The Dawning Light of Grey - Part Two
"Okay boys," Antonio said, striding into the changing room. His hands dug deep into his pockets to pull out a piece of paper that he unfolded and pinned to the board. "Puck drops in fifteen. I won't waste your time with too much of a pep talk. We've gone over the play, you know your lines, and what you need to do. Trust in the process and battle hard."
He swept his gaze over them as he paced the small room, lingering first on Landon, then Kai and Miles, as they sat in front of their lockers.
"Remember the key things. Communication: tell your teammates what you're planning and where you are. No one is a mind reader. Play as a team: there are no individuals; do not abandon your line. You cannot beat Red Team alone. Take your shot when you see it. Don't be too careful. We need those points. Be brave, not reckless. Get your points but make sure nothing gets through."
The last words were directed at the defensive line and, more deliberately, at Raul who nodded, hands white-knuckled fists in his lap.
"You've got this Raul." Sanjay, in his goalie gear, jostled him with a supportive smile.
Antonio flicked his wrist to check the time on his watch. "Alright. Let's go."
As Grey Team jumped to their feet, Antonio paused to lift a hand. "One more thing: you all know that this is a great opportunity and that you shouldn't squander it. I know none of you want to wake up tomorrow feeling like you didn't go hard or play the best you could for yourself and for your team, but remember to have fun tonight. A career in hockey doesn't mean anything if you don't enjoy the game."
Kai followed the rest of the team out of the changing room and down the length of the tunnel. It felt endless, their skates thudding off the floor, the fluorescent lights gleaming against their white helmets. They passed Landon at the end of the hall, tapping their gloves to his fist as they exited into the white light of the arena.
It was like any other game, Kai reminded himself as he rushed onto the ice, falling in behind his team as they circled their end of the rink.
Except there were no crowds and no sounds but the scratch of their blades against the polished surface, the slap of pucks against sticks, the odd whoop and cheer from an over-excited player trying to hype themselves up.
At the other end, Red Team's skaters glided around, while their goalies dropped down to stretch out their hips.
Raul came up beside him, helmet shoved up from his face as he took a sip from his blue bottle. "I hate these games. There's no atmosphere. How're we supposed to get in the zone when there're no crowds and no fans? I feel like I'm being judged."
"You are," Kai said, pushing his way around the ice, enjoying the familiar liquidity of his muscles warming up.
He nodded his head towards the box above the bleachers where figures sat with phones to their ears, frantically scribbling notes and typing on laptops. The hairs on Kai's neck stood on end. A sense of dread warring with anticipation.
"They don't have to be so obvious about it." Raul huffed out a breath. "I'm already feeling the pressure today."
Muttering under his breath about nerves, Raul skated off, leaving Kai to complete another slow circle and study the mostly empty stands. Yellow Team had made an appearance, the players scattered among the bleachers in little groups, slouched low in their chairs, expressions ranging from disinterest to boredom. Granted, in their place, he wouldn't have attended, but maybe it was mandatory and they had no choice.
That thought was derailed as Alexey led Blue Team into the arena and they sat several rows behind the boxes. Garland stood at the back of the group and Kai looked away. He didn't need that extra pressure.
As he turned, he spied Braxton entering the VIP box and his stomach dropped to his knees. Suddenly it became so much more real. Braxton wasn't up there as the Blue Team coach. He was there to evaluate them.
"You know what we have to do right?" He stifled a sigh as Miles drifted up beside him, his own eyes locked on the stands. "Players like us, we're not a threat. Those guys up there? They don't care what we do, they're here to watch the likes of Landon and Mathias and Dean."
Kai said nothing.
"You know it's true. Dean's a playmaker, the kind all coaches salivate over. Landon's only on Grey Team because he got injured. Mathias doesn't play well with other centres, and he loathes Dean—if he stayed on Red Team he would have been on the first line with Dean, so he swapped, but that doesn't take away how good a winger he is when he has the right partner."
Hands locked around his stick, Miles sighted it down the ice to where Landon and Mathias talked to Raul at the net. "Point is, they're guaranteed a place at this summer camp Braxton's running, but me and you need to score tonight so that those guys up there, in their swanky suits, remember we exist. They're not looking for a good team, they're looking for good individuals to flesh out the reserve team. It's not about who plays Blue Team tomorrow, they'll make their decisions based on tonight. The Blue game is nothing but a showpiece to close out the week."
