A/N: So, first I'm gonna apologise for the incredibly long wait. Alas, life, that eternal obstacle.

Secondly, I have to apologise again because I wrote that they were playing 'Cheat' in this chapter and then realised that you can't play that with two people. I probably should have changed it but this chapter was such a long slog, I simply patched over it. Tom Hanks fans will know the title is a quote said by him in the movie "A League of Their Own". It's kind of apt, because this chapter features baseball and a bit of angst and sadness. You were warned.

Chapter 19 – There's No Crying In Baseball

Blake was the first to stir. Blinking and groggily waking, rubbing his eyes a little as he did so, he realised he had drifted off. He turned his head a little to look at the clock on the mantelpiece. Seven. The film had long since finished, and Alex – who was asleep beside him – was resting on his shoulder, breathing softly. Blake's breath caught in his throat with surprise. Gingerly laying his head back so not to wake her, he felt his heart quicken once more and he wondered what he could do to calm it down.

Alexandra Hale was asleep on his shoulder. It was just about the best damn thing that had ever happened to him.

He managed to control his breathing and even relax into the sofa a little, savouring the feeling of their bodies being close. She was nestled into him, breathing deep breaths in a dreamless sleep. They had clearly both been exhausted – he could barely remember the rest of the film, though the memory of them both falling into a comfortable silence did come to mind, but with hindsight, that comfortableness was clearly drowsiness. Blake smiled and laid a hand down beside him, not seeing the remote and accidently pressing down on it before he realised what he was doing. The channel switched to one with a loud commercial and Alex, who had been quite still, shot up in a shocked state.

It took her a few moments to grasp where she was and what exactly she'd been doing. Blake rubbed his eyes again, conscious of what it might look like – him just letting her sleep on him was a little creepy for just friends. "Oh gosh," she groaned in a half whisper, putting her hands over her eyes as she looked at him. "I'm so sorry. I don't make a habit of falling asleep at people's houses." She peeked through her fingers to see if he was actually awake and was met with a smirk.

"It's ok – I fell asleep too," he reassured her. Blake paused, sitting forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "We were obviously tired."

She ran her fingers through her hair before tucking it behind her ears, nodding in agreement. Her eyes were a little bleary, she still wasn't awake properly yet, and a little yawn proved that but sleepy Alex was the cutest sight he'd ever seen. Alex stretched her arms upward and groaned a little as she tensed her lazy muscles.

"Clearly," she muttered with a smile. "I'm starving." She seemed to say it almost absentmindedly to herself, as if she'd forgotten he was there.

"Well, do you want something to eat?" Blake asked. She should probably head home, but he felt almost cheated out of time with her so he hoped she would stay. Luckily for him, her hunger overrode any feelings of wanting to go home.

"That would be great," she smiled, with a crooked smile and her hair in tangled curls. He faltered, mouth slightly agape, aware he was staring.

"Right. Well," he said rising, clearing his throat and looking around the room to find something to distract himself with. "I hope you like Italian food."

"Of course," she said. "I'm a Hale. We like all food."

He made a simple pasta dish with a sweet tomato sauce and steamed vegetables to go on the side while she watched him in the kitchen. He felt a little self conscious with somebody's eyes on him when he wasn't on a stage, but when she struck up an easy conversation, he felt his insecurities ebb away and he almost forgot an ingredient or two because he was laughing.

Alex asked politely where the plates, cutlery and glasses were, and he directed her as he stirred the sauce. She set it all at the dining table; he suspected that she couldn't just sit there and rest; it would feel too much like uselessness to her, and so he let her get on with it. Alex murmured her appreciation as they ate – raving about his talents as a cook, once again suggesting she didn't have him 'down as a chef' though he knew she was simply being kind. But her plate was cleared long before his, and so he could only conclude she was very, very hungry, or she might have actually enjoyed it. He quite liked that her assumptions of him kept falling flat, just as his of her did too. He wondered what he would be left with when he dismissed all of what he'd 'had her down as'.

He insisted on clearing up, though it was simply a case of putting everything in a dishwasher, and when he returned her found her waving a pack of cards at him.

