Disclaimer: Don't own the characters of High School Musical. This is merely a fanfic.
A/N: Okay, so I decided to write another one-shot. Comments and constructive criticism are welcome as always.
I want to say thank you to all the people who read and reviewed my one-shot, Solace. I'm glad that you all liked it, and I know a lot of people were confused as to how it ended. I wrote it strictly as a one-shot, and I had no intention of continuing it from there. Because of all the wonderful reviews, I'm considering making that story a two-shot. There's a couple ways I could write it, but I haven't decided which direction to go yet. I don't have much time to write, and the stories I've submitted here had already been written for school.
Okay, after that really long author's note, please enjoy my next one-shot.
Back
The bright Sunday sun streamed through the windows of the pale yellow house, illuminating the kitchen and the connecting dining room. The chirping birds perched upon nearby trees sang their morning tune, while trees danced in the subtle wind. The chatter of children's laughter echoed through the streets, accompanying the noises of lawnmowers that were cutting the grass. The newspaper boy sped his bike up and down the streets, flinging the morning edition into the driveways of his clients. A normal day in suburbs for some, but for soldier Troy Bolton, every day home was a blessing.
He had awoken from a restless sleep around nine. He rolled over and groaned as the bright red digital letters of his alarm clock confirmed the time. Troy rubbed the residue from his eyes, and ran a hand over his face, letting his arms drop to his sides. His eyes fell upon his sleeping fiancée, and smiled before he silently rolled out of bed. He didn't bother to change his navy blue sweatpants and grey t-shirt; he knew he would be taking a nap at some point in the day. He groggily trudged down the stairs and into the kitchen, blinded by the brilliance of the sun. Troy walked over to the radio that hung below one of the kitchen cabinets, and turned the knob slightly. He fumbled with the buttons for a moment, his mind not fully awake. After a few minutes, he found a station he liked, and let the soft tunes fill the kitchen. He plugged in the coffee maker and started a pot, the smell of roasted hazelnut permeating his nose. Troy ducked below the cabinets in search of a couple frying pans, and placed them upon the stove. He twisted the dial to 'low heat' and shuffled over to the refrigerator, opening the door to reveal its contents. He spied a carton of eggs and a package of bacon, and balanced them in his arms. He gingerly pushed the door closed with his foot, the refrigerator door quickly sealing the space. Troy arranged the food on the counter, and went to the kitchen cabinets and pulled out two plates and two glasses. He tore open a box of pancake mix before combining the hodgepodge of ingredients in a bowl. He cracked a few eggs into one of the pans, and watched them sizzle under the heat. He laid the strips of bacon into one of the other pans, and turned the dial.
Troy heard his fiancée wander into the room, dressed in a delicate lavender robe with her black curls entrapped in a messy bun. She came up behind him, and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. He could smell the scent of her new strawberry shampoo surrounding him. Troy poured the pale mix into the other pan, forming small circles with the ladle.
"What are you making?" Gabriella asked, a yawn escaping from her lips.
He opened the drawer to find a spatula and quickly rotated the simmering eggs in the pan.
"Eggs and bacon, but I figured you wanted pancakes."
Gabriella smiled, and kissed him on the cheek. "I love mornings like this," she whispered in his ear.
He smiled uneasily and heard his fiancée sort through charts and papers that were scattered sporadically on the dining room table. She was busily chatting about seating charts, cake orders, churches and other needed information to design their wedding. Gabriella placed her dark framed glasses over her eyes, and began to organize the table. She grabbed a pencil from the counter and began to compile a list of guests, talking out loud as she spoke.
"So I'm thinking that we sit Aunt Gloria next to Hank Kenton, and the Rutherford's next to the Marshall's," she said scanning the seating arrangement.
Troy chuckled and continued to attend to the stove. "You're not serious about setting up your aunt and my cousin, are you?" he said, surprised.
She looked at him, confused as to why the thought was so strange. Sure her aunt had been known to hook up with random men at family functions, but she was looking for someone to set her up with, since all of her previous attempts failed.
"Well why not? They both like golf, they both enjoy those Soduko books, I'm sure they'll get along great," she said scribbling their names in one of the boxes.
Troy wasn't really paying attention to what she was talking about, the hum of the radio and the sounds of the kitchen blended together to form an array of sounds, muting her presence. His mind was distracted and the day seemed like a giant blur. He placed both his hands on the marble counter and took a deep breath. He exhaled, trying to calm his beating heart and anxiety. He closed his eyes and tried to let the news from earlier in the week wash through him.
