A/N: Thought of this a couple of nights ago and I had to get it out of my head. I didn't want to make it a story, so it's just a twoshot.

Tell me what you think!

The deep rumble of the subwoofers hurt Troy's chest, the loud and deafening music making it hard for him to think straight. The erratic flashes of the strobe lights made him blink repeatedly, his eyes having to refocus every time the room fell to darkness. He took a deep breath as he stepped forward, maneuvering his way through the crowded basement. His eyes were downcast, if he looked up, he was sure he would get sick. The flashes of the strobe lights were giving him a headache and the people around him looked as if they were lagging.

Troy Bolton hated parties.

He took another deep breath, cautiously lifting his eyes up. The current situation wasn't about him, though; it was about finding Gabriella. His mind rewound itself back to what Taylor had said over the phone.

- -FLASHBACK- - -

"Troy," Taylor's voice was small and shaky, "We have a slight problem."

"What's wrong Taylor?" his eyes held confusion. He was gripping his cell phone tightly; "Don't tell me you couldn't get the punch for the New Years Eve party tonight?"

"That's not it," Taylor responded, "I just came from Gabriella's, her father called and said he was back in town."

Troy paused as his head jerked back, his eyes squinting together, "Father?"

"Yeah," Taylor responded with shock that matched Troy's face, "That's what I said."

"I didn't know," he voiced softly into the phone.

"No one did," Taylor explained, "But that's not the point. After the call, she got really jumpy and nervous, almost angry. She snapped at me when I asked what was wrong."

"I don't know what to say," Troy was at a loss of words. Gabriella got angry maybe once in a lifetime, but to get angry with Taylor, the situation was impossible.

"She ran, Troy," Taylor explained quickly into the phone, "I don't know where she went. She just said she needed to get away and bolted."

"It's ok Taylor," he reassured the best friend, "Sharpay's having a party tonight, she might have gone there just for support. I'll go and look for her."

"Thanks Troy," Taylor breathed out, her breath radiating through the connection, "Just hurry. It's New Years Eve and there are a lot of crazy people out tonight. I don't want you to get caught out late."

"Thanks Taylor," he was running down his stairs, car keys in hand, "I'll be careful."

- - -END FLASHBACK- - -

Troy glanced around the crowded basement and saw something he hoped he hadn't. A wooden table lined the back wall, the counter filed with all brands of Beer, Wine, Brandy, Gin, Tequila, Vodka, and Whisky. He promised himself that he would have a heated talk with Sharpay and Ryan later, but for right now, he had to find Gabriella, and after spying the table, he was afraid of what he might find.

It was then that he heard it. Over the blaring noise of the music and obnoxiously loud voices, he heard her laugh. But it wasn't the pure, innocent laugh he was so used to; it was an uncontrolled, intoxicated laugh. He ran his hands over his face and into his hair, pausing before he made his way through the crowd, towards her voice.

He found her sitting at the side of a white table, a group of unfamiliar faces surrounding her and her opponent. Her chocolate eyes where staring down the man across from her as random people placed money on the table. A 750ml Smirnoff Vodka battle sat in the center, the contents virtually gone. A shot glace rested in her right hand, a neatly folded wad of won money in her left. Trashcans were placed on the floor close to the two's feet, a backup plan incase the alcohol decided to come back up.

He watched as an uncontrolled smile tugged at the sides of her lips, her mouth opening as the filled to the brim shot glass was lifted up. His body moved forward, his hand reaching out to wrap around her wrist before she could do more harm to her body.

"Troy," his voice came out slurred and uncontrolled from her mouth, but her chocolate eye where focused and surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Let her drink man!" the underage opponent demanded, his hands pushing Troy away from the table, "She's having fun!"

Troy grabbed the edges of his leather jacket, shaking it so it hung snugly over his dark blue sweatshirt as he took a deep, controlling breath. The fact that the insanely short man was smashed was the only thing keeping him from throwing a punch. Fighting a drunken man wasn't considered fighting, it was considered low. He reached for her wrist again, an annoyed sigh escaping his lips.

"Gabriella," his voice was stern over the loud music, "That's enough."

"Back off Troy," she slurred as she jerked her wrist from his grasp, "Leave me alone." She put the shot glass to her lips and the liquid was gone with a backward tilt of her head. Troy's jaw clenched as she slammed the empty glass onto the table, a drunken smile plastered across her face. Her opponent tried to do the same, but he was leaning to far back in his chair and crashed backwards. A cheer erupted form the crowd as Gabriella gathered the crumpled ones and fives from the table.

