GAH! I'm sooo sorry I took so long. I took a Christmas break (without telling anyone :P) and then I had to write through a fever, then a heat wave, a massive internet crash (don't ask, I don't get technology) and my period. Yeah, that bad. On that note, forgive me if Ezekiel's accent is not flawless, the Internet was too weak for me to load a tutorial video on Youtube.

~The Machine~

# Chapter 4: A Plan and a Misunderstanding #

The morning sun found the sole awake soul at that hour packing up in her room.

Courtney had spent all night arguing with her father about booking her a flight, and all early morning packing the documents she needed, which alone occupied a whole suitcase.

She had barely gotten to sleep through the excitement, and woken up bright and early. She had taken a shower to freshen up, and then started going through her papers.

Her rather positive mood was spoiled when she realized the paper she currently had in her hands wasn't a lawsuit-related document at all, it was the letter she had written the night before. The feelings from last night started to invade her, but before they could get to her, she put the piece of paper on her nightstand, off her bed and off her mind.

She honestly didn't know what was going through her mind when she wrote that depressing, drawn-out letter.

The thing was pathetic. It didn't even deserve to be called a piece of writing.

All the sentences were jumbles, the ideas were inconclusive, and she hadn't proof-read it, but she was sure there would be typos. Typos. This was not how a CIT was supossed to write, and she was ashamed of ever writing it.

And the worst part was, it expressed feelings she didn't have- honest! She didn't mean what she had written; it was only a moment of weakness. And if anyone were to read this, it would give them the wrong idea as to what type of person she was.

But all that didn't matter, because no one would ever read this.

And really, that pathetic excuse for a piece of writing was the least of her worries right now, because in little less than an hour, she would be on her way to Vancouver, and to the head offices of Fleckman, Fleckman, Cohen, and Grouse.

Courtney was tired of being tossed around like a ragdoll by her lawyers and never seeing results. She had decided to go up there herself, and plead her own case.

Her motives were simple; she had gotten lawyers, put her trust in them, and they had failed her. Now she wanted to defend herself.

After all, she had done most of the work herself. She had provided the information, written the essays, done the research, and pulled up her opponent's record. The only thing left for her to do was representing herself.

So now she was going to do just that.

Courtney checked the time –it was almost time for that intern/butler/test dummy to pick her up- and then checked the mirror.

Her hair had been carefully straightened to perfection for the ocassion; and her face looked clean and alight with that determined expression she loved to see on herself.

Pulling away from the mirror, she did a mental check. Papers in the suitcase, change of clothes and make-up in the duffel bag, her PDA tucked safely in her back pocket… everything seemed to be alright.

Then her eyes rested on the letter on her nightstand; she couldn't leave it there so out in the open. She walked towards it and held it in her hands, and reluctantly opened it. Her eyes flew to the ending, where one last line had been added before she signed it.

Bridgette, I am going to put an end to this. I am going to do, what I have to do.

The ending was every bit as unclear and bizarre as the rest of the letter; only she would understand that by put an end she meant to stop feeling like she had when writing all of above, and that what she was going to do was fly up to the courtroom and get herself back on the show.

She had added that last night, in the midst of the thrill of the idea she'd had. It had seemed like a the right thing back then; after all, that paper had seen her at her worst, it was only suitable that it would record how she picked herself up.

…As stupid at that sounded.

But then again, Courtney insisted that everything she did was perfectly done. As petty as the task may be.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a swift knock on her door. Like a deer caught in the head lights, she immediately straightened herself up and tucked the letter in between a conveniently placed stack of books.

She gathered her luggage and opened to the intern, expression composed.

Only as she walked down the hallway next to the intern could she calm her racing heart, and a smug smirk made its way to her face.

This was not how a CIT was supossed to write, but Courtney decided she didn't care about that. If you asked her, all the impecably written and –if she dared say so herself- outstanding oficcial documents she had written in her life made up for it.

And at the end of the day, it was all those publishable documents that really counted, and not some wannabe diary entry letter destined to be lost under endless stacks of files and memories.

Courtney smiled and held her head high, feeling, for once, that all was right in her own little world.

"So, how's things with Geoff?" Trent asked Bridgette.

