Here it is, chapter two. A little short, and not at all what I planned. Actually, I gave up on a lot of my plans. The story was meant to be only five chapters, but after writing the first chapter I realized that wasn't going to happen. As a result, I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to do next. I have the next chapter mostly written, but hardly any plans for the next one. So I might move some bits from chapter to chapter later, or change chapter titles. I'm not likely to rewrite anything.

Arcadie and Bizarre Bazaar, thanks for commenting on the style, I was a little worried about it. I picked it up from some South-American writers, and I rather like it, but it is unusual for , and it is really a bit similar to watching a movie in fast forward. Besides, my vocabulary isn't rich enough for it, the whole point is using very particular wording. I think I'll be using it for scenes that were in the movies, and write dialogs for my own scenes. And yes, I am slowing down, that is part of the cause for the change of plans.

AntiIRONY, I did mean him to be gay, and a bit of a stalker. But the stalking part wasn't even my idea: it was in the movies. I didn't mean to be very obvious about it, because he's still just a kid, and actually I still think it is open to interpretation, but I suppose I'll put on a slash warning.

Daria, dearest, I'm sorry but I won't be putting in whole dialogs from the movies. I wasn't sure about it at first, but I've already made up my mind. So you'll have to make do with my own dialogs… And you don't get pre peeks, I discuss plot ideas with you as it is:)

Thank you all for reviewing!

Warning: I see Fulton as gay, so obviously the story will contain slash. None in this particular chapter, as far as I can tell(apparently I put in subconscious clues along with the ones I actually mean to put).

Disclaimer: Disney owns the Ducks, I don't. I do own any unfamiliar bit of plot.

Chapter Two: Becoming a Hockey Player(Oh, come on. Being a duck doesn't make you a hockey player, it only makes you a sap!)

The newly formed Ducks were doing warm-ups on the ice. And those were some really weird warm-ups, mind you. So okay, maybe Fulton didn't quite know everything about hockey, but he was pretty sure footballs had nothing to so with it. Luckily for him, he didn't have to do them, because he was the new guy on the team and everything. Either that, or Coach didn't want anyone to notice he can't skate. He was sneaky enough to think of that, Fulton knew that because he could distinctly remember several games when he didn't have such clean tactics as he had now.

Suddenly Coach Bombay came up to him, and Fulton knew it was time. Bombay spilled a bag of pucks on the ice, and said "Okay, Fulton. Shoot your heart out!" And Fulton did. It was the most amazing thing he had ever done- no angry people when he hits something, and no running to retrieve lost pucks, just shooting and shooting. Fulton felt the adrenaline rising in his body with every shot, multiplying when he hit the goal, and even more when a puck hit the plexiglass, which shattered with a satisfying noise. The ducks were watching in awe from the bench, and so was the other team. "Yes!" He mentally cheered for himself when he carefully skated back to the bench, still feeling elated.

"Go Fulton!" someone cheered. "Amazing!" "That was awesome!" others said, and Fulton felt great. Then Coach smiled and nodded at him, and started talking to the team. Everyone was excited and the pep talk hit them just right. Connie cheered so eagerly when he said the Ducks were undefeated, that everyone just had to do the same, and Fulton had an urge to smile. And then Bombay started quacking, and after the first moment of puzzlement Fulton joined in with the rest. The quacking echoed all around, and Fulton decided it was quite an ingenious cheer. For a moment he felt like he could do anything.

The game began, and Fulton watched as intently as ever, except this time it was his game too. He cheered wildly with the rest when Jesse Hall scored the Ducks' first goal ever, and thought that maybe it really was a new start for the team. That maybe the Ducks were going to get somewhere after all, even if District Five never did. Maybe that Bombay guy was just what the team needed. Everyone was hugging each other, and Fulton was smiling his broadest, which was quite unusual since he hardly ever smiled.

And then there was another goal, and that one was Fulton's. Not that he really scored it, because his aim was too inaccurate to try it when he only had one shot. If he missed it, they would have lost. That was where Coach's "secret plan" came in. The play was simple. It was called "The Statue of Liberty", and the statue was Fulton. The Cardinals were so scared of his shot after that demonstration before the game, they actually ran and hid when he raised his stick! Fulton was used to having that effect on people, but he decided that when it was related to his hockey skills it was much more fun. Then Connie took the puck from him and passed it to Guy, who scored. Connie rushed at Fulton, then Jessie, and then they were all hugging each other and yelling and cheering. It was a tie, the Ducks' first non-loss, which was a funny term but being a part of it made Fulton absolutely euphoric, and to hell with terminology.

Fulton was the last to leave the diner after the little celebration they had, even though he hardly talked to anyone all evening. Only when he was walking home alone he felt that it was quite over, and he was suddenly very tired. He was planning to go to sleep as soon as he got home. When he opened the door to a dark living room, he thought he would.

"Where have you been, Boy?" he suddenly heard a voice ask demandingly. He looked for its source, expecting to find a stern father, waiting with a speech and a punishment. He was surprised to see him sprawled on the floor, with a bottle of something that seemed strong half empty in his hand. His father never drank. Except… "Shit," he muttered. He really needed to write that date down. It was the anniversary of his mother's death. "I'm sorry Dad, I'm sorry I went out. I shouldn't have left you alone," he said.

His father took a swig. "You went to play…you played hockey, didn't you?" he said slowly.

Fulton froze. "You said I'm not allowed to play hockey," he said.

"We never did care much about rules in this family," He chuckled. "Did we, Fulton?"

"What…you're straighter then Jesse and Terry's dad, and he's a cop!"

"'That the bastard who got our Frankie in jail?"

"Frankie got himself into jail."

"He did, didn't he?" He looked at the bottle for a minute, and then put it down. "So did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Play hockey."

Fulton thought for a moment and nodded, wondering if he was going to get punished.

"Did you win?"

Fulton's eyes widened. This wasn't what he expected.

"Tell me, Fulton," his father urged him.

"We tied, Dad. They never tied before. They never scored before," Fulton said, wondering if if they had won he would be fine with him playing.

"I know they didn't. First game?"

"Um...Yeah."

That was the weirdest conversation he had ever had with his dad. But then again, they got weirder every year, so there was surely more to come. His dad got all deep and honest when he was drunk, and that usually freaked Fulton out.

"You bring me a B on that math test, and I'll take you skating," he suddenly announced, and handed him the bottle. "Come on, to your new team!"

Fulton gave him a wary look, and took a small sip. It tasted terrible, worse then he remembered, but he felt sort of warm.

"You're so much like your mother."

Fulton knew this had to come. It did every year. People said Alcohol was supposed to make you forget, but for his dad it did the exact opposite. It made him remember. Or maybe he always remembered, maybe it just made him tell Fulton about it. "I know, Dad," He answered.

They talked about her until Fulton dozed off when his father's speech became incomprehensible from the alcohol and from Fulton's own tiredness.

In the morning, his father's strict façade was back, even though he didn't look very well, but he seemed to remember some of the conversation, because he asked Fulton if he had said he could play. Fulton considered lying to him, but decided that that truth was much better then he expected, so he might as well tell it.

"You asked if I won, and if it was my first game," he said, watching his father's severe expression. "You said if I got a B in math you'd take me skating".

"And I will. But if you don't, you can forget about hockey."

Ugh. I hate commas and quotes. I used Kipling's The Jungle Book as an example on how to punctuate dialogs, but if it's still weird, tell me. I didn't have an example of a drunk man, sorry. Next chapter will contain Duck interaction. Brrr... I hate D1 dialogs. I'll post it as soon as I know how to solve all the problems it raises...