Whatever It Takes
By Misha

Disclaimer- Not mine, most of the characters own themselves. Only Alexandra (and later her friends) are the products of my imagination. Everything else belongs to someone else. I'm not making any money off this, so please don't sue me.

Author's Notes- Okay, when I started "Of Dreams and Miracles" I had a very specific story plan in my head, but that story widely veered from course. Not that I don't love the way it's unfolding, it's just not the way I intended it to go and I couldn't get my original idea out of my head. So, I started another story. Like the other one this centers around an original character, again the oldest daughter of Herb Brooks, but it's a different daughter than Elizabeth in "Of Dreams and Miracles" and this is a different story. I'm not sure whether there'll be a triangle, probably, but I know this story will be darker and edgier, without the sweet angst of the other one. The conflict will be more bitter and angry in this one. I like both stories and hope that you do too. Well, that's all for now, enjoy!

Author's Notes2- Okay, I rewrote this entire story. I liked the first draft, but then I suddenly realized that it was just awkward. So I went back and wrote the whole thing in first person. Now, I hate first person and in times I get the tenses off, but I do think it makes the story flow better which is why I changed it. It also give you a better view into Alexandra's head. Well, that's it, enjoy!

Summery- Herb Brooks' oldest daughter, Alexandra, is there to witness the events leading up to the 1980 Olympics. During that time she comes to understand the meaning of love, lust, friendship, and betrayal.

Rating- PG-13

Early July, 1979

What am I doing here?

I kept asking myself that question as I stood in one of the boxes in an arena, looking down at a bunch of hockey players skating around on the ice below me.

It was the first day of tryouts for the 1980 Olympic team and I, Alexandra Brooks, was along for the ride.

"What do you think Lexi?" My father asked me, looking up from a piece of paper that he was busy writing stuff down on.

My father, Herb Brooks, was the reason I was in Colorado. He had been picked to coach the Olympic team and he asked me to come along to the tryouts with him.

My father and I have always been close. I'm definitely a Daddy's girl. I shrugged in answer to his question.

"I think they all look pretty good." I told him. "But I also think that you already know which players you want and that these tryouts are all just for show."

"Very good." My father told me. "You're right of course." "Of course." I agreed, with a slight smile.

"Daddy, I've only been your daughter for twenty-one years, I know how you think.

He just nodded. "That's why I want you along for this, Lexi. Not just for the tryouts, but for the whole thing."

"You mean it?" I asked hopefully.

I had sort of known it was coming, I'd been helping him out at the University of Minnesota, where he coached and I had just graduated from, for the last four years. But the Olympics was something else entirely.

"I do." He told me. "Lexi, You know me, you know how I think, but you also know the players or can get to know them. I think you can be a big help."

I nodded. "I can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing." I told him honestly.

I turned away from my father and looked down at the ice and boys skating on it.

I loved hockey. I loved everything about it, watching it, playing it. Not that I'd ever really gotten a chance to play.

My mother, or rather my stepmother, didn't think girls should play hockey. So I was never allowed to play.

Patti Brooks' is the only mother I've ever really known, I call her Mom and I consider her my mother, but another woman gave birth to me.

My biological mother, Caroline, died was when I was just two years old. I don't remember her at all, though it's from her that I got my thick auburn hair and deep green eyes. Dad sometimes says that I'm the very image of her.

I don't think of her very often, mainly because I think of Mom as my mother. She and Dad met three years after Caroline died and they married two years after that, when I was seven.

She's the only mother I've ever known and we're close. We don't always see eye to eye on everything, like hockey. Mom has always hated everything to do with the sport, which is the real reason I was never allowed to play anything more than the occasional pickup game.

She had put me in figure skating though, since she thought it was an appropriate activity for a girl. My little sister takes ballet. Since I was allowed to skate, I was never resentful about not being allowed to play hockey. I mean I love it, but the skating is my favorite part and I have that.

Besides, hockey has always been a part of my life thanks to my father. I've been hanging out in hockey rinks for years and these last few years, I'd been helping him at the U.

Of course, now I was done school, or rather I had my B.A. I'd probably go back for my Masters, I hadn't entirely made up my mind yet. I just knew that after four years I was getting kind of bored with school.

Which is why I was thrilled that Dad offered me this chance to help out with the team. It was just the change I needed.

Just then, my father's assistant coach, Craig Patrick, entered the box.

"So Doc cleared him, he says it's just a sprain." Craig told my father, referring to a player who had been hurt at the beginning of the tryout.

"That's good." Dad said, never taking his eyes from his piece of paper.

"I just wanted you to know how much I'm looking forward to coaching with you." Craig told him.

I smirked to myself. I knew that by Lake Placid, Craig would be singing a different tone. My father was not an easy man to work with, not by any stretch of the imagination.

"You were one hell of a player, Craig." My father admitted, looking up from his piece of paper. "You're going to make one hell of a coach."

Craig looked pleased, as well as he should. My father is not one to give out compliments lightly.

"I'm going to need you to get to know these boys, stick tight with them." Dad continued. "You and Lexi both, I need you guys to be their friend and find out any problems brewing and come to me with the big ones."

