Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Agatha sliced down the final moving box with her pocketknife, flattened it, and dropped it onto the growing pile with a victorious sigh. The living room was finally starting to look like a home instead of a cardboard jungle.

Moving from Boston to Seattle had been brutal—physically, mentally, emotionally. Doing it with a six-year-old who had just lost his mother, her sister, only made it harder. And with his father refusing to take any responsibility… well. Agatha had no choice but to step in.

The grief had wrecked her performance last season. Understandably so. But her slump cost her team their shot at the finals, and guilt clung to her like smoke.
So she asked for a trade—a fresh start.
Seattle needed veteran talent. Boston needed a number-one draft pick.
The deal happened before she even packed her first box.

A week later, she and Nicolas were across the country, standing in a townhouse that was too quiet, too new, too full of possibilities they both desperately needed.

She wasn’t thrilled about her contract—two years, not much leverage—but the lack of comfort was motivation. A push to prove herself again. To get the Sirens to the finals. To feel proud of her game.

Her new coaches knew she had arrived, and off-season training camp was still a month away. But Agatha had already started her own conditioning. Tomorrow, she was scheduled for her first on-ice training session: 4 a.m., three days a week. Alone. The way she liked it.

Well… mostly alone.

Agatha headed upstairs to check on Nicolas before she forgot to tell him about the morning skate. His door was already decorated—plain white no more—with a poster of his favorite pro player taped crookedly in the center. She smiled softly and knocked once before pushing the door open.

Nicky sat at his small desk, legs swinging, completely absorbed in rearranging the stack of hockey trading cards in front of him. His room looked exactly like she expected—hockey-themed bedding, hockey lamps, hockey decals, little paper cutouts of sticks and pucks taped everywhere like a six-year-old interior designer had gone wild.

“Hey, buddy.” She leaned against the doorframe. “Doing okay? How’s unpacking going?”

He looked up, bright eyes shining. There were still a couple of half-empty boxes in the corner, but nothing urgent. She’d taken care of the furniture so he could decorate the fun stuff himself.

“I’m good!” He paused, eyeing her hopefully. “Can we get pizza for dinner?”

He hit her with the puppy-dog eyes. Brutal. Unfair. Effective.

Agatha laughed. “Absolutely we can.”

“YES!” He flopped backward onto his bed in celebration, little legs kicking. She watched him, warmth spreading through her chest.

“Hey,” she added gently, “I’ve got training really early tomorrow morning. Like… before-the-sun early. So I’m going to get you a babysitter while I’m gone, okay?”

Nicky whipped around so fast he nearly slid off the mattress.

“You’re going to the rink tomorrow? Can I come? Please? I’ll be really, really good!”

“Nicky…” Agatha hesitated. “It’s going to be super early. You need your rest.”

“I’ll bring my tablet! And I can skate with you, maybe? Pleeeeease?” He hit her with the eyes again. The double eyes.

Agatha sighed. Honestly, she didn’t mind. It was summer. He loved hockey. And she wanted to sign him up for learn-to-play classes anyway.

“Alright,” she said, pointing a warning finger. “You can come. But no complaining about being tired.”

Nicky gasped like he’d just won a lifetime supply of candy. “Okay! Thanks, Auntie Agatha!” He launched himself into her, wrapping his little arms around her waist.

Agatha froze for a second—he’d been hugging her more lately, reaching for her more, letting her tuck him close without hesitation. It warmed her in ways she didn’t have words for.

“C’mon,” she murmured, brushing his hair back. “Let’s get dinner.”

She ordered the pizza, and they ate together at the kitchen table.
She made sure he had two slices and a glass of chocolate milk—because apparently that was his new favorite “athlete drink.” Afterward, she had him help clean up, teaching him how to rinse plates and stack them carefully.

Upstairs, they picked out pajamas shaped like a goalie uniform, brushed teeth, and crawled into his bed filled with hockey pillows and worn stuffed animals.

Agatha read him two stories.
He fell asleep halfway through the second, small hand curled around her wrist.

She sat there for a moment longer, smoothing his hair, letting the quiet settle.

Tomorrow was the beginning of something new.
For both of them.

And maybe—just maybe—Seattle would be exactly what they needed.

Chapter Text

Agatha woke at the kind of hour that shouldn’t legally exist. For a long, reluctant moment, she lay there and reminded herself why she was doing this: new team, new city, new shot. And a kid down the hall who needed her to get her shit together.

