Status: Next chapter coming soon! :)

Avalanche Warning

Game Two

"Mmmmfff" Garrett rolled over in bed, reaching for his phone to check the time.

There was a ray of sunlight peaking through the curtains of the hotel room, which meant there was no going back to sleep.

With a sigh, he rolled over and tossed off the blankets, heading for the washroom to grab a drink.

"Morning." Carl's muffled Swedish accent was still prominent through the mountain of blankets he hid under.

"Morning man, we ready?" Garrett prompted on his way past, patting his new teammate's foot through the bedding.

Carl's face appeared at the top of the blankets and he gave a confused looking nod, yawning and grabbing his shirt from the bedside table.

"Rise and shine!" there was a knock on the door. "Bus leaves in an hour boys!"

Garrett stumbled into the bathroom, wincing at the cold tiles on his bare feet. He took a cup and filled it with water form the sink before heading back into the room.

"Well, time for breakfast?" he ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to spike it without getting out his wax.

Carl returned his question with an inaudible moan, as he tossed his blankets off and began to dress.

Garrett fiddled with his belt buckle as he began to dress in his formal wear, preparing for the ride to the Staples Center.

"Make sure to get everything you need." Carl reminded him. "We're not coming back."

The two finished dressing in silence, before grabbing their bags and heading down to the lobby to join the team for breakfast.

**********

"Alzner, you're up." Garrett felt a pat on his shoulder and he hopped the boards, heading toward the faceoff circle at center ice.

The crowd was incredibly loud, and the music was louder. They were coming off a commercial break, so there were spotlights and Kings logos floating all over the arena, in the crowd and on the ice. The speakers from the Jumbo-tron above the ice pounded, as the teams lined up for the faceoff.

Garrett lined up at right wing, taking notice of the well known face lining up to his right. Milan Lucic had been the Kings' biggest enforcer since joining the team three seasons earlier, and his reputation was well deserved.

"First game?" the big man smiled at him through his mouthguard. "You're an enforcer in the American league right?"

Garrett nodded, pressing the blade of his stick into the ice as the refs conversed at the penalty box.

"You want to get those off?" Lucic challenged him, and Garrett felt his blood begin to boil.

He nodded, as the refs split up and one skated to the faceoff dot. The puck dropped in an instant and Garrett shook off his gloves.

It had been a while since he'd fought, three weeks to be precise, and he felt a little but rusty.

Lucic shook off his gloves and the ref blew the whistle, as the crowd began to roar. The two circled each other at center for a brief moment before the veteran latched on.

Garrett struggled to keep his balance as the big man threw his first few punches, but managed to counter with a strike of his own. He felt the tug on his jersey and swung again, missing by inches.

"Let's go boys, finish it up!" called one of the refs, and Garrett shook off his elbow guard, not bothering to watch it fall to the ice before he threw another viscous punch over their entangled left arms.

He tried valiantly to pull his arm back and prepare for another round, but Lucic had a death grip on his jersey and wouldn't let go. The refs moved in and separated the two of them, but as they were doing so Lucic reached up and patted him on the helmet.

"Good job bud, that was impressive." he laughed, as Garrett was guided to the visitor's entrance.

With less than five minutes remaining in the first period, he would serve most of his major from the dressing room.

He was pleased with the pats and encouragement he got from his new teammates on his way off the ice, and Carl made sure to catch up with him and pat him on the head as he tossed his helmet toward the bench.

As he headed down the tunnel, the sound of the crowd began to grow fainter, and the lights were blocked out.

He took a deep breath. One period down, two to go...

**********

"Fuck." Garrett muttered under his breath as he walked down the hallway.

The sounds of the Kings' annoyingly high pitched goal horn were still ringing in his ears, as the home team celebrated their second win of the series on their home ice.

"We gotta be better than that, boys." One of his teammates stated as he walked into the dressing room. "We can't let them push us around like that."

The Av's hadn't put up a very good fight, and after the first period it had all gone downhill. With some less than stellar goaltending they'd given the Kings a 2-0 series lead.

The dressing room was quiet as the team began to assemble in their stalls, and the coaches filed into the room.

"That was an embarrassment." Patrick Roy muttered under his breath. "Boys when I talked to you about rebounding from game one, this wasn't what I had in mind. Sure, you'll all have bad days and bad games in your career, but when luck bites you in the ass and shit doesn't go your way, you don't just give up!"

