A/N: Hey, I know that a good amount of you have expressed your, shall we say, dislike towards Kelsi, Taylor, and Sharpay. I know that I've made them to be dislikeable characters, but remember - this is all told from Gabriella's point of view and if she's ticked with her best gal pals at the moment, she's definitely not gonna show 'em in the best light. Y'all cannot honestly tell me that you've always been super happy with your BFFLs - hell, even I've picked fights with my 'sisters'. So yeah, I kinda wanted to say that, but I doubt many people read these things, so maybe I should shut up now... Oh! yeah, I would've had this up sooner, but I've gotten sucked into the universe of all things Harry Potter on this site, so I've been sidetracked XD

BTW: If anyone is curious as to what all the characters actually look like go to: photobucket (dot) com/back_home0characters - obviously remove the (dot) and put a . Also, I would like to say that I have no idea what is needed for applying for an investigator post with the NYPD, most of my information is gathered from all 3 CSI: shows, which will probably give me somewhat sketchy details, considering no one's truly applied for the jobs on the shows.

Special Thanks To: Laugh-Dance-Love, zacefron321, unknownbyhim22, 12superstar, Kessy0105, TohruSeraphina, luvesdolphins, and zanessa4evr12

Special Welcomes To: yams14, Kessy0105, and DaisyLab

FYI: All mistakes are mine, no beta, and my BFFs aren't the best proofreaders.

Disclaimer: All I own is the little bubble I live in, everything else is up for grabs.


Finding Your Way Back Home

Chapter 10

Courage is when you've lost your way, but you find your strength anyway. Courage is when you're afraid. Courage is when it all seems grey. Courage is when you make a change, and you keep on living anyway – The Strange Familiar

It's like jumping in an empty pool, going on thinking faith could be so cruel. And you never know what mess you're getting yourself into… Oh, when you thought you'd never turn it around it's in that moment that something gives – Sara Paxton

~*~*~

"Deep breaths," I mutter to myself as I enter the towering building that houses New York's crime lab and medical examiner's office, along with other departments. This was definitely not my first time walking into the lobby with its metal detectors, security guards, and glass walls it was not even my tenth time. At least twice a week I walk through the hallways of the thirty-fifth floor talking with the detective investigators. Today, though, was the first time I would be talking to the head of the crime lab as a possible employee and not as a friend.

Waving politely to the guard I sign in and accept the visitor's badge, clipping it to my belt while I make my way across the tiled floor to the elevators. Pressing the button with the number thirty-five on it I take another deep breath as the little metal box begins its ascent. For a few seconds it is silent, but then my phone decides to sing to the praises of Taylor Swift and I jump a few inches in the air.

"Oh yeah, I'm nervous," I mumble quietly as I check my phone surprised to see three new messages.

The first is from Lindsay: Fingers crossed, don't worry – Mac's in a good mood. ;) Ur guaranteed a spot.

I smile at her words, she truly is my best girl friend, but even that cannot help pat down all the nervous butterflies. Instead of replying, I move on to the next message as the elevator comes to a halt at the twelfth floor and a few tired looking officers tumble in. I give a small smile, moving into a corner as the overworked men complain about autopsies.

The second is – gratefully – from Don: On the way Brie, don't think I'm gonna make u face Mac on ur own. Everything'll b fine tho, trust me.

The third, though, is surprising: Don't hate me 4 skimming ur planner yesterday Ella. Seems u didn't need 2 vent 2 me 2 kno exactly what 2 do in life. Good luck, I'm sure u'll b fine.

My heart melts as I realize that Troy truly is there for me every step of the way, going out of his way to text me reassurance and invading my privacy to make sure that I am alright. The only other guy who does that is Don, but I sure as hell do not want to date him. By now, the elevator has come to another halt and with both a sinking and uplifting feeling; I realize that my stop has arrived. One more deep breath and I walk out of the metal box and into the hustle and bustle that makes up the New York Police Department's infamous Crime Lab. With its glass walls, cutting edge technology, spotless white lab coats, and buzzing atmosphere this is definitely a far cry from the norm, but it gives a slightly calming effect as I make my nervous way from the elevators to Mac Taylor's office. My heels click on the tiled floor and I take another steady breath as my suddenly sweaty hand touches the cool metal handle of the office door and I push it open, my heart beating quickly in my chest. Taking a few more tentative steps, put on a small smile and stand in front of Mac's desk, where piles of case folders sit, but unfortunately not the head boss of the Crime Lab. I let out an audible sigh as the calm exterior I have been projecting crumbles somewhat as I sit in on the couch perfectly positioned on the side wall – the only one not made of glass.

