#Riley fixes a lot of the changes made once everything gets fixed-- gets a more lowtech leg; redyes her ends blue; redoes her tattoo

[tarmac-rat]

"Small" Riley Post-Mikoshi Info Dump because I'm bored lmao:

Follows DFTR -> Temperance, so spoilers at your own risk

I've been going on and on in servers about how I think V should be extraordinarily fucked up after going toe to toe with Smasher, even if it's an close match, since Smasher just seems like the kinda dude who'd tear you to ribbons even if you have the upper hand. Riley ends up needing to replace two limbs, dislocated her organic shoulder, breaks her organic leg, loses her left optic, ruptures her left eardrum, you get the drift. I beat her up to hell and back, basically.

Post-Mikoshi, Vik determines that Riley's cybernetic leg is just beyond saving. It's barely functioning because the wirework and neural connection were damaged in the fight and Vik just doesn't have the materials on hand to fix homebrew cyberware, so they ditch it (despite a lot of protesting from Johnny). He gives him a RealSkinn prosthetic that's standard in NC, the one with the hydraulic kneecap that all the NPCs have.

Johnny gets Riley's left optic replaced, same neon-green color as before. It leaves him with two huge scars over and under the socket at a diagonal (direction-wise, think around 11:27 on an analog clock, the scar curves slightly downwards). The cut requires upwards of 75 stitches between the forehead and the cheekbone-- it fades better around the eyebrow but still looks pretty gnarly the further down you go.

Riley's final blow to Smasher was a point-blank firing of her projectile launcher that essentially blows the entire mechanism (as well as her left hand) up, so Vik digs out the shards of what used to be the launcher and seals up her now-empty forearm with a black plate. He recovers her left hand with matte-black subdermal armor and leaves it at that (covering up the tattoo ink she has there, RIP). The yellow areas in the picture below are all black plating while everything else is RealSkinn.

From a distance it sort of looks like she's wearing a glove and wristguard, probably not very unusual in the grand scheme of things. Johnny wears a lot of long sleeves post Mikoshi to keep the thing under wraps regardless.

When Arasaka eventually comes a-knocking on H10, Johnny barely has time to grab the Malorian, her Samurai jacket, a few personal items, and an old guitar he'd bought before corporate guards swarm her place. Everything else of Riley's-- her bike, her weapons, her personal belongings, all of it-- are seized by Arasaka and eventually wind up as evidence in the NCPD.

After Johnny fucks off to squat in Pacifica, he starts changing Riley's physical appearance up-- partly out of fear of Arasaka hunting him down, partly out of guilt and an unwillingness to see her face whenever he looks in a mirror, and partly out of depressive negligence. He grows her roots out, and when her hair's long enough, he dyes it black with CHOOH-station hair dye just to feel a bit more like himself. He wears more makeup, even though he's shit at remembering how to do it. He gives her a few more piercings (nose ring, eyebrow piercing, he tried to give her a tongue piercing but it got infected so he was forced to let it close up). He pretty much ditches her entire wardrobe for long sleeve tshirts and flannels and sneakers because it's all he can afford and all he can afford to bring himself to wear.

He starts going by "Jo" (this is something I'm still workshopping tbh-- I don't think he'd refer to himself as a derivative of "Robert", and calling himself "Riley" seems in incredibly poor taste and a disrespect to V's memory. Calling himself a simple "Jo" a la a John Doe seems like the easiest solution) and warms up slowly to Steve, who won't stop pestering him about music because Johnny's depression-playing's easy to hear from down the hall. He also strikes up a weird semi-friendship with Steve's mother, Gillian, who asks Johnny to watch Steve sometimes when she goes to work and doesn't want him alone with his dad.

Between the alias, the hair change, the new piercings, the radical change in wardrobe, losing Riley's cybernetic leg (arguably her most identifiable physical feature) covering her cloud tattoo (arguably her second most identifiable physical feature), and already being absent from most NCPD databases, pretty much no one's able to tell that the woman in West Wind Estates used to be the most famous merc in the city for four months. Johnny's able to fly pretty under the radar for the most point moving forward, save for watching his back regarding Arasaka, and most people who knew V have a somewhat hard time realizing it is V under all the new changes. The only people who don't struggle are Rogue-- she's too astute to be fooled by something like that, imho-- and Mama Welles-- she's seen Riley change her facial apperance several times under her roof, I have no doubt she'd be able to pick her out beneath all that hair dye too.

Johnny sticks it out for three months before he decides he's had enough and makes the plans to break for a fresh start. He takes the bullet pendant and his dog tags and puts them in Jackie's niche, since he views Jackie's sacrifice as the reason he and Riley got to meet in the first place. Even when shenanigans happen and Johnny eventually stays in NC, though, he doesn't retrieve the necklace. Not until fix-it gets firmly underway.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Held | Ghost x Price

Day 12: Rotten Touch w/ Simon “Ghost” Riley

Summary: While on leave, Simon can’t seem to get to sleep properly, and Price knows just the thing to help.

Word Count: ~ 1.3k

Warnings: death, murder, guns, blood, stealing, nightmares, ptsd, implied soapgaz smut, non sexual cuddling

A/N: my allergies are killing me, but this is my first time dipping my toes into the waters of priceghost, so I hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

His hands weren’t just an instrument of death.

They were a carrier; a harbinger of it, what made the sirens start blaring, warning people of what came ahead if they didn’t run.

Well, it wasn’t like running would help anyway.

Once he touched someone, it was over. Like a plague, a fungus, it spread from person to person.

From the mother, crying over the body of her dead husband who had a few new bullet holes through his chest, who’d reached for the gun, seconds too late as his finger pushed down on the trigger, silent shots entering her body, choked sobs coming from the now-wailing child in the corner as she ran to her mother’s body, shaking it as the ground rumbled from a nearby explosion.

To the shopkeeper, trying to defend his store, not wanting any men, especially strange foreign men, hiding in it to take cover from the gunfire and activity in the streets. The shotgun had been heavy in the man’s hand. One shot rang out, and Ghost had signaled forward with his hand, Soap’s knife embedding itself in the man’s neck before another shell casing clattered emptily against the floor.

Or the soldier, who’d probably been drafted or forced, or maybe even joined when he had been young and dreamed of glory, forced to fight an old man’s war. He hadn’t known the weight of taking a life yet, not when the bullet from Ghost’s sniper rifle tore through his head, body thudding against the floor, the family photo tucked into his pocket not enough to protect him when it mattered.

It was all the same to him.

Get the job done. Go home. Live another day and wait for your next mission.

That was how it had always been. But it didn’t mean the nightmares weren’t any better, that he didn’t feel any less bit of nagging guilt for the orphaned children, the grieving families, the war-raised countries feeding the newest generations hatred and violence, how to pull a trigger and not how to be a decent human being.

It was worse tonight.

He’d woken, cold sweat clinging to the back of his neck, limbs tensing and relaxing rapidly as he tried to focus on his surroundings. He was in the house. One window on the left wall, a door on the right one.

Price’s home.

The older man had offered him a place to stay while on leave, knowing that Simon usually just lurked at the base even when he could leave. He knew he had nowhere to go.

So he’d invited him out to a little house in the countryside, to stay for the three months they were both off. It hadn’t been terrible. Homemade meals, cooking, and cleaning up the house. He’d learned a thing or two about fixing leaky sink pipes, changing bulbs, fixing creaky doors and floorboards, and cleaning, and the fact that cooking bacon was a lot more terrifying than it looked, the grease popping up onto his arms and burning what skin wasn’t already numb.

It didn’t help that it hurt like hell.

Price was teaching him everything he’d somehow not picked up from his mother, things his father hadn’t even bothered trying to teach him, and no matter how much his older brother had cleaned up his life, he still hadn’t shown him any of this either.

Simon pushed the covers to one side of the bed, slipping out and letting his feet land against the cold floor. He began approaching the door, twisting the knob, stepping out, and walking down the hallway, legs carrying him to the kitchen for whatever reason. Probably muscle memory. He made a trip to the kitchen every time he woke up or couldn’t sleep.

A small thudding sound came from one of the rooms that had him whirling, stance shifting into a defensive one, and he realized that Gaz and Soap had decided to stay here a few nights too, probably feeling lonely on leave.

Sighing, he turned back and continued towards the kitchen, flicking one dimmer light on before grabbing a cup from a cabinet and filling it with water, draining the entire thing in one large gulp.

“What’re you doin’ up?”

It caught him completely off guard, almost embarrassingly so for the occupation he had. Price’s low, scratchy voice settling into the room.

He put the cup down. Turned.

Price looked like he’d just gotten up as well, hair a bit disheveled, only in some boxers, blue eyes bleary and filled with sleep still. He raised a brow, and Simon remembered the question all too suddenly.

“Nightmares.”

He answered abruptly, trying and failing to hide the slight tremble in his voice. The tremble that was also in his hand.

Price grunted in response, grabbing a cup, filling it with water from the sink, and gulping it down, eyes elsewhere, thinking about something. Like a less intense version of his scheming face.

“You wanna talk about it?”

No. He didn’t.

It was the same as any other nightmare. Blood, death, bombs, guns, grenades, war. What was there to even talk about?

But for some reason, his tongue betrayed him.

“I..”

The word slipped out instead of the usual flat no. He saw his Captain’s surprise and slight curiosity. It was hard not to.

He stood there like an idiot, not sure what to say, throat drying up as he grabbed his cup again, the movement to fill it and swallow the water almost mechanical.

“I don’t know.”

He concluded, walls being built back up, hiding him away again. But Price wasn’t having it. He could tell.

A small nod from his Captain. His lips separated, and he expected the usual statements of pity of sorries, or the empty justifications or assurances, but instead got something he never would’ve expected.

“I’m ordering you a tactical cuddle, Ghost. Recon in my bed at 2300 hours.”

He was left there, speechless, as Price gave his order, and then walked back to his room.

He checked the clock that was always a bit fast and sat on the kitchen wall. He had two minutes before the official “Recon” at the bed.

Taking another swig of water, he figured that he had an order; and he would damn well see it through as he began walking to Price’s room down the hall, slowly pushing the door open, walking in, closing it behind him as his eyes adjusted to the complete darkness, and feeling around till his feet hit the corner if what felt like a bed frame.

“There you are,”

Price murmured as Simon finally found the bed, knees meeting the mattress first as he crawled in, laying down awkwardly with his stiff limbs and tense muscles. Price’s warm, broad hand found his bicep before it slid down to his side right near his ribs. He heard the man shift, pulling some blankets over Simon, before another hand wrapped around him on his other side, gently wrapping around him as Price’s warm chest met his scarred back.

The thudding from the other room was steady against the wall and had him on edge before he finally figured out exactly what was going on in the room over.

“Those muppets, going to town on each other like we aren’t right here.”

Price muttered, making a little huff of laughter leave Simon before he realized something.

Simon Riley had hardly been held before, the only time being when he was a baby. It felt safe and warm like he didn’t have to worry about how many magazines or clips he had left, or the scope he was using, or the exfil, or friendlies versus the enemy. He was safe.

And as Price’s hands began gently rubbing into his skin, making him melt into his superior’s touch, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, his touch wasn’t so rotten at all.

Tags:

@hawke1917

@angstober

[codfanficedits]

Before the mask - Part fourteen

Pairing: Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Because Simon wasn’t born as Ghost.

Wordcount: 2160 | Rating: E! (18+ only!)

Warnings: Simon discovers a sexual side of himself, but it is just mentioned briefly

A/N: Survived my surgery, still in a lot of pain, but I lived, bitches.

Feel.

How is one supposed to just feel, to just experience these feelings? Simon didn’t know how, but he decided to just roll with it. His face gets buried into your abdomen, his tears staining your shirt.

“I.. I..” His voice dies down for a second. “God it feels so silly.” Simon said, trying to ease the tension he was feeling, yet he didn’t let go off you for a single second.

A safe haven, an anchor, the light that guided him in the darkness. God he loved you more than anything.

A few deep breaths and he wipes away his tears. “So, how long does this stuff needs to dry for?” He asks, trying to change the subject.

“Around a day.” You answer and Simon has to think for a little.

“But tomorrow we’re both on duty.”  He said. “And once we’re both done, it’s only one more night until Halloween.”

“Seems like you can still count, Riley.” You chuckle, wiping the last of his tears away with your thumb. “I’m scheduled for training the upcoming days, and it’s supposed to be a tough one, so you might have to start painting without me.”

“But what if I fuck up?” In his stomach an uneasy feeling begins to grow, what if he messed up your hard work?

“What if you don’t fuck up?” You counter. “We made three masks, the world won’t decay if one doesn’t turn out the way we wanted. Hell, the world will even keep spinning if all three don’t end up the way we want them to. They’re masks, for Halloween, they don’t have to be perfect.”

His brows knit together, and it feels like silly words, because everything he does needs to be perfect, and it goes against his nature to not deliver perfect work.

Being as close to perfect as he could had provided him with praise of his teacher, and later on his superiors, what would he be without that kind of praise?

It was almost funny to see, a big, burly soldier, who could be arrogant at times, was secretly so insecure of who he was. Pretending to not care, only to thrive of the praise of others.

Your hand grips his chin and you force him to look up at you again.

“It doesn’t matter if it is perfect, it matters if you’re happy with it.”

“You make it sound so easy.” Simon protests softly. “But it isn’t easy.”

“I know, I know.” Your hand goes through his hair again. “But I’m there with you, every step of the way.”

Simon has to swallow a lump in his throat, the uneasy feeling in his stomach takes over his lungs, his heart, his brain. “Why do you do this?” He asks

“Why do I do what?” You ask, unsure what is going through his mind.

“You know I am broken, yet you still stay with me, trying to fix me.” He said, not understanding why you would put up with someone like him.

“That is where you’re wrong.” You chuckle, and Simon can feel his stomach drop fully. “I’m not with you, to fix you.” You add. “I fell in love with you while you were broken, and I didn’t fall in love with you to fix you.”

His head feels like it is spinning while he tries to listen to you. You loved him, even while he was broken? Of course he had heard you say it before, of course he believed you, but hearing you say it like this? Well, that made his heart beat even faster.

“I can be alongside you, I can be there while you try to figure it out yourself, but I love you, just the way you are.” You add.

“Even when I am like this?” He asks.

“Even when you’re like this.” You confirm.

God, how he loved you. How he would only ever love you.

It was okay to be him. No matter how hard life would be, no matter how difficult it could be.

Simon tightens his grip around you and his face gets buried against you again, he needs to feel your touch, worried that you aren’t real, and he can’t stand the idea of ever losing you.

Your fingers weave through his hair again, and Simon groans content. “You know.” He said with a chuckle. “I could easily get used to this, and never let you go.”

You laugh at his words. “That is not very soldierlike of you.”

“The army can suck my ass.” He mutters.

And it’s funny, the army had been his escape from life, his ticket out. But right now? Right now the thought of putting you in danger, of putting himself in danger felt like the worst thing that could happen and Simon didn’t want to risk it, because losing you would feel like he would have nothing left. Nothing more to give.

“Bollocks.” You chuckle. “You’re a good soldier, Simon, you can get really far if you want to.”

“Yeah? And what if I don’t want to?” Simon counters while he looks up at him, his arms still firmly wrapped around your waist.

“Then I would suggest to stop giving it your all and to be just as mediocre as the rest of us.” You said as your answer.

“Hmpf.” Simon is a little torn, he wanted nothing more than to succeed, to become the very best, but on the other hand.. He knew he was being too forward, that he was thinking about the future too much, but domestic life was starting to call out to him too. Just with you though, he couldn’t see himself do this with anyone else.

“What about you?” He asks, eyes locking with yours.

You have to think about it for a little bit, your fingertips tapping on his scalp while you try to think of what you really want. Usually you would just go with the flow, not trying to think too much ahead, but even you had some dreams you wanted to fulfil in the army.

“I think I would eventually like to become a lieutenant.” You answer. “I feel as if that would be the perfect balance between having ownership and responsibility and still having to report to people.”

Now that was something Simon had not expected, you seemed to have put some thought into this. A smirk tugs around his lips and finally releases you from his hold, giving you a quick peck on your lips. “My, my.” He chuckled. “Who knows, I might even have to start to obey you.”

“Who knows,” you counter. “I might even have to start to punish naughty soldiers.”

Fuck.

Oh fuck.

That was trouble.

Simon never knew about this side of him. The sudden jolt of heat that started to course through his veins. He clears his throat, unable to look you in your eyes. “Who knows.” He mumbles.

Of course you pick up his cues, they’re not even that subtle. You use your pointer and middle finger to lift his chin up. “What’s the matter? Use your words, pretty boy.”

Simon has to swallow hard, his throat feeling dry. Pretty boy. He was a soldier for crying out loud.

Well, it turned out he was a soldier with a preference to be called a pretty boy.

He hated how he could feel his cheeks starting to get hot, and he knew he was starting to blush like crazy. This would’ve been the perfect time to shut down again. He was a soldier, he was a man, he was rough, though. He was supposed to be dominant, he was supposed to be in charge. But here he was, mere seconds away from begging you on his knees. It made him feel vulnerable, and he hated that, but at the same time, it did make him feel safe that it was with you. You were the only person who wouldn’t judge him for this, at least, that is what he hoped.

“Maybe.” He whispered. “Maybe I would like to be your naughty soldier.”

A grin formed on your face, as you run your thumb over his bottom lip. “Is that so?”

And Simon nods before you’re done speaking. God, yes.

“Maybe.” You whisper, as you push your thumb between his lips. “Maybe we can arrange that.”

Simon knows what to do, and his tongue moves almost on instinct, swirling around your thumb.

“But not now.” You add. “I want to talk about it first. I want to get us a safe word, I want to do it when we’re both feeling good. Not right before our duty.”

He nods, your thumbs still in his mouth, this tongue still twirling around your digit. He is just really relieved you’re open to this, than you don’t find this weird, and by the way you’re looking at him, you’re into this too.

A soft whimper leaves his lips when you pull your thumb back, and he clears his throat immediately. “Yeah, no.” He said, trying to sound gruff. “We definitely need to talk about this first.”

Simon gets up from his seat, and he presses a kiss on your forehead. “I’m really lucky to have you.” He whispers, right before his lips gets pressed against your forehead again.

“I’m really lucky to have you too.” You murmur, closing your eyes for a brief second, savouring the sweet kiss.

A part of you was a little worried about your upcoming duty, you knew it would take a lot of your energy, and part of you wanted some alone time to prepare for duty, but at the same time, you wanted to stay with him. Spend as much time as you could together, before you would go back to being ‘just friends’ for the outside world.

“C’me on.” His voice reaches your ear. “Tell me what is going on in that pretty, little head of yours.”

“Well.” You said, with a sigh. “I have two things on my mind.”

Simon places a hand on the small of your back, holding you close to him. “Tell me, lovie. I can’t guess what’s going on.”

“When do you want us to become a public couple?” The words leave your lips before you can stop it.

Simon sighs, before you were his, he wanted to see you in his hoodie, he wanted other men to know that you were his. But now that he had you, he realized that there was some.. weakness to that. He didn’t want you to be considered leverage, he didn’t want any of you to get into trouble.

“I don’t know.” He muttered truthfully. “I.. Maybe I would like to wait a little longer.”

You nod, agreeing with his words, your love was still young, still fragile, it would be better to wait a little longer before going public. “Let’s just wait until people start to notice.” You propose, and Simon smiles at those words.

“Yeah, let’s wait until then.” He agrees, kissing your forehead again. “Don’t think I don’t want people to know about us.” He clarifies. “I just want to wait a little longer. That is all.”

It’s funny how it didn’t even cross your mind that he didn’t want to be seen with you, and for a brief second you could feel a new fear unlocking. “Yeah, no, sure.””  You agree, but your voice is a little unsteady.

Simon, however, does not pick up on your little hint, and you don’t have it in you to tell him straight away.

“What’s the other thing on your mind?” He asks.

Well, all you wanted now was to be left alone, to let your own thoughts linger in your head a little, maybe you were just overthinking this, maybe you just needed a nap and some food in order to sort yourself out.

“Well.”  You say, forcing a smile on your face. “We’re both on duty tomorrow, and I usually spend some time alone, so I can get some rest, so I can prepare, you know.”

Simon pushes away any sort of insecurity, he remembers the fight the two of you had because of this, and he doesn’t want to do that again. “I did nothing wrong?” He blurts out, and it does sound more desperate than he wants it to sound.

You shake your head. “Of course not. It is just my own little ritual, you did nothing wrong. I just want to prevent getting overwhelmed during duty.”

He could live with that, and he releases the tension in his shoulders. “Promise me you’ll find me if something happens, okay? If you have a nightmare or what not. I’m here.”

“I promise.”

Simon’s lips find yours after your little promise, and a very small part of him hopes he can keep you for a little longer, but he knows you need the time for yourself.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks, after the kiss.

“See you tomorrow.”

[harleybeaumont]

Unintentional

Chapter 5- The Birthday Party

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Pairings - Liam x Maxwell, Drake x Riley, Hana x Grace (OC)

Synopsis- Since childhood, Liam has held a terrible secret that even he doesn't know about. As the years go by, he suspects more and more that there is something wrong with him. Can he put his life together and find happiness?

A/N - This story is a bit different than what I usually write.. Ok a LOT different. Some terrible things have happened during Liam's life.. But the story isn’t without humor or joy. I swear it’s not all bad! The characters are only canon in the sense of their whole overall personalities, but of course there are several changes to fit the story.

******A/N 2 - We are officially done with flashback chapters! Everything from now on is current.

Series Warnings- oh so many: language, drinking, violence, sexual assault, abuse, murder, homophobia, bullying, mentions of suicide.. Also there will be lemons in some chapters. 

Word count- 3,095

18+ only

Click here to catch up.

Chapter 5 - The Birthday Party

The next time it happened, he was twenty-eight. Well.. the next time it almost happened. Maxwell’s twenty-eighth birthday party was planned for that night, and everyone was coming. Drake and his wife Riley were riding in the back of the limo with Liam as they made their way to Ramsford. The two just celebrated their second wedding anniversary and Liam had never seen Drake happier. Riley and Drake were having their usual argument as they made their way across the countryside.

“I told you..” Riley crossed her arms as she glared at Drake. “Rum is the superior drink. I mean how can you even compare something that is made from sugarcane to.. whiskey.” She pretended to gag. “.. which is made from grain. Everyone knows sugar is better than grain.”

Drake laughed. “You’re fucking crazy! Who says sugar is better than grain?”

“Um, literally everyone in the world.”

“Ri.. You know everyone in the world?” Drake smirked.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

Drake burst out laughing and soon Riley was joining in. Liam shook his head smiling between them. “You two are ridiculous.”

Riley placed a kiss on Drake's cheek and smiled at Liam. “So when are we gonna get you married off, Liam?”

He laughed. “Never.”

Drake chuckled. “He would probably need to actually be in a relationship first, don't you think?”

Riley rolled her eyes at Drake. “I told you I have plenty of people I can fix you up with, Liam.”

“I’m good.” Liam said with a smile. “I don’t need to be fixed up with anyone.”

“Fiiiiine.” Riley crossed her arms, looking out the window.

Liam knew he couldn't be in a relationship with anyone. Not with everything that had happened in his life. As much as he tried not to think about it, he couldn't deny that he was massively fucked up. Whatever happened to those people over the years had to be his doing. Why or how, he didn't know. But he knew that he couldn't trust himself. Liam started triple bolting his door every night trying to prevent him from doing.. whatever it was he would do when he woke up in a strange place. 

The thought made him shudder. I probably killed those people. His tutor when he was 8 years old.. The boy at the campsite who picked on him and Max.. The frat boy at the party.. The guy who assaulted Hana.. I probably killed all of them.

Liam wanted to research it.. To see if this ever happened to anyone else, but he was terrified. Maybe he was terrified to find out something that would confirm this was really happening to him.. Or maybe he was terrified to find out that he was the only one. Liam once again pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind, where they usually resided during the day. The car pulled up to the Beaumont’s estate and they all hopped out, stretching.

Max bounded out to greet them. “Heeeeey friends!” He hugged each of them tightly.

“Happy birthday Max!” Liam hugged him back with a smile. 

“Ya, happy birthday Maxy poo!” Riley gave him a fist bump, and the two of them continued their ridiculous hand shake while Drake rolled his eyes. “Oh Max, is that a new earring? What a rock, I’m jealous!” She touched the sparkling diamond stud Max had in his left ear.

Max winked. “Birthday present to myself, from myself.”

“Happy birthday Beaumont.” Drake clapped him on the back.

“Thanks guys!” Maxwell beamed at them. “Come on inside! The caterers have already started setting up and I may have eaten half of the cheese tray already.”

Drake gave him a look and Max shrugged. “What? Cheese is fucking delicious.” 

“That it is, my friend.” Riley smirked as she ran inside. “I call dibs on the other half!”

“No way! It’s my birthday!” Max yelled as he chased after her. 

Liam chuckled as they walked through the front door behind them. “That’s your wife.”

Drake was smiling softly as he watched her and Max fight over cheese. “Yep.”

A couple hours later, the party was in full swing. Hana arrived with her girlfriend and ran over to Liam, giving him a huge hug. “I missed you.” She said with her eyes closed as she nestled into his embrace. 

“I missed you too, Hana.” Liam smiled at her as they pulled apart. After the incident with Hunter, Hana moved back to Shanghai with her parents for a couple years. She came back to Cordonia for Drake and Riley’s wedding, and ended up staying. Liam didn’t see her as much as he used to, and he missed his friend. “How have you been?”

She glanced back at her girlfriend with a smile. “Really good actually.” She took the woman's hand, “This is Grace.”

The woman curtsied, “Your Highness.”

“There’s no need to be so formal, Grace. You can call me Liam.”

She blushed, “Hana told me you’d say that.. But I just wanted to make sure.”

Liam smiled, “It’s nice to finally meet you. Hana has told me so much about you over the past year, I feel like I know you already.”

Grace and Hana giggled at each other and Hana held out her hand. “Well you're going to be seeing Grace a lot more now.”

On Hana’s left hand, was a sparkly pink diamond. Grace held her hand out, and a ruby gleamed as it caught the light. “Oh my god, that’s amazing!” Liam hugged the two of them tightly. “When did this happen?”

“Last night!” Hana beamed at Grace, lacing her fingers with hers.

“Wow. Wait, does Riley know?”

“Of course, silly! I called her the minute after she proposed!” Hana laughed.

“How did she keep that a secret from me?” Liam smiled incredulously. “She’s horrible at secrets.”

Hana shrugged. “I made her swear not to tell. She already let it slip to Drake, but to be fair he heard her screaming so he kinda did need to know what was up.”

“Well, let's go have a drink to celebrate.” Liam led the ladies over to the open bar where Maxwell was chugging a bottle of champagne.

“Hana!” Max yelled as he carelessly tossed the bottle aside. “Congrats on your engagement, guys!” He grabbed her and Graces’ hands and they all started jumping up and down excitedly.

“Hold up.. You knew too?!” Liam said in surprise.

“Um, ya of course!” Max shook his head at Liam like it was a clearly known fact. “I make it my business to know everything that happens in my friends lives!”

“You mean Riley told you.” Liam smirked.

“Um. Ya.. Like an hour ago.” 

Liam shook his head with a smile. “Jeez, why am I always the last to know?”

“Because you’re always busy with ‘Prince stuff’!” Max nudged him with a smile.

“Am not!” 

“Are too!” Max grabbed Liam’s hands and pulled him toward the dance floor. “Now, come on and let loose! Show me some moves!”

Liam chuckled and followed behind Max. Grace, Hana, Liam, Max, and Riley all danced together in a group through a couple songs. Drake, of course, was at the bar. He needed more alcohol in his system before he got out there and attempted to dance. Liam’s eyes rested on Maxwell, watching him let loose on the dance floor. His shirt was halfway unbuttoned at this point, the only thing against his sweat slicked chest was his usual white gold chain. Liam swallowed hard as he watched him, and his heart was thumping wildly in his chest. Shit, I need a drink.

A slow song began and Grace and Hana paired off. Riley ran over and pulled a protesting Drake onto the dance floor, and they began swaying to the music. Liam smiled at his friends and headed over to the bar when he felt a hand in his. 

“You’re just gonna bail on me now?” Max said with a smile.

Liam chuckled. “I just.. didn’t think you liked slow songs.”

“I like all songs, Liam. Literally ALL songs.” Max pulled Liam closer. “Now come on, don't leave the birthday boy hanging.”

Liam took Maxwell's hand, wrapping his other arm around his waist and they danced together. Liam had danced with plenty of people before, but something about this dance had him feeling.. nervous. It was just Maxwell, his good friend for almost twenty years. So why did he feel like his heart was beating out of his chest? Maybe it had been too long since he had been in a relationship with someone. It must have been a couple years now.. Surely that had to be why he was feeling this way.

Max smiled and lay his head against Liam’s chest and he felt his stomach erupt in butterflies. What the fuck?, Liam thought. He glanced around the ballroom to see what everyone else was doing, trying to take his mind off of what he was feeling inside. He spotted Riley a few feet away, whispering in Drake's ear. Drake’s gaze snapped over to Liam and Max, and his eyes lit up. The two of them smiled knowingly at Liam as they watched him and Maxwell together. Liam shook his head at the two of them, mouthing ‘no.’ Riley covered her mouth and giggled before mouthing, ‘oh yes!’

Max breathed out a long sigh and Liam felt his warm breath rush against his neck. He closed his eyes, squeezing Max’s hand and lay his head against the top of Maxwell’s. Max was a bit shorter than Liam, but not by much. Liam took a deep breath and the smell of Maxwell’s cologne and shampoo filled his senses. It was such a comforting and familiar smell that it caused his heart to warm. Liam continued to move slowly with Max on the dance floor, just enjoying the feeling of their arms around each other.. Max brought his hand farther down Liam’s back to the top of his belt, and Liam’s eyes shot open. Calm down, he told himself. Liam closed his eyes again as the memory of their first kiss rushed back to him. 

      Max stared at Liam for a moment. “Do you wanna kiss me?”

      “What?!” Liam nearly jumped back in surprise. “Why would you.. ask that?”

      Maxwell shrugged. “I don't know. I just thought you might. I mean, I kinda wanna kiss you.”

      “Really?!” Liam was sure he was blushing furiously. “But.. we're both boys.”

      “So?”

      “That’s not.. weird to you?”

      “No.” Max said matter of factly.

Liam was brought back to the present as he felt Maxwell pull away. He opened his eyes and Max was smiling at him. “What’s this?” He asked, pointing to Liam's mouth.

“What?”

“You’re smiling.”

Liam chuckled. “Am I?”

“Yes. And you still are, you doof.” Maxwell laughed as he poked Liam’s cheek softly.

Liam shrugged. “Just.. thinking about something that made me happy.”

They smiled softly at each other for a moment, when Bertrand called out in frustration. “Maxwell, can you tell me why there are peacocks in the kitchen?”

“Shit.” Max chuckled, leaving Liam behind to wonder what the hell was happening in his own head. Like he needed more confusion in his life. Surely his brain was nearly full to the brim by now.

Liam pushed out a long breath as he made his way back over to the bar.

A couple hours later, people began filtering out as the party died down. Maxwell was of course still dancing. Riley tried her hardest to keep up with him, but ended up collapsing on the floor dramatically. Drake rolled his eyes as he made his way over to her and carried her bridal-style to a couch. 

“I’m never gonna dance again..” Riley said with her hand on her forehead.

Drake sat her down on the couch and shook his head at her. “Oh sure you will-”

Riley quickly hopped up, “Guilty feet have got no rhythm!”

“For fucks sake..” Drake covered his face and Maxwell ran over, joining her as she sang.

“Though it’s easy to pretend, I know you're not a fooooool.”

“Yes you are..” Drake interrupted.

Riley pretended she had a microphone and got on her knees serenading Drake.  “I should have known better than to cheat a friend, and waste the chance that I’d been given..”

Max grabbed the fake mic from her as he belted out, “So I'm never gonna dance again, the way I danced with yooouuuuuu!”

“Max, hit me!” Riley called out and Maxwell pretended he was throwing something to her. She put her hand out to catch it and moved her fingers as if she was playing a saxophone, “Reee da deeedee, reeee da deeee..”

“Hell no.” Drake grabbed the invisible saxophone and threw it across the room. “I draw the line at ‘air- sax solos’.”

“Party pooper!” Riley and Max both said simultaneously as they pouted.

“God, I love you guys.” Liam chuckled.

It was shortly after 2 a.m. once the last guest left the Beaumont’s estate. Liam, Drake, Riley, Hana, and Grace were spending the night so they didn’t have to worry about going home so late at night. Bertrand had already gone to sleep. 

Liam and Maxwell sat together on a couch in the sitting room while they snacked and watched TV. Grace and Hana were cuddled together on an oversized recliner, sound asleep. Drake and Riley were trying to throw cheetos into each other's mouths from across the room. 

Liam nudged Maxwell, “Surprised you don't have us watching Adam Sandler again.”

“Ooooh, I haven't watched The Water Boy in a long time! Maybe we should-”

“Don't.. please. Don't finish that sentence.” Liam chuckled as he put a hand over Maxwell's mouth. 

Max laughed and leapt forward, tickling Liam’s sides, and the two of them were cracking up hysterically as they playfully fought on the couch. Liam pulled away with a smile, but froze as he saw Riley and Drake staring. He cleared his throat and stood. “I’m going to the kitchen to get a drink. Anyone need anything?”

Riley nudged Drake and he stood up. “I’ll come with you.”

The two of them made their way into the kitchen, and Drake pulled open the fridge. “What do you want to drink?”

He glanced back at Liam, who was slumped down in a chair with his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong?” He carefully made his way over to Liam. “Are you ok?”

Hold it together.. Hold it together. Something about someone asking those three words caused him to nearly break down. Liam took a deep breath and plastered on a smile. “Fine.”

“No way. What’s going on?” Drake sat next to him, eyeing him cautiously. “Does this have anything to do with..”

Liam looked over to Drake. “With?”

Drake looked down at the counter awkwardly avoiding eye contact. “You know.. With Max.”

Liam felt the butterflies floating around in his stomach again. Why was he feeling this way suddenly.. and how did Drake know? Drake was never super intuitive so Riley must have put the idea in his head. Riley was pretty meddling.. though not necessarily in a bad way.

This conversation was proving to be even more awkward than Liam had imagined. The three of them had been close friends for the majority of their lives. Now Drake was asking Liam if he had feelings for one of them. Drake never even knew about the times that they kissed. Unless Maxwell told him.. He probably did.

Drake cleared his throat, and stood. “It’s ok. You don't have to answer.”

Liam looked up at him. “I just.. don't know.”

Drake nodded silently, clearly mulling over this whole thing.

Liam shook his head.  “All I know... is that I don't know.” Liam chuckled humorlessly. “That’s fucking ridiculous sounding.”

“No, I get it.” Drake grabbed an armful of water bottles from the fridge. “I’ll bring these out to everyone. I'm sure they’ve had enough alcohol for the night.” He chuckled as he walked out the door.

Liam made his way back to the sitting room and sat back on the couch with Max. “You know what?” He turned to face Maxwell, “It’s your birthday. Turn on the fucking Water Boy.”

“Liam, how could you!?” Drake frowned at him as he tossed a cheeto in Liam’s direction.

Riley giggled, “No Colonel Sanders, you're wrong! Momma’s right!! Momma’s right!”

Max laughed delightedly. “Riley.. How come you’re not a man? You’re clearly my soulmate.”

She hopped up and placed a kiss on Maxwell's cheek. “If I was a man, I would totally marry you Maxy poo. Honestly I don't know how no one has snatched you up yet.”

“I have a pretty terrible track record..I’m like Halsey- Bad at love.”

“It’s ok..” Riley shot a slight glance over to Liam, that Max didn't notice. “The right guy is out there somewhere.”

Liam leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes, as his mind raced. The movie was starting, but he wasn't paying attention. He had so much going on inside his head he felt like his body was going to just short circuit and shut down.

4:15 a.m. Liam awoke to the sound of screaming. He quickly looked around the room and realized that he was the reason for it. He was leaning over a man whose face was clad in a black ski mask, with trickles of blood dripping out from beneath it. Liam looked around frantically as he realized he had his fist raised in the air over the man, and his whole arm was trembling. Liam jumped backwards, cradling his arm to his chest. “What the fuck?!” His heart was beating out of his chest as he crawled away. When he glanced around, he noticed he was still in the Beaumont’s house.. Only he was in a different room. Bertrand’s study. There was a gun on the floor, and cash scattered everywhere. Liam's head snapped over to the person screaming- Maxwell. His eyes were wide with his hands over his mouth. 

Drake ran in, frantically taking in the scene. “What happened?!” 

Maxwell was as white as a ghost, pointing to Liam with a trembling hand. “I think.. I think Liam killed this guy!”

“What?!” Liam and Drake both yelled at the same time.

The man on the floor was still and Drake cautiously approached him, bringing his fingers to his neck to check for a pulse. Drake recoiled as slick blood from the man’s face coated his fingers, “We need to call an ambulance.”

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Hidden Marks

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Request:  Hii! If you still taking request I want ask for an soulmate au with Elijah, where which one of them have the same mark. He and his soulmate are very good friends for a long time and never have thought about this, but someday he see her mark and find out about this but don't tell her for being afraid of hurting her because of his family -Anon

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: Tad bit of angst, mentions of blood, but that's canon at this point.

Author’s Note: I apologize that this wasn't out earlier today. But there was some things in it that were bugging me and I just couldn't let it post without fixing it! It's still the 7th for me so this is your fic for the day! I hope you guys enjoy it!

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥

“Oh come on,” Y/N said as she turned and faced Elijah as a smile pulled at her lips. “Are you really telling me that you’ve given up on looking?”

Elijah shook his head slightly as he let a huff of air past his lips. “For as many times as you’ve tried to persuade me to find who my soulmate is, my answer has remained the same.”

“Deep down I don’t think you mean it.” Y/N said with a slight tilt of her head. “You give the advice of your best friend ‘needing’ to find who she is ‘destined’ to be with, but you wont take your own advice or mine for that matter.”

When Elijah was younger, he believed that Soulmates finding each other was something magical. He may have lived with his mother who was a witch, and even a few of his brothers, but this was different. Elijah could remember the stories some of the villagers told him about how they found their soulmates. That the marks they were born with would match the person they were meant to be with.

Elijah had hoped that his soulmate would come along and he’d get to experience that kind of magic that he witnessed. He wondered who his soulmate was. How he would meet them and when they would realize who they were to each other. But when Henrik died, Elijah had felt his opportunity to meet his soulmate had been lost the moment he became a vampire.

The magical feeling he once believed in had been diminished over time. As the centuries had passed Elijah had never once met someone who he would ever be his soulmate. That there was no longer someone out there that would share the same mark as he did. As the years passed, the thoughts of a soulmate had all but diminished.

Elijah’s mark had been just below his left clavicle. The mark is a few shades darker than his skin tone. An intricate design of three circles intertwined in a horizontal line. His clothing always covering the mark from everyone around him. So long as it was covered, he wouldn’t be asked about it.

At least that was until Y/N came into his life. The vampire may have been several centuries younger than him, but they had become close friends over the past century. Elijah had met her during his time away from Klaus. The need to be away from his brother for a while had proved to be much needed. And when he met Y/N there didn’t seem to be anyone else better to spend his time with.

