February 14, 1980
Point Place, Wisconsin
Fez and Jackie's Apartment

.

"JACKIE, W-WILL YOU m-marry me?"

It had taken Fez three attempts to spit out the proposal, awkwardly thrusting the open blue velvet box into Jackie's hands. The ring had a small diamond set in its centre, framed on either side by two even smaller stones. It wasn't at all the kind of engagement ring she had been dreaming about since she was a little girl, but it was fashionable in its own charming sort of way.

Jackie sat frozen on the edge of her bed, her mouth working soundlessly, fruitlessly trying to produce some sort of response. To her dismay, her lips twisted into a frown and she glanced down at her hands, idly fingering the velvet box. An agonizing moment later, she looked up and met Fez's gaze, her answer finally tumbling out with a shake of her chestnut curls,

"No."

Wait—what do you mean, no? Hold on a second here. Maybe I didn't hear that right.

"Uh, Jackie." Fez ran his tongue along his upper lip, his eyes darting nervously about the room. "M-maybe you didn't hear me."

Maybe is right! I must have gone temporarily deaf. That's the only explanation.

"No, I heard you." Jackie ducked her head as she thrust the velvet box back into Fez's hands. "My answer is still no."

Oh my God, WHAT is happening?

Fez began to shift on his feet, his tongue doing a terrible job on his lips. "Ai! Is it because I am not down on bended knee?" He bended forward as though he were about to do just that. "Because I can do that!"

Yes! It's because you're not proposing the proper way, down on bended knee! Obviously, I want this to be perfect, but maybe I'm taking things a bit too far. I must have had Donna's Carnation Instant Bitch this morning. I plead momentary insanity. Now, let's proceed, my darling Fez.

"No, please don't do that," she said, her throat constricting tightly. "It doesn't matter if you get down on bended knee, Fez. I can't marry you."

What? Why the hell not?

"Why not?"

That's what I'm asking! God, why am I not listening to myself?

"I'm just not ready for that yet." She twisted the soft cotton sheets between her fingers. "We've only been dating a month and a half, Fez. Don't you, uh—don't you think it's a little too soon for marriage?"

Too soon? Too soon! WHO the hell are you and WHY have you taken over my vocal chords?

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Fez admitted with a sigh. "I just assumed since it was Valentine's Day that maybe—" he gestured to the blue velvet box in his hands "—this was what you wanted."

Yes! You guessed right, Fez! Now tell him he's right, stupid brain! Or wait—if you're the brain talking, what am I? Am I the brain? This is all so confusing. I wish I had taken psychology in school, or whatever -ology that has to do with the brain that makes people nutjobs for no reason.

God! Just take the damn ring, already! This is what I've always wanted—security, the promise of a family, a nice shiny ring. Stop digging in your heels like a stupid Steven Hyde and just say yes!

Ugh! No, no, no! Now I'm thinking about Steven. Don't you dare mention Steven to Fez or I'll—I'll... Dammit, I can't threaten myself. I'm too beautiful!

"God! Does everyone really think I'm that wedding-hungry?" Jackie threw up her hands. "If you remember correctly, I turned down Michael's marriage proposal."

Come to think of it—why did I say no, then?

"Look, Fez." Her expression had shifted from sombre to serious. "I don't want men proposing to me because they think that's what I want." Fez opened his mouth to retort, but she quickly cut him off, "I'm only eighteen and I don't even have a real job. I'm just—I'm just not ready for that kind of commitment yet."

WHO THE HELL is saying these things? You're ready! I'm ready! Jackie Burkhart was born ready!

"I understand." Fez bowed his head, his chest sunken in defeat as he turned towards the door. "Maybe I should stay with Kelso for a while."

Jackie's eyes widened in panic. "N-no, wait!" She jumped off the bed. "I didn't mean for us to break up or anything. I still want to be with you, Fez. I just want to take things slow this time."

Oh, so suddenly you're no longer Miss Play-It-Cool? Can't take the ring but can't be alone either? Not so different from me, are you?

Fez snapped the box lid shut and slipped it into his pocket. "I knew this would happen. I told myself not to get involved with you, but I did." He glanced up at the ceiling, his dark eyes shining wetly in the fluorescent light. "Hyde was right: you make men stupid."

Jackie flinched violently, as if he had just struck her in the face. Why did he have to mention him, of all people?

"Fez, I didn't say I wanted to break up. I'm just not ready for—"

"Jacqueline, enough!" He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please, Jackie, just be honest for once in your life." He glanced up at her, his jaw clenching stubbornly. "You do not wish to be with me."

