A/N: Kimber is referencing the pilot episode of The Facts of Life (S1E1 "Rough Housing") which first aired on August 24, 1979. When I was trying to come up with a name for a band Jetta might have joined post-Misfits, I did a quick Google check to see whether the name I'd come up with was already taken. It was… by a fictional band that appeared (will appear) in Power Rangers: Dino Fury. I'm actually okay with that.

Chapter 36

"If there were more time," Synergy said, "it might be possible to create more micro-projectors that would allow me to project my holograms, even if you weren't close by. Unfortunately, some of the components would be difficult to source. Your father made numerous business trips overseas to procure what was necessary. Some of the corporations he worked with then are no longer operating, or have restructured and are no longer producing the necessary materials."

Jerrica frowned. "Can you elaborate?" she asked.

Synergy whirred for a moment. Then she spoke again, as serenely as ever. "When your father conceived the Jemstar earrings, the Cold War was very much in effect. Many of the companies that your father approached were pursuing means of containing a Soviet threat. At the time, holographic technology was relatively new, and although your father created me and the earrings for entertainment purposes, the military was looking at different applications. However, holographic technology was later deemed to be too costly and not effective enough for their purposes. Most of the funding was either stopped or reallocated to other projects. Some of the people your father dealt with have retired or moved onto other projects. It may be possible to track them down, but it wouldn't be feasible to have additional micro-projectors in place in less than two weeks."

Shana frowned. "What about if we moved you to the stadium, like we had to when we played for the president?"

Jerrica shook her head. "That worked when it was just Jem and the Holograms, and we still ran into trouble for a bit. With so many different bands and so many people running around backstage, I think there's too great a risk of damage."

"I would tend to concur," Synergy interjected.

Jerrica sighed. "Okay. In that case, we'll just have to do what we were planning: let Jetta and her crew use some of our technical people and hope that's enough."

"If I may," Synergy spoke again, "if Jetta was impressed by Jem's earlier lighting and special effects, I have recordings of most of your old performances, with Rio's designs. If you are willing to share them with your technicians, I can provide them."

Jerrica's eyes lit up. "You're a lifesaver, Synergy. Thank you!"

"Silverstone?" The clerk at the supermarket service desk consulted a chart. "He's got lunch in ten minutes, if you don't mind waiting."

Jetta nodded. "Yeah, that'll do," she said. She'd arrived at the store at a quarter past twelve, hoping to catch Devon on his lunch break. It had taken her five minutes to locate someone who could tell her where to find him. She looked around. Maybe this wasn't the place one expected to find one of the world's premier illusionists, but it seemed clean, and it appeared to be doing a brisk business. Unless that's an illusion, she thought dryly. There was a magazine rack opposite the service desk and she picked up an entertainment magazine and rifled through it while she waited.

"Jetta?" a light voice called, and she looked up into a pair of warm blue eyes. "It's been some time."

"Uh, yeah," she answered. "How're you keeping, mate?"

He gave her a good-natured shrug. "Hanging in is probably the best way to put it. What can I do for you?"

Jetta hesitated. "Guess you heard about Starlight's charity gig for Parkinson's? I need a special effects guy and I was wondering if you were up for it."

"Share my stage secrets?" Devon chuckled. "That part of my life might be behind me, but I'm still not ready to tell everyone how the magic works."

"Then don't," Jetta said. "I want Saol ar an Imeall to put on a show that people will be talking about for years. If you can do that for us, you don't have to tell us how. Or are you really happy doing this?" she asked, gesturing at the store.

Devon regarded her for a moment. Then, quietly, he said, "This is good for me. Hollywood, entertainment… it's a fast life and I wore myself out trying to keep up. Maybe this isn't glamorous, but it's honest work and I don't feel half as much pressure to keep coming up with the next best trick."

Jetta frowned. "I won't deny I've heard a few rumors."

"They're probably true," Devon admitted easily. "But I've been sober twenty-one months and eleven days now, and I'm not sure I'm ready to jump back on that treadmill."

"Heard, mate," Jetta said. "I'm not asking you to perform on stage, but if working behind the scenes is still too much, it's been nice seeing you again. And I'm glad to hear you're doing decently." She smiled and turned to go. She'd made it five steps before Devon called after her.

"I'm not sure," Devon said. "I'm really not. But… let me talk things over with my sponsor and I was planning on going to a meeting tonight. Maybe come back the day after tomorrow?"

