A/N: Thank you, thank you, to those of you who loyally read each chapter and review or favorite. Your support means the world. This is a big chapter for Jackie and Hyde. It's decision time for Jackie... what will happen?

Chapter 13 (XIII)

December, 1984

Jackie was alone in her apartment, enjoying some Bing Crosby and wrapping up some of the Christmas presents she'd bought when there was a loud knock at the front door. Curious, she set down her tape and crossed the apartment, looking out the peep hole before she decided whether or not to answer it. She sighed when she saw who it was, and stepped back. Steven.

"What?" she asked in a snotty tone, as soon as the door swung open.

"Jackie." He looked good, she noted with slight dismay. His blue eyes were clear and bright behind his signature shades, and he wore a jacket she'd bought for him several years ago. She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at him.

"Can we talk? Please?"

Now she knew it was serious. Steven never said please.

"For a minute," Jackie relinquished. She leaned against her door frame as she said it, blocking him from entering her apartment. He didn't have those privileges.

"I talked to Fez," Hyde sighed, as he slipped his shades off - another sign that something was off. "He bought a ring, Jackie. He's ready to propose."

"I know," she answered, softly. Then a little more confidently, "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothin'," Hyde shook his head. "Except," he paused, and drug his eyes up from the ground to meet hers. "Except, I wanna be with you."

"What?" she spoke lowly, sure she hadn't heard him correctly.

"I wanna be with you," Hyde repeated. He ducked his head again. "I know I make mistakes, Jackie. Including… including that shit that I said to you. I didn't mean it, but I was scared. I was jealous of what you have with Fez, and I mouthed off, and it was wrong. Okay? I didn't mean it, and I'm sorry I said it."

"Steven…"

"And I know Fez, and I love Fez, same as you. Okay? I know he's a good guy. I know he's the right guy. But Jackie," Hyde lifted his eyes to meet hers again, and they were swimming with all the emotions he was feeling. She had only seen him this open and vulnerable a few times before in their lives, and her heart began to thud.

"I want to – I want to try to be the right guy for you." Hyde hesitated. "I'm still not sure I can be, but I know now that I wanna try."

Jackie narrowed her eyes. This wasn't exactly the declaration of love she'd imagined in her day dreams. "What an enticing offer," she spoke sarcastically, raising her eyebrow at him.

"I know, okay? I know it's lame, but I'm not gonna make a promise I can't keep. Not to you."

Jackie exhaled sharply, and drummed her perfectly manicured nails against the door frame. She meant to look annoyed and impatient, but she was turning his words over and over again in her mind. A few weeks ago, he'd called her a whore. They hadn't talked since then. Now suddenly here he was on her door step, apologetic and self-aware, and asking for a second chance? A place in her heart still held bitterness towards him amongst all the love and relief she was feeling, and that part wondered if he was just here now to stake his claim to her, now that Fez was planning to.

"Look, I appreciate the apology, Steven," she finally spoke, her voice soft and tentative. Her tone hinted at the excuse that was forming on her lips next, and Hyde shook his head.

"Jackie."

"I'm in the middle of something and I need to go, so –"

"Jackie." Hyde jammed his boot in the doorway, preventing her from closing the door on him.

That did it.

"What, Steven?" Jackie pushed the front door open again with more force than it looked like she was capable of. She wasn't quite yelling, but her voice had taken on a hardened and assertive edge. "Why are you really here? Huh?"

"To tell you that I want to try, man. I - I want to try to have a relationship with you again." He fumbled through the words – words she knew he'd never said before – and his bare blue eyes met hers in a pleading glance.

He was begging for her. It was what she'd always wanted.

Jackie swallowed hard. "I'm practically engaged, Steven."

"Well you shouldn't be," Hyde scoffed.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Jackie crossed her arms defensively.

"You know what I mean."

"No, I really don't." Jackie's voice rose with frustration. "See, Steven, you had your chance. We had a chance, and guess what? You didn't try. All you could say was 'I don't know.' So, I found someone who does know. Who never makes me question whether he loves me or not, whether he wants to plan a future with me or not."

"And are you happy?"

Jackie faltered. "W-what?"

"Cuz I'm not." Hyde shrugged, his hands in his pockets. "I'm not happy unless I'm with you." He was clearly uncomfortable with the whole conversation, but continued to force the stubborn words out. They hung heavily in the air between them.

"Steven?" Jackie's voice was small again, and betrayed her shock.

