Disclaimer: I only own Grace

After lots of thought, I've decided that whenever it has to do with Banshee!Grace, I'm going to add it to the main fic "Voices". Whenever it deals with Bobby raising Grace, I'm going to post a separate fic in the series. I know it might not make much sense on here, but on AO3 there's a way you can link works as a series.

Also, note for this chapter: Only the goalie wears a helmet and padding in girls/women's lacrosse and the 'cage' is another name for the goal.

Anyway, enjoy!

"Grace, dinner's...ready."

When her dad stopped by her room, Grace was on her bed, sitting with her attention to the stereo. Lacrosse practice ended an hour ago, yet Grace remained in her lacrosse helmet, gloves, and uniform. Her hazels were locked on the tape player across from her. While the tape wasn't playing, she could distinctly hear the voices talking to her, saying terrible things, and warning her that something bad was going to happen. But Grace didn't scream. Instead, she sat still with wide eyes, taking in the sounds.

Bobby walked over to his daughter. "Honey, it's time for dinner."

She didn't blink. She looked caught in a trance. Her father sighed. Now that Grace was thirteen, the voices she heard were getting worse. Most days she acted like a normal teenager. Other days she would sit still for a few hours, focusing all of her attention on random objects, stating that she heard something. Bobby sat beside Grace. Without a word, he unhooked her chinstrap and carefully removed her helmet. Her brown hair, which was pulled into a low ponytail, was half frizzy from the humidity and half sweaty. He noticed a slight flush on her rounded cheeks and dried blood on her lower lip. Grace had a habit of biting her lip while in the cage, and if she fell or tried to block a difficult shot, sometimes she'd break the skin. Her eyes were puffy.

"Honey," Bobby put a hand on her shoulder and felt Grace jump at his touch. "It's okay, Grace. It's just me."

She furrowed her brow, her eyes still focused in front of her. "Dad..."

Lately, when he found her in the middle of hearing voices, her face reflected confusion. It was as if she couldn't decide whether his voice was real or in her head.

Bobby took her hand, "Sweetheart, what do you hear?"

"His name's Jake," said Grace. "He cried...in the woods by school."

Bobby's mouth went dry. A young man went missing two days before. He had yet to be found. During his own lacrosse practice that afternoon, he learned that the young man was the older brother of his team captain.

"I heard them scream that someone was gonna die. He said goodbye to his parents. He hurt—he hurt himself."

Grace closed her eyes and let out a scream. A scream that was stuck in her throat since lacrosse practice. Bobby brought his hands to his ears. Grace's face contorted in pain. He watched her eyes tear up just before she stopped. His heart pounded. What the hell was that? Grace broke her gaze and focused on her father. She was out of breath. She felt like she was going to be sick. Most of all, she was terrified. His daughter collapsed into sobs. Bobby wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

"I'm sorry! I held it as long as I could. I heard him today." Grace sniffed, "He whispered—they whispered...at the beginning of eighth period, and at practice. I tried not to scream. Daddy, I tried. I bit my lip and tried to focus on class and the ball. The voices were clearer on the field. I tried not to cry during practice but I couldn't help it. Daddy, I'm sorry..."

Bobby shushed Grace and rubbed her shoulder, "Sweetheart, no. Don't be sorry. You're dealing with some really freaky stuff—"

"I heard the gun go off."

His stomach twisted. He shook his head, "Did you hear it during practice?"

She nodded.

"The whole team heard it though, right? Someone was hunting in the woods and you heard a-a-a buckshot or something."

"No. Just me."

Now he felt like he was going to be sick.

Grace wriggled out of his embrace, "How do I make it stop?"

The lacrosse coach had given the solution to his daughter's voices plenty of thought on a number of occasions. But each time he researched anomalies of children hearing voices, he found articles about parents who put their children in therapy, some gave them medication, and even some who claimed their child was doing it for extra attention. None of the parents had children who heard voices the way Grace heard them. Bobby knew in his gut that medication and therapy wouldn't help this situation, and he knew Grace wasn't making these voices up for attention. She had all of his love and attention. Besides, she was too upset when she heard them for them to be imaginary. He knew her voices were real and like an agonizing intuition, and he certainly was going to treat it that way. But how could he make the voices stop?

Bobby looked around her room, searching for something, anything that would help. And then he saw it. Her lacrosse helmet. He smiled. The answer had been sitting under his nose the entire time. Bobby cupped her cheeks in his hands. He could see the defeat in her eyes. He silently hoped that his idea would work. Both he and Grace needed this to work.

"How do you play lacrosse, Grace?" asked Bobby.

Grace sniffed, "Dad, you're a lacrosse coach. Why are you asking me how to play?"

"Because controlling the voices in your head is like playing lacrosse."