"Anyone else," she yelled out into the crowd, a victory smile on her face, "Anymore victims?"

Troy moved forward again, his hand grabbing the folded money from hers. Before she could protest, he stuck the money in his pocket and dragged her away from the table. The spectators booed him, but he shrugged them off as he pushed his way through the crowded basement.

"What the hell!" Gabriella yelled at him as they came to the foot of the basement stairs, her unfocused eyes angry. The alcohol on her breath washed over his face, and he cursed himself for not finding her sooner, "What are you doing, Troy?!"

"What are you doing, Gabriella?!" He snapped back as he dragged her thrashing body up the stairs, "Have you ever had alcohol, let alone straight vodka before?!"

She didn't answer him as she stumbled over the last two steps. He caught her as she went forward, but she pushed him away and staggered to the front door. He followed her and his eyes flashed with anger as she fumbled for the car keys in her jacket pocket. She was smarter than this.

"Don't think I'm letting you drive like that," disappointment and protectiveness flowing from his words as she opened the front door. He watched as she paused, then spun on her heals, her eyes small and dangerous.

"You can't stop me," she threatened, stumbling out into the cold New Years Eve night. Troy let his head drop as he followed her. He understood that whatever was uttered from her mouth was being influenced by the alcohol, but it still didn't mean it didn't hurt. He recalled the old saying, sticks and stones can break your bone but words can never hurt you. He came to one conclusion: it was a lie. Because the fact of the matter was, the love of his life was angry with him. Her words having the power to cut him deeper than anyone else, it was the price he paid for falling in love with her.

"…I won't be the one to stop you," he whispered out sadly, his eyes focused on her staggering form.

She nearly slipped on the icy path leading to Sharpay and Ryan's front door, but surprisingly caught herself. Troy followed, and only paused when she did. He knew what was happening, and prepared himself for it.

Gabriella bent over the snow-covered bushes that lined the sidewalk and retched. And even though Troy was prepared for it, he hated watching it. His blue eyes went wide as he saw her balance shift, and was behind her before she could fall. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her up as she emptied the contents of her stomach onto the frozen ground. He gave a surprised yell when her knees buckled, her weight sending both of them to the ground as she dry heaved. Troy put his right hand behind him to support both their weights, Gabriella lying practically on top of him. He wrapped his left arm around her stomach, reassuring her that he wasn't leaving.

It was minutes before she got her breath back and leaned back into him, her forehead resting against the inside of his neck. His eyes softened when her skin came in contact with his, she was hot despite the chilling temperature outside. She had a fever, she was sick.

"Maybe driving isn't such a good idea," she whispered into the night.

"Maybe it isn't," he laughed softly, his free hand moving to brush a few stray pieces of hair from her face. He watched as a single snowflake landed on her eyelash.

"What about my car?" she asked, as she tried to push herself up. Her weak arms failed her and she landed on him again, "Everything's spinning…God, my head."

"I'll text Sharpay and tell her we're leaving it," he answered as he managed to get his feet under him. In one swift and secure motion, he picked her up bridal style. Her legs hung limply over his arm, her head resting against his shoulder. Her hair tickled the skin under his chin. "Come on, I'll get you home."

He glanced down into her unfocused chocolate eyes. A frown crossed his face as he clenched his jaw. He hated seeing her like this, so small and fragile…so vulnerable. Her dark eyes softened moments before she closed them. Her body shaking as a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over her.

"I'll take it slow," he assured as he took a step forward, the snow starting to fall around them.

"Thank you," she whispered into his shoulder. She gripped his sweatshirt tightly in her hand as he made his way towards his parked Honda Civic. He paused as she turned into his shoulder; her eyes clenched shut as she bit back the bile rising in her throat.

"Just promise me that you'll stay awake," he asked, his voice soft and pleading. He knew that if she fell asleep, this intoxicated, she might not wake up.

"I'll try," the answer was just above a whisper. His eyes shot down to hers, they where closed. Fear wrapped around his heart, his breath quickening.

"No," he replied urgently, "You have to promise."

He waited outside his passenger door for an answer; he had to hear her promise. Her eyes finally opened and she let out a deep breath, "Promise."

