Author's Note: For Ober22.

Author's Note Part Deux: I re-read my story and decided that it really needed a little more set-up... so a Prologue was in order. It's in its correct place, so sorry that you had to see this chapter again.


Chapter Three: Interlude and Exposition

Shane

He sits quietly in the silent sound room, enjoying the peace of it all. Everyday on set, he always comes in an hour early, so that he might have some time to enjoy his coffee and just think. He smiles into his coffee as he looks across the sound board, making sure every knob, every dial, is at the correct setting for today's work. Reaching over to adjust a dial, he faintly smells the scent of his wife's perfume on his clothes. He smiles happily to himself as he thinks about long red hair and the wonderful smile that it frames.

His reverie is broken when footsteps disturb the silence of the room. He looks down at this watch and sees the time. Can't be the crew, it's too early. He looks up from the audio board to see who it is. He shudders to himself when he recognizes the slim figure slinking across the room towards him. Long slender porcelain fingers, ending in ruby red finger nails, slide along the audio console, while brown doe eyes take him in. He gulps to himself and nervously asks, "Y-y-yes Miss Shay, is there anything I can help you with?"

She smiles her famous seductive smile at him and brings one slender porcelain finger up to her lips, tapping the bottom one as if in thought. "Yes," she breathes out, "there is something you can help me with. I need you to fight again." She sees his nervous hesitation and bends over next to him, her face right next to his. "Please, for me?" she purrs softly into his ear.

He sighs softly to himself, knowing that he'll have to accede to her demands so that she'll just leave him alone, and looks up at her. "Who? And when?"

Smiling happily at him, she says, "It will be tomorrow afternoon, and it's an old friend of ours, Freddie Benson." She glares at him when she notices the startled expression on his handsome face. "Is there a problem?"

He looks back up at her and doesn't recognize the girl he dated six years ago. "Yes, there is a problem. Freddie is my friend, and I won't fight him..." he says, fighting down the feeling of terror he gets every time she glares at him.

"No, there is NOT a problem. Because if there was a PROBLEM, then you and Wendy WILL be no longer have jobs, and then I'll make damn sure you won't be able to get any other jobs any time soon." She drops her voice to a low growl, that any other man at any other time would consider sexy. "Do I make myself clear?"

Clenching his fists, he drops his eyes to the sound board and nods in defeat. "Yes, Miss Shay, you always get your way..."

Smiling that brilliant smile of hers, she nods at him, acknowledging her victory once again. She pats his shoulder in a friendly manner and turns to leave. "Do a good job, and I'll throw in a nice bonus for you," she says off-handedly over her shoulder as the door closes quietly behind her.

Shane just sits there staring off into space until his crew starts trickling in. "Dammit Freddie, why'd you have to come back?" he mumbles to himself.

Freddie

He sighs softly to himself as he contemplates the morning events. He was taken into the nearest police precinct while Jake was taken to the hospital. He spent all of the morning and most of the afternoon explaining furtively to several detectives what had happened. It wasn't until a very well dressed lawyer flashing a very fake smile had shown up that things started to roll in his favour. They had finally taken the cuffs off of him. Then, after a couple of phone calls, things started to get really surreal. Lunch was brought in, but it wasn't just a cold sandwich and a Peppy Cola. It was a steak, medium well, cooked to perfection. And the box that it was brought in read Metropolitan Grill, the best steakhouse in the city. They had even brought in a nice red wine that complemented the steak perfectly. And to top it off, after he was finished with lunch, the police chief of Seattle came in and personally apologized for the misunderstanding. He finished saying, "Any friend of Seattle's Favorite Daughter is a friend of the Seattle Police Force." The chief then gave Freddie his business card with several numbers written on the back. "If you need any help with anything, those are my personal numbers. And tell Carly that you and her should definitely come to the next Policeman's Ball." He was then driven back to Bushwell's in a Mercedes Benz.

Yes, things are definitely getting surreal, he thinks to himself as he runs his fingers through his russet hair. He runs several searches on his laptop, correlating and collaborating facts that he finds. Miss Carly Shay was the talk of the town. She had parlayed the fame that she had gotten from being an international web show sensation into a big star of the big screen and the airwaves. She was on the "it" list of hot, new upcoming actresses. She had even inked a deal with Inlets Records, which produced a several times platinum album. He wonders how he had missed all of these events. Apparently by hiding under the world's biggest rock, he thinks wryly.

While waiting for the romantic comedies that Carly had starred in to download from Webflix, he begins to make himself a light dinner. As he silently contemplates his sandwich, memories and feelings from the past begin to swirl about in his head. He remembers why he ran away from Seattle, away from the confusion, the feelings. In the past four years, he had studied hard, trying to find some way towards inner peace. Fencing masters, boxing pros, yoga gurus, karate senseis had all tried to instill that peace in him. All had failed. He had gone all over the world, but nothing had worked. The confusion, and the accompanying anger at the confusion, stayed with him throughout. It was like he had an 800 lb gorilla weighing on his soul that he couldn't do anything about.

