A/N: Thanks to Amrywiol and Bethanyactually, who both contributed to this being better than it would have been otherwise.

ICHTHYIC CYCLING

ACT 1

Early Monday morning at Greendale the campus was quiet and misty. Dew, collected overnight, had yet to burn off the grass in the quad. The usual bright sunlight was absent, in favor of a half-light that Jeff usually saw only when he'd stayed up all night. The things we do for love, he thought as he stared at his reflection in the men's room mirror. Love, he thought again, tasting the word in his mouth. He'd stopped by Shirley's Sandwiches but Shirley hadn't been there yet; it was too early. So instead he had to give himself the encouragement he needed.

The man in the reflection looked haggard and anxious, but then, he'd hardly slept all weekend. Thursday night he'd stumbled home soaking wet and acutely alone. Abed had texted him about going to Pierce's, but he'd ignored it. He'd spent Friday lying in bed staring at his phone, writing texts to Annie and deleting them unsent. Texts and voicemails from his other friends he deleted unread; he'd been in no mood to talk to anyone.

That was the old Jeff, though. That was last week's Jeff, he told himself. He was a new creature now, forged in the fire of sitting morosely in his apartment for three days binge-watching the West Wing, drinking, and transforming himself, by sheer force of will, into someone who could finally think and speak honestly about his feelings. He'd showered, he'd shaved, he'd cleaned himself up, he'd put on his best blue button-down shirt, and now he was going to start to fix things. All he needed to do was talk to Annie, he was sure, and they could work this out. He'd gone over it in his head dozens of times and he understood where he'd failed, and how, and what he should have said to her instead.

The key was historiography. Chang himself didn't come to their scheduled classes, Jeff knew, but Annie did. He'd come to her, not swaggering and false, but not on his knees, either. He'd apologize, and explain, and at worst things would go back to how they'd been.

The door to the historiography classroom was, uncharacteristically, closed. A window set in the door confirmed that there were lights on within, but a curtain hung down and prevented Jeff from seeing Annie. She was in there, though, surely. Hesitating at the threshold, he stood with his hand on the knob for a moment. Then he knocked, lightly.

He tensed, waiting there, and felt himself a coward for not just striding in. He should have brought flowers after all, he decided while he stood there. Jeff had considered it but decided that had struck too much of a note of artifice, of falsehood. Flowers, in Jeff's mind, smacked of trickery and playing to expectations. It was important that she see him and recognize that he wasn't being anything but honest.

Jeff inhaled sharply as the latched clicked and the door opened, then slowly sighed as Pierce opened the door.

"Pierce, hi," Jeff said as brightly as he could manage. He hoped he didn't sound desperate. Then he backtracked on that: it was fine if he sounded desperate. He was desperate.

"She asked me to tell you no, Jeffrey," Pierce said without preamble. "I'm sorry." He did look sorry, too; his haggard expression closely resembled the one Jeff had seen in the mirror.

"Annie?" Jeff craned his neck, trying to see her over Pierce's shoulder. She wasn't in the narrow slice of classroom that was visible. "Annie, I'm so sorry. I know words alone aren't going to solve this, but… I'm sorry."

Pierce cleared his throat.

"Pierce, please." Jeff stared at Pierce. Pierce shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking uncomfortable, then glanced over his shoulder at something or someone beyond Jeff's range of vision.

Pierce shrugged helplessly. "Sorry, Jeff." He closed the door.

Jeff raised his fist to pound on the door, then slowly let it drop; that wasn't going to do any good. He rested his forehead against the inset window's cool glass, and sagged against it.

Pierce stood on the other side of the door several minutes before discreetly slipping the closed curtain aside. "I think he's gone," he called over his shoulder.

At the front of the classroom, in a corner well away from the door, Annie glanced briefly up from the textbook she'd been reading. "Thanks," she said, her voice thick. She looked like she might say more, but then shook her head, thinking better of it, and buried her face deeper in the book.

"I know Jeff and I seem at odds sometimes," Pierce said as he approached her. "We have a, I suppose you'd call it a special connection. Two alpha males, both strong-willed… you could say I see some of myself in him. I know he thinks of me as a father figure."