His accent was laced with the tone of frustration, as he continued his speech. Garrett was surprised by the coach's approach, but he wasn't one to question it.

Within five minutes the speech was over and the boys were headed to the showers. Garrett sat in his stall waiting his turn, and formulated a text to Troy back in San Antonio.

"Boys, get some food in you before the flight, we've got to be ready for practice tomorrow." One of the equipment managers called, bringing three platters of food into the room and setting them on the table.

Garrett began to take off his shoulder pads, tossing them into his bag along with his helmet and elbow guards. He tossed his jersey and socks into the bins in the center of the room, and continued to undress.

His bag gradually filled with the equipment it would hold on the evening's flight to Denver, until Carl came to inform him there was an open shower.

"I'll finish your packing, just take your shower. We don't want to be here any longer than we have to be." he murmured.

**********

With a groan, Garrett hoisted his bag over his shoulder, fixing his tie as he headed to the door.

There was a single security guard outside the dressing room, assuring that the visiting team made a safe getaway.

He turned left and headed down the hallway to the visitors entrance of Staples Center, where the Avalanche's chartered bus was parked.

Pushing through the door he was greeted by the brilliant California sun. He remembered for the first time since puck drop that it was Sunday, and the game had been an afternoon game.

He tossed his bag into the storage bay on the bottom of the bus, and headed up the steps to find his seat.

Carl waved him over to sit beside him, and Garrett obliged.

"I know you don't hear it much when you're a young player but you played well today." Carl patted him on the shoulder as he sat down. "You won't get the credit you deserve for another few years but you play well."

"Thanks man." Garrett smiled for the first time since that awful buzzer had sounded for the final time today.

"Proud of you." Carl smiled at him before leaning back and closing his eyes. "Wake me up when we get to the airport."

Garrett smiled, partially because he was genuinely touched by Carl's words, and partially because although it was immature, he still chuckled at his teammate's accent from time to time.

**********

"Alright gentlemen we'll be landing soon, go on home and get some rest, we've got a big day planned tomorrow and you'll all have to be energized. These playoffs are a long race and we're not going to make it to the finish line if none of you take it seriously and take care of yourselves. If you can't bounce back day after day we're not going to win this." Dave Farrish, the assistant coach, announced over the PA system.

Garrett yawned and stretched. The sun was setting out his window and it was a beautiful sight. He had to admit it was nice to get a change of scenery, and the mountains of Colorado were a much welcome change from the regular Texas scenery.

"Alright you ready to see your new home?" Carl returned from a trip to the airplane's bathroom, running a hand through his blonde hair.

Garrett nodded, unplugging his earbuds from his laptop which was resting conveniently on his tray table. The computer began to play the audio from his movie at full blast through the cabin, and he hastily paused the movie.

The plane made a rather uneventful landing, and the players began to disembark, carrying their bags off the plane. The equipment staff was already unloading the team equipment and hockey bags into a large truck for transport back to the Pepsi Center.

"Night boys, get some rest!" called Carl, motioning for Garrett to follow him off the plane.

The two walked down the stairs unto the tarmac of the airstrip they'd landed on. It was a rather small airstrip with only one runway, and the player's vehicles waited no more than fifty feet away, behind a tall fence.

"Alright we're right over here in the front." Carl gestured to a sleek car in the front row, as the two walked through the gate.

They got in the car and within two minutes Carl had the car speeding down the road away from the airfield, en route to his house.

**********

"Welcome to what I call the palace." Carl rolled his eyes sarcastically as he unlocked the door to his house.

It was nice, Garrett had to admit. It was very clean and the rooms were large with high ceilings.

"I know you're probably tired so feel free to crash whenever. Your room's down the hall to the left. First door. When you wake up tomorrow come on out for breakfast. We've got 8:15 practice." Carl gestured to the room and Garrett gratefully stumbled down the hall.

As he opened the door he was hit with the scent of lavender. He dropped his bag in front of the bedside table and he was asleep before his head hit the pillows.
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Thanks so much for reading, I'm just trying to get the story started and I'm excited to keep writing so if you enjoyed stick around, the next chapter is coming soon! :)