Disclaimer: The rights to Miracle belong to Disney and their fellow associates. Blah, blah, blah, ...

Author's note: I could just simply state here that it's been awhile since I've updated. Yeah, finals can kick you real hard in the ass. Once again, thankyou very much for your reviews, and believe it or not I actually had to cut off an additional scene again. So onto the chapter! But first...

Lia06: Thankyou very much for all your reviews so far!

CandieBaby30: Glad to hear that you like it. Yep, a bet it is, and pretty, it isn't going to be.

Adelyte: Why thank you!

darkdestiny2000: Um...yeah, it definitely won't be. Let's just say Jack's going to find himself in more than what he bargained for.

vaugnhloveralwaysandforev: Well, I can't guarantee that - I'd like to play around the pairing for now. I will say though that Jack is one of my favorite player in the movie.

staceygirl: Thankyou for your review, but I think you're probably mixing this story with another. I've read that other story, and like it too.

meadow567: Thankyou, and as you can tell, I did take my time. LOL.

killerkeanegirl: Wow, I'm sorta blushing by now. Like I mentioned earlier, can't guarantee you the pairing, but I will try to write it in a way that prompts constant guessing. Try is the key word.

vickitori: I'm glad. Yeah, for now I can't see the players getting too friendly. I can tell you though that an ugly situation is going to fix that pretty quickly.

CHAPTER THREE

Unbeknownst of the wager, the victim found herself wandering aimlessly in the pursuit of a payphone for the last seven minutes. The building was designed ridiculously complex, Jo thought, with its random turns and dead-end hallways. She finally spotted a phone at a far end corner and happened to walk towards it when …….

"….. didn't get a chance to ask. I wasn't exactly going to wait around with Herb breathing down my neck now, was I?"

Perhaps it was her suspicious nature or perhaps it was an overcoming sense of deja-vu that brought Jo to a slight pause. Either way, it just seemed too coincidental if she had met him earlier……

"You did manage to get past 'hi' and 'goodbye' though, right?" a different voice spoke. "You can't seriously tell me that you didn't know how to converse with the girl."

"What, and this is an area of your expertise, Boston?" another voice teased. "I can't exactly see you charming the socks off a girl when you're dropping your gloves half the time."

"What can I say, they dig the O' Callahan charm. And I'm enough of a gentleman to oblige them."

I'm sure they do Jo rolled her eyes and continued walking. She could rather hear the smirk in the words as far well as she could envision it.

"Maybe you wouldn't mind giving us a demonstration then," someone taunted.

Jo paused again past the men's locker room. Needless to say, the blatant words were enough to turn her earlier indifference to their conversation into cautious curiosity.

"On you? Sorry, scrawny Minnesotan jocks aren't worth my time."

"I'm saying maybe we ought to see if you'll have better luck with this girl than Buzz," said the same taunting voice. "You know – let us see if your words are big enough for your mouth." Both comments brought about hoots and low rumblings, presumably from a group of jocks.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Get the girl smitten by the end of one week, and I'll do all your Herbies for that week. If I win, you'll do likewise."

If there was any denial regarding to her involvement as their subject, it had just dwindled significantly. A part of her was partially willing to give the benefit of the doubt. The other part, however, couldn't hide the mixed annoyance and disgust at the prospect of the wager.

"Deal."

"Oh, and she's has to be truly head-over-heals smitten," stated one of the jocks. "No bribes and no favors."

"They're not necessary for easy baits."

Not even the concrete walls could contain her overwhelming surge of irritation at that point. Cockiness was a natural masculine fault, but in such crazy stints, it became intolerable. "Not all baits bite, pal," Jo muttered abrasively, continuing towards the phone.

She only prayed that she would sound convincingly cheerful enough to Patty by that time.

"You're actually going to go through with this?" Jimmy eyed O.C. in flat disbelief. "Maybe you ought to reconsider."

"Well, wouldn't that be rather disappointing," Mac mocked, clucking his tongue for good measure.

"Relax, Jimmy, it's harmless enough," replied O.C. apathetically.

"I don't know if you've been around women long enough to actually know them, Jack, but harmless is gonna be the last word I would describe this. Cause when they find out…"

"If they find out," corrected O.C.

"No, when they find out," Jimmy retorted. "Women get their information one way or another. And assuming that she knows Herb pretty well, you're looking at an early return to Boston."

"You're making too much of Buzz's report," O.C. argued. "Like he said, there are no other relatives nearby, so I doubt she's related. For all we know, this chick was probably running an errand."

Jimmy responded with a derisive snort, but decided to drop the matter. Like with the rest of his teammates, Jack's Irish temper and stubbornness sometimes proved to be too draining. It found itself more than once at odds with the referee's patience.

"I sure hope this chick runs more errands then," Buzz joked lamely.

"Maybe you'll actually get her name during one of them," O.C. smirked as he headed to the showers.

Mac clapped Buzz's shoulder reassuringly. "Don't let him bother ya, Buzzy. He's going to eat his own words."

"You know, Mac," Buzz started hesitantly. "I think I rather stay out of this one."

"It's only a friendly wager," shrugged Mac. "We're not going to exchange fists."

"Maybe not," Buzz acknowledged reluctantly. "But maybe you ought to drop it – drop all of this."

