Saturday Night 9:37, Secret Summit

"Good. You're both here." Jeff nodded to Troy and then Abed as they glared at each other across the little courtyard.

Troy crossed his arms over his chest, "Make it fast, Winger. I have awesome battle plans to draw up."

"Nice to hear you're planning," Abed said flatly, staring hard at a bush.

"Okay! This has gone on long enough! You are friends. Friends work things out!" Jeff slammed open the door to the library and pointed through the door, "C'mon! I want to show you something."

"Jeff-" Troy protested.

"NOW!" The older man roared and the two scuttled through the door. Jeff stormed in after them, "This way!"

Taking the lead, Jeff marched them through the library, past overturned chairs and piles of abandoned feathers until they were standing in the study room itself.

"Do you see this?" He demanded, "Do you see what your stupid fight is doing to our home?'

Surveying the room, Abed noted the damage. The bulletin board hung crookedly on the wall, books had been swept off the shelves, the blinds were mangled, and one light blinked on and off.

"This is the cost of war. You are destroying what you love. And it stops now." He pointed forcefully at the floor, "I don't care how you do it but you will figure this out. . . or else," He looked at Troy, "And that is not an ultimatum. That is a promise." He pointed at each of them in turn, "Fix this," He repeated.

There was a long period of silence in which they refused to look at each other.

Finally, Troy ground out, "How could you write those things about me?" His fist clenched and his face contorted.

Turning toward him, Abed titled his head to the side and answered, "They were true."

"It doesn't matter! Don't you care about my feelings? Why does everything always have to be your way?!"

Abed blinked, "My way is better."

"Better, huh?" Troy's eyes narrowed, "You think you're above it all, don't you? I'm not the only one with weaknesses."

"I know," The slender man recited, "Robotic, unemotional, struggles to connect with other people-"

"I'm not talking about that," Troy interrupted, "I'm talking about her."

Abed went utterly still, so motionless he could have been a photograph until he answered, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You think you're the only one who can make insightful and potentially hurtful observations? I'm not blind! I see how you let her sit on the arm of your chair. How you make her buttered noodles just the way she likes them. How you hold her hand-"

"We're friends-"

"Sometimes," Troy said in a shaky voice, "Sometimes, you say her name in your sleep."

There was a long moment of silence.

"You can't prove anything." Abed insisted.

"I have the special footage."

An eyelid twitched but Abed's voice was as cool as ever, "What special footage?"

"Your Annie reel." Troy raised his chin, his voice colder even than Abed's, "What do you think Annie will say when she sees it?"

"You wouldn't-" Abed's eyes darted toward the door.

"I wouldn't what? Send a copy via special courier to Annie's way station with a note urging her to watch it immediately-"

But Abed was already moving.