Summary: Months after the conclusion of the Jr. Goodwill Games, Julie and Gunnar have a surprise opportunity to see each other again over Christmas. Julie/Gunnar. Multi-chap, Julie's POV. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: No ownership, no profit. No worries.

Author's Note: Hello again, and thank you again to Sand Sibling for being such a devoted follower of the Sympathy Series. I'm happy to say we've finally got Julie & Gunnar reunited in Iceland, so do enjoy Chapter 3!

Sympathy for the Icelanders: Epilogue

Christmas Surprises – Chapter 3

I had never seen a person so genuinely shocked; even when I'd blocked his shot in the Championship, Gunnar had not looked this surprised. It was probably only a second or two that he stood staring at me, but it felt like hours.

Then, finally, he smiled. Gosh, how I had missed it!

"Julie."

We each took a step forward at the same time and met halfway. I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck while his went around my waist. School, teammates, championships…even twelve-to-one shellackings. All were forgotten when Gunnar Stahl kissed me – which I had also missed. We stayed standing like that even after we'd pulled apart to catch our breath.

"I missed you," I whispered, flinching internally at how needy that probably sounded.

But his smile only softened. "I have missed you, too – every day."

I moved my arms down to encircle his torso instead and blissfully rested my head against his strong chest. I felt him press a kiss to my temple and run his fingers through my hair. It felt so natural and right, just being there close to him again; it didn't even matter what country we were in.

As bewildered as he must have been upon seeing me, the silence between us was comfortable until I randomly commented, "I like your brother. I don't know why you don't talk about him more often."

I looked up at him again when I felt him pause before speaking. "Did Mikael do all this?"

"Yep, everything from start to finish. He even stole my phone number from you while you were with him in Los Angeles all those months ago, just so he could contact me one day without you knowing."

Gunnar shook his head, disbelieving but still smiling. "He is crazy, which is probably why I don't talk about him. Is he not coming at all, then?"

"No, I'm afraid not." I felt another unfortunate twinge at being the bearer of bad news. "I tried to convince him that he should still come, but he wouldn't go for it."

"I am not surprised; it isn't easy to get him back here."

"Still, promise me you'll call your brother soon and thank him for all of this, okay?"

He nodded. "I will. I just…still can't believe that you are here."

"I can hardly believe it myself." All my nerves from before had turned into a giddy light-headedness, and now it was difficult not to start giggling uncontrollably.

"But my parents do know you're coming, right?"

"Yes, of course," I happily assured him, "though I think they're the only people in all of Iceland who know."

After one more kiss, he trailed his hands down my arms and finally let me go, reaching to carry my bag instead. As we made our way out to the car, he remarked, "This could be a little…strange with you here."

I chuckled. "I'm sure, but how exactly do you mean?"

"Because Olaf and a few of my other friends whom you may recognize are expecting Mikael to be here this week. I told them he was coming, and they wanted to see him, maybe play hockey if we could talk him into it."

"Well, I brought my skates, but I couldn't exactly pack all my goalie gear. I think I would have liked to see him play against you and Olaf."

"That's what we were hoping for, too, since it's been so long. Some other time now, I guess."

I couldn't detect any real disappointment in his voice just then, yet I still found myself hoping that Mikael would follow through on his idea of inviting Gunnar and Olaf to Germany for their spring break. I could already tell the time together would be good for all three of them, especially if they hadn't seen each other since the Goodwill Games.

As Gunnar drove us back to Reykjavik, I was struck by the overwhelming rockiness of the terrain. All volcanic rock, I imagined, stretching as far as the eye could see. But there wasn't as much snow as I'd expected to find, at least not in this part of the country; in fact, there was hardly any at all to speak of. I also couldn't help but be quietly impressed by Gunnar's driving stick-shift; personally, I had finished my driver's education classes but still needed to rack up a lot of practice hours behind the wheel before I could get my license when I turned sixteen the following year.

Along the way, we talked amiably about Mikael's whole scheme to bring me up there, including Gunnar's perplexity over why his parents had both been so insistent that he be the one to make the trip to the airport. Even as I laughed with him, I had to pinch myself a couple of times. It just felt so surreal to be sitting there with him, side by side, chatting away like we'd known each other for years. Could this really be the same Gunnar Stahl that most of Team USA had cursed behind closed doors less than a year ago? What a bizarre turn my life had taken!

"So what do you guys normally do for Christmas?" I asked at length. "Is it a big family gathering?"

"Not really. My mother's family here is not large, and my father's family is all in Germany. So it will probably be just the four of us – plus Olaf for part of the time, possibly. He had been planning to come."

"To see Mikael?" I conjectured, and Gunnar nodded a confirmation.