"Look, we're not going to repeat what happened in 76' and that practice," Mac said firmly. "We play for the same team. That doesn't mean we have to get along."

"What team?" Buzz questioned, with an uncharacteristic edge.

Neither Mac nor the others offered any reply or defense. They couldn't. The two simple words invoked far too much truth and insight.

Buzz coughed. "I think I dropped a glove outside." He gave a very poor excuse, but it broke the uncomfortable quiet somewhat. The Minnesotan hastily got up and proceeded to exit ….. only to run into a familiar slender figure. Whether it was a contemplation of fate or not, Buzz felt undeniably elated at the fortunate timing.

"So we meet again," Buzz grinned.

"So we do," she commented lightly, cracking a tentative smile in return.

Their close proximity allowed him to study her features better. Definitely not hard on the eyes, he thought, admiring her facial structures. Before Buzz could decidedly take up on O.C.'s advice, the brunette quickly resumed her long strides. "Are you going to leave me a name?" teased Buzz. "Cause …uh.. these run-ins might happen more often than you think."

The girl peered back and awarded him an amused smile. "Evans," she replied simply.

"Evans," Buzz repeated as she continued walking. "Alright, not that it's necessary to go on a first name basis or anything," he teased.

"Consider it fair exchange," Evans quipped back. "Schneider," she added in mock playfulness before rounding the corner. Buzz didn't know how long his foot had been planted to the tiles, but apparently it was long enough for others to notice.

"Not bad, Buzzy," whistled Phil Verchota.

A grinning Mac punched his shoulders. "I think I'm gonna enjoy that break after all."

Jo found it rather miraculous that she had ever come across the entrance to begin with. Not surprisingly, the additional ten minutes of twists and turns didn't help alleviate her increasing agitation. Only her impatience surpassed her agitated mood, a trait that didn't lessen either with her restless pacing.

Checking the building clock yet again, she decided to look around. Judging from the hallway's littered displays, hockey was perhaps more of a obsession here than Jo initially perceived it to be. If not an obsession, the sport could be deemed a coveted tradition, though one she could care less for.

Jo nearly passed over a peculiar picture of the 1958 Gophers Hockey Team. Seated on the third row was a tall and younger Herb Brooks himself. Even in photographs, he seemed to exude this boyish charisma that almost dispelled any feelings of resentment – almost dispelled.

"What's up with you?" Rizzo asked.

O.C. cast a wary glance at a trailing Mac. "He didn't happen to wander near my stuff, did he?"

"Just a little paranoid, aren't you?" Rizzo nudged him.

"Just a little," O.C. replied, rolling his eyes. "You want to tell me why he has this smirk on his face?"

"It's nothing to get worked up about," said Silky.

Rizzo opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Silky's silent warning. After Buzz's run-in, Mac had cleverly gotten the team's agreement to not interfere with the bet. Thus, O.C. remained clueless on Buzz's partial success. Still, Mac didn't take the pains to hide his enthusiasm as they walked.

"This is different," insisted O.C. "I may not have a psychiatry degree, but my sixth sense has never failed me before – he's up to something."

"You're that easily affected by him, huh?" Silky winked suggestively.

"Course not," scoffed O.C. He said nothing more but didn't miss the exchange of grins from both friends.

"Hey Rizzo!" Mac called out, brandishing off a baseball. "A few of the guys are heading out later for some ball. Want to join?"

The idea sounded appealing, and Rizzo genuinely liked Mac. He glanced apprehensively at O.C. and Silk. Mac must have understood very clearly, for he added with less enthusiasm, "We could use a couple of Boston boys too."

"Sounds good," said Rizzo, still glancing.

"Baseball's not my thing, thanks" O.C. smiled tightly. "But," he shrugged at Rizzo, "don't let me spoil your fun."

Without waiting for a response, O.C. turned and walked off. Silky and Rizzo both looked on in annoyed resignation. They were well acquainted with his dismissive behavior, but even that began to wear thin for some time. Luckily, he managed to control his temperament, though more forcibly as Bah made a less than pleasing comment.

"You guys hungry?" asked Mac a bit loudly. "Cause I'm thinking of going for some chicken." To say that he felt satisfied upon Jack's pause was an understatement.

O.C. smirked. "That's really cute, Maclanahan – actually going after me with preschool insults."

"They seem to work fine on you."

O.C.'s smirk slipped a notch. "I guess I shouldn't be too surprised, coming from an underdeveloped boy yourself. Let me know when you come up with better material." O.C. turned and continued off quickly before falling prey to a violent temptation.

"O.C.!"

He tightened his grip around the duffel bag and ignored Mac. Just fifteen more feet. Immediately, his instinctive reflex kicked in time to grasp the incoming ball. O.C. wanted nothing more than at that point to wipe the smug off Mac's face. The ball looked like a good tool to start with.

"At least you can catch," he commented.

"Let's see if you can fetch," said O.C.

And using the amount of force he felt appropriate to harness on Mac, he turned and pitched the ball down the hallway away from his intended target …to an unexpected target.

Author's Postnote: It's gonna be a pretty bad day for Jack. Stay tune and find out why! Also on another note, I am aware that I've portrayed Jack perhaps a little more aggressive than what he is in the movie. He won't always be like that in future chapters.