A/N: "Gettin' Down to Business" lyrics by Barry Harman. Song was first used in Jem S1E3 (Kimber's Rebellion) on November 17, 1985, later reprised in S2E5 (The Bands Break Up) on September 28, 1987. According to Google Translate, "Saol ar an imeall" is the translation of "Life on the Edge."

Chapter 35

"You must be having me on," Jetta said, looking stunned.

Jerrica sighed. "I wish. I'm sorry. We're trying to talk the State Department around, but as it stands…"

"As it stands, he can't get in." Jetta shook her head. "Well, that's just naffing."

"Starlight Records has pyrotechnicians," Jerrica said. "I can set you up with one of them. They're very good."

Jetta sighed. "Yeah, sure. I can't say Kerry didn't warn me something like this might happen, but I thought he was overreacting, know what I mean?" She turned to Phyllis. "He was a stupid kid! Like we all were!"

"Yeah," Phyllis nodded. "Unfortunately, because of his record…"

"He didn't do anything!" Jetta exclaimed. "I mean… he wasn't a terrorist. He was a dumb kid who was bouncing a ball against the side of a house. The peelers were sure that the bounces were some kind of code to let whoever was inside know to lie low."

"Peelers are police?" Jerrica asked.

Jetta nodded. "He didn't know who lived there, or that the coppers had been keeping an eye on it acos they thought the owner was IRA. And I'm not saying he wasn't," Jetta added. "Might bloody well have been, but Kerry didn't know! And when they grabbed him and stormed inside and found the house empty, they wouldn't believe him when he said he hadn't been trying to warn anyone!"

"Don't you guys have lawyers over there?" Phyllis asked.

Jetta lowered her eyes. "Barristers, yeah. He had one. For all the good it did him. He doesn't talk much about what happened, but when we got serious, he told me about his past." She sighed. "Truth be told, he didn't go into much detail and I didn't press him for it. He went to the Republic of Ireland when he got out, I was doing a gig in Galway, we took to each other and," she shrugged, "we've been married since a year ago March." Her lips twisted and she brought her fist down hard on the arm of her chair. "It's just so bloody unfair!"

"That's life for ya," Phyllis said, and though her tone was dismissive, there was compassion in her eyes. "So. If you want to go back there, I'll talk to Rory about letting you out of your contract."

"No," Jetta said almost at once. "No, you won't get rid of me that easy. I've got a new band now, and as much as I wish Kerry could be here, this could be our big break. I'm staying."

"Whoa," Kyla's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Is that… us?"

Joellen beamed at her. "With a little help from a professional sound system," she informed them cheerfully.

"I can't believe it!" Julie squealed. "We sound…"

"Fresh!" Marla interjected. "Absolutely fresh!"

Emma was still staring at the recording equipment. "I never thought I had any talent," she whispered.

"Are you kidding me?" Joellen exclaimed. "Give it a couple of years, you guys, and you might be back here for real, recording your first album!" She grinned. "Pack up your stuff; I just gotta run to the little girls' room and then we can head back to the mansion."

As soon as she was out of the room, the four girls looked at one another. "A couple of years?" Marla repeated. "We're ready now!"

"I know," Julie said. "If we could only make everyone see it…"

"Sorry!" Raya apologized again. "I've been rehearsing, I promise! I don't know what's got into me!"

"It's not just you," Shana sighed. "It's all of us. You, me, and Jem haven't touched a mic in eight years, and Kimber and Aja got too used to a different band with different rhythms and different people and…"

"We're different," Aja summed up. She sighed. "I guess we all thought we could just… pick up where we left off and be ready to perform like we'd never split up."

"You mean… All those old musicals… lied?" Kimber asked, in a tremulous voice, eyes very wide. "B-but that's outrageous!"

Raya snickered. Kimber giggled. It only took another moment for Shana, Aja, and Jem to join in. Somehow, even though Jem had been the last to laugh, she was also the first to sober.

"Point taken, Aja," she said, wiping at her eyes. "But we need to be back up to snuff before the benefit and that's only a couple of weeks off, now. So let's get back to it."

"If I might make a suggestion," Kimber said, "why not try a different number next?" She played a familiar opening on her keyboard. "This one sounds appropriate…"

Jem and the other three holograms exchanged smiles. A moment later, Jem picked up her mic and the band followed Kimber's lead.