"Fez, I—no, it's not like that. I mean we haven't even, you know." Her cheeks heated with colour. "I'm just not ready for marriage yet."

"You were ready with Hyde."

"That was different. I was young and—"

"It was less than a year ago."

She brought a hand to her hair and began nervously twirling a lock around her finger. "With Steven, it was different. I needed some assurances." She dropped her hand and huffed. "But this isn't about me and Steven."

"You're right." Fez curled his hands into fists and let them fall to his sides. "It's about me and you, Jackie, and how there is no longer a me and you."

Her body instantly froze. "Fez, don't—"

"I told you I wouldn't be sloppy thirds, Jackie." The look on his face was that of sad resignation and her heart clenched painfully in her chest. She felt like she had just kicked a puppy.

"But you're not, Fez!"

That's it—reel him back in. Any man would be happy to be Jackie Burkhart's sloppy whatevers, but don't let him know you think that way. He might think you're vainglorious or something... Wait, where did I learn that word?

"Do you even want to get married?" she asked.

No! What are you doing? Don't give him an out!

"Honestly? I don't know." He let out a protracted sigh before shaking his head. "All I know is that I do not like seeing you unhappy."

Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes.

Then why are you breaking up with me?

"Then why are you with me?"

What?

"What?"

"I mean—" she cleared her throat and gestured lamely with her hands "—why are you breaking up with me if you don't like seeing me unhappy?"

He offered her a sad smile. "My ego can only handle so much abuse."

Jackie bowed her head and nodded slowly, then Fez took a step towards her and reached out to touch her hair, curling a lock around his finger.

"I care for you, Jackie. I really do. You have this way of making the person you are with feel like he is the centre of your universe and it is a wonderful feeling. But—" He dropped her hair and sighed. "But I have not felt that way in a long time... Maybe I never did."

"Fez, no—" She sped towards him, but he took a step back and held up his hand to stop her.

"I cannot." His face was a mask of pain. "I cannot talk about this with you right now."

But what about me?

"But what about us?" Her voice was small, not quite her own.

"It was a great seven weeks—until tonight," he said, adding the last part gravely.

Jackie lifted her chin to meet his gaze. "So this is it, then?"

He nodded regrettably.

Tell him how much you love him! Don't let him break up with you! Ask him to stay!

"Will you—will you still be my friend?" Her voice broke at the end and Fez exhaled sadly, lifting her chin.

"I will always be your friend, my dearest goddess, Jackie," he said, softly. "Always."

Her bottom lip trembled and she fell into his arms. She hiccupped back a sob and clung tightly to her best friend like a lifeline. Then he kissed the top of her head and let go, walking away like every other man in Jackie Burkhart's life.

ஐ

JACKIE SAT MUTELY at the foot of her bed, trying to draw air out of a room that had plenty just a few minutes ago and now seemed to have none. Fez was long gone, along with the voice that had taken over—the voice that had decided to reject her one sure thing.

The apartment was eerily silent, save the old Ariston that sat on top of her dresser, quietly spinning vinyl. The needle ran smoothly for the most part, idly skipping the shallow grooves on the dated record as popping pockets of static signalled the ushering of a new track.

She would never say where she came from
Yesterday don't matter if it's gone

She knew there was air going down her throat and into her lungs, breathing in and out again in a series of feverish gasps, but that didn't change the feeling that she was alone, gasping for air at the foot of her bed while listening to The Rolling Stones croon about losing some girl or losing a dream. She wasn't exactly sure. All she could agree with was the sentiment that life was unkind.

Lose your dreams
And you will lose your mind
Ain't life unkind?

Groaning, Jackie took in another hitching gasp of air. She wasn't crying. No, she had cried all her tears months ago. She hadn't cried since she'd heard that Steven was going to stay with Sam—his wife. Back then the tears wouldn't stop; back then the pain was far too great for her to worry about such minor matters of respiration or how there seemed to be no air in the room. The pain then had swallowed her whole before slicing into her like a knife, a blade twisting into an open wound so that it would never fully heal. Maybe that was why the room had so little air in it. Maybe she wasn't just hiccupping back tearless sobs for Fez; maybe she was still mourning for her previous love.

The realisation both startled and angered Jackie. She didn't want to think about him again. She wasn't going to let him affect her when she was supposed to be grieving over the end of a relationship with another man. So she closed her eyes and willed herself to breathe again.