Waiting has never been my forte. When I was younger, I will be the first to admit that I would be running around instead of sitting primly on a chair, bouncing on the balls of my feet in excitement before claiming my graded assignments, and I would always – and still do – shake the presents under the tree before opening them. Waiting around makes me reflect and question and wonder and worry, and I hate doing all those things. I like to know not question.

I glance around the impressive office once again as my eyes fall on a clock and I realize that I am a good five minutes early. Great, just what I need more waiting, I think as my eyes slide to the shiny gold nameplate on the desktop. The words: Detective Mac Taylor, make my stomach do a little flip. Here I am actually doing what I want to do for the first time in years. It is quite a riveting feeling, if I do say so myself. There is not a crime lab in the world I would rather be in. Not in Las Vegas or Miami or D.C. or Chicago. Not one of them would give me the same kind of feeling that working under Mac Taylor, hopefully, will.

Mac is one of the best NYPD officers I know - coming in only after Don, Flack Sr., and Daddy. He takes each case to heart – even if it is with an air of detachment – believing in both old-fashioned police work and the evidence to get the job done. Danny and Stella have told me that there are three things that Mac will protect at any cost: the honor of his country, the safety of his city, and the integrity of his lab. But regardless of the slightly hard and calculating feeling he can give you at times, he has been known to 'be human' as Don likes to put it. I know that Mac worked with Dad a few times, before the incident, and that Don has nothing but respect for the boss of the crime lab, but I cannot help but feel a bit intimidated as the chatter outside dies down slightly and Mac and Don walk out of the elevators, plainly discussing what looks to be evidence in a case as they are looking down at a few sheets of paper, and head towards the very office that I have situated myself in. While Mac is not physically frightening – he is at least four or five inches shorter than Don and lacks the obvious chiseled muscle that Danny has – his tired face, cool grey eyes, and knowing smirk tell of a man who has seen the worst and can dish out the same and then some.

I quickly stand up as the two walk in, mentally berating myself for being so jumpy. Don, of course, notices me first. He always says that I have a distinct scent, and I always tell him that flattery does not work with me. After Don's obvious look, Mac notices me as well and in replace of the cool, indifferent face he wears normally it is replaced by a warm smile; albeit with a tab bit of surprise in his eyes that seem to have lost their steely look.

"Well, well," greets Mac as he turns to face me. Unconsciously I tuck a stray curl behind my ear with my right hand while my left goes to smooth out my pants leg. I can see Don roll his eyes and mouth 'You look fine' before smiling widely, his ice blue eyes shining excitedly.

"Hey Brie," says Don as he walks over to give me a hug. "How'd you ditch your little posse? Tell 'em a story 'bout some crazy Barnes and Noble shit you had to do?"

I laugh as I return to the hug. "Nah, haven't talked to 'em since I ditched 'em Saturday to head to Middle Village."

"Oh really," says Don with a wink before he stops suddenly and fixes me with a stare. "What, if I may ask, were you doin' in Queens?"

"Ugh," I groan. "Can't a girl visit her own mother?"

Don rolls those beautiful baby blues of his before we turn to Mac who has obviously been watching us with amusement.

"May I have my investigator back, Flack?" Mac asks seriously, while I stifle a giggle. Mac… Flack… oh there had better not be any more rhyming games here; otherwise I will probably die from laughter.

"Nah," says Don, playfully draping an arm around my shoulders. "I'm sittin' in on this interview." Mac grins slightly. "Gotta make sure you're treatin' my girl right."

I scoff and mock-glare at Don, "Your girl?"

"Exactly that Brie," teases Don.

I shake my head and break free from Don's embrace. Flashing a quick grin his way to assure him of no-harm-no-foul, I take my last deep breath and then walk over to Mac, extending my arm as I do so. "Detective Taylor," I greet him. "Thanks for agreeing to see me."

Mac laughs silently as he takes my proffered hand, "Not at all Miss Montez, I've been looking for another investigator." He gestures to one of the two seats in front of his desk and I sit down in one while Mac walks around the desk to his own seat and Don takes the other empty one.

Leaning down, I quickly go through my purse and emerge with a small manila file that holds my so-called transcripts. "Here Detective," I say with a wink. Mac and I had agreed earlier that we were going to do the interview and the subsequent tests and lessons as by-the-book as possible – but Don, is slightly out of the loop.

Mac nods as he glances over them, "Everything seems in order. Bachelor of Science in Chemistry from Stanford University, summer internship at the San Francisco crime lab, recommendations from the San Francisco head and," – here Mac's voice rose in surprise – "Stella Bonasera."

I cough quietly. "I took a quick class in forensics at Chelsea University Detective. Stella was nice enough to write me a recommendation."