We've just been playing
Fooling around
While everybody else is out there covering ground
We've gotta take a whole new tack
To get back on the track
And it's time we get started
Getting down to business…

"That's a blow," Rory said. "How's she handling it?"

Jerrica sighed. "Well, we've hooked them up with one of our techies, but obviously, Jetta's band—"

"—It has a name, right?"

"I was afraid you were going to ask me that. Let me spell it for you."

She did. There was a long pause. Then, Rory said hesitantly, "Sail ar an immel?"

"Not exactly," Jerrica admitted. "Jetta pronounced it for me, but I can't remember it now. It's easier if I just keep calling it 'Jetta's Band.'"

"As long as they tell the presenter how to introduce them," Rory said. "Sorry, you were saying?"

"Just that Jetta's husband knows their lighting and tech specs inside and out. Starlight's people are good, but there's a learning curve. I don't suppose your father could…?"

"Sorry, Jerrica," Rory sighed. "Dad's connections are military. It's not like he can just phone up the State Department and make this mess go away. Is Jetta having second thoughts?"

"Nope. But she misses her husband and I know she'd rather he was here. If there's anything you can think of…"

"I'll try," Rory said, "but don't hold your breath."

"I won't," Jerrica said. "But thanks for trying anyway." She hung up the phone, pasted a bright smile on her face, and headed outside to see how the girls were spending their Saturday.

"Well?"

Wendy looked up at the impatient note in her brother's voice and glared. "Don't have a go at me, John! She won't speak to me and I daren't press it. I'm sure in time she'll relent, but I can't say when!"

"And Michael?"

Wendy got up and spun away. "You're a jolly beast to bring him up when I can't do a thing about him! D'you think I've forgotten? I can't force Emma to forgive me, and even if she does, I'm going to have to work bloody fast if I'm to betray her badly enough and it's hard enough to put that out of my head when I'm trying to grovel and ask for a second chance I know I'm going to muff!"

There was no response to her outburst. The silence stretched for what felt like an interminable amount of time, but after nearly a century in Neverland, Wendy was used to interminable amounts of time. Still, she was startled, when John's hand came down reassuringly on her shoulder.

"Perhaps, it is a bit much to expect," John said thoughtfully. "What is this Emma like? What's important to her?"

Wendy shrugged. "She's a jolly good sort. She's hoping to find her parents one day, but even if I were to pull a rotten hoax and tell her they were waiting in the next street and had sent me to fetch her, she would know I was lying. And anyway, I don't think I could be so horrid. Why I should deserve to be given away!"

"No," John said. "And I would imagine that a home for motherless girls… They must be used to their charges running off to pursue some clues to a lost relative. I doubt they'd turn Emma out for that. What else?"

"She writes songs," Wendy said. "That foundling home… the person who runs it is organizing some concert for a disease." She frowned. "I'm not sure I understand that part. But Emma and some of her friends at that home, they're planning to perform there."

John frowned thoughtfully. "I may have an idea," he said slowly.

"Well… what is it?" Wendy asked, a trifle waspishly when John didn't elaborate.

"I've various papers and references. Forgeries, of course," John went on, "but rather good ones. Enough to profess experience at a number of unskilled tasks. Concerts, plays, pantomimes… There's always a need for backstage help, and you don't need a theatrical background to move heavy crates about or sweep up." He peered at Wendy over his horn-rimmed spectacle. "I'll try to find out more about this concert, but if you could come across a handbill or some other advertisement—note the location if it's pasted somewhere you can't remove it so you can take me there—that will be helpful. I'll find out what credentials they require and, if I don't already possess them, I'll procure them."

"Bully for you," Wendy snorted. "And what am I to do while you're sweeping up backstage?"

John shrugged. "Well, once I've a legitimate reason to be there, I shouldn't think it much of a trick to smuggle you inside. Once I have, I suppose you'll find ample opportunity to carry out the task you've been charged with. And then, Michael will be released," a hopeful smile spread John's lips. "And perhaps Pan will let us all go free at last."

"Rory!" Phyllis exclaimed, hearing his greeting on the other end. "How the hell did you even get this number? I'm working here!"

