The Definition of Grail: Redefining Us

Disclaimer: I do not own HSM.

Chapter One- Define Gap

gap (noun): the space or hole within someone or between two people.

Troy Bolton let out a sigh as he leaned his forearms on the white painted railing of the Danforth's treehouse. It was his last night home for the week of Thanksgiving after spending his first three months at New York University. The sky was pitch black through the bare branches of the tree. Snow had been falling in New York City for weeks already and the mild weather of Albuquerque had been welcomed. A handful of stars shone through and blazed a path that Troy followed with his eyes. The breeze was refreshing, if a bit cool, as it rustled the grass and tugged at his dishevelled hair. Dropping his gaze to the ground below, he noticed the lights shining through the dining room windows of the house next door. The sound of something creaking reached his ears and he followed the path of light to the far side of the stone patio and the figure sprawled across the hammock.

Grinning, Troy moved to the other side of the wrap around balcony and resumed his previous position. Putting two fingers to his mouth, he whistled long and low. Gabriella Montez looked up immediately, locating him in seconds even in the dark. Her soft smile had him growing fidgety as she left the hammock and slipped from her backyard to Danforth's, unlatching the gate between the two properties. While Troy had opted to attend NYU, Gabriella had chosen Stanford in Southern California and all the prestige that came with it. While they texted constantly, spoke on the phone and skyped at least twice a week, Troy had found it hard adjusting to not being able to see her every day. Standing below the treehouse, she tilted her head back and tugged her knit sweater tighter around her slim shoulders.

"You comin' up?" Troy asked, white teeth flashing as the goosebumps rose on his arms.

"I have to be up early tomorrow and I'm not packed yet," she said, shaking her head. She looked past him, eyes drinking in the treehouse but not meeting his gaze.

"Yeah," Troy sighed, his breath a cloud in the air. "Me too. I haven't seen you much this week. I thought we'd be inseparable."

"Apparently so did everyone else." Her voice held a tone of exasperation. "Every time I called Taylor or Sharpay, they asked why I wasn't with you." Sighing, Gabriella rolled her neck, stretching tense muscles. "I didn't expect it to be like this. I thought we'd come home and spend the week together and everything would be like before. It's not; everything is different. The people are different. My mom is different." She paused, looking up at Troy. "We're different."

"Maybe, but we knew that when you decided to go to Stanford and I chose NYU," Troy offered. "It's not a bad thing, but you're right. A week isn't long enough to get used to people again. You really notice the irritating stuff when you haven't had to deal with it."

"Anyone in particular?" She wasn't teasing. Troy caught the snarky edge in her voice but let it go. Nodding her head in the direction of house where Troy's family and the Danforths were probably finishing up with dessert, Gabriella offered him a half smile. "Had enough of Chad and his 'bro' time?"

"More like I've had enough of Candy," Troy scoffed. Chad's new girlfriend was originally from Phoenix but had decided to remain at the University of Albuquerque for Thanksgiving holidays. Most of those holidays had been spent at the Danforths. She was pleasant enough, but she said everything that came to her mind and had a knack for making every conversation link back to her trip to Thailand and her seven year old sister.

"Mandy, Troy," Gabriella said quietly without smiling. "Not Candy."

"Really?" Troy questioned, eyebrow raised. Shrugging, he accepted it when she gave him a look. "Guess that's better than Candy. Although that means I should stop with the hooker jokes. No wonder she never got them."

"Seriously, Troy?" He caught the annoyance in her voice that time. "You didn't even try to get to know her." Looking at her sharply, he took a breath before speaking.

"Why should I? She will probably be replaced by the time I see him again. There's a new one every month." Gabriella didn't answer him and Troy could feel the pressure building in his chest. "Why are we talking about this anyway? I can think of better things to talk about. You should come up here and we can discuss them. We only have fifteen hours to do it face to face. We can save on the phone bills." He saw the flicker in her cheek as she tried not to smile and he frowned. "Brie, what's up?"

"Did you mean what you said last night?" Gabriella asked, not moving from her spot on the grass.

"What did I say?" Troy tried to recall the discussion the night before at his parents' house with Gabriella, her mom, and the Danforths for Thanksgiving turkey. Zeke and Jason had stopped by at one point for dessert, and Taylor and Sharpay had joined everyone later for a movie. Gabriella's question could be referencing anything. "Did I mention how I love you? Because I did mean that."

"Troy, I'm being serious." Her voice held frustration and irritation and it put Troy on edge.

"Yeah, Brie, I'm aware." The joking tone left his voice and the easiness abandoned his posture.

He was shifting into his defensive mode and Gabriella picked up on it instantly. They had gotten better in the past year of learning to read each other and knowing when to back off and give each other space. Their senior year of high school and another summer at Maplevine had given them experience. They remained volatile when angry and while no one had picked up a stapler in many months, it didn't mean Gabriella's fingers didn't itch to reach for something every once and awhile. Troy on the other hand had gotten much better at watching what he said to her when the line between joking and antagonizing grew nearly invisible. It also meant his insults had become more creative and diverse. She knew she should not be doing this now. They were leaving for school tomorrow and it would be worse if they left Albuquerque for New York and California if they were fighting. She should drop it but she couldn't. The only thing worse than fighting in person would be fighting over the phone, so instead of letting her question hang unanswered, she pressed harder.