Mac smiles as he flips to the page regarding that forensics course I took a few years back. I grin smugly knowing that my marks were high, probably the highest in the class. "Impressive," he tells me, before looking up to meet my eyes. "I'd like to impress something of importance though Gabriella. You, unlike the rest of the team, – excluding Hawkes – have not gone through the police academy so you are just an investigator, not a detective."

"I understand Mac," I say. In fact, I have been waiting for that warning since the meeting has begun, Don and Danny having told me about it years ago.

"However," interrupts Don, grinning mischievously. "I have arranged for Brie to carry a weapon. She's gone to the range enough times… and really, Mac, the Doc has a shield and everythin' – he's practically a detective."

"There are proper channels Don, you very well know that," Mac sighs. "Gabriella still has to take the exam, the two-week trainee program, and pass her three proficiency tests before she can even be considered as part of the team."

"Mac," I say hesitantly. "When I was an intern in San Francisco, my boss at the time – Coolidge – told me that the time I spent there was like my probationary time."

"Yes," agrees Mac. "But more likely if you stayed with Coolidge instead of hope to come here. New York takes its recruits very seriously; normally budget cuts keep me from hiring some of the best. It was hard to have Sinclair agree to hire Sheldon, especially since he is such an asset in the ME's office, while Lindsay was needed to replace Aiden after I fired her. I just have to go through the right channels Gabriella, I know that it's a pain in the ass, and if I could, I would put you to work right now, but I can't."

"I understand Mac," I say sadly. "Never expected to really be taken up on the –"

Mac silences me with a wave of his hand. "You misunderstood me Gabriella. I only meant to say that while you are a competent investigator, you still have to take the classes required of a new employee. I was not inferring that you were being turned down."

My mouth formed a perfect 'o' shape before it transformed to a sheepish grin. "So I'm on the grid?"

Mac nods in acknowledgement. "In crude terms, yes, you are on the grid."

"Good," interjects Don. "Now that that's settled, what else is needed of Brie before she can be gettin' 3 am calls just like the rest of us?"

Here Mac rolls his eyes. Picking up a few books and packets he throws a warning glace to Don before he hands me the pile of information. "Look over those Gabriella, you can let me know whenever you want to take the test, but I would suggest that you wait a week before you have the sit down. In the meantime though, you can start your training program. You'll be put with either myself or Stella," Mac pauses to give me a small smile. "I am hiring you because I'm gonna put you on my team, not the second response one. Otherwise you would be going to Macy Jackson, she's the head of that one."

"Be glad Mac wants you," warns Don. "Mace is good and all, but Mac and Stell and everyone else work with the big cases, the second response gets B&Es and accidents, nothin' fun."

"Good to know," I say. "So, can I start tomorrow?"

Mac nods, "I've already cleared you with Sinclair. He's impressed, of course, I think Don, Stella, and Danny have something to do with that."

Don chuckles at that, "We were just wanted to have a chat with him."

"Yeah, I bet," Mac says dryly. "Well, on the bright side, everything seems in order." He hands me an ID, not unlike the visitor badges I usually sport. "Now, you're one of us. I'll see you tomorrow at nine."

"I'll take my test Friday Mac," I say as we all rise, realizing that the 'interview' has concluded.

"Are you sure?" he asks surprised.

"I've wanted this job for almost a decade," I tell him. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"It'll be arranged," agrees Mac. He nods to Don and me before, he sits back down and we walk out the door and into the break room where – surprise, surprise – Stella, Lindsay, Danny, and a man about the same height as Danny with skin the color of milk chocolate and a warm smile, Dr. Sheldon Hawkes, are waiting for us.

"So?" Stella asks first, while the rest wait with 'bated' breath.

"I'm in," I announce happily, while Lindsay and Stella squeal excitedly.

"Excellent," grins Sheldon.

Danny, meanwhile, draws me into a hug. "Knew you could do it Montez."

Mac, of course, chooses this moment to walk in. "Yeah, we'll welcome her later, right now there's a killer that needs to be caught." Everyone nods, understanding the pressing importance of the situation, and the team disperses with a few goodbyes and congrats thrown at me, while I try to hide my grin at the fact that soon, I will be a part of all this...

~*~*~

The nice thing about the Crime Lab is that it is located right in the middle of midtown Manhattan on Broadway, just blocks away from the famed theatre district – which is where I found myself walking towards after my meeting. Snow is falling all around me, lightly not the slush that occurred earlier. It is giving the city a fairytale atmosphere again, reminding me why men and woman flock to the Big Apple each year. Dreams, hopes, aspirations all live in this big city and but, not all of them are fulfilled. Friendships and relationships are formed and then shattered and I, unlike the ones who have come to escape, find myself calling this jungle 'home'. Here is where my family, my friends, my ex-boyfriends, my soul mate, my jobs, my first apartment, my childhood home, my teenage haunts, and my local knowledge all reside. Here I have risen to the top and made enemies. Here is where I have lied through my teeth, partied 'til the crack of dawn, had my heart broken too many times to count, forgiven countless friends, grieved for the loss of my father, and wished upon a falling star. While my 'home' is New York City, I know that I have lost my footing on my path back home. Fresh air always seems to make me think and discover and delve deeper, which is why it is no surprise that I find myself walking towards the impressive theatre of Kelsi and Ryan's Twinkle Towne production with a need to right what is wrong in my world.

