And should you really chase so hard
The truth of sport plays rings around you

The media didn't go away. They were there, lurking just out of enforceable distance, when Josh went to sleep that night, and they were there when he woke up. And all of them, every last blessed one of them, had sent their network, their paper, their tabloid, their magazine, their radio station, their news website, or their personal friends a giant, screaming, all-points-bulletin about the very public kiss.

The best thing Team Steel could collectively find to say about them was that the more serious journalists had departed once they got their story, leaving just the true paparazzi and other desperate types behind. Mary from the local news was still hanging around.

Kat was not remorseful. "It was a stupid impulse decision, and it won't matter in a month anyway," was all she had to say on the subject when Josh confronted her the day after. Which was probably true, but it didn't stop him from wanting to break the TV when he turned it on and saw himself on every channel. Berto braved the mob and came back with food, water, and a half- dozen print items buzzing about the supposed new celebrity romance.

"No one even cares that we stopped a bank robbery," Josh pointed out in between wadding up newspapers and handing them to Kat to burn. "Which should be newsworthy all by itself, you know? And of course, they talk about it, but it's not the big focus."

"Do you really want it to be?" Berto asked, getting two incredulous stares in return. He defended himself quickly with, "If everyone's talking about how amazing it is that two athletes with no apparent training in law enforcement took down six hardened criminals... that could raise a lot of bad questions."

"In other words," Kat said, "better some garbage about our love lives than a investigation of N- Tek. I'll buy that."

Josh nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, you're right. But I thought this country was supposed to worship everyday heroes."

Kat threw a match into the trash can, which erupted in a nice fireball. "Not as much as they love a good romance, I guess."

On the third full day of the media siege, just as things were approaching terminal boredom for the more active members of Team Steel, Vitriol showed up in San Francisco and took an office building hostage. Jefferson deemed the crisis to be severe enough for some drastic measures and sent Hawk - in stealth mode - to pick up Josh, who had the dual disguise of being Max and being in stealth as well. Thirty minutes later, Vitriol was left for the cops to find, and Josh was back home with no one the wiser. And, despite the fatigue of a depleted transphasic energy level, in a fantastic mood.

Piloting Hawk was a very rare privilege indeed these days, and the chance to get out there and do stuff - not just react to events beyond his control - was exhilarating.

"I'm back," he called out, walking in from the mostly-sand backyard. "Man, you picked a bad time to leave the biolink, bro - Vitriol had a bunch of CEOs in this room, right, and..."

He trailed off as he came into the living room and saw Kat balancing in a one-handed handstand on top of the coffee table. Berto was timing her with a stopwatch. The biolink monitor was sitting unwatched behind them.

Josh raised an eyebrow. "I guess this answers the question of 'what'd you guys do while I was gone'."

Kat flawlessly dismounted, landing with a little flourish. "Beats watching TV."

"Next time take her with you," Berto said, putting down the stopwatch and setting up the portable transphasic generator. "One bored adrenaline junkie is just as bad as two."

"I'm not an adrenaline junkie," Kat said, trying to sound offended and failing. "I'm action-oriented."

"Same difference." Josh plugged into the generator and settled down to wait. Recharging wasn't his favorite part of any mission, but it was always nice to know he'd made it back in enough shape to do the boring stuff.

"So Vitriol had a roomful of CEOs?" Berto prompted.

"Yeah. He had them right behind all the doors and windows, but he forgot about the air vents, so I -"

The computer - still acting as a de facto phone service - beeped. "Hold that thought again. Phone call from..." Berto squinted at the monitor. "That's weird. It's from Guam."

Halfway to the phone, Josh paused. "Guam."

Berto's squint had deepened into a full frown of puzzlement. "Not quite. Offshore."

Curious, Josh picked up the phone. The line was full of static - a harsh, clicking noise that cut in and out every few seconds in an irregular pattern. A voice said, "Hello? Is Josh there?"

"Speaking."

"Oh. Oh! Sorry. This connection is pretty terrible." There was a pause that the static did its best to fill. "Josh? This is Laura."

Once upon a time, he'd thought that he would spend the rest of his life with her. Her voice in all its nuances - even over a static-filled line from half a world away - was burned into his memory. It was probably the most insulting thing she could have said. "I know."

"Oh. Um... it's been a long time, hasn't it?"

A strange sense of detachment settled over him. "Almost two years."

One year at sea had turned into two, but the only reason he knew that was an offhand comment from Pete. Laura Chen had found her place, it seemed. It just wasn't anywhere near Josh or Del Oro Bay.

"I guess it's hard to wait when all your female coworkers are right there," she said, and the words had an acid bite to them that she rarely used. But almost immediately came a genuinely regretful, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry. I don't - I'm not trying to be the bitter ex-girlfriend."

Ex-girlfriend. The prefix did not go unnoticed.

When he didn't respond, she continued. "Well, anyway, about... everything. I just thought I'd call to see if it's true."

He heard himself saying, "How wrong do you think the international news media could be?"

She gave a short, hiccuping kind of laugh. "Yeah, I guess not. So... what's she like?"

He wanted to ask, "Do you really want to know?" but instead came up with, "A lot like you."

"Oh." More static. "I miss you."

"Thanks for calling," he said, and hung up.

Berto and Kat were looking at him with carefully blank expressions.

"That was Laura." He put the phone down on the coffee table. The detached feeling hadn't left. "It's official, I guess. She called herself my ex-girlfriend."

"You... wanna talk about it?" Berto asked cautiously.

He shook his head. "Not really."

Kat was giving him a narrow-eyed, evaluative stare. "You gonna be okay?"

He took a deep breath. He wasn't dead. Facing the facts hadn't killed him. It felt better, in fact, as though a fog had been lifted from his mind and heart. "Yeah, actually, I think I am."

She nodded decisively. "Then unplug and get your gear. I've got to do something before I go completely nuts. Cameras or not, we're going to train."

They made the evening news again.