[FIC] Recon
Title: Recon
Rating: PG, maybe.
A/N: The full damn hour. December, 2000.
Disclaimer: People real, story fake, no malicious intent, please don't sue.
Pairing: Tamika Catchings/Kelly Schumacher, both currently of the WNBA's Indiana Fever, formerly of the Universities of Tennessee and Connecticut respectively.
Summary: Schuey is on a mission.
It was hard for a basketball player to hide in Hartford and it was even harder for a 6'4" redhead who'd played on 2000's title team to blend in with the crowd. A hooded winter coat over a hooded sweatshirt and a hooded sweater did much to hide her identity, but there was little she could do for her height. She knew that it would get around that she wasn't being sociable, but she hoped that people would chalk it up to her ordinary space cadet demeanor. They didn't need to know that she was on a mission, that she had her reasons for wanting to be alone on game day.
"Schuey? Is that you?" Her heart sank as Stacy cut across her path. "I know it's cold, but c'mon, you should be used to it."
"I just wanted a little time to myself."
"On game day? You're crazy, Schu. Even on break, this place is crawlin' with fans. You lookin' forward to the game?"
"Yeah. I was actually going over to get some shooting in."
"Oh, I think the team from Knoxville is practicing. That woman wants 'em sharp for us, and cross-country flights do a number on you."
"You're starting to sound like him," Schuey laughed, even as she continued walking towards the Civic Center.
"They're not gonna let you in."
"This is Connecticut, of course they will." She dismissed all worries with a wave of her gloved hand. Stacy, not seeing the point of trying to talk sense into Schuey, turned away and continued on her quest for breakfast.
Schuey was glad that she didn't have to keep the conversation going much further, because then her real reason for wanting to sneak into the Civic Center might become known, and then she'd never hear the end of it. She knew full well that the Lady Vols were already in the building and practicing. That was the reason she was out in the first place.
She had a knack of charming people with a mischievous smile and innocent eyes, so it didn't take much for her to convince the security guard that she should be allowed into the building. The staff was mostly concerned with getting the place cleaned and organized for the game later that day; if any of them were curious as to why a UConn player had wandered in for a Tennessee practice, they kept it to themselves. She liked that. She liked the privacy. It wasn't something very common in Connecticut. Though she'd never let on to anyone, she was counting the days until the draft and graduation, one or both of which would get her out of the small town with the narrow minds and put her in a better situation. Maybe then she'd even be able to be herself the way she never could with everyone's eyes on her.
She walked around the concourse for a while to find the optimum spot for what she had in mind. She needed a place where she could see without being seen- not only that, but see well. The trip would be pointless if she lost track of who she was watching. Finally, she found a spot where the auxiliary seating came up against the regular seats; she could wedge herself in so that it would take a second or a third look to find her, and she didn't plan on giving anyone a reason to bother looking.
It looked like the Lady Vols hadn't been working for very long; a couple of players were just finishing up stretches, while others got in position for drills. Schuey didn't need to frantically search for the object of her affections, because that was who her eye was automatically drawn to, the senior with the long brown braids and the big white kneepads that stood in stark contrast to her chocolate brown skin, the only woman who'd ever looked good in burnt orange and baby blue.
Schuey was fully aware that this was one of the stupidest things she'd managed to do in her life, and for someone who wasn't always sure of when game day was, that said a lot. It was never a good idea to nurse a crush on an opponent, a worse idea to actually believe that you were in love with them; that was one of the first pieces of wisdom a senior would impart to the newest members of the team, along with the best ways to tease Geno without getting in trouble and what there was to do in the neighborhood. She knew that, and yet she'd gone and ignored it. Worse, she'd chosen someone from Tennessee, the ultimate enemy according to everything she heard and saw; the two schools were natural opposites, navy blue versus bright orange, small-town North versus state-capital South, subtlety versus brashness. And just as much as the schools contrasted each other, so did she and the young woman she was crazy for: blue-eyed, redhaired, pale-skinned, what business did she have falling for a dark-skinned, dark-eyed, dark-haired beauty? Their backgrounds, too, reflected the contrast that had driven her up the wall many a night; beyond basketball, how much could a Canadian born in Ohio have with a Texan beyond basketball? They might be able to make a little small talk- "oh, you live with your mom, me too!", but beyond that, what was there? And if she knew that this was the stupidest thing she'd done since arriving at Connecticut, why on earth was she still sitting in the Civic Center, trying to be as inconscpicuous as a 6'4" redhead could be while staring at the opponent's star forward?
