-1Title: Action and Reaction

Rating: Teen

Summary: A desperate phone call from Ryan has Troy feeling like a helpless, young boy, not the mature man Sharpay has helped him become.

Notes: The fic was originally supposed to be a one time deal, but wonderful reviews, and never ending love for Sharpay, has me continuing this with a building plot. This is clearly now a work in progress.

Warnings: A bit of sexual innuendo.

Disclaimer: I own it like I own Santa.

Chapter Two: Rush

It was like he was on fire. There was a deep heat in his chest that both inspired and damaged him. It was dangerous passion situated in his heart, and as lovely as it was, it could burn him at a moment's notice. He relished in the warmth early in the morning, just as the sun was breaking and his mind was fresh. He could think about her and suddenly everything was alright in the world--even the score on his past English paper. And then it scorched in the evening when his longing for her was so strong that his fingers tingled and his eyes locked on the phone. Many nights he longed to reach for the phone and call her, just to hear the sweet sound of her voice. His roommate joked about it and he couldn't deny, it was quite possibly love.

Ten months. They'd been in a tentative long distance relationship for ten months. They were the happiest ten months of Troy's life. He couldn't even begin to describe the difficulty of dating a woman like Sharpay from afar. She'd receded over the years, he learned quickly. She'd once been loud, forceful and determined. Now she seemed hesitant in ways Troy had never known. There were moments, rare in quantity when he saw something in her eyes that scared him. He knew it right away and took her into his arms, determined to fight back her hurtful memories. One day he'd ask what had happened to change her. One day he'd know who hurt her so deeply and he'd pay them a visit, but until then he'd be content with her by his side.

She was calm, cool, collected, and almost evasive. The old Sharpay would have told him exactly what was on her mind, and now it was almost a guessing game. Not to deny that there weren't times when she surprised him by blurting out how absolutely horrible his choice in clothing was, or how desperately bad he need a makeover. She criticized his choice in rental cars, but made it clear in no direct way did she reflect that on him personally. He needed training, she said, and hey, if that meant she spent hours holding onto his sweaty hand, it was a small price to pay. She even let him pick the radio station in the car, but somehow they ended up listening to a compellation of Sharpay's favorite Broadway hits.

They traded off once every other month flying back and forth. Troy learned quickly Sharpay was terrified of flying and that made his resolve that much stronger. She braved flying for him, and that was as close to her spilling her feeling for him as he was going to get. She didn't say she liked him. She didn't speak to him in endearing terms, or silly monikers. But they held hands in public, and they stole quick kisses under the stars. When they were in private they draped over each other, embraces radiating honesty, depth and commitment. He didn't need her words when her kisses said everything.

Troy's head came up suddenly when the front door's lock popped gently and his roommate, Andy stumbled in, arms full of books. Troy rose to help him quickly, replying, "You're welcome," at the thank you. "Where's your backpack?" He helped the taller carry the books into his bedroom.

The dark skinned man shrugged helplessly, losing his grip on his calculus book. "Piece of crap, you know what I'm saying? Broke before noon."

Troy sat the books down on Andy's desk. "I've got a spare if you need."

"Cool, man."

Troy slid his hands into his back pockets and bounced idly. "I was thinking about ordering a pizza tonight. Want to get in on it?" It was the end of the month, and he sadly was all too aware of. His mother made sure his cabinets and refrigerator were stocked at the first of every month, but by the end he was reduced to takeout. Sharpay, he realized, always had her small kitchen full no matter the time of the month, and she liked to cook for him as much as he enjoyed her delicious dishes.

"Dude," Andy regarded him from his collapsed position on the bed. "You are so hung up on her."

Troy forced a laugh. Was he so transparent?

"Speaking off," the roommate continued, "It's the twenty-ninth. Aren't you and Sharpay supposed to be tying up the phone lines for the next twenty-four hours?" Troy glared at him, but was returned with, "My mother can't even get through when you're talking to her."

"She probably got held up." Which in itself wasn't anything new. Recently Sharpay's modeling career had taken off. She'd been in several magazines, taken part in half a dozen runway shows and she'd even made her TV debut in a quick commercial. It was growing far more frequent that she missed their preplanned calls by a few hours if not completely. He harbored no ill will against her for it, and knew it all part of a long distance relationship. Still, the distance wreaked havoc on their telephone bills and they could only afford to call each other so much, at so many selected times, and when she missed the date he felt his heart clench. He hadn't been so unsure of something since the high school musical. He feared secretly of losing Sharpay to her whirlwind modeling world.

Andy raised a suspecting eyebrow at him. "So you don't mind if I give Cheryl a call?"

Troy leapt forward in reaction. "No!" He quickly regained control. "I mean--"

"I know what you mean," Andy told him, laughing loudly. "You have really got it bad for her."

"Yeah," Troy smiled fondly when he pictured Sharpay. "I do, don't I?"

He was up well into the morning hours waiting for her call. Finally he fell asleep perched on the edge of the sofa, an uneasy expression on his face. He dragged himself up hours later for his first morning class, traipsed to work in an unhappy mood and slammed the front door closed when he arrived home many hours later. His cell told him she hadn't even attempted to call him, and the answering machine blinked a giant, red zero at him.

He set about doing his homework, miffed at Sharpay's lack of contact. Had he done something to upset her? They hadn't been able to meet up the past month due to his heavy school and work load and her extreme schedule. They ended their last phone call on almost a sour note, both feeling desperately in need of physical contact. Sometimes he liked her grouchy, because her eyes would flare up and she was incredibly lust worthy, but other times he grew agitated with her tones.

