rejazzz: Enjoy this one then

Brown eyed Girl 75: (tents fingers like Mr. Burns) Excellent. Yes, I HAVE CONVERTED YOU

katydid13: You'll have to stay turned for more than, won't you?

ooOoo

My father is gone now, and the fish are gone too. Abused and mismanaged, oh what can we do? I'm too old to change, but what of my sons? How will they know, that we weren't the ones… DFO regulations, permitted the rape, of our beautiful ocean, from headland to cape. They brought in big trawlers, they tore up our twine, politicians don't care for what's yours or what's mine

Fisherman's Lament- Great Big Sea

ooOoo

I knew by the time we had packed ourselves off to Norway, that nothing could happen between Craig and I. It wasn't right for me to take him away from the team; he was the assistant coach, and it was not my place to interfere. Besides, what would he want with me? I'm just a poor girl from Newfoundland who was known as Herb Brooks' secretary. In reality all I did was sort through paperwork.

Herb insisted that he needed me to travel with the team, not just as his secretary but also as a confidant for the team. They were separated from their homes and families, but even still they would've been used to that by now, I thought. Alright, if I could help the team in any way, I would.

I watched the game from the stands with the rest of the spectators… I guess in terms of Olympic staff I was on the low end of the totem pole, and as such relegated to the stands. Fine, as long as I got to watch the game.

By the time the game had finished, I had started to wish that I hadn't stayed to watch it. It was clear from the score of 3-3, that that wasn't going to be good enough. Those striving for an Olympic medal, and Gold at that, do not finish a game with a tie. You either win or you lose, but you better work damn hard, regardless of the result. The team had loafed their way through the game, and it was clear, even to me, that Coach Brooks was going to make them pay for it.

"You don't want to work during the game, no problem. We'll work now," there was a tone of absolute rage in his voice. "Goal line…" I saw him point to the right. "That one!"

The guys sheepishly lined up where he told them. Handing Craig a whistle, Herb watched as they raced back and forth, back and forth, across the ice. Sounds of blades sliding and scraping across the ice had chills running down my back.

It wasn't long before I heard the team doctor, Dr. George Nagobads, telling Herb that it had gone on long enough and that if they didn't stop, someone would get hurt.

I couldn't take it once Craig continued blowing the whistle. Signalling that I was going to the washroom, I excused myself and made it to the hallway before reaching into my purse and pulling out an envelope addressed to me from the Canadian Army. Gary must have put me down as his next of kin, since my mother wouldn't be able to handle it. She was safe with Bane and Marcie, and we had to keep it that way.

I opened the envelope and unfolded the piece of paper that was enclosed.

Miss Vivianne Hallet,

We regret to inform you that your brother, Pte. Gary Hallet, was involved in a roadside bombing in the city of Beirut. Other peacekeepers involved were unable to free Pte. Hallet in time to save his life. He died quickly and did not know pain.

Please note that he will, in fact, be returned to St. John's as soon as we are able to send him. I am so sorry for your loss.

And it was signed.

My hands started shaking, the paper in my hands rattling as I struggled to read what it said again. It couldn't be true… it just couldn't… it had to be a mistake! It couldn't have been my brother, it had to be a mistake, it had to be!

A horrible sound echoed throughout the hallway, like a wounded animal struggling for air. It was then I realized that it wasn't a wounded animal… that sound was coming from me.

I screamed. Before I knew what I was doing, I screamed.

ooOoo

I heard the sound of people running toward me, but I didn't acknowledge them. I was shaking so badly I couldn't see or think straight. The paper had fallen from my hands and had somehow made it's way across the hall.

Someone had bent down beside me and gently touched my arm.

"Vivianne?"

I couldn't answer.

"Come on, darlin'" I felt someone's hand grip mine, helping me to my feet, and walking with me to the washroom.

"I can't come in with you, it's the men's washroom!" I insisted.

"There's no one else here, come on…" he led me to the sink and very gently dabbed my face with a paper towel. He must have done so about four or five times before I was able to at least able to control my breathing and my face seemed less flushed.

"What happened?" I was asked once the tears stopped. "Oh, Jimmy… it's you."

"Yeah," he swept my hair back from my face. "What happened?"

"How did you get off the ice?"

"Never mind that, Herb called off the drill."

"Why?"

"We all heard you screaming, love," he leaned forward and kissed my forehead. "Even Herb Brooks is not so much of a prick as to keep a drill going if a woman screams."

"There wasn't any need to stop a drill on my behalf."

"On the contrary, Viv, we're all glad to see it end," he chuckled. "We can barely move, he's worked us so hard."

"Should've just let me be, then."

"You're not thinking straight, Vivianne. It pains me to see you so upset."

I looked at him through burning eyes. I could barely see him, but the look on his face told me he really was concerned. I slid down the length of the wall till I was able to hug my knees. Jim didn't waste any time in following my actions and placing his arm around my shoulder.

"Can you stand?" he asked.

I nodded.

"We'll get you back to the hotel and draw you a bath with a cup of tea," he told me as he lifted me up and helped me get back to the bus. It was a quiet ride back to the hotel, and even more quiet once I had retired to the bathroom. I didn't wish to speak to anyone at that point, and by that time it was late anyway, so I changed into my pyjamas and went to bed.

Images of my brother running through the streets of Lebanon with a rifle in his hand, his helmet bouncing precariously as he ran plagued my night. I saw children reaching out to him, asking him for a cold drink, those running with him struggling to keep up… I saw him stop only once to take a drink himself before giving the rest to the children who had asked him for it. That was Gary, through and through. Kind and chivalrous as ever.

Then, I saw it. I saw what must have happened to him. He had been walking with several others down the busiest street in Beirut, when a car parked near him exploded. They called it a roadside bomb, or a car bomb… one of the two.

I woke up the next morning to a wet pillow… I had been crying in my sleep. When we took off in the plane back to the States, I knew I had to go back to St. John's. My mother would not get there in time… I'm sure she hadn't even found out yet, or if she had there might not have been a chance for her to arrange transportation out there. As such, I had to be the one to receive my brother's body, and attend his funeral.

It would break my heart to tell Herb and Craig that I had to leave the team. They would have done the same thing had they been in my position. Gary was my best friend, above all my brother, and he was gone.

I knew it was my fault. If I had not been so headstrong and left home before he had he could've gotten out on his own and not done something so impulsive! It was something I knew I'd regret for the rest of my life. If I had known that they last words I'd ever say to my brother would be 'fuck you, you wanker,' I wouldn't have said it.

Indeed, I'd have told him I loved him, and that I was proud of having him for a brother.

I'd never see him again, and that hurt me more than words can express. What's yours and what's mine indeed.