A/N: I'm very sorry that I haven't updated any of my other stories; I have been very busy doing many things (including sports and working on sports and my very own story). And now I thought of this one and it won't get out of my head so…here it is. This story it is set in mid-October of 2010.

Also this is more of a prologue than anything.

Disclaimer: I only own what you don't recognize. (And probably even less than that.)

Chapter 1

Steph's P.O.V.

I walked into my apartment, exhausted after yet another day of bounty hunting with only Lula as back-up. I was seriously starting to re-consider what I had yelled at Ranger last month about staying out of my life and not helping me out all the time (with money, cars, etc.) if all he was going to do was steal a few kisses here and there. I had officially ended things with Morelli months ago; not that Ranger believed that or anything, but whatever, it doesn't matter anymore.

I threw my keys and purse onto the kitchen table, then opened one of my cabinets and took out my blender (that everyone assumed was just for milkshakes and frappes and that other junk). Then I opened my freezer, pushing all of the ice cream out of the way I eventually made it to my secret stash of frozen fruits. Pulling those out I set them on my counter and got to work on making a delicious banana, blueberry, and strawberry smoothie. Once my wonderful concoction was created, I poured myself a tall glass, putting the extra in the fridge, and stashing the fruit back in my freezer.

Taking my glass I walked into the living room and, sitting on the couch, I turned on the TV. I knew there was a game starting in a few minutes and I had been eagerly anticipating it for a few days now. The screen lit up showing some of the most athletic women in the world taking their positions. I watched as the whistle sounded and the game begun.

Most of my friends know that I have loved watching games on TV ever since my dad got me into them when I was a little kid. They assume that my favorite sport is either baseball or football, or maybe even basketball or hockey, but what they don't know is that the sport I love more than anything else is soccer.

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A/N: Yes it has taken me longer than I meant to update this. I am very sorry for that, but I've been a bit distracted by the Olympics.

Oh, and I've decided to change the timeline, so in the story it is currently set during January 2012.

I hope you enjoy this!

Chapter 2

The game was almost over with only a few seconds left in the second half. I was half asleep at this point, knowing that nothing could change the outcome of this game now. The USA was winning 14-0 against the Dominican Republic and you could tell that all the players were just ready for the game to be over.

Exhausted, I sat up and grabbed the clicker in order to turn off the T.V. and head to bed. Right as I was about to hit the power button though, a forward from the Dominican Republic got a decent shot off, forcing the U.S. goalie to make a flying save. I watch as she caught the ball and for a moment the crowd went wild, but then she landed and the ref blew the whistle. And she didn't move to get up.

Time seemed to freeze as Nicole Barnhart managed to roll over clutching her right elbow. The team's athletic trainers ran over to her. The commentators were speechless at first, but quickly pulled themselves together and started talking about how bad it would be for the US women's soccer team's hopes at a third straight gold medal if Barnhart is seriously injured.

While the trainers dealt with their best keeper, the cameras looked over at their back up Cameron Davis. In her true fashion, she didn't look the slightest bit worried about her teammate. In fact she looked almost happy, no doubt thinking about the possibility that she may become the starting goalie. I know I wasn't the only one thinking that too, because the commentators mentioned it right after I thought it.

When the camera panned back to the field, Nicole Barnhart was being carried off the field in a stretcher with her arm in a sling. The trainers were surrounding her and her teammates followed solemnly, all excitement from their win diminished. The convoy vanished from view as they brought Barnhart into the locker room; no doubt they want to get her for an x-ray a.s.a.p.

I turned off the T.V. knowing the commentators only had speculations, and no real answers. There was only one way I would get an answer tonight. Getting up, I put my empty smoothie glass in the sink and grabbed my phone on the way to my bedroom.

Opening it up, I sent of one simple text to an old friend:

What's the damage?

Sorry to any soccer fans. I know I'm messing up the team and stuff a bit. Please write a review!