"Dad…"

"No, I'm serious, Grace." Bobby urged. "It's like—It's like lacrosse. It's just like lacrosse. You're constantly playing a game in your head."

Grace gave it some thought. After a minute, she wiped her eyes with her hand. "If it's a game, then why can't I win? You've seen me on the field, dad."

He had seen her, and he was damn proud of her. Grace's save streak as goalie on her junior high team made her almost a higher caliber goalie than some of his seniors. Bobby couldn't wait until she was in high school. He planned to keep her in the cage on his team so the Cyclones could annihilate the competition. Any accusations of nepotism would be damned as soon as they saw how well she could bait the shooter. Even at five foot zero, with girls towering above her and shooting around her, Grace managed to block the yellow ball nine times out of ten. She was a beast in the goal.

"Why can't I block them?" she pressed.

He ran his hands through his hair. "Because their Midfielders are strong, they're running all over your field and their Attackers score constantly. I-I-I don't know! The point is they're beating you real bad, kiddo. Illegal moves and all, there's no ref to stop 'em, and you're not playing in the cage."

Grace made a face, and he wasn't sure if what he'd said made sense to her. Hell, he wasn't even sure if what he said made sense to him.

"You having control of your mind is like you having control of the goal. Sweetheart, you don't have control of the voices, so you don't have control of your goal. Somehow you need to get back in your goal, and block things the way you block them outside of your mind on the field."

Grace didn't reply. Her attention had moved to a spot on the wall. She frowned. Grace immediately reached for her father's hand and he took it.

"Are the voices back? Are they still there?" he asked.

She squeezed his hand, "How-How do I get my spot—"

"Kick 'em out, Gracie." Bobby rubbed her back. "See the field, or imagine one. Any voice you hear that isn't mine is a player. You tell them it's on Coach's orders, if you have to. You're goalie now."

Grace closed her eyes. She saw a lacrosse field illuminated by harsh white lights. She heard at least five different voices whispering to her. She tried to pick apart the voices and place them into faceless players. Instead, she saw lacrosse balls of all colors flying into the unblocked goal. She ran to the goal and a faceless player appeared. Grace mentally screamed that Coach wanted her as goalie and the voiceless figure ran. Yellow, white, black, red, orange, and green balls pelted her. Each ball sounded like one of the voices she heard. Her gear appeared on the ground in front of her. She immediately put on her helmet and grabbed a stick. Grace opened her eyes.

"Are you in your goal?" Bobby smiled.

Grace nodded.

"That's my girl!" He kissed her temple. "Do you still hear the voices?"

"I can't get rid of them," her voice shook. "I can't block out the voices. They're clearer now."

"It's okay if you can't get rid of them all the time. Grace, you need to find a way to control when you hear them so it doesn't consume you. Your cage is your way to control them."

Grace took a deep breath, "Control."

"When you said you needed to scream, do you feel it with all the voices or some?"

"Some."

"Do you feel it at the same time as when the voice shows up, or are they separate?"

She thought for a moment, and then answered, "After the voices, but it depends on what they say. If they're mean, or say someone's going to die, I need to scream."

"Then only let the voices enter your goal if they're mean," said Bobby. "When you don't want to hear the others, don't let them score"

"You make it sound easy."

"It doesn't hurt to try it."

Grace shut her eyes and returned to the field. Balls soared towards the goal. She began to block them and felt most of the voices die off. She smiled. It was working. However, there was one voice that remained constant, and soon multiple yellow balls with the same voice headed towards the net. Grace stopped blocking. She was meant to hear that voice. Jake's voice. He grew louder and high-pitched screams echoed in her head. Grace opened her eyes and screamed. Bobby clasped his hands over his ears again, this time hoping that she had gained at least a bit more control over what she could hear. As she stopped screaming, Grace looked around her room and found that things in her head were quiet again. Well, quiet aside from her usual thoughts, and those weren't nearly as noisy as the voices.

She faced her dad. "It worked."

"Do you hear any other voices?" Bobby asked.

"No, they're gone. They stopped. But what if I can't do that every time?" Grace panicked. "What if I can't get back in my goal?"

"Sweetheart..."

"What if that only worked this time?"

Bobby rubbed the back of his neck. He hated seeing Grace this unglued, especially when he didn't know what to do about it. "Maybe, I don't know...maybe it might not work every time." He sighed, "Look, honey, I don't think you're meant to fully control or stop the voices all the time. These voices...honey, I think you're supposed to hear them, but I don't know why."

"I think so, too."

"We just have to find a way to help you live with them. And maybe, maybe, that mental goal thing is your way."

Grace threw her arms around her dad and buried her face in his chest. "I really hope you're right."

"Me too, kiddo." Bobby rubbed her back. "Me too."

Please review! Not quite TW spoilers Headcanon: Coach started his journey to sobriety the minute he found out Ann was pregnant.

I hope everything made sense!