In the height of another high-society event, the ballroom buzzed with excitement, as the wealthiest inhabitants of Dallas made their arrival to the Oil Baron's Ball. Dressed to impress, in the finest designer gowns, Texan ladies were escorted proudly, in a trophy-like manner, by their husband's. All, except J.R., of course. After much deliberation, and reluctance on Clayton's part, the family had made the mutual agreement that Sue Ellen check into the clinic Dr Danvers had recommended, to cure herself of her addiction. Ultimately, J.R. was forced to attend the ball alone. With his family in attendance, not to mention the media attention, J.R. was wise enough to know Mandy's attendance would cause unwanted attention. Naturally, it had caused another rift in their relationship; one J.R. had decided to repair and then some, once the awards had been presented.

Leaning against the bar, J.R. scanned the ballroom with mild amusement. How innocent and well-bred the 'patrons of Dallas society' appeared at such an event. He chuckled to himself, as he recalled the various scandals he held on retainer for almost everybody in attendance. Suddenly, a familiar form sauntered into his line of vision and J.R. stifled his innate instinct. She appeared, almost angelic. The dress, a bridal shade of white, attracted his eyes like a beacon in the distance, and he couldn't tear himself away.


For the better part of the evening, J.R. found himself involuntarily distracted by his former sister-in-law. Eventually, he relented and made his approach appear as reluctant as possible. "Pamela, well, I see you're not entirely attached to your brother's hip," he commented. "Or his latest distraction." The fact that his arch-nemesis had, somehow, been able to conquer the very women J.R. had – most notably, Afton and Sue Ellen – was of minor irritation. He sipped upon his drink, as Pamela neglected to rise to his antagonistic remark. "It also didn't escape my attention that you're here alone."

Pamela rolled her eyes, with a small smile, "Oh, I'm sure it didn't." Quite a few weeks had passed since Bobby's death and she had received considerable interest, in the romance department. Even her brother had, quite insensitively, made his best attempt to manoeuvre her into her next relationship. "I must say, what a surprise it is to see you here alone, J.R.. I would have expected you to take full advantage of Sue Ellen's absence." She inwardly kicked herself; sometimes, his mere presence rattled her core.

Somewhat amused by her fiery nature, J.R. finished his drink, in one swift mouthful, and outstretched his arm, in invitation to the dancefloor of the ballroom. "Well, perhaps I will." Curious, Pamela accepted his arm and allowed him to lead her between the various couples.

As the live band played, they swayed to the music and Pamela meticulously studied J.R.'s expression and became certain he possessed an ulterior motive. "You know, you're as transparent as always, J.R.." He made his best attempt to appear innocent. "Did you think you could charm me into a business discussion?" She scoffed, "I've told you before, when I'm ready to announce my decision, I will."

"Can you blame me?" J.R. muttered, certain to keep his voice soft, for fear his mother would accuse him of attacking Pamela, as she and Clayton danced beside them. "I've heard rumours that you have been in talks with that Westar snake, Wendell. That man has been on a campaign to run my company out of business for years. Now, need I remind you, it is not in your best interest to aid the man who's desperate to publicly smear my family, especially since your son bears the Ewing name."

Pamela stiffened her back, her arms loosened from his shoulders as she broke their embrace. "You don't need to remind me of anything, J.R.." Resentful, Pamela strutted from the dance floor and returned to her table, where Cliff convened with Jeremy Wendell, much to J.R.'s infuriation.


A few hours of mindless small-talk prevailed, until Jeremy Wendell strutted before the attendees and addressed the crowd with his annually prepared speech. Finally, presentation of the award J.R. cared most for was announced. "Without any further ado, why don't we find out who the Blue Ribbon panel has secretly voted as this year's honouree?" He swirled on his feet and stretched out one hand, to the pretty blonde behind him. "The envelope, please?" A hush fell over the ballroom, as everyone impatiently waited to discover who would be presented with the award. He scraped open the envelope, his eyes widened in surprise at the result, and J.R. studied him, in anticipation. A hint of respect, and even sorrow, in his expression, Jeremy finally made the announcement. "Ladies and gentlemen, the award for the oilman of the year is being given, posthumously, to Bobby James Ewing."

With the utmost pride, J.R. listened as the entire room erupted into applause. A momentary amazement struck him, as even Cliff Barnes showed a modicum of respect, until Jordan Lee hushed the crowd, once more. "The committee would like to ask Bobby's mother, Mrs Ellie Ewing Farlow, to come up and accept this award, on his behalf."

