**Trigger Warning**: Alcohol abuse.

The Sacred Rays
Circling The Drain: Part One
1 year ago.

Floor to ceiling lava lamps and jellyfish aquariums covered up the otherwise dark bar with a florescent blue tint. Metallic stainless steal pillars and glass tables were counterbalanced with the soft, velvety fabrics from the curtains and long sofas. As the hard metal surfaces pierced into the realm of the characteristically sharp modern design, gentle velvet and silk fabrics edged the room back into a bohemian style. As wonderful as the interior design was, it commonly went unappreciated. The mass of intoxicated patrons was far more concerned with the newest alcohol concoctions than something like a bar's color scheme.

"Just one more!" The man pleaded with the bartender over the loud music. He ran a frustrated hand through his greasy hair. Maybe just ten hours ago he was a notable business man, but now, he was just another disheveled drunk.

"No!" The bartender said decisively, his tone strict. "I'm cutting you off!"

"Boo!" The intoxicated man shouted.

"Blake, let's just go!" His friend said from beside him, dressed in a similar, messy ensemble that once may have been a prestigious business suit.

"Why do I have to go?" Blake's droopy eyes met his friend's similarly dazed expression.

A tall, burly man, dressed in all black, yelled at the two threateningly, "Because I'll make you!"

"I'd like to see you try, bitc-" but before he could slur the final, insulting word, Blake's jaw was violently hit shut by a massive, clenched fist. Stumbling around and visibly shaken by the blow, Blake grabbed onto his friend for support before the muscular bouncer pushed the duo out of the bar and onto the dirty Los Angeles street.

After shakily raising up to their feet, the two leaned against the brick building for stability as Black offered, "I'll call us a cab."

"You go ahead," the accompanying businessman slurred.

"What?" Even with the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream and messing with his mental processing abilities, Blake knew that they both had reached their limit. "We have work in literally six hours!"

"I just need a few more and then I'm done, okay? You can go home."

"Right..." Blake hocked a slimy loogie onto the concrete sidewalk beside him before declaring, "I just hope you know when to stop, Troy."

...

The girly, pink kitten heel softly tapped onto the tile floor in rhythm with the quiet elevator music. Her long blue and white striped slacks flared out and hovered just above the brand new Jimmy Choo's. Wrapped around her small hips lied a thin, grey tinted belt with a little purple butterfly on the buckle. Flowing locks of blonde hair cascaded on top of the white button down shirt and ended just below her tiny waist.

Shifting her weight to the side and sighing impatiently, she waited as the doors parted for a newcomer to enter the elevator. The soft music was drowned out by a loud bing as the elevator reached the fourteenth floor.

The Jimmy Choos clicked and clacked confidently against the hard wood floor up to the receptionist's desk. From behind a thin, proud smirk, the woman introduced herself, "Tiara Gold."

After a quick glance through some lists and files on the desk, the receptionist nodded and ordered, "Go in."

"Thank you." Tiara passed through the large glass doors into the firm, receiving a few curious glances from the employees as she passed through the floor. Finally, she found her assigned, currently abandoned cubicle and gently placed a large, bedazzled brief case on the desk.

"Oh my God. Those shoes!" She heard an admiring voice say from behind her.

"What was that?" She asked while turning to face a fabulous woman with long, loosely curled blonde hair framing her envious expression.

"Those are in the latest season of Jimmy Choo!" The woman exclaimed in awe.

To this, Tiara kicked out a foot in front of her to show off the adorable heel. "I'm glad there's someone who can appreciate designer when they see it."

"I know," The other woman nodded her head in agreement. "It's so frustrating to not have anyone at work to talk to about the stuff you like."

"Well," Tiara slowly walked towards the woman, stopping in the middle of the gap between their two cubicles, "If you're as knowledgeable about designer as you seem to be, I think that might be changing soon." She suggested hopefully as her lips curled up into a gloss-covered smirk.

"Oh, I am." The woman stood and quickly crossed over to meet Tiara. Offering out a hand, she introduced herself, "Sharpay Evans."

