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: Wow, thank you so much for all the positive feedback on that last chapter! It really is encouraging, and I do appreciate it. Now I would like to share Chapter 6 with you all before I leave town tomorrow for a long weekend. This one takes us through baby pictures and gives us a tour around Reykjavik. Enjoy!

Sympathy for the Icelanders: Epilogue

Christmas Surprises – Chapter 6

And just like the situation had been back in Los Angeles, Gunnar was again off to a bright and early practice the morning after he'd let me use him as a body pillow. At least this time he was able to eat a decent breakfast beforehand.

After he left, I had a few hours to spend with Elina, who soon brought out the family photo albums at my request. I knew most guys wouldn't appreciate their girlfriends flipping through their embarrassing baby pictures, so this was the perfect opportunity.

Gunnar and Mikael had both been awfully adorable, blue-eyed babies; and apparently Gunnar had always worn his hair long, going back to when he was four or five years old. I turned through pages of earlier Christmases, birthday parties, and school events while Elina kindly provided the narration for me.

As I might have expected, there were loads of hockey pictures for both Stahl boys from over the years, and these I could certainly appreciate above all the other images. Especially the ones from when they were very, very little and looked super cute in their bulky hockey gear. I also couldn't help grinning at the sight of a young Olaf Sanderson, who appeared in almost as many pictures as Gunnar himself after a certain age. Talk about a towhead! His hair had been almost white when he was younger.

If the pictures were anything to judge by, virtually every hockey team that Mikael or Gunnar had been a part of had done very well, long before either of them had played for Wolf Stansson.

And now that I was alone with Elina, it was time for me to ask, albeit hesitantly, "Do you ever worry about Gunnar playing for Coach Stansson?"

Rather than answering, she caught me off guard by asking, "Does it worry you?"

"From what I know and have seen so far? Yes."

"It is not my favorite thing to think about, either," she confessed. "I know he is very hard on all his players, especially those with great talent. But Mikael and Gunnar both improved the most while learning from Wolf, and we have always left the choice with them. If he ever became too much for them, they would be free to walk away."

It was pretty remarkable that neither of them had done so; although I suppose Mikael had, in a way. I reflected, "When Gunnar hurt his ribs a few months ago, I didn't believe him when he first told me that it had happened during a regular game, and not in a practice with Stansson."

Elina smiled warmly at me, sharing my concern. "As a mother, I do not blame you for that. I have seen too many bruises on my boys over the years, but they keep telling me 'that's hockey'. Gunnar did have a difficult time sleeping while his ribs were hurt, as you mentioned. I'm afraid he does not sleep enough as it is."

"And I'm afraid you're absolutely right about that," I concurred out of firsthand knowledge.

When we had finished with the albums, I took a seat on the floor next to Halli. All morning long, he had lain staring mournfully at the door, faithfully awaiting his master's return. I tried to console him and keep him company, but apparently I was a poor substitute.

"Poor Halli," I sympathized while scratching him under his collar. "Whatever did you do last summer when Gunnar was out of the country for three whole weeks?"

"I think that poor dog missed Gunnar more than any of us," Elina supplied as she came back into the room. "He simply did not know what to do with himself; at night, he went back and forth between Gunnar's room and Mikael's, looking for someone to sleep with. When the boys got back, he wouldn't let Gunnar out of his sight for a few days."

Suddenly, Halli raised his head off of his paws and perked his ears; sure enough, a few seconds later, Gunnar walked through the door. Halli darted forward to welcome him home with usual exuberance, and I followed his performance with a hug of my own in greeting. After my little talk with his mother, I was irrationally relieved to see and feel that my favorite Icelander was safely in one piece. How did Elina do it day after day?

Gunnar's hair was still damp from a recent shower, but not from any outdoor precipitation for a change. He and I had gone out to explore Reykjavik in snippets over the course of the week, whenever the weather would permit it; and on an oddly dry afternoon like this, it wasn't long before we were headed back out the door for another concentrated effort at sightseeing around town.

I had found to my surprise that it wasn't as wretchedly cold in Iceland as I'd been expecting (and fearing). At least, not in Reykjavik. The cold here was bearable, not much worse than what I was accustomed to in Bangor; the damp, however, was another matter altogether. My hometown in Maine wasn't far from the Atlantic Ocean, but Reykjavik was literally right on the water. The dampness, especially in conjunction with the omnipresent wind, seemed to pierce right through a jacket and into a person's bones, no matter how many layers he or she wore.

So far in our wanderings around Reykjavik, Gunnar and I had accomplished quite a bit. We had traversed up and down both the city's oldest street and its main shopping street. In the case of each, we had been forced to step inside a café or coffee shop in order to take shelter from the resurgent, freezing rains. I didn't mind, though. We had some lovely times just sitting there, sipping a hot beverage and quietly enjoying each other's company.

