Hey everyone! I don't know if anyone will read this but it's been on my computer for ages and I figured I'd upload it. I love Blake's character and so I decided to do another story involving the school. I kind of felt like I was betraying Alex (another OC I created) a little with this story, but I have a prequel to their story to upload at another time. Anyway, enjoy.

RdF

Chapter One – Trouble

"New term Mr Parkman," Blake Collins said, pausing as he walked past a group of students who were chewing gum and laughing loudly. "Let's try to not start it in detention. And pull your trousers up, for the love of God," he added in a mutter they couldn't hear, pacing away.

The main corridor was bustling with excitement as students and faculty alike squealed at each other from opposite sides of the large room, and headed to their homerooms. New students, distinguishable by the piece of paper glued to their hands, looked around in amazement at the school; though MSA had only been founded within the last century, the building had existed long before then and the architecture depicted that – with the snaking columns and high architrave – though there were notable, modern changes too. The renovations that had taken place over the summer being the one that was causing the most thrills; Blake had ripped out all the old wooden panelling and replaced them with huge glass panes, so that each class room was entirely visible and well lit.

Summer break had been long, and boring, with Blake itching to return to some kind of routine before he cracked wide open. His brother, Chase, who was now in his first year at the San Francisco Ballet Company, had intended to return for some of the holidays but had rung Blake early July to say he couldn't make it – they were going on tour in August, he'd gotten a principal role and he obviously had to stay to rehearse. Blake had been pleased for him, but it had left his summer with a gaping hole, and besides from planning the next term's timetables, trips, and finances – all the things that he revelled in – there was little else to do.

He had thought about visiting his parents in New York but after living for so long in Baltimore, the fast paced life of the city didn't suit him the way it used to. Besides, his Mom was as overbearing as she ever was, and rang twice a week to try and set him up with a woman as it was. What would she be like if he was there in person? He'd go at Christmas, or they'd come down – either way, a Collins family reunion, and that included Chase, was not far off.

But here he was, the first day of a new term and strangely, coming back to MSA and its long crowded corridors felt like coming home. He wasn't naive; he hadn't got many real friends here – most of the work force was slightly wary of him – but he was busy here and he really did love his job.

"Smile!"

A light flashed beside him as an AV student took the photograph of another student for the virtual yearbook they were doing this year. The girl on the receiving end – with pigtails and red cheeks – punched him playfully and squealed, "That is not going to be my yearbook photo Derek!"

He shook his head, noticing that they shrunk to the sides a little as he passed to get out of his path, and scaled the steps to his office on the first floor.

"Good morning Director Collins," his receptionist chirped as he walked through the waiting area outside his office. She'd risen quickly from her chair and sprinted around her desk to stand near him. Lisa was a young girl, who'd gotten the job a year after Blake had, replacing the ever efficient Mildred after her retirement, and while she could file well, Blake found her effervescent cheerfulness a little too much at times. She was on form today, beaming at him as she tossed her auburn curls and handed him some manila envelopes.

"There you go, Director," she smiled as she passed them on. "Coffee?" She smoothed her dress as she spoke to him.

"That would be great, thank you," he replied, opening his office door and backing away a little. "Just...bring it through when it's ready."

She nodded enthusiastically, tearing her eyes from him as the phone started to ring. "Good morning, Blake Collin's office, how can I help?"

Blake closed the door behind him, breathing a deep sigh as he glanced over the envelopes before sitting down. He frowned, sighed again, and pulled out his new reading glasses he'd gotten recently (much to his brother's amusement who had now dubbed him 'Fossil Man') and put them on before opening them.

Minutes later, Lisa let herself in after a timid knock at the door, carrying a mug of hot coffee. Smiling, and putting it down on his desk, she hovered briefly before he frowned, and glanced up over his glasses at her.

"Was there something else?" he asked, trying not to sound as irritated as he felt.

"Your Mother is on line one." Lisa swallowed nervously as Blake's expression changed. He took off his glasses and laid them down on the letter he'd been reading.

"What? Why?" he hissed, as if Francis could hear him.

"She said you were ignoring her calls yesterday, she's not stupid, and she thought she'd try you here," Lisa repeated, glancing off as she tried to remember.

Blake rolled his eyes. "It's the first day of term!"

"She said she has something important to talk to you about," Lisa said quickly, hearing the anger in his tone rising. "She wouldn't leave a message. She insisted I force you onto the phone."