"Tiara Gold. Enchantée." Tiara gently shook Sharpay's extended hand before crossing her arms and quietly asking, "I'm terribly sorry if this comes off as intrusive, but I'm a very curious person by nature. What can you tell me about the others here?"

"Tons. More than you'd even want to know."

"Good."

With that, Sharpay regurgitated everything she had to offer into Tiara's perked ears. The couples, the break ups, the engagements, the rivals, the scandals...all of her knowledge on the office personnel. But whether it was accurate information or not, was another matter entirely.

...

"Why the hell would we want to place an oval shaped window in a predominately hexagonal room?" Blake asked in disgust about the projected blueprint at the front of the sleek conference room.

"It's something called contrast, Blake." Chad condescendingly argued from his place at the other side of the thin, metal table, "Which you'd know about if you had paid any attention in grad school."

"You don't need to fall back on a fancy, overrated, leather framed piece of paper when you naturally have aesthetics like me." Blake retorted in an obnoxiously sassy tone.

Jason begged the two, "Will you guys stop? You both argue like two teenage girls."

"Not until he stops changing everything about the design!" Blake said, "Just because Troy isn't here doesn't mean you can just take over."

"Actually, that's exactly what lead team assistant means, Blake!"

"Assistant being the keyword." Blake mumbled bitterly from underneath his thin, barely parted lips.

"Do you have something to say, Blake?" Chad aggressively spat the name in anger.

"Not anything any of us aren't already thinking, Assistant."

Jason, Ryan, and Zeke's eyes were wide in surprise with a subtle hint of entertainment as they watched the dramatic exchange. Chad and Blake glared resentfully at each other, until a loud bang made the men jump in shock. Attempting to use the door as a crutch as he leaned into the room, the door swung open and left Troy Bolton's sore body to fall into the room and onto the hard stone floor.

"Dude!" Chad exclaimed at the sight, his eyes widening in fear and concern.

"Are you okay, man?" Jason asked gently, kneeling down next to Troy.

"Yeah," Troy moaned in pain while forcing his arms underneath his body to lift himself up.

"Let me help you," Zeke offered while grabbing onto Troy's upper arm to stabilize him.

"I'm fine!" Troy angrily slurred as he flailed his arm out of Zeke's grasp.

"Are you...?" Drunk right now? Chad thought, but couldn't audibly accuse. Because Troy was stronger than that. Troy wouldn't be so dumb, so self-destructive, so selfish. He wouldn't. Would he? Staring down at the inebriated man on the floor and breathing in a gross, bitter alcohol scent, he wasn't so sure anymore.

Blake began sharply, "Troy, what is wrong with you?" as if he didn't already know from their antics the night before.

"Nothing!" Troy responded defensively.

They watched as Troy's legs and arms shook while attempting to raise himself up. Jason asks the other four in a panicked tone, "What do we do?".

Blake suggested, "I think we should tell Mr. Danforth."

Zeke asked in disbelief at his colleague's betrayal, "And get him fired?"

"What else, Zeke? Hide him from them forever?" Blake raised his voice until another bang caused them all to jump again. Troy had gotten onto his feet with his body hunched over as his hands pressed against his knees. He then slowly titled forward until he crashed into the back of a chair.

"Oh my God!" Chad ran around the table to Troy's aid.

"I'm fine!" Troy slurred again.

"You can't even walk!" Chad yelled in anger, disappointed at his best friend's workplace intoxication.

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

...

"Zeke is such a good cook, it's unbelievable." Sharpay practically started salivating at the thought of Zeke's culinary talent. "Anyways," she batted away the thought with her hand and grew more serious when saying, "I guess the last person to discuss is Troy."

"What about him?" Tiara stared attentively at Sharpay, sensing some serious information coming her way by the way Sharpay saved him for last.

"He's the team lead for the younger architects at the firm. When I first met him, he was the nicest, most popular guy in high school. A complete heartthrob, but wasn't aware of that so he was still such a sweetheart. Not arrogant like most basketball stars. Today? He's such an ass."

"What happened?"