But during that time, he never mentioned what his mark looked like, let alone asked her what her mark looked like. Y/N was like Elijah in some ways. She once believed that soulmates were like fairytales. But when she turned, the notion of having her soulmate found had diminished.

“Was it not just a few hours ago that you reminded me that you’d rather not find them?” Elijah asked as he watched her.

The smile she had on her face faded slightly. “I have my reasons.” she shrugged slightly. “I may change my mind if I see you find yours.”

A light chuckle passed Elijah’s lips as he began walking down the pathway they stopped in moments before. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

There were several more conversations similar to that between them. But no matter how many times each of them brought it up, they both believed that they didn’t want to know who their soulmate was. They were content with their lives and it avoided the disappointment if their soulmates were human and lost some time ago. This way, there wouldn’t be heartache.

_____

“Elijah?” Y/N called out as she struggled to keep herself steady as she walked into the compound. She hadn’t ever expected to go to Elijah when she had been injured. But she needed help this time. Someone had attempted to shoot a wooden bullet at her and it was currently lodged in her back.

In a blink of an eye, Elijah was in front of her taking in her appearance. His eyes had widened as he helped her over to a seat in the courtyard. “What happened.” He asked as he took note of the current bullet holes in her shirt.

“Oh you know, failed attempt at making friends.” She tried to brush off the pain that was currently radiating through her. “ I just need you to help take one of them out. The others were easy to do. But this one is lodged in there.”

Elijah moved behind her as came to take note of where she had been speaking about. There had been a tear in her shirt from the attempt to make the bullet hole bigger to get the wooden bullet out. He could see the healed spots from the others that she had been able to take out.

It was as he moved the fabric aside to begin pulling the bullet out that he noticed the mark right above it. He stopped for a moment as he took in the horizontal circles that were intertwined. For as many times as he had seen his own mark, it was replicated on Y/N’s skin.

Y/N could feel how he hesitated; she looked over her shoulder at him. “What is it?”

Elijah shook his head slightly. “I believe that is the first time I’ve seen your mark.” He said before he began to poke and prod at the bullet hole.

She hissed as she felt him digging into her skin and muscle. “There’s a first for everything.”

Y/N knew that while they had joked and pressed the other to go in search of their soulmates, they never once actually saw each other’s mark. For the century and a half that she had known Elijah, she had never once seen Elijah’s mark, just as he hadn’t seen hers until this moment.

Elijah hadn’t said anything in response. If anything he was letting his mind go over everything the last several centuries had shown him. He had been at his lowest, the lowest that he could be as a Vampire, when Y/N had entered his life. They had gotten along so well during that time that Elijah just considered it them having a lot in common.

“I take it now that you’ve seen it, you’re going to go on a mission to find my soulmate for me?” She asked a moment later, hoping to fill the air with voices instead of the sound of blood and muscle being messed with.

“I thought you disagreed with that plan.” Elijah tried to keep his voice normal as he talked with her.

As much as seeing the mark should have made him happy, that he should have stopped right then and there and told her what it was that he realized, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It had nothing to do with the bullet that he was now pulling out from her back. If that had been the case, he’d tell her the moment he watched her skin begin to heal before his eyes.

“Oh, I do.” Said with a nod as rolled her shoulders, stretching out the muscles of her back where the bullet had been moments before. “That doesn’t mean it will stop you from doing it.”

Her words had caused him to chuckle as he pulled out his handkerchief and began cleaning his hands of her blood. She turned towards him in her seat, watching as he tossed the bullet onto the table a moment later.

“I have no intentions of seeking someone out that you do not wish to meet.” He noted with a nod of his head as he looked over at her. Even after getting into some trouble, she still looked as if she could still take on the world.

There was something in her eyes that changed a moment after his words had pierced the air. “Would you tell me if you saw the mark on someone else?”

“Of course.” He said even though it had been a lie. He knew he wasn’t going to speak of the very mark that was on his chest.

As much as Elijah wanted to express every thought he was having at the moment, he couldn’t allow himself too. Not with the past that he had. Not when there were multiple reasons why he didn’t want her to know.

Not to mention the track record he had with the women in his life. While one would argue that it was all meant to lead up to him meeting Y/N, Elijah knew that even she wasn’t immune to the darkest parts of his family or even himself.

He watched as she stood up from her seat. “Thank you for helping me with that.” She gestured to the bullet. “Would I be able to interest you in a little night hunt?”

There was a smirk pulling at her lips, one that Elijah couldn’t stop one from forming on his own. She was offering him a night of catching those that attempted to harm her. Between the two of them, the sport of keeping each other and his family had been a game of keeping score. His head nodded in agreement at the thought of helping her.

He always promised to help keep her safe. And it was as they began leaving the compound that Elijah realized in order to do so, he was going to have to keep his mark hidden from her.

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[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 26 - Blood On My Name [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, guns.

Word Count: 3000

Summary: No one can run away forever.

There were some days when you just knew it wouldn’t be easy for you, and today was one of them, that was for sure. It was as if after seeing how Spencer had managed to charm your family the other night and how everything was going well in your relationship, the universe had decided to throw in some difficulties to make it interesting.

For starters, you had forgotten to buy coffee the day before so you couldn’t even have your much needed caffeine. After managing to get rid of the sleepiness with a very cold shower and getting ready, you left your apartment to get to your car, and that was when the second problem hit.

It wouldn’t start no matter how much you tried, so you had to take a taxi to your office.

And as if all that wasn’t enough, Spencer had decided to call you with some bad news as well.

“You can’t be serious,” you whined, pressing the phone to your ear as you paced in your office, “Spencer, please tell me you’re not leaving me alone at a party I didn’t even want to go to in the first place!”

“Trust me, I don’t want to.”

“You have a case,” you felt the need to repeat, “Today of all days.”

“We’re flying there in ten.”

You heaved a sigh and plopped down to the couch, nibbling your lip.

“I’m really sorry,” he said softly, “I swear I’d be there if I could.”

You sook your head, “No, don’t be sorry,” you murmured, “I get that. It’s your job. Besides, it’s probably a life or death situation if they called you guys there.”

He hummed in agreement, “Probably,” he said “But are you going to be alright?”

“I mean I’ll probably drink a lot,” you tried to joke, “And miss you for the whole night.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he confessed, “They’re sending some agents to make sure the copycat doesn’t try anything at that party if they even show up, but… Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“When am I not careful?”

He scoffed a laugh, “Do you want a list? Because I think it’d be a long list.”

“I’m always careful!” you protested, “Also, given our occupations it’s kind of ironic to hear this from you, I’ll have you know.”

You could almost hear his smile, “Just promise me.”

“I’ll be very careful,” you said, “Cross my heart. Besides, it’s Nolan’s company, professor. No one can walk there with any weapon, it’s a security company remember? Even I am leaving my knife at home.”

“Just don’t go anywhere alone, be in the crowd for the whole time—”

“Make sure to stay where security cameras can see me, I know.” You finished his sentence for him, “It’s not my first rodeo. Relax boyfriend, it’s just one boring party. What could possibly go wrong?”

“Don’t say that,” he warned you, “Bad things happen when people say that.”

“I didn’t take you for a superstitious type, professor.”

“I’m not,” he said, “I just don’t want to take any chances. It’s already bad enough that I won’t be there.”

“You’re telling me,” you said, “I was hoping we could hook up somewhere in there, it’s a huge building.”

You heard his chuckle, “You’re incorrigible.”

“Well it’s always Mina and Kenzie who have fun in these things, for once I want to have fun too!” you defended yourself, “Besides, don’t pretend like you don’t like it.”

“Hey, I said nothing of the sort.”

“Reid, come on.” You heard Luke’s voice and Spencer sighed.

“I should go,” he told you, “I love you.”

A smile warmed your face, “I love you too,” you said, “Go save some lives.”

You hung up, then ran a hand over your face, slumping on the couch.

“Y/N?” your assistant knocked on the glass door of your office before peeking her head in, “Hi, are you busy?”

“Not really,” you sat up straighter, “What’s up?”

“You wanted me to remind you when it’s time for lunch,” she said, “Also I sent your dress for tonight to your place, the front desk will get it.”

“Thanks,” you checked the time and stood up to walk to your desk, “Damn it, I’m going to be late.”

“I also called the mechanics, but they said it would take two days for it to be fixed.”

“Today just gets better and better,” you muttered and she tilted her head,

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Hm?” you looked up, “Yeah, sorry. I’m fine, it’s just one of those days. Since the morning everything is going bad, and I was hoping my boyfriend would be with me at this party, but he had something to do so…”

“Maybe he can change his mind?” she suggested, “See, I had this boyfriend once, and he said he wouldn’t show up to my birthday party because we had this huge fight, but then he showed up anyway.”

“Oh it’s not like that,” you shook your head, “There’s no fight, he’s just not gonna be in the city tonight.”

She scrunched up her nose, “That sucks.”

You scoffed a laugh and grabbed your coat and your purse, “It’s fine. Where are we on the Riley wedding flower arrangement by the way?”

“All confirmed, she says she loved it,” she said and you smiled.

“Thanks,” you said as you walked to the elevator with her following you, “I’ll be back in an hour, okay? Have a nice lunch.”  

                                                        ***

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lincoln said as you sipped your rosé, looking around the restaurant you two were having lunch in, “How did you even break down your car?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“When was the last time you took it to a mechanic to get it checked out?”

“When I bought it?” you said and he let out a chuckle.

“So you have no car for tonight?”

You pulled your brows together, “Tonight? How did you-?”

“You know we run in the same social circle right?” he said, “My dad’s company also does business with Nolan, of course I’m invited. That being said, I wasn’t sure if I would show up, but since here you are, begging me to help you—“

“I’m just eating my food here.”

“I can drive you there,” he finished his sentence as if you didn’t interrupt him and you tilted your head.

“I can just take a cab,” you said, “Or mom could send a car, it’s fine. You don’t have to.”

“Consider it my thanks for your unrequited advices on my relationship.”

“Oh you need more advice?” you perked up and he rolled his eyes.

“No.”

“You made up with your girlfriend then?”

“It’s complicated.”

“You really need to go to Italy for a surprise visit,” you pointed at him with your fork “That’d be incredibly romantic.”

“Is that right, love doctor?”

Your jaw dropped, “Come on, when have I ever failed you with my advice?” you asked, “If you love this girl, you need to show her that.”

“I’m just gonna play it cool.”

“That’s a terrible idea!” you said, “I know you’re not the romantic type, but you need to at least make an effort!”

He shot you a look “I’m a romantic.”

“Bullshit,” you let out a laugh, “You might be the most emotionally distant person I’ve seen after me, and you’re telling me you’re—“

“I believe that some people are meant to be,” he cut you off, “No matter the circumstances. Consequences be damned, anyone who thinks otherwise doesn’t deserve to be in love. I think if you’re in love, you should adore that person every day, and be there for them for better or worse. Whatever sacrifice it takes.”

You blinked a couple of times, shock coming over you, “Linc…”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for the woman I love,” he told you, “Trust me. Nothing at all.”

You just gawked at him for a few seconds before you put your fork down.

“I stand corrected,” you muttered, and he grinned at you.

“Yeah, how does it feel to be wrong?”

“Oh shut up,” you said and stabbed your salad once more, ignoring his laugh.

By the time your lunch with Lincoln was over and you got back to your office, your fingers were itching to text Spencer. Reminding yourself that he was probably busy, you managed to suppress the urge and waited for the elevator doors to open.

Erica was already waiting for you by the door and you let out a whine.

“Don’t tell me,” you said, “You have bad news because today has a grudge with me.”

“I mean it’s not bad, but I figured you’d want to know.”

“Give me some good news, like you saw a puppy today or they named a whiskey after me or—“

“Your mother is waiting for you in your office.”

“I said good news, Erica.” you reminded her and made your way to your office before you opened the glass door to step inside. Your mother looked over her shoulder, sitting up straighter on the couch.

“Hi honey.”

“Hi mom,” you walked to peck her on the cheek, “What’s up? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I need help,” she said and you hung your coat, placed your purse on the coffee table, motioning at one of the interns for coffee before you leaned back to the table.

“Sure thing, what is it?”

“How do my nails look?” she held up her hand and you pulled your brows together.

“That’s what you need help with?” you asked “You do realize that this is why we have phones?”

“No, I wanted to talk face to face for my next question.”

“Ah, I won’t like that question will I?” you hissed in a breath, “Your nails are fine by the way.”

“It’s just that, I don’t know when Nolan will propose so I booked my nail artist for a month.”

“I want to have your problems,” you muttered as your phone buzzed and you checked the screen, then touched the text message.

From: Spencer

The power of Love borne in my lady's eyes

imparts its grace to all she looks upon.

You couldn’t help the wide smile pulling at your lips as you skimmed Dante’s lines, then thought for a moment and typed in:

See that you bless the day that I took you captive; it is your duty to do so.

“Y/N!”

You lifted your head, “Hm?”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you lowered the phone as the intern brought you two cups of coffee. You thanked her, then turned to your mother, “It’s just… Spencer is out of the city again, that’s why— never mind. What did you want to ask me?”

“I think I have an idea about Nolan’s proposal and this…potential marriage.”

You cleared your throat, “Uh, sorry. My client list is full.”

“Nobody buys that excuse honey.”

“I mean can you blame me?” you asked, “You would be the worst bride I’ve ever had to deal with, no offense.”

“First of all, I’ll just have a cocktail, not a wedding,” she said, “It would be inappropriate to have a wedding, considering our ages.”

“Mom!” you protested, “That’s not a thing! Anyone can have a wedding, fuck what society thinks.”

“Very delicately put, but I’ve made up my mind,” she said, “That’s not what I came here for. I decided, I want to be with Nolan and spend the rest of my life with him. So I will say yes when he proposes.”

“A surprise to no one,” you grinned and she shot you a look.

“But considering what people would think, I feel like I need to make a schedule. Do you happen to know when Spencer will propose?”

The coffee you were drinking went down the wrong tube and you started coughing, but your mother sipped her own coffee, patiently waiting for you to stop.

“Say- say what now?” you asked and she shrugged her shoulders.

“Yes, I was thinking I could stay engaged to Nolan until after your future wedding.”

“Mom we’re not— I’m—“ you stammered, “That’s not happening.”

She tilted her head, “Oh don’t be nonsense, you’re in love. Very obvious to anyone who has eyes, he couldn’t stop looking at you throughout dinner the other night.”

“Yeah but….” you cleared your throat, “I don’t think he’s planning anything like that.”

“Well—“

“I’m not going to ask him if he’s planning anything like that,” you cut her off, “I don’t live in Victorian ages, neither do you. I told you, you can get married to the eccentric billionaire puppy with a bowtie whenever you want.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “Unbelievable.”

“Right back at you lady.”

“If Nolan lets you know about when, you will tell me okay?”

“I doubt he’ll let me know, he looks like he’s got it covered.”

“And you’re still planning my cocktail party when the time comes.”

“Mom, no!” you let out a whine, throwing your head back, “Please don’t do that to me. I’m your daughter, you’re supposed to love me!”

“I do love you, that’s why I don’t trust anyone else with my wedding except for you.”

“Don’t trust me,” you said, “I’m begging you not to trust me. Planning Mina’s wedding was bad enough, you’re even a bigger control freak than she is—“

“Y/N.”

“I say that respectfully!”

She put her cup of coffee on the glass table, then stood up.

“Just remember, I absolutely hate carnation flowers and polyester gives me a rash.”

“Why does God hate me?” you wondered out loud and she kissed you on the cheek.

“I’ll see you tonight honey,” she said and walked out of your office, ignoring your overly dramatic whining. You buried your face into your palms, letting out a groan.

“I really should’ve drunk something heavier than rosé.”

                                                         ***

You had picked this dress thinking Spencer would like it, and now that he wouldn’t be there with you, you were two seconds away from changing it. You heaved a sigh, looking in the mirror before you fixed the tulle floor length skirt of the pale pink dress and pulled at the long sleeves adorned with lace. The small screen by the door lit up as it started ringing and you walked there to touch it, then told the doorman that he could send Lincoln upstairs when he told you he was there.  

Soon enough, the doorbell rang and you opened it.

“Hey,” you said, grinning when he did a double take and blinked a couple of times.

“Wow.”

“Bad wow?”

“Good wow.”

“Why thanks Linc, you clean up well too. Come in!” you stepped aside so that he could enter the apartment and he looked around as you closed the door.

“Nice place.”

“Thanks,” you said and checked the time before you went to the kitchen island. “You’re early.”

“And you started early,” he nodded at the wine glass on the kitchen island, making you shrug.

“I just have one e-mail to check for confirmation, then we can go.”

“No rush,” he said, leaning back to the wall as you looked at the photos of the wedding venue for your newest client, swirling the wine in your glass.

“You want some?”

“Nah, not yet,” he said, “Work stuff?”

“Mm hm,” you mumbled, “She describes the venue she wants as boho-glam so it’s going to be pretty tough for me to find a lot of options.”

“Your job is definitely more fun than mine.”

“My job is harder than yours,” you pointed at him and he scoffed.

“How is that?”

“Have you ever dealt with an angry bride?” you asked him, “You wouldn’t last a goddamn second. Just the other day, one of them tried to make me give her a list of her wedding dress options too, the one thing I’m not responsible from.”

“I mean can you blame her?” Lincoln asked, “You obviously have a good taste, look at yourself.”

“Aw thanks Linc,” you hit send, and closed down the laptop lid before you reached for your wine glass to take a sip, taking a step towards the coffee table.

“Yeah I’ll almost feel sorry for Spencer for missing it.”

It took you a second. For a second, it was all good and then you stopped dead on your tracks, a shudder running down your spine as your brain comprehended what he just told you. You could feel the goosebumps rising on your arms as you put the glass down, your back still turned to him.

“I never told you I was dating Spencer,” you managed to mumble through frozen lips and he chuckled.

“No you didn’t,” he said, “Erica told me. Family dinner with Spencer, it was on your schedule the other night.”

Your thoughts were like a tornado in your head as your heart started slamming against your ribcage and you turned to him, your eyes finding potential weapons you could use all around the room instantly and he tilted his head.

“So I know that there are about fifty things in this room you can attack me with,” he said, “But just so you know, if you try anything, your niece goes down. You don’t want your precious Lily to have an accident, do you? Because I don’t either.”

That red haze clouded your vision for a moment as your jaw clenched.

“I’m going to kill you,” your voice didn’t even sound like it belonged to you anymore, it was way too cold, way too calm, the shock leaving its place to fury roaring through your veins. A manic smile pulled at Lincoln’s lips and that dangerous gleam which you had seen multiple times in your father’s eyes appeared in his eyes as well before he took a step towards you.

“I missed your fire,” he said as if he was in awe, “So much. It’s been a torture to keep my distance from you. But honestly, Petal,” he tut-tutted, then reached behind him and pulled out his gun to point it at you.

“You should’ve known better.”

Chapter 27 

[secretaryunpaid]

Ask time: search your mc/ oc and/or li's name on urban dictionary, show what it says, and if it is accurate according to your headcanon about them.

Accurate: Sam, Alina, Riley

Wrong: Dahlia, Liam

Dahlia Dahlia is a gorgeous, loving girl who even though she may deny it, is perfect in every way. She never fails to make people laugh, and has a beautiful and funny personality. She is popular, and pretty much everyone seems to like her a lot as a person. Dahlia is a wonderful friend that everyone would be grateful to have.

All the boys fall for Dahlia.

Samuel

As a person he is remarkable. One of a kind and even though Samuels can make mistakes in the past, they are humans, but they learn from them. Their personality is great. They may be very shy and like to protect themselves but they def love to have a good time and have a great sense of humor. They are usually athletic and have a great smile and make the cutest/most attractive faces. As a friend, he would do anything to help You in a problem. Samuels is great to confide to and will NEVER give you bad advice. They usually come from a great family who is non-judgmental and have good morals for themselves and their children. They trust who their kids befriend and will always be there to help in any situation As a boyfriend, Samuel can be remarkable to their girlfriend. It may be hard for him to express himself but he truly had a kind heart. Even though it takes a long time for Samuel to open up once they do, you'll be so glad that you made the choice to allow him into your life. They will love you with everything they have and do anything to preserve their relationship and stay true to themselves. If you ever think about dating or befriending a Samuel do it or else you'll be missing out. Whoa, is your boyfriend a Samuel? One bonus is him in bed. He is an excellent kisser and great at being spontaneous and loves to leave those lovely marks on your neck to help you remember how it got there. He loves to experiment as always ask first before he makes a move. His goal is to show that he loves you and wants to make you really understand it. Anytime you want something changed he will fix it and make sure to ask That our satisfied. He is a sweet lover and not just a horn dog. He likes to make things romantic. You'll come to realize that you'll fall in love with the little things Samuel has to offer. And when you're apart it kills both of you. A Samuel is worth the time.

Alina

Alina. The kindest soul you'll ever meet. If you're lucky enough to meet her. You'll tear yourself apart trying to get her to love you though. She will do everything to make you smile, and usually triumphs, but it will pain you to even think for a second she may not ever love you the same as you love her. She's very intelligent though she may not admit to it, and loves nature. She loves healthy snacks and picnics. She enjoys the arts, and everything spiritual (not necessarily religious). She enjoys company, especially animals. She enjoys some sports but not always. She loves to be active but will be perfectly content to just hang out on a sofa and chill out amongst friends. Very friendly, and very sweet. Almost never angry-or at least never shows it. Kinda crazy, and you'll hope she'll always be because it looks great on her. She has a way with words without always having her way with words. She's too cool for this generation.

Liam

the most non-obvious soul mate. you've known him your whole life but never realized how hot he's become. and when you finally come around he's already there, waiting to love you. he will become one of your best friends. the kind of friend that you can go so long without seeing but it's like you were never apart. you just want to make him yours before someone else does. he loves to the fullest. and he has awesome hair.

Riley

Riley is incredible. she will love you forever and believe in you more than you believe in yourself. she's not the friend that will be for you when you cry, but she'll have a wet shoulder from your tears. she's the girl that thinks she's the ugliest girl in the world and that all of her friends are so pretty but in reality, she's the beautiful one. and not only are her looks beautiful, but her personality is. she's such a bright soul but she has convinced herself that nobody likes her. she thinks she'll never have a boyfriend but she doesn't realize she has guys lining up to talk to her. she can be really chill and quiet but if she opens up she can be so goofy and so much fun to hang out with. she's the one that says sorry after ranting because she has convinced herself that everyone could care less about her feelings. she's the one that ends up being the only one single in the group but nobody understands why. she says she's okay with being single but deep down she wishes she had someone to cuddle with at night. she hands out her little pieces even though so many people have broken her. she seems fine but when you get to know her she has gone through some deep shit. she lets everyone walk all over her and manipulate her so she is always being used. but despite that, she's incredibly positive and always tries to look at the bright side. so if you find a Riley. get ahold of her and keep her around, she's a good person to have by your side in life.

wow. she's amazing. she has to be a Riley.

[cozyforjate]

MacGyver 5x03-Review

MacRiley fam, this will be my last MacGyver review. Thanks for the support and the great feedback on my reviews so far. You guys are awesome! But i’m taking a looong break from this show. I’ll be watching the Jack episode and if we get a Bozer, Matty or Riley centric i’ll tune in to watch. But my passion and excitement for this show is mostly over now.

I have so many things to say about 5x03 but if i start to express all my feelings i’m afraid i might break Tumblr. LOL 

This probably wouldn’t feel like a proper review coz i’m gonna focus on the RETCON that the writers pulled out of their asses to keep MacDesi together.

Ok so for people who are not familiar with the word “retcon”; it means changing an aspect of a fictional work by introducing a piece of new information, typically used to facilitate a dramatic plot shift or account for an inconsistency.

The writers usually pull a retcon, when one aspect of an already canon plot isn’t working well. You can call it a “fix-it” method.

In terms of MacDesi, they retconned some moments from season 4 that defined this relationship. I think the new showrunner and the writers team realized that MacDesi has become quite “toxic” during season 4. But because the additional episodes kept them together, they needed to at least fix this relationship.

From their POV it’s understandable to a degree. But from a viewers POV it’s total BS. Because what we watched in season 4, can’t be changed.

We remember the unhealthy dynamic between them, we remember the lack of trust between them, we remember how incompatible they were, we remember how they couldn’t communicate with each other, we remember Mac not letting her in emotionally, not opening up to her at all, we remember how much they BOTH hurt each other, we remember Mac’s own words on their relationship.

Most importantly we still remember 4x12. How quickly Desi turned her back on him, how she brought his mothers and aunts names into their ugly fight, how Mac said he’d say anything to get her off his back, we remember how she and Russ left Mac no choice but to improvise a plan to save lives, we remember Riley risking everything to protect him and be there for him. WE REMEMBER.

So when you dismiss all of that and re-write MacDesi as if they’re this great couple, it’s not going to work for people. And when you tease MacRiley the whole week with promos, exclusive pictures, articles, SM promotion; promising progress between Mac and Riley only to walk over everything that made them special, you get a lot of NEGATIVE reaction from the fans. With good reason.

* * *

Episode started with Mac and Riley on a picnic mission. The scene was amazing in every sense. The colors, lighting, the conversation between them, the almost kiss, the way Mac held Riley and they lied down for a while, the smug smile on his face and the looks he gave to Riley were all awesome! The car chase was super fun too!

But then everything went down the toilet. Coz in the next scene Mac was complaining to Bozer about how Desi wasn’t spending time with him and avoiding his date attempts. In this scene they retconned Bozer too. For the first time, Bozer encouraged Mac to go ask Desi out and fix their relationship.

Normally Bozer would never do such a thing. Why? Bcoz he’s been against a romantic relationship between them ever since Desi first showed up in 3x14. Bozer thought it was a bad idea from the start, called them Mesi (messy), he didn’t think it was a good idea to bring Desi back on the team in 4x01, coz MD break up was NUCLEAR. So up until 5x03 Bozer was never on Team MacDesi. Lets also remember this exchange between them:

In 4x12 when Bozer was trying to save Mac and Riley’s lives, he turns to Desi... 

Bozer: Desi, back me up here.

Desi: Sometimes we need to sacrifice the things we love for the greater good.

So after 4x12, one would only expect that his thoughts on MD would get stronger. But guess what? Bozer is now supporting MD. Just like that. I don’t buy it writers, sorry.

Back to the scene… Mac wants to go on a date with Desi. And he is so desperate about it. We had to witness one of the most awkward scenes between them. Not only that but we had to sit through Riley throwing smiles at MD, saying her feelings for Mac was just Codex adrenaline. Riley, who couldn’t watch any interaction between MD, is now totally cool with them!

And lets just say that Riley was pretending she’s over Mac, that she lied to Bozer bcoz she’s trying to move on. We already watched her having feelings for Mac, hiding those feelings and pining for him. Her one-sided love can’t drive the plot anymore. 

Besides she didn’t need to give her blessings to MD. It was an overkill. I really hated the scene where she says “Don’t screw up this time” to Mac…That was totally out of character for Riley.  

Riley who reminded Desi that Russ & her were gonna nuke them,

Riley who said she went after Mac coz she trusted him &asked Desi "Why didn't you?",

Riley who risked it all to protect Mac, tells Mac not to screw it up with Desi.

By saying those words, Riley makes it known that Mac was the one screwing up his rl with Desi. Desi had no fault. Once again the writers used my favorite character to prop my least favorite character. Shame on you!

***

I’m not gonna talk about every MacDesi scene in this episode. But let me just say that the writers turned Mac into a desperate, begging, lovesick puppy. He asked Desi for a date like 5 times, apologized twice. Kissed her out of the blue. Bcoz lets face it, that scene was so unnecessary. Nobody was onto them, the police car was passing by slowly and if the police were really suspicious, why would they look at the couple kissing instead of checking who’s in the car? So stupid. Oh and while they were kissing for minutes with great lighting and all, General Ma escaped. Mac acting this stupid, is not something we are used to see. But what you gonna do? I guess love is not only blind but also destroyes brain cells in the process.

Anyway, Mac literally begging Desi to go on a date with him was agonizing to watch. Every time he offers a new dating idea, Desi’s answer is NAH. Back in the picnic scene she made it sound like she wanted to date Mac, but of course she needs to make him suffer first!

I only like to point out the scene where Mac –finally- opened up to Desi about the fishing trip he and his father went together. This story is obviously precious to him. He called it a happy memory. Clearly he misses his father, still mourning for his loss. So he shared his happy memory and asked if she would like to go fishing with him. Desi’s answer? “Not gonna go fishing with you as our first date!” You can read the dissapointment on his face. And my heart breaks for Mac but this kind of treatment is something he’s asking for.

He is desperate to get Desi back. The fact that they are the worst match ever, doesn’t change sh*t. Mac wants Desi and he loves Desi for god knows why.

***

Btw- the whole “lets blame only Mac for Codex and ignore Desi’s wrongdoings” plot is disgusting. Yes, Mac suffocating Desi and Russ to escape Phoenix with Scarlett was wrong. Yes he hurt her, yes in a sense he betrayed her. AND HE APOLOGIZED. But what about Desi? What about her betrayel? 

First they made Riley apologize to Desi for following Mac and now they made Mac apologize… But no apologies from Desi. The writers are obviously worshipping Desi and they’re ready to sacrifice every character to make her look “perfect”. I’m sorry but i’m not here to watch the Desi show, or more MacDesi nonsense.

***

Mac said Desi is the woman he loves… but not only that, she is also the woman who guided him back. And the RETCON is really strong with this scene.

Lets remember…

In 4x08 Mac loses his father, at the end of the episode Desi wants to go with Mac but Mac stops her, telling he’d see her tomorrow.

In 4x09 Desi says he can share his burden with her, Mac’s not interested, he says what he needs is to stop Codex.

In 4x10 Mac makes apocalypse kits for Riley and Desi. Desi’s so happy she got a crossbow and didn’t think those kits were a bad sign. But Riley notices that Mac is not in a good place, he needed help and support. Riley shares her concerns about Mac with Desi. She probably thinks it’s not up to her to be the one doing that when Desi is the girlfriend. So after her conversation with Riley, Desi makes soup and gives Mac a compass. Saying he’s not lost (he clearly was tho). She askes if everything’s ok, he looks different but Mac says, he’s just tired.

In 4x12 Mac is lying in bed, lost in his own mind, he gets up, leaves the compass on her side of the nightstand… On the run he ignores Desi’s calls.

Then things get really ugly for MacDesi. Desi says “You are so drunk on somescrewed-up cocktail of your mom, your aunt, Codex science...”… She says “You're compromised”…  Mac was just trying to get Scarlett on their side to stop Codex but Desi couldn’t see it. She thought Mac was losing it!

And then Desi sides with Russ and turns her back on Mac. Russ dismisses Mac from the Codex mission. Mac's forced to improvise. Bcoz he wants to stop Codex without bloodshed.

So as you can see they completely re-wrote the events of 4x12 to fix MD.

Desi says: “I had front-row seats to the war that raged in you last year, and I can't do that again. Lose you.”

She was ready to sacrifice him for the greater good. But yeah, sure! Why not.

Mac says: “Des, I know it looked like I was lost, but you were there the whole time, guiding me back home.”

THE WHOLE TIME.

In 3 times she “tried” to be there for him, Mac didn't let her in emotionally but lets just say that she brought him back to his senses.

Lets just say that the compass he left on her side of the nightstand represents that it guided him back. (btw lets also ignore that the compass Mac gave Desi back was a different one. Who knows, maybe he threw it in the garbage during the pandemic and bought a new one)

Lets just forget who really brought him back. Lets just ignore what Riley did for Mac. How she saved him, how she was the one who risked everything for Mac. How she was the one there by his side when they were facing a missile.

Only if we forget and retcon history we can all buy MacDesi. 

But i can’t… I can’t forget, i’m not ok with a retconned half-ass love story that they want to sell with MD. I can’t sit through the episodes and keep watching the “flawless Desi” show.

This show isn’t entertaining to me anymore. I can’t recognize Mac, i’m pissed that my fav characters are being used as tools to prop Desi.

One last thing before i say my final goodbyes:

The lighting in this episode was so weird. In almost every scene, heavy light effects distracted me. Usually they use it when they show you a flashback, a dream or a hallucination to seperate the real-time scenes from others. But this episode had them from the start to the end. So i don’t know what to make of this.

Some of the dialogues had subtexts…

Leland to Russ: Now, I know you don't care about much in this world, but even the best of us can be blinded by those we love.

General Ma to Mac: I was blinded by him (Leland) once. I-I won't be blinded again.

Mac: Many things blind us. Anger, betrayal, even love. But sometimes, a little blindness can work to your advantage. You can create a fog that will cause the world around you to disappear.

Normally i would dive deep into the subtextland. But i don’t think the writers were trying to give some deep message or anything. 

I do believe that Mac is totally blinded by his “idea” of love… But i’m done waiting for him to open his eyes. The Mac i watched in this episode is not My Mac.

Writers made their choice. They made Mac's feelings crystal clear. He's all about Desi. At this point, Desi breaking up with him would mean nothing to me. Just like Riley still having feelings for Mac means nothing anymore.

Official accounts tweeting “There’s more to come for MacRiley” means nothing to me anymore.

Noone wants a rebound plot but unfortunately it's the only possibility they left to MacRiley. My ship is tainted forever. 

And as a Riley stan, i don’t want this Mac with my girl. She deserves better.

[sothatmyocshauntmealittleless]

No time to die - part 1/2

->part 2

author's note: so this is a piece I started writing when I got bored in a family gathering like two years ago, and I rewrote it recently. This is the first part and I haven't finished editing the rest but I estimate that there would be one or two more parts. The story is about two high school friends that meet after five years of having no contact with each other and their confrontation. Also the name is inspired by the song with the same name by Billie Eilish 'cause I was listening to it while writing a part of this and the song really suits the relationship between the characters.

~1800 words

I’m feeling a burning ache in my abdomen, and my mind is full of different scenarios that this could lead to, one worse that the other. What if I call an ambulance? I answer myself within a fraction of a second that it wouldn’t lead to pleasant things though the alternative which is bleeding to death isn’t ideal either. So just when I’ve finally convinced myself to pick up the phone and call an ambulance before I pass out, a name crosses my mind. It’s the best and the worst thing that I can do at the same time, but well sometimes your survival instincts would take over your overthinking abilities, no matter how strong they are. And despite all my hesitation, I know the number by heart.

She picks up the phone after few rings, “Hello?”, I’m a bit thrown off by how her voice is the same but her tone is different from the last time I’ve heard her, “Hi”, my voice shakes and I don’t know if it’s from the injury or hearing her voice again. “Riley? Is that you?”, somehow she could recognize me from just that one word and at least her tone is less formal now. “Yeah it’s me, listen I wanted to ask if you could come here now if you can, but it’s totally fine if you can’t make it.” Maybe it’s the shock of hearing someone from your past, or my shaky voice that she agrees to come without any other questions and I tell her my address in the calmest pace I can.

Until she arrives I spend my time overthinking on how bad of an idea it was to call her, and why would she even bother herself with my problems anymore, like who in their right mind would hurry in the middle of the night to heal someone from their past that they tried so hard to abandon. But careful knocks on the door save me from my thoughts. I open the door and for a moment think that the option of bleeding to death at least could’ve saved me from the awkwardness of this, before I manage to say “Thank you so much for coming, I really didn’t want to trouble you”, she replies “Not that I love getting surprise calls at midnight but what’s the occasion?” and then she takes a look at me with her perfect hazel eyes and sees it, the blood soaking my shirt and says “holy fuck Ri, what did… what happen- it doesn’t matter now”

It takes her only few moments to get into her other sleeve, the doctor she was trained to be, giving orders and analyzing the situation, only stopping once to curse me under her breath that I should’ve told her to bring her medical stuff and that I’m a lucky bastard that she didn’t come totally unprepared. Then her inner doctor takes charge completely. I tell myself maybe outer, you know it’s who she is now, heal first talk later that’s what she does.

“Take your shirt off”, I obey without making a snarky comment because even I can tell it would be inappropriate. I can’t really describe the process of her stitching me up, because I’ve never been a big fan of surgeries to the point I even skip them when they come up in movies, and maybe beside how pain makes everything hazy, I can’t wrap my head around the idea of her hands on me.

When it’s done she gives me some final instructions and tells me to don’t move from where I’m sitting for at least half an hour. Then standing in front of me without taking a step, she looks at her watch and her gaze lingers to the door and I know she’s thinking about leaving, but decides against it, at least for now.

“So are you gonna tell me how this happened?”, she asks gesturing towards my wound that is now stitched and bandaged. I guess I’m too exhausted for anything but the truth so I say “I was working on a case, and it didn’t end well.” She glares at me, “Well I can see that clearly, but how did it turn that way?”, “my client was a small business going to court against a big company, I had some dirty things on them but they weren’t enough proof so I was looking for more and they sent someone to scare me off I think, but um I tried to resist and it escalated quickly and I got a nice killer knife wound.” “It wasn’t fatal,” she says, “What?” I reply a bit shocked, “I said it wasn’t fatal, the knife didn’t go that deep, what? You thought I could fix a fatal cut with couple of stiches?” to that I mumble that I really trust her abilities and she rolls her eyes. I think at this point we’re past the formal greetings and small talks and now that the crisis is over she seems done with my shit so she continues “So you’ve finally fulfilled your dreams and became the woman you’ve always aspired to be, a detective/lawyer hunting down bad guys and giving them what they deserve” she doesn’t even try to hide the bitterness in her voice, and so if we’re going there now, I won’t try to hide it from mine either, “And you’ve became a doctor, a life you have dreamed of from the beginning, never even thinking to be anything else.”

She sighs and drops to the couch in front of me, “So this is the time that you’ve finally decided to talk about it.” It doesn’t sound like a question, more like a statement. Maybe being in pain and exhausted sharpens your edges and makes the things you’ve hidden carefully to snap free because I can’t hold back when I say: “Says the one who just abandoned me overnight and decided to part ways forever without even a heads up.” The thing is I’ve imagined having this conversation so many times in so many different situations, that it actually happening doesn’t feel real, it feels like another one of those fantasies in my head except she is really here now, and my pulse is betraying me by beating so damn fast.

“I didn’t abandon you, If I had you’d still be bleeding.” And a part of me wants to just accept that and move on and embrace her, because I’ve missed her, hell I’ve missed her so much I want to hug her and never let go, and we have a lot to catch up on too, five years worth of memories. Five years that we were no more than outside observers in each other's lives, but the stronger part, the part that’s been hurting ever since wants to have this conversation, needs to have this conversation or else I would never stop imagining it in my head.

“Well maybe our definition of abandonment is a bit different, ‘cause changing your life course and treating me like a stranger and pretending like all our planning and dreaming for future never happened sure as hell fits in mine.”

“I never treated you like a stranger, you were the one who decided to not talk to me and have anything to do with me anymore and cut contact completely”

“Because I couldn’t do it like that anymore, like I was just another one in your new class, as if we didn’t have history, like what we had wasn’t something more. We used to joke about how disconnected we felt from them, not because we hated them because we were different, or at least I thought you were.”

“People change Riley.”

And for a few moments neither of us backfires anything else to the other, and my mind finds time to wonder for the thousandth time why we didn’t even call each other all these years. But well one of the things that made us close at first was how stubborn we were. I remember clearly when there was a debate competition in school and we were a team and crashed the whole thing. Beside our passion for the matter we were unstoppable, to the point that each match ended to the other team being like “dear god just let it go it’s over”, and remembering those days even now in the midst of this makes me a little calmer.

