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The FBA and many of the characters in this story are the creations of Buck Hopper. The Baltimore Spirits are managed by Tobu, and coached by Rigid. Catherine, James, and Charlotte DeMille are mine.

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Catherine played her heart out that night.

It wasn't like normal. She always put in as much effort as she could. During practices, she pushed herself further than her trainers expected; sometimes further than they said was even safe for her body.

Catherine had entered the FBA, she now realized, with too much ego and not enough to back it up. She'd easily been the best on her team back at King's University, and she'd rarely had trouble measuring up to anybody before then. Of course, there had been Hiro back in highschool, but... well, she preferred to not think about that.

When Catherine had been drafted to the Baltimore Spirits, her agent had warned her not to get her hopes up. The FBA was a bit saturated with strong guards at the time, and the Spirits weren't an exception to that pattern. Joey Cox and Silvia Windcreek were both superstars in their own rights, and Catherine's agent had made it clear that they were probably going to have both of the starting guard positions locked up for the entire season.

She was ashamed to say it now, after almost half a year of being with the team, but Catherine had been... less than worried about it. In fact, she remembered her feelings going into her first practice with her new team. She had fully intended to walk into the practice, show off what she could do, and blow everybody away. The palm cockatoo had spent extra time studying Cox and Windcreek's playing styles after the draft, learning how they played and figuring out how she could outplay them. In her mind, she would be on the starting line up by the first game, and be their star player by the end of the season.

That hope had lasted about as long as it had taken Catherine to run a few drills with the team. They had started with a few suicides to warm up, and Catherine had been stunned when Cox had somehow managed to finish his first entire set before she was halfway done. True, he was a roadrunner, but she hadn't expected him to be quite... that fast. At the very least, she'd expected him to have trouble switching that momentum, but no, he could stop on a dime and then power back in the opposite direction. Silvia had easily left Catherine in the dust, too; the silver hare's powerful legs were a blur.

That had just been the start of the day. Every warm up they'd done, every drill they'd run, everything they had done, Joey and Silvia blew her away. While they'd been doing a few simple passing drills, Catherine had gotten a chance to watch some of the other two guards' footwork and movement, and she could only stare. What had looked simple to counter on television was blindingly fast and subtle beyond what even her sharp eyes could make out.

Catherine had finished that practice on a low she'd never felt before. Sure, she'd felt worse in her life, but this was the first time that she'd really doubted her own abilities. She'd never felt so... out matched before. She'd always assumed that the FBA would be just as easy as everything that had come before it. Now she was struck by the possibility that she might just have been a big fish in a small pond. A few of her teammates had invited her to go for some drinks, but she'd refused. The palm cockatoo had been the last one out of the locker rooms that night, and her legs had kept wanting to cramp on her way back to her place.

The next week of training had exacted its toll on her, both physically and mentally. She had pushed harder than she had in her entire life, her fiercely competitive nature never letting her rest. Every practice, though, she had found herself lagging far behind Joey and Silvia. Each night, her teammates had invited her out for drinks, or just to hang out, but every time she'd refused, and veritably crawled back to her place to soak her aching muscles in the bath.

By the end of that first week, it had almost been getting to the point of obsession. She had been getting increasingly frustrated at her own complete inability to measure up to her more talented teammates. True, there were other powerhouses on the team, too, but it was Joey and Silvia that mattered. They were the ones she had to outperform if she wanted to be a starter. Even in that short time period, her frustration with herself had started turning into dislike for the two talented guards.

Again, she had left after most of the rest of her teammates that night. She had had to walk slowly, because her legs had wanted to give out under her, and her core was killing her. As such, she hadn't noticed Joey Cox leaving the men's locker room at around the same time that she had been leaving the ladies' room. It hadn't been until Joey had called to her that she'd finally looked up, and groaned internally at the sight of him.

