Hey everyone! Guess who's back? I have been working on this in the whole nine months I have not updated. It is one of the more boring chapters but a necessary one. I had trouble finding where to begin the chapter for it to have the correct emotional impact I wanted. I actually have four different beginnings to this chapter, four different drafts that finally produced this piece. I do not know how long chapter three will take me to produce, but I really pushed this one out so I could give you guys an early Christmas present. I have experimented a little with writing style which you will see further down.

I have finally seen HSM3. I actually saw it two days ago. It was alright I guess. It kinda throws my story into the realm of Alternate Universe, but whatever. I will say that my story exists as a post-HSM2 piece with little to no reference to the continuation of the saga. I was disappointed that there was essentially no Tryan at all in that film, though now that I think of it, there wasn't any Tryan in any of the films. I could see the Troy/Jimmy pairing though, but I will not be touching that at all. My favorite song would have to be "Scream" especially since the lead up to the song showed Zac Efron's beautifully bronzed back. That was hot!

This is the unedited version. I will warn you now that my spacebar broke. I have not had this beta'd yet. I did not want to disturb the beta of my first chapter in case he was busy with something. I will post an edited version once it has been beta'd. My tense changes would probably be horrendous.

Stagnant Chaos by Tertiary Genesis

Chapter 2: Territories

------------XxXxX------------

Territoriality is a universal quality. All creatures develop a sense of territory. Most animals would designate their territory using sensory markers so that when another animal smells, sees or hears that they are in another's territory, they have the option to back off. People have more than just physical territories marked by fences and boundaries on maps. We have emotional territory in which others invariably encroach upon and we do our best to maintain our possession. Humans are selfish creatures. We strive to keep that which we have for as long as we can, but sometimes, we just have to share, and allow others into our territory.

Lucille Bolton displayed a typical example of territoriality, prevailing in attaining the tuner of the Bolton family car radio. This was just another of the small battles she had been winning against her husband. She knew he was letting her win, because ultimately, she had lost the war and the evidence of this defeat was all around her.

As the station of her choosing played the light melody of Brooke Fraser's Arithmetic, Lucille allowed her gaze to wander across to the suburban scenes rushing by outside the passenger window. It was an early mid-December morning and through the slightly foggy passenger-side window, she witnessed houses coming to life. There were occupants throwing open their curtains to allow the warming dawn light reflecting off their frost covered lawns into their houses.

"I've been staring at the sky tonight, marveling and passing time; wondering what to do with daylight, until I can make you mine. You are the one I want; you are the one I want."

The female Bolton felt tired and stressed. It had been a very trying couple of days since Troy's incident. The long hours in the hospital gave her time to reflect on her relationship with her son. It had been a long time since she was a major influence in her son's life. She reflected upon the days during her boy's childhood, when he would run to her after grazing his knee on his skateboard. There was a time when he loved to cuddle up with his mother, just content to be in her lap, or close to her heart. Lucille remembered those days with a distinct fondness and succumbed to the common parental notion of not wanting their kids to grow up.

After a turn or two, the glare of the Albuquerque sun found itself directly in front of the Bolton car. Jack Bolton was quick to act and lowered his shade but Lucille did not mirror this action. She allowed the light to wash over her, entering her eyes in a sudden burst of light causing her to close her eyes automatically, seeing green and purple shapes dance in front of the red of the sun penetrating her eyelids. She thought she saw Troy among these shapes compelling her to open up her eyes, only to shut them again and repeat the process.

"I've been thinking of changing my mind, it never stays the same for long; but of all the things I know for sure, you're the only certain one. You are the one I want; you are the one I want."

Troy had long since stopped being a mommy's boy, and became a lot more attached to his father. Lucille knew the change made sense. Troy and his father had many more things in common, including their love of basketball as well as their very genders. Lucille could not help but feel pushed to the side, an after thought in the minds of the males in her nuclear family. She had felt somewhat neglected within the family unit.