"I'm not really a card man," he insisted, smiling at his own joke, but she gave him a disarming look, which made him sit down opposite her and wait to be dealt his hand. They started with a game he knew as 'Cheat', though she called it something entirely different – and found she was just as good at concealing and bluffing as he had thought. Blake glanced up at her over the top of his cards. But not on this occasion.

"Pick them up," he said smirking.

She pulled a face and picked up the cards – she'd claimed she was laying down a two, when he had all four in his hand. "Damn it," she muttered. "I wouldn't have taught you if I knew you were going to beat me at my own game."

"That's true. Two Ace's."

"I thought you weren't a card man," she mimicked, looking at her cards and finally laying one down. "One King."

"I'm not usually – I guess it depends on who you're playing with."

"Ah! Because I'm giving you a run for your money?"

"Oh, I thought I was letting you win."

The girl snorted, rearranging her cards. "This game is a little difficult with two people – do you want to play Spit?"

Blake must have frowned because she laughed, her hair tumbling forward. "It doesn't involve actual saliva Blake."

"How reassuring," he deadpanned. "You'll have to teach me."

She went through it slowly with him, explaining each of the rules carefully until she was sure she got it. It was a mixture of Snap, Solitaire, and Whist, and when she asked if he was ready, he wasn't sure he was. But he nodded anyway, and they started. He was terrible at it, as he suspected, and despite her insisting she would go easy on him, it seemed she quite enjoyed wiping the floor with him. When he brought it up, she shrugged.

"Competitive. Always have been," she told him with a wry smile. "Doesn't matter whether its cards, or dance, or baseball. I like to win. It's the Hale in me."

"I figured as much – your Dad likes to win too."

"The difference is that he likes to win without doing the work himself," she pointed out. "You don't often catch him running around the baseball pitch."

Blake chuckled. "What position did you used to play?"

"Depended entirely on the game – usually right, centre or left field. I'm a good runner, but my pitching always needed work."

"Well, rest assured that your pitching will always be better than mine," Blake said, throwing his cards down in defeat when she beat him again. Alex shrugged.

"You've never played – you could be amazing."

He glanced up at her to see that she was smiling earnestly. "Thanks but I doubt it. I'm not the athletic type."

She paused thoughtfully, and brushed some hair from her eyes. "I'll make a pact with you – I'll set up a game with my Little Leaguers, but you have to come play too."

He pulled a face. "Why do you want me there?"

"I said I'd take you to a batting pen." Alex jostled him slightly by play punching his arm. "Come on. You need to be properly initiated into the sport of Baseball. And it'll get Chloe and the others off my back..."

He rubbed his neck, his heart secretly doing flips inside his chest at the idea she'd even suggested it, and the warm blooded part of him wanted to yell 'yes' without any hesitation. But he'd most likely make an idiot of himself and not just in front of her, but her friends too.

"I don't know..."

"What if I raised the stakes?" she added with an eyebrow wiggle. He paused as he packed the cards away.

"Keep talking."

"We'll go early and practice for a bit, but once the other's arrive, we'll play on separate teams. The winner," Alex grinned, "has to perform a forfeit of the other's choice."

Blake sniffed. "You mean, if I win, I can force you into doing my history of dance homework for a month?"

"Yup."

"But, in reality, the chances of me coming close to victory are slim to none right?"

"Yup." Alex laughed when he rolled his eyes. "I'm only kidding. Besides, I'll put you on a team with some of the better players so it's equal."

Blake thought hard about it and rose to put the cards away. "No," he said firmly. "I don't trust you and whatever forfeit you choose is bound to be...unpleasant. I'll go with you anyway though," he added.

She smiled warmly at him. "You will?"

"If it'll get Chloe of my back," he said wryly. "She's extremely persistent."

Alex left not long after, deciding to brave home, and it was lucky she did because his mother arrived home early half an hour later, complaining of a headache and muttering how tedious one of the men at the function had been. He nodded and smiled, only half listening to her as his mind drifted elsewhere - to Alex and his impending initiation to baseball, and how satisfying it had felt to simply being close to her, especially after abstaining from her company. When Frances asked what he'd been doing while she was gone, he shrugged and muttered something about homework. His mother seemed happy with that answer so carried on talking about the party until Blake excused himself, and went upstairs.