Once she forced herself up and pulled on her training gear, her body clicked into that familiar pre-practice autopilot, and the grogginess faded.

Nicky, of course, was wide awake the second she nudged him.

“Morning!” he chirped, like it wasn’t four in the morning.

“How are you a person right now?” she mumbled, handing him a hoodie.

While he changed, Agatha packed snacks into his little backpack—apple slices, crackers, a banana, a granola bar—plus a thermos of a yummy chocolate protein shake to keep him full. She grabbed her gear bag, then his smaller one, knowing he’d absolutely want to skate.

The Seattle training facility was still mostly dark when they arrived. The front desk worker looked half-asleep as Agatha signed both of them in.

“He yours?” the employee asked lazily, nodding at Nicky.

“Yep,” Agatha said. “He’s with me.”

Nicky puffed his chest a little, proud of the association.

They made their way to the home bench, plopped down their bags, and shared a protein shake—hers disgusting, his chocolate. She helped him tie his skates, double-knotting them because he tended to kick them loose, then laced up her own and clipped on her gloves and helmet.

The rink, freshly resurfaced, gleamed like glass. She stepped onto the ice and exhaled. Home. Finally.

A few warm-up laps later, she dragged the nets into place, grabbed a bucket of pucks, and gathered a handful of cones. When she skated back toward the bench, Nicky had just finished his banana.

“Hey bud, doing ok?” she asked, leaning on her stick.

“I’m good! Just gotta put my helmet on.” He tossed his peel, clipped on his helmet, and shuffled onto the ice in that adorable, slightly chaotic kid-skate way.

She watched him wobble toward the far end with a puck, tongue sticking out in concentration. He chopped at it five times before it pinged into the mini net.

“Yes!!” he shouted, both arms up.

Agatha’s chest tightened—affection, pride, maybe a bit of aching tenderness. He deserved joy like this. Simple, loud, unselfconscious joy.

She forced herself back into training mode and started her drills—edges, transitions, stick handling, shooting. Her body protested after weeks off, but the burn felt good, cleansing. Tomorrow she’d be sore, but she welcomed it.

She had just grabbed her water bottle when it happened.

A sharp voice echoed across the rink:

“Hey! Kid! You can’t be on the ice—this is for players and staff only.”

The tone was clipped. Irritated. A little harsh.

Agatha immediately pushed off, gliding toward the source of the voice. A woman stood at the boards near center ice—dark hair tucked under a beanie, heavy rink jacket, posture firm like she lived here.

Nicky froze mid-skate, guilt written all over his tiny face.

Agatha reached them quickly.

“He’s with me,” she said, breath still steady from drills. “I’m sorry—I didn’t know he wasn’t allowed on the ice during personal training hours.”

The woman turned toward her fully—

—and Agatha’s breath caught in her throat.

Rio Vidal

Even out of pads, Agatha recognized her instantly. She’d seen her play in college—quick reflexes, killer glove side, but even stronger presence. The kind of goalie who commanded a crease.

Rio’s expression shifted—from annoyed, to surprised, to something unreadable.

“You’re… Agatha Harkness,” Rio said slowly, eyes flicking over her. “You’re the new forward.”

“And you’re Rio Vidal,” Agatha replied before she could stop herself. “I used to watch your games when you played in college.”

Rio blinked, thrown off balance for half a second.

Nicky skated closer and tugged Agatha’s glove. “Auntie Agatha? Am I in trouble?”

“No, bud,” Agatha said softly, ruffling his helmet. “You’re fine.”

Rio cleared her throat. “Look… I didn’t know he was with you. Kids usually aren’t on the ice without clearance. Safety thing.”

Her voice was still firm—but not rude. More like someone who’d been burned before and didn’t want to be again.

Agatha nodded. “Totally fair. I should’ve asked.”

Rio hesitated, eyes drifting to Nicky again. “He, uh… actually has pretty decent balance for a little guy.”

Nicky beamed.

Agatha raised an eyebrow. “You good with him being out here for a bit? I’ll keep him on the neutral zone while I drill.”

Rio looked at the ice, then at them, then exhaled. “Yeah. It’s fine. Just… keep an eye on him and he can only be out here with you present.”

“You got it,” Agatha said, offering a grateful smile.

Rio looked away quickly, like she wasn’t sure what to do with being smiled at.

Agatha couldn’t help but notice:
There was something guarded about her.
Something bruised.
Something… interesting.

