Jensen was called to the Legendary set three weeks after her call with Lucille. Apparently threatening a lawsuit gave her triple the amount of time she'd requested. It made her smile. Softly. When people weren't looking. She was going to have to grow a spine at some point if it meant she was going to stay in Hollywood. And... she was considering that was the way to go. There was no way to get used to it by running away.

There was a week until her classes were going on their field trip. Which meant that they were a week and a half from the end of the school year.

"Can we settle down for a moment, please?" Jensen asked.

And end of the school year meant that nothing was settled.

There were scripts being thrown over theatre seating. Talking over talking over talking. Laughs and giggles and ears turned off. Jensen was dreading the following day: yearbook distribution. If they weren't getting any work done before the yearbooks were out, productivity was going to be in the negatives when they were out.

She didn't mind when they were released with a couple days left of school. But they were starting to get earlier and earlier and it just threw her entire class out of whack. Jensen was never going to get used to not having lessons planned for an entire week. It seemed unnecessary—how many signatures were they going to get, really? (Jensen knew she was being dramatic.) (Head of the drama department meant she had a lot of theatre kids yearbooks to sign and she tried to make them all as personal as she could.)

The room was buzzing with end of the year excitement and Jensen liked to think that a small part of that was their field trip. Some of her seniors had already told her about how they'd been accepted into various film school programs all over the world.

That was what she was there for. Reference letters and seeing acceptance letters. Watching students' faces light up when they told her they got into their number one. It was even better when old students came back and told her how things were going in their lives after high school. Jensen liked being home. She liked being Miss Rhodes, drama teacher and occasional writing 12 substitute.

"If you give me a couple minutes to talk," Jensen said, "I'll try to let you out early tomorrow for yearbooks."

That silenced the class. Students settled into their seats. Their eyes on Jensen leaning against the orchestra pit, her hands on the netting above it. Comfortable. Reminded her that this was her normal and that was okay. Was she going to miss them if she went back to Hollywood? Absolutely. But they found their ways—they were the ones who organized the video call. Jensen would never miss a production again.

"Thank you," Jensen said. "So, as I'm sure you're aware, we're headed to the new branch of Walker Studios next Monday."

There were a few scattered cheers and whoops, which made Jensen happy.

"I've enlisted Miss Faith to help chaperone you guys, because she is extremely knowledgeable about film-making, as I'm sure you all know."

"She told us to call her Liberty otherwise she wasn't going to respond to our questions."

"Of course she did," Jensen said. "So, Liberty will be joining us."

"She's not going to make us watch Pulp Fiction again, is she?"

"No, she won't. I'll make sure of that." Jensen let out a small laugh. "Do we have any other questions?"

She tucked her hands into her pockets; a pair of overalls was the least warm thing she'd found to put on that morning that weren't shorts. Showing up to Northside meant she didn't know if the AC would be blasting like they were a new branch of Antarctica or if they would cut the AC entirely to keep costs low. It was a toss up. Pair that with a white t-shirt and Jensen had goosebumps prickling at her arms. Probably didn't help that she had tied her hair up in a wrap and exposed her neck. Indiana Rhodes had chosen poorly from her closet that morning.

"Miss Rhodes, I have a question."

Jensen smiled softly. Tinny braces smiled back at her. "Go for it."

"Who's running the tour?"

"Is it Robert Walker? I want to give him an audition tape."

Jensen did her best not to wrinkle her nose. "No, it's not Robert Walker." And you're better than anything he could offer you, she didn't add. Despite how much she wanted to. Her personal bias didn't have a place in the arts, no matter how much she wanted to scream that Robert Walker wasn't worth any of their talent. (No matter how much personal bias was a part of Hollywood.) (Cough.) "And it's not the best thing to give studios unsolicited audition tapes."

"He doesn't even work there anymore, don't you read Real Hollywood?" another student asked.

"There's no need for that, guys," Jensen said. Attempting to stop the conversation before it escalated.

"Yeah, now it's his son." And failing.

"His hot son." Hard.

"He's so old, Katie." That one just hurt, to be honest. Jensen knew that so was a continuation of old which meant that the two years between her and Miles constituted her being old without being so old.

"I don't care. Is Miles Fox running the tour? It's his studio now."

"Didn't he buy the one we're going to?"

"Who cares if he bought it, I care if I get to stare at him from behind for three hours."

"Are we going to ignore that he's probably dating—"

All eyes went on Jensen. Her eyes widened, cheeks heating up. Stealthy, she knew. Totally fooling them. Jensen wished she had just dismissed them early. It would've been a lot easier. And she would've avoided thinking about things she didn't want to think about at school. "Guys, these aren't the kind of questions I was talking about."

"Is he running the tour?"

"No," Jensen said. "He has a premiere."

There were eyes still staring expectantly at her. Was she supposed to have more information on that? The project hadn't even been helmed by Miles, it was Robert. Miles just had to go because it was his studio. Miles hadn't said any more on it and Jensen hadn't bothered to look it up.

"In London," Jensen managed. "I don't know a lot about it."

"Miss Rhodes?"

"Yes?"

"Do we get to see Sparks Fly early?"

