Chicago is home, or at least it used to be. It's still the most familiar place she's ever been. It's the place that's defined how she thinks, how she works, why she does what she does. Things have changed a little since the last time she came home- old hangouts have remodeled, some of them changing hands and nature; new graffiti tags cover the old ones; there are new jerseys on the streets, although not enough of them are powder blue and yellow for her liking.

She'll change that. Dominique is more than willing to change numbers, and Candace makes sure that it's worth her while. She was 13 before she was 3, but to everyone seeing her for the first time, she's CP3, and she does have to maintain that image. She feels a little more confident, a little more prepared, on Media Day with that familiar number on.

Which is good. It makes her feel less like she's been replaced. She's not quite sure what to make of the already established star of the team. Teammates don't go by last names, so Candace can't call her Dupree. She's Candace herself, so it feels weird calling her Candice. Ice is settling in in New York, so she can't even use that difference. It's almost like she's been replaced; did she even need to be here in the first place? Not a comforting thought. Not a thought she wants to have on her homecoming.

Maybe the other picks up on it. "You okay?" she asks Candace, and her voice isn't as smooth as the way she moved during the shoot; she's silky smooth on the court, as Candace has come to know through watching tape of the team she's been waiting to play for for two years now. "Guess you don't need to know the city, do you? C'mon, I'll show you around our digs- unless you're living with your mom?"

"No, I do not need to live with my parents after college," Candace replies tartly, drawing a laugh from her teammate. "First-rounder, you know. Maybe if I hadn't been drafted, I'd have to. Sure, show me the place."

Easy smile, almost shy. "You got a ride yet? No? Come on in mine. Soon as we're finished with all of this."

More pictures, more bright lights; she's used to these, she knows these even if she doesn't love them. She learns that "Candi Jo" is also not an acceptable name for her teammate, because Brooke nearly gets her head ripped off when she does it teasingly, with a smile that's almost too pretty for the room. Candace doesn't know what to say, so she says when they leave, "Hey."

"Hey yourself." She laughs suddenly, the light going on as she realizes the problem Candace has been grappling with. "Yeah, Coach is thrilled about this. Initials, maybe? You're already CP3 to these people. We could have a gimmick. Maybe that'll work."

There's strange bitterness in her teammate's- in her- in CD's voice. "I'll bring them in for you," Candace promises impulsively, and she's not quite sure why she does, except maybe because CD is Candice, which is almost the same as Candace, and Candace makes promises to herself to get things done. She's never known what it's like to be underappreciated, to play in front of a half-empty arena, to not be seen, to not be acknowledged, to not exist to the world outside their sphere. That kind of thing could drive a Candace crazy. "We'll make it happen. If anyone can take this town, it's us. They watch the Cubs, don't they?"

CD doesn't look away from the road, doesn't register that she's heard a word Candace has said. Sunlight, what there is of it in Chicago, filters through the windshield, and CD's face flickers in and out of sight, drawn and too sleepless. She should be sleeping; Chicago stopped trying to imitate New York a long time ago, developing its own soul, so there's no reason to go for the never sleeping look. Candace considers putting a hand on her shoulder, then wonders why she considered it.

One of these days they'll move into the United Center, and then maybe this drive won't be so long and cause her to think like this. One of these days, and it won't be a day very far in the future, the Chicago Sky will be as bigtime as the Lady Vols of Tennessee; one of these days, little kids growing up in Chicago will dream of being like Candace when they grow up, the way she dreamed of being like Mike. One of these days, she'll force Chicago to respect CD the way they should. One of these days, she'll be able to control her train of thought and keep it firmly on the right track, because she was not trying to think about CD, and instead everything's come back to her teammate just when she didn't want it to. She looks out the window, seeing pale yellow bleed into pale blue, and tries not to think about the sunlight playing over CD's face.