He laughs quietly to himself. Ironically, it wasn't until he came back to the States that he found a modicum of inner peace. He was wandering across the country when he stopped in Mobile, Alabama for a bit. Desperate for money, he took a job as a deck hand on a shrimping boat. Since he was in the best shape of his life, the hard work and long hours didn't bother him. The fact that most of his Southeast Asian co-workers only spoke broken English was a welcome relief. That meant he wouldn't have to talk much, and he'd have more time to think about things. And yet the crew of the boat still managed to draw him in. After several weeks on the boat, he was beginning to feel lonely so he began having lunch with them on the boat, and then eventually hanging out with their families off of the boat. He rarely had to cook for himself, because he was always invited to some families house to have dinner. And on the weekends, there was always an impromptu party he was invited to, for there was always somebody's birthday or anniversary to celebrate in the community.

And then he was invited to the Buddhist temple with them one Saturday because there was going to be a big celebration for some monks new to the temple. He remembers smiling to himself during the festivities as he watched both young and old people just having a good time, enjoying the life that they had. And these were the people that scant years ago had all of their worldly possessions wiped out by a series of hurricanes. How could they still be smiling and laughing when all they had were gone, he recalls asking himself.

He fondly recalls how an older monk named Chaiwat Khamphouy had taken an interest in him, and had asked him to sit. Chaiwat looked to be in his sixties, and was dressed in the traditional saffron robes of a Buddhist monk. His hair was closely shaved to his scalp, and brown, intelligent eyes peered out from behind black rimmed glasses. They sat and talked about many subjects well into the night. Freddie was surprised to find that the older monk was actually well learned about the internet, and he hoped that the monk was surprised at his own knowledge of philosophy. The conversation eventually turned to the festivities, and the monk answered Freddie's earlier question.

"Freddie," the monk had said, "they are happy to be here, happy to still be alive, breathing, living. They are among friends and family, and they know that they can count on each other. After Katrina, we didn't wait for FEMA to come and help us out. We, and I mean everybody, including the children," and he had smiled as if recalling a fond memory, "went out and one by one cleared out the destroyed lots." He took a deep breath and continued, "Buddha taught us that suffering exists, that there is a cause of the suffering, but also that the suffering will end if we follow the Eightfold Path. Because we followed the Right Thinking, the Right Conduct, and the Right Effort, we were able to bring about the end of the suffering caused by Katrina much quicker. The community came together and was able to end the suffering. Thomas Merton famously said that no man was an island. And don't raise your eyebrow at me young man, yes I do read other things than Buddhist texts. Just because Father Merton follows a different belief system than I do doesn't mean that I cannot read and respect his thoughts on certain subjects." With a seemingly knowing glance, he looked over at me and said, "You are lost my son, you have to decide on the course that your life will take. Friends, family, and especially a loved one will make that course easier..." He smiled softly at me, "I am tired, and I think I will go to sleep now. Think about what I said Freddie, because I sense a kind, compassionate soul in you, and I hate for you to be so troubled..." He had then toddled off to bed, rather spryly for such an older monk.

Freddie had sat up the rest of the night, nursing a beer while turning over the things Chaitwat had said to him over and over in his mind. The next day, he talked to the captain of the vessel to let him know that he was leaving. The crew was sorry that they didn't get a chance to throw him a farewell party. He had laughed and told them that they really didn't need to use him as an excuse to get together and drink and play cards. They all laughed together at that, and then they hugged and cried as they said their farewells. Afterward, he had called his mother and Spencer to let them know that he was coming home to Seattle.

He shakes himself from his reverie and glances over at his computer. The movies had finally downloaded, so he settles himself on the couch and begins to watch the first one. About halfway through the dreadfully predictable romantic comedy, he falls asleep on the couch, dreaming of brunettes, blondes, and choices that he doesn't want to make.

Sam

It's three in the morning when the bar is finally closed for night. She stands in the cool night breeze, long blonde strands of her hair wafting in the wind. Shaking her head, she makes a quick decision and hops into her Mustang, driving towards Bushwell's. Opting to take the elevator up, she quickly arrives onto the eighth floor. She slips off boots and quietly pads over to the door leading into 8D. Listening at the door, all she hears is the quiet murmur of the TV. She pulls out her trusty bobby pin, and in less than 15 seconds, she has the door unlock. She knows she shouldn't be doing this, but she really wants to talk to the nub. Quietly opening the door enough to let her slip inside, she shuts it back just as quietly and looks towards the living room where the TV is on. Oh so quietly she makes her way stealthily into the living room, and finds the nub passed out on the couch. She stares down at Freddie's prone form for a good while, her eyes lingering over the spots where she knew Jake had landed punches and kicks. The TV finally intrudes into her consciousness, so she looks up and sees Carly's face staring right back at her out of the TV screen. Sighing resignedly, she makes her way out of the apartment. Locking and closing the door behind her, she slumps against it. She slowly lets out a breath and softly exclaims, "Dammit Freddie, why'd you have to come back?"