Losing My Religion

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Author's Note: It's been almost three years since I've touched this fic and since then I seem to have abandoned the Mighty Ducks fandom. However I'm back on my account and can't stand the idea of having a story unfinished.

Originally I was waiting for Cub's trial to come through and base the outcome on that but a lot of things changed and it got postponed for a few years until it finally concluded, justice being left un-served.

Just letting everyone know I've changed a lot as a writer so this has changed directions. This was supposed to be more of a story but it's evolved into a series of one shots of character exploration as they handle the situation..

Disclaimer: The title of this belongs to REM. The chapter title belongs to the band Streetlight Manifesto. Disney owns the Ducks.

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Chapter Five: A Moment of Silence

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A moment of silence, please, for those who never get the chance
They show up to the party, but they're never asked to dance
The losers, the liars, the bastards, the thieves
The cynicists, the pessimists, and those that don't believe in nothing

I never met a loser that I didn't see eye-to-eye with, I declare
I stare into your eyes
But you look right past me into the air
What's it like to stand in your shoes?
To have never felt the belt of somebody's abuse?
I take the bottle and I tip it to all my heroes that have passed
Alas, you have left us, but your stories they will last
Uninspired by the recruiting call
Independent we stand
Independent we fall

So tell me: how long do you think you can go before you lose it all?
Before they call you bluff and watch you fall?
I don't know, but I'd like to think I had control
At some point, but I let it go and lost my soul
Sit tight, but the revolution's years away
I'm losing faith and I'm running low on things to say
So, I guess I have no choice but to regurgitate
The tired anthem of a loser and a hypocrite
Oh! To have died that night, I realized it wouldn't last
Our days were numbered and the reaper tipped the hourglass
The final mayday of our sinking ship had come and passed
Oh! To the west, you don't know what it is you're running from
And everybody's laughing loud
Your last chance to make your mother and your father proud

A Moment of Silence Streetlight Manifesto

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Bombay sat in the disconcertingly familiar hard chair behind the defense table in the courtroom of Minnesota's 10th Judicial District. It wasn't an alien place for him to be. For the past 15 years he'd waken up in the morning and donned his best suit and tie and driven the familiar route from St. Paul. For 15 years he'd walked up the front steps of this very courthouse. For the past 15 years he'd tried cases in this very room from behind this very desk. Yet it wasn't a proverbial situation. He'd never sat in the chair closest to the wall, the seat for the defense and not the defense attorney. The very thought of it brought a wave of nausea over him.

He slowly turned his head. The side for the prosecution was still empty, the district attorney had yet to arrive. But behind that the courtroom was packed. Without looking like he was staring too hard, he caught glimpse of a group of familiar faces. A group that once looked at him with respect and leadership all now shot him venomous gazes and they, out of support, surrounded up around their teammate.

The girl that he had cared for like a daughter sat in the middle of them. Her dark hair was down around her face like a veil, hiding it from those around her. Her teammates thought she hid in fear, Gordon knew she hid from guilt.

He turned his head again, partially knowing that gawking at his accuser wasn't going to help his case but mostly out of the betrayal that socked him in the stomach when he saw the Ducks. All but one…

He gazed slowly over his left shoulder. Towards the back, behind him, a moppy brunette sat with a curly redhead.

The Conways.

Then his captain flashed him a sympathetic smile. Maybe all hope wasn't lost…

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Charlie was beginning to think that the case was lost as he fell into his mother's shoulder out of frustration. The tall blonde District Attorney was calling witness after witness, reading journal entry after journal entry and showed no sign of stopping. She had already called on Connie who put on such a sugar coated melodramatic act, Charlie had to run out of the room, making it to the gold rimmed trash can just in time to collapse on his knees vomiting. He then slammed his hand into the marble walls and it had now started to turn black and purple. When he finally mustered the stomach to come back into the room he was the only one who wasn't crying out of pity, rather out of disgust.

…"And Miss Moreau, what exactly did the defendant do to you when he asked you to visit his apartment?" The woman asked, her voice cool and detached.

Connie bit her lip and looked at the floor, tears running down her face. "H-he grabbed me around the waist… pulled me into his bedroom… and k-kissed me," she sobbed…

He was the only Duck who came to support Bombay. He bit his lip. The only former Duck. The Ducks weren't an entity anymore. The tension on the team in the past few months got exploded. They finished the season in last place. Fulton had dropped out of Eden Hall and was finishing the year at Maple Grove Senior High, the rundown excuse for an educational institution in the original D5 neighbourhood. They still hung out from time to time and shot pucks into trashcans in the alley behind Mickey's. But that was it. Charlie had been voted off as captain and after one particular fight in the locker room that left him with a broken nose and Guy with five stitches under his eye, Orion had offered him the chance to transfer to Chapel Hill Academy in Eden Prairie. He could still play hockey and put the past behind him. He readily took the offer, not having an ounce of respect for his former teammates and frankly, not wanting to see any of them again.

That bitch had ruined everything. She had broken up friends, ruined Bombay's life and most of all destroyed the Ducks. She had a can of gas and a pack of matches and torched everything. He began to feel nauseous again.

He hated her.

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"Have the ladies and gentlemen of the jury reached a verdict?" the sharp, aging man asked.

"Yes your honour," a middle aged black woman responded.

Connie held her breath. She wasn't sure how she wound up here. Wound up in this courtroom. Everything had been a blur, the disintegration of the Ducks, the constant interviews by lawyers, the outpour of support by most of her friends.

It was his fault. She wouldn't have had to do this if he hadn't pulled away. If he hadn't abandoned her. It was unfortunate but it had to come down to this.

"And how do you find the defendant?"

"On the first count, Criminal Sexual Conduct in the First Degree, we find the defendant," she paused. "Guilty." An eerie murmur came over the room. She inhaled deeply. "On the second charge, sexual assault on a child by a person in a position of power, we also find the defendant guilty."

"Thank you madam foreman," the judge began to speak. Connie ignored her and looked over at her former coach who had buried his face into his hands. A small smile came to her face.

He deserved it.

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