Project Restoration Chapter 2: And we won't know 'til we get there

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who read, and especially those who reviewed, I genuinely appreciate the encouragement. I realize I've been forgetting a disclaimer. So in case you were wondering, I don't own anything. Though I'd certainly love having a Steven Hyde of my own, or a Danny Masterson for that matter, but that is entirely besides the point. Please keep giving feedback, if this starts to really suck I'd like someone to tell me, preferably in the nicest way possible, but regardless I just don't want to post something no one can read without cringing. Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy!

P.S. Does any one else really hate Randy? Just curious

FAMILY:

Sure, Michael Kelso loved his parents and his brother. They were blood, and that was sacred.

And naturally he loved and adored his daughter, and Brooke too. Having a child had given his life unexpected meaning and purpose, and he cherished his baby girl and her mother for the blessings they were.

However, if asked about his family, perhaps it was sad, but neither the image of the yearly Kelso Christmas Dinner nor the vision of a newborn Betsy came to mind. Rather, "family" always made him think of a rumpled photograph framed on his mantle, with a crease down the center from being folded often down to pocket-size, of 6 young friends in a basement. Each one making a silly face at the camera, laughter lighting up their eyes. That was what he thought of as Family.

And he never would have guessed he'd miss them so damn much. But he did. He missed Point Place and the Forman's basement so badly that Brooke had even bought him a puppy to cheer him up. (He deliberated for a time before naming the dog Prince, because after all Kelso was "the King".) But when Prince would fall asleep at night, no longer wanting to play, Kelso was still sad. He realized that this homesickness was mushy and sentimental, but deep down he was a sensitive guy. And that was probably a side effect of being so darn good looking.

They were going to be there soon. Fez had called right before they left and Kelso'd been an excited mess ever since. He felt like it was the Annual Kelso Renunion in Florida and Christmas and his birthday all rolled into one. He'd stocked his apartment's little kitchen with candy for Fez and snacks and Beer, and he'd even bought something "special" he was sure Hyde in particular would enjoy. And so he played with Prince and waited, impatiently, for his Family to arrive.

EXPECTATIONS:

Hyde wasn't comfortable when things were expected of him, he never responded well to the pressure. But he assuredly had no trouble expecting from other people. It was a double standard, he was well aware, but like with so many other things, he just didn't care.

Looking back, he had no problems rationalizing his pursuit of Donna, even while knowing Forman had headed there first. It would have been silly for Eric to expect anything else of him. And when it came to Jackie, well he hadn't lost any sleep over how Kelso might take it, and he was sure Kelso knew better than to expect an apology from him either.

But when he saw Kelso, wrapped in a towel, the last time he'd been in Chicago, well he had been devastated. Hyde had expected something different; he'd expected something more from his friend and the girl that he loved. Because he had loved Jackie, whether he said it often or not. And he had thought everyone knew that. Especially Jackie herself. And so even though they weren't together, even though she'd left and he had been too proud, too foolish to stop her, he'd expected her fidelity. He expected her to still be only his. Because he had expected it all to be temporary. Apparently, he'd expected too much.

And that was all Steven Hyde could think of as he watched her hug her "Michael" hello – disappointed expectations. And as he too hugged his friend, though in a much manlier fashion of course, he now expected that this weekend would be harder on his heart than he originally thought.

BUTTERSCOTCH:

Donna loved Butterscotch. She always had. Hands down, no room for debate, move over chocolate, it was her favorite. And maybe this was a tiny, seemingly insignificant detail, but it was part of who she was. And she knew that Michael Kelso knew that.

She didn't think that anything sweet ever lasted long enough around Fez for him to notice what anyone else liked; and Jackie stayed away from sugar, outside of Popsicles, for she had a figure to maintain, she probably didn't know. She was positive that Hyde had no idea what sundae topping she preferred, and she'd be willing to bet he really didn't care. And well she suspected Eric had no idea either, somehow he'd always felt his tongue down her throat qualified as dessert. But ever since her 8th birthday party, when she'd eaten almost an entire bag of butterscotch candies from her grandfather and gotten sick, Kelso had remembered they were her thing.

When he turned 10 he'd had his mom make a special sundae with butterscotch for her while everyone else's had fudge. And a few years back on a Valentine's Day when her and Eric were at an off phase, Kelso had sent her a valentine full of heart-shaped butterscotch toffies so she wouldn't be too sad.

And to Donna it was memories like those that were the beauty of having such a large, close-knit gang of friends. One was almost always there when you needed them. But as she went to get a few beers to ease the catching-up session out of Kelso's fridge, it had been a while since she had felt that security, and she feared they as a Group would never have it again.

But then she noticed a grocery list on the refrigerator door, held up by a Packers magnet. And she smiled as she read the slip of paper, each item written in Kelso's clumsy print, with a checkmark beside it.

Milk

Salt

Beer

Hot Dogs

Chips

Bread

Ice Cream

Cherries

Hot Fudge

Donna's Butterscotch

Tootsie Rolls

Toilet Paper

Doggie Treats

She suddenly felt a little hope that they'd all be okay, that they'd get it back somehow, whatever it was. He still remembered. And she still loved Butterscotch best, and she loved the friend she'd always had in Michael Kelso.

VAGUENESS:

For the master who had taught her Zen, the key had really been apathy. To Steven Hyde, the trick to establishing a stoney exterior was to deliberately not care as often as possible. But for Jackie, "grasshopper" and pupil, Zen had really come down to vagueness.

She was a passionate person, idealistic to a fault, and so for someone like her apathy was about as possible as flying cars, but if you kept things vague no one would know you cared. She had learned there was danger in details.

So when they had settled down in Michael's living room, and he turned to her with authentic interest and asked how she was, she answered, "Fine." It was safer than the more accurate, but terrifically less Zen response of, " So miserable and lonely I wish I could disappear."

And when Donna asked if she could get her a beer she had said, "Sure," rather than the, "Yes, dear God in heaven, I need to drink until I can no longer focus on Steven's every move," she heard inner-Jackie respond in her head.

If she was vague enough no one would know to what extent her heart was still broken. Behind replies like "Fine" and "Sure" she could hide how much she missed having Eric and Kelso around. If she couldn't stop caring, she could stop showing it. And no one would ever know the difference.

Unless they looked into her eyes.

Like Steven was doing right now.

And she hoped if he called her on it, she could remember to keep things vague.