Chapter 2.

Can't

Get

You

Outta

My

Mind

(Will SOMEONE Please Tell Me Why?!)

March 25, 3:12 PM

A day later . . .

Wildwing grunted when Grin's slapshot puck smacked him straight in the chest again and shoved him right into the goal again. His head banged on the goal bar again, making him see stars as he fell onto his tail feathers on the ice AGAIN.

Great, that was gonna cost him another pair of bruises.

Then again, this was hockey practice, or at least it was the first few minutes.

That didn't stop him from grunting, "Oof . . . What is with you guys constantly trying to send a puck through me?"

"Dude, you're the goalie, you tell us." Nosedive skidded to a stop on the ice and held out a hand to help his brother up. Wildwing took it and allowed him to pull himself back up to his feet. As he rubbed his third bump, at least he thought it was his third bump, his head wasn't exactly on straight due to the fact that it's been recently making contact with a metal bar more than it should; Nosedive gave him a questioning look as he said, "But seriously, Wing, you okay? You're usually a lot more focused than this, I mean, dude, you keep hitting the bar like that and you're gonna be as screwy as the Chameleon."

"Oh, wonderful," Wildwing said dryly. "I was hoping to have a sudden love for imitating famous human actors and an affinity for the color green." Nosedive snickered at his dry humor before he gave him a "really?" look. Sighing, he rubbed at the sore spot on his chest as he continued, "I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me. Something's been off ever since yesterday."

"Yesterday?" Nosedive's eyebrows went up as a thought occurred to him. "Oh, wait, you mean that weirdo girl who said you were like that dumb insurance duck?"

"I never said that she called me that." Wildwing pointed out. "But yeah, pretty much."

"Huh," Nosedive put a finger to his beak in thought. "Have you thought about her much ever since you last saw her?"

"Surprisingly, yes." Wildwing said in dull shock. "I don't even know why though, she was just another human."

"Bro, it's kinda hard to think of her like that." Nosedive raised an eyebrow at him. "At least, according to what you told me about her; whacked-out hairdo, gnarly clothes, plenty of moo-lah, shorter than Mallory but equally as bitchy – ACK!" He squawked when Mallory had slipped her hockey stick in between his feet and yanked out his left ankle from under him, making him land flat on his beak onto the ice.

Mallory humphed from above him. "So who's "bitchy", Dive? I don't think I quite heard you correctly."

"Girly girl, you already get to use me as a punching bag for two hours a day!" Nosedive frowned at her, pushing himself up off the ice. "Would it kill ya to not assault me for the rest of the ten hours afterwards?"

"And what fun would that be?" Mallory sneered at him. Nosedive simply rolled his eyes at her. Mallory then looked at Wildwing and asked, "By the way, who is this girl that's got you all bothered?"

Wildwing frowned at her choice of words before stating, "I never said that she bothered me; anyways, I don't even know who she is. All I know is that she just moved here about three weeks ago and that her name is apparently "Brill"."

""Brill"?" Mallory repeated, the name not quite commuting well with her ears. Nosedive had finally gotten back to his feet and rubbed his now numb beak from next to her. "Okay, in no way is that her real name. That sounds like someone's lame attempt to shorten it."

"That's what he thought." Nosedive said, jerking his thumb to Wildwing. "He told me that her real name was probably real girly or something and she just shortened it to save time or some super major embarrassment."

"I never said that." Wildwing repeated for the third time. At this point, he might as well be part parrot.

"It probably is something really girly like, uh, "Gabriella"!" Mallory stated. "That was my aunt's name and she hated it; she insisted on all of us calling her "Gabby". I pretty sure my uncle Darrell called her "Brilly" one time."

"No way, girly girl!" Nosedive waved at her. "It's probably something more like . . . "Maribella"!"

Mallory looked at him, askance. "Don't you mean "Mirabella"?"

"Oh, you mean that cute chick at that pizza place? Oh, yeah, she's definitely got it going on!" Nosedive smirked, tracing the said girl's apparently very curvy figure with his hands, much to Mallory's and Wildwing's distaste.

"I hear that!" Duke smirked as well as he skated past them, slapping Nosedive's hand when he brought it up for a high-four.

Mallory rolled her eyes in disgust. "You both have officially been hanging out together too much."

