A/N: Apologies for Hiatus, I was being incredibly busy and far too fantastically lazy, so motivation has been down at rock bottom. This is also a rather under-whelming restarting chapter... I hope you missed Alex being a whiny little bitch, because this chapter has it in large, plentiful doses. And thank you again to everyone who has reviewed this- main source of motivation to write this so it's thanks to you I kicked myself into finishing this cesspool of wtf :)

The mark of true friendship is the ability to brush over all that is awkward, uncomfortable and painful and -for the sakes of an evening of enjoyment and entertainment- to pretend that nothing had happened and that everything is alright. The ease with which the other four managed it was not surprising, considering how it consisted of both Jem and Caine, who were the sort that could slip into any social circle and make everything run smoothly, even when they were dressed in spangled outfits.

The dance was being held over in Princess Charm School, for they had the largest dance hall and the best music equipment, so Alex had agreed to be the one picking Marian up. Once they'd left the safety of the boys' school ground however, every step closer to the adjacent institute helped replenish the fluttering butterflies of nerves in Alex's stomach. In his head he kept picturing ever fantastically awkward situation in which he could run into Christie, alone and undefended, about to be torn at again for something he was only beginning to piece together, and would honestly rather not think about, especially not tonight.

Once they entered the girl's dormitory, they were met by a mass of girls running about everywhere, determined to be perfect for their final evening as a princess in training, dancing with their chosen prince. Most of the males who had come with them pretended to act shocked by the chaos, or so smirk and laugh, completely ignoring the fact that the boys' dorms had been no better. Still, amongst the haze of females diving this way and that, Alex became convinced that he would, inevitably, end up encountering Christie.

Not once however did he bump into her, nor did he even spot her out of the corner of his eye. Briefly he worried she'd locked herself in her room and was thus refusing to come out, but the mix of relief at that thought and the accompanying guilt meant he hurriedly dispelled it, trying to focus on finding Marian and escaping as soon as possible.

As the future high queen of Arcadia, she'd been taught how to dress, her body now adorned with a beautiful aqua gown that was both elegant and stylish, her arms and neck jewelled with various fineries, which were added to when Alex tied the requested white rose corsage around her wrist. When they finally found each other, in a side corridor with fewer people running here and there, they'd smiled tightly and without a word he'd taken her hand and led her out.

Alex had never exactly been close to Marian, she was his arranged fiancée by formality but they'd spent little time together, especially since school time had begun. They would dance and talk at social events and would be invited to dinner at one another's palaces, but save for these singular occasions, they did not spend much time in one another's company.

"Your bow tie is off centre," Marian remarked calmly once they'd escaped outside to the cool of the night air, several other couples spilling out after them and making their way over to the dance hall, whilst they stopped and stood so that Alex could tie the corsage and Marian could straighten his bow tie.

"Thanks."

Alex was very much aware that Marian was scrutinising him rather carefully, so he forced himself to smile and then linked their arms so he could guide her with the rest of the population on over to the dance hall, politely remarking on the elaborate decorations of lighting and garden accessories that had been installed for the evening in an attempt to make small talk. Marian however -despite usually being very confident in herself- was being uncharacteristically withdrawn, answering in often no more than one or two words.

The other four males re-joined him once he was in the dance hall. Marian quickly excused herself to go and greet her friends to remark on their attire and to fetch drinks, so Alex sat himself beside Logan, since Jem and Caine had mysteriously disappeared. "Where are-" He began, but Logan anticipated the question with a dry smirk and cut him off.

"Spiking the punch, of course," He answered with a kind of restrained exasperation, being unusually expressive for Logan.

"No one told them then that Nick and Joel have already added vodka to the mix?" Logan's smirk widened at that and he slid a side-ways glance at Alex before finally replying.

"I expect that'll be what they'll claim."

Smiling to himself and peering through the hordes of dancing couples in an attempt to spot the tricksters in action, Alex had failed to do the appropriate risk assessment before carrying out this endeavour and inevitably encountered the one situation he'd been trying to avoid that evening. "I guess Christie found a date anyway," Ash piped up from beside Logan, having successfully nestled himself close to his side so that Logan somehow managed to look protective of him without doing a thing, "although, is he from school?"

Christie had indeed apparently managed to find a date; a date who'd quite possibly been born around the dawn of the dinosaurs. He was at least a foot taller than anyone else in the room, decked out in a leather motorcycle jacket and stone-washed jeans, looking entirely out of place amongst the tuxedos and suits. Not that Christie could claim to be any more decent. Most girls in the room seemed to think themselves flirtatious when they lifted their skirt's to show their ankles; Alex knew that if Christie lifted her skirts any higher than they already hung she'd have to start calling herself Christian.

"Red suits her," Logan noted in a passive kind of conversational manner, although Alex still bristled defensively, not appreciating the fact that they were purposefully drawing attention to her.

"The colour of danger, blood and violent death. I quite agree," Alex retorted sourly, crossing his arms over his chest as he sunk back further into the chair, glowering mutinously at the pair who were more grinding their groins together rather than actually dancing.

