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.

-

"It's weird to be here knowing that the team is suiting up." Beau laid back further in the lawn chair, palms pressed against her eyes, her stomach filled with a heavy weight. She peeked through her fingers to where Charlie was sprawled out on a chaise across from her. "I'm so sorry you're missing this game Charlie."

He stuck his fingers in his drink and flicked the liquid at her. "Don't do that. It is what it is. It's not your fault."

She flicked her own water back at him and dropped her head back, letting the cool night air blow through her loose hair. "I know. But it still doesn't mean that I'm not itching to be on the ice right now." She looked down at her watch, knowing that Adam Banks was probably making his way to center ice for a face off as she was speaking. She signed for the 800th time that night and looked back at the house. Up on the second floor, her parents' bedroom window was filled with light. Charlie followed her gaze up.

"Your mom and dad seem to be doing pretty well."

She nodded. "Yeah. You know, I thought that they were really going to need me here, but it seems like since the funeral ended they just want to get back to their routines."

Charlie scooted over in his chair, making room as the Mayland family dog, Daphne - a giant silver Neapolitan Mastiff - drug herself up to lay between his legs. "I think some people are like that. They need the normal." He absently rubbed his fingertips over the dog's wrinkled neck. "But I think your parents are more concerned about you, Beau. I think they are ready for you to go back to Minnesota because they want you to get back to your normal."

Considering this, she twirled a piece of hair around her finger. "I don't know if things will feel normal for a long time." She looked up at the clear night sky. "But what I do know is that Parker would hate it if I moped around." She looked at her watch again, her foot tapping restlessly. "I wonder what's happening in the game."

-

Adam had thought they were ready, he really had. Their speed had improved so much over the past week, but apparently it hadn't improved enough. With an endless amount of time left in the game, Michigan had already created 7 breakaways for themselves. When they got the puck and took off there were very few members of the Wolfpack who could catch up. Luckily their starting goalie Mark Grundy had made some huge saves, buying them some life n the game.

Adam was running down the Michigan left wing right now and it was an effort to stay on his heels. Reaching out his stick, he made a swipe at the puck and with some skill and a great deal of luck he got a piece of it, sending it off the boards and right toward Guy.

Germaine had been ready and spun neatly, taking the puck with him and leaving his man behind. He was halfway down the ice before someone caught up with him. Guy could hold his own in the speed department. The crowd went wild as he shot the puck fast across the blue line to Riley Harding. It happened swiftly, a lightening quick slap and like magic, Harding flipped his wrist in one direction, his body moving in the other, and the Michigan goalie had no idea what had hit him. Just like that Pennington State had scored a goal - the first of the game. The cheers were deafening as they came together quickly to celebrate.

Adam looked at his teammates, tired and worked, but now with a new found determination. He yelled their team mantra: "Not in our house!" They answered him, their sticks slamming down on the ice in unison. "Not in our house!"

-

They sat with their feet dangling in the warm pool, the cooling night air teasing their skin, and the dog periodically walking by for a rub. The cicadas were humming in the dogwood trees, and Beau couldn't imagine a more perfect North Carolina night. It was what she loved about her home.

It was so perfect to sit there, sharing it with Charlie, just talking. Periodically the conversation turned back to Parker, and while she knew that there would always be hard days, more now than later, just telling all of the wonderful stories about him made her happy and for the first time in days, content.

"So, I know most of your long time partners in crime now, but where are all of the other Ducks?"

Charlie leaned back on his elbows, thinking of where to start. He loved that as much as she shared about her life, she wanted to know everything about him as well. "Well, you know about Connie already."

She smirked. "Um, yeah. Guy has mentioned her a time or two I believe."

"That's an understatement. The other girl we played with, Julie, she went back home to Maine our junior year of high school and is playing at a state school there now. She's a standout goalie in their league, which is a level below us. They seem to think she'll get drafted to the women's league when she graduates, so that's cool."

"Indeed."

He smiled. "Indeed. Um, Ken Woo. He went back to figure skating. He was never really that into the hockey I don't think. He took that back up and competes regionally and is in school studying civil engineering." He smiled now. "Russ, who I was probably the closest with of all of the newer members of the team, got the hell out of freezing cold Minnesota as soon as he could and took a full ride scholarship to USC. He's doing drama, which is so perfect for him."

"What about the kid with the lasso?" She remembered him from a newspaper article she had read a few years back.

Charlie grinned. "Cowboy Dwayne. Best puck handler there ever was." He shook his head in amusement. "He's playing baseball now, believe it or not, for Texas. He's really good, but that was the sport he grew up with." He drummed his fingers on his chin, thinking. "Luis was never a big fan of the school thing, so he went back home to work with his dad, which he is apparently loving."

"I hear Fulton talking about the Bash Brothers all the time. What's with this Portman kid?"

