Chapter Text
Troy is having the worst game of his career.
He hasn’t gotten a single shot off, his passes are sloppy, and he’s been slow to get back on defense. Two of the other team’s goals have been scored by the player Troy was supposed to be guarding.
At one point, Troy skates into his linemate, and both men are laid out on the ice.
Troy doesn’t know what to say when Houde gets up and says, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He can’t even look at his coach, who hasn’t said a word to him since the first period. An angry Coach Cooper was normal; a silent Coach Cooper was livid.
Troy is grateful when the siren finally goes off, signaling the end of the third period. Toronto has lost 4-1 against the Florida Panthers in their opening game. It's an embarrassing start to what Troy knows will be a long season.
Troy keeps his head down as he enters the locker room with his team. Kent, their captain, is already yelling. “What the fuck was that?” He throws his gloves at his locker. “Did everyone forget that preseason is over? That these games fucking matter?” He isn’t shouting at anyone in particular, but Troy knows his captain is angry with him.
His captain is always angry with him.
Kent is standing in the middle of the group. “Well? Is anyone going to fucking say anything?” A brave rookie tries to speak up, but this only makes Kent angrier.
The veteran players know to stay silent when Kent is pissed. The man throws his helmet next. “Fucking despicable.” Kent finally takes a seat at his locker and starts taking his gear off.
Troy is grasping his laces tightly as he undoes his skates, trying to get his hands to stop shaking. He had been dreading this game, but even in his anxiety-filled nightmares, it didn’t go this poorly.
Coach Cooper comes in as the men are finishing their showers and getting dressed. His anger is similar to Kent’s, but the reprimands are more pointed. He yells at their goalie for missing “easy” saves, he calls out the rookie for a lackluster performance, then Houde for getting two penalties, and then Price for being too timid.
Troy is waiting for his name, but it doesn’t come. He doesn’t know if this makes him feel better or worse that his coach won’t even waste his time on Troy.
He feels invisible.
Troy keeps his eyes forward as he walks to his car in the back of the garage. He can feel Kent walking behind him. He’s waiting for the man to say something, to do something, but he doesn’t. Troy gets into his car and locks it.
It's the first time he can breathe since getting to the stadium that morning.
He is home for almost an hour before he gets a call.
Call from Dallas Kent.
He ignores it. Dallas doesn’t leave a voicemail, but he sends a text.
Dallas [11:08 PM]: You played like shit
His stomach sinks. He doesn’t respond to it. Or the next one, or the next, or the next. After his phone buzzes signaling that the man has sent a fifth message in less than a minute, he silences it.
Troy doesn’t need to read the insults or the offers to help him with his game after practice. Dallas always uses the same tricks to get Troy alone with him. Insult him, tease him, make him feel low, and then offer something to help him.
For the first few years, Troy is ashamed to admit that it worked.
Dallas was a few years older than him and was already one of the best players on the team when Troy joined as a rookie. It felt good to have an older player take him under his wing as he navigated playing hockey at the highest level and becoming a public figure.
He didn’t love how crude Kent could be, especially when he used homophobic slurs, but Troy had heard guys use that kind of language his whole life. He could let it go if it meant that he got to spend more time with the talented centre.
And he could let it go if Dallas was sometimes an ass to him. Troy’s second year on the team was Kent’s first as captain. So when the man gave him shit for his mistakes or was a little too rough with him at practice, he brushed it off as the man wanting him to be better.
It wasn’t until his third year that he started to realize that the captain may be singling him out a little too much.
What started as offers to help him with his backhand after practice became regular one-on-one training sessions that felt mandatory. Kent made sure that the two were always rooming together and were paired for team lifts. The favors and gifts, such as refilling Troy’s water bottle, taking him out for expensive meals, and showing up at his apartment unexpectedly to drive him to the rink, were starting to make him feel uncomfortable.
Troy started to feel isolated from the other guys on the team.
Once Troy realized how weird his and Dallas’ dynamic was, he started to distance himself from the man.
He declined dinner invitations and made excuses as to why he couldn’t train after practice. He drove to the rink earlier to beat his captain there. He made an effort to talk with some of the newer guys on the team.
Kent didn’t like that.
The more Troy pushed back, the tighter Kent held on. He started calling Troy at least once a day, sometimes multiple times in a row, until Troy answered. There were dozens of texts sent. The man sometimes still showed up unannounced, and Troy would have to entertain him until he finally left.