That was when something very odd had happened. The two of them had shared a short conversation, at the end of which Joey had made an off-handed comment about how both he and Silvia were impressed with Catherine's performance. Catherine didn't remember how she'd responded. All she remembered was how she'd felt while walking away after the short conversation. At first, she'd felt frustrated annoyance that she'd had to spend time talking to the very roadrunner that was unintentionally making her life hell. Deep in the pit of her chest, though, there had been a soft burning that hadn't left her for the entire night.

The rest of the season was a blur of practices, plane flights, and roaring crowds in her memory. All the time, though, she was practicing, pushing herself, demanding that the trainers give her more than they thought she could handle. For the first few months, she'd kept telling herself that it was just so that she could surpass Joey and Silvia. As time went on, though, she'd slowly started realizing that it was as much, if not more, for the feeling she got whenever one of her teammates, especially Joey or Silvia, took her aside to tell her how well she was doing.

She had still refused to go out with her teammates at all during that time, not for the celebration drinks or misery beers. Nobody ever questioned her, and she'd appreciated it. In truth, it was because she went home to watch over her own performances, and to further prepare herself for the next game.

So yeah. Catherine was always pushing herself, always doing her best to measure up to her teammates. At one time, she'd liked to laugh at the athletes that always talked about giving 110% during interviews. Now, she understood how they felt.

That night, though, was different.

James, Catherine's father, was a busy man. Catherine understood this. For as far back as she could remember, she recalled him having to leave to check up on projects in odd corners of Canada and the United States. She had known going into the FBA that it would be difficult for her to see her family terribly often. The combination of her father's hectic schedule and her own constant travel for away games complicated things. Again, though, she'd understood and respected that.

As such, while disappointed, she wasn't entirely surprised when her father and mother hadn't been able to come to the draft combine. Catherine had told herself that there would be many games that season for them to go and see. After all, Spokane and Edmonton weren't terribly far from Vancouver, especially for somebody with her father's finances.

Then November and December had come and left, and she hadn't seen her parents at all. When Catherine had returned home for the Christmas break, they'd been able to spend two days together before her father was called away to 'urgent business' in Nevada. Her father often had such important meetings there; apparently many of his business partners either lived in Las Vegas or frequented it often. That was what Catherine told herself, at least.

Then things had continued. January and February came and went, and she rarely even got the chance to call her parents. When she did, she always got to speak to her mother, but her father was frequently disposed. During the break for All-Star Week, Coach Trassel had ordered an intensive week of training, and so she hadn't been able to go home and visit.

By mid-March, Catherine had started feeling a gnawing deep in her chest that was entirely new to her. She was getting homesick. During the FBA's weeklong break in March, Catherine had gotten a single day off from training. On an impulse, she'd bought a plane ticket home, from Baltimore all the way to Vancouver. She'd arrived to find her house empty. Her parents, she later learned, had been in Las Vegas.

April had gone much the same as the rest of the season. The only difference, though, was that she'd had something to look forward to for once. She'd finally taken a good look at the Spirits' game schedule, and seen that on May the fifth, they would be playing in Las Vegas. As soon as she'd noticed it, she'd called up her parents. For once, she'd gotten a hold of her father, and the excitement in his voice when she'd told him about the game had made her feel warm and excited all throughout her body.

So when she stepped onto the Las Vegas Wildcards' court the night of May fifth, she'd felt electric. Knowing that her parents were up somewhere in the executive box watching her had made her jittery, but excited. She wanted the night to go perfectly. She had managed to book a reservation at one of the priciest restaurants in Las Vegas, and she had packed nicer clothes in her bag so that she could be well dressed for the evening.

She'd pushed all of those thoughts out of her head for the game, though, and just played. And she played well. She gave it everything she had; if this was going to be the only game that her parents got to see of her rookie year, then it was going to be a damn good one. For the entire game, it was like she could feel everything happening on the court around her. She knew exactly where to move, knew when to pass and to whom. She moved and played with a confidence that she hadn't felt since university. Every time that the Las Vegas crowd booed her, she felt her energy ramping up, felt her determination growing stronger. She knew that every time the crowd booed her, it was another opportunity for her parents to cheer and be proud of her up in the box.