"Uh huh," Annie said without lifting her gaze from the same paragraph she'd been reading for the last twenty minutes.

"I don't know what this is about, between you two, but I've never seen him act like that," Pierce continued. "Is he a good man? Maybe not. But is his heart in the right place? Again, the answer is probably not. Is he even straight? I think we both know that's not completely true…"

Annie slammed the textbook down. "What are you saying, Pierce?" she snapped, then softened immediately. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Thanks for guarding the door."

"You know I support any decision you make," Pierce said. "You're my favorite, and I trust you to know your own mind, because I'm an enlightened, emotionally sensitive male. Back in the Seventies we had encounter groups, which were great for picking up… uh, that's a story for another time. But would it hurt anything to hear Jeff out?"

"Yup. It'd hurt me," Annie said. She'd turned her attention back to the paragraph she'd been reading, with renewed vigor. "Jeff can… he'll say anything." She swallowed, blinking back tears. "Three years ago I would believe whatever he said, because I didn't know any better. Two years ago I believed him even though I should have known better. Last year I wanted to believe and he was good enough not to say anything, and I thought he'd changed. But he'll say whatever he needs to, to get what he wants. Or thinks he wants." She glanced at the door, imagining movement through the curtain. "I've already forgiven him too many times. Given him more slack than he deserves. I'm out."

Pierce sighed as he settled into a seat near her. "I'll tell him that next time I see him. He comes to me for advice, you know. Looking for my guidance."

She didn't look up. "Tell him, don't tell him, either way. I told him all that on Thursday, at Abed's stupid Back to the Future dance. If he doesn't want to hear it, he won't hear it."

He cleared his throat. "So, you on track to graduate in the spring?"

Annie did look up for that one. "What?"

"I'm changing the subject to one a little less fraught. You're my favorite, I consider myself a feminist, et cetera et cetera, but, you know, bros before hoes. No disrespect intended," Pierce said quickly. "I think the expression was originally about gardening tools. You're graduating in June, right?"

Annie nodded, slowly. "Yeah. Are you?"

"I'm not actually making progress towards a degree, I'm just a lifelong learner. No big. I'm no hero." Pierce stretched in his seat. "What do you have planned for after you graduate?"

"Um, look for a job I guess," Annie began. She closed the textbook in front of her, which she'd read basically none of in the last half-hour anyway. "I have a list of area hospitals and clinics that offer internships… I haven't updated it in a few years. I've been thinking about doing something else." She looked pensive. "I thought I'd talk to Jeff about it, but I guess I won't. Huh."

"What's the something else?" Pierce asked. He was eager to keep the conversation off of Jeff, if possible.

"Law school." Off Pierce's baffled expression, she added, "I know, I know, the world doesn't need more lawyers and law school graduates are most likely to end up with a ton of debt and the job prospects aren't great and I don't really want to be a lawyer anyway."

"If you don't want to be a lawyer, which I heartily approve of, as there are too many lawyers already, then why law school?"

"Well, first because I think maybe I'd be good at it, and second because it's one of the degrees that the FBI looks for in applicants. But they also look for people with good work experience, and it would probably be better to be making money than spending it on more school, and I haven't been doing LSAT prep or working on law school applications."

"Is it too late to start?" he asked.

Annie shrugged. "Kind of? The application deadlines aren't until February most places, and you can take the LSAT in December, but there are a bunch of fees and it's too late to take a prep course I think. And I don't really have the money to…"

"I'll pay your fees," Pierce said abruptly. "Whatever you need. LSAT, MCAT, GRE, SATs… are SATs still a thing? Tuition, too, if you need that."

Annie did a double take. "Pierce!"

"I realize I haven't done the best job with lending you money in the past, but this would just be a gift, no strings attached. I mean, I know your generation thinks it's cool and hot and fat to be saddled with debt," he continued, "but you people already have enough of that from all the consumer electronics and health care you buy."

