Summary: Takes place immediately after D2. Virtually a continuation of the Jr. Goodwill Games, with a surprising twist for all. Important note: my previous MD fics have NOT taken place in this context. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Sadly, no one and nothing is mine.
Author's Note: Hooray, it's finished! I admit this has been a fun little adventure, but I am glad it's over. A thousand thank-you's to everyone who has reviewed and followed along with me on this random journey. Enjoy the finale, my friends!
The Mighty Ducks: All Stars
Chapter 9: Fevers on Ice
Julie tossed and turned in her dorm bed. She had slept but briefly, and fitfully at that, and she now found herself unable to fall back to sleep. Her throat felt painfully dry and raw, so that she would have loved nothing more than to reach some sort of claw back down there and scratch away. But of course, that wouldn't have solved anything.
Not to mention, there were much bigger problems to worry about. She was shivering with an undeniable fever, and a hacking cough rattled inside her chest. She tried to keep quiet for Connie's sake, but finally the cough became too unbearable, and she was forced out into the open common room.
Great, she thought dismally, now I can wake everyone up.
Still hacking away, Julie shuffled her feet over to the kitchen area and fumbled blindly around in the dark for a glass. Logic naturally told her to turn on the lights, but a sudden, glaring light in her face was absolutely the last thing she wanted. What she really needed now was some ice cold water on her tortured throat!
After a few more failed attempts, she at last found an empty glass and held it with clammy, shaking hands under the faucet. One full glass she finished on the spot before refilling her cup and plopping pitifully onto the couch. It was certainly good to be off her feet, but Julie realized much too late that quickly draining a cup of ice water had brought her fevered chills back with a vengeance – and she did not think she now possessed the strength to get up again and retrieve the inviting blanket from her bed. Why, oh why, hadn't she thought to bring it with her in the first place?
"Julie? Are you all right?"
Oh no! That was Gunnar's voice, if ever she'd heard it. What cruel, horrid luck that he should find her in this pathetic state! So much for trying to look her best these past few days; the image she'd striven so carefully to construct was about to go up in flames. Feverish flames.
"Yeah, it's me," she croaked, already hating the way she sounded.
Gunnar came around the couch so that he stood in front of her, and his voice when he next spoke was layered more with outright concern than mere politeness. "What's wrong?"
Julie sighed and tried not to sound overly childish as she lamented, "I'm sick."
Another fit of chills overtook her just then, and Gunnar suddenly vanished from her sight. The young teen's heart sank. Was she truly that repulsive, that he had to run away from her as though she were carrying the Black Plague? But then he came back and – bless his heart – laid a most welcome blanket overtop of her where she sat curled up on the couch.
At first, Julie thought it was her own blanket, the very one she'd been wishing for not long ago; but then she realized that it was still warm and had a distinctly different odor embedded deep within the fabric. It was his blanket. He had given her his own, rather than risk disturbing Connie by entering the girls' room. And besides, she had already gathered from more than one source that Olaf was a heavy sleeper.
"Sorry I woke you up."
He waved away her apology. "You didn't. I slept while the rest of you were at the movie, and now I can't get back to sleep. That's all."
"How's your head?"
"I think it will be fine. Maybe not perfect for the game tomorrow, but good enough. Right now, it's you I'm worried about."
Without warning, Gunnar reached out and laid his hand against her forehead. "You're hot. I mean, you feel warm," he amended after a belated realization of what he'd said. "Like you have a fever, or…I'm sorry."
Julie tried to laugh at his unfortunate blunder, but only ended up coughing again. "That's okay, I knew what you meant."
"Not that you aren't still very attractive." His voice had abruptly lost its flustered, embarrassed edge; he knew exactly what he was saying now.
And Julie struggled to keep her own tone light, yet equally honest, when she answered, "Like this? I could almost kiss you just for saying it, except I wouldn't want to get you sick too right before the last game."
Gunnar smiled. "Perhaps afterward, then?"
The young American felt her heart flutter suddenly as she looked up at him; he truly did have an irresistible smile. It was only disappointing that here was the first time they had actually talked about their feelings for one another, and she was too miserable to fully enjoy it.
"Yeah," she finally agreed, nodding, with a small smile of her own. "I think I would like that."
"I think I would, too. But you don't have to play tomorrow if you are not able to. You probably shouldn't play."
