Author’s insane ramblings: This chapter will cover the span of the game against the Czech Republic, and the elimination game against Finland.

For the record: I was NOT giving out slashy vibes from Pronger to Smyth! Not EVERYONE in this fic is gay, ya know. Some of them genuinely understand. Thank you Almighty Chrissy for letting me modify one of your BC ideas! Not to delay my horrible confrontational skills, here we go with Ryan’s P.O.V. Review please!

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The question hit me like a sledgehammer: "Did you like it?" Joe asked.

I didn’t quite hear the question correctly, so, quite intelligently, I said, "WHAT?" with my eyes as wide as saucers, my hands clenched into fists on my lap.

"Did you like it?" Joe repeated.

This was NOT the conversation I wanted to have with Joe Sakic in Salt Lake City. I figured my conversation with the Colorado Avalanche’s Captain would have something do with HOCKEY, and not a kiss that I had with him. This was so screwed up on so many levels; I don’t know where to begin. Joe is giving me that stare of his, the one where he’s so focused on what’s going on now, and I bet his mind is not even on the Czech Republic and Dominic Hasek. Without thinking, I said, "yes, I did."

Joe’s eyes were now as wide as saucers. "Y-you did?"

Now I realised the magnitude of my answer. "W-well y-yeah, for it being the first kiss I’ve gotten from a guy." This was a blatant lie, but Joe didn’t have to know about that. "It…it was weird. Soft, but firm, and this was all from a guy’s kiss. I’m thinking I was right when I said I needed serious therapy…" I continued, absently cracking the knuckles in my fingers. "B-but I did like it…but I’m not sure why. I-I mean, I’m straight. I’ve-I’ve always been straight…" Was I convincing Joe or myself?

"Ryan—" Joe began, but I held a hand up.

"Do you think we can talk about this back at the hotel?" I asked. "P-plus, we need to get some rest before our game against the almighty Czechs tomorrow." I was desperately trying to find a means to escape. I’ve always been horrible at confrontation, especially about my feelings. It was the same now as it was then. But then I wasn’t at the Olympics with Canada’s only real shot to win gold; I was with Edmonton in the 1999/2000 season.

"Sure," Joe agreed, and I shot up like a rocket, leading the way back to the hotel. Now that I thought about it, was going back to the hotel such a good idea? That would mean we’d be alone. There goes my mouth before my mind has time to react. Then again, if we talked about it out in the open, someone like Martina Thatcher may hear and that would ignite a gigantic controversy. Talk about your double-edged swords.

Immediately, I went straight for the room I shared with Steve, and as soon as Joe was in the room, I locked the door. I didn’t want anyone to see anything (if anything did happen… which I’m sure it will, because in this situation, things just don’t happen…never mind…).

Oh my God.

This was the exact same scenario I was in three years ago. I started to shake, but controlled it as Joe was staring aimlessly around the room. "It’s not that much different from your room," I pointed out.

"Yes it is," Joe insisted. "It’s un-imaginably clean."

I laughed, genuinely. "Steve’s a real neat-freak. The lint on his sweater yesterday nearly gave him a heart attack." Joe laughed, and I felt relaxed enough now to sit down on my bed across from where he was sitting on Steve’s bed. My face then turned serious. "Is this going to be anything serious?"

Joe sighed, and looked conflicted. "I don’t know. You think I planned this? I-it could be something serious. I don’t know."

"What if the Captain finds out?!" I suddenly demanded, almost in a panic mode, jumping up into a standing position. I realised this was going in the same direction as the conversation I had with him three years ago.

It was so similar, but it was in the middle of the 1999/2000 season in Edmonton…

—Flashback—

<FLASH>

—End Flashback—

"Ryan?" Joe’s voice snapped me out of my trance. "Did you hear what I said?"

I shook my head. "Sorry. My mind was somewhere else. What did you say?"

"Mario won’t find out about this because we won’t say a thing, and…" I realised by this time that Joe had gotten up, and was coming closer to me, but I was frozen to my spot. Clumsily, I stumbled back into the wall, while Joe advanced. This was now getting weird. Suddenly, he kissed me. And this time, I responded, my arms coming around his neck. After a few moments, he broke it. "You responded…"

I looked at Joe, almost sheepishly, and dropped my arms from around his neck. "Y-yeah, I suppose I-I did…" We stared at each other in uncomfortable silence before a knock upon the door broke it. "Icebreaker…who is it?"

