No Place I'd Rather Be...

Another call came into the station. Jonathan Toews was sitting in a chair, near the head detective. His head shot up and he looked at Carlton Lassiter with glittery, hope-filled eyes. He kept watching the detective, eagerly. He hoped...no, he wanted it to be good news on his friend.

But, instead, his grin faded away, as the detective leaned on his desk, kneading his forehead with his thumb and first two fingers. He had received another report of a dead body. After the hat trick of murders and Patrick’s disappearance, this was awful news.

And yet, this was the worst. Carlton didn’t make mention of it, but the caller sounded extremely upset and said that the victim was...Patrick Kane. How could he let the Blackhawk Captain be more miserable though? He snatched his things, called for Juliet, Shawn and Gus to come with him to check out the body and get the positive ID.

“I’m coming too!” Jonathan proclaimed. “I just--I want to make sure it isn’t Kaner’s...it isn’t Kaner…” He choked back tears and disappointment, but Carlton sighed and gave in. For once, he cared. He felt bad for the poor guy and if the ID turned out to be positive...oh the poor man.

They made it quickly to the crime scene, but Jonathan zoned out, reminiscing about one of the first “dates” him and Patrick had gone on. It had been simple and just at Jonathan’s house. Well at least, that’s where it ended up anyway. It had started at a bar downtown, for a small party in celebration of a win.

Jonathan wasn’t stupid. He saw the way people, guys and girls alike, stared at Patrick whenever they went out together. And usually the Blackhawk Captain was fine with this. He knew how attractive Patrick was and he enjoyed the act of claiming him as his own. The troubling part was that the blond winger noticed as well and he never passed up an opportunity to hear endearments from complete strangers.

And that's how Jonathan Toews ended up standing alone in the middle of a packed bar.

The centre enjoyed doing nice things for Patrick, especially when he deserved them. And one of Patrick's favorite things was to drink, dance, and have a good time. Sure Jonathan liked this, too, despite what the press would say about him, but he mainly did it for his winger friend.

He always needed a beer or two to get himself going, Patrick knew that. So shortly after they found a decent spot, the Chicago Captain excused himself to go to the bar. They were pretty busy and it took a few minutes to work through the crowd.

When Jonathan finally reached his destination, the shiny, wooden bartop, he politely asked the already slightly drunk looking bartender for two Coronas. After retrieving the drinks, she smiled and sent him off with a wink. He didn’t catch on or mind though. He was madly head-over-heels in love with Patrick Kane.

With the two bottles occupying his hands, he scanned the crowd for his blond friend who somehow managed to not be in the same place that the Canadian had left him. He huffed out an aggravated sigh as he put the drinks on the table and turned to look for his boyfriend. And, Jonathan wasn’t going to lie, when he saw Patrick talking to a guy who was so blatantly trying to pick him up, the Blackhawks Captain felt his anger consume his body like a wild fire. When the guy reached out to put a hand on the blond's shoulder, he had no choice but to intervene.

They were laughing when the centerman reached him. He came up from behind his winger, encircling his waist and planted a kiss on Patrick's neck, exactly where Jonathan knew it would make him squirm. "Hey, babe," he murmured sweetly.

"Jonny!" The shorter man turned so that he was facing him and kissed him hard on the mouth. "You were gone forever."

He smiled at the pure whine in the younger's voice. "Sorry, there are a lot of people here." He severed eye contact for a second to make sure the guy had left. He kissed him again, softer this time, before saying, "I really wish you wouldn't let guys hit on you so much." He added a pout because he knew Patrick was a sucker for it.

"Jonathan Bryan Toews. Are you telling me that random dudes at trashy bars make you, dare I say, jealous?" Jonathan blushed as Patrick laughed. "Well they shouldn't, babe. 'Cause I've only got eyes for you. You know that." He cocked a sweet, innocent smile and pose.

The captain couldn't keep the smile off his face. "Love you, Peeksy."

The winger buried his face in the taller man's chest. "I know. I love me, too." Patrick dissolved into giggles as Jonathan made a mock sound of hurt. It was the same one that his teammates would've easily chirped him about for weeks.

At the end of his giggling fit, the blond peered through his lashes at the brunette and whispered, almost too low for him to hear, "Love ya, too, Jonny."

The centre hugged his winger closer to him, if that was even possible, and kissed his slightly rough hair. "Let's go home," he mumbled.

