Author's Note- I've had the worst writer's block. I'm also incapable of writing without talking to Jessi who's been horrifically busy with homework and other such filth. I'm finally taking the motivation to write alone and write something that, for me, is lengthy. Go me. Jess did however write the Portman/Banks scene.

Happy Hollow Chocolate Bunny Day and Matzo Awareness Week.

And also boo on DU for winning the NCAA championship last night. I'm a CC fan. Psh Harry Pothead fans of theirs…

Disclaimer- These get dull after 19 of them.

~*~

The past two weeks had passed surreally, life possessing the melodramatic air of a dream. Not horrendous enough to be a nightmare and awake in cold sweat, rather a combination of lifeless yet bizarre events that made you toss and turn, and wake up more exhausted than when you had first drifted off. April was emerging as new and the pressures of hockey season were prematurely lifted.

For the first time in six years the Ducks had not made the playoffs. It was an embarrassing fate, at times one would assume the league was structured around the concept of not hurting a player's feelings, as though they were five. Annually only two teams didn't move on to the playoff rounds, the two that had finished at the bottom of the regular season standings. The other 16 teams moved on.

Every year Adam and the other Ducks had mocked the other teams with a sense of ease. It was impossible that they'd ever be able to sink that low. But as senior year was thrown on them unknowingly, they were suffocating, struggling frantically to keep their heads above water, their playing no longer a priority.

Sighing the blonde's gaze drifted away from the empty corner of his dorm back to the stack of mail he was shifting through. College acceptance letters. His heart pumping with adrenaline, a feeling that didn't match his emotions, as he flipped through the stack. Harvard, University of Minnesota, Northwestern, Yale, Princeton, Cornell, University of Maine and Stanford. All eight schools he'd worked up the guts to apply to, with pressure from his dad to achieve Ivy League status and the cool collectiveness of Charlie. The scouts that fluttered around in the background through out his first two years of high school had finally approached the front. At his peak, during junior year, scouts from Colorado College, University of Wisconsin, University of Denver, University of Michigan, Boston College and more had energetically approached him, amazed by his skill. By the end of the season he had no less than ten Division I scholarship offers, some verging on full ride. Just what my dad had always wanted. What I thought I had always wanted, he sighed, biting his lip at the recollection.

The team verged on jealous. Charlie had been approached by the scouts as well, the scouts who were captivated by the story of the ducks, of having the opportunity to have the two leaders on their respective teams. While Adam had nodded silently at their offers, smiled slightly, shook their hands and walked away, Charlie ate the information up. It was beyond his wildest dreams, the opportunity to go to college, and better yet play hockey. Energetically he conversed with the scouts, trying to hold back his excitement.

But now it was just a dream again. The captain was still bedridden at St. Paul's Children's Hospital awaiting the time to transfer to Bethesda Rehab. He'd been given crap after the initial shock had cleared off and he had regained consciousness about being in a pediatric ward. After the shock of realizing he was paralyzed from the waist down for life. Hockey was no longer a viable option. He'd never be able to stand alone or even walk, let alone skate, especially well enough to forge on a hockey career.

So as Adam went onto wherever he chose next year, Julie left for Southern California to attend Scripps, a liberal arts women's college, Luis went back down to Florida State, not for hockey, but to be closer to his family, Guy was on his way to North Dakota on a partial scholarship for hockey with financial aid, Connie was signed to play for the Wisconsin-Eau Claire women and the rest of the Ducks parted their separate ways, Charlie would still be in St. Paul. Still living with his mom and her boyfriend, struggling to resume life normally.

Although the Ducks were no longer one, they managed to cling together to open a scholarship fund for their teammate. With the prospects of hockey dead and a mother who still relied on welfare to pay the heating bill, college was no longer in his grasp. Everything that Charlie had managed to build up in the last 10 years was shattered as easily as a house of cards in the wind, in a single night.

Adam shook his head and began to slowly open the letters, wishing that the brunette was sitting on his bed with him, jumpy with anticipation, there to raise his hopes up with any rejection letters that came and cheer with the acceptances. The first envelope he opened was a sturdy crème colour, official and prestige. It was from Harvard, where his dad had always pressured him into applying. To play hockey, to become a lawyer, to live up to the Banks name. He opened the flap carefully, as not to tear anything, and slid out the papers inside.

Dear Adam Banks,

Harvard University would like to congratulate you for your acceptance into our…

A grin flickered on his face. Perhaps his dad would finally be proud of him, finally love him. He went through the next seven envelopes quickly. Accepted into them all. The years of studying that Charlie and the guys had pestered him about had finally paid off. He didn't feel the need to run out of his dorm cheering, announcing to all his teammates his acceptances like some of the other kids in the hall did. He didn't feel like picking up the phone and calling his dad either. Grabbing his car keys that lay on the bedside table, he promptly left the room, the envelopes still scattered on the bed.

~*~

Adam stumbled through the medicinal hallway. They were worse than all the rinks and schools he had been in combined. Linoleum coloured with age from more than likely the 80s, lined the floor, and sickeningly white lights added to the sterile appearance. Antiseptic and sickness tainted the air into a muggy damp stench that clung to you long after you had left.

