As always, I'm stunned by your support! It means the world to me to know you're all enjoying! Notes on the location I'm using can be found in the previous chapter's AN. This chapter takes place about ten minutes after the previous chapter. This is pretty much a "filler" chapter, but the next couple will be much longer, I promise ;)

Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Rise or Spring Awakening in any way, apart from caring too much to be healthy, and am not making any profit off of this (apart from any love you decide to show!)

Episode 3: When A House Doesn't Feel Like Home

Lilette can almost feel the mounting tension as her mother drives. Vanessa's knuckles have turned white as she grips the steering wheel, and Lilette isn't much better. They haven't spoken apart from exchanging pleasantries and praise on her performance, but her mother realized fairly quickly that Lilette doesn't want to talk.

"The PTA is closing down the drama department."

It's too horrible to be true. It can't be happening. It just can't. This is her first show and she's found her real family… and now she's going to be losing them.

"Permanently."

Permanently. What does that even mean? What about in fifty years, when this generation of PTA members is dead and gone? Will there still be no drama department? Will it be banned forevermore, because one director decided to shake things up and succeeded?

"Permanently."

The looks on the faces of those around her. Simon, who's built his entire life around this program, saw it crashing apart. She couldn't even begin to process the look on her best friend's face. The newcomers were devastated, but nearly so much as those who have known nothing but a high school experience with their theater.

"Permanently."

There were questions. So many questions. Protests, too, that they'd have to fight it. Mr. Mazzucchelli looked like he couldn't even talk anymore- like he'd messed up and he knew it. He told them he would have sacrificed his job, anything, to keep it going, but the superintendent couldn't be reasoned with. Ms. Wolfe answered the rest of their questions.

"Permanently."

They'd done as he'd told them. They went home. They'll figure something out in the morning- they've fought so hard already, what's a little more?

"Permanently."

What does that even mean, permanently? Lilette slams the car door and stalks inside the house, her mother following her. The box of chocolates is crushed in her hands. Her mother closes the door gently. She thought this- her home, her room, her friends, her job, her life- she thought that was permanent. But apparently not.

"Permanently."

"Lilette?" her mother says tentatively. Lilette drops the chocolates down on the table and turns, very slowly, to face her mother. Her mother looks- fearful, almost. Of what Lilette is about to say. "Are you okay?"
"No," Lilette says, her voice shaky. "I'm not. I'm not okay, and it's because of you." It's been a long time and no time at all since they last argued. A million years ago and just yesterday. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"Hey," her mother says in a low voice. "Don't talk to me like that."

"Like you get to play the parent suddenly!" Lilette screeches. "I was here for days- days! Alone! With not so much as a word of whether you were okay or not apart from a two-word text every other day! If it weren't for Robbie and for this damn show, I don't know if I would have gotten through it! You can't just come back and expect things to continue like it's nothing!"

"Lilette," her mother pleads, but she isn't having any of it.

"You leave me here for days, not so much as a call, and then come back and tell me we're moving four hundred miles away and just expect me to be okay with it?" Lilette screams, hot tears beginning to spill from her lashes. "In what world would I ever be okay with that, Mom? In what world would I want to leave me home?"

"You have for the past years, Lilette, please-"

"Not anymore! Not when I finally have something- had something good going, because the drama department was shut down permanently and if I don't have you I don't have much left!" She picks up the chocolates and slams them down again, breathing heavily. Her mother looks like she's trying to come up with something to say, but can't.

"Lilette," she says quietly, gently. "You have every right- every right- to be upset right now."

"Damn straight I do," Lilette says, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "I'm sorry. It was wrong for me to rip into you like that. It's just- I'm in shock. The drama department is closing, Mom. For good. Permanently."

"I'm so sorry, honey," her mother says, reaching out a hand tentatively and then withdrawing it almost immediately. "I'm so sorry."
"I can't leave," Lilette says through the thick tears now splattering her hand as she hastily tries to wipe them away. "I can't-"

"I know, honey," her mother says softly. "I know."

"Can we, maybe, not go right away?" Lilette asks carefully. "Just… you really can't do that. Abandon Stanton and then tell me I have to abandon it, too."

Her mother ponders this for a moment. Lilette sniffs and she sighs. "Sure. We can stay… for a little while." Lilette nods, standing up. Her mother doesn't say anything as she goes to her room and closes the door, leaving the chocolates on the table.

She falls onto her bed almost immediately, clutching her pillow to her face to muffle her sobs. Because everything has changed.

Permanently.

"Permanently."

Robbie glances out the window as his father starts the car. After dropping his step-mother at home, they went to bring his mother back. Now they're leaving, and though he's undeniably distraught by Mr. Mazzu's news, he had to keep it together in the car, for his mother's sake.

"The drama department is closing," Robbie says quietly. His father glances over. "Permanently."

"Permanently?" his father asks. "No more shows?"
"No more shows," Robbie confirms. He feels… numb. Like he still hasn't realized what it fully means. No more shows. Ever.