After a few attempts, her breathing finally began to ease a little, coming back to her in slow, even gasps. She turned to face the wall and her eyes connected with her own, a reflection of herself in a gilded mirror. Her eyes widened at first and then narrowed, taking in her flushed and pretty face. She didn't recognise herself at first. She always thought she'd be the type of beautiful who still looked pretty even when she cried, but her eyes were as expressionless as shards of glass twinkling on summer pavement.

What's happened to me? Who am I?

The phone rang loudly then and she jumped, her concentration shattered. A second ring, just as ear-splitting, and she was lunging across her bed and reaching for her nightstand. Her hand found the phone in its cradle and picked it up before it rang a third time.

"Hello?" Her voice was shaky but clear. What was it about answering the telephone when you were emotionally devastated? Did you subconsciously want the other person on the line to know you were upset? Were you seeking attention or only aggravating your own pain?

"Miss Jacqueline Burkhart?" It was a woman's voice, unfamiliar, but crisp and professional.

"Yes?" She cleared her throat. "Speaking."

"Miss Burkhart, this is Gloria West calling on behalf of Mr Thompson, the general production manager for News 4 at WTMJ-TV."

Oh my God!

"Mr Thompson received your audition tape and application letter the other day and he would like to have you come in for an interview for an internship position here at WTMJ-TV in Milwaukee, if you're interested."

"I—of course! I'd love to come in for an interview!"

She didn't even bother to ask what type of internship it was—if it was paid, non-paid, production or broadcast. It didn't matter. WTMJ-TV was the flagship station of the Journal Broadcast Group and an affiliate of NBC. If she could make a name for herself there, no matter how insignificant, then there was no telling how high up the corporate broadcasting ladder she could climb.

"That's great, Miss Burkhart. Mr Thompson is away on business next week and is heavily scheduled all Friday afternoon." There was a brief pause. "Is it possible for you to come in tomorrow morning at nine? I know it's short notice—"

"I'll be there! Bright and early!"

"Good." Jackie could hear the woman smile on the other end of the line and she was faintly aware that she was smiling herself. "Let me give you the directions to Radio City. Do you have a pen and paper handy, dear?"

Jackie was already skidding across to the other side of the room and riffling through her small desk drawer before pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. She went back to the phone and began scribbling down the address, making noises in the affirmative as Ms West gave her detailed directions.

Once off the phone, Jackie allowed herself a triumphant squeal of delight before dancing wildly about her bedroom. This was her first break in God only knew how long. Maybe this was the fresh start she needed. Maybe some of that lesbian-feminist self-awareness crap Donna had been jabbering on about all these years had finally got through. She didn't need a man to make her feel good about herself; she just needed herself.

And suddenly Jackie didn't feel like crying anymore. She could finally breathe again.

ஐ

THE FLOORBOARDS CREAKED as she walked down the stairs into the basement. She wasn't sure why she was even here to begin with. Her hopes of telling Donna and Eric the good news was dashed when she remembered that it was Valentine's Day and the two were out for dinner, as were the Formans.

It deflated her ego a bit knowing that she wouldn't be celebrating the romantic holiday with her significant other. Fez was probably already in Chicago by now, hanging out with Michael (his one true love). There was really no reason for her to be here.

Lost in thought, Jackie stood at the bottom of the landing and paused when she saw the back of Steven's head. He sat slumped in his usual seat, a beer nestled in his hand as he casually watched whatever it was that was playing on the television. He didn't even bother to glance back over his shoulder to acknowledge her presence.

Deliberately brushing past him, Jackie sank down into the yellow sofa and slipped her hands into the pockets of her navy pea coat. It was too hot inside to wear a coat, but she kept it on anyway. She had decided to leave for Milwaukee that night and stay at a motel, which would allow her to be refreshed and ready for her early morning interview.

Her bags were already packed, stuffed in the back of the ugly blue Gremlin she had bought cheap last week. She really hoped no one at the station would assume the car was hers. If the interview went well, she figured she'd make a day trip out of it and go shopping. After her break-up with Fez, she could really do with a little shallow pick-me-up consumerism.

"Hey," she said casually, stealing an innocent glance at her ex.

He was wearing one of his Led Zeppelin t-shits. She wasn't sure which one as they all tended to bleed together in her mind. But the dirty, worn tee fit him perfectly, accentuating the broad span of his chest and the long, hard line of his stomach. If it wasn't for the porn 'stache, she'd be drooling right now.

Dammit, why the hell couldn't he be ugly?

Steven stirred, probably more so out of having felt her eyes on him than her formal greeting, and grunted his hello before setting down his beer and returning to his program. Then, as though suddenly realising who he had somewhat politely acknowledged, his entire body went rigid. Folding his muscled arms across his chest, he easily shifted back into Zen, his eyebrows slightly raised above his thin-framed aviators.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, directing a half-hearted glare in her direction.

