No Greater Love Chapter 1, a high school musical fanfic

They had always been closer than normal. Not to say that their relationship was abnormal, but few if any expected this close a friendship to spring up between two young men.

But perhaps it had just been meant to be from the beginning.

The first time Chad Danforth laid eyes on Troy Bolton, the latter was doing his best to hold in his tears. Forgetting your lunch back at home on the first day of kindergarten would be tough for any child. Chad, in his infinite five-year-old wisdom, knew this, and parted with half his own lunch in service of his surprised and grateful classmate. It probably shouldn't have come at any surprise to anyone then that when young Chad was on the receiving end of mischief perpetrated by those horrid 1st grade bullies, little Bolton jumped in with a mean right uppercut. Of course it meant a tough teacher talking-to and a phone call to Mom and Dad, but two young tykes became the best of friends on that day.

And thus it grew, from kindergarten on to high school, where history repeated itself and Chad whispered "déjà vu" as Troy (ever the feisty one) started talking tough with two seniors looking to pull a prank on the incoming freshmen. The battle raged and two seniors got a big surprise – and several loose teeth – after facing the combined wrath of Troy and Chad. Suspension, detention, and serious groundings might have taken place shortly thereafter, but two close friends cemented an already good camaraderie and East High found out that two more "Wildcats" were in town.

Basketball. The word was music to their ears, and with the convenience of Mr. Bolton just happening to be the Wildcat coach, they were given ample chances to try out for the team. Oh, they tried out alright together, and made the team together, and quickly became the greatest players in East High history together. They complemented each other perfectly, Chad's adeptness at getting assists and steals driving home Troy's monster big-play capability and offensive skill to the consternation of their opponents. They made each other, as Chad said early and often, molded each other into the players – and young men – they were.

…

Then Chad realized Taylor and Gabriella set Troy's heart pounding every time he saw her, and though their attention was diverted elsewhere many a time, the two boys always found a way back to each other. From late nights poring over game strategy to double-dating to studying together, they remained inseparable. Though they may not have shown it nor realized it, it seemed as if the two leaned on each other to make it through life day after day…

It was a late Wednesday night study time in his room that Troy, now a senior, realized this, when his mind switched over from algebra to the young man beside him. He remembered the fights side-by-side, the late nights studying, the unselfish play in basketball that made Troy a star. He remembered the shared lunch, and the freshman split lip. He remembered the encouragement and praise, so freely given and never demanded in return. His calculator slipped through his fingers and fell to the carpet as Troy suddenly realized everything he owed to the boy he called "best friend".

"Yo dude, what is it with you and calculators?" joked Chad as he tossed the fallen item back to his buddy – only to be stunned into silence at the sight of tears in Troy's eyes.

Troy turned those tear-stained eyes over to the one guy who meant the world to him. "What is it with me and not realizing everything you've ever done with me, everything you've ever done for me, and everything you mean to me? What is it with me and sometimes treating you like you don't exist, when you've been the best thing that's ever happened to me?" he said hoarsely. "For the love of God, Chad, I've been so blind. What you must think of me for not being a better friend and brother to one who has been so much more to me than I have been to him…" and his voice failed him there as the tears flowed freely, and he lurched into Chad's embrace as the other boy threw his arms around him.

"Forgive…oh, forgive." Chad heard these words come from the young man who unabashedly wept in his embrace. "What have you done to need forgiveness from me, Troy Bolton?" he said fiercely as he grabbed Troy's face in his hands and held it close to his own. "You mean more to me than any brother or sister of mine ever could. Without you, I don't know how I ever could've made it this far or be flying this high, if you hadn't been with me every step of the way. By God, I love you as I have loved no other man! More than life itself, Troy Bolton, that's what you mean to me!" And Chad knew, as he clasped Troy's head to his chest while his brother in everything but blood let the tears fall, that his friend felt the same, word for word.

And though some whispered and wondered, and others scorned and taunted, and yet more whispered lies of what they might be, both boys knew they had something that would stand the test of all time and hardship. They had the power of brotherly love, of friendship – and there was no greater love than that.