Craig looked confused. But I understood, that was just the way it had been at the U.

"Dad doesn't get involved personally." I clarified for Craig, since I knew my father wouldn't. "He says he's less effective as a coach if he's too friendly with the players."

I thought it was silly, but who was I to argue with the coach?

"Ah." Craig said, as Dad handed him the piece of paper. "What's this?"

"Twenty-six names," my father answered. "The tough part is going to be getting it down to twenty before opening ceremony."

"This is the final roster?" Craig asked, his mouth open in disbelief. "You're kidding me, right? This is our first day, Herb. We've got a week of this. You're missing some of the best players."

I fought the urge to grin. I knew what was coming. I wasn't disappointed.

"I'm not looking for the best players, Craig, I'm looking for the right ones." Dad answered, just as I had known he would.

"You have Jim Craig to back up Steve Janaszak?" Craig asked, obviously surprised, as he scanned the list.

"Other way around." Dad said casually.

"Other way around? I'm sorry didn't Janaszak just win you a National Championship?" Craig asked, obviously confused.

"This isn't the Nationals." I answered for my father. "Jannie's a good goaltender, he's solid, but not spectacular."

Now I'm really fond of Steve Janasek, he's a friend, but it's true.

Craig ignored me and focused on my father. "You know everyone I've talked to says Craig's game has been off since his mother died."

"Did they ever see him when his game was on?" Dad asked him.

"What about the advisory staff?" Craig continued, not answering my father's question. "Aren't they supposed to have a say in this?"

"Technically." Dad answered.

"Which means yes, but that he doesn't give a damn." I supplied pertly. I knew my father, he was a a "my way or the highway" kind of guy.

"Watch your mouth." Dad scolded, though he didn't bother to deny my accusation.

I just smirked at Craig. "See?"

I sat at the very back of the room, watching as he called off the names.

I could tell that the players were surprised that it was coming so soon, they had been told they'd be here for a week.

As Craig read off the names, you could see the relief and excitement that crossed each boys face as his name was called.

I knew a lot of the boys of the one list and the ones I didn't, I had heard of. None of the names surprised me and I knew exactly why my father had picked those players.

"Eurizione." Craig called out, getting to the last name on the list. "And that's the roster for now. The rest of you, thanks for coming out."

The majority of the boys got up and walked out of the arena, obviously crestfallen. The remaining hockey players began greeting one another.

My eyes fell on one in particular.

Robbie McClannahan.

I grinned at the sight of him. I had known, of course, that Robbie had was trying out for the team-he had told me. I had also been 90 sure, even going into tryouts, that he'd make the team.

Still, that hadn't stopped me from worrying about it and feeling relieved when Craig had called out his name. This experience would be a lot less fun if Robbie wasn't around to share it with me.

"Take a good look around boys." Hearing my father's voice, broke me out of my reverie. I tore my gaze away from Robbie to see my father coming down the stairs. "'Cause they're the ones getting off easy. We're putting a few of you on reserve, in case someone gets injured or their game goes to hell. The final roster will have twenty names on it, so more of you are going home. Give ninety-nine percent and you'll make my job very, very easy. I'll be your coach, I won't be your friend. Over there is my daughter Alexandra, she'll be helping us out these next few months, she might be your friend, it's up to her. Otherwise if you need one of those you can talk to Doc or Coach Patrick."

As soon as he made the speech, he turned around again and left.

"Congratulations," Craig told the crowd, breaking the silence that had descended. "Before you go pick up one of these. You've got a little homework to do before you celebrate."

The boys all made their way to the front and then began to exit. I stayed where I was, waiting for all the boys to leave.

Robbie was one of the last to leave and he stopped by my seat on his way out. "Hey beautiful."

"Hey you." I greeted him, standing up.

Robbie pulled me towards him and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I snuggled against him for a moment.

"So a bunch of us are going out tonight to celebrate." He informed me. "You wanna come?"

"I'll think about it." I teased. "I might have date with my other boyfriend, you know."

"Oh, him." Robbie answered in deadpan voice. "Well, then."

I laughed. "I'll meet you there." I told him.

Robbie grinned. "Great."

"Where are you guys going?" I asked.

Robbie told me the name of the place, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and then took off to the locker room.

I watched him go with a smile and then exited the arena. My father was waiting for me by the car.

"What took you so long?" He demanded.

"I ran into Robbie." I replied, as I got into the car.

"Of course." Dad said in a disgusted tone, getting into the driver's side.

I suppressed a grin. My father had never approved of me dating Robbie. But he had accepted the fact that I was an adult and could date whoever I chose. Even if he didn't like it.

"Keep it away from the rink." He warned me.

"I will." I promised. "I know the rules, under no circumstances is my personal life supposed to affect the team."

"Make sure that you do." Dad said as he started the car.

"I just had a talk with Walter." He informed me, changing the subject. "He doesn't seem to like the way I'm doing things."

"Did you really think he would?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"No." Dad admitted. "But he's giving me the benefit of the doubt, letting me do things my way."

"Is there any other way with you?" I asked wryly.

Dad didn't answer, which was an answer all in itself.