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Like everyone else in the hockey world, he was curious/horrified about the apparent curse on the Conn Smythe trophy that caused Patrick Roy to get pregnant. (And like every winner before 1993, Wayne was so glad he never had to go through with that.)
No one believes Bettman, that was for sure. That smirk he had when he handed the trophy to Patrick, that was a major tell. He knew what he was doing.
There were already talks about if something should be done or not, but it was true that this had resulted in increased popularity for the Habs so some may think the trade-off of losing a player for a year worth it...
And now it was roughly two months after the birth of his daughter. Many people had tuned into the Habs/Lightning game (put on ABC, of course, cause ratings) because Patrick and his daughter were to be the guests of honor dropping the puck tonight. (Wayne was telling himself he was just supporting his little brother by watching his game, but deep down he knew that was a lie.)
He and the rest of the team were on the road to play St. Louis, so he was in his bedroom sipping on water as the ceremony began.
And he nearly spat out his drink.
It wasn't that easy to make out features, but he'd know the hair on little Félicité anywhere.
And the nose.
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Wayne blinked blearily at the phone. Who the hell was calling him at two in the morning AND knew what hotel room he was in? He picked it up.
"Hello?"
"YOU FUCKED ROY?!"
Oh. Right. Brent did and would.
"Isn't it three in the morning for you?"
"YOU FUCKED ROY?!"
Wayne sighed. "It was a one night stand. He was drunk and arrogant, I was drunk and upset, we got to fighting, we accidentally made out...one thing led to another...look, why the hell am I explaining this to you! I can make my own decisions!"
"This is NOT how I wanted to find out I had a niece!"
"I didn't know he would get PREGNANT and neither did he! This is all Bettman's fault!" He sat up.
"Do you realize EVERYONE is talking about it? She looks like you!"
He sighed. "Have you talked to Patrick?"
"Of fucking course I did! He wouldn't confirm or deny it." Brent sighed. "He did give me his address to pass to you if you wanted it though. He felt it better you talk in person."
Wayne ran a hand over his face. "It's late. I wasn't sleeping much BEFORE you called and I have a game tomorrow. And it's later for you. Just...hang onto it while I decide what I want to do." He slammed the phone down on the receiver and then his hand against the pillow, frustrated. He already was tossing and turning because of that little girl, being yelled at by his little brother wasn't helping.
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Nor was the fact that those that weren't talking about Félicité's resemblance to Wayne were talking about how ABC announced the game the highest rated game of the season thus far.
Fuck him sideways. Fuck them ALL sideways, now no one will be interested in undoing the curse.
He noticed his teammates smirking at him, and management pointedly not looking at him. He ignores them for the most part to concentrate on practice.
They lost, of course, and some smartass reporter asked if the recent rumors regarding Roy's child affected his game.
In his iciest voice and most dignified 'Great One' manner he said, "that is pure speculation and any questions regarding Patrick Roy should be directed TO Patrick Roy. Next question."
They got no more out of him and he left to go back to his hotel.
The next day he called Brent back and asked for the address. Brent gave it to him, and a two word message from Patrick: 'after playoffs'.
Fine. His team probably wasn't making it, and Patrick was still a question mark for the rest of the season. Playoffs aren't going to last long.
He can wait.
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He suspected that Bettman put on the curse to try and prevent repeats/dynasties from happening again. The Canadiens only made it to round one and lost to the Bruins, even with the return of Saint Patrick.
The day after they lost, he flew to Montreal.
He hoped no one recognized him as he rented a car and drove to the address in question. When he got there he sat in the car for a minute, then worked up the nerve to get out and knock on the door.
It took a few seconds, but Patrick answered. They stared at each other for a few seconds, but when Patrick opened his mouth, whatever he was about to say got cut off by the shrill cry of Félicité.
Patrick looked panicked. "Come on in," he said, dashing off to tend to her.
Wayne let himself in, standing awkwardly until Patrick came in carrying Félicité.
"Would you mind holding her while I make her a bottle?"
Wayne nodded and held his arms out. Patrick gently showed him how to hold her and dashed off to make that bottle.
Up close the features she got from him were even more prominent, but he could see she got Patrick's eyes. He's sure she got other things from him too.
She screeched.
Like his lungs.
He tried to soothe her until Patrick came back with that bottle and reached for her to feed her.
They sat down on the couch, Patrick feeding his daughter, Wayne watching them, when Patrick finally began to speak.
"I didn't know she was yours. Not for certain, anyway, until she was born. Wondering who her other father kind of took a back burner to the whole idea that I was pregnant in the first place."
"How did you even find out?"
"I felt nauseous on and off throughout the offseason but I didn't see anyone about it until I fainted at the first practice of the season. When I came to the doctor looked stunned, and there was a representative from the NHL warlock department. They weren't sure how it happened either, since the spell was only meant to ensure my skills remained top notch until I handpicked a successor, which those skills would pass on to." He sighed as Félicité finished feeding. "Bettman said he was sorry, but I could see the smirk trying to grace his face and how he talked about how they could still market this: he knew what he was doing. If I had proof he did this on purpose I'd sue him."
