If You’re Going Through Hell (Keep Going) -- Mini Remix
((A/N: A comment from ‘Jacquee’ put a bug in my ear regarding Jack returning to Samwell earlier as a coach to be with ghost!Bitty and here we are! Also on Ao3))
It's been three years since Jack said goodbye to Providence, his NHL career, and an existence of unfair expectation to move back to Massachusets, accepting a position as the new head coach of Samwell’s Men's Hockey Team.
It's also been three years since Jack received a phone call from his incredibly wasted lawyer, ranting, "Jesus fuck, Jack, you gotta get down here; I'm at Faber and it's true. It's all fuckin' true."
"Okay, boys! Good hustle, tonight! Go get cleaned up and I'll see most of you here bright and early tomorrow for specialty drills. And Benton, if you're late again the whole team is doing suicides."
As the players depart, Jack busies himself with collecting the cones scattered around the ice until he hears another pair of skates hit the ice. Jack checks his watch: 8:43 on the dot.
"They're coming along nicely, Sugar. I like the one with brown hair."
"They are, aren't they? It's going to be a good year, maybe not Frozen Four good, but we have time to work on that. Horowitz has a lot of potential for a freshman. Reminds me a bit of Chowder."
Jack has built a nice little life for himself: he owns a small brownstone just off campus, in walking distance of Faber and just about anywhere he'd like to be, he has a team of his own, again, he's working on his masters in his spare time . . . Oh, and Samwell has one other major perk to offer.
“Aww, Chowder, I miss him. Can you get him to come to visit? He and Farmer? They have a baby now, don't they? I want to see it."
"Autumn is hardly a baby, she's almost five," Jack settles the stack of cones under his arm and turns to see Bitty twisting his stick the way he does when he's nervous. "Bud?"
"I've been forgetting again, haven't I?" Eric asks guiltily, slapping his stick against the ice. "I knew it. I knew there was something wrong, you always get all quiet and broody when I forget."
"Oh, Bits, it happens. You're okay, I'm not upset." Jack sets the stack down and tugs Eric into his arms, burying his face against his partner's damp hair. "You've been doing so great, remember? Little setbacks here and there are fine."
"But what if I forget you again?" Bitty whispers, clutching Jack tightly. "What if I don't know who you are?"
"You always remember me."
Jack doesn't need to mention the days where Bitty has happily called him 'Bob' and questioned him about Alicia and Jack himself; they're few and far between.
"Hey, hey, we talked about this. You'll have good days and bad days but it doesn't matter because I'm not going anywhere, remember? I work here. Have a contract with an iron-clad termination clause to prove it. I don't have to go back to Providence, anymore."
"And you won't leave me, again," Bitty sniffs and nods against Jack's chest. "I know. No more roadies."
"Never in a million years, bud," Jack drops a kiss to Bitty's matted cowlick. "I'm right here. You want me to stay tonight, just in case? Keep you company?"
"Yes, please." Bitty whispers.
"D'accord, mon lapin," Jack pulls away -- reluctantly, always reluctantly -- and picks up the cones again, skating toward the bench with Eric trailing quietly behind him. "We can sleep on the couch in my office, are you okay if I watch tape for a bit? If you like, you can help me pick out a scholarship candidate?"
"Is it time already?" Bitty rests his stick down to unlace his skates and Jack pretends not to notice when the thing disappears the moment Bitty's hand loses contact. "I thought we just finished recruiting the new frogs?"
"You know, you're right, we did. I shouldn't rush things. How about we just cuddle and see where the night takes us, eh?"
Again, Jack doesn't mention the lapses in Eric's memory; he's having a hard night, it'll be better to get him into bed before things get too out of sync. The last thing Jack needs is to make Eric emotional; because an emotional Eric means blown out lights, malfunctioning Zambonis, and, on at least one rare occasion, mystery ooze coming up from the shower drains.
Jack does not want a repeat of the ooze incident; that was not a fun call to janitorial.
"I'd like that, Sweetpea," Bitty smiles tiredly up at Jack. "I think I had too much to drink last night at the party. Or Holster made the tub juice a little stronger than normal. Did you try it?"
"Yeah, Bits," Jack lies, working on his own laces. "Way too strong. Tasted like gasoline."
Bitty kicks off his skates and, again, ignores the way they disappear. Jack, however, is still corporeal and knots his laces to toss his skates over his shoulder before extending a hand for his long-dead boyfriend to take.
"C'mon, Bits," Jack coaxes, leading a sleepy Eric to his office. "Let's get some rest. We can talk in the morning."
