It's only the first half of the first period, and I've taken three minor penalties. This isn't my game, and Keenan lets me know it.

"What the fuck is goin' on in your mind, Bure?" he rails at me, during one of the commercial timeouts. "You're gonna cost us the fuckin' game if you don't screw your fuckin' head on straight!"

"Sorry Coach," I mumble. "The referee's been after me all - "

"Don't give me any, 'But COACH, the ref is picking on me' bullshit, got it?! You're a grown man, start acting like it! If you don't get your head out of your fucking ass, you're benched for the rest of tonight's game, as well as the game in Detroit!" Keenan stalks to the other end of the bench to give Robert Svehla an earful, and Pavel leans into me.

"He's an asshole, don't listen to him, Val. You're doing fine," he says.

I shrug. "He's the coach."

"He's an asshole. He shouldn't push my brother around like that," Pavel snaps, overprotectively.

"Cut it out," I whisper, trying to shrink into my jersey. "You're embarrassing me. Just cut it out."

He rubs the back of my neck with a gloved hand. "No one can see."

"We're on national TV, genius," I scold, trying to limit our conversation to good-natured ribbing.

"I know." Pavel removes his hand, smiling at me. "Love you, Val."

I don't respond.

---

We lose to the St. Louis Blues, 5-0, and trudge our way to Detroit with our tails between our legs. I learn my roomie in Detroit is going to be Viktor Kozlov, and I am relieved.

Pavel, on the other hand, throws a fit, and demands that Kozlov switch with his roommate, Svehla. Thankfully, for my sake, Keenan is unyielding.

I never thought I'd appreciate the man's iron will until he turned down Pasha's request for a roommate change.

"Pavel sure whines a lot," Viktor comments, as he sits on his bed, playing Solitaire with a deck of airplane playing cards.

"I know. I feel bad for Rob now," I sigh, morosely, imagining the hell Svehla must be going through. "Maybe I SHOULD have roomed with Pasha, to spare everyone else."

"Don't beat yourself up," Kozlov says, dealing himself his cards. "Pasha's just difficult."

'If you only knew...' I let out a heavy sigh, turning on our television set and flipping through the channels. Leaning back in my seat, I drop the remote onto the blue plush carpet. "There's nothing on TV. How about we go to the pool and swim or something."

Viktor looks up from his playing cards and grins. "Sounds good to me, Val."

---

We camp out at the side of the pool. Viktor points out bikini clad girls and inserts himself into a group of perfectly tan, nubile young women.

I lay myself out on a lawn chair and close my eyes.

A few minutes later, I have the feeling that I'm being watched, so I open my eyes. Sure enough, Pasha's standing over me, hands on his hips.

"Mind if I join you," he asks.

I shrug.

"Okay then," he says, sitting down on a lawnchair beside me. "What are you thinking about, Val?"

"Nothing."

"You wanna know what *I* am thinking of," he asks, playfully.

"No."

"I'm thinking of you." He rubs his hand over my chest, and I snap my eyes open.

"Pavel, stop it." I move away from him. "Not around other people, okay?"

"You don't mean that," he replies, softly. "I know you want me to touch you like that. Deep down inside, you know you want me as much as I want you."

I stare at him, eyes wide. "Why are you fucking with my head like this? Just leave me the hell alone." I snap at him, jabbing my index finger into his chest. "Stop playing games and grow the fuck up."

"I'm not playing any games," he replies, smiling at me.

"You're fucked in the head, Pavs. You're disturbed and you need help. I don't know why I've put up with your shit this long," I reply, shaking his hand off of my arm. I stand up, slowly, and realise we're all alone. Where the hell did Viktor and all those girls go? "Where did everyone else go," I ask, cautiously.

"I arranged a private time for us," he says, moving toward me.

I slap him in the chest. "You WHAT?!"

"I had them close the pool room for you and me," he says, smiling slyly.

My breathing becomes erratic, and my chest tightens. I take a step away from him. I can't panic now. "Pavel..."

He reaches for me and grabs my wrist. "Let's dance, Val." He pulls me against his chest and waltzes to the vending machine, pumping in a few quarters and pressing a button.

All he wants to do is dance? I suppose I can live through that... "Okay, but that's all."

He grins as he takes a sip from his Diet Coke, wetting his lips. "I knew you'd agree, Val."

I sigh, resting my forehead on his shoulder. "We need help, Pavs."

"What for?" he asks.

"Don't you see? We don't belong together. *I* belong with Candy... You belong... I don't know who you belong with, but this can't go on forever."

"It will only end when I say it ends," he snaps, the warmth and softness out of his voice, and his blue eyes turned from kind and tender to hard, bitter and cold.

"What if I don't want to do it anymore?" I ask, challenging him with my eyes.

Pavel seems taken aback by my sudden defiance. "You weren't like this when we were kids, Val."

"I didn't have a wife or children to protect, Pavel," I reply.

He scowls darkly, crossing his arms over his chest. "That bitch ruined everything, Val."

"Don't you dare call my wife a bitch. Just because you're too immature to settle down doesn't mean you can ruin the happiness I've found!" I shout at him, slamming a fist into his chest.

Pavel stumbles over the lawn chair and lands on his back on the concrete, hard. He stares at the recess lighting, his eyes clouding. For a while, no one says anything, before he speaks. "I didn't mean it, Val. Please don't be mad at me."

I stare down at him, and then extend a hand. "Come on."

He accepts my hand and I pull him back onto his feet. Pavel sweeps a hand through his hair. "Let's catch up with the other guys and join them for dinner," he says, grinning at me.

All is forgotten...

But not quite.

Part 4 | Part 6