TV Show: Pitch
Pairing : Mike L. and Ginny B. (with Amelia S)
Summary: Ginny finds out about Mike and Amelia ; Set post S1E4 (sometime in the far off future)
She's stunned when she finds out.
Stunned that it hurts. No, no…she's not hurt, hurt. More like betrayed. It's a toss-up which feeling is worse.
She tells herself it's all about Amelia. Because she's supposed to be on her side, not his. Not that there are sides. Because it's not like Mike and her were adversaries. They weren't. They haven't been in a long while, if they ever were that at all. In fact, other than Blip, he had been her champion and foremost supporter in the team.
So she's mad at herself that she is. Mad, that is.
At him.
And at her.
So what if he's been the idol of her childhood? So what if she's had his poster on her bedroom wall growing up? That doesn't give her rights over him. He's nothing more than a teammate. Okay, more like a mentor really. A good friend, even. Yes, maybe that's it — how many people can say they've become friends with their idols after all?
So what if they work out together — a lot? Or that they have a drink out every so often. It's not like it's always just the two of them. They do go out with the whole team 3 times out of 5 after all. And if she has her very own spot in his living room whenever they review games together…or you know, watch a movie or two — it's nothing out of the ordinary - even though she knows, he doesn't really have any of their team mates over his place a lot…or you know, at all? And if they talk 'til the wee hours of the morning on their off days? What of it? It's what friends do, right? And as Mike's friend, shouldn't she be happy that he's with someone like her "agent."
Okay, that wasn't fair to Amelia. She is more than just her agent. It may have started that way, but she's more than earned her title as someone other than 'just an agent'. She's her friend. Someone who's fought to get her where she is right now. Her champion.
So she tries to convince herself that it's more about the fact that they had kept the whole thing a secret. Because really, there was no earthly reason to do so. They were both adults. Both single — divorced. They could see each other. Fuck each other. Even marry each other and it shouldn't even be a big deal.
Yes, she tells herself. This is all about them not seeing fit to let her know they were an item. Like she's some stupid kid who needed to be wrapped up in kid gloves. Just cause she's 13 years younger than him doesn't mean she'll freak the fuck out that they're knocking boots, right? (Of course the irony, that she is in fact freaking the fuck out over that particular knowledge, escapes her at that moment.)
So yes, it's all about that. Only about the secrecy thing that has her all kinds of upset.
Because really, she should be happy that two of the closest people to her are together right?
Only, she's not. She's not happy and she hates herself for feeling this…whatever this is she's feeling.
So she throws pitch after pitch after pitch.
Because she doesn't know any other way to work out this feeling of aggression inside over the knowledge that they are in fact together. That even now, as she's working her arm and hands and shoulder into exhaustion, they're probably talking…sharing secrets…laughing together…kissing…fucking…
She bites her lips to keep from screaming our her frustration, because she can't afford to. She can't let it show that she's mad and hurt and feeling betrayed. She can't let anyone know that her stomach is churning at the thought of them together. That she's nauseous at the prospect of seeing both of them tomorrow with that knowledge etched in her brain. That she's blinking back tears from eyes that have seen them in bed together.
So she pitches. And pitches as she swallows the bitterness in her throat.
She pitches…until she no longer can.
Until she's numb.
So that come morning, she can fake it.
She can pretend.
That it's just about them keeping it a secret.
That this feeling of betrayal is only because in all those late-night phone calls they had, he didn't see fit to share with her that he's with someone.
That she's hurt because Amelia knew how much she looked up to him.
That this feeling of shame crawling under her skin is only at the idea of them possibly discussing …maybe even laughing about it with each other.
And not because this pain inside her chest is really all about him.
Just him.
That she doesn't want to share him.
Or that it's all about him being hers.
Not Amelia's.
Hers!
Because for the longest time she's thought of herself as his.
And she knows that's like a giant step back almost to the dark ages — considering she's the poster child for breaking that proverbial glass ceiling. In the world of professional sports at that!
And isn't that the most fucked up thing ever?