A/N

First and foremost, I want to thank everyone for sticking it out with me. We're entering the second half of this story and it sorta blows my mind that anyone is reading and enjoying this. You have no idea how close I came to not even posting that first chapter. I'm having fun writing this and I'm glad I went through with it. So, I hope you all buckle up because this ride is about to escalate!

Chapter 13 – The Homecoming

"Waiting for the other shoe to drop" was a phrase Buster would've never considered inadequate before now, unless you were referring to a shoe-clad spider, because it seemed like a lot of shoes were dropping lately.

The latest shoe was the confirmation of the rumor he heard from Ernie Boyd. No matter how low Boyd considered himself on the Redshore totem pole, apparently he had access to a better information network than Buster, because The Majestic Palace officially announced that a show featuring stars from the reality competition Sing Your Heart Out, America! was taking up residency in the theater in the coming months. Even if Lester McCray found some kind of loophole to get Buster and his troupe out of their Crystal Entertainment contract, there was no room for them at his theater. Sure, Out of This World was a fantastic original production, it even boasted the return of Clay Calloway, but how could they compete with reality TV stars? These singers were on their way to becoming household names with bestselling albums, if they weren't already. The Moon troupe was out of their league, and it didn't seem like an appropriate time for Buster to push cute adages about optimism or dreaming. He was at a loss for words. As much as Crystal loved to call him a loser, this was the first time in a long time Buster truly felt like he was losing at life. It was like losing his theater all over again, but at a speedrun. He was getting fatigued.

And with the meeting with Cleo Keller going basically nowhere, it felt like salt in the wound. If her opinion of Buster was any lower, it'd be in the sewer. All he'd learned was that Cleo was probably disgusted by the thought of him, and that Jimmy Crystal hated him even more than he realized.

Maybe he was looking at this wrong. This wasn't a shoe dropping, it was a domino. It was funny in a macabre way how pushing a domino here or there started a chain reaction that was quickly unraveling his life. How fragile our livelihoods could be.

But what disturbed Buster most of all was the emptiness in the back of his heart, a void he only recently noticed now that he had all the free time to wallow in his own feelings. The negative voice that seeped into his thoughts, the voice that told him he was garbage and that simply trying was an exercise in inevitable failure, wasn't all that uncommon of an experience for anyone. What changed was that over the past few months, his negative voice started to sound a lot like Crystal. Now in these past few days, it was the voice of many people he'd encountered recently, and they'd been growing louder and more judgmental with time.

"If you build a foundation with lies, you compromise the structure and integrity of your house."

"Everyone's got their own story, Moon. You're the villain of mine."

"You have little to no morals, Mr. Moon."

"As long as you succeed, all the people you hurt along the way should be okay with the way you treated them, is that right?"

The voice that would always come to his defense and lift him up, the voice of his father, was nowhere to be found. He found it both distressing and embarrassing that he hadn't noticed its absence until now. It was like he was missing a piece of himself. How long was it gone?

From what he could tell, since they arrived in Redshore.

Upon realizing that, Buster made a choice in that moment, one some may consider drastic. He needed to go back to his roots, to find what he lost, to put right what once went wrong, or any variation of what needed to happen to become whole once more. And the only one he let in on his plan that night was Rosita.

"McCray is a coward," Rosita said, her voice surprisingly hard as she watched Buster fill his koala-sized suitcase with clothes and necessities. "He could have warned us ahead of time that we were being replaced. Now he's just going on as if we never existed."

"Business is business, I guess," Buster said, voice ringing cold and hollow. Zipping up his suitcase, Buster wheeled it out of his room with Rosita on his heels.

"Mr. Moon!" Rosita called out to no response. She grabbed his arm and pulled him aside, "Buster, wait! Is this really necessary?"

The uneasy look Buster gave her showed his own confidence wavering. It was his turn to grab her arm, leading her into the den where they sat down on the couch. Buster took Rosita's hands in his own and squeezed, maybe a bit tighter than he needed to. He began to explain himself.