"But there are no substitutions in the All Stars tournament. What would you do without a goalie?"
He shrugged. "We would figure something out. Maybe one of us could fill in, just so the net isn't empty."
"And then what, go through the entire game one man down against the toughest team we've played yet? I don't think so. I know how much it would mean for you to win this tournament. So I'm going to play tomorrow, and that's a promise."
Gunnar sighed, somehow managing to look both grateful and guilty at the same time. He knew having a real goalie in the net was a necessity in any game, and tomorrow's especially; but he would hate to see this girl endanger her health on his account.
"I suppose you ought to get some sleep then," he said at last and drew the blanket up closer around her shoulders, making sure she was comfortable. "Rest well, Julie the Cat. I will see you in the morning."
"Julie? Jules, you have to wake up." Connie's gentle, reticent voice broke into Julie's stone-like sleep the following morning as the brunette sought to gingerly shake her friend awake.
"Huh?" Julie's thick voice barely managed to squeak out.
"It's eleven o'clock, and the game starts at one. If you're going to play, you need to start getting up now."
The golden-haired goalie groaned and rubbed her congested head against the couch cushions. "Practice…?"
Connie smiled, both relieved yet still concerned for her friend's wellbeing. "Don't worry, the six a.m. practice was cancelled this morning. Gunnar didn't feel up to it, either, but he says he'll be ready to play this afternoon."
"Then so will I." Julie slowly pushed herself upright, coughing up a veritable storm, while Banks hurried off to refill her water glass. The three Icelanders were off seated together around the kitchen table, trying to look as though they weren't all desperately interested in the condition of their star goalie.
Connie frowned in disapproval. "Careful, Jules, you really shouldn't move too fast yet. Are you sure you still want to play?"
"Yes, I'm sure." The blonde stopped to clear her throat and gladly accepted the water back from Adam.
"But why?" he demanded. "You don't have to kill yourself over this game; we already have a gold medal."
"I know, but they don't," Julie hissed back with a gesture toward their Nordic teammates. "I promised Gunnar I would play today, and I will. He's got too much at stake here! I can't imagine him having to face all the people back home, his other teammates – and especially Stansson – if he were to lose the All Star tournament at the last minute, too. So I am playing."
As though proving her determination then, the teenager from Bangor, Maine, stood up and marched back into her bedroom with as much force as she could muster. It wasn't much.
Connie watched her go and sighed. "I'd better see if I can make her eat some breakfast, too. It'll be no good having her play on an empty stomach."
"Yeah, but it'll be no good if she throws up all over the ice, either." Adam made a face, even though his voice had still been purely sympathetic.
The "Ultimate All Star" matchup that afternoon was as physical a hockey game as any the Jr. Goodwill Games had yet seen, and those who were fortunate enough to attend knew that they were indeed witnessing something special. For not having any substitutions available, the two teams held up very well under the barrage of flying bodies.
Dean Portman and Fulton Reed naturally selected the two star Vikings as the recipients of their wrath, and the Icelanders were only too happy to respond in kind. As far as both sides were concerned, this match had been long in coming, and they welcomed it, relishing every hit as a culmination of the rivalry between their respective nations.
If the injury to Gunnar's head still troubled him, he either forgot it amidst the adrenaline-fueled frenzy, or simply hid the pain of each hit he took with a performance of startling conviction. Doubtless this was another result of Wolf Stansson's rigorous and intense trainings; the coach himself was now seated in the stands with Marria to await the outcome of the game, as were Gordon Bombay and Michelle McKay. On opposite ends of the rink, of course.
Having set up a very hasty and tentative game strategy before going to the movie last night, the All Stars put forth a special effort to keep Russ Tyler and his infamous knuckle-puck at bay. Gustav had been devoted almost entirely to that purpose, while Olaf and Gunnar kept themselves occupied with the two Bash Brothers. Luis Mendoza and Kenny Wu were Adam's and Connie's respective responsibilities. Banks had enough skill as a puck-handler to counteract the speedster, and Connie was small and agile enough to keep up with the elusive former figure skater.
