Untitled Zimbits Reincarnation Fic
Original Summary: A reporter digs up evidence that Bob Zimmermann’s older brother, a Bruins prospect who went missing in 1972, may have been a previously anonymous victim of a double murder. With the cold case re-opened, Bob has to face some uncomfortable truths; not the least of which is how damn much his son reminds him of his lost brother, and who the second victim was to the Zimmermann family.
Length: 3k+
What’s Missing?: An ending? This whole thing was basically a murder mystery and I never really wrote all of the world building elements that supported the villain, who was intended to be a well-respected friend of the Zimmermann family, a former friend of Jacques’ that was jealous of his success and outed him in retaliation for a perceived slight.
What I want?: Please talk to me. I loved this AU and it was just too much. Ask me questions. I’ll give you answers. ;A;
Context/Disclaimer: This fic is unfinished and (to me) is missing a fair amount of content. It contains references to past character death, period-typical homophobia, use of the word queer as an unintentional slur, mental health issues, general unpleasantness. There will be jumps from scene to scene, indicated by double center lines. Also it looks terrible on mobile. Really, really bad.
His phone has been on silent for over an hour and Bob can’t seem to find the energy to pull himself out of his chair; instead, he keeps rereading the same article even as new notifications drop down every few seconds.
“Honey,” Alicia interrupts softly. “What can I do to help you right now?”
Bob swallows against the lump in his throat and tries to say something, anything, to reassure his wife that he’s fine but the lie won’t come.
“I — ” another notification pops in, this one from a cousin he hasn’t spoken to in years. “I thought he got out,” he whispers. “This whole time and they never looked.”
It’d be disingenuous to say he hasn’t thought about his brother in years; there were days that he’d look up and find Jack with the same messy hair, the same tense posture. A blue-eyed twin four decades removed.
He blinks out of his reverie and realizes Alicia’s wearing one of his old sweaters, the one worn so badly the Canadiens’ logo has fallen off and the red has gone pink. Her comfort sweater.
“There’s a message from a detective, they want to talk to you. They found two sets of remains? I think they’re hoping you can give an idea of who the other person might have been.”
Grief rushes so hot and sudden his throat burns and his vision blurs. He tosses the tablet onto the coffee table and rubs the tears from his eyes. Even upside-down, Bob can read the article title clear as day.
‘Zimmermann Curse?: 42-year old missing person case reclassified as murder after NHL Legend’s brother’s remains found in woods’
Alicia looks down and frowns at the headline, graciously ignoring Bob’s tears. “Pretty unwieldy title.”
He laughs and tries to clear the tightness in his throat. “Had to get me in there somewhere, eh? Always has to be about me.”
Jack blinks, catching sight of his Samwell friends just beyond the glass, and he’s moving too quickly to recalibrate when, instead of his boyfriend, he finds a bloodied man in Bittle’s seat.
There’s no time to examine the moment closely because when Jack looks back to the ice a Fliers d-man is barreling toward him, eyes wide with the realization that he can’t stop his momentum.
It’s a stupid hit that leaves Jack on his back, blinking blearily up at the lights of the Dunkin Donuts Center, trying to figure out what just happened and how much damage was done. A moment of distraction. A turns his head slightly to look for the man in the Halloween makeup but there’s just a worried Eric Bittle with his hands up against the glass.
“Jacques? Jacques? Can you get up?”
Jack stares past Tater’s worried face to focus on the banners hanging from the rafters.
That’s not my name, he thinks.
Published
Nava 