Title: White Horse (previously Keep Holding On)

Rating: M

Summary: His betrayal has plagued their lives for seven years. Can Troy finally pull himself together and give Gabriella the life he always knew she deserved, or will he be forced to move on? Troy/Gabriella.

Disclaimer: Disney couldn't handle me.

Word Count: 2726

A/N: Edit from 7/15/09--This story has been renamed to "White Horse", because I feel that it's a more appropriate title. Sorry for the confusion, and I hope you keep reading! :)

A pretty long author's note before we get this show on the road. I'd appreciate it a lot if you would take the time to read! :D

First off, this is going to be my first multi-chaptered story in a very long time, and I'm really really excited. I've been writing one-shots for so long that I think it's time to force myself out of my comfort zone, and challenge myself. Since school is starting up again for me, I'll be buried under a mountain of homework soon for sure—but part of my self-challenge is for me to write and update regularly. Reviews always get me going, and I appreciate every single one of you who have taken the time to both read and review anything I have written – something that seems to be increasingly rare these days. :(

Last but not least: this fic is completely AU, but it's so much more fun that way! Please keep in mind that although this first chapter is told through Sharpay's point of view, it is definitely a Troyella. :) I think Sharpay is an awesome character, and it's fun to play with different viewpoints; it was also really amusing to play up her snarky side while writing her. I spend a lot of time writing from either Troy or Gabriella's perspective, so this was a fresh challenge for me as well. She may seen OOC at first (especially regarding her profession), but I hope you'll find that she's still very much like she is in the movies; strong-willed, sassy, and incredibly tenacious. ;)

In addition, under the area of a slight disclaimer, I really honestly do not know that much about police departments and how they operate. I don't really feel that it's something that can be fully researched and understood from my perspective, so everything that happens in this story in that regard is not supposed to be 100% accurate, and it's not the focus of this story.

Now finally, on to the story! I hope you all like it. :)

I was a dreamer before you went and let me down
Now its too late for you and your White Horse,
To come around.

And there you are on your knees
Begging for forgiveness,
Begging for me
Just like I always wanted,
But I'm so sorry

White Horse, Taylor Swift.

"Evans, report to Mercy West as soon as possible – rape victim. The Carver's fifth one, the sick son of a bitch. We figure you're…err. The best suited to handle her."

"What?" came an offended, exhausted cry of disbelief in response to her commanding officer, just shy of an indignant shriek.

Sharpay Evans stood with her eyes wide and mouth gaping, desk half-cleaned and belongings nearly packed for the night, nails tapping out an irritated beat on the table beside her as she ignored the poorly disguised laughs and hoots she was currently receiving from her fellow (and very male) police officers.

Assholes.

"I'm sorry sir, can you repeat that?" Sharpay snapped to the speaker box above the rising cackles and taunts, flipping off her friends and blowing her hair out of her face in an unladylike fashion as she did so. The howls of laughter mounted, and she rolled her eyes.

"Mercy West. Rape victim. Come on Evans, you're a girl – talk to her. Apparently none of the guys over there can get any details regarding her rapist out of her, and we need to find the guy – this is the fifth time too many that he's marked a girl for his own, it's getting out of hand. And frankly, it's a little embarrassing that we haven't caught him yet. Best police department in the state my ass, there's not enough work being done on this case. I don't know what the officers over there think they're doing, so far they've gotten diddly squat—"

"Well, with all due respect sir," she snorted. "That's because you've got guys talking to a female rape victim. It's no wonder she doesn't feel comfortable around them."

"Point well taken," the Captain responded. "Which is why I need you to go in there and talk to her."

"Me?" Sharpay replied incredulously, giving the evil eye to someone across the room who had nearly fallen out of his chair with laughter.

"You, Evans. That's what I said, isn't it?"