"MEEK! FOCUS!" The scream cut through her like a knife, a practiced, well-trained voice honed by almost twenty years on the job. Tamika sheepishly sprinted back to the position she was supposed to have taken. This wasn't going well at all, and she could only hope that the saying about bad dress rehearsals leading to good performances was true; if it was, she could count on having the game of her life against UConn. Already, she couldn't count how many times Pat had yelled at her to focus. Semeka shot her a sympathetic look, because usually when Pat was screaming "MEEK! FOCUS!" it was at her.
She just couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched, and she didn't know why. She had looked in the empty stands, and even with her imagination populating them she couldn't find anyone staring at her. She was already a little uneasy about the game, a normal reaction when playing in the Civic Center, UConn's home away from home. The only hint she had that she wasn't completely going crazy was the fleeting glimpse she'd caught of a hooded figure in the corner of the stands, and that had only been once, enough to make her wonder if it had just been her imagination; she remembered Kyra's stalker a few years back, and ever since, she, Semeka, and Ace had been on the lookout for people behaving oddly.
Playing at UConn gave her a strange, uncomfortable feeling, something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. It bore some resemblance to guilt, and some to infatuation, and some to respect, and some to that feeling she got when Pat screamed at her. She didn't know why she felt that way. She wasn't in love, hadn't let herself be in love, had serious doubts about her lovability, despite testimonials from anyone who had ever known her.
"MEEK! FOCUS!" As Pat's voice rose yet another notch in volume, Tamika shook her head. She had to stop imagining things. It wasn't healthy. Today was game day. Tomorrow she would have time to sort out what it was that was going on in her head, and why her thoughts kept returning to the tall, mysterious figure who seeemed to belong to her dreams.
Rating: PG, maybe.
A/N: The full damn hour. December, 2000.
Disclaimer: People real, story fake, no malicious intent, please don't sue.
Pairing: Tamika Catchings/Kelly Schumacher, both currently of the WNBA's Indiana Fever, formerly of the Universities of Tennessee and Connecticut respectively.
Summary: Schuey is on a mission.
It was hard for a basketball player to hide in Hartford and it was even harder for a 6'4" redhead who'd played on 2000's title team to blend in with the crowd. A hooded winter coat over a hooded sweatshirt and a hooded sweater did much to hide her identity, but there was little she could do for her height. She knew that it would get around that she wasn't being sociable, but she hoped that people would chalk it up to her ordinary space cadet demeanor. They didn't need to know that she was on a mission, that she had her reasons for wanting to be alone on game day.
"Schuey? Is that you?" Her heart sank as Stacy cut across her path. "I know it's cold, but c'mon, you should be used to it."
"I just wanted a little time to myself."
"On game day? You're crazy, Schu. Even on break, this place is crawlin' with fans. You lookin' forward to the game?"
"Yeah. I was actually going over to get some shooting in."
"Oh, I think the team from Knoxville is practicing. That woman wants 'em sharp for us, and cross-country flights do a number on you."
"You're starting to sound like him," Schuey laughed, even as she continued walking towards the Civic Center.
"They're not gonna let you in."
"This is Connecticut, of course they will." She dismissed all worries with a wave of her gloved hand. Stacy, not seeing the point of trying to talk sense into Schuey, turned away and continued on her quest for breakfast.
Schuey was glad that she didn't have to keep the conversation going much further, because then her real reason for wanting to sneak into the Civic Center might become known, and then she'd never hear the end of it. She knew full well that the Lady Vols were already in the building and practicing. That was the reason she was out in the first place.