It was just a normal day at his office job. He was a corporate manager for an advertising company, and was sitting in his newly renovated office when he received the letter. The office was nearly silent with the exception of ringing telephones and the purring of the aquarium. His wooden desk was neatly organized as he quickly typed the invoices into the computer. A picture of him and Gabriella on their first date was displayed next to his coffee cup full of pencils. He always smiled when he saw that picture, because the moment he met her he felt alive, and knew it was love at first sight. He held the frame in his hands before a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. His secretary Susan poked her head through the door, and Troy waved her inside. Susan was an older woman, often dressed in a flowery skirt with a green knit sweater. Susan reminded Troy of a friendly aunt or wise grandmother, but nonetheless respected her and sought advice from her when he couldn't find his own answers. She had worked for Troy for over ten years, and throughout the years they had become good friends. Each day she brought him his stack of mail, the usual bills, invoices and requests filling the envelopes. Troy thanked Susan, and gave her the rest of the day off. After Susan closed the door, he tossed the pile of bills into the wire basket on his desk, and turned to his computer to finish his invoices for a few new products he would be promoting. He shut down his computer, and leaned back in his chair, and glanced at the clock. Troy sighed tiredly, and loosened the tie around his neck as he skimmed through the mail. A plain white envelope with the army emblem caught his attention, and he felt his heart swell in his chest. His clammy hands pried the seal open, carefully taking the letter out of the envelope. Troy read through the first few sentences, shaking his head silently. He slammed the letter down, rattling the objects on his desk. He bit his lip as he realized what it had all meant.
Deliver to Troy A. Bolton
We regret to inform you of your selection for a second tour in Iraq. Before the impending tour, we ask that you report to basic training in six weeks. We understand that this comes at such short notice, so please take this time to address and resolve any personal situations.
Troy snapped out of his reverie as Gabriella caught his attention.
"Troy, are you alright?" she asked calmly, placing her glasses on the top of her head.
He shook his thoughts from his mind and addressed her. "Yeah. I'm fine, why?" he asked, turning around.
Gabriella pointed to the smoking stove. "You're burning the pancakes."
Troy quickly turned off the burner and tossed the pancakes around in the pan. He flipped the pancakes onto a spare plate and took a paper towel to the pan, cleaning out the burnt bits.
"It's okay, I'll just make more," he said, scrambling to clean up the mess. He threw the towels in the trash and started a new batch. Gabriella got up from her seat, concerned and placed a hand on his shoulder before reaching for the plate.
"Honey, its fine, I'll just eat these."
Troy sighed and grabbed the plate of eggs and bacon and a fork, and followed Gabriella to the table. He sat down next to her, and forced himself to keep his eyes on his plate. He pushed his eggs back and forth across the plate with his fork, an uncomfortable silence falling between the two.
Gabriella picked up the morning paper and pretended to read the sports section of the news. She felt her eyes fall upon Troy, whose brows were furrowed with worry. She could see it in his eyes that he was conflicted about something, and judging from his cooking, there was something that was eating away at him slowly.
"Is everything alright?" she asked.
Troy stared at his plate for a moment before slowly turning to look her in the eyes. He felt the lump is his throat start to constrict his words. His voice grew thick with tears as he tried to tell his fiancée that they wouldn't be together for quite some time.
"They called me back."
It didn't take long for her to register what that had meant. She felt the tears in her eyes well up, like a waterfall waiting to overflow. She put a hand to her lips and blinked her fears away with the swift movement of her eyelashes. She watched as the man she had grown to love over the years cry silently, his hands covering his face. She placed her hand on top of his, and squeezed gently. Troy rubbed her hands gingerly, his hands falling upon her engagement ring. She had only wanted something simple, nothing too gaudy or flashy. Gabriella decided on a single diamond in the shape of a heart, lined with three smaller diamonds on each side. Each diamond was a symbol of the years they had spent together, six diamonds, six years. The diamond was eternity. He laughed and found it hard to believe that such a simple ring could determine or protect their love. He kissed her hand and pulled her into a hug. Gabriella rested her head on his shoulder; her small hands ran up and down his back, reassuring him that things would work out. He pushed her back into her seat, and held onto her hands tightly. She sniffed and wiped away the tears from her cheeks, and rubbed her eyes.
"When do they need you?" she asked, probably already knowing the answer.
Troy looked at her apologetically. "Six weeks."