…

After graduation from East High, they were both offered multiple basketball scholarships from multiple colleges across the nation, but only Notre Dame offered both of them full-ride scholarships. After a deliberation which lasted all of a few seconds, they signed with the Fighting Irish. Wouldn't have made much difference in the end – they both knew they would never attend different schools, that where one went, the other would follow.

They arrived on campus to much fanfare and instantly began turning a dismal Irish team around. The defensive prowess of Danforth and the offensive powerhouse of Bolton often proved too much for their competition, and Notre Dame began to advance further in March Madness than it ever had.

Troy had demanded – and received – one thing: a shared dorm room with Chad. The two stayed up until the early hours of morning, discussing game strategy, arguing over plays and tactics, breaking down rival teams. First ones to practice and last ones to leave, that was the duo of Bolton and Danforth. Soon, their names were well-known beyond South Bend, and a friendship that began in the streets of Albuquerque was making national sports news throughout the nation.

By their junior year, they had sportscasters talking national championship for the Irish. With Troy anchoring the offense and Chad blocking shots with the best of them, they made it to the big game. A national championship victory wasn't meant to be, however, as they lost a heartbreaker to Gonzaga, 79-74.

It was after the game, in the locker room, that Chad pulled out a ring and announced his intention to marry Taylor to a stunned and excited Troy. But even through his elation for his two friends, the darling of South Bend felt a twinge of regret at the finality it meant for him and Chad, knowing that the old days would soon be over and Chad's time and affections would be required elsewhere. He buried his feelings though, and let his joy overtake him. It wasn't lost on Chad, who himself had the same thought, silently swearing that not even the love of his life would come between him and the closest friend he'd ever had.

Of course she said yes, and Taylor and Chad were married that summer, moving into a cozy little home in South Bend just before the start of their senior year at Notre Dame. Troy was going to stay on campus, but Taylor nixed the idea before Chad had the chance. "He needs you," she told Troy, "and he wants you around. He's not the same without you with him every day. For my sake, come and stay with us for the season – as long as you want, until you put a ring on Gabs' finger." she said with a wink. Troy could only grin in response, relieved that Taylor understood him and Chad well enough, and agreed that he should be looking for a ring for the beautiful senorita in Albuquerque.

Married life seemed to affect Chad's game on the court in an extremely positive way, with Taylor attending every game. His defensive skills seemed magnified in his and Troy's senior campaign. With his monster defensive season and Troy causing headaches for opposing teams on offense, the Irish pulled off the nigh impossible – a perfect, unbeaten season.

After beating Villanova to reach the national championship for the second consecutive year, they had to face a resurgent LSU team that had put together a very impressive season itself. It was a hard-fought battle, with lead changes coming early and often. With 5 seconds left in the game and the Irish down 88-86, LSU inbounded the ball to run out the game clock. The radio announcer's call became immortalized in college basketball history…

"Breyer inbounds to Jackson. Jackson will pass it forward to Rakell Edwards to end it – it's stolen by Danforth! It's stolen by Danforth and he takes it to midcourt! He's instantly double-teamed, and passes it forward to Bolton! Bolton grabs it and dances back across the 3-point line! Two seconds left in the game! Bolton fakes it back to Danforth and goes for three…IT'S IN! IT'S IN! HE MADE IT AT THE BUZZER! IT'S GOOD AT THE BUZZER! NOTRE DAME HAS WON THE NCAA BASKETBALL NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP! THE FANS ARE STORMING THE COURT! IT'S PANDEMONIUM! THE FIGHTING IRISH, LED BY THE MIGHTY DUO OF BOLTON AND DANFORTH, HAVE STUNNED THE TIGERS OF LSU!"

When the Notre Dame team dog-pile came undone, media cameras caught a photo that described the game's ending perfectly – Troy and Chad were locked in each other's arms, as Troy was practically sobbing in ecstasy and Chad couldn't stop laughing for the same reason.

Troy was supposed to have received the game MVP Award for his colossal 40-point output, but refused to accept unless Chad was co-MVP. Thus it was that they stood together, both of them hoisting the coveted trophy together as teammates, friends, national champions, and brothers, united in everything but blood.

