at me. "Only because we didn't try hard enough, Fishy."

"I wanted it as much as you did," I countered, annoyed.

"Fishy, he loves you. Go for it," he insisted.

I frowned at Sean, wondering why Bowman had to have put me with my ex-lover. Someone upstairs didn't like me, and it was definitely not Kenny Holland.

"Sean... We went for it and we failed... How do I know this won't be the same result," I asked, waving my hand.

He shrugged. "We were young. God, Fishy... We were what, nineteen? No WONDER we failed." He grabbed the TV remote. "Do you wanna watch Jeopardy?"

"Okay." I sighed, shrugging again. I flopped onto my bed, folding my arms behind my head and resting my cheek on my forearm.

"What's the capital of Hungary?" he asked, pointing at the television screen.

"You think I KNOW these things? Just because I'm an Eastern European?" I asked.

Sean rolled his eyes. "Come ON, Fishy! You should know this!" he exclaimed, growing frustrated with me.

I smiled to myself. He always looked cute flustered. "For your information, it's Budapest," I said, pretending to be annoyed with him.

Sean stuck his tongue out at me. "Haha, funny, Fisch. That's the capital of Romania." We both looked at the TV as Alex Trebek gave the right answer, Budapest. "Well... I can be wrong, sometimes."

"How about all the time?" I asked.

He tossed the remote at my head. "Go talk to Max, okay?" he asked, punching a pillow. "You're not still hung up on me, are you?"

"I don't know what I am, Aves... I mean, I haven't been in a real relationship since you dumped me-"

"I didn't dump you," he snapped. "You dumped ME. Go to Max. NOW."

I got the point.

===

When I got to yours and Fedorov's room, I knocked on the door, lightly.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Fishy."

The door opened and there you stood, looking like the epitome of perfection, your thick brown hair disheveled and dressed only in a plain white undershirt and striped boxers.

"Max, why are you wearing your socks with your boxers?" I asked, as you let me into the room.

You laughed. "Is cold, no?" you asked, but more of a rhetorical question. "Feddy is out getting food. We are only staying here for two nights, but he thinks we need to stock up on food for this little fridge here."

I smiled and stepped up behind you, taking you in my arms and resting my chin on your shoulder. "I thought about what you said, on the plane," I said. 'I'm going to go through with it', I told myself. 'There's no backing out now.'

You turned around in my arms. "What did I say, Fishy?"

I studied your expression, wondering if you actually knew or just wanted me to tell you. "I love you. You said, 'I love you'."

Your lips curled into a nearly imperceptible smile, as you leaned in for a kiss. "I love you, no?"

"I love you," I replied, kissing you back.

"We must be careful of Sergei," you said, your dark eyes turning on the door.

"He can't get in without a keycard," I said, taking note of the two keycards resting on the top of the dresser. We both shared a laugh.

"Guess he won't be getting in for a while, no?" You pulled me into your arms and I buried my head against your shoulder, as you kissed my cheek, my neck, and then my lips.

"Love you, Fishy."

"Love you too, Maxie."

***

I know what you're saying.

'Everything seemed so perfect. How could it go wrong?'

I don't know. All I know is that it did.

Must be Murphy's Law or something.

Part 3 | Part 5