Blake let out a sigh through his teeth that sounded almost like a growl and ran his hand over his face. "Fine. I'll talk to her now, before the staff meeting. If it's that important." Which, knowing his Mom, it wasn't.

Lisa breathed a sigh of relief, grinned and tossed her hair back again. "I'll put her through then shall I?"

Blake stared at her. "Yes, Lisa." She needed prompting at times; although she never brought him coffee, Mildred at least knew how things worked around his office.

"Ok!" she grinned, unperturbed by his annoyed tone. As she closed the door, he saw a light on the receiver of his telephone glow red and gingerly he picked up the phone with a heavy sigh.

"Good morning Mother," he said in a stern tone.

"Good morning Blake," Francis said down the line. He could hear the chink of china – she must be having a cup of coffee, just as her son was hundreds of miles away. "I've been trying to reach you – it's rather urgent."

"Yes, my receptionist told me you were a little forceful," Blake said with a smirk.

"Don't smirk down the phone Blake, just because you think I can't see you. I can hear it," she scolded. There was a silence. "It concerns Fell's Point Performing Arts School.

Blake faltered with a pen in his hand – he had been multitasking, trying to write as he spoke – and bristled slightly. Fell's Point as a rival performing arts school, on the opposite side of the district MSA was situated in. The rivalry between the two institutions had existed since Blake's parents were Directors; any benefits concert, showcase, recital was designed and specifically manipulated to out stage the other. Their grades were always compared, neither board saw eye to eye though they had to be civil for the sake of the dancing community, and as Director, Blake had to pick up the mantle and continue as those who had gone before him had done. "What about it?"

"Their Director retired."

"Well, that's wonderful Mother, but I already have a pretty solid job here at MSA. I don't think I could balance two directorships –"

"Blake, nobody likes a smartass, and you sarcasm is not appreciated at just past eight in the morning," Francis bit back, in a voice covered in sugar. "My point is, they're getting a new one, and word on the grapevine is that they've hired someone exceptional to revive the place. The school's been in a bit of a rut recently and they've gotten someone to inject some life into the institution."

Blake sighed. "Who is it?

"I don't know – its being kept very hush-hush," Francis said impatiently. "Just like them. We go and get you, fresh from London to bring MSA into a new generation and they have to try and out trump us. It's so childish." Blake rolled his eyes. If Fell's Point had gotten someone 'like him' first, MSA would have followed suit. It was the dancing world's answer to keeping up with the Jones' - keeping up with Fell's Point. He had been hired to turn MSA into 'the next Juilliard' and he doubted the reasoning behind the appointment of this mystery figure was any different.

"So what would you have me do Mom? Don a disguise and stake out the place?" Blake asked, sitting back in his chair, leaning slightly and turning the pen in his hand. "I'll meet them soon enough I suppose at Matthew's birthday party."

Matthew Rotherway was a board member – one whose birthday was around the start of the school year – and every year he held a huge party, completely extravagant and glamorous. He'd been a 'fashionable forty' for the past few years, as long as Blake could remember, and tonight was no different. The invitation even said "Matthew Rotherway's Fortieth'. The night was full of schmoozing and drinking and dancing – generally rubbing shoulders with a lot of people who worked in the industry. Of course, to save face, Matthew always invited Fell's Point's board and their Director (who had been one Harold Finley – an ancient and snooty man who Blake did not like) and so it was entirely normal to expect to see the new Director there.

"Of course, I'd forgotten," Francis said. "Send Matthew my love."

"Yes Mom," Blake replied, glancing at the clock. "I'm going to have to go – I have a staff meeting and then a school assembly. But as soon as I find out anything I'll let you know, ok?"

"Please do," Francis sighed. "Love you."

"And you Mom," Blake said quietly, hanging up. It had been fairly important after all then – a new Director could spell trouble. The situation between the two schools could worsen, or it might improve, but either way he should be prepared. Not everyone who arrived was as eager to stay in the turf war as the previous generations were – Blake hadn't been at first. But he had worked hard to make MSA what it was – and it was brilliant now – so to watch it be snatched away by someone else infuriated him. He had soon wanted to wipe the floor with Fell's Point; his students were the best, he had maintained with some pride.

Blake rose from his desk and grabbed his files and glasses to head to the staffroom. Upon opening the door, he found Lisa directly in front of it, fist raised, about to knock.

"What is it?" he asked with a heavy frown.

