Fiona disembarked from the train, arriving at a station several blocks shy of Bailey's home.  She didn't have to get off so early, but she figured the walk would do to calm her nerves.  Walking always helped her relax, it had since she was a child, and nowadays it was a good change of pace from running.  With the Games but a month away it wouldn't do to have her unfit to compete.  While for a sixteen year old winning might have been out of the question the podium was well within reach, and she intended to give herself every chance.<br/><br/>But, all the same, it would be nice to have someone to share it with.  Her mother was no longer with her, and Fiona couldn't deny she got lonely sometimes.  Fiona doubted that Bailey and Sherrie knew just how dear they were to her, and when Bailey suggested the pact Fiona was overjoyed.  She'd discussed a daughter with her trainer, herself becoming like a mother or auntie figure.  She agreed, and told her that if she wanted one, now would be perfect.  The Games would arrive before she began to show, and after that came the off-season.  She would lose three months or so of training, but in Fiona's eyes what she gain were to gain would far outweigh it.<br/><br/>So here she was, walking to Bailey's house fresh from the running track.  She had a little more class than to turn up in a tracksuit though, as testified by the satin scarlet dress that hugged her lithe frame down to the knees.  Unfortunately, she had discovered that her matching heels had broken in her training bag, so she had to resort to wearing her crosstrainers, shattering the illusion of elegance.  Over that, though, she covered herself up with a long coat.  Her hair flowed freely as far as her lower ribs, but damaged just above her shoulders from hair ties, another testament to her athletic life.  Her trainer long argued the virtues of a bobcut, but Fiona thought long hair suited her, and it stayed.  It was a relief to wear it out every now and then, though; a fraction too tight and Fiona would get her hair pulled with every stride.  The basket hung from her right hand, containing what she'd decided to refer to loosely as fruit, though in truth it was mostly swistars cleverly camouflaged by mangoes and grapes.  The fruit was as far as her diet allowed her to indulge in the more esoteric gifts that Sherrie supplied, so this time Fiona would return the favor.<br/><br/>As she walked, the idea struck her to call ahead.  Reaching into her coat she procured her cell phone, and dialed Bailey's own.