Disclaimer - I do not own anything even remotely related to The Mighty Ducks. I only wish I had thought of them first…

Italics indicate character thought.

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She cried for hours. She cried through being put in Adam's SUV. She cried through Charlie and Guy supporting her up the stairs and into her dorm room. She cried, lying curled up in a ball, Parker's picture clutched to her chest, Hailey sitting behind her, softly brushing her hair. And when she didn't have any energy or tears left, she still whimpered every few minutes, the grief tearing through her insides, each hour leaving her more empty.

At 10pm that night, she was sitting on her bed, barely holding onto a bottle of water that Hailey had forced there, staring at the TV as it droned on and on. Guy and Charlie were still there, talking in hushed tones. It should have been annoying, insulting even, but it was comforting. Being alone didn't seem right. Didn't seem possible. If there isn't someone here to see me, would I just fade away? I feel that empty.

Guy walked over, sitting down close to her. Beau turned her head slowly to look at him. What a sweet guy to stay here all day. I didn't realize that about him. He laid a hand gently on her knee.

"Beau, I've gotta get going. You know you can call, any of us, if you need anything. That's what we're here for." He leaned in slowly, hesitantly, and laid a very soft kiss on her cheek.

Beau shook her head a little, seemingly coming out of her daze, and reached a hand up to cup his cheek. He seemed taken back. "Thank you, Guy." She leaned in and kissed his cheek back. "That means…a lot."

He squeezed her hand, patted Charlie on the shoulder and nodded a goodnight to Hailey. As the door closed behind him, the remaining pair turned to look at Beau, who seemed to have her eyes open for the first time since she had realized what was happening. She looked at Charlie, panicked.

"I have to make plans to get home." She looked around, just a little wildly. "I need to call my mother."

Charlie moved to sit next to her quickly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear in what had now become a habit.

"Beau." He touched her chin gently, forcing her to face him. "Beau." She finally looked him in the eye. "It's already done. Your mother called back right after we got here. She was worried about you. I've got everything all straightened out." She continued to look confused. "You have a plane flight home tomorrow morning, the funeral is Wednesday, and then you have a return ticket on Sunday morning, but you can extend it if you want to. That's when your mother told me to make it for." He rubbed a small circle on her knee. "Adam is driving us to the airport tomorrow."

She looked at him quizzically. "Us?"

He nodded simply. "I'm going with you. You aren't traveling alone."

"You can't afford the plane ticket."

He smiled now a little. "Your mother threatened to do something terrible to me if I didn't let her pay for it." It had the desired effect. For the first time a small smile played across her lips before leaving immediately.

"You don't have to."

He touched her face, looking at Hailey, and then back at Beau. "Yes, I do."

-

It was starting to seem like things were not all peachy for the members of the Wolfpack. Beau's brother. Goldberg and school. Jesse and his father. Father. He used the term loosely.

When he had told his mother over the phone about Beau and practice being cancelled that night, she had insisted…insisted…that he come home for dinner. Never mind that he had to ride a bus. Never mind that it meant he wouldn't get back until too late to do any work or even really rest up for the following day.

Oh well. But I'm doing it anyway, aren't I? It'd be good to see Terry I guess. If he's not smarting off and getting yelled at. Yeah right. When is that not happening?

My stop. Right on. Jesse climbed out of the bus, pulling his jacket a little closer around him. As he trudged up the stairs to his apartment, he looked at the door, sighing a little, then turned the knob and walked in.

"Don't let the heat out boy! It's not free," Mr. Hall's voice bellowed from the living room, sending a shiver down Jesse's spine.

"Yes, sir!"

"Jesse, baby!" His mom rounded the corner from the kitchen, polished and beautiful as always. It was hard not to love her…and harder not to feel a pang of guilt, and then resentment, every time he saw her. She enveloped him in a hug, warm and soft before ushering him in to sit at the table.

"How is everything?"

He looked up at her, eyes still a little surprised at her ability to forget all things unpleasant. "Mom, I told you on the phone. One of my teammates, her brother died. She had, like a major breakdown. Things aren't good."

She set a glass of lemonade on the table. You gave his mother anything unpleasant, she made lemonade. "Oh honey. How sad for that poor boy."

He didn't even bother to correct her.

"What's up, bro?" Terry, who preferred T now, sauntered into the room, sliding into a chair.

"How's it going, Terry?" I refuse to call him, T. It's not a name. It's a letter. "How's basketball?"

He shrugged. "I'm not playing this year."

Oh great. Not again. Jesse looked up warily. "Why not?" Stupid question.

Their father walked into the room, owning the small space, and took his place at the head of the table. Their mother immediately began fussing over him, making sure everything was just so. "That damn coach. All those coaches over at that school!" He raised his hand to make his point. "It's no different than that fancy Eden Hall I didn't let you go to Jesse. They only want to let the same five kids, who's dads' have the money, play. It's all a big joke. We Hall's are too good for that."

His eyes finally focused on his eldest son. "So, Jesse. How are things at school? Still catering to…I mean begging to play with all the rich kids?"

Shit. Here we go. His father had never understood, or supported, his decision to take a walk-on spot on the team. No scholarship. It means he paid for his education. It meant his father would have no part. It meant he was working like 9 million hours a week doing hard physical labor at a warehouse near the school just to get by. Not to mention the 40,000 in loans he was going to have to pay back when he graduated. Hello debt.

"Yes, I'm still playing. We're good this year. Think we have a chance to make the national championship." He lowered his voice, chewing on his food. "Not that you'd care."

"Don't you talk down to me, young man."

Avoid the fight. You'll get home sooner. "Yes, sir."

"Do those other kids even give you the time of day?"

Jesse looked up, exhausted of having this conversation. Would he even know I was here if we weren't having this conversation? "Yes Dad. You know most of them. Charlie Conway, Fulton Reed, Guy Germaine." He purposefully left out Banks and the others. That would only start a whole other fight. "Plus, a lot of the others are walk-ons, getting loans too."

His dad glared at him, his look of disgust evident. "You know what I think, Jesse. You won't change my mind."

Jesse took another bite of food. "No sir. I know I won't."