Kai sent him a dubious look and Miles rolled his eyes.
"Think about the timing, Hiwatari. If they were really waiting to see who goes to the Blue match, why schedule the choosing for tomorrow evening after the match and then have everyone hang around on Sunday? Why not put the game on Sunday instead, use up all the days of the camp and send home Yellow Team since they didn't even rank? Nah, they'll choose tonight. Hell, they probably already know who they want. Whatever, might as well get this farce started."
With a stiff salute of his stick, Miles skated off leaving Kai to mull over his words.
They'd been competing all week and now Miles wanted to give him some friendly advice? Hardly. But the truth of his words was undeniable. This game was Kai's last chance to show Braxton what he could do. The first game, despite scoring, wasn't his best; he had too little ice time to impact the outcome. He hadn't scored in the game against Yellow, but he was on the second line now: this was his best chance of catching Braxton's attention.
Playing defensively wouldn't cut it.
He nudged his mouthguard out of place and chewed it a second before tucking it back with his tongue and drifting to where Grey Team gathered around the net for one final scrum.
Raul took his place in front of the net, scuffing up the crease, while the other players crowded in around the back. Kai joined them, squeezing in between Graham and Luca. Elbows knocked against him, thighs bumped, and the murmur of voices and laughs filled his ear before fading off as Mathias caught their attention and directed them to listen to Landon.
Clearing his throat, Landon stood a little straighter, a muscle in his cheek twitching, the only hint of his discomfort with leadership. "We know what we need to do. Antonio gave us the rundown. Tonight is it. We either beat Red here or we don't. There'll be no rematch. It won't be easy and we're going to have to fight for this win. Once we get the points, we need to go on the defensive. There are no individuals tonight—"
"Bull," Miles said. "We're all individuals tonight. We have to be." He looked at the other players, met their gazes as he made his pitch. "This is our last chance for Braxton to notice us. We're not like Landon. The majority of us aren't on Braxton's radar. We're not shoe-ins for next camp—"
When Landon's mouth parted to protest, an indignant look on his face, Miles cut him off with a wave of his gloved hand as the others watched the exchange. Tension ratcheted up as Remi scoffed under his breath and Mathias played a tiny violin. Kai might have laughed if he didn't sense the change in the tide, the way the players focused on Miles, listening to him in a way they hadn't with Landon. His point resonated with them because Miles was one of them: desperately seeking Braxton's attention.
"I'm serious. We know how it is. Antonio's sentiments were pretty but this is real life. Our futures are on the line. You may be happy playing second fiddle, but I'm not. I'm getting on that scoreboard; I'll make Braxton notice me."
A murmur slid through the team and Kai could feel the swing in motivation building momentum.
"Just a point to note but Antonio's already achieved that future," Mathias said, voice cutting through the growing dissent. "He's playing in the NHL, so if he says we should play like a team we should listen to him. He knows what he's talking about."
"Oh please. Antonio's just shelling out the same tripe that every other generic hockey coach spews. Like you said, he's a player, not a coach."
"Miles has a point," Jace murmured, helmet dangling from his fingers as he ran his hand over his buzz cut. "Antonio is a player, he's not had much coaching experience."
"Great, so you'll hang me out to dry?" Raul asked, picking at the paint on the top pipe of the goal. "Because if you play like you're the only person on the ice, I'm the one who will suffer."
Miles made a derisive noise, folding his arm over the net as he leaned forward. "You're being judged against one other guy tonight, Fernandez. We forwards are up against 24, and Defence are up against 16. You'll be fine."
More sounds of agreement as Miles shone a light on the true scale of the match. Next to Kai, Graham shook his head, disappointment radiating from him but he didn't speak up. Landon stared at the floor between the twine, jaw clenched tight while Mathias watched, eyes meeting Kai's for a prolonged moment before jerking away.
Kai wondered at that. Did Mathias expect him to jump in? Pick another fight with Miles when Miles had a point and the team knew it? Kai didn't have any sway with this team. He wasn't the de facto captain. He wasn't even on the first line.