…

They graduated from Notre Dame several months after their championship effort on the court, bringing to a close the final chapter of a historical novel in South Bend, Indiana. They rewrote the record books, taking most of the Fighting Irish records for themselves. Chad left with the all-time blocked shots, all-time steals, all-time assists, and all-time rebounds records holder for the Fighting Irish, while Troy was the most prolific scorer in Notre Dame history – not to mention the all-time 3-point shooter record holder in college basketball. Many predicted them to go 1-2 in the upcoming NBA Draft, an event that handed the two boys a bit of consternation.

The two of them agreed on a vacation, a drive into the north country before the NBA Draft took place. They had always wanted to see the Northwest, to get lost in the spacious imagery of the northwestern states before taking their game to the pros. They both knew that their comradeship would be broken apart by the Draft, that the NBA saw them as two distinct players. It was a business, the NBA, and they wanted the best and brightest in their ranks. Neither Troy nor Chad would ever be able to explain to a money-driven enterprise that the two of them were a team, that they made each other, that without the one the other would never be able to duplicate their East High/Notre Dame success.

It was good that they would be going away, if only to escape for a time the brutal reality and pragmatism of a modern money-making world.

Gabriella came up from Albuquerque to stay with Taylor while the boys were gone, and the duo of Danforth and Bolton set off from South Bend, traveling north to whatever adventure lay before them. "This is good for them," Gabriella remarked to Taylor as they stood in the driveway waving goodbye to their boys. "Gives them one last chance to be themselves before everything changes."

Taylor stopped waving as Chad turned at the corner of their street. "I don't know how to explain it, Gabs," she said quietly, turning her eyes to her old high school chum. "But I can't help but feel that life is going to change even more drastically than we realize." She returned to the house, leaving Gabriella to hope and pray that the upcoming "change" wouldn't be too hard for Chad and Troy to bear.

The two friends made it up to Wyoming, spent a week touring the state before driving to Montana to catch a glimpse of old cowboy country. Another week in beautiful Montana land and Troy would've happily spent his life as a ranch hand in cattle country, had it not been for a brawl in a local diner that left the town police chief's son with a fractured jaw and inspired Chad to get his friend out of the state ASAP.

They journeyed to Idaho, stopping by Boise to hit up the town and see the famous blue field of the Boise State Broncos. From there, they made the seven-and-a-half hour trip up to the small city of Coeur d'Alene, for no other reason than to say they'd been.

And it was there the end of their story began.

…

"Should bring the girls with us next time and go skiing." Chad remarked, perusing the Coeur d'Alene tourist guide that a blushing female city worker had given Troy for free, forgoing the usual $0.25 fee after the former Irish star winked at her. "They got two ski resorts, not to mention the resort here by the lake."

"Totally should." Troy concurred, stretched out on the sod by the 25-mile-long Lake Coeur d'Alene where they had spent half the day. "I could live my life here."

"Said the same thing about Montana, last I remember." chuckled Chad as he threw the tourist guide at his pal, which Troy then hurled right back at him.

"Amazing how a broken nose on another guy's face can inspire a boy to find a change of scenery." Troy laughed. "But he had it coming, acting as he did. Incredible arrogance, thinking that he could demand to see our licenses just by virtue of being the Chief's son."

"Yeah, he was being a jerk. But they would still bust the dude who broke aforementioned jerk's jaw," Chad repeated for the umpteenth time.

"Whatever. You heard the chief himself say it wasn't my fault, that his boy started it."

"Did you ever stop to think that kid might come back for more? Y'know, with some buddies from off the back forty, with pickaxes and crowbars and whatnot?" Chad was beginning to wonder when he'd been hired as Troy's brain and guardian angel. "Hence the reason we had to hightail it out of the state."

"Enough about that lowlife – you ready to grab dinner?" Bolton yawned as he got to his feet, stretching out the kinks in his back.

"Dig that." Chad was suddenly hungry. "Car's low on gas, though – did you see a station coming in at all?"

Troy thought about it, nodded. "Yeah, thought I saw an AMPM on the way in, 'bout a mile that way," he indicated with a jerk of his thumb.

"Let's go then."

Go they did, little knowing that vindictive and hateful eyes were watching and following them all the while.

…

"Can I help ya find anythin'?" said the old man behind the counter, an old geezer who looked like he'd stepped straight out of Buffalo Bill Cody's "Wild West Show".