"Uhh, yes, sir, it is. But, I mean…honestly, sir? You'd be much better off asking someone who's more, um—"

"Come on, Evans," the voice boomed from the speaker box. "You know you can do it, you just don't want to. Work some of that feminine magic we all know you've got hidden under that uniform somewhere."

"Sir! That's completely—"

"Mercy West, Evans. Be there, and soon."

Despite his best efforts to conceal what he was really saying, Sharpay could hear it anyway: This is your big chance to prove yourself. Don't blow it.

Authority finally replaced humor in his tone, and a click was heard as the Captain denied her chance to answer. Sharpay sighed, resigned to her fate and grabbing her badge and keys.

"Hey Sharpay," came a shout from somewhere behind her as the laughter erupted in full force now that the Captain had turned a deaf ear to their voices. "I don't think he's got the right officer. I think Cross here's more of a woman than you are."

Jason Cross flushed at the comment, fidgeting a little as Sharpay reached over without a moment's pause and thwacked the offender upside the head.

"Ouch!"

"Stop making fun of my partner. If anyone's missing a dick it's you," Sharpay snarked, eliciting even more laughter, a little less of it directed at her this time. "And just because Jason's a complete dork doesn't mean that he doesn't have feelings, you know," she continued, swinging her bag over her shoulder and patting Jason on the back.

"Aww, Sharpay, we're just giving him shit. You know how it is. Hey, want to show us some of that – what did he call it? – feminine magic Captain's praying to God that you possess?"

"Fuck you," Sharpay sang in response as she sailed out the door.

Sharpay arrived at Mercy West twenty-five minutes later, pulling her cruiser to a stop and maneuvering through the automatic doors, rushing up the stairs to the room where the fifth rape victim was being held.

"Here," she panted to the attending officers, dumping her bag at the foot of the chairs lining the side of the hallway opposite the room and readjusting her badge. "What have I missed?"

Troy Bolton looked up, shrugging as he flicked his hair out of his eyes. Troy was one of the few officers that Sharpay was close to, and at the moment, she couldn't have been more thankful for his presence; her nerves were beginning to get the better of her. However, Sharpay knew from previous experience that it would be too good to be true if his blockhead of a partner wasn't present.

"Nothing much. Chad's in there right now trying to get something out of her," Troy said, and she rolled her eyes. No way was he going to be successful in any sense of the word. And no wonder Captain had said that nobody was getting anything done over here. "But apparently the girl won't talk." Like I said. "Which, I mean, is pretty frustrating. We still haven't caught this asshole and Captain's riding us about it. Why can't she just—"

"Troy, you ass," Sharpay berated him as she slumped down into a seat adjacent to his. "The girl has just been raped. By the fucking Carver nut, no less. Give her some time to come around. Have you…have you been in to see her?"

"No," he replied, completely unaffected by her blunt insult. "Like it'd do any good anyway. Isn't that what you're here for?"

"Shut up," she responded automatically, punching him in the shoulder. "And what the hell were you thinking sending Danforth in there? Can I just go in?"

"Be my guest."

Chad Danforth stepped out into the hallway, gently closing the door behind him. The strange expression of disbelief mixed with concern on his face, which was usually one of incoherence or confusion, was the only thing that stopped Sharpay from making her typical rude remark whenever he was in range of her eyesight.

"She's damaged, man," he whispered, nodding towards the door. "I've never seen a rape victim this bad, not even any of the Carver's other four victims. She looks like she's been through hell, and you can tell that she fought pretty fucking hard too. Kinda looks like she almost won, but…"

He stopped short as annoyance crossed his features.

"We've got to find this son of a bitch, you guys," Chad said, looking pissed as hell all of a sudden. "I don't even know this girl, but you have to be pretty twisted to fuck someone up like that asshole did to this lady."

Sharpay stood at that, brushing off her pants.

"I'm going in," she said, "and I'll do my best, but if either of you expect some weird gesture of femininity or whatever bullshit the Captain told you to rise up from out of nowhere, solve all your problems, and then you end up disappointed, I'm so going to say I told you so."