"Did you ever consider..." Wayne couldn't bring himself to say it but Patrick got it.
"I mean...this wasn't HOW I pictured it but I did want children someday." He smiled at Félicité before he began burping her.
"And you weren't sure she wasn't mine until she was born?"
"I didn't know how the fuck this pregnancy was working. The warlocks thought I might give birth to a clone of myself. Plus, I slept with Mike on the plane ride home, and a quickie with Eric before the parade. One of them could have been the father. I think that's what Bettman expected. He was as shocked as anyone that she came out looking like, well, you."
"And why didn't you tell me? Why did I have to find out on TV like everyone else?"
Patrick sighed. "I don't know. I was afraid. Afraid you would want nothing to do with her, or want to take her away from me, or would feel obligated to marry me or something. I didn't want any of that. And I was naive enough to think no one would notice. I should have remembered your brother's on the Lightning. If anyone was going to recognize a Gretzky, it'd be another one."
Wayne snorted at that. "You're right there." He then got serious. "I wouldn't take her away from you," he said softly. "Not after you did all the hard work. And I won't deny Félicité is mine either unless you want me to." Patrick smiled weakly at that. "You're sure about not getting together though?"
"It wouldn't be fair to her. Not if it ends badly."
"We could work out something then? I do want to be part of her life."
Patrick nodded. "I'm sure we can work something out. But...not right away. She's too young for traveling far."
"Of course."
"Would...you like to stay here a few weeks? To get to know her?"
"I'd like that."
"Just don't expect to impregnate me again the next time I win Conn Smythe."
Wayne snorted. "Even I never managed three Conn Smythes, what makes you think you can?"
"Watch me." Patrick then smiled. "Would you like to hold her now that I fed her?"
Wordlessly he held out his arms. Patrick placed Félicité in them.
Wayne smiled down at his daughter. "Hi there. I'm your papa."
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Epilogue, Denver, February 2002
Traveling had only gotten worse, Wayne thought, as he and Mark headed for baggage claim.
Mark smiled. "Excited to see her again?"
Wayne shrugged. "Always happy to see her. I just still feel like I'm in the way."
"Wayne, they ASKED you to watch Félicité and Ebba when it was time. If anything I'm the intruder since I'm only here because I'm dating you."
The years had seen some changes for him. He retired, he finally got back together with Mark (they had had a relationship in Edmonton, but broke it off when he got traded), and he was enjoying life.
"Don't say that. The girls love you. You're the cool stepdad."
"DADDY!"
Wayne nearly got tackled by a precocious and already tall for her age Félicité.
"My princess!"
"I missed you!" She hugged him happily, then hugged Mark.
Wayne was only mildly surprised to see Peter Forsberg there instead of Patrick. "He not feeling up to coming here today?"
Peter shook his head. "No."
Wayne smirked. "He blaming you for getting knocked up today?"
Peter huffed. "Not MY fault. Joe has an unfair advantage in knowing where to rub his back."
If the years had changed him, they sure as hell changed Patrick too. He had been traded too, and then somehow found himself in a menage a trois with Peter and Joe, which apparently started after the second major Red Wings fight. (Patrick always did like teasing Wayne that he had TWO men in his life instead of just one.) It was rather unconventional, but none of them really gave a damn what everyone else thought as long as they and their children were happy.
Some of the more conservative types (*cough*doncherry*cough*) speculated that Wayne may push for sole custody of Félicité, since he surely wouldn't want his daughter unduly influenced by them. Wayne nearly punched him for that. They were happy, and Félicité was happy, and Joe and Peter's daughter Ebba absolutely adored her big sister, and they were one big family. They were happy to help him and Mark out when they needed it and he was happy to help THEM out.
Which is why they were here, actually. Patrick had done it. He had gotten a third Conn Smythe. And as expected at this point, he got pregnant. (Rumor has it the Avs were taking bets on who the biological father was cause threesome.) He was due any day, so Wayne and Mark were coming over to babysit the girls when it happened (thank god it was that long break) and to celebrate said girls' birthdays a little late since they had been busy.
As Peter drove them to their house (Mark followed in the rental) Félicité happily chatted to her father about everything: school, Ebba, the new baby, what happened at her birthday party, everything. They soon arrived and headed in.
Wayne couldn't help feeling his heart melt when he saw Patrick relaxing on the couch, stroking a dozing Ebba's hair as she rested with her cheek against his belly. "Awwww."
Their heads shot up.
"Wayne!"
"Uncle Wing!"
(When she was two she was completely unable to say 'Wayne' and ended up calling him Uncle Wing, which stuck.)
Wayne went to sit with them. "How are you feeling?"
"Like hell. I am ready to have this baby. Sooner rather than later, I feel."
Wayne frowned. "Are you..."
He shook his head. "Still Braxton-Hicks for now."
Nevertheless, Wayne frowned and kept an eye on him.
But it wasn't until the middle of dinner that Patrick dropped his fork and said "I think you and Mark should take the girls for ice cream," which was the code for go time.
So Mark and Wayne took the girls for ice cream while Peter and Joe took Patrick to get their third child born.