"I came to see if Donna and Eric were here."

"Well—" he shrugged, elbows pointing outwards "—as you can see, they're not."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I figured that out on my own."

"Really now?" He leaned forward, reaching across her knee to grab his beer from the table. "Good work, Columbo."

His arm barely grazed her jeans when he settled back into his seat and she let out a short burst of air. She hadn't even realised that she had been holding her breath until she expelled it. Feeling frustrated and slightly embarrassed, she turned and tried to inconspicuously inch away from him. Why had she sat so close in the first place?

He was leaning forward again, setting the beer back down on the table, and she closed her eyes, catching his scent. She was trying hard not to look at him or even think about him. With them being so close and alone together, she couldn't help but remember how it had been that summer in the basement. How he always knew where to touch her, how his mouth would always find her lips, her jaw, her throat—any uncovered flesh. How his beard would tickle her skin or how his large hands would roam her body or delicately cup her cheeks. His fingers would tangle in her hair and hers would tangle in his and they'd kiss long, hot and languid, always desperate for more.

"What are you still doing here?"

She jumped slightly in her seat before recovering, summoning her pride. "I'm allowed to be here, Hyde."

He stiffened slightly. It was a subtle movement, the way his shoulders lowered and titled back, the way his jaw worked like he was trying hard not to grind his teeth. It was almost like a facial tick. She felt a little smug about it. It was always the small things that she noticed about him, minuscule details she had trained herself to watch and wait for.

Yeah, she still knew him.

"Well, I guess once your kind is officially invited in you can enter any time you like." A cruel smirk curved on his lips before he blanked his expression completely and turned back to the television. "But I wouldn't go around saying you're allowed to be here, Jackie." He folded his arms across his chest. "You've just worn out your welcome."

"I've worn out my welcome?" She snorted indelicately, mimicking his movements. "At least I'm not living rent-free in Mommy and Daddy's basement while getting stoned and shit-faced twenty-four-seven."

She watched as his arms unlocked and fell to his sides, his large hands clenching into fists. She felt a sliver of satisfaction, though it was only fleeting.

"No, you've got Prince Charming to mooch offa," he said, turning slightly towards her. "At least I don't have to put out for my meals."

She held his contemptuous gaze and smirked; so she had struck a nerve. "Jealous?"

He scoffed and moved forward, invading her personal space with his scornful derision. "Tell me, Jackie—do you ever put that big mouth of yours to good use?"

"All. The. Time." She leaned in close. "You should ask Fez."

His chair made a squeaking noise as he shifted back, pulling out of her gravity. His nostrils flared and his jaw clenched in anger. She noted, with barely concealed smugness, that there was a slight flex in his chest as he folded his arms and tried to close himself off to her. She couldn't quite make out his eyes behind the aviators, but she could tell those baby blues of his were just smouldering with ire, questioning whether she had really done that for Fez.

"Bullshit!" he suddenly barked. "Fez would have been parading that information around here like he won the goddamn Kentucky Derby!" He inched closer, his hot breath whispering against her neck. "And I know for a fact that you two haven't fucked yet."

"Oh, you know, do you?" Her voice was pure venom and she shuffled back until their eyes met and locked.

Her chest was heaving and she was trying her best to slow everything down, to will away the blush that was quickly creeping up her neck and blossoming on her cheeks. How could he do this so easily to her still; unravel her resolve with well-placed and well-pitched words while he remained his precious Zen? She wanted to rip those damn sunglasses off his face and pitch them across the room.

"What's the matter, princess?" His mouth was dangerously close to her neck again, his voice a husky baritone warmly undulating against her skin. "He ain't doin' it for you?"

Some place deep inside her had snapped and suddenly she reared back. He was too close, too hot, too Steven. She balled her hands into fists and dug them into the spaces between the cushions. Her gaze lifted to his face and she saw the look of triumph flash in his eyes, carefully concealed behind his aviators, but perhaps not carefully enough. She decided to switch tactics then, her tight scowl morphing into a predatory grin. He could out-Zen her all he liked, but she was the better actor, the better liar.

"Oh, you have no idea what Fez can do for me, Steven." She had purred his name, slowly dragging her tongue across her upper lip. "The things he does to me." Her fingers went to her mouth and she watched as his gaze angrily followed. "The things I do to him." She let the plump tip of her middle finger slip past her teeth. "They could make a sailor blush with shame."