"Don't knock it 'till ya try it, sweetheart." Duke smiled flirtatiously at her as he skated behind her, the puck from the goal gliding with his stick. Mallory simply glared into his back as he slapped the puck over to Tanya.

"W-Wildwing!" Tanya called over to him. "M-Maybe we should stop f-for t-today. With you t-taking so many hits to the head like that, you might have a serious concuss–, concussi–, w-well, you know, a really bad cranial injury!"

"So . . ." Wildwing smiled humorously at her. "You're saying I need my head examined." Nosedive snickered at the hidden joke while Mallory rolled her eyes at them.

Tanya followed her lead with a frown. Hands on her hips, she shot back, "You keep that up, Mister, and you might just get it along with a free CAT scan!"

Wildwing chuckled and held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright, Tanya, that's enough practice for today, guys!"

"If by practice, you mean, how many of Grin's pucks can you survive, then, yeah, I'm with ya." Duke joked as everyone started making their way to the locker room.

Wildwing shook his head at him before saying, "Back to the subject; I don't why I'm even thinking about this girl. She's gone. That should be the end of it, right?"

"Right." Nosedive nodded, his skates clunking and clinking as they walked off the rink and onto solid ground.

"I mean, what's the point of thinking about someone that you're never going to see again, right?"

"Right."

"So there's no point to having this conversation, right?" Wildwing stated.

"Right!"

After a moment of silence, Wildwing gave him a look. "You're just agreeing with me, aren't you?"

"Yes!" Nosedive grinned brightly.

"Nice try, Dive." Wildwing patted his head, mussing up Nosedive's hair with his helmet and earning a feeble protest. "But I'm not taking over half your shifts for you."

Nosedive gasped audibly, feigning shock at his brother's words. "What?! Wildwing! Do you honestly think I would go and try to do a thing like that to you? To you? My own brother? My own feathers and blood?!" Wildwing simply arched an eyebrow at him. Nosedive dropped the act and sighed, "Okay, you caught me; I've already tried asking Duke but he wouldn't go for it. Still a bit hung over from the coffee incident."

"I'd imagine." Wildwing said. "But I'm still not doing it."

Nosedive groaned. "C'mon, Wing, Mallory's got an iron club with a kick and punch to match! With my thin, sexy build and rugged good looks, I don't stand a chance!"

"You should've thought of that before you agreed to spar with her." Wildwing pointed out with a wry smile.

"Dude, if I didn't even think about doing that, we'd be short one team member and you'd be short one baby brother." Nosedive shot back not as amused as his older sibling.

"You're my only baby brother." Wildwing pointed out.

"Which is as such, my point!" Nosedive held a finger up.

"Which is as such, the consequence of trying something silly like imitating a professional TV chief with pancake mix and Metro Station." Wildwing answered. At Nosedive's look, he replied. "And yes, I know what that is; I do actually watch something other than watch reruns of former games and that movie series they have based off of us starring Christopher Floyd."

Nosedive laughed at that. "You too? Man, that Kenan Thompson guy cracks me up!"

Wildwing chuckled as well, opening the door to the locker room. "That makes the two of us."

Nosedive managed to choke down his giggles after a moment or so, saying, "So, you feel any better?"

Wildwing set his stick down on the bench, opening his designated locker. "Pardon?"

"You know, about you-know-who?" Nosedive air-quoted, curling his fingers.

Wildwing pulled off his jersey silently. After a minute, he blinked in realization. ". . . You know what? Yeah, I do feel a lot better. Thanks Nosedive."

"Don't mention it, bro." Nosedive smiled, swerving around him to his own locker. "So, any chance you can –?"

"Not gonna happen, Nosedive." Wildwing responded, never pausing in his unlatching his chest plate and fingering the five new dents in the ribs. Yep, he was gonna have to have Tanya look at this later.

"Yeah, I figured." Nosedive deadpanned. He shook it off the next second, however, threw his locker open and hummed loudly with a smile as he peeled off his jersey. Wildwing rolled his eyes. How his brother always bounced back so quick he would never know.

"Wildwing," Grin's low baritone made Wildwing nearly drop the leg pads in his hands out of fright. Looking up, he was stunned to see the large drake towering over him with a silent mirthful expression. How in Drake's name does something that big move that fast?! He was getting his feathers ruffled left and right today! Grin's smile was mirthful but his tone was apologetic as he said with a bow, "I am sorry if my game-playing injured you; it's not my intention to hurt a fellow hockey player, let alone my captain."

