#I figured of course Jazz would've wiped them off

[imekitty]

Disillusioned Bonus Scene

Hey, all! I'm sorry I haven't updated Disillusioned in a while, but I have written this short bonus scene from Jazz's point of view immediately after Danny's forced confession.

This is not polished writing and I didn't proofread it as closely as I normally do, but I hope you will still enjoy! :)

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Danny was crying. Sobbing. Tears drenched his flushed face, his eyes swollen and bloodshot. His wet bangs were glued to his forehead with sweat.

And then he was down. Fallen over on Sam's bed, on his side, one arm under his head and the other flung in front of him. His sobbing died away as his eyes closed and his lips parted.

"Danny?" Sam's knees sank into the mattress as she got up behind Danny and shook his shoulder. "Danny!"

"He's okay, Sam." Jazz placed a hand on Sam's arm to stop her. "I think he's just asleep."

Sam hesitated, her hand still on Danny's shoulder. Then she got up off the bed and stood next to Tucker. Jazz stayed on the bed and studied Danny's face, the tears on his lashes dripping off one by one. His breathing was steady and deep.

Tucker leaned over the bed and snapped his fingers several times in front of Danny's face. Sam grabbed his wrist and jerked his arm away.

"Tucker!" she shrieked.

"I was just checking!" Tucker held up his hands, then lowered them as he looked at Danny again. "Man, he is out."

The three of them stared at Danny in silence for some time.

"Is this normal?" asked Sam. "I mean, falling asleep like this? Are we sure he's okay?"

Jazz gave her a small smile. "Haven't you ever cried yourself to sleep?"

Sam pressed her lips. Tucker ducked his head.

"He was holding all of that pain inside of him for so long." Jazz's eyes returned to Danny. "Letting it all out must've been exhausting."

Silence again. Danny suddenly breathed in deeply, his chest expanding and then deflating as he loudly exhaled. But he otherwise did not move.

"What do we do now?" asked Sam, rubbing her elbow.

"We wait for him to wake up." Jazz looked around the room. "Do you have a blanket we can put over him?"

Tucker stayed next to the bed while Sam walked over to her closet and began looking through it. Jazz stepped out into the hall and entered Sam's bathroom. She located a hand towel in one of the drawers and ran it under cool water, wringing it out before taking it back to the bedroom. She sat on Sam's bed in front of Danny and gently mopped the sweat off his forehead, pushing his bangs up and away. She moved the towel in slow circles around his face and wiped the dried tears off his cheeks and jawline. The color in his face was already returning to normal, no longer hot and red.

Sam came up behind Danny and laid a soft purple blanket over him. Jazz ran the damp towel down all sides of his neck before stepping away, tossing the towel into Sam's laundry hamper.

The three teens came together again next to Sam's bed. Sam suddenly started shaking, her hands clenching into tight fists.

"You okay, Sam?" asked Tucker with a frown.

"No, I am not." Sam's teeth were clenched.

"What's wrong?" asked Jazz.

"I'm just so"—Sam growled—"pissed at Clockwork."

"Clockwork isn't the one who kidnapped and tortured him, Sam," said Jazz.

"Yeah, but he knew where Danny was!" yelled Sam, throwing out an arm in a vague indication. "He knew exactly what Danny was going through at that very moment we went to see him. And he refused to tell us."

Sam shut her eyes and clutched at her stomach. Tucker placed a hand on her shoulder but Sam only shook her head and bent over slightly.

"I just—I feel so sick," gasped Sam. "We should've saved him sooner. How could we just let him go through all that? How could your mother—your mother—"

Sam snarled and started stomping toward the door.

"Sam, where are you going?" cried Jazz.

"I have to find your mom." Sam stopped but did not come back. Her voice was unstable. "Right now. I have to—I don't know, I just need to yell at her or—something—"

"No, Sam." Jazz approached her. "Don't."

"I can't just say nothing," protested Sam tearfully. "Do nothing. I can't, Jazz. You know I can't. He's my friend—your brother! We have to do something, don't we?"

Sam gritted her teeth and shook her head. Jazz placed her hands on Sam's trembling shoulders. Tucker came up just behind Jazz.

"I'm angry, too," said Jazz quietly, tears burning her eyes. "I am—so angry." Her breath hitched. "And hurt. And betrayed." She stifled a sob and tightened her hold on Sam's shoulders. "But right now isn't the time to confront her."

"Why not?" Sam demanded, scowling.

"Because we need to be here when Danny wakes up," said Jazz. "Right now, we need to be here for Danny."

The three teens turned back to Sam's bed, where Danny was still sleeping. He hadn't moved even a little, still lying in the same position with his head resting on his arm.

"I just…can't believe what she did to him," said Tucker. "We knew about his eye already, but the other things—I mean, I just had no idea. Breaking his leg with a sledgehammer? Cutting off part of his tongue? Does that even sound like real scientific experiments to you guys?"

"No," said Sam.

"And I don't even know what the spleen does. What does it do?" asked Tucker.

"It filters waste and damaged cells out of the blood," said Jazz. "Also produces antibodies that fight infection."

"Doesn't sound like an organ you'd want to live without."

"No. It's not."