The building is actually pretty nice. Better than Candace was led to expect. Okay, so maybe there's one thing that the pros have on UT; the apartment building's in better condition than some of the dorms back in Knoxville, and she'll probably have more space than she even had as a senior. CD looks at the nameplates on the intercom for a moment, then shakes her head and opens the door. "We're all in the same wing, on the same couple of floors," she explains as they start climbing the stairs. The stairs face one of the outer walls, and at each floor Candace has a slightly different view of the neighborhood she'll be calling home for years of summers. Nicer than the neighborhood she grew up in, but she can still see the Chicago in it, the grit that isn't immediately visible until someone gets under its skin, at which point all bets are off, as are the gloves, and it's on.

Somewhere around the eighth floor, Candace figures out that CD is screwing with her a little bit, because they really could have taken the elevator if they were going up this far. Her knee started to give her trouble around the sixth floor, but she doesn't say anything. Rookies don't admit weakness to veterans, even when the veteran isn't all that veteran, and Candace refuses to look like the spoiled diva her detractors claim her to be. Fortunately, CD stops them at the eleventh floor. "Let's see… yeah, got 'em. We'd look stupid if I didn't," she says as she opens the door of the apartment nearest the stairway. Seems like a nice enough apartment, with a little kitchen, a comfortable living room, and hallways that suggest the existence of a separate bedroom.

It's furnished- a bit sparse, but nicely enough, and decorated a little too, though mostly by way of pictures, not paint or wallpaper. "Do they all come like this?" Candace asks.

CD laughs. "Only if they're mine," she says, and Candace feels the hot heat of embarrassment creeping up her face and down her back. To be fair, she should have realized this earlier, because why would CD have keys to any apartment but her own? CD continues, "We all have the same basic apartment, though. Furnishing it is up to you, though everyone'll be glad to give you tips on where to go to get the best stuff for good deals- if you don't already know, of course. You could probably give the rest of us tips. Go on, sit down on the couch, I'll pour us both a couple of drinks. Water okay?"

"Yeah," Candace says, because she doesn't have the energy for anything more. She goes over to the couch, making sure not to limp until CD's back is turned, and flops down into the cushions gracelessly. This turns out to be a mistake on her part, because the couch is terrifyingly overstuffed and over-cushioned, and her flop turns into a slow and steady descent. She tries to get her balance back with a hand clawing at the arm of the couch, because she refuses to let this be the footnote to her WNBA career, but when she tries to brace herself, her knee reminds her that it's had more than enough of her nonsense today. Against her will, she cries out, and CD whirls around in a small spray of water from the glass in her hand.

"Oh, shit," CD says, dropping the glass on the counter and running into the living room. Her hand around Candace's wrist is strong, if a little bony, and she's able to retrieve Candace from the couch's depths. "I should have warned you, that side's a little unstable- are you okay? You don't look so good." Candace's eyes give her away when they dart down to her knee and the scar that's barely visible. "Oh, shit, I forgot- you tore your ACL, that's how you got to be in this year's class. And I took the stairs- I'm so sorry, I didn't think."

"It's okay, it's okay," Candace says, but she doesn't let CD let go of her. Without the extra momentum of an unexpected flop, the couch seems willing to hold her weight, and CD said the other side was fine, or at least she implied it, so it's okay if she pulls CD down next to her. Their hips touch, almost comfortably. If she took CD by surprise, CD doesn't show it, but then, veterans shouldn't be showing weakness in front of rookies, either. Still, CD doesn't move, doesn't avoid the touch.

At least, not until she says, "I left our drinks in the kitchen. My throat's still dry, how about yours?" She doesn’t wait for Candace to answer, instead springing up from her seat and going back into the kitchen for the glasses she abandoned not so long ago. Candace waits and burns. CD's back a moment later, a glass of water in each hand, and she settles herself gingerly next to Candace so that the couch can't object to them sharing it. She hands Candace one of the glasses, and Candace bolts it down in two swallows; she's still thirsty, but not for anything that comes out of the refrigerator. CD drinks hers almost as quickly, but she does so with much more grace and style than Candace; even in these inconsequential things she is silky smooth. "I guess I should get more," she says almost hesitantly.

