Oh look here. Because the muse is being stubborn and would not let me sleep, I now give you Part 2 of my double update. I wasn't sure how long this story was actually going to be, but the ending to this story popped into my head as I was on my way to school, and so this has become the second to last chapter (I know, this is only a short Miracle story). However, please enjoy, and feel free to leave a review :)

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What do you do?

You can't make nothing out of nothing

Everybody needs a start

And what do you do, can't make nothing out of nothing

Give my country back its heart

Nothing Out of Nothing- Great Big Sea

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"The Soviet Union drubbing Team USA, 10 to 3," she heard the announcer over the loudspeaker.

It wasn't so much a win for them as it was an annihilation. She could see Jim Craig struggling to keep her team out of the net. Petrov, Fetisov, and Kharlamov were too strong a line for the team she had left behind.

She'd seen the look Jim had given her as he skated past the Soviet bench, shaking hands with the other in the name of goodsportsmanship. Though she could certainly tell they did not share the sentiment.

Nor did she expect them to. She knew it had suddenly become a wake up call for the US team. From the look on Herb Brooks' face she knew he was going to do everything in his power to make his team the best they could become.

Before she departed from the bench she looked over, and Herb's eyes fixated on her. In that moment everything he had wanted to share with her was indeed, shared. The look told her that she was no longer someone his team could hold on to, that the fact that she had once been part of their lives, if only for a short time, no longer mattered.

She was part of the Soviet team now, and he was going to find a way to win, no matter what.

Whether or not the two teams played each other later on remained to be seen.

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It wasn't until later on that night that Jim Craig actually realized who he had, in fact, been looking at.

Behind the Soviet bench had been none other than Tanya Burnaby.

He knew she'd said her place was with the Soviet hockey team, he'd accepted that fact...

Hadn't he?

A knock came to the door and interrupted her thoughts.

"Hey, Jimmy, how you holding up?" Steve Christoff came in.

"Hey Rif, thought you'd be asleep."

"Nah, can't," he answered. "Heard Herb tore you a new one after the game though."

"Not as though I didn't deserve it," Jimmy mumbled. "I sucked out there tonight, Rif. If I don't get my ass in gear Herb's gonna bench me."

"That's not why you're still awake."

"No it's not," Jim confirmed. "I just... after Tanya left she asked me not to come after her, and I respected her wishes."

Steve waited.

"And now here she is behind the Soviet bench. It's not right, Rif."

Steve sat down in the chair by the door. "Look, it doesn't do any good to anyone if you're sitting in here thinking about what could've happened between you and her," he saw a muscle in Jim's jaw twitch. "You didn't know Tanya that well, and the fact that she went back to the Soviet Union shouldn't have any bearing on your game."

"You don't understand," Jim ran a hand through his hair and laid back on the bed. "She told me a lot more than you know."

"Like what?"

"Here's an interesting fact. She found out she had a half-brother, which is why she went back. Guess what his name is?"

Steve shook his head.

"Vladislav Tretiak."

Steve blinked, suddenly silenced. Tanya Burnaby's brother was Vladislav Tretiak? No, not right. Not right at all.

"And guess what else? Two and a half years ago, almost three actually. It was the year my mother died of cancer, and a bird flew by."

"A bird, what kind of bird?"

"A hummingbird," he answered.

"What's so special about a hummingbird?" Steve asked, clearly confused.

"The fact of the matter is, Steve, that it's scientifically impossible to catch a hummingbird, they fly so fast and in an unusual pattern. It's really strange that that day, I caught that hummingbird and held it in my hand."

Steve motioned for him to continue.

"Tanya then told me a couple of months ago that she caught the same hummingbird that day."

"It could've been a coincidence, you know."

"Not something like that, that's too unlikely." Jim reasoned, looking Steve dead in the face. "Look, Rif, it that didn't mean something then nothing did. Tanya is a special kind of woman. It tears me apart that she's now behind the Soviet bench."

"Don't tell me that, I'm not the one who needs to hear it," Steve countered. "If you want to prove a point, when we get to Lake Placid, play the best game you've ever played, every single game. If we end up playing the Soviets again, we need to be ready."

Jim nodded. "You're right."

"Of course I'm right. I'm always right," Steve smirked.

"Sure you are," Jim answered, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Good night, Rif," he said, not looking at the door.

"Good night, Jim," Steve closed the door behind him as he left.

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It was so cold that night that Tanya bargained herself three extra blankets, sleeping on the couch in one of the rooms they'd been afforded. With an already stretched budget there wasn't room for an extra bed. Instead, she'd opted to room with Vladislav and Myshkin. That was a Tikhonov pairing for sure, keep the goalies together. Plus, with Vladislav being a blood relative (no matter if he refused to admit it), it was sensible.

In the early morning she heard rustling from one of the beds. Picking her head up off the pillow just enough to see over the end of the couch, she saw Vladislav heading toward the bathroom.

Upon flushing and wsahing his hands, she thought he'd head right back to bed, but instead, he stopped at the couch and put a hand on her shoulder. Getting to his knees, he leaned close and whispered so low only she could hear what he had to say.

"Even if I did not know you before, it is better I know now."

Coming from a hardened Soviet goalie that was practically saying "I love you." When Tikhonov had offered her the position she had taken it because he was so intimidating. He always carried around that black book, thinking up plays and ways to work his players. On more than one occasion, the entire team had been sitting quietly, watching TV when Tikhonov had come in and sat with them. Gradually, they all got up, one by one, and soon it was only Tikhonov watching the black and white box.

Never had she expected to practically bond with the players. Mostly, they kept to themselves, but with a few of them she had managed to wish them over. She was more than capable of keeping up with them, their schedules, their workouts, their practices. Okay, perhaps bond is stretching it a little too thin. There was a mutual respect between herself and the Soviet team.

The following two weeks, all she ended up doing was standing behind benches through practices and games, watching her team go undefeated into the semi-finals.

And who should they face but none other than Jim Craig, Mark Pavelich, and the US Olympic Hockey Team.

How does that saying go? Those who do not know their history are bound to repeat it.

Indeed.