"Good," he whispered before lowering her limp body into the seat. He wrapped the seat belt around her and made sure it was snug, he didn't want her moving unnecessarily. "Are you comfortable?" he gave her a small smile when she nodded her head. He shut the door fast and jumped over to the driver's side. He turned on the ignition and the car started. He glanced sidelong to Gabriella, she had leaned back her seat slightly, her body at a more comfortable angle.

"How did you find me?" she asked, her question slightly slurred.

"Taylor called me," he watched as her eyes opened wider, "told me what happened and asked if I would go and look for you. I knew that Sharpay was having a party," he paused, thinking about how serious the situation might have been if she hadn't been at Sharpay's, "I got lucky."

"You talked to Taylor," Gabriella turned away from him to stare out the window.

"Yes," he answered, turning his eyes to focus on the snow covered road. "She mentioned the phone call from your father."

"I really hate him," she mumbled miserably, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes.

"Well," Troy spoke louder, making her eyes open, just to make sure, "You chose a perfect way to handle it, via mainlining vodka."

He smiled when he heard her laugh. He watched out of the corner of her eyes as she shifted. The back of her head was leaning against the window, her eyes focused on him.

"How can you hate your dad so much?" he asked and then paused, "I can't think of anything that would make me feel that way. Enough to make me do things I would…regret."

He waited for an answer, but when he didn't get one, he looked to her. Her eyes had shifted away from him and too the floor, her full focus on his school binders. There was pain in her dark eyes, and she looked as if she was trying to remember something important. "Cant you?" It was nothing more than a whisper, but the full force of the answer made his heart stop.

"What are you saying?" his blue eyes wide in confusion, "he didn't, your father couldn't have, it's not possible…"

"Just because he was drunk and doesn't remember," a single tear escaped from her eye as she whispered the truth, "doesn't mean it didn't happen."

Silence engulfed the car.

"Did he beat you?" Troy whispered through clenched teeth.

She gave a small, hopeless laugh, her eyes turning sad. "You've discovered just the tip of the iceberg Mr. Bolton."

"Sexually assaulted?" the words felt like mud in his mouth. His answer was a soft snort, her recognition that the truth was finally out.

Troy clenched his jaw, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. The anger flowing through him was the strongest he'd ever felt. He silently promised to God that if he ever laid eye on Gabriella's father, he would make the man wish he'd never been born.

Maybe it was his intense anger that triggered it, but helplessness washed over him. A deep and bitter longing hit his heart. All this time, she had acted as if nothing had happened, like her childhood had been just like everyone else's. Being forced to live your life, with the sole knowledge of what had happened, of what your own father had done to you. Having no one else to go to, having no one else for support. It was heartbreaking.

"Troy," her soft voce drew him out of his thoughts. He looked to her half closed eyes, "Calm down, it happened a long time ago."

"That still doesn't make it right!" he yelled, his anger exploding in one outburst. He looked to her, his sharp blue eyes offering an apology. "Why didn't you tell me, I could have helped, I could have at least done something."

"What could you have done, Troy?" he felt as if her voice should have been stronger, like she had given up fighting. "I was ten. Like I said, it was a long time ago."

His body flinched at the age, "How long did it last?" He whispered the question as the car passed under a green stoplight.

"Till I was old enough to fight back," she whispered, the words forced.

"Months?" he questioned, fearing the answer. When she didn't, he closed his eyes and shook his head, the helplessness tugging at his heart again. "…Years…" He took a right, his car coming to a stop at a red light. They were passing through the city; both he and Gabriella lived on the other side of town.

"…I'm sorry…" the apology was small, and it took him a moment to realize she had said it. He looked to her, his world falling apart. Her eyes where closed, her chest rising only slightly. Before he knew what he was doing, the Honda Civic was pulled over, cars honking as they passed. He unbuckled his seatbelt, reached over and cupping her face in his hands.

"No, no, no. Gabriella," he lightly hit her cheek, "Stay with me, you gotta stay with me."

Her eyes fluttered open, but it was taking all of her energy to focus on him, "So dizzy, Troy."

"I know, baby, I know," her face was burning in his hands, "But you have to stay with me."

She lightly shook her head; her eyes shifting in and out of focus, "…sorry…"

"Why are you sorry?" his eyes were watering, his lower lip trembling, he was panicking "You don't have anything to be sorry about, I'm going to get you help. You just gotta stay with me. Stay awake!"

"…can't …promise…" those where the last words she uttered before her eyes fell completely shut, her head falling limp in his hands.