"You can focus on football, then," his father says, grinning. Robbie shakes his head. He can't deal with this right now.

"Is Mom going to be okay?" he asks suddenly. His father jerks the steering wheel and nearly swerves the car.

"She's doing better," his father says tentatively. "I know that the doctors talk to you about a lot of stuff, but as far as I know… she's doing better. We're still not… we're not sure if she's gonna make it, but we're gonna pray."

Robbie nods, not entirely satisfied, but…

She has to make it.

She needs to.

First Lilette, then the drama department… if he loses his mother, he may break. Permanently.

"Permanently."

Lou Mazzucchelli opens the front door to his house and closes it carefully behind him. His wife is leaning up against the counter, waiting for him to say something. He can spy his daughters hiding behind the couch, and Gordy is poking his head out from behind his door. Sadie and Kaitlin rush off giggling when they see him enter, but he catches them running into Gordy's room. The door shuts, but he knows they're all listening.

"Hey," Gail says. "Hey, hey, what happened?"

"They closed it down," Lou says, his voice hoarse. "The whole thing. Permanently."

"They didn't," Gordy says in a low voice, and he can hear Kaitlin gasp. Lou glances up- the door is open again, and his son looks positively murderous.

"They did," Lou says in barely more than a whisper. "Because of me."

"No," Gail says. "No, those kids won't blame you-"

"They won't," Gordy confirms. "They worship the ground you walk on. They're not going to blame you at all."

"They really did it," Kaitlin says, looking stunned. Sadie, recognizing that something is horribly wrong, drags her older sister off. Gordy closes his door, shaking his head.

"It'll be okay, Lou," Gail says. "It'll be okay."

"No," Lou says. "It won't."

Gail purses her lips, glancing toward the basement door… but Maashous is gone.

The house feels emptier.

Maashous himself isn't feeling much better. He talked with his mother for about three minutes before realizing she doesn't really care about his shows. She seems to care about him, so she was putting up a good act, but she's just been absent for so long…
And now he's on a bed that's harder than the one at the Mazzu's and he's in a room that's colder than the one at the Mazzu's and he's in an apartment that despite being his blood relatives, seems a lot less like a family than when he was with the Mazzu's.

He wants to go back.

He wants the comfort and the security that their family provides. Because without the drama department, he has nothing. Nothing except that little family of misfits he was able to call his own. And now… now that's gone. Maybe permanently.

It's cold and dark, and he doesn't like it.

Simon's house is not cold and dark. Quite the opposite. It's warm and vibrant, and somehow it feels horrible. When his mother softly shuts the door behind them, he can see his father get up off of the couch. Simon bites the inside of his cheek as his father walks toward him. He wants to hold his head high, show he's not ashamed of their performance. But as his father stops in front of him, he lowers his head and casts his gaze away. He says nothing, and his father says nothing, and they both keep moving in opposite directions.

He feels… unsafe. In his own home. Is this an okay feeling? He doesn't think he should feel like this. His mother squeezes his shoulder before gesturing for Emma to come away. She doesn't, though, not quite yet. First she wraps her arms around her older brother's waist again.

"You're my brother," she says, beaming up at him. "I love you. No matter what." He smiles at her. She pulls away, following their mother.

He rushes into his room as quickly as he can. A torrent of emotions come spilling out at once. This isn't happening. The drama department. Lilette. Jeremy. His father. This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This isn't happening.

This is happening.

His life has been completely and utterly changed by this one show.

His life has been completely changed… permanently.

Miles away, Sasha enters the little trailer her father calls home. She glances back at him- he's watching the television, and he doesn't even look up.

She sighs and disappears into her room.

Just another day.

Gwen, meanwhile, has had a much louder evening with her mother.

"Splitting custody? Really?" she demands. Her mother sighs.

"Gwen, it's for the best-"

"For the best?" Gwen says, laughing, as if the very idea is ludicrous. "Since when have you and Dad made decisions for me that are for the best? Why don't I get a say in where I live? I don't want to live with him-"

"Gwen, it was decided in court-"

"I don't care!" she screams. "I should have a say! This is my life we're talking about here! I should get to decide what I do and where I go, not some court judge!"
"Gwen, you're just upset about the drama department-"

"I don't want to hear it," Gwen says. "This theater was my life, Mom, so I'm damn well upset about it amongst a lot of other things. If you need me, I'll be up in my room- the only room I want to be in."

Her mother watches her go.

Something has shattered in Gwen, maybe permanently. In her time as a costume designer, she's worked with a lot of kids, and she knows how much the program means to them. This isn't just going to be affecting Gwen, it's going to be affecting all of them.

For better or for worse.

Who knows? she thinks to herself. Maybe they'll just rise above it.

Next time, on Rise Again: "Is there any possible way to do this without getting our directors fired?" - "He sounds…" "Awful?" "Worse. If there's anything I can do…" "I'll let you know." - "What if… what if we did what we do best?" - "You can't get into this again, you promised me you were better!" - "Be careful, or you'll end up like your mother."