Applause broke the silence, as Clayton led Miss Ellie to the stage, where she stood, for a moment, in disbelief and immense pride, at the standing ovation her son had received. "Thank you, for your generosity. I," she willed the tears away, at least until she could secure herself a moment of privacy, safe from prying eyes. "I wish I were down there with you, applauding for Bobby too." The loss of a child was an indescribable pain, one Miss Ellie didn't know whether she had the strength to withstand. "This award means a lot to me, and a lot to my family." Her eyes connected with J.R., who briefly nodded his head, in reassurance. "And it would've meant a great deal to Bobby, as you know. He worked with a strong code of honour, his own, and he set standards for himself that others never dreamed of." Sorrow overwhelmed J.R., if only temporarily; it was Bobby's honour he had always admired, and desired. It was what separated the two brothers; Bobby's affinity for honesty and loyalty, was a moral J.R. had failed to grasp. "I'm very happy you remember him, but I'm very worried that someone, who he loved more than anyone, will not." With her words, Miss Ellie's eyes slowly diverted from J.R. to Pamela, seated just a few tables away. "That someone is his son, Christopher. It would be a shame, if all that Bobby lived for died with him. If he couldn't pass onto his son, as Jock did to him," Miss Ellie faintly smiled, in remembrance of her first husband, and father of her children. "Those things that were important to him. Honesty, hard work, a deep faith in other men and an uncompromising love for his family. To protect that legacy, I would like to ask your permission to pass this award onto his son. Perhaps, someday, it will encourage him to follow in his daddy's footsteps." Intently, Pamela let those words play repetitiously in her head. While her mother-in-law would never presume to dictate to her decision, perhaps, her words were some kind of hint. After all, Bobby had left those shares to Christopher from a father to a son. What right did she have to discard such a gift, to dismiss such an unbreakable bond? "I'd like to ask Pamela Barnes Ewing to come up here and accept this award, on behalf of her and Bobby's son, Christopher Ewing."

Tearfully, Pamela rose from her seat and joined her former mother-in-law on stage. In display of the grief, and pride, they shared, they joined hands and reflected one another's smile. Silence befell the ballroom, once more, as Miss Ellie returned to the Ewing table and Pamela stood before the audience. "There's a lot of wisdom in what Miss Ellie has had to say here tonight." Her voice delicately faint, Pamela clasped her hands, "I guess, that's where Bobby got his from." Acutely aware of the attention she received, Pamela subdued the threat of tears with the thought of her child. "It is only right that Bobby's son should keep this award. It will forever remind him of his father's achievements, his business expertise, his standing in the oil community, and that's good but, maybe, that's not enough." That specific phrase peaked J.R.'s interest and his head rose an inch. "Remembering his father's achievements is one thing but appreciating his heritage is quite another, and that is something that he must do." In mild agreement with his sister's statement, Cliff nodded his head. Appreciation of his heritage was what had driven him his entire life, J.R. too, he imagined. "As most of you know, I had intended to sell Christopher's share of Ewing Oil to Westar," she announced, in confirmation of the rumours J.R. had previously mentioned. "But I've suddenly come to realise that, if I did that, I might not be doing what Bobby would've wanted. Bobby always said that Ewing Oil and the Ewing family were inseparable," her eyes reached J.R., as the words left her lips and it occurred to her that, in J.R.'s case, truer words were probably never spoken. "Working with his family is my son's birth-right and I don't want to take away his chance to follow in his father's footsteps. To honour him, by emulating him, to carry the torch, so to speak, to work beside you, as Bobby had." The emotion threatened to overwhelm her every word and Pamela heavily exhaled, prepared to conclude her acceptance speech. "Therefore, with apologies to those who may not understand my change of heart," she individually addressed Jeremy Wendell, who wore the look of deflation well. "I cannot, I will not, sell Christopher's share of Ewing Oil to Westar."

As Cliff and Jeremy shared looks of defeat, the audience applauded and J.R. raced to reach Pamela's side the second she stepped from the spotlight. "Well, I've got to admit, in front of God and everybody else, that what you did tonight is going to be remembered as a wise and historic decision." It would be, J.R. predicted, one of the only times he would ever happily admit Pamela Barnes did not inherit her family's genetic stupidity.

Taken aback by his positive reaction, Pamela looked J.R. up and down, "Well, I'm surprised to hear you say that." In truth, her announcement had been an impulsive decision. "But I'm happy to hear you say it," she admitted, with a relieved half-laugh.

A champion chuckle escaped his throat and J.R. smiled, "Not as happy as I am, honey. Now, tell you what, I'll get our lawyers together and we'll just close this little deal." His plans for reconciliation with Mandy could be put on hold, certainly for such an achievement.

Oblivious, Pamela frowned, "What deal?"

"For Christopher's share," J.R. flashed his irrefutable grin.

"J.R., when I said that I wasn't selling to Wendell, I didn't mean I was selling to you." She corrected his assumption, in her most serious tone.

"What?" J.R. gawked.

"I'm not selling at all." Suddenly, his Mr-Nice-Guy act fell apart at the seams but Pamela remained the stature of reason. "From now on, it's going to be you and me." Snickers of amusement from the various oil barons that had surrounded them became apparent and Pamela stiffened, her tone as professional as possible, "I'll see you at the office, partner."