"Sorry," Rory apologized suavely. "But it seems that you've been invading my thoughts to the point where I can't get any of my own work done, so I thought it only fair to invade yours."

"Yeah? Well, you're talking to the gal who got the highest-ever score in Space Invaders. Repelling invasions is sort of what I do."

"And was this in a public arcade, or your own personal machine?"

"What's that got to do with it?" Phyllis blustered, knowing she'd been busted.

Rory chuckled. "I was wondering if you and Hana May were free for dinner this Friday. Whatever you and she'd like, whether it's fine dining or takeout from Mr. Cluck's."

Phyllis hesitated. "Make it an early dinner. Her bedtime's seven-thirty. Actually, takeout sounds good. Let me sound her out and I'll call you back."

"You sound tired," Rory said. "Is everything okay?"

Phyllis sighed. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's just say that my work-life balance is a little screwy right now, but I got this."

"If there's anything I can do…"

"You're doing it," she said, after a moment. "I don't know how much time I'd have to just chill if you didn't get me to take a break every now and again."

"We could catch a movie this evening."

"Don't push it."

As she hung up the phone, Phyllis found herself smiling. She wasn't mooning over Rory and making a fool of herself anymore like she once had. Things between them had settled into an easy friendship. Could it be more than that? Did she want there to be? Did he? Still smiling, she shook her head. She wasn't going to rush into anything, but takeout in front of the TV with a handsome guy and a cute kid sounded a lot better to her now than it might have six or eight years ago.

Roxy woke up in surroundings that definitely weren't her room at the Y or her digs in Vegas. They weren't totally unfamiliar to her, but it took her a moment to get her bearings.

She'd gone to another meeting last night at Devon's invitation, and though she'd made some quip about how it wasn't exactly the sort of venue she usually went on a second date, but while she couldn't say it had been fun, she'd felt a lot better when the meeting was over than she usually did after a date.

They'd gone out for more coffee (and fresher donuts) afterwards and talked. About what, Roxy couldn't recall right now, just like she wasn't entirely sure how she'd ended up here.

She frowned. Had she gone for drinks afterwards and blacked out? It wouldn't be the first time, if she had, but she didn't feel the least bit achy or nauseous. The sunlight streaming in through the Venetian blinds didn't stab into her eyes. She wasn't sweating or dizzy.

She wasn't hungover.

Then…

Bits of last night came back to her. She'd been exhausted. Between the enormity of everything that had been happening recently, the intensity of the meetings, stress, worry, and just plain losing track of the time on top of that, it had been after one in the morning when she'd got up to leave the restaurant.

"You can't go on public transit at this hour!" she heard Devon's voice exclaim in her head. "Especially not to that neighborhood."

Evidently, she hadn't. She was lying on a bed in a room with too many personal effects—none of them hers—to be a hotel's. She could see posters advertising magic and variety shows on the walls, a top hat hanging on a hook near the window, and a collection of books on a shelf with titles that suggested that they contained information on magic tricks, illusions, and escape artistry. She frowned.

A moment later, she got up and realized she'd been sleeping in her clothes, but that there was a terry robe on the back of a nearby chair. A nice idea, if she'd brought a change of clothes, but she hadn't. She opened the door and found herself facing a living room. Devin was sitting on the sofa reading. She could see that there was a regular pillow to his left, and a rumpled blanket half-on the sofa, half-on the floor.

He looked up. "Morning, Roxy. You sleep okay?"

She blinked. "Uh… yeah. Thanks. I-I should probably go."

"Sure you don't want some breakfast before you do? I'm no chef, but I can make decent pancakes and I can probably fry a mean egg or two."

Roxy smiled. "Thanks, but I should get back to the Y and shower. Feeling kinda grungy."

"I can spot you a t-shirt and sweats if you'd rather shower here," Devon offered. "There's a laundry room at the end of the hall if you want to wash what you're wearing," he added delicately.

Right. Tops and pants were one thing, but if he kept women's underwear around, she was going to be more creeped out than appreciative. She shook her head.

"Nah. I'm good. But thanks." The situation seemed to call for a little more, so she added, "Really. Thanks."

Devon looked disappointed, but he didn't push. "Okay, if you're sure," he said. Then, more seriously, "Are you okay?"