XXXXX

"This seems like a bad idea now," Blake muttered to Alex as a group people approached them. They'd been at the baseball court for a couple of hours, while Alex showed him the basics of the game. It was a lot harder in practice than in theory, but he'd eventually gotten the feel of the bat in his hands. He'd even hit the ball a few times. Some of his early pathetic attempts had Alex in stitches, bent over, but she swiftly toned down her laughter to a gentle smirk when he lifted the bat with a dangerous look in his eyes.

It had been dangerous ground coming at all though; he'd lied to Frances when she asked him where he was going, but she seemed to buy the library story. She'd made a remark as he left about how good it was to see him focused on dance again and a large stone of guilt seemed to drop into his stomach. He didn't want to sneak around and lie to his Mom but what other option was there? She'd already made it clear she didn't approve of him spending 'non-professional' time with Alex. And somehow he didn't think he could get away with the 'it'll help my footwork improve' excuse. He'd set out late morning and parked up at the pitch to find Alex already in the batting pen, cap pulled over her eyes to shield the bright sun, but a jacket covering her shoulders. It was a crisp winter morning, and she mentioned something about the ground being a bit hard but it'd do well enough, just to be careful if he fell. He smiled nervously, only half listening - he knew he was doing a terrible job of staying away from her, but he didn't have the heart to care when he saw her, swinging the bat absentmindedly as she instructed him. When she'd come over and positioned his arms with the bat, just as she might do in the studio, it felt different and a warm feeling passed from her fingers through to his skin. But the quality time he'd been enjoying came abruptly to an end when, in the distance, he heard someone yelling the baseball tune that played over the tanoy at the stadiums, and turned to see the Little Leaguers approaching.

"Relax," she told him, patting his back. "You'll be fine. They'll go easy on you."

"Collins! I hope you're ready to lose because I plan on wiping the floor with your baseball-virgin ass!" Chloe yelled at him, her hair in bunches and a baseball jacket hanging off her thin frame. Blake tossed Alex an accusing look as she cringed beside him and put her hands on her hips.

"Alex! Long time no see, girl!" jostled a tall, black boy with glasses on. She grinned and met him in a hug.

"Hey Derek," said Alex before turning to Blake. "Blake, this is Derek, Joe, Michael, Tom, Rachel, Tiffany, Jaden, Bethany, and Rick," she told him, pointing to each of them in turn. They all gave him a friendly smile. "And of course you know Chloe, the baseball-virgin slayer," deadpanned Alex.

"Nah, I'm just kidding," Chloe said with a wave of her hand.

"Ok," one of the boys - Rick - said in a voice full of authority. "Time's a wastin'. And we're got to pick teams. We're a bit short on numbers but six aside will do. Alex, you and I are captains, and I'll take Blake first."

"And I'll take Chloe."

They went on for a while, picking their teams, and Blake noticed how quickly everyone accepted him and treated him as if he'd always been a fixture instead of the tagalong he was in reality. He was placed as a second baseman, which he didn't mind. Being a pitcher would have been too much pressure, but Alex glanced over and gave him a reassuring wink, which made him relax his shoulders which he had unknowingly tensed.

The game moved along pretty quickly, and he noticed they liked to goad each other with each bat. When it came to Alex's turn, they upped their jibes – crying out how she was going to be rusty because in baseball it didn't matter if you could pirouette. Alex didn't seem to mind; she just rolled her eyes and lined up with the bat, rolling her shoulders to limber up and keeping her eye on Rick, who was pitching. He threw her a curveball the first time, and Blake winced at the "Strike One!" even though she was on the opposite team. The second ball – a fastball – connected with the bat loudly and he watched as it flew across the diamond. He nearly caught her out; running to reach the second pad before she did, but she landed with a spectacular dive into the dust – the kind he only saw in movie. She rose, dusted herself off and nudged him with her elbow.

"Better luck next time, eh Collins?" she teased lightly with a wink.

The teams switched not long after that and before knew it Blake was at the batting pad, holding the wooden bat gingerly. Everything Alex had taught him had left his mind, and even though he was enjoying himself, this was the bit that he was worried about. He didn't want to look like an idiot after all.