Wildwing smiled up at him. "No it's alright, Grin, it's not your fault. I've should've been paying more attention."

Grin looked at him considerately. "Your aura seems clouded with apprehension and question. Perhaps something is on your mind?"

Wildwing blinked. He had forgotten about Grin's apparent ability to read "auras"; he never really put thought into it but never saw it as his place to judge on whether or not Grin actually had such talents. After all, those "feelings" of his had, more or less, often got him and the rest of the ducks out of some pretty close calls in the past, such as a sneak attack from the Saurians or one of Phil's embarrassing photo shoots. "U-uh, no, nothing's really on my mind; just unimportant things." He said lamely.

Grin didn't seem to show suspicion at his weak excuse, but said regardless, "If it didn't matter, it wouldn't weigh so heavily on your mind." Wildwing flushed at his obvious statement. "I shall not pry into your personal matters if you wish me not to. All I can say is this, Wildwing; even though the tree is of the earth and the clouds are of the sky, it does not mean they do not have a chance of meeting during the fall of spring rain."

Wildwing felt his mind draw up a blank. Puzzlement rung through his voice as he said, "Uhm, alright . . . I'll keep that in mind, thank you, Grin."

Grin simply nodded in reply before walking away to his own locker.

Wildwing watched him go with a shake of his head. He had to admit, at times, he had absolutely no idea what to make of the peaceful giant's random anecdotes. A few times, he supplied them to try and make sense of situations or end bad disagreements between teammates, most times between Duke and Mallory, and other times, he said them mostly just to add some sort of odd relief to a stressful situation.

He could use some relief now, however, because without warning, the thoughts of Brill came back full force. Groaning, he started removing the rest of his uniform mindlessly.

Why was he thinking about this girl? What was it about her that made his mind wonder aimlessly for hours on end? She should be just another human, right? That should be the end of it. Simple as that, right?

Wildwing felt like slapping himself upside the head. Great, now he was repeating himself again. He really was becoming part parrot. He just hoped that no colored feathers suddenly started to pop out of his plume soon. That would not do him any good at all.

Especially if the feathers were neon colored like purple, red or yellow like a certain short, fiery girl's highlights –

That time, Wildwing actually did hit himself, smacking the heel of his palm into his head with a grunt. Duke, whose locker was across form him, saw this and gave an odd look but didn't comment on it.

He had to snap out of it, he couldn't go on like this. Otherwise, something stupid was going to happen and he was going to be too far off to actually–

"Wildwing! Boobala!"

Speak of the devil.

Wildwing frowned as Phil came strutting in with his usual grin. His usual, cocky "I-got-a-great-promotional-deal-for-you-that'll-line-my-pockets!" grin that always made him a little more than anxious. Paper in hand, he started, "Great practice, booby, listen up, I've just gotten this great promotional deal –"

"No." Wildwing immediately said.

Phil's smile fell. "What do you mean "no"? You don't even know what it is yet!"

"Read my beak, Phil." Wildwing frowned, repeating himself yet again.

"Trust me, booby," Phil gestured madly with the paper. "This is nothing like the last time! This gig is a real gold mine!"

Wildwing, by now, he completely stripped himself of his gear and stood only in his boxers as he looked Phil straight in the eye with the Mask now resting carefully on top of his street clothes. "Phil, the last time you said that, Daddy-O-Cool almost dunked Nosedive and I into a vat of black ooze."

"Okay, okay, I'll take the heat for that one." Phil brushed his bang out of his face wearily. "But believe me, this is something that'll be good for you and your image; look at this," He then read off the paper, "Home 4 Birds Sanctuary; The perfect place to roost! Sponsored by the Mighty Ducks, Anaheim Hometown Heroes!"

"A bird sanctuary?" Wildwing questioned him.

"Yeah, this is perfect for you guys!" Phil said. "Who better to sponsor a home for some of Earth's rarest and most beautiful birds than Alien crime-fighting birds from outer space? Genius!"

". . . I suppose you'll want us to some photo shoots, right?" Wildwing deadpanned.

"You got it, booby!" Phil pointed at him with a smile. "You can't have a big environmental opening like this without some photo ops; one with all you guys standing at the ribbon cutting opening, a few of you guys hanging out with some of the workers there, maybe one of two or you actually feeding the birds . . ."