Charlie laughed out loud now. "He's been the big shocker. He's in school at Indiana University studying education. He's going to be a teacher. I think he wants to coach too, but the big plan now is teaching little kids. I certainly couldn't have called that one."

She pulled her feet out of the pool, turning on her side on the towel and propping her head on her fist. "And you, Mr. Conway? What big plans do you have for your future?"

"Well that's the question we never really know the answer to, isn't it?" He sighed. "I know people say this all the time, but for me, hockey is so…special." He shrugged, not sure he could find a better word. "It's always been an escape for me. I was never that great at school, at relationships, at family, at any of that stuff. But hockey," he said it wistfully. "Hockey I could do." He smiled, playing with the buttons on his shirt, not sure how to explain it to her. "I'm studying sports management, but to play hockey…to have that be my job. I would just feel…" He couldn't quite quantify it.

"Complete?" she suggested.

He looked down at her, the corner of his mouth turned up slightly. "Why do you get me so well?"

-

Grundy was on his best game and with two minutes remaining, the much anticipated Michigan State/Pennington State game was looking to be a 1-0 shutout for the Wolfpack. But it wasn't going to be an easy victory. Michigan was bigger and faster and Pennington was bruised and battered and the second line was taking a beating right now. Averman, Hall, Lex, Procida, and a sophomore named Brackman were fighting tooth and nail to keep things swinging in their direction, and away from Archie Grundy and their net.

There was a huge pileup near center ice and somehow Averman came out with the puck firmly against his stick. He was handling it like a pro, but with a guy twice his weight breathing down his neck he passed over to Jesse who was moving fast and low, doing his best to change things up, despite the pain shooting up his leg from his ankle.

The pain was intense. Do it, Hall. This isn't the time to lose it. Don't think about the pain – play through it. But even as the thought entered his mind he felt a body slam into his from above, forcing him to the ice, his ankle turning unnaturally inside his skate. Jesse not only heard, but felt a loud pop and was sure, absolutely sure, that his bone had snapped. He screamed out in pain, his stick falling from his hand, stars flashing before his eyes. The pain was like nothing he had ever felt, and it was excruciating. When the refs realized that he was still down, the whistle was blown and Averman was by his side in a heartbeat.

"Jesse, what is it?" He had his helmet off, his curly hair matted to his head, his brow creased in concern.

"My ankle! Oh, God. I think it's broken!"

Averman turned towards the bench waving his arm wildly. "Coach!"

Thoughts were flashing through Jesse's mind as he writhed around the ice. How bad is it? Oh man it feels bad. I won't be able to play anymore. My Dad. He'll never let this go. How am I going to work now? Why even bother. It hurts so much. I did this to myself. I can't play. I finally get to play with my friends again and now I'm going to have to give it up. Walk-ons can't hold spots if they are permanently injured. Oh, God. The pain was shooting up into his knee, his thigh now. What am I going to do?

Coach Neumann took one look at Jesse's paling face. "We need a stretcher."

-

When Charlie's phone started ringing to the tune of Green Day's "American Idiot," Beau grinned widely and clapped. "I so love that that is your ring!"

Looking down at the display number he frowned and excused himself to walk a few feet away. Flipping the phone open he sighed and tried to keep his voice light.

"Hi, Mom."

"Hi dear." She cleared her throat. "I was calling to see how your game went tonight."

It surprised him and he raised an eyebrow. She rarely called him and when she did there never seemed to be a reason other than to be able to tell herself that she was looking after her only child.

"Mom, I left you a message. Beau, a good friend of mine who is on the team, her brother died and I came home with her for the funeral."

"You went home with her? You're not at school?"

"No, I'm not. I'm here with her in case she needs anything. We're going back on Sunday."

Beau watched him pacing back and forth. Usually Charlie was so laid back. Everything happened and he flowed right along with it. Now his body was rigid, one hand alternating between running through his hair and being shoved deep in his front pocket. He looked physically uncomfortable.

When Casey spoke her voice was terse. "So you missed your game against one of the biggest schools you play for some girl? Charlie is that smart for your career? You have to think about these things! You're always running off here and there and not using your brain!"

He let her finish then spoke, keeping his voice even and calm. "Mom, she is not some girl. My friends, this girl, they are important to me. And missing one game…for something important, is not going to…" He thought for a minute and she jumped in.

"Don't call her special. If she let you miss your game she obviously is only thinking about herself. And if you missed your game, Charlie, for some trip, well then you aren't…"

He cut her off, still no tone in his voice. "You know what, Mom? You wouldn't understand. I'll be back Sunday. Goodnight." He clicked off the phone and stood with his back to Beau for a minute, composing himself. She just didn't understand anything. She had never understood him. He looked up to Mr. and Mrs. Mayland's window, wondering how some parents could be like them, and some could be like his. It didn't seem right.