"No, no, no, no," he was pleading, tears leaking from his eyes, "Gabriella, come on, wake up!" She didn't respond. He hesitantly moved his ear to her mouth, and to his relief, she was still breathing, but it was soft and slow. He pressed his fingers to her neck, finding her pulse; but it too was soft and slow.

"Hang on, Gabriella!" He yelled, hoping that she could still hear the sound of his voice, "Just hang on."

He slammed on the gas, His Civic jumping to life as he made a u-turn in the middle of the busy street. His mind barley registered the cars honking at him, his ears only tuned to Gabriella's shallow and slow breaths.

His eyes went wide when he found the small hospital sign; he sharply turned his car to the direction the white arrow underneath was pointing. Cars honked as he passed them, he was pushing seventy-five when he power slid into the Hospital parking lot. The Civic came to a screeching halt as he jumped out of the driver's side door.

He was slightly aware of people yelling at him, telling him he couldn't park where he was, but he pushed past them and opened the passenger side door. He reached in and hauled Gabriella's limp body out, the yelling around him stopping.

"Get out of the way!" Troy roared, the people parting like the Red Sea as he entered the Hospital. His mind was on autopilot as he rushed to the receptionist's desk, "I need help!"

The blond receptionist glanced up from her computer, her eyes going wide at the sight of Gabriella's unconscious body in his arms. Her hand shot for the phone, her voice echoing throughout the Hospital, "Doctors to ER waiting area STAT!"

In seconds Troy was invaded by white cotes and questions. One Doctor dragged Troy to a gurney, instructing him to lay Gabriella down. Troy watched as a nurse placed a breathing mask over Gabriella's face. He panicked for a moment, the mask not fogging up with a breath. He waited, and only took a breath when she did, her chest rising ever so slightly.

"What happened son?" Troy could barley feel the Doctors hand on his shoulder.

"…Smirnoff…shots…" Troy answered as he bent over, his heart thudding painfully in his chest.

"How much was consumed?" The Doctors voice was urgent, his words professional.

"Enough," Troy answered, clenching his eyes shut. It was getting hard to breath.

The Doctor turned and grabbed one of the nurses, "Possible alcohol poisoning, get an IV drip in her right away. We need to clean out her system."

Troy went forward as Gabriella was wheeled away, his hand still clasped around hers. His eyes flashed with rage as the Doctor's hand stopping him, "you can't follow."

"I need to know," Troy paused to take a breath, his anger forgotten, "that she's ok."

"We will take good care of her," the Doctors eyes where sympathizing. The hand on Troy's shoulder tightened, "Are you ok?"

"Can't…breathe," Troy answered. His chest was constricting painfully, he could feel his heartbeat in his temples. His breath was loud, many of the people occupying the waiting room glancing up to stare at him. His hand reached over his heart, the fabric of his blue sweatshirt clenched in his closed fist.

"Son, you have to calm down," the Doctor instructed placing both hands on his shoulders, "You're having a panic attack."

Troy shook his head, taking a step towards the double doors they had wheeled Gabriella through, "Have…to make sure."

"We'll take care of her," The Doctor assured again, his emerald eyes turning sad. He dragged Troy to a chair, asking a nurse to bring an oxygen mask. "I'm going to have to ask you a couple of questions, is that ok?"

Troy nodded his head as he accepted the breathing mask from the nurse. The warm air was what he needed. His eyes became clearer as the warm, clean air rushed through his system, "That's fine, but I don't know a lot."

"Answer as much as you can," the Doctor said reaching for a clipboard. "What's her full name?"

"Gabriella Montez," Troy answered, his eyes scanning the open hospital waiting room. Many people where staring at him, having just witnessed his mad dash from his car, with an unconscious girl in his arms.

"Age?"

"Seventeen."

"What's your affiliation with the patent," The Doctors emerald eyes looking up from his clipboard.

"I'm her boyfriend," Troy answered without hesitation, his blue eyes staring into the emerald ones of the Doctors. The older man finished writing and stood up, "Is there anyone you want to call, it'll be a while before you can see her."

Troy nodded his head, the breathing mask still over his face. The Doctor turned and walked away as Troy took one, long, deep breath, the last of the warm air rushing through his lungs. His hand found the cell phone in his pocket as he glanced to the time on the front. The numbers twelve thirty shown back at him and he groaned loudly. He wasn't going to enjoy the phone call; Taylor was going to kill him.

A/N: Part one complete. Go forth and read part two!

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