Standard disclaimer applies.

I realize that it has been ages and beyond since my last update; in defence against the HSM fandom, I have't updated ANY of my stories or written any new ones in ages. I just don't have the drive to write anything for any fandom. This chapter had actually already been written out sometime ago, and I decided to post this for the sake of all my loyal reviewers and hopefully this move with the be factor that returns my drive to write. Cross your fingers.

Heart of the Game
Part X

Day crossed over into night unnoticed. The bustling in the halls of the hospital was ignored. The weak thumps of footsteps walked the floors without direction, only following whatever path that was undisturbed. Jack Bolton was a man without a purpose. His hands hung limply inside the pocket of his pants, his hair unkempt and a five o'clock shadow left to prosper. His eyes, once shining with firey determination was dimmed, dead. He didn't know where he was going and what he would do once he reached this place he was not headed to; what he knew was he had to get out of this hospital immediately.

So he picked up his pace and ran. He ran, and he ran until his legs felt like lead and his lungs burned. He ignored the calls of the personel telling him to stop, he ignored the pleads of his body for him to stop, most of all, he ignored the little voice in his head telling him to stop. He found that he couldn't stop, if he stopped than it would mean that he'd reached the end of his journey. He was not done yet. He was still attainable at that moment. He was still prone to being dealt the crushing blow. He was still too close to the two people he could not face at the moment. He was still too close to his son.

Perhaps if he were further away, then he could pretend that this was not happening. Maybe the overwhelming amount of guilt would cease their ruthless attack on him. He could not deal with the situation. Having prided himself as being a firm man, the one in charge, he could not deal with the fact that this time, there was nothing he could do or say that would make him the person in charge. There was nothing he could do to change the game play, turn the tide or bring the team back from the brink of defeat. There was no strategy he could come up with that would ensure the survival of his team in the competition because there was no Troy; the play maker. Without the play maker, a team would be nothing. Without Troy, he was nothing.

Jack felt the churning of his stomach, the burning of acid inside of his throat as he stopped short beside the garbage can and half threw himself into the opening, expelling the contents of his stomach. He heaved and heaved until there was no longer anything that could be discarded.

Taking a deep breath, Jack allowed himself to slide over to the side, sitting in a crouched position with his back against the cold, cement wall; eyes watching but not seeing the people who passed by him. The creaks and screechings, the thumps and clangs. But among all the hustle and bustle, there was one sound that stood apart. He heard the call and found himself looking up to stare into magnified eyes.

"Darbus…" he muttered out, half in disbelief.

"Bolton," the elderly woman's eyes widened immensely beneath her think glasses. "What are you doing here? Should you not be with your son?"

Jack looked away, fixing his attention on the old man being wheeled past by a young nurse. "I don't deserve to be in his company."

"What nonsense are you saying," she huffed, taking a seat in the plastic chair that stood in a long queue stretching across the hall, eyes never leaving the top of the downtrodden man's head and he sat bowed on the floor. "I have been your colleague since the beginning, and I never would have expected you to sell yourself so short. Troy would want you there with him, especially in these harsh times."

"Troy hates me. Don't you know that, Darbus? Everyone knows, why haven't you figured it out?!" he yelled, glaring at the impassive woman.

Mrs. Darbus merely exhaled softly, adjusting the shawl over her shoulder and looked away. "A child can never truly hate their parent, as is the other way around."

The man scoffed. "I should know better than to talk about this with you. What would you know about parenting anyway, you don't even have children."

Her eyes physically widened, whether in shock, sadness or anger, Jack never did find out and he quickly looked away. After a moment, there was still no response and Jack dared himself to look at the eccentric drama teacher beside him.

She sat unmoving on the chair, shoulders hunched and hands clasped tightly together on her lap.

"I apologize," he muttered, looking away before she could look down to meet his gaze, but she didn't.

"I may not understand how it feels to be the biological parent to a child, Bolton, but I have had enough students under my wing over the years to know how it feels to love someone other than yourself so much that it becomes a goal in your life to mould them into the best person they can be. I've watched my students learn and grow, watch them go off to college and pursue a career in whatever it is that they chose. I revel in the fact that maybe somewhere in the past, there was something I'd said or done that had helped them become the person that they are today. They may have not listened to whatever advice I give them, heavens, they may not even have respected me all that much, but sometimes, Bolton, making a little effort in believing in others is what makes us the best person we can be. Think about it, Jack, and only then are you allowed to assume others' judgement on you."

Without a parting word, she got to her feet, threw the long end of her shawl over one shoulder and left in a clicking of heels.

Jack did nothing to prevent her departure nor did he show any signs that her words had reached him, but after a few silent moments he pushed himself up to his feet and walked off in the direction of the exit.

- - - - -

Gabriella took small, timid steps forward. Each one bringing her closer and closer to the room where Troy resided. Her mind was aflutter and she absentmindedly clenched her fists, fingernails digging into her clammy palm and leaving cresent moon imprints in her skin. She liked the stinging feeling that resulted from her doing that, it took her mind off off the thought of Troy and how he might be doing or imagining how he would look in her eyes when she took that dreaded step into the room. She wanted to bad to see him, especially while her mind was preoccupied with conguring up multiple scenarios that she would meet, but now, knowing that she could see him, was on the way to see him, she wished dearly that she was back in the waiting room with Sharpay.

It was only by the compassion of the doctor that she was allowed to venture into the terrifying realm of the Intensive Care Unit, knowing that she at least had a chance to look at Troy, maybe hold his hand in this trying time. That was what made her mind. The doctor was kind enough to give her this and she knew better than to waste it because of some fears she might be feeling. The words of her wise grandmother resounded in her ear.

'If you want something so bad, but cower in its face once given the chance; could it be that you never really wanted it in the first place?'

Gabriella allowed herself a small smile at the memory. She always loved her grandmother and was terribly upset when learning that she was moving so far away. She's more than on one occasion had imagined a scenario when she'd bring Troy to meet her. Gabriella just knew that they'd love each other.

The light clicking sound as her heels connected with the stone floor was her only source of comfort now that Troy wasn't there and her grandmother living so far away. But he reveled in the memory of the time she's spent with Troy; the musical, the many lunceons after, the feeling of his skin beneath hers that one time she'd dared enough to make the first move and casually slide her hand into Troy's grip.

She though the fond memories would comfort her, but instead, they doubled her anxiety; remembering a healthy and happy Troy then, and knowing that the Troy she'd find would be anything but…it was scary.

Gabriella was scared, but she didn't turn around. She swallowed her fear, took a deep breath and after a moments pause near the entrance of Troy's room, she venture forth.

"Troy…"

End Part X

To AgnesSophia: Thank you for inviting me to join the C2, I appreciate some good old Troy!angst anyday and perhaps it would even bring me back into the grove of writing. Also I apologize for not replying to your reviews (but don't think I don't cherish them because I do so very much. I always WELCOME constructive critism, the longer the better). Oh, and on the subject of the C2 --not to let myself get bigheaded over this or anything-- but seeing as my story is at number one, could it possibly mean that it was the first story added... :D

This chapter is dedicated to you and all the other readers and reviewers that have/will stay loyal to this story. Love you all lots!