I can’t help but ask, “Was it because I tried to-“ before letting me finish she says “God no, you think I could transfer in a day? And for what? Not everything is about you, or what you do or what you want, I thought five years would be enough time to learn that”, and well I’ve always known that it was a coincidence that those two things happened successively. But deep down I couldn’t shove the idea away that it was all because she wanted to get away from me, that it was my fault and I shouldn’t have done it after all. I know that doubt has led me to be selfish, and to give up on trying to fix it, and to suffer more, and I don’t know how to defend it (or if I even should). Throughout all these years I’ve also imagined getting the answer to this question countless times, and how I’ll finally be at peace if I got this answer, but now I don’t feel relived as much as I wanted to.

“So you thought of me in those years?” I say in a hopeful tone still desperately clenching to this conversation, as if all this could be solved just if we have this talk. “Way to avoid my point right? You haven’t changed a bit, reckless and careless and always holding on to things that don’t matter much to the extent that you nearly got yourself killed,” but she says this in a kinder tone than the previous one, maybe even with a hint of worry in her voice. I finally give up on trying to get this conversation to fix it all, and decide that we’re too tired now, so I reply “I thought you said it wasn’t fatal.” A pause then, “It’s really late, are you going to leave now?” I hope that she can hear the silent ‘stay’ in what I just said. “I don’t think I can get a taxi now, can I? considering the time, and I don’t have the energy to explain all this to someone and wake them to pick me up”, “you can stay if you want?” and for all we’ve been through, I’m relieved when she agrees.

//end of part 1

->part 2

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes : RELOADED

Augustus' burner phone is the key to locating Nero but the team discovers that it's more than just Nero that's behind all of this. Will the former 141 soldiers find out what Nero is up to? Will Alex rescue Samantha?

Table of Contents

Hello! Ray's Back in his game!

Chapter 16 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

My Damsel in Distress

"Alex"

Task Force 141 - Disbanded

On a plane off to somewhere

General Shepherd.

The name sent Alex's blood boiling from rage. He couldn't believe that a high ranking official would actually betray them and could still run away from it.

It's no secret that he wanted 141 out of the Nero scene. But why? He knew full well that Samantha doesn't have access over the address but he still took her? And he also knew that this little team won't walk away without her safe. Alex wondered what's running inside the snow-caterpillar-stache's little brain. He couldn't even say his name now.

He clenched his fists, feeling the thick leather gloves he wore for battle. It was a devastating day for him. They just bonded for a few moments here and there and now she’s already taken away from him. He couldn’t keep count how many times it happened. It was frustrating.

“So, which safehouse are you bringing us today?” Alex joked with his former CO. Jack looked serious as always, he never gets these kinds of humor.

“Same one in Brazil. It’s the most forgotten and spacious. No one’s going to come looking for us in South America.” Jack replied, looking worriedly at Alex.

“I know when you’re preoccupied Alex. What happened afterward?” Jack turned to him and Alex knew he had to open up. He deserved the truth anyway.

“I uh… I fell for her, Jack. I know I told you that I won’t but it just hit me.”

“Like a fucking brick…” Jack interrupted and chuckled.

“All I can say is that you’ve done a better job than I did when I fell in love. I could still see your determination towards your work. Or maybe because she’s still involved in all of this.” he added, causing Alex to relax his tensed shoulders.

“It’s good to have you back, old man.” Alex shook his hand and smiled. With all the problems around him, it was good to have someone close to him to talk to. He was glad Nero didn't kill him back in the Gulag.

“Yeah. Me too, and it looks like you’ve got yourselves a determined bunch. Especially that guy.” he noted, pointing to Soap who was sitting with France. Alex remembered how the two of them met at the Gulag and in that short span of time Jack was able to read the whole guy’s personality.

“Soap? Yeah, he’s an achiever. Heard he’s top of every obstacle course back at the base.” Alex mused, looking at the two. They were sitting together quietly but Alex felt jealous. He could've been doing that with Samantha right now. Now that she's ready to hear the truth about them.

"Yeah. He's got some fight in him. I'm sure we'll defeat Nero even with this little band right here. And I'll do my best to be of assistance to you." he patted Alex's shoulder and went back to check on Nikolai.

~

Safehouse 110197, Brazil

Alex remembered that this place was compromised, but then again that was the CIA mole's henchmen that found them here and they're no longer affiliated with Nero. Or he picked this place because no one would think of going back here after being compromised. The Reverse Psychology card. Either way, Alex didn't mind.

As the team slowly scattered around the house and prepared everything, Alex took note of some changes since his last visit. More beds were added and supplies got restocked. Even the bullet cache looked reloaded.

The team loaded off everything they salvaged, or stole, from the 141 and set it all up. Ghost prioritized the tech stuff while the women fixed the bedrooms. Alex offered help but was denied by Gary saying "Your face still hurts so don't over exert yourself, we can do this on our own."

So Alex plopped by the central couch as Ghost untangle the wires, putting them on their respective slots.

"You holding up okay?" The masked man asked as soon as Alex released a deep sigh.

"I'm worried about Samantha." he replied, resting his hands on the back of his head.

"She doesn't have the address, what does Shepherd want from her?" Alex added, his tone raised like a kid complaining.

"I have no idea. But I do have something else. Information on the surprise attack at the 141." Ghost said, as Jack and Price moved toward them and discussed the contents of Augustus' phone.

"That bastard gave away our location." Price cursed.

"So his plan to disband us would be successful." Alex added and Ghost nodded.

"Why get Samantha though? He knows we'll be coming for him." Ghost added and the rest of them speculated their theories.

"Augustus failed to get her so Shepherd did it for him? For what?" Jack noted, reviewing their whole mission for reference.

"Something bigger, I presume." Price spat and everyone fell silent. The rest of the team except for Gary and Maxine gathered for a short briefing. Everyone gave away their take as to why, some of them made sense while some reasons don't add up. And thinking about it was only making them more frustrated.

Everyone looked serious until they inhaled the fresh aroma of dinner from the kitchen. Alex turned and saw Gary and Maxine, smiling while serving up the team's dinner. He could sense something him and Samantha once shared in this place and it looked like the Safe house did it's charm once again.

"Now that's bloody good cookin'" Price announced and everyone laughed. He wasn't the kind of person to say those kinds of things, but he did, and it was all they needed to ease the tension of not knowing what's next.

They never gathered like this before, together, happy and noisy. The two oldies sat on the opposite edges of the round table while Soap, France, Gary and Maxine sat beside each other on the left. Simon and Alex sat on the other side, an empty chair resided beside them.

"Don't worry lad, we'll rescue her." Price muttered and Jack nodded. Alex smiled as they started to eat some food.

"Hold on a minute!" Soap exclaimed causing everyone to halt.

"Thank you Lord for thy blessings which we are about to receive. Amen." he muttered while everyone looked at him.

"Amen!" they all said in unison and wolfed down Gary and Maxine's delicious meal.

"This tastes so good! Just like Mom used to make!" Francine chewed happily. Maxine stared at her supposed to be sister and smiled.

"It does?" she breathed.

"Mmhmm.. I was always jealous that you two were so close together in the kitchen, everything I touch turns to a culinary mess." she frowned and made everyone else laugh. Soap stared at her in amazement.

"You and me both, France." Jack agreed. The gang bonded throughout dinner and enjoyed the company. Alex volunteered on the dishes and France offered to help.

"You think she's going to be fine?" Maxine asked as she checked the contents of the fridge, looking at Alex who looked very focused on the dishes he's cleaning.

"She's been kidnapped a lot of times now. I think she's used to it." Alex attempted to joke, but the tone of his voice was far from kidding.

"Aye, That lassie's a tough one. Don't worry Alex. We'll get her, Shepherd's bound to make a mistake anytime soon." Soap commented from behind him while leaning on the kitchen island.

"I told you I can handle assisting Alex on my own!" France giggled as she wiped the plates dry.

"Aye! I know! Can't a man just enjoy some time with his girlfriend?" he raised his hand mocking surrender. France turned back and crossed her arms.

"Ahem. Girl space Friend. There's a space in between." she scolded and MacTavish just chuckled.

"Whatever you say, Babe." he joked once again as he stepped out of the kitchen.

"Ugh. That guy's so full of himself." France groaned. Alex and Maxine exchanged glances and laughed, causing the female soldier to worry.

"What?" she asked.

"You two look cute together." Maxine chuckled, closed the fridge and walked away.

"We're not together!" France yelled, making sure Maxine would hear it wherever she went.

"We will be soon!" Soap exclaimed from outside, followed by collective laughter from the group of men with him.

~

Alex groaned and looked at his watch. It's already 3:36 am and he couldn't sleep. He slowly got up and looked around. On the huge bed, Jack and Price slept peacefully as evidenced by the loud snoring. Beside him on the floor was Soap, Roach and an empty spot where Ghost was supposed to sleep. The girls occupied the guest room.

Alex slowly got up and carefully assisted his metal leg, trying not to make noise as he waltzed to the balcony where he suspected Ghost to be.

And he was right, Ghost sat by the railings on the terrace, not a single expression of fear etched on his face. A face Alex saw for the first time.

"Can't sleep?" the former CIA asked. Ghost slowly turned his head and nodded.

"I'm just contemplating…" he muttered, the tone of his voice sound defeated.

"We caught ourselves in a crazy situation, huh?" Alex chuckled trying to make the best of the situation. Ghost didn't seem to like the vote of happiness as he clicked his tongue and sighed.

"I'm into France… but it looked like she's happier with John." he spat. From what Alex heard from Roach, Ghost was not the kind of person to open up. And this was all too surprising for him.

"I… uh…" Alex stammered.

"Look, I'm also sorry… You don't have to reply… I was about to vent to Gary about this but he seemed too preoccupied with Maxine and I didn't want to bother him."

"Look, it's okay. Ghost."

"It's Simon, Simon Riley."

"It's okay Simon. That's life. You win some, you lose some." he consoled. He tried to make it as positive as possible but he was also down in the dumps, like him.

"Thanks for the honesty. I just realized how devastated you must be. I never got to hear your story until Gary told me. It must've been tough losing her over and over again." Gary talked without looking at him.

"It's like I've been cursed to lose her and save her all over again." Alex complained.

"Like Link." Simon announced like it's a great metaphor which Alex didn't get.

"Link?"

"Like from the video game. Where this knight was always out to save her damsel in distress. It's got many different variations but it's always the same name. Generations have passed and Link was always destined to save Zelda." he said in amusement.

"My damsel in distress…" Alex noted and looked up at the stars, wishing that wherever Samantha may be, he hoped she's safe and also thinking of him.

Next Chapter : Delayed Flight

Notification Squad my beloved

@smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @whimsywispsblog @beemybee @ricinbach

[pvremichigan]

Until We Meet Again. [Arc Drabble]

TW: Vomit, blood, alcoholism mention, murder mention, memory loss

“From the look of it, I think I only need one more. Does it have to be specific? ...”

“No... Alright, makes things a lot easier. Yeah... Yeah make sure you keep contact with him, keep trying. Do whatever you gotta do.”

The voice on the other line spoke back, giving Mich a short verbal response.

“I appreciate the help. I do. One more and... Yeah, I’ll head over. When?”

The woman looked outside the window, her heart sinking the more she thought about the outcome. This was now or never... And if she hesitated, she wouldn’t be able to go through with it. It’s just her... Just her at this point. She can’t deny the fear that built up inside, but time was running too thin.

The house was nearly covered inside with sticky notes about reminders and tasks, labels and tips. It looked like a damn video game tutorial... Everywhere there was SOMETHING about something or someone. Names scattered the notes, scribbled the more she had to remind herself. This morning she had gotten confused and a bit startled at the sight of two wolves in her house. She had no idea what to do, especially considering they were following her. It took far more than a half an hour to remember that those are her own dogs... Not wolves. Their names slipped her mind more often than not.

She was a mess...

“... I’m going to shoot for tonight. Can’t stall anymore. Don’t wanna risk any of the souls losing value.”

She sounded so unsure. It was as if she was pulling away by the minute. Her brain screamed that she didn’t want to do this but at this point, she really has no choice. It’s either this... Or lose herself to the brink of death.

“Yeah- Yeah I’m still here. Just thinking. I know, I’ll uh...”

It’s getting dark.

“I’ll head out now. I’ll be in touch. Thanks, Carter.”

As soon as the call ended, the weight of Mich’s body seemed to drop her down on the couch. Her legs had given out and her hands began to shake. She felt extremely ill, blocking her mouth with her fist just in case. Her blood chilled her body, everything felt cold and numb aside from the sensation of a rapidly beating heart. Funny... Her heart doesn’t even do anything for her, yet it can still react to her mind and emotions. It certainly didn’t help the situation.

Her skin grew cold. Her face pale... All she could do was sit stranded on the couch with an anxiously bouncing leg. The sound of the world tuned out. It was only ringing... Ringing that grew louder and louder. For a moment she could’ve sworn she heard it outside of her mind. It sounded so close, so real... And so utterly loud. Her eyes stared forward in contempt, her entire being practically frozen in this loop of doing nothing but break internally. This was a prison for her, this fear had been the warden keeping her in place and refusing to let her truly approach her mistakes with vigor. The fear creating a cowardess she had to face in any reflection she walked by. The fist didn’t fix anything... A wave of blood forced it’s way out of her throat and past her lips, an unprepared silent wretch as she was forced to hunch forward, splattering onto the carpet. No bile, no mucus... Just pure blood. Her nerves got the best of her. The last time this happened... It was right after she had shot Ryan dead. She stared in shock, frozen yet again as the shaking grew worse. In that moment, flashes of that miserable night sparked in her mind. All six shots... The tears that dropped from her eyes... And the final view of Ryan desperately and weakly reaching to her before his body went limp... And he lay there dead. Since that moment, her life had spiraled downward. One mistake led to years of agony and misery.

The paralysis caused by her fear had broken as she ran her hands over her face, tired and stressed from everything that had to be done. There were too many thoughts of regrets and ‘what ifs’ and ‘if only i’... But no matter the rate of those thoughts that haunted her in this moment, it still didn’t change the fact that what was done, was done.

It had been over 3 years now... Compared to her lifespan, it was such a short time to deteriorate her mind. She never recognized the importance of a soul until her actions truly came to bite her in the ass.

Now she has no choice but to risk everything to fix her biggest mistake.

The movement out of the corner of her eye had caught her attention. the larger dog... B... The larger dog... The big one... The older dog... Why couldn’t she remember his name? Mich felt the sting of tears burn the entire area around her eyes as she truly realized in that moment how far gone she was and how there was no turning back. Her own dog, her main boy and she couldn’t even remember his name. As the reality of the situation hit, her heart had shattered into pieces. Louder and harsher than porcelain could ever dream or glass could ever achieve. The strongest material out there had shattered within it’s final moments of stability. What could anyone make of a pile of rubble, sharp and dangerous to bother with? There’s no gluing that back together.

There’s no mending that object that had been beaten by the owner and those around her. There’s no salvaging what she had.

The woman got up, legs growing weaker as she slowly and weakly made her way over to the dog. The ears of the boy lowered a bit, noticing his mother’s energy was like nothing he had sensed before. The redhead fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around the dog. The dog she owned and knew... But could not name. Her silent tears dampened his coat as she continued to hold him. This was her physical apology for everything. Everything this dog witnessed through these years. He watched her heart shatter after Brandon... Then swell after Ryan. He met his new brother who he loves dearly. He noticed Mich fall into a habit of alcoholism... Smoking more often. Altercations happening frequently if not daily. There were people she had made mad pounding at the door. The casualties and violence had skyrocketed, and there was less remorse to be found in her actions. He watched his mother fall into the worst parts of her life... Watched her breakdown after that floating man came into the picture. He watched her begin to avoid Riley and stray away from him. He watched her flinch at Riley’s name... He watched countless nights of her getting drunk and crying herself to sleep. He even watched several weeks straight go by where she didn’t get up from the couch once. Then slowly but surely... He watched her forget everything she’s ever known. Her legacy, her empathy, her mind, her family, herself... And the most painful part, her own dogs. Beaux head seemed to push against hers, as if he were holding her back to tell her he forgives her... That he still loves her. He always will.

That’s his mom...

It had been a while that she had remained on the floor with Beaux. Nearly an hour of an unmoving embrace. During that whole time she tried her hardest to recall his name... She felt like a failure when the point came to where she just couldn’t. This was it. This was the final stage of it all. If she doesn’t get to it soon... She will never be able to finish what she started.

She’ll never be able to heal.

“I don’t know your name, I’m sorry... But if I come ba- ... When I come back, things will be different... I promise. I promise you, big guy. I’ll do better. I’ll be better. I’ll be a better owner...”

“I’ll be a better mom.”

She nodded into his fur to assure him she’d return. Whether he understood her or not, the verbal promise was also a promise to herself. She will return. She doesn’t have a choice. She has things to do here... People need her.

But how long will it be...

“Take care of your brother...”

Sniffling a bit, she tries to break away to stand up, but Beaux kept his head locked around hers for just a moment longer. Strained whines nearly whistle tone whistled through his muzzle. He didn’t wanna let go... But knowing his time was up, he finally let her stand up. The whining still rang, as if his last plea for her safety. Beaux grew anxious, his paws adjusting and shifting as he sat. She gave him a tight smile, patting his head and bending down once more to give him a soft, loving kiss on the forehead. One more pet and she had to pry herself away. Not looking back, she headed down to the cellar to collect everything she needed. By everything, she means everything she needed. Because for a couple of months, or even years...

She won’t be coming back.

Jack hadn’t been home that day. It made it much easier for her to leave without a trace. She grabbed the bag full of things she needed, heading back up the stairs. Her gaze was glued to the door, her steps coming to a halt as her body forced one more hesitation.

‘It’s now or never.’

That was all she needed to break the concrete around her feet as she forced herself forwards to the door, grabbing the handle and forcing her body to twist it. As easy as a task that it was, her body’s fear was the biggest obstacle there was. A war had ensued within her, but the first battle was a success as Mich finally pried the door open and dragged herself out. She shut the door behind her, locking it up and taking a step away from the house to look at it as a whole. The memories she had... The pain these years have brought upon her. All that was to be left in the past. It’s time to finish this... It’s time to move on.

A shaky breath, she took one last good look at it. A long moment of preparation and perseverance... One last good look... Before she turned on her heel and took her final steps away. She can’t go back now. There’s no going back.

She didn’t look back.

‘Until we meet again.’

[msjr0119]

Cordonian Wags

Part 27

In a world full of Professional footballers and their demanding wives- can their football team nicknamed the ‘Cordonian Apples’ succeed? An American female physiotherapist joins the club. Will this cause issues with the footballers wives?

*This series is based on The Royal Romance characters who belong to Pixelberry - AU Plot switch. Other characters belong to me.*

Please do not read if you are under the age of 18. If you do you are consenting that you are over this age. If any of the below warnings affect you, please don’t continue to read.

Warnings: Mention of; sex scandal, drug scandal, prostitution, adultery, death, adultery, murder (past tense). Swearing 🤬

A/N: The first part of this chapter follows on from the previous chapter. Then there is a flash forward (six months). The chapters following on from this one will show certain characters POV’s from the last six months.

Previously: The team all try to piece together the events in Paphos from all those years ago. Drake believes that he has fathered a child after a one night stand after viewing the DNA results- but it’s not as everything seems. Catch up here.

Tags- if you want to be removed/added please let me know 😊: @drakexwillow @plumeriavibes @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bascmve01 @texaskitten30 @nikkis1983 @kimmiedoo5 @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @axwalker @yukinagato2012 @indiacater @rafasgirl23415 @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm @choices97 @shanzay44 @lovablegranny @gkittylove99

The morning after, everybody arrived at the stadium to prepare for the days match. All feeling the need to cover up the slight hangovers that they had occurred was proving to a difficult task. Adding to their headaches, was the scandal that Drake Walker had caused. A situation that as a group- they was determined to fix. Quickly.

Drake arrived onto the pitch first, needing any excuse to escape his own house. Having another woman stay there made him feel like he was cheating on Riley. Even if she had made it pretty clear that they couldn’t be together. There was an internal battle going off in his mind. How was he was going to inform her about the news that he had received the previous night? Of course he didn’t want the press to find out prior to her, she didn’t deserve that. But then he was wondering how she would react once she knew. Would she completely ghost him? Who knows.

****

The previous night once she had arrived back at Bastien’s, Riley stayed up the majority of the night researching the Paphos break on google. As a previous WAG herself she knew that events such as these would have been published by the paparazzi. There was no escaping or hiding from them. Her research showed photos of the men arriving at the clubs, hiding their identities as best as they could. But the last article that she stumbled across was based back in Cordonia- or so she believed. The majority of it involved what the Wags were up to whilst their men were away on the ‘lads holiday’ celebrating. Olivia had been for brunch with; Hana, Penelope and Savannah one of the day’s. However, what really caught Riley’s attention was a mystery woman in a nightclub with Madeleine- in Paphos. The two woman were snapped for the majority of the night and seemed pretty close- who was this woman, Riley wondered? If she was a close friend, why wasn’t Madeleine with her the majority of the time now? Zooming into the photo her eyes widened. Amy Amaranth. The name rang a bell for some reason but she couldn’t pin point as to why. It had rattled through her mind all night. Upon her arrival - she noticed Olivier and suddenly a lightbulb struck. Memories flooding back in an instant.

“Hey....” Sounding panic stricken, Olivier looked at her concerned.

“Bonjour belle. Que se passe-t-il?” Hello beautiful. What is the matter? Luckily Riley knew French, not fluently but enough to hold a basic conversation out.

“Amy Amaranth....” Riley didn’t need to elaborate, the look of horror was now painted across the Frenchman’s face.

“That’s a blast from the past...” Olivier hated the woman with a passion - as did most of the footballers. Those that had the sense to not become bewitched by her beauty.

“Sneak away with me for a bit? I need you to help refresh my memory, Olivier.” Nodding, he dropped the ball immediately before making their way off of the pitch. Swiftly.

****

It was half time. The Apples were beating their opponents- currently they were on a winning streak. Which made Bertrand especially proud. Riley made a beeline for Drake knowing that they only had a short amount of time before the second half kicked off.

“Congratulations, Walker.” Riley had noticed after the two goals that he had scored, he would look in her direction- smile. Then have the need to continue playing with a limited celebration.

“Thanks, Brooks..” Unable to make eye contact with her, he concentrated on wiping his boots.

“How are you?”

“As good as I can be. What about you?”

“Listen, Drake.... there’s something I need to tell you...” Ignoring his prior question, she felt the need to just get to the point.

“Don’t bother, I have an inkling about what it is...” Drake put his boots back on, avoiding looking at his ex girlfriend- he stood up and made his way towards the door. Not really wanting this conversation to continue.

“You do?” Riley questioned, hoping that they were both on the same wavelength. If Drake already knew what she needed to inform him about, it would make the whole situation a lot simpler.

“You’ve begun to see, Berger. Hence why you didn’t want to fight for us.”

“I’m not a slut, Drake!”

“Really? You slept with me when I had a girlfriend. You snuck off with him before. What was it? A quick fuck in the changing rooms? Wishing him good luck?”

“No! About us.... How dare you! It takes two to tango!”

“I don’t want to hear it, Ri. I wanted to marry you. Then you ditch me at the first sign of trouble..”

“Myself and Olivier are friends. We have been for many years. Nothing more, nothing less. You know what? It’s a good job that you never got down on one knee because if I’m so much of a ‘slut’ you’d have regretted it. Don’t bother even talking to me until you can say sorry. I can apologise for apparently ditching you- I wanted for you to have the opportunity to get to know your potential child. You wanted kids. I couldn’t give you that. Why am I even arguing with you? I needed to tell you something important, but you know what- fuck you. When it all ends in tears don’t come crawling back to me.” Barging past him, she decided to not look back. If Drake Walker didn’t want to acknowledge anything that she needed to tell him- there would be no way back for the two of them.

“Ri, wait!”

“Leave her. Drake, what the fuck is up with you?” Liam snapped towards his teammate after overhearing the raised voices. As Riley left, she shook her head and provided a deflated expression. Olivier had explained to Liam about Amy just before the match had officially begun. He was determined to help his friends out- but now was unsure as to how to do that.

“Would you leave Liv if you was in my situation? No, I didn’t think so. The blonde bimbo arrived yesterday with her bags packed. I’m stuck with her. I’ve lost Riley for good even without that outburst.”

“Drake, nobody knows about my true relationship with Olivia. We seem like the ‘Posh and Becks’ of Cordonia. But we have an open relationship. You and Riley are different -that is true love, fate. People are fucking with you both for revenge. Next time she tries to explain something to you, listen to her. Trust me. Trust her.”

****

Later on that evening, it was like mission impossible avoiding the paparazzi for Liam and Riley. Meeting in secret, Olivier then joined them in a secluded location. Out of the way of prying eyes. Using a rental car, there would be no reason for anybody to follow them. They had one aim- to warn Drake about Amy. The objective, go to the cabin to do this. Debating whether or not to just blurt the information out? Talk in a civil manner? Would Amy still be there too? Whatever was to happen, it needed to be done.

“So you two, did you both prefer it in the UK or here?” Liam asked breaking the silence surrounding the car journey.

“Neither, by the sounds of it Cordonia is as bad as Manchester for the drama. I’m glad I wasn’t here when Xavier was, I’d have killed him for all of what he put you through, Ri. But enough about us, Liam what about you? Would you ever move clubs?”

“Never say never. But at the moment I’m content where I am.”

Shortly after the brief drive, they arrived at Drake’s cabin- but remained in the car for a bit. Rehearsing what exactly they was going to say, creating different scenarios. After a while, they agreed to just be spontaneous. Riley and Olivier walked to the front door, or rather dragged themselves there. Both feeling slightly nervous about seeing the devil again after all of these years. Knocking quietly, they waited.

Drake, please can we talk?... I’m sorry about before, but there’s something you need to know....Drake, I know her. We know her. She’s not what she seems.....Amy can be sweet but she’s a psycho.

Shit. I’ve forgotten what to say.

Hearing the door creak open, Riley’s thoughts were cut short. Initial shock to begin with made her body stiffen and her brain turn to mush- not having the ability to function. That was until she witnessed the woman’s cocky smirk.

“Oh it seems we have the wrong address, Olivier. I must have amnesia- I believed that this home belonged to Drake Walker...”

“Have we been transported back to Manchester in the tardis, Riley? Bonjour, Amy - long time no see. How is your bit on the side, Aleksandr Chernyshevsky? Last I heard from him, he was playing for Arsenal. So why are you here? How is little Jenson?”

“Aleksandr must be missing his son. His son who you accused so many of the premier league players for fathering, Jenson. Including Xavier. My Xavier.”

“How nice to see you both. Again. If I was you, I’d leave now. You think that the last few months or in your case Riley- years, have been a nightmare. If you both carry on interfering it will go from bad to worse...” There was a slight distance between Riley and Olivier- but as Amy threatened this he could sense that his friend was about to do something that she could regret.

“You bit-“ Preventing Riley from continuing

“Leave her. Don’t be silly. You know how her mind works. She’s poison.”

“Oh, Olivier - you do make me laugh. Anyone would think with your words that I’m a snake.” Standing infront of Riley- the footballer had wished that it was Drake who had answered the door.

“Riley, it’s not nice to swear or shout. So...Shhh, Drake is putting his son to bed remember. Goodnight to you both.” Slamming the door behind her, she hoped that Drake hadn’t been earwigging. Sitting comfortable on the sofa, Drake finally came downstairs- pouring himself a drink before joining her.

“He’s fast asleep. This is the last night though, Amy. If that’s your real name.”

“Of course it is. I mean, people call me Amz for short. Why would you even suggest that? You saw the paperwork with both of our details on it.” Drake thought long and hard about the paperwork- to begin with the only information he was interested in was viewing the fathers details. After the initial shock, he had studied it as if it was part of some crime evidence. Something just wasn’t ‘adding up’ - especially with what the young boy had mentioned to him during the bedtime story whilst in a daze.

Mommy is lying about the name. I want to go home.

“I did indeed see the paperwork. Some things just don’t add up- that’s all. Maybe I’m just paranoid?”

“Well, don’t be. I know that you are still heartbroken over, Rachel....” Purposely mentioning the wrong name, she had hoped that this little ‘mistake’ would help with her plan succeeding.

“It’s, Riley! And I don’t want to talk about her with you when you don’t know her...” That’s what you think.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you....” Providing him with an ‘over the top’ hug, she hoped that being affectionate could be the key to his heart. “But I’m always here if you need to talk. We have a son together. Nothing more. Unless you wanted more that is. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Amy... wait!” Pausing for a moment, he knew to trust his own mind. “Do you want a drink with me?” A drunk mind always speaks the truth.

****

After leaving Drakes, Riley felt like a failure - the men could sense that in the morbidly silent car ride home. Both trying to begin any conversation to get her to respond, with no luck. Olivier had even brought up a story that had always made her laugh. It included how she had tortured him when wasn’t completing his physio correctly. Listening to Spice Girls on a loop.

“Ri, just leave it. Drake isn’t that stupid. He will soon find out the truth. We will bring this bitch down.” Liam said in a determined tone of voice, Olivier agreeing as they arrived at the Rys’s mansion.

“How long will it take us to do that though, Liam?” In all honesty he didn’t know the answer- but felt the need to remain positive for everyone that was involved.

“We’ve all managed between us all to cover up two murders. I promise you, once the truth is out regarding this child - the club will not have anymore scandals. We will remain the best team in Cordonia- and redeem any past mistakes. We’re all in this together.”

“As much as I like Leo...you’d make the better captain, Liam. Thank you for all your help.” Gently kissing him on the cheek, Liam held her tight for a while.

****

Six months later...

Prison time for Apples player? Can his year become any worse than it’s already been? I’m surprised he is still being chosen to play.

Sex scandal- one of the brunette beauties is apparently pregnant? Who is she pregnant with? She seems to be making her way through the team.

Divorce rumours for one of the Apples ‘golden couples’!

Drug scandal and prostitutes!

Match fixing?

Secret relationship uncovered!

Apples player disappears! Where is he? Why has he gone? What are the Apples going to do now?

Ex WAG dies mysteriously. The third person linked to the team. Who’s next on the ‘hit list’?

What does all of this mean for the Apples? They’ve had a rough six months between them all ever since the love child scandal with Walker. A few of the players are playing in the World Cup friendly between Cordonia and France tonight- I wouldn’t place any money on Cordonia winning which has the majority of the Apples players. It would go down the gutter like the club is.

Bertrand slammed the laptop screen down. Almost smashing it. It was bad enough having the commentators criticism during matches. But now every social media platform was joining in at any opportunity. His team wasn’t the only team to have scandals. In his mind he described it all as ‘tragic’ and ‘unlucky’. For some reason the paparazzi were just attracted to them. Like a bad smell. Focusing his gaze onto his young son, he hoped that Bartie would avoid the footballer lifestyle in the future.

No more scandals. No more shit. Think positive, Bertrand! We’ve had enough of that. No wonder I’m prematurely turning grey. Tonight is going to be a good night.

“Bertrand, are you okay?”

“I’m dandy, Sav. Is the babysitter here?”

“Yes.” Studying her husbands tense body, she really wished that he would and could retire early. The stress that he had was causing issues not only with the team but with his marriage. “You need to calm down, my love. Riley is the same. You’re both panicking but neither of you are involved with the national team. It’s a day off for the two of you.”

“No, but my reputation is. My players who have all caused scandals are playing- minus one because he’s gone awol. Your brother should have done a disappearing act instead! All of this shit happened after his love child scandal. He’s a lia-“ Hearing the familiar voice call for his wife- Bertrand prevented his vicious tongue from continuing. Taking a deep breath- he lead his wife downstairs, where they were greeted by a smiley face. An expression that was cleverly hiding/masking a fusion of mixed feelings.

“Hello, Riley. Sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“I was just going to wait in the car, but I’m desperate for the toilet. May I use it, please?”

“Well I’m not going to allow you to ruin my floor am I? I can order a taxi so you don’t have to drive.”

“Bertrand, I’m fine driving. I’m not drinking and you both know why. So I may as well do it. I’ll be two minutes.” Bertrand began pacing the room, Riley’s ‘two minutes’ seemed to last a lifetime. Eventually she joined the Beaumont’s before making their way towards her car. Riley completely oblivious to the tension between the married couple during the drive spoke positively about the upcoming match. All Bertrand could think about was which person would cause the next possible scandal.

****

Euphoria echoed around the stadium in central Cordonia. Even with all of the scandals, there was still that slight support from ‘die hard fans’.

In the tunnel, players from both sides were psyching themselves up- it was only a friendly but the French side apart from Olivier were providing snide remarks to their opponents.

“Bonne Chance! Just ignore my brothers. Ce sont des trous.” Olivier said to Drake - hoping that the match would end a draw and finish in a civil manner. Tonight he was playing piggy in the middle- wanting to stay loyal to his national team as well as his current team.

“Whatever, Berger!”

“What he means, is good luck to you too - Olivier. Isn’t that right, Drake?”

“Merci, Captain! I’ll catch up with you after the match...” Watching the French team make their way towards the pitch, Drake turned to his friend as soon as Olivier was out of view.

“Rys! I can speak for myself. I can say what I want. I’d have thought that out of everybody I could trust you to defend me. Not belittle me. These last few months you’ve been practically non existent to me.”

“I’m sorry about that. I’ve been busy dealing with my own shit. Your issues have been self inflicted. Now grow some balls and don’t fuck this match up. Be civil with everyone- including Olivier. He’s done nothing wrong to you. I’m relying on you tonight and so is Bradshaw. You need to redeem yourself. You’ve been given this opportunity to play tonight by our manager- unlike Bertrand who’s kept you benched all of these months.”

“Don’t you think that I feel shit about myself as it is without that wanker punishing me? He may be my brother in law but I hate him. I’ve lost everything. Everyone. I needed you L-“ Before Drake could continue, Maxwell came bounding over. Hyper as always.

“Guys... quick question before we go on to the pitch... Why is Olivier wearing blue and out there with the French team? He’s one of us.”

“Because he’s fucking French you absolute dipstick!” Drake snapped towards a confused Maxwell. Eventually he laughed at himself. At his own stupidity. As Drake was still scowling, and rolling his eyes - Maxwell decided to defend himself. Which was something that he rarely did. “Hey! Don’t take your shit out on me. I forgot. Jesus, Drake. You know I’m not the brightest person. It’s not my fault that you’ve messed your life up. No wonder, Riley doesn’t talk to you anymore. I’m beginning to think about doing the same if you continue to talk to me like I’m a piece of shit!”

“For your information, Beaumont.... Ri has spoken to me. A lot more than any of you have!”

“Oh, really?” Drake gulped as Maxwell asked this in a sarcastic manner. Knowing full well that he was lying with his previous statement regarding Riley- he wished that it was true. That she would talk to him more often. At this moment in time, receiving the odd text from her was better than nothing. Baby steps, he kept reminding himself.

“Yes, she came to visit me in the cell. I didn’t ask her to- but she did. She still loves me, I know deep down that she does.” The two men looked at each other not knowing what to say. Not needing a reason to cause Drake to possibly ‘rage’ again. Maxwell knew that he was already a target for Drake’s mouth to sprout abuse towards- so decided to inform his friend about some home truths.

“When you was arrested... well... she may have come to visit you. To talk to you. But that’s all it was, Drake. Since then, Riley has dealt with a lot. She’s having a good life now- actually dating again. We only know because Savannah let it slip when she was drunk.” Remaining silent, not knowing how to respond- many questions were now floating throughout Drake’s mind. Forcing himself onto the pitch, he looked up into the crowd and immediately spotted Savannah and Riley whispering in each other’s ears. Laughing. Smiling. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had witnessed Riley looking so cheerful. Thinking back to the last words that she had physically spoken to him - he now knew that he needed to get his act together. If not only for his sake, but for everybody.

Forget about the past. Bertrand has tried to sort your shit out. I don’t know if he has succeeded or not. But for now, you need to publicly apologise to the fans as well as the man that you could have potentially killed.

[ambitionsource]

AMBITION Season 3 ♫ “Can You Dig It?” [ 3.07 ]

CREATED BY Esther (waterstribe) & Maggie (quincywillows) || Official Page || AO3

STAYIN’ ALIVE – After an unfortunate accident, the A class finds themselves working double time to fund their showdown performance. Charlie struggles to balance the past and the present, and Maya makes a desperate move. Farkle receives news that changes his life forever.

70 Minutes (33K words) || No content warnings apply.

[ ← The Comfort Zone ] [ S3 Synopsis ] [ Moment of Truth → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

EXT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Music plays over the sound system, setting a comfortable and fun scene while most of the A class works together on the auditorium stage. The performers are working through showdown choreography or helping put the finishing touches on set pieces for the production, while the techies are split between those set pieces, the beginning of structures for their upcoming winter musical, and tweaking the lights. JEFF MONROE is up on the catwalk out of sight, NATE MARTINEZ perched on top of a scaffolding and passing him requested tools. DAVE WILLIAMS is balancing on a ladder against the scaffolding, helping hand things to Nate from below.

MAYA HART has taken over as dance captain, shouting commands at her classmates still running through steps. ZAY BABINEAUX watches from on top of the major set piece they’re building at center stage for the musical, unimpressed and maybe a bit envious. His injured left leg is now in a boot, wheelchair gone.

The conversation varies, from the impending showdown finals to college application deadlines. Everything is coming down the pipeline at record speed, right towards them, and they have to juggle it all at once. RILEY MATTHEWS glances around and asks where Jade is, which ISADORA DE LA CRUZ answers.

Isadora: She’s been locked up in the costume loft basically since last week. The deadline for her conservatory and apprenticeship programs is closing in, so she’s been working basically non-stop.

Maya: How does she not have enough samples already? Hasn’t she made everything we’ve ever worn in this school for the last three years?

A fair question, but it doesn’t get addressed. They’re all distracted by a new song coming on shuffle, playing loudly over the speakers.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Boogie Wonderland” as performed by Earth, Wind & Fire || Instrumental

Although the track is an undeniable bop, the assembled A class seniors don’t seem impressed. They all quickly pipe up to complain, calling for someone to skip it.

Darby: Where’s Jeff? Jeff! Hit skip!

Jeff, from above: A little busy right now!

Maya: Well someone better go change it!

Haley: And risk getting killed by Lucas because we dared enter the booth? No thanks.

Maya: Fair point. Riley, go change it.

Riley, in the midst of rolling paint on a set piece, raises her free arm in a shrug. Also a little busy. Zay shakes his head.

Zay: What is wrong with all of you? None of you have taste. Disco is classic. You should respect the excellence that came before you.

Maya: Sorry I’m not still living in the 20th century. It’s 2020, Zayby. Disco is dead.

Zay: You absolutely disgust me. If my foot wasn’t booted --

NIGEL CHEY finally relents amidst all their complaints, claiming he’ll risk his life to go change it if it will get them all to shut up.

For now, though, the boogie wonderland is ongoing. FARKLE MINKUS uses the opportunity to pick on Isadora, loosely disco grooving around her and trying to poke her into joining him. She laughs but tells him to cut it out, and when he gets too close, she playfully shoves him away.