"I should probably let him know that plans have changed."

I had to agree with that; facing Sanderson again would be daunting enough without startling him quite as badly as I had just done to Gunnar. It would only be fair to warn him ahead of time, for the benefit of everyone.

Our approach to Reykjavik afforded a hazy view of the Atlantic Ocean, along with a rounded mountain on a peninsula that extended out into the water on the far side of the bay. As for what I could see of the city itself, brightly-painted buildings popped out against a dreary background of gray water and sky.

Eventually we reached Gunnar's house; and as soon as we walked through the front door, a medium-sized dog with long, fluffy blonde hair came bounding up enthusiastically to greet us. He was so friendly, I couldn't help laughing and scratching him behind the ears – whenever he held still long enough for me to do so.

"This is Halli," Gunnar introduced us, kneeling down so he could give his pet a proper greeting. The dog's tail wagged so energetically you would have thought he hadn't seen Gunnar in weeks, rather than a few hours. I'm no dog expert, but I could best describe Halli as looking like a cross between a husky and a golden retriever. In reality, he was probably some Icelandic breed I wouldn't recognize.

Is it permissible to have two first impressions of someone you've just met? Because I definitely had two impressions upon meeting Gunnar's parents for the first time. Firstly, they were extremely gracious and welcoming right from the start, which a huge relief for me. And secondly, I didn't think there could be any way genetically possible for this couple to bring an ugly child into the world.

They must have been at least close to my parents' age, yet they were both still far more attractive than my parents probably ever were. Gunnar's mother, Elina, was particularly beautiful, and I had never seen age sit so gently on someone before. Thanks to several pictures around the house, I finally saw that Mikael was a highly attractive young man as well, and it was clear he and Gunnar had both inherited their mother's striking blue eyes. Their overall facial shape and slightly darker hair color seemed to have come from their German father, whose name was Peter.

A bitter, whipping rainstorm confined us indoors for the rest of the day, which was honestly fine with me. I didn't have a ton of energy left after that long plane ride, and I was perfectly happy to just visit with Gunnar and his parents. Although Gunnar and I had kept in touch with our letters, there was plenty more to say about the events of recent months – details and backstories that could only come out in a face-to-face conversation as opposed to written communication. He seemed particularly fascinated by my anecdotes regarding the Ducks' ongoing prank war with the Eden Hall Varsity.

I felt right at home there and was soon comfortable enough to pose a question that I knew would put Gunnar in an awkward spotlight.

"So, I just have to ask: who's the better hockey player in the family? Gunnar or Mikael?"

Gunnar hesitated, looking briefly over at his father as though he wasn't sure how to answer that; and maybe he truly didn't know.

"I am probably better than him now in most areas," he replied thoughtfully, "if only because Mikael hasn't played in a few years. But even today, he might be a better defender than I am; he has always been an excellent skater and could do things on defense that his opponents would not expect."

That was impressive to learn; oh, how I do love a good defense! "Do you think he could have played professionally if he'd wanted to?" I asked.

"If he had chosen to, yes." Peter nodded. "I know Wolf was sorry to see him give it up."

"I'm sure," I remarked quietly, while daring a cautious glance toward Gunnar. This was the first time Stansson had come up in conversation, and the more I learned, the more I was forced to wonder about the inner dynamics of Gunnar's hockey existence.

Anyone who had seen Team Iceland back at the Jr. Goodwill Games (myself included) would surely have thought that the rest of the Vikings operated more or less in the shadow of Gunnar Stahl, a player constantly singled out by coaches and commentators alike on account of his exceptional talent. Only now did I suspect that Gunnar himself lived and played in someone else's shadow, as well – a prodigious shadow rendered even darker by Wolf Stansson's ongoing frustration toward the person who cast it. Perhaps that was yet another factor which drove Gunnar to hone his skills to perfection as relentlessly as he did?

After dinner, the time difference finally caught up to me, and I could scarcely keep my eyes open. Elina led me to a guest bedroom, which I'm pretty darn sure used to be Mikael's old room. It was comfortable and clean, but there was a decidedly masculine feel about the place that no amount of redecorating could fully remove. My mom had experienced similar housekeeping challenges last year when my oldest brother went away to college.

It made little difference to me, though, and I was out like a light as soon as I closed my eyes.

The "Merry Christmas" kiss that Gunnar and I shared the next morning was our longest yet, and we only stopped when we heard footsteps approaching from down the hallway. But Gunnar still kept his hands on my shoulders, reaching to affectionately tuck my hair back behind my ears.

"I talked to Mikael last night," he told me while I tightened my arms around his waist.

"Oh good, I'm glad! What did he say?"