Raul slapped his hand on the pipe. "Yeah, but every mistake I make is published on that screen for everyone to see," he snapped, pointing to the scoreboard overhead with its yellow lights illuminating the 0-0 for Home and Away. "No one calls out the other players for not doing their job. When an opponent scores they blame the goalie, like I'm the only one who can prevent a goal."
"Yeah, well, you are the netminder. It's in your job description."
Raul squeezed his eyes shut, Sanjay dropped his head to the pipe, and Mathias jabbed Landon in the side prompting him to jump in but, before he could, Raul's eyes snapped open to glare at them all.
"Fine," Raul seethed, "do what you want. I'll get my shut out and I will go to camp this summer because Braxton will see that I'm the only one willing to be a team player. Get out of my trapezoid."
Miles shoved away from the back of the net and reversed back onto the ice. "Sure, whatever, Fernandez. No need to be a drama queen."
"Fucking asshole," Remi growled, glowering after Miles before punching Jace in the arm. "Get your head in the game. I'm gonna talk to Coach. Figure out a game plan where we do our damn job since those assholes aren't going to."
He skated off, and Jace offered Raul a half-hearted apology before he left. The rest of the players began to drift away, exchanging their own commentary and thoughts.
"Go team," Mathias cheered dryly, and he went to the face-off with Landon stoically following.
Scowling, Kai skated towards the box.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Remi talking to Antonio, gesturing wildly. Kai understood Remi's frustration but what could Antonio do? Another speech about teamwork would land as solidly as the last one. Despite what the coaches demanded, it was up to the players how they acted on the ice.
"Look, I'm not the villain here, Graham," Miles said, tone lofty as he stood outside the box with his little cohort. "I'm just being practical. Everyone knows that this camp is a formality. Red Team will take on Blue, but today is our chance to make Braxton notice m-us. That's the real team spirit."
The words shivered up Kai's spine, locking it into place as he stopped and slowly turned to face Miles. "Did you have a good talk with Dean last night?"
Miles blinked, thrown off his impassioned speech. "What?"
"Dean said you two talked last night."
"Well, sure, we saw each other at Alexey's dinner. He gave some good advice. He's been to these camps before. He knows how it works."
"Hn. And you didn't find it strange that Dean, a centre, would give advice to you, a centre?"
"It's called being a good sportsman, Hiwatari. Not that you'd recognise that."
"It's called getting into your head." Kai snorted, stepping into the box beside his line. "You know, he tried the same tactic on us this morning."
"Yeah!" Conrad nearly decapitated himself with how eagerly he nodded. "It nearly worked, too. Except Dean has been a piece of shit all week, so the charity act rang hollow. Dude, how did you fall for it?"
Miles stiffened. "I didn't fall for anything."
"Of course you didn't." With a grimace, Kai sat down on the bench and looked at his linemates. "Despite what Miles, with Dean's coaching, said, Braxton isn't looking for the person who scores the most today. A goal-heavy game looks pretty on paper, but it's not impressive for the big picture."
Miles scoffed, but his eyes darted to the red box where their manager was giving them another talk. "Is that what your daddy told you?"
Kai ignored him. "We play it the way Antonio directed. Take our chances and give Red none. I'll get the puck up the ice, you can take it from there. I need to give defence some support."
"I'll help," Conrad offered. When they turned to him, he hunched into himself with a grim smile. "I'm an asshole, I'll admit that, but hockey rule number one is: love your goalie. I'm not hanging Raul out to dry."
Luca shrugged. "Works for me. You guys get me the puck, I'll score."
Miles took a seat at the far end of the bench just as Remi finished his rant at Antonio. Instead of heading directly to the face-off, he veered over to the box to stand in front of Kai.
"Jace and I are pulling double duty for the third line to give Raul the support he deserves. Do we need to worry about the second line too?"
Kai stared at him, felt the gazes of the others pressing in, and he shook his head. "No."
"You know, William Butler Yeats once called Galway the Venice of the West, on account of how pretty it is."
"Aye, well, he probably never saw da Venice of the East, so I'd take dat wit' a pinch of salt—speakin' of, g'on hand me some of those sachets."