"That's what I learned," Hyde told her, his voice soft to match hers. "I'm basically, like… a sad person. You know? I go to work, I get high, I drink with my friends and that's it. That's all I do. That's how I'm spending my life." He paused for almost a full minute, a smile starting to play shyly across his lips. "But you… you're, like, the opposite of that, man. You're, like… colorful. And loud. And fun." He paused, and shook his head. "Like when you're at the fair, and a damn smiley face balloon gets loose and keeps bumpin' against your face. Annoying, but I can't help but feel…"

"Happy?" Jackie suggested, tentatively.

Hyde grimaced, almost as if the word caused him pain. "Don't know if I'm capable of that, but bein' with you…" he shrugged. "It's the closest I've ever come. I know that."

Jackie raised a hand to dab at her eyes, betraying the emotions she was working to keep at bay. "I… I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Hyde shrugged. "I just needed you to know how I feel."

"And that is?" she probed, wondering just how far he'd really go.

Hyde swallowed, a look of resolve on his face. "That… I love you." He forced himself to look up into her eyes as he said it.

"Don't get me wrong," he chuckled. "I find you abrasive, and annoying, and pushy, and –" The look in Jackie's eyes told him he was taking it too far, and so he trailed off. "But I still want to spend every annoying minute with you. That's how I know. That's what I feel."

"And Fez…" Hyde shook his head. "He's a good guy, and he's the safe choice. I get it. But I think you both deserve more than that."

Jackie stood against the door jamb, still silent. Hyde eyed her wearily. This wasn't her modus operandi – not at all. Across the hall, the elevator pinged, indicating it would soon arrive to their floor. Jackie's eyes flitted to that area and Hyde read her thoughts immediately: would Fez be home soon?

"All's I'm sayin' is that you have a choice to make, okay?" Hyde stepped back from the front door, and grasped his belt buckle. "I can't keep doin' this to Fez, and I know you can't either. So you have to choose. And if you choose me, I just want you to know that things are gonna be different." He cleared his throat. "That's, uh. All I wanted to say." He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked to Jackie for her reaction.

"Oh, Steven." Jackie lifted both hands to cover her mouth, as she processed his words. She felt her eyes begin to prickle with tears, and blinked them away stubbornly. "I always dreamed of hearing you say those words."

Hyde lifted his head, hopefully.

"I just didn't think that when you finally did," Jackie continued, still holding her mouth, "All I'd be able to say is: I need to think about it."

She stepped back into her apartment and gently swung the door shut before him. What he didn't see was the way she slipped to the floor and broke down on the other side.

"Hey," Donna stepped into the Forman kitchen through the sliding glass door.

"Hey," Eric greeted her. He was seated at the kitchen table, enjoying his second bowl of cereal.

Donna raised an eyebrow at him. "Isn't 4:30 a little late for breakfast?"

"Breakfast is a mindset, Donna. There's no wrong time," Eric responded.

"Sure," she chuckled. "Where's Natalia?"

"My mom's getting her," Eric offered. "They did tie-dying today, so she's probably in need of a rinse-off."

"Fair," Donna admitted, sinking into the kitchen chair across from Eric.

"So," Eric started, eyeing Donna tentatively. "Is it true?"

"Hmm?"

"You and Casey are done?"

Donna froze. "What do you mean?"

"My mom. She, ah, heard some gossip from Carol down the street," Eric offered sheepishly. "She said there was a lot of yelling, and he left in the middle of the night."

"Oh my God," Donna moaned and dropped her head into her arms, embarrassed. "So everyone knows?"

"No, no," Eric attempted to back pedal. "Not everyone. Just, um. Nosy Carol."

"Which means everyone," Donna clarified, as she lifted her head. The small-town rumor mill was a force to be reckoned with. She released a deep sigh.

"So…what happened?" Eric spooned more cereal into his mouth, trying to toe the line between being friendly and being intrusive.

Donna frowned. "Um. We just weren't… clicking."

Eric narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean? You guys were engaged."

Donna pursed her lips, and Eric could tell she was holding something back. He wished she trusted him enough to talk to him about it, like she would've in the old days, but he didn't want to push.

"Never mind."

Donna sighed. "No, it's just… it's complicated," she trailed off.

"Sure."

"He's been, like, drinking a lot? After work and stuff. Coming home really drunk and pissed off. Stuff he didn't do before."

"Before what?"