"No thanks," replied Troy, perusing the candy aisle. He heard the door to the AMPM jingle, turned to see Chad. "Car's filled. You ready to head out?"

"Yeah, let me see if I can find something to sneak back to the hotel. Anything you want?"

"Any Snickers Ice Cream Bars?" They were Chad's one addiction. "Otherwise, no."

Troy found them, was turning to tell his friend when the AMPM door jingled again, and several men, five or six of them, stepped in, clustered together as they eyeballed Chad. It was their intense gaze that gave Troy the first hint that they were in trouble.

"Well well, what have we here," the first man drawled. He looked younger than most of the men with him, short and stocky, seemed to slur his words as if intoxicated. "A mudface, polluting our good city with his darkie-ness."

Then Troy knew for certain, this was trouble.

Chad turned to face the youth, standing eyeball to eyeball with the young man. This angered the boy, and he shoved Chad hard. "Get out of my face, nig---!" as Chad hit the floor.

Troy shouted, had his hand on the boy's collar, the other hand ready to seriously damage the youth's face, when he was seized and a fist slammed into his solar plexus. His knees hit the ground, and the young man's comrades shoved him next to Chad.

Gasping for air, trying to regain his breath, Troy heard Chad get to his feet. "What is this? We aren't causing any trouble!"

"Oh, you've caused more trouble than you think nig---boy," the youth said, his vocal tone rising with each sentence. "We know who you are, Chad Danforth. We've watched you strut your black ugliness on national television. We've watched you beat down white boys on your basketball court, white boys who have more racial purity in them than your cotton-pickin' ancestors ever had. You've angered those of us who have pride, boy, and now the day of reckoning is here for you!" The boy took a deep breath after his tirade, then screamed "WHITE POWER!"

"WHITE POWER!" the men behind him shouted in succession.

"George, go outside and make sure no one's watching this," the youth ordered. "Shut up, faggot!" he retorted to the old man behind the counter who had been quietly protesting the whole confrontation from the start. He then rolled up the sleeves on his shirt to reveal swastikas tattooed on each arm. The men behind him did the same, revealing the same tattoo on every arm.

"If you want us to get out, say the word and my friend and I will leave this place." Troy, from his position on the ground, heard his friend say.

"'Your place', boy, is in subjection to the master race!" The boy spat out every word. "You humiliated good, pureblooded white boys on your Fighting Irish court – pureblooded boys that you're not even worthy to kiss the dust off their boots!" The youth swayed a bit, and Troy could tell he'd been drinking. "You will learn your place, big lips, and I will teach you how to worship the white folk."

George popped his head back in the door. "No one's coming, Bobby. Coast's clear."

Bobby nodded his head. "Good – we can show this nig--- a thing or two in peace."

"Over my dead body." He heard Chad breathe in sharply, but Troy had heard enough, as he regained his feet and stood face to face with Bobby. "Listen here, 'Bobby'. I don't give two figs for you or your little crew of 'White Power' thugs. You want a fight? Then let's do this the good old way – one-on-one, you and me, and if I win we walk outta here, no problems." Troy spit in the boy's face. "Let's see if you have the guts to take on a real man."

Bobby sneered, remaining calm even as he wiped the spittle off his face. "So the famous Troy Bolton is an Uncle Tom-lover. Might have guessed. A nig--- helps you win a national championship and you betray your own kin and race to kiss up to the darkies." Turning to his companions, the youth jabbed his thumb to the door. "George, you stay with me. The rest of you watch the lot, make sure we're not disturbed. Take the old man with you."

They did as Bobby demanded, jerking the old man out from behind his counter as he screeched and begged them to leave him out of this, and the two friends were left facing two thugs. Troy was frantically trying to think of a plan to get them both out of this entanglement when Bobby suddenly thrust himself in Troy's face. "You must be one of those race-traitors who thinks that 'all men are created equal', that there's only once race – the human race." When Troy nodded, Bobby went on. "There's only one thing I hate more than a nig--- and that's a nig---lover. Looks like you'll be the first to go…"

Troy didn't see the gun. Chad did.

