The Story of Thunder.

Chapter One: Feels Like Rain.

"And cut!" With high beam lights focused to make various spotlights, a petite woman glowed as she stepped from behind one of the main cameras. The set-lights made her brown hair shine and her eyes illuminate with radiance and an alluring glitter.

But even with such emphasis on the no-doubt beauty that she held, the lights of the studio also highlighted the deep frown taking over her delicate features; making her eyes sparkle with an edge. The brunette walked past a tape-line that marked where the staff and crew-people weren't allowed over, her heels sounding heavy and important on the tiled floor, even for such a small person.

"So? How was it?" Noticing the woman, a blonde chewed on her gum shamelessly. She stood in front of marbled wall, her dirty heels dragging in mud from the outside and all over the new carpet of the studio-set. She was the tenth person that the T.V. station had auditioned for a hosting position they had open for a new project they were working on.

But it seemed that even with the line of women trying to get famous with their talentless dreams and too-small tops, having to recruit someone as a host for a simple talk-show was hard and took more than a week. They had to deal with incompetent people wasting valuable film on their poor skills. Not to mention the others who thought it was just a joke and just wanted to flash their big breasts around the studio-set, hoping to snag a producer or director from their busy lives and sleep their way into fame.

"Perhaps you read the sign wrong—"It was times like these were the executive Producer of the T.V. network wished she had never taken up the offer for this job. It was impossible to deal with sometimes, but don't get her wrong, she had a graceful way of bossing people around and getting things done with perfection. There was no one better for the job than her, but sometimes wanting to quit and surrender was something she had been thinking about desperately lately.

Because lately…escaping seemed like the right solution.

"—Or perhaps I need to fire someone because whoever was in charge to put out the casting-calls made a grand typo." But quickly forgetting about her personal thoughts, the Producer took three steps closer to the blonde as her crew recoiled. "This was meant to be an audition for our network's new morning talk-show—not a Porn film." Luckily, Jacqueline Burkhart was around to save the day for the T.V. studio.

She was no quitter, and she was here to save all their asses from handing the director of the network a future candidate for a dirty movie. Jacqueline was there rain or shine, even when every ounce of her body and mind were asking her to hide underneath her blanket and never come out again.

She was a fighter...Well, at least she still liked to believe she was.

"Do I get the job or not?" The blonde popped her gum, hand on her exposed hip as she stared at the brunette. "I'm not getting how this works."

Ms. Burkhart narrowed her eyes, venom pooling into her mouth as every member of the crew went silent. All of them watched the scene before them like an episode of a T.V. show they did not help create; amusement in most of their faces. Some of them always liked the clever remarks their boss had to say, liking the way she stood up to anyone. But none of them actually knew that her dark, witty retorts were part of her teenage self, of a girl she no longer knew how to be.

"You don't get what?" Jacqueline snapped. "That most middle-aged homemakers of this state don't want to see a bimbo on their television sets shoving their boobs in the camera? That they don't need a giggling retard attempting to teach them new tricks in their kitchen that doesn't require them to be naked and dancing around a pole?"

Some of the crew muffled their chuckles, making the blonde stomp her foot on the rug. "You can't talk to me that way! Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I'm the one who is telling you to leave my set and go apply to the Fatso Burger around the corner!" The brunette hissed, a headache brewing from the cheap perfume in the air. "Someone escort the her out. And make it a woman. If a guy does it, God knows he won't come back until he is short twenty dollars and zipping up his pants." She waved her palm at the people, and turned around.

And at the sound of her heels against the floor again, the crew members began to move once more. One of the interns walked hastily towards the infuriated blonde ready to show her the way out.

"Jonathan give me a bottle of water, please," Jacqueline ordered politely, sighing to herself. "And a few aspirins from the First-Aid kit."

"That was pretty harsh, Jackie." As soon as the teen intern scattered, a dark-haired woman handed her boss a clipboard.

"They don't pay me to be nice, Amanda," Jacqueline replied to her assistant, flipping through the papers attached to the board. "Besides, you shouldn't be complaining. If I was nicer to the people here, you'd take on the heavy-load. I gotta balance my emotions out somehow," she added.

"It's like Christmas everyday," Amanda said sarcastically, but with a genuine smile on her face. (It wasn't a secret to the crew that she and the boss were tight. Well, as tight as coworkers could get.)

Jacqueline smiled slightly, shaking out her brown waves as she lowered the clipboard on a nearby table. "We better hope for a miracle, Amanda, or all of our asses will be out in the street if we can't find a host. There was nothing but blondes, blondes, blondes. They're like a damn epidemic in this city." .

