Courageous

The first day of training camp had set the tone for the entire season, John Tortorella demanded that his team to dominate the Atlantic division and the Eastern Conference. It had left many feeling out of condition and out of practice, but that was what this time was used for. The retuning of all the fine skills and senses that had been relaxed during the off season because of the lack of physicality. I, however, hadn't rested much over the summer after graduating.

Ok, ok, so I did go on a road trip for a week down the east coast with some old friends and had an amazing time jack legging around Mrytle Beach. After that I was all business again and was back at the rink again ready to train for whatever was the phase was next in my career.

As my legs barely protested another suicide, I thanked God for my drill Sargent of a trainer, who had kicked my ass with a rather intense schedule. If not for him I would be bitching and moaning with Avery and Del Zotto about how much their bodies hurt. With each session, I noticed myself improving and becoming stronger as I pushed myself because after all pain is weakness leaving the body.

I had found some companions as most of the guys had grown to accept my presence both in the locker room and on the ice. Brian Boyle was certainly my favorite to joke around with being equally flamboyant in nature as I am. We had made it our responsibility pick on Avery whenever possible. Mikey DZ had also become a close friend and the other component of my defensive tandem. Thus we had forged some sort of strange and twisted bromance before we had even finished up the preseason in a loss in Zug, Switzerland.

"Mikey, will you carry me?" I whined as I tossed my equipment bag over my shoulder. Latching myself onto his arm as my exhausted knees buckled under my own weight.

Mike groaned at the weight I added, any other day, he would've offered me a piggy back ride but the Swiss team had been relentless and had taken advantage of every opportunity that we had given them. After the game, Tortorella had voiced his disappointment in our lack of discipline and poor execution. That our loss tonight was caused by our own mistakes.

Sighing, I summoned up what was left of my body's energy reserves in a sad attempt to walk out to the team bus.

*General POV*

From across the locker room, Hank noticed the dark circles under the young defenseman's eyes and felt pity for her. He knew that she was having a difficult time adjusting to the time change and the back-to-back games they had just played were taking their toll on her body. So he offered to carry her,

"I'll carry you, Micky. Michael, take her bag "

Mickayla yawn a 'Thank you' as she jumped down his back, nearly choking him as her arms wrapped around his neck and was passed out within seconds.

Hank had to admit that she had been a trooper throughout the team's entire European stint. Being onto top her game and contributing on the ice whenever her number was called. He knew all of her hard work have a pay off and she would most likely be starting in the team's season opener against the LA Kings in Stockholm.

"Hank, you need to stop babying her." Seasoned veteran, Mike Rupp informed him as he stepped onto the bus that would take team back to the airport.

"No, Rupper, you need to ease up on her. She is as prepared for the regular as any of us are." The goal tender chided the forward.

"You know as well as I do that the Kings aren't going to be easy on her... No one is." Rupp argued. Hank just shook his head at the former Penguin as he deposited her in the open seat next to Brian Boyle,

"Yes, but someone needs to look out for her. Remember that time she got lost in trying to find the meeting room?"

Rupp snorted a laugh as he, too, remember her calling Hank asking where everyone was,

"She'd lose her own head if wasn't attached to her neck."

Suddenly, a disgusted sound came from Boyle,

"Gah! She's drooling on me!"

With that the entire bus erupted with laughter, several guys has whipped out their phones to capture the moment for black mail later. The sudden noise had roused the blonde from slumber as she rubbed her eyes. Trying to discern what was going on.

"Are we at the airport already?" She questioned in a groggy voice.

Everyone just laughed harder as she raised her hand in a California howdy to salut the team with before she dozed off again, her hand flopping on top of her head rest.

The rest of the trip to the airport was uneventful as the rest of the guys had begun to settle down as well. Most of them either listening to music or calling their families. Of course, on the plane things were sure to liven up a little as they usually did until they landed in Sweden.

*Mickayla POV*

I, barely, recalled how I had even gotten on the plane the previous night when the piloit came over the intercom informing us of the plane's descent to Stockholm International Airport. To be honest, I could've cared less as to how I had gotten there. My brain was too exhausted to even attempt to think about anything other than sleeping and right now, I really missed my cozy queen sized bed back in Manhattan. There was no way I was going to be able to get any sleep in another hotel bed almost another week.

The sound of hundreds of cheering fans could be heard as we waited to take the ice for the firs game of the 2011-12 regular season. It would be the first toward gaining some momentum for when we were scheduled to fly back to the states for a 5 game road trip.

On the outside, I appeared cool, calm, and collected, but on the inside I was having a conniption! My nerves calmed down when I took the ice for the first time, but as I did this I realized that I was making history as soon as the puck dropped. I would be the first woman to ever play a regular season NHL game. Sure, I had played a full preseason, but this made it official. The pen was in my hand and I was writing down my own page in sports history. Before it had all been a dream, but now it was reality! I was a defenseman on the New York Rangers roster!