"It's been crazy since we got to Redshore, and it wasn't until recent circumstances that I really got the time to unwind and just let things be. That's when I realized... I don't feel my father's presence. His spirit isn't here." Rosita looked like her heart was going to break as he kept going, "I know some people don't believe in stuff like that, but I've always had the strong feeling that my dad was watching over me ever since he passed. I'm going back to Calatonia because I need to... well, it sounds really cheesy on TV when people say they're going to 'find themselves,' but I've definitely lost something, and I want to find it again. I need to be whole to face what's coming next. I can't give you all the best of me right now. Please, don't tell the kids the thing about my dad, I'm not sure they'll really understand it, or if they'll think something's gone wrong with me."

"I certainly understand. You do whatever you need to," Rosita said. "How long are you going to be gone?"

"A few days, a week at the most. You're in charge while I'm gone, all right?"

Rosita gave a wry grin. "I'll manage."

It was nearly midnight when the Moon Mobile reached the Redshore bus terminal near Crystal Plaza. As Rosita slowed the vehicle to a stop, she checked the mirrors to confirm her suspicions that they were being followed. That wasn't too alarming; it was just more paparazzi, still desperate to milk the story. Thankfully they were keeping their distance after learning their lesson the hard way.

The incident in question occurred last time Norman and the piglets came to visit. As they were preparing to leave and Norman was packing the piglets into the van, they were approached by TMZ grilling them for scandalous details about Moon and his troupe's supposed illegal activities. Once Rosita caught wind of what was happening, she went nuclear, and from that day on "the mommy pig" took on a new connotation that inspired fear and caution in paparazzi circles.

Buster hugged Rosita before he bought his ticket and boarded the bus. The sparse number of riders on board meant he had free rein on the best seats. Taking a seat towards the back, Buster's gaze fixated on Rosita through the window, and he watched her until the bus took off. He waved to her; she blew a kiss, and mouthed something that appeared like, "Come back whole."

Once the bus reached the outskirts of the city, Buster began to relax. There was no turning back now. In the morning, Rosita would tell the troupe about Buster's trip. This was another one of his impulsive decisions and he knew if he had to sit there and tell them himself, see the fear and uncertainty in their faces as their leader 'fled' the city looking for some nebulous piece of himself he allegedly lost... he wouldn't be able to go through with it.

It was better this way.

The weight of stressful days and restless nights came down on Buster. The landscape outside changed over, the moonlit sheen of the coast on his right and the endless stretch of desert reaching into the darkness to his left. He wouldn't miss anything if he let his eyes rest. Maybe he'd even get some decent sleep for once, not in his own bed but on a bus. That would be ironic...

He was finally back.

Buster stood inside the New Moon Theater, his second home (once his first), and took in the atmosphere. It was a bit larger than he remembered, maybe a bit darker too, but the stage was aglow and calling his name, and that's all that mattered.

As he made his way down the aisles toward the stage, Buster became painfully aware of another presence.

"Who's there?" he called, turning to the doors leading back into the lobby. There was no one.

Then he heard a snarl.

He spun on his heels to find Jimmy Crystal standing a few feet away, staring him down, eyes quaking with indignation.

"Why are you here!?" Buster demanded. Crystal offered no response.

And in a flash of heat and light, the New Moon Theater went up in flames. Buster couldn't believe how quickly the fire spread. The exits were engulfed, and the flames encircled them, dancing and quivering with raw emotion. It was as if Crystal summoned the fire through the sheer will of his rage.

Crystal did respond to Buster at last, not with words but an encore of that deranged grin from the that near-fatal moment back in the Crystal Tower Theater. This time, Buster wasn't falling, he was burning alive... and he screamed as the flames lunged with a sudden woosh, devouring them both.

Awaking with a start, Buster's panicked eyes swept the bus. He let out a quick, jittery sigh once everything fell back into place. The other riders on the bus were asleep or completely indifferent to him, which meant he had not come out of his nightmare screaming for once; he wasn't sure if nightmares about Crystal literally burning his life's work to the ground were much better than the falling-to-his-death dreams that plagued him months before.

A glance at his phone told Buster it was nearly 5 AM. Soon the sun would begin its ascent, and the world would follow. But before he could tackle his first day of soul-searching, he'd need all the energy he could muster. Burrowing into his seat, Buster resigned himself to a sleepless rest.

