Stacy in Bloom Chapter 11: With or Without You, a kids incorporated fanfic

Author's Note: This chapter contains scenes from episode 5x8, "The Guitarist."

.11.

"With or Without You"

Sleight of hand and twist of fate

On a bed of nails she makes me wait

And I wait without you

Through the storm we reach the shore

You give it all, but I want more

And I'm waiting for you

And you give yourself away …

.xxxxx.

Stacy lingered behind at the counter the next afternoon, dawdling with her soda even after the others began wandering towards the Garage. Their first afternoon set without Ryan (or a lead guitarist, period) had gone fairly well, at least if the other kids' attitudes were anything to go by – they seemed as bubbly and energetic as ever. The audience reaction was encouraging as well, even if there was a large contingent of Ryan fangirls who moped through the entire performance. Stacy was fairly certain even they didn't miss her boyfriend as much as she did, though – for the first time in a long time, she actually felt weary after a performance – as if the worst was still yet to come.

She stirred her soda with her straw and sighed. Having a defeatist attitude will get me nowhere, she told herself. Besides, I'd better get used to this – Ryan isn't going to be around forever. Maybe that's what scared her the most: she never realized how much she'd leaned on him, and the other older kids in the band, to keep things running smoothly. She'd always been the youngest, and now suddenly she wasn't – it was a tough adjustment to make.

Only now was she beginning to feel the burden Ryan seemed to shoulder with little complaint.

"Come on, Stace," came a voice from behind her. She turned, seeing Kenny standing behind her, looking slightly concerned. "We should go – the others are waiting."

Stacy forced down the rush of insecurity and offered him a weak smile. "I'm right behind you," she promised.

Kenny nodded, turning to push through the front double doors of the P*lace. Stacy watched him leave. He'd always been fairly quiet and thoughtful, but it seemed he had a lot on his mind lately. He'd been short with the others, Devyn especially, and she wondered if he was having just as hard a time adjusting to this transition in their lineup as she was.

With another reluctant glance at her soda, Stacy pushed herself up, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. She had to face this with a positive attitude, and she had to put on a strong front for the others. Yesterday's rehearsal had been pretty good, even if they hadn't gotten much actual rehearsing done. Instead, they'd decided they would hold off on premiering Tommy until the weekend, giving him a chance to get comfortable playing with them, and on the stage, before presenting him to an audience. That meant more work for the veteran members of Kids Incorporated, as now their afternoon sets were heavily reliant on girl group numbers and other, simpler tracks – but everyone seemed to be taking it in stride.

She walked the short distance to the Garage, pulling the flower from her hair as she went. It was a pretty pink and white blossom today, one that had only just opened its petals. She still couldn't quite find the right words to say when Ryan gave them to her, but he didn't seem to mind when she crushed herself against him instead, burying her burning cheeks in the hollow of his neck. Their walks to school moved by necessity at a faster clip than those long, leisurely strolls they used to enjoy in the afternoon, but it was a wonderful way to start the day. No matter how crummy she felt, just being around him lifted her spirits.

She'd kept her promise to bring him music theory books during study hall as well; though she loved sitting with him while he worked on his Juilliard application, he could only pay her scant attention. She understood – or at least, she tried to – but she couldn't help feeling a bit hurt and disappointed that he spent so much of their 'alone time' doing something else.

Especially when he couldn't spare an hour in the afternoon to come by and watch his bandmates perform.

Even composers needed breaks every now and again, right?

Stacy pushed the troubling thoughts from her mind as she entered the top level of the Garage. The others were already there, chattering away – Richie was jamming on his drum set, providing a steady beat for Devyn and Connie to experiment with dance moves, while Kenny was reading sheet music off to the side.

"This is a beautiful song," Kenny mused aloud, paging through a sheaf of rumpled papers. "It's too bad we don't have a sax player."

"What is it?" Devyn inquired, walking over to him and looking over his shoulder. She read a few bars before beginning to hum the melody line. Richie quieted, listening to them and recognizing the song himself – and, rather unexpectedly, began to sing.