"Alex, shall we dance?" Marian suddenly proposed, appearing to his left, absent of the drinks she'd claimed to be going to fetch. Shaking off his grumpy sulk, Alex stood and led her over to the area that had been assigned for dance, holding her far more appropriately than the hooker and the biker were touching one another. He shivered just watching them, wondering how they could expect to get away with such behaviour.

"Alex," Marian hissed tightly when he'd failed to respond to her movements, too busy stood glowering at the other two to remember to move. As he jerked back into focus, the song changed to a softer, more classical one and the couples dancing, including Christie and her trampy boyfriend, assumed the waltz position, albeit with the partners far closer together so it more resembled slow dancing. Naturally Christie and the tramp were standing the closest, their hands positioned far too close to inappropriate areas.

Going into automatic, Alex danced perfectly well with his partner, but they both remained quiet to begin with. He tried to distract himself by observing the room, which was bathed in dim orange lighting, its atmosphere caught somewhere between a formal ball and a night club. The music too was some strange hybrid of the modern dance songs of that day and the symphonies of the old tradition. The resulting effect was that no one was quite sure what to do, all awkwardly dancing in an attempt to find the ground they were expected to stand on. Of course, the only couple who weren't awkward at all in their movements were Christie and the tramp, who both seemed far too confident in their actions. Several people gave them rather curious looks, unsure of whether they should follow this arrogantly confident pair or whether they should ostracise them. It appeared most went with simply ignoring them.

"Christie has once again proved her insolence," Marian remarked off-handedly, as if she were commenting simply on the weather.

"The man isn't from school," Alex replied, not wanting to openly agree with her for fear of appearing too attentive of the subject matter, since Marian had made it clear that she did not approve of any contact with or attention he paid to Christie.

"He's not from any school, just look at him. His face is a mess of stubble," she criticised sharply, biting her words somewhat as they twirled amongst the other couples. She was not incorrect however, compared to every other gelled up gentleman in the room, this man simply looked wild.

Alex noticed however, as they continued to dance, that the females in the room didn't seem to hold the same antipathy he felt towards the "gentleman" Christie had invited as a partner. They watched him with a kind of nervous, giggly intensity that Alex could more than well identify as a fleeting crush. Their titillated behaviour was no doubt exactly what Christie was after by inviting someone like him.

Alex would have liked to think it got easier to ignore them. The evening progressed into signs of the overly alcoholic punch resulting in a lot of daring behaviour and dancing from a lot of people, along with some vomiting. The music built as the evening went on and people began to mimic the kind of dance Christie had demonstrated, forgetting themselves amongst the haze and buzz of their last night as true teenagers. The monitoring adults made mild attempts to calm things down, but they were quickly overpowered by the charge of hormones and enthusiasm demonstrated by the gathered students.

By the time Alex had given in and was plastered up against Marian so they moved as one, Christie had disappeared, that or he'd stopped noticing her, despite his habitual glancing around to see what depravity she was up to now. Marian kissed him a lot, but he didn't really hold onto it that much. There was no fairy-tale gold shimmer to it, no rose tint or warm fuzz. It wasn't unpleasant either though. The only real way to describe it was to say it was an experience, an odd-tasting but somewhat consuming and distracting experience.

"Jesus, these rich kids are fucking insane," Jean drawled, leant back against a tree whilst he smoked, enjoying the break of the cool night air. "What kind of dancing even was that?"

"I believe they would refer to it as traditional," Christie smirked, half enjoying having someone else from the slums to gossip about the strangeness of this place with, half feeling guilty since by now it had become her second home and all its quirks and bizarre natures had grown on her.

"Pretentious rich kid bullshit," Jean snorted, taking another drag from the cigarette.

Christie was stood before him, her legs pulled tight together and she was hugging herself to try and keep out the chill of the cold of the night, the short, red and skin-tight dress she wore not exactly warm. She was almost grateful when Jean caught her arm and pulled her close into him, his warm a welcoming sensation so that she happily cuddled close, despite the smell of smoke on his breath. His hand slipped from her arm to her waist and he started kissing her neck, dropping the cigarette onto the grass and extinguishing it with the sole of his boot.

"I want to do it now."

"Not here," Christie pleaded quietly, allowing him to run his hands along her thighs but not wanting her school to witness her with a client out here actually on school grounds. That would be a step to far.

"I've kept my side of the fucking bargain, I've put up with brats and their weird looks and I've even smiled nicely to your teachers. I want it against this tree, here."

"Jean, this is my school," Christie reminded him in a whining tone whilst he started trying to pull her leg up around his body to try and get some control over her.

He wasn't exactly malicious in the way he went about breaking down her defences, but he had a playful kind of forcefulness about him that put Christie on edge. "No one's about Christie," He mused quietly, kissing her lips now before flipping them over so he had her pinned against the tree. "Come on, just one go."

She tried once more to work him off of her, but knew that if she caused a commotion the results could be far more destructive than a quick seven minute fuck against a tree. She could tell Jean knew this too, for he didn't seem to expect much resistance as he worked her dress up over her hips before turning her around so she was exposed to him. Biting down on her lower lip, having known this sort of thing would be the price of such a hasty bargain, Christie closed her eyes and tried to ride it out without linking it to the school she'd come to call home.