"Right behind you."

"Forever?" He asked, looking into his brown eyes.

"Forever."

Jonathan was torn from his warm reverie, but the halting of the car and the slam of car doors.

They walked over to the scene. The killers hadn’t been careful this time. It was almost mocking or done on purpose. The ropes remained binding the poor young 20 year old man’s wrists together behind his back. More rope was tangled around his ankles. He also had a cloth jammed in his mouth and it had been stuck in place by strands of tape, wrapped around his face. And he was shirtless, cut up and bleeding.

The Blackhawk padded forward and at first, he jerked backward. In the back of his mind, he knew this wasn’t his Patrick Kane, it couldn’t be...but it hurt to see this doppleganger all the same. Jonathan started to cry.

It was the worst kind of pain, to lose the one closest to you. Jonathan’s hands couldn’t stop moving. They were covering his eyes, then his ears, then clutching at the back of his neck as if he could just find the source, the leak of the pain, then he could stop the flow of the hurt. Who knew how long he stayed in his hover, but when he resurfaced from inside his own mind, he looked at the situation from a new perspective. He could fix this.

He was sobbing almost uncontrollably by the time the body bag enclosed the victim and only his blood remained, which had been reduced to a small puddle on the ground.

Shawn and Gus grabbed the hockey player and held him close. Not even Santa Barbara’s great psychic had an answer for this. No one could solve this.

“That’s not--that’s not Kaner! No!!” the Chicago Blackhawk Captain wailed. “It can’t be…” He buried his head into the shoulders of the two Californians.

There was a heart-breaking few moments, before Jonathan’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out, shaking still and wiped his eyes. He looked at the screen and sniffled. “It is NOT Kaner!! He’s still alive!! I-I got to find him!! I gotta! We made a vow to always be there for one another and I’ll NEVER let some serial killer duo kill him!”

Shawn stole a quick glance at the screen and got a “mental image” of the message, which was a text. He raised his hands to his head like his “psychic reading” gesture. “We’re here to help you, Jonny, and,” he paused. “According to the text you just received, the killers are taunting you. Oh, yes, yes, the spirits say that the text said, “Did you find my little present I left for you? Of course you did, Jonny Boy. His name is Sam. Sam Richmond. And my, how he looks like Kanerboo.” Amiright?”

Jonathan gasped. “Right.”

“And my thought is that this Sam Richmond kid is a hockey player in Chicago...maybe… Rockford?”

“Whoa, that’s amazing. He’s Rockford’s top prospect and they said he is the clone of Patrick Kane.” Jonathan gawked at the psychic man.

Shawn tapped Gus on the chest. “C’mon son, I’m amazing. Let’s go.”

Carlton shook his head and came over to them. “Oh no you don’t, no one’s going anywhere. You,” the head detective pointed to Jonathan and then continued with, “need to come back and give us more on this Sam. We’re ending this thing tonight. Those killers will be caught...and…”

He was cut off, as Jonathan phone went off again. Shawn glanced at the screen secretly again and pulled his psychic moves again, before the Blackhawk could speak.

“The serial killers have Patrick Kane!” Shawn stated and they’re going to keep him alive so that his “dear captain” can have a chance to save him. I suggest we send Jonathan in and set up a sting of some sort.”

“Give them what the killers want?” Juliet questioned, joining her partner and looking at her boyfriend, like he was crazy.

“Exactly. But he’ll be mic’d up of course and we won’t lose him.”

“I’ve got to do this. I have to see my Kaner again. I have to find him and save him. Please, I promise that the moment something bad happens you can pull the plug, even if it means…” He broke off, looking down. “Kaner’s killed…”

“Yeah, okay, you’ve got a point Toews, but Spencer, I want you to be backup. Don’t get involved but you’re coming with me to be in the van.”

Shawn did a “yes” fist. Gus snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Come on, let’s end this thing. Jonny, make the move.”

Jonathan nodded. He tapped his screen and sent a reply back: Where’s my teammate? I want him back! Please, please don’t kill him.

A few seconds later the response came: Well, we’re not idiots, but hey, we’ll let you have a chance to save him. We’re holding him at the old address of a famous Chicago Blackhawk, maybe you know him, his name is Stan Mikita. You find the address, and you may or may not be able to save your precious teammate. Oh, and he had such beautiful blond locks...I may keep them as a souvenir when I’m done with him.

