A/N: After Orion's son takes a harsh hit on the ice during a Ducks game, Charlie, Ted, and Gordon decide to give the boy a confidence boost through some schoolyard puck.

A slight continuation of "Babysitter," and also pre-Game Changers, meaning Gordon is still around and this is before he lost contact.

Rewritten on 6/24/24

Relearning to Fly

"Let's go, Teddy!" Charlie Conway, a die-hard Ducks fan and one of the original District Five Mighty Ducks, yelled from his seat in the Ducks' home arena stands as his "nephew" took center ice.

"Come on, son! You got this!" Ted Orion added in just as obnoxiously, grinning madly as his son skated, clutching his hockey stick. He was wearing his Ducks jersey, which had the number 99 on the back and the last name ORION printed boldly.

Although the Ducks were still the official hockey team of Eden Hall, there was still room for plenty of more Ducks to take up the mantle in District Five. Goldberg's Delicatessen kept fundraising year after year to sponsor the Ducks, and Greg Goldberg also provided plenty of money through his new catering business.

While Charlie and Ted watched Teddy Hans Orion take his position, they saw someone from their peripheral vision, and smiled as they saw Teddy's godfather approaching.

"You missed most of the game, Gordon," Ted said, shaking his head, though he understood Bombay's coaching position at St. Paul State was especially demanding.

"I was just glad I got here in time to catch the last period," Gordon said, peering at the scoreboard. The Ducks of District Five were tied at five to five with the Hawks.

"Well, he's been getting a lot better with skating," Ted said, beaming with pride as Teddy won the face-off against the Hawk, his determination shining through.

"I taught him well," Charlie said with a smirk.

"You were the only one he trusted to teach him," Ted pointed out, which was true. Teddy, due to his diagnosis, didn't like many people touching him. But for some reason, Teddy didn't mind touches from Charlie; maybe it was because Charlie had been the one to help him progress so much in therapy and that it had been Charlie who'd babysat for him throughout most of his toddler years. Ted remembered how Teddy would burst with excitement whenever Charlie came by the house and how his son would squeal with delight that his "uncle" was visiting.

Charlie smiled a little sheepishly. He worked as a special needs English teacher at the District Five Middle School. He just had a natural way with kids who were autistic, dyslexic, or attention-deficient. He never seemed to lose patience with any child who needed help, which was surprising since he had such a hot head when he was younger.

The three of them sat together, watching as Teddy raced across the ice; he still was a little clumsy, but Ted chalked that up to the fact that he'd had a lot of developmental delays as a toddler; he still showed signs of struggling to walk a straight line at times. And although Teddy hid it well, Ted knew his son was hurt whenever his teammates teased him that his father had been one of the shining stars in the pros, yet his own twelve-year-old son could hardly walk straight. Although Teddy's teammates meant no harm in the teasing, the boy was still sensitive to those comments, and Ted knew that that hurt him even though his son never vocalized it.

But just as Teddy was about to take his shot at the net, one of the Hawks fiercely elbowed him in the collarbone, sending the boy flailing onto the ice. Ted gasped as he saw his son collapse and not get up again, and he groaned when he saw the Hawk shoot the puck, and it sailed right in, underneath the Ducks' goalie's glove.

"Great, just what I need. My son moping around the house all weekend," Ted said, shaking his head as he got up from where he sat to wait outside the locker room and check on his son, all the while trying to calm his racing heart, which pounded fiercely inside his ribcage as he worried about how badly his son was possibly injured.

Ted burst into the locker room just as the coach ushered the last of the Ducks out. He practically raced toward his son with Charlie and Gordon on his heels. Quickly, he brushed at Teddy's blond hair and pressed a loving but worried kiss to the top of his son's head.

"Are you all right?" he demanded, his words rushing out of his mouth so quickly that they blurred together. "What happened out there?"

"It was nothing, Dad," Teddy said, shaking his head before snuggling into Charlie's side, allowing his "uncle" to cuddle him.

"Let me see it, at least." Ted pulled Teddy's shirt down, saw the bruise on his son's collarbone, and winced. "Can you rotate it?"

"Yes!"

"I'm just asking." Ted threw his hands up, shaking his head.

"The team's pretty mad I blew that one," Teddy said, and Ted winced again at hearing his son's dejection. Unfortunately, this was one of the things he couldn't protect his son from as a father. "We could've lost our chance at making it through playoffs because of that screwup."

"They'll get over it. It's just a game," Charlie said. "I blew plenty of shots myself, kiddo."

