Shay's not afraid. She knows she probably should be. Everyone else saw Shameka and Jess go in; she's the only one who saw Christi and Rebecca come out. She knows that face. It filled her dreams and fantasies when she was just a little bit younger, and it still shows up every now and then, even if she knows better than to mention that to her teammates. She knows what Shameka and Jess have become- or who, rather- but for all of that, she's not afraid. Her heart might be beating faster, and she might be having trouble breathing, but not from fear, not if the pulse between her legs is any indication.

Maybe she should tell the rest of her teammates. They're nervous, maybe even scared, and this might make them feel better. The thought drifts across her mind, gone before she can give it any serious consideration. Besides, it's her turn to come when called, dragging herself out of the comfortable chair and forcing herself upright. She can still feel her the throb of her blood and he excitement that coils in her stomach, but very distantly, as if the sensations are fighting their way through fog and thick blankets. Maybe this is what sleepwalking feels like.

Once in the studio, the intern hands her a new jersey and tells her to put it on, so she does. She settles onto the stool in front of the Liberty logo and waits. She's having a little trouble focusing on things, but the photographer's blonde ponytail shines like a beacon. The photographer laughs, saying, "So far I've had to tell everyone else to relax, but it looks like that's not gonna be a problem with you. Actually, I'm gonna need you to sit up a little straighter and look right into the camera. No, not at me. At the camera."

Her gaze shifts obediently to the lens of the camera, and she stares at it until the flash goes off and the blinding white light overwrites everything she is, was, and ever could have been with everything she always wanted to be. She doesn't resist the process; maybe she can't, maybe she just doesn't.

Brown eyes close. Blue eyes open. Shay is gone as if she'd never existed. The light flashes again. "Your name is Sarah," she hears, but that doesn't make any sense, because that's not her name, her name is Becky, why would someone be calling her Sarah? The thought fizzles and dies. A new one replaces it, accompanied by the feeling of a hair ruffle. It doesn't fit precisely, but how many people are going to notice the spelling?

Rebekah flashes a grin at the familiar face behind the camera, a leer that's full of promise for the future. For now, the most important thing is meeting her teammates and making sure the pecking order's as clear as it ever was.

Damn, it's good to be back in New York.