A/N: Don't kill me. I haven't seen the movie in a while, so if I mess up the order they go in, or some of the lines, that's my defense, okay? I only remember that Dean goes first and Bombay goes last. I don't remember who scored what goal in which order, I only remember that Adam scored one, Ken scored one, Fulton scored one, Russ scored one, and Luis scored one. Sorry.

"Playons and Playoffs"

"Coach, shouldn't we have our hockey gear on?" Luis asked, putting his Miami-boy hands back in his pockets.

"Guys, this is our last team practice. And that means-"

"The return of Captain Blood," Averman cut in, grinning. Bombay laughed.

"No. That means, let's have some fun!" He tossed a beach ball onto the ice and, grinning, they chased it. Maurae and a few other skated lazily round the rink for a few minutes.

"Geez, my hands are cold," Luis groused, pulling them out of his pockets and blowing on them again.

"You big baby," she laughed, reaching for them and enclosing one in both of hers. Gently, she raised them to her mouth and blew warm air on them. Luis' hand slowly warmed and she took the other one, repeating the process, unsure of whether she was flirting or simply helping out a friend. "Better?"

"Thanks," he said, smiling. He tucked them back into his pockets. "Still used to Miami air, I guess."

"Don't melt the ice with all this steam, you two," Jesse teased as he skated between them. Glancing at each other, they traded eye messages and then took off after Jesse like two shots from the same gun. Jesse squeaked and tried to hide behind various teammates, who shoved him away, laughing. Then everybody got in on it, chasing Jesse around the rink.

Someone knocked into her from behind, sending Maurae tumbling and sliding, laughing all the while, across the rink with the beach ball. Then she looked up and swallowed, digging in her blades to bring herself to a stop shy of the Iceland ranks. She hurriedly got up, brushed herself off and skated easily backwards to join her team.

Stansson picked up the beach ball and popped it, tossing it aside and skating forward, followed synchronously by his team.

"We have the ice now. You and your little 'rink rats' must leave." They bristled.

"The only thing little was your career in the pros," Bombay shot back, inciting a ripple of nervous giggles from his team.

"At least I had my shot. I was there."

"You were a disgrace!"

"Gordon, no. Come on, let's go." Bombay looked at Miss McKay and sighed.

"Come on, team, we're out of here." They hesitated. "Let's go, I said!"

"Can you still move on the ice? Then please, play a little with me. Show me that famous triple deke that your daddy taught you...or was it that old geezer over there?" Eyes turned to Jan, in the back. "Maria!" The trainer tossed him a stick, which he, in turn, tossed to Bombay, who caught it and examined it before turning a glare back on him.

"Triple bar. First one to hit both posts and the crossbar. You have to take it out past the blue line."

"I know the game."

Reluctantly, they backed off and watched from the side as the two coaches faced off. On his first shot, Stansson hit both posts. On Bombay's first shot, he hit the left post, then he stole the puck from Stansson and hit the right. It was his start and he knocked Stansson over.

"One more post, and you go home crying. By the way, Stansson, you owe me a beach ball." Bombay took off and Stansson got up, going after him. Knowing that he couldn't win, and not willing to lose that much face in front of his team, he took a cheap shot and swung his stick at Bombay's recently injured knee, dropping him with a resounding cry of pain to the ice, his leg collapsed under him.

The Bash Brothers helped Bombay to his feet, surrounded by the rest of them.

"Get your coach off the ice," Stansson ordered imperiously. "We have to practice now." Trading glares with Iceland, USA helped Bombay off the ice and onto an ice pack.

Maurae's eyes were hardened steel as she trailed the rest of her team from the rink. Meeting Gunnar's eyes squarely, her look plainly said, 'No mercy. You're mine, and you're going down.' Then she was gone, through the doors to the locker rooms.

************************************************************************

The playoff game was going to be a hard game. After playing Iceland once before, they had a healthy respect for the Vikings' brutality. But they'd been training for this, getting back to the fundamentals of hockey and teamwork, focusing on one sole thought: it was only a game.

When you play to win, you're headed for an inevitable disappointment. When you play for a love of the game, you can't lose. It was the idea that Iceland hadn't really accepted completely.

Changing in the locker room that morning, Maurae felt sick to her stomach. She'd never been so nervous before a game before, and she wasn't the only one. Jesse was ashen under his chocolate skin, and Charlie looked faint. Slowly pulling on their pads, the locker room chatter, usually high and ebullient, was subdued and sparse. Straightening from tying her skates, Maurae was the first to notice Adam's unexpected presence. Then she noticed his sling was missing.

"Coach!" he exclaimed, striding confidently into the room.

"Banks?" they chorused.

"I woke up...and the pain was gone." He rotated a hockey stick easily, the smile never leaving his face, his eyes still bright. Maurae smiled in relief.

"Adam, I'm sorry, but we already have a full roster." Several people turned their heads towards Russ, who started to pull his jersey off. Charlie stopped him.

"He can have my spot," he said slowly. Walking forward, he stood by his best friend. "If it's what I could do for the team...I would do it." Adam smiled and grabbed his shoulder in silent thanks.

