Chapter Text
Okay, I’d like a fic where a reporter, maybe for a smaller online publication or maybe someone used to writing Sports Illustrated’s more “personal interest” pieces decides to go back and examine Jack Zimmermann’s college years through his assignments and by interviewing his professors.
So, first and foremost, he has to ask permission because Samwell - well, they’ve never really had this situation before, but professors do keep student’s work on file and they decide that if they get permission from the student (in this case NHL superstar Jack Zimmermann), it is fine for them to show this work to outside parties.*
So this reporter (let's call him Dan) asks for Jack’s permission and, honestly, Jack is a little confused by the request but also a little bit excited because no one seems to take his time in college all that seriously and it drives him crazy. So he says yes without thinking about it and figures that the man will get to read a beautiful 30 pages on sports during WWII and maybe there will be a little blurb about it and that will be that.
That is not that. Because Dan here is thorough and after he reads Jack’s thesis (which was much better than he expected and if he’s being honest, he expected some stupid jock paper that passed only because well, what college is going to fail Jack Zimmermann??)- after he reads the thesis, he is interested. He chats with Jack’s thesis advisor who has nothing but great things to say (”Always turned in his drafts on time, took great notes and listened to suggestions, hard working kid, I hear he’s playing some sport now?- oh! you’re a reporter, is he doing well then?”) (sorry, this is a history professor, he probably had no idea who Jack Zimmermann was while he was advising him and less of idea who he is now that he is gone… ah, spacey nerdy history professors, my fave, ANYWAY) and so Dan decides to go seek out more of Jack’s work and talk to more of his professors and this means–
He finds the Photography professor.
And, more than that, because Jack had given him permission (he has the paper and everything!) he is supposed to be allowed to see Jack’s projects. Aka the pictures he turned in for a grade.
And, for the first time, a professor gives him a hard time about letting him see Jack’s work.
“Look, ma’am, he gave permission. He knows I’m here- see!”
“Well, I’m sure he didn’t expect you to find his senior blow-off class!”
“Oh, so he blew this class off then?”
“No! Of course not, he took it very seriously and was very talented actually. He was probably one of my most improved students.”
“So the pictures aren’t going to be embarrassing at all.”
“Well, no, but– I’m just not sure he would want everyone to see them.”
“Are they… innappropriate?” Look, Dan is trying to be nice and he’s on Zimmermann’s side but as wonderful as the reports of Jack Zimmermann have been, a part of him is hoping beyond all hope that Jack Zimmermann finally did something absolutely ridiculous like turned in gross pictures to his photography class. Even if it were as a prank or something - it would humanize him a bit. If he could bring back a funny story about Jack ZImmermann…
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Professor Simpson tells him. “Jack would never turn in something inappropriate.”
“So then what’s the issue?”
“It’s just… well, I don’t see why you want to see them anyway.”
So Dan tries to explain. He tells her about how Jack Zimmermann is so careful in interviews to never really talk about himself, how he is almost too quick to credit his teammates with his accomplishments, how it’s nearly impossible to get any worth while soundbite out of him (for god’s sake, he had said that his number one advice to young players was to eat more protein like…seriously) and how, in this day and age of social media, people want their sports heroes to do more than just sports. They want to know them and he says that the hockey world is no different. He notes how his editors thought this would be a good way to finally get a more personalized story about Zimmermann since a previous attempt to do an interview with him about something other than hockey had failed spectacularly.
Finally, he shows her the permission again. In fact, he opens up his phone and shows her the chain of emails he has, first with a Falconer’s publicist intern, then with a woman called George (also with the Falconers), and finally with Jack Zimmerman himself.
“So… you are trying to make him look good,” Simpson says after a long moment.
“We’re trying to make him look like himself,” Dan allows. “This seems to be the way to do it.”
She scoffs at that, muttering something about there being an easier way to do that, but before Dan can ask her what she means, she sighs and types into the computer and then Dan gets to see the photos of Jack Zimmermann.
They are… well, they are not what he expected. He can see what she means. At the beginning he sees a lot of would-be dramatic shots of trees and buildings (and at one point a swan??) but... they get better.
People come in. First, a boy with a mustache and long hair and he isn’t looking at the camera. It’s a close up so you can’t see who he is looking at, but his eyes are alight with interest and determination and his mouth is open in what has to be a passionate plea of some kind. Both hands are still stuffed in his jacket pocket but they are outstretched as if he wants to be waving them around while he makes whatever point he is making and it’s the first time Dan has ever seen this kid but somehow thinks he knows him anyway. It’s that kind of picture.
He’s leaned forward without realizing it and the professor stays on that picture while he examines, the part of his brain that was forced to take a photo journalism course years ago trying to decipher what exactly makes this picture so engaging. When he finally looks away to meet her eyes, she is smiling as if to say “i know- see what i mean” and then she hits the next one.
Another boy - this one small and blond and he’s not looking at the camera either. He is frowning down at a ball of dough in his hands and there is a smudge of flour on his cheek and the light from the window above the sink is flooding him and somehow he stands out against the old cabinets with their peeling paint and– He is frowning but there is laughter in his eyes as if he is more amused than angry and Dan smiles looking at it without thinking about it.
