rejazzz: We all love Craig Patrick! Here's more, thank you for the review

Brown eyed Girl 75: She BEST be, but... well, ah I can't spoil it! Thank you SO MUCH for all your help, in this chapter and otherwise. I don't know what I'd have done without you.

ooOoo

It takes a lot, to get to the top and a little just to fall off quick, and I think I've seen you here before. Sometimes you fly so high, so fast it makes you sick… you've won the battle and lost the war.

Own True Way- Great Big Sea

ooOoo

I watched as Herb rounded up his 'troops' and got them out onto the ice. About a period and a bit in I saw that something wasn't right. The first two goals you'd think, okay, they can get those back, but really, this was the Soviet Union we were facing here! That's a little too big of a mountain. But two goals, that's all, just two goals…

By the time you get to five goals, six goals, seven, eight… that's not even a hockey game, that's a slaughter. Unfortunately you can't stop a game when the score gets too high, you've just got to keep going. Sad as it was, I couldn't turn away from it. In the end, the score was a dismal 10-3 in favour of the Soviet Union. Just seeing the looks on their faces, my heart broke in two. They looked so dejected, and I couldn't do anything to stop it. Horrible, just… I can't even talk about it.

And later I found out how bad it had gotten. Walking by the dressing rooms, I heard raised voices. One I could tell, belonged to Herb Brooks, and the other… I couldn't quite put my finger on.

"That's my net man, you can't do that."

"They just scored ten goals. Right now it's everybody's net…"

"Whoa, wait a second," there was no mistaking the anger that was building in his voice. "I've given you everything I've got and now you're pulling the plug on me?"

"Have you? Given me your very best?" Herb was struggling to control his anger. "Because I know there's a lot more in you… a whole other level that you're not willing to go to…" there was silence for a few moments before a "Ah, what the hell, you don't understand what I'm talking about." I heard the door open, and Herb came barging out, followed by Jimmy.

Jimmy?

"No, you know what I don't understand, Herb? You. No one on this team understands you. What, with your sayings, and your drills, and those stupid psychology tests you had everybody take…"

Herb stopped and turned to stare at him. "Everybody?"

"What, so that's what this is about? Because I didn't take your test?" Jimmy was yelling up the stairs to Herb, and all I could do was stare at the two of them. "Fine, you want me to take your test, I'll take your test! Is that what you want?"

"No, I want to see that kid in the net who wouldn't take the test…" Herb snapped back and walked out of sight.

Jimmy, still breathing fire, so to speak, walked back into the dressing room. I was still amazed neither of them had seen me, or maybe they had, but they were too incensed and too focused on each other to notice that anyone was watching them. I thought about maybe knocking on the door, but then I remembered. When was the last time I was allowed in their dressing room? Certainly not in this lifetime. Not while they were in there, probably only to clean up stuff they had missed. After all, I was pretty low on the totem pole… paper pusher is not a glamorous job, and more often than not I was relegated to Herb's paperwork that he didn't have time to deal with, or, let's face it, general cleaning. Hooray, we should all clap… clap… clap… clap… okay, that's enough now.

Well, technically, I wasn't considered a paper pusher, I was Herb's 'assistant'. But no matter how you looked at it, I wasn't worth very much.

Ah screw it, I went and knocked on the door regardless.

The mood was sombre when I got in. There were several of the guys refusing to look at each other, and more or less just wanting to pack up their shit and get the hell out of the arena.

"Why do you all look like you're getting out of here with your tail between your legs?" I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

They turned to me with a murderous look in their eyes. If eyes could shoot daggers…

"It's not as though someone died, guys, come on…" I shook my head. "I know you're pissed off, and Herb's pretty damn upset too, but, there's no need to act like this."

"Like what?"

"You all look like someone died," I answered. "Sure, your egos are a little bruised, but come on…"

"Who said anything about ego?" Jack rounded on me. "We just got our asses handed to us ten to three, and we're supposed to be happy about it, Viv?"

"I didn't say you had to be happy about it," I told him, pulling myself up to my full height, which I admit, was only about five feet, six inches. "All I'm saying is that we should take this as a learning experience."

"How in hell is this a learning experience?"

"Because we know we have to work our asses off every time we play."

"We?" Jack snapped. "I don't see you doing very much!"

"Well pardon me, Mr. Doom and Gloom!" I snapped back. "Who organizes all your paperwork? Who does your damn laundry because you guys are always here? Who cooks your meals? They don't magically appear in front of you!" I shouted. "Seems you've got your head shoved so far up your ass you're tasting shit! Why don't you do the world a favour and drop dead!"

