The bitches had themselves a party to celebrate their title and the roster changes in Atlanta and Indiana, so it's later than usual- damn late, closer to sunrise than midnight- by the time Tangela and Nicole gear up for the ride home. Both of them sway on their feet; Nicole's been up for over twenty-four hours and the news from Indiana gave Tangela a powerful urge to blind herself to the cocky bitch's smirk and the dreamy envy in the dumb bitch's eyes. Dan should have let them go earlier, but Nicole told him they needed to stay, they needed to know and report.

She's regretting it now, though, as she fumbles with the car keys, dropping them twice on the sidewalk with a muted ring before remembering to use the auto-unlock button. It's hard to think with Tangela's arm around her waist, Tangela's breath on her neck with alcohol fumes wafting up. She detangles herself from Tangela, guiding the older woman into the passenger seat, where she sprawls limply, her eyes dull and her mouth turned down. She looks dead, or like she wishes she were.

Nicole shakes off the chill that wants to creep down her spine and straps herself into the driver's side. Her head's spinning too much to drive, so she takes a couple of deep breaths to steady herself until she decides she's as ready as she's going to get and starts the car. Hands clenched on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road, she notices but doesn't really register the pair of headlights that follow her faithfully along her route home.

As she makes the sharp turn into the driveway, a black SUV goes by slowly. There was a time when she would have panicked immediately on seeing that, but the bitches don't care anymore, no one really remembers who she is, and she doesn't actually give a damn these days anyway. She's too tired to care. She's been too tired for years now. Besides, she has enough on her plate right now with Tangela, whether it's rousing her enough to get her out of the car, half-carrying her through the door into the bedroom they share and the bed they don't, or getting her comfortably settled for one of the sleepless nights they've both come to know all too well.

She's barely got Tangela's shoes off when someone knocks on the door, a loud, hard, quick pound that Nicole's heartbeat soon begins to echo. Tangela stirs from her stupor, struggling to get to a sitting position. "Shhh," Nicole says. "I got this. Don't worry." She brushes back one of Tangela's little braids, hesitating for a moment with her hand on Tangela's cheek, before the pounding that sounds ready to break the door down reminds her of what she has to do to protect this fragile peace. She heads back down the hall, only stopping to pick up the baseball bat they keep next to the door for unwanted visitors.

And this visitor is very unwanted. She focuses only on the face: Catchings's face, and she doesn't want to think about who this used to be. She doesn't believe in ghosts. The living stay living and the dead stay dead, and the rest of the league is somewhere in the middle. Still, she can't help but wonder what would happen if she tried to whack the Fever player with the baseball bat, whether it would sail right through and the begging, pleading expression on the Fever player's face wouldn't change at all. "Get the fuck out," she snarls, making each word nice and slow and clear so the Fever player can read her lips.

But the Fever player shakes her head, mouth open as if she's going to say something, never mind that Indiana hasn't said a word since Catchings went under and won't say a word until next season rolls around with someone else's face on a bunch of someone else's bodies. Something scratches at the back of Nicole's mind, reminding her of what Fever player would have had the most reason to come to her door- no, to Tangela's door- but she puts it aside because she doesn't believe in ghosts. "I mean it. Get the fuck out and don't ever come back. We have enough trouble without the walking dead."

"She set us free," the Fever player says, voice a little rusty, a little loud, and surprisingly Southern. "I'm just Tamika, not Catch. Please, I need-"

Nicole slams the door in the woman's face- in Catchings's face- and turns to go, but the knocking starts again, and it won't stop. Worse, she can hear noises from the bedroom, and sure enough, Tangela's stumbling through the doorway in her nightgown, bleary-eyed and puzzled. The sensible thing to do would be to ignore the knocking and escort Tangela back to the bedroom. But this late at night, Nicole's not feeling very sensible, and she opens the door again. "GET OUT!" she shrieks, baseball bat gripped in both hands like she's a Diamondback waiting for the pitch.

The Fever player's tall enough to look over her shoulder, to see Tangela, and Tangela's taller than both of them, tall enough to see around Nicole and see what Nicole's chosen to ignore. Nicole turns. "I'm taking care of this," she says.

"Tangie," the Fever player rasps. Tangela's gaze immediately fixes on the woman, her jaw dropping in amazement. Before she can say anything with voice or hands, the Fever player says, "Back at you double."

"Miko," Tangela breathes. She shoves Nicole out of the way and pulls the Fever player- pulls Tamika- into her arms. Her fingers trace shaky letters on Tamika's brown skin, intimate sweet nothings that Nicole envies. "Nic, help me get her into the guest room?"

Well, at least it's the guest room. Nicole puts her arm around Tamika's waist and drags Tamika down the hall. It doesn't escape her notice the way Tangela and Tamika look at each other, and she knows that none of them are sleeping tonight.

Except that Tamika sags suddenly, almost sliding out of Nicole and Tangela's grasp, and her eyelids barely flicker when Nicole shakes her harder than perhaps necessary to try and rouse her. "Musta driven all night," Tangela mutters.

"Let's just get her settled," Nicole replies tersely. Together, they carry Tamika into the guest room, and it falls to Nicole to get her onto the bed; if Nicole isn't as careful as she was with Tangela, that just means she's more tired and cares less than she did at the beginning of the night.

Definitely a sleepless night, at least for Nicole.