"Last night, at dinner, Mom asked what your plans were with school." She waited to see if he picked up on what she was referencing.

"Yeah? And?" He gestured with his hands arrogantly as if asking a serving wench to pour more ale. Gabriella's already simmering blood began creeping towards boiling.

"You told her you were going to join the army, Troy." Gabriella spit the word army out like poison. Troy chuckled darkly. "Did you mean it or were you just being flippant?"

"Flippant? I am never flippant with your mother. She'd give me that withering look that makes me want to crawl under a rock." Troy spun around and faced the treehouse, his back to her. Calling over his shoulder, he raised his voice loud enough for her to hear the anger in every syllable. "And again, why are we doing this with you on the ground? If you want to talk, come up here."

"No." Everything was in that answer. The last year and a half was in that answer. Troy spun around so fast that Gabriella actually took a step back. "I am not going to talk to you about it. I'm not getting into it with you tonight. I just want to know if you meant it. Is that actually something you're thinking about doing in the future?"

"What if it is?" he retorted carelessly. "Oh, wait. You don't have to answer that because you don't want to talk about it."

"Troy, don't do this." If she had been pleading, he would have listened. She wasn't though. She was being patronizing and it made him roll his eyes and tilt his head to look at her.

"I'm not, Brie. You are. You brought it up." Sighing, he ran two hands through his hair and leaned forward on the railing. His long sleeved plaid shirt felt warm suddenly despite being rolled to his elbows. "Look, it's just something that came up at study group last week when we were working on a sociology assignment. The guys and I were talking about how having military experience can open doors or at least have people look at you a second time. It stuck with me and when you're mom asked, I said it."

"So it's actually a possibility? You'd actually do it?" She paused, noticing the shake in her voice. "Is it because of the gun?" Troy caught the glint in her eye. The walls were going up and the sassy jutting of her hip was being put into action. She was just waiting for an excuse but Troy was tired. "I mean I thought that basketball would be enough but if you need a gun, maybe your insecurities are more than I thought."

"Brie, I don't have insecurities. I believe you're the one who said I rock your world." He winked at her. It was cold though and held none of the teasing warmth he usually showed her. "Besides, the army would be perfect for us. We'd only have to see each other every several months." He dropped his voice lower so that for a moment Gabriella thought they were alone in his room, side by side, face turned to the other. "Just imagine it. I come home, we have earth-shattering sex for a month straight until we are at each other's throats again, and then I get shipped off. You could carry a picture of me in your wallet, tell all of our friends how—"

"Bolton—," she yelled, "I refuse to follow you around like a 1950's housewife while you play GI Joe."

"Gabriella, go home." Troy could see the direction they were heading and he didn't see the point. He knew why she hated the idea. The military meant transfers and postings and moving from base to base. She saw her childhood and hated it. He had been truthful though, it had just been a passing thought to consider in the future. To fight over it now was pointless. Who knew where they would be in four years? He saw himself with her, but beyond that? An empty abyss of possibility. "You didn't want to talk about this and neither do I."

"No, I'm not—," she started.

"Actually, you are done, Brie. Go home." He lowered his head to stare at his shoes. "Call me when you're done deciding my life for me."

He didn't watch her leave the yard and enter her own house. He didn't look to see if she left the light on in her room. The next morning he sent her a text well before she would have left for the airport. She didn't return the favor until his flight had landed in New York.

Then it read: Don't bother missing me. Pretend its practice for when you leave to join the army.

Gabriella knew the moment that she sent the text message that she was in the danger zone. She knew the possibilities of how Troy would respond. When hours passed and she hadn't received a fuck you in retaliation, she brushed it off and told herself it was because Troy was letting her cool down. Taylor liked to tell her it was a sign of maturity and patience when he did it. Gabriella knew different. Troy wasn't giving her space. He was letting her simmer; giving her time to second guess her choices. As long as she was the one firing off rude texts and leaving venomous voicemails, she looked like the crazy one. Smiling to herself as she thought about it, Gabriella left her phone in her room and went to the cafe around the corner where she wouldn't have internet access. She knew Troy's rules and she would play by her own.

She could out-wait him.

AN: In March of 2011, an earthquake and subsequent tsunami rocked Japan. Diana (aka Unproper Grammar) called on HSM fandom writers and readers to donate to the cause. She donated to the fanfic auction, and in return she requested that I give her a glimpse of what the future held for Troy and Gabriella after The Definition of Us. She wasn't demanding. Just a glimpse. A scene. Maybe some background. I tried to do just a glimpse, in actuality I wrote it out and had it neatly at around 6,000 words. I hated it. It didn't fit. My muse took a hike. Everything went on hiatus until a handful of songs (list in my profile) reminded me what TDOU was about and who they were. So I rewrote everything. It's probably nothing like what you imagined. They may not even seem like the same people that I wrote four years ago. I'd like to think that's the point.

~Van