A.N.- I am dedicating this chapter to DawsonGurl who has to be the fastest reviewer ever!!!!! you deserve another chapter!

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"No!" The strong-willed voice seemed to echo through the room that was structured in a way that the sound intensified even without her temper. "You still just are not understanding! Helena would never do something like that! In either any form of the original plotline, or this menagerie of comedy!"

Rose stood on the small stage, papers in one hand, feet firmly in a stance as her eyes bored angrily into the director's. Her focus turned to one of the young men observing the conflict with expectance. The man's smile faltered as he realized what was coming next.

"Mark, tell him!"

He cleared his throat, straightening the chair he had been leaning back. His own script held on his lap.

"She is right, Nate. Helen, Paris…it's a thing. You can't have her just leave him, she loved him." The lanky man stood, a hand moved through his hair absently. "Love…come on, man, we haven't had a good love story yet. Think about how absolutely fanatic it could be…but people will love it because…?"

He left he answer open, spinning dramatically to the chorus of waiting actors, some sitting, some standing, some half-awake as they leaned against railing or whatever else they could find.

"Come on, someone has to be awake still!" He pointed to a chubby boy in the front.

"Tommy! Why will people love it?"

"Because," his mind drew a blank that his face matched. "People love love?"

"I couldn't have said it more perfectly!" He turned back to the director and persistent actress. "Come on, Nate, suicide? After she falls in love? I don't care how funny the death is…it's been done before. Happy endings have been done before. It doesn't matter."

He moved closer to the grey-suited man. Mustache almost close enough to touch as he whispered, "Besides, we much prefer a happy Rose. Don't we, especially with Betty out sick?"

"I heard that! I'm standing right here!" The hands were on her hips now.

Nathaniel Baker sighed with tiredness. It had been a long day and they all were feeling it.

"Alright, turn the scripts back in, I'll go make some adjustments. Meanwhile, I want that set worked on!" There was a groan as people started getting up and making their way to various tasks. Rose herself started to head to the costumes, hoping to piece together ideas for her own. An arm halted her.

"Is everything alright? You seem a little less into this. Even just a couple days ago, you were so excited to have this part, then start nitpicking over the script? It's just a script, Rose."

"I know, Mark, it's just…" she moved away slightly, sighing. "I have a lot on my mind right now. And no, I'm not going to talk about it." She had caught that look, a look of wanting her to open up her heart. Something she knew more than well enough never to do with Mark Ackers. He wasn't even close to the sort of man…

"Oh no!" Her eyes widened as she realized she hadn't been paying attention to the time. Her own watch safely at home, forgotten by the bedside. "Mark! Do you have the time?!"

He pulled out a pocket watch with ease, flipping the case open. "Quarter past four…" He nearly dropped the device when he heard a hissed 'shit' come out of the normally proper woman.

"I have to go!" She began running to a chair, retrieving her coat from its clutches before making her way to the theater entrance, leaving a very bewildered man standing in her wake.