Author's Note: Written when the first spoilers started coming out about "Lost Son". Posted because there are new spoilers out about Det. Speedle. Heh. I'm psychic. Again.
"Are you serious about this?"
"Of course I'm serious. Why?"
"Well... it's just..." David sighed and drummed his fingers on the table. "Don't you think you should... think about it first?"
Rory frowned. "I have thought about it. What? You think I just woke up one day and decided, 'I wanna leave the show'? Give me a little credit."
"Okay, bad choice of words. But maybe you should reconsider. I mean, movies can be... you know..."
"Failures? Yeah, I know. I've seen Jade."
David scowled. "Should I stand on a chair? Would that make hitting me below the belt a little easier for you?"
"Look, Dave, I think you are the last person here who should be giving me advice," Rory said tersely.
"I'm the only person in the show who's done this before," David snapped back.
"If by 'this', you mean throwing tantrums and giving ultimatums and getting thrown off a show, you're right. But that's not what I'm doing."
"No, but you are burning a bridge you'll never be able to build again. I could have crawled my way back into Blue if I really wanted to. But what if you fail? What are they going to do, resurrect you? Bring you back as Speed's twin brother, the other trace expert?"
"Hey, has it ever occurred to anyone that I won't fail? Has it occurred to anyone that I don't suck? How about a little encouragement, huh? How about 'good luck, Rory. Hate to see you go, but you're following your heart, so good for you'?"
"Rory, we are glad that you're following a dream, okay? It takes courage. We-"
"We? We? Other people are in on this?"
"It's not a plot for people to be 'in on'," David said sternly. "We're your friends. We're just concerned that you aren't leaving yourself a fall-back. We want to help, okay?"
"Well, I don't want your help! I might have wanted your support, but since I know I'm not getting it, I don't want anything from you! Why don't you just fuck off, okay? How would that be?"
David frowned and left the room, not bothering to respond to the dig at his character. He caught up with Khandi in her dressing room, getting her hair perfected. She must have seen his morose expression in the mirror, because her bright smile faltered immediately. David gave her the thumbs down. Khandi waved the hair dresser away and beckoned to him. "Not even a little?" she asked softly.
"Not even a little," he replied. She sighed, and David patted her shoulder and kissed the top of her head (eliciting a muffled cry of dismay from the hair dresser). "We'll get through it," he said.
Khandi nodded. "Show must go on, right?"
"Right." He squeezed her shoulder and went off to give the others the bad news.