"Duh! Your nickname was 'Spazzway,' Uncle Charlie."

Ted watched as Charlie's cheeks colored significantly, and he shook his head. "You little smartass." Charlie ruffled the boy's hair, but a fond smile remained on his face.

"Come on, son," Gordon said, grinning at his godson. "Let's go and grab some pizza before you head home."

The next morning, Ted found himself at the basketball court, sitting on the bench with Gordon while Charlie and Teddy rollerbladed on the blacktop. Charlie was helping Teddy improve his skating. Charlie had Teddy grip a hockey stick that Charlie held, and he pulled Teddy along the blacktop.

After they got home from Twin City Slice, Teddy began expressing doubts about wanting to continue playing hockey. Sure, Teddy had said stuff like that a couple of times before, but this time, it sounded like he really meant it. The last thing that Ted wanted was for his son to feel that this was an indicator that he should quit. It was hard enough to find Teddy some physical activities that he enjoyed; he didn't like anyone being rough with him, and he hated being touched by strangers, so it came as a shock to Ted that his son had wanted to try hockey in the first place. Though Teddy had asked his father once whether Ted was disappointed in him for not playing hockey, Ted had tried to assure his son that he could like whatever he liked, but Teddy gave hockey a shot initially because he thought it would please his father. Ted never wanted Teddy to feel obligated to do anything if it made him unhappy. But after he joined the Ducks, Ted was surprised to find that Teddy began enjoying the game, given how sensitive his son was to touch and loud noises.

Part of Ted credited Charlie for that, as Charlie had helped teach Teddy how to skate from the time he was four years old.

After Teddy said, "Dad, I don't know if I wanna do this anymore," Ted decided to have Gordon and Charlie come by that morning so they could stage an intervention using an old-fashioned schoolyard puck game. Charlie said he didn't mind it at all; he claimed that the boy needed a confidence boost after that game Teddy had played.

But Charlie had insisted on helping Teddy get comfortable with skating again. Teddy was still a very nervous skater with a habit of tripping over his own feet and glancing down at a lot, habits he hadn't quite let go of over the years, but it was understandable.

"That's it, all right. Put some muscle into it. Keep your head up, don't look down," Charlie said. "Good, Teddy. That's really good. Now, I'm gonna let go."

"No, don't do that!"

"It's gonna be okay."

"No, it won't! I'm just gonna fall again. I always screw up!"

"Hey, now, no, no, no, remember what we talked about," Charlie said, his voice growing a little firmer as he kept guiding Teddy along, slowly releasing his hands from the stick. "Don't go saying, 'I can't.' Because you can. Would I make you do something I know you can't do?"

"No." Teddy bit his lip nervously.

"Then what are you so nervous about?"

"The fall hurting. You know I don't like it when stuff hits me."

"Yes, I know that. But would you look at that?" Charlie fully let go of the stick. "You're skating."

Ted grinned as he watched his son let out a loud whoop, continuing to go, but Teddy was so caught up in the moment that he forgot how to stop.

"Pump the breaks!" Charlie raced after Teddy just before the boy crashed into the fence, and he caught the boy underneath his armpits, swinging him around and guiding him back. "You know, you remind me of Luis. He'd take out the goalpost whenever we'd practice."

Teddy giggled as Charlie messed up his hair, and Ted couldn't help but grin at the sight of it. He got up, gripping his own stick and holding the puck.

"You boys wanna play a little one-on-one?" he asked.

"Have Gordon come in, and let's make it two-on-two," Charlie said. "Me and Gordon versus the Orion boys."

Ted smiled a little wider at this. "You're on." He watched as Gordon skated onto the pavement to join Charlie, and Teddy moved so he was standing right next to his dad. Ted dropped the puck, and he watched as Charlie and Teddy fought to win the face-off. Somehow, Charlie and Teddy ended up dogpiled on top of each other.

"I'm gonna say what I said when I first saw District Five practice," laughed Gordon. "They really suck."

Ted laughed as he pulled Teddy off of Charlie, grabbing his son and spinning him around slightly before kissing his son's forehead. As he did so, he was pleased that his son's confidence seemed to be back, and that he had Charlie to thank for this, just like the countless other times that Charlie had helped Teddy with all of his therapies. All Teddy needed was somebody reminding him how fun hockey could be when you didn't feel pressured to win or worried that somebody was going to try and hunt you down on the ice. And as he had Teddy move back to his position on the pavement, he smiled at Charlie, who grinned in return just as warmly.