A/N: Thanks everyone for all the reviews, favs and alerts. It warms my heart to know you're still here. To those who read In My Life, hope you liked it. To those who reviewed that one! I will upload this, then send y'all a message, ;)
Now, this is not the best chapter this story has had or will have, but [Seeley] Booth once said that you [it] had to be bad in order to be good. Believe me guys, it will get better. I know, because I already wrote it. Enjoy!

Finally Falling.

With all the chiz going on, the last two weeks or so, I totally forgot I had a movie to produce. I tend to forget about that, but usually it's alright, since all I do is put in the money and the idea's that'll make a movie popular. However, Walking Past is my movie, my project, my baby even. I swore to myself, when I put the first word on paper – which ironically was donut – that I would be part of this movie all the way. And that means I have to be there for every meeting, every rehearsal, every scene. With all the characters cast now, making a movie is a whole lot easier. Though there is one little thing I still need to take care of and today is the day for that.

As I exit the elevator on the 23rd floor, I can already hear the music coming from the boarding-room. I know the song, I remember the only time I heard it like it was yesterday. Hell, I remember why that song exists in the first place. But as I near the boarding-room, as I realize that the quality of the music sounds like it's coming from a phone, or was filmed with a camera years ago, I hear lyrics I wasn't expecting to hear.

"... And I like hamburgers too." Oh, he is so dead. I will find myself another music guy, but I will not let this slip.

"Andre Harris, I give you three seconds to close that laptop. One," He turns around, a grin on his face, one that doesn't even match Kent's.

"Two." He changed quite a lot. Smooth facial hair, trimmed in such a way, it could've been done by the mafia. Man, he could be part of the mafia with his white suit, black shirt, white tie and black shoes. He looks like a gangster, or a groom.

"Don't wait for three." And with his laughter filling the room, he closes the laptop. As he walks over to me, he spreads his arms and it amazes me how forgiving these people are. Not only Tori, him too. I was a bitch to him, on occasion, yet he spreads his arms inviting me into a hug I know I can't back away from. I hold him for a moment, until he pulls away, smiling.

"Jade West, look at you."

"Andre Harris, loo..." His eyes open wider than his grandma's ever were, his mouth forms a smiling 'o' and with a glistening in his dark, brown orbs he walks past me.

"Muchacha!" He screams so loud, I'm sure the entire building heard. He picks up the half Latina in his arms, swirling around twice before he sets her down again and Tori and I exchange a glance that makes my heart stop, then pick up twice as fast. This is the reason why we shouldn't be working together, why we shouldn't be friends; it's threatening my mental health. But only two days ago, when we sat on a pair of swings for three hours, I learned exactly why we should be friends. Because we talked about everything and nothing, deliberately avoiding our joined past, for now. We laughed about the most stupid things and for a while I felt sixteen again. A sensation I didn't even get to experience when I was actually sixteen.

Andre is a busy man. I get that from all the stories he has to tell. He's been places, seen things, met people. His name is known by the most famous and accomplished music producers in the country and yet he keeps thanking me for giving him his chance to break through? I don't really understand why, but maybe I'll ask him later. Or maybe I'll fire him if he doesn't stop talking about that stupid food song. Kent can't get enough of it and apparently Andre loves to show people a video in which he's dressed as a pile of spaghetti. Though I don't think Kent noticed that specific part, all he sees is me in that hamburger.

"Wait, is Beck a hotdog?" Oh, and Beck in a hotdog. Tori nods, laughing as the video is played again – this is the ninth time! – and Beck's 'No!' fills the room.

"So Tori," Kent closes the laptop, killing the song, finally. "You forgot to mention you are an amazing singer." He sits up straight, his attitude and posture just screaming business, I simply roll my eyes as I lean further back in my chair, arms crossed.

"Oh, Jade didn't tell?" She briefly looks at me, I look at me nails. Business bores me. I'd rather sit in a chair and make a movie.

"Nope. She just said you knew each other."