Troy tries to distract himself from his phone, which is still silenced and sitting on his kitchen counter. He heats up leftovers and eats them in the silence of his sterile apartment. He doesn't want to turn on the TV and risk seeing clips of his abysmal performance, and he can’t go on his phone.
There is a knock on the door.
His building has a doorman who hadn’t called up to Troy. No one should be able to get to his front door without his permission. But there was one man who could always get to Troy.
There is no hiding that he is home. This is the last thing Troy wants right now, but he makes his way over to the door and opens it without a word. He doesn't need to look through the peephole to know Dallas is on the other side.
His captain breezes right by him without asking if he can come in.
The man heads right to Troy’s fridge, where he knows there will be a six-pack. “Man, what the hell was that? You played like shit.”
Step one: insult.
“I mean, I’ve never seen you play like that. You injured?” Troy hates the way Dallas looks up and down his body like he could see if Troy is hiding an injury underneath his clothes.
Troy walks over to the counter and slips his phone into his pocket. He doesn't like keeping it out where the other man can see it. “No, just an off night, I guess.” He always keeps his responses short. If Dallas gets bored, he may leave faster.
Dallas opens a beer and takes a few audible gulps before loudly putting the bottle down on the counter. The man did everything he could to take up space in a room.
He stares at Troy. “That better be it.” Troy doesn't know whether that is supposed to be a threat. “We need you to score some fucking goals if we’re gonna go all the way.” Kent takes a few more gulps, his drink almost gone.
Troy just nods and takes a sip of his own beer. “You were slow getting back.” Troy nods again. Dallas wasn’t wrong. “We’re going running tomorrow. I need you fast this season. Be ready by 9.”
Step two: offer him something to help. Get him alone.
Kent must be bored with Troy's wordless replies because he stands up and walks back to the door, ending the conversation before Troy can even reply. He had gotten what he wanted; he didn't need to stay any longer. He slams the door as he leaves the apartment.
Troy sets an alarm for 8 and climbs into bed, resigned to abide by his captain’s orders once again.
-
Troy is quiet on their run. Dallas leads them on a 8 kilometer run on a nearby trail, varying the speed as they go. When they slow to a jog for their cool down, the two converse about the team. They don't talk about the previous night’s game.
When Troy gets to the rink at noon, his coach is waiting for him.
Troy had been waiting for the man to berate him in front of the team last night, but he must have wanted to wait for the privacy of his office.
Coach Cooper is a legend in the NHL. Two Stanley Cup wins as a player and two more as a head coach. He is one of the youngest coaches ever to win the Cup. The league loves him, even if most of his players do not.
Some players did, Kent did.
But he has a well-earned reputation as a bully. He doesn't believe in positive reinforcement. He believes coaching is about pointing out mistakes and pushing players to go harder. Players like Troy, who crave guidance and validation, do not flourish under him.
When Troy takes a seat in front of his coach, he is already tense with anticipation. His performance last night left a lot to critique.
“You’ve been traded.”
Troy’s head shoots up at that. He is starting his fourth year of a five-year contract with Toronto. His coach continues, “To Ottawa. You start with them tomorrow.” With that, Cooper looks away as if the conversation is done and Troy has been dismissed.
Ottawa is five hours away. Ottawa is one of the worst teams in the league. Troy still has almost two years on his contract.
He can't believe it. “What?”
In his confusion, Troy misses the telltale signs of his coach getting frustrated. The man’s voice is sharper, “What did you fucking expect? You cause trouble on my team, and now you’re playing like shit. I need a right-winger who is actually going to shoot the puck, and you are too expensive to just bench.”
Troy knows he had a bad game, but it was the first game of the season. He didn’t realize it had been a try-out. “But I have two more years on my contract?”
“It's more of a lend-out than a trade. Ottawa pays us to lend you, and we pay you.”
His tone is cold, dismissive. Troy tries to ask more, but Cooper clearly called Troy in to tell him the news, not discuss it.
Troy is in a daze as he enters the locker room for what could be his last time. He hasn’t even brought a bag to clear out his locker, so he uses a trash bag to gather his belongings. He isn’t careful when ripping down the photos taped to the back of his locker, so a few of them tear. He throws those in the trash along with his nameplate that has been hanging there for three years.
