A/N: This chapter is where I wanted to get the pairing going and give you some more information on Faye's family situation. It also makes a very bad attempt to show why Mac and O.C. got along better after the fight. I'm actually not too crazy about this one. I think it's a little too forward, but I'm not sure of any other way to do it. I don't have a lot of experience writing characters with really tortured pasts. Let me know what you think.

Five

It was dark by the time I got home. I could see my mom—Jeannie—in the kitchen, standing by the microwave.

"How were try-outs," my mom asked as I came into the kitchen.

"Fine," I answered grabbing a soda out of the icebox and sitting down at the table, pushing stacks of bills and junk mail out of my way.

"Who made the team," my mom went on, sitting across from me with her TV dinner. "Anyone I know?"

"Mike…Ramsey, Mac, Steve Janaszak, and Buzz," I answered.

"My Buzzy?" She asked excitedly. I nodded as she went on. "I love that kid."

"Rammer's the young one," I told her. "Buzzy's not much of a kid."

"What is he seventeen?" My mom asked curiously.

"Twenty-five," I corrected.

"Oh," my mom lit up. "He's legal." I didn't say anything; I just grabbed my soda and headed up to my room.

Actually that was the best conversation I've had with my mom in years.

OOOOO

Later that night I started to feel pretty bad about blowing Jimmy off like I had. He was only trying to apologize after all. So finally the guilt got the best of me and I headed out to my car and drove out to the boys' dorms. When I pulled into the parking lot I was very surprised to see Jimmy standing under the carport looking mystified.

"Hey Jim," I called getting out of my car and running over to him. "What are you doing out here? Are you okay?" He nodded.

"Yea," he went on. "I'm fine. I'm fine." I nodded, knowing everything was not fine. Realizing suddenly that I had interrupted him on his way to a breakdown.

"Do you need anything," I asked, hoping there might be something I could do for him. "Or do you want me to come back tomorrow?"

"No you're fine," he said softly. "I just...I really miss her." I touched his arm gently.

"Of course you do," I said comfortingly. But inside my head I was going: 'Holy crap! Our goalie is having a break down! What the hell am I supposed to do? What if he start's crying? Great timing Faye!'I figured since he was Irish there was a good shot that he was Catholic, or at least of a religious persuasion that believes in an afterlife so I decided to get a little spiritual, something I never do.

"She was a great mom, and she loved you," I said. "And it's good that you miss her. And right now I'm sure she's looking down from heaven wishing she could tell you how proud you make her."

"I thought you were mad at me," he noted. I shook my head.

"Let's quit playing guilt tag," I suggested. "I don't want to be mad."

"Me neither," he agreed.

"The truth is Jim," I went on. "I'm actually really jealous of you. I never met my dad. I don't know if he was a nice guy, or a jerk or what. All I know is that he didn't want me. You knew your mother, you have happy memories of her and you know what a good person she was. You know, 'It's better to have loved and lost...'"

"She wanted this for me," Jimmy said. "So much...I just wish she could be here." I smiled.

"She is," I told him. He smiled down at me. Then all at once there was a crack of thunder and rain began pouring down.

"Great!" I shot, musing over the walk back to my car, and the drive home on rain slicked roads.

"Why don't you come inside until it lets up some," he suggested.

"Thanks," I agreed as we made our way inside. His room was up on the second floor.

"Where's Jannie?" I asked. He shrugged.

"I think a bunch of guys are over in Buzz and Rizzo's room," Jimmy answered. "I think they ordered pizza."

"Sounds like my Buzzy," I said, taking a seat on the sofa.

"You want a drink?" Jimmy asked, peering into the fridge. "I've got some coke...and more coke...oh, and water."

"Coke, please," I said looking at him over the back of the sofa. He grabbed to sodas and handed me one, taking a seat next to me on the couch.

"My mom was the best," he said with a smile of nostalgia. "She put up with so much with the eight of us."

"Eight!" I gaped. "You're parents were nuts!"

"Four sisters, three brothers," he explained proudly. I looked at him, totally shocked. "We're Irish, what did you expect?" I laughed as he went on. "She was crazy about hockey. She was the one driving me to practice, and sharpening my skates, and digging lost hockey pucks out of her garden. Every year, I repainted one side of the house, from where I had the neighborhood kids take shots at me."