Jetta nodded. "Will do. And if the answer's 'no', I'll let Jerrica work her, uh, Starlight magic. End of the day, we're on the bill because we sound great. The sound-and-light stuff is extra. We'll get by."

Devon smiled. "Thanks, Jetta."

"You want to what?" For a moment, the last six years slid away and Phyllis was gone. The furious screech that escaped her lips could only have come from Pizzazz.

Rory held up his hands placatingly. "I want to pursue custody," he said. "Look, as it stands now, Roxy's in no shape to be her mother, but if she beats the charges against her and she decides to take Hanna May, then you have no standing to oppose."

"And if you get custody, then you take her away!" Phyllis snapped. "Damn it, I know she's not my daughter, but I've been her mother for almost a year and a half! If Roxy is willing and able to look after her, I won't lie. Part of me will want to hang onto Hanna May and not let her go, but I will. I will, because Roxy's her mother and if she's finally realized it, if she can put her daughter first and not spend her nights clubbing and her mornings hungover, then… then Hanna May's her daughter and she belongs with her. But—"

"Hanna May's my daughter, too," Rory pointed out. "I know I haven't been in her life until a couple of weeks ago, but that's because I only found out about her existence a couple of weeks ago. I would have been around a lot sooner if I'd known—"

"But you weren't and I have been!" Phyllis snapped. "Look. Hanna May likes you. She liked your coming over with dinner last night. In time, she might be okay with living with you, but not now. Like you said, it's only been a couple of weeks. It's too soon!"

Rory shook his head. "I'm not trying to take her away from you, Phyllis. Actually, I was thinking that maybe…" He reached for her hand. "Maybe we could both raise her. Together. I," he gave her a hopeful smile, "I think we could have something, you and me. Something serious."

She snatched her hand back. "Really too soon!" she replied.

"Phyllis…"

She pushed back her chair from the table, conscious of the stares from the other restaurant patrons. Well, let them stare.

"Phyllis, wait!"

"Screw you, Llewellyn!" she called over her shoulder, and she kept walking out of the bistro, down the block, and into the parking garage toward her car.

She realized that her hands were shaking as she put the key into the ignition. She couldn't lose Hanna May. She just couldn't.

"Whatever's this for?" Wendy asked, catching the bundle that John tossed to her.

"Clever disguise," her brother remarked. "I tried to get you into the benefit, but it seems the only children allowed backstage are Starlight girls." He rolled his eyes skyward. "Somehow, the fact that the foundling home is funded by the record company promoting the affair grants that lot priority. At any rate, you won't get in as yourself. So, try on that uniform; there's time enough to get it altered if we need to. You'll need to keep your hair up the cap at all times, keep your head down, and try to speak as little as possible."

Wendy held up a pair of coveralls. "You mean for me to pass for a boy," she said.

"A young man, actually," John said. "It took a bit of research, but I found out the name of the company that supplies caretakers to the venue. Mind, they're called janitors or custodians here, but seeing as we both speak the Queen's English, I daresay if either of us should slip up, we can easily and truthfully say that that's what they're called on our side of the pond. I've managed to get us both on the company's books and assigned to working at the benefit."

"How?" Wendy asked, her wide eyes betraying her shock. "We've no references, no contacts—"

"We've Pan," John said tersely. "You and I aren't the only agents he has dancing to his tune. He has others. I don't know who they are. Perhaps we've passed them on the street a dozen times. Perhaps one is in the flat beside ours or across the hall; we'll never know unless Pan allows them to reveal themselves to us. At any rate, I sent word that we needed a plausible reason to be at that concert and Pan followed through with these."

"I-I can't quite believe it," Wendy said faintly.

"Believe it," John replied. "Peter Pan…"

Wendy swallowed hard. "…never fails," she finished sadly. "All right. I suppose you'd best tell me the rest of what I need to know."

"Well?" Emma asked hopefully. "What do you guys think?"

"You guys sound amazing!" Casey gushed.

"And I love the song!" Stephanie exclaimed.

Marla frowned. "But…"

Casey and Stephanie exchanged a glance. "It's just…" Stephanie hesitated. "You look really… stiff up there. About all that's moving are your lips and your fingers."

"You're not making eye contact with the audience," Casey said.

"Well, we won't be able to see everyone when we're onstage!" Kyla exclaimed.

"Yeah, but you should at least be looking out at the crowd. You guys were all looking down."

Julie frowned. "I… guess we could learn some dance steps."

"Oh, there is no way we can work in choreography!" Kyla snapped.

Emma swallowed hard. "I… I don't really dance."

