They only had a few days, stolen from visits to family and the forgiving Euroleague schedule, for this. Yolanda and Ticha huddled in the corner of the Clubhouse on New Year's Eve, trying to avoid notice from the various other couples that had arrived to celebrate the holiday. There were people they did not want to see, attention they didn't want to get; tonight, they wanted time alone in a place where no one would call attention to them, and the Clubhouse was the best they could do on short notice. A hefty tip to the beautiful, flashing-eyed Sofie was enough to provide them with a supply of drinks and otherwise complete privacy.

"We finally broke through," Yolanda said carefully, measuring out the words as if she could never say them again, weighing them as if to make clear the double meaning that lay behind them.

"Yeah, we did, didn't we?" The senior Monarch grinned at her older teammate. They'd learned a lot about each other that summer, about strength both visible and invisible, about remarkable feats that were not due to the impressive muscles of either woman. "Never thought it was going to happen sometimes, after everything. We've come a long way."

"No, those would be Scot and Barry over there," Ticha corrected her, pointing at the flamboyant NBA journeyman and the eccentric young pitcher. Yolanda rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her face. Once upon a time, that smile might have been thought out of place, uncharacteristic, suspicious. But those were the days before the 2005 season, before a friendship and a bond formed out of the tough times of the Monarchs' early years had deepened further than the center and the point guard had once imagined possible. They'd carried each other for years, Ticha and Yo, taking with them a fading Ruthie and a dissatisfied Tangela and Edna's victorious battle with her own body and a host of others who had grown up under their watchful eyes: Tante, Kara, Rebekkah, Chelsea, Kristin... and several years' worth of players for whom Sacramento just hadn't been the right place. Of course, there had been more than a few players who had come to learn that Sacramento had been the right place all along, and they had just never known it. Nicole's constant smile and DeMya's glee were familiar sights in the locker room.

But for all intents and purposes, there had always been Ticha and Yo. Few players were left from the pre-ABL era. Sure, sometimes Ticha would knock back a beer with Margo at the casino, or with Murriel Page down in Washington, or sneak up on the FBC during one of their Clubhouse visits, and they'd all joke about how things had been better in the good old days, but the point guard knew better. Without the abrupt ending of the ABL and the dispersal of its players, Ticha would never have had La'Keshia as a target in the post, never have had Edna to knock down three-pointers like they were free throws- never had Yolanda to do anything and everything.

"Things won't be the same," Yolanda said, surprising Ticha out of her reverie, and it was still unclear if she was talking about their lives as WNBA champions, or their lives as lovers. But as Ticha opened her mouth to ask, Yolanda continued, "Chelsea's in Chicago now, and DeMya's knocked up. I've been pregnant. If she thinks she's coming back full strength, she's fucking kidding herself. Nicole's got the Most Improved Player curse now. Coach may go off and play with the boys. And I'm fucking old."

"You're not old, there's no such thing as curses, and Coach would rather kick himself in the groin than coach those boys. We'll adapt to whatever percent of DeMya we get. We'll reload in the draft and pick up a couple of free agents, and we'll defend our title."

"Nat and I are the same age, and we play- played- the same way." Ticha tilted her head and rolled her eyes, but Yolanda missed the hint that Ticha did not want to hear about her ex. "And she called it quits because she wanted to be able to walk in five years. What does that say about me? Give me a good reason to come back and put my knees through that again?"

"You'd break my heart if you did," Ticha answered quickly- too quickly, she could tell immediately by the way Yolanda's hand pulled back and the sudden chill in the air that Yolanda thought she was just spinning a line, making a joke, lightening the atmosphere in the improvisational stand-up way that she had. "You can't let Nat rule your life anymore. She's in the past now, and she's not you. So she's retired? You also didn't play volleyball and tear your ACL. You haven't roughhoused with kids recently. You haven't had to do everything in the post because your subs are either foul-prone or incompetent. You've had Tangie and DeMya and Becky to take the load and the stress off. There's another year and another title left in you yet. To watch you go and to know you could have done so much more- that would break my heart more than losing your love."

"But will you stay to win that title with me? Or will you take the money and run? You're the top point guard on the market, and you just won a title. Teams are gonna want you like they never have before."

"If I go, it's not because I want to. Because I don't want to unless you do. I came into this league in purple, and I'll leave it in purple. Will you stay with me?"

Yolanda heard the way Ticha weighted the words, recognized the texture because she had used it herself on Ticha. There was more at stake than the 2006 season, the WNBA title, basketball. And she knew the answer to the question just as well as she understood the question itself. "Leave now? But the fun's just begun." She leaned over the table, intending to surprise Ticha with a kiss.

But Ticha met her halfway across the table, leaning into the kiss and placing one long-fingered hand atop hers. She should have known better. Ticha always knew where she was, and where she had been, and where she was going, and the meaning of every move she had ever tried to make.