Disclaimer: Victorious isn't mine. I did make a show about cats called Victoripuss though. That's mine.

It feels like when I walk into school, the whole place goes quiet. It could just be that all the noises outside; the traffic, the kids milling to get in, the parents chatting in the parking lot, were buzzing in the back of my head, and it's just their absence I'm hearing, muted by the thick walls of the halls. Or it could be that I entered in a less than composed manner, and most kids know by now to stay out of my way. Either way, it still feels like everyone's eyes are on me as I trudge to my locker, fingers twisting over the black strap of my bag, picking at the clasp, tugging at the threads. I don't care about their stares, I don't care how they look at me, but it makes me so aware that Cat's not here... that Beck's not here. I've always had someone beside me, someone to buffer the stares, to challenge them and say, this person likes me, so fuck you. I feel like an outcast now, fittingly. My clothes still feel as ill-fitting as before, even though I dragged myself into the shower when I got home and picked out something nice to wear, something... plain. Just jeans and a black hoodie. I had to get the reek of Beck's RV off me. The smell of Cat was still in my sheets, her lipgloss still on my bedside table. I shoved it into my jeans pocket before I left. At least it's a reminder.

I hover my hand over it when I reach my locker, feeling the hard cylinder in my pocket. I'm not prepared to face Cat, I don't know what to say, what to do, how to explain. I'm hoping that it'll come to me when I do see her. If she's even here. I let out a heavy sigh and twist the combination to my locker, door clicking open, warped reflections of me sliced by my scissors as I yank the metal door open. My back's crawling, like a dozen hands are sweeping over it, raising goosebumps. It's like a hundred other days, and I half expect Cat to just come bouncing up, bag swinging and dimples pitted in her cheeks from a grin. These halls are saturated with her, and they don't seem so bright anymore, like all the life that used to be here at Hollywood Arts is less vibrant, less noticeable. This comedy has become a tragedy, the acts an irritation. I just want the curtain to close on this already. It's been playing far too long.

I thumb through the pile of books in there, finding the ones I need. A picture of me and Beck catches my eye, stuck up on the inside of my door. We look happy. I'm holding onto Beck's arm, a half-smile on my face. Beck's eyes are closed, his head thrown back like he's laughing about something, an arm draped over me. I tear it down, shoving it inside the locker. That's not who we are anymore. We don't belong to each other.

I slam the locker door shut, metal scissors rattling against the grey-painted steel. I turn away, scanning the crowd, hoping to see a flash of vibrant red hair, bobbing among the students. My heart leaps a little when I see Tori, fingers tightening on the textbooks wedged under an arm. If Cat was with anyone, it'd be her. Tori glances around, bag slung over her shoulder, her eyes skittering away from mine and then snapping back. They're cold, dismissive, and I've never seen Tori without that warmth in her eyes, without that honey. I've never seen her angry before, not like this. She's fiery, but she flames out. This is a simmer, one that's been boiling for a long time. For a second she stops, sways like she's unsure whether to ignore me and keep walking, or come over. As usual, Tori's mouth gets the best of her. I touch my pocket reassuringly; I can deal with Tori for this, she's my only link with Cat right now, the only one who's seen her since... since I broke her heart, scattered the pieces over the rain-spattered pavement and watched her walk away. I think about that moment, when I watched her go. Maybe if I'd gone after her, grabbed her arm, twisted her around and just told her, just kissed her, just showed her what my words failed to, maybe that would've made a difference. Maybe if I'd never kissed her at all, things would be better. Everyone would be happier.

"Why are you here?" Tori's eyes are guarded, voice low and terse, fingers plucking at the hem of her grey shirt, black vest hanging from her slightly slumped shoulders. She's holding them together, trying to gather this rage to spit out at me. It almost feels good to taste her venom.

"Because I go to school here."

Her nose wrinkles. "How can you show your face?"

I gesture to it. "It shows itself, Vega, it's not a conscious decision."

She stares at me disbelievingly, like she can't believe how cavalier I'm being. I can't either, but frankly, I just don't care. Tori can't get under my skin; it was stripped away from me when Cat left, and all those exposed nerves are dead, have stopped twitching, stopped feeling. She can lash me all she wants and I won't feel a thing. "I don't believe you." She shakes her head at me, like she can't understand.

"You've never believed me. Why is it any different?"

She scoffs, shrugging. "It's different because I knew you were a gank, but I didn't think you were evil. I thought you had some good in you." She looks at me, that cold rage in her eyes sparking, catching alight. "Are you even human? How can you just hurt people like that? How could you hurt Cat like that? Even if you never loved her, you were still her friend. How can you just show up to school and not even care?"

And I'm waiting. I'm waiting for her words to sink in, to slice through me and make me defend myself. To make me feel anything besides this aching numbness, this slippery coldness that fills me. But it doesn't come, my heart doesn't speak, doesn't protest, and it's left to my brain to force out a lackluster answer, words low, dull. "You think I don't care?" I give my head a little shake, a lock of hair slipping free. "You really think I don't care?" I almost have to fight laughter, lips trembling. "Why do you think I called you?"

Tori's eyes flick to the ground, a converse-clad foot scuffing the linoleum.

"Tori, I don't give a fuck what you think about me, but don't ever question whether I care or not. You don't know what happened."

She raises a sculpted eyebrow at that, sweeping her brunette curls back. "I know what happened. You used Cat to get Beck back, and when that didn't work, you thought you'd play with Cat, but then she found out. She loved you."