"There's a fight breaking out in the Quad," she said timidly. Blake clenched his jaw, shoved his things into her shocked hands and stormed out of the room, heading for the outdoor area. There was no rest for the wicked.

XXXXX

Blake slipped past groups of people talking and hovering, blocking the doorway, and smiled. Rotherway had done it again – transformed the local music hall into a triumphant display of his true soul; there were ice sculptures and dancers, a buffet table that stretched across the longest and furthest wall, and the marble dance floor recently polished. Everything was bright and glamorous, and had the marvellous expensive glow to it that just screamed that money had made it all possible. It was exactly his parent's scene, Blake thought as he meandered through the crowd, nodding to a few faces he recognised though he had grown accustomed to it also. He was heading to the drinks table – he was thirstier than he'd realised – but paused to admire the band on stage that had just launched into a rendition of Feeling Good.

"Blake Collins!" said a clipped voice from behind him. "Don't you scrub up well?"

Blake turned with his hands in his pockets to see a smiling Matthew Rotherway, done up in a white tuxedo with a black tie; his steely grey hair swept back naturally and his dark rimmed glasses at the end of his nose.

"I try," Blake smiled, shaking the man's hand.

"I'm so pleased you could come," Matthew said loudly over the swing band. "Now, where's my present?"

Blake laughed. "I came didn't I?"

Matthew frowned and adjusted his glasses. "The cheek of it. It isn't every year a man turns forty."

"It is with you," said a dry voice to Matthew's left – Margret, another board member who was thin and waspish, and tonight dressed in a gold wrap dress, appeared at his side and offered Blake a polite smile. "The bow tie is a nice touch Blake, but it makes you look very young."

Blake's hand flew to his throat, but Matthew rolled his eyes. "She's winding you up. You look very handsome."

Margret smirked, and Blake met it with a simper. "So," the woman started in hushed tones. "What about this new Director business then?"

"Please Margret," Matthew snapped. "This is a party. No work talk." He paused and leaned in. "Have you heard anything at all?"

Blake shook his head. "Only that they've been hired to revive the school. Did they come tonight?" he asked, looking around the room though he'd hardly known just by sight. They wouldn't have a giant flashing badge declaring who they were – quite the opposite. It was very cloak and dagger.

Matthew crossed his arms. "Not that I know of. The board are here of course," he said shrugging. "But they're keeping schtum. I did hear," he said, even quieter, "one of them mention a 'Jesse', as I walked into the bathroom, but they moved off the topic very quickly, and I have no proof that its anything to do with their new Director."

Blake frowned at the childishness of it; stalking around like they were in some kind of movie, it was just silly. He supposed the announcement about this Jesse guy becoming Director would be made soon enough and he would see the man in the flesh at the next function they all had to attend together, if not sooner. He could be patient until then.

"Anyway," Matthew was saying. "I'll talk to you later." And he disappeared into the crowd with Margret going the other way, and Blake couldn't help but feel as f he'd slipped into a spy movie, with all the clandestine talks, the speculation. He smiled to himself as he turned to get to the drinks table again.

The waiter who served him couldn't tear his eyes from the band and so Blake had to wait patiently while he poured an orange juice blindly. "Thank you," Blake said biting his cheek when he got it. Turning to head into the centre of the room where he might find some people connected to MSA, he collided with another person gently on the shoulder.

"Oh, sorry," they said, laughing a little. "I misjudged the distance between us."

"That's fine," Blake said, shaking his hand which had some drink spilled on it. "I didn't get any orange juice on you did I?" He glanced up and was met with the sight of a woman – her dark hair was tied back in a loose up do, with her fringe and some tendrils hanging around her face. She was an equal height to him and clad in a figure hugging teal dress, which ended at the knee, and she was smoothing it gently. She looked up with a charming smile, and met his eyes.

"No, you didn't," she reassured him. "But it wouldn't have been your fault if you did."

Blake nodded. "Well, I apologise anyway," he said. He gave her a nod, turned to move into the crowd once more but the woman laid a hand on his arm.

"Wait a moment," she said, with the same disarming smile she had worn before. "You're Blake Collins aren't you? The Director of the Maryland School of the Arts?"

He felt his chest swell a little with pride – after all, he was proud of his job and who he was. "Yes, I am."

"I thought so," she said with a smirk, offering no other information. She'd let go of his arm by that point and stood with her hands in front of her. She had good poise and elegance, so Blake assumed she must have been a dancer at some stage; she was around the same age as him, perhaps a little younger. She had an audacity about her that he couldn't place; an air of confidence, and self assurance, and though her dress was fairly simple in style and embellishments, she wore it in a way that made her stand out from all the woman in the room. Blake swallowed and frowned.

