Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas rattling in my head!

Maria Hill has an affinity for ice – not surprising, as she is born when the temperature registers forty-four degrees below zero. Ice has an air of perfection to it, clear of past victories or losses. For her, it embodies all the possibilities and best of all, a clean slate.

Chicago isn't home to her. The only thing it ever gave her was hockey, though she could never give her full love to the Blackhawks because they're her father's team. Once she hoped hockey could bring them together, but soon realized he only allowed her hockey because it kept her out of his sight. From then on, Maria learns to love hockey for her own sake rather than her father's. She bikes to the nearest ice rink for practice, all of her gear and equipment awkwardly piled and lashed to various parts of the bike. When she's old enough, she talks herself into a job at the rink in a bid for even more ice time as well as spending money for equipment.

The scholarship to Shattuck St. Mary's is one of the best things that can happen to her. She packs her bags for Minnesota and never looks back, except for the summers when she has to take the bus back to Chicago. It's at Shattuck where she really develops her skill, leading the girl's team to National Championships for three straight years. She receives an athletic scholarship to play for the Golden Gophers, and an invitation to join the US women's U18 team. When she graduates from Shattuck, she packs her bags and moves to Minnesota permanently. She more or less expects her father to throw her out and she'd rather beat him to the punch.

The decision to major in business is nothing but deliberate. She wants a job that has a chance of keeping her in the sports world, especially if it's hockey. Maybe she can even work in the NHL. She has a good head for statistics and she believes she'd be an asset to some team's front office. Pepper Potts seems to be doing great things out in New York and she would love to be a part of that organization.

In college, Maria focuses on school, work, and hockey, though not necessarily in that order. The Golden Gophers get to the Frozen Four her freshman year, and they win the whole thing her sophomore year. She doesn't want to think of a time when she can't play as much hockey, but consoles herself with the idea of moving somewhere to work where there's a fairly decent women's league so she can at least play sometimes.

Therefore, it's an utter and complete surprise when she's asked to put her name forward for the NHL draft. "Who is going to pick me?" she asks slowly, wondering if they're talking about a hypothetical situation.

Pepper Potts (Pepper Potts!) looks a little surprised at the question. "The Knights, of course."

It has to be one colossal joke, Maria thinks numbly. There's no possible way Pepper Potts, Maya Hansen, and Melinda May are here offering her the chance to play in the NHL. Women don't play in the NHL, it's an unspoken rule. She's learned to shove aside the pain of a dream deferred and accept the next best thing.

Maria's dealt with disappointment her entire life. She's worked hard so she can overcome it and at least take herself down a path that will be satisfying and fulfilling, if not exactly happy.

Now she has the chance to be happy, to do what she loves with some of the best players in the world. She'd be an idiot if she allowed that opportunity to pass her by. She calls Maya that night. "I'll do it." Saying it out loud makes it so much more real. "But I want to finish university. I'll take summer classes so I can finish by next year."

"Whatever you want," Maya assures her, sounding incredibly satisfied. "We'll work it out. Do you have any time to meet tomorrow? We should go over a few things so you know what to expect come the draft."

It seems like the entire North American hockey world loses its collective mind when her name is announced as a draft prospect. Suddenly, everyone's debating if a woman can make it in the NHL and her stats are being (unfavorably) compared to the other draft picks. Maria could tell them it's a pointless exercise because women's stats are measured against different parameters but who asks her? She's more pissed off at the sudden appearance of reporters on campus trying to get a soundbite from just about anyone, but especially her. Maria's beyond grateful for Christine, who's been Skyping her once a week for media training.

"You haven't been reading any of your press, right?" Christine asks with a pinched expression on her face. It's probably Deadspin's fault. Or Don Cherry's.

She can't believe she actually has press, but- "No. The only opinions that matter are my team's." She gets as curious as the next person but why give them the power to affect her?

"Good. Let's keep it that way."

In the end, the draft interviews and the Combine are a breeze. She receives more than a few strange looks and idiotic questions from some of the team representatives, but she already expected it. And she's not entirely surprised when the nickname, "Ice Bitch" is born not long afterwards. "I don't mind it," she tells Christine shortly before the draft, and she really doesn't. It's rather apt, actually.

Christine sends her a sideways look. "Take it from someone who's been called a bitch her entire life: own it, but don't allow it to define you."

Maria nods, even though she's not entirely sure she understands.

But then she has other things to worry about because it's the draft. Despite the media training, nothing prepares her for the way she feels when Pepper Potts steps up to the podium and calls her name as the official draft pick (first round, seventh overall) for the New York Knights. Nor is she prepared for the surge of emotion that nearly knocks her off her feet as she tugs the Knights sweater over her practical skirt suit.

She's conscious this is only the first stage. She needs to make it past rookie development and then training camp. Maria knows not to expect any concessions for her sex, not that she would ask for any. She knows full well what she has to prove and how hard she has to work.

Still, it's surprising to see things like a separate shower stall in the facilities at the Knights' practice rink. "Pepper actually had it built when she took over," Betty explains. "Some of the guys prefer a little privacy, especially if they've been badly injured. You'll just have first dibs now."

"The question is if you'd like a curtained-off area of the locker room," Christine adds, looking thoughtful. "It's an option."

Maria is already shaking her head. "No, that would be weird. I'm pretty good at changing under a towel and I prefer wearing Under Armor under my pads anyway. I'll promise not to look if they don't." She's pretty sure she won't, though. Locker rooms are probably one of the least sexy environments in the world.

Rookie camp starts up and Maria doesn't know if she should take offense or be resigned at how surprised everyone is when she not only keeps up with her younger male counterparts but often outperforms them nine times out of ten (of course, the media focuses on the one instance, but that's Christine's problem, not hers). The only saving grace is how none of the Knights' staff is surprised but then again, the team boasts a female head coach, head trainer, and strength and conditioning coach who together have implemented one of the league's most intense training programs.

She can't help but feel satisfied when she makes team training camp. It's not like she expected to be handed anything but she's not going to be demure when she knows she's earned that spot. Thankfully Christine appears to be of the same mind as she coaches Maria one last time before they unleash the media on the team at large before the start of camp. "We don't want you to come off as arrogant, though heaven knows they forgive the men of that particular failing all the time," Christine remarks with a slightly bitter twist of the lips. "But no self-effacing, either. Never apologize for your talent or your accomplishments."