Only she’s stronger than she looks, and he’s a beanpole, so she overshoots and pushes him a bit too hard. Farkle goes stumbling backwards -- right into the ladder that’s holding up Dave. Isadora yanks Farkle back just as the ladder falls out from under Dave, just missing Nigel, clattering to the stage next to them and creating a dent.

Dance! Boogie wonderland!

A bunch of the seniors cry out, scrambling away, now watching in horror as Dave dangles from the side of the scaffolding a dozen or so feet above the ground. He almost loses his grip, seconds from falling, and Maya screams. She backs away frantically and knocks into a paint can, spilling metallic silver paint all over their perfectly crisp black stage and splattering CLARISSA CRUZ, DARBY WINTERS, and SARAH CARLSON.

Ah! Ah! Dance!

Jeff and a couple of performers start shouting directives at Dave, trying to save him from a nasty fall off the scaffolding. Nate tries to pull him up, but it’s no use -- Dave is the giant after all, and Nate’s guns aren’t that swoll. Riley hides behind her hands, peeking through her fingers and unable to look away.

Riley: Oh my God, he’s gonna die.

Isadora takes over directing from below, instructing Dave to change trajectory and aim for the curtains to orient himself. Jeff objects to that, citing the integrity of the curtain pulley system, but he’s shouted down by the performers jumping on Isadora’s suggestion. Suddenly, everyone is yelling at Dave to go for the curtains, so that’s what he does.

Jeff: No, don’t -- !

All… the… love in the world can’t be gone!

Dave manages to latch onto the main curtain -- but it’s all downhill from there. That curtain is about as useless as Nate, and the pulley system holding it upright can only sustain so much weight (curtains are a lot heavier than they look). So the moment Dave latches on, it buckles underneath him, and seconds later the whole thing comes down in a spectacular show of destruction.

The A class scatters to avoid it, ducking down and covering their heads. Clarissa pulls HALEY FISHER down behind a set piece with her for cover; Farkle yanks Isadora out of the way and shields her behind him. Zay screws his eyes shut and hides behind his knee, thankfully a safe distance away. Then the dust settles, stunned silence giving way to the continuing groovy sounds of Earth, Wind, & Fire.

Riley pokes her head out from behind the set piece she was painting first, eyeing the heap of curtains and rods on the dented stage floor. She swallows.

Riley: … Dave?

For a moment, nothing but tense silence… from above, Nate releases a gasp.

Nate: Holy shit, we’ve killed him.

Then Dave emerges, pushing some dense drapery off of him and pushing himself into a sitting position. He seems dazed, but otherwise uninjured.

Jeff: Oh, thank God.

Isadora: Dave… you good buddy?

Dave blinks, then offers a thumbs up. Everyone releases a sigh of relief… just as SHAWN HUNTER and HARPER BURGESS enter into the scene of chaos, having rushed in after hearing the commotion from down the hall. In the opposite wings, LUCAS JAMES FRIAR returns with DYLAN ORLANDO and ASHER GARCIA, all of whom stop dead in their tracks when they set their eyes on the disaster they’ve stumbled into. Asher’s jaw drops open; Dylan drops the toolbox he was carrying.

Whoopsie. Boogie wonderland…

From his perch atop the set piece, Zay breaks the silence, shaking his head.

Zay: Shoulda never dissed disco.

Cue title sequence.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

JACK HUNTER is seated at his desk, working to maintain a neutral composure as HARRISON YANCY paces his office. He’s haughty and on offense, demanding to know what happened with the auditorium and grilling Jack for details. Of all the things he planned to tangle with at Adams, vandalism and destruction of school property was not at the top of the list.

Yancy: But, then, I suppose I should’ve anticipated such a turn of events. Considering you’ve struggled with reining in destruction before, and insisted so vehemently on keeping problematic entities in your student roll -- and now they’re student leadership, in fact!

Jack: He had nothing to do with this. Lucas wasn’t even in the auditorium when it happened --

Yancy: How convenient for him.

Jack: And it was an accident. No ill intent involved. It was an accident, and all of the damage is repairable. The curtains can be fixed and replaced, the dents in the stage can be filled, and the spilled paint can be removed or painted over in turn. I think we should be more concerned with the lucky reality that no one was hurt.

Yancy: [ ignoring that point ] The damage is repairable, yes, but it won’t be free. And I certainly won’t approve its reparation on the school’s dime.

Jack points out that such a decision isn’t his to make -- he’s still the principal of Adams. And that’s true enough, but as Yancy effortlessly counters, he remains under close watch. That’s the reason Yancy is present in the first place. Every decision Jack makes is under scrutiny, and a figurative nod of approval from him matters. Jack must be wise enough to realize that.

Jack, begrudgingly: So what, then?

Yancy: So, it seems to me that the A class will have to proffer the money to pay for the damages on their own.

Jack: That’s ridiculous. They’re students, not entrepreneurs. And they’re already scrambling to raise money for their showdown performance, not to mention ways to bolster their scholarship initiative since you voted to deny them funding at the board level.

Yancy: Then they must be experts at it. What’s one more money-making effort? At least it’s teaching them meaningful life skills -- budgeting, consequences, the value of a dollar. All very sensible lessons to learn… something you used to complain this institution lacked at the same time you were decrying the actions of students you now fruitlessly defend, if I recall correctly.

Well, you got him there, Yancy. Jack deflates, knowing there’s no logical path out of this. Yancy has him cornered, and the more he invites reminders about how he used to be or the ways he’s already fumbled, the graver his prospects grow. Yancy emphasizes this as he makes his exit.

Yancy: We at the board used to hold you in high esteem, Jackson. We saw great things in your future. Now, with all these foolish mistakes... let’s hope that all your promise hasn’t dissolved with the Hunter I used to know.

The threat is buried deep beneath the thinly-veiled condescension, hidden in a simple choice of plural. Mistakes. This battle is just one in a long, growing list Yancy is keeping against him.

Like he could ever forget it. Jack releases a heavy sigh after Yancy leaves his office, slouching in his chair.

Lucas, pre-lap: I shouldn’t be surprised. This might as well happen.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Riley listens attentively as Lucas paces the booth, busying himself with gathering stuff for class for the sake of moving. Although his tone is sarcastic and indifferent, the weight of his words indicates he’s far from it.

Lucas: It’s not like I don’t already have enough to focus on, between the usual bullshit and the fundraising for showdown -- a showdown that we have to win if we want any chance of the scholarship thing actually taking off. That on top of the college applications I wasn’t planning on doing three months ago but now have to make really good, because suddenly I have dreams or whatever, even though I’m basically the most rejectable candidate on the east coast.

Riley: Okay, you know that’s not true.

Lucas: Fine. Most rejectable candidate in the greater Manhattan area.

Riley: You literally won an election.

Lucas: And the world is still wondering how and why.

Riley rolls her eyes, but she is sympathetic. She agrees that the stage accident was definitely an unexpected speed bump on everything they’ve got going on, but they’ll figure out how to handle it. There’s no way it’s going to be entirely on them, anyway, and they don’t even know how much damage was actually done yet.

She takes the opportunity to broach another topic, though, easing into a deeper conversation about college. She asks how his applications are going, which he claims are fine, in spite of the stress surrounding it.

Lucas: The only stuff I’ve got left are recommendations and personal essays. And I know I’m fucked on the recs considering you’re supposed to ask for those months in advance, and I know no one impressive, least of all who would sing my praises.

Riley: You could always ask my dad for a recommendation. I’m sure he’d have glowing things to say. Instant acceptance, I bet.

Lucas, flatly: You are hilarious. It’s no mystery how you managed to reel me in.

Riley: Well, that and my effortless charm and insanely dazzling visage.

Lucas gives her a look, but to be fair, he doesn’t argue her on it. She simply beams in response, sliding closer to him and halting his pacing by taking his hands.

Lucas: Honestly, I’m not really stuck on the recommendations. I think I’m going to ask Joe for one, because he can at least speak to my work ethic or whatever, and the other… I mean, it’s whatever. I’ll figure it out.

Riley: But…?

Lucas: But… I don’t know. With the rest of the app…

It’s clear there’s something else he’s really stuck on. Riley starts to offer him advice, or maybe just encouragement, but they’re interrupted by a knock on the booth door. Jeff appears moments later at the stairs.

Jeff: Class is starting. Judgment day is upon us.

Lucas and Riley share an apprehensive look, then follow the lighting technician out of the booth.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Harper, Shawn, and ERIC MATTHEWS are on the stage, assessing the damage while the A class gathers in the front and center section. The destroyed curtain has been removed, the pock marks in the stage even more visible in its absence.

ANGELA MOORE emerges from the wings, Janitor HARLEY KEINER in tow. She’s just barely starting to show her pregnancy, but the flowy tops she’s wearing now conceal it fairly well.

Harley: Old curtain’s out back. Trash company will be by this afternoon to take it away.

Angela: I have to say, I picked a great day to stop by and visit. Never a dull moment.

Harper: Girl, tell me about it.

Angela laughs knowingly. Been there, queen. Eric and Shawn turn their attention to the seniors, coming towards the front of the stage.

Eric: Who wants to explain what exactly happened?

A whole bunch of them immediately launch into retellings, talking over each other and definitely exaggerating elements of the story. The camera jumps around to each of them, catching snippets of their perspective.

Sarah: If Jeff had just changed the song --

Jeff: I was in the catwalk!

Nate: So Jeff’s up in the catwalk, and Dave is handing me shit -- I mean, uh, stuff -- on the scaffolding --

Darby: Isadora pushed Farkle --

Isadora: I lightly nudged Farkle --

Maya: Farkle is like a house of cards and all it takes is a little wind to knock him over, so he goes flying into the ladder --

Clarissa: Paint splatters --

Yindra: The ladder goes crashing down and nearly takes off Nigel’s head --

Jade: Oh my God, what?

Nigel, pointedly: No, it did not. [ softer, to Jade ] No, it didn’t.

Yindra: It did.

Haley: Not like the curtains almost took out Dave!

Yogi: This class is a circus act.

Eric holds up a hand to halt them all, waving them down. He can’t figure out what any of them are saying when they all talk at once, so he asks for a volunteer to give the rundown. A few hands up go up, but Eric wisely selects Zay.

He pulls himself to his feet, gingerly, for the effect. Then he clears his throat, speaking plainly and matter-of-fact.

Zay: Farkle got knocked into the ladder. Ladder falls, dents stage. Dave almost falls, Nate is no help --

Nate: Whoa, okay then. Hater.

Zay: Maya stumbles back and knocks silver paint can over. Performers tell Dave to grab curtain, Jeff objects --

Jeff: Justice. Thank you.

Zay: Dave does anyway, whole thing comes down. Also, no one in this class has taste and for that they evoked the wrath of God. But apparently God can’t kill Dave Williams.

Dylan: So metal.

Eric: Thank you, Zay.

Zay does a pithy salute, lowering back into his seat. Harper goes on to explain the total damages done by the incident as well as relay the total cost of the repairs -- without saying a definitive sum, suffice to say it’s not cheap.

The A class immediately breaks into chatter again, trying to divert blame off themselves. Shawn notices one student doesn’t seem particularly vexed -- in fact, he appears to be laughing to himself behind his hand.

Shawn: I’m sorry, Friar, do you find this funny?

Lucas: What? Oh, no, no. Very serious business. [ clearing his throat ] It’s just… it’s so nice to not be the one responsible for once.

The performers immediately boo him. He simply smiles. CHAI FRESCO is the one who manages to redirect the conversation.

Chai: What exactly is he doing here?

All eyes turn to Janitor Harley, who stands sheepishly next to the faculty. Harper says she’s glad Chai asked, claiming that if anyone deserves an apology for what they did today, it would be him. He puts a lot of effort and care into maintaining their sacred space, this auditorium, and the damage done today walks all over that.

Darby: It really was an accident.

Harley: No hard feelings, Miss Winters. Mighty nice as it was for Harper and Shawn to invite me here, rest assured I know there was no ill intent or disrespect. And I can assure you that with the time and proper resources, we will return this stage to tip-top shape in no time.

Maya: Lovely. Problem solved then, no?

Eric: Not quite. You do still have an assignment to attend to, especially as it’s your last major one before finals.

Harper: Since it is a weird time in the calendar and we don’t want to barrel another assignment next week right before showdown, Shawn and I agreed that this assignment would be a two-week stretch, and ideally lower stakes.

Shawn: Even better now, considering how you all just doubled pressure on your own.

Harper: And since you’ve also in turn given Harley more pressure and work to attend to in this time, we thought it only fair that he decide your focus for the project.

With that, they pass the floor over to Harley again to make his declaration. The performers don’t seem all that unnerved -- it’s Harley Keiner. What’s the worst he could do? Clean-up anthems? He clears his throat, clasping his biker-gloved hands together.

Harley: When I’m in a particularly rough spot, or working through a grueling task, I have always found that a little music can really liven the task.

Yogi: [ under his breath ] Clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere…

Harley: But nothing gets me more fired up, ready to take on a challenge or dance to the beat, than some classic tunes from my early youth. And I’ll tell you kids, no one knew music better than the radio hits of my day.

Slowly, the possibility begins to dawn on the A class what decree awaits them. Dylan is counting backwards on his fingers, trying to calculate just how old Harley actually is, but Asher next to him has beaten him to it.

Asher: Oh no.

Harley: Ladies and gentleboys, we’ll be taking it back to the ‘70s this week for your musical assignments.

Dun dun dun. The A class expresses their obvious disdain. Well, all except Zay, who cracks a smug grin.

Zay: Heh heh… karma.

There’s only more grim news. Considering the stage is going to be undergoing repairs thanks to all this, they’re all essentially ousted from the auditorium for the time being. No sense practicing or rehearsing in a space that’s going to be under construction. JADE BEAMON sits up straighter, shooting her hand in the air.

Jade: We can still access the lofts, right? Like, I can get in the costume loft --

Eric: Yes, all the technical spaces, as well as the dressing rooms, are still fair game. But stay away from the stage.

Harper: And you might not get much work done when they’re doing things like drilling and hammering, so be forewarned.

Haunting… Jade hides in her hands, already stressed. Nigel tentatively pats her on the shoulder.

So yeah, all in all, some unideal circumstances right before some of the most important events of their high school career.

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

Maya is in surprisingly good spirits in spite of the financial issues confronting the class, preening and showing off Valerie’s faux fur coat. She wears it effortlessly, entertaining Darby, Sarah, and a crop of underclassmen at a table as she shares the tale of her and Valerie’s instant starlit bond. When Darby reaches out to feel the coat, Maya quickly smacks her hand away.

Maya: You’re welcome and encouraged to look, but no touchie. Golden diva rule.

A couple of tables over, Riley and Isadora watch her showboating with amusement. Riley claims it was really generous of Isadora to give her the coat, but she shrugs it off.

Isadora: Seriously, she’s way more at home in it than I would ever be. Can you ever see me pulling that off?

Riley: I think you can deliver any design you endeavor, you know that. [ off her raised eyebrow ] But yeah, a bit out of your element. Ironically, maybe.

Isadora: Even that’s a stretch. But it really wasn’t a hard decision. As much as it inflates her ego, my mom did see something in her. Maya can use it as a bragging tool all she wants, and people probably won’t believe her because of it, but they probably would be in cahoots if Val were still here. [ a beat ] A lot of things were going to happen if she were here.

Oof. Riley senses the gloom impending, searching for a quick change of subject. She asks if Isadora found anything else cool in the boxes from the estate.

Isadora pauses, mouth parted open. The answer is plenty -- including the mystery hidden way deep down underneath everything else. But for whatever reason, she hesitates explaining what she found.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to respond anyway. Dylan swoops into their conversation, dropping down into the seat next to Riley and smacking a piece of paper onto the table. It’s a flyer for scheme one of their fundraising efforts: a community dance, now officially ‘70s themed. Isadora turns it around to get a better look at the very bright poster.

Dylan: Hot off the presses, ladies. Another instant classic from the one and only ambassador of public relational fun and enthusiasm, comma right hand advisor, comma prime minister of the techies and secretary of kissing, mainly to the secretary and official marketing and communications director for the Friar administration.

Isadora: Colorful…

Dylan: Shout-out to Harley for basically choosing our theme for us. We’d been sitting on it for ages because Asher and Maya kept fighting over it.

Isadora: Really? What theme ideas could possibly be worth scrapping over?

Dylan: Nothing. Neither of them actually had an idea. I think they just automatically hate anything that comes out of the others’ mouth.

Isadora: Wow, just like a real body politic.

Riley excitedly swipes the flyer, praising Dylan for his enthusiastic design. She snaps a picture of it on her phone and explains she’s texting it to Charlie.

Riley: I’m so pumped for this. Disco isn’t my favorite thing, but it is fun.

Dylan: Bouncy.

Isadora: Jaunty.

Dylan: Ooh, thesaurus bonus.

Dylan and Isadora exchange a quick high five. Riley beams at them, then continues.

Riley: Besides, with how extremely crazy everything is right now between college apps and showdown and now this fundraising debacle, I think it’ll give all of us some much-needed serotonin. A nice evening of… disco dopamine.

Dylan: Oh, you know you just wanna see Lucas in some sick bellbottoms.

Isadora: [ with a gag ] God… please, I’m sitting right here...

Riley shoves Dylan playfully, then reiterates the point. It will be fun. A nice, well-deserved stress reliever after working their asses off these next couple weeks.

INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY

And boy howdy, that could not be truer for Jade. She is in full frenzy mode, skipping lunch and hunkered down in the costume loft to work. It seems like she’s been there for days, her space under the loft essentially a nest of costuming supplies, her belongings, and discarded snack containers. Her hair is a mess of tangles falling half out of a ponytail, three different tape measures are draped around her neck like graduation cords, and she’s wearing an old button up paint smock about 3 sizes too large that only exacerbates the crazed hermit energy.

Asher and Jeff listen as she multitasks on cataloguing some of her projects and marks another in progress on the table in front of her, the former visibly disconcerted by Jade’s general state of being while the latter seems mainly tickled. She speaks around a pin caught between her lips as she explains the reason for the chaos -- college applications are due right around the corner, as are apprenticeship applications, and she needs to have all her portfolio pieces in perfect condition before she hits that submit button.

Asher: Again, I know this is hypocritical coming from me, but girl you need to relax.

Jade snaps her head up to glare at him, even scarier with that pin in her mouth. She removes it to stick something down while Jeff asks her what she has left to do. Apparently, she’s just about done after days of relentless work, so she’s on her last application assignment now: pick a decade and create a sampling of as many unique -- but historically accurate -- costumes as possible in her designer’s mind.

Jade: Luckily, Janitor Harley did me the favor of having to pick a decade. If we’re doing ‘70s stuff this week anyway, then we’ll probably need costumes, so I can knock out two birds with one stone.

Jeff: I don’t know if I’d say need…

Asher: Yeah, with the auditorium boarded up for the time being I doubt we’ll be doing any major productions.

Jade: With Maya and Farkle, you can never be too careful.

Case in point, she is way too swamped to even think about the fundraising bullshit. She feels bad, but there’s no way she can split her time. Jeff and Asher assure her it’s no big deal.

Jeff: I think the performers will let you off the hook considering you’ve made… every single costume they’ve ever worn since freshman year.

Asher: Least they could do.

Jeff: Yeah. You deserve a week off!

Jeff’s turn to receive the Jade Beamon death glare. He clears his throat, scratching his ear.

Jeff: Well, you know… not for you, but...

Jade stabs the pin cushion pointedly.

Zay, pre-lap: I guess if my clear eternal damnation is good for anything, it gets me out of fundraising to fix another problem caused by Farkle and the Pips.

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Zay and Nigel are taking their lunch in the boys dressing room, both on their laptops while they eat. They’re working on finalizing college application stuff, Zay sitting on the counter with his injured foot propped up while Nigel is leaning against the mirrors on the floor.

Nigel: Guess it’s worth it then.

Zay: Ha ha, so funny. If I could afford to move, I would kill you for being such a damn comedian.

Nigel: I’m more of a tragedies man myself. [ a beat ] What are you planning to do, exactly? For the applications.

Zay: [ with a sigh ] Just putting the pieces together and hoping for the best. Thank fuck I recorded a couple runs of my routine when I was going through my obsessive drills at the start of the year.

Nigel: Glad Diva Zay was good for something.

Zay: They’re not as polished as I want, but they’ll do. Not like I have any other options. I’m just going to convince myself via self-hypnosis that they’ll see the rough edges as loose, natural charm. Between that and other samples I have from shows and recitals and West Side Story, all I can do is hope that’s enough. And if I get far enough to book an audition… I’ll be better by then.

He says it like a guarantee -- he can’t consider the alternative. Nigel isn’t sure how to respond, but he’s spared from figuring it out as they’re interrupted by YINDRA AMINO entering with a few showdown costumes to replace on the rack. All of them freeze as they glance at one another, Yindra and Zay holding one another’s gaze for a few moments longer. Then Yindra brushes past the awkwardness, shrugging and focusing on the costume rack.

Yindra: No need to go on defense, boys. I’m only here on business.

She keeps her eyes on her task. Nigel picks up the conversational slack, explaining that they were discussing their college applications. He asks how Yindra is doing in plotting her college plans, as last they talked she didn’t have much set in stone.

Yindra, matter-of-fact: I’ll be applying to a couple of schools as a safety net, but my main trajectory remains Los Angeles. The current plan right now is to skip over the bureaucracy of academics I don’t care about and go out there to start striking while the iron is hot. Talent speaks for itself.

Nigel, ever the pragmatist, still seems uneasy about such a plan, but it’s Zay who beats him to the punch. He breaks the silence between him and Yindra with a snort, tone teasing but friendly.

Zay: Straight to Los Angeles with no foundation? Now that’s just asking for trouble, and that’s coming from a diva like me. Haven’t you seen Fame?

Maybe that kind of friendly fire passes when they’re on good terms, but it falls flat now. Yindra stiffens her shoulders, giving Zay a diva glare of her own.

Yindra: [ without looking at him ] Nigel, will you please inform Zay that despite what his superiority complex might think, I’m not an idiot?

Nigel: Oh, um --

Zay: Come on, Yindra. I didn’t mean it like that.

Yindra: And Zay might find it interesting to know that my dad is considering moving to Los Angeles as well, if I plan to be out there, so I don’t see how I’m swinging with no foundation. And I’ll be using the money that we would’ve wasted on tuition for studio time to record a demo, so there is in fact a method behind the madness. Just because I’m not following the same musty, beaten path as everyone else doesn’t mean I’m not on any path at all. [ haughtily ] And even in spite of his broke attitude, I wish him all the best with his less-than-ideal circumstances. Least of all this week -- I’m sure not being able to show off while he discos is simply killing him. Thanks for letting him know, Nigel.

Nigel: … you’re welcome...

With that, Yindra spins on her heel and exits. Zay rolls his eyes, but it’s clear that the state of their friendship is really bothering him. Nigel awkwardly attempts to move past it, commenting that the two of them are about as dramatic as a Shakespearean comedy of errors before coming back to Yindra’s closing point.

Nigel: It’s a shame about this assignment though. You’re probably the only one in our class who could truly thrive this week.

Zay smiles half-heartedly, both of them focusing back on their computers. After a moment, his smile dims.

Zay: Didn’t use to be…

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - HALLWAY - DAY

CHARLIE GARDNER is at his locker, reading the texts from Riley. He pulls up the photo of the flyer for the dance fundraiser, boasting the disco theme for the end of the semester in all its groovy glory.

Yes, it is a tragedy that Charlie isn’t there to participate. Another disco gay, barred from the dance floor. It’s clear from his expression that he’s bummed about it.

He’s only pulled out of his fugue when EVAN SCOTT approaches. He pats him on the shoulder as he passes and asks if he’s ready for rehearsal. With senior showdown finals so close around the corner, Brandon is going to be drilling them more than ever. Now it’s game time for real.

Charlie nods, putting his phone away and shutting his locker to follow him. But that melancholy still lingers in his features.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

But he’s not the only one grappling with an unideal situation. Lucas is the king of that, settled in his usual chair across from Jack, only this time he’s not alone. Maya has been called in with him, the two of them waiting uncertainly as Jack prepares to share why he brought them in.

And the reason for his apprehension is obvious once he says it. He finally breaks the news to them that the school board declined to fund their scholarship initiative -- and that’s not even the worst part.

Maya: Nothing? 

Lucas: They’re not going to contribute anything?

Jack: I know, it’s disappointing. To be honest, I was anticipating at least a partial donation, but for whatever reason it was shot down wholesale. It was close, though.

Maya: Well. That’s just lovely. Could the state of the AAA union get any more despicable?

Jack: To put it simply? Yes.

Uh oh. Jack reluctantly informs them of the other bomb blowing up their administration -- that Yancy has insisted they pay for the damages to the auditorium since their class caused it. Both Lucas and Maya erupt in complaints, the latter literally leaping out of her chair and launching into a frantic pace behind it. She fans herself, taking deep breaths.

Maya: Okay. This is fine. No money, no problems. It’s fine. It’s fine!

Jack: … Miss Hart?

Maya stops behind her vacated seat, gripping the back of it. She takes in a deep breath, holds it, and releases it theatrically. Then she opens her eyes, plastering on her winning star smile.

Maya: It’s okay. Yes, everything is fine. The situation is unideal, in a word --

Lucas: More like bullshit.

Maya: Also a word. But money and I have been tussling my whole career. It won’t be getting the best of me now. We’ll come up with another way to fundraise alongside the dance social and then we will win showdown and absolutely everything will work out exactly how I want it to. It always does.

Jack: That so?

Maya: Thanks to the two powers that be, Principal Hunter -- star and will. And I’ve got both in spades. [ another breath ] Okay, damage control. Need new ideas. Gotta pool resources… brainstorm. I need to brainstorm. I’m thinking… I’m scheming...

Maya hums, entering zen diva mode as she gathers her things. She backs out of the office and assures Lucas she’ll update him as soon as she’s figured out their second moneymaker. Once she’s gone, Lucas and Jack wait a moment to let the Maya pheromones dissipate before continuing the conversation.

Jack: Say what you will about her, can’t pretend she doesn’t have moxie. An interesting choice to partner with you.

Lucas: Believe it or not -- and I’ll deny it if you tell anyone -- I think she’s the best second-in-command I could’ve picked. Somehow her brand of insanity is just right for the Minesweeper that is Triple A student government.

Hard to argue with that. Jack apologizes again for the fact that so much seems to be piling on him at once. He really did think they would get more help from the board… but they’ll keep marching on regardless. The initiative is worth fighting for, and besides, their fundraisers could really outsell their expectations. Especially with a theme like disco, their dance will probably be a smashing success. Lucas can’t help but smirk.

Lucas: Yeah, you’d know all about that, huh? Bet you were just a disco king back in your day.

Jack, flatly: How old do you think I am to have been discoing in the ‘70s?

Cheekiness notwithstanding, the prospects seem good. Not all hope is lost. Jack switches gears, checking in with how Lucas is doing on his applications with deadlines fast approaching. Lucas gives the same general response he gave Riley, tiptoeing around the challenge of the essay component and focusing on the fact that he might get it done at all. Now that it’s so close, it feels more and more daunting… not to mention all the other pressure that seems to be landing on top of him right at the same time.

Jack hears that, and dismisses Lucas so he has time to go deal with all those pressures. Before he walks out, Lucas pauses and turns back for one more thing. He struggles to articulate it since asking for any sort of help feels like specialized torture, but he manages to ask if Jack would be willing to write him a letter of recommendation for the applications. The request surprises Jack, which Lucas reads as discomfort.

Lucas: I know it’s like, pretty last minute and stuff. And there probably isn’t a lot to say about me, so it’ll take some work to throw something compelling together. I should’ve asked sooner, or like, bothered someone else. So I totally get it if you don’t have time or have too much to do or just, you know, don’t want to --

Jack is far from opposed, though. In fact, he’s touched by the request, expression softening to a smile.

Jack: Lucas. [ waiting for him to quiet ] I’d be happy to write one for you. It’s no problem at all.

Lucas: … okay. Cool. Um, thanks.

Jack: You’re quite welcome.

Lucas: I’ll send over the links and stuff later. Today. Later today. So it’s not any later.

Jack: Whatever works for you.

Lucas: Okay… okay. Cool.

Any more bashful vulnerability and Lucas just might implode. He mutters one more quick thanks and scampers away, Jack holding back his amusement long enough to spare Lucas further embarrassment. He chuckles to himself as he shifts back to his work, shaking his head.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Surrounded by various textbooks and scripts and with her laptop propped in front of her, Isadora sits on her bed. A half-finished essay about how the horror genre has developed over the years is open on her screen, but has been entirely abandoned in favor of the mysterious letter Valerie had in her belongings. Isadora holds several handwritten pages, eyebrows furrowed as she reads her mother’s words. She moves the first page to the side, and we catch a glimpse of Val’s loopy handwriting:

Dearest Zachary,

How lovely it is to hear from an old friend! I’m so glad that you’re doing well. Send my well wishes to that darling wife of yours.

To answer your question, I wasn’t entirely sure of who Isadora’s father was when I discovered I was pregnant -- as you well know, I often got rather drunk back then, so couldn’t be entirely sure of all my actions. However, upon reflection, I have come to the same conclusion as you.

Well, damn. Heavy stuff, even if somewhat rose-tinted through Valerie’s flowery language. Isadora bites her lip as she continues reading, clearly conflicted about this sudden revelation. 

Eric, off-screen: Dinner’s ready!

Isadora doesn’t seem to hear Eric’s yell, so after a moment, Eric comes to her room to tell her directly. She still doesn’t look up from the letter, peaking Eric’s interest. 

Eric: What are you reading?

Isadora: Hm? Oh, nothing.

She folds up the papers and shoves them under one of her notebooks nearby, giving Eric a small forced smile. He narrows his eyes at her, jokingly suspicious, which Isadora laughs off. She hops off her bed and asks what’s for dinner, successfully distracting him.

INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE - DAY

Farkle is meeting with DR. MICHELLE HAN, assembled in their usual positions with her in her arm chair and him sprawled across the couch. He’s relaying the drama of the week and his unfortunate instrumental role in all the destruction, though at least this time it was far from intentional. But it’s clear he feels guilty about it, and he admits that his uncanny knack for making things worse is definitely not helping him combat those low moods that seem to creep up on him out of nowhere.

Dr. Han perks up at this, taking the opportunity to gear the conversation. She gently asks if they could discuss that further for a bit, his experience with the high and low moods. Everybody has off days, of course, but based on their previous discussions, she’s interested to hear more about how Farkle describes these different emotional states and the other factors that come with it.

It’s not hard to get Farkle to talk. He obliges without hesitation, launching into details about how it feels when he’s feeling especially frenzied -- sort of the opposite of what he’s dancing around now, but such a vivid experience when he’s in it that he remembers the sensation and always can vibe when it’s coming on. Dr. Han listens carefully, flipping to a clean page in her notepad to jot down his thoughts.

Farkle doesn’t think anything of it, but it seems like Dr. Han might be onto something more than just the typical one-on-one chat. A pronounced clapping counts us in...

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - DAY

BRANDON RIVAS is clapping along to the downbeat while the Havies run through their showdown routine, the instrumental from How to Succeed playing on the speakers. He’s keeping a watchful eye on his classmates while they run through the choreography, shouting out when someone is off a beat or not sharp enough on the steps.

Charlie is definitely one of those people. He’s a couple of steps behind today, mind elsewhere, and when he accidentally bumps into BILLY ROSS he receives a glare in response. What’s the matter with you, man?

Brandon: Come on, Gardner! This is your choreography!

Fair point, Brandon. Charlie tries to get back on track, but lucky for him he’s far from the only one struggling this week. DWEEZIL HOWARD is out of step too, and his mistakes reverberate way more as he accidentally sends half the boys into a wave of near stumbles. Brandon yells for everyone to stop, shaking his head as Evan jogs to pause the music.

Brandon: This is not the time to get soft, guys. Showdown is right around the corner.

Havie: So what? It’s not like Adams is any competition. Six years of success speak for themselves.

Brandon: And complacency is the first step in breaking that streak. You want to be credited when that takes us down? [ off his head shake ] So, what’s going on? Is there some contagious case of vertigo going around that makes you all unable to balance on your own two feet?

Charlie chews his lip, shying away from the disappointment. He’s not the only recipient, but he knows he doesn’t have a good excuse -- and certainly not one Brandon would want to hear. But Dweezil answers first anyway, much more visibly frazzled than him.

Dweezil: I’m sorry, Brandon. I’m just really stressing about the MIT app.

Others murmur agreement, mentioning their own upcoming dream school deadlines and the pressure of finishing their applications. Charlie nods along as if that’s his problem too.

Brandon considers this for a long moment, scanning over his peers. He may have high expectations, but he’s not without compassion for his boys. He relents and expresses sympathy for everybody’s stress, claiming they can call it quits early today and cut down on afternoon rehearsals for the next few days while everyone is wrapping up applications.

The boys breathe a collective sigh of relief, thanking Brandon and starting to disperse. Brandon shouts after them to send those apps in fast and get ready to come back to work harder than ever -- they’re not going to slip and fall to AAA on his watch. Billy exchanges a handshake with him and suggests he take some time off to focus on himself, too, but Brandon shrugs this off.

Brandon: No, it’s fine. Think I’ll be able to make use of the time… might have to make some adjustments to the numbers anyway. [ quirking an eyebrow ] Make sure we’re the best we can possibly be.

For what it’s worth, the statement seems less than innocuous. It kind of feels like Brandon knows something we don’t, and based on Billy’s smug reaction, he’s in on it too. They exchange another fist bump before Billy heads out.

Charlie is one of the last to leave, pausing in packing up to check his phone. He’s got a surprising amount of texts on his lock screen, all from Daisy. He opens the thread, finding just under a dozen texts of her sharing live updates with him of an argument that apparently broke out between Rosie and Eleanor. Although her observations are characteristically dry and analytical -- a technical play-by-play rather than biased record -- the fact that she’s telling Charlie about it at all is a sign that she’s concerned about it. The final message she sent kind of sums up the looming stakes without saying so:

“Didn’t this happen with Bridgette?”

Either way, not good news. Charlie frowns. Before he figures out how to respond, Brandon startles him.

Brandon: All good, Charles?

Charlie: Uh, yeah. Yeah, just, you know. Lots on my mind. It was cool of you to give everyone a break right now.

Brandon: Well. [ with a shrug ] Nothing too serious going on with you, I hope. We need your talent to up our dance credentials -- I assume you realize by now how valuable you are to the team.

Charlie: Oh, well…

Brandon: Can’t afford to let anything distract us right now if we’re to come out victorious against Adams. [ a beat ] Least of all Adams itself… you know, it’s okay if you’re feeling conflicted…

Conflicted might be a bit strong -- although Charlie lives basically every day of his life conflicted -- but the notion that Brandon is even close to sensing what’s actually going on in his head sets him on edge. He clears his throat, frantically attempting to throw him off the trail.

Charlie: Oh, no. No. It’s um -- just family stuff. Stuff with my sisters.

Brandon: Ah… sibling nonsense. I get that. I’ve got two older brothers, and even though they’re not at home anymore it’s like I’m still carrying their baggage around.

Charlie: Big shoes to fill?

Brandon: Well, one was valedictorian and is starting his first year at Harvard Law, and the other is starting his third year in prison. So kind of high bars in either direction.

Well. No idea how to respond to that little fun fact. Brandon spares Charlie the awkwardness and lets him go, wishing him a good afternoon.

But pleasant as he is, it’s evident he doesn’t fully buy Charlie’s excuse.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Isadora is at the counter at Chubbies, discussing all of the impending stressors with Lucas during his shift. They’re especially mindful of how Lucas’s scholarship plan is now basically hinging solely on a victory at showdown, which is feeling more and more like a long shot. With Zay no longer able to bolster their performance, they’re short star power.

Isadora: And since Haverford has Charlie, who is basically his counterweight, suddenly the scales are tipped heavily in their favor. We’ll be lucky if we can create some Frankenstein performance around the gaping hole Zay leaves behind.

Lucas: Have you thought about stepping up in his place? Not that you’re anywhere near the level of dancer that he is, but you do purportedly have star power.

Isadora: Gee, thanks. I’m honestly shocked you’re suggesting this.

Lucas: Believe me, it hurts. But I’ve got stakes riding on this too, and I know you’re talented. Maybe you could help prop things back up so we’ve got at least a shot of winning.

Isadora: I don’t know… I mean, I know I performed the other week, but it was all about that assignment, you know? It was specifically because it was out of my comfort zone. [ a beat ] Though, why, I don’t even really know anymore…

She feels more confused about performing these days than averse, with all the grieving she’s done over Valerie, but confusion still feels dangerous. Probably safer to just stay on the sidelines… probably...

Speaking of dangerous tasks, Isadora shifts to college applications. She submitted her NYU film school application ages ago, and she’s got a couple of other things in the pipeline, but she’s much more interested in how Lucas is dealing with his. When he feeds her the same lines he’s been telling everyone else, she raises her eyebrows. Not buying it.

Leave it to Isadora to see right through him. Lucas sighs, relenting and explaining that the essays are killing him. It’s like, everything else he can scrape together, fake, pull off like he’s scraped through everything else in his life. But the personal statements…

Lucas: I hate writing about myself. Why should all of my potential rest on how well I can sell myself in some 500-word anecdote? As if that paints the complete picture. Not that I want that either -- the full picture isn’t pretty. How am I supposed to convince some strangers to take a chance on me when I don’t even believe it? If I had the choice whether or not to know myself, I wouldn’t.

Isadora: Wonder what that says about those of us who do choose to know you.

Lucas: And what am I going to say? Howdy, I’m a son of a bitch, please let me into your school and give me your money to do so? Great fucking deal.

Isadora rolls her eyes. She points out that although he doesn’t want to hear it, when it comes to  finances he knows she can help. Once the money from her inheritance fully comes through, she’ll have plenty that she doesn’t know what to do with. If she’s going to use it to help others -- especially those she cares about -- then helping him pursue his dreams is a non-issue. But, predictably, Lucas recoils at the suggestion.

Isadora: I swear, you are impossible. And you have such a weird hang-up about money.

Lucas: Yeah, views that you shared until about a month ago.

Isadora: Well, I’ve grown. I can see the nuances in money now and how it goes around. And I’m just saying that if you’ve got all these complexes around who has it and who can give it to you when you’re stuck on the bottom rung, then --

No doubt it’s a complicated series of complexes. As Isadora is settling into her rant, MISSY BRADFORD enters the diner. Lucas glances over Isadora’s shoulder and spots her, immediately clamming up.

Isadora: ...it’s what Reagan sold as trickle-down economics, but the thing is if you don’t give any money to the lowest income households from the get-go, then they never --

Lucas: Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ve got to go to the back.

Lucas retreats from the counter without waiting for permission, causing Isadora to scoff. She wasn’t finished! But he’s already gone, leaving her high and dry. But he also successfully avoided Missy, who steps up the counter for a pick-up order and is helped by another employee instead. She doesn’t acknowledge Isadora, who eyes her judgmentally from her stool.

As Missy collects her order and leaves -- glancing over her shoulder one last time for her usual Chubbies worker -- Dylan and Asher enter with Farkle. They join Isadora at the counter, asking where Lucas is. She shrugs, claiming he disappeared to deal with something.

Farkle: You ready to go? Is Maya here yet?

Isadora: Not yet. Figure she’ll be a bit late after the “atomic bomb” Jack dropped on her and Lucas -- her words, not mine.

