Hello boys and girls. I threw this fic together for my baseball buddy, Yokaputo. Yeah, I'm a Cubs fan, but because she's such a nice girl I temporarily switched allegiances to her Dodgers for their playoff run. I have no illusions this will ease your pain, Yok, but maybe it'll make you smile.

As for my other stories, I've been working on Chapter 20 of "Innocence" and my Halloween fic the last couple days. Oh, I also rented the first season of "Dollhouse". My God, that was ridiculously good. If you haven't seen it, try it. I think Dichen Lachman is my new TV obsession (sorry Yvonne).

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Never Placate An Angry Dodger Fan

By Liam

Chuck and Sarah heard the commotion the moment they stepped into the courtyard. While her secret agent instincts immediately kicked in, Chuck simply appeared resigned.

"Man. Every year," he grumbled.

Sarah loosened the grip on her Colt and curiously followed Chuck to the front door of the Woodcomb apartment. She watched as he cautiously reached out and took the doorknob in hand, gently twisting it. He pushed the door open and leapt to the side, pressing himself tight against the apartment's outer wall.

"Look out!" a male voice called from inside.

An instant later, Sarah was forced to hit the ground as a picture frame sailed over her head. Wide eyed, she looked up at Chuck, who seemed terribly nonchalant about it.

"When we breach the doorway," he began, "take cover behind the couch." Holding up three fingers, he started a countdown. Three, two, one…

Chuck bolted into the apartment and dove behind the couch. Sarah followed a moment later and executed a flawless roll, popping up onto her knees to just glance over the couch.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Both startled as Devon suddenly appeared next to them. A bicycle helmet strapped to his head, a life-vest wrapped around his chest, an old metal garbage can lid for a shield. Sarah couldn't help it, she began to giggle at the sight.

Shocked, Devon looked to Chuck. "You didn't tell her? You didn't warn her?"

"I'm not exactly the type of guy who wakes up in the morning and flips on Sportscenter to check the scores," Chuck defended. He nodded to Sarah, "Besides, she watches Angel repeats on TNT. I can't get to the remote."

"Never mind that," Devon insisted. "What the hell's the deal? You knew what last night could mean and you weren't here to help me. Not cool, bro. Not cool."

"What happened last night?" Sarah innocently asked. As she looked around, she surveyed the damage. Broken vases and picture frames. Furniture strewn about. If she didn't know better, she'd swear that a burglar ransacked the apartment.

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling cry of anguish echoed throughout the apartment, followed by something getting punched. Then, with all due seriousness, Devon said:

"The Dodgers got eliminated from the playoffs."

"Dirty freakin' Philly cheaters!" the anguished voice cried. "Their entire lineup is on steroids!"

"You know," Devon mused, "after last year, I thought I was prepared for this. But truthfully, you can never prepare for this. The horror…the horror."

The expression on his face was one Sarah had seen before. It was shellshock. A reaction to extreme emotional duress under combat conditions.

"I never knew Ellie was such a baseball fan," she said.

Chuck nodded feverishly. "Oh yeah. There was a time, back when dad was around, that whenever Ellie was upset with him she'd tell him she wished Kirk Gibson was her father."

"She's been like this all night," Devon explained. "Throwing things, punching things, screaming things." A beat. "Drinking things. Around two am she downed five tequila poppers, called me an Abercrombie and Fitch model reject, then told me she should've slept with Russell 'The Love Muscle' Martin when she had the chance at a cocktail party in December of 2007." Devon shook his head sadly. "She says hurtful things when she drinks."

Behind the couch they waited as Ellie continued her tirade. But then, after another half hour, fatigue seemed to finally set in. Ellie collapsed in the leather loveseat not ten feet away, head in hands, sobbing quietly.

"All this over baseball," Chuck said in disbelief.

It was Sarah's turn to stare in shock. "It isn't just baseball," she explained, as if to a simpleton, "it's life."

Despite the men's protests and pleas for her safety, Sarah risked leaving the cover of the couch. Arms held out wide, hands open to show no weapons; Sarah slowly approached the grieving woman and applied her most disarming smile.

"Hey Ellie," she gently said, so not to startle.

But Ellie snapped to attention, fixing Sarah with an intense gaze. For a moment, Sarah actually considered whipping out her flex-cuffs and subduing the woman. But recognition seemed to flash. She smiled and attempted to smooth out her hair.

"Oh! Sarah! I didn't know you were here! If I had, I would have tidied up the place to be presentable."

"Don't worry about it," Sarah assured. "I hear you had a rough night."

"Yeah," Ellie sniffed. She then turned angry eyes on Devon. "Not that he was any help. Is it to much to expect a little sympathy!?"

Devon ducked back below the couch, out of sight.

"Look," Sarah continued, "I know things seem bleak right now, I really do. I'm a baseball fan myself, so I know what you're feeling."

"No. You can't possibly know," Ellie vehemently responded.

"Yes, I do," Sarah gently countered. Then, with a pained expression, she said, "I really, really do."

Ellie looked closely, reacting to the obvious hurt in her voice.

"To be so close to a championship," Sarah choked out. "So close to rapture. Then to have it stolen away. The pain…you'd rather a knife be stuck through your heart, it would hurt less. Because you've devoted your life to this team, gone to games since you were a little girl, watched them on TV. The complete devastation when everything you've cheered for is snuffed out it a moment." Then, with incredible venom, "All because some little punk in headphones doesn't know not to interfere with the leftfielder making a play!"

Sarah caught herself, took a couple cleansing breaths. With a smile, she continued:

"But you shouldn't be down. You guys won your division and made it to the NLCS for the second straight year. And you've still got a great nucleus of young players to build around. Kershaw, Broxton, Billingsley, Ethier, Loney. You're gonna be contenders for years to come."

Ellie sniffed again, wiping her nose on her sweater sleeve. With wide, hopeful eyes she asked, "You think so?"

"Well sure," Sarah said, patting Ellie's knee. "Few minor tweaks, the Dodgers will be good to go. Maybe a lefty reliever, or a power bat to replace an aging Manny Ramirez." With a bright smile, Sarah suggested, "What about a trade for Pat Burrell? Wouldn't that be cool? Acquiring a former Philly to help you beat the Phillies?"

Ellie chuckled despite her tears. "That would be pretty neat."

"Yup! A few tweaks, you guys will be back in the NLCS. Granted, you'll lose to the Cubs…"

Ellie snorted in laughter. She looked at Sarah fondly. "Oh, Sarah. Lose to the Cubs? You are so silly."

Morosely, Sarah said, "Yeah. Silly me."

"But thank you for making me smile."

"Well, isn't that the great thing about baseball?" Sarah asked. "There's always a next year."

"Promise?"

"They're words I live by every October. And I haven't been wrong so far." Then, with a big smile, Sarah said, "You know what might make us both feel better?" Ellie shook her head. "Going online and finding out who'll be free agents this winter."

Ellie grinned an honest to goodness grin.

"That could make me feel better," Ellie agreed.

Giggling, the girls got up and went in search of Ellie's laptop. The boys watched, amazed at Ellie's sudden transformation and her bonding with Sarah.

The moral of the story? Baseball, like love, is a state where hope springs eternal. Unless, of course, you're a Nationals fan.

THE END