It was past 10 AM when the bus finally reached the terminal in Calatonia. By noon, Buster left his luggage at him, grabbed his bike, and was cruising the streets as if he'd never left.

Massive stages, luxury hotels and neon lights had become such a normal part of his life in Redshore that he forgot the simple pleasures of home. Calatonia wasn't exactly a small or humble town, but it certainly felt that way in comparison to Redshore. Passing through familiar streets and neighborhoods had him in a surreal daze that made the past months feel like a dream. Redshore hadn't happened, Out of This World was nothing more than a fantasy, and Jimmy Crystal never existed. Or so it seemed.

The New Moon Theater was calling to him, but he ignored it. Buster knew he should check in on it, but a creeping fear nagged at him, one he hadn't considered before jumping on that bus: What if he came all this way looking for what he lost, only to never find it? What if that part of him was gone for good? That fear caused him to do a detour because there was something else he needed to attend to, a wound he left untreated for far too long. He was riding down to Eddie's pool house. A rift developed between them after he left for Redshore, and it was threatening to grow into a chasm that would sink years of friendship.

Eddie was surprisingly subdued back when Buster told him about the gig at The Majestic Palace Theater. He didn't realize the rift was there until Eddie didn't show up for the premiere. Eddie was supposed to be in that car with Nana. When he wasn't, Buster had to walk that red carpet with a smile, and without his best friend.

Standing at the door to the pool house, Buster took a deep breath and knocked. The texts he'd sent to Eddie letting him know he was back in town got a single word reply.

After a minute of waiting, Buster peered through the glass and shouted, "I know you're home! I can see you!"

The sheep pushed himself off the couch and started an agonizingly leisure stroll over to the door. He slid it open to meet Buster.

"Eddiiiieee!" Buster cried, throwing his arms up in celebration.

Eddie, eyes half-lidded in disinterest, mumbled, "Hey."

"Good to see you, buddy!" Buster said, pushing his way inside. "Like I texted earlier, I'm back in town for a few days, thought I'd drop by. Boy, this place hasn't changed a bit!" Swiveling on his feet, Buster absorbing the atmosphere of his best friend's abode, letting the memories wash over him. He took in a deep breath to complete the ritual and coughed when his lungs protested. "You need to let this place air out once in a while."

"Thanks," Eddie said through gritted teeth. "What did you want?"

Buster let out a nervous chuckle. He wasn't expecting the reception to be this icy. "Come on, don't be like that. What have you been up to?"

"Oh, you know. Nothing important. Same old Eddie."

The tension would suffocate Buster if it got any thicker. His eyes wandered and fell upon the TV, sparking a lightbulb in his head.

"I don't have a console in Redshore. Wanna play a game, just like old times?"

Eddie perked up, but just a bit. "Sure," he replied flatly.

"How about some co-op?"

A dark grin formed across the sheep's lips. "Nah. Let's do versus."

After Eddie set up the inflatable pool chairs, they sat down to play the most brutal fighting game Eddie had in his collection. And they fought for must have been hours. Buster lost every match. He could've easily blamed it on his rusty skills after not playing any video games for months, but there was an acute aggression behind every hit Eddie landed, a smug satisfaction behind every victory won. Mercy wasn't a word in his vocabulary. An achievement that popped up on the screen rubbed it in.

"Wow, you got a secret achievement for losing twenty-five matches in a row," Eddie said with a derisive chuckle. "Who knew that was in there?"

Buster paused the game, set the controller down, and turned to meet Eddie with a deep, serious gaze... which wasn't as effective as he hoped with the inflatable seat squeaking and bouncing under his weight.

"Eddie, I have the distinct feeling you're upset with me."

Eddie pointed at the screen with his own controller. "I dismembered you three times, cut out your heart, and even dunked you in a pool of acid. Ya think?"

"You did do that one friendship finisher, though."

"I put in the wrong button combo. I was trying to smash you into a million pieces."

Buster let out a frustrated sigh. "Is this how it's going to be? You keep doing this passive-aggressive thing while I hold out an olive branch?"