"Eric."

"Which Eric?" I asked, leaning against the door.

There was a weary sigh. "Brewer. I need to talk to you about something."

"Is it potentially bad stuff about me?" I asked, groaning.

"No, it’s not about you, dumbass," Eric snapped, and I opened the door. "Oh…hey Joe."

"Brewer." Joe acknowledged Eric with a nod of his head. "What’s your problem?"

Eric blushed, and scratched the back of his head. I blinked a few times then a light bulb went off. "Oh, this is about Flash, isn’t it?"

Joe looked confused. "Flash?"

"That’s what he’s calling this female photographer. He doesn’t know what her name is," I explained.

Realisation dawned on Joe’s face. "You mean the one that was talking with Federov and Chelios?"

Eric gave him a weird look. "How did you know that?"

"Jerome told me."

"He’s a dead man!" Eric vowed. "I am going to shut his big mouth once and for all. Does everyone know about this?"

As if to answer his question, Rob and Mike (Peca) were walking down the hall, and Mike yelled, "did you have any luck with Flash, Brewer?"

Eric groaned, letting his forehead collide with the wall. "Now everyone thinks I’m a pathetic loser."

"What happened?" I asked, sitting Eric down on the desk chair.

He sighed. "Kariya and I went out to rant at Tommy, and we found him talking to Nikolas Lidström. After that, Paul shoved me towards Flash so I would talk to her, and after Hull and York left, we began to talk. Just when I was going to ask for her name, Marti called and beckoned her away."

Joe raised an eyebrow. "Did this even happen? It sounds so…fictional."

Eric glared at him. "It happened. I don’t know her name, but I do know she’s a photographer for The Edmonton Sun, she’s from Edmonton, and she’s wearing your jersey, Sakic."

"Why don’t you talk to Marti?" I suggested. "You know Marti, and she knows Flash, so why don’t you ask her for Flash’s real name?"

Eric jumped up and hugged me. "You’re a genius, Ryan! Thanks!"

"I know," I sighed, patting him on the back, while returning the hug. If only I could solve my own problems this easily.

"At least you don’t have to complain about missing a penalty shot this time, Shanahan," Rob Blake said to the Detroit forward, as we got ready for the game against Teemu Selane and the Finnish team.

Brendan made a face, immaturely sticking out his tongue. He turned to Eric and me. "I am going to slam Janne Niinimaa into the boards tonight. I heard what he said about Canada and how Finland’s going to kick our ass!"

"And you expect us to protest? I say go for it," Eric said, laughing. "And if we ever get a chance to play the USA, remind me to fore-check Tom Poti into the boards. He said some trash about our great country too."

"I hope you guys don’t get too fore-check happy and lose our focus of this game," Mario said, strapping on his helmet. "If we lose to Finland, we’re out. We won’t even get to go to the bronze medal game."

We saluted, and yelled, "we haven’t forgotten, SIR!" and clicked the heels of our skates together. "We will do you proud, SIR!"

Mario rolled his eyes. "All right you jokers, let’s get on the ice and make sure we’re still in the medal hunt for gold."

"SIR! YES SIR!" The rest of the team yelled, marching out of the dressing room and onto the ice. Marty would be starting this time, as, as the rumour goes, Curtis blew it big time in Pat’s eyes. "DID YOU EAT YOUR CHUNKY SOUP, SIR?"

"Oh shut up…all of you," Mario muttered.

"We won!" I yelled to Owen and Brendan, and we skated into the growing mob of players that were on the ice. Suddenly, I spotted Janne, and skated over to him. "Hey, great job out there, Janne."

Janne nodded, and shook my hand. "You too, Canuck. I guess you’re going to rub it in my face, huh?"

"How’d you guess?" I asked, grinning. Janne muttered something, and I patted him on the shoulder. "Hey, it’s all right man. You should just learn to keep your mouth shut sometimes when it comes to the Olympics and whether or not Finland is going to beat Canada."