Even in this neglect, Lucille remembered persevering and trying to maintain a relationship with her son. His father could never replace her hugs as the greatest source of warmth and love in his life. It was after this small triumph in re-entering her son's life that another man came in and took what she worked long and hard to attain. Ryan just waltzed into Troy's life and took his place as that greatest source of warmth and love. There were times when Lucille thought that her love as a mother was in no way strong enough to compete with that of her son's lover. She had felt inadequate in her maternal role.

"I've been counting up all my wrongs, one sorry for each star. See, I'd apologize my way to you, if the heavens stretched that far. Coz you are the one I want; you are the one I want."

Lucille was not a homophobic person. Although she grew up in a Catholic family, and still attended mass on special occasions, she had learned to accept that there were "those kinds of people" in the world; especially since her own son had joined them. She had learned to accept Troy for what he was, and had nothing against his sexual orientation, just that it turned him into a target. She was a mother, and she instinctually feared for her son, when she discovered his "alternate sexuality". She did not have anything against Ryan as a person, she thought he was quite the gentleman, but she did blame him for turning her son into a target for those who do not accept deviance.

"I won't find what I am looking for, if I only see by keeping score, 'cause I know now you are so much more than arithmetic. 'Cause if I add if I subtract, if I give it all, try to take some back, I've forgotten the freedom that comes from the fact that you are the son, so you are the one, I want."

She had never called someone a "faggot" before. It was a very new experience for her. She had never intended to use such an epithet to describe anyone, but the words had escaped her mouth before she could catch them. In her fear and desperation, she chose to take out her anger on the boy who had done so much against her, despite whether he did it intentionally or not. She wanted to hurt Ryan so badly for taking her son.

As the Bolton's continued travelling towards their new temporary housing, Lucille began to regret releasing her emotions onto the boy. She was jealous and scared, and despite that, Ryan still kept his cool, and showed respect towards her and her wishes, as well as offering to house them until they could sort things out. She knew she had to apologize, but she was not sure whether she could get over her pride and actually do it.

"When the years are showing on my face and my strongest days are gone, when my heart and flesh depart this place, from a life that sung your song. You'll still be the one I want, you'll still be the one I want, you'll still be the one I want…"

The pair arrived at their destination and saw how the other half lived. The experience was thoroughly humbling for the two, especially for Lucille, who knew that she would need all the humility she could get to apologize to her son's boyfriend.

"You'll still be the one I want."

--XxXxX--

"No, I want that put into storage. We don't need those to be up until Christmas Day."

The Boltons walked into a cacophony of Christmas candles, as a porter tripped on a marble step and fell to the ground, sending out a mass of purple wax rods to roll unattended across the floor of the entrance hall. The brunette couple stared in shock and awe at the busy occurrences within the Evans household. They were even more shocked when Mrs. Evans, who appeared to be coordinating the mammoth effort of "decking the halls", pointed at them and screeched.

"Why are you two not picking those up? You are not being paid to lollygag while there is work to be done!"

The brunette couple standing at the head of the entrance hall stood aghast. Had they really just been ordered to bend down and pick up the fleeing purple candles as if they were hired help?

"Are you talking to us?" Jack inquired, letting a pointed index finger wave between him and his wife.

Mrs. Evans' eyes grew wide as she recognized the newcomers. "So sorry, I thought you were among the help. Things are getting a little crazy around here. I'll get someone to show you to your room and help you with your bags." The blonde performed a quick reconnoiter, searching for a free hand the could sacrifice to the Bolton cause. It was then that she spotted her own son peering over the balcony in a bemused state, watching the various people pursuing the ever-elusive violet candles still evading capture by unintentionally employing the barrel-roll technique.

"Ryan!" called Mrs. Evans in much the same tone one would shout, "Eureka!"