"Are you a friend of Matthew's?" he asked, prompting her a little, trying to make conversation.

"Yes. From New York," she said over the music, looking at him with a curious expression. "Actually, its good luck I've ran into you. I've been looking at schools in the area – well, performing arts schools that is – my sister's looking to enrol you see. I recognised you from the website."

Blake very nearly outwardly cringed; several years playing leads in shows for the Royal Ballet and he was recognised from the school's web page.

"So, Mr. Collins," she said smoothly, leaning against the drinks table and crossing her legs a little. "What can you tell me about MSA? As a prospective applicant."

"Well, what do you want to know?" he asked, stepping a little closer to her with a polite smile, setting his glass down on the table. She shrugged.

"Is it a good school?"

"My opinion may be a little bias, Miss...?"

"Harper. I want to hear your opinion."

He paused and thought about it hard. "Well, Miss Harper, I believe that it is a good school, which offers students the best in whatever field they're applying themselves too. The faculty are hardworking and approachable, and the students are very talented. All of them," he added, "even if they don't always behave themselves." She laughed and he responded with a smile.

"Being Director must be a hard job," she said after a moment, with a concerned frown.

"It's like being a principal at an ordinary high school really – there are still teenagers everywhere. It's just specialised to performing arts," he explained carefully. She nodded thoughtfully, brushing the tendrils of hair from her face.

"I keep hearing a lot about Fell's Point?" she queried, with another gentle frown. "My sister quite liked that one, as well as yours." She looked almost sheepish for raising the competitions name to him. "Is that any good?"

"I'm hardly in the position to comment on it," he said with a smirk. The woman nodded.

"No, of course not. But...off the record?" she asked quietly, with another disarming smile. Blake paused; he wasn't going to be lulled into and lowered to verbally abusing the other side. He would have to be careful.

"They're a good institution. Their forte, I would say, is the musical and theatrical fields."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "I'm sensing a but..."

"But," Blake started with a smile, marvelling at how intently she was watching him. "They've slipped in the past few years in terms of keeping up with the competition. The environment there is almost stifling; they've not embraced diversity within dance, and so haven't grown in that area. If you're sister is an actress or interested in music, send her there. If dance is her primary strength, then I would recommend MSA." He kept a smooth, honest face, rather than smirking and she nodded in agreement.

"That takes a lot of courage to admit that a rival school is more accomplished at some of the arts it teaches." She paused. "Is their Director as young as you?" she asked, glancing down at her high heels. Blake gestured to the waiter for a glass of water.

"Er...no. He was very old, and consequently he just retired. They're getting a new Director, but we haven't met him yet."

"Him?" she said with wide eyes. "So you know that much."

"Well," Blake said, shrugging. "I assumed it's a man."

The woman smiled to herself, and Blake realised he must have come across as incredibly sexist in that moment. He smiled sheepishly. "What I mean is that the name that's floating around is a man's name."

She nodded. "Well, thank you for your time Mr. Collins. You've been very helpful and extremely informative." The woman straightened up from where she had been leaning and put out a hand to shake his.

"Not a problem," Blake replied, looking into her eyes – a strong grey colour, close to blue. "Happy to help. I hope your sister makes the right choice for her."

"She will," the woman said in a strong voice. "Goodbye."

Blake stared after her for a little while as she slipped through the crowd until she disappeared from his sight. That had been odd; it wasn't often women found him so engaging, and she'd been attractive too. If Chase had been there, he would have scolded him for not 'making a move'; his brother insisted that Blake should take whatever he could get, because he wasn't getting any younger and not many people found the thunderous robot act attractive.

He had to smile at the thought of his brother; he might have taken him tonight, had he been there, just for some amusement. Matthew had always like Chase – everybody liked Chase, with the wit and easy charm that didn't come easily to Blake, he was a party favourite. It was a little lonely in Baltimore without him, and though he knew that as soon as he got back they would fight and bicker again, and Chase would push him to the end of his tether, it seemed worth it for some human company. Blake took the water that the waiter had placed on the table and went in the opposite direction to where the woman had heading, making a beeline for a group of benefactors he hadn't had a chance to speak to in a while. If nothing else exciting happened tonight, he could look back and say a beautiful woman had talked to him.

XXXXX