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Giving her player the best smile she could offer, Dylan rapped her knuckles on the whirlpool rail and said, “We’ll see.”

Leaving the relative quiet of the whirlpool/treatment room, Dylan made her way back into the organized chaos of the locker-room, making a beeline

directly for the bench where Cat was being tended to. Coming down to one knee, she put a hand on her lover’s thigh, not caring what anyone saw, or

thought, and met Cat’s eyes directly. “The truth.”

“It hurts like hell. But…I can play on it. I’ve had worse knee strains before, and the Doc has already taken my picture and pronounced me fit, right?”

Norton grimaced even as she nodded. “It goes against my utopian world recommendations, but…right.”

Dylan sighed, worrying at her lower lip, comforted slightly when Cat reached down and covered her hand with her own. “How’s Dobbins?” she asked softly.

“Not good,” Dylan replied, not needing Kelly’s assessment of the situation. “She’s hurting bad, and I don’t think all the backrubs and whirlpool baths in the

world are going to stop that.”

“I’m sorry, D,” Norton said, finishing up with Cat’s knee and giving it a light pat. “I did the best I could.”

“I know, Kelly, and I thank you for it. It just wasn’t in the cards, I guess.”

“You could always put Thorne in and shift Chane to small forward,” Cat hazarded, hating the bleak look in her lover’s striking eyes. “She’s played that

position before, you know.” Cat frowned when the look didn’t disappear. A cold feeling of dread spread its way through her belly and limbs, making her

shiver. “Dylan? You’re…you’re not thinking of forfeiting, are you?” The slight shift of color in Dylan’s eyes told Cat all she needed do know. Lifting her hand,

she clamped it on her lover’s shoulder. “Dylan, no. Please. Don’t give up, not when we’ve gotten this far. Even if we wind up losing by thirty points, it won’t

be because we didn’t try our damndest out there. Please, let us have that chance. Don’t quit. Don’t make us quit. Please?”

Still worrying her lower lip, Dylan dropped her eyes, gently released Cat’s grip on her shoulder, and stood. Her gaze scanned the rest of the players, who

had all overheard the conversation, soft-voiced as it was, and looked back at her with desperate, pleading eyes. She allowed those looks, those emotions,

to penetrate for one intense moment, then hardened her heart, and let her face show that. “Caulley,” she called to the assistant coach who was leaning

against a locker, arms folded, “come with me.”

As soon as the door closed behind them, the sense of deflation and disappointment filled the air like a pall. The players slumped in their seats; several had

tears in their eyes.

“MotherFUCK!!” Chane shouted, pounding the locker with her fist. “I can’t believe she up and fucking quit on us. What the fuck?!?”

The locker room door opened again, this time admitting an official. “Five minutes, guys. Time to get out there and warm up.”

“Why should we bother?” Chane asked after he left. “It’s not like we’re gonna be warming up for anything. Looking like goddamned fools standin’ around

there till they tell us to go home. Screw that. I’m gettin’ a shower and gettin’ the fuck outta here.”

“Chane, wait.” Taking in a deep breath, Cat stood, wincing only slightly as she put weight back on her knee. “If nothing else, we are professionals. Face it.

No one expected us to make it even half this far, right? But we did it. We showed them all what we could do.” She shrugged. “We can’t help it that

Angela’s knee got busted, or that Dobbsie’s got a bum back. Those things happened because we played harder, smarter, and better than anyone ever

thought we could. Even if we forfeit, we have a right to be out there, in front of that crowd, not slinking off like thieves.” She met each player’s eyes, letting

them see the strength of her convictions, the passion in her heart for the game she so loved. “We always won with dignity and grace. Let’s show this crowd

that we can lose the same way, ok?”

One by one, the players rose to their feet, inspired by the words of this rookie, their Captain, who had led them this far, and was willing to lead them to the

end, however ignoble that end might be. Even Chane managed to muster a smile and, walking over, clapped Cat on the back. “If ya ever decide to run for

President,” she said, “call me. I’ll vote for ya.”

Chuckling, Cat turned to her teammates. “C’mon, guys. Let’s get out there and, well, just…get out there.”

It was a group of subdued, but proud Badgers who left the locker room for the court, chins held high, even if their hearts weren’t.

“It’s a pretty quiet crowd here in Bayou Arena, Ted, since the players have come back on the court. Especially since the Badgers seem short a player and

two coaches.”

“You’re right, Lori. Dobbins was really hurting during the first half, and from what I’m hearing, the team physician has nixed her reentry into the game

tonight.”