Handbook for the Sellout XX
Title: Handbook for the Sellout
Summary: It's not a story. It's life. Grade 12 at Eden Hall brings about new beginnings and ends. Connie leaves the team, the Bash Brothers struggle while Adam and Charlie unlock their own secrets. Maybe Ducks don't always fly together. [slash] [het] [complete]
Author's Note: God. I have not written anything of substance in so long. The last time this story was updated was over a year ago. Jessi sent me a few pieces last fall, but I never started my portion. I’ve changed a lot since I began writing this, I’ve close to forgotten about where I was going with it. However I was looking back over this story this weekend, thinking about updating it and finishing it.
But then yesterday I vowed that I couldn’t come back to it. I received a phone calling informing me a very close family friend/friend Chris Miller was killed in a car accident in British Columbia. Yes, the character who Connie stays with in Colorado. I thought about it over the last 24 hours and changed my mind, deciding to finally finish this piece and dedicate to him. Jessi’s gone in Europe, I don’t know how she’ll feel about me finishing it, or how it’ll turn out without her guidance. She’s my muse and I struggle without her. Never the less I’m going to give it a shot.
RIP Chris.
Fandom: Mighty Ducks
Chapter: 20
Disclaimer: You know the drill. The passage used is Ecclesiastes 3:1-9.
~*~
“A time to be born, and a time to die,” a sallow faced priest read in a sober tone. Adam gazed surrealistically around the cemetery, the exact place where Hans had been buried seven years before. A small, somber group had gathered. The size only emphasized how he’d faded away slowly after the past few years. His peak in high school had long sense been forgotten. The Minnesota spring was more inviting than it’s harsh winter, but the cold was still powerful enough to require wearing a jacket. The light was flat and dull, as though a storm had finished yet never cleared. Biting his lip and pushing his hands deeper into the pockets of his wool trench coat, he fought desperately to contain meaningless tears. He had come from Cambridge alone.
“A time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant.” It was something he’d grown used to over the past three years. Looking up, he saw a petite brunette clutching the hand of a rugged looking blonde, shaggy hair cascading into his eyes hiding any emotion. Connie had reunited with Guy, but only to travel back to Minneapolis together. Having gone and lived in Denver had tore the two apart, and her stint with the Chris guy she lived with had made the severe irremediable. Connie had thrived having the opportunity to leave her hometown. She was majoring in pre-med in Wisconsin one of the stars of the Lady Badgers hockey team. Adam only knew this from having read the papers and following NCAA hockey. He didn’t speak to any of the Ducks anymore.
“A time to kill, and a time to heal; A time to tear down, and a time to build.” The insensitive drawl of the priest irritated Adam. He wanted to yell out for him to stop, to quit doing his friend such an injustice, that he didn’t even know him. But despite his physical limitations, that his throat was so dry and hoarse not even the simplest words could escape, he couldn’t. It would be hypocritical. He didn’t even know the man anymore. His focus shifted from the broken couple to yet another. Or least a portion of. Fulton stood with a woman he didn’t recognize. Both had long matted hair tied back into ponytails, clad in leather. Even wearing respectable formal wear couldn’t hide either’s tattoos. Fulton turned his head, deep brown eyes catching his own. A hardened glare was exchanged, though Adam could have sworn that it had softened on Fulton’s side, before he whipped his head back around. He’d always been more willing to forgive and forget than Portman.
“A time to weep, and a time to laugh; A time to mourn, and a time to dance.” He spotted the familiar redhead huddled next to their former coach. Even her petite form managed to look even smaller that normal. He had been her only reason for living, for waking up in the morning, slaving to the system from dusk until dawn, performing menial labour just to make ends meet. After the… accident, as it came to be referred as, she stretched her abilities further, providing the round the clock care he required. Her rosy complexion was dull with pain and exhaustion, even her hair didn’t glisten the lame rays of sun that fought through the thick gray cloud cover. She was a broken woman many times over, had been taped back together, reattached with gum, and propped into place. But this time she had no reason to reconnect the pieces.
“A time to scatter stones, and a time to gather them; A time to embrace, and a time to be far from embraces.” Peter, Goldberg, Tammy and Averman stood together, clinging onto one another. They had an invulnerable and unyielding bond. One that could not be broken, one that did not open to newcomers. A bond that Adam had struggled with for years. He was still, subconsciously in some of their minds, enemy number one. He was still a Hawk. The two original D5 members that had convinced the group otherwise were in jail (Jesse had been imprisoned on drug charges and would remain there for two more years) or six feet under. He couldn’t decide what fate was better. Without their leadership, the animosity for Adam grew. They couldn’t even look him in the eye at the church. Their loyality was as he'd always suspected, his suspicions finally, however meaninglessly confirmed.