Lucille tensed at the mention of the boy. She followed the gaze of the mother before her and saw Ryan slowly moving toward them. Lucille thought around for a quick escape. Having found none, she resigned to clamping her mouth shut and averting her gaze in an attempt to avoid confrontation.

Ryan arrived at the floor of the atrium and was asked by his mother to escort the Boltons to their room. The Boltons appeared to be travelling light and so it did not seem necessary to call upon a bellhop. Ryan regarded the Boltons momentarily, as if mentally scanning them for weapons they may use against him, before leading them up the stairs to their room.

The trio walked silently for a short while, trudging carefully along one of the upper walkways of the atrium hall, each making sure to lift their feet so as not to make noise on the clean carpet.

Once they were away from the cacophony of the atrium, and could no longer hear the orders of Mrs. Evans, Ryan mustered the courage to attempt small talk. "So, how is Troy doing?" he asks tentatively.

Mrs. Bolton continues to clamp her mouth shut and keeps her focus upon the gilding on the walls, away from Ryan.

Mr. Bolton looks over to his wife, attempting to procure a reaction before letting out a sigh. "Just please lead us to our room."

"Okay," Ryan reluctantly concedes.

They walk on a little longer in silence, taking a few turns before Ryan stops. He turns around to face the Boltons, seeming quite confronting, but neither his stance, nor his facial expression supports this intention.

"Can you at least tell me when he wakes up?" Ryan asks sincerely, attempting to come to a compromise.

Jack considers this and was about to acquiesce when his spouse finally speaks up.

"Why should we?" she asks rather menacingly.

"Because he is my boyfriend," Ryan attempts to reason, but was cut off.

"He was Gabriella's boyfriend, and she never got him bashed," Lucille argued.

"I did not get him bashed!" Ryan retorted.

"Yes, you did. You and your queer lifestyle," countered Lucille.

"Why would I get him bashed? I love him!" Ryan pled.

"No you don't, I do!" Lucille vindicated, the words escaping her mouth before she could stop them. Ryan somehow caused her to lose control.

Ryan stood aghast, unable to come up with a suitable reply to such an accusation. He could not rebuke her argument and attempt to deny a mother's love for her son, but neither could he plead his love for her son without turning the argument into an elementary school tiff.

Lucille stared at the boy in a huff, still trying to catch her breath after that declaration escaped her. Part of her was thinking, HA! He is not denying it, while another part was thinking, oh no, have I gone too far? Lucille felt at odds with herself. An internal conflict raged within her where lines were drawn and crossed. What was the correct way to love her son?

Jack Bolton sensed there to be enough tension to break him into the confrontation. As the Conflict Theory of social change suggests, the conflicting personal interests of various parties clash and produce chaos, which escalates to a point where revolution occurs. Jack found this conflict to be at a perceptively resolved impasse, at least for this specific small battle, one among many in the long war to come. He saw it as a safe opportunity to move on, letting the combatants once again wordlessly call a ceasefire, so that they may treat their wounded and collect their dead.

"Can you just show us to our room, Ryan?" Jack asked in a monotonous tone.

Ryan looked up, startled by the sound of the voice of the older man. He quickly looked around; getting his bearings, then turned a knob directly beside him. "This is it," Ryan announced before promptly walking away.

The Boltons moved into their new "home", planning to spend as little time as possible in it, in favor of Troy's hospital room.

--XxXxX--

"NO!" the exclamation resounded throughout the atrium from which the sound originated.

Ryan Evans and Lucille Bolton were once again butting heads, arguing over something or other in a symbolic tug-o-war over Troy. They were never really fighting over the superficial thing the argument starts over, like being in each other's way or missing items, but really over Troy, which usually becomes apparent when a non sequitur slip of the tongue occurs.

"Those pillows don't even belong to you!" Ryan volleyed back, defending himself against the accusation thrown at him.

"He does belong to me. He is my son, he is not yours!" Lucille sent back.

Ryan, who stood a fair distance away on the other side of the atrium, stopped himself before delivering his counter, having to process exactly what the woman had said.

