to have a home [3/?]
ship: tobin/alex
rating: k (this chapter)
notes: this one's long, too, and it gets a little bit angsty but it clears itself up nicely I think. Not too much to say except to thank anyone who's actually keeping up with / enjoying this- because we're having a blast writing it, and it's just going to get better from here!
[this must be what it's like to have a home]
For a little while Alex distracts her. They're tourists when they're not practicing, and Germany is beautiful no matter the city, but Tobin finds that she misses home. She hasn't had a home to miss since she moved into college, and it's a strange feeling. She doesn't miss the scrubby little house as much as she misses the sense of belonging it lent. She misses waking to the same slant of LA sunlight and she misses being able to get water in the night and hear Alex's deep breathing when she passed her door.
Alex misses Tobin more than she misses the house. They're not rooming together and she hates to be jealous but when she sees Tobin and Amy head for their room, her stomach lurches. She's well aware that Tobin and Amy and Lauren are all close, but she misses Tobin's presence, and every chance she gets she sticks herself as if with glue to the midfielder's side. Tobin's very existence calms her; the press of her left knee against her friend's right and the familiar smile remind her of feng shui and home cooked dinners and a simpler time where the weight of the world was on someone else’s shoulders.
By contrast, Tobin craves that weight. More than anything she wishes Pia would give her a chance to prove her worth again. She's grown a lot in the last year, and she's ready for her work to pay off. The Brazil game is the right game for her to try and do that. Two minutes in they're leading 1-0 when Boxx sends a cross in and one of the Brazilian defenders turns it in so that it goes into her own goal. Tobin's not sure she's ever heard a crowd cheer that loudly.
The next sixty or so minutes are tense and breathless even on the bench. Part of her can’t even imagine what it’s like on the field, and the rest of her knows- she’s been there before. This is different. Sitting next to Alex, watching the back and forths and noticing places she would have stepped in to help- something about this game is different. In the sixty-fourth Rachel takes out one of the top Brazilian players in a move that silences the entire stadium. They all know it was instinct. Tobin’s pretty much positive that any of them would have done just about the same- but that doesn’t change the call, and it certainly doesn’t change the defeat that settles in the defender’s shoulders as she’s sent off the field.
The whole dynamic of the bench changes after that. They’re a player short now on the field and nobody can comfort Rachel, no matter how hard any of them might try. The best they can do is hope- hope that those of them on the field will recover, or hope that they’ll have a chance to go in and make a difference.
None of them are expecting the save Hope pulls on that penalty kick, but if that’s not enough of a surprise, the call that follows is beyond belief. They’re on the edge of the bench, some of them disbelieving, others angry, and Tobin doesn’t know what she feels other than like she might get up and run onto the field without meaning to unless she sits on her hands. As soon as the goal is scored that ties them up, she makes a frustrated noise and leans back. The only person that notices is Alex. She doesn’t try to talk about it, doesn’t try to make it okay, because she knows it’s not, and Tobin knows that she’s feeling the same restlessness, because what she does say is: “I know.”
Seventy in and Pia walks toward the bench. All of them are hoping to be put in, but Pia never decides on the spot- she knows in advance who she’s going to put in, and this time, she goes straight to Alex.
Tobin isn’t sure if she’s more excited or jealous. Not jealous of Alex, exactly, but of anyone on that field. When Amy takes Alex’s seat she finds that she feels alone- even though she and Amy have been close since practically the moment they met. It’s not the same. It’s like, with Alex gone, Tobin has to anchor herself. And when Marta scores in the ninety-second, she has to close her eyes for a moment and brace herself for what she’s sure is going to be the remainder of a game on the bench.
Ten minutes later she’s so focused on what’s happening on the field that she doesn’t notice Pia until she hears her name, and by then it’s too late to prepare herself to get on the field- she just has to wing it. And that’s what she does. For twelve precious minutes she tries to bring something to the field, tries to change the course of the game, and even though she doesn’t get many touches in, all her tension drains away. She forgets the score, forgets the crowd, forgets what’s at stake until Abby scores and in the rush to celebrate she makes eye contact with Alex.
Shannon is the first to take a shot. The rest of them are standing huddled together, watching, and Tobin is fairly certain that the only one of them that’s breathing is Abby. Alex reaches for Tobin’s hand and their fingers knot together. Tobin can’t help but wonder if Alex needs to be close as badly as she does or if she’s just going a little crazy from lack of sleep. Until Hope’s save it feels like this is just going to go on forever, until her fingers are numb and her palm is sweaty- and then suddenly all of them are jumping and screaming again, and it’s down to the wire, and she’s never seen Carli chew her fingernails before but she’s pretty sure that’s what she’s seeing, and she’s hearing herself pray under her breath, and she’s feeling Alex’s hand find hers again as Ali steps up to the ball.
