Title: And I Fell… (Part 4 - "It's Dejavú!")
Author: Wari
E-mail: fa_chan@yahoo.com
Rating/Genre: R for bad language, drug use, and slash/ Absolutely AU…really, I mean it
Archive?: Sure, just ask for my permission.
Feedback: I crave your comments so bring them on!
Comments: I didn't like this part. I don't even remember how I was able to write it. Anyway, I thought it sucked, but it's one of the most important parts so far.
Note: I made up the "Minnesota Millions" lottery, or at least, I THINK I did. Yikes.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Mighty Ducks characters. Disney does. :P
------------
The countdown began.
"One!" shouted the ref and the others leaned back, clapped once, and clutched the rail.
Simple enough, even child's play.
"Two!"
They all clapped twice.
Still too easy.
"Three!"
Three claps, all completed. Jesse felt his palms becoming sweaty. He hastily rubbed them on his pant legs before the next count began.
"Four!"
As the count went up a notch, so did the tension in the air.
"Five!"
The claps were beginning to sound sloppy and hurried by the fifth count. The referee pursed his lips, his watchful gaze shifting to the far right.
"Stop, hold it," he spoke, holding up his hand to bring the game to an abrupt halt.
"Fulton, right?" the tall referee asked, strolling over to stand in front of the other teen. Fulton nodded once.
"Sorry, dude, you're disqualified."
The latter's expression was one of slight shock, but he did not question the referee's decision. Fulton knew that he couldn't sneak by the watchful eyes with only four claps. He simply mumbled something incoherent and swung his legs over the railing. The tall boy left the roof without a word, not bothering to stick around for the rest of the game. The audience watched him go.
"Ok, three contestants left," the ref idly commented. "Let's begin again, shall we, gentlemen?"
Charlie and Riley were still doing well enough. In fact, anyone would say that they were in a league of their own. Six counts won't be difficult.
Jesse, though, was starting to have second thoughts about the whole ordeal. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to finish six whole claps.
He nervously bit his lip.
As much as he hated to do it, he made a decision.
"Wait!"
The ref turned around, addressing him.
"Huh? What's the matter?"
"I…I can't -- I forfeit the game."
Brows knitting, Charlie stared at Jesse who looked very defeated.
"Ok, then, Jesse, you are officially dismissed from the game."
Jesse clambered back onto the roof and left silently, brushing past the rest of his friends, who patted his shoulders sympathetically. He didn't dare look at Charlie as he stepped through the doorway and back into the darkness of the stairwell.
The ref's voice broke the silence of Jesse's departure. "Well, I can't say that this has never happened before because it has," he turned to the remaining players with an amusing look.
"Ah, and then there were two…" he lightly tapped his fingers on the railing.
Riley smirked. "It'll be fun watching you fall, Conway."
Charlie kept his gaze forward and neutral. "Likewise, Riley."
He allowed a tiny smirk to touch his lips.
"All right, enough chit-chat, we'll start again on the count of six." The referee stood once more in front of them.
"Ready, boys?"
Both players mentally psyched themselves up and waited for the count to continue.
"Six!"
Six completed claps each. Riley ground his teeth, annoyed that Charlie was still in the fight. He hadn't expected his rival to make it this far into the game. He wanted to win, and he wasn't about to let a nobody like Conway get in the way of his victory.
"Seven!"
Charlie executed the seven claps and reached out to grab the railing.
His heart skipped a beat as he held onto the metal with one hand, the other having slipped off. Charlie cursed silently while Riley looked over with a disturbingly haughty smile. Excited whispers and audible gasps were heard on both the roof and on the ground below.
"Whoa, did you see that?? Charlie barely made it!" Dwayne croaked out and tugged on Kenny's sleeve.
"Damn! Poor guy's screwed. I think Riley's gonna win," said Averman thoughtfully.
Everyone turned to the redhead. "AVERMAN!!!"
"What?? I was only kidding! Honest!"
"Averman, are you crazy or something? That was just a fluke! Charlie's gonna pull through," Goldberg affirmed with a confident nod of his head.
Charlie closed his eyes, shutting out the words, the whispers, and the world. After all, did they really care if he won? Everyone, even his friends, just probably came to watch some poor loser fall off a building…
The referee's voice broke through his thoughts.
"Hey, Conway, you ready?"