Her first instinct was to make some smart-assed crack about… something. Her second was to just do the polite thing and say she was. She went with her third. "I'm better than I was," she said, smiling a bit. "Thanks."

Jetta looked at the other members of her group and sighed. "It's just not the same, is it?" she asked.

Saoirse shook her head. "It's not just that it's not your Kerry doing our sound-and-light show. Jerrica's people are fair decent, but it's something whopper we're after needing and I don't believe they've got it in them."

Ken nodded. "Here's a thought. A lot of Kerry's ideas came from a few gigs he had working with stage magicians, illusionists, and the like. If you know of anyone in these parts what might in that line of work and after lending us a hand…"

Jetta frowned. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "I did know someone back in the day. I have no idea what he might be doing now, but I can try and find out." She sighed. "And meanwhile, let's not give up on the techies we have, because if I can't find the bloke, or if he's not interested in helping out, they're all we have, right mates?"

The others nodded and Jetta smiled. "Guess my first step's to call Pizzazz once she's done with her day job. If she doesn't know how to reach out to the guy, she'll find out…"

Emma saw the sign-up sheet in the common room first. "Guys," she said carefully, "this might be what we're looking for!"

Julie frowned. "I don't get why you're so excited. So, they're looking for a few people to help out backstage at the benefit. It's going to mean a lot of running back and forth, grabbing water and snacks for a bunch of performers, and trying not to trip over wires or get in everyone else's way. Plus, we probably wouldn't get out to auditorium to actually hear the music."

"If we were helping out Jem and the Holograms or Kaleidoscope Haze, or maybe even the Misfits, that would be okay," Marla said. "But it says here that you'll be assigned wherever needed. Sometimes, celebrities can be… nasty."

Emma considered. "I'm used to nasty," she said. "But anything that gets us backstage at the benefit is something that might get us center stage if we play our cards right."

"Emma…"

"Oh, come on. Maybe at intermission…"

"I don't know," Kyla said. "I'm sure they've got security back there."

"Yeah," Julie said, "but they'll be expecting the fans to rush the stage while the bands are up there. If the stage is empty and we're waiting in the wings..." She smiled. "It could work."

"Or we could get caught and thrown out," Kyla said.

"Or we could see a chance and take it!" Marla countered.

"I think it's worth a try," Emma said.

"Me too," Julie said, reaching for the pencil that dangled on a string beside the sign-up sheet. "Well?" she asked, as she wrote her name. "The rest of you in or what?"

"I am," Marla said, taking the pencil as Julie finished.

"Me, too," Emma said.

Kyla sighed. "Oh, all right," she said. "Count me in, too. Somebody's got to make sure we don't get arrested…"

Craig set down his drumsticks. "All right," he said. "That's enough."

The three women sank down onto their stools, sighing almost in unison.

"Yeah," Craig said. "That's what I figured."

"Sorry," Kimber said. "I guess it's a lot more work practicing for two bands at once."

"Tell me about it!" Stormer groaned. "The benefit's less than two weeks away and we need to get everything right, but these long hours! I think they're wearing on Jetta, too. Or she might just be missing her husband," she added.

"We can call it a day for now," Aja said. "But if it really is too much, if we have to pick one band…?"

Kimber shook her head unhappily. "I don't want to have to. But if it comes down to it, I'd rather stick with the band I'm with now than try to hold on to the past, no matter how great it was back then."

"Same here," Stormer nodded.

Aja gripped the pole of her mic for emphasis. "Then we're all on the same page. Great. Okay. Let's rest up tonight. Go out, do something fun that has nothing to do with music. Or stay in and sleep," she shrugged. "We'll pick this up tomorrow."

Craig got up with a smile. "It's been a while since we went roller-blading," he suggested.

Aja winced. "I'm so out of practice, it's not funny. But if you want to," she slid her arm into his, "I'm happy to sit on the side and watch."

"Or we could stay in and watch a movie."

Aja leaned her head against his chest. "We could…"

Kimber looked at Stormer, who smothered a yawn. "I don't think I've slept more than four hours in the last forty-eight," she said. "I'm going to do something about that."

Kimber nodded. "I'm going to relax in a hot bubble bath first. And then, if the lyrics for our new song don't come to me in there, I'll probably join you…"

"Pizzazz? You still there, mate?"

