Righting All Wrongs

Chapter 1: We Didn't Start the Fire…

They had all arrived in a blur, been ushered to Laurie's bedside in haste, and fallen into tears (except, of course, the solid and impenetrable Steven Hyde) almost instantly.

But then, just as suddenly, the world slowed back down. They'd been exiled from the cramped and depressing hospital room, and had been left in the lobby, hoping for answers, as time crawled by.

Hour One was spent in shock. Hour Two was full of saddened disbelief. Silent seconds passed into long, eerily quiet minutes, as they sat, huddled and heavy, waiting for news.

But by Hour Three, the awkwardness had settled in. People realized whose hand they were holding, whose shoulder they were scrunched up against, and slowly the group disentangled themselves until they were spread out over the several rows of too-narrow, too-itchy, too-close-together chairs.

Apparently, not even grief and surprise could build the necessary bridges.

Eric Forman felt guilty. His sister was in a hospital bed, serious injuries they weren't even entirely sure how she'd gotten were making it difficult for her lungs to breathe and her heart to beat. Yet, here he was, with his mind fixating on the drama and tension created by his six arguably "best" friends being all thrust together in the same confined space.

But to be honest, he didn't want to be thinking about how his sister might be dying, and thought maybe a little high school-like angst was just the selfish distraction he needed.

New Year's Eve had been fun, or at least interesting, with his surprise return and the excitement the start of 1980 suggested. In the haze of hope and cocktails, everything had almost felt right.

But then they all woke up, and concepts like 'growing up' and 'growing apart' were all too soon very apparent. And the effects had been quite odd, really. Everyone still came to the basement, but only as if to fulfill some minimum time requirement, as if it were an obligation to see eachother.

And certain people were, conveniently, never down there at the same time.

The days of hours spent with all six of them just killing time were long gone.

And the strain that was in the air now was almost tangible as a result.

And Eric Forman felt guilty; as if, somehow, that strain was his fault.

Donna Pinciotti felt lost. She sat alone in a corner. Unwilling to make eye contact with her companions; unable, perhaps for the first time in a long time, to decipher what to do; and well, she was just plain uncomfortable, too.

She wasn't sure how she had gotten to this point, and she meant that on multiple levels.

How had Laurie ended up in a hospital bed, with tubes and monitors and doubt standing between the weak, nearly motionless body that was down the hall right now, and the mischievous flirt that she'd seen prance out of the Forman kitchen the afternoon before?

How had she herself even gotten here? Like physically here. She didn't really remember when or how she was told to get to the hospital, or even who or what she rode with or in. Everything had been swallowed into a fog in the moment her eyes took in Red Forman crying, albeit discreetly, at his daughter's bedside, and nothing else made any sense.

And really, what disoriented her most: how did the people she would have rattled off as those she trusted most in the world, as the people she loved most, and knew loved her most in return, all grown so incapable of consoling each other?

And Donna Pinciotti felt desperately lost; not only because she had no clue how she got to this point, but more importantly because she had no clue how to get back.

Jackie Burkhart felt tired. Physically, Mentally, Spiritually, Emotionally…she was exhausted inside and out. And though she wouldn't sleep, couldn't sleep, she sat, knees pulled up under her chin, with her eyes closed, because somehow that was the only way she knew to find any kind of relief.

If she opened her eyes she would feel the burn around the edges that would remind her she'd only gotten 45 minutes of sleep in the 28 hours before the call from Michael woke her and told her she should get to the hospital as quick as she could.

If she opened her eyes she'd see the drab wallpaper and solemn faces that would remind her she was here because she was afraid for someone she cared about, for honestly, lots of someones she cared about, and she was too tired to cry anymore.

If she opened her eyes, she might catch a glimpse of the cross on the wall that would remind her of the words she'd chanted so faithfully under her breath for the hour after they'd got there, and she was so very tired of unanswered prayers.

And if she opened her eyes she'd be aware of the people around her, and that would remind her of why she had been tired long before tonight. Tired of fighting, of avoiding, of pretending for and with. Tired of missing so many things.

Jackie Burkhart felt tired; but there were many miles to go before she'd sleep.

Michael Kelso felt scared. Bug-eyed, dry-lipped, teeth-chattering scared. Terrified of what was going on down that hallway, and of what wasn't going on in this room.

Laurie was special to him. He wasn't a bright man, but he knew what their relationship had looked like on the outside…hell, what their relationship was. It was physical attraction, boredom, and the thrill of doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing. It'd only been that for her too. But he'd grown up with Laurie. For as long as he could remember, Eric had been his best friend, so there she had always been, just off to the side, shaking things up, making things interesting.

And he cared about her in a way that was special because it was linked to just about every good memory he had, and most of the bad ones too. He cared about her in the way that's sacred, with the love saved for life-long friends, family. And while that surprised him as much as he knew it'd surprise everyone else if they knew, it didn't make it any less true.

And that's why it was terrifying to sit in a room with the people he felt that bond with most strongly, barely recognizing who they were. They all still obviously cared about Laurie, but had they lost some of that feeling for each other?

Michael Kelso felt scared, deep down to his core, in a way no teddy bear could erase.

Steven Hyde felt trapped. In this moment, in this room, in his life.

He wasn't good at waiting, and he wasn't good at feeling. And that was all he could do at 2:46am, and all sorts of 'caged animal' comparisons echoed in his mind.

He was alternating between pacing the short, narrow space between two unoccupied rows of chairs, and sitting down until his leg began shaking so badly he had to stand up again.

It wasn't very zen, and it was a far cry from the hours he could usually sit, motionless, in his chair in the basement, watching anything and everything, but he couldn't help it…and it at least kept anyone from trying to talk to him.

Not that anyone was really talking at all.

If he remembered correctly, which due to his extensive use of film and beer he very well may not, but if he did, it had been 2 and a half months since all six of them had been in a room together. And to get stuck with eachother now, in these circumstances, well that just sucked.

He wanted to be there. For Kitty and Red; for Eric. And to be honest, for Laurie, too.

But he also felt the impulse to bolt keeping his body on edge; his insides humming with frantic energy.

So what did he do?

Steven Hyde felt trapped, between a rock and a hard place, and he hated to admit it, but that notion was getting all-too familiar.

Fez felt angry. Thoroughly enraged, and furious, and disgusted.

Naturally, he was upset that Laurie was in danger.

He could say a lot of bad about Laurie Forman. They all could. And frankly, they all had. But they could also say a lot of good. Him especially. After all, he wouldn't even still be in the country if it weren't for her.

So, she most definitely did not deserve this. And while he knew that bad things happened to good people, and so-so people, and really just all people, that didn't mean he had to like it.

And the fact that this is what it had taken to get his best friends in the same room was ridiculous. The months were passing, and he could feel everyone pulling away. And while it did sadden him, it pissed him off more.

He was angry with Hyde for just being Hyde, and not giving a damn about who he hurt in the process.

He was angry at Kelso for leaving; and at Eric for coming back changed.

He was angry at Donna for being selfish; and at Jackie for being withdrawn and weak.

He was angry that this was what he was thinking about when he wanted to be focusing on Laurie; that this was all he ever seemed to think about anymore.

Fez felt angry, and by God, they were all about to know it…

Author's Note: Okay... To anyone who read this: THANK YOU. To anyone willing to review it: THANK YOU THANK YOU. I'm so very sorry I kinda disappeared from this fandom for a while, but hopefully someone will still give this piece a try and let me know what they think. Thanks!