None of the players had arrived at the rink. Troy leaves without telling a single person goodbye.
His agent leaves him a voicemail on the drive back to his apartment. He doesn’t call her back. Then the coach of the Ottawa Centaurs, Coach Weibe, leaves him a voicemail welcoming him to the team and asking him to call him back. He doesn’t call him back.
Troy gets back to his apartment, the same one he’s been in for the past three years. The decor is impersonal, with overpriced paintings and photos of Toronto covering the walls. The furniture was all picked out by his interior decorator, and he realizes he doesn’t care enough about any of it to take it with him.
He goes to his bedroom and pulls out a suitcase, a duffel bag, and a backpack. He packs as much winter clothing as he can into the suitcase, shoves his dirty laundry into the duffel, and all of his electronics and toiletries into the backpack.
His phone rings again with an unknown number. He lets it go to voicemail and is surprised to hear Ilya Rozanov leave him a short message: “Barrett, it’s Ilya. Call me.” His new captain sounds direct, emotionless. He doesn’t call him back.
He throws the perishables from his fridge into a trash bag and tosses the bag down the chute. Troy looks around and realizes he doesn’t really need anything else.
In one trip, he fills his car with everything he needs in life. He plugs the Centaurs’ stadium address into his phone and starts his five-hour drive.
-
Troy doesn't realize the Centaurs have a home game that night until he arrives at the stadium.
He didn’t have a plan when he drove away from his apartment; he just knew that he needed to get away from Toronto as quickly as possible. He had called his agent back on his drive, and she told him that she would have her assistant find him a hotel he could stay at until he found a new place.
Her assistant had texted him the hotel name, but he still wanted to see the stadium first. He had played in the Centaurs stadium a few times, but he never paid close attention. He never thought it would become his home.
The stadium is packed since it is the first home game of the season, and Ilya Rozanov’s first game as a Centaur. Troy manages to buy a ticket that places him high up in the balcony, far enough from the game that he probably won't attract attention.
He draws his baseball cap lower and looks out for cameras. Luckily, no one recognizes him.
Troy keeps his eyes locked on the ice for all sixty minutes of play. It is his first time being in the stands at an NHL game since being drafted. He is surprised by how much he enjoys just watching.
Rozanov is incredible. He is a powerful skater with one hell of a shot. He scores two goals in the first period, but the Centaurs are still losing to Buffalo, who scores three. The Centaurs seem to be struggling with their transitions.
Their plays are sloppy, their miscommunication leaves Buffalo’s players open, and their line changes are too slow. Troy knows how rough the first game of the season can be, but he is still surprised at how badly the Centaurs perform.
His new team loses 6-3.
Most of the crowd leaves partway through the third period, but Troy stays until the end. He watches the two teams shake hands, and he notices how Rozanov gives each of his players a fist bump as they leave the ice.
When the Zamboni comes out to clean the ice one last time, Troy finally stands to leave.
He drives five minutes down the street to his hotel. It faces a grocery store whose fluorescent-lit sign shines directly into Troy’s room. He turns on his 8 AM alarm and crawls under the duvet. He lies awake for hours, dreading the next morning.
-
Ilya likes the guys on his new team. They had accepted the Russian right away, extending invitations to team BBQs and introducing him to everyone who worked at the stadium. He went seven years in Boston without knowing the name of who did their social media and who handled team security. That was not how they did things here.
He still isn't thrilled about being on a team that hasn't made the playoffs in more than ten years, but he can at least enjoy his time with the players.
Their first game did not go well, with Buffalo beating them 6-3. They still weren’t used to each other’s style of playing, and having a captain who was brand new to the team wasn’t helping. Neither was the fact that they were adding another new player.
Ilya had played against Troy Barrett many times. He was a solid player: fast skater, good defender, had a nice shot. Ilya would be excited to play with him if it weren’t for the man’s personality and general disposition. He was nasty to other teams, racked up penalties for fighting, seemed miserable doing press, and was often seen disrespecting his captain.
He was one of those players that you never wanted on your team, even if he won you games.
And now Ilya had to captain this man while trying to save his brand new team from the embarrassment of missing the playoffs, again. It is not ideal.
Ilya may have missed the new player walking in if it weren’t for the way Wyatt stopped talking to glare at his former Toronto teammate.
