Summary: Months after the conclusion of the Jr. Goodwill Games, Julie and Gunnar have a surprise opportunity to see each other again over Christmas. Julie/Gunnar. Multi-chap, Julie's POV. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: No ownership, no profit. No worries.

Author's Note: Well, this will likely be the most romantic thing I've ever written, so I'm a little nervous. It's really not my preferred genre. But Julie and Gunnar are just such a perfect couple, they make me try anyway. Remember, this takes place back in the mid-90's, so I'm trying to keep it more or less real from a technological standpoint. Hope you enjoy!

Sympathy for the Icelanders: Epilogue

Christmas Surprises – Chapter 1

It was nice coming home for a few days over Thanksgiving break. A "break" is exactly what we all needed after the Ducks' first few strenuous months at Eden Hall Academy, and I had eagerly breathed in Maine's crisp autumn air when I set foot out of the Bangor airport. It probably wasn't much different from the autumn air of Minnesota, but I had convinced myself it was more wholesome and refreshing.

I had just helped my mom put away all the leftovers we'd be eating for the rest of the weekend while my brothers both watched football in the living room with my dad. I would have joined them if it had been a hockey match instead, but I just wasn't in the mood for football at the time.

So instead I quietly slipped away to my room, where I dug Gunnar's latest letter out of my backpack and reread it for about the tenth time. I had wished him a Happy Thanksgiving in my last letter, not realizing until I read his reply back that he had no idea what I was talking about. Duh, Julie – there is no Thanksgiving in Iceland. I would have to explain the significance in my next message. At least Christmas was a holiday we both shared.

I was happy to learn that Gunnar had continued to play hockey back home in Iceland, even though it meant he would still be playing for Wolf Stansson until the start of the next school year. At least I could somewhat empathize with him now about playing for a coach who didn't exactly inspire warm fuzzies inside his players – not that Coach Orion was anywhere near as bad as The Dentist. But Gunnar never really talked much about his coach; so instead, I just kept encouraging him to play hard and focused our hockey discussions on aspects of the game that I knew he loved.

I think our talks were particularly helpful to him in the later part of the summer, when he'd suffered a couple of badly bruised ribs as the result of a nasty check into the boards. After he'd assured me more than once that Stansson was in no way personally responsible for the injury, I'd been happy to support him through it as best I could. On doctor's orders, he was kept off the ice for three weeks before even being allowed to return to practice; I can only imagine how the lack of activity must have grated on him. Thankfully, those days were now behind him, and he was back to his normal, hockey-obsessed self.

His present team wasn't exactly the same as the one we Ducks had played against in the Jr. Goodwill Games, but he had kept some of the same teammates – including Olaf Sanderson. Now there was one topic I had been extremely leery of bringing up early on. Any tension between those two best friends was at least partly due to me, and I admit I had been a little afraid that Gunnar might come to resent me for it over time. But within a couple months of our correspondence, casual and even pleasant mentions of Olaf started making their way back into Gunnar's conversation, which I took to be a positive sign.

As for my own circle of friends, only Connie knew the details of what had transpired between Gunnar and me back in Los Angeles. Luckily, I had her full support, once she'd gotten over her initial phase of utter disbelief. Connie was also the only person outside of my immediate family to know that Gunnar and I were still in contact with each other as regularly as possible. And only she knew how much I truly missed him.

Gunnar and I had talked over the phone pretty faithfully throughout the summer, even if it was just once every few weeks. Invariably, I would have to be the one to terminate our conversation, when I would realize that a late night for me had turned into a night of virtually no sleep for him. It always left me feeling grateful for his time, but guilty for depriving him of much-needed rest.

"You know I can live without sleep," he would say, to which I would respond, "Yes, but we both know it's not smart when you do."