"Oh, same as always. I can't get him to snap out of his Hollywood boy daze," Bridgette answered with a dismissive hand wave.

"You sure you don't wanna talk about it?" Trent tried again.

"I'll find a way around it. Let's focus on you. You sure you don't want me to switch Gwen's shampoo with blond dye next time she hits the showers?"

Trent politely turned down the offer once again, and hung his head down in defeat. Ever since he had arrived to Playa de Losers, he had witnessed Bridgette trying to act like a personal psychologist to everyone, and time and time again, she refused to talk about her own problems with Geoff.

Right now they were heading to the pool, because the blonde thought being outside with the others would do him good after the events of the day before.

Trent sighed. He didn't get why everything had to change and get all tangled and complicated. Why couldn't it be like before, when Bridgette and Geoff were happy, and so were he and Gwen?

The musician was shaken out of his thoughts when he saw Bridgette calling the elevator.

"Uh, Bridgette? I thought we were going to the pool," he said.

The blonde sent a smile his way. "Oh, we are. I just wanna check on Courtney first. She wasn't down for breakfast this morning."

Trent just nodded. He had noticed too, but he couldn't say he had been as worried as the blonde next to him. Courtney had never exactly been a friend of his, and he didn't feel like changing that anytime soon.

He didn't tell Bridgette this because she would surely tell him to cut her some slack and that they should try to be friends. Courtney had, after all, single-handedly converted four people to 'Team Trent'. But, that was really for her personal gain and that didn't make her any better of a person in Trent's book.

They silently got to said brunette's door and Bridgette softly knocked on it. "Courtney?" To her immense surprise, the door gave in beneath her hand; it was open.

She looked back at Trent, who shrugged and signalled her to go in. Bridgette poked her head inside and called again. "Courtney?" Seeing no one, she opened the door fully. "She's not here," she told Trent as she went inside.

Trent awkwardly followed the blonde. "Where could she be?" she wondered aloud. "I didn't see her downstairs. Have you seen her at all today, Tr-WHOA!"

Trent snapped his head up just in time to see Bridgette get her foot tangled on the foot of a drawer and fall to the ground, knocking a pile of books in the process. He ran to help her to her feet.

Both teenagers failed to notice, among the multitude of falling books, that a piece of paper labeled simply, 'To Bridgette' had slipped out. It floated around a couple of times until came to land on top of Courtney's bed.

"Are you okay?" Trent asked.

"Yeah… I'm used to falling down." Bridgette said in a resigned tone.

Trent chuckled; turning around, he noticed a piece of paper laying innocently on the bed. "Hey look," he said as he grabbed it. "She left a letter."

"Oh," Bridgette smiled as she took it, glad that her friend had thought to let her know of her whereabouts. She opened the letter and began reading.

Trent watched as Bridgette's happy expression turned into an unsettled frown. She only became more confused as she read on.

"Wha…?" she murmured as she sat down on the bed.

"What's wrong, Bridge?" Trent asked, but got no response from the blonde who just kept on reading.

She looked worried when she finally looked up. "I don't understand," she told Trent. "Why would she leave me something like this?"

"What does it say?" Trent asked. Even though it was adressed specifically to Bridgette, his curiosity took the better of him and he wanted to see what had shaken her up so badly. He gently took the letter from her fingers.

A few moments later he was done reading, and he was even more confused than Bridgette. He was socked, and slightly disturbed. The contents of the letter were very emotional, which was only scarier because of the fact that Courtney had written it, a girl that was usually centered and acted shallow as they came. He couldn't even picture her writing this.

"It… looks like she wrote it in different times," he finally spoke one of his first observations.

Bridgette nodded. "Or she changed her mind a lot," she added. She seemed to have snapped out of her trance, and looked at Trent in the eyes. "Last night I was trying to get her to confess she was hurt about what Duncan had done, rather than just mad," she explained, and Trent nodded, making sense of the first few lines. "But this makes no sense. Why couldn't she tell me herself? Why did she write it in a letter? This is not like her at all."

"Maybe she couldn't," Trent said.

"What do you mean?" Bridgette asked him, her green eyes anxiously searching for an explanation.