"You don't have to," Stephanie said. "You just need to, sort of… sway to the music."

"I don't know," Emma said dubiously. "I'm not great with rhythm." Her eyes widened. "But Giselle Dvorak is! And she's been here helping the Jem and the Holograms with their sets!"

"Great!" Kyla said. "The next time she comes, we can ask her! I bet, if we wait till she's done with Jem, she'll have few minutes."

"We might need more than a few minutes," Marla murmured.

"A few minutes are better than nothing," Kyla countered. "At least, we can try!"

"Okay," Marla said. "But I'm going to go to the library tomorrow after camp and see if they have any books on dance steps. Just in case we need more."

"It's really coming together," Kimber breathed, as Stormer showed her the new arrangements for their songs. "And it's going to be great. We're going to be great." She grinned. "Outrageous, even."

Stormer smiled, but there was sadness in her voice when she replied, "Here's to the day when telling the world about us won't be so outrageous."

Kimber covered Stormer's hand with her own. "It's going to happen," she said. "Look, a few years ago, I don't think I even knew there was a name for what we have. I remember this sitcom about a girls' boarding school. One of the girls was into sports and hated skirts, and wasn't interested in dating, and another girl started making comments about how maybe she was 'strange'. If I remember right, the athletic girl started freaking out and thinking there really might be, uh… I think the exact words were, 'something wrong' with her."

"I'm guessing that if it was on prime-time TV, they didn't go any further than that," Stormer snorted.

"Are you kidding?" Kimber asked. "They couldn't even say 'lesbian', but they definitely made it clear that girls who weren't into guys were weird." She pasted on a too-bright smile. "But, hey, later on in the episode, she met a guy and fell for him, so yay, happy ending, right?" She shook her head. "That was fifteen years ago. I'm not saying things are easy now, but… they're getting easier."

Stormer took a breath. "They aren't easy enough," she said. "I… I'm okay with your sister knowing, and maybe a few other people, but I don't want to put it… out there. And, I mean, it's nobody's business, really."

"No, it's not," Kimber agreed. "Though every time I see another tabloid article about how boy-crazy I am, I feel like giving them the real scoop. But if I do…"

"There'll be no stuffing that genie back in that bottle."

Kimber nodded. "So, we hold off for now, until we're both ready to take the plunge and deal with the consequences."

Stormer winced. "It's going to be a long wait."

"We've got time," Kimber grinned with an easy shrug. "And we've got each other."

Stormer squeezed her hand.

Roxy rounded on Devon at the refreshments table after the meeting. "You couldn't have told me that you were doing the benefit before the meeting?" she demanded.

Devon blinked in confusion. "I wasn't sure if I was going to before the meeting," he said. "I was approached, yes, but it would be my first time doing anything showbiz related since I started recovering and I wasn't sure if I was up for it."

"And now that they've told you it's a good idea, you're doing it."

Devon sighed. "They didn't tell me it was a good idea. They helped me weigh out my options and consider the outcomes. I'm the only one who can decide if I'm going to do it."

"But you are."

Devon nodded. "I think I'm ready."

"Well, that just SUCKS!" Roxy exclaimed. She drew back her arm and hurled the contents of her coffee cup at him, spattering his white shirt, particularly the arm he'd flung up to protect his face.

All conversation stopped apart from several very audible gasps. Roxy didn't wait for anyone to approach her. Head down, she stomped out of the meeting as fast as her stilettos would allow.

She didn't snap a heel until she was halfway down the block.

"Uh… guys?" Jerrica looked uncertainly from Phyllis to Rory. "Everything okay?" Her gaze had swept past Aja and Jetta, both of whom nodded at once.

Phyllis and Rory exchanged a look. Finally, Phyllis huffed, "I'm a professional!"

"I don't doubt it," Jerrica said. "But that doesn't answer my question."

Rory shook his head. "You don't have to worry about anything interfering with the benefit," he said, with a good deal less heat. "As for the rest," he continued, "it really doesn't concern you."

She flinched at the warning note in his voice, but also noticed that Phyllis wasn't contradicting him. "Okay," she said uncertainly. "But if there's any way I can help…"

"Not with this," Rory said firmly. "Now, what's the next order of business?"

Jerrica squared her shoulders. If they didn't want to talk to her, that was their call. Especially if it didn't concern her. Even if she was concerned. "Well," she said, "we need to talk about technical run-throughs and schedule a time for each band. There are no other performances scheduled at the venue during the ten days before the benefit, so that's a big enough window. Anyone want to call a slot now?"