Taking a deep breath, Sharpay entered the room and squinted in the bright light. Every single lamp, fluorescent bulb, and source of light had been turned on and utilized – even the ones in the bathroom, where the door left wide open.

The victim was afraid to be in the dark.

Sharpay's gaze snapped to the rape victim, lying motionless on the bed as the surrounding machines beeped and whirred steadily.

Her breath hissed as she took in the damages; the victim's right leg was raised, bound in what looked like a cast and thick bandages; her skin was mottled with splotches of purple and black, green and yellow, deeply bruised and shadowed; one eye was swollen shut, and her hair was matted to the side with blood. Angry, finger-shaped bruises and the dark imprints of two brutal, controlling hands had formed on her arms and neck, and her body was covered with scratches, both deep gashes and light scrapes, and lines of blood.

With a shiver, Sharpay realized why the Carver had been given his title. The cuts on her body were tainted with a cruel precision and merciless attention that formed delicate, compellingly intricate patterns, as if the Carver had taken a scalpel and planned out his incisions; but she couldn't make heads or tails of what they were supposed to mean.

Shaking herself, Sharpay did her best to focus on the victim's other injuries; however, half of her body wasn't even visible anymore. The victim was too heavily wrapped in gauze and bandages. Sharpay felt another shiver run down her spine; surely the damages underneath the hospital gown and dressings were even more gruesome.

"Ma'am, my name is Officer Evans, I'm working alongside Officer Danforth. I—"

She paused. The victim's one open eye stared at the same spot on the wall it had been when Sharpay had come into the room; it was as if she was gone, lost in her own world; and Sharpay's speaking had done absolutely nothing to rouse her.

"I know you've been through a um, a rough time," she continued, trying to stick to formality. Jason always told her that she got too emotionally invested in her cases, too attached, and she didn't want yet another reason for any of the other officers (or even worse, her Captain) to think that she wasn't qualified to do her job.

Despite popular opinion, Sharpay had discovered, being a woman didn't always have its perks. In fact, sometimes it kind of backfired on you.

"But you're safe now," Sharpay said, standing stock still at the foot of the bed, as if she'd been infected with the victim's state of immobility. "Officers are going to be positioned outside your door for the remainder of your time here, at the very least. We can work out something when it comes time for your release. And ma'am I…I really hate to push, I know it's all happening pretty fast, but we'd very much appreciate any and all details you could tell us about…the, uh. The—"

Fucking asshole who did this to you.

"—um, the rapist."

At this, the victim's opened eye twitched a tiny fraction – maybe Sharpay was getting through to her, even if only a little bit.

"Really, any information at all, anything you can tell us," she almost pleaded, peering more closely at the victim. "You know, um. Physical features, like height or eye color, hair color maybe…" There was something strange, something hauntingly familiar about her – as if Sharpay had seen her before, a long, long time ago, or –

"Did you say Evans?"

Sharpay blinked rapidly, thought process interrupted, connecting her gaze with the victim's own. The hoarse, raspy, defeated croak was not quite the voice she expected from the tiny, petite woman before her who had clearly fought like hell to hold on to her life.

"Yes," she recuperated, straightening a little. "Sharpay Evans, ma'am."

"It's been a long time."

Sharpay's mouth tilted a little, eyebrows knitting together; a politely confused smile graced her features as she scrambled for an appropriate response.

"I'm sorry," she said. "You do look really familiar, but I mean, I can't – I can't quite—"

"You don't remember?"

And suddenly, realization dawned on Sharpay like someone had punched her in the stomach and unloaded a ton of bricks over her head at the same time. Her mouth dropped open against her free will for the second time that night.

Holy shit.

"Gabriella?"

A/N: There it is! I worked pretty hard on this chapter, so I hope it wasn't boring and didn't drag or anything. I'd love to hear your thoughts - please click the little green button and let me know if you're interested and want me to continue. :D