The realization of what she had just said dawned on Lucille a moment later, and the two warring factions were cast into a stunned armistice.

Vance Evans appeared upon the battlefield standing in the centre of the atrium, in no man's land, equidistant from the trenches of both sides. Sharpay and Jack soon joined him, and they separated the two, removing them from the field of battle by dragging them off to different rooms on opposite sides of the atrium.

Inside a study room that came off the atrium floor, Vance and Jack managed to placate a fuming Lucille and placed her in a suede Barcelona chair, a seat in which she did not stay for long.

Mrs. Bolton jumped up and pointed an accusatory finger toward the Evans present. Her vendetta appeared not only targeted at a boy, but his family too.

"This is your fault. You raised a son that has effectively killed mine. You and your son should burn in hell!" she impeached.

Vance Evans has learnt to keep his cool in trying situations, needing such a skill in the corporate world he lived in, but the accusations of the woman before him was the final straw. He has had to watch his family take such verbal abuse from the woman for the past few days and felt his generosity begin to waver.

"Now see here, this is my house, and you are living under my roof. The only reason you are living here and not out on the streets is because of my son," Vance affirmed.

Lucille fell silent, shocked that the man knew of her family's condition. It was a shame they had been trying to hide since it all began.

Vance seemed to read into her stunned silence because he said, "Yes I know of your financial situation. Even if it weren't for the fact that you are living in my house instead of in your own home, which I assume has been sold, Ryan has been telling me of your circumstance before hand."

Lucille made an infuriated mental note of this fact, giving her more fuel to hate the blond boy she appeared to loath so, but maintained her peace.

"It really is an unfortunate series of events that has ultimately lead to the bankruptcy of your family, but Ryan has convinced me to allow your family into my home, so I will not be talked to like that by you."

Taken aback, Lucille slowly slid back into the seat, her husband sidled up behind her as Vance continued to lay down the law.

"It is not actually me who has been paying for your Troy's hospital expenses, but my wife, who has a soft spot for the boys' relationship. I would like to correct an earlier assumption you have made about me. I am not happy about Ryan's sexual orientation, contrary to your beliefs. I had my own dreams for him too and I never wanted him to be like this. When he told me he was dating your son, I felt all those dreams slip away.

"I believe we have the same goals. I do not want the boys together either. We must face this issue together.

The Boltons listened intently as Vance proposed a scheme to break the boys apart. He had offered to buy back their house in exchange for their cooperation in the plot. The Boltons knew tat this plan would alleviate their fears, but was it right?

"Are we in agreement?" Vance asked, treating this method as if it were a business deal. It allowed him to emotionally detach from the plan, and just execute without remorse.

The Boltons nodded.

"Good," Vance said, feeling a similar relief as to that which comes after a major merger deal being signed. "I trust there will be no more altercations like this in the future. Let us try to remain civil."

--XxXxX--

Sharpay dragged her brother up the stairs leading away from the atrium and into the first room on the left, immediately regretting her brash action when she realized what room it was.

Ryan stumbled into the room and immediately placed himself in front of the mirror he noticed in the room without looking around to see what room it was. Mirrors were part of Ryan's coping mechanism when it came to any form of extreme emotion. He would look at himself in the mirror when he was euphoric in an attempt to calm himself down, he would look in the mirror when he was angry, metaphorically letting it out on himself so as not to hurt others. He looked in the mirror, searching himself for answers.

He looked at himself in the mirror. There was Ryan Evans looking back at him. He looked terrible. His hair was a mess. He had lines running across his face going unchecked. He needed to shave; some light stubble was beginning to show through. He had large bags under his eyes that did not appear to want to disappear.

What is happening to me?

Ryan let out a huff, turned and slid down the wall to slump on the ground. It was then that he noticed what room it was.

It was Troy's room. After Ryan's father knew of their relationship, the Evans had given Troy a room of his own, one among the many within the Evans household, for Troy to use should he be "sleeping over" as was happening with increased frequency the weeks before Ryan's revelation to his father.