Jazz sat down next to Danny. He appeared serene, tranquil, no noticeable disturbance in his face now, something she hadn't seen in a long time. For so long, every time she looked at him, all she could see was suffering.

She brushed her fingers over his brow, stroked the hair behind his ears. Her little brother. Except he wasn't so little anymore. More a man than a boy now. She remembered when he was small, so much smaller than her. But up close, she could see just how much he had grown. Well-defined cheekbones and jawline now that all his baby fat was gone. Broad shoulders and taut neck muscles. The beginnings of sparse stubble replacing the peach fuzz in front of his ears.

But she could still see the memories of youth in his face and skin. The soft point of his nose, thick eyelashes, a smattering of freckles across his cheeks.

Memories of trauma, too. Dark circles under his eyes and a discolored scar peeking out from under his shirt collar.

Just how many other scars were hidden under his shirt?

"We cannot let this happen again," murmured Jazz. She turned to look at Sam and Tucker. Her voice rose in volume but cracked with emotion. "We have to protect him. We cannot allow anyone to hurt him like this ever again."

"We won't," said Sam without hesitation.

"We have to do better this time."

"We will," said Tucker with resolve.

Jazz turned back to Danny and pulled both of her knees onto Sam's bed to move closer to him. She cupped his face with one hand, caressing his cheek with her thumb.

So much she longed to tell him, so many heavy apologies and determined promises inside of her. She wished he would wake up now so she could let it all spill out, relieve this heartache.

But for now, she let him sleep, let him have this small moment with no pain, no tears, no feelings at all.

[those70scomics]

Fictober Day 9: "don't listen to me, listen to them"

That '70s Show Fanfiction

Hyde paced W.B.'s office at Grooves's headquarters. Angie was present, as was Jackie. She'd taken time off from her busy-as-hell schedule for this meeting.

"It's a dumb idea," he said. "I shouldn't have even brought it up."

"It's not dumb, and I'm happy that you told us about it." W.B. grasped Hyde's arm, stopping him near W.B.'s desk. "You're turning twenty-nine in less than two months. You're engaged. You should want more."

Angie's facial expression showed that she'd been waiting for this day. "I dreamt of running a record store since I was a kid. Then of running all of Grooves someday, and now I'm the company's senior VP of operations. You're allowed to pursue your dreams, too."

"I've already got more than I ever freakin' dreamed." Hyde glanced back at Jackie, who'd remained silent so far. "It ain't fair to to risk it all."

"You don't think creating Grooves was a risk?" W.B. said. I was married to Angie's mother, who was pregnant with Angie. We needed the security of a regular paycheck, but her mom wanted me to be happy. And my risk eventually paid off more than anybody could've imagined."

Hyde gestured in defeat. "I can't imagine this workin'."

Jackie stepped toward him and touched his hand. "Neither can I."

"Exactly."

"But don't listen to me. Listen to them."

Hyde stared at her. "Who the hell are you, and what've you done with my chick."

"Steven." She jostled his hand. "I'm redesigning my whole spring collection. I can't imagine that working either, but I'm doing it anyway. This time next year on October ninth, 1990, you'll have put out your first record on your own label."

"A sub label of Grooves Records, of course," Angie said with a smirk.

Hyde bowed his head and hunched his shoulders. "That's nepotism."

"That's expanding the family business." W.B. patted Hyde's back. "I'm not taking an opportunity away from anyone else. You've earned this. The demos you've played me, you have the ear, son."

Hyde sat in the closest chair. His legs were shaking from what was being said, being offered.

"You've been apprenticing under Frankie Branch to learn audio engineering, music production, for how long?" W.B. continued. "Picked up the guitar expertly in three years of lessons and learned as much by listening to songs. Taught yourself bass guitar. Became Cam's favorite drum student, and that's saying a lot."

Angie gazed at the high ceiling and shook her head. "Edna and Bud gave you no chance to realize you have perfect pitch. You didn't understand what you were capable of. You've had to play catch-up in your mid-twenties."

Jackie stood in front of Hyde and rubbed his arms over his long sleeves. "Your childhood was stolen from you. You once told me all the doors were locked for you but one. Your family, your true family, has unlocked so many. You've walked through a lot. Don't shut this door and walk away."

Hyde covered his face in his hands. His emotions were getting to him, breaking through his defenses. As a kid, Formans' folks signed Forman up for jazz guitar lessons, which he abandoned. Only the acoustic guitar remained, and Hyde played that thing every second he could at the Formans' house.

He used Forman's beginners' workbook to learn tabs that were printed alongside sheet music. Hyde couldn't read music for shit, but tabs he got. Songs on the radio, on records, stuck in his skull like recordings. He figured out how to play the guitar parts himself and, back then, had no clue why could do that.

He understood now.

"Son, are you all right?" W.B. said.

Hyde raised his head and wiped his eyes. "Yeah. Just ... when ya don't believe something's possible for you for so damn long -- and then it happens? Kind of a mind fuck."

"So you'll start your label?" Jackie smiled at him with such hope, such support, he would've fallen in love with her if he hadn't already fallen twelve years ago.

"Yup."

Jackie cheered, and W.B. congratulated him in a proud, fatherly way Hyde was still growing used to.

"What are you going to call it?" Angie said.

Hyde grinned. "Burn-Out Records."