The last time Diana had seen that jersey, it had been on a player with smooth brown skin, soft brown eyes, and what Mika would have referred to as a Shirelles hair-do. Ann had none of these things; Ann was as pale as the memory of the few sweet nights in the chill of Storrs, with light blue eyes and a sweep of glossy blonde hair. But #43 hung as loosely on Ann's skinny frame as it had on Ashley's lanky one.

Orange somehow never looked good on a Husky. It clashed with Diana's olive skin, brought out mottled splotches against Ann's milky skin, had turned chocolate-brown Rita into baked adobe and dried mud. Vols were different; Vols had four years to somehow adjust their melanin until they were the perfect shade to complement the brilliant orange of their school. Maybe that was what made Diana want to hit things whenever she saw the color, although she'd mostly gotten the urge under control after two seasons wearing it and being surrounded by it. For some reason, though, as Ann ran through the drills on the other side of the gym, never speaking to her, never touching her, Diana found that the urge had returned.

After a practice that left them all limp and sweat-drenched like dishrags, they trudged into the locker room, a mass of exhaustion and weariness. Ann folded herself into her locker. "Don't bother me. I am officially dead," she warned the locker room, not looking at anyone in particular, but everyone knew she was looking at the collegiate rival. She did her best to change into street clothes without getting up, and met with surprising success.

Diana ignored the by-play and the things that went unsaid, because subtext was an unknown language to her, and plopped herself down next to Ann, placing her hand affectionately on top of Ann's head. Her palm fit comfortably there, as it always had, but Ann let out a disgusted sound at the sight of Diana's fingers in front of her face. After the sound was not enough of a hint, Ann reluctantly put forth the energy to lift her hand, take Diana by the wrist, and remove Diana's hand from her head. "My locker. My personal space. You are not me. You. Out of my personal space."

"Huskies don't have personal space," Diana replied easily, slinging an arm over Ann's shoulder, long fingers just brushing the shirt over Ann's breast with a touch that Ann could almost remember and almost wanted to feel.

"We're not Huskies anymore. We're…" Ann looked up. "Hey, what's the plural of Mercury?"

"Mercs," Shereka supplied as she tied her shoelace.

"Doesn't matter. Once a Husky…" Diana edged closer to Ann, which really wasn't hard, because there was very little space. "Always a Husky. Para siempre."

The last thing Ann wanted to do after her introduction to Coach Westhead's offense was get up, but that was what she did. "Fine. Husky to Husky, be honest with me. Houston needed a shooter and Phoenix needed posts. So how'd I end up here?"

"Weren't sure Penny was coming back, and we need a lot of points." Diana fiddled with her bun until it came loose. Taking her hair down had tended to silence a lot of people as they stared in amazement.

Ann had become immune to the trick at UConn. "I don't suppose you had anything to do with it?"

Diana shrugged. "Maybe a little. Maybe I did want you here. Maybe I missed you a little. Maybe I knew you missed me."

"Maybe you were wrong for once." Ann snapped the words out, and Diana looked up at her in confusion. Diana couldn't be wrong. Diana was never wrong. Even when she wasn't right, she wasn't wrong either. "Maybe the world doesn't revolve around what you think and what you want and what you think you want."

By now, even the most clueless Mercury players had gotten the idea that this was not something they should be listening to, that they wanted to listen to, or that they should admit to knowing about at the next practice. The locker room had emptied out at a speed that their coach would kill to see on offense. It was just the two of them now, just the two of them left to hash out something that neither of them had fully known they would have to discuss and had never thought they could leave behind. Diana stood up, acutely aware that even with that Ann was taller than she was, no matter how much swagger she had and how intimidating she thought she could be.

"Annie..."

"No. Ann. I'm not a wide-eyed freshman anymore."

"Naw, now you're a wide-eyed rookie."

"Do I look scared to you? Do I look lost?"

"No," Diana had to admit.

"D, things change. And don't tell me you know that, 'cause if you knew that, you wouldn't have come over to me like we were in the locker room in Storrs and Barb and Will were being painfully obvious over in the corner. Things change. People change. I'm not the freshman who worshipped you. Geno tried to make me into you, and it didn't work, okay? I'm not you, or any part of you. I'm me. Just me. Just Ann."

"And that's what I love-"

"My ass!"

"That too."

"There's no *too* about it!" Ann shrieked. "You want me 'cause I'm pretty and blonde and I used to think you hung the moon. I'm still pretty and I'm still blonde, but I'm a little more mature now, and I don't need you the way I did then. I've moved on."

"So you changed. I get that. You're still cool. So things would be a little different between us." Diana leaned against the divider between lockers, arms crossed.

Ann laughed, her eyes scrunched closed and her chest heaving as her mirth remained silently trapped inside. "You just don't get it, do you, Taurasi? Things are already different." She looked at her watch. "Hell. I'm gonna be late. Nic came all the way out here to visit me, I don't want to waste time, and they won't hold the reservation too much longer. This conversation is over."

"Nic's in town? Man, I haven't seen her in forever. Can I tag along?"

Ann laughed again. "What did you always say when I asked the same thing whenever Sue was in town?" She picked up her bag and turned away, not waiting for Diana to understand what she meant.