"I-I don't know," Trent said truthfully. He ran a hand through his hair.

Bridgette retrieved the letter. "I'm gonna put an end to this," she read, frustrated. "I'm gonna do what I have to do. What that hell's that supossed to mean?"

Trent had also noticed that. It was the part that disturbed him the most. That phrase could mean anything, although one possible meaning stuck out in his mind. He debated whether or not to say it outloud.

"Well, it's sounds like…" he started.

"Like what?" Bridgette urged.

"…nothing, forget it."

"Sounds like what, Trent?" she insisted.

Trent stared at her. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Bridgette stared back at him, wondering what he could be thinking that was so hard to say.

"Well it sounds…" he leaned closer to her and spoke in a low voice. "It sounds like a suicide letter."

Bridgette's eyes widened. "What!?" she cried out.

"W-well it makes sense," he stammered. "put an end to this… do what I have to do…"

"You really think so?" the blonde cried, and then, to Trent's horror, her eyes started filling with tears. "Oh my God! I knew she was hiding something! I knew! Why didn't I insist a little more!?" she wailed.

"Bridge, Bridge, calm down! I'm not saying that's what she did, it's just what it seems!" Trent made himself be heard over her loud sobs, and placed his hands on her shoulders to calm her down. "I'm not sure that's what happened."

"You're not?" the blonde asked.

"No," Trent responded, breathing a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, okay? Listen, let's go ask around if someone's seen her."

"Okay," she nodded, taking deep breaths to calm down. "okay… let's go."

When they went out of the room, the first people they saw on the hallway were Tyler, who was trying to ride a skateboard, and Eva, who was lifting weights casually next to him.

"Tyler, have you s-" was all Trent got out before having to duck to avoid taking a skateboard to the head.

"Have you seen Courtney today?" Bridgette finished for him.

Tyler thought. "Mmh, no, I don't th-"

"What about you Eva?" Bridgette turned to the other girl urgently.

Eva simply said, "No."

Bridgette grabbed Trent by the wrist and led him away, not even bothering to thank the two. They went into the elevator, where they found Izzy, hanging from the ceiling fan.

"Izzy, have you seen Courtney today?" Bridgette asked, going straight to business.

Izzy looked down at them. "Not since breakfast," she said.

Bridgette stared at her. "She wasn't there at breakfast."

"Oh," Izzy said, then giggled. "Then no."

Bridgette knew she wasn't going to get any answers from the redhead. She and Trent exited the elevator on the ground floor.

"DJ," Trent called. "Man, have you seen Courtney?"

"No, now that you mention, haven't seen her since last night," answered the gentle giant. "She hasn't come down for breakfast yet?"

"We can't find her anywhere," Trent said. "Bridgette?"

"Hey!" Bridgette called at Noah and Cody, who were at the other side of the pool. "Yeah, you two! Have you seen Courtney today?" The two shook their heads, and Bridgette let them go on their way, and grabbed Trent's hand again to continue their search.

"Hey wait! What's up with Courtney?" asked a now worried DJ, as he followed after the pair that had taken off.

"Ezekiel," Bridgette called the prairie boy in the hot tub. "Have you seen Courtney?"

"She was there at the Aftermath, eh," the boy replied confidently, as if the answer was obvious.

"No, not last night," Bridgette said, exasperated. "Today. Have you seen her today?"

Ezekiel became fidgety at his apparent mistake, and nervously responded, "Uh, n-n-no, eh."

The blonde surfer stomed off, leaving Ezekiel feeling an even bigger sense of failure. Trent could see the girl was getting borderline desperate, and watched from behind as she approached none other than his now ex-girlfriend.

Gwen was sitting on a chair by the pool, looking as out of place as she felt. She had been extremely bored and lonely all day, with the only person that had tried to talk to her being Cody, who she now considered the one friend she had in Playa de Losers.

That was why she got such a shock when she saw Bridgette, of all people, address her. Then she got another shock when she saw the blonde had tears in the corner of her eyes, and sounded all but desperate.

"Gwen, have you seen Courtney today?"

"Courtney?" It took the goth a while to process what she was hearing. "No, not since last night."

"Oh my God!" Bridgette cried, burying her head on Trent's arm, who by this time had appeared along with DJ by her side.