Stacy observed them from above, her heart wrenching in her chest. "You Belong to the City" was a Glenn Frey number that the band had performed a few seasons before, and it had always been one of her favorites. She and Ryan had shared lead vocals, with Gloria and Renee harmonizing on the bridge, while the Kid played the hell out of the saxophone part.

It made her a little nostalgic that no one she'd shared that experience with was standing in the room now.

It was also interesting to see – and hear – how this group interpreted the song. Kenny and Richie sang a cappella while Devyn and Connie swayed along and listened, enraptured with the sweet, soothing blend of their voices.

The heady tension of the room was shattered by the creaking of the back door of the building swinging open and shut. Tommy rolled into the now-silent room, his cheeks flushed deep red. "I'm sorry I'm late, guys," he apologized, clutching his guitar to his chest. "I wanted to get some last minute practice in."

"That's okay," Stacy replied, announcing her own presence to the group as she descended the stairs. "We try to stay pretty relaxed around here."

The others nodded in agreement, but no one else offered to add to the conversation. After a few awkward moments, Stacy spoke again. "Did you get a chance to look through the songs we gave you?"

The blond boy nodded sheepishly, digging his sheet music out of the bag on his wheelchair. "It's a lot," he remarked. "You guys go through this many a week?"

Kenny shrugged. "You get used to it after a while."

"I don't know if I could get used to this," Tommy replied, skepticism high in his tone.

Stacy's eyes widened. Surely he wasn't psyching himself out already? He hadn't even played a concert with them yet! "It's not that big a deal," she rushed to assure him. "Just work at your own pace."

"I don't want to slow you guys down," Tommy murmured.

"The only thing slowing us down," Devyn piped up, "is all this talk. Come on, you guys, let's start!" She sent an encouraging smile in Tommy's direction. "Once we get going, you'll see that you're not as far behind as you think you are."

"Good idea," Stacy agreed. "Let's run through the Saturday show. I thought we'd open with 'Man in the Mirror' – how does that sound to you guys?"

"Sounds good to me," Richie said, with the others chiming in agreement.

"Great," Stacy replied, a wave of relief washing through her. "How about we take it from the top?"

The others shifted positions, moving to take up mics and instruments. Stacy joined Connie by the electric keyboard, while Devyn picked up a tambourine, checking the cymbals as she took a seat beside Richie's drum kit. Kenny pulled up a milk crate, turning it on its side and making himself comfortable, mic in hand – he'd been elected to sing lead vocals on this smooth-tempo Michael Jackson tune. Tommy rolled across the space, plugging his guitar into the amp and flipping the switch. As he settled himself near the girls, Stacy nodded to Richie, who counted them off.

The group launched into the song tentatively, though as Kenny's vocals slid in, those playing instruments gained a bit more confidence. It felt shaky and unsure, but at least it was something to work with. Kenny pushed forward into the chorus, his voice rising in crescendo over – nothing.

Stacy glanced to her left, where she saw Tommy frowning as he hurried to catch up and get back on beat. "Hold on, you guys," she called, waving her hands to grab everyone's attention.

The others broke off, Tommy's eyes rising to meet her guiltily. "Sorry," he said meekly.

"No worries," Kenny assured him. "How about we just start from the chorus?"

Richie counted them off again, and they started, straight into Kenny's lead line, but by the time they were halfway there, it was obvious Tommy was still struggling to play in time.

Stacy waved her arms again, and the others broke off. "I think you're playing off beat, Tommy," she said gently.

He flushed, nodding his head. "I know," he said, his voice a bit forceful. "I'm trying."

Stacy frowned. "Let's just start again, okay?"

Once again, the band began to play, and this time, they made it through the chorus on time and in sync. Stacy and Richie transitioned into the guitar solo, which Tommy attacked with a vengeance – only to hit a dead, shrill chord.

The others jolted to an abrupt stop. "What is it now, Tommy?" Stacy queried, fighting to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

"My string broke," he sighed, lifting the offending metal wire forlornly.

Devyn hopped up from her seat. "I'll get you your backup – " she began, only to be met with a proud, narrow stare, one that brought her up short. "…unless you'd rather get it yourself?"