But once school started back up again, our phone conversations had really suffered – especially with me going away to Eden Hall this year and living in a dorm. I had given him the best number to reach me at there; but so far he'd only managed to get a hold of me at school once, on my birthday, and the conversation had been a short one. I'm sure he's been just as busy in Iceland as I have been here, balancing school and hockey. Factor in a six-hour time difference on top of that, and I didn't have the slightest idea of when to try calling him. It was frustrating, to say the least.

It likewise hurt that I didn't have a single picture of him. My parents had recorded the entire Championship match from the Games, and I'd watched the tape multiple times since coming home – mostly just to catch a glimpse of him. But tracing his distant, black-clad figure on the ice was a far cry from actually hearing his voice or seeing his face again.

Thankfully, we still had good, old-fashioned letters, and it turned out neither of us were shy with a pen. Connie teasingly called them "love letters", but they truly weren't as sappy and romantic as all that; we didn't know each other well enough. They were really more of an ongoing conversation as we continued to learn more about one another – exchanging ideas, comparing opinions, and sharing about life's latest happenings.

Sometimes I had a little difficulty deciphering his English, but overall, it was quite good. He must have been finding the time to write somewhere in his hectic schedule, because I was never left waiting for longer than a couple of weeks before receiving a response from him.

Personally, I had been tempted on multiple occasions to write to him during class, but I always stopped myself. I didn't want to risk getting my scholarship into trouble either through misbehavior or lagging academics. So instead, I kept myself up much too late at night, writing to him after I'd finished with my homework for the evening. Speaking of which, there was probably some assignment I should be working on right now – unfortunately.

I had just pulled out my Algebra book when the phone rang downstairs; most likely it was some relative, calling just because it was a holiday.

But then I heard my mom call out, "Julie? It's for you."

That was odd. Maybe it was a girlfriend who wanted me to go shopping with her tomorrow? I tromped down the stairs in a wholly unladylike fashion, grateful to at least have a distraction from mathematics. I looked at my mom questioningly before taking the receiver from her, hoping she might give me some indication of who had called.

While she didn't say anything, there was a certain look in my mother's eyes that I recognized in a heartbeat, and my stomach did an involuntary flip-flop. Without a single word passing between us, I grabbed the phone and darted off into another room where I could close the door behind me to prevent any of the males in my family from overhearing.

My heart was racing a mile a minute when I finally said, "Hello?"

"Hello, is this Julie?"

"Gunnar! It's been so long since we actually talked, it's great to hear from you again."

I was so caught up in the familiar accent that I didn't even notice this voice was slightly different from the one I knew; for one thing, it was more mature.

"Sorry," the voice said with a chuckle, "but not quite. Julie, you don't know me, but my name is Mikael Stahl. I'm Gunnar's brother."

"Oh…hi," I stuttered, confused and suddenly at a loss for words. This was so embarrassing! Thankfully, he was more than willing to fill the silence.

"I imagine Gunnar doesn't talk about me much."

"No, he doesn't," I managed to say. "But still, it's nice to meet you – sort of."

"It's nice to 'sort of' meet you, too."

I felt my mind and body slowly starting to unwind. Considering that I'd never met this guy before in my life, he was pleasantly easy to talk to; and his English was excellent. But why on earth would Gunnar's brother be calling me?

He spoke again, "Rumor has it that my brother is quite distressed over missing you."

"Really?" I grinned. "Where did you hear that, from your parents?"

"No, they were not as helpful as I had hoped. I asked Olaf. Do you remember him?"

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I'll never forget Olaf Sanderson. What did he tell you about Gunnar and me?"

"Mostly about how pathetic Gunnar has been lately; personally, I think he's worried about him. But you will be happy to hear from the mouth of his best friend that my brother hasn't gone on a single date since the Goodwill Games and that he's gotten into trouble with his teachers more than once for writing letters to you during class."

I laughed aloud before I could stop myself. "I had wondered where he was finding the time to write!"

"Julie, the reason I'm calling is that, with your parents' permission, I would like to send you to Reykjavik for Christmas. We'll keep it a surprise, and that will be my gift to Gunnar. I've already talked to my parents, and they say they would love to have you."