"I'm glad I dyed my natural hair then, because with your random hatred for blondes, Jackie, I'm pretty sure I would've been fired long ago." Amanda rolled her eyes. "I swear if Dolly Parton was to come into our set you'd have security escort her out. People don't just hate things for no apparent reason, you know? Are you every going to tell me why? "

Jacqueline stared at her friend, a little amused. "Nope," she said carelessly. "But here is a random fact for you, I'm Jacqueline Burkhart, I was born hating."

The assistant rolled her eyes again. "Anyways," she waved the subject away. "You have a meeting with the executives tomorrow up in WGN-TV. They've been trying to get a hold of you but somehow you always seem to be busy."

"Of course they do," she grunted. They always wanted to see her in hours they demanded and not on her time. Executives or not, Jacqueline had important things to do once she clocked-out. Going home, for one, was more important that hearing them ramble about something. There was a reason why she was the Producer for the network, she knew what she was doing."You know I have to go home no later than six, stop agreeing to see them after that time, Amanda. I cant waste any time to accommodate these people."

"Technically, Jackie, they're your superiors. They are the people that control your career, you sort of owe them," Amanda said in a know-it-all tone. "They can fire you if you don't do everything your job entitles you to do. Besides, meetings and executive-business only take an hour or two, you're going to have to figure something out."

"First off, they know how I work. And if they didn't like it, they would have fired me long ago, but obviously I'm good at what I do," the brunette retorted. "And if they're getting tired of it, then they can always fire me whenever they want...Maybe I'd be better off if they did," she whispered the last part, coughing and looking back down at the clipboard.

Amanda raised her eyebrow, expression puzzled. "What do you—"

"Ms. Burkhart!" Just in time to save her, Jonathan came rushing back.

"You took a long time to get me a water bottle." Jacqueline took the bottle from his sweaty hands, downing the pills for her headache.

"I'm s-sorry," he apologized. "But they had a phone call for you. A-And I know how much you hate people interrupting you during work, s-so I was trying to get them to call back later but they didn't give in." The intern gulped, breathless after his explanation.

Jacqueline's heart rate picked up, fear racing beneath her skin. Don't let it be bad, God. Please don't let it be bad.

"They're still on hold?" She asked coolly, trying to control her nerves and negative thoughts.

"Y-Yes ma'am." Jonathan nodded hectically.

"Schedule that meeting before four tomorrow, Amanda," the executive producer ordered her assistant, walking away from her before she protested.

"—Ms. Burkhart, we have a problem." Walking backwards as he almost passed her, the Production Assistant appeared next to Jacqueline; looking sweaty and determined.

"What is it, Charles?" The brunette asked, taking a step to the right to get away from the man's BO.

"About the auditions, I was thinking...we need to find someone soon. Now, I don't want to criticize but—"

"But you are, Charles," Jacqueline said with a humorless puff of air.

Charles gulped. "W-well, it is important to find a host, Jacqueline, and we can't be putting it off any longer," he managed to say without running out of breath, both of them stopping by a reception counter. A black phone was waiting on top of a stack of papers.

Staring at it like if it was about to blow up, Jacqueline found her heart banging painfully inside her chest; almost breaking past her bones, a worry so thick taking over her heartbeats. "Can you give me a minute?" She asked impatiently at the man.

"Sure,"Charles sighed.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up. "Hello?"

"Jackie? Jackie, is that you?"

Oh, my God.

"Jackie? Hello?"

If the brunette thought her heart rate was racing at a dangerous level before, she was mistaken. This time she couldn't even feel it, her skin started to go numb.

"Come on, Jackie!" The voice from the other side of the line pleaded.

"I-I'm here," Jacqueline squeaked in return, her legs shaking.

"Oh, I thought you might have hung up on me. I know it's been a long time..."

"It has." Way too long.

"It's really hard to get a hold of you, Jackie," the voice said with a bit of an accusing tone.

She inhaled deeply to get her lungs working again, the sound of her breath flying into the speaker of the phone. "I bet."

There was other voices in the background. She couldn't make out of who, or rather she didn't want to. It had been a long time, but even so, she didn't want to be having this conversation at all. She had expected something bad, but not from the past. "Jackie, something happened. Something bad. We thought it was important for you to know..."

'We?' She thought with a bit of fear.

"What exactly happened?" She whispered into the speaker.

"Have you been getting my letters, Jackie? The ones I've been sending you for the past four years? You would know what I meant if you read them...Or have you not bothered to open them at all?"

She swallowed roughly. Of course I've read them. How can I not? I told myself that my old self was gone, but I needed to keep some connection alive. But just a tiny fragment of a connection, something not big enough to be able to communicate back with you.

"...Yeah, I've read them."

There was a pause from the other line. "Jackie, she's in the hospital now. We don't know how bad it is this time. The doctors are hoping for the b-best but...but they...the medication isn't advanced enough yet to—" The brunette could hear the tears being spilled, a piercing feeling filling her chest. "You need to come, Jackie. It might be the only chance you get. She never forgot you…She badgered me for news of you every day, you know, even when I didn't have any." There was an intake of breathe. "I know she meant a lot to you as well."