I turned around and slammed the door behind me. I was so enraged I pushed past both Craig and Herb, not realizing that they were standing right there. Eventually I settled down at a table with a cup of coffee and another set of paperwork, oh joy…

I saw someone sit in front of me with another thing of coffee, leaning forward so that I could see his hand folded right by the top of my stack of papers.

"So what do you think you're doing?"

"What do I think I'm doing?" I repeated, removing the pen cap from the corner of my mouth. "I think I'm attempting to get this paperwork done."

"Is that really what you're doing?"

"No, what I'm really doing is resisting the urge to kick things."

I saw him nod. "You know you can't speak to my players like that, just like they need to treat you with respect, they deserve the same back."

"I know," my pen continued to scratch across the paper. "That was entirely unintentional, Herb. Jack is my friend, but… I'm stressed. I'm as stressed as they are."

"Not to mention you've been through hell and back these past few weeks."

"Well there's that too," I managed to chuckle. "Look, can I ask?"

"Sure, ask away."

"Why did you ask me if I wanted the job?"

I saw him rub the back of his neck. "Well, I thought you'd like something more than just working a popcorn machine. You seemed reliable and dependable. Hell, I don't know anyone else who work patch up ice at eight in the morning even though they'd had an hour of sleep."

"You know about that?"

"Well after you reamed into OC for stepping on your ice before you were done with it, I knew I needed you as part of the team."

"Why's that?"

"A lot of other people wouldn't have threatened to castrate him with a chisel," Herb answered. "I needed someone with spunk and a willingness to work."

"Speaking of which, I'm not very high up on the totem pole."

"Well we were all there at one point," he answered. "Look, I'm glad you're part of the team, Vivianne. Where else would we find someone as witty as you are?"

"Thanks, Herb," I smiled up at him, tapping my pen against the stack of papers I needed to get through. "I'll have these filed by midnight, if not earlier tonight."

"You're doing a good job, Vivianne," he told me. "Keep your head up, alright?"

"Thanks," I think that was the first time Herb had actually displayed any sort of concern toward any of the team. He could not be their friend, he was their coach, and as such had the role of the 'bad cop'. He was the enforcer.

Once everyone came flooding out of the dressing room, I realized what time it was. It was already dark out, and I had no idea how long I'd been sitting there. In fact, most of the guys didn't even look my way as they passed. Frankly I didn't expect them to. Craig was the last one to walk through the doors.

"Hey Viv, are you doing alright?"

"Yeah," I nodded as I finished packing up my paperwork and throwing my empty coffee cup in the trash. "Why are you still here? Figured you'd be well off by now."

"Figured you might need a ride home, stuck around for a while."

"Everyone else did too?"

"Everyone else got a 'do that again and I'll bury you' from Herb."

"Damn, what's up his ass tonight?"

"Ah, he's just mad," Craig told me. Mad? More like pissed to hell. I did not want to get in his way tonight. He could be nice to me, because if he wanted his paperwork done that's what he'd have to do, but he was not their friend, he'd made that very clear in the beginning. "He'll get over it soon enough. But he did warn them, play like that again and he was not going to be happy."

"I'm staying clear."

"Good plan," he breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he noticed the bundle of paper I had tucked under my arm. "You ready to go?"

"Sure, it's late anyway," I followed Craig outside. Getting into the car, I suddenly felt a lot warmer than before. I'd actually forgotten how cold the arena really was.

We drove in silence back to our pavilion at the Olympic village. As much as I was thrilled to be there, we were segregated by sex, and I missed my boys. It was tough to not have them around as much as I'd have liked, but such in the nature of the beast.

I don't know how this thought came into my head, but it seemed as though I were a distraction. As much as I was part of the team, I was important enough to be there all the time. As my brother used to say 'Stop dicking around, Viv. You're not doing anyone favours by leading them in one direction and then saying stop.'

Was that Gary talking? Or was that me talking?

Time to shit or get off the pot, girl.

"Craig…" I started.

"What's up?"

"Tell Herb I won't be there tomorrow."

"What?" he turned to look at me quickly. "What are you talking about?"

"It's not good for me to be here," I answered. "It's not fair to the boys, it's not fair to Herb, and it's not fair to you."

"Viv, you're an integral part of this team. We need you more than you think…"

"No you don't," I answered. "And I know you don't. I've done everyone's paperwork, but it seems that's all I'm good for."

We pulled into the parking lot, and entered our pavilion. Hurriedly, I grabbed my still packed bags and got out of there as fast as I could. Hailing the first taxi I could find, I looked back through the window to see Craig looking back at me.

I could not, and would not, break down.

I got into the cab, handed the driver twenty dollars, and asked him to take me to the airport.

It was then, and only then, that I allowed a tear to run down my cheek.