I, seriously, might die right now! Seriously, though, I'M SO FUCKING HAPPY!!!! I feel so powerful. I could conquer the world! Yet, here I stood waiting at the mercy of how everyone else around me would react. But it didn’t bother me much because I had learned that I couldn’t let other people’s opinions affect me or how I played my game.

Next goal was to be the first woman to lift the Stanley Cup! But that was too far down the road to focus on at the moment and with the Winter Classic coming up, everyone was focused on that. We would be taking on the Philadelphia Flyers at Citizen’s Bank Park, outside on January 2. I was excited about playing another game outside. Back when I played for Boston, we played the University outside at least once a season and it was always freezing, but also long as you were on the ice it was bearable. The only downside to being in the Winter Classic was the fact that HBO would have camera’s around to film for the 24/7: Round to the Winter Classic Rangers/Flyer edition documentary. If there was one thing I hated it was being filmed or followed around by cameras. I didn’t like watching highlights of myself on TV and I hated doing interviews. I just hoped that they decided to leave me alone, but to my displeasure that probably wasn’t going to happen because I was the first woman to play in the Winter Classic.

Once all of the pregame ceremonies had taken place, I braced myself for the on coming rush of the opponents' offense. My heart felt like a trained was running through my chest as it pounded against my rib cage as a linesman moved into drop the puck between Kopitar and Richards.

This was it...

Mentally, she willed Brad to win the face-off as the puck fell almost in slow motion from the official’s hand.

No luck...

Kopitar had gain possession of the puck and sent it to back to Drew Doughty. Groaning, I glided backwards to take my position in front of the net. There was no time to be upset about something I couldn’t change. The next few minutes turned to be a back and forth battle to draw first blood. I had managed to root Kopitar out of Hank's view to prevent a screen, dominated on the forecheck, and scrambled to set up a scoring chance for the guys. I had absorbed many brutal hits within the first period and the Kings made sure that I knew that I was no welcomed in their league.

Unfortunately, a well-played slap shot from Kopitar managed to sneak it's way past Hank's pads to put the Kings on the scoreboard first. Groaning I shifted out, taking my place on the bench. Rolling my eyes when Brian Boyle sent me a goofy look when I sipped on my water.

"If I could've just gotten the puck away from that bastard!" I grumbled in frustration, slamming my stick onto the floor of the bench. Del Zotto, a veteran compared to me, waved me off,

"Chillax, Mickie, there's 45 minutes of play to go! There’s gonna be plenty of opportunities to show 'em whose boss."

Mike continued talking but I let his words begin to fade into background noise as I turned my attention back to the ice. My eyes were glued to the puck as it was pushed up and down the ice by both sides. A sigh of relief came when Callahan was able to even up the score a few moments later. But after that the rest of the period dragged on as everything seemed to fall apart for us. The second period was just as bad luckily; the Kings had failed to put the puck in the back of the net, as Hank remained unfailing between the pipes. Coach voiced his frustration toward the collectively bad decisions we had made during the 2nd intermission.

In the 3rd, Marion Gaborik had given us the lead, but the evil Mike Richards of the Kings had tied it back up after stripping me of the puck before I even knew what had happened. The rest of the period dissolved back into tug of war that the game had been for the two pervious periods until the 3rd horn sounded signally that we would be taking this game into overtime. One more brief pep talk from coach and I found myself back out on the ice.

"12, 5, you're up!"

Coach summoned Girardi and I onto the ice as he brought Del Zotto and Sauer back in. Bad timing sent me to the sin bin after poke checking Richards in the defensive zone. Grumbling, I threw off my helmet and watched as the Kings called a time out with 2:51 to go in OT.

Mike Richards and Jack Johnson played with the puck in front of Hank teasing him and poor Girardi was alone on the power play as I prepared to return to the ice. Pad save was made on Richards pass and only to have the rebound redirected back into the net by Jack Johnson, ending the game 3-2 with a victory for the Kings.

Groaning, I pulled at my hair in frustration, knowing that if I hadn't have made that fucking poor decision that I would've been able to get the puck out of our zone before Jack had the chance to get the blade of his stuck on the puck.

"Fuck. Fuckity. Mcfuckin' Richards! Once a Flyer, always a Flyer!" I shouted as I slammed my stick on the floor of the box.

With an exasperated sigh I skated over to Hank. The look on his face made me feel twice as bad as I realized that he had been playing in front of a home crowd,

"Fuck, Hank, I'm sorry I fucked up trying to turn over that puck."

Hank shook his head at me with an amused smile,

"Don't worry about it. You did what you felt like you had to do."

"Yeah, but-" Hank cut my rebuttal off, shaking his head at me in a silent rebuke,

"No, 'buts', we play the Ducks tomorrow. Focus on kicking their asses."

Yeah, tomorrow was bound to be the better day. There was always a silver lining I needed to focus on that and forget about my past mistakes. That was the only way I was going to improve and earn the respect that I deserved.