He had said everything so matter-of-factly that it took me a moment to register the full meaning of his words. When I finally did, my whole world temporarily froze. I was stunned speechless, plain and simple.

"Only if you want to go, of course," he amended quickly. "And if you don't want to, I won't tell him."

That got my voice working again. "Are you kidding, of course I want to go! I just…this is so unexpected, I don't even know what to say. Are you serious?"

"Perfectly serious. I wouldn't be calling, otherwise."

"You're really going to send me to Iceland so I can see Gunnar?"

"If your parents agree to it, yes."

"Oh my gosh, thank you. Thank you!" My mind was spinning around in circles like a whirlpool, struggling to grasp all the implications of such a trip. "But, do you think any of Gunnar's friends will be mad if I just show up there?"

"It's possible," he admitted. "Would that stop you from going?"

"No, not at all. I'll just have to mentally prepare myself beforehand."

"I wouldn't worry too much about it. Olaf told me Gunnar won't let anyone speak badly of you, so I'm sure he won't allow them to bother you in person either."

"That's nice to know he's sticking up for me." More than nice – it made me feel decidedly warm and cozy inside. "And sorry, Mikael, I'm just curious…but if this is all a big secret and Gunnar doesn't know you're talking to me right now, how did you get my number?"

There was a pause. "Are you sure you want to hear this whole story?"

"Well, when you say it like that, you bet I do."

He laughed in his turn now. "All right then. Did Gunnar ever tell you that I was in Los Angeles for the end of your tournament?"

"No, I don't think he ever mentioned it. Does that mean you saw the Championship?"

"Yes, and as soon as you came out onto the ice, I knew Gunnar would be in trouble if he went glove-side like he usually does."

"He told me he's really been working on using a wider variety of shots since then."

"I'm sure he has. But about your phone number…do you know where Gunnar went after his date with you that evening?"

"I always assumed he'd gone back to the dorms with the rest of his team. Why? Did he end up spending the night with you instead?"

"Yes, exactly. It was after midnight by the time he came to my hotel room, and you know how tired he must have been. So the next morning, while he was still asleep, I…might have gone through his pockets looking for your information. I found the paper you'd given him, copied it, and put the original back in his pocket."

It took a few seconds for my brain to fully process that, too. "You did what? Why?"

"I was already thinking I might do something like this one day – if you two kept in touch."

"That's still kind of creepy."

"But now you can thank me for it, right?" He sounded entirely shameless, and all my indignation left me in a short huff.

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"I would also like to arrange it so that he is the one to pick you up at the airport. He already thinks I'm coming home for Christmas, but I want you to meet him there instead."

"Well, why don't you still come anyway?" I suggested. After all, it hardly seemed fair that Mikael should forego time with his family over Christmas just for my sake.

"No, I'm sure Gunnar would rather see you than me, and I would just get in the way of your time together. Besides," he went on before I could protest again, "I've been thinking that I should invite him and Olaf to spend their spring break with me here in Hamburg; the change of scenery would do them both good. So they'll see me soon enough, anyhow."

"All right, if you're really sure. And again, Mikael, thank you – thank you so much!"

"It's my pleasure. Just promise me you'll make the most out of your time there, all right?"

"Don't worry, I will," I vowed, feeling my cheeks warm at how my brain had immediately interpreted that vague commission.

"Go talk to your parents, then. My parents are going to call them tomorrow, sometime when Gunnar's not home."

"Okay, sure, I'll do that right now."

"Good. And be sure to tell Gunnar 'Merry Christmas' for me."

After we said goodbye, I sat by myself in silence for a minute, grinning like an idiot and letting the enormity of it all wash over me. Then I ran for the kitchen.

"MOM!"

It was surprisingly easy to get my parents on board with the idea, and by the end of the weekend, all the details had been arranged for my unprecedented Christmas in Iceland. And suddenly, I couldn't wait to get back to Eden Hall so I could tell Connie all about it.