"TROY, GET DOWN!!!"

It happened in a haze, a hard shove from Chad…a succession of loud pops…a yell…silence.

When the momentary nausea passed, Troy realized he was prostrate on the ground, Bobby standing over him. "Y'know, normally I hate it when a one of the thick-lips gets in my way, but I'm thinkin' he did me a favor."

Chad?

Feeling woozy from his head striking the ground, Troy clambered to his feet, tried to shake the cobwebs out of his head, almost slipped on blood as he searched for Chad.

Wait, blood?

Then he saw him.

"CHAD!"

The former defensive star of Notre Dame was collapsed against the AMPM counter, bullet holes riddling his torso, his blood spilling on to the ground and spreading out in small but steady streams. "Oh God, no-no-no-no-no!" Troy cried out as he gathered his friend in his arms, propping him up against the counter. "Oh God, oh God in heaven, talk to me, Chad. Talk to me, buddy. Breathe, in and out. Say something. I'll get a doctor, he'll fix you up. Hold on, it'll be fine. Everything will be fine. I'll get you home to Taylor and she'll take care of you, pamper you, all that. Just stay with me, pal…"

Chad cut through his friend's rambling. "Troy…" he whispered. "Tell Taylor…" and he couldn't go on. Troy violently shook his head. "No, no…I don't have to tell Taylor anything. You can tell her when we get back. I'll get you to a hospital and then we'll go home. We'll go home, buddy, and you can tell Taylor anything you want. I mean it…" his voice filled with tears.

Chad reached up to grasp his best friend's hand, two blood-stained palms clasping together. "Troy…there's something…important…I need to…"

"I'm here, pal. Say it, I'm right here."

Troy could see a faint grin form on his friend's face. "Marry…Gabs…already."

"Of course I will. Of course I will." Troy was babbling on, not wanting to face a hard truth. "Of course I will, and you'll be there to see it. You'll be my best man, Taylor will be the maid of honor, I'll wear a tux for the first time, Gabs will be beautiful as always…and best of all you'll be there to see it. You hear that, Chad? You'll be watching it, by my side…"

Troy was avoiding Chad's eyes, couldn't bear to look and be confronted with the truth, but when Chad squeezed his hand, he was forced to meet his friend's gaze. Chad didn't try to speak, had said everything he could, merely let his eyes do the speaking for him in his last moments.

Troy's whole life passed before him in that gaze. The grade-school fun, the high school fights, the late-night studying, the long practices on the court, the double-dating, the game strategy born out of early mornings in the shared dorm, the victories, the losses. The years ran together in his mind, and in each savored memory, there was Chad. In every precious moment, there was Chad. In every experience that Troy held dear, there was Chad.

It was Chad's defense that made Troy an offensive success. And it was Chad who had one last time given himself up so that his best friend could live.

Chad coughed, blood beginning to dribble out of his mouth, staining his lips. "Get…out. Now." And with one last squeeze of the hand, with one last fond look, Chad Danforth was gone.

The tears stopped, and Troy sat motionless, still cradling Chad in his arms, gazing passively into the faded eyes of his closest friend. From behind him, Bobby chuckled. "How sweet. An Uncle Tom and his loyal white servant in one last farewell." Reaching into his pocket, the stocky youth cursed. "Wasted all my bullets on a d—m nig---. George, you got another clip?" George did, and Bobby reloaded, raising his head to sneer at his next victim.

Troy's charging body was one of the last things Bobby ever saw.

…

Troy Bolton walked out of that AMPM a different man than when he walked in.

Some said that his mind was never the same after watching Chad die. Others claimed his internal defense mechanism kicked into high gear when the white supremacists tried to kill him. Still others whispered, as they counted the bodies and cleaned up the blood, that he had snapped completely.

Only Gabriella and Taylor understood – and even they not completely – what he had lost on that day.

The old gas station attendant studied Troy solemnly through pitying eyes before reenacting the scene that played out to the local law enforcement. He spoke highly of Troy's bravery and courage in this trying ordeal, lauding the basketball star's quick thinking that saved both their lives, ordering the policemen at the scene to treat him with respect due to a hero. If the police found any irregularities with the old man's tale, they never said a word.