"It's a good thing I won't." Maria smiles sharply. Christine gives her a satisfied nod in return before going off to find Coach May, leaving Maria alone to head onto the track field. She doesn't feel terribly out of place, not in the same white KNIGHTS HOCKEY shirt, navy workout shorts, and navy snapback as the other players and rookies. She makes her way over to where Bobby Drake is already stretching, strategically positioned out of an early morning sun that's a sure herald to a sweltering summer day.

"Hill," Bobby grunts as she takes a spot next to him.

"Drake," she responds. They stretch in companionable silence. Maria appreciates Bobby's maturity, compared to some of his more hyperactive peers. When she's finished, she nods at him before she goes off to find some Gatorade and claim a bottle. There, she's promptly cornered by Thor Odinson and Steve Rogers. As the Knights' two alternate captains, they've already been introduced to the rookies, but that was a brief hi-hello-good-luck-maybe-see-you-later, whereas now anyone's who's made it through has a fairly decent chance of playing with the team in the near future.

Thor is full of stories about Sif Sjölander, who Maria's played against at Worlds. Maria admires Sif, and it's nice to chat to someone who clearly appreciates her just as much as she does.

As for Rogers – well. Steve Rogers is one of the best hockey players in the world, there's no doubt about it. He's an amazing two-way forward, with size and such speed and beautifully soft hands. He has a strategic mind that's responsible for some of the most breathtaking plays she's ever seen and she really, really would love to just talk hockey with him. Simply put, he is one of the reasons she's looked forward to playing with the Knights as a team, beyond the fact that they're offering her the chance to play in the NHL.

Before she can really speak with him though, Carol Danvers takes up the megaphone. She's grinning madly and judging by the looks of trepidation around her, that's probably not a good thing. "Gentlemen – and Maria – welcome to the first day of training camp! I hope you're looking forward to the next few days as much as we are." Coach May and Bobbi are standing next to her, eyes shielded by sunglasses and smirking. "We're going to change things up a little bit. Bobbi's going to divide you up in groups of four to five, and each group is going to take its turn running two miles." Her smile takes on a sharp, knowing edge. "I expect you to finish in twelve minutes."

There are more than a few disgruntled comments from the team, but given the three pairs of shark-like gazes focused on them, they're quiet and kept to a minimum. Maria just wonders if her coach back in Minnesota has been bragging about her 5k time.

By virtue of where's she's standing, Maria ends up in the first group with Thor, Steve, and Sam Wilson. She eyes them up and decides that Steve is probably the one to beat. His conditioning is legendary, but that just makes her more determined to beat him.

The whistle blows and Maria immediately sets a pace that should get her there somewhere between ten and eleven minutes. She and Rogers easily outpace Thor and Sam, who Steve passes with a joking, "On your left." Sam flips him off, much to the amusement of the onlookers. Then it's just the sound of their feet on the track and the occasional shouts of encouragement from the rest of the team. Bobbi calls out the time after their first mile, five thirty-three because Steve has been keeping pace with Maria the entire time. She can't quite work out if he's trying not to show off when it's evident he could go faster.

"Don't hold back on my account," she tells him when they hit a mile and a half.

Steve's mouth quirks up in a little half-grin. "I could say the same for you."

It's a challenge through and through and if he thinks she's not going to rise to it he's dead wrong. Maria fixes him with a glare and ups her pace.

Somewhere behind them, Sam whoops and shouts, "That's it, Hills! Beat his sorry ass!" The rest of the team perk up from the sidelines and, well, there just might be enough of a showboat in Maria to respond to it. She doesn't finish the test at a sprint, but it's a close thing, and she certainly comes ahead of Steve, who increased his pace but not enough to beat her.

"Ten forty-eight, eleven flat," Bobbi calls out over cheers and applause.

"Well, they just showed you the hell up, didn't they boys?" Carol crows. "Looks like you all have some work to do!" Maria raises an eyebrow at Steve, who just smiles and offers her a high-five.

She doesn't know what to make of him.

Later on, Coach puts Maria on the same line as Steve and Bucky Barnes for the first set of drills on the ice. She won't pretend to understand how her mind works, but the Rogers-Wilson-Barnes line is rock solid. It doesn't need any help from Maria, and she's a center anyway. She glances over to where Sam is idling with Trip and Lance Hunter, and his expression is utterly sanguine. His linemates don't look particularly perturbed either.

That, for some reason, really gets to her. She'll be a fucking fantastic winger, if that's what Coach wants. Coulson comes over with the play, a pretty simple pass-shoot-score that the three of them practice a few times on one end of the ice with no opposition. Once he's satisfied, he calls over Thor and Alphonso Mackenzie, and instructs them to run the play again with the d-pair putting on some pressure.

Steve easily takes the pass from Bucky, slides it over to Maria and then – Thor is on her, pushing her out of the shooting lane but it's no problem. Forehand, backhand, and the puck sails over Mike Peterson's glove.

Bucky's laugh is bright and infectious and Maria smiles back automatically, but…it felt easy. Too easy. Her suspicions are proved when they graduate up to playing a full shifts against full shifts – her line against Peter Quill's line, and Clint Barton and Logan Howlett against Thor and Mack. Hardly anyone challenges her when she has the puck aside from Thor and while he's big, Maria's fast. Checking is almost nonexistent.

She should be happy when she scores the next two goals, but instead she's pissed. The fuckers are going easy on her and it's insulting. Maria knows with absolute certainty the moment she steps foot on NHL ice the opposing teams certainly aren't going to go easy on her. If anything, they're going to be out for her blood. The next time play resumes, Peter comes to cover her but he doesn't even try crowding her against the boards. Maria's vision goes a little red and she pivots around to cross-check him in the chest. "Hit me!" she orders, and all movement ceases both on and off the ice. She yanks her helmet off and turns to face them, chin tilted up defiantly. "Play like a fucking hockey team and hit me like you would anyone else. Stop giving goals up, you're not going me or anyone else any favors."

Steve opens his mouth and Maria steels herself for whatever he's going to say, but Coach May beats him to the punch. "She's right. You're all playing tentative hockey. Now go, run it again!"

"Properly," Coulson adds.

This time, the opposing shift comes at her at full strength and speed. Maria bares her teeth and meets them head-on.

At the end of training camp she returns to Minnesota, satisfied with what awaits her next year.

"Hey, it's our college girl," Mike greets Maria when she pulls her beat-up truck in front of his Brooklyn brownstone. "That must have been a hell of a drive. You tired?"

She hops out of the truck, shaking her legs out a little. "Not overly," she admits. "Stopping last night helped."