Tommy glowered at her, obviously bristling over the implication that he couldn't get the other guitar himself. "Yeah, I'll get it," he muttered, turning sharply in his chair – only to have the head of the guitar in his lap push over one of Richie's empty drum carrying cases.

"Look out!" Connie cried, swooping down to catch it before Stacy tripped over it. The older girl stepped to the side awkwardly, reaching out to grab the backup guitar that was on a stand next to her as she regained her balance.

Tommy's expression was halfway between misery and frustration as his eyes met Stacy's. "Did I do that?" he asked sheepishly, his lip curling worriedly.

"Uh – no, it was me," Connie said hastily, pushing the case away. "I'm always dropping things."

Stacy gave the communal pink guitar to Tommy, who set aside his other on the amp. It took him a moment to disentangle the jack and plug it in again, during which the others watched him in awkward silence. Devyn had retreated with her tambourine across the room, while Kenny and Connie wore matching pained expressions.

"Okay, guys, let's try this one more time," Stacy said, turning her attention to the others. "One – two – one, two, three, four – !"

The others launched into the song as Stacy came around behind Tommy, who turned in his chair just as she crossed his path. She very nearly tripped over his feet, flailing clumsily to catch herself with the help of Devyn and Connie, who rushed to her aid.

"I'm okay," she assured them, turning to face Tommy and offer profuse apologies. "I'm just – "

" – not used to dancing around a wheelchair? Right?" Tommy supplied hotly, his entire body flushing with embarrassment. "Listen, this isn't working." He pushed himself back. "I'm just – cramping your style."

"No, Tommy," Devyn tried, approaching him. "I guess we're all just a little nervous, that's all. It's a new situation for all of us."

"Yeah, it's going to take a little while to work it out," Richie added.

Stacy nodded. "We want you to play guitar with us, Tommy," she said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah – we stand behind you," Connie encouraged him.

"That's the problem," Tommy cried, wrenching away from them and their sympathetic expressions. "You can stand – I can't!" Shameful and self-conscious, he pulled the jack from his guitar before turning and wheeling away, out the same creaky back door from whence he came.

Kenny shot up and went after him, while the others simply stared at each other, concern clouding their expressions.

"Now what do we do?" Devyn murmured.

Stacy sighed heavily, sinking down on Kenny's abandoned crate. "I don't know," she admitted. She was frustrated and annoyed, but she was also worried. They were counting on Tommy to be able to play with them on Saturday, so they could get back to their normal sound – the sound their audience paid to hear. It was one thing to be guitar-less for the casual afternoon sets, but quite another for the concert-style weekend offerings. "Maybe Kenny will have some luck…?"

But when Kenny came back empty-handed, even that hope was dashed. "I couldn't find him," he sighed. "I don't know where he went."

Stacy bit her lip as she contemplated possible solutions. "Maybe one of you can talk to him at school tomorrow?" she suggested. "Is he in any of your classes?"

Richie raised a drumstick. "We have geometry together," he confirmed. "I'll see what I can do."

Never before had Stacy been quite so grateful for Richie's failproof charm. "Thanks," she replied. "That's a huge help."

"I don't know how huge," Kenny hedged. "What if he doesn't want to come back? What do we do then?"

"Can't we just hope for the best?" Connie wondered.

Devyn shrugged. "Maybe we should have a backup plan, just in case."

Stacy glanced at each of them in turn. "I'm open to suggestions, guys," she finally said, throwing up her hands.

Richie tapped his drumstick against his cheek as he thought. "What about Randy Kaparski?" he suggested.

Connie rolled her eyes. "He plays the accordion," she reminded him witheringly.

Richie shrugged. "It's better than nothing," he replied.

"I think I'd rather have nothing," Kenny mused skeptically.

Another silence fell over the group. Connie and Richie shared a long look with Devyn, seemingly silently urging her to say something. Kenny noticed the exchange and his expression immediately turned wary, as if he knew what they were going to ask.

"Can't we just ask Ryan to come back?" Devyn finally said, her eyes pleading as she met Stacy's gaze.