"Charlie, I want you on the bench, coaching right there with me." They broke out into applause and Maurae felt her stomach settle slightly. Adam grinned at her as he set his stuff down next to his locker and started to change.

"I'm glad you're better, Adam," she said, pulling her jersey on over her pads. "It hasn't been the same since...since I told Bombay about your wrist."

"It's good to be back in the game, Ro," he replied, pulling off his jacket. She grinned and grabbed her stuff, following the others out to the ice for warm-ups. Skating back and forth for a few minutes, she and the others contemplated their opponents.

Bigger, stronger, faster...Iceland was tough, but they didn't have the spirit and the love of the game that the Ducks held close to their hearts. They cared about winning, and naught else.

From the face-off, the game was feared to be simply a repeat of the last clash between the two teams. Iceland got the puck and started to throw their considerable weight around.

After a second vicious check into the boards by two of the Iceland defensemen, Maurae limped back to the box and let Bombay pull her helmet off as she wheezed and held her sides. "Are you all right?"

"I just need a breather."

"Let me know when you're ready to go back in." She nodded, focused on the game. Iceland obviously thought she was delicate. She snorted. 'Yeah, as delicate as tempered steel,' she thought. She poured a bit of water into her mouth and sat, watching the game. Iceland scored, then scored again.

Then Adam got a shot off that slipped past the goalie. Russ went in to try his shot only to be knocked down by three men. He came back and Iceland scored again, regaining their two-goal lead.

Maurae told Bombay to put her back in just as he called a time out. Charlie explained his idea to them and Maurae shook her head in amazement. The boy was creative; Bombay had made him captain for a reason.

He sent her out onto the ice with Ken, Dwayne, Fulton, and Adam. Maurae stayed back in her own zone, in case something went wrong with the play, and watched as Dwayne exercised his particular brand of excellence, tossing the puck up into the air and skating past the awed Vikings who followed the black cylinder with their eyes. Fulton waited by the net for it to land and shot it in through the goalie's legs. Cheering, Maurae collided with Dwayne and hugged him.

"That was brilliant," she said.

Recovering their morale, the Ducks played a spectacular second period, despite the fact that they only scored once, and Iceland scored once. One goal away from a tie, Bombay changed the line-up and Maurae returned to the bench.

"Be careful out there, Connie," she said, in sync with Charlie, who smiled at her.

"They're gunning for you," he added.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine." She skated in and managed to chase the puck into a wall. Trying to clear it, she scrabbled with the wall and the churned-up ice, not seeing Olaf Sanderson coming up behind her at top speed. On the bench, Dwayne was suddenly up and out, swinging his lasso over his head.

"I'm comin', Connie!" he shouted just as he let fly. The loop slipped over Olaf's head and stopped him in his tracks, just shy of Connie. Dwayne reeled him in. "Get up here. Where I come from, we treat ladies with respect!"

"Thank you, Dwayne. But I'm no lady," Connie said, grinning at her friend. "I'm a Duck, HA!" She shoved Olaf down again.

"Way to go, you little filly," Dwayne said as the ref towed him to the penalty box. Maurae hid a smile and winked at him as he went past. He grinned in response. Bombay rolled his eyes.

"This isn't a hockey game, it's a circus," he mourned. Glancing at the clock, the period was almost over.

"Urgh," Maurae grunted as she sat on her stool.

"Did you all enjoy that?"

"Yeah!" they chorused.

"Good, because so did they. They're still two points up, and we're one period away from defeat."

"Well, if we can't win, we might as well keep our pride," Jesse protested.

"Jesse, that's not pride. Sure, when Dwayne roped that big oaf, part of me cheered. But guys, I've been there. I wanted to CREAM that jerk that busted my knee when I played in the minors. And I really, really wanted to go after Stansson for that cheap shot. But you know what? My knee will heal. And if I sink to their level...if I become something I'm not...well, then I've lost more than my pride." Sobering speech, but it hit home. "You!" he said suddenly, pointing straight at Dean. "Who are you?"

"Dean Portman," he replied uncertainly.

"From where?"

"Chicago, Illinois."

"You, who are you?"

"Guy Germaine."

"From where?"

"St. Paul, Minnesota."

"You."

"Julie Gaffney, from Bangor, Maine."

"You."

"Maurae Grabeklis, from Aurora, Colorado."

"You."

"Fulton Reed, Stillwater, Minnesota."

"Adam Banks, Edina, Minnesota."

"Russ Tyler, South-Central, Los Angeles."

"Ken Wu, San Francisco, California."

"Dwayne Robertson, Austin, Texas."

"Charlie Conway, Minneapolis, Minnesota."

"Greg Goldberg, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania."

"Luis Mendoza, Miami, Florida."

"Jesse Hall, Minneapolis, Minnesota."

"Connie Moreau, Minneapolis, Minnesota."

"Michele McKay, Duluth, Minnesota."

"And I'm Gordon Bombay, Minneapolis, Minnesota." Applause and cheers erupted through the locker room. When it died down, he spoke again. "We're Team USA, gathered from all across America. And we'll stick together. You know why?"