She had a knack of charming people with a mischievous smile and innocent eyes, so it didn't take much for her to convince the security guard that she should be allowed into the building. The staff was mostly concerned with getting the place cleaned and organized for the game later that day; if any of them were curious as to why a UConn player had wandered in for a Tennessee practice, they kept it to themselves. She liked that. She liked the privacy. It wasn't something very common in Connecticut. Though she'd never let on to anyone, she was counting the days until the draft and graduation, one or both of which would get her out of the small town with the narrow minds and put her in a better situation. Maybe then she'd even be able to be herself the way she never could with everyone's eyes on her.
She walked around the concourse for a while to find the optimum spot for what she had in mind. She needed a place where she could see without being seen- not only that, but see well. The trip would be pointless if she lost track of who she was watching. Finally, she found a spot where the auxiliary seating came up against the regular seats; she could wedge herself in so that it would take a second or a third look to find her, and she didn't plan on giving anyone a reason to bother looking.
It looked like the Lady Vols hadn't been working for very long; a couple of players were just finishing up stretches, while others got in position for drills. Schuey didn't need to frantically search for the object of her affections, because that was who her eye was automatically drawn to, the senior with the long brown braids and the big white kneepads that stood in stark contrast to her chocolate brown skin, the only woman who'd ever looked good in burnt orange and baby blue.
Schuey was fully aware that this was one of the stupidest things she'd managed to do in her life, and for someone who wasn't always sure of when game day was, that said a lot. It was never a good idea to nurse a crush on an opponent, a worse idea to actually believe that you were in love with them; that was one of the first pieces of wisdom a senior would impart to the newest members of the team, along with the best ways to tease Geno without getting in trouble and what there was to do in the neighborhood. She knew that, and yet she'd gone and ignored it. Worse, she'd chosen someone from Tennessee, the ultimate enemy according to everything she heard and saw; the two schools were natural opposites, navy blue versus bright orange, small-town North versus state-capital South, subtlety versus brashness. And just as much as the schools contrasted each other, so did she and the young woman she was crazy for: blue-eyed, redhaired, pale-skinned, what business did she have falling for a dark-skinned, dark-eyed, dark-haired beauty? Their backgrounds, too, reflected the contrast that had driven her up the wall many a night; beyond basketball, how much could a Canadian born in Ohio have with a Texan beyond basketball? They might be able to make a little small talk- "oh, you live with your mom, me too!", but beyond that, what was there? And if she knew that this was the stupidest thing she'd done since arriving at Connecticut, why on earth was she still sitting in the Civic Center, trying to be as inconscpicuous as a 6'4" redhead could be while staring at the opponent's star forward?
"MEEK! FOCUS!" The scream cut through her like a knife, a practiced, well-trained voice honed by almost twenty years on the job. Tamika sheepishly sprinted back to the position she was supposed to have taken. This wasn't going well at all, and she could only hope that the saying about bad dress rehearsals leading to good performances was true; if it was, she could count on having the game of her life against UConn. Already, she couldn't count how many times Pat had yelled at her to focus. Semeka shot her a sympathetic look, because usually when Pat was screaming "MEEK! FOCUS!" it was at her.
She just couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched, and she didn't know why. She had looked in the empty stands, and even with her imagination populating them she couldn't find anyone staring at her. She was already a little uneasy about the game, a normal reaction when playing in the Civic Center, UConn's home away from home. The only hint she had that she wasn't completely going crazy was the fleeting glimpse she'd caught of a hooded figure in the corner of the stands, and that had only been once, enough to make her wonder if it had just been her imagination; she remembered Kyra's stalker a few years back, and ever since, she, Semeka, and Ace had been on the lookout for people behaving oddly.
Playing at UConn gave her a strange, uncomfortable feeling, something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. It bore some resemblance to guilt, and some to infatuation, and some to respect, and some to that feeling she got when Pat screamed at her. She didn't know why she felt that way. She wasn't in love, hadn't let herself be in love, had serious doubts about her lovability, despite testimonials from anyone who had ever known her.
"MEEK! FOCUS!" As Pat's voice rose yet another notch in volume, Tamika shook her head. She had to stop imagining things. It wasn't healthy. Today was game day. Tomorrow she would have time to sort out what it was that was going on in her head, and why her thoughts kept returning to the tall, mysterious figure who seeemed to belong to her dreams.