"No, you guys," she immediately responded. "We have to figure this out ourselves. Ryan isn't always going to be around." Upon seeing their disappointed faces, she felt compelled to remind them, "One way or the other, he'll be in college next year."

"We've already held an audition," Kenny said, his shoulders falling. "Tommy's the best there is."

Stacy nodded, her expression grave. "I agree," she replied, "but if he doesn't want to play with us, we'll just have to find another way…even if that means picking up the mantle ourselves. Kenny, you can play a few songs on the guitar, right? And Devyn, didn't you say you wanted to learn?"

Both nodded wordlessly.

"Well, there's no time like the present," Stacy advised.

"They offer lessons at school," Connie put in.

"Okay then," Stacy continued. "And if worse comes to worse, we'll just pick songs that we can play, until we can play them all again." She didn't want to add that Ryan had been playing guitar since he was younger than all of them, even though it was true.

"But we'll lose that signature Kids Incorporated sound," Kenny said, hesitant.

Stacy shrugged. She knew he'd worked hard to get to where he was already, and that he took his music quite seriously. "Sometimes sounds change," she finally said, pulling a stray piece of sheet music – "You Belong to the City," by Glenn Frey, read the title – out from under her. "For better, or for worse…"

.xxxxx.

"Oh, Stacy, there you are!" her mother called as Stacy entered her apartment later that evening. "We were getting worried about you!"

Stacy quickly hung up her coat and hat in the hall closet. "Sorry, Mom," she apologized. "Rehearsal ran late." She walked down the foyer and to the left, into the kitchen, where she heard the low din of her parents' voices, chatting with someone. As she rounded the corner, she saw her mother holding the phone, one hand covering the receiver. Her father sent a pointed gaze to the kitchen table, where one plate of food still sat, growing cold.

"Stace, you know you need to call if you're going to be late," her mother reprimanded gently.

Stacy nodded, sliding into the chair at the table and picking up her fork. The last thing she wanted to do was have yet another argument on her hands; the afternoon have been hard enough, dealing with the other members of the band following Tommy's explosive departure. Parental units were a whole other kettle of fish.

"We're glad you made it home safely, honey," her father added, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pressing a kiss to her temple. "Just – don't make us worry next time, eh?"

"Okay, Daddy," she replied, take a bite of her food. "Who's on the phone?"

Her mother's concerned expression broke into a smile. "It's your sister," she informed her. "Renee just wanted to call and say hi."

Renee, Stacy thought, eyes widening. She'll know what I should do! "Do you mind if I talk to her?" she asked, allowing her fork to fall through her fingers, hitting the side of the plate with a loud klank! "Alone?"

Her parents exchanged a look. "What do you need to talk to her about?" her mother questioned slowly.

Stacy thought fast. "It's something I can only talk to my big sister about," she hedged. When that didn't appear to alleviate her parents' fears, she quickly added, "I'm not sick and I'm not in trouble. I just want to talk to her – about band stuff."

Her parents nodded wordlessly, still curious but not willing to press further. Her mother lifted her hand from the receiver. "Stacy wants to talk to you, honey, hold on."

Stacy shot her mother a grateful look as she raced out of the kitchen and down the hall to her bedroom. She closed the door with her foot as she reached across her bed, picking up her extension. "I've got it, Mom!" she yelled, two seconds before realizing her mother could hear her perfectly well on the line. Mercifully, her mother merely hung up the phone without comment – or at least, without a comment that she was privy to.

"Hey, sis," Renee greeted, her tone warm and curious over the faint crackle of the line. "What's going on?"

Stacy clutched the receiver for a long moment, her emotions welling up inside her. How could she even begin to explain everything? The last time they'd talked on the phone was the night that she'd called Renee up out of the blue to gush about being kissed, so as far as her sister knew, everything was peachy keen – between her and Ryan, between her and the band, between her and her classmates. And yet, so much had happened these last few weeks – some good, some bad, some otherwise – that she didn't know where to start.

"Stace?" Renee was starting to sound worried. "Mom said you wanted to talk to me. Is something on your mind?"

"Renee – " she started, her voice hitching in her throat. "Oh, Renee, I don't know what to do."

