The first day of training camp had set the tone for the entire season, John Tortorella demanded that his team to dominate the Atlantic division and the Eastern Conference. It had left many feeling out of condition and out of practice, but that was what this time was used for. The retuning of all the fine skills and senses that had been relaxed during the off season because of the lack of physicality. I, however, hadn't rested much over the summer after graduating.

Ok, ok, so I did go on a road trip for a week down the east coast with some old friends and had an amazing time jack legging around Mrytle Beach. After that I was all business again and was back at the rink again ready to train for whatever was the phase was next in my career. 

As my legs barely protested another suicide, I thanked God for my drill Sargent of a trainer, who had kicked my ass with a rather intense schedule. If not for him I would be bitching and moaning with Avery and Del Zotto about how much their bodies hurt. With each session, I noticed myself improving and becoming stronger as I pushed myself because after all pain is weakness leaving the body. 

I had found some companions as most of the guys had grown to accept my presence both in the locker room and on the ice. Brian Boyle was certainly my favorite to joke around with being equally flamboyant in nature as I am. We had made it our responsibility pick on Avery whenever possible. Mikey DZ had also become  a close friend and the other component of my defensive tandem. Thus we had forged some sort of strange and twisted bromance before we had even finished up the preseason in a loss in Zug, Switzerland.

"Mikey, will you carry me?" I whined as I tossed my equipment bag over my shoulder. Latching myself onto his arm as my exhausted knees buckled under my own weight.

Mike groaned at the weight I added, any other day, he would've offered me a piggy back ride but the Swiss team had been relentless and had taken advantage of every opportunity that we had given them. After the game, Tortorella had voiced his disappointment in our lack of discipline and poor execution. That our loss tonight was caused by our own mistakes. 

Sighing, I summoned up what was left of my body's energy reserves in a sad attempt to walk out to the team bus.

*General POV*

From across the locker room, Hank noticed the dark circles under the young defenseman's eyes and felt pity for her. He knew that she was having a difficult time adjusting to the time change and the back-to-back games they had just played were taking their toll on her body. So he offered to carry her,

"I'll carry you, Micky. Michael, take her bag "

Mickayla yawn a 'Thank you' as she jumped down his back, nearly choking him as her arms wrapped around his neck and was passed out within seconds.

Hank had to admit that she had been a trooper throughout the team's entire European stint. Being onto top her game and contributing on the ice whenever her number was called. He knew all of her hard work have a pay off and she would most likely be starting in the team's season opener against the LA Kings in Stockholm.

"Hank, you need to stop babying her." Seasoned veteran, Mike Rupp informed him as he stepped onto the bus that would take team back to the airport.

"No, Rupper, you need to ease up on her. She is as prepared for the regular as any of us are." The goal tender chided the forward.

"You know as well as I do that the Kings aren't going to be easy on her... No one is." Rupp argued. Hank just shook his head at the former Penguin as he deposited her in the open seat next to Brian Boyle,

"Yes, but someone needs to look out for her. Remember that time she got lost in trying to find the meeting room?"

Rupp snorted a laugh as he, too, remember her calling Hank asking where everyone was, 

"She'd lose her own head if wasn't attached to her neck."

Suddenly, a disgusted sound came from Boyle,

"Gah! She's drooling on me!"

With that the entire bus erupted with laughter, several guys has whipped out their phones to capture the moment for black mail later. The sudden noise had roused the blonde from slumber as she rubbed her eyes. Trying to discern what was going on.

"Are we at the airport already?" She questioned in a groggy voice.

Everyone just laughed harder as she raised her hand in a California howdy to salut the team with before she dozed off again, her hand flopping on top of her head rest.

The rest of the trip to the airport was uneventful as the rest of the guys had begun to settle down as well. Most of them either listening to music or calling their families. Of course, on the plane things were sure to liven up a little as they usually did until they landed in Sweden.

*Mickayla POV* 

I, barely, recalled how I had even gotten on the plane the previous night when the piloit came over the intercom informing us of the plane's descent to Stockholm International Airport. To be honest, I could've cared less as to how I had gotten there. My brain was too exhausted to even attempt to think about anything other than sleeping and right now, I really missed my cozy queen sized bed back in Manhattan. There was no way I was going to be able to get any sleep in another hotel bed almost another week.