Jonathan shook his head. He angrily sent back another text: I won’t let you get away with killing or hurting my baby. I’ll come and I’ll get my teammate back and kill you in the process!

Go ahead, Captain Serious. Try it. Try us. But you know, Patrick will be apart of our collection soon. A victim of the Hockey Slashers!

Jonathan stared at his phone, before he stomped back to the car. He googled Stan Mikita’s Houses and got three options. He would have to go and check out all the addresses. He was dropped off at his place, after being wired and ready for the set up and then he got in his car and went to scout out the locations.

After the close call and near heart-attack that the Blackhawks Captain had, Jonathan Toews hurried off from his house and wasted no time searching for the address. He tried three of them and had no luck. Patrick Kane was at neither place.

The first one was a simple condo, like his first house had been in Chicago. The second one reminded him of Patrick Sharp’s home. And the third one, the one he was at right now, was the one Stan had lived in until the end of his career. It was a nice house, big enough for him and in one of Chicago’s best neighborhoods. It was on the opposite side of Madison, from where Jonny and Patrick decided to get a place together.

The third house was similar to Coach Q’s place actually, in structure and style. As soon as he finished up with this house, he was about to head down the stairs, when he received a horrible text message from the serial killers again.

This time, however, the message contained a short video and a disturbing image. The image he saw first and it was his poor friend all tied up on a couch and gagged with black tape. He looked helpless and scared. It tore Jonathan’s heart apart.

He instantly sank onto the top of the stairs and sat by the railing.

As he looked into the image Patrick’s blue eyes, he wanted nothing more than to find him and save him. He loved Patrick tied up, but not like this and not looking like he lost the Olympics. It was horrible and he began to tear up, He didn’t want to see the video with the message, but he played it anyway. And he regretted doing so.

“Kaner, my sweet baby.” He reached out and put his fingers gently on the screen of his cellular device. He kept them there, hesitant to remove them. But after a little while, he drew back and continued to watch in stunned horror.

Suddenly, the brunette man slapped a hand over his mouth, as he watched the pathetic struggle of his best friend, as someone poked and prodded him, like he were a bull or some wild steer in a rodeo. He sat down on the porch of the latest house and had his feet on the next step. He clutched his phone tightly in his hand.

“I have to find you, Patrick. I have to.”

Jonathan suddenly gasped in horror, as the video took a shocking turn. The man prodding Patrick stopped. But now, he grabbed the blond’s hair in his fingers and wrenched his head backward to look up at the unknown man.

A disguised, deep, dark voice, like one that might be heard or used in a ransom call, spoke. The centerman could hear the pitiful low humming noises that his poor friend let out. “Patrick Kane, Chicago’s precious winger. Why don’t you say hi to your little friend Jonny Boy? Heck, it may be your last chance to. It’s such a pity that you must die.”

There was shrill increase in volume from the muffled cries of the blond, especially when the man pulled his head back more.

Jonathan’s stomach churned with sickness and also anger. He turned his phone off and just remained sitting on the steps. He was rocked from what he’d just seen and some part of him knew that he would have to go off the radar. He couldn’t save Patrick successfully with the police over his shoulder. He would have to take the wire and bugs off of him.

If the bad guys knew that he was wired...Patrick was dead and so was he. He had to do this. For Chicago and for the Blackhawks and for Patrick Kane.

He gradually got to his feet and tore the wires and police tracking equipment off of him and threw them to the side. Then he darted down the street. Luckily he knew from his research that the last of Stan’s houses was a block away and was easy to walk to in under thirty minutes. He couldn’t risk taking the car.

It was him alone now. He was on his own. No police or psychics or anybody. Just him.

He darted down the street and got to the last house. He bolted up the steps and peered into the house. The shades were drawn. He glanced around and then snuck around to the back of the property.

It was up to Jonathan Toews to save his best friend and his male lover.

Notes

AWWWWWWWW!!!! More Kazer!! Jonny and Kanerboo are so adorable together...I can't stand it. I'm such a BIG Kazer fan. I was never really one for gay people and I am of the Christian faith, but Kazer...I just can't say no. I'd totally ship them and wouldn't mind seeing them as a couple if they really were one. :)
The flashback Jonny has, made me tear up a little bit when writing it. I really wanted this chapter to be heartfelt and make the reader cry. I hope I have accomplished that. ;)


Next up: Jonny...oh what have you done... :(