Gunnar looked downright embarrassed as he sheepishly replied, "He warned me not to do anything stupid, because we'll want your parents to let us visit each other again sometime in the future."

I tried not to blush, but I'm relatively sure the effort was unsuccessful. "That's probably very smart of him."

"I also called Olaf last night and told him you were here; I'm not sure now if he will still come over today."

"Was he upset?" I braced myself for the answer.

"He was surprised," Gunnar confessed after a pause, and we both left it at that.

Not surprisingly, Gunnar received a number of hockey-related Christmas gifts from his parents; my own gift to him was the latest U2 album on CD.

He thanked me with a chaste kiss on the cheek and said, "You did not have to buy me anything; you are here with me for a week, spending Christmas away from your own family. I am just sorry I don't have a present for you."

"But you didn't know I was coming until Christmas Eve, so I can't count it against you. You can show me all around Iceland while I'm here, and that will be an impressive gift all on its own."

He nodded in agreement. "All right. Many places worth seeing cannot be safely reached during the winter, but we will still have plenty to keep us busy."

I quickly learned that homemade Christmas treats are delicious anywhere in the world, and I consumed far too many of them before guiltily remembering the swimsuit I had packed away in my bag.

Olaf did come over around dinnertime, and Halli greeted him just like one of the family. It was odd, to say the least, to watch Olaf Sanderson embrace a sweet lady like Elina with a genuine smile and kiss her on the cheek as though she were his own mother. He looked at me from across the room without really acknowledging me – yet.

If anything, it appeared he had filled out even more since last summer. A wicked little part of me suddenly wanted to lock Sanderson, Portman, and Cole Sutherland in a room together and then wait to see which one of them would come out of it alive. At the moment, I would have put my money on Sanderson.

As it happened, I rather wanted to lock myself in a room when Gunnar stepped away for a moment to help his mom with something, and Sanderson almost immediately took his place sitting beside me. I felt my heart rate kick up at once, but certainly not for the same reason it did when Gunnar was around me.

"You're not who I was expecting to see here today."

What a strange mixture of memories and emotions his voice evoked! I adorned my face with a polite, fake smile. "Mikael told me he'd talked to you. I guess he didn't tell you his master plan, huh?"

The tall Icelander frowned. "I thought he was asking me those things so that he could come back and talk some sense into his brother for once – not so he could bring you here and make it worse."

I admit, his presence was definitely intimidating. Not because I was afraid of him physically, far from it; but I had to respect the strength of his influence over Gunnar – stronger probably than mine, Mikael's, and even his parents'. If Sanderson was determined to oppose his friend's relationship with me, it would be a tough blow to overcome.

I kept up my bold front. "You know, Olaf, I'm surprised you're actually being civil to me so far; it's more than I would have expected."

"I do it for him, not for you."

"That's fair enough."

Halli trotted over to us then and laid his head on Olaf's knee, looking for a friend to pet him. Olaf obliged, and I was surprised when he spoke again, softer this time. "I thought Gunnar would be over you after a couple of weeks…but I was wrong. This, right now, is the happiest I've seen him in a long time."

Now, I don't cry easily; after all, I'm a girl who plays hockey and has two older brothers. Up until that point, I hadn't shed a single tear on account of Gunnar Stahl, either in sadness or in joy. I don't know why Olaf's honest words affected me as strongly as they did; all I knew was that my eyes were suddenly stinging with unshed tears, and I had to bite down on the inside of my cheek to prevent them from falling. There was no way I could let Sanderson see that!

"So does that mean you and I don't have to hate each other?" I forced myself to say, in as steady a voice as I could muster.

He kept appraising me with his cold blue eyes. Perhaps I hadn't been able to hide my emotional reaction from him, after all.

"I suppose I could learn to put up with you – for his sake."

I almost laughed. "That's funny. I was just thinking the same thing about you." Then, without really knowing what possessed me, I stuck my hand out toward him and looked him straight in the eye. "Truce, then?"

He offered a small nod and an even smaller smile before shaking my hand. His hand practically swallowed up my own, yet I felt as though a huge weight had been taken off my shoulders. I knew Gunnar and I didn't necessarily need Olaf's blessing; just his tolerance would have been enough to keep our hopes alive. And he had given us that, at the very least.

"This, right now, is the happiest I've seen him in a long time."

In the brief seconds I had between Olaf's leaving my side and Gunnar's returning to it, I finally allowed all my emotions to culminate in the sniffle and the tear that were now long overdue.

All in all, it was the best Christmas of my fifteen years, despite the fact that I was literally thousands of miles away from family and home. It was quite late by the time I eventually said Merry Christmas to Gunnar one last time before turning in for the evening.