Title: Dance from the Heart - Chapter 7
Rating: PG-13 Genre: Angst, Drama Characters: Mostly Sharpay and Ryan, the others show up on occasion.
Disclaimer: I do not own High School Musical or these characters. I'm just playing around.
Summary: An accident, a struggle and redemption.
0o0o0o
Sharpay's listless attitude continued until nightfall. She stared at the television, mindlessly clicking the remote. She'd taken her prosthetic off, claiming it was bothering her and Ryan tried not to stare at the discarded artificial limb, tossed aside like an unwanted article of clothing.
"Want to go to the movies?" Ryan asked, not mentioning how the channel-flipping was starting to drive him batty. "I hear there's a good comedy on over at the Plaza."
Sharpay shook her head. "No thanks. You can go if you want."
"Without you?" Why would I do that?"
"Because I don't feel like putting that thing back on anymore today," she said, tossing the remote on the coffee table with an annoyed gesture. "So if you want to see a movie, go yourself."
"Shar ..."
"Ryan, please. I'm tired, okay? Between school and my doctor's appointment, I've had it."
Ryan shrugged. "You seemed okay in school today."
"I did?" Sharpay asked, her mouth suddenly twisting into an angry line. She turned to glare at Ryan, her eyes fiery. "Because I didn't feel okay today. How do you think it feels to know that we aren't going to be at the Harvest Dance this year because ... because ... of this ... stupid thing." Sharpay poked at her knee with a frustrated noise. The pitch of her voice rose in mocking imitation. "That they're all sitting around thinking, oh, poor Sharpay, she can't dance anymore. Too bad, so sad, good for us! We can finally do something with our pathetic lack of talent!
Wincing, Ryan stared down at his lap. "Who says you can't dance anymore?"
Her eyes widened with anger. "You just didn't say that, did you? Please tell me you didn't say that."
"I did." By god, he was shaking, but Ryan held his ground. "No one said you can't dance again. The doctors ..."
"The doctors!" she cried, enraged. "What do they know? How many hours, how many years I've spent breaking my body in half to do what I do on the stage. How much pain I've endured to make it look like it's the easiest thing in the world. All they know is how to chop parts off and take away everything I've worked for because of some stupid accident. I can't do what I use to do, it's impossible. You of all people should understand that!"
"I do understand," Ryan said firmly. He reached for her hand, grimacing when she slapped it away. "But I don't think it's impossible. Different, yes. Hard, sure. And yeah, you'll have to train again but there's no reason you can't dance. Remember what we kept telling ourselves when we were so exhausted, we thought we couldn't rehearse another minute? We said: if we can stand, we can dance."
"Oh, Ryan ..." Sharpay's anger turned to tears of frustration. "I can't, all right? I ... I just can't."
Ryan shifted on the couch, taking her face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away her tears. "Look, we can do this, you and me. We'll work together and make a new routine, something that works with your new ..." He paused, nodding over at the prosthetic leg. "Your new accessory," he finished helplessly.
Sharpay raised an eyebrow at him. "My new accessory? It's not a Gucci handbag, Ryan."
"Don't you want a challenge? Or do you want Chad and Martha ... no, wait, Troy and Gabrielle to steal what's rightfully ours," Ryan added slyly. He leaned back with feigned nonchalance. "If you want to sit around and watch while they take the Harvest crowns, I mean, that's your business ..."
"Steal what's rightfully mine," Sharpay muttered.
"What?"
"Never mind," Sharpay whispered. She threw herself back against the couch, sighing. "I'm sorry, Ry. But I'm not ready for anything like that. I've just learned to walk and that took long enough. If you want to get a new partner ..."
Ryan could feel his mouth drop open. He stared at Sharpay, shocked, as if she'd just starting speaking in tongues. "There's no other partner for me. If you don't want to dance, then I don't either."
His sister's eyes grew bright. "You're such a liar. You want to dance."
"Only with you," Ryan proclaimed, sliding down and snuggling against her shoulder, gratified when she snuggled back. "But I think you're making a mistake. You're stronger than you know, Shar."
"I know my limits," Sharpay replied quietly. She picked up her folded cane and held it up for him to see. "This is the line drawn in the sand. The line I can't cross."
Ryan wasn't sure if he believed her but said nothing. He simply curled in closer, breathing in her warmth. There were other ways to convince her, ways more powerful than words. He simply had to have the courage to lead, something he wasn't used to doing.
But once he started, he knew ... he just knew she wouldn't only follow.
She'd shine again.
0o0o0o
Their parents had built the in-home dance studio as a thirteenth birthday present for both of them. It was state-of-the-art, at least for back then, with wall-to-ceiling mirrors on one side and a beautiful pine floor covering a few hundred square feet of open space. Included was a sound system most professionals would envy and oh, the hours they spent in there -- dancing, arguing and laughing as they practiced their moves until their souls bled.