"Stacy, what's wrong?" Renee pressed, her tone growing urgent. "If it's Ryan, so help me God – "

"Renee, he left the band," Stacy burst out. "He didn't want to leave, but he had to, and we held an audition to replace him, but then the replacement blew up today and left, and now we don't have a lead guitarist and we're down a singer and I don't know what we're going to do. I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, Stace," Renee said. "Start from the beginning, now. First of all, why did Ryan leave?"

Stacy sniffled, working to keep the threatening tears firmly behind her eyes. "He's applying to Juilliard, and his deadline is coming up." She paused, wondering if she should bring up the other reason tensions had risen within the band. "And… he thinks the other members know about us."

"You mean you haven't told them?" Renee replied incredulously. "Stacy, you're treading dangerous water enough as it is by dating him, but keeping it from everyone else? I – do Mom and Dad know?"

"No," Stacy whispered mournfully.

"See, this is why I never wanted you to get mixed up with him," Renee began, but before she could get worked up, Stacy redirected her righteous indignation.

"That's not really the problem right now," Stacy argued. "He's gone, but only temporarily, which means I'm the oldest – and I'm the one in charge. It's not even been a day and I've already messed up. How do I fix this?" Please, Renee, she added silently, closing her eyes momentarily, tell me what to do.

"Well, I can't tell you what to do, Stace," Renee replied. "Why did the new guy leave?"

Stacy shrugged, grasping the phone a bit tighter in her hand. "He's really self-conscious because he's in a wheelchair."

Renee sighed into the phone. "Well if that's the case… I'm not sure there's much you can do, except try to make him feel welcome. You can't really give anyone else self-esteem, though. It's something they have to find in themselves."

Stacy eyed the phone suspiciously. "Have you been reading psychology textbooks again?"

"I'm serious, Stacy," Renee shot back. "Just like how dating a seventeen-year-old boy isn't going to make you magically feel more confident and competent in your abilities, all the encouragement and support in the world would make someone who's uncomfortable with themselves because they are handicapped only feel pitied and patronized."

What? Stacy thought, practically feeling the words fly straight over her head. "I hate it when you start talking academic at me," she grumbled.

"The point is," Renee said with exaggerated impatience, "the only way you can feel happy, or comfortable, or confident, is to find those qualities within yourself."

"Okay," Stacy said slowly, allowing the words to sink in. "How would you handle this situation, if you were in my shoes?"

"Well, first of all," Renee began, "I'd dump the boyfriend who left me with this problem – "

"Renee," Stacy interrupted with a groan.

"Just – don't try so hard, okay? You come on really strong when you do that." Renee paused thoughtfully. "If it were me – I'd invite the kid back, tell him we really wanted him to play with us, and that we chose him for a reason."

"Okay," Stacy said. "I pretty much told Richie to do that. They're in the same class at school."

Renee couldn't quite stifle her snort. "You're relying on Richie for this?"

"Oh, come on, Renee," Stacy cajoled. "He can be really charming when he wants to be."

"Let's hope," Renee replied with a chuckle.

A jovial moment passed between the two, before Renee spoke again. "So – other than this – is everything okay between you and Ryan? Is he treating you okay?"

"Yeah," Stacy replied, albeit rather weakly. He still made her weak in the knees with just one glance, but she was really antsy to spend some quality alone time with him. They had been together for nearly a month, but still hadn't gone out on a real date! His Juilliard application really ate up a lot of his time.

"You don't sound very convincing," Renee deadpanned.

"I just – I never really get to spend time with him," Stacy clarified. "He has a lot on his mind… and I'm not sure how far up that list I am."

"Oh, Stacy," Renee sighed. "He's not good enough for you. I wish you could see that."

"Geez," Stacy remarked. "I thought you guys were friends!"

"We are," Renee said, "but you're my sister. More importantly, you're my little sister, and I have to protect you – it's pretty much in the job description."

"You always say that," Stacy teased.

"The truth is always worth repeating," Renee replied jokingly, though her tone turned serious on a dime. "And so is this: don't let him break your heart, okay, Stace? I don't want to see you get hurt."

"I won't," Stacy vowed, crossing her fingers. "I promise."