We had also made stops at the National Museum of Iceland and the Reykjavik City Library, more to satisfy my curiosity than out of any real interest on Gunnar's part. I must say he was a good sport about it; all in all, he had proven to be an excellent host for his unexpected guest. My highlight from the library had been finding my favorite book translated into Icelandic, and while at the museum, I had been fascinated to learn that the red coloring in Iceland's flag was intended to represent volcanic fire.

Although we didn't have time to actually go see any of the home footage ourselves, Gunnar had told me about certain Icelanders who "chase" volcanoes and film them erupting in the same way that we have "tornado chasers" back in America. I call it crazy, no matter which natural disaster you're chasing.

Today, now that it was surprisingly clear, we set out to achieve some views of Reykjavik from up high by ascending to the top of an old church that dominated the city's skyline. Inside the church, it was beautiful yet deathly quiet; however, from the highest point in the steeple, it did afford a fantastic view of the capital city and the ocean beyond.

Reykjavik wasn't a big city by any stretch of the imagination…yet it felt like a big city. On the one hand, it felt like walking around a quaint, historic downtown; but there was so much vibrant energy and color that it gave the capital the atmosphere of a much larger metropolis. And even with the early decent of darkness, an abundance of lights and Christmas decorations made it a pleasure to be out and about.

In many places, I could see the contemporary meeting the historic. Some buildings were brand new, while others appeared to have been built back in the 1800's. The streets in the older parts of the city were cobbled, narrow, and crowded. But overall, Reykjavik was very clean, and I think I would have felt safe at all times even if Gunnar hadn't been there with me. I found it noteworthy that while I saw plenty of birds and a few stray cats around town, there were no other small critters like the squirrels or rabbits that thrive back in the States.

Olaf caught up with us later in the day, and as much as I hate to admit it, I actually kind of enjoyed his company that afternoon. He and Gunnar spoke Icelandic over my head (literally) much of the time, but that didn't even bother me. More than anything, having the two of them walking on either side of me made me feel more like a native Icelandic teenager just bumming around with friends, rather than a visiting American tourist who would be completely lost without her personal guide.

"So how is your other Lady Duck?" Olaf asked at random as we moved along. "Is she dating the Cowboy yet?"

I was honestly surprised it had taken him this long to mention Connie; maybe not so surprised that he had remembered Dwayne in particular! But how to best answer him?

"No, no, they're not dating – though I'm pretty sure he still has a crush on her. Apart from that, Connie's had her hands full with the jerks from the Varsity hockey team at our school. They're even worse than you guys were last year."

"And does she try to fight them, too?"

I thought back to our first unofficial, unsanctioned meeting on ice against the Warriors and had to admit, grimacing, "Yeah, she does. But the bigger you boys all get, the more I'm thinking it might not be the best idea anymore."

We walked along the waterfront for a while and ended up checking out the boats in the old harbor. Due once again to the ocean currents, the waters around Reykjavik's shoreline remained free of ice, even in the dead of winter. We then stopped at a nearby bistro to have a late dinner and warm up before heading back home.

As far as food was concerned, we had definitely hit some of the local favorites during the week. Tonight, it was true Icelandic haddock – deep fried in a light batter and utterly delicious. Previously, I had sampled famous lobster soup at the Sea Baron (as good as any seafood I'd ever had back in Maine) and partaken of an ever-popular hot dog stand not far from our present location. I wouldn't dare attempt to pronounce the name of the latter, but Olaf would make us stop there again that same night when we walked past it, even though we had literally just finished dinner. As more of a breakfast item, I had also learned that 'skyr' was a traditional form of thick Icelandic yogurt.

But my favorite meal from the trip was a more romantic dinner that just Gunnar and I had shared at a highly-favored local restaurant called Thrir Frakkar – the Three Overcoats. Even though the place was alive and bustling with people, Gunnar and I had felt tucked away in our own cozy little corner, where it was easy to tune out everyone else. Of course, the food was also fantastic!

We were still at the bistro, waiting for the latest rain shower to hopefully pass on or at least lighten up, when Olaf turned to me. "You leave tomorrow, right?"

He just had to bring that up, didn't he? "Yeah, I'm afraid so. This week has gone by so fast! But hey, that means you'll have Gunnar all to yourself again." I had intended to be half-teasing there at the end, but we all knew how true that statement was.

"I really can't say I'll miss you – not like he will, anyway." He gestured toward his best friend. "But still, I wouldn't be surprised to see you again sometime soon."

As was often the case with me now around Sanderson, I rewarded his antics with a smile before I could stop myself. "You know what, Olaf? I hope you're right about that; I really do."

Because something told me that wherever Olaf Sanderson went, Gunnar Stahl would never be too far away. At least, not in the foreseeable future.

Author's End Note: Yes, I'm afraid the next chapter will be the last for this particular story. Julie and I are both so sad!