A/N: Thanks for the review Innocent Fox! I'm very optimistic about this.


A week and a half after that fateful evening, Jeff Winger pulled up at Greendale's small parking lot in his Lexus. It was a warm, sunny afternoon, one of the final remnants of a gloriously hot summer. He checked his hair in the rear view mirror - the gel had held, and the look was perfect. He offered himself a small, self-confident smile, and got out of the car.

"I told you, Jeff," said Craig Pelton, getting out of the passenger side. "No one will be able to see us on our little car ride together."

"We're carpooling because you live next to me, Craig," Jeff said. "I will literally murder you if you fail to make that distinction to anyone. I don't see why that's not getting through."

"When your lips say 'carpool', your eyes say 'get lost in us'," said Craig. Jeff rolled his eyes but suppressed a slight chuckle before turning to look at the school. With a week to go until the start of semester, the place was deserted and devoid of life. It was an almost eerie feeling, but it was not one he dwelled on for long as he walked towards the library building. Craig followed him.

There were three people sitting at the study desk that Jeff had spent so much time around. Britta Perry, Ben Chang and Greendale's new tycoon owner, Troy Barnes. Troy completely outshone the others in terms of dress - he was wearing a dark silk suit with a red ascot under a bright white shirt. Never a pretentious man despite, he was sat back at his old seat, leaning back casually.

"Hey guys!" he said cheerfully.

"Hey, Britta. Chang. Young black Pierce," Jeff said, smirking.

Troy looked down at himself and loosened his ascot. "Is it a little too much?"

"A little," Jeff replied. "You know, rich people don't always dress like rich people. It's a good way to tell that someone isn't a rich as they look."

"I'm not as rich as I look," said Troy. "Greendale cost me twelve million, that leaves me two million left."

"Oh, my heart bleeds for you," said Chang, angrily.

"Although, you do have one important rich guy staple," said Jeff. "Offending lower earners by complaining about the fact that you're not richer."

"If you're so broke Troy, why can't you stop buying us so much stuff?" asked Britta. "Rolexes, diamond earings?"

"You guys saved my life," Troy replied, earnestly. "If it wasn't for you I'd still be out there in the Gulf of Mexico with LeVar Burton, being held captive by pirates. Or dead. I owe you everything. Besides...you guys are my best friends. Why should I keep all this money for myself?"

"You're a good friend, Troy," said Jeff. "Alright. What's say we get started? As head of the Keep Saving Greendale, or the Nipple Dipper committee, I call this session to order. First order of business?"

"Apologies from absent members," Britta read. "Elroy plans to stay at LinkedIn, apparently they really need him. I can see why, it is LinkedIn. Frankie is now lead administrator at City College. She says this wasn't in retaliation for some minor slight, they just, and I quote, have their crap together a little bit more." She shrugged. "Not totally wrong. Professor Hickey is gone too, he's at a funeral home. I don't know whether that means he died or he's managing one, the email from his son didn't really make things clear."

"Fair enough," said Jeff. "It's a week 'til term starts, there's a lot to do, let's get on with the meeting."

"Uh...aren't you supposed to ask if anyone objects?" said Britta.

"Objects?"

"Yeah. To getting on with the meeting."

"Fine," said Jeff, rolling his eyes." Does anyone object to us getting on with the meeting?"

"We object," said a familiar voice. Jeff turned around and three figures stood just outside the door. Abed, who had spoke, stepped forward boldly. Annie Eddison and Shirley Bennett followed him in. Jeff blinked, almost unwilling to believe the sight before him. He'd held out hope that Abed and Annie would return to Greendale after their first summer in the real world, but he severely doubted he'd see Shirley this year.

"Hi, everybody!" said Shirley. "I missed you!"

"M'lord," said Annie, grinning widely.

"M'lady," Jeff said back, feeling the happiest he had in weeks. "Think we got that the wrong way round." Annie nodded but the two kept smiling at each other for a long time, expressing what couldn't be expressed verbally.