Jensen smiled softly as a few scattered laughs circled the room. "Maybe. But they're editing it right now. It won't be ready for a while. Probably next year."

"What about the seniors?" That had to be Katie. Again.

"I'll see what I can do, okay?" Jensen asked. "But don't expect LA premieres. I'll try to book a theatre. Seniors can come back and watch. Sound good?"

"And no next year's freshman get to see it bullshit," someone called. More scattered laughs. "They didn't have to go six months without you teaching them."

"Noted," Jensen said. A small laugh escaping. This was home.

Jensen's phone buzzed in her pocket. She didn't care when students were on their phones if it wasn't disrupting anyone. Half the time, they were reading their dialogue off them when Jensen gave them assignments. Less distracting than holding a laptop in front of them.

She pulled the phone out of her pocket. And regretted it immediately.

Люблю тебя и скучаю по тебе. и то, что ты делаешь, правильно.

Miles hadn't texted Jensen a lot since she'd left Hollywood. But when he did, it was in Russian. Which broke Jensen's heart a little more each time. He'd been doing really well not drinking. When she'd been there. She didn't want to think that she'd caused a relapse and she didn't translate what had been written because she couldn't bring herself to know. A Schrodinger's text was better than anything he could've written.

Jensen cleared her throat as she pocketed her phone again. "Any other questions?"

*

Jensen's other classes had similar questions. Which was exhausting to go through for four blocks, but at least they were showing their passion for something. That was worth Jensen answering the same questions over and over. Always.

Driving to Gastown had never felt nicer. Three weeks off, not even the tourist wanting to see the steam clock chime. Jensen gazed at the clock on her car's dashboard. She had a few minutes to get there, and the Legendary set was only a block over.

Jensen looked over her shoulder and navigated into a parking spot for the coffee shop near the steam clock. She'd grab a coffee after. And one for Lori. Getting out of her car, Jensen walked over to the crowd of tourists and put her hands in her pockets. It had been a long time since she'd seen the steam clock go off.

There was no time like the present for stopping and smelling the roses. Jensen even pulled her phone out to film it. Because she could. Just like all the other tourists.

After not too long, the steam clock went off. Erupting in chimes. Six o'clock. On the dot. Hushed murmurs flew around the crowd of tourists as the final chime went off. Scattered applause came from the crowd. And then they dispersed.

Jensen smiled up at the clock. And the crowd as it thinned. Hands still in her pockets. In the moment. Right where she was meant to be.

She turned on her heel to head into the coffee shop, eyes falling on a couple at a patio table. Jensen could see Miles in Gastown. Wearing jean jackets under curved gunmetal lamp posts. His hair dancing in a light fall breeze as they held hands and walked past the brick buildings.

Before she could think too hard about it, Jensen peeled her eyes away from the couple and headed inside the shop. Two coffees, double double for both. She pulled her phone out while she waited for the coffee. And thought too hard about it. The couple outside, that was. She opened her messages and tried her best to ignore the Russian.

Tour stop #1, Jensen wrote, Gastown. Steam clock. The whole shebang. She even got as far as attaching the steam clock video before she deleted the text entirely and pocketed her phone again.

"Two coffees, double cream, double sugar."

Jensen took the cups off the counter and headed out the door. There was no sense in driving one block over when Gastown was hard enough to park in. She actively ignored the couple on the patio table. And the weight in her pocket.

The walk didn't take long. Jensen remembered where everything was. Even after months filming Sparks Fly, she knew it like the back of her hand. It was home. Exactly where she needed to be. Grace was right. Jensen wanted to be with Miles, of that she was certain. But damn, if Vancouver didn't feel perfect. She had sacrificed one love for another. And it felt... well, it felt all right.

Until she walked into the makeup trailer.

Then she could've hopped on a plane. One way ticket to Hollywood.

Or thrown the hot coffee in her hands. Though that would've landed her a criminal charge. Almost worth it. Because she did not want to be staring at who she was. It couldn't be happening.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jensen asked.

"I—Jensen, oh. It's you." Hugh Gardener hadn't gotten any less nasally since he hadn't booked the Sparks Fly role.

"Were you expecting someone else?" Jensen asked. She looked around the makeup trailer. "You know you're in TV land, right?"

"I'm aware."

"Bit far away from Hollywood." Jensen knew that for certain. She ignored the pang in her chest as she walked further in. Placing the coffee cups down was how she was going to avoid throwing them in Hugh's face. "Aren't you?"

Hugh shrugged. Jensen hated how casual he looked in the makeup seat. Hands resting on his stomach. Legs lazily spread. Greasy hair pushed back. "It's not so bad."

"What are you doing here?"

"I assume that's rhetorical." Hugh rolled his eyes when Jensen stared at him expectantly. "I've been here since the end of last season's filming. Back in December."

Oh, this was not happening. They did not replace Jensen's air time with Hugh Gardener while she was gone. No white man was supposed to take her slot. That was Jensen's spot. Did her work mean nothing to them? Maybe she shouldn't have asked for the week off...