Wildwing rubbed his lower beak in contemplation. " . . . Huh, I . . . I guess that does sound a plenty reasonable gig . . ."

"Of course it is, Wildwing!" Phil's eyes started twinkling. "Okay, there's the matter of the owner of the sanctuary actually wanting you to feed some of baby birds by giving some of the bird food to them through your beaks, so –"

Wildwing gave Phil a sharp look. "What?!"

Phil mistook Wildwing's horrified look for confusion and started, "Okay, well, you know how when baby birds are born and still too young for them to swallow feed by themselves so their mother's take food into their beaks and yak it back up in their –"

Wildwing's hands smacked over Phil's mouth, stopping him abruptly. "Okay, okay, okay, Phil, I get it! I get it!"

Duke, from his seat on the bench gave their manager a disgusted look. "Phil, that's disgustin'! Ya actually expect us to do that?"

Phil's voice was muffled for a few seconds before he managed to peel off Wildwing's hands and ask, "Yeah, why, don't you guys do that back on Puckworld?"

"Yeah," Wildwing said, sarcastically. "We did, until the fifth century!"

Phil gave him an annoyed look. "Well, how was I supposed to know that? I thought you guys were built like regular ducks!"

"Well, Phil, here's an idea," Wildwing said.

"What?" Phil asked.

"STOP THINKING LIKE WE'RE LIKE REGULAR DUCKS!" Wildwing exclaimed at him. Rubbing his temple irritably, he turned away from him and grabbed the towel that Nosedive tossed at him. "As for the sanctuary, forget it, the last thing I want is you humans thinking that we only eat food just puke it up back later. If you want that, go get some owls."

"Alright, alright, booby, forget the food thing!" Phil tried, walking after him as Wildwing made his way to the showers, much to his chagrin. "We could still make a few decent money shots, like maybe you guys posing with some of the merchandise; the owner tells me that he's selling the gift shop t-shirts for twenty bucks a head, the commemorative mugs for fifteen, snow-globes for thirty and everything else in between ten and fifty-five, so add that with the sixty percent he's offering us and deduct at least thirty percent for your loveable manager, that would get you at least –"

Wildwing had estimated him to stop when he went through the shower doors. As such, he never paused in his pace, drew back and closed one of the shower curtains and went ahead to take off his boxers.

Instead, lost in a haze of contractual babble and the signs of dollar bills, Phil unwittingly pushed aside the curtain, thinking it only as an obstacle in his path. "Are you even listening to me –?"

Wildwing froze in place; his face placid as he stood with one naked leg lifted out of his boxers and arms shifted in preparation to push the garment down the remaining one.

Both the human and drake stood frozen in awkward silence.

Phil blinked once. Wildwing blinked once.

The next second after, all hell broke loose.

"PHIL! GET THE PUCK OUTTA HERE!"

"WHOA! Sorry, Wildwing! ACK! CALM DOWN!"

"I'LL CALM DOWN ONCE YOU CLOSE THE FRIKIN' CURTAIN AND GET YOUR ASS OUT OF HERE!"

"OKAY! OKAY! I'm GOING! I'm GOING!"

THUMP!

"OW! DON'T THROW THINGS AT YOUR LOVABLE MANAGER! MY MEDICAL INSURANCE DOESN'T COVER HORMONAL RAGES OF EMBARRASSED DUCKS!"

"THEN QUIT RUNNING AROUND LIKE A CHICKEN WITH ITS HEAD CUT OFF AND GET OUT ALREADY!"

The Ducks were caught between wincing from the high-pitched volume of Phil's and Wildwing's shouting and shaking with laughter while holding their sides with comical tears running down their faces. All save Grin, who shook his head in pity for both Wildwing and Phil.

Nosedive had fallen on his butt from his laughing fit before he regained his breath for a minute and grinning broadly at Mallory, who was barely supporting herself with one arm on her locker. "Should we help him, or should we not help him?"

"Depends, which one are you talking about?" Mallory choked out, turning so her shoulders were pressed up against the locker and she could her arm a break.

Phil, almost as if on cue, came rushing back into the locker room with a good portion of his shirt, tie and jacket drenched with water and a huge reddening bump on his forehead from the questionable object Wildwing threw at him. His face was flushed red in embarrassment as he patted his head with a handkerchief from his pocket while breathing heavily from what he had just been through.