What the old man didn't tell them was the murderous fire in Troy's eyes, the desire to kill those who had murdered his friend, the rage that emanated from his cool and calm demeanor.

Perhaps the old man had once had a friend like Chad…

Bobby hit the ground hard as Troy barreled into him, losing the semi-automatic pistol in the process. Before he could recover, Troy had the now-loaded gun, and drilled a hole through George's head as the other man drew a knife. The shot alerted the other supremacists outside, and they came running with guns drawn as Troy buried George's knife in Bobby's chest.

They weren't prepared for an armed Troy Bolton who ran outside to meet them, coolly and without emotion, dropping them one after another with controlled shots. At least two more White Power men had come since the original group left the gas station, and Troy was outnumbered at least nine-to-one. He dropped two of them in their tracks and ran back inside to reload more clips from George's pockets. The white supremacists' bullets were being used against them as Troy kicked down the gas station door and again began firing on the cowering men. Two more fell before the others returned fire, yet their shock was so great that their firing was erratic, and the former Fighting Irish basketball star, his face calm and his eyes full of fury, coolly returned fire as he raced toward them. A bullet nicked him in the arm, another in the leg, and yet he never stopped until it was over.

In his wake, he left four of them dead. Soon after, there were four more. Not one of the White Power men survived to flee the AMPM that day as Troy Bolton shot them down, one by one. As he returned inside to the station and knelt down beside a half-dead Bobby, the white supremacist cursed him with blood-stained teeth. "You…Troy Bolton…you…" as he coughed and spat up blood, "You have betrayed the race!"

Troy glanced over at the body of his best friend before forcing open Bobby's mouth and shoving the barrel of the pistol down into it. "No," he said calmly as Bobby's eyes widened and he shook his head violently, his eyes sending one last plea. "You have."

And he pulled the trigger.

…

Gabriella was distraught and inconsolable at the news that shocked the nation, but Taylor steadfastly refused to believe it. It wasn't until Troy himself showed up on the doorstep of her and Chad's home in South Bend and she read the whole story in his eyes that she was forced to believe it.

Her hand instantly covered her lips, still burning from the kiss Chad had left her with, then she lowered it until it rested protectively on her womb. Troy saw this, understood it, and as Taylor dissolved into tears and wailing, he gathered her up in his arms and wept with her, wept for Chad and for the child that would never know its father.

The shock wore off with time and some things returned to normal, but the memory would never leave Troy behind. He saw it again every day in his life, and it nearly destroyed him. He married Gabriella after a short engagement, a beautiful ceremony in which he forced himself to be joyful for one day as he saw a beaming and very pregnant Taylor being happy for her friends as she served as Gabriella's maid of honor. He loved Gabriella deeply, and she healed as much of him as she could. But she knew most of all that Troy Bolton would never be the same without Chad Danforth by his side.

Chad Danforth Jr. was born a month after the wedding, and Troy Bolton found someone else to keep on living for. He threw his life into raising Chad's son and namesake, found himself simultaneously attracted to and haunted by the close likeness the son had with his father. Though he was practically Chad Junior's father in everything but biology, he never permitted the child to call him "Daddy", never dreamed of betraying his friend's memory in such a way. Chad Jr. grew to be a basketball lover and a talented player, and it was the joy of Troy's life to watch the boy's grade school games. But he could never shake the feeling that it should be him out there once more, Chad at his side…

Troy withheld his name from the NBA Draft for two years, finally entering it three years after graduating where he was chosen first overall by the woeful Sacramento Kings. Given the richest rookie contract in the history of the NBA, his first few months with the team were horrible. A month into the season, he was labeled a bust, and fans of the Kings were calling for his head. Gabriella would watch with mounting concern, as Troy neither tried nor cared to please his coach and teammates, knowing her young husband was still feeling the loss of his best friend, not able to regain the love of the sport that had apparently died with Chad.