"She sounds like a very patient woman to me," I agreed.

"Growing up," he explained. "We didn't have a lot, but we were never unhappy—even when it came down to hand-me-downs and Spaghetti-o's. There was always enough to go around."

"Now that doesn't sound too bad," I agreed. "But I guess sometimes it's hard to let go." I reached into the pocket of my jacket, and pulled out an old, faded photograph. "I found this picture of my dad, in an old photo album of my mom's when I was little." I showed him the picture and the writing on the back, reading Cody Smith, '58. "Good looking guy, don't you think?" I asked. Jimmy nodded.

"You look like him," he noted. I think that was a complement, but I could be wrong.

"I just keep carrying this picture around," I went on. "Because one day I'm going to meet him and I'm going to tell him...I'm going to tell him: 'If you don't want me, then I don't want you either.'"

"That's what's been driving you all these years?" Jimmy asked.

"Don't make fun," I shot at him.

"No, no," he defended. "I just think that's a little depressing is all."

"Maybe it is," I agreed with a sigh. "I don't know. I just want so much to be normal. To have a mom and a dad who are married, and love each other and love me."

"How could anyone not love you?" He asked. Now that I know was a compliment. I could feel my face start to blush as my heart started sinking deeper into my chest.

"My mom didn't want me," I said, my voice jumping an octave. "She didn't want to have me. She was a high school drop out, and an alcoholic, and she didn't want me."

"I don't think that's true," Jimmy said comfortingly.

"It is," I answered tears starting to well up in my eyes. "She told me. She didn't care." I just kept sinking lower and lower until I started bawling. Jimmy wrapped an arm around my shoulder and held me to him as I cried into his chest, taking in the light scent of men's cologne and cheap fabric softener with every gasping breath I took.

"She didn't give you away though did she?" Jimmy went on once I had just about cried myself out. "And you can beat yourself up about what might have happened, but it's never going to change what is. And the truth is that there's something about you special enough for her to want you to be a part of her family." I nodded as he handed me a tissue.

"You okay now," he asked. I nodded again, blowing my nose loudly.

"Hey, looks like it stopped raining," I motioned to the window. "I'd better get going."

"You know maybe we could grab some lunch some time," Jimmy suggested. "I really liked talking to you. It helps."

"Maybe," I agreed cautiously. "It helps talking to you too. I'll see you tomorrow." Perhaps I spoke too soon; we heard a loud banging noise, followed by shouts from some of the guys.

"That wasn't thunder," Jimmy said, as we both got up.

"Mac," I started up, having a pretty good idea of what was going on.

Jimmy and I rushed down the hall to a room with the door thrown open. Inside a bunch of the guys were restraining Robbie and O.C.

"STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!" I screamed, demanding everyone's attention. The boys turned to look at me in the doorway. "I knew this wasn't going to work," I said. "I told Herb the two of you were too conceited, and too pig headed, and too chocked full of testosterone to ever burry the hatchet like normal humans and coexist."

"Hey!" O.C. started up, sensing that I had just insulted him.

"Yea," Mac shot at me. "We could get along if we wanted to!"

"We just don't want to," Jack continued defiantly.

"Really?" I asked. "Why don't you prove it?"

"We don't have to prove anything to you," O.C. shot.

"Not to me," I agreed. "But how about to Herb? I'll have to tell him about this little fight tomorrow, and I don't think he'll be very happy about it." The boys thought about it for a minute before Mac finally spoke up.

"I'm sorry O.C," He yelled at the top of his lungs.

"No I'm sorry!" O.C. shouted back, not to be outdone.

"I said it first," Mac said with a conceited smile.

"I said it with more enthusiasm," O.C. returned.

"Well I guess you boys proved me wrong," I said slyly. "And tomorrow I'll be sure to tell Coach how well you're both getting along." I started to make my way out of the room, before having a thought and turning back. "You might want to get some ice for that nose," I told Mac. Poor guy was starting to look like a raccoon with dark circles under his eyes and a big puffy bruised nose.