Approaching the familiar room her gradually opened the door. Lying on the bed attached to the menagerie of machines was Charlie. Sensing the entrance of something he groaned.

"What do you want?" he spat moving his gaze away from the ceiling tiles towards the doorway. "Oh hey Adam."

"Hey Charlie… is it okay that I stopped by?" he wondered meekly.

"Yeah doesn't bother me. I don't exactly have a busy schedule," the brunette shrugged, a loose curl falling into his bloodshot eyes. Weakly he lifted a feeble arm to push it behind his ears. No longer did he radiate vigor, his skin was almost translucent, lined with bruises and veins pulsated through milky flesh. His eyes were battling dark circles that engulfed his face. "Have a seat," he offered motioning towards two plastic chairs as though they'd be embezzled from a first grade classroom.

"Eh I'm cool dude. I got all my college acceptance letters today. I guess my mom kept them stockpiled at home and sent them to me at once," he divulged leaning against the wall adjacent to the small window that looked out at a grimy skyscraper downtown.

"How'd that go?" he responded, a soft bite tainting his voice.

"I got accepted into all of them…"

"That's great," Charlie grinned haphazardly. "You get to get out of this place, go play college hockey. You deserve it cake-eater." Adam gazed at his face. Although he had cocked his mouth into a smile, his eyes were empty with defeat and regret.

"I'm… sorry you can't go to CC like you always wanted to."

"Psh it's only Colorado. I heard it's boring there… DU raped them this season anyway," he shrugged.

"Maybe you could go there anyway you know? And not play hockey," Adam offered trying to encourage his friend.

"Ha at 25,000 dollars a year just for tuition… Not happening. It's a private school so they don't give a lot of financial aide. Banks I'm cool. Shit happens."

"Seriously, I bet you co-"

"Adam," the brunette took his friends hand weakly sending a quiver down the blonde's back. "Look at me. I fucked up. And this time I can't change it," his attempt at strongly stating the harsh reality wavering as his voice quivered. "Go to Minnesota, have fun in Duluth, come visit, I know you have the money for gas so don't lie to me and use that as an excuse-"

"I'm not going to Minnesota I don't think dude. I'm going to go to Harvard," he interrupted.

"Why?" Charlie asked in shock dropping his hand. "I thought you hated Harvard. You always used to bitch about how it was your dad's dream school and you had to go continue on the family legacy and what bullshit it was. Why the sudden change?"

"I was thinking about it and he was right… I think. Great hockey, great education, and they're offering half a full ride and depending how I play next year it'll move up or down. Minnesota is just a state school…"

"You're brainwashed. Minnesota is not just some state school; it was your dream school. I remember you always said how you'd been dreaming about playing hockey there ever since you were four and your dad would bring you and your brother to games," the brunette spat enraged. "And now you're going to sacrifice your dreams because of what your dad said? I thought you were better than that Banks."

"Dude… you actually remember me saying that? I didn't think you actually listened," Adam murmured in awe.

"Of course I did. I listened to every thing you told me. I thought I knew you. But I guess you're just like your dad. Just some state school? Psh," he growled, glaring menacingly at his friend.

"Why are you taking so much offence to it Charlie? I mean Harvard, hello, a hell of a lot better than Minnesota could ever be," he rebutted, his indecision starting to grow into defense.

"Well remember that when I'm at MCC next year okay?"

"MCC?" Adam paused.

"Minneapolis Community College. I would kill to go to Minnesota but my grades aren't good enough. I was relying on hockey to get me into school. Hindsight is 20-20."

"Oh… I'm really sorry. You knew I didn't mean it that way at all. Minnesota is a great school. I bet you can transfer there after your first year," he suggested.

"Whatever cake eater. Go call mommy and daddy and tell them you're going to Harvard. They'll be so damned proud," he spat.

"Seriously Charlie," Adam pleaded.

"Leave Banks."

~*~

"Damn Banks, are you crying?" Portman asked.  His voice was loud echoing off of the concrete stairway.

"Naw I've just got something in my eye."  Adam rubbed furiously at his eyes.

"You are crying.  What's the matter? Didn't get into the ivy league you wanted? Did your parents yell at you and tell you, you would never be anything like the dead beat gay sinning Bash Brothers?"  Banks didn't answer attempting to push past the bigger teen. 

"Move Portman."

"No, why are you crying?"

"Go the fuck away."

"Ooh, pulling out the bad words, we're bad ass now.  Not some pansy ass wipe who cries," Portman mocked.  Seeing red behind the heat of his tears, Adam punched Portman across the nose. 

"Shit.  You didn't just do that." The Chicagoan put a hand to his nose to find his fingers stained crimson.    He smirked wildly, "You don't know how much I've wanted to do this." Adam felt his head snap backwards, and an explosion of pain combusted in his nose.  "Fucking cake eater, you're like everyone else in this school."  Portman pushed past his teammate and continued down the stairs. 

When the echoes of the slamming door had faded, he slid down into a dingy corner and sobbed.