The professor doesn’t let him look as long at that one. She hurries along to another picture of the lake - this one better than his previous attempts - probably because there are two boys struggling to get into a piggyback formation in the foreground and Dan somehow already knows that Jack was probably more focused on the two of them (one huge and pale whose glasses are falling off his nose as his only slightly smaller dark friend tries to jump on him) than the background. The next is three people - the mustache, the blond, and a redhead - sitting on top of a roof that looks like its about to fall over and its the first one that’s not candid but Dan can see why Zimmermann turned it in. The smiles are still genuine and lighting is beautiful and it’s a good picture.
They are all good pictures, even if you don’t know the people in them. They keep fipping through them and for a while Dan is confused as to why the professor tried to keep him away from these because these are great and, in his head, Dan is already going through getting permission to print some of these because even without Zimmermann in the pictures, these photos are something he could print alongside his article.
And then he notices it.
The pattern.
Or, not pattern. But fact. He notices the fact that gradually, there are more and more pictures of this blond boy and fewer pictures of anyone else.
It’s a close up of Blondie’s face and he is looking up at the camera (up at Zimmerman) and smiling so that his nose is crinkled and then its another series of Blondie in the kitchen - baking and dancing and smiling and then Blondie in front of a coffee shop, clearing waiting for someone (Jack?) while playing on his phone and he looks so cute and bundled up against the cold and then Jack had also captured the moment where he looked up and saw Jack taking pictures and there’s an eyeroll that Dan can already tell is fond rather than exasperated and suddenly it is glaringly obvious that even in group shots, the focus is on the Blond kid.
Dan thinks they hit a reprieve when Jack does a series of hockey shots, only to realize that the little one - #15 - is the same kid. And even in picture where he is skating around players that tower over him, it is his grace that floods through the picture.
The last photo is one of the blond boy staring out over an ice rink, back to the camera, small against the size of the rink, and the title is “Before the Last One.” And Dan knows how that game ended and so he’d like to say that it is that knowledge that makes his heart squeeze at the shot but he knows that’s not true.
Neither of them have said anything, he realizes, not for the last twenty pictures.
“Oh,” he says and when he looks up at the professor again, her eyes are hard and sad behind her glasses.
“Yes,” she says. He understands why she was nervous. “Oh.”
He has a story, he realizes. He might have the hockey story of the year. Not that he should assume, not that he could ever write something based on this information alone but he is a journalist and he has a lead and he could find the old house in these photos and find #15 and maybe there isn’t a story but a good journalist would follow up. A good journalist would ask questions.
“Is he– Are they–?”
“He takes pictures of his teammates,” she replies. Closing her laptop with a sharp click and glaring at him. “That’s all he ever said to us.”
“Oh.”
They sit in silence for a long moment and then the professor asks the question he is not quite ready to answer.
“Do you need anything else?”
It’s not what she is asking and they both know it.
For a moment, he imagines it. being the one to break the story and he tells himself that he would do it right. He would do it respectfully and he should be the one to do it because he would put a positive spin on it, of course he would. Or- or maybe he could do it subtly. He could weave it in to a story on Jack’s time at Samwell and it would all be little odd phrases that no one else would ever pick up on unless you were looking for it and, yes, he would do it right. Just subtle enough that when – if Zimmermann ever decided to do anything, people could look back and say “Oh yes that Dan Erikson knew, what a great writer!” – or, no. No he could go to Zimmermann and just ask and he would be blunt and honest about what he knew or suspected and supportive- still supportive and this would launch his career. He could have all the follow-up interviews and people would interview him about how he found out and he wouldn’t get stuck entirely with the fluff pieces anymore and–
“No,” he says, clearing his throat and pushing back temptation. No, he’s not that type of journalist. Had promised himself he never would be. “No, thank you, but I don’t think these will be relevant to my article. It’s going to be a rather short piece, you know. Just on the basics of Zimmermann's time in college.”
He walks out before she can say anything else, feeling light-headed and flustered.
A few days later he gets an email. Its from [email protected] and he opens it to find a few of the group pictures from Zimmermann (that don’t show too much if you don’t know what to look for) and a picture clearly taken with a self-timer (”he sent me this to add to his final portfolio but i had to reject because I dont accept timed pictures”) of… all of them. The group is making ridiculous faces and Zimmermann is barely in frame, squished into the side andtechnically, its not a great picture. There is a sunstreak along the side and most of the people aren’t looking at the camera and the house looks particularly crappy in the background and Dan is going to have to crop the cooler-full of beer in the corner out but-
Zimmermann is smiling. A soft, full smile full of laughter and joy as he looks over at his teammates and it’s perfect.
“Thought these could help” the text of the e-mail says and it’s not enough to make his article go viral, but people enjoy it and he keeps writing fluff and Dan is happy with his work. Proud of it even if the rest of the world won’t really know why.
He even gets e-mail from [email protected] and it says “I really enjoyed the article. Thank you.”
And then years later, he will get pulled into a room and told that Jack Zimmermann wants do to a personal story about an upcoming announcement.
And he wants Dan Erikson to write it.
[End Part 1}
* (real talk: no idea if this is how this would work, in fact, for thesis papers i think they are automatically available to the public but... tis fic)