With a little love, and some tenderness
We'll walk upon the water
We'll rise above this mess
With a little peace, and some harmony
We'll take the world together
We'll take 'em by the hand
'Cause I've got a hand for you
'Cause I wanna run with you
Yesterday, I saw you standing there
Your head was down, your eyes were red
No comb had touched your hair
I said get up, and let me see you smile
We'll take a walk together
Walk the road awhile, 'cause
'Cause I've got a hand for you
I've got a hand for you
'Cause I wanna run with you
Won't you let me run with you? yeah
Hold my hand
Want you to hold my hand
Hold my hand
I'll take you to a place where you can be
Hold my hand
Anything you wanna be because
I wanna love you the best that, the best that I can
See I was wasted, and I was wasting time
'Till I thought about your problems, I thought about your crimes
Then I stood up, and then I screamed aloud
I don't wanna be part of your problems
Don't wanna be part of your crowd, no
'Cause I've got a hand for you
I've got a hand for you
'Cause I wanna run with you
Ah, won't you let me run with you?
Hold my hand
Want you to hold my hand
Hold my hand
I'll take you to the promised land
Hold my hand
Maybe we can't change the world but
I wanna love you the best that, the best that I can, yeah
Hold my hand
Want you to hold my hand
Hold my hand
I'll take you to a place where you can be
Hold my hand
Anything you wanna be because
I...oh...no, no, no, no, no
Hold my hand
Want you to hold my hand
Hold my hand
I'll take you to the promised land
Hold my hand
Maybe we can't change the world but
I wanna love you the best that, best that I can
Oh, The best that I can
~Hootie and the Blowfish, "Hold My Hand"

===

April 27, 2002

We were in the playoffs! AND we were going to play!

I was so happy, I was practically dancing my way into the lockerroom before Game One against San Jose, the sixth overall seed.

"We are going to play, Maxie," I said, grabbing your hands, "AND we are going to play in playoffs!"

"But you've been in playoffs before," you added, with a slight smile. "This is my first time."

I laughed, grabbing your hand and squeezing. "I know. Enjoy this, Maxie."

"What?"

I couldn't stop laughing, I was so happy I was going to be in the playoffs. "The...ambiance of the playoffs!"

Kirk Maltby laughed. "Ambiance! Good one, Fishy!" Maltby turned to grin at his fellow Grind Liner, Darren McCarty. "Hey Mac! I think the Czech officially knows more words of the English language than you do!"

I chuckled at McCarty's annoyance.

"And I think the Czech has more girlfriends than YOU," he fired back.

Maltby's face fell. "Low blow, Mac," he snapped, turning his eyes on me. Once again, he was smiling. "You two going to be paired up on defense?"

I shrugged, my arm about your shoulders. "I don't know, maybe..."

"I don't think so," Bowman said, shooting us 'looks' as he and the coaching staff entered the lockerroom. "You two would be too busy yakking. I'm sticking Kuzie with Chelly and Fishy with Nick."

You looked at Chelios, apologetically. "I'm sorry, Chelly."

He began to chuckle, dark eyebrows knotted together in laughter. "What are YOU sorry for, Max? I'm the one who's sorry you can't be with Fishy!"

You roll your eyes at him. "Like I haven't heard that before!"

Although our teammates were initially surprised and upset when we broke the news to them, I know it was for the best that we told them.

We didn't want this hanging over our heads as we entered the playoffs, third seed notwithstanding. We had to get everything out in the open if we wanted to be a successful playoff team.

Stevie was the one who took it the hardest. He'd always been brought up the 'right', Christian way. I remembered he'd made some comments that were misconstrued to be homophobic, a few years back, but overall, he accepted it.

***

'I just don't want it to interfere with your ability to play good hockey,' he'd said.

I'd only smiled. 'It won't, Stevie. We're professionals.'

===

I knew somehow, that our revelation had sneaked out when the first period began. The Sharks players all went for us.

Ricci went out of his way to hit me below the belt; Marchment stuck out his knee a little farther for me than he did for Shanny or Stevie; Evgeni Nabokov gave me extra slashes when I was by the net; Marcus Ragnarsson purposely high-sticked me in the face.

And somehow, out of all the abuse we took, no penalties were called.

"I don't know what the fuck is going on," Bowman railed, "but this 'turning the other cheek' shit has to stop now! It's obvious those sorry excuses for referees aren't going to make the calls on Max and Fisch, so why don't you boys step up to the plate and defend your brothers?!"

I held a towel to my bleeding eye, as Sharks players cruised by the bench, laughing and smiling. "They think they've got us beat," I spoke up. "They think that we're pansies because of Max and me. I say let's show them who the real pansies are."

Stevie nodded, his eyes smoldering with some sort of fire. "Fishy is right. What kind of teammates are we if we turn our backs on two of our own? Come on, boys, Red Wings stick together."

===

With the score knotted at two in the third period, things began to get chippy. Usually, it was the other way around, but this game was different.

And everyone knew it, too.

"Hey homo, why don't you get your butt-buddy to kiss the boo boo and make it all better," sneered the Sharks' captain, Owen Nolan, eying the fresh wound he'd just infliced with his stick. Nolan made kissing noises at me, puckering his lips.