Asher: What are you all up to?

Isadora: Since Farkle and I were technically responsible for the destruction in the auditorium --

Farkle: One could make the argument that I should have died last year.

Dylan: That would be a sick personal essay.

Isadora: We thought it was only fair that we put in the time to help Maya craft whatever last-minute fundraising effort we’re going to pull together to cover it.

As for Dylan and Asher, they were just stopping by to catch up with Lucas before going to practice their assignment for the week. Isadora commends Asher for performing again, considering it was so out of his comfort zone.

Farkle: Yeah, that’s not -- you’re not thinking of making that a habit, are you? Not asking for any reason, just curious. Not because you’re also a tenor. I’m just wondering.

Isadora: Smooth.

Asher: No, not planning to change career paths. Rest easy, Farkle. Just getting this out of the way sooner rather than later. [ nodding to Dylan ] It’s not as bad since we’re doing it together. And besides, can’t ignore the pull of the funk.

Dylan, wisely: Disco is for the gays.

Asher: Gotta pay our dues and get down with the boogie.

Far out, fellas! Isadora and Farkle wish them luck and head out together. Isadora asks Farkle how his therapy appointment went, and while his answer is unbothered, he definitely seems to be a little spacy this week. Isadora notices and considers asking him about it, but opts not to press further. They’ve got enough going on right now.

INT. GARDNER HOME - ROSIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

ROSIE GARDNER is huddled up in her bedroom, begrudgingly working on homework. She’s got Niall Horan playing, and the volume is turned up loud. It takes multiple knocks on her door before Rosie hears, shouting over the noise.

Rosie: Go away! I’m busy.

Charlie, from the hall: It’s me. Can we talk for a minute?

Rosie sighs, but gets up. She opens the door and spins back around to drop back into her seat at her desk, not bothering to greet him. But she let him in, which is more than anyone else has managed this evening.

Charlie blinks as the pop music assaults his ears. He gently closes the door behind him, raising his voice over Niall.

Charlie: Think you could turn Niall down for a second?

Rosie: Huh?

Charlie: Turn your boyfriend down so we can actually hear each other!

Rosie: Ugh. You’re so not funny.

And yet, she relents and lowers the volume. Charlie makes a show of shaking off the ringing in his ears, knocking his ear slightly.

Charlie: Just checking for significant damage. Need industrial strength noise-cancelling headphones to come in here. Like they wear when they guide airplanes onto the runway.

Rosie: You are so annoying. Did you want something, or?

Charlie explains that Daisy texted him that afternoon about a fight she apparently had with mom. She seemed pretty concerned, so he just wanted to check in. Is everything okay? Rosie rolls her eyes.

Rosie: It’s so whatever. Daisy is exaggerating.

Charlie: I don’t think Daisy is capable of exaggeration. We took all the drama genes, there wasn’t any left for her.

Rosie: Well, she is. Yeah, mom and I argued, but it’s like… it’s dumb, whatever. I don’t even care.

Charlie: You’re listening to your sad 1D playlist.

Rosie: I said I don’t care, Charlie. And I can listen to whatever I want whenever I want.

Charlie: Okay, well, can you at least tell me what it was about? Or what’s --

Rosie: Ugh. It was nothing! Can you mind your own business and leave me alone? I’m trying to work.

Yikes. Rosie has always had a little bit of early teen venom in her, but this feels like more than that. Charlie doesn’t want to just let it drop, but it’s more than obvious she will not be having any productive conversations right now.

Charlie: Okay. I’m only -- if you want to talk about anything, you know you can tell me. I’m here to listen. [ a beat ] Okay?

Rosie: [ not bothering to look at him ] Okay. Whatever. Thanks.

She turns Niall back up, effectively ending the talk. Charlie hangs around for a moment longer, words he wants to say on the tip of his tongue, but for now there’s nothing to be done. He reluctantly retreats, the ghost of the past looming over him.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Farkle, Maya and Isadora are spread out around Farkle’s bedroom as they brainstorm ideas for fundraising. Maya paces around, occasionally picking up little trinkets and inspecting them before putting them back down in the wrong place. Isadora, meanwhile, is laying down on Farkle’s bed on her back, her head hanging upside down off the side. Farkle has gathered a blanket around him as he sits at the other end of the bed. 

Maya: You need to add some meat to that stick of a body, Farkle. You can’t keep living like an orphan who’s freezing to death on the streets of Victorian London. 

Farkle: It’s not my fault I have a fast metabolism. You’re just jealous. 

Maya: Yes, I’m very jealous of the boy who looks like he’s dying of scurvy.

Isadora snorts in amusement, for which Farkle shoots a glare at her.

Maya: Go get us some snacks, orphan boy. We’ll fatten you up Hansel and Gretel style.

Farkle: This is offensive to orphans everywhere, I hope you know. 

Isadora: As the only orphan here, I’m not offended. Maya, you may continue your bullying.

Maya grins, but Isadora frowns as she realizes what she said. Technically, she isn’t an orphan, if her father is out there alive... despite rolling his eyes, Farkle does get up to get snacks, blanket still tightly wrapped around him.

Once she and Maya are alone, Isadora sits up straight and turns towards her, lips pursed in thought as she considers what she wants to say. 

Isadora: Do you know who your dad is?

Maya stops wandering around and looks at Isadora in surprise.

Maya: Where’d that come from?

Isadora: I don’t know. Just wondering about the orphan thing, I guess.

Maya: Izzy, that was just a joke. And directed towards Farkle. All jeers are reserved for our darling beanpole -- I’m not stupid enough to drag you.

Isadora: Appreciated. [ a beat ] I know nothing about my dad.

Maya: [ with a shrug ] I know my dad’s name and some basic facts about him, like his job, but nothing else. 

Isadora: Have you ever considered getting in touch with him? What if he’s out there somewhere? Mine or yours.

Maya: When I was younger I thought about it… but he abandoned me, so what’s the point? If he wanted me in his life, I would be. He knows who I am and how to contact me, but he hasn’t. Why waste my precious time and energy dealing with him when I already have my mom? She’s all I need.

Isadora nods, considering this. Her father situation is quite different to Maya’s, so not all that helpful. Regardless, it’s something to think about. Maya is pensive, too, mind now occupied by thoughts of Katy. Isadora notices her shift in mood.

Isadora: You miss her?

Maya: [ with a theatrical sigh ] Always. [ then, a bittersweet smile ] It’s okay, every artist has to have their tragic backstory. It’s good. Gives me personal agony to work through.

Isadora: … well, actually --

Before she can say anything further, Farkle returns with an armful of snacks. He tosses them at Maya and Isadora.

Farkle: Here you go, little piggies. Oink oink.

Maya: You can’t say that to us, we’re women.

Isadora: We could have you cancelled for that.

Maya: Besides, as the only poor one present, I reserve all rights to the word pig. [ eyeing them ] Capitalist swine…

Farkle: Yeah, speaking of lack of funding...

The conversation moves on, back to fundraising, but Maya gets out her phone to send Katy a quick message letting her know that she misses her.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Boogie Shoes” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Asher Garcia & Dylan Orlando

Kicking off the first official performance for the ‘70s theme, Asher launches us into number with an impressive opening note. He starts at the top of the stairs in the atrium, starting down the steps while singing towards Dylan, who’s waiting down below. When he sings “boy, to be with you is my favorite thing,” Dylan playfully points to himself and beams. They’re both dressed in modern-day approximations of disco garb -- colorful dress shirts, glossy vests with matching flare pants, funky patterned ascots.

And they’re setting the standard for what performances will be like without the usual stage of the auditorium. Their chosen location is the atrium, mostly empty as it’s during class hours, the rest of the A class scattered around the space to watch and provide back-up vocals (as well as their usual reactions and applause). Zay is particularly torn, clearly flipping between jealousy that he can’t be dancing and basically vibrating with the infectious groove.

In the case of Dylan and Asher, there is plenty to cheer for. They’re simply undeniably a joy to watch, especially with each other, and Dylan was right when he said disco is for the gays. They’ve got the night fever, full of energy and charm as they dance together. On the “woo!” during the bridge, Dylan lifts Asher in a funky little hop moment. And Asher’s vocal runs throughout are nothing to scoff at either.

It’s a smashing way to start the assignments off right!

INT. AAA - PRACTICE ROOM - DAY

As strong a showing as that little number was, the upbeat mood doesn’t last long. Stress dominates in the meeting between Maya, Yindra, Farkle, Jeff, and Isadora, who are deliberating on the current status of their showdown setlist. They’re attempting to analyze it and rework with the knowledge that Zay will not be able to participate, but it’s easier said than done.

Lack of focus doesn’t help matters. Farkle is noticeably zoned out, lost in his own head, and Maya has to snap at him to get him back at attention. This is not amateur hour! No time for spacing out, Farkle! He apologizes, but Isadora notices he still seems far away somehow.

The fervent discussion is immediately halted when Zay enters the studio, realizing they’ve all convened to work without him. He asks what gives.

Maya: It’s not personal, Zayby. But considering your current situation...

Zay: I’m still choreographer. Even if I’m not performing, I should be included in meetings. Especially if you’re talking about altering the routine.

Jeff: We’re not.

Farkle: At least, not right now.

Isadora, diplomatically: We just know that not being able to participate is difficult for you, so Riley suggested… we figured it would be better not to like… force you to deal with it. Or rub it in your face.

Maya: Exactly. See? We’re doing this for you.

How sweet. But Zay isn’t moved. He grows defensive, nodding along but dripping with sarcasm.

Zay: Great. Thanks. Well I guess if you need to drag me out of the recycling bin to comment on choreography, you all know how to reach me.

He storms out -- a bit unevenly on his boot -- leaving them awkwardly in his absence. Farkle clears his throat. The only who doesn’t seem uncomfortable is Maya, who shifts gears back to the matter at hand effortlessly. It’s just business, after all.

Maya: So star power --

INT. THRIFT SHOP - DAY

Riley is searching the racks for an outfit for the ‘70s dance, Charlie in tow. Every now and then, she’ll find a vintage shirt that’s his size and hold it up against his chest just on instinct, always on the lookout for her friends even if they’re not looking themselves.

Riley: It’s amazing how every color looks good on you. You should really consider branching out beyond neutrals and inoffensive shades of blue.

Tell us something we don’t know, Riles. Charlie brushes off her compliments, keeping his focus on the topic at hand while they shop. He’s seeking advice on how to handle arguing family members, since unfortunately, Riley has plenty of relevant experience with that. He’s had it in his family before with Bridgette, but he can’t remember much of it and honestly, one of the keys to their family dynamic is how most unpleasant things occur behind closed doors. Most of the time, they don’t even know when something is wrong with each other.

Riley: Do you have any more details? I feel like context would help.

Charlie: Nope. I only heard about it through Daisy, and when I tried to talk to Rosie, she wouldn’t budge.

Riley contemplates and admits she’s hesitant to try and give advice when the context is so vague and wide open, but ultimately the most important thing she thinks he could do is to continue being there for Rosie. He told her he was, and that’s the best he can do under the circumstances. If he actually witnesses another argument for himself, then that’s a different story.

Riley: But no matter what happens, try not to let yourself get caught in the middle of it. I mean, you should help where you can, but there’s nothing worse than trying to fix problems that aren’t yours and you can’t control. It’s between them, not you, and trying to mend it from the outside is only going to result in failure and frustration. You have to look out for your own well-being first. I wish someone had told me that before my parents fell apart.

Very important advice. Charlie thanks her and expresses sympathy for her messy parental situation again, but she shrugs it off and moves past it. Instead she finds another cute ‘70s material button down in classic sky blue, enthusiastically lifting it up to measure against Charlie.

Riley: Pair a blazer with this, and you’d be all set to boogie. Makes your eyes pop too… ugh, you’re so pretty it’s disgusting.

Charlie: I thought we were shopping for you, not me. I’m not the one who gets to disco.

Riley: Well, that’s not necessarily true. The fundraiser is open to everyone -- that’s the only way we’re going to make any profit, after all. And you know you’d be more than welcome.

Charlie: Yeah, maybe… with showdown so close and everything…

Riley: Charlie. [ holding his gaze ] You’re family. Forget showdown, forget east and west side. As long as I’m around, you fit. And I know for sure I’m not the only one who feels that way. Got it? Can you dig it?

Charlie, grateful: I can dig it.

Riley: Righteous. I’m serious though, what you should dig is this shirt.

As Riley shifts back to searching for her own look, they jump to chatting about college applications. Charlie asks how hers are going after she explains Lucas’s poorly concealed stress about them, and she claims they’re going fine.

Riley: I’m a pretty textbook candidate, all things considered, and my poor tragic backstory of being bullied out of school and divorced parents sure makes for great personal essay fodder.

Charlie: Kind of weird how they teach us to exploit our own trauma…

Riley: I’m definitely applying to Barnard, and I’ve decided I’m going to throw my hat in the ring for Tisch even though it’s basically the longest shot there is. Add in a handful of second choice picks and you get the idea. But honestly, I’m not all that pressed about it right now. I feel like it’s going to be way harder when acceptances and rejections come through and it’s all… real. I can throw any application out there I want and I don’t have to do anything about it. When I actually know what my options are… then it’ll be real. You know? When I actually have to decide what path I want to take. Because right now, I feel like I have no idea what I want that to be.

Charlie nods, agreeing wholeheartedly. He definitely knows the feeling of not having any idea what he wants the future to be… as the low hum of an unfamiliar instrument floats in…

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Amazing Grace” as performed by The Military Band of the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards || Performed by Dave Williams

In what is probably the weirdest performance AMBITION has seen to date, Dave stands alone in front of the classroom and goes to town on the bagpipes. Yes, apparently, Dave Williams can play the bagpipes (though whether he plays them well is a whole other story). And he gives it his all on this immensely famous tune, bewildering his peers and rendering them speechless.

That being said, while they can’t find any words, that doesn’t stop the A class from reacting. The expressions range from confused to stunned to struggling to keep it together. Maya stares in disbelief and then scrunches her face, looking around to see if anyone else is seeing this. Zay and Nigel are on the verge of tears from stifling their laughter; Yogi is misty-eyed from sheer emotion at his best friend’s… powerful performance. Nate mouths trying to sing along to the screechy tones with an absolutely delighted grin, while Dylan emulates the patriotic vibe by standing and giving a salute. Asher shakes his head from next to him, also hiding laughter behind his hand.

When Dave finally concludes, releasing a big exhale, the room is filled with silence for a long moment. Yogi starts the applause that the others uncertainly mimic, until Isadora finally, bluntly breaks the silence.

Isadora: Okay, I’m just going to say it -- what the hell, Dave?

Dave: What? Is something wrong?

Sarah: Where the hell did this come from? Are you seriously damaged?

Yindra: Forget that. I’m dying to know when you learned to play the bagpipes. And why have you deprived us of it for so long?

Farkle: The assignment is ‘70s music. How did you end up on “Amazing Grace?”

Dave, baffled: I don’t get what the big deal is. I found the song on a ‘70s playlist on Spotify, I can show you. And I looked it up -- the fig Newton dude wrote the song in 1779.

Clarissa: Fig newton --

Zay: [ at his wits end trying not to laugh ] I can’t. I can’t --

Dave: 1779! So it’s from the ‘70s.

All, in unison: 1970s, Dave!

Dave: … WHAT?!

The class descends into hysterics. Harper attempts to thank Dave for an… interesting performance, if nothing else.

Harley: I found it quite spirited. Very much enjoyed.

Dave huffs, marching back to his desk. He drops his bagpipes on the desktop --

EXT. AAA - REAR PARKING LOT - DAY

Which becomes a soapy sponge landing with a splat on the hood of a car, Haley working to scrub it clean. A few more quick shots help establish the setting -- Jeff and Darby untangling hoses; Riley and Chai filling up buckets of water; Asher ringing out a washcloth as far away from his body as he can stretch it, mildly disgusted.

Yes, Maya’s new fundraising scheme is in full swing -- a car wash! Cars are lining up for the A class to give a shining clean-up. Considering they threw the concept together in just a couple of days, it’s really not a shabby showing. Maya is praising her own quick thinking by the pay table, where they’re also selling baked goods. Zay is manning the cash box, since he can’t do much else.

Maya: I swear, sometimes my own mind amazes me. Never lets me down. And you can’t go wrong with a good old-fashioned classic.

Zay: Yeah, except car washes are usually in the summer. Not the dregs of autumn when we’re all going to get hypothermia.

Maya: It’s actually unseasonably warm today. And that’s the brilliance of it. Who else is doing a car wash in this weather economy? No competition, big bucks.

At least the weather is nice. With them out in their cotton shorts and tees to do all this work, Zay’s right to have reservations. But the sun is out, and the income has been steady thus far. Nate finishes off drying a car with Dylan, who has his hair pushed back with a tie-dye bandana.

Nate: You know, we should all just wet our shirts. That will get the girls and gays to come running.

Maya: [ into her bullhorn ] Don’t accelerate the hypothermia, Martinez. Keep it classy.

Nate: You’re turning down a million-dollar idea!

Maya waves him off, gesturing that he get back to work. And they all put it together real fast when another customer pulls up at the end of the line, EVELYN RAND emerging from her nice SUV and coming over to greet them. She commends them for their efficient set up.

Maya: That’s all thanks to me, Maya Penelope Hart. Vice President and overall go-getter. I’m the one that makes things happen.

Evelyn: And modest as they come, too.

Evelyn happily accepts Maya’s handshake, but she tosses a wink to Zay and Clarissa working the bake sale table. She claims she’s eager to help the cause, and she’s sure they’ll do an excellent job with her car. While she waits, she’s hoping to have a brief chat with Jack, so can she just leave her keys with them? She trusts them to move her vehicle twenty feet when it’s her turn.

Maya: Of course. We here in the A class pride ourselves on our care and attention. Your vehicle is safe with us.

Zay snorts, turning it into a cough. Evelyn hands over her keys pleasantly, waving to the rest of the kids working as she heads into the building. Maya spins the key ring on her finger for a moment, contemplating.

Maya: Can’t afford to screw this up. Gonna need someone extremely anal and annoyingly cautious to handle this one. [ into the bullhorn ] Garcia! Get your persnickety nonexistent ass over here!

Nigel arrives at that moment with a takeout bag in his hands. He tries to weave through the cars and avoid drill sergeant Maya as he heads towards the back entrance to the school, but unfortunately he’s not slick enough.

Maya: Chey! What do you think you’re doing? Cars are over here.

Nigel: Oh. Yes. Well, Jade’s holed up in the costume loft with all the projects she’s finishing…

Maya, unmoved: Uh huh.

Nigel: And I know she isn’t great about eating when she’s under this much stress, so I brought her some food to eat while she works. And I thought I’d go… give it to her… [ quickly ] okay, check you later.

He turns and speeds towards the entrance, making his swift escape. Riley saunters over to join them at the cash table, tilting her head fondly.

Riley: That’s so sweet.

Maya: Meh. A convenient excuse.

Zay: And how are you one to talk, Maya? You realize standing around shouting orders at everyone isn’t work.

Riley: Come on, Madam Vice President. Time to put in a little elbow grease.

Zay raises his eyebrows, accenting Riley’s challenge. Pride in jeopardy, Maya sniffs and relinquishes her bullhorn, placing it on the table. She spins and flips her ponytail over her shoulder, marching over to contribute to the cause. Riley and Zay exchange amused looks, while the boombox blasting the iconic opening hand claps takes over the soundscape...

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Car Wash” as performed by Rose Royce || Performed by Maya Hart (feat. AAA Seniors)

You all knew it was coming. The moment we started scrubbing those fenders, you should’ve seen it coming. Maya leads the A class in a funky rendition of the disco classic, swaying her hips and swinging her ponytail as they put in the hard work (though, somehow, Maya still manages to avoid most of the heavy lifting). She handles most of the verses, though Yindra also takes some of the spotlight with vocal runs. Nate perfects his slutdrop as he cleans tires.

In the midst of the grooving, the business is bumping. Interspersed amongst the performing we see Clarissa and Dylan charming patrons at the bake sale table, money changing hands, and Zay dutifully keeping track of everything as he mans the pay station.

On the last chorus, Maya has made her way onto a roof of one of the cars, Yindra, Haley, and Darby emulating her on the other cars they’re working on. The A class does some rad synced choreography to take the number home, Maya sliding down the front windshield and kicking up her leg before Farkle makes the finishing swipe of a washcloth across the hood.

Car wash! Zay deposits another payment into the cashbox, snapping it closed with a flourish.

Evelyn’s car is now closer to the front of the pack, and more business is still coming. Charlie makes his way over from the parking lot, waving to Riley as he makes his way over to the tables. Clarissa and Dylan greet him cheerfully, Riley and Maya jogging over from the line of cars. Zay doesn’t say anything, but offers a hesitant smile, which is better than nothing. Charlie mirrors it.

Clarissa comes out from behind the table to give him a hug, but warns him not to let Haley see him -- she’s soaked and will probably get him all damp. Charlie claims he didn’t plan to stay long, he just wanted to come by and see how things were going, as well drop off some baked goods they could sell that he and his sisters made. Dylan takes them happily. Maya asks where his car is and what kind of wash he wants, which Charlie awkwardly laughs off.

Charlie: I wouldn’t make you guys do that. But I can make a contribution --

Maya: Please, what do you think this is, a pity party? We don’t accept charity.

Zay: Yes we do.

Clarissa: We’ll take all the charity you’ve got.

Maya: This is a business, and we provide a service. So put your boring little sedan in line and turn your patronization into profit.

Riley: Maya, if he doesn’t want --

Charlie: You know what? Okay. [ raising his hands in surrender ] I’ll take whatever the easiest job is. Meet in the middle.

Fair enough. Maya relents, going back to shouting orders at others. Zay shows Charlie what their pricing options are, and though Charlie is going for the cheapest one, he overpays anyway.

Charlie: What Maya doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

Zay: Yeah, and it’ll probably save us.

They exchange something close to a conspiratorial wink. Riley senses that they’re actually communicating without imminent disaster, so she comes over to join them. Charlie asks how business is going -- it seems to be moving pretty swiftly. Riley is optimistic, claiming that between this and the dance -- which is garnering a lot of buzz on social media -- they may just cover their expenses yet. At mention of the dance, Riley makes a quip about how Charlie should’ve bought that shirt at the thrift shop to wear, which catches Zay’s attention.

Zay: You’re coming?

Charlie: Oh, no. No, I wasn’t, um… I hadn’t really thought about it.

Zay: Oh.

Charlie, shyly: … would it be okay if I did?

Zay meets his eyes, uncharacteristically timid. He doesn’t know what to say, because he honestly doesn’t know how he feels about the possibility. Things aren’t as tense as they were before, and they’ve managed to break some of the ice that’s frozen them in place, but it’s far from thawed. He doesn’t know if he wants it to be or not. It’s all confusing, and being put on the spot proves just how much.

He’s spared from answering when Isadora pipes up from the curb.

Isadora: Oh, fuck no.

Charlie jumps, turning to search for the problem. Zay leans around him to look too. The issue is not hard to identify.

The Haverford boys. A whole bunch of them, rolling up in their classy cars, totally filling up the back end of the car wash line. Billy honks obnoxiously in his, waving to the washers working further down the row.

Brandon hops out of his car, the rest of the boys following suit. He leads the saunter over to the tables, where Maya, Farkle, and Isadora rush to head them off. Charlie stares as they approach, obviously mortified that they’re here; Zay frowns, glancing at him suspiciously.

Maya: What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re blocking the line.

Dweezil: Blocking? Is that any way to speak to a customer?

Isadora: One we’re about to kick the hell out, yeah.

The congregation bristles, but Brandon holds up his hands -- both out of innocence and to signal his crew to halt. He remains smooth and unbothered as ever, calmly stating that they’re simply here to support the cause.

Brandon: It’s the least we could do, showing up for the less fortunate. We want showdown to be a fair fight, don’t we?

Maya: Oh, if that’s what you’re looking for, we can give you a fight.

[ Brandon raises his eyebrows, clearly amused by Maya’s sharp spunk. ]

Farkle: How did you all even hear about this?

Brandon: Why, I would think that’s obvious. Charles told us.

[ Many eyes throw to Charlie at once. He swallows, dipping his head. ]

Brandon: Well, technically, he told Evan, but I don’t see why he didn’t just share it with the boys. Evan was more than happy to pass the message along, though, and we all thought it was just a swell idea. Quaint, really.

Billy: Yeah, where’s the lemonade stand? You should jump on that hot market next.

But belittlement aside, they really are here to get their cars washed. That’s all. The A class can take it or leave it, but if they choose to turn away willing customers then that’s their prerogative.

Well… business is business. Maya forces a smile, keeping her diva daggers locked on Brandon as she instructs Isadora and Farkle to go start filling the buckets. Brandon holds her glare, evenly matched with his cool, subtle smirk.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Jack is enjoying a catch-up with Angela over coffee, in generally good spirits all things considered. As he says, it’s nice to take a moment to forget all of the stress and just chat with a good friend. Angela is touched, placing her hand on her chest. She claims if her visit will be good for anything then, that’s a great reason.

The two of them get on the topic of her pregnancy, and how she’s feeling about impending motherhood. She confides that Shawn is way more nervous about it than she is, but ultimately she feels okay about it. Pregnancy isn’t the most fun experience in the world, but she has always thought that a family would be part of her future. Considering she’s not getting any younger, it feels like the right time.

She asks if Jack ever thought about having kids, and he grows a bit more somber. It’s not that he hasn’t thought about it… and to be honest, he figured if he did he’d beat Shawn to it, but clearly that wasn’t in his cards. And now here he is, coming off a failed serious relationship, already in his 40s…

Angela: It’s never too late, Jack. If it’s something you really want. I mean, hell, look at Eric! He skipped all the hard stuff, too.

Jack: I guess that is one way to look at Isadora’s tragic loss…

Angela: I’m just saying, never say never. You’re a great mentor, responsible and fair, and you care. You care a lot. If you chose to try, whether by yourself or with a partner, I think you’d be a great dad.

Maybe… it all just feels so out of the realm of possibility. Besides, he argues, he basically has 200 kids at any given time to take care of. It’s not the same, no, but he watches out for the Adams students as seriously as he would his own. And you know, sometimes…

Jack: Every once in a while, it kind of feels like they are.

It’s not hard to guess who he’s thinking about. Angela starts to question him further, thinking this is probably a meaningful discussion to have, but they’re interrupted by Evelyn knocking briskly on the door. She greets both of them cheerfully.

Evelyn: So nice to see you again, Angela! I do hope I’m not intruding on anything important -- I meant to come sooner, but I got caught up in a riveting chat with Mister Keiner. 

Jack: No, of course not.

Angela: In fact, I was just getting ready to head out, so I will get out of your hair.

Jack: I just wasn’t expecting you.

Evelyn: No need to rush, Angela. [ to Jack ] I’m just here to participate in that splendid car wash you’ve got out back. They’ve got a great little operation going, I have to say. And that Maya Hart -- talk about a firecracker.

Jack: Trust us, we’re quite familiar with her spark.

Angela bids both of them goodbye, promising Jack she’ll see him later. Once they’re alone, Evelyn commends Jack on inspiring his students to find creative ways to fund their financial endeavors. Especially given how their original proposal for the scholarships was voted down at the school board. In her opinion, she was hoping they’d at least contribute a portion -- she thought it was a nifty idea.

Jack: Yes, they weren’t thrilled to hear the decision either.

Evelyn: It’s disappointing, although hardly surprising considering the way Jefferson campaigned behind closed doors. He’s got a fairly influential stake in the voting bloc, unfortunately.

Jack: What? What do you mean?

Evelyn: Oh, Jack, I thought you already knew. It was an extremely close vote on the board to provide funding, but Jefferson tipped the scales against it. He and Yancy basically talked it down for days with colleagues before the actual tally.

Um, no, Jack did not know about that, and it obviously pisses him off. He’s speechless, trying to process the blatant partisan maneuvers being played against them within the inner workings of the board. Especially from someone who is now working within the walls of AAA. He knew Yancy didn’t like him, but this…

EXT. AAA - REAR PARKING LOT - DAY

The Haverford boys are loitering while they wait for the A class to finish cleaning their cars, showing how completely unbothered they are to hang around and watch their competitors sweat. Charlie is also hovering to nervously keep an eye on things, staying with Clarissa at the baked goods table and nibbling on a sugar cookie.

From where he’s scrubbing Dweezil’s windshield dry, Nate glares at them derisively.

Nate: Rich pricks. I should smash this damn window…

Yogi: Easy, bulldog.

Dave: Just smile and wash, boys. Smile and wash.

Thankfully, they’re efficient, and it doesn’t take them long to grit their teeth through the work. Maya slaps her washcloth against Brandon’s hood, declaring it finished, then marches her way back over to where he’s slouched against a lamp pole near the pay table.

Maya: Alright, knock-off Warblers, your cars are done.

Evan: Warblers?

Dweezil: From Glee.

Billy: Ha! She thinks we watched Glee.

Bottom line is, their business here is done, so they can roll their asses out. Maya essentially shoos them, but Zay pipes up from the pay table.

Zay: Um, they can’t go yet. They’ve still got a tab to settle.

Maya: They didn’t pay upfront?

Billy: Well, couldn’t very well do that. Why would we pay you before we get any proof that you’re going to do a good job? It’s simply smart shopping.

Clarissa: Well, the job is done now. So you can pay up.

Brandon: Ooh… see, I think there might’ve been a misunderstanding here.

Charlie tenses, sensing impending doom. He steps out from behind the table in case he needs to mediate, just as Isadora and Farkle march back over with their buckets and rags to see what the hold up is. They’ve got other potential customers waiting.

Brandon: Another smart business practice is to agree on the terms and conditions before you make a deal. Now, we always knew our payment was going to be contingent on the quality of the work. Sure, Babineaux here laid out the pricing for us, but we didn’t get anything in writing. You didn’t get our John Hancocks signing off on it.

Zay: You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Charlie, nervously: Come on, guys --

Maya: So you mean to tell me that we just spent the better part of an hour scrubbing your ungrateful little shits until they shined, and blocking other well-intentioned customers from coming in the meantime, only for you to stiff us at checkout?

Dweezil: At least we made you look busy.

Billy: Yeah, consider it practice. We know you could use all of that you can get.

Brandon: [ with a shrug ] Should’ve gotten it in writing.

Isadora: Yeah? Well how about you fucking get this --

She and Farkle snap first, lifting their buckets and sloshing them directly at Brandon. It catches him off-guard, totally dousing him in sudsy water.

Charlie: Oh no.

Riley, from the curb: Oh no.

Billy: Oh, hell no!

Hit the queen bee, feel the sting of the workers! The Havies immediately fire back, grabbing whatever they can get their hands on -- hoses, abandoned buckets -- and lobbing it back at Isadora and Farkle.

And with that, it’s a full-on brawl. Water and soap flying in every direction, the other Havies and Adams seniors launching into the battle without hesitation. Maya shrieks as she’s soaked, shouting for her classmates to take the Havies out. Zay salvages the cash box and dives under the table, taking cover.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Jack is still searching for what to say in response to the bombshell information Evelyn dropped, but Harley leaps in the doorway and gets both their attention.

Harley: Major problem at the car wash. It’s completely devolved.

Jack exchanges a quick look with Evelyn, then jumps up from his chair.

EXT. AAA - REAR PARKING LOT - DAY

Jack and Harley emerge as the water fight is in full swing, and basically everyone is dripping in soap water. Jack takes control and marches into the fray, stepping into authoritarian mode and demanding that all of the nonsense cease. The Adams students drop their weapons immediately, not daring to get even a drop on their principal.

Though he doesn’t command the same respect with the Haverford boys, they don’t push it any further. They got what they came for, managing to derail the car wash and pull a fast one on the A class. They cackle with laughter as they sprint back to their cars, piling inside in record time and peeling out of the parking lot.

Brandon’s car is one of the last to leave, catching the eye of Maya, Zay, and Charlie through the passenger window. He smirks and tosses a wink in their direction, but it’s impossible to say who it was meant for. Maybe all of them.

None of them look especially pleased either way. Maya shoots a death glare at Charlie, even though he arguably got the worst of it, completely drenched from head to toe. If he was in on the whole thing, he looks pretty miserable about it.

Break 1.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Now in fresh, comfy clothes and bare faces, Riley, Isadora and Maya lounge around in Isa’s bedroom. Maya’s hair is up in a towel wrap, while Riley’s is down and in the process of drying, and Isadora’s is pulled back into a messy bun. Isadora is also wearing her glasses rather than usual contacts. With a stretch, Maya hops from the bed.

Maya: I never want to work like that ever again. I’m exhausted, in pain, and starving. Is this Hell?

Riley: You truly weren’t built for working class, were you?

Tell her about it! Maya disappears to raid Eric’s fridge, leaving Riley and Isadora free from her complaints. Isadora uses the opportunity to pick Riley’s brain. 

Isadora: What do you think our chances are in the showdown? Full disclosure. 

Riley: Full disclosure? Not great. [ with a sigh ] But we could still pull through. If we work hard enough, and come together to --

Isadora: I don’t need the full spiel, but thanks. I know how stressed Lucas and Maya are about it, and I’m considering -- considering is the key word here -- offering to perform. You know, if it would help.

Riley’s face lights up, but upon seeing Isadora’s level glare, tries to suppress her smile. She fails. 

Isadora: Don’t look at me. Forget I said anything. 

Riley: Aw, come on. I’m happy you’re thinking about it yourself instead of, like, being peer pressured by Maya or something. 

Isadora: She’s very nearly at her breaking point, I can tell. Every day her will to just let me be is deteriorating bit by bit. 

Riley: I think… not to get too Uncle Eric here, but I feel like because you keep thinking of performing as doing it in front of an audience, like being judged, it’s holding you back. You should just do it for the joy of it. Why were you drawn to performing in the first place? 

Isadora, reluctantly: … because it was fun...

Riley: Exactly! Because it’s fun. You have to have fun with it.

In fact… Riley brightens with an idea, reaching for her phone and searching for a song.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Lady Marmalade” as performed by LaBelle || Performed by Riley Matthews, Maya Hart & Isadora De La Cruz

[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along here! ]

As the bass and keys begin, Riley stands up on Isadora’s bed, pulling her up with her. Riley sings the initial “hey sister, go sister” to Isadora, who stands awkwardly in the middle of the bed, not looking all that impressed.

In the first verse, Maya walks into the room with her haul from the kitchen. Her mouth opens when she sees Riley singing. 

Maya: Are we doing this? Okay, we’re doing this.

She drops the snacks without a care, jumping onto the bed to join Riley -- just in time for the chorus. They move around Isadora as they belt out iconic vocals, trying to get her in the groove.

Maya takes on the second verse with Riley on the backing vocals. Although Isadora tries to remain stoic, she can’t help but begin to vibe with them. By the end of the next chorus, she’s singing along, too. In French, no less! But maybe let’s not look up the lyric translation…

In the instrumental break, the three girls get down from the bed and strut forwards towards the door. They pass through it one at a time, puffs of makeup and glitter blowing around them in slow-mo as they do.

INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY

This time, the temporary performance space is the lecture hall, which is an inspired choice since it actually has a pseudo-stage and lighting capabilities.

When they emerge onto the small stage, they’re in full glam. Hair glossy, makeup glowing, and outfits iconique. They each wear a skintight jumpsuit along with oversized faux fur coats. Riley’s getup is a white jumpsuit and yellow coat, Isadora’s is a blue jumpsuit and pink coat, and Maya’s is a pink jumpsuit and white coat. They strut to the front of the stage, spotlights on them.

Isadora takes charge of the next verse, confidently singing and dancing with her friends by her side. Riley and Maya come in towards the end, before all three complete the rest of the song together. It’s glamorous, it’s sultry, it’s powerful. Foxy, ladies!

We fade out of the performance to see the rest of the class and Harper as they applaud. Although the girls don’t look quite as glam out of the performance-dreamscape, they look just as badass. Lucas and Farkle in particular seem stunned by the performance.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Zay hands over the cash box from the car wash to Lucas.

Zay: Despite the carnage, the most important thing survived.

And, in spite of the disastrous end, it seems like they made good for their work. They raked in a pretty penny for all the scrubbing and washing -- it’s far from all that they need, but it should make a sizable dent in the auditorium accident debt. And that’s not nothing.

Lucas thanks Zay for his help and for watching the money, getting up to put it in a safe place in the booth. He claims he can’t do it until Zay leaves, though, since there are certain things only he should know about the booth. Zay rolls his eyes but obliges, throwing in an offhand comment about how weird he is before slowly making his way out.

As he’s heading down the steps, he passes by Missy, who is casually making her way up into the booth. Like she goes up there all the time, like it’s no big deal. She even greets Zay as they pass, which he uncertainly returns. He frowns at her over his shoulder as she heads on up, obviously confused by her presence.

As confidently as she enters, Lucas evidently wasn’t expecting her either. He jumps when she addresses him, moving away from wherever he stashed the car wash cash. When he realizes it’s her, his posture grows even more defensive.

Lucas: What are you doing in here?

Missy: Only what anyone would deem visiting this musty space worthy for. I’m looking for you.

Lucas: I don’t know if you missed the memo, but people don’t waltz in here whenever they want. No matter how privileged they are.

Missy laughs, allowing him the dig. Following their increasingly common rapport, back-and-forth that straddles the line between friendly fire and hostility depending on your lens. She maintains innocence as she waits for him to settle back in his usual chair, claiming she only wanted to discuss the current A class financial crisis.

Missy: I heard your little car wash wasn’t half-bad. Congratulations are in order. Though I don’t believe I heard much about you out there breaking a sweat to wash those vehicles...

Lucas: You can congratulate the rest of the class when you see them.

Missy: Shame. I’d think if we put you out there front and center, you might’ve garnered a greater profit.

Lucas: Please.

Missy: You shouldn’t undersell yourself, Lucas. It worked for Chubbies, did it not?

If her increased patronage is any indication, then technically, yes. But Lucas doesn’t seem keen to acknowledge that. She moves closer and hops onto the lighting booth table, crossing her glossy legs where they are in perfectly accessible view. In a place where Riley often sits. It just feels wrong. Lucas averts his gaze, looking down at the soundboard instead.

Missy: Anyway, as cute as the fundraising effort is, I don’t exactly see the point.

Lucas: Well, for those of us not in the 1%, there’s this annoying everyday thing we have to do called “acquiring money.” I’m sure that’s probably confusing for you --

Missy: I meant for Adams. Or for the A class, more specifically. I don’t see why you all should be out there sweating through manual labor… when you could just ask me for the money.

Oh. Well that’s… an interesting proposition. Lucas is surprised she’s even offering it, enough to lift his head again to meet her eyes.

Lucas: … it’s hundreds of dollars…

Missy, coolly: Drop in the bucket. [ looking him over ] Surely you would know that by now.

Lucas hesitates, contemplating. Missy observes him, watching for the chinks in his armor. Those rare moments when he’s not as aloof and disdainful as their banter leads her to believe.

Lucas: I don’t see why you would help when it does nothing to benefit you.

Missy: Isn’t helping the class helping me in the end? [ off his skeptical eyebrow raise ] And oh, they’ll find a way to pay us back somehow. Every debt gets paid eventually. Name on an auditorium seat, plaque outside the lecture hall. That’s the charity solution to everything, slapping your name on something. I’m sure daddy would love to have the Bradford name in gold somewhere in this heap considering the chilly reception Hunter gave us when all this started.