"I don't want your stupid branch!" Eddie spat. "You think you can disappear for months and just stroll back in here outta nowhere like everything's gonna be cool between us?"

The pain in Eddie's voice caused Buster to flinch. "I'm here now, buddy. I think I know what the issue is, but how can we fix it if we don't communicate?"

"What's there to fix? You made it pretty clear where I stand when you took the gang to Redshore City and didn't say a word to me!"

Buster took in a sharp breath, like a dagger was jammed between his ribs. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I screwed up. I'm a screw up."

Eddie dropped his controller and sank into the inflatable, staring up at the ceiling. "It's always been the two of us. You've got your head in the clouds and I keep you grounded. But you just left for one of the biggest adventures of your life in the middle of the night, and not once did you think I should be part of that. Did you know what it was like to see the news about you getting hired by that Crystal guy and being completely in the dark? Why did I find out my alleged best friend almost died from the TV!?"

"I can't stop screwing up!" Buster moaned, and it was like the dam broke. He stared into his shaking palms as it all came flooding out of him. "I keep getting ahead of myself and letting everyone down! I lied to Crystal about Calloway and now he hates me and tried to kill me! Twice! That's come back to haunt me because Calloway walked out when he learned I never told him how I got the show greenlit! I let everybody around me down... I feel like I should've known Rosita was afraid of heights before putting her in that position. Johnny's dance instructor was bullying him, and I was completely oblivious! Meena really didn't feel comfortable with the love scene but I didn't listen and made her do it like some sleazy producer! I made Porsha cry. She's a sweet girl, maybe a little clingy and desperate for validation, but I should've handled that situation better. And now we've lost our gig at The Majestic because this woman Cleo that almost hates me as much as Crystal is helping him ruin my life by pushing over the dominos. Everyone's saying I'm just a conman and a liar! The internet thinks I'm racist against wolves! The dominos keep falling, but the truth is that I set them up in the first place! And now you hate me too! Don't you see, Eddie? It's all my fault!"

"Whoa, pal! Take a breath!" Eddie pleaded, patting the koala on the back. "That's a lot to unpack. And for the record, I don't hate you."

"Seems like you're the only one these days," Buster murmured, rubbing at his moistening eyes. He wouldn't cry, not today.

"You've really been through the wringer out there, haven't you?"

Buster nodded, then moved over so he and Eddie could share the same seat; the vinyl whined under their combined weight. "I'm really sorry, Eddie. I need you to know that I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I get that, it's just..." Eddie looked away, rubbing the back of his neck through his thick wool. "You know how Nana is always calling me useless and saying I'm full of wasted potential. When you took everyone else but me... it felt like you agreed. Why'd you leave me, man?"

"It was a spur of the moment decision," Buster said. "I was only thinking about what was essential for the audition."

"I could've helped you audition..."

"And then there were all the production issues and trying to track down Clay Calloway..."

"I could've helped you track down Clay Calloway..."

"Not to mention how dangerous things got when Crystal went ballistic."

Eddie folded his arms with a sour look. "I could've helped you run for your life from Jimmy Crystal..."

Buster choked back a laugh. Eddie held out his arm, and Buster went in for a hug. "Never change, Eddie. And sorry about my little breakdown there. I've been holding it all in... everybody back in Redshore can't see me like this. They would lose faith in me, themselves, and start questioning if any of this was worth it, and I can't have that."

"Don't worry, buddy," Eddie said. "Everybody needs to get stuff off their chest once in a while. You said you'd be in town for a few days? You can give me all the juicy details at your own pace. And don't leave out a thing!"

There was an elongated, rolling growl between them. Buster peered down at his stomach with an embarrassed grin. "I'm a bit famished. All I've had today was a coffee and a stale Danish."

Eddie pointed over to the couch where a box of pizza and several soda cans were abandoned. As Buster went to investigate a potential meal, Eddie shut off the game and flipped to Prime News Today with the polar bear and vixen news anchors.

Despite the hunger pangs, Buster poked around at the cold pizza. Fine dining in their college days, but such meals were starting to lose their luster. He held up one the sodas; the black can was streaked in orange lightning bolts. "Gamer Diesel?" he read off the label. "What even is that flavor?"