"Are you ready to be slain?" Chloe said, tossing the ball in the air and catching it with a big grin.

"Go easy on him," Alex warned from fourth base.

"Alright alright," Chloe grumbled, lining up. The first ball flew past him before he knew what was happening, and it was only because Rachel behind him had yelled "Strike One!" he knew he hadn't hit it. "Sorry," grinned Chloe. "I couldn't resist." She raised her arm again as he got ready, and threw it hard, but instead of connecting with bat, it bounced off Blake's knee. Hard.

"Ow," he said with a frown, rubbing it. Everyone was laughing – not unkindly – and even Alex shrugged at him, placating his bad temper.

"My bad," Chloe said. "I'm usually left field."

"Quit making excuses and throw the ball!" someone cried.

She sniffed and lined up again, pausing before she threw it. He was ready this time – and when it came at him, he swung at it as hard as he could. He felt the ball hit the wood with some force and watched as it went sailing across the diamond, out of the court. He stared at it disbelievingly for a few moments – they all did – until someone pushed him and said 'go on Blake! Run!", so he tossed down the bat and did as he was told. Suddenly they were all yelling; some were shouting at him, some were shouting at the fielders to get the ball. But he just ran, rushing past first base – then second. He just registered them finding the ball and throwing back down the court. They'd be sending it to Alex, so she could catch him out, so he ran faster, pushing himself to make it before the ball did.

"Come on!" he heard Alex yell, her hands ready for a catch. He was metres from the pad, and Jaden threw the ball to Alex as hard as she could.

He heard the 'no!" escape his lips before he could stop it, as he threw himself at the base, diving at the dust in an attempt to reach it faster. Alex, ball in hand, turned quickly and darted towards it, trying to do the same but Blake was there first, rolling on his side, tumbling and landing on his back, grazing all his exposed skin on the rough ground. He lay there in the dust for a moment, wheezing and coughing a bit, conscious that Alex was strewn across his feet.

"Please tell me that was in," he laughed weakly, as he lifted his head to look at her. She yanked off her cap and grinned at him; she looked beat and her face red from the excitement. She leant over him, and took him by the shoulders, shaking him.

"You got a home run, Blake!" she laughed. "Your first game and you scored a home run!"

"I think I also broke my back, so be a little more gentle" he croaked, clasping her wrists to stop her shaking him. She looked at him with a proud smile, her loose hair dangling forward and her cheeks glowing. For a second, they were frozen in their odd position – Alex above him, and Blake gripping her tightly, feeling the heat of her skin beneath his fingertips. Did she notice the shift in the atmosphere too? As clichéd as it sounded, it felt as if the earth had stood still briefly. If it had been just them on the field, he might have reached up and kissed her in the moment, but the rest of the team were gathering and jostling around him excitedly and the moment passed as quickly as it had come.

"That was so awesome!"

"It was like in slow motion...like a movie!"

"You dove like a pro! I've never seen-"

"Blake!"

The voice that called his name was sharper and colder than the others, and he recognised it instantly. He turned his head to see his mother standing a little off from them, glowering at them all.

"Mom," he said nervously, rising to his feet, shaking the dust off. "What...what are you doing here?"

"I might ask you the same thing," she said, and the air around them grew a little frosty. "This doesn't look like the library."

Alex frowned with confusion and rose too, joining her friend by his side. "The library?"

Frances' eyes flitted to Alex sharply. "You said you were going to the library, didn't you Blake?"

Blake ran his fingers through his hair, the boulder-sized knot of dread sinking further into his stomach. "Well, yeah..." No, no, no. She wasn't supposed to be here. This wasn't how it was supposed to play out.

Alex came to his rescue. "Mrs. Collins, is there a problem?"

Frances scanned Alex's dirty, exhausted form with a shrewd eye and regarded her coldly. "Yes, there's a problem, and no doubt you're the cause of it."

"I beg your pardon?"

Frances turned her whole body towards her and paced forward. "Was this your idea? Coming here and getting Blake to participate in this ridiculous scheme?"

Alex looked stunned, looking to Blake for some help. "I suggested it, yeah, but I didn't realise you were so against it otherwise..."