Riley's expression turned incredulous. He turned to the ref and Charlie.
"What's the meaning of this?!" he bellowed indignantly.
The ref raised a brow, tilting his chin up in defiance. "What's the meaning of what?"
"You know what I meant! He's supposed to be disqualified! He didn't grab onto the rail!" Riley growled, pointing an accusing finger at Charlie.
"Disqualified? Well, as a matter of fact, he did grab onto the railing…even if it was with one hand. But who are you to demand that he's disqualified, huh? Have you been the referee for three damn years, Riley?"
Riley felt his blood boil at hearing the blatant mockery of the question. He was surrounded by a bunch of fools! He reminded himself that as soon as he'd won the game, that meddling referee was definitely going to pay for delaying his victory.
After restoring order and quieting down the crowd, the ref signaled for the game to resume at the eighth count.
On the sidelines, Connie wrung her hands worriedly, Dwayne bit his lip, and everyone else held their breath. The memory of the dreaded eighth count, the highest count ever played in the history of the game, was still fresh on their minds. They prayed that Charlie would succeed, or at least, still be alive once it was over.
Charlie took a deep breath and concentrated, directing all of his will into what he knew would probably be the climax of this year's game. The ref was lenient enough to let him get away with the seventh count, but he couldn't afford to slip up again. His pulse raced as he waited.
"Eight!!"
Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion as Charlie and Riley began to clap. Charlie felt as if he was suspended in molasses, that he wasn't moving quick enough as he was falling. Panic gripped him at the thought of his body lying bloody and broken in the middle of the courtyard below, a shameful display of his loss for all to see...
Besides, he wouldn't want his friends to go through the trouble of explaining the incident to his mom.
That would definitely not be pretty.
Charlie heard the sound of his blurred clapping echoing loudly in his ears, drowning out all other noises. He almost panicked as he felt himself continuing to fall back further and further away from the edge. Then finally, the moment arrived and he delivered his final clap. Charlie's long arms shot out to grab the railing and relief flooded his system as he felt his palms come in contact with rusted metal.
A small scream, though, made him whip his head to the left where Riley hung helplessly by his ankle from the railing. If his foot hadn't have gotten caught between the metal bars, he certainly would have fallen. Charlie swallowed at the thought.
The audience was momentarily in shock from the outcome and even the referee remained silent. Since no one made any motion to help the struggling boy, Charlie quickly sprung over the railing and helped Riley climb back onto the roof.
Riley laid sprawled out on the roof, his chest heaving from extreme fright and exhaustion. Two figures hovered above him. The shorter of the two spoke.
"Riley, you lose," the ref said with a big grin, enjoying the sour look it brought to Riley's face. He turned from the fuming boy and addressed the crowd that had gathered to watch.
"I officially declare Charlie Conway the winner!"
The crowd on the roof and in the courtyard hooted and hollered boisterously with the exception of Riley's crew that rushed over to their fallen leader and helped him up. Charlie stood aside and let them pass. Riley's look of fury didn't intimidate him in the least, and he allowed himself a smug smile.
"This isn't over yet, Conway. Being King doesn't make you shit, and it certainly won't save you from me."
"Fuck off, Riley," Charlie muttered and walked away before any more words could be swapped.
The game was over and he'd triumphed, and that was all that mattered for now.
"Way to go, Charlie!" shouted Connie who quickly rushed toward him with the others following close behind. They all took turns giving Charlie congratulatory pats on his shoulders, smiling and grinning like they'd won the 'Minnesota Millions' lottery.
"Man, Charlie, you should've just left that asshole out to dry," Ken exclaimed, glaring at Riley's retreating form that was constantly surrounded by his underlings. "He didn't even thank you for helping him or anything. Ungrateful son of a bitch…"
Charlie merely waved a dismissing hand at his friend. "I don't expect anything from him now, and I don't expect anything from him in the future. Riley is Riley, Ken. Just let it go."
Ken nodded, considering his wise leader's words.
"Alright, whatever you say, 'King'," he added with a sly cackle.
Atop the roof, the grouped cheered once more for Charlie's victory. They continued with even more anxious planning about a party at Goldberg's to celebrate the event.
Around them, the crowd was beginning to dissipate now that this year's Clapping Game had ended. Charlie ran a hand through his hair, looked out at the horizon, and turned to his friends.