Dumbfounded, she glanced at him once again, and she felt the tears in her eyes slowly develop. "That's a week after our wedding," she whispered.
"I know," he said nodding. He cupped her cheek, his warm touch calming his fretful fiancée. "But we're going to have a great honeymoon, and before you know it, I'll be back. I'm going to be fine. I came home once, I'll do it again. Especially since I know that you will be here waiting for me."
Gabriella smiled slightly, knowing she should've been prepared for something like this. She always knew of the possibility that he could've been called back; she just never expected it to have such timing.
"Will you write me?" she asked, hoping to have some communication with her husband while he was away.
"Everyday," he confirmed.
She smiled, a glimmer of hope filling her features. "I love you."
He pulled her close. "Forever and always," he said whispering in her ear.
As promised, Troy wrote Gabriella as often as he could. Whether it was under the protective shield of the army's base, or from the front lines, he wrote her. Troy methodically shoved the folded pieces of notebook paper into his pockets, and tucked a pen into one of his side flaps on his traditional camouflage uniform. The rainy nights condemned him to his tan regulation tent, using the downtime to write to his beloved. He leaned against his pack, and jotted down how much he missed her. Troy tried to catch the tears that fell onto the paper, only to fail miserably. He watched as his chicken-scratch hand-writing became almost illegible as the ink blended with his salty tears. His hand shook as he wrote the final words in the letter, and quickly sealed it in an envelope.
Gabriella watched from the kitchen as the mailman pulled onto her street. The familiar customary white van strolled down the street, handing desired mail to its customers. She finished cleaning the counter before making her way down the driveway, hoping to find a letter from Troy. The mailman, whom she found his name to be Dan, smiled at her before handing her a stack of mail. She quickly flipped through the bills and advertisements to find a letter addressed to her. She beamed and giggled as she could barely decipher his scribbled writings. Gabriella was relieved when she received a letter from him, but she still worried about how he was doing, no matter how well he sounded in his letters.
A few weeks went by, and Gabriella continued to tread down the driveway to greet the mailman. She sighed as she saw a single fashion magazine and a junk letter sitting in her mailbox. Disappointed, Gabriella tossed the junk note in the recycling, and tried to distance her mind from Troy as she settled down inside to read the frivolous fashion magazine she literally had no interest in.
Over the next week, Gabriella became increasingly concerned. She tried to convince herself that he was alright, and that he was just busy, considering he was fighting in a completely different country. Over a few weeks she had fallen ill, experiencing faint dizzy spells and the occasional nausea. She convinced herself that she was just stressed and overworked. A later trip to the convenience store and a pregnancy test confirmed otherwise. With the added stress and caution, she knew she had to watch herself. Gabriella stimulated her continuously worrying mind by cleaning the house, and tried to organize lady's luncheons with her neighborhood friends. Neither seemed to work, but she tried to keep her mind off of things for the most part.
A few days later, he had written her a short letter, apologizing for not writing her sooner. He had been wrapped up in a mission and wasn't allowed time for personal business, which she understood. She sat at the kitchen table, wanting to tell him of her news, but didn't want him to worry while he was over there. Gabriella also wanted the news to be special and wanted to tell him in person that he would be a father. She couldn't think of a better homecoming present. She scripted on the letter that she would talk to him soon, and sealed the envelope, and fingered it lightly before placing it in the basket in the hallway.
It had been nearly two weeks since Gabriella received any news from Troy. She mentally kicked herself in the foot, angry that she had depended so much on him when she knew he had a heavier task on his shoulders. She flipped on the television in the living room, clicking the remote and changing the channels until she founds a news station. Gabriella wasn't one for sappy soap operas or the home shopping network, even though new jewelry or a nice appliance would compensate her boredom. She walked into the kitchen, her head turning to the television at the voice of the reporter. It was a man sporting a construction hat of sorts who was conducting interviews with the troops on the front lines. She watched as the tired men gave quick interviews, before being called back to their reality. Gabriella didn't know how those men could be so selfless and so dedicated. She knew that only special people possessed the qualities to take on such a burden like the one her husband withheld, but she knew that he had the strength to come home to her. After the program finished, she padded into the kitchen, and slipped on an apron before starting the dishes. She glanced downward at her abdomen and slowly starting to notice the subtle bump that was developing. Gabriella affectionately ran her hands over the delicate skin, delighted that she was pregnant. She wrapped the apron loosely around her waist, and flipped the faucet on. She ran a sponge under the warm water, and reached for a bottle of dish soap. Gabriella squirted the orange dish soap into her palm, and ran in through the sponge, the suds running across her fingers. The soothing sound of the running water massaged her hands, and she became entranced by the tranquil resonance. The sound of a small car broke her out of her trance, and she instinctively looked out the window. She felt her stomach drop to the floor when she saw the small black military escort turn onto her street. Her hands shook with fear and she abruptly turned off the sink. Gabriella steadied herself against the counter as she tried to analyze what it could mean, and felt the ever growing uneasiness slowly taking over her. She felt her lunch creep up her throat, and quickly ran to the hallway bathroom. Gabriella leaned against the cool seat of the toilet, her clammy hands clutching the edges of the seat. She heaved into the porcelain bowl, emptying the contents of her lunch. She heaved heavily, her breathing slowing down. She hunched over the toilet, her head feeling damp as her complexion turned a ghostly white. When she finished, Gabriella sat on the floor, propped up against the wall, waiting for the doorbell to ring.