"Why don't you put a sock in it, or else *I* will." McCarty stepped between the two of us, shaking off his gloves.

"Oh, the fag has to get someone else to fight his battle?" asked Nolan, really begging for a Darren McCarty haymaker. "Or are YOU his butt-buddy too, eh McCarty?"

"Why don't you shut up and go to your bench, Nolan." McCarty narrowed his eyes at the Sharks' captain, menacingly, giving him one last chance.

"Or what? The little sissy will get his fewwings huwt?"

Darren grabbed the larger Nolan by the shoulders, trying to hold back the Sharks captain's dominant arm while getting in a few good punches.

Someone grabbed me from behind and threw me face first to the ice, knocking off my helment and reopening the cut above my eye.

Blood flowed from the wound, and I struggled to fight off whomever it was that had tackled me.

When I had finally gotten back onto my feet, I realised the ice was littered with teal and white jerseys.

Brendan Shanahan was fighting the turtler, Bryan Marchement. Sergei Fedorov was tangling with Evgeni Nabokov in the crease, barking at him in Russian. Brad Stuart was fighting off a determined Kirk Maltby, who never fights.

Our boys were sticking up for us.

Even the backup goalies were fighting, Kiprusoff yelling at Manny in Finnish, rather animatedly, as Legace had a hold of his jersey.

Even the coaches were getting involved. Sutter was leaning over the boards, hollering at Bowman. Scotty was pretending he couldn't even hear him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed you. You were being held by Jeff Jillson as Scott Thornton was punching you in the face.

"Let him go!" I barreled in and body slammed Thornton, knocking him off of you and onto the ice. I slammed my fists into his face, over and over, opening a wound on his cheek. As I pulled my fist back to hit him again, someone grabbed my arm and pulled me off of Thornton.

"Jiri, it's over," Brendan said, pulling me back.

I looked up to see players being sent single-file to the dressing rooms.

"What do you mean?"

"They're postponing the game," he said, with a sheepish smile, "to sort out the penalties."

I put my arm around your shoulders as we, and Shanny, headed for the lockerroom. "I'm gonna get it for third-man-in, am I not?"

"Let's hope they didn't see that," you replied, with a slight smile.

===

"Ten ejections. Six suspensions. Twelve individual fines totaling, approximately, $180,000." Bowman looked up from the paper, frowning. "Need I go on?"

We shared guilty looks.

"What did the Sharks get," Steve asked.

Scotty sighed. "The league determined we were the aggressors-" he looked at Darren, "so they were not as severely punished."

"What did they get," asked McCarty, one of the suspended players.

"Marchment and Thornton were suspended for two games each, and five players were fined, totaling, approximately, about $75,000."

"THAT'S ALL?!" Yzerman exploded. "YOU'VE GOT TO BE SHITTING ME!"

"I'm not kidding," Bowman grumbled, tightening his grip on the letter. "And they threaten that if there are any more brawls in Game Two, regardless of whether or not we initiate them, Jiri and Max will be indefinitely suspended."

"They can't fucking do that," Steve snapped, showing rare anger. "They can't! It's unfair! It's...it's sadistic, that's what it is! They can't punish Max and Jiri for something that ins't their faults! Colie Campbell's a fucking moron with his goddammed head up his ass! He can't fucking do that!"

"They're doing it, aren't they?" snapped Bowman, angrily. "I don't want this fighting stuff in Game Two, got it?"

"What if someone tries to start something," asked Maltby.

"Let it go." Bowman's eyes turned hard, like stones. "If someone tries to start something, let it go, turn your back. Walk away. Just keep your cool."

"Easier said than done," Steve snapped, slamming his helmet into his locker.

===

You, Brett Hull, Brendan Shanahan and I stood in the players' lot together, after the game.

"Don't let this shit get to you, guys," Brendan said, patting me on the shoulder. "We have your guyses backs."

Brett nodded in agreement. "Gay or not, you're still our teammates and no one messes with teammates."

You nodded, smiling. "Thank you, Brett. Brendan. I a-appreciate it."

Brendan smiled, arching a dark eyebrow. "Ooh, someone ELSE knows one more word than Mac does the entire English language!" snicked Shanahan.

You blushed, your cheeks flaming modestly. "Jiri help me study."

"Among other things," Brendan added, eyes flashing wickedly. He looked at Hull, and then me, and then you. "Well, I'm off, guys. See you tomorrow." Shanahan walked off to his Jeep, leaving behind Brett, you, and me.

"See you two crazy lovebirds for practice," grinned Brett Hull, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Good game, boys."

"Thanks, Brett," I said, slipping my arm around your shoulders. "Thanks for having our backs."

Hull grinned. "No problemo. Stay safe, you guys. See ya tomorrow."

===

You smiled, squeezing my hand. "I love you, Fishy."

"I love you too, Maxie." I smiled, leaning in to kiss you.

Hands grabbed me by the shoulders, roughly, and I saw your eyes widen with fear as we were forcibly separated.

"Isn't that cute? The two fag hockey players, sharing a special moment!"

I was spun around to find myself face-to-face with the evil glint of a knife blade.

Part 5 | Part 7