They'd hired teachers a few times, but eventually Ryan had become a canny enough choreographer, learning the mechanics of almost any move in minutes. Most of their routines had been his creations, their intricate patterns easily absorbed by Sharpay's eerie ability to appreciate her brother's direction and expand on it; her willingness to make every move her own.
Sharpay hadn't entered the room since her return from the hospital. What was the point? It's not like she'd fly over the floor again the way she used to, like a bird cradled in Ryan's arms. The glittering dresses she once loved looked garish and far too short; too short to hide her horrible imperfection, the ugly straps and hard plastic of her prosthetic as well as the scars that still could be seen above the cup that held what was left of her leg.
Sharpay stared into the huge mirror, hating what she saw.
Stupid leg, stupid cane, stupid everything. She felt graceless and lost, a part of her was hopelessly incomplete and why did this have to happen to her? Why? What had she done to deserve this? It was so unfair and ridiculous and she was just about to curse aloud when she remembered Marnie.
Marnie. First they took one leg, then the other. She was a college student, bright and beautiful, with long brown hair and a gentle smile, like Ryan's. Caught some disease while away at university and there was nothing left to do except watch and wait as she got sick, then well, then devastatingly sick again.
Sharpay bit her lip at the memory. Marnie had been so kind to Sharpay, so strong and she understood the pain, possibly like no one else could. And when she knew the end was near ...
Asked Sharpay to look after her little violet plant, the one thing she was strong enough to care for.
Marnie was twenty-three when she died.
When the therapists told her that Marnie was gone, Sharpay couldn't find the strength to cry. And now here she was, alive and well enough while Marnie was dead and a wash of shame overwhelmed Sharpay. What the hell was she complaining about?
At least she wasn't in the grave.
Except ... except ... god, this awful leg. She slid up her pants' leg, wincing at her reflection in the mirror. "It's so ugly," she moaned, not expecting anyone to reply.
"You just need a new outfit, sis," Ryan said, tilted his head in the door. He'd obviously had been standing there for some time. He held up something long, blue and glittering. A dress, a gorgeous new dress and his smile was broad and contagious. "What do you think?"
Sharpay let the pants leg fall. Glanced over the dress and shrugged. "The color is okay, I guess."
Ryan sidled up to her. "Want to try it on?" He held up against her for effect. "Mmm?"
She examined it critically. It was sort of fabulous. "I guess. Just to try on, nothing else," Sharpay warned, snatching the hanger from his hand.
There was a changing screen in the back of the studio and it wasn't too hard to slip the dress on, shimmying into its sparkly goodness. Sharpay bit her lip with glee, she suddenly felt alive again, beautiful and shiny. Shyly, she emerged from behind the screen, watching Ryan's face light up, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
It was terribly long, but it hid the prosthetic very well. Not that she'd be able to dance again, but ...
"The foxtrot is coming back, you know," Ryan proclaimed, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He glanced at her from beneath the brim of his hat. "A few modern ballroom moves will make those losers swallow their Bubble Yum, if you ask me."
Sharpay examined herself in the mirror, suddenly liking what she saw. "Ballroom, huh?" She struck a slightly wobbly pose, nearly falling over, but Ryan was there to catch her. She couldn't help but chuckle. "I mean, if we screw up the traditional steps, it's not like anyone would ever know."
"Who says we're going to screw up?" Ryan's reflection asked, his chin resting on her shoulder. "Come on, sis. Let's do this thing. You know you want to."
A chill slid down her spine. "I'm scared, Ryan."
Solemnly, he kissed her cheek. "Don't be. You're going to kick ass. I promise."
"This is ridiculous," she breathed, but somewhere, in the back of her mind, she heard Marnie's voice. Don't give up your dreams. Don't you dare. "You really think ...?"
"I really think we can."
He led her to the bar, curling her fingers against the dull, powdered surface. Turned the stereo on and the jazzy notes of "Anything Goes" filled the air. Ryan grinned at Sharpay from across the room, sliding over the floor with classic foxtrot steps.
Sharpay took a deep, cleansing breath. Maybe just a couple of moves, there was no one there to see if she messed up. Her fingers unconsciously tightened around the bar. "All right, but you have to go slow."
Ryan bowed to her. "As you wish."
She smacked him on the back of the head. Lightly. "And don't complicate the downbeat."
"I don't do that."
She placed herself within his arms, her entire body shaking. At least ... at least she was alive. Marnie would be proud. "Okay," she said softly. "Let's dance."
0o0o0o
tbc ...
A/N: It would be a shame to let this go unfinished. It's not that far from the end. Thanks too Google Docs for letting me organize this again. Reviews are always welcome.