Steven's entire body tensed, his muscles straining against the fabric of his cheap concert tee. He exhaled hotly through his nose and lowered his shades, exposing those vulnerable cerulean blues of his that were now flashing with unmasked contempt. His Zen veneer had already cracked.

"What are you doing here, Jackie?" he growled.

The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up. That damn voice of his, those damn eyes. She was supposed to be over him. That's what this whole act of trading barbs was supposed to be about: to show him that he didn't affect her and that she could not only play his game but she could best him at it. But she just didn't have it in her anymore. She was tired.

"You know what, I don't even know anymore." She stood up and grabbed her purse before turning towards him. "Why would I want to be alone here with a dirty burnout loser like you, anyway?"

"Beats me," he said with a shrug, his tone equally vitriolic.

Once he pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, reverting back to his casual indifference, she knew any hope of her scoring points in this argument had gone out the window. As good as she had become at burning people over the years, largely in thanks to his tutelage, she could never out-burn the burn master. It was time to cut her losses and run before she started kicking shins or shoving pointed heels up burnouts' asses.

"I'm leaving!" she announced with a snarl, heading for the door.

"Good."

"Great!"

"Bye, Jackie." He mock saluted her, making a point not to shift from the television. "Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out."

"You're an asshole!" she screeched, throwing the door wide open. "And goodbye!"

Doing her best flounce out of the basement, Jackie slammed the door shut behind her and tore up the stairs and out of the Formans' driveway. She would get as fast and as far away from Steven Hyde as her tank of gas could afford.

ஐ

THE RAIN WAS coming down hard, making it difficult to see let alone drive. The forecast had called for freezing rain in the greater Kenosha area but said that Highway 41 North to Milwaukee would be relatively clear. Jackie glanced out the windshield and winced as the rain began to hail down harder, battering her poor blue Gremlin. Relatively clear, her ass!

She placed both hands at ten and two on the wheel and took a deep, calming breath before exhaling. She really didn't like to drive, especially at night and even more so during bad weather, and nothing screamed bad driving weather conditions like freezing rain, except for maybe tornadoes. However, this was Wisconsin and that wasn't likely to happen this time of the year—at least she hoped not. But then anything was possible with her luck these past few months.

Putting her faith in her old hunk of junk Gremlin, Jackie continued driving. The car, though a dreadful eyesore, functioned well enough. It could be a bit of a gas guzzler but it got her from point A to point B in one piece and that was all she needed. She worked as a hair sweeper at a run-of-the-mill salon in Point Place for God's sake. This piece of shit was all she could afford after selling the Lincoln. At least it had the two most important luxuries that her now-poor Wisconsin heart could hope to afford: a working heater and a radio.

Deciding that music would maybe help distract her from the lonely, dark and scary highway, she switched on the dial. Ruby Tuesday immediately started blaring through the small speakers.

She just can't be chained
To a life where nothing's gained
And nothing's lost
At such a cost

"You again, huh?" She smiled, remembering how the song had played earlier when she got the call for the interview. "I wonder if this is a sign."

She turned her head for just a moment and a rush of twin beams veered towards her in the darkness. Swerving to avoid the out-of-control car, she tried to keep her own vehicle on the road, but the pavement was too slippery, the highway was too dark and she wasn't entirely familiar with it.

Icy strokes of moonlight filtered through the rain, gleaming on the windshield as she threw herself into each turn, trying to balance out the small car that had now become a trundling behemoth veering wildly on the ice-slicked road. Her attention flickered for just an instant to her rear-view mirror, catching the terrified look in her own eyes.

The car pulled a sharp right to the shoulder, spinning her towards a small grove of trees. She wasn't going to even it out, she realised. She wasn't going to—

She jerked awake in her seat with a gasp. Her forehead was damp with sweat. She must have been breathing hard for some time because the windows were humid with condescension, almost completely fogged in. Her head was throbbing, like someone had taken an anvil to it. She tried to lift her hand to touch it, but her arm wouldn't move. Something warm and wet trickled down her left temple and spilled over her eye, pooling on the bottom of her lip. Hitching in a wheezy gasp, she inadvertently tasted the salty copper liquid on her tongue and realised it wasn't sweat streaming down her face but blood.

Her vision began to swim then and her pulse pounded loudly in her ears. The radio was still churning out its last chorus, although weak and tinny now as a truck horn blared in the distance. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but it was a losing battle. The greying fog of unconsciousness had already found her, curling its cold, damp fingers into her brain.

Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday
Who could hang a name on you?
When you change with every new day
Still I'm gonna miss you

Everything went black.

·ஐ·