Donna shook her head. "Just… before."

"Okay. So, what, did he do something?" Eric set his cereal bowl aside, now forgotten. He had a foreboding feeling at the center of his chest.

Donna sighed again, and looked away. "Yeah," she offered, her voice suddenly small.

"What did he do, Donna?"

"It's not nearly as bad as it looks," she began, and Eric's jaw set tensely. She swallowed at the serious look on his face, and gingerly began to roll up the sleeves of her long-sleeved blouse. A serious of finger-sized bruises on each of her arms spoke for themselves.

Eric spoke after a few moments of silence. "Doesn't seem very complicated to me, Donna. Sounds like he's an abusive piece of shit."

"Yeah," she agreed quietly, her eyes downcast. She began rolling her sleeves back down. "Don't, um. Don't tell anyone, okay? I don't want Natalia hearing about it."

"I won't," Eric promised. "How did – did he –"

"Pushed me into the coffee table when he was drunk," she offered, anticipating his questions. "He apologized as soon as he did it, but I just can't ever forgive him. Or trust him. All I kept thinking was what if he did this to Natalia?" Donna shook her head with a sort of shudder. "He had to go. And he will never be back."

Eric reached a hand out to rest upon hers, careful to avoid the bruises on her forearm. "You're okay?" he clarified. "Natalia's okay?"

"We're fine," Donna confirmed. "Sad, and maybe a tad bit embarrassed."

"You don't have anything to be embarrassed about," Eric shook his head. "But god, I want to beat the hell out of him."

"Yeah, well, me too." She took in a deep breath, and released it slowly. "But instead, I'm just going to focus on moving forward. You know?"

"What's that gonna look like?"

"I think you might have an idea." Donna glanced at him over top of her long lashes, and he felt his breath hitch.

"W-what?"

Donna tilted her head to the side. "I had a voice message on my machine from MacArthur Press today. They're a small, indie publisher based in New York and they said they got ahold of some of my stories and poems. They want me to call them back about a short story collection book deal."

"Wh – that's amazing!" Eric's excitement for her was genuine. "Congratulations!"

Donna smiled, but continued to look at him skeptically. "You sent them," she said. "I know it was you."

Eric shrugged. "Look, Bill works with a lot of other publishing houses in the city, and he thought your stuff would be a great fit for MacArthur. Looks like he was right."

Donna's eyes narrowed. "Okay, well I don't know where you got the impression that I need you calling in favors for me."

Eric put his hand to his heart earnestly. "No no, that's not it. Not at all, okay?" He smirked. "And for the record, I have nowhere near enough pull to call in any favors. You can ask Bill that. He'll confirm."

"So you didn't ask them to do this?" Donna confirmed tentatively.

"No," Eric laughed in surprise. "I had no idea." He took a risk, and reached his hand out to set on top of hers, gently. "Donna, look. I read some stuff that I liked, so I passed it along. That's all. But for the record, I think it's incredibly well deserved and I'm, like, really happy for you."

"Well… thank you." She was blushing prettily. "It's really what I needed right now."

"Good," Eric responded softly.

"You know, everything I learned about writing, I learned from you," he admitted sincerely. "And now poorly teach to a group of sixth graders."

Donna laughed. "Yeah, right. Mr. 'Best Seller'."

"It's true," Eric shrugged. "I didn't – I didn't know I had so much to say, until I met you."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

Eric shrugged. "You tell me."

"That's – enough," Red heaved. "Let me rest here."

Obediently, Eric hefted Red towards the sofa and deposited him gently atop the cushions. Red panted and leaned onto his knees, totally spent from their short walk from the kitchen table. Over the past few weeks, his ALS symptoms had continued to develop rapidly and, true to form, Red was stubbornly refusing to use the wheelchair the doctors insisted would improve his quality of life. I'm not an invalid, he would insist. It was difficult to watch him become weaker and weaker, but Eric knew it was important for Red to preserve his pride, so he did his best to keep his smart-mouth comments to himself.

"Do you want to just stay here on the couch, Dad?" Eric knelt down. "I mean, I can go get your blanket. What's the difference if you lay here or you lay in the bed over there?" Red shot him a glare. Well… almost. Eric almost kept all of his smart-mouth comments to himself.

"I learned," Red spoke in short bursts, still recovering his breath. "F-from you, son."