Troy and Abed wasted no time. Abed ran over to his friend, who sprang out of his seat like a rocket. They gave each other a warm embrace. "Troy and Abed back togeeether," they sang in perfect unison, before performing their special handshake.

"I think we've all missed that," said Jeff, and from his tone of voice it was clear there was no sarcasm attached to this.

"I've really missed the five of you!" Shirley said, beaming. "Six! Sorry, Dean Pelton. Chang," she said coldly, staring him down.

"We've missed you too," said Jeff. "But what are you doing here? Are you coming back? I thought you had your dad to look after?"

"I still do," said Shirley as she resumed her normal seat. The others followed suit. "Abed reached out to me, he said it'd be better for my dad to be somewhere where there's more people to look after him. That we didn't need to be alone."

"That's touching, Abed," said Craig.

"Yeah," Jeff admitted. "But wait a sec. I've got two questions."

"Shoot," said Abed.

"Okay. Question one, do you actually object to us carrying on the meeting or did you just want to make a movie-style entrance?"

"The second one," said Abed.

"Okay. Question two." Jeff turned to Britta. "With the way you clumsily pushed me into setting up that line can I assume you were part of this?"

"Abed called me," she admitted. "He wanted to surprise Troy."

"Now that that's resolved I was hoping I could have the floor," said Abed. Jeff shrugged and he stood up. "Guys, it's true. I called Annie and Shirley and made sure they were both going to be coming back to Greendale this season."

"Year, Abed," said Britta. "And why? You had this dream internship with TV. Annie was at the freaking FBI. Who are nasty Orwellian creeps in my opinion but it's still a dream job for Annie. Why mess with that?"

"It's not what you're thinking," said Abed. "I'm not trying to enact some sort of Simpsons status quo, and I'm not having an Abed meltdown. The truth is much more sinister. Greendale is in grave danger."

"Let him finish!" said Troy.

"In grave danger from what Abed?" Craig asked. "Is the black mold back?"

"Has the Ass Crack Bandit struck again?" asked Britta.

"Did you find out about my plan to kidnap Troy and take over the school again?" asked Chang.

"No, no, and yes Chang, Troy says you've been muttering about it under your breath since he came back."

"Your standards have kinda slipped, dude," said Troy sympathetically.

"I know, man," Chang admitted.

"But that's not the danger part," said Abed. "I don't even know what it is. I don't know where it's coming from. All I know is that the danger comes from darkness, so we have to be as light as we can. We have to get into the mindset that there's nothing that can come between us when we're together and united."

"Look, Abed," said Annie. "You're making it kinda impossible to believe you here. But you know what? I'm glad you persuaded me to come back." She gulped away emotion. "The night after I finished my first week at Quantico, I cried myself to sleep. Why? It wasn't because I hated it, or that I didn't fit in. It was the moment I realised that this was me now, this was what I was going to do for the rest of my life, so there wasn't any point coming back here. And I realised that for the rest of my life, I'd never be as happy as my years at Greendale."

She lapsed into a sad silence, which was shared by the others and would have continued if Abed hadn't slammed his hand on the table. "Sorry guys," he said. "But if there's anything you've taught me, Jeff, it's when to slap the table." He rubbed his hand. "I didn't think it would hurt as bad as it did. We have to stay positive and upbeat. No wallowing, that's what the darkness wants. Okay?"

"Okay, Abed," said Jeff. "Fine. So long as you're okay with us thinking this is one of your breakdowns. We'll play it your way and try to be happy."

"Good," said Abed. "And we have to act soon."

"Why's that?"

"We're two chapters in and the two sides haven't met yet. Either the meeting happens soon or the readers are going to feel dicked around."


At the same time as this conversation, Mark and Jeremy were sitting with Ian in the departure lounge of Gatwick Airport looking at their watches nervously. Their bags were laid out in front of them. Mark had, with meticulous attention, folded everything from his underpants to his woolly jumper. Jeremy on the other hand had balled everything up with reckless abandon and thrown it into the case before sitting on it to close the zips.