Amber snickered at Russia's sharp response to Enrique as she doused her chips liberally with vinegar before returning the bottle to the counter and leaving the small box-sized fish'n'chip shop. Outside, the sun descended behind stacks of narrow two-storey houses with pointed roofs, all brightly painted to promote a seaside vibe—a sharp contrast to the city just 10 minutes up the road, or 40 minutes walking.
A flock of seagulls called loudly to each other, and Amber covered her food, well aware of their tendency towards thievery. As Arista paid for her order, the group crossed the street connecting Salthill to Galway and ambled down the promenade.
So far, their last full day had been a whirlwind of activity. Starting with a hop-on-hop-off bus tour around the city, catching sight of the cathedral and other feats of architectural genius. They'd wandered down old medieval style streets with thick stone walls and gaping portals, and took photos of the Spanish Arch, before eating lunch in a cafe with a rickety water wheel near the canal.
After, there'd been time to browse Shop Street: a cobbled road, closed off for pedestrian traffic that hosted an array of shops and echoed with conversation and live music from buskers stationed intermittently along the sidewalks.
The late afternoon was spent on Eyre Square, soaking up the last of the sun's heat, before they'd travelled along the harbour towards Salthill with its brightly lit illuminations and Ferris wheel, and the Aquarium which had been a big hit despite the small size.
A portion of piping hot fish and chips wrapped in newspaper seemed like the perfect end to the day, Amber mused, as she followed her friends towards the beach. The ocean rolled, grey and placid, against the shoreline, far enough out not to cause too much concern. Silhouettes of people walked the soft sand in their bare feet, carrying their footwear, and a couple with a dog played fetch in the distance, the dog yipping with delight each time the toy flew.
"It also says—"
"Stop reading your newspaper and eat your food," Miyami told Enrique, spearing a chip with a plastic fork. "So what's the plans for the rest of the night? I imagine we can't stay out here too long. It's not beach weather."
Overhead a parting in the slowly moving clouds allowed pinpricks of glittering silver to sparkle against the faded blue sky, edging towards navy darkness.
"Well, Shallow said we could hang out on the beach for another hour, and then we can go to the Amusement Park."
Which sounded like a lot of fun. Amber couldn't remember the last time she'd been to an Amusement Park. She vaguely remembered going to as a child, holding tight to her dad's hand as she took in the sights and sounds. She hoped he took the baby, created some new memories.
If he didn't, Amber would take him or her or them—whatever it turned out to be. She refused to ever let them feel unwanted.
"You okay?"
She glanced at Ozuma as he sidled up beside her, hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, collar flicked up to shield his throat from the nip in the breeze that whispered off the ocean. "I'm good. You?"
He nodded, rubbing the tip of his nose that had begun to turn red like the front of his hair. "It's nice being back here. I forget how much I miss it. It's fresher, like the air is cleaner here."
"It stinks of seaweed."
He paused, then inclined his head. "Well. That's true. So did you give the letter to your dad?"
"I did before we left the hotel. I haven't seen him to find out if he's read it." Or more truthfully, she'd avoided him since handing it over. It was so personal, to commit your words to paper and, once done, she'd wanted to avoid the inevitable conversation doomed to follow.
"You'll have to listen to his response at some point."
She knew that, or maybe he'd write it down and all their communication could be by letter. Oh god, she stifled a groan. It was a letter that started all this nonsense, and now she thought it was a good idea to conduct all conversations that way. Still, it had been cathartic, and she'd expressed herself honestly without fear of miscommunication.
Her gaze turned to the rolling ocean crashing against the shore as the last glimmers of daylight clung to the sky. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."
"Don't drag it out. We head—well tomorrow's the last official day of the trip. It'd be better to resolve it before we go home."
Yeah, that made sense. Ireland was neutral ground in a sense. Better to just air it all and start fresh when they returned, whatever that fresh start may look like.
"I'll try to talk to him tonight."
They continued after the others, and when his gaze slid to the food in her hands, she sighed. "Here I thought you cared about your poor little cousin, but no, this is what you're really after."
She broke off a piece of battered fish and handed it over.
Ozuma took it and bit into it, breath coming out in a plume of fog. "You don't like fish. I don't know why you insist on getting it."
"Because you can't just ask for chips on their own. Fish and chips are a tradition."