"She did," Jacqueline said flatly, controlling her emotions.

"Jackie," the voice sounded frustrated, "she might die." The painful feeling doubled. "Don't do this, please. You have to be here." In the middle of the attempt of persuasion, Jacqueline heard more voices echo somewhere on the other line. "Look, if you don't want to do this for me then do it for him. He's so destroyed, you know he cant live without her. We need some of your stubbornness to get to him, so we can make him feel better even for a bit."

I can't help you, I can barely help myself nowadays.

"...I don't know." The thought of home crossed her tormented mind. Her real home. The one that existed somewhere in her memories and faded dreams; a place where she used to feel alive, great, and powerful. A feeling of warmth that always burned in her heart when she was there.

And that place was nowhere near where she was now. Here it was always degrees below freezing.

"She might die, Jackie," the voice repeated.

She sighed, her thoughts twisting themselves as her past and future jumbled together. There was more to consider these days, but she couldn't find it in her to say no.

"Fine."

A sigh of relief broke out. "Thank you, Jackie."

Even though she knew they couldn't see her, the brunette nodded. "Goodbye." She hung up the phone before they could speak again.

"Ms. Burkhart, about our problem—" Forgetting that Charles was still roaming nearby, Jacqueline attempted not to hiss at the poor man as she started feeling dizzy and overwhelmed.

"Pick one," she replied, walking hurriedly towards her set.

"Excuse me?" Charles followed behind with great effort. "What does that mean?"

"You choose her, Charles. That's what that means. It's up to you," she explained quickly, rolling her eyes.

"Really?" He sounded suspicious and happy at the same time that she had to let out a laugh. "Are you sure, Ms. Burkhart?"

"Yes, Charles, I'm sure. Now stop talking before I change my mind."

"What's going on?" Amanda asked as soon as her boss came back into view. She raised her eyebrow at the sweaty man, feeling slightly disgusted at his sloppy smile.

"Go now, Charles, start making new casting-calls and anything necessary to find us a host. Don't mess this up or I'll personally make sure you end up working as a janitor for the network," the Executive producer threatened.

"What was that about?" Amanda asked again, looking at her boss awkwardly as the man practically skipped away happily. "It looked like Mister O'Neil was about to have a seizure from all the nodding he was doing. Did he proclaim his love for you again? Ew, did you agree to go out with him?"

Jacqueline began to stuff her belongings into her purse, her head still rushing from the phone call that she didn't even come up with a comeback to throw at Amanda. "I've put him in charge of this production until I come back."

"What?" Amanda bellowed loudly, gaping at the brunette. "That's even worse! What do you mean when you come back? I hope you mean from the ladies room, Jackie!" The assistant entered a moment of shock. "Where the hell are you going anyway?"

"Don't ask questions, Amanda," the brunette retorted. "Just make sure that the idiot doesn't mess up any of my hard work, and that means no ditsy blondes on my set. You threaten to call me if you have to if he gets out of hand, and I'll set him straight. I'll just be gone for a couple of days, I hope."

Before the petite woman could walk away from her, Amanda seized her by the arm. "Hold on—"

"Ow!" Jacqueline winced, eyes wide at the strong hold her friend had on her.

"Im sorry!" Jumping from the squeal her boss let out, Amanda immediately let her go. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Let me see." She began to roll Ms. Burkhart's sleeve up. "Oh, quit being dramatic, Jackie, I didn't—" She stopped. Shadows of green and yellow caught her attention.

"Let go, Amanda!" Jacqueline tore her arm away.

"J-Jackie, I-I..." Amanda thought for a moment, convincing herself that she did not squeeze the brunette's arm too hard. (She knew Jackie was weak and small, but she wasn't freaking made out of paper to develop such mark from a grab.) "Your arm is marked up badly," she spoke after a second, her gaze still fixated at the marks she saw. "Your entire arm is bruised."

Holding her sleeve down tight, Jacqueline stared blankly at the dark-haired woman. "I'm trusting you to keep my set in one piece, Amanda. If I come back and everything went straight to hell, it won't be a winter wonderland for you any more, got it?"

Concern still showing on her face, Amanda nodded. "Where are you going?" She asked again, not sure if it would be pointless but she had nothing to say at that moment.

Jacqueline Burkhart took in a deep breath. "Home," she murmured before heading to the exit. "Point Place, Wisconsin."

AN: This is a remake of ShellyHale's story called "Thunder." (So, if you read it before and you're not sure why it sounded familiar, this is why.) She allowed me to redo it as she deleted it from her account and decided that it needed some adjustments.

So, I took over. Yay!..Or Nay?

R&R? :)