"Because we are Ducks, and Ducks fly together." Bombay turned and smiled.

"That's right, Jan. And just when you think they're about to break apart?"

"Ducks fly together!"

"And when the wind blows hard and the sky is black?" Miss McKay chimed in.

"Ducks fly together!"

Dwayne, being helpful, added his two cents. "And when the roosters are crowin' and the cows are spinning circles in the pastures?"

"Um, okay...Ducks fly together!"

"And when everyone says it can't be done...Ducks fly together."

"Now," Jan said. "New Ducks, and old Ducks must unite under a new banner. And I thought...perhaps, something like this."

Maurae gasped in surprise when the new uniform jerseys were revealed. "Awesome," she breathed, accepting her new equipment. Faster than normal, the USA Ducks changed from their old colors to their new, not even noticing that the girls were changing with the boys for once. They were team, and they didn't care about gender specifics any more.

Walking back out into the arena, the cheers were deafening. Out on the ice again, they noticed that their uniforms were getting a lot of attention. Stansson declared that it was ridiculous, but as there was no rule against it...

Gathered around and in the bench box, they joined hands in the middle. "Ready?...Quack...quack..." The chant was quickly picked up by the team and the crowd until it echoed throughout the arena, drowning out whatever Iceland was doing to boost spirits. "GOOOOO DUCKS!!!" They shouted, amid cheers and screams enough to shatter glass.

The third period was not as much of a melee as it might have been. Iceland, over-confident, tried unsuccessfully to score. The first goal was scored by Russ. Although covered by three men at all times on the ice, Bombay had disguised Russ as Goldberg in order to let him get his shot off, to Stansson's dismay.

The Ducks erupted in screams and curses when Olaf slammed his stick into Adam's arm, bringing him back to the bench with a short cry of pain. Sitting next to him, Maurae yanked off his glove as Bombay pulled off his helmet. "Are you all right?" she asked, deeply concerned.

"It's all right. He just hit the pad." He looked up, eyes clear. "I swear." Bombay clapped Adam's shoulder and left him with Maurae. He met her eyes squarely. "I swear."

"I know." She squeezed his hand and released him, turning back to the game. Time was quickly winding down.

Luis got control of the puck and took off down the ice. Attempting one last time to stop, but prepared to take the puck with him into the goal, he stopped abruptly in a fantastic spray of ice shavings and grinned, enthused.

"I stopped!"

"Put it in, Luis!" Bombay shouted. The speedster obeyed and the game was tied as the buzzer went off.

"A shootout." Charlie's voice was quiet, yet confident.

It was decided that Fulton, Adam, Dwayne, Jesse and Maurae would take the five shots (A/N: Sorry, Guy!) Jesse went first, putting his shot away, no trouble. Goldberg was unable to block the incoming Iceland shot, either. Dwayne went next, and missed. Goldberg caught the next one. Then Fulton went, and scored. Goldberg missed again.

Maurae clasped hands with Adam and Jesse before slipping her hand into her glove and skating out to center ice. She nudged the puck with her toe and pushed it out. Dodging around the Iceland goalie's defense, she shot it to ricochet off his stick, into the net. Knees weakened in relief, she skated back to the bench, meeting Gunnar's eyes with a blank, confident expression before being swarmed over by her teammates.

Goldberg missed the next shot, and it was Adam's turn. Rotating his wrist experimentally, he glanced back at the bench. Meeting Charlie's eyes, he watched his captain and friend nod, then Miss McKay, then Bombay. Last, his eyes went to Maurae. She smiled her encouragement and nodded, mouthing, "You can do it, Adam."

He did, too. Past the goalie, into the net and the whole arena erupted in shouts of triumph. Bombay bent to Julie as Gunnar Stahl stepped out to center ice.

"Julie, you've got the fast glove. I know this kid's move. Triple deke, glove side. Anticipate it, and you got him."

"What if he goes stick side?"

"He's fancy; he'll go glove." He patted her shoulder and sent to her out, much to the consternation of the arena.

"Go get 'em, Julie!" Goldberg said encouragingly as she took his place.

"Thanks, Goldberg." She slapped both posts and turned to face the burly teenager, who shook his head, amused.

They watched and waited with bated breath, hoping that Julie would catch it, hoping that they would win. He deked once, twice, three times and stopped. His shot whished through the air and silence fell as Julie went to her knees. Slowly, she stood up and flicked her wrist, tossing the puck from her glove to the ice. And the stadium exploded. The Ducks flooded out onto the ice, gathering around Julie, celebrating.

Adam skated out to Charlie and handed him the American flag, which the captain waved around over his head, running carefully on the ice. Finally, someone took it from him as they skated their victory laps, meeting in the middle to shake hands with the Vikings.

Second to last, Gunnar stopped her. "You played well. Excellent game."

"Thank you," she said, smiling. "You didn't do so bad yourself." Then she squeezed his hand and moved off, throwing herself at Julie and Connie, spinning the three of them in dizzy circles.

After the refs delivered the trophy, the Ducks gathered around Bombay, the crowd quacking giddily. "Come on, Ducks! We're going home!" he shouted, thrusting the trophy into the air.