Just another angstly little fic to resolve the show. Don't own, don't copy, don't sue…..You know the drill. Let me know what you think…

A boy named Steven

A girl named Katherine

Two kids, one house. The perfect life. That's what she wanted. No, those were the details. There was only one thing that she wanted. Him. What could she do. What could she have done. Nothing.

She knew why he stayed with her. He wasn't Bud. He wasn't WB. But now wasn't the time to turn into Red either. Eternal devotion to a stripper. No. That wasn't him. She knew. She always knew, even if he didn't say it.

The thing with Sam hurt her badly. It wasn't supposed to be like this. The fantasy was becoming her reality. The only place where there wasn't pain. Where there wasn't the hurt, the agony of what her world had become. Because if he was into cheap, blonde sluts – he would have picked Laurie years ago.

So, as fast as she appeared, Sam was gone. And so was her love. Her life. Her future. Her hope. Fez had helped. Temporarily. He was a distraction. A diversion. A self-imposed fascination to try to make her fairy tale dreams come true.

She knew she shouldn't think this way. But it was too easy. She had been abandoned. Again. By her family, her friends, her love. So if this was all there was, she wasn't going to prolong the agony.

The first pill was the hardest to swallow…

Smoke & beer. That's what he knew. And rock-n-roll. And cheap, meaningless sex. This was his dream. Every man's dream. The fantasy was becoming his reality. What was he supposed to do, that girly crap. Only caused trouble, that's what he learned.

Okay, maybe not so true. He loved her. Still did. But this was easier. He'd been hurt too many times. By Edna, Bud, his family, his friends. His reality had been too much pain, too much abandonment, too much rejection. And if it didn't happen, he made it happen.

That's why he didn't stay in Chicago to hear her excuses. He had made an effort. He went to Chicago. And look what that got him. He lost his love, his friend, his future, his life. His hopes and dreams. The ones he didn't dare have. And if he did have them, he wasn't going to share them. Not with anyone.

Certainly not with Sam. His "wife" who destroyed all the hope. No. Blaming her wasn't right. Then he was like Bud. Making excuses. Once she had appeared, he had a choice. He thought he did what was right. Responsible. For once. But it wasn't right. Not for him, not for her. And then Sam was gone. And there were no excuses. No distractions. Just emptiness and rage. Rage for feeling, rage for caring, rage to hide the love.

The first drink was always the hardest to pour….

Donna sat on the porch of the house she knew so well. It was her second home. It was her love's home. Things had changed, but stayed the same. She and Eric had grown. Together, apart. But they had grown up. Okay, maybe not "up" but adults. She smiled, thinking to herself one sequel and it was 1977 again, with light sabers and death stars. But they were together. Not like their friends. The group was no longer a group. It was horrible.

Eric had come back. But what had he come back to. They talked about it. Almost as much as their future. How had things gotten so messed up…did she blame Eric for it? Because things certainly did get messy after he left. No, she didn't blame him. But it was the event that everything came back to. That awful day when he left for Africa.

She knew what had to be done. They all had to take their heads out of their asses. Or at least so Red could plant his foot firmly up all six of their asses. Some more than others….

She had the summer before they went back to Madison. Before it was too late. If it wasn't already. Eric would help. He always would help. Or he's cut off. And he wouldn't go for that. Not again.

The first step was going to be the hardest….