It was a sound plan that worked marvelously well for the majority of the game, as the opponents were all so equally matched. As of this morning, the All Stars had also put a renewed emphasis on defense to help relieve the burden of their fevered goalie, who had taken a good deal of medication back in the locker room yet refused to let anyone else know of her ailment before the tournament was concluded. She and Gunnar truly were alike in that regard. But as the clock ticked down to the final minutes of play, the defending All Stars realized they must find a way to score very soon, or risk forfeiting the game on a zero-to-zero tie. They could not let that happen!
Having arrived at an unspoken agreement of their own, Gunnar and Olaf simultaneously shoved their American counterparts aside when the puck came near them and made a vicious charge down toward the opposing goal. They knew they could score against Greg Goldberg if given the opportunity, and he knew it just as well as they did. Putting forth a great effort to circumvent both Luis and Russ with one of his best maneuvers, Gunnar faked a shot to Goldberg's right, but used the backhand a split second later to flip the puck to the other side of the net. Sanderson was waiting for it, having guessed his friend's intent from the beginning, and it was an all too easy matter for him to shoot the puck forward past the disoriented goalie's left side.
The All Stars were officially up by one, and if they could only hold on to that slender lead, the tournament would be theirs! But a team of competitive American champions was not about to let them do that easily. They were all fighters, and it was that same spirit that had brought them back from a three to nothing deficit to tie Iceland at five all in the final seconds of the Championship. And just as the Ducks had done then, they turned to Russ to make it happen.
With the final minute now ticking away, the Bash Brothers and their teammates dedicated all their desperate energies to freeing their greatest hope from Gustav's clutches. Even little Ken Wu partook in the melee! And it worked. The three Icelanders were finally restrained just long enough for Russ Tyler to pull out into the middle of the ice, accept a beautiful pass from Luis, and take his shot.
Julie Gaffney saw it all, her heart pounding. Unlike Gunnar's shot in the Championship match, when she'd known his strategy beforehand, Russ's knuckle-puck was ridiculously unpredictable. That was what made it so dangerous. Praying that her experience and natural catlike reflexes would come through for her just one more time this tournament, Julie thrust her glove out toward in the direction of the shot and waited. The miniscule fraction of a second that it took for the puck to reach the net had never seemed so long before.
A small weight landed in her glove, and Julie's breath caught in her chest. Against all hope, she had done it again! And just like last time, the rest of the world still didn't know. But this time, instead of looking at the person who had attempted the shot – namely Russ – her eyes sought the exact same person they had before in the Championship. Because now, even as then, the outcome was most important to him: Gunnar Stahl.
His blue eyes met her own from across the ice, and once again his fair face bore that same trademark look of dreadful anticipation. Never, ever in all his life had he wanted anything more badly than he desired her success right now!
The entire stadium held its breath, watching and waiting, as Julie the Cat stood up in the net and casually tossed away the only saved knuckle-puck of the entire tournament. In that same moment, the time clock buzzed to signify an end to the game, and the crowds exploded into cheers.
Gunnar took off skating toward her at a full sprint, and she watched him come, laughing herself to see the childlike joy spread across his handsome features. She knew it had always been there, lurking beneath the grim, businesslike façade Stansson had always required of him. When at last he reached her, the Viking captain whipped his helmet off, gripped her shoulders to pull her close, and kissed her full on the mouth, without a care in the world for whatever else was transpiring beyond the two of them.
Fulton and Portman at once looked ready to move in for the kill – literally – but a pair of venomously threatening glares from Connie and Olaf stopped them dead in their tracks. Nobody noticed how sincerely dejected Adam Banks looked all of a sudden, even in the midst of the All Stars victory celebration.
Connie stood apart from the new couple, observing them contentedly and rejoicing in the knowledge that she had played no small part in bringing them together. She glanced up at Sanderson, who likewise stood in silent vigilance beside her, and noticed that the sharp features of his face wore a distinctly troubled expression.
"What's wrong, Olaf?" she pestered, happy to be the one teasing him for a change. "Does it really bug you that much to see the two of them together?"
"No, I am happy for him. I just hope your friend realizes she is getting both of our entire teams into a lot of trouble right now."
Connie's face twisted into a very puzzled frown. "And why do you say that?"
The Viking sighed. "Because they'll both be sick after this, and then we'll all have to sit on a plane with them for hours tomorrow. It is not going to be fun!"
And so it was that for the first time in all of recorded history, Olaf Sanderson of Iceland and Connie Moreau of the USA Mighty Ducks actually shared a laugh together.
The End