Troy had relocated many of his possessions to this room prior to movie out of the house. When the Boltons were forced to give up their home and rent a cheap flat, Troy managed to save the majority of his paraphernalia by placing it in the room the Evan's had offered him. Now the room was filled with not only basketball posters and wildcat jerseys, but also countless photographs of Ryan and Troy, capturing various moments from the three months past.

Looking around the room, Ryan was bombarded with the memories of the various photographed situations that surrounded him, which only caused him to breakdown, falling upon the floor beside the wall he was slumped against, with tears pouring out of his eyes.

"He wasn't supposed to leave!" Ryan wailed, "He was supposed to stay! He is supposed to be here with me! He promised… he promised… he promised…"

Sharpay ran over to her brother, picked him up and held him tight. She has never really loved a person as much as Ryan loved Troy, but she knew he must have been in so much pain.

"He promised he wouldn't leave me! He is supposed to be here!" Ryan sobbed.

Sharpay just held him tighter, trying to reassure him that she would not leave him, that she would not let go. She herself was almost in tears too, her heart breaking for her brother's broken state.

It took some time but Ryan's sobbing began to subside as he calmed himself down. Composure and self-control is the mark of a great performer.

Ryan picked himself up, slipping out of his sister's firm grip. He approached one of his favorite shelves in Troy's room. It housed the set of photographs taken on their first month anniversary when Troy had taken Ryan to a carnival that was in Albuquerque at the time.

One of the photographs showed Troy and Ryan standing side by side in front of the merry-go-round. Ryan was holding the camera at arms length away, whilst Troy has snaked his arm around the blonde boy's waist. The image was mostly blurred, due to the light motion blurs of the rotating ride behind them, and Troy's apparent inability to keep still when with his man, but it was still a cute picture and remained Ryan's favorite.

"Ryan," Sharpay began, watching as her brother returned the cherished photo frame on the shelf. "Would you like to go down to the hospital to see him?"

Even since the Boltons had moved in and technically Ryan had "permission" to see his boyfriend at the hospital, he has yet to see him since that night he found the Boltons there and offered them a place to stay. One would expect Ryan to be at his boyfriend's bedside constantly from the start to the end of visiting hours daily. This was not the case.

"No," was Ryan's simple reply. He gave this reply every time after Sharpay had asked this question.

Sharpay was not going to take this answer anymore. She inquired further, determined to find the underlying cause of this.

"Don't you want t be with him?" she asked intending to goad him into submission.

Ryan paused before replying. "What if I don't?" he challenged.

Sharpay was shocked by this response. "What?! What are you talking about? Of course you do, you're really in love with him," Sharpay stated as if pointing out the obvious.

"Things would be so much better if I wasn't," Ryan calmly stated, indicating to Sharpay that he has already given this a lot of thought. "Troy would not be a target, his parents would not hate me, our dad wouldn't hate me…" Ryan began to pace.

Sharpay was stunned by these revelations. She remained silent as her brother continued.

"Sometimes I think everything would be better if I were straight," Ryan announced.

Sharpay raised her eyebrows in skepticism, a gesture that was noticed by the boy.

"I'm serious. Dad would be happy, Troy's parents would be happy and I won't have to keep wondering when the homophobes decide to come for me," Ryan reasoned.

"But what about Troy? He won't be happy," Sharpay commented.

"Troy was quite happy before I came in and ruined his life. If it weren't for me, he would still be happy in his heterosexual relationship with Gabriella. He would still be straight. He would still be okay…" Ryan gave a sob as he was reminded of the situation in which he had placed Troy.

Sharpay pulled her brother from his pacing, getting him to sit beside her on the bed in the middle of the room.

"So when Troy wakes up, you're just going to break up with him, find a girl and live the perfect vanilla life, hoping Troy does the same?"