"What? What's going on?" Gwen asked as she stood up, alarmed.

Sadie and Katie walked towards them. "Hey guys, what's going on?" asked a worried Katie.

"Yeah, and why's Bridgette crying?" asked Sadie, laying a calming hand on the blonde's back.

"It's about Courtney," Trent explained as she comforted Bridgette.

"What's going on with Courtney?" Noah asked, the commotion having also attracted him and Cody.

"We can't find her," Trent told the small crowd of people. "We think she might have…" he trailed off.

"We think she killed herself," Bridgette said between sobs.

Gasps were heard throughout the group of people.

"What!?" DJ exclaimed. "Why on Earth would you think that!?"

"Yeah, why would you come to that conclusion?" Noah added in agreement.

"Well she left a letter," Trent said. "And now we can't find her, and nobody's seen her."

"That's not enough reason to believe she's killed herself," Gwen said. "C'mon, this is Courtney! I think she'd be little more rational than to do something like that, or at least a little prouder."

Bridgette had looked up, looking almost hopeful at the disbelief of the others; but Trent didn't doubt for one second.

"You didn't read that letter," he said simply, knowing they all had no idea of the weight of that sentence. They didn't know what she had on her back last night. The didn't know all that had been going through her mind. Only half an hour ago, Trent saw Courtney in a completely different light than he did now. Half an hour ago, he wouldn't have believed what he was saying now either.

"Well… then let's see it," Gwen said slowly, extending her hand to receive the infamous letter.

Trent was about to gladly give it to her, but Bridgette intervened, snatching the paper away from them both. "No," she said sternly. "This was adressed to me. You reading it was already a mistake," she told Trent, who lowered his head slightly. "I'm not letting anyone else have it… she would be mad," she said, and then looked away into the distance.

There was a pause in which the ex-contestants looked at each other for something to say.

"…So, like, is this about Duncan?" Katie finally asked.

"Yeah, did she do it because of what he did with Gwen?" Sadie backed her up.

"I hope you're happy, by the way," Katie told Gwen.

"Yeah, look at what you made her do!"

"Okay wait," Cody interrupted. "Are we sure she really killed herself?"

"Yeah," Gwen jumped up. "What if this is just a charade pulled by Chris? It wouldn't be the first time he did something like this."

Bridgette looked at the letter. "It looks like her handwriting… And I don't think she'd agree with Chris to fake all of this."

"Yeah, and as much of a jerk as Chris is," Noah said. "He's never bothered with us losers before. Why would he start now?"

It was true. Chris would never waste time setting up anything he wasn't going to broadcast, and there were no cameras in Playa de Losers right now.

"So if the letter is, like, real, this is all Gwen's fault," Katie put in.

"Hey, don't blame her!" Cody jumped in Gwen's defense. "This is Duncan's fault too! There were two sets of lips on the bridge that night!"

"For the love of God, nothing happened between Duncan and I!" Gwen exclaimed for the hundreth time.

"Even if that were true," Sadie said coldly. "I don't think this is anyone's fault. Courtney must've been already like, unstable if she did something like this."

"Hey, are you calling my best friend insane?" Bridgette jumped up.

Voices and tension were rising between the group, and you could sense that a big argument was about to unfold. And that was probably what would've happened, if the teenagers hadn't gotten distracted by a new voice that made itself be heard:

"Maybe she didn't necessarily kill herself."

People moved apart to reveal Ezekiel, who had been casually standing there with no one noticing him.

"Maybe she ran away, eh."

Courtney stood on a Vancouver parking lot, with her mother on the phone.

"Mother, will you stop yelling?"

"No! What you did was crazy, Courtney!" the woman on the other line berated. "I can't believe you were planning to defend yourself all along!"

The brunette sighed. No, of course she had not told her parents what she was really planning. Michael would have never conceded her the transportation if he'd known. Unfortunately, there had been a slight change of planes; Michael himself had appeared in the plane, alleging she shouldn't travel that long a distance by herself, and things had complicared for Courtney.

At her insistance of him staying inside the jet during the trial, he had eventually figured out her true plans. And then Courtney had been forced to take some… measures, to assure the success of her plan-

"Courtney, you locked your father inside a plane!"