"Of course, Dad," Eric grinned. "I'm the king of relaxing – I know." He'd never thought of his banter with his father as something he'd miss one day but, well… he would. "Here," Eric handed him a shawl from the back of the pea-soup-colored chair, and Red wrapped it over his shoulders. He was always cold these days.

Eric sat down on the other side of the couch carefully, and flipped the TV on until it landed on the weather station. Red loved to watch the weather. Eric didn't quite understand the appeal, but he set the remote down and leaned back against the cushions. "Looks like a cold front is moving in."

Red grunted in response. After a few moments, he said, "You don't have to stay here."

"Oh." Eric sat up straighter. "You want me to go?"

"I di-didn't say that," Red sighed. "I said you don't have to stay."

"Alright then." Eric stood, and crossed in front of the couch towards the kitchen door. Just before he reached it, though, he stopped and leafed his hand through his hair. He stood there, back to his father for a few long seconds.

"S-something on your mind, son?"

Eric turned around. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, clearly struggling with what he wanted to say. "You never liked me much, did you Dad?" he finally spoke. It was more of a statement than a question, really.

Eric was surprised when Red's response was a belly laugh. "Wh-what," he tried to catch his breath, "What gave you th-that impression?" As his laugh ended he started to cough, and when it became violent Eric knelt down next to him again. Red waved him off. It took a few minutes, but eventually he regained his breath.

"No, Eric, I don't reckon I always did. Like you very much," he finally answered. "But that goes both ways, doesn't it?"

"We don't have a lot in common," Eric shrugged.

Red chuckled again. "I don't know about that." Eric's eyes shot up to Red's, questioning. "Look, I kn-know I've given you a rough time. Truth is, if we weren't so alike, I'd like you a whole lot more."

"What?" It was the last thing Eric had expected for him to say.

Red studied his son carefully, a small smile playing across his features. "Th-that's probably not what you want to hear," Red chuckled. "Sometimes I think I was so hard on you because I saw you making the same mistakes I did." He had to pause for a few moments to collect his breath and his thoughts. "Being lazy. Giving up on yourself. Settling for less. Al-always having to make some smart-ass comment." He shook his head. "I wanted better for you. And truth is, I thought you'd found it."

Eric stared down at his hands. "Is that why you didn't tell me you were sick?"

Red didn't speak for a moment. "Maybe." He sighed. "Y-you know your grandpa Albert died before you were born. Cancer." Eric nodded. "I took care of him for a few months when I got back f-from the war. And it was hell. My last memories, my strongest memories, are of him dying." He cleared his throat, as some emotion started to seep into his words. "I guess I just… didn't want that for you."

Eric was silent for a long time, processing Red's words. He cleared his throat, too. "Don't worry about that, Dad," he reached out and held his frail forearm. Slowly, Eric grinned. "I have a feeling my strongest memories of you will involve near-constant threats to put your foot in my ass."

"As it should be."

They shared a grin before Eric faltered. In a low voice, he admitted, "You know, what I have in New York with the book and the movie… it's good, I guess. It's more than I ever thought I was capable of." Red nodded his agreement. "But I just…" Eric hesitated. Being open and vulnerable about his feelings - and with his father, no less – wasn't a familiar or comfortable feeling. But Red had done so first, and Eric knew that this was one of his last chances to have this conversation and hear Red's (usually offensive but also on-the-nose) fatherly advice, and that pushed him forward. "Being back here, with you and mom, it reminds me. That I don't have that, you know? I don't have that person to share my life with. And now I think it's too late."

Red scoffed. "It's not too late."

"Yeah, well. The person I love doesn't love me back," Eric replied glumly.

"Oh, horse shit." Red shook his head, and looked Eric in the eye. "S-son, you know me. I have never lied to you and I never will. But that girl, Donna? She loves you back. Always has. G-god knows why. The Forman men," he added, "We always marry above our rank. It's tradition."

Eric shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know why you think that, Dad."

"Her eyes," Red fired back.

"What?"

"H-her eyes," Red repeated. "They turned grey when you left. We all noticed – I swear it." He'd caught Eric's attention now. "But when you walk in the room, they're blue again."

"I don't think that's a thing," Eric shook his head wearily.

"Okay, dumbass," Red retorted. "Tell me how you know what color her eyes are when you're not in the room."

A/N: Okay, only a few more chapters to go! Just like the show, this story will end on New Years Eve. There are two more chapters, and an epilogue. The story is far from over, so stay tuned! And drop a review! :)