She managed a weak smile. "I can't take your money to…"

"Sure you can. What else am I going to do with it? Pay Uncle Sugar estate taxes, and then the money'll end up in the hands of idiots." He grimaced at the thought. "Whereas if I give it to you for school, then it ends up in the hands of… well, it ends up in the hands of school administrators, so that's a lateral move, but at least you benefit."

Her smile remained weak and forced. "That's really sweet of you to offer, but I don't think I can take your money. And you don't have to offer it, just to keep me as a friend."

"I know that! But don't say no so quickly. Think about it, then say no," Pierce urged her. "Or yes. At least apply to a few schools, and then when you're looking the tuition bill in the face you can… well, think about it."

Several hours later Britta, Troy, Abed, and Shirley sat in the study room, playing with their phones in silence. Eventually Shirley looked up. "So has anyone heard from Jeffrey today?" she asked timidly.

They exchanged glances, and shook their heads. He'd been under radio silence since Thursday of the week before. Annie hadn't said anything or answered questions, but she hadn't needed to — absent Jeff and tearful Annie told its own story.

"I was going to trying texting him again," Britta said lamely.

Shirley looked at her expectantly. "And?" she prompted.

"Nothing," Britta replied. "I mean, I'm still going to text him. Later, probably."

"Did you try calling him?" Abed asked Shirley. "Your generation calls people."

Shirley cleared her throat. "I'll call him tonight," she decided. "To ask how his mother is," she added, in case this was a clarification anyone needed.

"His mother is home from the hospital but she's weak. He's worried about her, but not enough to go visit her. Which is typical of him," Annie announced as she swept into the room and sat down. "You were talking about Jeff's mother, right?" she asked Shirley. "Something might have changed since last week, but that was the situation then."

"Is Jeff not here?" Pierce asked, as he followed Annie into the room. He sat down, clearly disappointed by Jeff's absence.

"I haven't seen him," Annie said primly. "I'm sure he's fine."

Troy cleared his throat. "So, uh, if everyone's here…"

"Everyone who's going to show up, apparently," muttered Annie, as she rooted through her backpack. "Which is just as well, anyway, because…" She stopped suddenly, as though she'd only just then realized she'd been speaking out loud. "Pardon."

"If everyone's here," Troy repeated, "I wanted to, uh… Shirley, can you…?"

"Oh," said Shirley. She glanced around nervously. "You want to go ahead and…?"

"This maybe isn't the best time," admitted Troy, "but, you know, maybe a little… to, you know, brighten the mood…"

Annie hauled a textbook from her backpack and slammed it onto the table in front of her with a loud thud. "What is it?" she barked. "What's too nerve-wracking for Annie's delicate condition and you can't use complete sentences? I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she added quickly, as the rest of the group stared at her. "I was doing really well, all weekend, this morning, even."

"It's true," Abed confirmed for the group. "She didn't break down sobbing once."

Annie nodded.

"Unless you count crying alone in your room at night. She did do that," Abed admitted. "Or maybe," he said, the thought just then occurring to him, "she was watching a video of someone crying, on her phone, and we could all hear the audio through her door and leaped to conclusions."

Annie dug some tissues out of her bag and wiped away her tears. "I'm sorry to…"

"It's okay, sweetie," Shirley assured her, stroking her shoulder.

"I know it's okay. It's fine, and I don't want to talk about it." Annie took a few deep breaths and began daubing at her face. "I'm fine. Do your… whatever you were going to do. Please."

"Um, okay." Troy cleared his throat again. "So Britta, I was talking to Shirley and I did the math and, uh…"

Shirley lifted a cardboard cake box from the floor next to her seat onto the table. "Ta da!" she sang, flipping the lid open.

Within was a small white cake with lettering in blue frosting: CONGRATS TROY & BRITTA ON YOUR SIX-WEEK ANNIVERSARY! with pink frosting hearts scattered around.

"Apparently the six-week anniversary is the first big one?" Troy said, his voice rising at the end. "Six weeks and then annually, I guess? Anyway, I got you a cake."

Silence settled over the group.

Annie emitted a faint squeaking sound as she held a tissue up to her eyes and nose.