She was exhausted when the game was over, but it was a good exhausted. Her teammates congratulated her on her performance as they headed for the locker rooms, and she smiled and thanked all of them. Their praise felt good. She didn't have the time to talk with any of them, though, and they all understood why.

She showered as quickly as she could, and then spent a few minutes getting her tall crest of red-dyed feathers to sit back flat against her head. She slipped into the dress she'd brought, and allowed herself a few more minutes to put on some quick make up. She then stood back and looked at herself in the mirror. She didn't exactly look like the princess that she was nicknamed, but it was more than good enough for ten minutes' worth of work.

Catherine was still out of breath when she stepped out of the side entrance to the stadium that she and the other players used. She'd told her parents to meet her there after the game, but she wasn't worried when she didn't see them. She knew how difficult it could be to navigate the crowds to get out of the stadium.

The air in Las Vegas was hot, but mercifully dry after the humidity of the game. It would be nice to get into the car and some air conditioning. She checked the time on her phone surreptitiously; she knew that she'd given them plenty of time to make their dinner reservation, but she couldn't help worrying. She was genuinely nervous to see her parents. She hadn't actually seen them since Christmas, and she wanted things to go perfectly.

She was just dodging her eyes down to check the time on her phone again when she caught sight of a flash of black and red. She looked back up sharply, and she felt her stomach jump as she saw her mother walking towards her. Charlotte DeMille was dressed as marvellously as always, in a long red cocktail dress that perfectly matched the red markings on her cheeks.

Catherine wanted to act dignified and mature, but as soon as she saw her mother, a smile worked its way onto her face. She stepped past the Wildcards' security, nodding her thanks to the burly gorilla guard, and then jogged over the rest of the way to her mother. The older cockatoo's own face cracked into a wide smile, and the two of them met with a tight hug.

"Oh Catherine," Charlotte murmured, still holding her daughter tightly. "You were magnificent."

Catherine tried to think of something to say in return, but her mind drew a blank. Eventually, she just laughed and said, "I was, wasn't I?"

"I've never seen you play like that. Never."

Catherine just smiled, and finally pulled away from her mother. The young cockatoo's cheeks were flushed a bit deeper red than usual, but she did her best to regain her composure. She glanced around quickly, and then asked, "Is dad getting the car?"

Charlotte's smile twitched the slightest bit. There was an awful moment of silence, and Catherine felt herself growing tense. Her mother looked away for a moment, and said quickly, "I think your father's going to meet us for dinner at the restaurant."

All was quiet as Catherine stared at her mother. There were the sounds of voices and footsteps making their way over from the front of the stadium, but Catherine didn't hear them. The warm giddiness she had felt was slowly draining away, being replaced with a jittery, cool disbelief. She tried to swallow it down.

"Did the two of you take separate cars, or...?"

Her mother finally met her eyes again. There was still a smile on her face, but Catherine recognized it as the false, hollow smile she used whenever she was lying. "Let's just get going. We don't want to be late for the reservation."

"Mom, where's dad?" Catherine was suddenly very aware of her own breathing. The smile had left her face, and her crest was rising in aggression.

"Catherine, you know your father is a very busy ma--"

"What business was so important that he had to see to it on a Monday night!?"

"Catherine--"

"No. What was so damn important that he couldn't let somebody else handle it? Or push it off to another day? Or deal with it over the phone?"

"Please don't yell."

"I'm yelling because I'm angry! Mom, I..." Catherine couldn't find the words. She was trembling, her beak clenched tight enough that it hurt. Her mother was trying to look at her, but kept dodging glances around. The only people around were the security guards by the doors. The older palm cockatoo's eyes were getting glassy, and her beak was clacking uncomfortably.

"Catherine, dear, you have to understand..."

"Where is he?" Catherine's voice was cold. Hard. An odd, all-encompassing calm focus had descended over her.

"He's a busy man, you know that."

One breath in. One breath out. One breath in. "Is he playing?"

"Catherine--"

"Is he playing."

