Aye yo.

The reviews?

Pretty fly.

Steam billowed out of the open bathroom door and Troy slumped out. His mind was in a state of pleasurable shock at the things he had seen and the things that had been done inside of that bathroom. Despite the pure euphoria the morning had been, the chilling image of Micah standing in the room pushed all of his positive thoughts to the back of his mind.

This was real, Troy had to keep reminding himself.

He watched his wife's reflection in the bedroom's mirror as she twisted her hair into a damp, stringy blonde plait. She smiled. "What're you thinking about?" There was a familiar, lively glint in her eyes. A shining that reminded him once more: This was real.

He shook his head in assurance before ducking into the closet to change. "Not much," he said. Despite the fact that just last night, you were buried in a cemetery, and you've temporarily been injected back into my life... "Life lately has just been..." he shuffled around in search of the correct word.

"What? Crazy? Weird?" Sharpay poked her wet head into the closet.

Nonexistent, he thought. Clumsy hands rifled through his collection of shirts on his rack, hanging according to color. After Sharpay had died, he distinctly remembered the wardrobe slowly turning into an explosion of the rainbow. But everything was right back in its place. Heels lined the floor, dresses tucked away for special occasion.

"Troy?" a pair of warm arms wrapped around his torso and electricity jumped from her body to his. He found himself swimming his way out of his conscience again, fighting between his confused dream and reality.

And Micah...

"Life's just been..." he spluttered again at the feel of her hands tracing the definition of his abdomen. What? Crazy? Weird? Nonexistent? All of the above? "A dream," he said.

A dream.

Yes?

No.

"Speaking of dreams," she started before giving a small giggle. That giggle. It was the darkness' giggle. It was the giggle that had sacrificed him to the sun, it was the giggle that made him feel more alive than ever before. This was real. This was real. "I had the weirdest dream last night. Something about Mrs. Smith's dog..."

"What?" His words came before his actions. Something that had buried him in this catastrophe in the first place. Sharpay unwrapped her arms from his torso and escaped back into the bedroom. "What about a dream? What about Mrs. Smith's dog?" Were things finally going to make sense? Were the stars going to align, was the puzzle going to solve itself, was he going to know? His feet came before his coordination. Something that resulted in his towel dropping around his ankles and his stumbling back into the bedroom.

"Well, gosh, Troy, have a cow," Sharpay taunted. "It wasn't that exciting. I just dreamed that Mrs. Smith's Yorkie stole my wallet..."

What had he been thinking? Did he think Fate was going to make this easy for him? He had been put in this place for a reason. Time to man up and figure it out. This was real.

"I'm sorry my dream wasn't as exciting as you thought it was going to be." Her bottom lip tucked over her upper one in a pathetic pout. "Can I make it up to you?" her frown melted away into a mischievous smile.

It was then that Troy noticed his embarrassing exposure, his towel at his ankles, thanks to the words before actions and the feet before coordination.

Nevertheless, Troy found himself in a cloak of darkness again. It rained kisses and giggles caught the breeze underneath their cashmere blankets. They took each other to eternity, tumbling over clouds, dancing in the orange-violet that painted heaven. Climbing. Faster. It became a desperate attempt to jump to infinity and even beyond those boundaries of possible.

A few soft mews. Verbal ecstasy. Hands straightening damp hair, undiscovered crevices.

Then rapture. Then the tickling of angel wings and lavender and mischief.

"Troy..." the way she whispered his name. In a breathless want. It was his epiphany. He realized that as much as he loved drinking in time with her, if he wanted her to stay in his arms forever, he had to create a plan. As they came down from their astrological high, Troy pulled his wife into his arms and she sighed soundly against his neck.

Now, what had Micah (even the sound of his name ignited Troy's skin in goosebumps) said? A gift. Three days to find the gift of life No telling her. No changing her fate. Love her in every way possible.

He figured this gift wouldn't be found in Tiffany's and sure as hell couldn't be wrapped in paper. He figured it was beyond a simple smile or a gesture of love. He figured this gift was more than driving a pleasure into her that no other man could.

"And dammit, we just got out of the shower!" She giggled. That giggle.

He figured he figured nothing. He had no clue what he was looking for, or even where to begin. All he could do was start at number one and guess and hopefully get somewhere. Troy looked up to her, their noses only a few centimeters apart. Wavy shower-wet hair framed her face and her facial features highlighted her uncontainable happiness...

Realization hit him fast as lightning.

"Sharpay," he suddenly said. "Anything you want. Name it." A little bold. A little whatever. Whatever it takes to keep her alive... he watched as her eyes widened.

"W-Where is this coming from? Troy, you don't have to do this." But he did. Maybe the gift that would keep her alive was hidden somewhere in her happiness.

"Come on, Shar. Anything you want to do. Anywhere you want to go. Tell me. Now," he pushed.

"Don't you have meetings to go to? People to impress?" Sharpay peeled her slick body away from his and crawled out of bed

"Fuck it, Shar," he said. "It want to belong to you today. I want to belong to you for the next three days. Just you and me. No distractions."

"This is so sudden, I-I... well..." Sharpay succumbed quickly. "I've always wanted to go back to New York."

The ice and the snow and the plane and the proposal came flying back, re-energizing his boneless body to fly out of bed and draw her back into his arms. Troy pressed a kiss to Sharpay's mouth before bounding out of the bedroom. "Start packing!" he called over his shoulder.

"What?!" she shouted after him. "Today? What are you thinking? Troy Bolton, you are being very unreasonable!"

He's thinking that he needs to move fast. And no, he's being the husband Sharpay has always wanted him to be.

Woot.

Please tell me what you think, it means a lot to me, and it heps me improve. Tell me that I rock your world. Tell me my writing makes you want to commit suicide.

Either way, it'll help me.

Review!