And that was before Rio disappeared to go put on her goalie gear then stepped onto the ice herself.
Agatha motioned for Nicky to stay near the cones and pucks. “Go ahead, buddy, have fun. I’ll keep an eye on you, but if you need anything, you let me know.”

He skated off, wobbling at first but gradually finding his rhythm, carefully keeping the puck on his stick, chopping toward the small net, then pumping his fist and yelling in triumph every time it went in. Agatha felt her chest swell. He was happy. Safe. Joyful. And right now, that was all that mattered.

Rio, was leaning slightly on the boards after testing a few moves, watched silently for a moment. Then she straightened, removed her glove and blocker from her hands, and bent down to fix the straps on her pads. The movement was smooth and practiced, though her shoulders carried the memory of old injuries and doubts. Agatha noticed, quietly impressed.

“Uh… mind if I, you know… help him with his form?” Rio asked, voice careful, almost unsure.

Agatha tilted her head, studying her. She didn’t know if she should feel cautious or curious, but something in Rio’s tone made her nod. “Go ahead. Just don’t flatten him.”

Rio stepped onto the ice, skates sharp against the polished surface. Nicky’s eyes went wide. “Rio!” he shouted.

Rio smiled faintly, kneeling slightly so she could guide his hands on the stick. “Let’s see that wrist motion again,” she said gently, adjusting him. Her voice was soft now, patient. Encouraging.

Agatha leaned against the boards, watching the interaction. There was something about Rio with Nicky—careful but confident—that tugged at her heart. She could see the light return to Rio, that spark she’d glimpsed in highlight reels years ago. Something had been missing for her, and it looked like Nicky was filling the gap.

“Better,” Rio whispered after Nicky managed a clean slapshot into the net. He jumped up, eyes sparkling. “YES! Did you see that?”

Rio laughed lightly, a sound Agatha hadn’t expected. It was warm, full, like ice breaking after a long winter. “Yeah, I saw it. Nice work.”

Agatha’s own grin softened. “Alright, I think that means it’s my turn to get back to work.” She picked up a few pucks and began her drills, weaving through the cones, practicing shots, spins, and crossovers. Her body protested after the break, muscles stiff, but she welcomed the burn.

Rio stepped back to the net, instinct taking over. “Mind if I—?” she asked, gesturing toward goal.

Agatha paused mid-shot, then smirked. “Sure. Let’s see if you remember how to stop one.”

Rio dropped into her stance, fully in the crease. Pads clicking into place, eyes tracking the puck. It had been years, but her movements were still precise, instinctive. Agatha shot a puck lightly at first, then harder, testing her. Rio blocked it, letting out a small, disbelieving laugh.

“Not bad,” Agatha said, breathless from skating. “I’d almost forgotten how good you were.”

Rio looked up at her, cheeks slightly pink under her helmet. “Almost,” she muttered, then ducked back down as another puck flew toward her. She stopped it cleanly, feeling the thrill of it spark through her again, a long-dormant confidence stirring.

Nicky skated over, holding his stick proudly. “Did you see that, Auntie Agatha? Rio blocked it!”

Agatha ruffled his helmet. “I saw, buddy. She’s amazing.”

Rio’s gaze flicked to Agatha, fleeting, guarded. “Yeah… well, someone has to keep you honest out here,” she said, half-teasing, half-serious.

Agatha chuckled, feeling warmth pool in her chest. “Fair enough. I’ll hold you to that.”

For a few more minutes, the three of them moved across the ice—Nicky wobbling and learning, Agatha pushing herself, Rio rediscovering her groove—until the sun started to peek through the rink windows, casting a pale gold across the ice.

As Agatha helped Nicky take off his skates, Rio stepped off the ice too, brushing the snow from her pads. She caught Agatha’s eye, and for a heartbeat, something unspoken passed between them. Respect. Curiosity. A faint tug at the heart.

Agatha knew one thing for certain: this off-season training was going to be a lot more interesting than she expected.

And maybe… just maybe, so was Rio Vidal.

Chapter Text

Agatha and Nicky went to the team meet and greet dinner, they had a great time and got close to Wanda, Jennifer, and Alice. Everyone got info on when training camp starts and what to expect their first year as a team, they said good bye to the team and the coach then left for the night.

A couple of days later Agatha was at the rink again ready for another ice session. The rink was quiet again, just the hum of the ice resurfacers and the occasional crunch of Agatha’s skates. But today, she wasn’t alone.