"You shouldn't judge your father. You don't know the stress he's under."

"Mom, I haven't..." She closed her beak sharply. One breath in. One breath out. "When I was a kid and you two would disappear every other week for business trips that always 'happened' to take you to Las Vegas, I didn't judge him. I didn't know better. When I got older and the short visits to Vegas started taking a few extra days, and I started realizing what he was doing, I didn't judge him. When I was in university, and every time you told me over the phone that the two of you were in Vegas, and I could hear in your voice that..." She shut her beak again. Her voice kept getting quieter as she kept speaking. She cleared her throat, and said, "I haven't judged him for twenty years. I can't do this anymore."

"Catherine, your father loves you."

"No he doesn't."

"Don't say tha--"

"No, he doesn't!" Suddenly she was yelling again. Her mother stared at her, stricken. There were wet trails in the red feathers on her mother's cheeks. "If he loved me, you wouldn't be here begging for him! If he loved me, he would've made the effort to be here for once. For once! Do you even understand how important this is to me!?"

"Of course we do! Your father's been excited for weeks!"

"Then why isn't he here?"

"It's... complicated."

Catherine clenched her beak tighter. She could feel tears building at the corners of her own eyes, now. She swallowed, and said, "No, it isn't. I used to think it was, but it isn't. If he cared about me at all, he'd be here. He isn't here, though."

"Don't say that."

"I'm sorry mom. I love you. I love him, too. I..." Catherine fell quiet. She knew the words that came next. By the pleading look on her mother's face, it seemed that Charlotte knew, too. Catherine swallowed down the lump in her throat. "I won't be coming home for the off season. I don't want to see or talk to either of you until dad's gotten himself some help."

She turned on her heel, and started walking away. She stopped when her mother called after her. Catherine could hear in her voice that she was crying.

"Catherine, we are your family."

"You know what dad always used to tell me?" She cleared her throat, and did her best impression of her father's voice. "'Family comes first, Catherine. No matter what else happens, family always comes first.'" She steeled herself, then kept going. "Two months ago, a hippo ran into me on the court. A bloody 330 pound hippo. Neither of you ever called to ask if I was alright. Every one of my teammates and all of our training staff was with me every day, making sure I got well and was feeling alright. Which one sounds more like a family to you?"

She didn't turn back to look at her mother. She just walked away, keeping her head down. An awful, unbearable lightness was flooding her chest, making her feel like she was going to drift away with every passing stir of wind.

She made her way directly over to the bus that had brought her and the rest of the Spirits to the game. She was thankful to see it hadn't left; she hadn't been looking forward to getting a cab back to the hotel. She kept her head down as she stepped up into it, ignoring the voices of her teammates around her. She only looked up for a brief second to see where Joey was sitting. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that he was sitting on his own, a bit closer to the back of the bus. She made her way down the aisle, and then took the empty seat next to him.

She felt him glance over at her. He reached up to pull the headphones out of his ears. As soon as they were out, Catherine spoke quickly; quiet enough that only he would hear.

"Sorry."

She still had her head down, so she couldn't see how he reacted. He took a moment to reply. "For what?"

"Nothing."

Again, silence. His voice was confused when he spoke. "Right. Weren't you meeting with your parents tonight?"

"It isn't happening."

"Are you alright, Princess?"

Catherine flinched as he called her that. She remembered how that nickname had started; with her university teammates always calling her 'daddy's little princess.' "Hey, Joey, do you think you and the others could just... not call me that for a while?"

"Whatever you say, Catherine." She could tell from his voice that he was worried about her, and for a moment she hated him for it. She wanted to lash out and yell at him that she didn't need his pity or his concern. She held it in, though. "I think the rest of the team's going out for drinks. We'd be more than happy to have you along."

Her well rehearsed refusal to that offer came to her tongue, but she hesitated. "Yeah. That might be nice. You think I'll have time before we go out to get changed out of... this?" She gestured down at her dress, suddenly feeling very self-conscious in it.

"We'll wait for you."

"Thanks."