It finished, as it always did, eventually, and she tugged down her dress and tried to tidy herself. The three large hickeys on her neck and the two on her right shoulder didn't really help. Jean stepped back and zipped himself up, seemingly satisfied with her delivered "goods". Whilst she tried to calm herself down however, her calming state of mind was interrupted.

"Christie?" A somewhat quavering voice stuttered, and the both of them froze, sharing a look which clearly said "oh shit".

Stepping out from behind Jean, Christie spotted Isabelle, stood not three metres away from them, having been walking along the embankment of the grounds, dressed in her usual slightly alternative style with a black lacy dress dropping down to her knees, her hair coiled up around her head. More notably, she was staring at the pair. Christie didn't know how much she'd seen, or how much she'd inferred, but without a backwards glance to Jean she rushed over to her, before awkwardly halting before her.

"Izzy…" She began with great discomfort, whilst behind her Jean dawdled, unsure as to whether or not he should stay.

Isabelle however made the first move, her body unlocking whilst she laughed the noise shaky and nervous and she waved Christie off. "It's fine, whatever you do is your business, I shouldn't have- I'm sorry," she hurriedly apologised, moving to turn and flee but Christie caught her wrists.

"Isabelle, I'm so sorry," Christie whispered before deciding to throw caution to the wind and go for a hug, hoping she wouldn't be thrown of for being thought of as disgusting or dirty.

Isabelle didn't shove her off, but she didn't hug her back earlier. "Isabelle, this is Jean," Christie introduced her formally once she'd drawn back, gesturing for Jean to come forward who reluctantly trudged over to them, looking his usual irritable self, although he was at least sticking around, which was rather noble of him. Isabelle gave him an awkward half-smile before looking back to Christie, her usual deadpan demeanour completely dismissed in the midst of the shock.

Sighing, Christie wondered what she should do about all this. Isabelle had seen more than she should have done, she could tell from the strange way she kept twitching, and it wasn't as if they'd been discreet about it. "Isabelle," Christie exhaled, massaging her temple before deciding honesty might not cast her as the bad guy here, "there's something I probably ought to tell you."

One extraordinarily stammered and uncomfortable explanation of her true gender and situation (minus the employment as a hooker) later, Isabelle was staring unblinkingly at her. "You're a male?" She repeated finally, her eyes immediately dropping gracefully to goggle at Christie's crotch. Jean was looking highly agitated, rocking from one foot to another, but for making her do it at school when she'd asked him not to, he could just stick it.

"That I am, in sex at least," Christie confirmed with an odd formality, as if treating the issue clinically would make it less strange to deal with.

Nodding slowly to herself, Isabelle didn't blink for a very long time, so much so that her eyes started watering and she had to hastily wipe them in order to avoid looking odd. "I..." She began, trailing off as she searched for words before she suddenly grabbed Christie and took her turn to hug her. "Always knew there was something weird about you," She chuckled huskily, her voice almost managing to slip back into its usual monotonous sarcasm, but not quite working whilst she giggled nervously.

"You're not going to hound me to the authorities then? I mean obviously Miss Privet knows but… preferably no one else should…" Christie inquired hesitantly, although rather pleased with this reaction, it being the best she'd gotten to date.

"Go to the pigs? Nah." It always amused Christie how Isabelle adopted this really strange, clichéd slang whenever she talked to her. It wasn't exactly offensive, just secretly really hilarious so she had to force herself not to splutter during this heartfelt moment.

"Thanks," She mumbled affectionately as she hugged the other girl back, a sense of friendship that she'd never really had before beginning to form. It was nice.

"I promised Sebastian I'd be back in five minutes so I've got to go, but I'll see you tomorrow at school for the adjustment lessons," She called, pulling back and then throwing a wave over her shoulder as she half stumbled, half ran off. Christie was pretty sure she was still going into shock; after all it was quite a lot to digest when you walk in on your best friend getting fucked against a tree by a much older man, and to see things that clearly indicate Christie was not female in sex. Isabelle had however, been the nicest person about the whole issue, so for a brief moment Christie revelled in the warmth of acceptance, which vanished rather quickly once Jean cleared his throat.

"I'm going back; do you want a ride?" He offered casually, either forgetting that she lived here or under the impression that she went back to the slums often. She was about to correct him when she realised she could use the money, and without him there to piss people off, what was really the point of going back to the dance hall?

"Sure," She shrugged, sighing slightly as she stretched herself out, deciding her outfit would pass on the streets just fine. If she played this evening right, she ought to be set until she graduated.

"Sweet," Jean muttered, waiting for her to be ready for a moment before walking off with his hands shoved in his pockets, whistling quietly to himself. She looked after him for a moment, glancing back over at the dance hall, where everyone else was busy celebrating their departure from adolescence. She nodded once before turning and following on after Jean, keeping a small distance behind him so as to avoid conversation.