Courtney rolled her eyes. She didn't really regret that, though she did regret leaving a cell phone inside with him that he could reach her mother with.

"What were you thinking? You lied and tricked us, and all to do something that could've put your father's and my reputation at stake! You should be ashamed of yourself!"

"It's those lawyers who should be ashamed!" Courtney retorted. "They weren't doing anything for me, just lounging around leeching off me to do their job!"

"I don't care! They are the lawyers, and it's your own fault if you let them depend on you! But you going up there and taking their place is unnecessary and innapropiate!"

"Mother, the case was mine from the beginning. Those lawyers put no heart in it. I actually care about the outcome."

"Heart!? Courtney, there people studied for years to get where they are. You are a sixteen-year-old girl who thinks she can win an impossible case on heart!"

"What are you trying to say?" she asked quickly, eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You don't think I can do it?" she asked, pronouncing every word slowly as if it were an inconceivable concept.

"Do you?"

"Of course I do," she replied indignantly.

In all honesty, she hadn't thought of doubting herself until her mother brought it up. It simply hadn't ocurred to her the concept that she couldn't do it. It was a given that if there was someone that could do it, it was her.

"Mother, you once told me to fight for my dreams," she said self-righteously.

Big mistake.

"I would've never told you that if I'd known what your dreams were!"

Courtney paused, surprised at the implications of such a statement, and the tone of her mother's voice that showed no sign of backing down or apologizing. Was her mother finally giving up on her, like she was always threatening to?

Courtney pursed her lips. "Well it doesn't matter anyhow."

"And why not?"

She frowned. "Because I already won the lawsuit."

"…What?" she asked in a thin voice. "You won?"

"Yes," she smiled happily, the past events coming back to her. She laughed. "Hey, you should know the amazing things I'm capable of doing," she said teasingly. She got no response. "Mom?" she stopped smiling. "Mom."

She drew away the phone and found a 'call ended' message, indicating her mother had hung up on her. Courtney felt a pang on her chest, but then she spotted Chris about to enter the lame-o-sine, and her mind jumped to more important things.

She stuffed her PDA in her pocket and jogged towards him, a smile playing on her face. The man had a truly pissed off expression on his face, something that was rarely seen on camera.

He then spotted her and his frown grew deeper. "Hi, Chris," she said cheerfully.

"Courtney! My faavorite contestant," he said sarcastically. "Came to steal anything else? Want my yacht or my summer house? My personal trainer? Chef?"

A low grunt was heard from inside the lame-o-sine, indicating Chef was inside.

Courtney chuckled gleefully. "Must be mortifying losing to a teenage girl, isn't it? Especially after you managed to evade a hord of lawyers for so long."

Chris opened the door. "You know, people call me a sadist," he started.

"Want me to shut up about it?" Courtney interrupted him.

Chris stopped, with a leg already inside the vehicle, and looked at her strangely. "And why would you do that?"

Courtney rolled her eyes. "Because you would do something for me in return."

Chris paused for a second, then got out of the lame-o-sine. "Talk."

"These are my conditions," she handed him a stack of paper. "It's basically inmunity for the first challenge and complete access to my PDA, along with… other benefits."

Chris was attempting to read all the pages at the same time. "Alright, I'll have my lawyers revise it and then-"

Courtney shook her head. "Forget it. I don't have all day."

"I'm not signing it without reading it. You think you can out-fine print me? I invented that!"

"Fine then," Courtney retrieved the contract and turned around. "I'm sure the cast will love to hear all about how I beat you."

Chris slapped his face. "Alright, alright!" he gave in. "Gimme that, I'll sign it!"

Courtney turned around, with a beaming expression that made Chris want to punch her lights out—but he didn't even want to think of the consequences of that.

"Sign here… and here… here… aand here, we're done!" she chirped, and collected the contract. "Oh no, keep the pen. Pleasure doing business with you."

Then she turned around, very concious of the fact that Chris had thrown said pen to the ground and was repeatedly jumping on it in a fit of rage.

This only fueled her smile as she merrily walked away.

Keep in tune to see what happens in Playa de Losers!;)

~The Lighthouse