"Well, it probably all started like a year ago. It was quite the tragedy. You may have even seen in on the news," The way Sharpay took her time leading up to the juicy details made Tiara's skin itch with anticipation. "It was so horrific." The memory made Sharpay shutter and her face scrunch up in disgust as she continued, "The poor guy changed so much after the violent death of his -"

Jason loudly warned the office as Troy stumbled out of the hallway and into the cubicle area, "Look out!" Tiara and Sharpay were positioned right in Troy's line of fire as he approached the duo, his mouth overfilling with throw up. Before the two could think to move out of the way, warm, chunky vomit was sloshing all over Tiara's Jimmy Choo's and drenching her exposed toes.

"Ew!" Tiara threw her hands up by her shoulders in repulsion. The stench of the fresh vomit wafted up into Tiara's nostrils. She closed her watering eyes and brought a hand up to cover her mouth, then started to gag from the disgusting smell. She attempted to sprint towards the restroom, but her feet slipped and slid across the vomit-covered floor until she fell backwards into the puddle of vomit with a splash.

...

"I think Brown and Associates might have a serious suit coming their way if they keep implementing designs so similar to ours." Charlie spoke threateningly, his voice the only sound echoing off stonewalls in the massive, high-rise office. "I mean, really? A three story, raindrop shaped front desk for Ramada two months after we did one for Hilton? A judge would find it all highly suspicious."

Jack argued, "Right, we go into it thinking it's an obvious case, and then Brown buys them over again like they did two years ago with our first plagiarism suit."

"It's such bullsh-"

The secretary entered the office unannounced with a look of horror painted across her face as she quickly spat out, "Mr. Bolton? There's an issue on the floor."

"What is it?"

"It's...inexplicable. Please, just come."

Charlie and Jack exchanged a curious look between them before trailing closely behind the secretary onto the floor of cubicles. Passing by them, scurrying out of the office, were countless gagging and disgruntled employees. Finally, the three reached the epicenter of the disaster - Troy on his hands and knees with his five teammates squatting down around him, and a very embarrassed, vomit-covered new employee laying on her back across from Troy.

"Are you okay, Miss?" Charlie asked in awe as he bent over to help Tiara to her feet, willing himself not to throw up at the sight and smell as well.

Meanwhile, Jack carefully stepped around the land mine of vomit puddles until he reached the young team. "Get him up!" Jack ordered them as only Jason, Zeke, Ryan, and Chad pulled Troy's tense body up by his arms. "What is going on?" Jack asked them, but Blake grabbed Jack's attention before the other four could mutter a lying word.

"Mr. Bolton," Blake leaned into Mr. Bolton's ear and murmured quietly as he snitched, "I have reason to believe that Troy is, in fact, intoxicated." The words proudly slipped off his lips from between a thin, arrogant smirk.

"Jack," Charlie placed a hand on his partner's shoulder from his other side and urgently spoke, "We should talk in your office."

"You all clean him up and get him to us when you're done." Jack impatiently ordered as he and Charlie turned back for his office.

Passing by the secretary, Jack barked, "I'm not taking any calls." while he and Charlie firmly shut the door behind them and sat together at the meeting area.

"Let me start off by apologizing sincerely for my son's actions. Life has just been hard on him lately. Not that I'm making excuses for his behavior-"

"Jack," Charlie stopped him, "No apology necessary." The two sat in silence for a moment as Charlie carefully thought of how to word his oncoming suggestion. He leaned forward in his chair towards Jack, and slowly began, "I think we need to give him a leave of absence to stay in a rehab facility."

To this, Jack's blue eyes looked at Charlie with uncertainty for the implications of the idea. "How is that going to help anyone? Troy can't just leave the firm with all the work we have yet to do! Business is booming this time of year. We can't afford to lose a team lead right now!"

"Jack," Charlie began to speak reasonably, "He needs this time to recover from an obvious addiction. I understand young adults. We were their ages before. Don't you remember? We'd get blitzed all weekend long, but we never showed up to work hung over...especially on a Wednesday. Troy has been calling in sick due to 'migraines' about twice a week for the past month! That's not being a young adult anymore, that's a problem. Troy has an alcohol problem and it needs professional help. "

"He'll lose respect in the office once they discover where he is." Jack struggled to think of the most menial excuses to not send Troy away, "Don't even get me started on the press once they find out. That's marketing damage we can't undo."