"No kidding, I'm just glad you decided not to do the whole thing in one go." He glances at everything lashed down into the truck bed and whistles. "You weren't lying about not having a lot of stuff. I was going to call Steve and company if you really needed help, they live just a few blocks over."

Maria lifts a shoulder. "Nah, I don't have that much stuff, most of it is equipment." It was easy enough to leave furniture to teammates, or donate it to charity.

She's well aware of how much faith she's putting in this career choice. She's starting over much in the way she did when she went to university, only this time the stakes are much higher. At least she lucked out with this billeting assignment – Mike had contacted her once she finished the whirlwind of finishing her degree, going to Worlds (and finally getting that gold), and winning the Frozen Four one last time, letting her know she didn't need to worry about furnishing anything.

"I remember those days," he says fondly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Ace doesn't finish hockey camp until this afternoon, and Angie won't be home until dinner. They can't wait to meet you. We haven't had anyone with us since Clint moved out."

"Great." This whole family thing is going to be interesting, but…that's rookie billeting. It's part of the experience and she just has to adjust. She starts hauling bags out and hands a few to Mike and together they begin the process of bringing her stuff in. It's a pretty nice set-up because Maria has essentially the entire garden level to herself, with her own bathroom.

"The TV and game room is down here too." Mike motions at the door standing open at the other end of the hall. "But don't worry, Ace knows not to be too noisy there during the season, so you shouldn't have a problem in the mornings or during pre-game naps."

She manages a small grin. "Sounds good. He seems like a great kid."

Mike's entire face lights up at the compliment. "He is. He's had a lot to deal with, having me as his old man. I'm lucky to have him, Angie, and the team." He nudges her. "You'll see what I mean when everything starts up." He glances around to where everything's been dumped on the floor. "Well, I could let you unpack, but it's lunchtime. I was thinking of ordering some pizza and having it out in the backyard with some beer. You in?"

It actually sounds like heaven. "Definitely," Maria says fervently.

She likes New York already.

Christine ushers Maria into Pepper's office on the first day of training camp after everyone's trooped to the ice rink after a morning of conditioning. "Maria! Good, there's someone who would like to speak to you," Pepper says brightly, holding out her phone.

Maria looks askance at her boss, feeling very out of place in Pepper's sleek and immaculate office while only wearing her Under Armor. She's also more than a little sweaty, but she doesn't stink yet. No, that will have to wait until she's actually skating. "Hello?"

"Yes, is this Maria?" The voice on the other end is female, simultaneously brisk and warm, and very British. It's also vaguely familiar.

"Yes. Whom am I speaking to?"

She chuckles. "Pepper didn't tell you? Naughty girl. This is Peggy Carter."

Maria's knees go weak and she sags into the chair behind her, sweaty Under Armor be damned. Margaret "Peggy" Carter is one of the greatest goaltenders in hockey history – not even women's hockey, but hockey in general. She more or less put US women's hockey on the map, bringing the team to its first few championships at Worlds. She was one of the most vocal advocates for putting women's hockey on the program at the Olympics, and helped Team USA win gold at Nagano before announcing her retirement.

Most importantly, she's the only woman to have ever played in the NHL. She tended goal for one pre-season exhibition game for the Knights in Madison Square Garden and shut out a Gotham Blades team that later went on to win the Stanley Cup.

"Um," Maria stutters because it's Peggy Carter. On the other side of the desk, Pepper busies herself with work, but not before Maria catches sight of her stifled grin.

Peggy just laughs softly. "I've been following your career with great interest, Maria. Congratulations on Worlds, and winning your second Frozen Four. There are many great things ahead of you."

"Thank you." Peggy Carter has been watching her. The mind boggles.

"I was wondering if it might be too presumptuous to give you a few words of advice? I have a limited amount of experience with the NHL-"

As if she would be stupid enough to turn down advice from Peggy Carter. "Anything you could tell me would be welcome," Maria assures her, grateful that her voice isn't squeaking all over the place.

Peggy makes a thoughtful noise on the other end. "Respect and acceptance will come slowly. They may never come at all, though I hope for your sake – and for the sake of the women to come – it will happen. They will form their own opinions of you but you must know your own value, Maria. Do not allow anything else to matter."

Maria swallows. "I understand." Her press has become even more vicious in the lead-up to the pre-season. She hasn't played a single game yet and there are already people howling for her to be let go. She's gone through a number of dicey press situations, and only Christine's coaching and her self-control have gotten her through it.

She knows it's only going to get worse. But somehow, Peggy's words solidify the knowledge Maria has carried with her for years. In the end, the only things she can control are her own actions and her own play. So, she will do her very best and screw what anyone else thinks. She will be the Ice Bitch, so long as the Ice Bitch wins.

"You are very lucky, Maria," Peggy says softly and a little wistfully. "You are part of an organization that will put you first. There is no better place to be. You mustn't forget."

Maria glances up to where Pepper is still working. She wouldn't be here if it weren't for Pepper. "I won't."

"Well then. I mustn't keep you from your training. Good luck, Maria. I look forward to seeing you play in the Show."

"Thank you, Ms. Carter-"

Peggy snorts. "Just call me Peggy, Maria. Good-bye."

When she finally hangs up, Pepper is watching her carefully. "My father was the one who came up with the idea of putting Peggy in goal for that exhibition game," she remarks. "Not because he was terribly progressive or anything like that. He simply recognized how popular she was and thought it would be a good publicity move for the team."

Maria tilts her head, unsure of where she's going with this. Pepper continues, staring out into the distance like she's talking to herself. "It worked, of course. There were a number of extremely positive repercussions. He even considered giving her a temporary contract."

"Why didn't he?" Maria imagines how the course of her life would have been different if he had. She probably wouldn't be the first woman in the NHL, for one thing. She can't help but think Peggy Carter would have been better suited for the role than she is.

"Like I said, he wasn't terribly progressive. I'm sure he thought she would wash out eventually, despite her talent." Maria snorts despite herself and Pepper laughs. "Yes, I thought the same thing when I found out. Luckily, I don't have my father's views."

"I'm grateful."

Pepper grins at her, pleased. "We're grateful to have you here, Maria. Please believe me when I say that. Now," she nods towards the door. "You'd better get out onto the ice before Melinda yells at me for keeping you."

She's still a little shell-shocked when she heads down to the locker room. Steve raises an eyebrow at her from across the room. "You all right, Hills?"

"I spoke to Peggy Carter," she replies faintly as she starts putting her gear on.

"You did?"