"Against it?" Frances repeated loudly. "I should think I am against something that distracts my son's focus from what is important and puts his future in jeopardy. He might have broken something."

"Honestly, Mom," Blake muttered, aware of how quiet everyone was being, watching on in silent shock. "It's not that big a deal."

Frances ignored him, and focused on Alex. "I warned him this would happen, and now I find him playing baseball when he should be studying, and throwing himself around a court as if he were made of rubber."

"And that's my fault?" Alex asked. Blake watched Alex lift her chin proudly, ready for a fight. He should have known she wouldn't take his Mom's crap. Thousands would, but not Alexandra Hale.

"Of course it's your fault. You've influenced him! Your friendship has been nothing but a distraction from the moment it began. If you'd have just done as you were supposed to," Frances chided, "that is – simply dance with him – then none of this would have arisen."

"You of all people, Mrs. Collins, should know that a better personal relationship leads to a better professional one. Blake and I were at each other's throats half the time, and since we started being friends, our dancing has improved," Alex countered. Blake had to admire her – not only for her audacity, but also for the coherence with which she was arguing with his mother. Not to mention she had a damn good point, and his Mom looked ruffled.

"Yes, but how far has this personal relationship gone, and at what cost? I've noticed a change in my son since you started working together – he's started lying, he lacks motivation-"

"The change you noticed was that he was happy!" Alex interrupted, crying out in exasperation. At least it wasn't just him she lost her cool with. "I'm not going to pretend it's all me, but he had something else in his life beside dance to sustain him. And maybe if you weren't so concerned, Mrs. Collins, with producing the perfect dancer, and someone to uphold the name of Collins, you might see that your son has been going through the motions for a long time, doing everything that you ask of him, breaking his back, working so hard that he-"

"Enough," Frances said loudly, and the force with which she said it made Alex clenched his fists beside her, but she stopped talking all the same. Frances levelled up to Alex and met her eyes in a steady glare. When she spoke, her words were even and quiet.

"How dare you tell me about my son? Before your partnership, my son would never have dreamed of taking part in such a foolish idea as this," she snapped, gesturing to the baseball diamond, "nor would he have lied to me about where he was going. "Now, I tolerated your partnership and friendship because he assured me you were a good dancer, as did Director Franklin, but now I'm going to have to suggest that you terminate it. For both of your sakes'."

"Mom," Blake interrupted from where he stood. "We talked about this. You don't get to make that decision."

"When you're completely incapable of my making an objective decision, then I have every right to do it for you. No son of mine is going to waste his time, or ruin his future, for baseball, or a girl," she added, tossing a scathing look in Alex's direction. Alex had bowed her head, but snapped it up in surprise, looking puzzled.

"Hey!" one of the little leaguers piped up from behind them. "He wouldn't be wasting anything. Alex works hard, she's a good dancer."

"We've not seen her for months because she's so focused on her dance studies," someone else said.

"And there ain't nothing wrong with baseball!"

"It's alright guys," Alex told them, waving a hand to hush them. Blake heard the defeat in her voice. "It's fine."

"It's not fine," Derek cried. "She's actin' like you ain't good enough or something."

"I said its fine," Alex repeated, raising her voice. "Just let it go."

Frances had an eyebrow quirked at their altercation but said nothing. Instead she looked at her son. "We're going home, and you can explain yourself there."

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it abruptly. Blake felt Alex's eyes fall to him where he stood, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her for the moment. He knew what awaited him there; questioning, betrayal, hurt, anger and most of all, disappointment. Sure enough, when he brought his eyes upwards to rest on hers, her face was a mask of contempt, and her eyes seemed to be silently willing him to open his mouth and right all this wrongness, say something, do something. But he said nothing, did nothing, only mutely turned and strode past his mother, leaving Alex and her old friends staring after him.

XXXXX

Frances was pouring herself a glass of wine when she heard the front door slam, and Blake return. He'd gotten in his own car, but she'd arrived some time before him, waiting for him to pull into the drive and come inside to talk. She heard her son pause at the door, sigh heavily, seemingly deliberating over his next move. She suspected he'd go up to his room; he was particularly deft at withdrawing when he was upset or angry. He was a lot like her in that respect. She could see Chase growing up to have Clive's temperament - laidback, indifferent, and when something really bothered him, he'd explode for a time before returning to his relaxed state. Nothing bothered Clive for long. No, Blake was a lot like her. He'd deal with his emotions privately rather than getting into a fight.

