Disclaimer: Don't own Dead Poet's Society.

A/n: This starts with Neil taking the stage - this is what should've happened.

[Edit: This story was written forever ago, when I was a writing newbie. I leave it up to show how far I've come, and because people still stumble upon it and enjoy it. I do not guarantee quality - enjoy at your own risk. ;) -Red]

Chapter 1

Neil held his breath as the curtain lifted. This was it. This was performance night. Here he was, on stage, in the main part, a bramble-like crown around his head.

He began to say his opening lines, and suddenly it felt as though a flame of passion and confidence had been lit inside him. He was no longer in that darkened theatre, with a hundred plus people staring at him, watching his every move, listening to his every word. He was in the character. He was the character. He was in a forest, prancing around. And what he was saying wasn't lines from a script. They were beautiful words, coming from his soul and pouring over his lips like a magnificent waterfall of poetry.

There were more people around him, dancing and giggling and talking just as he was. Then, as naturally as if he really were the character, he took his cue and headed off to the left. Only then did he realize he just finished part of his act.

Neil was on a high. He felt lighter than air, and that if he wanted he could fly. He was amazing! He'd been so deeply into it that he was sure people in the audience had believed him to be the character he was playing. He did.

The audience... Neil peeked ever so slightly at the people gathered in the theatre, comfortably enjoying the play. There was Mr. Keating... Neil felt a pang of guilt. He'd lied to Mr. Keating. Neil had told him that his father was actually ok with Neil's acting after Neil had talked to him. Neil had not talked to his father, and didn't care to. As long as this performance never reached his father's eyes or ears, everything would be alright.

There, in the row with Mr. Keating were his nearest and dearest friends. Neil smiled. Todd Anderson, his shy roommate. Neil had to admit, he loved him like a brother. There was Pitts, Charlie - or, Nuanda as he decided to call himself - Cameron, and Knox with - who was that? Was it? - it was! Knox was at the play with Chris! How did he swing that! Neil wondered.

Neil looked towards the back of theatre to see who else he recognized had come, and then his heart fell with a sickening thud into the very most depths of the pit in his stomach. His father, had just entered and was standing at the back of the theatre. Neil's chest constricted with fear. He was going to die. His father was going to kill him. As soon as he set foot on that stage and his father recognized it to be him, Neil, in the main part, doing exactly what he was not supposed to be doing, Neil was as good as dead. He briefly wondered if his father would actually scream aloud and come rip him off the stage. A horrible, terrified lump closed Neil's throat. He wasn't sure if he could on...

"Good job earlier, Neil!" one of the backstage girls patted Neil's back, startling him. He turned to her and tried to mumble a 'thanks'. "Go! Your on now!"

Neil tried to gulp the lump down, and put his twig crown back on. He stepped out onto the stage, and could see his father stiffen in anger. Neil delivered a monologue, and spoke genuinely and heartfelt, and spoke it all directly to his father.

When his monologue was finished, and more characters joined him on stage once again, Neil was washed into the world of his character, and forgot completely about his father standing in the dark back part of the theatre, most likely fuming and thinking of exactly how he was going to reprimand Neil the moment the play ended.

Only too soon was the play finished, and Neil delivered his last line. Thoughts of his father were gone, even as he took encore bows with the cast a few times. He was back on that cloud, the one that he always seemed to be on whenever he'd acted so well. Neil grinned the biggest grin he'd ever grinned and bowed once again. He could see his friends - the whole audience! - on their feet applauding.

The curtains were drawn and the cast hugged and cheered for the perfect performance. Neil couldn't have been happier - excluding the heavy weight in the back of his mind, quietly prodding the memory of his father scowling form the back of the theatre.

Neil was chatting and laughing with other members of the cast from the play when one of the backstage women ran up to him and said, "Neil! Your father wants to speak with you."

He visibly paled, and the people around him seemed to also loose a lot of their happiness. Everyone working on the play knew of his situation, and had promised not to mention Neil's name in association with the play. They also knew that Neil was in serious trouble in his father's eyes.

Neil gulped, grabbed his belongings - including the light wooden crown - and hurried out of the backstage cast area. Almost immediately, his father was standing before him. He said almost nothing, except to forcibly instruct Neil to hurry up and follow. Neil kept his head down, loving how he'd done in the play and wishing he could've stayed in that enchanted forest with his character forever.

"In the car." his father snapped, and pointed to where it was parked right out front.

As Neil walked briskly past, his friends and Mr. Keating tried to congratulate him. Neil quickly tried to brush them off, tell them to do that later or something before his father saw them talking to him. That would most certainly not improve his current mood.

Mr. Keating said something as Neil walked past, but his father came up behind him and Neil had to rush to the car.

"I'll talk with you later, Keating!" Neil's father yelled, and Mr. Keating shrunk back ever so slightly, looking surprised, confused and hurt. Neil looked away. He didn't want to see the hurt. Because the hurt only told Neil that Mr. Keating now knew that Neil had lied.

"Hey, Neil - "Todd started, but Neil pushed past him, not saying a word. "Neil?" Todd stood near the car, looking worried and crestfallen at the brush-off.

Neil climbed into the car and shut the door, offering no encouragement. He would have, except for he felt no encouragement himself. This was not something that would just "blow over". His father was going to take drastic measures.

His father got into the driver's seat, slammed the door, turned the ignition and sped the car away from the theatre.

A/n: So what d'you think? Please R&R! (just no swearing, please)