And then they’re all yelling and some of them crying, Rachel’s crying, and hugging everybody, and it doesn’t matter that there are more games to be played because this is the game. Tobin wants to live in those minutes forever.
But she can’t- something’s coming, something looming and inevitable but invisible until it strikes.
Defeat.
Crushing.
Out of their hands.
Defeat.
After that final game, the team is struck with the awful feeling of being so close to glory and falling just short. Second place doesn't seem far away. Logically, it's a step down on the podium. But as the team watches the Japanese celebrate from only a few yards away, they are crushed by the feeling that first place is never as close as it seems- seconds in track, a twist in the wrong direction in gymnastics- all of these things are calculable errors, minute details. They had five opportunities on one goal with the back-up goalkeeper standing as their opponent. The world, the glory, the goals, they were right there, only yards away. Now, as they watch from the sidelines, the team feels like Pluto, millions of miles away just trying to capture a glimpse of sunlight so they too can feel that warm glory.
After that final game also happens to mark the night that Tobin and Alex first shared a bed in a more significant way than ever before. Convenience and limited space made them share a bed before, but that too was out of their hands. This was a choice, a conscious preference to share a bed. Not for spatial issues. Not for anything other than the fact that it was warmer that way. They comforted in being so physically close to one another. It was nice to be able to hold each other in the darkness and cold of the night as they cried themselves to sleep for weeks after the final. Mornings were better though. When bodies intertwined and they woke up to that sun-kissed warmth of the golden rays pouring through the window. Waking up to gold was tough though. At first glance it reminded them of what they didn't have. Then they would sigh, blink, and smile because it was more of a reminder of what they did not have- yet.
The entire team throws themselves into training with the most aggressive passion Alex has ever seen and she loves it. It’s infectious, it’s incessant, and she loves it. In the first week and a half back she can already feel herself getting faster, stronger, more aware, and her mood just skyrockets every time she sets foot on the field. Something big is going to happen if they keep working the way they’re working, she knows it. The thing is, something’s off, and it takes her a few days to see it clearly but once she does she can’t stop thinking about it.
It’s Tobin. She’s not performing the way Alex knows she can. She’s tentative and quiet all of a sudden, and her constant smile is all but gone. It’s like the game isn’t fun for her anymore, and that is just not going to fly. Not in the slightest.
They’re not crying themselves to sleep anymore, so there’s no real reason why they’re still sharing a bed, but Alex’s old bed hasn’t been made in weeks and she’s not about to change the way things are right now. Tobin equates comfort in Alex’s mind.
She’s kind of expecting the reaction she gets when she asks what’s wrong. Tobin turns a page in her surfing magazine, yawns a little, and makes a ‘huh?’ kind of noise in the back of her throat.
“You’ve been off lately.”
“I dunno what you’re talking about,” Tobin says, but her voice is uneven and rough with the strain of hiding whatever she’s hiding. Alex sits up, crossing her legs indian-style, and plucks the magazine right out of Tobin’s hands. Tobin sighs and drops her hands, staring straight ahead like she’s afraid eye contact will let Alex see right through her. “Tobs,” Alex tries again, this time a little gentler, “You know you can tell me anything.”
That’s enough for a little more loaded silence, but she knows right away that Tobin’s about to spill something pretty big, because she bites her lips before she says a single word.
“I missed that PK,” she says, so softly that Alex isn’t sure she heard it at all. “If I hadn’t...”
“We still would have lost.” Alex is well aware now that Tobin’s about to blame herself, and she’s determined not to let that happen. “Shannon and Carli’s shots were both saved before yours was. If you had made it, we would have gotten 2 of our 4 in, and Japan still would have gotten 3.”
Tobin shrugs. “Still, I...was subbed in for Megan and I can’t help but wonder if she would have made it. She scored on a PK with Brazil, you know?” Alex shakes her head and turns so that she’s facing Tobin completely, and Tobin’s eyes drop to her hands. “You can’t possibly know whether or not she would have made it, come on. It was a different goalie. It was a different game. And you making that shot wouldn’t have made any difference. We had already lost, Tobin. We had probably already lost the second any of us set foot on the field that day. That’s how things work sometimes.” The pain is coming back to both of them now, like a reopened wound, and even though Alex doesn’t want it she knows this time it’ll heal over better. She didn’t want to be moving forward if she was moving forward without Tobin- and how quintessentially Tobin was it to blame herself for a team’s collective defeat and not say a single word about it?
“You’re right,” Tobin sighs, finally looking up. She’s trying to smile, but Alex isn’t done yet. “I know I am. And you know what else I’m right about? This happened for a reason, Tobs. And I think the reason is that we’re meant for something...something bigger.”
Tobin blinks. Alex whispers, “London,” and it sounds more like a promise than a dream.