"A time to seek, and a time to lose; A time to keep, and a time to cast away.” Julie stood a few steps behind the group of original Ducks, Luis and Dwayne in her vicinity. They’d struggled with the same issues of acceptance as Adam did. While Adam had first turned to Varsity and later to his doting groupies, Julie shyed away from much of any social contact throughout school, being branded the bitch of Eden Hall. Luis found his niche among the cheerleaders and Dwayne tried fruitlessly to remain a Duck. His naivety once comforted Adam, but he grew to despise it, as it was a sign of mental weakness. The three had since moved on from the Duck cult, reaqcuainted themselves with the 'real world' and thrived.
“A time to rend, and a time to sew; A time to be silent, and a time to speak.” Bitterly Adam remembered receiving the phone call last week. He’d just walked into his apartment, fresh from practice, playoffs were coming up and Wells, the coach, had dedicated hours to painstaking technical work. It was a far shot from conditioning but proved just as strenuous. He’d thrown his keys to the ground and laggardly grabbed the phone.
The only person that called him anymore was his brother who he’d somehow salvaged a relationship with when he left home for school, and his dad who was too blinded by his joy of Adam having choose Harvard to care about his obvious signs of depression. If he wasn’t skating or studying, he was drinking. He hadn’t had a solid relationship with anyone outside his teammates since he’d gone to Massachusetts. His nights were filled with unfamiliar bars and one night stands. Girls threw themselves at his status as hockey captain and conventional good looks. He never even bothered to learn their names. He didn’t care about them. He felt the same way about them as he did about the posters Conway used to tack up above his bed in the dorms at Eden.
A vaguely familiar voice cracked on the other line. “Adam… It’s Bombay. Charlie… he…passed away last Friday.” After those words he stopped listening, only picking up pieces, respiratory infection, funeral, 27th, Minnesota.
He was dead. They hadn’t spoken since the fall out in the hospital room three years prior. He’d died despising Adam.
“A time to love, and a time to hate; A time of war, and a time of peace,” the priest closed the bible and sprinkled a handful of dirt on the mahogany coffin. "Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection into eternal life,” he spoke once more. Bombay walked slowly up to the grave lying Charlie’s tattered, faded green Ducks jersey across the casket. He hung his head, emitting a single sob, as Casey placed a single white rose on top and collapsed into the man’s arms. Taking this as a cue, Connie took charge, tears flowing down her cheeks, Guy in close pursuit, tossing her flower into the grave. The rest of the Ducks followed suit. Averman, Peter, Tammy, Luis, Goldberg, Fulton, Ken, Dwayne, and Julie. Adam began to trudge up towards the casket to join his former teammates in paying their final respects to their former captain, but stopped. Everyone there, mourning, the destruction of their former potential and youthfulness, it was overwhelming, haunting. He tore away from the crowd, gaining speed as he sprinted through the rows of headstones and bouquets. He darted through piles of melting snow, decaying leaves, balloons and teddy bears before stumbling on a surfaced root, tripping and toppling to his knees, his tears turning into heaving sobs.
“Look at me. I fucked up. And this time I can’t change it.”
------
"Why do we cry when you know how the story ends?
How can you laugh when you know that it hurts your friends?
We’ve all been there once but you never left
This is me coming back, back to get you out
To say goodbye to make amends
I’m not leaving this place
Unless I’m leaving with you
You're the only person with a half decent heart here
And I know you will put it to use
Until it's gone, gone, gone
Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, yeah
And if you go, I’ll be gone
And you'll be left alone to live your life, as you please
But someday you'll agree that i was always meant for you
You were always meant for me and you will see: that you're impossible
You're impossible
Me and Mr. Dylan on the ride home
We had a heart to heart about life
But neither him or me could decide for ourselves if we wanted to outlive that night
Like two children on the playground of the unconfessed souls
Abandoned by our mothers and our lovers and our foes
If only we were brave enough to live the lives we stole
What a wonderful world this could be!
So how many more examples until we break?
How many sacrifices must we make?
Because we've all been there once before
And it looks like we've returned once more
Is this the beginning or the end?
The last two soldiers on the battlefield
Survivors of the war
They aim at one another while their mothers beg the lord
If you're listening, I’m missing him
So somehow bring him home
How did it come to this?"
So the soldiers lift their rifles
They're aiming at the head
They think of their first love before they take their final breaths
And some where in the distance they hear something someone said; "How did it come to this?"