When she turns back around, Steve is staring at her, his eyes wide. "Yes. Why?"

Bucky guffaws loudly. "Stevie here had her poster on his wall when we were kids. She was his first love. He's just jealous."

Maria expects him to refute it, but the tips of his ears go red. Interesting.

The entire locker room dissolves into good-natured ribbing after that. "Rogers, you know she's out of your league, right?"

"Is she the reason why you never pick up?" Lance calls from Maria's other side.

"Nah, he never picks up because he's a paragon of virtue!" Clint chimes in with an exaggerated wink.

The round of giggles that ensues shows what the rest of the team thinks of that particular statement. She watches Steve to see how he reacts and he simply cocks his head with the tiniest of smirks lurking around the corners of his mouth. "That's right," he responds dryly. "I'm an absolute Boy Scout."

The guys find that hilarious. Maria's not quite sure she gets the joke, but Coulson and Sitwell are walk through the room and tell them to get on the ice and well, she has other things to think about.

By the end of this training camp, Maria's locked in a spot on the roster – for now. Much of it has to do with her current line, where she's centering Antoine Triplett and Lance. She and Trip had instant chemistry at last year's training camp and Coach May takes full advantage of this time around. Their passes always seem to connect and Trip is very, very good at being where Maria needs him to be in order to set up the play. It's not as easy with Lance. Maria can see how the situation might improve, because every time their passes did connect it was a thing of beauty.

Lance is a little flashy and selfish with the puck. It's understandable enough because the man has incredible hands, but that's not how lines work. That's not how Maria's lines work. Still, she wonders if she should keep her mouth shut even though it goes against everything she's usually done in regards to her team. But it's only the preseason and there's a very real possibility she could be scratched if she takes a step out of line.

Finally, she can't stand it anymore and voices her concern to Mike one day as they're driving back from practice. "We're not that kind of team, Maria. Not anymore, not since Ross was fired. If you have an issue with play, you tell your linemates and you tell the coaches. No one's going to look sideways at you for that. I mean, hell, Coach encourages that kind of communication, all right?"

She considers it carefully. "Hunter does well in the drills. But then the games come around and he gets caught up and forgets." It's cost them a few goods plays and caused more than a few turnovers despite their D's best attempts to keep it in their zone.

"So tell him."

During practice the next day Maria keeps her tone pretty light, and continually reminds Lance, "I'm open." He acknowledges her with a grunt and a nod, but the pattern continues.

Maria buries her frustration until a preseason game against the Red Wings. Lance takes a stupid penalty in the first period and the Red Wings score on the power play. It's only sheer dumb luck that Steve makes a beauty of a shorthanded goal only seconds later, leaving them tied as they go into the first intermission.

Maria waits until Coach May's gone over suggestions for the second period before she leans over to Lance and says in an undertone, "That was a stupid penalty."

He shoots her a look. "Yeah, and? He slashed me, I got angry."

Trip is watching both of them out of the corner of his eye. "He wouldn't have had the opportunity to slash you if you'd passed to me in the first place. I was wide open, Hunter." She shakes her head, pissed off at the wasted opportunity. "You can't rely on Rogers or anyone else to save you if you get sloppy."

"And what do you suggest?" His voice pitches up a bit and several of the guys definitely take notice, but she's not going to be daunted. They have to know she has a voice and she's going to use it, especially when a game's a stake.

"Play better hockey and fucking pass to me or Trip."

He flushes deep red. "Are you saying my game is shit?"

"Frankly, yes, because you're playing selfishly."

"Hills," Steve interrupts. "It's all right, it-"

Maria spares him an irritated glare. "Back off, Rogers, this isn't about you."

His eyebrows draw together. "Hey, this isn't how we deal with problems here-"

"So you admit it's a problem," she interrupts crisply. "Good. And maybe you should deal with it differently. It might actually give you results." She turns her attention back to Lance, who looks like he's trying to drill a hole in her skull through sheer determination. "Pass. The fucking. Puck."

"Fuck you," he spits.

"You're delusional if you think I'm going to stop," She knows how well they can play if he can just start playing smart. They've missed so many opportunities on goal, all they need is one good pass.

"Back onto the ice, everyone," Coach says mildly, coming back into the locker room. Hunter picks up his gear with a snarl and stomps past Maria. Steve gives her a disappointed look and some of the younger guys skitter around her like she's a time bomb, but Trip, Sam, and Bucky give her shoulder a friendly tap with their gloves as they head out. What truly throws Maria, though, is the nod Coach gives her as she walks past.

Maria takes that as her go-ahead and continues to hound Lance both on and off the ice until they're shouting at one another on the bench. "You have to use me out there, I'm wide open," she snipes as they come off yet another unproductive shift.

Her relentless badgering finally gets them results in the third period. Trip strips his guy of the puck and saucers it over to Lance, who streaks up the ice with two defensemen closing in fast. Maria puts in some speed to keep pace and even get ahead, shouting the entire time. He can't possibly make the shot, the goalie's already come out towards him and there are the two d-men to contend with-

But instead of making the shot, Hunter throws one of the nicest passes Maria's ever seen, straight through the two d-men and right on her tape. She taps it in before the goaltender even realizes he's made the pass. The light goes off and Trip grabs her in a hug for the celly, whooping loudly in her ear. Lance avoids the hug altogether, bristling as though they haven't scored a goal. He starts swearing at Maria as soon as she and Trip fall in line with him. "Fuck you,"

"Aw, come on Hunter, you got a point!" Trip cajoles. Maria shrugs. He sends both of them a fulminating look as they sit down and grab for their water bottles. Sitwell ambles over and settles his hands on their shoulders. "Nice play, guys. Coach definitely thinks so, too. Keep it up."

Lance just mutters under his breath. However, a few minutes later, he knocks his shoulder against Maria's. "Fine, I'll pass," he says grudgingly.

She just sends him a sharp smile. "Good. I'll remind you if you don't." He barks out a startled laugh in response and she considers it a win.

After the game, Coach May pulls her aside. "I like what you did with Lance," she says with approval. "Keep doing what you're doing – within reason, of course."

With Coach's approval under her belt, Maria doesn't exactly swing into action, but…there are times when her particular brand of motivation is more effective than Steve's or Thor's. It's not that she shouts them down all the time, because she doesn't. Maria simply doesn't hesitate to get into someone's face and let them know exactly what they're doing wrong and how it needs to be fixed. Lance is just the only one who screams back and after a few incidents, their battles rarely merit any attention anymore. The rest of the guys take her criticism with various levels of acceptance. At least they listen.