No. She deserved her time off. It's not like her life had slowed down. She was still teaching while she waited out her three weeks. Jensen was going to have to stop having a civil war with her own brain if she was going to get any work done that night. She had noticed a new name in her script, but when would she ever have assumed that it was going to be Hugh opposite her on the scene?

"I thought TV wasn't your thing," Jensen said after a couple moments. She clenched her fists, released them, repeated. Then crossed her arms when she realized she was doing it. Fists weren't going to help her with Hugh Gardener, that was for certain. Unless she wanted to end up on the wrong side of a jail cell.

"I didn't think it was."

"Magically it is when you don't get a role in Hollywood?"

"Gotta take jobs when they show."

"Thought Hollywood actors and TV actors weren't supposed to mingle," Jensen said. There was that fire in her chest again. The same one that had landed her three weeks off set. Thank God she hadn't gone back the day after landing. Dealing with Hugh was not her top priority then. She wished it wasn't her priority at that moment, either. With the mirror beside them, Jensen refused to have him see her roll her eyes and give him the satisfaction of annoying her. "They're supposed to know where they belong."

Jensen was good at memorizing lines that had been written for her. But damn it if she wasn't good at remembering what people had said to her to try and tear her down.

"That's not exactly what I said." Hugh shifted in his seat. Uncomfortably. Good.

"It is what you said," Jensen said. "But go on."

"Maybe I hadn't made myself clear."

"You were pretty transparent."

"TV's not that bad," Hugh said. "Guess I was wrong."

"Were you wrong because you didn't book Sparks Fly or because you actually think you were wrong?"

"Is there a difference?" Hugh asked. There was a vein in his temple that had bulged. The look he was giving her was different than when she had forgot her lines during their screen test—Hugh wasn't getting annoyed, he was getting angry.

Jensen twisted the stud in her nose. "A big one. Yeah."

"I'm thinking I was just wrong," Hugh said. "Is that what you wanted me to say?"

Jensen drew in a deep breath. Took a sip of her coffee. Really considered what she wanted to say. Then considered what she was going to say. "There are a few things I want you to say."

"We're going to be working together. Might as well get along."

"I think you burned that bridge the day we met."

"Look, Emmy's aren't so bad. I'll admit on my own that I was wrong about that."

"They never were bad," Jensen said. She crossed her arms. "They were just different."

"And not as big."

"That depends on your perspective."

Hugh wagged a finger at Jensen—she fought the urge to dump hot coffee on it. "Ever the optimist, Jensen Rhodes."

"I like where optimism got me, thanks," Jensen said.

What was the phrase?

Fake it until you make it?

Maybe she hadn't been optimistic at first. Or even at the end of filming. But she was starting to feel better about things. Three weeks without cameras flashing in her face had given her a better perspective of who she was. What she wanted. She just hadn't figured out how to get both things to work together. Cohesively. And eventually she had to figure out if working cohesively was an option that was available.

That was for a day that Russian texts weren't a part of.

"Hey, Jens." Lori was exactly what Jensen needed at that moment. "How was your time off? Well-rested, I hope."

The way she said it made it sound like Lori knew exactly what had gone down between Jensen and Lucille. The glimmer in Lori's eye confirmed it. A silent conversation between them said all it needed to: Jensen was fine despite the fact that Hugh was there. And that was good enough.

"Definitely," Jensen said. She grabbed the second coffee cup. "Bought you a coffee."

"Oh, my hero," Lori said, taking the cup from her and immediately taking a sip. "Thank you. Double double?"

"What else?" Jensen asked with a smile, taking a sip of her own coffee.

"Beautiful." Lori grinned. "Hugh, I think you're needed in wardrobe before you need to be here. Couple people were looking for you."

Hugh perked up. "Really?"

Lori nodded as she began laying out brushes and makeup for Jensen. "Easier to disperse work for us. You don't have much makeup today. Five minutes. Tops. Same for the next couple episodes. I just got the schedule. No injuries."

Hugh pushed himself up from the makeup chair. "That mean I'm getting killed off? You know, make it look easy and then drop the anvil on me?"

"You'll have to ask the writers," Lori said, holding her hands up in surrender, a fan brush in her hand. "I just know what your face is supposed to look like in which scenes."

Walking toward the door, he nodded softly. Hugh paused with his hand on the doorknob. "Jensen?"

"Yes?" Jensen asked, taking a seat in the chair by Lori's set up.

"The world could... Hollywood... could, you know." Hugh cleared his throat. Loudly. And made eye contact with her in the reflection of the mirror. He nodded. "Hollywood could use some optimism."

Jensen hoped the shock she felt wasn't evident on her face. "I—"

"You don't have to say anything," Hugh said. "I just... I thought you should know. Optimism isn't a bad thing in a pessimistic system. Sometimes things don't end up what you thought, but it's exactly what you needed."

Without another word, Hugh closed the door behind him.

Jensen found herself staring at the closed door in the reflection. Lori turned toward her, a concealer brush in her hand.

"You'll catch flies like that, you know."

"I—" Jensen looked at Lori. "Sorry."

"Occasionally he says something of substance," Lori said, moving out of the way so she wasn't shadowing Jensen's face. Gently, she began applying makeup under Jensen's eyes. "Even if he is a bit of a shit."