Phyllis held the phone to her ear for another moment. "I can track him down for you," she said finally, "but I think you should know. Devon Silverstone's career tanked a couple of years back after his agent dropped him for cancelling too many shows at the last minute. I was back in school at the time and I wasn't exactly paying attention to the rumors—not enough to try to find out what was going on with him."

Jetta sighed. "Well, see what you can find out," she said heavily. "I don't want someone unreliable, not this close to the performance, but if there was a good reason for those cancellations, that's another story, innit?"

"Will do. And hey, talk to Jerrica. Somehow or other the special effects at Jem's shows were always next level. If the guys she's giving you aren't up to snuff, find out who she's using."

"Now that's an idea," Jetta replied. "I'll suss her out."

"Jem's special effects crew?" Jerrica repeated. "Uh… well, I know we've been scrambling to find someone good since Rio Pacheco's no longer with the band. I think we're also setting them up with someone from Starlight. If the people we sent over aren't working out, I can see who else I have at this short notice. Leave it with me."

Jerrica hung up the phone and sat at her desk, a worried expression on her face.

Shortly, there came a knock on her study door and Raya entered, carrying a cardboard tray with two cups of coffee from an artisanal shop several blocks away, and a clipboard under her arm. "I have those figures you asked me to check on," she announced. "I thought we could have something to drink while we look them over."

"Sure, that's fine," Jerrica said absently.

"Everything okay?" Raya asked.

Jerrica sighed. "I just got off the phone with Jetta. She wanted to know who Jem and the Holograms use for special effects. Obviously, I can't tell her—"

"—about Synergy," Raya finished her sentence. "So, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I can tell her that they're booked solid, but if she asks me for a name, so she can call them herself, I can't just… make one up." She winced. "Almost makes me wish for the old days, when we weren't all on the same side and I didn't have to feel guilty about not helping them out."

"Is that what you've decided, then?" Raya asked, her voice carefully neutral.

"I want to help them," Jerrica said miserably. "I just don't see how we can."

Raya frowned for a moment, thinking. Then her eyebrows shot up. "What if Synergy creates holographic technicians who… act like they're doing the work, when really, it's all her?"

Jerrica started to smile, but then her face fell. "To do that, I'd have to have the Jemstar earrings close by at all times. Considering that Jerrica's going to be running all over the building during the show, that's not going to be feasible." She exhaled heavily. "Still, that's a better idea than anything I was thinking of. Maybe I'll talk to Synergy later. She might have some suggestions."

She picked up the coffee cup Raya had given her and took a sip. "This tastes amazing," she sighed. She took another breath. "Okay. Let's go over those figures."

Phyllis was back from her lunch break and already thinking about dinner tonight. Rory was bringing takeout over at six—nothing fancy, just burgers and fries. Well. With the concert coming up, she'd have the burger with a homemade tossed salad, dressing on the side and maybe swipe a couple of fries from Rory when his back was turned—she did need to get back into her bad girl image, after all. Not from Hana May, though—that would just be mean.

Her phone rang and she picked it up absently. "Gabor here. Sorry, who…? Oh. Oh, right. What can I do for you?" She listened to the voice on the other end and her smile faded. "Is that really necessary? The reports I've been getting say she's really adjusted well. I know. It was just temporary, but the kid's been bounced around so much and now that she's settled in… Well, yes, I do agree that it's better to do it now, instead of in the middle of the school year…" She sighed. "Sure. When did you have in mind? Any way you can make it closer to two? I know there's some stuff going on right now she won't want to miss. Yeah, I hear you, but try. Yeah, I'll tell her. Thanks."

She hung up the call and massaged her forehead with one hand. A week or two. Damn, she hoped it would be 'two'. She had a pretty good idea about the atmosphere at Starlight House right now, with everyone getting excited about the upcoming concert. If it were up to her, she'd let Emma Swan stay, at least until after the show. The problem was, it wasn't up to her, it was up to Massachusetts DCF. And now that they'd finally got the paperwork sorted on Emma's case and found a placement for her, it was just a question of finding someone to make the trip down to LA to bring her back.

It wouldn't take much longer now.

For Emma's sake, Phyllis hoped it would be long enough.