As she finished setting up the nets, a chorus of familiar voices echoed from the entrance.

“Agatha! You here already?”
Wanda, Alice, and Jennifer skated—or more accurately, clomped in—laughing and waving. Their bright energy filled the empty rink instantly.

Agatha froze mid-drill, the puck still sliding. “You guys—what are you doing here? It’s four in the morning!”

“Training buddies,” Wanda said with a grin. “We heard you were on the ice and thought… why not join? No better way to start the day than ruining your cardio?”

Agatha rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re insane.”

“Yep.” Alice twirled a puck on her stick. “Insanely committed. Just like you. Let’s go.”

Jennifer waved a hockey stick like a magic wand. “Prepare to get destroyed, Harkness. Don’t cry when we beat you in our first 2v2.”

Agatha blinked. “Wait, 2v2?”

Wanda leaned in. “Yeah. You and me against those two losers.”

“HEY!” Alice and Jennifer yelled.

Rio Vidal, skated over in her dark pads, she quietly stepped into the goal, watching Nicky wobble and practice his puck control.

Agatha’s chest tightened. “Time to school you ladies and the goalie”

Rio’s gaze flicked to her briefly. “Bring it,” she said softly, but there was a twitch of a smile hiding under her mask.

Nicky squealed from the other side of the net. “Rio! Can I play too?”

“Not yet, buddy,” Rio said, kneeling slightly to adjust his stick. “Work on your control first.”

Agatha shook her head, smiling. These mornings were chaos, but the kind that made her heart full.

The teams were quickly sorted: Agatha and Wanda vs. Alice and Jennifer, with Rio standing in net as the wall they all had to beat. Nicky stayed on the bench cheering everyone on.

The rink came alive with laughter, playful trash talk, and the slap of sticks against ice.

“Prepare to lose, Agatha,” Jennifer yelled, knocking a cone that Agatha was using for drills out of the way.

“Not a chance,” Agatha shot back, picking up the cones then firing a puck toward Rio.

Rio moved like she hadn’t missed a beat—blocking, sliding, catching, and smirking at Agatha with every save. “Try harder,” she said, teasing without a shred of malice.

Wanda laughed. “Oh, you’re doomed, Harkness.”

Alice sent a slapshot toward Rio, who dove gracefully to stop it, then kicked the puck back into play. Agatha skated after it, heart thumping—not just from effort, but from the sight of Rio alive and moving like this again. Agile. Focused. Confident.

Nicky waved wildly from the bench. “Rio! You’re awesome!”

Rio smiled faintly at him. “Thanks bud,” she said softly, waving at him before getting back into the game.

Agatha watched it all, chest warm, heart swelling. The kid was happy. Rio was back on the ice. And somehow… she herself was grinning more than she had in weeks.

By the end of the scrimmage, Agatha was sweating, laughing, and utterly exhausted. Rio pulled off her mask, shook her head, and muttered, “Okay… maybe I’m not as rusty as I thought.”

Agatha grinned. “Don’t get cocky, Vidal.”

From the corner of the rink, Coach Lilia Calderu had been quietly observing, clipboard in hand. Her eyes lingered on Rio—the quick reflexes, the calm, patient coaching of Nicky, the confidence returning with each save.

“Mmm,” Lilia murmured. “Interesting.”

She stepped back into the shadows, unnoticed, but the note was made in the coach’s mind.

The morning ended with exhausted smiles, ice-smelling hair, and the thrill of a new routine. Nicky skipped alongside Agatha as they packed up, talking nonstop about the saves Rio had made.

“Did you see Rio stop that one?” he asked, bouncing on his toes.

“I did,” Agatha said softly, glancing at Rio, who was now stretching near the boards. She felt that same pull again—the one that made her chest flutter, her mind go fuzzy.

Rio caught her eye for a brief second and gave a tiny nod, almost shy.

Agatha’s lips curved. This off-season was going to be very interesting.

Chapter Text

The month passed in a blur of skating, family time, and laughter. Agatha’s early mornings at the rink became routine. Wanda, Alice, and Jennifer continued showing up for 2v2 scrimmages, teasing Agatha mercilessly, and turning the rink into a chaos-filled training ground.

Nicky loved every second. He had joined a local “learn to play hockey” class, where he was learning to stop, start, and handle the puck. Agatha signed him up for a small house team, giving him a taste of organized play.