The Knights win their home opener against the Blades, 3-2. Maria takes two of those goals and is named First Star of the game in front of a welcoming, raucous crowd. She doesn't resist when the team drags her out to celebrate because Mike is fit to burst over how well his rookie is doing, while Trip and Lance want to parade around their star of a linemate.

Two beers and two shots later, she's having a very loud, very earnest discussion with Bucky about passing. "You have to stop dumping the puck!" she shouts at him from over the music. "Controlled zone entries are key against teams that really know how to move the puck."

Barnes exchanges amused glances with Remy. "How do you figure, Hills?" he asks, lazy but interested.

"Puck possession," she replies. "Carrying or passing the puck over the blue line means there's less of a chance of turning it over. NHLers are terrible at it." It's one of the many subtle changes in play she's had to adjust to after playing women's hockey for most of her life.

Steve's eyes narrow and he leans forward. "How?" he demands. Mack groans and drops his head back against the seat because if there's anything Steve can't resist, it's hockey talk.

"You want the stats?" Oh, she'll give him the stats. "Over 65 per cent, compared with 50."

Trip returns to the table carrying new drinks, and sets them down with a horrified look. "Are you seriously debating advanced statistics right now, Hills?"

She glares at him. "Your point?"

"No, none of that," he bellows, pointing at her with a stern look. He reaches over and drags her out of the booth. "We're dancing."

"I don't dance!" she protests.

"You do now!"

Maria remembers dancing, shots, and more dancing with just about every guy on the team. She vaguely remembers Mike steering her towards the door with an affectionate, "Okay rookie, time to get you home!" And she definitely remembers screaming over her shoulder, "I love you guys!" to the rest of the team as they leave.

The truth is, her feelings in regards to the team haven't really settled. Her relationship with them is complicated when it should be simple – they are her team. They should have each other's backs unconditionally and in many ways this is true. They're meshing well on the ice but she never really doubted that. She's had a little bit of time to see how Nick and Maya work and she understands that they don't necessarily select the best player, but the right one. She wouldn't be here if they didn't think her style of play meshed with the others.

Play is not a problem. Conduct on the ice is. The Knights team is full of loyal, overprotective hulks. She understands wanting to protect your teammates but for her the game's never been about physicality, or at least not in the way it's usually couched in men's hockey. It's about coming back and making the goals and that's how Maria prefers it. She sees no benefits in potential injury and she definitely sees no benefit in having the other team score and potentially win while they're racking up penalty minutes.

So no, she's not going to thank the guys for fighting other teams when they target her.

The Knights lose badly to the Wasps during their West Coast road trip. It's quite possibly one of the most ridiculous games Maria's ever seen in her life. The team racks up over twenty minutes of penalties between Steve, Bucky, John, and Logan, and at one point there are six Knights in the box with other guys serving out the additional penalties. It's no wonder they lose so miserably, 5-1.

Coach May is so angry she can barely look at them after the game. She stops in the middle of the locker room with her hands on her hips and her lips pressed in a tight line. She tilts her head up to stare into the lights before she finally shakes her head and speaks. "I think you know exactly what you did tonight. It was like watching a bunch of spoiled, angry toddlers on the ice. Fix it." When she leaves, the gunshot-crack of her heels on the concrete make everyone droop and wince. It takes a little while for anyone to move for the showers.

The Wasps don't have separate shower facilities, so Maria has to wait for all the guys to finish showering before she can clean up. She briefly contemplates putting on her gameday suit and shower be damned, but she had to play extra minutes during this game and she knows she smells like week-old sweaty socks. She's not going to subject the guys to that on the plane, no matter how much she thinks some of them deserve it. She waits for a little extra room to clear up before she gets down on the ground and starts doing push-ups. An exercise bike would be better but needs must.

The guys have become used to her post-loss routine and most of them know to leave her alone. Darcy and Mike are the only ones who tend to brave her wrath, but Mike is also understandably pissed and Darcy's back in New York. Steve, however, makes a beeline to her the moment he exits the showers. "Hills," he begins.

"I think you've done enough, Rogers," Maria says meanly, furiously counting through the push-ups. "One minor, one major, then a ten-minute misconduct? Summers had to serve one of your penalties." The ache building up in her arms, shoulders, and abs gives her a vicious kind of pleasure.

"Hills, you know we can't just let them get away with-"

"Yes we can, Rogers, we've discussed this before." Her push-ups done, she gets to her feet slowly and looks him in the eye. "And it's going to stop, right here and right now."

He glares down at her, so very sure and so very self-righteous. "Hills, you can't just let them bully-" He exhales sharply before continuing. "They were calling you the Ice Bitch and they-"

Maria knows. She was there, damn it. The nickname Ice Bitch is not new, though the solutions to remedy that particular condition are. "I never asked you to fight that battle for me, Rogers, or anyone else for that matter."

He makes a wounded noise. "We're team, Hills. We're family. We look out for each other." Some of the other guys murmur in agreement and Maria shoves down the feeling that races through her at the word family. She's never had it. She's never needed it, and she certainly doesn't need it now.

"Yeah?" Maria's voice rises and finally, this is the kind of fight she's been itching for. "And painting a target on my back, that's looking out for one another, right? Or spending so much time fighting we forget how to play hockey? If that's what being a team is, then count me out."

"What – how can you even say that?" Steve splutters, blue eyes going dark, heavy, and disappointed.

Maria goes cold and hard in response. Anger hums along her nerves so strongly she feels like she's going to vibrate right out of her skin. There are so many things she could say. Volumes about how they'll prove everyone right, that women are a distraction and don't belong in professional sports. How detractors keep saying women will always be lesser and that their abilities will never be on the same level as men. For the sake of every woman who wishes to follow in her footsteps, she has to prove them wrong.

When she finally looks around, most of the team is gathered at the entrance to the showers, dripping wet and gaping. "I just did," she says shortly, then grabs her stuff and stalks off to the shower.

The Knights make it through their road trip and only lose half of their games, which is something. There's a three-day break and Maria for one is going to take advantage of sleeping through at least one of them.

Coach May waves her into the seat beside her as they finally board the plane back to New York. "Don't worry, you don't have to sit next to me the entire time." She smiles wryly. "I just want to chat to you about something."

"Am I in trouble, Coach?" Maria flicks through her performance in the last few games, wondering if she hasn't been performing enough, wonders if her chance is over-

Coach's expression shifts minutely and then she shakes her head. "It has nothing to do with your play, Hill. Don't worry." She pauses for a moment, long enough for Maria to relax back into the seat. "You've settled in with the team pretty well. You don't allow them to treat you any differently, as you should. And you're a leader – different to Steve or Thor, but I think that's a good thing."