"Hey, you guys, where's Jesse?"
----------
A despondent figure sat crouched against a tree, staring out at the setting sun.
An empty bottle of Smirnoff Vodka sat at his feet.
He spun the bottle around, listening to it scrape against the concrete as if mesmerized by the very sound. Eventually, the trance was broken and Jesse chucked the bottle away with a grunt, hearing it shatter into what he thought was a million pieces some distances off.
He hung his head between his knees, sitting in quiet contemplation, until…
"Jesse, what are you doing?"
Jesse's head snapped up at hearing Charlie's soft voice. He stared up at his best friend and forced a smile to his lips.
"Hey, congratulations, white boy! You did it, man! You won!" He cheerfully spoke and quickly pushed himself up to a stand. He wasted no time in giving Charlie a hearty handshake.
"Thanks, but you still haven't answered my question."
Jesse's smile faded and was replaced with a embarrassed look. "Oh, yeah…"
"Yeah," Charlie affirmed, taking a step closer and peering into Jesse's face.
Jesse sighed and looked away from him.
"I wanted to be alone, ok?"
Charlie nodded, understanding. He didn't want to upset Jesse with anymore questions, so he didn't push his friend into giving him an answer. It was pretty obvious what was wrong, anyway. The tall leader threw his arm around Jesse's shoulder and led him through the school gates and off campus.
Charlie tried to smile encouragingly. He never considered himself to be good at this comforting stuff, but for Jesse's sake, he gave it a shot.
"C'mon, let's go to Goldberg's house. The guys are already waiting there with free booze and everything for the party. Hey, now that I think about it, we'd better hurry over. You know how funny it is when they're all drunk off their asses, right?"
Jesse couldn't help but crack a smile as he pictured a drunkenly chaotic scene at Goldberg's home. He let out a low chuckle and received a friendly pat on his shoulder from Charlie, who smiled in relief.
Feeling his mood lift, Jesse's grinned. It always made him feel a little better knowing that he at least had a friend who cared.
He put aside his misery and simply enjoyed the presence of Charlie's company as they walked through the city together. As long as he had Charlie as a friend, he knew he'd be all right.
-------------
Real crappy, but I hope that the actual game wasn't written too confusingly.
Author: Wari
E-mail: fa_chan@yahoo.com
Rating/Genre: R for bad language, drug use, and slash/ Absolutely AU…really, I mean it
Archive?: Sure, just ask for my permission.
Feedback: I crave your comments so bring them on!
Comments: I didn't like this part. I don't even remember how I was able to write it. Anyway, I thought it sucked, but it's one of the most important parts so far.
Note: I made up the "Minnesota Millions" lottery, or at least, I THINK I did. Yikes.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Mighty Ducks characters. Disney does. :P
------------
The countdown began.
"One!" shouted the ref and the others leaned back, clapped once, and clutched the rail.
Simple enough, even child's play.
"Two!"
They all clapped twice.
Still too easy.
"Three!"
Three claps, all completed. Jesse felt his palms becoming sweaty. He hastily rubbed them on his pant legs before the next count began.
"Four!"
As the count went up a notch, so did the tension in the air.
"Five!"
The claps were beginning to sound sloppy and hurried by the fifth count. The referee pursed his lips, his watchful gaze shifting to the far right.
"Stop, hold it," he spoke, holding up his hand to bring the game to an abrupt halt.
"Fulton, right?" the tall referee asked, strolling over to stand in front of the other teen. Fulton nodded once.
"Sorry, dude, you're disqualified."
The latter's expression was one of slight shock, but he did not question the referee's decision. Fulton knew that he couldn't sneak by the watchful eyes with only four claps. He simply mumbled something incoherent and swung his legs over the railing. The tall boy left the roof without a word, not bothering to stick around for the rest of the game. The audience watched him go.
"Ok, three contestants left," the ref idly commented. "Let's begin again, shall we, gentlemen?"
Charlie and Riley were still doing well enough. In fact, anyone would say that they were in a league of their own. Six counts won't be difficult.
Jesse, though, was starting to have second thoughts about the whole ordeal. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to finish six whole claps.
He nervously bit his lip.
As much as he hated to do it, he made a decision.
"Wait!"
The ref turned around, addressing him.
"Huh? What's the matter?"
"I…I can't -- I forfeit the game."