Eddie shrugged. "Tastes like carbonation."

"That would be enough for you, wouldn't it?" Buster said. "We're not getting any younger, you know. We should be more conscious about what we're putting in our bodies."

Throwing his head back, Eddie let out an exaggerated groan. "You sound like my mom."

"She's not wrong." Buster found two cups and set them down on the table near the stereo. "I've been drinking ginger tea lately. Maybe I can scrounge something up, make us a healthy alternative to Gamer Diesel."

"Good luck with that," Eddie said with a chuckle, but his jaw quickly dropped when he saw the breaking news story. Before he knew it, he was standing, drawn to the TV in a zombie-like shamble.

Seeing Eddie's body language out of his peripheral vision gave Buster pause.

"What is it? Are they trashing me on TV again? I know the media dug up Eileen and some of the old stage crew to give them spicy soundbites. Look, it's not like I didn't want to pay them—I literally couldn't!" Buster blinked in realization. "This is weird to say, but I'm starting to get used to it a little bit. Is this what it's like to be a celebrity? Holy moly, am I a celebrity now?"

"Buster, man... I'm so sorry."

That sent ice through Buster's veins. He couldn't see the TV around Eddie, so he moved in to get a clear view.

"Eddie, you're scaring m..."

Then he knew. One sentence changed everything.

"In a stunning turn of events, a judge has dismissed all charges against embattled mogul Jimmy Crystal, and he is expected to be released as early as tomorrow."

"They're... they're letting him out?" His voice was barely a whisper. "Just like that? He's free!?" Buster fell and scrambled backwards away from the TV.

How could those anchors be so calm and neutral in their delivery of such news? Didn't they know what this meant? The pieces of the horrific puzzle were falling into place; Buster realized he had some advance warning, but what did that matter in this situation?

"You're looking at this from the wrong perspective."

"You're gonna love what's coming next. My only regret is I won't be there to see your face when it happens."

Buster began to hyperventilate. He was locked in Crystal's closet again. Maybe he'd been trapped all this time in a metaphorical sense, running down the clock to the inevitable.

"You nearly killed me."

"And I'll finish the job later."

"Hey buddy, get it together!"

Was that Eddie? He sounded a million miles away, and the white figure in front of him was a blurry mess through the tears streaming from his eyes.

"He's going to finish the job!" Buster screamed. "I'm going to die!"

"It's okay, he's not here!"

The figure was reaching out to him. Buster wiped enough tears away to realize it wasn't Eddie at all, but Crystal. He was already here.

"I'm sorry! Please! Please! I never meant to humiliate you or Porsha! Please!"

Crystal took hold of him, and Buster's world went dark.

A/N

Everything changes from here on. Jimmy (and Jerry and Cleo) will have a larger, much more immediate presence and role in the story going forward. We're going to move away from Buster's POV for a little while to get the perspective of a few new and familiar faces.

As far as Jimmy getting the charges dismissed, I put a lot of thought into having things play out this way. I decided pretty early while plotting the story that the trial wasn't going to happen; the interview between Buster and Walter Kilborn is a good example of what to expect if it had happened. Rick Delany, Jimmy's lawyer, is vicious in a courtroom, so you could expect the Kilborn interview but much worse. There would have been screaming and crying coming from the relevant members of the Moon troupe put on the stand. I just didn't want the story to fall into repetition. I felt that the exchanges between Kilborn and Buster did a good enough job exploring and addressing overlooked aspects of Buster's character. Maybe a proper trial would be something fun to write in a different story in the future, maybe in a branching AU.

About the legal process for the charges getting dismissed, I had this whole thing I was going to write up here, but the truth is, going that deep isn't necessary because the justice system in the Sing movies work however the movie decides in that moment. Marcus and his gang robbed the city for years and somehow turned that punishment into a slap on the wrist with community service. Buster has never had a brush with the law (that we know of) despite frequent and sometimes blatant law-breaking activities in both movies. Jimmy is hardly the first one to wiggle out of the legal consequences of his actions, and definitely has enough power and influence to do so (facts that will be acknowledged and explored in the story proper).