But when she turned around to leave the kitchen, glass in hand, her son was standing in the doorway, glowering at her stoically.

"Blake," said Frances calmly. "Why don't we move through to the lounge and talk?"

"No," he retorted in a low - and if she wasn't mistaken - threatening tone. "I don't want to talk to you. You couldn't leave well enough alone could you?" Blake said vehemently, standing his ground in the doorway.

"I didn't do anything Blake," dismissed Frances, picking up her glass. "You're the one who's been lying to his parents, sneaking around. It was Alex's house you went to all those times, wasn't it? To watch baseball." She said the word like it was dirty.

"Yes," Blake admitted, defiant now. "So what?"

"Blake, how many times-"

"I happen to like baseball. Which you'd know, if you knew the first thing about me."

"And I suppose Alex knows you better than I do, hmmm?"

Blake folded his arms. "As a matter of fact, yes. She made an effort to. But thanks to you, she's never going to speak to me again."

"Well," sniffed Frances, "that may be for the best."

"How?" her son spat.

"I did warn you Blake, that I thought you were spending too much time together, and for the wrong reasons, and now look at the consequences," stated Frances matter-of-factly. "Besides, you assured me that nothing was going on."

Blake stiffened with rage, and his emotions coursing through him like bullets. "Nothing was going on," he growled. "And now it never will."

"Oh, don't tell me you were seriously considering dating this girl-"

"Why wouldn't I?" Blake snapped. "I like her Mom!" he cried, growing angrier, and abandoning the calm and collected way in which he wanted to confront her. He seemed to be getting somewhere by shouting – she was flinching with ever word, and looked genuinely shocked. He supposed it was because he never spoke out about how he felt. "I really like her! I enjoy spending time with her, being near her, just seeing her. At first, I thought we had nothing in common but...I don't know...she seems to know me better than I know myself sometimes. She's sensitive about my thoughts, needs and feelings. What I think about things, as opposed to what I'm supposed to think. She makes me feel good about myself," Blake continued, ignoring his mother's stunned face. "Which is more than anyone else does around here. It's not about dance - although she's the best damn partner I could have got. It's about me losing my only good friend. Because that's all she's done 'wrong' Mom - be my friend, and let me be me. And now I've lost that. She's the best thing to happen to me in a long time, and you couldn't just let me have that could you?"

He yelled the final sentence with such force, Frances took a step back, not daring to utter anything until she was sure he was finished.

"Blake, I promise you, if I'd have known how much..." she stuttered quietly. She stood with her mouth agape for a moment as if she couldn't finish her declaration.

"Don't. Don't stand there and pretend it would have been any different," Blake replied with narrowed eyes, although he'd gone back to talking quietly. "If I'd have told you how much I cared about her, it would have only cemented your determination to get rid of her. Regardless of her dancing ability. Because you don't want anything to hold me back, do you Mom? Least of all, my own happiness," he shot at her, turning to walk away.

"I never...when she said those things," Frances said, wavering slightly, making him pause. "She was right wasn't she?"

"It doesn't mean she should have said them," Blake tossed over his shoulder. He couldn't believe he was back to trying to make his mother feel better. "I should have been less of a coward and stood up to you a long time ago. It's not just your fault."

"Contrary to popular belief, Blake," said Frances, her voice regaining a little of its strength but sounding surprisingly soft, "I never intended to hurt you. I've only ever...wanted what was best for you. Perhaps you're right - perhaps it's been some time since I knew what that was." She looked grave, and cast her eyes downward to avoid looking at his face. Blake concealed his surprise; had his mother just admitted to being wrong?

"Maybe," he said blankly, unable to say anything else.

"Perhaps I could set it right," Frances muttered, mostly to herself, but she looked up at her son. "Would you like me to talk to Alex?"

Blake shook his head. "No. You've done enough," he sighed. He hadn't meant it to sound harsh, but a hurt look still flashed across Frances' face. "This is something I'll have to sort out myself."