"Oh," said Britta. "Wow. Wow, that is… has it been six whole weeks?" She tried to count days on her fingers. "I mean, there's that weekend I was in Pueblo, does that week really count?" Her face lit up. "Because then it'd only be five…"

"Uh, yeah dummy," Troy assured her. "Unless you were sleeping with some other guy in Pueblo."

Britta shook her head vigorously. "Oh, no! No, I wouldn't… there wasn't anyone in Pueblo. Or anywhere else," she added quickly. "I mean, we have been together this whole time I guess, yeah. Six weeks. Six whole weeks. Wow."

Abed, with either feigned or genuine obliviousness, had slid the cake closer to himself and began cutting it with a ruler. "Who wants a piece? Cake? Cake? Cake?" He began offering pieces to the others. Pierce took two.

"The cake looks great," Britta said, "and thank you so much, but you know, I… I need to go." She stood up. "I have to wash my locker," she announced, and dashed from the room.

Pierce, his mouth full of cake, snorted in surprise. "It's locker washing day again already?!"

Jeff was waiting for her outside HOSPADMIN 415, "Ennet House: A Rehabilitation Clinic Case Study." Annie shuddered involuntarily when she saw him. Suddenly it was as though they were still here, in the hallway outside the Enchantment Under the Sea dance with the power out, and he'd propositioned her seconds ago, instead of days. Conflicting urges bubbled up inside her: punch him in his stupid handsome face. Kiss him on his stupid handsome face. Run away from his stupid handsome face. Instead she clutched her backpack. If she swung it hard enough she could get some momentum going and maybe smash his stupid handsome face. Then he'd fall down and she could climb on top of him and…

"Annie," he said. He had that I'm-being-totally-honest-now, unguarded expression that she'd finally come to realize was just as calculated as all his other expressions.

"You're supposed to be in class right now," she told him. She should know; she laid out his course schedule for him.

"I'm skipping it, this is more important. Can we talk? Please?"

"I really don't want to talk to you right now," she told him shortly.

"We've got to have an honest discussion," Jeff insisted. "It's the only way!"

She veered away from him in a sharp right turn. "Well, you can say whatever you want. I can't stop you, obviously."

"Great," he said, missing or ignoring her request he not. "I know I really flubbed it last week," he continued doggedly on, pushing though the crowd of students to stay at her side. "But I've had a lot of time to think about it, and what I want to say is, I think, what you want to hear."

She shot him an acid look, and quickened her pace.

Jeff grunted in frustration. "I mean, no, that's not what I mean, not like that. This was easier in my head. Of course in my head you were standing still… what I mean is, you and I are a lot more on the same page than you think we are, and… and now you're going into the ladies' room," he observed as she ducked into the women's restroom.

Inside, Annie looked at herself in the mirror and tried to gauge whether she looked exhausted, like she hadn't been sleeping because of him, or just like she was falling apart at the seams for possibly unrelated reasons. As she looked at herself, she realized she saw her mother. It made sense; she was exhausted and angry. All she needed was a daughter she could call a disappointment.

"Please," Jeff said as he appeared in the mirror beside her.

Annie turned and shrieked. He was, in fact, there; she wasn't hallucinating. For a quarter of a second she was speechless, then reason returned. "Jeff, this is the women's restroom!" she hissed. "Get out of here! Someone could come in at any second!"

"Not until we've talked," Jeff said. "We've got to talk about this."

"There's a man in the women's restroom!" she shouted. "There's a man in the women's restroom!"

Jeff cringed. "Annie, please," he said again, sounding desperate.

It was just a ploy, she reminded herself. With Jeff, it was always just a ploy. "Man in the women's restroom!" Annie shrieked again.

Jeff held his hands up in surrender and stepped backwards out through the doorway, back into the hall. Annie stayed in the restroom for several minutes, until she risked missing her next class, "Bankruptcy Among ER Patients." She emerged only hesitantly, half-expecting Jeff to have marshaled some kind of posse to force her to sit and listen until she accepted whatever cockamamie story he'd come up with to defend himself.

Instead the hallway was empty. Annie was left alone and, though she hated to admit it to even herself, disappointed.