Missy found about a dozen unintentional trigger words to throw in that sentence to change Lucas’s tune. Whether the most credit can be given to the word “charity,” or invoking Jack in a negative light is debatable, but Lucas is suddenly even stonier than before. He clenches his jaw.

Missy, softer: It’s not like you haven’t already accepted donations from the Bradford fortune… and that’s lightened the load, hasn’t it? Nothing wrong with that. [ a beat ] And you and me… I wouldn’t call us friends, but we certainly have… our own thing here. Don’t we? We… mean something. To one another.

Lucas drops his gaze again, cornered. The very insinuation that they have a relationship in any capacity makes him uncomfortable… but then, it’s not wrong, is it? If he’s willingly taking her money, knowingly, then that does symbolize some sort of association. He can’t in good conscience deny it, not when her money is a big chunk of the reason his future is even possible. And she could take all the pressure off them, off him, in an instant… no more fundraising… no more sweating over showdown… scholarships guaranteed…

But his instincts are stronger than that. It’s too good to be true. Everything comes with a cost, and while he might be willing to risk that here and there for his own feeble endeavors, he’s not going to tie his legacy and the rest of the class to it. He returns her eye contact, resolute.

Lucas: If your family wants to donate to the cause, then by all means do. But I’m not asking you for anything. I don’t beg.

Well said and well meant! For what it’s worth, Missy doesn’t seem put off by the rejection. If anything, she seems impressed by his stubborn resistance, even if she knows damn well it’s full of contradictions. Impressed, and definitely stirred by that same fire that captivated her the first time they met during the school board trial. The tension in the air makes that loud and clear.

Missy: No, no you don’t, do you. All part of your… provocative charm.

Message received, it appears… some message, at least… Missy slips off the table and begins to make her exit, assuring Lucas that she understands his perspective. Some things are better kept quiet, and she gets his need to maintain appearances -- and his pride.

Missy: It’s our little secret. And I get where we stand. [ with a smirk ] I think we understand each other better than one might assume.

The mere notion makes Lucas a bit queasy, but he keeps his mouth shut. Missy bids him adieu and disappears down the steps, wishing the Slumdog President the best of luck with his continuing financial campaigning.

Even once she’s gone, Lucas can’t shake off the discomfort of her presence. He has to get up, walk it off, gathering his things and fleeing from the space -- one of the few he’s never felt the need to escape from before.

EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - COURTYARD - DAY

Charlie is having lunch with BRIDGETTE GARDNER, occupying their typical table in the grassy outdoor space. She listens attentively as he catches her up on all of the stuff with their sisters, Charlie clearly seeking counsel from the one person who has been on the other side of this potential falling out. Does she think he should be worried, based on her own experience?

Bridgette: And you haven’t seen any of this for yourself?

Charlie: No, at least not yet. But I don’t think that means much -- I had no idea most of this stuff was going on with you until it was already way too late. When I first saw you having arguments with mom, it was volcano level.

Bridgette: To be fair, you were what, 14? Even younger than that when it all started. But true. Our family is really good at concealing the ugly, and then pretending it doesn’t exist when the moment has passed.

Charlie: And this is coming from Daisy. You know she wouldn’t make things up just for the hell of it.

Bridgette: Also true. She sure is an unaffected little freak. [ a beat ] I say that with love. Every Gardner has to be fucked up one way or another.

Still, with so little firsthand information, it’s hard to say. She doesn’t think Charlie should tie himself in knots trying to problem-solve something he can’t see, but…

Bridgette: Look out for Rosie if you can. You know, keep an eye out. If history is going to repeat itself, and she’s following in my forsaken footsteps… I don’t want her to go through that. She shouldn’t have to go through what I went through. Not that I’m not fine now --

Charlie: Right.

Bridgette: But she’s not tough like I am. And I mean that in the best way possible. Rosie… she’s sensitive. Sweet. Her heart is right there on her sleeve, even if she tries to act like she’s all grit. [ softly ] Reminds me of another sibling I’ve got.

Charlie smiles, but underneath the kind words she’s confirming his concerns. If the stormy energy around Rosie does whip up into a hurricane, then it’s looking more and more likely to be an unavoidable disaster. History may just repeat itself -- and more brutally than before.

INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY

Rosie isn’t the only one in a tempestuous mood. Jade is in full-on crunch mode as her deadlines loom ever closer, and even though she’s been basically holed up in the costume loft at all hours she still feels miles from the finish line. She’s skipping lunch to wrap up a couple of last-minute additions to another piece of her portfolio, using Asher as her mannequin. Currently, he’s sporting a rather fancy, outlandishly patterned and bold blouse over his maroon polo. It looks like it could be a ‘70s dance shirt, or the wardrobe of a funky, flamboyant villain, or perhaps an especially stylish swashbuckling pirate… but it’s a Jade Beamon original, so it looks fantastic.

If only the job of mannequin was as fun as the clothes he’s modeling. Asher is gritting his teeth so hard they might crack, cringing every time Jade threads her needle through a piece of it or sticks a pin somewhere. She’s an expert, a professional, but given her stress level she’s missed the mark more than once the last couple of days.

Jade, snapping: If you didn’t wince every two seconds like a little baby, then maybe I would stick you less.

Asher: [ through his teeth ] The two dozen pin prick battle scars I have beg to differ!

Nigel picks that moment to enter, catching the tail-end of their sharp exchange and clocking the vibes immediately. He hesitates by the door, not sure whether he should come in and interrupt anymore or not, but Jade spots him before he can duck out. She immediately loses some of her unpleasantness, straightening up and clearing her throat.

Jade: Nigel.

Nigel: Um… hello. [ holding up lunch ] I know you’re working through lunch again, so I just thought I’d bring something by.

Jade: Oh, that’s… that’s nice. You don’t have to keep doing that.

Nigel: It’s all good. I like being able to help. It’s the least I could do, make sure you eat.

Asher: Someone should.

Jade: I’m still holding pins, Asher…

As if that wasn’t signal enough, Nigel bravely ventures the question of how costuming is going this afternoon. Jade claims it’s all fine, and Asher repeats her comment in a tone that makes it very clear he doesn’t agree. Sensing that the best friends might benefit from a break from one another, Nigel offers to hang around and be her stand-in for a while.

Jade: Really?

Asher, hopeful: Really?

Nigel: Sure. All I have to do is stand there and look pretty, right? Think I can manage that. You know, if I clear the costumer’s standards, of course.

Jade: No, no you -- of course. Of course you do. You’re more than -- obviously, you’re up to standard. I mean, above. I, um…

Asher can’t help but laugh, but he hides it behind a fake sneeze. Jade shoots him a glare, then states it would be preferable actually for him to take Asher’s place for now. It seems like Bird Bones agrees, hopping down from the step stool and carefully removing the fanciful top.

Asher: It’s for the best anyway. I’m supposed to be helping Dylan proofread his college essays. I want to check mine one more time too -- Jade says reading them over seven times is more than enough, but pot meet kettle.

Nigel: A Dylan Orlando personal essay, huh? I’d pay to see that.

Asher: I’m sure he’d let you read it for no charge. One of the applications he’s filling out had the prompt to “describe a work of art from the last century that surprised, inspired, or challenged you and in what way,” so he wrote a whole thesis statement on why Taylor Swift’s album Lover is the most important contribution to art, culture, and society since the invention of music.

Nigel: Wow.

Jade: Of course he did.

Asher: I’ll be genuinely surprised if it’s not a video essay on his vlog in like four months. But you know what, no admissions officer can say he doesn’t have enthusiasm.

True that! Asher makes his grateful exit, handing the piece over to Nigel and wishing him luck. Jade giggles nervously once they’re alone, Nigel smiling and asking if he should just put the shirt on and stand where Asher was. She confirms, avoiding her gaze by digging through her sewing kit until he’s all set and ready to be pinned and needled.

Nigel: I hope I’m doing your work justice.

Jade: You, um… it’s good. You’re good. Ha ha.

She nervously pushes some hair behind her ear, then steps closer to get back to work. If anything can overpower shyness, it’s the stress of an impending deadline upon which your entire future rests. Jade softly explains to Nigel what she’s doing as she does it, since he’s never been her model before, and reassures her that he’s not worried and she can do whatever.

Nigel: I trust you, Jade. You are the expert, after all.

Jade glances up at him, processing the compliment. The declaration of trust. The fact that they’re standing so close, that if he just stepped down off the stool they’d be close enough to… it’s a lot. Sophomore year Jade would probably have ran and hid by now, if not passed out.

But this is the present, and Jade has work to do. So she swallows her butterflies and focuses on her needlework.

Quiet settles over them for a minute, then Nigel speaks again, barely above a whisper.

Nigel: You’re incredible, you know that?

Jade: Huh?

Caught by surprise, Jade’s hand slips… and accidentally sticks Nigel with the needle. He winces and she immediately launches into apologies, retracting her hands to drop the needle and asking if he’s okay. He promises he’s fine, keeping her from spiraling over it by taking her hand so she can’t drift any further away in retreat.

Nigel: Really, I’m good.

Jade: … so you were saying?

Nigel: Yeah. I just wanted you to know… I hope you know how amazing you are. I know you’re super stressed about all this and what these schools and programs are going to think of you, but they’d be insane to reject you.

Jade: I don’t know if I’d go that far.

Nigel: I would. I mean, you’ve made basically every costume we’ve worn for the last three years -- which I know everyone keeps throwing back at you -- and they’re fantastic. Not just because they look good, which they always do, but they’re durable. No matter how gorgeous they look, they can withstand a lot. When we finish a production, they’re worn in, but it’s still as if they’re freshly stitched. That’s impressive. Trust me, I’ve been in enough local Shakespeare productions to say so. One time a piece of my tunic fell off in the middle of the first act.

Jade laughs, charmed by the story and calmed enough by his gentle tone to actually breathe. Nigel smiles at her, fond.

Nigel: You’re reliable. That’s the best thing a person can be, in my opinion. And you’re talented to the extreme, hard-working, humble… I mean, is there anything you can’t do?

Jade: [ with a snort ] Socialize.

The word slips out, and Jade is instantly embarrassed by it. She hides her blush in digging to grab her needles again, going back to work as an excuse not to elaborate.

Nigel: Seriously? You’ve never struck me as without company. With the techies --

Jade: Oh, yeah, that’s the height of engagement. Just me and a bunch of emotionally inept teenage boys plus Dora, getting up to the same old shenanigans. Every girl’s dream. [ with a sigh ] Don’t get me wrong, I love them. Especially Asher, he’s my best friend. And I’m not saying I’m like, a recluse or anything, I have friends, I just… I don’t know. I don’t even know why I’m talking about this. Sorry.

Nigel: No worries. I don’t mind. But for what it’s worth, I don’t see you that way. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend. I know I am. [ a beat ] Or like, any kind of relationship…

Jade coughs, not prepared for that. She giggles compulsively again, frantically brushing off the thought as she focuses intently on pinning a piece of the fabric into place.

Jade: I haven’t… ha, I’m so busy, I… a relationship… I don’t have the time to even…

Though she can’t form a coherent sentence, Nigel gets the message. Not available right now. And he admittedly looks a bit disappointed, but he puts his acting credit to use and swiftly covers with another smile.

Nigel: Well, again. Anyone would be lucky. And in the meantime, I’m just happy to support you however I can. Even at risk of puncture wound.

Jade absorbs this, unable to hold back her shy smile. She murmurs a thank you, then hides by throwing all her attention to the task at hand.

But for Nigel, the only thing he can focus on is her. So incredible… and so close… as the easy bass line floats in…

INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “How Deep Is Your Love” as performed by Bee Gees || Performed by Nigel Chey (feat. Dylan Orlando)

The lights are low and the set-up is simple, just Nigel on the stage with a microphone stand and sporting the finished product of one of Jade’s ‘70s costumes -- a glossy gold suit, styled like Saturday Night Fever, over a black silk shirt. He’s shimmering like a disco ball under the stage lights, reflecting the whimsical, dreamy quality of the number.

The only other person on the stage with him is Dylan, accompanying him on bass and providing back-up vocals. He’s dressed much simpler, dressed in black and wearing his custom-made Jade Beamon original suit jacket from junior prom. His hair is the ‘70s-ified element, swept up and combed back like John Travolta. While he happily lets Nigel hog the spotlight, he does take a moment in the performance to wink to Asher in the audience.

INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY

Intercut with the performance, we check back in with Nigel and Jade in the loft, doing a metaphorical dance of their own around each other as Jade costumes. There’s something surprisingly amorous about the set-up when it’s paired with the ballad. Jade remains oblivious, studiously sewing away, but the romantic tension is more than apparent, in Nigel’s expression and the smooth delivery of his vocals as he looks at her.

And you may not think I care for you When you know down inside that I really do…

INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY

While she’s good at avoiding him while at work, Jade can’t keep her eyes off Nigel during the performance. Clarissa, Haley, and Asher cast knowing glances at her, but she doesn’t pay them any attention. In the back seats, Nate, Dave, and Jeff sway along to the beat playfully.

Cause we're living in a world of fools Breaking us down when they all should let us be

Ultimately, though, even if certain truths remain unsaid, what can’t be denied is an excellent performance. Nigel brings it home with grace, understated as always but, in this case, pretty swoonworthy.

We belong to you and me…

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Zay is on the phone with Riley, the latter walking him through all of the bulletins from that day’s showdown discussion. He listens eagerly, living vicariously, but it’s obvious he’s also frustrated that he’s being excluded. He reminds Riley that they can call on him at any time to brainstorm on choreography or reevaluate concepts, but she gently waves him off by insisting she doesn’t want to put any additional pressure on him.

Zay: Well, to be honest, not being consulted kind of makes me feel more --

Riley: Oh, shoot, Maya’s here. She’s supposed to be meeting with Farkle after his therapist appointment this evening, so I’m sure she just has a bunch of notes she wants to Maya-splain to me first.

Zay: If she wants to get on speaker, then she could --

Riley: I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? And I’ll let you know if anything major happens. Love you!

Zay: But Riley --

She hangs up before he can get a word in, even a goodbye. He sighs and drops his phone on his bed, pulling his laptop back towards him. He has his applications webpage open, where he’s painstakingly attempting to piece together the final elements of his portfolio. It’s not in bad shape, but with the glooming reality of his booted foot and inability to make anything more, it doesn’t feel like enough. It feels like being trapped.

He grabs his phone again, obviously wanting to talk to someone about it. But he can’t talk to Riley -- he knows she’s busy. He can’t talk to Yindra. He can’t talk to Maya -- and nor would he want to, thank you very much.

Charlie…

He could talk to Charlie. God, he wants to talk to Charlie. And they’ve opened up the lines of communication again, haven’t they? Couldn’t it be easy, like it was before? All he has to do is say something… but he doesn’t know what that would be. It’s still confusing and twisted up inside him. And whatever happened with Haverford at the car wash is admittedly suspicious, though it just doesn’t feel right to think Charlie would do something like that.

Confusing. Complicated. Stuck. He’s stuck, stuck, stuck.

INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE - NIGHT

Farkle plops down onto Dr. Han’s couch, releasing a dramatic sigh and telling her there’s much to discuss (as there usually is). He starts to rattle off about the showdown drama because of Zay’s injury and how he and Isadora dumped water on their greatest rival at the moment, but Dr. Han carefully interrupts. She explains that there’s actually something she wants to open this appointment with, something that she thinks it’s important to start exploring as soon as possible. Farkle is confused but intrigued, sitting upright and gesturing for her to go on.

She turns to her notes, pulling out a couple of prepared informational sheets and taking on a gentler, more professional tone. She explains that after their last few meetings, she thought a lot about some of the patterns Farkle had been mentioning in his recovery. She decided to follow her hunch and do a little more research, and she thinks she’s landed on what might be the root after conferring with his primary care physician.

Dr. Han: It’s my belief that you show all the clear symptoms of bipolar disorder.

It’s like all the air gets sucked out of the room. Farkle freezes, staring at her, but words stop making sense. She continues to explain how common it is for it to be misdiagnosed as depression, how now they can focus on proper treatment for his actual affliction, how it’s just as manageable with the right approach, but it’s like she’s talking underwater. Everything feels hazy, static, like Farkle is suddenly a thousand miles away.

Farkle: No. No, I -- I can’t be.

Dr. Han: I understand that an unexpected diagnosis can be intimidating. And bipolar disorder, like most mental conditions, is shrouded in a lot of misrepresentation and stigma. But with the right perspective --

Farkle: I’m not. I can’t… I have to go.

Farkle blankly gets to his feet, suddenly certain he has to get out of there. It’s like he’s underwater now too, like he can’t breathe. Dr. Han warns that he’s likely just having a strong reaction to the news, anxiety, but she assures him that the diagnosis does not change anything about him or his prospects. If anything, it will improve things, because now they can confront his reality with the right tools. And it will be safest for him to just relax here and process it during their session.

But no, Farkle can’t stay. He numbly repeats that he has to go, ignoring Dr. Han’s disagreement and stepping out of the office.

INT. THERAPIST’S BUILDING - HALLWAY - NIGHT

Farkle doesn’t stop until he’s fully out of her space, back in the endless office sprawl of a building like this. He waits a moment, dreading Dr. Han chasing after him and dragging him back in there, but she doesn’t come. He collapses back against the door, releasing a shaky exhale and screwing his eyes shut.

Bipolar. He’s bipolar.

A gentle piano begins to play, an iconic familiar riff while we stay close on Farkle’s face.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “All By Myself” as performed by Eric Carmen || Performed by Farkle Minkus & Zay Babineaux

Farkle takes the first lines of this legendary ode to isolation, singing them softly as the camera slowly eases away from him. The further away we pull, the more his sense of smallness grows, dwarfed by the hallway that seems to stretch on forever.

When I was young, I never needed anyone… those days are gone…

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Zay pushes off his mattress and rises to his feet, going a bit too fast at first out of habit and nearly stumbling on his bad ankle. He cringes, falling back on the edge of the bed to right himself. He huffs and hides his head in his hands, easing into the next lines.

Living alone, I think of all the friends I’ve known But when I dial the telephone, nobody’s home…

EXT. THERAPIST’S BUILDING - NIGHT

Farkle emerges onto the steps of the building in the financial district just in time to launch into the chorus. He carries on singing as he begins to make his way home, weaving through the streets and other passersby as if he’s invisible. Although he’s clearly emotional, it’s evident the information hit him hard, because he’s not at all at his usual level of verve.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Zay keeps it tamped down whenever it passes back to him as well, though his limitations are outside of his control. He spends his portion of the vocals at his window, leaning out to breath in the life and excitement of the city he loves that he feels so locked out of.

Whether within or without the city, for vastly different reasons, both Zay and Farkle are feeling the same ache.

INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT

Farkle makes it home in time for the piano solo, showing off his proficiency on the instrument lest we dared to forget. Then he and Zay harmonize on the final, showstopping chorus, delivering a whammy even when they’re not quite in top form.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Zay rounds out the number, stepping away from his window and shutting it forlornly.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Maya is back to brainstorming in the Minkus home as promised, pacing in front of the moodboard they’ve been working off of for weeks. She’s avidly running through potential pitfalls to their showdown prospects, which seem to be piling up by the minute, while Farkle is seated on the edge of his bed. He’s stone-faced, truly lost in his own head now, and Maya doesn’t fail to notice. As she’s ticking off more items on their doomsday list, she halts and gives him an unimpressed glare.

Maya: … and an inattentive diva. [ snapping in his face ] Farkle! Earth to Farkle!

Farkle: What? Oh, sorry.

Maya: I swear, you have been exceptionally offbeat this week. Of all the times, too, naturally it would be our greatest time of crisis that your zany passion eludes us. Honestly, Farkle, where for art thou? Why have you abandoned me in our time of need?

Farkle: I’m bipolar.

Maya: Okay? And I’m a narcissist. Just because we use pretty words doesn’t change the state of the union, darling.

Farkle, shaky: No, like, I’m literally bipolar.

Maya pauses, actually looking at him. His tone convinces her that he’s not being cheeky, and his sallow expression drives it home. Her demeanor shifts instantly, dropping much of her diva arrogance.

Maya: What?

Farkle: I’m bipolar. I don’t know how many more times I can say it.

Maya: I heard you, I just -- when? How?

Farkle: My whole life, presumably. How, ask God for me.

Maya: Well… well, like, what does that mean? Like, so you’re bipolar, well, what does that mean for --

Farkle: I don’t know. I don’t know, my psychiatrist just told me. I didn’t… I didn’t do a great job of listening to what came after that.

Wow. Silence reigns as Maya attempts to process this new information. Farkle speaks again, even more uncharacteristically timid than before.

Farkle: I know this is bad timing. Just… with this, and everything at school, I don’t know how on top of it I can --

Maya: No, no, of course not. Shh. It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about all that. You need to focus on yourself. On this. Don’t worry about Triple A. I’ll handle it.

Farkle: But Maya --

Maya: I’ve got it. It’s okay.

She pats his shoulders reassuringly, then turns it into a hug. Farkle hesitates for a moment before returning the embrace, desperately leaning into the comfort. Maya remains stalwart for the both of them, features intense as her mind runs to problem-solve a million miles an hour. Based on the furrow of her brow, it seems she might already be onto something.

Maya: I’m going to handle it.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT  - NIGHT

Riley, Isadora and Eric sit around the dining table, chatting casually after finishing their meals. Eric looks between the two girls with a warm smile before offering to clear up. 

Riley: I’ll help.

Riley gets up to help Eric clean away the plates, but Isadora places a hand on Riley’s arm to stop her. Riley gives her a questioning look. 

Isadora: I actually… I have something I want to show you. In my room. [ to Eric ] If that’s okay? 

Eric: Of course, go ahead. I’m perfectly capable of filling up the dishwasher on my own.

Intrigued, Riley follows Isadora into her bedroom.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Isadora goes straight to her desk and opens up a notebook to reveal Valerie’s letter. She passes it to a confused Riley, who takes a moment to look over it. When she realizes what it is, she looks up at Isadora with wide eyes. 

Riley: Is this…? 

Isadora: [ with a nod ] A letter to my father. I found it in one of Val’s boxes. You’re the first person I’m telling so don’t… don’t tell Eric or anything. 

Riley: Oh, totally. Sure. [ a beat as she scans through the pages ] Why aren’t you telling him, though? 

Isadora: I don’t really know how I feel about it yet.

Riley guides Isadora to her bed, where they both sit. She collects her thoughts. 

Riley: Did you know anything about your dad before now? 

Isadora: No. I asked about him a few times, like ages ago, but Valerie always claimed she didn’t know who he was. I can’t tell if she was lying or not; I don’t even know when she wrote this. 

Riley: It seems like she didn’t really think about it until he wrote to her. And it definitely seems like he wants to be part of your life. [ a beat ] Do you want him in your life?

Isadora: I don’t know. I don’t even know what that would look like. My gut is screaming at me that it’ll end in disaster, like it always did with my mom, but at the same time… like, I’ve gotten by fine without a dad until now, but it does feel there’s a part of me missing. What if it’s him?

It’s clear that she’s been thinking it over a lot. Riley admits that she isn’t sure what she could say to help considering her complete lack of experience in this department, but suggests again that she should talk to Eric. 

Isadora: I’m scared to. 

Riley: What? Why?

Isadora: I don’t want him to think that he’s not enough for me. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t want to ruin it.

Riley places a hand on Isadora’s shoulder and offers a sympathetic smile. Isadora responds by resting her head on Riley’s shoulder, so Riley moves her arm to wrap around her. 

Riley: You know how much Eric cares for you. There’s nothing you could do to ruin it. You’re part of the Matthews family forever now, no matter who your father is and whether you meet him or not. 

Isadora: You’re my favorite cousin. 

Riley: I won’t tell Auggie you said that. And you’re my favorite cousin, too.

Riley plants a kiss on Isadora’s cheek with a ‘muah.’ Isadora pulls a face of disgust and escapes from her grasp as Riley giggles.

Isadora: Minus five cousin points. Auggie’s in the lead now. 

Riley: Nooo!

She chases after Isadora, trying to engulf her in a hug as both girls laugh.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Charlie is back from a late rehearsal for showdown, changing out of his Haverford uniform. He strips off his shirt and places it in the laundry hamper, checking how his clothes from the car wash are faring.

Still damp. At this rate, it feels like they’re never going to go back to normal.

Suddenly, the house below him erupts with sound, voices being raised in the kitchen downstairs. It goes without saying, but raised voices are almost non-existent in the Gardner household. Charlie freezes, listening intently until he recognizes exactly what he’s dreading -- a higher-pitched, defensive voice. Rosie’s voice.

He drops the wet clothes and reaches for the first top he can find -- which just happens to be an AAA sweatshirt -- and yanks it on as he rushes into the hall.

INT. GARDNER HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT

This time, there’s no question as to whether there is a fight. Rosie and ELEANOR GARDNER are more heated than we’ve ever seen either of them onscreen, yelling at one another and cheeks flushed. Rosie is particularly loud, in near hysterics since she’s young, emotional, and also on defense; Eleanor maintains a cool, superior tone even as she raises her volume.

Charlie slides into the room right in the thick of it, jumping in the middle without hesitation and questioning what the heck is going on. When he can get them to acknowledge him, Eleanor actually seems pleased by his presence, openly welcoming him into the argument.

Eleanor: Oh, perfect, just what we needed. A second opinion. Rosamund, why don’t you tell your brother why you’re in trouble? Go on.

Rosie, on the other hand, is not receptive to Charlie joining the conversation. She loses a lot of her fire, shrinking back and face flushing in embarrassment. Eleanor scoffs, though it seems like this is exactly how she expected her to react.

Eleanor: What’s the matter? Are you suddenly shy? You sure were loud enough arguing back to me about it, and now you won’t tell Charlie?

Charlie: Can someone just tell me what’s going on?!

Eleanor: Gladly!

Eleanor pointedly places Rosie’s phone on the countertop, which she’s been holding the whole time. It’s open to an Instagram photo on an unfamiliar page, one of Rosie’s new friends at her gifted high school. It’s a series of photos from some hangout the freshmen were having, but the photo in question surprisingly features another familiar player -- a bunch of the freshmen are sitting around and laughing, and Rosie is grinning while sitting on the lap of URI MINKUS.

It’s pretty innocent, but the implications are enough. Eleanor relays the whole tale, how one of Rosie’s friends from Catholic school told their mom about the photo in her tagged images and the mother was kind enough to inform Eleanor about it. This is already after a discussion she had with Rosie over this boy when she saw them interacting in a less-than-acceptable manner after school when she picked her up. She thought they had cleared it all up, but apparently not, between this photo and the fact that the text messages between her and this Jewish boy are nothing if not flirtatious.

Rosie: You shouldn’t have even been going through my texts anyway!

Eleanor: Oh, shouldn’t I? I didn’t realize you were the authority now! Privacy is a privilege, Rosamund, and you’re continuing to prove that you haven’t earned it!

They continue to escalate again, Charlie bewildered as he slides the phone towards him to get a better look. The photo really is so… nothing, and the whole argument feels so blown out of proportion. But Charlie knows the patterns, he knows what Bridgette warned him about, and all of the shouting and conflict is making him lightheaded.

Charlie, weary: Stop arguing.

Eleanor: I knew we shouldn’t have let you go to the gifted school. I knew you’d be better off staying in the Catholic system.

Rosie: Then why did you let me go?!

Eleanor: Maybe I shouldn’t have! Maybe that’s the thing I shouldn’t have done! In fact, maybe I’ll have to put a call into the deans and see if they can’t transfer you back --

Rosie, mortified: Mom, no!

Charlie: Stop…

The room is starting to spin a little bit. Charlie braces himself against the countertop, screwing his eyes shut and trying to block out the yelling. But he can’t run from it. He can’t hide.

Rosie: Charlie got to go to a different school! He got to go somewhere new without you breathing down his neck!

Eleanor: Because Charlie is responsible enough to handle it! You don’t see him posting suggestive content, flirting shamelessly, making questionable decisions. I don’t need to monitor your brother because he doesn’t give me any reason to be concerned!

Oh, Eleanor, if only you knew… it’s being invoked and talked about in such a discordant way that acts as the final straw. Charlie tries to catch his breath, but it’s not coming back, and it’s like the whole world is slipping away from him…

If anything will stop an argument, passing out probably does the trick. Charlie stumbles and then collapses onto the tile floor, shocking both Eleanor and Rosie out of their anger. Rosie shrieks and rushes to his side.

Eleanor: Charlie?! Ambrose! [ rushing to the entryway ] Ambrose, Charlie’s -- come quickly! Hurry!

Charlie’s down, all right. Rosie rolls him onto his back, checking for obvious injury -- lucky he didn’t crack his head open or something -- and trying to rouse him. But he’s out like a light… all of the tension slowly fading away…

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Meanwhile, Brandon is staying late at Haverford once again, only this time he’s not alone. He’s meeting with a mysterious figure, a HIPSTER 20-something man who is probably into photography or a wannabe filmmaker. But he’s clearly there on business, Brandon and the man speaking in hushed tones as they converse even though they’re the only ones around.

Brandon: And you’re sure you’ve got the whole thing? I’m not paying for poor quality or fractions.

Hipster: I’ve been doing this for six years. Think I know what I’m doing at this point. But yes, it’s all there. Professional quality. You’ll be able to see whatever you need to see.

Brandon deems this response satisfactory enough, nodding. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small wad of cash, trading it off with whatever object the hipster is offering. When they retract their hands, Brandon comes away with the secret item -- a flash drive.

He scrutinizes it idly while the hipster quickly counts the bills, then they exchange a nod, Brandon thanking him for his service. The hipster makes his exit, Brandon pacing for a bit on the stage and turning over the flash drive in his fingers. Whatever it is, he seems pretty satisfied to have it in his grasp.

He loses some of his easygoing confidence when he hears the auditorium doors open. He slips the flash drive into his blazer pocket and straightens up, narrowing his eyes to assess his new company. When he recognizes who it is, though, an intrigued smirk blooms across his face.

Brandon: Well, well, well. I have to say, this is an unexpected surprise.

Maya Hart. Dressed in one of her sharpest ensembles, Valerie’s fur coat giving her that extra oomph, matching Brandon’s cool sophistication effortlessly. She leisurely saunters her way down the aisle towards the stage, taking her sweet time.

Maya: So this is the fabled Haverford Prep. [ pursing her lips ] I have to say, I was anticipating greater grandeur.

Brandon: It’s hard when the indigent experience excellence for the first time. Never quite meets the expectations of their hapless daydreams… [ off her sneer ] Is there something I can do for you, Hart? Let alone at this late hour?

Maya: Don’t flatter yourself. It’s 8PM.

She’s made her way to the stage now, coming to stand opposite Brandon front and center. There’s a healthy distance between them, keeping them staunchly on opposing sides, but they regard each other with respect. Maya claims she just wanted to come have a little chat, clan leader to clan leader.

Brandon: That so? I thought Friar was your figurehead.

Maya: We both have our respective areas of expertise. I like to think of myself as the Cheney to his Bush. Conservative politics notwithstanding.

Brandon: Was going to say. I don’t see Cheney being much of a swinger for socialist handouts like you all are gunning for. [ sizing her up ] But I’ll admit, I pegged you for a captain rather than a lackey. You sure took front and center at the car wash.

Maya: Ah, yes… the function you so ceremoniously soiled.

Brandon: Hope you’ll forgive the incursion. It’s only business. A little competitive spirit is all.

Maya: Oh, no arguments from me. I’m more incensed I didn’t see it coming. Wish I had thought of it myself.

Brandon chuckles, perhaps a bit won over by her… unique Maya charms. He claims he got the sense they were more alike than different… in fact, if circumstances were different, and they weren’t sworn rivals… Maya catches onto his drift right quick, mirroring his smug charisma as she feigns sympathy.

Maya: So you like what you see. Don’t despair, you’re far from the only one. But I’m afraid that’s a forgone impossibility.

Brandon: [ processing what might be a rejection ] Ah. I see. [ like they’re confidants ] You play for the other team?

Well. That’s a pretty bold assumption to jump to just because she doesn’t want to get with you, Brandon. But Maya maintains her coolness, unperturbed by such arrogant conclusions. She makes a face, as if she’s contemplating.

Maya: … no team. Let’s put it that way.

Brandon: And what’s that supposed to mean exactly?

Maya: The only team I play for is Triple A. And that’s what I’m here for.

Brandon backs off his advances and allows her the floor, back to all business. She tactfully begins to discuss negotiations around senior showdown, dancing around the details of everything going wrong inside the ranks of the A class but letting just enough of her cards show to indicate that she’s only here due to dire circumstances. Then she subtly tries to charm her way to an ideal outcome, brokering a deal where maybe, just perhaps, Haverford might find themselves on the losing side of the showdown confrontation.

You know she’s desperate if Maya is trying to arrange a thrown victory. And Brandon can sense that too, even as aloof as she’s acting, which just makes the whole situation more amusing to him. Though he feigned listening to her pitch, he is all too eager to shoot it down. Why would Haverford want to throw the competition, he muses, when their winning streak is so hot and their competition is apparently so weak?

Brandon: I knew you all were hardly a threat, but this is even more pathetic than I thought. I mean, you and Friar coming to me trying to cut a deal for an easy victory -- what a leadership duo. You all must be in harsher condition than I imagined.

Maya: Wait, what?

Brandon: … you didn’t know? That your president already paid me a little visit earlier in the semester?

Maya doesn’t respond, but the way she’s lost her easy confidence as she stares at him answers for her. Brandon laughs, shaking his head.

Brandon: What presidential teamwork. Clearly, the future of Adams is in outstanding hands. But with such low confidence, and even lower moves you’ll stoop to… no, I believe Haverford is just fine where we are now. We’ll beat you handily, as we have for the last six years, and rest assured Hart, it’ll be with immense pleasure. [ a beat ] You should probably be going, then. The security doesn’t take kindly to riff-raff hanging around our hallowed halls.

He swivels and swaggers offstage, leaving Maya alone and humiliated in enemy territory. She’s fuming, gritting her teeth and fists clenched at her sides.

INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT

Riley is seated at the counter with her laptop, keeping Lucas company while he works the late shift. She’s running through analytics of the RSVPs they’ve already gotten for the dance fundraiser, which she claims is looking pretty good.

Lucas isn’t in a very optimistic mood, commenting that even if they get half of Manhattan to show up, it probably won’t be enough to cover all their expenses including the scholarships. With their chances at showdown dwindling by the minute… who knows. Maybe he’s not doing absolutely everything he can to make it happen…

Riley closes her laptop, giving him her undivided attention.

Riley: Don’t count Triple A out of showdown just yet, please and thank you. But I think I know what this is really about.

Lucas hesitates, freezing up.

Lucas: You do?

Riley: Yeah. You act like you’re so hard to read, like I don’t know you well enough to figure out when you’re not telling me something.

How could she know… did Zay tell her about seeing Missy in the booth? He swallows. She reaches across the counter and takes his hands, giving him a sympathetic look.

Riley: You’re freaking out over the college essays.

Lucas: Oh. [ a beat ] Yeah, well, I guess I am.

Riley reminds him that he doesn’t have to keep that kind of stuff from her and act like he’s unshakeable all the time. And honestly, she gets why he’s nervous about them. It sucks writing about yourself no matter what -- unless you’re Maya -- but it’ll be even harder for him given the things he’s been through. He hasn’t exactly been encouraged to view himself favorably, at least not until recently. Old habits are hard to break.

Riley: But that’s not necessarily what they’re looking for anyway. You don’t need to prove to them that you’re the most perfect shining candidate to ever apply, you just need to give them a really good story. Make them invested, get them to care about you. Show them a bit of your individuality, your personality -- which you are not short of in either department. And I know for a fact you can draw people in…

She is, after all, a prime example. Lucas still seems doubtful, but her perspective does help. And her belief in him continues to astound him, forged in steel even when everything else feels so unpredictable. Riley leans forward to give him a soft kiss, which lingers between them.

It’s impressive, too, how being with her grounds him. How their closeness doesn’t feel like an intrusion… and somehow, feeling cornered by other forces or put on edge just makes him want to be with her more. Lucas initiates another kiss, forgetting everything else for a moment, taking shelter in that inexplicable safety with her. Riley has no complaints, leaning deeper into it and tightening her touch on his hand.

Then the front door bangs open, the bell jangling ominously. Both of them jump and pull apart. Maya marches into the diner, indignant and blue eyes burning.

Maya: What the hell, Friar?

Lucas: What’s the matter with you now?

Riley: Is everything okay?

Maya: When were you going to tell me you shook down Brandon?

Riley: [ whipping to look at him ] What?

Lucas clams up, straightening upright and taking on a defensive stance. But the sheepish expression on his face gives him away. Busted.

Maya: You know, I think that kind of mercenary maneuver is exactly the sort of decision your VP should know about. Were you just never going to let me in on it?

Riley: Why the hell did you do that?

Maya: I don’t care about that. Friar’s a shady bastard, we all knew his methods were going to be far from clean. Who gives a shit. I’m pissed he decided not to keep me in the loop! Do you have any idea how humiliating it was for me to roll up there only for Brandon Rivas to hand my ass to me on a silver platter? Cocky prick, like he knows absolutely everything --

Riley: Wait, wait. [ eyeing her ] Why were you confronting Brandon?

Oh. Well. Cough. Maya flips her hair off her shoulder, but she can’t give a good excuse that doesn’t make her just as culpable as Lucas. He raises his eyebrows at her, emphasizing that if he’s going down she’s going with him. Riley closes her eyes, trying to catch up to this turn of events.

Riley: Let me get this straight. Both of you went to our competition, at separate times, to try and threaten them into… what? Giving up? Throwing the showdown?

Lucas: I just thought that --

Maya: Our prospects are in shambles even without the money. I was just --

Lucas: And I didn’t want you to be disappointed --

Maya: Everyone is counting on me, we’ve all got a lot riding on --

Riley: Okay, okay, stop. Enough!

Riley holds her hands up, getting them both to shut up. She takes a moment to compose herself, taking a deep breath, then she jumps into fixer mode.

Riley: This must be the week for damage control, because now you’ve really done it. You realize now we’re going to have to bring it even harder, since you’ve made it perfectly clear to Brandon and the Havies that we’re spooked. You wouldn’t go and grovel for mercy if we weren’t.

Lucas: That wasn’t --

Maya, scoffing: I do not grovel --

Riley: I cannot believe you would do something so stupid. [ to Lucas ] And that you would do something like this and not tell me…

Oof… hit him where it hurts, Riles. Lucas lowers his head, avoiding her eyes. Case in point, it doesn’t make anybody look very good. And now, Riley proclaims, she has to fix it once again.

Riley: We’re going to have to brainstorm fast for showdown and make sure everything is in pristine shape, which we already know is a shot in the dark. Call Yindra, tell her to come by our place in twenty. I’ll see if we can get Jeff and Isadora too.

Riley puts her belongings back in her bag and hops off the stool, Maya already heading out. Riley goes to follow her, but she pauses in the doorway and glances back over her shoulder at Lucas. She shakes her head, obviously disappointed.

Riley: I can’t believe you.

She leaves it there, pushing through the doors without another word. Lucas looks after her, ashamed, then curses to himself and lightly hits the counter with his palm.

Break 2.

