Title: Don't You Forget About Me
Author: Alidiabin
Fandom: The Breakfast Club
Disclaimer: I only own the DVD not the rights
Words: 1,164
Warnings: Angst
Summary: Twenty years later. Set in 2004. Not a happy story.

Don't You Forget About Me

Brian leaned on his chair at NASA's Huston offices. Being beaten up in high school had paid off. He now worked for NASA. He also had a beautiful wife Laura, who worked as a psychiatrist at Huston General Hospital. They also had twin two year old sons Baxter and Lucas. Brian smiled at the latest family photo, which had also been the Christmas card he sent to his mother. He yawned as the sunset. He looked at the second photo on his desk. The breakfast club sat smiling in a time warp of bad hair and youthful innocence. He stared at the photo. The last time he'd seen any of them had been high school graduation. The last he heard was Claire was going to spend a summer in Paris. Bender had a job at a mechanics shop. Andy had a wrestling scholarship. Alison had no idea. He wondered where they were now.

Claire looked around the New York penthouse. She looked at all the expensive items. She wanted to scream. For this was her prison. She had worked as air hostess after going to college and getting a degree that turned out to be useless. She had entertained rich men on the plane with a slightly unbuttoned blouse. One of those men had been Damon Dexter a rich business owner. She had originally only dated him as a causal fling. Somewhere along the lines she fell in love. On September 11, 2001 he persuaded her to stay in his bed, in a hotel in a foreign city. She called in sick. That morning she watched as the plane she was supposed be on crashed into the twin towers. A normal person she thought would have seen that as a reason to start living life. She didn't. In fact she did the opposite. The anxiety came. The preference to stay at home. The desire to hide from all that could harm her. Damon all but left her. She knew he was sleeping with every other woman he came into contact with. Still she sat in her prison. A prison filled with expensive things. Yet the only thing that made her smile was a photo of the Breakfast club. She got up from her seat. She put her shoes on. She walked to her door. She walked outside.

Bender walked into the bar. He knew he should leave. The bar was temptation. After five years of not touching a sip of the precious poison, he just wanted to see what he would do. He licked his lips. He walked toward the bar. He had started drinking after high school. Though he had no one to blame but himself. His father was part of the reason. Bender touched the scar from the cigarette burns inflicted by his father. After high school, Bender had headed to Detroit to be a mechanic. He drank. He shifted around. Then one fateful day, he decided to drink on the job. He was fixing a car for a military wife. The alcohol impaired him. The next day the woman and her two children came to collect the car. He let them drive off. They didn't even reach the end of the road before they were killed. A car raced towards them and their cars brakes failed. Bender had three peoples blood on her hands because of his alcoholism. Bender leaned across the bar, admired the waitress low cut top which showed her double d breasts. He nodded as she poured him a beer. He opened his wallet to pay for it. He saw a photo of the Breakfast Club. He stood up. Shook his head. He walked out of the bar.

Alison drove to the rough part of LA. She knew most of the broken people who 'lived' here. She was the social worker here. She helped the basket cases. She helped the Schizophrenics find a place to sleep; she helped young mothers feed themselves and their babies. She was good at her job. Somewhere, somehow she'd also found love. Will was a good man. Though their relationship hadn't worked. The product of that relationship Grace had been beautiful. A perfect baby. Allison had been lucky; she had little morning sickness and a short labour. Then Grace started getting sick. Despite every medical advancement of the modern age. Grace had died three days before her first birthday. Will had run off with some blonde woman. Less than a year later they were married and eventually had two other perfectly healthy children. Alison let the tears fall for Grace on what would have been eight. She sobbed and screamed. A homeless man raised his eyebrows in disgust. She mouthed a swearword at him. Alison opened her wallet hoping to find money to hand the man so he could eat. She found a photo of the Breakfast club. She smiled. She turned her keys and drove off.

Andy stood in the airport. The airhostess smiled and commented how she liked men in uniform. Andy nodded and walked off. He knew what the woman had wanted; a quick tangle with a solider. Andy straightened his uniform. He had only joined the military to make his father proud. Everything he had done was to make him proud. The reason Andy hid the fact he was bisexual from his father, was to make sure he remained proud. He had lost count of the number of times during college, when his father visited, that he'd wanted to tell him that his roommate was really his lover. He had resisted. And, that was why he was alone. No one wanted to be with someone, who couldn't even tell his father who he really was. Andy noticed his elderly father among the crowd of the terminal. Andy stood for a second debating whether to walk to him or not. He opened his wallet, to look for some money. He saw the photo of the Breakfast Club. He decided not to go to his father. He walked out. He jumped on a bus.

Shermer High School had not changed one bit. In fact it had gotten worse Dick Vernon mused. Thank god it was his last year he thought. He told everyone it was a retirement but in reality he was being forced out by the school board. He sat outside the library waiting for the unlucky students who had Saturday detention. Though these days the little brats simply sat on there smart phones and caused more havoc updating their MySpace pages. He saw five taxi's pull up. One open and a couple appeared each carrying a two year old boy. Out of another came the unmistakable form of John Bender. Out of the third the frail frame of Claire Standish. Allison Reynolds stepped out of a fourth, clad only in black. Out of the fifth, Andrew Clark stepped out. All five cabs played the same song.
"Don't you forget about me" the stereos cried.

A/N: So?