"Okay." And silence fills the room that is usually filled with chatter and bickering – unless it's empty. I yawn.

"Kent, I think I am also going to direct Walking Past." I cross my arms again, looking at him seriously.

"I know." That's all? I know. Usually he comes with useless arguments like 'But we already hired a director, this is going to cost us a lot of money.' Arguments which I overrule, stating one simple fact: it is going to cost me money.

"I just decided." I protest. Who's the boss here? Him or me? I should shrug and get another topic started.

"Last two times you wrote a movie, you also directed them. I didn't expect anything else this time." I smile. It's nice to see he knows me this well. At least someone knows what my next step will be. Maybe we should indulge in a game of chess someday.

"What're the names of the ones you wrote, Jade?" Andre leans his arms on the table, casually hanging over them.

"Oh, Under Pressure and Wish Me Well. Which is basically the movie version of Well Wishes." Both Tori and Andre gasp like fishes on dry land. Their eyes grow freakishly wide and Tori coughs while Andre mumbles something like 'I knew I recognized it...'

"You wrote and directed Under Pressure?" Tori is amazed, I seriously wonder why.

"Yup. No biggie." Seriously, it's no biggie. Seven Academy Awards and rated second as the most earning movie of all time. Between Avatar and Titanic. It could've done better, though. The writing was seriously off, I was just too lazy to change it. And four of the awards didn't even go to me, they went to the actors. They made the movie a success, I just got the ones for Best Screenplay, Best Directing and Best Score. Kent got Best Editing. We all won.

"No biggie? Under Pressure is like my favorite movie. Ever! And it got so much awards too!"

"And the score was pure genius!" Andre chimes in. Hmm, I have to admit, it's nice. A little ego-boost.

"You know, Jade also wrote the music." And Kent just had to ruin it. Now they are adoring me like I am God.

"But she doesn't like it. Apparently, and I quote, the writing was seriously off." Is he trying to get fired or something? And can these two just stop looking at me like I am the biggest superstar they ever met! It was one movie, James Cameron and Quentin Tarantino made thousands!

"How about we go and have Mr. Spaghetti here sign a contract?" I am sick of the gaping. And if they are going to gape, let them do it behind my back while I lead them to my office. I think I am going to give that place a name. Office just doesn't sound right. You know what, I am also going to rename the boarding-room. It should be something cool, though. Something Jade. I'll come up with something, some time.

If I knew this day would turn out into a jam-session, with Kent as our audience, I wouldn't have gone. I am one of those people that doesn't want to go somewhere, then finally there ends up having a good time after all. And it feels absolutely great to sit on a chair – every once in a while stand on it – or jump around and sing songs I haven't sung in years. It feels good to collapse against either Tori or Andre when my stomach hurts from all the laughing. It feels good to have friends.

"Suddenly I can see what I didn't before.
And I don't care what they say anymore.
'Cause I'm falling, falling.
Finally falling."

I will not comment on the absurdity of this song at exactly this time in my life. Andre loves to play it and Tori loves to sing it. And I kind of wanted the lead in that play, I kind of wanted to sing that song, so why not do it now when I get the chance.

I will not comment on the fact that my eyes are searching hers every time we break into chorus. Mainly because I don't really know why I do that. During the first chorus our eyes locked accidentally, but then I started looking at her, searching her eyes during the next chorus and she did the same.
I will not tell myself there's a twinkle in her eyes when I smile at her, even though I am sure it's there. I will not tell myself stories that aren't true, I have done that too much now. I need to get myself together and be a friend to her. I need to make sure I won't walk out the next time she gets too close.

At the end of the day, almost twenty songs and Chinese take-out later, we decide it's time to go home. With all the contracts signed, we can start production on my third, very own, movie tomorrow. And that means getting up at five, to start at six. Long days are ahead of us and I would very much like to have one normal night of sleep before I indulge into the hectic world of Hollywood once again.

Leave me that famous review! Tell me what you liked and didn't like, so I can improve. So I can be good.