"We won't tell the office, then." Charlie problem-solved, "Today we'll blame it on food poisoning. They know better than to start asking questions about his absence. It's none of their business, after all. Only people on a need to know basis will have any clue. That'll be you, Ms. Falstaff, his team, and me. That's it."

Jack's eyes glanced up at the high ceilings above as he considered the thought. His lips curled inward onto each other as his eyes closed shut for a moment. Completely still, he breathed in a shaky breath before admitting, "I never thought my son would have an alcohol problem."

"I'm sorry," Charlie said, unsure if there was anything better to say. Knowing he needed to really persuade Jack, Charlie continued to reason, "It'll be a short stint, Jack. He'll be back before we know it."

"I'll have to call her about it."

"I'll leave you alone to it," Charlie stood and buttoned his business jacket before leaving through the tall office doors.

Jack let out an exhausted sigh before crossing the large office to his desk and dialing the memorized number.

Three rings, then, "Jack?" Her voice asked with a distasteful shock, like it was an unappreciated surprise. However, there was a slight hint of concern imbedded in her unpleasant tone. There's no reason for her ex-husband to call her unless it were for something serious.

"Hi, Lucile." Jack stated almost regrettably.

The anxious thoughts were bombarding her faster than her mouth could keep up as she rapidly spoke, "What- Why are you- Is there something wrong?"

"Troy..." He uncomfortably rubbed the back of his neck in stress - a habit both him and his son exhibit. "Troy needs an intervention."

"What happened?"

"He showed up to work drunk. It hasn't just been today, either. We think he's been sick with this for awhile now. Charlie and I want to put him on a two month leave for rehabilitation. I thought you should know."

Her voice was cracking and shook in pain from the devastating news she was receiving, "Thank you for keeping me in the loop."

"Of course, Lucile."

...

By noon, the janitors and maintenance staff had scrubbed and bleached the cubicle area and everything was back to normal. Well, as normal as normal now meant without Troy.

While the firm employees traded stories of their views of the terrific vomit show (all from "food poisoning"), those closest to the incident were less thrilled by the excitement. Instead, they attempted to push the memory into the furthest, darkest corner of their minds and continue with their usual business as best as they could. Currently gathered in the conference room sat Mr. Danforth, his son Chad, and Mr. Bolton.

Jack started the conversation professionally, "Just glancing through your team files, I see that you guys have some important and expensive accounts. Are you sure you'd be comfortable dealing with leading the team on your own, Chad?"

"Absolutely, Sir." Chad's heart rate increased excitedly faster and faster with every passing moment and syllable progressing to those final two words - team leader. Chad, the assistant, was to become temporary team leader. Of course the circumstances under which Chad would become lead were less than ideal. However, this may just be the silver lining to Troy's rehabilitation. Chad could finally secure his spot at the firm as a crucial player in the team's leadership.

"Are you sure?" Jack asked Chad, wanting his complete certainty.

"Jack," Charlie chimed in, "I have complete confidence in Chad to perform the tasks of a team leader. After all, he has been assistant for as long as Troy has been leading."

"Of course, Charlie. I'm not trying to insinuate that Chad hasn't been a part of the leadership or has too little experience. It's not that at all. Troy and Chad make an excellent pair, that's undeniable. However...I need to be frank in saying that I don't have nearly the confidence in just one of them handling the team with these accounts. Between the both of them, I trust them with almost any account. Just one of the two handling all these accounts makes me weary. And Chad, believe me, I'd be saying the same exact thing if you were on leave and it was just Troy. Trust me in that."

"I understand, sir." Chad attempted to speak as though he weren't disappointed, but the saddened look in his eyes and dissipating pep from his posture spoke differently.

"Charlie, if you agree, I'd like to implement a new leadership format where I will be leading the younger team and you'll take the lead in our group in my absence."

"That sounds plenty reasonable." Charlie agreed as the group stood to depart.