EXT. DANCE LOT - DREAM SEQUENCE - NIGHT

Charlie is sprawled on the asphalt, just like when he collapsed, the city uncharacteristically quiet around him. When he comes around he jolts upright, spooked at being outside and on his own. He looks around in confusion, no clue where he is or how he got there. He slowly gets to his feet, recognizing the dance lot as a place he’s been before, but unsure where exactly it is or where to go next.

Only one clue exists to help guide him. Music.

It’s quiet, muffled, but he can hear it. A thumping bass, hypnotic beat… he spins until he zeroes in on the source. A heavy metal door installed into the wall opposite him, propped open just slightly, with a neon sign above indicating it’s likely some kind of club. Colorful light leaks out from the crack, mesmerizing and more than intriguing.

But it’s really the music that wins him over. He’s a dancer, and he cannot resist a compelling groove. He cautiously approaches the door, pulling it open and then stepping inside… as the faraway rhythms slowly become a familiar tune...

INT. DANCE CLUB - DREAM SEQUENCE - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Voulez-Vous” as performed by Mamma Mia! Original Movie Cast || Performed by AAA Seniors & Haverford Seniors

The rambunctious ABBA classic kicks off with a bang, music loud and boldly setting the scene. The lighting is mysterious, electric, the fully romanticized version of what a sultry, exciting disco scene might be like. Charlie is no longer dressed in his everyday clothes but is suddenly styled to match the vibes, sporting a sleek disco suit with Riley’s aforementioned blue dress shirt completing the look.

And as he ventures deeper into the club, he discovers he’s not alone. The place is packed with his classmates both current and former, Haverford populating one side and Adams the other, but all dressed in similar, near identical, disco suits. All eyes lock on him the moment he’s within view, judging him, waiting for him to make a move -- or pick a side.

The vocals start, and Charlie does neither, jumping down from the steps and sliding into the center of the glowing dance floor -- right down the middle of party lines. He starts the number dancing alone, challenging the established status quo in the club, tension mounting around his transgression of crossing lines…

Until Zay pushes through the crowd on the A class side. On both feet, looking fly as ever, no injury in sight and nothing holding him back from showing his stuff.

And here we go again, we know the start, we know the end Masters of the scene

Charlie pauses, locking eyes with Zay. For a moment, finishing up the pre-chorus, they just hold eye contact… letting that tension bubble over…

Then Zay jumps into the center of the floor with him, joining in the dance.

Voulez-vous!

For the first chorus it’s just Zay and Charlie, dancing sometimes together and sometimes in contrast, epitomizing the back-and-forth pull between them. But it’s them, so the dancing is remarkably good, and especially satisfying considering how long it’s been since we saw them share a routine. Their timing and chemistry is just as sharp as ever, and it’s also a relief just to see Zay be able to move again.

Throughout the second verse, they weave back into their respective schools, Charlie’s peers still eyeing each other suspiciously and reluctant to break rank. But Zay manages to get Riley out on the dance floor (with Lucas in tow), and then Charlie nudges Evan. Bit by bit the classes mix and mingle, caught somewhere between dancing in tandem and facing off like foes. This becomes especially pronounced during the bridge about 3 and half minutes in, when the chorus becomes stripped and just relies on “ahas,” Charlie leading the Haverford delegation and Zay fronting the A class as they mirror movements and poses.

Then they officially bleed together, classmates crossing into opposite territory for the final chorus. For those who don’t already have a pair in their respective class (unlike say, Dylan and Asher), they pair with someone from the opposite school, like Brandon and Maya.

And, naturally, Zay and Charlie. They’re back together at the center of it all, intensity rising with the music, choreography much more intertwined this time and very close together. If not breaking charged eye contact were an Olympic sport, they would win gold easily.

The flash. The glamor. The drama. ABBA would be proud! When they round out the final seconds and strike their final pose, Zay and Charlie’s faces are so close, all it would take is a centimeter in either direction…

Zay: Charlie...

Charlie’s eyes flit down to his lips, as if he’s contemplating that very thing…

Rosie, faraway: Charlie!

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Alas, not meant to be -- even in dream sequence. Charlie rouses awake when he’s shaken by Rosie, sitting on the bed next to him.

Oh, well. Wouldn’t be the same as doing it for real anyway.

Charlie blinks to adjust back to reality, Rosie releasing a momentous sigh when she sees he’s conscious again. She snaps at him for scaring her, informing him that his fainting spell totally freaked her and Eleanor out. Ambrose is on the phone with their doctor friend right now. He manages to sit up and apologizes for worrying them. It’s probably just… stress.

Rosie: Either way, bad party trick. Mom was so bugged out. You shouldn’t tell her you think it’s stress, or else she’ll probably yank you out of school too and back into Catholic prep.

Charlie: Yeah, speaking of… you really think she’s going to do that to you?

Rosie: … after you passed out, the conversation was basically dropped. If I keep quiet and don’t do anything else to incriminate myself, I think she’ll let it go. [ embittered ] Though sucks that I can’t even text who I want without her knowing every message I send. I doubt she’ll even let me speak to Uri now.

Charlie: Pro-tip? Change his contact name. Mom only goes looking for what she thinks is a problem. If you give him something inconspicuous, she’s never going to know otherwise.

Rosie stares at him, shocked her saltine brother would even think of something like that. I mean, he might be an alcoholic, but still… but it’s good advice all the same. Charlie goes on to explain that he was worried about her, too, and he doesn’t want her to feel like she’s trapped or she has to lash out. You can negotiate with Eleanor, you just have to be clever about it. He doesn’t want her to make the same mistakes that Bridgette did.

Rosie: Yeah, I know… thanks for looking out for me.

Charlie: So… Uri Minkus, huh?

Rosie: Ugh.

Charlie: He’s really that worth sneaking around to text?

Rosie: … I guess you could say… perhaps… maybe… that I have like, the tiniest crush on him. Just a little bit.

Charlie can’t help his smile. He jokes that she should be careful, not because of Eleanor’s concerns, but because if they get married then Farkle is going to become their in-law, and she has no idea what she’s in for if that happens. She groans and nudges Charlie, telling him to shut up, but it’s clear she’s already in better spirits than most of this week. She asks if he’s okay given that all his “stress” is literally making him pass out. Is everything okay with Adams? Charlie admits that he wishes things were easier to navigate than they are.

Charlie: Honestly, I think I’m just naturally gifted at making everything worse. [ with a weak laugh ] Probably should’ve listened to dad when he asked if transferring during senior year was a good idea.

Rosie points out that maybe some of that stress weighing on him is just stuff he creates in his own head. Not to demean it or anything, but like… does everything have to be an anxiety-inducing dilemma? If he wants to go hang out with his friends, from either school, then he should just go do that. He’s allowed to enjoy himself every once and a while and take a break from being the perfect saltine protective older brother. You know, have fun.

Rosie: [ holding up a finger ] Sober fun.

Charlie’s turn to laugh and nudge her. But maybe she has a point. And there might be just the perfect upcoming event where he can relax and have some fun…

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

We join Eric and Isadora in the midst of their conversation. Eric reads Valerie’s letter while Isadora watches with her lips pressed together. Once he finishes the letter, he takes a moment to process it. 

Eric: Wow. That’s… a lot. 

Isadora: What do you think? 

Eric: I think that what I think isn’t important at all right now. What do you think? Do you want to get in contact with him?

Isadora thinks about it as she wrings her hands. 

Isadora: I’m not sure. But… you aren’t upset? 

Eric: Why would I be upset? 

Isadora: If I do want to meet him, I’m worried you’ll think that you’re not enough for me or something. I don’t want to hurt you. 

Eric: Isadora, that could never happen. I’m not hurt at all, I just want what’s best for you, and a relationship with your father could be something really good. 

Isadora: What if it isn’t, though? I don’t want to set myself up for disappointment. Again. 

Eric: That’s understandable. You don’t have to make a decision now, though. You have all the time you want to think it over. [ a beat ] If you want, you could write a letter to him yourself. You don’t have to send it, but it can be cathartic to write out everything you’re thinking and feeling about the situation.

Unsure, Isadora pulls a face. Eric reminds her again to just think about it -- no major decisions necessary right now.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Lucas is meeting with Jack one last time before the dance fundraiser to grab another cash box and go over any last minute details. Jack questions if he’s going to be dressing for the occasion, to which Lucas rolls his eyes but begrudgingly admits that he thinks Riley would be even more upset with him if he didn’t. Though he doesn’t have all the details, Jack assures Lucas that he’s sure Riley isn’t going to be angry for long.

One can only hope. Jack wishes Lucas luck and then he heads out, leaving him to his work. He settles back into it until he lifts his gaze and catches Yancy heading out of the building, checking out for the weekend.

All of Jack’s frustration from his conversation with Evelyn bubbles back up again. He pushes out of his chair, jogging out of his office.

EXT. AAA - DAY

Jack catches Yancy on his way down the steps, telling him that they need to talk. Yancy claims whatever it is can surely wait until Monday, but Jack isn’t having it.

Jack: No, I don’t think your active sabotage of my school can wait another damn second.

Yancy is stunned by his coarse language, effectively halting him long enough to have the confrontation. Well, what then? Jack questions when exactly he planned to let him know about his ongoing anti-campaign against the student government’s scholarship endeavors, or what would drive him and Graham to work to pit the board against them. He knows that they aren’t fond of him, especially after his stunt at the trial, but taking it out on the students? Who does that benefit? What do they gain from that?

Yancy, sharply: Actually, Jackson, you’ve hit the nail on the head. After your little unprofessional display, why wouldn’t we be invested in halting any other schemes you deem a good idea? Particularly when your chosen favorite himself just miraculously managed to become student body president in a school that hates his very existence?

Jack: You have no idea what you’re talking about, and Lucas won that election on his own merit. It had nothing to do with me.

Yancy: It has everything to do with you! Everything does! So long as you are at the helm of this ship, making all the calls, everything ties back to you. And we used to trust you with that power. But all this behavior as of late -- declining lucrative offers, favoring delinquents --

Jack: He is not a delinquent!

Yancy: Or how about cavorting with a fellow employee? [ off his shocked expression ] Oh, come on, Jackson, I’m not naive. Did you and Eric really believe you could flaunt your little flirtation right in front my face and I wouldn’t notice a thing? As if my whole purpose at that school isn’t to keep it from collapsing under your unprofessional whimsy and desires!

This whole time, he’s been observing, watching the operation of AAA from the inside out, trying to determine if Jack remains fit to head the institution. Yancy admits, when Graham first put him up for the job, he was skeptical -- he’d always had great belief in Jack as an educator. He was doubtful that he had really slipped so far… but now he’s seen for himself. There is a certain way things are done, and it seems Jack has forgotten all of his proper perspective in service to that law and order.

Yancy: When I finish my report to the board at the end of the semester, they’ll be the judge of whether or not you deserve to stay where you are. But believe me, if I had it my way, you’d be out of that position and filing for unemployment faster than lightning.

Jack: You can’t do this. You can’t eject me from the role simply because your perspective is too old-fashioned to be flexible. Or empathetic. And unwilling to examine context --

Yancy: Well, we’ll just let the board decide that, won’t we.

Guess we will. Yancy fussily buttons his coat.

Yancy: I would watch yourself if I were you, Jackson. In my opinion, it’s far too late, but we both know how easy it is to tip the scales slightly in your favor. Maybe you’ll salvage this yet. Otherwise, I’d start contemplating alternative paths. Have a good evening.

Yancy stomps down the steps, not waiting for a goodbye. Jack swallows his panic, trying to remain resolute in the face of so much pressure. Scrambling to figure out what to do next...

A groovy disco track bleeds into the soundscape, totally dissonant to Jack’s dread --

INT. DANCE VENUE - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Streetdance” as performed by Disco Street Machine || Instrumental

The ‘70s dance fundraiser is in full swing, and it seems to be doing well! The venue is packed not just with Adams students but other community members, promising at least some greater revenue from the whole ordeal. The scene is set with funky lighting and a dance floor, along with some flower-power type decorations and a fun mirrorball hanging above it all.

It’s mainly cool to see everyone leaning into the theme and dressed in their best approximations of ‘70s garb. We’ve got funky vests, blazers for days, chunky platform boots, a few bohemian chic vibes, you name it. A few establishing shots show us all these looks and more while the assembled crowd grooves to the disco track. Yogi is wandering with his camera, capturing footage for posterity and social media.

Lucas is manning the check-in table, this time keeping control over the money in his own hands. He maintains a cordial enough demeanor as he interacts with potential patrons, and he is giving some semblance of ‘70s as promised in his collared-shirt-under-sweater look. He’s serving like… gothic Fred Jones, which is about as much as you’re gonna get from him.

Asher and Dylan, on the other hand, are representing much better. Asher is repping the funky vest and puffy sleeve shirt vibe, matched well with some maroon bell-bottoms and swooped back hair, while Dylan is truly going disco with a silky vibrant shirt tucked into silver pants, a huge, chunky pair of Elton John tinted glasses the cherry on top of the ensemble. They ask how cash flow is going, and Lucas claims fine, but they’re not out of the woods by a long shot.

Lucas: If things don’t pick up, I’m going to start pickpocketing.

Asher: Yes, that’s exactly what we need. A literal crook for president.

Dylan: Isn’t that like every president?

Anyway, Lucas needs to chill. Or as Dylan puts it, surrender to the boogie. Which is what he and Asher are going to go do right now -- the dance floor beckons them. Asher leads the way, Dylan walking backwards so he can maintain eye contact with Lucas and literally disco groove away from him as encouragement to give in to the funk. Lucas just shakes his head, unimpressed.

When Lucas gets back to work, who should be waiting to purchase a ticket in but Charlie Gardner. He’s dressed for the occasion too, dressed in dark pants and a white blazer… with Riley’s chosen blue shirt underneath. It seems he followed her guidance and went for it after all. Lucas greets him and commends him for turning out, considering all the bad blood between Haverford and AAA right now. Brave of him to show up.

Doesn’t he know it… but he wants to be here. Lucas takes his money and nods for him to go on in, sending him into the fray.

Meanwhile, Zay is parked at one of the tables, not in the best mood considering he’s surrounded by the boogie and can’t participate. Nigel is doing his best to cheer him up, but it’s sort of a fruitless effort. When Zay catches him eyeing Jade, who the techies managed to extract from the loft to at least enjoy the dance, he sighs and tells him to go have fun. He doesn’t have to waste away with him. Nigel argues against that take, but Zay nods him onward, insisting.

So Nigel bounces to his feet, thanking Zay before cutting through the crowd in the direction of Jade. Zay watches him go, bittersweet at being left alone again.

Charlie skirts the edges for a bit before finding companionship in Farkle, who greets him plainly. He’s dressed like Eric Forman, wearing a simple button down and bellbottoms combo with a loose brown corduroy jacket. He and Charlie briefly catch up, commenting on how the turn out is and how great the aesthetic is. But Farkle is still a bit lost in his own head, and Charlie notices. He elbows him lightly.

Charlie: You okay?

Farkle: [ with some of his usual humor ] Chuck, that’s like asking the sky if it’s red. I think you already know the answer.

But he’ll live. Once he figures some things out… it’ll be fine. It has to be. Vagueness aside, Charlie can tell there’s more to it, but he opts to focus on distraction rather than problem-solving. He’s had enough problem-solving for a lifetime this week. He invites Farkle to go dance instead, playfully challenging him to show what disco moves he’s got up his sleeve.

Farkle: Oh, you’re going to regret this -- and not because I’m good.

Charlie laughs, gesturing for him to lead the way onto the dance floor.

Maya jumps up onto the small stage set up with the DJ booth, taking the microphone and briefly thanking everyone for coming out. No applause necessary for putting it together, really… and she waits until the audience feels compelled to applaud. Then she waves them off “humbly” before reminding them of all the ways they can support the Adams senior class while at this benefit -- mainly financially! And by getting down and boogie-oogie-oogying. Peace!

Lucas shakes his head at Maya’s speech, lightly amused, but all of his calm is wiped away when Missy walks through the door. She’s dressed in simple ‘70s, a gorgeous and slightly revealing silk disco mini dress and with her hair blown out like Farah Fawcett. She cheekily compliments him on his get up.

Missy, sarcastic: An ensemble that elaborate must’ve taken ages to throw together. I see you really put an effort in.

Lucas: Maybe. And what’s your excuse?

Missy: Not everything needs to be silly and over the top. In fact, I think the richest things in life are those that go understated. Left unsaid… makes everything a bit more exciting, anticipating whatever more there might be to explore. [ a beat ] Same goes for fashion.

Lucas: … so are you paying, or what?

Missy: As I understand it, Adams seniors get in free. But since I can afford it…

She reaches into her small satin purse, pulling out a wad of cash. She siphons off about half of it -- way more than a ticket would cost -- and drops it into the cash box for him. He eyes it suspiciously, then flits his glare towards her.

Missy: I thought about our little chat. And you’re right, maybe there needs to be something in it for me -- which in this case is a victory at showdown. We’re embarrassing enough right now as it is. At least with the funding, we’ll look good when we crash and burn. And as for the rest…

She folds up the remaining bills in her hand and holds them out for him, gesture subtle but unmistakable. Lucas stares at the money, then glances around them nervously to make sure no one else is looking.

Lucas: What the hell are you doing?

Missy: Come on, Lucas. Don’t be noble. We know how things are between us. I’m just trying to help. And it stays discreet. Think of it as… a bonus, for all the hard work you’re doing for the A class. [ quieter ] I heard you in the booth. You don’t ask for help. Well, sometimes, you don’t have to beg. You can just take… whatever you want.

She raises her eyebrows, subtly challenging him to take it. Lucas hesitates, holding his breath… it feels like a test, he knows it is… but he’s already taken plenty from her without asking. What’s a little more…

Missy: Davis isn’t going to pay for itself, is it?

No. No it isn’t. She’s right, and he knows his chances of reeling a scholarship are slim to none. Does he really want all of this stress for applications to be for nothing?

Reluctantly, Lucas takes the money from her and slips it into his back pocket. Missy smiles, genuinely pleased, though why it’s hard to say. But it’s clear, now more than ever, that whatever little arrangement they’ve got going on here is a pattern now. It’s not just going to flutter away on its own, and the consequences that might come of it remain a mystery.

Missy: Groovy. Enjoy the dance, Lucas.

Lucas doesn’t respond, using the cash box as an excuse not to look at her. But based on flipping through the amount of money she handed over for the fundraiser, they’re way closer to their goal than before. And that has to make it all worth it, right?

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “September” as performed by Earth, Wind, & Fire || Instrumental

One of the best songs of the decade comes on next, earning an enthusiastic cheer from the crowd. Riley weaves her way through the throng and rushes up to the entrance to find Lucas, Nate in tow. She’s dressed in a shimmery lavender-mauve jumpsuit, a complimentary hair scarf tying together the groovy look. She pushes Nate in front of her.

Riley: Nate here is taking over table duty.

Nate: You know how I love dem bills, my brother.

Riley: So that you can come dance with me.

Lucas cringes, weakly putting up a fight. Oh, no, no, no… but Riley’s already got her hands on him, and her smile is so damn cute, it would be impossible to refuse her. So he lets her drag him out into the crowd.

Once they’re actually on the dance floor, Riley beams at him and pulls him closer, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Lucas does his best to be a good sport and play along, especially since he’s already in trouble, placing his hands on her hips and casually swaying to the beat.

Lucas: So… does this mean I’m off the hook for the Brandon thing, or…

Riley: Hm… so as long you’re dancing with me and you look so cute in that sweater, I suppose you can be forgiven.

Better than nothing, though Lucas still clearly feels guilty about disappointing her. Just one of many ways he feels like he’s letting her down… but for now she’s happy, so he’ll just focus on touching her waist and how hot she looks in her jumpsuit.

Across the dance floor, Dylan and Asher are in conversation with Jeff and Yindra, Dylan with his arm draped casually around Asher’s shoulders and bouncing to the beat. They’re discussing the everchanging stakes of their showdown routine -- at this point Yindra claims they should just scrap it all and start over, they’ve got equally as bad a shot with the shoddy routine they have now. But Asher claims that would be a disaster, and they should only cross that bridge if they absolutely must.

Dylan spots something that seems to capture his attention, his eyes widening in excitement. He pinches Asher’s ribs and leans closer, Asher tilting his head to listen to his murmur.

Dylan: Shakespeare in Love, straight ahead.

Asher squints through the dancing crowd and finds what he’s talking about -- Nigel and Jade. He’s actually managed to pull her onto the dance floor, engaging in loose and easy grooving together. She’s laughing, waving off how bad a dancer she is, but he holds one of her hands and assures her she’s good.

Totally radical. Asher and Dylan exchange knowing looks, unable to hold back a grin.

Zay is less enthused, mainly because of his current view -- Charlie, dancing with Farkle of all people to one of the greatest songs there is. Not that there’s anything to be concerned about, really, since they’re clearly just goofing around with each other and Farkle is as promised quite an embarrassing disco dancer. But he’s up and moving, free, having fun, making Charlie laugh -- with Charlie looking disgustingly attractive in his expertly chosen shirt -- and it kind of feels like a perfect vignette of what’s locked away from him.

Everything Zay wants, desperately misses, but can’t have.

His brooding is interrupted when Isadora plops down into the chair across from him, giving him a nod in greeting. He asks why she’s not out there grooving on the dance floor, and she sagely says she’s not interested in getting up to boogie so… publicly. She’s amazed Riley got Lucas out there, but that’s only because of her unique Riley charms. It’s torture in her eyes.

Zay: Speak for yourself, but you’re entitled to your whack opinion.

Isadora: I know, I know. This is killing you. And I respect that. Just not for me. [ a beat ] Maybe it’ll give you some peace to know that you being benched is an undeniable tragedy for all of us.

Zay: The considerate part of me says no, but the egotistical side does love it, thank you.

Isadora: You’re welcome. [ with a sigh ] Now there’s talk of changing the routine if we can’t figure out how to fill your vacancy. Not that I don’t think we could pull it off, but it would take all hands on deck and everyone on board, and I don’t see that happening unless there’s no other alternative. Right now, if we could just find someone to fill your spot -- never as strongly, of course --

Zay: Again, my ego thanks you. You’re not going to take the spot?

Isadora: Uh… I mean, I don’t know. A couple of people suggested it, but look, we know I’m no you. I don’t learn as quickly, and I’ve got enough of a track record with performance mishaps on my own. I mean, what if I do it but I completely freeze the moment we have to go out there? My mom’s parting gift to me was giving me the one thing she never had -- stage fright. Doesn’t that seem too risky to throw in there when the stakes are higher than ever?

Zay: Man, I don’t know. I get what you’re saying, but all I know is that I would kill to be able to perform right now. And if you’re debating it at all, then to me, that means you want to -- and if I had the ability to do it, I wouldn’t waste it for a second on what ifs.

Very insightful, Zay. Isadora contemplates this… then she points out to Zay that just because he’s off his feet doesn’t mean he has to fade into oblivion. He’s got to take the time to heal, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be involved in the class or productions. He just has to find new ways to involve himself rather than what he’s used to.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Y.M.C.A.” as performed by Village People || Instrumental

Another classic! In an instant, Riley appears at their table, teeming with enthusiasm and reaching for Zay’s hands. She insists that he get up dance with her -- to which he reminds her that he’s booted -- but she points out that anyone can do the Y.M.C.A. It’s just shouting and arms! So he relents, allowing her to help him to his feet, but his grin betrays his aloof demeanor.

Farkle slides over moments later, telling Isadora that she better get up and join them too. If Zay can do it, she has no excuse. She rolls her eyes, but she really can’t argue with him on that.

So the dance wraps up with a flourish, the full class laughing, sing-shouting and goofing off together to the party favorite that literally anyone can do. Nigel and Riley each support Zay on either side, and he looks about as joyful as he has in weeks. Asher and Dylan prevent Lucas from escaping, keeping him on the dance floor and trapping him in the Y.M.C.A groove too. Charlie dances with Haley and Clarissa, who take turns twirling under his arms.

Yogi and Dave make their way through it all, capturing all the joy of a successful fundraiser on camera so they’ll never forget it.

INT. DANCE VENUE - LATER - NIGHT

The party has wrapped up, only the A class hanging around to clean up. Well, the A class and Charlie, who insisted it was no problem to stay back and assist in tidying. He’s working with Nigel and Yindra at stacking chairs, the latter of which comments playfully that he really is too helpful for his own good.

Yindra: Such a good little Christian, truly. It’s like God injected his compassion mission into your cute white boy veins.

Charlie: Well… not that good, admittedly. [ a beat ] I think if he was going to make his prototype golden child, he would’ve skipped the part where he made me gay.

Oop. Wow, a casual coming out -- and with a little humor, too! Charlie is getting better at this. Yindra raises her eyebrows at him, assessing for a moment whether or not he might be joking… and then she breaks into a wide grin, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

Yindra: Oh, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie… I always knew I liked you. And I should’ve known, considering that awful Les Mis kiss still haunts my nightmares.

She asks how long he’s been out, or at least telling people, and Nigel slides in to proudly note that he told him before Yindra. She rolls her eyes. Charlie admits it’s slow-going and hasn’t been easy, especially with the community outside of AAA, but it feels good every time he does it. Hopefully the rest of his world will turn out tolerant too.

Yindra invites him to her church that Sunday for a change of pace. She’s performing a solo in the choir, so it’ll be guaranteed entertaining, and it might be good for him to see an actually accepting church environment for a change.

Nigel: She just wants to force you to see her ‘70s performance before she shares it with the class on Monday. The more people she can force to be her audience, the better.

Yindra: Hey, now, I don’t care for your sass, Chey Chey.

Either way, her church runs later than his, so it shouldn’t conflict. And Nigel will be there too -- she’s bribing him with brunch -- so it’ll be like a fun little outing. Charlie just seems happy to be connecting with his peers again, so he happily agrees.

Nate, pre-lap: 70… 80… 90…

INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT

Lucas, Maya, Riley, Dylan, Asher, Isadora, and Farkle are convened in and around the back corner booth, watching nervously as Nate counts the final income from the dance fundraiser. All of them are holding their breath… Maya is pacing like a wildcat, ready to pounce and tear him to shreds if the number is too low.

Isadora: Jesus, Nate, can’t you count any faster?

Nate: No, I don’t cut corners when it comes to money. Now shut up, or I’ll have to start over.

Farkle, exhausted: Hush, Isa. Don’t make him start over.

Silence settles over them again… and Nate finishes counting the bills from the cashbox. He lifts up a finger to halt them from asking, writing the number down and then pulling up the calculator app on his phone. After combining the total from this with the car wash haul…

Nate: We did it. Crazy sons of bitches, we did it!

They officially made the money to pay for the damages and fund their showdown needs. Victory! All of them cheer, hugging each other and clapping enthusiastically. Riley wraps her arms around Lucas and kisses his cheek, while he’s looking pretty relieved.

Nate: I gotta say though, the numbers seem kind of skewed based on the actual attendance we had. Someone must’ve made a huge donation. [ to Lucas ] Did you notice anyone drop some major cash?

Oh, interesting… Lucas pauses, then breezes past the question. He claims it doesn’t matter who donated what -- they’re in the clear, and now they can focus on what matters. It’s time to kick Haverford’s pretentious privileged ass at showdown.

Hear, hear! The group cheers again, exchanging high-fives and reveling in their hard-earned success.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Isadora arrives home, shedding her jacket and shoes at the door. She’s relaxed, and has a relieved smile on her face. From where he sits on the sofa, Eric looks over to her. 

Isadora: We did it! We raised all the money we need. 

Eric: Oh, amazing! Well done, I’m so proud of you all.

Isadora sits down next to him and exhales. It’s been a long day. 

Isadora: I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I’ve decided to write a letter to Zachary. 

Eric: Tha --

Isadora, interrupting: I don’t know whether I’ll send it or not, but I do think it’ll help just to get my thoughts out there.

Eric nods his agreement, and reminds her that he’ll always be there for her. Just as she starts to ask for help on what to include in the correspondence, there’s a knock at the door. Eric goes to answer it, pleasantly surprised to find Jack waiting on the other side. Although he’s happy to see him, Jack seems stressed, so Isadora gets the hint that she should probably give them some space. She wishes Jack a good night and retreats to her room, leaving them alone.

Eric: Did you hear that they made the money to cover the auditorium damages? I’m honestly impressed, but I guess we should never doubt the A class.

Jack: Yeah… yeah, I did. From Lucas. It’s great.

Eric: … okay, what’s going on. You’ve got your thin voice going, how you get when something is wrong.

Jack doesn’t even bother to ask what that means -- Eric knows him well, it’s hardly a surprise at this point. He releases a strained sigh and explains what happened with Yancy, both about him sabotaging the scholarship fund from within the board and then the confrontation they had on the steps. Eric listens raptly, absorbing some of his dread with every word.

Eric: That sick… I always knew there was something off about him. He’s a corporate sellout through and through -- has been since he joined the board. And he has the gall to lecture you… we’ll get him for this, Jack. We just have to strategize --

Jack: No. No, we can’t do anything. Not right now. Not with so many things on the line.

Jack mentions the other piece of Yancy’s threat -- that he might be put on probation for real and potentially let go. Eric scoffs at this, disbelieving. Jack is well-known in the community… no way he’d get ousted. It’s an empty threat.

Eric: What’ll probably happen is that if anything, they put you off contract, and the position would reopen for applicants. So all you’d have to do is apply again, and Evelyn would hand it back to you without question. Yancy is just reaching, he can’t --

Jack: But Evelyn isn’t the only vote that matters, Eric. If they can flip a decision on something like the scholarships… that affects the students… and I don’t think he’s bluffing. I mean, he brought up Lucas, he mentioned… he mentioned you and me…

Eric shrinks a bit at this. It’s uncomfortable that someone is using their relationship as leverage, implying it’s a bad thing, but he’s also nervous about the way Jack is taking it. He knows how much he cares about AAA. He’d do anything to keep it afloat, to do what’s right for the school.

Eric: So… [ with a deep breath ] What do you want to do?

Jack, softly: Right now… I just think we need to… we need to step back. Put things on hold until the dust settles. My examination period should be over soon, and when this is all sorted, then… then maybe we can…

But for now, they can’t. There’s too much at stake… things both of them care about more than themselves. Although Eric is reluctant, he does his best to keep his emotions in check and nods along. He places a hand on Jack’s shoulder, letting it rest there for a moment. Stroking with his thumb, soaking in the touch for all it’s worth. Who knows when he’ll comfortably get to do it again.

Eric: Whatever you need, Jack. I understand. [ with difficulty ] I’m with you.

Jack nods, grateful. More grateful than he’ll ever know. He holds his gaze for a long moment, then leans forward and presses his lips softly to the corner of his mouth. So close, yet so far… Eric closes his eyes, trying his best not to crack.

Jack pulls back, swallowing hard. He clears his throat and nods, back to a fragile shell of professionalism.

Jack: I’ll see you at school.

Eric returns the nod, but he can’t meet his eyes. Jack hesitates for a moment longer, wishing it wasn’t this way, wishing he could stay… then steps back into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

Like he was never there.

INT. YINDRA’S CHURCH - DAY

Charlie and Nigel are in one of the pews amidst the usual congregation of Yindra’s church, waiting for the choir following the service to begin. Charlie seems excited but nervous, liking the high spirits and jovial energy but worried he’s an imposter just like he is everywhere else. He leans over to Nigel.

Charlie: I stick out like a sore thumb, don’t I?

Nigel: Mm, yeah. But it’s okay, [ patting his arm ] you can’t help that you’re skim milk.

Thank you for that, Nigel. Charlie opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out, so it’s a relief when Yindra steps down front and center in her church choir robes to address the congregation. She cheerfully greets them and explains that she got to choose the song for this week, which she used to also fulfill the requirement for her art school lesson. Two birds, one stone, am I right?

Either way, she wants to dedicate the heart of this performance to her peers at school and in attendance this afternoon. She knows they’re all going through stuff, and even though it feels like the end of the world right now, it’ll all be water under the bridge one day. All they can do is take it day by day, and by the grace of God, everything will end up the way it’s meant to be.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Bridge Over Troubled Water” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Yindra Amino

If anyone could deliver soulful, impressive vocals to rival and honor Mercedes Jones (for those of us who did watch Glee, unlike the Havies), it would be Yindra Amino. And deliver she does, both in the church and on the atrium steps at AAA where she splits this performance. The rest of her choir backing her up gospel style really does add a certain something something, but the true emphasis of the number is the meaning.

Your time has come to shine All your dreams are on their way See how they shine, oh, if you need a friend I'm sailing right behind

When she makes it to the latter half and the gospel kicks off clapping to the beat, the entire congregation leaps to their feet and eagerly joins in. Charlie and Nigel are right there with them -- as is the A class in the atrium intercut of the performance.

Yindra brings it home with a spectacular vocal run, and you have to wonder if she really could make it out there in L.A. on her vocal chops alone. The church erupts into gleeful applause as she wraps up and takes a bow with the choir, beaming bright.

Charlie mirrors her smile, enthusiastically clapping along. Experiencing for an instant what it’s like to feel comfortable in church -- allowed to just be himself.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Lucas is anxiously sitting opposite Riley in the usual booth, watching as she carefully reads over his personal essays. She’s doing her best to maintain a professional and neutral expression while she goes, but it’s impossible to hold back the slightest smile on her lips as she reaches the conclusion. When she lifts her gaze to meet his, but purposefully builds suspense by not saying anything, he cracks.

Lucas: Well? They’re terrible, aren’t they? You can just say it if they are.

Riley: … [ breaking into a grin ] They’re great, Lucas. Brilliant, honestly. Not that I ever had any doubt you could pull it off.

What a relief. Lucas exhales a sigh, thanking her for taking the time to read them. Then he continues, softly apologizing for not telling her about what happened with Brandon. Even though he had good intentions, he knows it doesn’t matter. And if he wanted so much not for her to know, then obviously it was never a good idea to begin with.

Riley: You know it’s fine for you to mess up. I just don’t get why you didn’t tell me.

Lucas: [ after a beat ] I guess I didn’t… it’s like the stupid personal essays. I know that… I’m not a shining example of a good person. I don’t think that’s exactly a secret.

Riley: I don’t think that.

Lucas: I know. I know you don’t, and I think that’s why I didn’t want you to know. Because it’s like every thing I do that shows you that, the more you realize that I’m… less than ideal, then…

Riley tilts her head, giving him a sympathetic look. Then she gets up and comes to join him on his side of the booth, sliding in next to him and leaning forward a bit so he’ll meet her gaze.

Riley: I told you that I wanted a relationship with you, and I meant it. And that’s all of you -- everything, the good and the bad. Even if you make a mistake, or I get disappointed, it doesn’t change that. We’ll find a way to work it out. I want you.

Her way with words makes everything sound so easy, so simple… and maybe it is. Maybe it can be just as simple as wanting each other, loving each other, and making it work. Lucas absorbs the sentiment, smiling shyly and thanking her again.

Hard part out of the way, Riley asks him how he managed to break his writer’s block and write those killer essays. What was his secret? Lucas hums, thinking about it.

Lucas: It was kind of what you said. You know, changing my perspective. When I was trying to write it from my lens, it was… well, you know. But then I just tried to think… what would Riley say? If someone asked you about me. And when I thought about it like that, I don’t know… suddenly, it was easy.

Riley chews her lip, smile blossoming on her face. She pulls him into a gentle kiss, one that he returns before swiftly stealing another one. She nudges her forehead against his, fondness shining in her eyes as she looks at him.

It’s no mystery how thinking like her made for some unbeatable work.

Billy, pre-lap: I knew it. I knew he wasn’t loyal.

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - SENIOR LOUNGE - DAY

Dweezil’s phone is sitting on the tabletop, open to the Adams social media page. Displayed are a handful of photos Yogi took during the ‘70s dance… including one clearly featuring Charlie, dancing with Haley and Clarissa. Although it looks like he’s having a swell time, Billy and Dweezil don’t seem happy for their classmate at all.

Dweezil: He’s never really jumped ship. We know he’s always hanging out with Riley anyway. This is just definitive proof.

Billy: Showdown is in a week. If he’s still this comfortable with his old chums, who knows how much shit he’s telling them.

Dweezil: And what if he finds out about the plan? No way he’s going to let us do it.

Billy: I say we take care of this now. Before it interferes with our performance.

Dweezil: He might blow everything.

Billy: Brandon. You have to have an opinion on this shit.

Opposite them and seated at the table, Brandon is examining the photograph for himself. He’s unperturbed as usual, thoughtful and contemplative. He doesn’t comment until Billy and Dweezil basically demand input from him, at which point he offers a calm smile.

Brandon: It’s nice to see him enjoying himself, isn’t it? I like Charles. He’s a nice kid. [ a beat, then suavely ] And a coward.

Brandon gingerly places Dweezil’s phone back on the desk, reclining back in his chair.

Brandon: I’m not worried about him.

Billy: Man, you’re kidding --

Dweezil: And what if he decides to --

Brandon: Don’t you get it? He’s not going to do anything. If there’s one thing you can count on with Charles, it’s that he’s spineless. He’s not feeding them information, and even if he does take offense to something we do, he isn’t going to do shit. Gardner is soft, and he’s the least of our worries. But in a week it’s not even going to matter. Especially not when we’ve got this.

Brandon retrieves the flash drive from his blazer pocket, placing it on the table between them. Billy and Dweezil eye it with interest -- they all clearly know what it contains.

Brandon: Once we crack into this, it’s over. We’re going to crush Adams like we do every year -- whether Charles helps or not.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Ah, to be back in the warm embrace of the auditorium -- even if it’s still a bit banged up. It’ll take a little while longer to get the auditorium back in tip-top shape, but the A class can at least come home to roost in it again, which is where they gather for the kick off the next week.

All of them give a round of applause to Harley for his assistance in repairing their mistakes, and hope that he enjoyed the performances of the last few days. He assures them he did, though as he understands it, the week isn’t quite over yet. He steps back and allows Jade to take front and center.

She thanks all of them for being patient with her while she finished up her portfolio materials, and at this point she only has one more request. Behind her, Dave and Dylan roll out the racks with her ‘70s portfolio costumes, and she explains that she needs models to pose for the photographs she’s going to include in her application of all her hard work. Now hm… where on Earth is she going to find suitable, available models for free who she just happened to know all the measurements of and would fit perfectly into these custom costumes…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Shake Your Booty” as performed by Forever In Your Mind || Performed by AAA Seniors

Riley beams, claiming she thinks she knows where they could find a few volunteers. The A class launches to their feet, rushing the stage to see what Jade has in store.

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

The boys kick off this energetic, bopping closing number, changing into their Jade ‘70s ensembles and grooving in the dressing room. Sliding through the wall --

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

The girls are doing the same, fluffing their hair and doing each other’s make up as they sing into the mirrors. Once they’re all set, Yindra leads the way out into the dressing room hall…

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

Where they meet up with the boys, strutting in their fierce, authentically ‘70s looks. They make a mad dash for the auditorium --

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

And reclaim their stage, breaking into disco grooves as they toss around solo lines and show off their outfits. Jade stands with Yogi and helps him direct the costume shoot, both of them dressed up as well with Jade sporting the stereotypical but Jade-infused bohemian flower power girl look with a flowy white dress with puffy sleeves and a leather headband laced with wildflowers.

On the bridge, we get a montage of all of the A class posing in their outfits as they dance to get their pictures taken. This highlights not only how much we love this silly crop of seniors, but also how fantastic and individualized Jade’s costumes truly are. Paired with the earnest and jubilant performance, it’s a truly lovable showing.