Maria tilts her head, unsure of where she's going with this. Coach says she's not in trouble, but it feels like a lecture all the same. "All right."

"But you have to trust them. Give them time to understand." She nods, and with that, the conversation is finished. "Just think about it."

Maria promises she will, and then wanders back to where the rest of the team is sitting – and of course, the only free seat is next to Steve. "Mind if I join you?" she asks warily, planting her feet in an automatic refusal to do anything like shift awkwardly.

"All yours," he replies, all politeness. Maria nods at him and folds herself into the seat, reaching for her sleep mask and headphones even though she'd be watching episodes of Star Trek with Lance or listening in on one of Trip's playlists if she were sitting with them ("You are not allowed to watch game tape," Trip announced with a mulish expression. "Either you watch Lance's nerdy show-" "Hey!" "Or you listen to my epic playlist. Your choice."). This…is not exactly something she wants to deal with right now. Not yet, at least.

Darcy is waiting for her when the plane finally touches down at LaGuardia, even though it's somewhere close to four in the morning. "You're coming with me, Hills!" She's far too chirpy for the hour. "Come on, I know you have a spare set of clothing in there," she says, nodding at Maria's duffel.

"What?"

"I'm kidnapping you. Boss' orders."

"But-" Maria starts. All she wants is her bed. She glances over at Mike, who's leaning against his car door and grinning at them.

"If it's on the boss' orders then you better do it," he tells her and throws his bag in the back. "Just make sure she's on time for practice, Darcy."

She salutes over Maria's protests. "You got it, Mikey!"

Mike shoots her a pained look. "Please don't call me that."

Darcy cheerfully steamrolls Maria all the way back to her apartment and sets her up on a surprisingly comfortable sofa bed with instructions to "sleep late, but not too late!" At that point, Maria's so tired she can barely summon up the strength to get ready for bed, let alone argue. She's out from the moment her head hits the pillow.

The next day, she's dragged out around town, completely at Darcy's mercy. They go shopping and Maria picks up a few gameday suits and dresses, though she's far more excited about actually being able to afford tailored jeans.

Darcy gives her so much crap about the fact that none of the jeans she tries on fit over her ass, regardless of how stretchy they claim to be. "'Oh my god, Becky, look at her butt.'"

Maria rolls her eyes. "Ha ha, you are so original."

"Look, I run social media for a hockey team. I have to talk about butts or the fans are going to riot."

The entire day passes without any mention of the road trip. It's only at dinner when Darcy glances shrewdly across the table and says bluntly, "I heard about your fisticuffs with Steve."

"Fisticuffs?" Maria snorts over her (second) burger. She's probably going to regret it during conditioning tomorrow but she doesn't care. "And who told you?"

"Please, I have informants everywhere." Darcy waves her hand and signals to the waiter for another round of beer. "You wanna talk about it?"

She shrugs. "They were fighting again. You know how it is."

"I do, but you know what I also know? You need to realize you're not alone or what's the point of being on a team?" She leans back in her seat and sighs. "You have to trust them to have your back no matter the battle. You trusted your other teams with this, why not the guys?"

"It's different with them."

Darcy rolls her eyes. "So adjust. What, do you think Christine waves a magic wand and poof, all their transgressions go bye-bye? You know better. It takes time, seminars, and lots of TED Talks. Sometimes additional reading," she adds as an afterthought.

"Is that like what you've been doing with Johnny?" Darcy seems to have made it her mission to make Johnny 'less of a douche.'

"That's just a personal crusade."

Maria makes a face at the flippant answer. "Look, I know what you're doing-"

"Do you?" Darcy interrupts. She purses her lips. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're just setting them up to disappoint you and that's not fair at all, is it?" She barrels on, completely unperturbed by Maria's lack of response. "It's one thing to play the Ice Bitch on the ice, but off it? Is that who you really are? I mean, it's okay if you are, but…are you?" And with that, she points her beer bottle at Maria and wiggles her eyebrows. "Get your shit together. Especially with Steve."

Maria tips her head down. It's the cherry on top of what everyone's been saying and…well, maybe it's time for her to listen.

She can accept the guys' overprotective instincts because they'll gladly defend any member of the team. How many times has she seen Bucky take out someone for targeting Steve? It doesn't mean she won't yell at them for taking stupid penalties. Her generosity only stretches so far.

As for Steve…well, he's a conundrum. He is deeply competitive and serious about hockey of course, but he also loves it. He has strict ideas about conduct on the ice and takes it personally when the code is broken. That's why he has a Lady Byng, and that's why he's so very quick to jump to the defense of his teammates.

Still, understanding that doesn't mean she understands him, not by any stretch of the imagination. It's a frustrating prospect when she's fairly certain she has a handle on the rest of her teammates. Steve is like no one else she's ever met and it continues to throw her. Luckily, she's a hockey player and if there's anything a hockey player can fall back on when it comes to dealing with teammates, it's chirping. And while Steve has a mischievous streak a mile wide and never passes up on giving his teammates a hard time, he's never really done so with her. He falls back on calm professionalism because fine, she's run the gamut between stiffly formal and screaming blue murder at him. So Maria knows it's entirely up to her to bring their relationship around to something that works, rather than keeping them on the same precarious ledge.

She finds him before practice, jerking her head towards one of the empty staff offices. "Can we talk?" Steve nods and follows her in, leaving the door carefully ajar. It's incredibly old-fashioned but the gesture is oddly charming.

At this point she expects a barrage of questions but he merely waits patiently, eyes intent on her as she gathers her thoughts. His curiosity is a palpable thing, as is his wariness.

"You have to respect me."

His eyes cloud over. It's surprising how much the statement truly hurts him. "I do."

Maria sighs. "No. You need to respect that the way you and the guys respond to slights against me is a liability. Not just for me, or women in the NHL, but the team as well." She holds up a hand when he opens his mouth to protest. "I am not saying to stop fighting, though you know as well as I do that our style of play is neither physical nor aggressive."

"What are you saying, then?" He cocks his head to the side, intrigued.

"I'm saying let it go, as much as you can. And that I need the freedom to do what I can to show them that women do belong here." She takes a deep breath because what she's about to say is the difficult part. "But I can't do it alone."

Steve raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't look nearly as wary as before. "No?"