Brows knitting, Charlie stared at Jesse who looked very defeated.
"Ok, then, Jesse, you are officially dismissed from the game."
Jesse clambered back onto the roof and left silently, brushing past the rest of his friends, who patted his shoulders sympathetically. He didn't dare look at Charlie as he stepped through the doorway and back into the darkness of the stairwell.
The ref's voice broke the silence of Jesse's departure. "Well, I can't say that this has never happened before because it has," he turned to the remaining players with an amusing look.
"Ah, and then there were two…" he lightly tapped his fingers on the railing.
Riley smirked. "It'll be fun watching you fall, Conway."
Charlie kept his gaze forward and neutral. "Likewise, Riley."
He allowed a tiny smirk to touch his lips.
"All right, enough chit-chat, we'll start again on the count of six." The referee stood once more in front of them.
"Ready, boys?"
Both players mentally psyched themselves up and waited for the count to continue.
"Six!"
Six completed claps each. Riley ground his teeth, annoyed that Charlie was still in the fight. He hadn't expected his rival to make it this far into the game. He wanted to win, and he wasn't about to let a nobody like Conway get in the way of his victory.
"Seven!"
Charlie executed the seven claps and reached out to grab the railing.
His heart skipped a beat as he held onto the metal with one hand, the other having slipped off. Charlie cursed silently while Riley looked over with a disturbingly haughty smile. Excited whispers and audible gasps were heard on both the roof and on the ground below.
"Whoa, did you see that?? Charlie barely made it!" Dwayne croaked out and tugged on Kenny's sleeve.
"Damn! Poor guy's screwed. I think Riley's gonna win," said Averman thoughtfully.
Everyone turned to the redhead. "AVERMAN!!!"
"What?? I was only kidding! Honest!"
"Averman, are you crazy or something? That was just a fluke! Charlie's gonna pull through," Goldberg affirmed with a confident nod of his head.
Charlie closed his eyes, shutting out the words, the whispers, and the world. After all, did they really care if he won? Everyone, even his friends, just probably came to watch some poor loser fall off a building…
The referee's voice broke through his thoughts.
"Hey, Conway, you ready?"
Riley's expression turned incredulous. He turned to the ref and Charlie.
"What's the meaning of this?!" he bellowed indignantly.
The ref raised a brow, tilting his chin up in defiance. "What's the meaning of what?"
"You know what I meant! He's supposed to be disqualified! He didn't grab onto the rail!" Riley growled, pointing an accusing finger at Charlie.
"Disqualified? Well, as a matter of fact, he did grab onto the railing…even if it was with one hand. But who are you to demand that he's disqualified, huh? Have you been the referee for three damn years, Riley?"
Riley felt his blood boil at hearing the blatant mockery of the question. He was surrounded by a bunch of fools! He reminded himself that as soon as he'd won the game, that meddling referee was definitely going to pay for delaying his victory.
After restoring order and quieting down the crowd, the ref signaled for the game to resume at the eighth count.
On the sidelines, Connie wrung her hands worriedly, Dwayne bit his lip, and everyone else held their breath. The memory of the dreaded eighth count, the highest count ever played in the history of the game, was still fresh on their minds. They prayed that Charlie would succeed, or at least, still be alive once it was over.
Charlie took a deep breath and concentrated, directing all of his will into what he knew would probably be the climax of this year's game. The ref was lenient enough to let him get away with the seventh count, but he couldn't afford to slip up again. His pulse raced as he waited.
"Eight!!"
Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion as Charlie and Riley began to clap. Charlie felt as if he was suspended in molasses, that he wasn't moving quick enough as he was falling. Panic gripped him at the thought of his body lying bloody and broken in the middle of the courtyard below, a shameful display of his loss for all to see...
Besides, he wouldn't want his friends to go through the trouble of explaining the incident to his mom.
That would definitely not be pretty.
Charlie heard the sound of his blurred clapping echoing loudly in his ears, drowning out all other noises. He almost panicked as he felt himself continuing to fall back further and further away from the edge. Then finally, the moment arrived and he delivered his final clap. Charlie's long arms shot out to grab the railing and relief flooded his system as he felt his palms come in contact with rusted metal.
A small scream, though, made him whip his head to the left where Riley hung helplessly by his ankle from the railing. If his foot hadn't have gotten caught between the metal bars, he certainly would have fallen. Charlie swallowed at the thought.