"Troy? Troy, it's Ryan."

Troy perked up as Ryan Evan's voice echoed through the loft. Quickly he realized it was the answering machine--he hadn't even heard the phone ring.

"Troy, it's Ryan. Pick up the phone if you're home. Please."

Ryan's desperate tone had Troy sprinting to the phone. God, he just knew. He just knew something was wrong.

"Ryan? What's wrong?" He clung to the white receiver with a white grip, fingers tense and begging for release. He listened as Ryan's choked words filled his ears.

"It's Sharpay, Troy. I just found out."

"Found out what? What's wrong?"

"I'm flying to New York now, you have to get there as soon as possible. God, Troy, get to the airport right away."

"Ryan!" He was shouting, and barely registered the action. He needed Ryan, who was usually so calm and dependable, to tell him what was wrong with Sharpay. What had happened that he needed to fly to her right away? "What's wrong with Sharpay?"

"I'm so sorry, Troy. There's been an accident."

Troy's free hand flew to his mouth to hold back a sob. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move. Accident? His knees turned weak and suddenly he was on the hardwood floor, phone next to him. He could vaguely hear Ryan's panicked voice but he couldn't pick out any particular words. He couldn't quite wrap his head around the word accident.

"Troy? Troy are you there?"

"Yeah," he said, and his voice was low and full of anguish. "Yeah, I'm here, Ryan."

"I gotta go, Troy. Just get to New York. Fly in through JFK. Call me when you land."

The click indicated the end of the conversation and the loft was silent next to Troy's deep, needy breaths. He couldn't quite seem to draw in enough air, or maybe the air was just poison, of which he wasn't sure.

New York. His mind flared to life, in desperation more than anything else. He remembered Ryan's words and knew he had to get to New York. Damn his classes, work and everything else. He had to get to Sharpay.

It was a rush to make the flight in time. He had time to grab little more than his wallet, shoes and car keys before he was out the door. The woman on the phone had informed him the soonest flight for New York was leaving in just over half an hour and the next wasn't until the following day. Sharpay usually complained he didn't drive nearly fast enough. He was sure she'd eat her words when he told her, because she'd be fine and he wouldn't let her out of his sight again. They'd work something out.

In typical fashion he berated himself on the way across the country. The words from their last conversation ringing in his head. Her words were angry and stubborn, his own tactless and impatient. He wanted her to move closer to him, she wanted him to be satisfied with their current situation. She needed space, he said she wanted distance, which was quite different. He was worried they were falling apart, she said they were much too strong for that to happen. He loved her and wasn't afraid to say it, she was.

Now it didn't matter if she never said it, he just wanted her to be alive. He needed her to be fine, even if Ryan's tone told him she wasn't.

Ryan was waiting for him when he exited the gate. He was as handsome as ever, even with pure terror scrawled across his face. He stood, pale and uneasy, with his customary hat clutched in his hands, twisting the brim nervously.

"Tell me what's going on," Troy demanded, embracing Ryan briefly.

Ryan led them through the masses of people, swerving expertly in a way that told Troy he'd grown accustomed to living in such a large city like San Francisco. Outside they hailed a cab and fled from the airport, out into the rainy streets, and took refuge in the yellow vehicle. Only when they were speeding off to the hospital did Ryan dare to look at Troy.

"She was in an accident."

"I know that," Troy snapped, and rubbed his tired face angrily. "What kind of accident? How badly hurt is she?"

"Car accident," Ryan said grimly, subconsciously gripping the door handle. "I don't know a lot of the details, so don't ask."

Troy frowned at Ryan. "How'd you know she was in a car accident?"

Troy hadn't rightly known who her personal emergency contacts were. Naturally, they hadn't quite discussed that, but he'd assumed it was either Ryan, or months later, himself.

"My father called," Ryan ground out. "The hospital called him and mother first."

Ryan's relationship with his father, Troy recalled quickly, was far worse than Sharpay's, and she and her father were barely speaking. She told him one night when they cuddled in front of the TV with bowls of ice cream, watching old sitcoms, that Ryan had never gotten along with his father. Mr. Evans had plans for his children, and while Sharpay had understood that, and known how to skirt around those plans, Ryan had just clashed horribly. There had been fights, apparently, terrible fights between father and son that Sharpay feared had turned violent without her knowing. She and Ryan found solace in theater to escape their parent's plans and expectations, and Ryan had never intended to give up his sanctuary for Princeton.

"He said," Ryan continued in a spiteful tone, "That Sharpay was in a car accident yesterday, and that she's in critical condition." His eyes misted and his hand found Troy's in a brotherly squeeze of support. "There's internal bleeding and the doctors don't know if they can stop it."

"Why?" Troy asked, blinking back his own tears. "Why didn't he call sooner?" Yesterday. Ryan had said yesterday. When Troy had been irked she hadn't called to talk to him, she'd really been involved in the unthinkable, possibly dying.

"Because he's my father," Ryan spat, "And he doesn't consider other people, ever." Ryan arched an eyebrow at Troy. "When we get there, don't expect a warm welcoming. We'll be lucky if he can hold his tongue long enough for us to get through the door."

"I won't let him stop me," Troy said, low and definite, never more sure of anything else in his life.

Then they rode in silence, cab filling with uncontrolled sorrow and animosity.