"If Troy wakes up…" Ryan corrected.

"He will wake up, and you should stop thinking like that. You two are so in love, it does not matter what anyone else thinks. You should go see him. Be the one at his bedside when he wakes up. It will be worth it."

--XxXxX--

… … …

Mr. and Mrs. Bolton, I am Senior Officer Peters. You asked for updates on our investigation. Would you like to hear it?

Yes, please.

I am sorry to inform you that we have had to release Blake Rucan from our custody.

What?! Why?

We have found the owner of the implement used against your son to be Chad Danforth.

Chad? No, it can't have been him.

We know. There is an entire classroom full of witnesses who can attest to Chad's whereabouts at the time of the incident. He was locked inside the music room when the Lockdown occurred.

So then why have you released Blake? He obviously stole Chad's bat.

We have no forensic evidence to suggest that Blake has even touched the bat. The evidence we have against him is purely circumstantial. He claims that he merely stumbled upon the scene after the unsub took off.

But what about those homophobic remarks he was making. He said Troy deserved what he got.

He may have been an accomplice but he was not the one who swung the bat. Either way, we have nothing on him to continue detaining him.

How do you know Blake didn't swing the bat?

We did not find any forensic evidence from him on the bat. Aside from Troy's blood, there was one set of fingerprints on the bat and a few epithelial cells that must have come off the unsub's hands. We have already run a DNA analysis and found the cells to be from a female.

What if he was wearing gloves?

That is one of the first things we check for. There were no indicators that Blake was wearing gloves, nor were there any disposed anywhere near the crime scene.

So it was a girl that did this to Troy?

Yes.

--XxXxX--

Troy's hospital room appeared as it had previously. White wash walls, blue linoleum floor and a bandaged boy lying in a bed surrounded by and hooked up to a series of beeping machines.

It was the first time Ryan had gone to see his boyfriend in several days. He had brought with him a fresh bouquet of peonies in an attempt to brighten up what he knew would be quite a drab room.

Ryan found himself alone in the room with Troy, something that would have been highly unlikely since the Boltons were a constant presence in the room during the entirety of hospital visiting hours.

"Hi," Ryan began tentatively. He was beginning to regret following his sister's suggestion of talking things out with his boyfriend. What was he supposed to say to a comatose patient and what was the point if he was not going to get a response?

This is so stupid, Ryan admitted to himself. He looked at Troy again. Only a section of Troy's face was visible, not covered up by layers of bandages. He rather looked like a disfigured phantom of the opera with bandages, or maybe half a mummy, Ryan thought.

As Ryan continued to ponder upon the various characters his boyfriend reminded him of, Troy let out a particularly lengthy breath. Ryan's heart beat quickened. Could Troy be waking up? Ryan held his breath, waiting and watching to see if Troy woke up.

…

Ryan finally let out the breath he had been holding before he turned blue. No, Troy was not waking up that day. It was probably still a long time until Troy would be waking up. Ryan let out a sign. A tear, long suppressed, rolled down his face. He wiped it away, not wanting to show weakness in front of his boyfriend in need, though it was an arbitrary attempt. He pulled out the miniature iPod sound-system he had put in his bag.

"I knew I probably wouldn't be able to just talk to you like Sharpay said I should," Ryan said, "so I decided to bring some music instead." He set up the sound-system on Troy's side table, found the song he wanted and pressed play.

As the drumbeat of the song began to sound, Ryan leant back in his seat beside Troy's bed. The song he had picked seemed quite appropriate.

"You're the whisper of a summer breeze; you're the kiss that puts my soul at ease…"

Ryan would not say that this was "their song" but it was a song that marked one of the more memorable moments in their relationship.

--

It was about two weeks into their relationship. They had agreed that they would not be hiding their relationship, but they seemed also to be operating under a "don't ask, don't tell" policy. If someone had asked them directly, they would not lie, but they were not exactly announcing it to the world either.