And as you close your eyes for the big sleep
I hope you think of me, yeah
And as you close your eyes for the big sleep
I hope you think of me, yeah"
-‘The Big Sleep’ Streetlight Manifesto
Summary: It's not a story. It's life. Grade 12 at Eden Hall brings about new beginnings and ends. Connie leaves the team, the Bash Brothers struggle while Adam and Charlie unlock their own secrets. Maybe Ducks don't always fly together. [slash] [het] [complete]
Author's Note: God. I have not written anything of substance in so long. The last time this story was updated was over a year ago. Jessi sent me a few pieces last fall, but I never started my portion. I’ve changed a lot since I began writing this, I’ve close to forgotten about where I was going with it. However I was looking back over this story this weekend, thinking about updating it and finishing it.
But then yesterday I vowed that I couldn’t come back to it. I received a phone calling informing me a very close family friend/friend Chris Miller was killed in a car accident in British Columbia. Yes, the character who Connie stays with in Colorado. I thought about it over the last 24 hours and changed my mind, deciding to finally finish this piece and dedicate to him. Jessi’s gone in Europe, I don’t know how she’ll feel about me finishing it, or how it’ll turn out without her guidance. She’s my muse and I struggle without her. Never the less I’m going to give it a shot.
RIP Chris.
Fandom: Mighty Ducks
Chapter: 20
Disclaimer: You know the drill. The passage used is Ecclesiastes 3:1-9.
~*~
“A time to be born, and a time to die,” a sallow faced priest read in a sober tone. Adam gazed surrealistically around the cemetery, the exact place where Hans had been buried seven years before. A small, somber group had gathered. The size only emphasized how he’d faded away slowly after the past few years. His peak in high school had long sense been forgotten. The Minnesota spring was more inviting than it’s harsh winter, but the cold was still powerful enough to require wearing a jacket. The light was flat and dull, as though a storm had finished yet never cleared. Biting his lip and pushing his hands deeper into the pockets of his wool trench coat, he fought desperately to contain meaningless tears. He had come from Cambridge alone.
“A time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant.” It was something he’d grown used to over the past three years. Looking up, he saw a petite brunette clutching the hand of a rugged looking blonde, shaggy hair cascading into his eyes hiding any emotion. Connie had reunited with Guy, but only to travel back to Minneapolis together. Having gone and lived in Denver had tore the two apart, and her stint with the Chris guy she lived with had made the severe irremediable. Connie had thrived having the opportunity to leave her hometown. She was majoring in pre-med in Wisconsin one of the stars of the Lady Badgers hockey team. Adam only knew this from having read the papers and following NCAA hockey. He didn’t speak to any of the Ducks anymore.
“A time to kill, and a time to heal; A time to tear down, and a time to build.” The insensitive drawl of the priest irritated Adam. He wanted to yell out for him to stop, to quit doing his friend such an injustice, that he didn’t even know him. But despite his physical limitations, that his throat was so dry and hoarse not even the simplest words could escape, he couldn’t. It would be hypocritical. He didn’t even know the man anymore. His focus shifted from the broken couple to yet another. Or least a portion of. Fulton stood with a woman he didn’t recognize. Both had long matted hair tied back into ponytails, clad in leather. Even wearing respectable formal wear couldn’t hide either’s tattoos. Fulton turned his head, deep brown eyes catching his own. A hardened glare was exchanged, though Adam could have sworn that it had softened on Fulton’s side, before he whipped his head back around. He’d always been more willing to forgive and forget than Portman.
“A time to weep, and a time to laugh; A time to mourn, and a time to dance.” He spotted the familiar redhead huddled next to their former coach. Even her petite form managed to look even smaller that normal. He had been her only reason for living, for waking up in the morning, slaving to the system from dusk until dawn, performing menial labour just to make ends meet. After the… accident, as it came to be referred as, she stretched her abilities further, providing the round the clock care he required. Her rosy complexion was dull with pain and exhaustion, even her hair didn’t glisten the lame rays of sun that fought through the thick gray cloud cover. She was a broken woman many times over, had been taped back together, reattached with gum, and propped into place. But this time she had no reason to reconnect the pieces.
“A time to scatter stones, and a time to gather them; A time to embrace, and a time to be far from embraces.” Peter, Goldberg, Tammy and Averman stood together, clinging onto one another. They had an invulnerable and unyielding bond. One that could not be broken, one that did not open to newcomers. A bond that Adam had struggled with for years. He was still, subconsciously in some of their minds, enemy number one. He was still a Hawk. The two original D5 members that had convinced the group otherwise were in jail (Jesse had been imprisoned on drug charges and would remain there for two more years) or six feet under. He couldn’t decide what fate was better. Without their leadership, the animosity for Adam grew. They couldn’t even look him in the eye at the church. Their loyality was as he'd always suspected, his suspicions finally, however meaninglessly confirmed.