She sends him a wry look. "We're a team. I can't exactly make my point when we're at the bottom of the conference standings, can I?"

That provokes a laugh. "No, not exactly." He takes a few steps until he's standing in front of her, and extends his hand. Maria takes it without hesitation. "I'll do my part."

"And I'll do mine."

"Good." Steve gestures towards the door. "Then let's put it into practice."

It's a start, but Maria has a few extra steps she has to take. She knows she's been a little distant with everyone but her linemates, so she swallows her reticence and takes to tossing around idle observations to whoever she's skating next to at warm-ups. The first time she does it she receives more than a few odd looks, but the guys respond easily enough. Soon she's comfortable enough to chirp them, sliding in wry observations that have them cracking up and bantering back. Steve is always so pleased when she does so (especially when he's the recipient), smiling that thousand-watt smile and it's…different. But it's also better.

The Moms' Trip is a special brand of torture. Maria would opt out of it if she could, but the four-day trip through Florida includes back-to-back games against the Panthers and the Bolts on top of various bonding experiences. The Knights hire out a bigger plane for the occasion, one that can accommodate the team and staff, the mothers, the KTV team, and Darcy.

"It will be all right," Mike reassures her as they make their way towards the plane, armored against the chill of a late winter's morning. The smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, melancholy and more distant than she's used to. He lost his mom to cancer a few years ago and the loss still creeps up on him sometimes. "Someone will adopt you before long."

That's kind of what she's afraid of. "I'm not…good with moms," she admits shortly, the confession yanking itself out of her before she can stop it.

Mike's expression twists the way it does when she says something that saddens him. It usually leads to him dragging her out for quiet drinks at the pub around the corner, or just a beer or two drunk in silence in the kitchen. "You're good with Angie."

"Angie's more like a sister than a mom." The only concession Angie Peterson makes to possibly mothering Maria is to make sure the fridge is always stocked with her favorite brand of protein shake and refusing to let Maria pay her back.

He cracks a smile at that. "Guess you're a little too old for coddling."

"Michael."

The voice is strong and musical, and makes Mike beam. "Sarah," he replies, taking the two proffered hands and kissing the newcomer on the cheeks. "We haven't seen much of you lately."

"Well and you know there's always someone getting hurt in this city," the woman says briskly. Maria takes in the height, the blonde hair scraped back in a bun, and clear, blue eyes. It feels like she should know who-

That piercing gaze slides over to her and the woman steps around Mike and holds out her hands – but this time, to Maria. "Steven!" she booms. "Why haven't you introduced me to this woman yet? Surely I would have met her at the Winter Classic-"

Sarah Rogers. Maria places her hands in hers, more than a little taken aback by the strength of her grip and the callouses on her palms. "Hello," she manages.

Steve edges into her field of vision, looking mildly chagrined. "Ma, you were late taking the train to Metropolis for the game, remember? You missed the family skate-"

She tosses something back at him, something foreign and lilting (Irish Gaelic, Maria's mind helpfully supplies) that makes him flush red and shift awkwardly. "You play beautifully," Sarah tells Maria, switching back to English so quickly it makes her head spin. "Fast. Focused. Calculated. Smart. Pepper was right to draft you."

"Um. Thank you."

"I saw the header you took into the boards last week. Did Betty give you the concussion test?" She squints at Maria, her voice turning stern and so like Betty's that Maria's spine instantly straightens. What is it about doctors and nurses? Or is it moms too? "Because I'll not have any Gods-blessed ridiculous injuries-"

"Ma-" Steve interjects, equal parts affection and despair.

"Aw, come on Mama." Bucky appears out of nowhere and drapes his arm across her shoulders, grinning easily. "It was one time-"

"And it had you acting like a completely different person, did it not, James Buchanan Barnes?" Sarah Rogers aims a flinty look in his direction and digs a pointy elbow directly into his solar plexus. She doesn't so much as twitch as he doubles over, wheezing. Mike snorts and plants one last kiss on Sarah Rogers' cheek before he wanders off. Steve, in the meantime, looks like he's praying to some sort of deity for strength.

So it's up to Maria to salvage the situation. She knows all about Bucky's concussion and had to endure the entire lecture from Betty as she ran her through all the tests. "I passed the concussion tests."

"Did you now?" Sarah says approvingly, while Bucky gives her a thumbs-up. "Now, Pepper told me you received a call from Peggy Carter on your first day. What is she like? You know, I took Steven and James to the exhibition game where she played for the Knights…"

"It's like getting run over by a train, isn't it?" Bucky asks Maria cheerfully after they've boarded the plane. "I have yet to meet anyone like her and once I do-" He winks. "She's the one."

Maria just nods silently, thinking there's no way she's going to make it through the weekend in one piece. Towards the front of the plane, Miles Morales is interviewing some of the moms, no doubt digging for embarrassing stories to share.

She's more than a little surprised when Clint just kind of…slinks into the seat beside her. They haven't spoken very often, though he's been plenty nice when they have. He has a self-deprecating sense of humor she enjoys. "These things are always awkward," he observes neutrally, slouching down and putting his feet into the aisle.

"And?"

"And I'm telling you I get it."

"Do you."

Clint rolls his eyes and jerks his thumb towards his chest, completely unperturbed despite the almost palpable drop in temperature. "Yeah. Orphan."

The head of steam she's building up completely dissipates. "Oh." She honestly hadn't expected that. The vast majority of her teammates came from stable families. Hockey is an expensive sport. Elite players often benefit from having a family that can not only afford the expense but is also willing to support them through the endless slog of practices and games during hockey season. "How," she begins but cuts herself off because she wouldn't want to reply to such a question, either. Thank heavens for Christine, because the most she's ever had to tell the media is that she was very independent and worked very hard to earn the scholarships at Shattuck and Minnesota.

But Clint just shrugs. "Old man was a mean old bastard, but he liked hockey. Same with the foster family. Didn't matter so much when I got to juniors though, since I mostly stayed with my billet family."

Who so happened to be the Drews. Maria knows this because when a teammate has had not one, but two relationships amongst team staff, people talk. The level of professionalism within the Knights organization is astounding, but considering who's at the helm, perhaps not so much. "Oh."

"You?" He asks the question with his eyes closed, but there's a weight of expectation behind the words nonetheless.

Normally Maria would shut this type of inquiry down, and she has. But Clint didn't have to share any of his history with her and – well. She's still trying to become a real part of this team. "My mom died in childbirth. And he didn't care." He'd grown meaner as she'd grown older, but by then she'd more or less removed herself from the equation by going to Shattuck. "So how do you deal with all of this?"