Very few people had actually known about them at that point. It was only Sharpay, Gabriella, Chad, Jason and Kelsi, as well as Troy's parents. The rest of the school body, as well as both of Ryan's parents, were still oblivious to the pairing.

As such, the boys showed little to no public displays of affection. Covert dates in the form of movies, park strolls, and "study sessions" were about all they had done.

Troy took the next step and took Ryan out to dinner. It was not a major fancy restaurant or anything. It was more of a quaint, out of the way, family restaurant on the edge of Albuquerque. It was one of those places with white lattice partitions covered in plastic grape vines and fairy lights with lanterns hanging about the place.

They had eaten a fine meal, whilst elderly couples danced on a raised platform used as a dance floor. The music playing came from the early nineties; mellow slow jams to create a smooth swaying rhythm.

When Paula Abdul's "Rush, Rush" came on, Troy invited Ryan up for a dance. Ryan was quite reluctant, not used to doing such things with Troy out where other people could see them. Many things flashed through Ryan's mind. What would people think? What if someone recognized them? He looked up at Troy and could not turn him down. He got up and walked with Troy to the dance floor.

--

"Rush, rush, hurry, hurry lover come to me; rush, rush, I wanna see you, I wanna see you get free with me. Rush, rush, I can feel it, I can feel you all through me; rush, rush, ooh, what you do to me…"

Ryan wished he could ask Troy to do just that.

"Hurry, hurry lover, come to me…"

The door of the hospital room opened, and Lucille Bolton stood in the doorway. She did not appear mad at seeing Ryan in the room, just somewhat surprised.

The two remained still and silent, not wanting to get into another confrontation, especially in front of Troy.

Alexis entered the room, breaking the mounting tension, and went about her duties checking the machines, fixing the sheets and changing the towels and such in the bathroom. She stood in between Ryan and Lucille at the end of her duties and silently motioned Ryan to leave with her.

Ryan knew he should leave the two Boltons alone together, so he agreed and followed her out.

Lucille allowed the music to continue playing as she took her regular spot beside her boy's bed. Listening to the music, she realized how much Troy meant to Ryan, and knew that she may finally have to concede.

"He's good for you…" she whispered to Troy before taking his hand and holding it tight.

The armistice, the ceasefire, the temporary reprieve we all wait for in every confrontation, shows our desire for peace amidst our territoriality. People are social creatures, who eventually learn to share. No longer does anything have a sole possessor.

--XxXxX--

To Be Continued…

What to look forward to in Chapter 3: Supporters. There's something about Alexis, accusations, shopping and somebody wakes up. Chapter 2 was orginially longer but I split it into chapter 2 and 3... three appears to be a little shorter.

If anyone wants to beta, email me and I can send you the original doc file to tear apart. Reviews are golden, I know there are a lot of you who have alerted this story, but I also realize the Tryan pairing is dying.

I am not one to give challenges but I have been thinking of doing an "in-Betweequel" where I have a story showcasing the missing three months between Lockdown and its epilogue. It would mostly be a series of cute one-shot dates, with a few over-arching themes explaining what happened with the Bolton financial situation, Ryan's parents, etc. It all actually has a back-story that is all in my head. The challenge is, if you choose to accept it, for you guys to come up with cute one-shot date ideas I can string together to form the story. All I have so far is to expand the flashbacks that I have already mentioned in this story. Tell me what you all think. My email is on my profile.

On another note, I have fallen in love with Nick Jonas. Don't ask me how it happened, just know that it has and may be one of the distracting factors that has lead to my lack of updates. We shall see what the future brings.

This chapter included the lyrics of Brooke Fraser's song "Arithmetic" fromher album "What To Do With Daylight". This song was written by BROOKE FRASER and remains her property.I use it with no commercial intent.

This chapter included the lyrics of Paula Abdul's song "Rush Rush," fromher album "Spellbound". This song was written by PETER LORD and remains his property. I use it with no commercial intent.