School started too, and Agatha’s early mornings and training sessions didn’t always align with drop-offs and pickups. Enter Mrs. Hart, experienced, kind, and quietly firm—the perfect nanny to handle homework, snacks, and hockey gear. Nicky loved her almost instantly, though he still called Agatha “Mom” in those moments of excitement and gratitude.

Even with all the logistics, Agatha felt… good. Routine was grounding. She could see Nicky thriving. She could see her own skills sharpening. She could see the team buzzing with potential. The Seattle Sirens were gearing up for pre-season camp, and excitement filled the rink with every whistle blow.

One afternoon, as Agatha skated through a series of quick drills at practice, the sirens of concern sounded from the far end of the ice. One of the third-string goalies was clutching her knee on the ice.

The coach, Lilia Calderu, face tight with worry, gathered the team. “We need a replacement. Immediately. I want tryouts this week. I’ll look into possible candidates.”

Agatha glanced toward the Zamboni doors, thinking of Rio. She’d seen her practice for a month, noticed her in the early-morning sessions, and remembered that spark. Could she do it? She thought she could do it.

But as she skated back toward the bench, she made a mental note: talk to the coach about inviting Rio.

Chapter Text

The rink was cold and ready for goalie tryouts. Agatha leaned against the boards, watching as players moved through warm-ups. Pre-season camp was in full swing, and the Sirens were buzzing with energy.

“Agatha,” Coach Calderu called, her clipboard tapping lightly. “I want you and a few other players to help with the try outs. I also invited someone you know to try out.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Rio Vidal”

The name made her chest tighten. She’d been thinking about her all month—Rio’s quiet intensity, the way she moved, the way she had been patient with Nicky. Seeing her tryout would be… interesting.

A few minutes later, Rio stepped into the rink. Pads strapped on, stick in hand, helmet on her head. Her movements were careful, measured, like she was testing whether her body remembered the rhythm.

Agatha’s breath hitched slightly. She’d seen her in early morning scrimmages, but this… this was different. The stakes were real.

“Rio,” Agatha said softly, skating forward. “You ready?”

Rio’s eyes flicked to her, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I didn’t know if I’d… be ready.”

“You’re ready,” Agatha said firmly. “I’ve seen you. You’ve got this.”

Rio nodded, swallowing hard, and lowered her helmet. Her nerves were still there—the tightness in her shoulders, the hesitation in her steps—but the ice beneath her blades felt familiar. Comfortable. Home.

Agatha grabbed a puck and skated toward her, softly tossing a few light shots. “Start easy. Feel it out.”

Rio dropped into her stance, pads snapping into place. Her movements were tentative at first. A save here, a block there, but her confidence grew with every puck. She ducked, slid, caught rebounds. By the third round, her posture straightened. The old Rio Vidal—the one who had dominated college games—was flickering back to life.

Agatha skated back to the boards, watching her. She felt a mixture of pride, admiration, and that fluttering pull she couldn’t quite name. Seeing Rio alive on the ice, moving again, was… beautiful.

After a few minutes, Agatha skated closer. “You’ve got this,” she said softly, placing a hand briefly on Rio’s shoulder. The contact was small, but meaningful. Rio’s eyes met hers, and for a second, the world outside the rink disappeared.

“Thanks,” Rio whispered, almost too quiet to hear, but loud enough for Agatha to notice.

A few final pucks flew her way. She stopped each one, more confident with every save. When she finally rose to her feet, chest heaving, she let out a long breath and finally allowed herself a small, triumphant smile.

“You did it,” Agatha said, smiling wide. “You’re back.”

Rio’s shoulders relaxed. “Feels… good. Better than I thought it would.”

Agatha glanced down at Nicky, who had been watching from the boards with Mrs. Hart. He gave a tiny fist pump. “Way to go, Rio!” he shouted.

Rio’s smile softened further, eyes briefly flicking to Nicky. “Thanks, kid.”

Coach Calderu approached, clipboard in hand, a small smile breaking her usually stern expression. “Congratulations, Vidal You made the third-string goalie. Welcome to the team.”

Rio blinked, disbelief mixing with relief. She looked at Agatha, who gave her a small, proud nod.

“I… thank you,” Rio whispered.

Agatha’s lips curved. “No thanks needed. You earned it.”

The moment hung between them, quiet and warm. This was the beginning of something… bigger. Not just for Rio, but for all three of them—Agatha, Nicky, and Rio.

And maybe, just maybe, something more than hockey was starting too.