"A time to seek, and a time to lose; A time to keep, and a time to cast away.” Julie stood a few steps behind the group of original Ducks, Luis and Dwayne in her vicinity. They’d struggled with the same issues of acceptance as Adam did. While Adam had first turned to Varsity and later to his doting groupies, Julie shyed away from much of any social contact throughout school, being branded the bitch of Eden Hall. Luis found his niche among the cheerleaders and Dwayne tried fruitlessly to remain a Duck. His naivety once comforted Adam, but he grew to despise it, as it was a sign of mental weakness. The three had since moved on from the Duck cult, reaqcuainted themselves with the 'real world' and thrived.
“A time to rend, and a time to sew; A time to be silent, and a time to speak.” Bitterly Adam remembered receiving the phone call last week. He’d just walked into his apartment, fresh from practice, playoffs were coming up and Wells, the coach, had dedicated hours to painstaking technical work. It was a far shot from conditioning but proved just as strenuous. He’d thrown his keys to the ground and laggardly grabbed the phone.
The only person that called him anymore was his brother who he’d somehow salvaged a relationship with when he left home for school, and his dad who was too blinded by his joy of Adam having choose Harvard to care about his obvious signs of depression. If he wasn’t skating or studying, he was drinking. He hadn’t had a solid relationship with anyone outside his teammates since he’d gone to Massachusetts. His nights were filled with unfamiliar bars and one night stands. Girls threw themselves at his status as hockey captain and conventional good looks. He never even bothered to learn their names. He didn’t care about them. He felt the same way about them as he did about the posters Conway used to tack up above his bed in the dorms at Eden.
A vaguely familiar voice cracked on the other line. “Adam… It’s Bombay. Charlie… he…passed away last Friday.” After those words he stopped listening, only picking up pieces, respiratory infection, funeral, 27th, Minnesota.
He was dead. They hadn’t spoken since the fall out in the hospital room three years prior. He’d died despising Adam.
“A time to love, and a time to hate; A time of war, and a time of peace,” the priest closed the bible and sprinkled a handful of dirt on the mahogany coffin. "Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection into eternal life,” he spoke once more. Bombay walked slowly up to the grave lying Charlie’s tattered, faded green Ducks jersey across the casket. He hung his head, emitting a single sob, as Casey placed a single white rose on top and collapsed into the man’s arms. Taking this as a cue, Connie took charge, tears flowing down her cheeks, Guy in close pursuit, tossing her flower into the grave. The rest of the Ducks followed suit. Averman, Peter, Tammy, Luis, Goldberg, Fulton, Ken, Dwayne, and Julie. Adam began to trudge up towards the casket to join his former teammates in paying their final respects to their former captain, but stopped. Everyone there, mourning, the destruction of their former potential and youthfulness, it was overwhelming, haunting. He tore away from the crowd, gaining speed as he sprinted through the rows of headstones and bouquets. He darted through piles of melting snow, decaying leaves, balloons and teddy bears before stumbling on a surfaced root, tripping and toppling to his knees, his tears turning into heaving sobs.
“Look at me. I fucked up. And this time I can’t change it.”
------
"Why do we cry when you know how the story ends?
How can you laugh when you know that it hurts your friends?
We’ve all been there once but you never left
This is me coming back, back to get you out
To say goodbye to make amends
I’m not leaving this place
Unless I’m leaving with you
You're the only person with a half decent heart here
And I know you will put it to use
Until it's gone, gone, gone
Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, yeah
And if you go, I’ll be gone
And you'll be left alone to live your life, as you please
But someday you'll agree that i was always meant for you
You were always meant for me and you will see: that you're impossible
You're impossible
Me and Mr. Dylan on the ride home
We had a heart to heart about life
But neither him or me could decide for ourselves if we wanted to outlive that night
Like two children on the playground of the unconfessed souls
Abandoned by our mothers and our lovers and our foes
If only we were brave enough to live the lives we stole
What a wonderful world this could be!
So how many more examples until we break?
How many sacrifices must we make?
Because we've all been there once before
And it looks like we've returned once more
Is this the beginning or the end?
The last two soldiers on the battlefield
Survivors of the war
They aim at one another while their mothers beg the lord
If you're listening, I’m missing him
So somehow bring him home
How did it come to this?"
So the soldiers lift their rifles
They're aiming at the head
They think of their first love before they take their final breaths
And some where in the distance they hear something someone said; "How did it come to this?"
And as you close your eyes for the big sleep
I hope you think of me, yeah
And as you close your eyes for the big sleep
I hope you think of me, yeah"
-‘The Big Sleep’ Streetlight Manifesto