when all else fails (i’ll still be right here) - zimbits fic

Eric’s fretting over dinner options when Jack’s phone starts buzzing in his pocket — a specific triple-tone vibration he’d set for Georgia almost three years earlier. Eric waves a fond hand Jack’s direction as he steps outside to take the call — already knowing it isn’t going to be happy news.

“Who’s it going to be? Tell me we didn’t lose Poots, you know he just bought a house.”

Through the patio door, Jack can see his husband dancing around their brand new kitchen, renovated specifically for Eric’s web series; plating their dinner, adjusting the light and angling his phone to get the best photo possible before abandoning the device and going for Jack’s ever-present camera.

This is their first home, too; nestled in the suburbs, a stone’s throw from Tater’s place and just a neighborhood over from Marty’s. Running distance. Good schools. Enough guest rooms they’ll never have to send their parents to hotels over the holidays. They’ve already leveled the ground in the back for a greenhouse and garden in the spring, the yard large enough for pets and, one day, if Jack’s lucky, children.

“It’s not Fitz.” Georgia says after a loaded silence, tone as gentle as it is remorseful. “It’s . . . You’re not protected from the Quebec City expansion draft, Jack. It’s you.”

“Yeah, right.” Jack says reflexively, not quite finding the humor in her joke. “Who’s it really?”

“Your contract renewal didn’t make the Player Association cutoff. The Quebec owners are threatening legal action if we try to expand coverage because you’re technically eligible and they want to build the team around a ‘star’ — Word about your contract hasn’t hit the news yet, but you’re going to get a call tomorrow from Jeremy Wilmington, and, probably, Bettman. Quebec is going to pick you first.”

She’s serious. 

She’s serious.

“George? George.” Jack tries to keep his tone even, not sure why he’s explaining this to a woman who knows him better than most anyone. “Right? Yeah, I don’t want to go to Quebec to play for an expansion team that isn’t going to have a playoff run for a decade.”

“We tried, Jack. We’re still trying. No one wants this. We’ve been on calls with the owners all day, the lawyers, but the ruling came down from the league office tonight —”

“George. This isn’t funny.”

“— At the end of the month, you’ll officially be a Quebec City Nordique.”

Jack balls his fist and presses the heel of his hand to the iron railing on the porch, pushing down until his knuckles turn white and he feels something pop.

“I wanted you to hear it from me.” Georgia apologizes softly. “Not Deadline. I know this isn’t what you want. I know this isn’t good for Eric’s career, either.”

“He can’t even speak French, George,” Jack exhales in a desperate half-laugh, already feeling himself dissociating from the news. “Bitty’s supposed to open his first storefront in Blackstone at the end of the year; he just signed the lease agreement.”

“I know, Jack. I know.”

“So, what do I do?”

There’s a moment of contemplation, and Jack briefly thinks the call has dropped before George huffs a breath.

“You can do one of two things, Jack: You can move to Quebec, and you can become the first, best captain that franchise will ever have, or you can give up, and chose to end your career with a whimper.”

Jack sits with her words, listens to the breathing across the line, and says, “Yeah, but if I tank the team, you can get me back to Providence.”

George barks a laugh, and Jack finds a reluctant smile tugging at his lips.

“You burn that team and I’ll come up there to kick your ass myself.”

.

Continue on to Ao3 . . .