"They need to be going through security right about now," said Ian, and neither Mark or Jeremy could count how often he'd said that since they arrived. This time, however, his chant had a response. Mark saw Super Hans making his way towards them from the security area, dragging a huge suitcase behind him.

"Phew, sorry lads," he said as he approached. "Fucking sniffer dogs were all over me. Thought I was Pablo Escobar's favourite drug mule. I was explaining to the geezer that when you do gear that often you're bound to smell of the shit, but I still got the fucking cavity search." He turned to Ian. "Alright mate? Super Hans at your service. You the Yank?"

"Sort of," said Ian, shaking his hand. "Jez says you're applying to be the music teacher?"

"Yeah," Hans replied. "But rather than purely technical shit I'm more thinking 'psychology of bands'. Life on the road, what makes them tick, ya know?"

Shit, thought Jeremy. Sounds better than just 'life coaching'. Maybe I should jazz it up a bit?

"I like it," said Ian. "That is one massive suitcase."

"Oh yeah," said Hans. "Got all the gear here. Clothes, not nose candy. Fred Perry, Barbour, the lot. Best of British. I ain't gonna go out there and become some normalo-Nazi wearing Abercrombie & Fitch."

"That makes sense," said Ian.

Super Hans went on to tell the others about his weekend. Once Mark had used brain bleach to permanently remove the image, he saw a familiar figure coming towards them wearing a business suit.

"Johnson!" he said, walking towards his former boss and friend quickly.

Play it cool, Corrigan, he said to himself. Don't bound towards him. Keep a bit of self-esteem. I'm at record low-levels already. "Hi, Alan," he said, one the gap was closed.

"Hello, Mark," Alan Johnson said in his trademark low voice, with a tone that wasn't overly friendly. He outshone the others in terms of style, wearing a full business suit, a dark overcoat and leather gloves. He extended one gloved hand and Mark shook it with enthusiasm.

"You know the interview's not until tomorrow?" Mark said, looking at his suit.

"Dress for success, partner, that's my attitude." Johnson winked. "Every day's an interview."

Which is why you should get there on time, Mark thought. No, Mark. Must trust Johnson. This is probably some sort of weird power play that only he understands.

"Hi," said Ian, giving Johnson a handshake which he considered firm and warm but was enveloped and almost crushed. "Ian Duncan."

"The professor?" asked Johnson. "We spoke on the phone. Good to meet you. Alan Johnson." He turned to face Super Hans and his expression cooled. "Hi. You must be a friend of Jeremy's."

"That's right," he replied, and the two shook hands uneasily. "Super Hans."

"The Hans part needs no explaining, but I'd be interested to find out what warrants the Super," said Johnson, icily.

"If you have to ask, mate," said Super Hans, an edge entering his voice, "you'll never know."

Johnson eyed him for a moment more then turned his attention to Jez.

"Jeremy," he said, with barely masked contempt.

"Johnson," said Jeremy, with even more.

"I hate to break up what must be a warm personal reunion but we really need to get to the gate," said Ian nervously.

"I'll be ready in a second-o," said Johnson. "Got some water coming."

"Coming from...?" Mark asked. In a moment, his question was answered.

Jeff! he seethed. Jeff Heaney was heading their way with a small suitcase and two water bottles. He handed one to Johnson.

"Alright, Mark!" he said, beaming unpleasantly.

"Jeff!" Mark said, concealing his anger. "What are you doing here?"

"Didn't Alan mention?" Jeff said. "I'm going for an interview too. Introduction to Business as a counterpart to the more in-depth course. We cleared it with Mr Duncan."

"Yeah, sorry, didn't mention," said Ian. "That's okay right, Mark?"

"We're old pals," said Jeff. "Right, Mark?"

"Of course, mate," said Mark unconvincingly, on the spot. "It'll be just like old times."

Unless I tell the American passport people you're a mad terrorist and get you sent to Guantanamo, he thought bitterly.

"You two can catch up later," said Ian. "We need to get to the gate."