~*~*~

Humming quietly under my breath I head into a theatre and nod to the janitor cleaning the tiles in the entrance hallway before making my way to the house – or auditorium – and stop just outside the door.

Someone is singing, singing a really old tune. I smile sadly as I catch the tune, one of Kelsi's earlier compositions, a song she had written during our high school years for Ryan and Sharpay's Julliard audition. I hear Ryan's crooning voice belt out the chords with Kelsi no doubt playing the piano. Not wanting to interrupt, I find myself opening the door a crack to slip in and listen to the two of them rehearse.

"Come on Kels," begs Ryan from center stage as the music stops abruptly while I watch the composer fidget in her spot by the piano. "You know I love that song, but surprise me here, this isn't rehearsal. Strike up a tune, any tune."

I giggle from my seat in the back as Kelsi complies – albeit grudgingly – and immediately the cavernous room is filled with the simple and beautiful notes of another old song, one that I remember watching Kelsi pen eagerly at our lunch table during our last months at East Side Academy and suddenly I feel a longing to go back in time, to high school, where everything seemed so much easier. But before my mind can delve further into my memories, Kelsi starts singing quietly.

"It's our last chance, to share the stage, before we go our separate ways," she sings, before Ryan joins in on the next verse.

"High school wasn't meant to last forever," they harmonize here, and then Kelsi drops out so that Ryan has a solo.

"It's our last chance, for us to shine to bring you music one more time," he sings with an air of nostalgia.

"So come on, come on, come on," sings Kelsi, a smile evident in her voice.

"Come on, come on, come on," interjects Ryan.

"Come on, come on, come on…" they sing before fading out and Kelsi plays the last note.

I grin before putting my hands together and clapping loudly, obviously forgoing the air of secrecy. I watch as my friends blush and grin bashfully at the same time. "I've forgotten that song," I say honestly as I hop up on the stage and join their little group. "Forgotten how beautiful it was."

Kelsi nods her head in pride. "I've forgotten too," she says. "Not that Twinkle Towne isn't what I thought it should be it's just that…"

"It isn't what you thought it would be," I say finishing Kelsi's line of thought.

She nods sadly. "The producers of the show want something flashy, not heartwarming."

I roll my eyes, "Oh come on Kels, this is your show, not theirs. It should be what you want it to be. They should listen to you otherwise, they really have no show."

I sigh, it does not matter whether we are grown adults or teenagers, the old put downs still seem to seep through at the worst of times. I remember Kelsi's old personality, always quiet and obeying. It took Sharpay, Taylor, and myself years to crack through Kelsi's shy shell and for a good amount of time she became the confident, funny, and talented woman that she is, but sometimes – just like with everyone else – there are repercussions.

"I don't know, Gabi," Kelsi says hesitantly. Ryan is hanging off to the side; obviously he does not want to mix with this encouragement battle.

"Hey, I know the feeling of people pressuring you to change what your creativity has created, but you can't expect to always follow their rules," I say knowingly.

Kelsi nods but does not broach the subject further. "So what've you been doing?" she asks me.

I shrug noncommittally, "Just y'know the normal things. Tryin' to finish my book, nothing special." I have decided to keep my new job a secret for as long as possible.

"You make headway with your latest boy toy yet?" questions Kelsi slyly. Behind us, Ryan gives a hacking cough. We both – in true girl fashion – choose to ignore him.

"He is not a boy toy Kels," I scoff at her. "I actually think I gonna try for him."

"Meaning…"

"Meaning that those fairytales we dream about may be coming true for me."

"Really," says Kelsi shocked.

"Really," I repeat smugly. Kelsi's face softens to a shy grin, and I am suddenly reminded why Kelsi and I are friends. The pressure and acceptance was one thing, but her personality and Taylor's and Sharpay's were the reason why I have hung around as long as I have. The young naïveté is still there in all of us, the fact that our personalities and aspirations are so different are the reason why we are such great friends and yet – after years of swearing that it was our strongest bond and not our weakest link – my mind has suddenly betrayed all these years of friendship because of a few twinges of annoyance, okay, maybe not a few, but there is not enough to really destroy these sandcastles… are there?


And so the plot thickens... ;) Review Please!