Edmonton, Canada

Western Conference, Sutton Place

Matthew Tkachuk's bizarre kiss is on my mind as I get ready for the elimination game. It shouldn't be on my mind. I need to think about the game and not about some silly Flame lusting after me!

With Thatcher Demko we've been able to claw back from a three game deficit to force the game seven. And so has the Avs and Flyers. Sadly, this is where it all goes wrong...after the Avs failed in their overtime game against the Stars, doubt crept into my thoughts.

And when Vegas pushed hard, including Reaves nailing Motte in the head, I knew we were in for another crappy game.

After finally dragging ourselves to the hotel after the devastating loss to Vegas, I don't bother changing out of my clothes that I wore to the rink. I collapse on my bed and cry myself to sleep.

Matthew Tkachuk, dressed in glowing white robes appears before me. He has a mischievous grin on his face. "What happened, baby Canuckling? Did my kiss distract you from playing the game and winning?"

I hold my ground as I face him. "You had NO right to kiss me!"

"I had EVERY right to kiss you. Don't be ashamed, Stockholm Syndrome happens to the best of us. Including the perennial Canuck superstar, Elias Pettersson." Tkachuk reaches out and caresses my cheek with rough hands.

I flinch at the touch and turn my head away. "Stop being such an asshole to me."

"What was that? Speak up, Daddy Tkachuk can't hear you when you mumble Elias."

I snap my head up, mustering every scrap of bravery that I can manage. "STOP BEING SUCH AN ASSHOLE TO ME! I'm not afraid of you anymore! If anything, you've proven that you're the WORST villain of all time! Also it's not Stockholm Syndrome if I'm not the one falling in love with you!"

Tkachuk blinks.

"You think you're such a badass, but in the end you can't help but fall head over heels for someone you bully!" I continue, the bravery burning through me.

Tkachuk snickers. "Keep denying the feelings. You love me as much as I love you. It'd be a shame if during the offseason I were to get TRADED to Vancouver...closer to you." He leans forward and pecks me on the lips again. "Closer."

All the bravery vanishes from me just like that. I gasp and find myself falling...falling into blackness. I scream, but nothing comes out. Tkachuk's evil snickering swirls around me and then, finally, I hit the ground, landing hard on my knees.

I'm in total blackness.

I brace myself with my hands on the cold, black, title floor of wherever I am trapped. I then snap my head up to look around, trying to find where I am, but all I see is pitch midnight. It's like I am stuck in the black of outer space.

Tkachuk's voice than booms out, "Bravery is so unflattering on you, Pettersson. I prefer you weak and vulnerable!"

I scramble up to my feet and spin around, looking for Tkachuk. "I'm not weak! I don't belong to you! I can't! I won't!"

Tkachuk snickers. "You only wish that."

Suddenly, in the distance, circling all around me, I can see cages. As they become clearer, I can see that confined in each, is a person. A Vancouver Canuck. I can see: Thatcher Demko, Brock Boeser, Troy Stecher, Jake Virtanen, Bo Horvat, JT Miller, Quinn Hughes, Tyler Toffolli and Jay Beagle.

I spin around, my heart pounding in my chest and, when I finally stop, I can see Tkachuk's formed next to the cage with Q inside. He is gripping the bar, a smug look on his face and still dressed in the glowing white robes.

"What do you want?! To boast that I'm out of the playoffs just like you!" I shout at him. "Let them all go!"

"Seems to me that you're not grateful enough to be my prisoner...I could always take any one of them to be mine, including...what is it you call this little guy here?" Tkachuk sneers, looking in at Q.

Q looks frightened and is pressed up against the far corner of the cage.

"Huggy Bear, right?" Tkachuk hisses through the bars.

"NO!!!" I shout out.

Then all of the sudden the blackness bursts out in shouts. Everyone is shouting my name (and my nickname) and then my vision fades away and I can feel myself getting shaken awake back in reality.

"PETEY!" Brock's voice shouts.

My eyes fly open and I find myself looking up into his concerned eyes.

"You had another Tkachuk nightmare didn't you?" he inquires, softly and calmly as I sit up and find that I still have the clothes I wore to the rink on.

"He won't get out of my head," I sob, letting my head fall into my hands. "And I let us all down last night! It's my fault we're out of the playoffs now!"

Brock puts an arm around me, comfortingly. "It's NOT your fault. Not one bit."

I sniffle, feeling the tears coming to the surface. "But he..."

"Tkachuk's just messed with your head. He can't stand that you're here and he's not. So naturally he had to sabotage my movie set and script and improv kissing you. He thinks kissing you will distract you. And, well, sadly, it did."

I snap my head up and look at him through blurry tear-filled eyes.

"But, you know what? We made it farther than Tkachuk did. He can throw a hissy fit all he wants to and try to get into your head, but at the end of the day, we reached the next round and he didn't. Now, come on and grab your stuff and let's get down to the bus and head home. The others are already down there waiting, including Millsy." 

(Peace out, Edmonton Bubble!)