The first quarter of the season was awful for the Kings, as all their hopes were on Troy and he was delivering hideous results. A turnaround didn't occur until Troy went home to South Bend (his and Gabs' house were next door to Taylor's) and spent the day with Chad Jr., now just over three years of age. Chad Jr. was quite a talker by this age, and he gabbed on about nothing as Troy merely smiled and listened. Taylor and Gabs were chatting together on the other side of the guest room, when Chad Jr. looked up to Troy as both of them were standing by the dining room table looking at the national championship plaque Troy and Chad had received their senior year at Notre Dame. "You win twophy, Troy?" the toddler asked, his big brown eyes gazing up at his idol.

Troy grinned. "Yes, we won it, your daddy and I."

"No, not dat twophy, Troy." Chad Jr. emphatically shook his head. "More twophy."

It took Troy a minute, but then he realized what the boy was asking. "Am I going to win another trophy?"

Chad Jr. nodded vigorously.

Bolton chuckled. "I don't think we will, Chaddy, but we'll try," he said, ruffling the boy's hair. "Would you like it if I won another trophy?"

The toddler nodded even more vigorously. "Yeah." He then pointed up. "So would Daddy."

At the sound of "Daddy", Taylor and Gabriella instantly stopped talking, their eyes glued to Troy. Troy stared at the boy until he noticed that Chad Jr. was still pointing. He followed his finger and saw an old high school picture of Chad in his Wildcat uniform, hanging on the wall. He heard Taylor and Gabriella breathe in sharply, but paid no mind as he traced his finger along the edge of the picture frame, taking in the sight of a young and happy Chad in better days. The memories rushed back, and his knees buckled as he hit the ground, wrapping his arms around Chad's son and namesake as the tears came.

For the first time since he and Chad were alone in his bedroom studying algebra, Troy Bolton let the tears fall unashamedly.

"Yes Chaddy," he gasped through his sobs. "I will win another trophy. For you and Daddy."

…

The Kings' next opponent were the Phoenix Suns. An easy victory for the Suns, the sports commentators proclaimed. The Kings' offense was a joke, their defense was full of holes, and Troy Bolton, the supposed Wonder Boy, was averaging a measly ten points a game.

So it came as a bombshell when Troy Bolton exploded for forty points against the Suns in a victory for the Kings.

Two evenings later against the Portland Trailblazers, he went for fifty.

Sacramento's season changed overnight. Following a dramatic twenty-five game win streak, they were on the top of their division and seemed unstoppable. Troy was now averaging thirty-nine points a game, and was knocking down three-point shots like no one had ever seen. He didn't say much to anyone in media, hardly spoke to his coaches, but he was like wildfire out on the court. None of the Kings coaching staff or players knew what to make of this new Troy Bolton, but they were grateful for him and their new-found winning ways.

They ended the season at the top of their division, with the best record in the league, and with the first-seed in the playoffs. Troy captured the Rookie Of The Year award and the NBA MVP award, having scored the most points of any rookie in the history of the league.

In the playoffs, nothing changed, except that Troy played like a man possessed as the Kings won every series to make the championship. In their way stood the Philadelphia 76ers, a well-built team with star power on the offensive and defensive side. The Kings faltered out of the gate, losing the first three games of the series. A furious Troy took over the team huddle at the beginning of the fourth game. "Everything we have done this season means NOTHING if we lose this game!" he roared. "I will NOT let this team lose what we have worked so hard to claim as our own!" Spurred on by his words, the team rallied around him and won game 4.

They won game 5…

They won game 6…

Game 7 was aptly described by several sports writers as "a war". Troy Bolton was unstoppable, scoring from the paint, with the layup, from the beyond the three point line, etc. The 76ers fought back hard, stifling the rest of the Kings and scoring at every opportunity. As the radio announcer called it, "This is not a game between the Philadelphia 76ers and the Sacramento Kings. This is a game between the Philadelphia 76ers and Troy Bolton..."

There was 0.9 seconds left in the game. The 76ers were leading by a score of 98-96. It was Sacramento's ball, and they had to inbound it and score for the win or tie in half a second. It was no secret who the ball was going to. After the timeout, as Troy Bolton took his place on the court, the crowd at the sold-out Arco Arena went wild. Troy had already scored 57 points, and he had the national hopes of a franchise resting on his shoulders. As before in Notre Dame, the radio announcer's call became one of the all-time greats in the history of broadcasting…

"Spencer Hawes will inbound it with just under a second left. We all know who's getting this one. Hawes inbounds to Bolton, who is behind the three point line! He's going for the win! Bolton leaps and shoots over three – make that four – Philadelphia defenders from beyond the three point line! And it's…..GOOD!!! IT'S GOOD! THE SACRAMENTO KINGS ARE THE NBA CHAMPS, AND TROY BOLTON HAS DONE IT AGAIN!"