And finally I feel something. Loved. Past tense. That makes my heart skip painfully, stuttering in my chest, and I put a hand to it, almost absentmindedly. "It worked. I can have Beck if I want." I study Tori's face, confusion spread across it. "My plan worked. I told you already, remember?"

Her brow wrinkles in disgust. "You're lying. You're fucking lying. You were lying then and you're lying now. I'm sick of it Jade, I'm sick of every single word you say-"

"Is she okay?"

Tori's face relaxes, caught off guard by my interruption. "She- no. She's not okay." Her hands tug at her vest agitatedly, yanking the black material and making it jump. "You broke her heart." Her eyes dart back to mine, dark and seething. All I've seen this week are these hurt brown eyes, in Cat, in Beck, and now in Tori. Why do they all have to have the same eyes? Why do they all have to have the same hurt?

"Where is she?"

Tori's eyes narrow, long lashes matting slightly at the edges. "She doesn't want to see you. She won't let you in."

I let out a harsh sigh. "Stop speaking for her, Tori. She needs me."

Tori lets out a low, bitter laugh. "She needs you? Look what you've done to her! You know what she gave to me, just before I left? What she slid under the crack of her door to me?" She digs around in her bag, pulling out a rumpled sheet of paper, water-stained... tear-stained. She hands it to me, almost shoving it in my face, and I pluck it from her fingers tentatively. It's pink paper... Cat's paper. And I'm filled with an urge to bring it to my nose, to see if I can smell her room, smell where she's touched it, where her fingers stroked over it, where her hand rested to write. But Tori's watching me, arms crossed, and I unfold it clumsily, trying not to touch the smeared stains. I've already had too many of Cat's tears on my hands, on my skin.

Don't let Jade in.

The letters are shaky, scrawled and traced over, again and again, black streaks marring some of the letters, and it's like a slap. It makes my eyes sting, and this lump rise in my throat, and no matter how hard I swallow, it won't go down. I can't force my heart back into my chest. I blink quickly, folding the note up again. I half wish I'd get a paper cut, just so I could leave my own stains on the paper, so I could leave my own hurt there. Just so I could have a physical sign for what it did to me. "She... she wrote this?" The words crawl out of me, dragging themselves over the lump, hoarse and ragged.

Tori's eyebrows tug down, her arms uncrossing, and her voice is a touch softer when she says, "Yeah. She did." I nod sharply, shoving the note in my pocket, knuckles brushing the cylinder of lipgloss. Tori reaches a hand out tentatively. "Look, Jade, I-"

"I don't like you Tori." Tori's hand drops, falling back limply to her side. "And you don't like me."

She tilts her head. "I did like you. You were mean, but at least you were honest. I don't even know who you are now."

I don't know how to tell her I don't either. "I've got to see her, Tori."

I can almost see Tori's shield go back up, that momentary weakness dissipating. "Why? Haven't you hurt her enough?"

I lower my eyes to my fingertips, hands tented, fingers pushing against each other. "I need to fix this." I say softly, still watching the intricate play of my fingers, like they're a separate part of me, like they're signing a language I should know. I'm pretty sure all they're spelling is 'Cat'. "I love her."

Tori's lower lip wedges in her teeth, doubt flickering in her eyes, a strike of that familiar warmth surfacing. Tori can't help herself; she's compassionate, she just wants to help everyone, even when they don't deserve it. But there's still an edge to her, a hardness to her jaw, her brow hanging heavily over her eyes. "Do you?" The bell chimes, kids slamming their lockers and hurrying off to class until we're left there, alone. Tori doesn't make a move, studying me. "I almost believed you before." Her mouth quirks at the edges, like it's some joke she's telling.

"I need to see her."

"Stop lying."

"I'm not lying."

Tori shakes her head, scoffing. "No. Stop it. It's easy to say you care, that you love her. It doesn't mean anything. Everything you say is a lie."

A muscle under my eye twitches. And there, there is the bile I've been waiting for, the spike of anger old Jade used to have. The one that wants to tear Tori to pieces for doubting her. I'm Jade fucking West, and I'm fucking baring my soul to Tori. I'm talking to her like she's worth something, like she's worth my time. "Tori-"

"Prove it." Tori raises an eyebrow, sweeping her tangled curls back. She can see my twitching hands, see my arched eyebrows dipped down, meeting over the bridge of my nose. She can see the old Jade, and for some reason she seems to prefer it. "You say you care, you say you're different – prove it. Show me the real Jade. Stop lying and do something real. Make me believe you, because right now, all I see is this... thing, this monster that broke my best friend's heart. Give me something real."

I hate this. I hate that she's making me jump through fucking hoops for her own kicks. She wants to see me weak, to see me bleeding and broken, just to make herself feel big. To feel like she brought down the mighty Jade West, and I can feel that acid rising in throat, corroding that lump into nothing, and it feels almost good to be angry again. To be filled with fire instead of ice. To be filled with something. I want to spit out these words, to carve her down to what she really is; just someone who secretly thinks she's better than everyone else.

I bite back my words, straightening until my spine hurts, shoulderblades pulled back until they almost touch. "What do I have to do?"

A/N: I know you guys were expecting Cat, but I hope you weren't disappointed anyway. I do hope I'm doing a good job for you guys, and that you're still enjoying it. ^_^

As always, review and let me know, or else I'll throw a big, ugly tantrum. I mean it, like... full on, legs kicking, writhing everywhere, tearing clothes off and punching things. I might even throw up a little, just to make a point. And you don't want that, do you?

Of course you don't. You readers are nice people. :)