The audience was momentarily in shock from the outcome and even the referee remained silent. Since no one made any motion to help the struggling boy, Charlie quickly sprung over the railing and helped Riley climb back onto the roof.
Riley laid sprawled out on the roof, his chest heaving from extreme fright and exhaustion. Two figures hovered above him. The shorter of the two spoke.
"Riley, you lose," the ref said with a big grin, enjoying the sour look it brought to Riley's face. He turned from the fuming boy and addressed the crowd that had gathered to watch.
"I officially declare Charlie Conway the winner!"
The crowd on the roof and in the courtyard hooted and hollered boisterously with the exception of Riley's crew that rushed over to their fallen leader and helped him up. Charlie stood aside and let them pass. Riley's look of fury didn't intimidate him in the least, and he allowed himself a smug smile.
"This isn't over yet, Conway. Being King doesn't make you shit, and it certainly won't save you from me."
"Fuck off, Riley," Charlie muttered and walked away before any more words could be swapped.
The game was over and he'd triumphed, and that was all that mattered for now.
"Way to go, Charlie!" shouted Connie who quickly rushed toward him with the others following close behind. They all took turns giving Charlie congratulatory pats on his shoulders, smiling and grinning like they'd won the 'Minnesota Millions' lottery.
"Man, Charlie, you should've just left that asshole out to dry," Ken exclaimed, glaring at Riley's retreating form that was constantly surrounded by his underlings. "He didn't even thank you for helping him or anything. Ungrateful son of a bitch…"
Charlie merely waved a dismissing hand at his friend. "I don't expect anything from him now, and I don't expect anything from him in the future. Riley is Riley, Ken. Just let it go."
Ken nodded, considering his wise leader's words.
"Alright, whatever you say, 'King'," he added with a sly cackle.
Atop the roof, the grouped cheered once more for Charlie's victory. They continued with even more anxious planning about a party at Goldberg's to celebrate the event.
Around them, the crowd was beginning to dissipate now that this year's Clapping Game had ended. Charlie ran a hand through his hair, looked out at the horizon, and turned to his friends.
"Hey, you guys, where's Jesse?"
----------
A despondent figure sat crouched against a tree, staring out at the setting sun.
An empty bottle of Smirnoff Vodka sat at his feet.
He spun the bottle around, listening to it scrape against the concrete as if mesmerized by the very sound. Eventually, the trance was broken and Jesse chucked the bottle away with a grunt, hearing it shatter into what he thought was a million pieces some distances off.
He hung his head between his knees, sitting in quiet contemplation, until…
"Jesse, what are you doing?"
Jesse's head snapped up at hearing Charlie's soft voice. He stared up at his best friend and forced a smile to his lips.
"Hey, congratulations, white boy! You did it, man! You won!" He cheerfully spoke and quickly pushed himself up to a stand. He wasted no time in giving Charlie a hearty handshake.
"Thanks, but you still haven't answered my question."
Jesse's smile faded and was replaced with a embarrassed look. "Oh, yeah…"
"Yeah," Charlie affirmed, taking a step closer and peering into Jesse's face.
Jesse sighed and looked away from him.
"I wanted to be alone, ok?"
Charlie nodded, understanding. He didn't want to upset Jesse with anymore questions, so he didn't push his friend into giving him an answer. It was pretty obvious what was wrong, anyway. The tall leader threw his arm around Jesse's shoulder and led him through the school gates and off campus.
Charlie tried to smile encouragingly. He never considered himself to be good at this comforting stuff, but for Jesse's sake, he gave it a shot.
"C'mon, let's go to Goldberg's house. The guys are already waiting there with free booze and everything for the party. Hey, now that I think about it, we'd better hurry over. You know how funny it is when they're all drunk off their asses, right?"
Jesse couldn't help but crack a smile as he pictured a drunkenly chaotic scene at Goldberg's home. He let out a low chuckle and received a friendly pat on his shoulder from Charlie, who smiled in relief.
Feeling his mood lift, Jesse's grinned. It always made him feel a little better knowing that he at least had a friend who cared.
He put aside his misery and simply enjoyed the presence of Charlie's company as they walked through the city together. As long as he had Charlie as a friend, he knew he'd be all right.
-------------
Real crappy, but I hope that the actual game wasn't written too confusingly.