Thus the Sacramento Kings won the NBA National Championship, purely by the willpower of Troy Bolton. As Troy was named the series MVP and stood hoisting the trophy, he pointed upward and cried out "Danforth!", and Taylor's eyes filled with tears from her living room in South Bend.

The week after the celebrations had ended, Troy Bolton shocked the NBA by announcing his retirement from professional basketball. "I am honored to have aided this great franchise, this great city, and this great team in winning a national championship. But after Chad's death" and here he was forced to stop and clear his eyes "my heart is not in basketball. I have a mandate to my late best friend, to care for his widow, to raise his child. I can't do this while playing professional basketball. I will miss it, but without Chad next to me, I'm not the same player as I was, and memories can only go so far in fueling my desire. Thank you for everything that the Sacramento Kings and the NBA have done for me and Gabriella. I now bid you farewell."

…

Troy Bolton never played for another basketball team. He threw his energy into raising Chad Jr. and eventually, his own children as well. To Chad Jr., he was the only father the boy ever knew. To Taylor, he was a affectionate brother, mentor, friend, and supporter. To Gabriella, he was the best husband and lover he could be. To Chad's memory, he was the most faithful and loyal.

Chad's body was exhumed from its resting place in South Bend and relocated to a cemetery in Albuquerque where he'd spent most of his life. And after his father retired, Troy and Gabriella returned to Albuquerque (bringing Taylor and Chad Jr. with them) as Troy was named Head Coach of the East High basketball team. He was a great coach, leading the team to numerous finals and multiple championships. At halftime of his first championship game as coach, the Wildcats were losing – badly.

As the team sat on their benches in the locker room, waiting for someone to say something, Troy got up to speak. "None of you knew Chad Danforth. He was way before your time," he said quietly, looking into each face. "But you all know the legacy he left behind him, here and at Notre Dame. Not just as a basketball player, but also as a person. He was loyal, kind-hearted (though his basketball opponents didn't see that side of him very often), a team-player, an 'others first' type of man. Chad Danforth is dead and gone, but his memory is still with those of us who remember him. I'm not trying to give you a 'Win one for the Gipper' speech, but if there ever was a man to emulate, on and off the court, it was and still is Chad Danforth." With that, Troy walked out of the locker room back onto the court. His team followed, and won the first of many titles.

It took Troy many years before he moved past the events in Coeur d'Alene – even then, Gabriella could always tell that he never fully got over what happened. But she provided him with the only stability that could have saved him after the horror of Chad's murder, and he loved her deeply for it. He began to live his life with her, and they were truly happy.

But every morning on the anniversary of Chad's death, if anyone would happen to be at a local cemetery in Albuquerque, they would see Troy Bolton standing alone, silently staring down at a solitary headstone. They would see him stand still for an hour, not moving or averting his gaze as he relived all the memories of the past. Then after an hour had past, they would see the tears start to fall and hear Troy whisper, "Oh, Chad…" Then they would see him kneel and place his hands on the headstone and silently weep. Then he would rise, turn, and walk out of the cemetery, never looking behind him.

And if any curious soul would walk up to the gravestone Troy Bolton had left behind, they would see a simple engraving on a marble column.

Chad Danforth

Beloved Son, Husband, Father, and Friend

"Greater love hath no man than this

That he lay down his life for his friend."

...

A/N: I have no idea where this story came from, but all writers know that sometimes a plotline will seize you and not let go until you write it. The desire I have with this fic is to show that close friendships between guys can run very deep - as a guy with close friends of my own, I understand this very well. If any reader reads in between the lines and sees a homosexual relationship in this fic, I pity you. Love is not always a sexual thing. It IS possible for two men (two young men, in this fic) to love each other deeply without a hint of sexuality in their relationship. I have had the privilege of experiencing this for myself, and in that spirit I commend this fic to you.