"You don't have to," Candace says, and she puts a hand on CD's knee to hint that CD doesn't really need to get up.

"Okay," CD replies, and then she leans over and kisses Candace lightly on the cheek. She smells floral, but not cheap. Candace goes very still for a moment, stunned, stopping, then slowly turning her head until her mouth meets CD's. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wonders if she should be scared or not; sure, she saw screwing around in the locker room, but she never joined in- but she's not, and there's no reason to be. She lets CD deepen the kiss with a hand on the back of her neck, lets CD's other hand find its way between her legs to trace the thick seam of her jeans and feel how it presses against her slit. It feels natural to have her hand fall to the small of CD's back, to have it settle at CD's waist and then dip even lower.

She stops, takes a breath. CD seems relieved for the break, raking fingers through her hair in a strangely endearing nervous gesture. "So… is this why you took me to your place?" Candace asks with a smile. CD's next gesture is neither nervous nor endearing. "If we're going to do this… and I do want to do this… can we do it somewhere more comfortable? I don't even want to know who's downstairs, but if we break the couch, they're gonna be pissed at us."

CD's smile is sharp and shy at the same time. "Okay." She heads down the hallway, tilting her head to indicate that Candace should follow her, and seeming surprised that Candace hadn't thought of it sooner. But they do get their signals uncrossed, and CD's bed is definitely big enough for two, even two who are taller than the average. Dark sheets won't reveal anything that doesn't need to be revealed.

CD begins to pull off her shirt, but she hesitates for a moment, suddenly seeming so much more vulnerable than she has any right to. Instead, she takes Candace into her arms for a moment before starting to undress her, removing each item of clothing with tender care. Candace has been undressed before, has shown off her athletic body to someone who understands the business she's in before, but men and women are different, even over and beyond the obvious differences. She can see it in the way CD carries herself, the same thing she's seen in her teammates before: all of them have understood and continue to understand what it means to be a strong woman with a strong body, and what the choice implies.

When she's stripped down to her underwear, Candace's desire is clear, but CD still hesitates and doesn't move to take off her own clothes. She bites her lip. Candace offers her a smile. "I didn't realize you came up shy in big moments. We'll have to work on that." Barefoot, she crosses the tiny expanse between them, and CD shivers at her touch. CD's shirt is soon on the chair, and Candace's mouth is on CD's again as her fingers work on CD's pants. Her work is soon done, and she pulls away. "You're beautiful," she says softly, taking in CD from head to toe.

Clearly, this is the right thing to say, because CD's smile flashes bright, and she jumps on Candace like she hasn't had any in God knows how long. Candace finds herself on the bed in short order, CD's mouth exploring her body hungrily, eliciting moans with every lick of her tongue, a low hiss from between clenched teeth when her hands run over Candace's legs and her fingernails trace the old scar from the torn ACL; to some it's a taunting mark that she might have reached her prime in high school, blown her shot before ever going big time, but Candace knows better because Pat's worn shorts and short skirts just often enough to show the lurid S-shaped scar from thirty years ago. She's not usually conscious of it, not unless someone's fingers are exploring how the scar tissue reacts to touch, and how that reaction differs from the one elicited a few inches away when CD's sure touch reaches the never-injured calf or thigh.

CD's scent hangs in the air, heavy and heady, floral perfume that reminds Candace this is not the usual kind of encounter. Candace's heels dig into the back of CD's neck, and CD leans in closer, gripping Candace's hips until her fingernails leave momentary marks in the skin, tracing with her tongue the space between Candace's legs. Candace dimly knows that it doesn't make sense for her hips to buck against a weight that isn't there, but it sets the rhythm, and CD slips smoothly into it as if they've been doing this for years, rising and falling as Candace rises and falls, faster and faster.

"CANDICE!" she cries out when she can't take any more, and CD echoes her, eating it up, glorying in it. Somehow they both know in that moment that this is what they'll both hear for years to come in the Windy City.