"You should eat the fish. It has important nutritional—"
"La la la."
"Maybe I should tell Ian," he joked, then snagged the other half of the fish, jerking back with a hiss and sucking his thumb. "Hot."
"Just like Óisín—maybe you'll become wise now."
He shot her a flat look before he reached for the fish again. "It's not salmon. I don't think you can batter salmon."
"I bet you can."
She glanced up as Johnny raced across the street, holding up a hand when a car blared its horn. "Where's he going?"
Miyami pushed her chips at Ian and jogged after him. "Back to the hotel. He'll be back in five."
"Not if you chase him he won't," Amber mumbled and Ozuma winced.
"Thanks for the mental image."
"Sharing is caring. Besides, you know what they're like, they'll be banging like bunnies—"
"Amber, can we talk?"
Mortification flooded her and she winced, squeezing her eyes shut before prying one open in hopes—nope.
"Sure, dad."
What had she done in a previous life to deserve such epic timing?
Beside her Ozuma choked back a laugh, shoulders shuddering in some strange movement that she was sure would lead to a transformation in a horror movie, before he clapped her back.
"I'll leave you to it." He walked past James and called back, "Good luck."
She wasn't sure which of them he'd directed that to. She scrunched up her newspaper and glanced around for somewhere to dump it, spying a trash can near the rocks that protected the road from the ocean.
Glancing back at her dad, she pursed her lips and gestured towards the bin. "I need to—"
He nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets as if he didn't know what to do with them either, and fell into step beside her.
Awkward silence lingered heavy and thick around her shoulders, pressing her down into herself so unnaturally that she physically had to stretch herself to her full height and shake it off. She tossed the newspaper into the bin and wiped her hands together, then frowned as her father took a seat on one of the rocks, washed smooth by the ocean tides.
With a sigh, she joined him, hissing as the frigid rock bit into her flesh through her jeans. "This can't take long. I'm already getting numb."
"Might have the benefit of making this pain-free."
She angled an arched look in his direction and he had the grace to look sheepish.
"I'm sorry." Then he hunched forward, eyes fixed on where the ocean lapped the shore. "I am sorry. I have messed up so much with you. Over and over, and no apology will make up for that. All I can do is keep saying it and try to show that I am."
Oh. She hadn't expected that. She'd prepared for probing questions, a deflection even. A way for it to not be his fault and instead would boil down to a miscommunication. They miscommunicated a lot, even she could recognise that.
"You've every right to be angry with me, to be wary. To think that this"—he motioned to the beach—"is just a gesture. That once we get back to "normalcy" it'll return to the status quo. I can't say that it won't. The thing about getting older, every day bleeds into another and before you know it, it's been months since you last talked to someone, or last saw a friend. That should never happen with my own daughter, but it did."
She swallowed hard, unsure how to process those words. He'd… forgotten about her. She couldn't imagine just not reaching out to people, but was that true? If she wasn't in the same school as her friends, would she still talk to them?
Of course, she would. Just because she didn't see them didn't mean she'd just forget they existed. Out of sight out of mind was a convenient excuse. It certainly didn't work with Kai. He was just as prevalent in her thoughts as before, probably more so. The only reason she hadn't blown up his phone with messages and thoughts was because she didn't have her phone. Which was probably a good thing in her attempt at going cold turkey.
"By the time I realised, or acknowledged it, too much time had passed and it was easier to just let more time pass. To wait for an opportunity when I could reappear with no fuss, with no need for apologies." He took a breath, and Amber turned to him wondering at the hitch in it. "I wanted to be the perfect dad but I fu-messed up."
"You can say you fucked up. It's okay."
He closed his eyes, a laugh, soft and bewildered escaped his lips. "Okay. I fucked up. And I continued fucking up. But when we talked, after the letter I wrote, I did take that on board. I did listen to you. I'm not going to magically make things better, I will make mistakes, but I want you to know that I am trying."
"You told me to move in with you because Mom wouldn't want me."
"What?! No, that's not—" He took a breath and his fingers dug into his knees, leaving creases in the denim. "That's why you ran away? You thought—that's not why I offered, Amber. I just… I'm going to ask Ma to come visit for the summer. I want her to meet Priscilla, and Priscilla wants to meet her. And when I was thinking about that, I realised that not only do I want you and Priscilla to know each other, I thought you'd appreciate the time with your grandmother. I should have said that."