Then they bring it on home with a disco line dance, all breaking into the same groovy choreography and all in their ‘70s garb. Zay watches from the audience with Lucas and the faculty, for once seemingly not in despair over being benched and still getting a custom outfit of his own. Dylan and Asher are front and center, and they pull Jade into it on the last few lines, so she also gets her boogie in before the day is done.

If one thing is clear, it’s that disco is far from dead, thank you very much! And while the A class has a lot on their plates -- and insurmountable stakes ahead -- it’s hard not to feel hopeful when they’ve got each other.

Whether that’s enough, well, soon we’ll find out.

END OF EPISODE.

[lostnfinding]

What happens now?

this takes place in @got-my-heart-in-my-hand ‘s au: everyone lives, but Farrah’s mom gets custody of her. Farrah centered 

TW: mentions of violence, references to addiction, custody battles (mention), PTSD, hospitals (i wrote this from research and i deeply apologize if i got anything wrong, please tell me if i offended or said anything that was wrong)

Word count: 1638

Farrah was still in shock. It wasn’t surprising, of course. She was stabbed, she almost died. The captain of the cheer team attempted to murder not only her, but also Chess, because she thought they were “a tumor on the team”. That hurt. Being called a tumor. She was a burden, an issue to be fixed. The first week after the sleepover, she didn’t talk, no matter how many times her dad asked her too, not even when the therapist assigned to her spent almost one hour just staring at her. She didn't budge. Not until Annleigh went to visit her.

She was calm, apologetic, caring. When she got in, she looked like she was crying, and Farrah’s first instinct was to ask if she was okay.

“You- you talked” the older girl whispered, getting closer to the hospital bed.

“I guess…” she whispered back, and smiled a bit. Annleigh smiled back and wrapped her in a hug, taking the sophomore by surprise.

“I’m so sorry, Farrah, I’m so sorry. I missed you.” when she said that, Farrah smiled and hugged her back.

“Sorry for what?”

“I was awful to you. I should’ve seen you needed help, I should’ve been nicer,,, I- I should’ve been a better sister.” 

“I wasn’t the best sister either. I’m sorry.”

“All that I care about is that you’re okay. I was so scared you were going to…” she couldn’t finish the sentence.

“How… how’s Chess? They said she- Ril- you know…”

“She’s alive, and awake. That’s all I know.”

“Was anyone else hurt?”

“No, everyone is good.” Annleigh had taken a seat on the chair beside her.

“I was a shitty teammate, wasn’t I? Going to practice and games drunk and all that…”

“You can still get better.”

“I… I do want to get better.” Farrah nodded.

“Then you will.” her sister reassured her.

“You really think I can do it?” 

“I do. And you won’t be alone. We’ll help you.”

--

And Farrah was getting better. The next two weeks she spent in the hospital, she started to open up to her therapist. It wasn’t easy, but it was something. Her teammates visited her, and they started to get along. It wasn’t perfect, but they did have some type of harmony.

Everything was going okay, until Farrah’s world fell apart for the second time that month.

“What do you mean, she’s filing for custody?!”

“Your mother wants to make sure you’re okay-”

“By taking me to the other side of the country? No, I wanna stay here!”

“This isn’t up to you anymore, I’m sorry.”

“This is bullshit.” she said, and got up, going to her room and shutting the door behind her. She broke down, not knowing what to do. If she went to her mother’s, she’d lose everything she knew. She’d be alone again, and she was terrified of what was going to happen. After a few minutes, there was a knock on the door.

“Farrah? Can I come in?” Annleigh’s voice asked through the door. The younger girl tried to wipe her tears and compose herself before telling her to come in. “Hey.” she sat down beside her, wrapping an arm around her. Farrah buried her face on her sister’s neck and sobbed.

"I don't wanna go, Ann."

"I don't want you to go either, but if they say you have to, there's nothing we can do. But you'll still be able to visit us, and I'll call you and help you with your homework and your new cheer team and anything you need." 

"I'm scared I'll be alone again."

"You won't be alone. You'll have me." 

"You promise?"

"I promise."

--

"They're all staring." Mattie walked beside Farrah, uncomfortable with all the stares she had yet to get used to.

"It's okay, it doesn't matter."

"How do you do it?"

"Most days I don't. I used to have a coping mechanism but we know how well that went." they both knew she was talking about the drinking. "Honestly, I'm actually gonna miss this."

"I bet your new school is gonna be awesome"

"I hope so. I'm gonna miss all of you guys tho."

"We'll still talk. And when you come visit your dad, we can meet up! And look on the bright side, you'll have a fresh start!"

"Yeah, I probably need one of those."

"You'll be alright, Farrah. And even when you aren't, we're here to help you."

--

Farrah was coming back to her hometown after a month of settling in her new house and school. A month and she had made exactly zero friends. She had acquaintances, people she shared a twelve place lunch table with and who would partner with her for projects. But she didn't have anyone to call in the middle of the night, or anyone to go to her house and spend the quiet friday afternoons with.

Her mom was almost never home, and it was a clear contrast from always having Annleigh there. She knew her mom was trying, but it was hard for both of them. After spending so many years apart, it felt slightly awkward, but they were slowly getting used to each other.

For Riley's trial, Farrah flew in alone, since her mom had to work. She was staying at her dad's while the trial was ongoing and they still needed her as a witness, which opened a few opportunities for her to hang out with the team. She met their new flier, Eva, and they even tried a few stunts, for old time's sake. She was happy there, truly happy. The circumstances could be better, but at that point she didn't care. they had evidence Riley did it, and she knew she was going to get convicted. And while she wasn't, Farrah would stay there, at home.

--

Don't be mistaken. Just because Farrah was happy, it doesn't mean she wasn't stressed. Facing Riley would be one of the hardest things she’d ever done. Flashes of that night were coming back, blurry, but they were there. The feeling was more present than the facts, and she woke up more than once with the feeling of the knife on her stomach. She didn’t scream, she didn’t say anything, she just curled up and let herself cry. She was alive, but she felt like she was trapped in that bathroom, bleeding out and dying. Only this time, no one came to save her, and the feeling didn’t go away either. She just waited there, crying and waiting for the exhaustion to take her to sleep.

--

The trial passed, Riley was sentenced and Farrah was shipped back to Boston. Everyone knew about it, and she either got sympathetic glances or no glances at all. No one would talk to her or dare to make eye contact, so she was alone. Again.

She missed her town, her school, her old team. She missed having people who at least talked to her, she missed not being the seemingly fragile new kid, she missed having people to hang out with, she missed going to parties. She knew what she had to do to get that back, but she couldn’t. The last time she brought that much attention, she was almost killed, she wasn’t going to do that again. She couldn’t join the cheer team either, she couldn’t bring herself to even look at the cheerleaders. So she was alone, and she would stay alone

--

“Wow, you’re new school is really cool.” Farrah turned around to find Mattie standing behind her, looking at the building.

“Mattie!”

“Hi!”

“What are you doing here?” she hugged her friend, nearly crying with happiness.

“I’m visiting some family in New Jersey and asked my parents if i could stop here for a couple days.” the younger girl smiled. “I thought maybe you could use a friend.” She shrugged.

“Yeah, I think I can.”

They got to Farrah’s apartment and went to her room, sitting on the bed.

“How has Giles Corey been?”

"It 's good! We haven’t been having a lot of trouble, actually. Chess is back on the team, Reese is doing our routines and Eva, our new flier, is pretty good! I think she and Kate have a thing. Cairo is pretty protective of everyone now, and she’s nicer. That’s what your sister says at least.”

“Nice? Cairo? That's a change.” Farrah chuckled.

“And how has it been here?”

“It’s alright, just school.” she answered shortly.

“Farrah… you know you can talk to me, right?”

“It’s okay, I just, I feel a little lonely. I just have to adapt, I guess.” she gave her a small smile.

“You’ve been talking to your therapist about this, right?”

“I have. I really wanna get better. I am getting better.” Farrah felt tears forming on her eyes. “Sometimes I miss the me from last year. I didn’t think, I just did things. I didn’t have think about the future or whatever else. Sometimes I wondered what would have happened if Clark hadn’t found me.” she wiped the tears. “I still feel it, you know? I have panic attacks too. This guy in my Math class has the same name as her and when I heard someone calling him for the first time, I had to get out of class.”

“I’m so sorry, so so so so sorry.”

“It’s okay. My psychiatrist says it’s PTSD. If I still have it in a couple months, I’ll probably go on medication.”

“If you ever need anything, I’m here, okay? If you ever feel like doing something, please call me or Annleigh or your parents or therapist. I don’t wanna see you hurt again.” Farrah hugged Mattie tight.

“Thank you so much. It really means the world to me, having you here.”

“That’s what friends are for. To protect you, even if it’s from yourself.”

[beetlegoose01]

Frostbite (Chapter 2- Suspire)

AN: Chapter 2 is here friends! I appreciate all the kind feedback I received last chapter! Without further ado...

Previous Chapter: https://pepperimps01.tumblr.com/post/644922844412854272/frostbite-casetello-an-do-these-two-have-a-ship

~~~~

"So, can I go now?" Casey asked impatiently, trying to flex his arm. "I've got places to be, slowpoke."

Donnie glared at him, irritated. He seemed even more frustrated that Casey had made that semi flirty jab at him.  "Like where?"

"You know...around." He gave a toothy grin.

"Very specific, Jones."

"I like to think I'm very pacific."

"That's-"

"Actually..." Casey wiggled his eyebrows. "Red wanted to talk to me about something. Maybe a bit more than talk if you know what I mean..." He shrugged. "Can't exactly blame her. I'm a catch."

'We aren't there yet, Jones.'

'Is it about April? Because it's not my fault, she ...y'know likes me more.'

Donnie's heart plummeted, dropping the scalpel he was holding. It crashed by his feet loudly, but he didn't bother picking it up.  "You better go then." He said coldly.

"Are you sure? Because I wanted to tell you some-"

"Just leave!" He snapped. "Can't you tell I'm busy? I've got retromutagen to work on."

"Jeez, okay. Don't get your tail in a knot." The teen raised his hands in surrender.

Casey stumbled out of the lab, dazed and confused. His arm thankfully didn't hurt anymore, but he still felt a bit uneasy and sick to his stomach. He really just wanted to take a nap, forget about everything that happened and maybe never work with Donatello again. Couldn't that turtle take a joke?

He needed a distraction...

"CJ!" Mikey exclaimed, leaping towards him with a stupid grin on his face. Casey yelped, taken aback by the orange turtle's enthusiasm. At least that was a distraction alright.  "You won't believe this, dude!"

Casey smirked. "You know, I'm starting to think everything is believable at this point. What's up? Did you discover a new pizza joint?"

The smallest turtle looked about ready to explode with excitement. "Nope! Can't tell you yet, bro.  Come on, Leo's explaining everything at the dojo! I'm just getting you and Donnie! I'm ...Mikey the messenger!" And then he was off again, no doubt badgering Donatello.

Casey shook his head, laughing. Though he was somewhat curious about whatever the leader in blue had to say.

He entered the dojo, checking if Master Splinter was behind him. He trusted the old ninja master, and couldn't deny he was a big help...but that didn't stop him from flinching every time they made eye contact. Rats still gave him the creeps.

Raph and April were already there, chatting amongst themselves. Raph was currently practicing opening and closing April's tessen.

"I dunno, it just seems a bit..." He trailed off.

"A bit what, Raph?" April's eyebrows furrowed. "Go on, finish that sentence."

"It's not very sharp, that's all." As he said this, the tip of the fan poked his finger and he let out a squawk of pain.

"Not very sharp, huh?" April swiped the fan back. "Remember this from me: don't judge everything by its outer appearance."

"Touché." Raph waved at Casey, and the pair did an elaborate secret hand shake.

"What's this about anyway?" He folded his arms.

"Beats us." Raph shrugged. "All Mikey said was-" He changed his voice to a high pitched, cruel but accurate impression of his youngest brother. "Dudes you've gotta hear this! I'm gonna cry on the floor if you don't come to the dojo right this second!"

"It must be big if Leo wants to tell us." April said. "I mean, all Raph and I dealt with was the Purple Dragons graffiting a stop sign."

"It was a slow night!" Raph protested.  

"Maybe they saw Karai?" Casey suggested. That was really the only thing he could think of.

Mikey bounded into the dojo, followed by an extremely disgruntled Donnie, who made a big show of standing as far away from Casey as possible.

"What's all this about?" Donnie asked.

The single light bulb above them started to burn out. The team heard shuffling from behind the large tree, and a shadowy figure approached them, stepping into the dimly lit middle area. He dramatically raised his head, looking grim.

"You're probably wondering why I called you here this evening." Leo said, glancing at Mikey, who of course already knew and was wiggling with excitement.

"Well, yeah. Spit it out, already." Raph said impatiently.

Leo ignored him. "Mikey and I encountered something tonight.  Another mutant. We thought we caught them all or made allies with them but..."

"What?" His emerald eyes widened.

"What is it?" Donnie pressed.

"A dragon!" Mikey interrupted. "A humongous dragon! He had razor sharp teeth and claws!" He paused. "Actually he kinda reminded me of Leatherhead but way less friendly."

"Dragons aren't real, meathead." Donnie grumbled. "They're completely made up fictional stories."

"Have you ever seen a dragon before? Huh? Have you Donnie?" Mikey retorted, cloudy blue eyes filled with a sense of innocence that truly believed dragons were real- but also with a stubborn pride to prove his genius brother wrong. A common occurrence between the two youngest brothers.

"No but-"

"See?" Mikey looked triumphedley at Donnie, then turned back to Leo. "Continue,"

"Like I...and I guess Mikey was saying, we know it's some type of reptile. Not a dragon for sure, but something."

"Any distinctive features?" Donnie asked, snark evident in his tone. "There are over 8000 living species of reptiles, so you might need to be more specific."

"Ah, shut up Brainiac." Raph groaned.

"He's got a point though." Casey pointed out. "Not that I'm agreeing with him- I mean...there are like, a lot of reptiles out there."

"We didn't get a close look at it, I'm afraid. We had to retreat. Whatever it was, it was tough."

"And...kinda scary." Mikey said, hiding behind his oldest brother wearily.

"Fear is the path to the dark side, Mikey." Leo said firmly, patting his head. "Don't let your fear cloud your judgment. We can take it on. Just like we always do."

The group stared at the leader blankly.

"Did you really just quote Yoda?"  April said, covering her mouth to stop her giggles.

"Wh- nooo..." Leo blushed, leaning against the tree in a failed attempt to seem casual. "Why would I do that? That's totally ...lame." Clearing his throat, he continued: "Tomorrow we'll hold a stake out to find this mutant. I'm thinking they may have a chance to be an ally. Any questions?"

Mikey raised his hand. "Are you sure we can't have a pizza out instead? I'm not really a fan of steak and-"

"Any relevant questions?"

"Has it done any actual damage?" April tilted her head.

"It looked more scared than anything, actually." said Leo. "That's why I think we can convince it to join our allegiance."

"And if it isn't willing? Suppose it isn't up for prancing through a meadow with us and decides to kill us all?" Raph said. "Because our track record with friendly mutants tends to be a mixed bag."

"You didn't answer my question, did it do any damage?"

Leo chewed on his lip. "So...don't freak out but, it- she- he? Er- they looked very hungry and did attempt to spit on us. With acid. Or venom or whatever." He pressed on, despite the horrified looks of his peers. "It'll be okay! I have full confidence we can handle this as a team."

"So let me get this straight, Leo." Raph said, moving forward to his brother. "You almost got killed by this monster and your next course of action is: let's be friends! Are you out of your shell? That plan works just as well as Casey and Donnie baking cookies together!"

"For once I agree with Raph." Donnie said, earning a very disgruntled look from his brother.

"I didn't say friends, just figure out their motives." Leo mumbled.

"Whatever you say, Fearless." Raph pushed his brother aside roughly. "Good luck with that. I'm gonna check out Bloody Deaths III, anyone wanna play with me? Casey?"

"Sure," Casey felt his phone buzz. An anxious text from his twelve year old sister Riley snapped him back to reality. "Ah...actually can't. My little sister is getting worried. See you guys tomorrow?"

"Yeah, whatever."

"No worries. Older brother duties call." Leo nodded.

"Don't worry Raph, I'll play with you!" Mikey

"So will I." Leo agreed, happy to relax for a little bit. "How about you guys?" He glanced at Donnie and April, the last remaining members still inside the dojo.

"Just a moment. I'll be right there." April confirmed.

"Don't keep us waiting," Raph cracked his knuckles.

As they were leaving the dojo, Donnie felt a tap on his shoulder. Spinning around, he faced the beaming freckled face of April O' Neil.

"Hey!" She said cheerfully, blue eyes bright and curious.

"Er, um, hey!" He echoed, voice raising several octaves as puberty decided to betray him. He was grateful his brothers were in the other room, babbling about the video game Raph found in the dumpster. No doubt they would be teasing him about his failed attempt at flirting.

"I wanted to talk to you." April said.

"About the new mutant? Because I didn't get a chance to see it-"

"No, no." She interrupted, nudging his shoulder playfully. He blushed at the contact. "I meant about you and Casey. Everything turned out okay?"

Donnie fought the urge to groan. Of course it was about Jones. Instead, he bit his tongue, smiled sweetly and said: "He was...okay." he waved his hand vaguely.

April grinned, relieved. "Wow, that's way better than I expected!"

Donnie narrowed his eyes.

"What I mean is, you two are my closest friends. Seeing you two butt heads, act like you hate each other-  it hurts." She explained. "So it's nice seeing my two best buds get along.

'Best ...buds.' Donnie thought to himself, analyzing each word carefully. 'So maybe she isn't interested in him. That boy with his cocky grin and his stupid egotistical-'

"Casey mentioned you fixed his arm up too!"

"Huh?"

"His arm...he sprained it and you patched it up."

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Oh, that." He chuckled. "Wait...he told you?"  

"Yeah, he seems grateful but obviously too 'macho' to admit that."

"It wasn't really anything special."

"But it was, Donnie." April's eyes twinkled. "It was a really nice thing to do. I'm just...so happy you two are finally getting along. Thank you. I knew you would eventually!"

"Heh, well you know."

April chuckled, taking his hand as they walked to the pit.

Mikey sprung up from his beanbag chair. "Yuck, did you two kiss?" He gagged.

April rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Raph pretended to throw up into his bowl of popcorn while Leo just laughed fondly.

"Take a seat you guys." He said. "We're about to start the game!"

"Actually I think I might call in early tonight." Donnie faked a yawn. "I'm so ...tired."

"You? Sleep?" Raph snorted. "If you didn't want to hang out with us, you could just say that. I don't think I've seen you go in your room since you were thirteen, Don."

"That's not true..." Donnie's cheeks flushed.

"Aw, leave him be." April said, grabbing a handful of popcorn despite Raphael's protests. "He needs his rest."

"Yeah, you do look significantly greener than normal, dude." Mikey pointed out.  "So to speak."

"Go get some rest." Leo said, raising a comforting hand to Donatello's shoulder. "That's an order from your leader."

"Well...goodnight then. Have fun." Donnie added an extra fake yawn for added effect, then retreated to the lab when they looked the other way.

~•~

Donatello checked his very messy notes, examining each point with precision. If he wasn't exact, weeks, heck, months of research would be a waste. He wasn't going to let anyone, let alone Casey Jones ruin his process. The lack of sleep already made his work sloppy.

"Add the dose of norepinephrine, stir carefully with the calibrated mutagen..." He mumbled under his breath. "Then wait ten minutes before..."

But he couldn't get that terribly charismatic smirk out of his mind. That no nothing, cocky little son of a-

"Focus Donnie. Don't think about him."

"Talking to yourself again I see."

"Gah!" Donnie yelped, practically doing ballet leaps as he grabbed the nearly fallen canister. He turned around to face his older, but significantly shorter brother. "Hamato Raphael!" He squeaked shrilly.

"Ooh using the full name on me." Raph snickered. "What did I do to deserve that?"

"How long have you been here?"

Raph shrugged, poking the bunsen burner. "Eh, long enough."

"Weren't you suppose to be playing that dumb game with the others?"

"Yeah, and we beat it." He said, piercing green eyes staring him down with a sense of judgement. "And I thought you were supposed to be sleeping. Shoulda have known you'd be back in your Nerd Cave." He flicked Donnie's arm.

"Why are you here?"

"Okay, twenty questions, is it against the law to see my baby brother?"

Donnie folded his arms. "Since when do you ever visit me for no reason?"

"Because I'm such a kind, caring brother?" He looked away guiltily. "Who simply wanted to check on you? Is that such a terrible thing, Donatello?" He leaned forward, dropping the act to return to his usual deadpan tone. "Also my motorcycle needs fixing."

"Ah, there it is."

"Watch the snark, I need it fixed soon."

"Fine, fine." Donnie sighed. "I will."

"Good, 'cause Casey and I are gonna hit the streets with that baby." He said smugly.

Donnie wilted. "Jones?"

Raph raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, Casey Jones. Human, dark hair, lots of missing teeth...this tall? Ring any bells? Oh, right. Forgot you and him had this thing going on..."

"It isn't about that." Donnie said quickly. "We...him and I..."

"You know, seeing you two act like idiots around each other isn't gonna help the team out. Even Mikey thinks it's stupid."

First April, now Raph? And apparently Mikey too...

"I don't care about what you and Jones do, it isn't really my business." Donnie cooled down, trying to tame his temper. "And we're trying, truly trying, at least I am to be civil."

"Hmph, yeah right."

"And ...I don't care if you two spend time together. Why should I? We aren't even friends!"

"Okay, okay." Raph raised his hands in surrender. "I'm going to bed. You should too by the looks of it. After my bike is finished, of course."

Donnie grunted.

"And Donnie?"

"Hm?"

"Who exactly are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?"

Donatello didn't have an answer.

~•~

Everything hurt. From the depths of her scaly toes, to her ferocious gaping mouth.What was she? She didn't know anymore. A monster? A freak? Any humanity she had left, was a clouded memory and there was no turning back. She struggled to move, still becoming accustomed to her new features. Four legs were harder to maneuver than two, but she made do.

She slivered across the murky water, pains in her stomach growling from lack of proper food. She couldn't recall the last time she had a warm meal. She lifted her head, silver grey eye slits opening. . In what she lost, her human form, her hair, and sense of a normal life- she had gained quite a few things too. A keen sense of smell, for one. Her eyesight had improved too. She had also gained an olive green tail, which helped with her balance.

'As long as I don't need those pesky glasses anymore.' She thought to herself bitterly.  Those horrid things were the cause of her harassment when she was a human. Now she would have the last laugh. They would cower in fear if they saw what she looked like now.

Her stomach grumbled again.

But yet...those turtles she encountered. So tasty looking...so delectable. They would satisfy her pain.

She stared at the mutant's reflection. It blinked when she blinked. It moved its tail when she flicked it.

This was her life now. She might as well make the most of being a monster.

She had work to do.

[bbrandy2002]

My Love

Chapter Nine

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Book: TRH

A/N: Thanks @burnsoslow for the late-night beta read and for making me believe a lion was going pop out of my phone (I'm still astounded by how gullible I am, but the conversation was hilarious).

A/N/N: Using a prompt I was given by @pedudley​ that she requested for Liam and Maxwell: “What are you doing?” “Hiding”

THANK YOU for all of your continued messages about this story!!! 

"And I always will, my love," Liam whispered under his breath as he lowered the gun to his side. He squinted in astonishment and took a half-step back. 

He knew. 

He could feel it.

And -- in a way that mystified even himself -- he could see it.

A sudden wave of realization crashed over him that nearly dropped him to his knees. 

"Riley?" he questioned through a shaky breath, his focus on her never faltering.

Riley remained still. Quiet. Resolute. Inside, she fought the urge to speak or touch him while she searched his curious eyes. She had to allow Liam's mind a chance to catch up with his heart. It was evident by the staggered look on his face; it was, as expected, going to take some time to process his feelings, his thoughts, and the overwhelming need to understand what this was.

She followed his staggered gaze as it traveled down the full length of her body before settling back on her face again.

"Is it … it’s really you?"

Riley nodded slowly. Her eyes became glassy under a shroud of hope and anticipation she had longed for since returning. "It's really me," her voice cracked.

Liam's face softened, and his own eyes began to well up and trickle like streams down to his quivering chin. The pieces of his heart that had been shattered six weeks ago in a cold hospital room, were being mended back together one at a time. Those tiny remnants that had left him feeling lost, lonely, and broken, were in one single moment, complete, and now beating with a warmth he had long forgotten. His strength always came from her, and now she stood in his presence.

Liam was whole again.

"H-How?" he stammered. "I saw you. I held you in my arms. You … you died."

"I know." She answered him through her silent cry. "But … my Liam needed me."

He shook his head, still stuck between disbelief and an all-consuming desire to feel her. "I've always needed you, Ri," his voice laced with emotion.

The couple stared at one another. That same magnetic force that drew them together in a dimly-lit New York bar had resurfaced. In Liam's mind, he couldn't explain what was taking place. The Riley he once knew wasn't there, but somehow, someway, the most essential part of her was. 

Everything she told him in the hospital came flooding back. All the memories she knew. How she had repeatedly insisted Amanda was dead, and that she came back to him through her. How she had heard him cry out for her moments before he broke down -- a time in which Amanda was known to have been attacked in the park. None of it really made any sense, but in some strange way, everything did. 

His hand trembled as it reached for her cheek, stopping just shy of her face. Riley smiled then pressed the side of her head into his palm; her hands cupped over him while she savored the feeling and tenderness of his touch.

Liam smiled back at her then realized he still had the gun in his other hand -- the one he almost killed her with.

"Oh, God! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to --" He didn't take his eyes off of her as he scrambled to place the pistol on the table. 

Riley laughed softly and rubbed his upper arm. “Liam, it’s okay.”

He continued to search her eyes. "Can … can I hold you?" He asked through a pleading whimper.

She nodded affirmatively. Her thumb grazed at the corner of his eye to catch a lingering tear. "I would like that."

Liam's free hand reached around her waist as the other one that was cupping her cheek traveled down the length of her arm before winding through it and resting on her lower back. He bit his bottom lip and pulled her closer to him until she was firmly pressed against him. Riley obviously looked and felt different; those subtle curves he remembered were now smoother. Her complexion was lighter, and her hair not as dark. The alluring smile that had captivated him from the beginning was no longer there. 

The way her features lit up whenever she looked at him, however, was exactly the same. She had love written across her face and in her eyes. She was every bit as beautiful and stunning as the vision of her he recalled in his head. Liam never saw that in Amanda, yet, it was all there now.

This was Riley Brooks. 

This was his love.

With his arms wound tightly around her waist, Riley encircled her own around his neck. Liam lowered his head towards hers, hesitating at first, before parting his lips as he inched closer to her. She moistened her lips and closed the distance between them. With her fingers twined through his wavy, blonde hair, they kissed with a tenderness and passion that gradually became more desperate. It was weeks of raw, painful emotions that all came to a head and were now set free through this physical demonstration of their yearning affections.  His hands shifted from her waist and cupped the sides of her neck with his thumbs resting along her jawline before reluctantly parting. 

Liam rested his forehead on Riley’s, donning an enchanted smile. “I missed you so much, love," he breathed.

"I missed you too." 

For the next several minutes, they embraced one another, savoring the sensation of the other's touch. Fingers laced. Hands roamed. Tongues swept across the other. Eyes gazed longingly.

Liam was afraid to let go of her out of fear; it would all turn out to be a dream. He was sure the instant he let go of Riley, she would disappear, and couldn't bring himself to take that chance -- not after everything he had been through. He lifted her up and spun her around, and the sound of her laughter made him feel more carefree and spirited than he had in a long time. “How is all of this possible?”

Riley chuckled. “Let’s just say, never underestimate the power of your mother. Eleanor knows the right people to talk to so she can get what she wants. She definitely has a way of seeing to it that her baby boy is taken care of … she’s so proud of you, Liam.”

Liam sucked in his lips and closed his eyes. “You talked to --” he paused briefly, “that’s how you knew about my elbow?”

“Yes,” Riley answered with a mischievous grin.”I know so much more about your childhood. You weren’t always as innocent as you like to let on,” she laughed.

Liam rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting to the heavens. “Thank you, Mother,” he said wryly.

He held onto her gentle hand as he pulled out the chair Bastien had sat in before exiting and lowered her down onto his lap. Riley noticed the pale color of Liam’s face and poured him a glass of water that was sitting on the table. “You look like you could use this.” She handed the glass to him.

Liam took a few sips then placed the water back on the table. “Thank you. It’s not every day your late wife comes back from the afterlife in the form of her …  killer.” He pinched the middle of his shaking forehead with a slight chuckle. “You’ve always done things that surprised me, Riley, but this … this is a new one. I don’t even know how the hell I’m going to get you out of this.”

Riley feigned a pouty look then laughed playfully. She wanted to tell him the stipulations, that this wasn’t something permanent. She would have to return. Riley Brooks died weeks ago, and that was a fact that would never change. This was only a temporary solution. It was the sheer look of peace designed into every facet and form of his face and the sound of contentment in his voice, that made her decide that it would be best to wait. There was so much to do in such a short time, and she had to make sure Liam would be prepared for it. She wanted him to at least have this moment.

Liam had so many questions, and Riley answered them as best as she could. How do you explain a phenomenon such as this? Much to her surprise, and most certainly also to himself, he was willing to accept it. He had always trusted his gut instincts when it came to her, and this time was no different. She was the love of his life with the face of her killer, and yet for reasons that he couldn’t explain, he knew this was real. Liam knew Riley better than anyone else, and even with his years of training in body language and presentation, he wasn’t sure he could have portrayed his wife as well as the woman before him. 

After they kissed once more, Liam was eager to take her home, and she wanted more than anything to hold Ellie again. There were still a lot of unanswered questions and so many things to discuss with one another, but they would need to wait.  For now, there was only one logical option: She would continue to be known as Amanda Talbert to the world, and Liam and their closest friends would be the only ones who really knew who she was. 

Riley straightened Liam’s buttoned-up shirt and fixed his collar, more so out of habit than necessity, and followed behind him. With one last glance, they walked out of the interrogation room.

Bastien was sitting in a chair just outside of the room. When the door opened, he looked up surprised but overly relieved the King had decided against killing the prisoner. He stood to reach for Riley’s arm to escort her back to her cell. Liam lightly pushed Bastien’s arm away and looked back at Riley. He cleared his throat and shared with his head guard that “Miss Talbert” was innocent and would be returning with him back to his quarters as Ellie’s nanny. It was a difficult statement to make. He still wanted Amanda to pay for what she had done to Riley, but he would have to be satisfied that someone had taken liberties in their own demented way, of doing that already.

Bastien was at a loss for words. “Sir, but what about the evidence? This woman killed your wife. Our Queen.” 

Liam clapped him on the shoulder and held his grip tightly there. “I have made my decision, and you will respect my order. The evidence against her is to be shared with no one. Do I make myself clear?”

Bastien’s mouth fell, not sure how to respond. 

“Bastien! Are we clear?”

“Uhm.”’ He stammered for words before responding. “Yes, sir.”

Liam clapped his shoulder once more with a grin. “Thank you, Bastien.”

------------

Riley followed a respectful distance behind Liam to not garner attention until they returned to their quarters. Once the door had shut behind them, both stopped in their tracks when they noticed Maxwell hunched down next to a column in the foyer.

Liam quirked his brow. “Maxwell. What are you doing?”

“Hiding,” he replied in a hushed tone. “I hid the key to the liquor cabinet, and Drake is trying to kill me for it. He’s fiending real, real bad, Liam. I think it’s time we stage an intervention before we lose him to the hooch.”

“I don’t need a damn intervention, Maxwell!’ Drake interrupted as he popped around the corner with Ellie in his arms. His attention suddenly shifted when he noticed Riley standing beside Liam. His head motioned to her. “What the hell is she doing here?” he glowered.

Maxwell sprung to his feet with a giant smile and a wave. “Hey, Blossom!”

Riley chuckled. “Hey, Max.”

Liam took a lively Ellie from Drake, kissed the top of her head, and stood before Riley. “Are you ready for her?”

To Riley, it had felt like a lifetime since she saw her little girl. She was so overcome with emotions from seeing this beautiful creature again, she couldn’t answer him. She nodded and held out her arms as Liam placed Ellie in them.

Her 12-week old daughter didn’t know it, but the large smile she gave her -- one she had never seen before -- melted her heart. With Liam’s arms wrapped around both of them, their family was complete again.

Drake had wanted to believe her in the hospital that day, yet couldn’t allow his heart or the rational portion of his mind to go there. He shook his head in amazement when it all became real to him. “Welcome back, Brooks.” 

Riley smiled back at him with a grateful look. “Thank you, Drake.”

Drake turned to Maxwell and grabbed his shirt collar. “Now, where’s that fucking key at, Beaumont?”

It was clearer during their brief reunion, as they reminisced over old times and inside jokes that she was exactly who she claimed to be.

As much as both of them wanted to stay, having their own lists of questions, Drake and Maxwell knew that Liam, Riley, and Ellie needed their own personal time together. Before leaving, they understood this was something that needed to be kept between the four of them for now. Not only because of the complexity of the situation but also for Riley’s safety. It was well known by now among them that Amanda was related to Amalas and that it was highly probable that her attack was in some way related to her Auvernal connection. 

That evening, after putting Ellie to bed, Riley stood at the rails of the balcony just off their bedroom, with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Occasionally rubbing at the goosebumps that sprouted from the chill of the breeze that lingered, she glanced towards the small monument that sat under the apple tree by the maze. It was the first time since returning that it really struck her -- she was gone. She was a soul that no longer existed in this life with the man she cherished and the child they shared together. At any time, and she wasn’t sure when she would have to return. She inhaled a deep breath and blew it out.  Shutting her eyes, she pondered how she would be able to leave them again. Riley came back because Liam needed her, but at what cost? 

Startled from her thoughts, she felt Liam’s arms come around her waist from behind and the press of his warm lips on her cheek. How badly had he missed her that he was so readily willing to accept who she now was? For life?

How much harder was it going to be on him when she left again?

Liam nuzzled into her neck, nipping along her shoulder. “Love, I was thinking.”

“Hmm,” she moaned into each nibble as his hands skidded lower and lower. “What’re you …  thinking about?” Her belly clenched.

“The social season. I would like to meet with Bertrand tomorrow and discuss plans for your sponsorship. I’m sure he would be more than happy to …  oblige my request.” His words trailed off with a smirk as he noticed her knuckles whitening from the tightened grip she had on the railing. He pressed himself into her backside, rubbing along the swell of her rounded ass.

Riley tried to focus on his words. He was making plans for a future with her,; a future they would never have together. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she needed to tell him as soon as possible. Putting off the inevitable truth would only break him more. 

A prying finger slipped between her legs and awakened the bundle of nerves where his thumb began to thrum. “Liam,” she groaned. “I have .. oh God … I have …  to tell you something.” She barely uttered those words as a dizzying haze of pressure intensified in her head. She felt her pajama bottoms being slid down, and the slightly wet towel he had draped around his waist, tangled at her feet.

“I have something to tell you also.” The heat of his guttural whisper on her ear sent a shiver down her spine. 

Riley’s head snapped back into his shoulder. “What?” she bellowed.

“Bend over Riley,” he commanded. 

The head of his dick sprang hungrily into the lower crevice of her ass and jabbed between the narrow opening of her dampened inner thighs. His free hand pushed Riley forward until her chest lay heaving on the cold marble of the balcony rail. 

Her legs began to quake and contract as he mounted himself behind her. A familiar rise of energy ignited deep in her stomach that became more intense and fierce. As the twitch of his fingers increased, she bit her lower lip and clamped down harder on the railing. Her core fluttered around his wet hand and trickled her essence like a fountain to the concrete below.

Before she had time to recover from her pleasure, Liam’s foot nudged her ankles apart.

“You will come again for your king, Riley.”

Before the words escaped entirely from his lips, he thrusts himself deep inside her. Her head lunged forward, and every muscle in her body constricted in sync with his feverish drives.

“Say it, Riley!” he ordered.

She wanted him to command her again. Her excitement level rose at the anticipation of his authoritative tone. 

Liam gripped both of her hips, his fingers pressed deep into her skin.

“I said, say it, Riley!” He drove even deeper.

Even though she tried hard to remain hushed, that thrust elicited a louder groan.

She could feel his shaft getting harder and thicker; he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. One of his hands that had been ground into her hips reached around desperately in search of her clit that was still sensitive and swollen.

One more time, she thought. Just one more time was all she needed to send them both completely over the edge. 

Riley’s knees buckled, and she could feel that burning sensation washing over her again. The smell of sex and roses lingered in the air around them.

The next push was so strong and deep, it felt like the center of her abdomen jostled against her diaphragm. Her toes curled as a fusion of pleasure and pain rippled in unison within her walls.

“I said, say it!”

With a jolt of electricity that shot from her core, she ultimately whimpered breathlessly. “I’m coming, my king!”

“Fuck!”

Instantly, a hot burst flooded within her as they released together, and his face burrowed into her back. His own cries were muffled by the still- bruised surface that covered the ridges of her spine and echoed through her bones.

They remained intoxicated with pleasure until the pulse she felt within her became slower and slower. 

A string of his seed detached and clung from him when he pulled out. “Oh my God, love!” He breathed. “That was …”

“Incredible,” she gushed. 

Liam pulled her to him and lifted her up bridal style. “Liam! What are you doing?” she laughed.

He kissed her temple as he kicked the balcony door open further with his foot.

“You,” he smirked. “Round two, my love.”

_____

Riley rubbed the sleep from her eyes, awakened by the sound of Ellie’s coos through the baby monitor. She could hear the shower running and knew Liam was already up.

She slipped on her robe with thoughts of telling Liam today. She needed to have that talk with him before he contacted Bertrand this morning. He had told her yesterday while talking with Drake and Maxwell about Neville’s impromptu council meeting over a week ago. Riley knew about the vote and that he would now have to find another wife to replace her. As much as that pained her to hear -- not for herself, but for Liam --, he needed to know the plan he was working on to include her as a suitor would not be possible.

After changing Ellie, she walked downstairs into the kitchen to prepare her bottle. She pulled her usual mug from the cabinet and began to pour her coffee when the doorbell rang. 

Riley lifted Ellie’s bouncer and made her way to the front door, setting the baby on the floor next to her as she answered the door. 

“Miss Talbert?” she was greeted. 

Riley furrowed her brows, recognizing the royal courier who held a large, white box in his hands. “Yes. I’m Amanda Talbert.”

After signing for the unmarked package, Riley set the box on the table next to the door and began vigorously pulling off the tape. “Let’s see if you had any more secrets, Amanda.”

A stench so foul and nauseating escaped as the four sides on top were opened one at a time. Riley arched back and placed a hand over her nose. She slowly peeked over the sides and saw a manila envelope on top of a black plastic bag.  Hesitating, she plucked the envelope out, unfastened the clasped, and retrieved the paper inside.

Her brown eyes grew wide, and her chest tightened with fear when she read its words. Trembling, she placed the paper on top of the envelope and tossed it on the table beside the box. With pinched fingers gripped to a folded over piece of the plastic, she slowly pulled it back. Her stomach lurched, and she stumbled backward, tripping over her own feet.

"LIAM!!!!"