Troy Barrett is a big guy. He stands at 6’1” and has broad shoulders. Yet when he enters the locker room, he looks small, with his shoulders hunched and his hockey bag clutched in front of his torso. He looks up and catches Ilya’s eyes right away.
Troy doesn't take a step towards his new captain. He just stares at him, panicking at what he should say. It is in that moment that he also realizes that he had never called the man back. Shit.
Ilya can't watch the man flounder anymore. He leaves Wyatt and walks towards his new right-winger. “Barrett, welcome.” His tone doesn't sound welcoming. “There’s an open locker to your left, next to Haas. Drop your stuff. I’ll take you to Coach.”
Troy doesn't say anything except, “Sorry,” to Bood as he steps around the man. He leaves his bag on the bench in front of his locker and takes off his jacket to hang it up. He then quickly follows Ilya out of the locker room, avoiding all the other players’ gazes.
The coach’s office is only two doors down, and the door is already open when they get there. Ilya doesn't bother knocking as he walks right in. “Barrett’s here.” His new captain doesn't stay, just presents Troy and turns back around and walks out.
Troy's new coach smiles at him. “Troy! Take a seat.” He gestures at one of the open chairs. “Sorry, we didn’t get a chance to talk yesterday, but things moved pretty quickly. I’m sure you heard Davidson tore his ACL in preseason, and so we’re down a wing for the season. But we really lucked out with you.” As he talks, his coach clears some papers from his desk and closes his laptop, then gives Troy his full attention.
“I know it can be hard joining a new team, especially after the season has already started. But we’ll get you up to speed real quick. I think you and Rozanov will work well together.”
Troy keeps his face neutral, trying not to grimace at the idea of joining this team. He gives a quick, “Thanks, Coach.”
Coach Weibe stands up, and Troy follows. “Alright, let’s go meet the guys, and then I’ll have you get your gear on. I want to start with some offensive drills to see how you mesh with some of the other players.”
The two of them walk into the locker room. The guys are finishing getting dressed, but they all turn to give Coach their attention. “As I’m sure you already know, this is Troy Barrett. He’s joining us from Toronto. I want to try him on the first line with Rozanov, Bood, Dykstra, and Chouinard. Start with some warm-up shots on Hayes.”
Troy’s eyes were checking out his new teammates. He knows most of them, but the team did have some new, younger players that he wasn’t familiar with. His eyes meet Tanner Dillon, who looks pissed at Barrett.
From watching the game last night, Troy knows that he is replacing Dillon on the first line. He tries to smile at the man, but it comes out more as a wince. Dillon turns away from him.
Troy struggles during practice.
His performance isn't quite as bad as it had been on game night, but he is still making simple mistakes. He passes too far ahead, expecting the players to be as fast as Houde and Kent. He is often in the wrong place, one time running into his own linemate during their scrimmage. The defense intercepts his passes, and Hayes stops his shots.
He feels like shit.
Coach Weibe doesn't say anything, but he doesn't look pleased. He tries Troy out on different lines, but ultimately decides to keep him on the first line. Rozanov and Bood don't look happy about it.
Troy takes his time stripping his gear off, so he will be one of the last ones to the showers. When he walks back into the locker room, wrapped just in a towel, he overhears one of the younger players say, “What happened to him? He used to be so good.” It is obvious that they were talking to him.
He waits for the players to filter out before he heads to their gym. There isn't a team lift today, but he doesn't want to go back to his hotel room, and he doesn't know what to do in Ottawa. He is surprised to find Rozanov already in the gym, using one of the stationary bikes.
He wants to turn around immediately, but his captain has spotted him. Instead, Troy just nods at the man and heads towards the treadmill. He hopes that Rozanov will just ignore him.
“You always shower before a run?” Of course, the Russian won't leave him alone. Troy places his water bottle in one cupholder and his phone in the other.
He answers as he puts both AirPods in. “Wasn’t planning on going for a run.” His answer is dry as he tries to end the conversation. He steps onto the treadmill.
“Maybe you should use the time to work on your shooting.” Step one: insult. Troy waits for the man to offer to go take some shots with him, but he doesn’t. When he looks back at Rozanov, he is smiling. His captain is teasing him.
He isn't in the mood. “Fuck off.” It comes out rougher than he intended. Instead of teasing, it sounds cold. Troy's new captain doesn't seem bothered, though. He just turns his music up and keeps biking.
They don't talk again.