"You just go with it," is the easy reply. "Because it may not be what we're used to, but they're the nicest people in the world. If a little overbearing sometimes," he adds.

She's surprised by how easy it is to take what he says at face value and wonders if Mike said anything to him. The funny part is that she doesn't mind that he did.

Darcy plops down on the seat in front of them, snickering. "Apparently a very young Wade Wilson tried to build a homemade ice rink in the summer and ended up flooding not only his backyard, but their neighbors' too. That's definitely going on Twitter."

The imagery makes Maria snort and Clint crack up. Trust Wade to try and build an ice rink outside in the summer.

They take a win over the Panthers and a loss to the Bolts, and they have a full day's stretch on the beach. Activities include swimming with dolphins and manta rays, jet skiing and windsurfing, and good old lying around on the beach.

Beaches are a bit of a foreign concept to Maria – the closest she's ever come are the ones on Lake Michigan. Still, there's something to be said about lying out on the beach with a cold bottle of beer and her Kindle, though she can't see liking this amount of inactivity for more than two or three days.

Sarah settles on the deck chair beside her, covered from head to toe in long-sleeved caftan, complete with a large, floppy hat. "Irish skin," she says by way of explanation, setting down a truly ridiculous looking mixed drink. "We burn very easily. Steven uses factor 100 when he decides to go out like that." She waves her hand towards the water, where Rogers is windsurfing with Thor.

"Ah." Maria half expects some other comment, but all Sarah does is pull out a paperback and settle back into her chair. She copies her example and goes back for her Kindle.

They spend the rest of the afternoon like that, only taking breaks to grab drink refills and snacks. It's nicer than she expected.

Perhaps the Moms' Trip isn't so bad, after all.

The Knights make the playoffs for the first time in a very long time, only to get swept by the Mammoths. Maria is nominated for the Calder but loses it to Dick Grayson. She's disappointed, of course, but is not terribly surprised. The league still doesn't quite know what to do with her. She knows she's not the type of player they would have picked to become the face of women in the NHL, but the fact is she's there, and she's not going away anytime soon.

And neither is the concept of women in the NHL. The Knights draft Natasha Romanoff, even though they don't get her. Maria has to face a veritable barrage of questions about the Russian player when training camp starts up for the next season. She answers the questions honestly because of course she wants her on the team, and not just because she'll be an asset on the blue line.

Trip watches Maria carefully as the reporters are cleared away. "Something on your mind, Trip?" she asks mildly, stripping off the last of her pads.

"I know you're disappointed Romanoff's not here, but you know we got you, right?"

Maria squints up at where he's standing beside her stall, looking oddly serious and insecure, which is unexpected. Having Trip around is like carrying around your own personal sun: he's just so bright and steady and confident. He balances out their line and is the perfect counter to her intensity and Lance's showiness. "Um, yes?"

Lance rolls his eyes. "He's trying to ask if we're still good enough for you."

She glances between the two of them – Trip, clearly nervous, and Lance, nonchalant, but no less expectant. She smiles slightly at the sudden rush of affection she feels for both of them. "You're my line. The rest of the guys are my team. You've…grown on me." And as she brushes past them towards the shower, she can't help but add, "Like warts."

The expression on their faces is priceless.

Pepper calls her into her office at the end of training camp. Maria wonders idly if perhaps Peggy Carter has called with more encouraging words, firmly pushing down any possible doubt about her continuing place on this team. She knows how well she performed last year.

Still, she wasn't quite expecting the new jersey with an A on the left shoulder. "I can't," Maria tells Pepper and Coach May. It's not a question of wanting it because she does. She's no stranger to leading and she's good at it. "There are so many other guys on the team with experience-"

"And yet none of them have demonstrated the same level of leadership you have," Pepper interrupts gently.

Coach tilts her head thoughtfully. "Remember Game 3?"

Maria scowls because she definitely does. They lost miserably to the Mammoths, 5-1. "Yes."

"You skated up to the bench and slammed your stick into the boards. Then you screamed at them to wake up." She shakes her head slightly, eyes dark with amusement. "How many people hold their teammates accountable for their play and call them out on it in front of everyone and their mother?"

"And mic'ed up, no less," Pepper adds, eyes glimmering with amusement. Maria doesn't know how she can be so sanguine about it because the media reaction had been less than complimentary once the NHL released the compilation. Deadspin had called her a shrieking harpy. Some of the New York beat reporters said she was too emotional. She knows that her conduct could have been better and that she was a much firmer hold on her temper than that – she'd broken her stick on the ice, for crying out loud.

But all she'd been able to focus on at the time was how badly they were playing. They'd allowed turnovers and taken stupid penalties. Their D had been exhausted, especially after penalty kill after penalty kill, which meant no one was protecting Mike the way they should. Meanwhile, scoring chance after scoring chance slipped through their fingers. It was like they'd forgotten how to play hockey.

Coach reaches over and hands Maria the jersey. "You were exactly the type of leader the team needed at that point. They needed someone to point out their mistakes bluntly so that they could recognize them and fix it. I think we won Game Four because of you."

If Game 3 had been a shitshow, Game 4 had been hockey perfection. The Knights had come back from behind with big goals from Sam, Trip, and Bobby before Steve won it for them in OT. Maria might not have scored a goal that night, but she had primary assists on both Trip and Steve's goals.

"Teams need different types of leaders," Pepper remarks, sensing just how close Maria is to caving. "And we think you, Steve, and Thor are exactly the kind of leaders who can take the Knights forward. So please, Maria. Take the jersey."

She brushes her fingers over the neatly stitched A. "I will. Thank you. I won't let you down."

Maria will take this responsibility, not just for her own sake, because she knows that she can be the kind of leader they need. But she's also doing it for the girls and women who are also looking to her as an example.

She never asked to be the first woman in the NHL, but she'll take on that burden and everything it entails.

Please review!

So, I began writing this and promptly began pulling my hair out because it would not STOP. I'd planned on this being a one-shot but apparently there's a lot to tell. :) Also, the Lady Byng is "awarded to the player who exhibited outstanding sportsmanship and gentlemanly conduct combined with a high standard of playing ability." If Steve Rogers were a hockey player, he'd win the Lady Byng multiple times.

Many thanks to InitialA for talking things out with me (especially in regards to a certain scene), and poptate for being so patient, especially when I hound her about reading drafts.

As always, you can come and talk fic stuff (or whatever you want) with me on tumblr.