She felt the tension in the room lessen a bit, but as the discussions wore on, it never dissipated entirely.

"That was intense," Kimber remarked. "For a minute there, it was almost like the old Pizzazz. Any idea what's eating her?"

Stormer shook her head. "She hasn't told me anything, but if I had to guess… she and Rory have been going out. Maybe they had a fight."

Kimber winced. "That would explain a lot." She shook her head. "Rotten timing if they did, what with the benefit so close. Well. Maybe they'll patch things up."

"Maybe," Stormer said, "but I'm just glad that she and Rory aren't planning any joint numbers. There's a big backstage area. Maybe things will be all right if they can stay out of each other's way."

"If," Kimber replied dubiously. "If."

"Cor," Jetta breathed, "you're a regular wizard, aren't you?"

One corner of Devon's mouth quirked up, but all he said was, "I prefer the term illusionist. Except that, after some thought about our previous discussion, I've changed my mind. Today," he continued, "I am going to show you and your regular tech people how the magic works, so that you can use it for your future performances."

"Hang on there, mate," Jetta said, her eyebrows coming together in a frown. "You're going to be there, right?"

"I'm afraid not," Devon said regretfully. "One thing I've learned on my road to recovery is recognizing when I might be putting myself in a place from which it would be easier to relapse. Fame and hype are addicting and even if I won't be out on stage," he continued, "the atmosphere at the benefit will be charged. Six months, a year from now, I might be able to handle myself there, but not today. And since there really isn't much time before the benefit, it's probably best we not assume I'll be up for it." He gave her a crooked smile. "Hey. Six months ago, I'm not sure I could have even stepped foot backstage even at a time when there were no crowds and no cheers. So, this is progress."

Jetta put a hand on his arm. "Five years ago," she said, "after the Misfits broke up, I joined a band called the Screaming Zombies. At first, it was a scream. We felt like we were on top of the world; we could have it all; there were no rules," she shook her head. "Guess you know what I'm talking about."

"I do," Devon nodded. "There's no feeling like that euphoria."

"No," Jetta said, "but a couple of our members tried to hang onto that feeling constantly." She shook her head. "We lost our bass player to an overdose."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Jetta sighed. "I guess you could say it scared me straight. I went back to the UK, did some thinking," she smiled wearily, "did some wandering… and eventually I turned up in a pub in Dublin, got recognized by an up-and-coming band who invited me to do a number with them and here we still are." She shook her head, but she was still smiling. "I'm trying to say, mate, I guess I understand what it is you're fighting."

"Thanks."

"You've got support?"

"Yes."

Jetta's smile warmed. "Well, good, then. And if you ever do feel up to seeing us up there, reach out and I'll fix you up with tickets. And if you don't, that's all right, too."

There was absolutely no fun, Roxy thought, in trashing a seedy hotel room. The place was already a dump. Worse, the furnishings had been built to take a pounding. After a frenzy of smashing her guitar case into as much as she could, she thought the case had got the worst of it.

It just wasn't fair!

Her life was in the toilet and the one guy she'd started to think she could count on was now working for that damned benefit! She had no friends, she had no job, she had no boyfriend… She was glad Hanna May wasn't around to see her like this. Leaving her with Pizzazz might just be the one decent thing she'd done. But maybe, if she had her daughter with her, she'd have a reason to turn her life around…

And maybe if she performed at the benefit, if she could prove that she still had fans who wanted to hear her, then she could settle down here in LA. She'd be back living the high life, she'd have a Beverley Hills mansion and get to the right parties again and wear custom-made designer clothes and get her own perfume line and celebrity endorsements and she'd finally feel good enough about herself to be a decent mother!

And all she had to do was get on stage and show the audience what she could do!

"I can do that," Roxy whispered, feeling a small wisp of hope spark deep within. "You bet your sweet ass I can do that!" She opened her guitar case and, finding that the instrument inside was undamaged by her previous frenzy, heaved a sigh of relief.

Stephanie was passing Jerrica's office on her way up to the common room, when her ears pricked up. She looked up and down the hallway before sidling to the door and pressing her ear to it.

"…back to Boston? But she's come so far, Phyllis! Yes, I know. I know I'm…" Jerrica lowered her voice and Stephanie wasn't sure of the rest of the sentence, but she only knew of one girl here who had arrived from Boston!

So, she had overheard Emma's name as she'd been walking past. And from the sound of it, Emma wasn't going to be here much longer.

Heart pounding, she crept away from Jerrica's door as silently as she could. Then she practically ran upstairs.