Note:
Right. I owe all of this to MacBedh. Well, not all of it. I did do the writing part myself. But her help and editing assistance and encouragement has been invaluable. Vic32 has also been tremendously encouraging on the matter of writing and posting this. I hesitate to even look back to the original email I sent to 'Beth asking for Mac advice. It was a long time ago. The story still isn't complete, but it's on the way. The last chapter refuses to be finished. I'm desperately hoping that beginning to post the story will kick the end of it into gear.
This is my first work in the MacGyver fandom. I'm positively terrified.
In a town hidden in the middle of nowhere in the Yukon, met with the challenge of a visiting American, the locals had hustled up enough players to go four on four in one of the toughest little games of shinny MacGyver had ever been party to.
Though the frozen pond was smaller than a regulation size rink there was still what seemed like a clear mile of wide open ice under his skates. Bumpy, yes, grooved from the skates cutting into it, and not totally smoothed over by the tiny zamboni that the players took turns driving, but beautiful. A clear mile of ice for MacGyver to move the puck down. It skipped a bit and danced up on edge on the bumps and grooves, but still fast, a black blur in front of the well-taped borrowed stick that felt like a natural extension of his own arm. He had possession and he was looking for room to pass, or slide on over the blue line and shoot a hopeful one-timer past the opposing goalie.
Most of the players were kids, barely past puberty. The ease and passion with which they skated and passed and checked like hundred and sixty pound puppies made MacGyver feel every year of his age. It still couldn't diminish the joy of facing off, skating hard, getting in his own share of checks. The captain of the opposing team was making him work to hold his space on the ice.
MacGyver was seeing a side of the serious young Mountie who he'd spent a tumultuous few days with out in the tundra that was as free as anything without wings. Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP, was Ben, team captain and power forward out here, and Ben was skating up to take the puck off Mac with a check that he finished all the way to the snowbank at the edge of the pond.
After all, there were a lot worse things than a little bit of rough play. Mac righted himself, clambering out of the snow, finding the rust coming off and his body remembering everything it was supposed to do here, in this moment, back on his skates and chasing ready to return the favor. Fraser was moving in fast toward Mac's team's goal. MacGyver got his skates under him and pushed off with a burst of speed, intercepting Fraser to poke the puck away from him and spin back around. Fraser turned and followed hot on Mac's heels, but MacGyver found a burst of inspiration to feint left past the defenseman and shoot a quick bad angle shot that beat Fraser's goalie cleanly. His team skated over, sticks raised in salute before they set up again for the next bout.
Fraser and MacGyver faced off. One of the other players dropped the puck, and Fraser won it clean away. MacGyver gave chase, determined not to let the Mountie score. This wasn't exactly how he'd expected to end up chasing Fraser down after their first meeting deep in the wilderness, but facing off at center ice it was a lot nicer than facing an armed Mountie on a man-hunt.