After a few moments of agony, she heard soft footsteps encompass the house. She quickly stood up, and tried to fix her hair in the mirror, imagining it was one of her neighbors hoping to borrow a cup of sugar. She hurriedly opened the door to reveal someone she didn't expect to see. Standing in all of his camouflage army uniform glory was Troy, holding his jump-bag and a bouquet of flowers. Gabriella leapt in his arms, ignoring the beautiful arrangement of yellow daisies, purple tulips, and red roses. She wrapped her arms around his neck, as he twirled her around in the small hallway. When he tried to put her down, she clung to him like a small child, and he instantly became concerned. He rubbed her back slowly and he felt her breathing slow into a steady rhythm. Gabriella looked up at him, wiping the smeared mascara off of her face, fear and anxiety still plaguing her features. Troy wiped the smudges off her face with his thumb, and looked into her eyes as she spoke.
"It's alright, sweetheart, I'm home."
She nodded, looking at his chest, fumbling with the buttons on his uniform, her voice shaking. "I know, I know, I just, I heard the car, and I didn't know what to think-"
Troy interrupted her. "I know it probably wasn't a good surprise. Look at you; I probably scared you half to death when I showed up in that car."
Gabriella shook her head, disagreeing. "No, no of course not. It was a wonderful surprise," she said sniffling, swaying in his grasp.
He looked at her oddly. "Honey, why do you look so pale?"
He placed the back of his hand on her cheek, feeling the radiant warmth coming off of her body. He frowned as he realized she had a fever, and instantly ushered her over to the couch. "I'm going to call the doctor," he said walking over to the phone.
She smiled slightly as she adjusted herself on the couch. "Troy, it's not necessary. I'm fine-" she said weakly, a small laugh escaping.
Troy chuckled, and dialed the number. "I'll believe it after I talk to the doctor."
"I know why this is happening, Troy."
Troy put the receiver on the charger, and grabbed a glass from the kitchen cabinet and walked over to the water filter in the refrigerator. He poured her a glass and walked over to her, placing it in her hands. He put the back of his hand across his wife's forehead, relieved to see the color returning to her face and her temperature had gone down slightly.
"I think you were just a little bit overwhelmed," he said.
She nodded, her eyes sparkling with tears. "Yeah, that could be it," she said, looking at her abdomen. "Or it could be the fact that I'm pregnant."
Troy's eyes lit up with excitement as he felt his own tears well up in his eyes. Gabriella laughed and took his hand and placed it upon her stomach, watching the power of a single baby consume the couple. Troy leaned over and hugged Gabriella, and kissed her hair.
"Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"
Gabriella shook her head. "I haven't made an appointment yet, but I think it's a little too early to tell."
Troy took the time to look at his wife, looking at her differently now that she was carrying his child. She had that motherly glow like many women had and she looked as beautiful as ever, even with the smeared make-up and the tear stains that tracked down her face. She was the woman of his dreams, and despite being away from her, the distance that separated them made him love her even more. He enveloped her in a kiss, and pulled himself onto the couch next to her. Troy didn't bother to change out of his clothes until later, he figured he and Gabriella needed a much needed nap. Gabriella sprawled out onto the couch, a gentle arm laid across his chest while her head was in the crook of his neck. He felt her gentle heart beating, and her soft breathing fill the empty room.
"I love you," he said to her, his hands stroking her brown hair.
A small smile curved her lips as she whispered, "Forever and always."
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