"Thanks for your words of wisdom, o’ all knowing one," Janne said, knocking his helmet against mine. He looked over at his Captain, Teemu Selane. "Teemu’s taking it a little hard though. We came so close."

"Just like old times back in Edmonton, huh?" I asked, and we both laughed. "Hey, did you hear what happened with the Sweden/Belarus game? Did the Swedes knock them out?"

Janne looked surprised. "You mean you didn’t hear? Belarus won."

My eyes bulged out of my head. "You mean Belarus beat Sweden? What was the score?"

"4-3," Janne replied. "Vladimir Kopat fired this shot from beyond the blue line and it hit Tommy’s mask, and I don’t know what happened. He looked like he was going to glove it, or he was trying to figure out what was going on, but the puck trickled into the net before he could do anything."

This was the biggest news I’ve heard so far, other than the skating controversy that was going on with David and Jamie. Belarus…a team that was supposed to get demolished by the powerhouse Sweden…defeated them? "Oh man, how’s Tommy holding up? I bet the newspapers aren’t going to let him forget it."

Janne shrugged. "I haven’t talked to him. Because, if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been here playing against you Canucks."

I slapped my forehead. "Sorry about that, Janne. I’m going to go and find him. Say hi to the guys back home for me, all right?" Janne nodded, and I skated back to the dressing room, and got dressed really quickly. I practically ran out of the E-Centre and went to the Swedish Olympic Village. I found Tommy being surrounded by a hoard of reporters, and the first chance I got, I squeezed into the crowd, and followed Tommy inside. "Tommy!"

He turned around, and smiled. "Hey Ryan."

I bent over, my hands gripping at my knees, catching my breath. "I heard about what happened with Belarus. How are you feeling? Wait…I’m sure everyone’s asking that. I’m sorry to hear about it, Tommy, but I’ll be here for you for the media onslaught."

Tommy smiled at me gratefully, and gave me a hug. "Thank you, Ryan. It means a lot. I…I don’t know what happened. The puck bounced off my mask, and I…I was trying to figure out what to do…and by the time I got myself sorted out, the puck was already in the net. It was so shocking."

I patted him on the shoulder. "No matter what happens, I just want you to know that you were the best player out there, Tommy. No matter what anyone says, just don’t let it get to you."

"Thanks Ryan. Spoken like a true friend," Tommy said, taking a deep breath. "I heard you guys defeated Finland. How mad was Janne?"

"He was irate," I laughed. "But Teemu took it pretty hard. We play Belarus next. Tell you what, Tommy. I’ll smash Kopat into the boards for you, all right?"

Tommy laughed. "Thanks Ryan. You should go back to your Village. I’m sure you would want to celebrate your win over Finland."

I nodded. "See you later, Tommy. And keep positive, okay?" Tommy nodded, and I jogged back to the Canadian Olympic Village, where the rest of my team-mates were waiting.

** Eric **

The Barenaked Ladies were playing loudly on the stereo, and everyone was partying around the Canadian Olympic village in light of our victory over Finland. Marti clapped her hands in front of my face. "Hey, Brewer, aren’t you going to have some fun?" She asked, gulping down some Molson Canadian.

I shrugged. "I am having fun. My fun is different from your fun. I actually want to remember what I did tonight in the morning."

"You’re no fun," Marti pouted, hitting me on the shoulder.

A light bulb went off, as I remembered something. "Marti, what’s the name of your photographer friend?"

She gave me a funny look, then realised something. "Oh! The one you named ‘Flash’?" I nodded. "She’s over there. Why don’t I go and introduce the two of you?"

"Thanks Marti!" I thanked, hugging her. She nodded, and led me over to where Flash was sitting with Brendan and Mike Peca.

Just as Marti opened her mouth to say something to Flash, I tripped over Brendan’s foot, and fell into Flash’s lap. "Graceful, Brewer." She turned to Flash. "He’s been wanting to know your name for days now."

Flash laughed. "It’s nice to meet you, Eric Brewer. The name’s Sasha Janre."

I reached up and shook her hand, blushing furiously. "It’s nice to meet you too, Sasha."

Brendan laughed. "Way to meet a girl, Brewer!"

"Oh shut up, Shanahan," I muttered. "At least I didn’t miss the penalty shot in Nagano."

"Cheap shot!" Brendan exclaimed.