"You should have." She was going to need a moment to digest that. "Does Nana know you want her to visit? Wait, this isn't another way for you to pass on raising your kid, is it?"
"No. No! Though I get why you might think that. It's not that. Part of it is wanting Ma to know the baby, but also, she's so far away. Rory sees her every day, his kids grew up with Ma always there. You, and your cousins, didn't. If she came for a visit, even for just six months, it would give her a break from working herself sick on the farm—"
"She's sick?!"
"Okay, you need to stop jumping to conclusions. Ma's healthy as an ox. If she were sick, I would tell you that. But she's getting older, she can't pull all-nighters in the sheep pen and Rory needs to make that farm his own with Seanín's help and they're not getting the chance with Ma always there. Plus, Seth and Anne miss her, and they can't afford a trip over. I can pay for her to visit, and I have the space to let her stay. Also, she wants to see baby Sam, so really it ticks a lot of boxes."
"That's why you want to extend the trip. You're going to see her to talk to her about it."
So she had overreacted. Just once she'd like to react the correct amount.
"Well, yeah, but you and Ozuma are coming too."
And, at some point, she wouldn't get emotional whiplash talking to her father. "What?"
"I've pushed your flights back to Sunday evening—"
She puffed out her cheeks and blew out a breath. This! This was part of the problem too. Him making decisions and expecting people to just fall in line.
"Dad you can't—we have classes on Monday morning."
She wanted to see Kai—even though she wouldn't talk to him, she just needed to see that he was okay. It's not like he'd been keeping anyone informed in the group chat, and she couldn't check in with Tala because Arista kept preventing that from happening. Granted she asked for that, but still. She needed to make sure he was fine.
"Don't worry. Timezones are a thing, trust me, you'll be back in time. Don't you want to see Nana Molly?"
Did she want to—? "Of course I do. When do we leave?"
"As soon as you wake up tomorrow morning, we'll head north, and your friends will go back to Dublin. We'll fly out of Belfast on Sunday night."
She chewed on that, realising that it could work. The timeline would fit. The team wouldn't be flying out of Dublin until Sunday morning so she'd only be a few hours behind. A giddy flutter of excitement built in her stomach. Her lips curved before she flattened them and aimed a pointed look at her father.
"Just so you know, I acknowledge that this is a bribe, of sorts."
"It is a bribe, absolutely; it's also an olive branch. I have fucked up, I may fuck up again—are you sure I can curse in front of you? It seems taboo."
"Dad, I'm technically an adult in this country at least. The F word is not going to mess me up any more than, you know, a negligent father." She flushed brightly and quickly corrected herself, "Sorry absentee."
"Jesus, you don't pull your punches, and that's a good thing," he hastened to add. "I need that. Chances are that I'll mess up again but as an adult—in this country—you have every right to call me on my bullshit and set me straight. And I fully expect you to do that."
"Well… I planned to do that anyway with the baby." She got to her feet as the cold stone bit a little too deeply into her skin. "But I will try to do that—sometimes it's not easy. I shouldn't have to tell you how to be a dad."
He sobered and moved to stand in front of her. "No, no, you shouldn't, but it won't just be you. You're not on your own, Amber. You have people who care about you, who'll also tell me to be better—so when things get hard and you can't talk to me, talk to them. More than anything, I want to do better by you. You are a fantastic kid, and it's hard to realise that I had very little to do with that, but, I'd like to have something to do with you becoming a fantastic adult, outside of this country."
She suppressed a smirk, eyes hot. And then her dad opened his arms and she stepped into them and clung tightly, basking in the moment and the luxury of being held by her father.
They drew apart after a moment just as Johnny appeared at the top of the ramp to the beach.
"I've got a guitar!"
"Bambi, get over here! We're gonna do a singsong!"
Amber pursed her lips. "Did Johnny even pack his guitar?"
"I've learned, Amber, do not question things when it comes to your friends."
"Eh, that's probably for the best."
TBC
Took a break from Rebirth to post this. Thanks so much to those three who reviewed - you guys are why this fic still gets updated! The last part should be posted again soon :)