Author's Note: I'm co-writing this with chorins96, but her account doesn't work so we decided to post it on mine. We're just trying out this whole co- writing thing to see if we can combine our angstyness and create one big Charlie angst-fest. As well, neither Mary (chorins96) or I own the Ducks, but if they're for sale, Mary and I'd like to start the opening bid for Charlie at $100. As well, the first part of this chapter is copied from the book, "D3: The Mighty Ducks."

-Chapter 1-

Charlie's POV:

"I'm not going to be your coach this year," he told me.

I was stunned. "You're joking. Right, Coach?" I asked.

Gordon shook his head. "No joke. The Junior Goodwill committee has named me the director of player personnel. I'll be in charge of their junior hockey program worldwide."

"Don't go," I pleaded.

"Charlie, I can't pass up this opportunity," he told me, trying to make me understand. I never will. After all these years, how can he turn his back on us? Turn his back on me. Without him, I'm nothing. He's my lifeline.

"But you can pass us up, right?" I shot back. "You dump us on some stupid school..."

Gordon took a deep breath. "I'm not dumping you anywhere. Eden Hall is a great opportunity for you."

My eyes started to gloss over, so I shut them to keep the tears from trickling down my cheek. I don't want Bombay to see me cry even though he's been one of the few people who has seen me cry before. That was four years ago. It may as well have been a lifetime ago as far as I'm concerned.

"So you're doing me a big favor by walking out?" I scoffed bitterly. "My Dad said the same thing."

"I'm not your father, Charlie. I'm me. And I'll always be here for you."

He smiled at me. I glowered back at him, sending a message saying, "If you really cared, you'd stay."

He ignores my stare and puts his arm around my shoulders, trying to pull me into a 'goodbye' hug. I angrily shrug it off. Normally, I feel safe in his arms because it feels like he's protecting me from everything evil in the world; as if he were my own father even though he's not with my mother anymore.

I'm too hurt to show any emotion other then anger right now.

"Skip it," I say angrily. "I've heard that lecture before."

I look at him once more. Not with anger, but with heartache. I hope he sees how much it hurts me to be away from him.

If he felt just one ounce, just one speck, of what I felt for him, he'd run up to me, promise that he'll stay and squeeze me so hard that my rib cage will start to hurt.

He sighed deeply telling me that his mind was made up already.

I walked away.