Chapter Text
"Jonathan has been knocked out," Phil shouted as he ran past.
"What?!"
"Someone needs to go on as Peter, Chris is throwing a fit."
Vanessa turns the corner, following Phil with the intention of asking him several frantic questions when she's stopped in her tracks by the sight in front of her. Chris was frantically waving his arms about at Trevor, who was trying to get a word in edgeways, holding his hands up as if facing off against a rabid dog.
"— and now we don't bloody have Jonathan—"
"— I know, I know, but you need to calm down Chris—"
"— we don't have a Peter Pan Trevor! We need a Peter Pan, otherwise this play might as well be called the Darling children hallucinate for two and a half hours straight!"
In the few weeks Vanessa had known the CPDS, she'd barely spoken with Chris. The man intimidated her from the very first moment she met him, with his perfect posture and clipped tone. She found it much easier to get on with Trevor. He seemed laidback, nowhere near as intense as Chris, claiming he only did this bollocks for extra credit for his electrics module.
From what she could tell, Chris and Trevor hadn't exactly gotten used to each others working style yet. They'd worked together before on a previous show, but Trevor was the lighting technician, Annie had told her during lunch one rehearsal.
"Yeah, they were at each other's throats pretty much the entire time."
"But then Trevor came back? As a stage manager?"
"Mhm."
"Why? Why did Chris let him?"
Annie had shrugged at that. "No clue, my best guess is that they fancy each other."
Sandra, the lead actress, scoffed. "No way. They can't stand each other. I saw Max physically standing between them to keep them from fighting once."
"Are you sure they were about to fight?" Annie said with a smirk, "they might've been about to do something else." Sandra groaned.
"Absolutely not. I'm very in tune with emotions and those two are never going to get on."
Annie raised an eyebrow and put her lunch down. "Alright," she said, reaching out her hand, "I'll bet you a fiver they're together within the next few months."
Sandra's lips curved into a smirk. "Make it a tenner and you're on Annie," she said, shaking her outstretched hand.
Annie turned to Vanessa. "You want in?"
"Me? Oh, no, I'm okay, thank you. I'll supervise the bet."
Vanessa got on well with Sandra and Annie. They'd made her feel welcome in a new environment and with them, the slightly rocky rehearsal process seemed more fun. In hindsight, the rehearsals had been smooth sailing compared to the mess that was happening in front of her.
"Trevor, stop telling me to calm down! This absolute mess is being broadcast to the bloody BBC!"
"I know that mate, but getting worked up isn't doing anyone any fa—"
"We need someone to go on as Peter in the next scene! Unless you can find an actor willing to do it within the next three minutes, I'll get as worked up as I like!"
Vanessa stood frozen in place as she saw a light go off in Chris' head. As he was about to open his mouth, Trevor cut him off.
"No."
"You could go—"
"No."
"— on as Peter!"
"No! No way, absolutely not Chris."
Two medics walked through their argument, carrying an eerily still Jonathan on a stretcher between them. Vanessa watched as they marched him towards the exit, where an ambulance was presumably waiting for them.
As she turned back to the two men she saw Trevor sigh a world weary sigh and grab the script off Chris' outstretched hand.
"Thank you Trevor, thank you so so—"
"Yeah, whatever, go get ready for the next scene," Trevor grumbled as Chris ran off. He took another deep sigh and stared at the script for a moment before walking away.
Phil ran up to her, holding the massive manual for the fly rig. She looked at him with pleading eyes, knowing exactly what he was asking of her.
"Phil, please, I can't."
"I'm so sorry," he said, as he thrust the manual into her hands before darting off.
Shit.
A while later she thought they were in the clear. Trevor had been knocked out (which Vanessa was going to be feeling guilty for for at least three years) and Annie had been electrocuted (which Vanessa didn't have anything to do with but was still going to be feeling guilty for for at least a few months), but they were nearing the end of the show now. They were in the middle of that awful song when the stage just kept turning. And turning. And turning. The other stage hands were trying to tape the stage down as the guy from the BBC and Trevor were arguing when a voice cut clear through the chaos.
"Trevor!"
Vanessa watched out of the corner of her eye as Trevor shot up at the panicked calling of his name.
"Use the anchor!"
Trevor jumped up and scrambled towards the anchor, a fervour in his movement Vanessa hadn't seen before. He managed to stop the revolve at the perfect time, and Vanessa was starting to understand why Chris had wanted him to stick around; Trevor was rather good in a crisis. Not as an actor, Vanessa doubted he would ever tread the boards again after that hit in the head, but he was a creative problem solver. Trevor cared a lot about his cast, and secretly, cared at least a little about Chris. Vanessa wasn't blind; sure, she'd blocked out the majority of the end of the show to protect her already frayed nerves from fraying even further, but she hadn't blocked out the bit where she could see him fussing over Chris. And certainly not the bit where Chris was fussing over him.