Work Text:
The final scene unfolds on the Hollywood Arts stage, bathed in a single, cold spotlight. The paramedics hoist the girl from the wooden well, her body limp and lifeless. The audience holds its breath, a collective, silent sob hanging in the air. A man—her father—rushes onto the stage. He collapses beside his daughter, his shoulders shaking with a grief so raw it’s palpable. He leans down and plants a gentle, tearful kiss on her forehead. It’s a moment of profound, quiet sorrow.
Then, the miracle happens. Her eyes flicker open, a gasp escaping her lips. She looks up, seeing her father’s face, a beacon of love and relief, and a small, hopeful smile breaks across her face. The ambiguous ending leaves the audience wondering: Was she truly dead? Or was it all a metaphorical journey?
The curtain falls to a roaring, sustained ovation. The cast gathers backstage in a storm of hugs, high-fives, and happy tears, but Jade feels disconnected from the celebration. She peels away from the group and slips into the near-empty auditorium, her eyes scanning the rows of red velvet seats. Her heart thumps a nervous rhythm against her ribs.
And there he is. Her father. He sits alone, two rows back from the stage. The rest of the audience is gone, but he remains, his gaze fixed on the empty stage. He’s dressed in his usual crisp, dark suit, a man of perpetual, unyielding control. Tension fills the space between them. For a long, silent moment, he just looks at her. Jade prepares herself for the usual disappointment, the passive dismissal she’s so accustomed to.
“That was… interesting,” he says, his voice low.
Jade’s shoulders slump slightly. Interesting is a classic Mr. West euphemism for "not good enough." But then, a subtle change comes over his face. The rigid lines around his mouth soften. The corners of his eyes crinkle just a little. A genuine smile, one she has only seen a handful of times in her life, breaks through his stoic expression.
“Powerful, Jade.”
A wave of shock and relief washes over Jade, nearly knocking the air out of her lungs. Her eyes well up with tears, and she immediately fights back. This is the first time she can ever remember him being genuinely proud of her —not just of her work but of her. He looks happy, and in that moment, all the frustration and fear she's held onto for so long begin to melt away. Tori notices the tender moment, having stepped a few feet away, her eyes wide with understanding.
“Jade?” Tori asks softly, her voice filled with a hesitant concern. “That was… amazing. I’m so happy for you. And for us. We did it.”
Jade turns to her. Tori’s face is a beacon of pure joy and pride, all directed at Jade.
“So… can I get a hug? For a job well done?” Tori asks, opening her arms wide.
Jade hesitates for only a second, a small, genuine smile gracing her lips. She nods, accepting Tori’s offer. She takes a step forward and melts into Tori's embrace. For the first time, it doesn't feel like a competition or a rivalry. It just feels like friendship.
Just as they pull apart, a frustrated voice echoes from the main entrance. "Jackie Bonet, I swear, if you lead me on one more time… wait. Where is everyone? And where is my Daisy-girl? I missed the show!"
It's Mrs. Lee, the disappointment on her face as vivid as a flashing neon sign.
“Oh, Mrs. Lee, you just missed the play!” Tori says, her voice full of false sympathy.
“We told you, the play starts at eight,” Jade adds smoothly, her face a mask of feigned innocence. “But you didn’t miss Daisy’s part. She was incredible!”
Mrs. Lee's face lights up with pride. “She was? Oh, that’s my girl! So, I can see the whole thing tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Jade and Tori say in perfect, synchronized harmony, a shared secret twinkling in their eyes.