Duke, possibly keeling over from his ill-mannered joy like the others from where he lay down on the bench, was the first to say to Phil, "So, Phil, ya get whatcha lookin' for?"

"Wha- I- I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT RIGHT NOW, OKAY?!" Phil squeaked out lamely as he busted into even more shades of red and tromped out; the rest of the ducks chortling even more harder than before with Mallory falling on her own butt next to Nosedive who had failed in getting back up, Duke falling back onto the bench, clutching his stomach as he tried to stop his cackling and Tanya blindly holding on to the silently sighing Grin for support as she hooted into his shoulder pads. "IT'S NOT FUNNY!" Phil shouted to them, only making them laugh, hoot and cackle three times as hard as before.

No one even bothered to check on Wildwing, who begrudgingly listened to the sounds his teammates as he went on to shower under the spraying, steaming hot waters in peace.

He sighed lightly. Another collection of bruises and bumps, thoughts about a girl that he didn't even know yet wondered about consistently and a horrifyingly embarrassing moment with Phil over a matter of discussing another publicity stunt.

Yep, just another hockey practice for the Mighty Ducks.

~X~

March 25, 6:47 PM

Later that day, elsewhere . . .

Brill grunted as she pulled herself onto the rooftop with one hand. Putting all her upper-body weight on it, she swiftly but carefully threw the small case in her other hand onto its surface. God, climbing with one hand was a hassle. Especially if you were trying to make sure your one most treasured possession was still in one piece and not out of its protective interior-padded casing and shattered to a thousand pieces on the ground.

Once she was sure that the case was securely in place and not in danger of falling off, she placed both palms to the roof and brought her legs up. Plopping her bottom down, she let her breath out with a whoosh. Who would've thought that such a tiny person such as her would have so much trouble getting her own self up onto a roof? Curse her genetically tiny muscles . . .

Looking up, she smiled a little at the bright stars already beginning to dot the sky. The North Star was as bright as ever and she could just barely see the flicker of Orion's Belt and Sirius.

Looks like it was going to be another clear night. She only wished that the moon wasn't a New Moon, she would've loved seeing its silvery glow. Oh well.

For just a moment, her thoughts instantly turned to Wildwing. Was he looking at the sky as well?

She blinked incredulously at that. Whoa! What brought that on? She shook her head to banish thoughts like that out of her mind. Regardless, she sighed briefly afterwards.

She didn't know why but some reason, at the most random points of the day, her thoughts would instantly revert to the memory of the hockey player. It didn't matter what she was doing at the time or how many times she yanked on her hair to forget about it afterwards, Wildwing's face just kept coming back, staring straight at her.

She could still remember it clearly; with that gold mask with its surface crafted so fiercely and sharply that it would intimidate probably the bravest of men, blood red lens that glinted ever so slightly from the intricate circuitry she no doubt saw peeking through the metal that covered the eyes of what she overheard most local hockey fans claimed to be one of the nicest guys ever known in hockey; his voice echoed at first confusion and bewilderment then anger and annoyance. She was sure he was frowning . . . Or, at least, she assumed he was frowning. With his beak in the way it was kinda hard to tell . . .

Brill then realized what she was doing and promptly yanked on her hair roughly with a growl.

No. No! Bad Brill! No thinking about what was done in the past! Look to the future like you're supposed to be doing!

Some dumb alien haunting your thoughts isn't going to do you any good so why go on about it?

With those words repeating themselves in her head like a mantra, she let go of her tortured strands with a satisfied sigh. Turning to her side, she flipped her case onto the side and clicked the clasps open. Once free, she pushed open the lid.

Resting in place, her slightly chipped, somewhat worn, painted dark blue baroque violin with its long, slim trusty bowstring greeted her. She gave a bittersweet smile.

Silently, she picked up both violin and bowstring and got into a comfortable position; her legs crossed Indian-style beneath her and the violin cradled snugly between her cheek and shoulder. She listened to the utter silence lying inside its hollow core before tapping the bowstring to the strings three times.

"Five, four . . . Five! Four! Three! Two!"

Without further ado, she sharply pushed her bow string up and down, creating a series of six sharp, high notes that rung in her ear. She smiled.

Time for her nightly rituals.

ME: Cookie goes out to anybody who can guess what movie I got the last few sentences from!