S3, E1 | Cancer

Season 3 Premiere

\ Tuesday, May 29th, 2007 /
\ 9:36 pm est. - 6:36 pm pst. /

Draped in a rather fitting cloud of darkness, a spacious, luxury apartment sits without its occupant as a set of doors pull apart, bathing the lofty interior in a cloud of white light. “I still can’t believe I haven’t been inside your place yet” Grant remarks, following his girlfriend through the parted entrance and looking toward each direction, the woman’s applause prompting the light of an elegant chandelier to waft over the room.

“I’m barely inside my place anymore” Taylor retorts through an exhausted tone, gently placing the coat folded over her arm atop a chair nearest her adjacent kitchen. “I know it’s much bigger than I need, but it feels a lot smaller after spending time with you up north” she continues, resting her hand atop the same chair her jacket loosely hangs over, eyes drifting toward the cavernous ceiling that towers over her penthouse.

“Smaller I’m not so sure of” Grant replies, doing a slow turn as he scans every aspect of the living space he can find from the space just a few feet away from the elevator, “colder I can see, but not smaller.” Clearly lacking much enthusiasm, Taylor responds with a simple shrug and pout, again staring at the depths of the same flat that feels less like home with each passing day, the marble walls and granite finish almost as foreign to her as a friend’s home would be.

“I guess so” she speaks back with a flattened tone, eyes falling toward the exposed floor that allows for her every step to bounce with an echo. Pulling himself away from his wandering gaze throughout the premises, Grant’s mind parts from his inspective nature and places its full attention on the woman standing across the room from him. With his expression lowering, the man’s head begins tilting to one side as he closes the distance between them, wasting no time in hugging her.

For a moment, the pair share not a word as their eyes press together tightly, the man’s arms holding the woman close as her chin digs into his pec, their own individual comfort taken from the presence of the other. “He’s going to be okay” Grant whispers reassuringly, the side of his face resting gently against the back of his girlfriend’s head, unable to see the consoled, warm smile earned from his remark.

“He’s awake, he’s talking, and more importantly- he’s very upset that he can’t drink for a while” Grant continues, smiling as he pulls his face away at the sound of Taylor’s laugh, their eyes colliding as their collectively amiable visage take toward each other. 

“The good part of that last one is that he’ll live long enough to eventually be okay with that” Grant concludes, both hands pressing into his co-anchor’s shoulders as he holds her tight, “in a few weeks, he’ll be back in that stingy, booze-filled office watching us on primetime. It’ll all be back to normal.”

Pressing her lips together, Taylor bows her head for a moment as she clears her mind of the stressing thoughts that had supplanted themselves within it, eradicating them as if they were a plague trying to strike at her. “I wish we’d never left normal in the first place” the woman responds, still wearing a much more cosy expression as she turns away and begins walking for the equally-spacious living room just a few steps off, “it’s been one rollercoaster after another for a while now.”

Wearing a frown as his girlfriend makes for the same couch she sleeps upon whenever present, Grant turns his eyes toward the nearest window, its size taking up nearly ninety percent of the nearest wall. “I have a history with that as you can tell” the man confesses, following his girlfriend’s path before advancing past the couch she sinks into, making for the view of the city her living arrangement affords them.

“It’s not like I intend to shake things up everywhere I go, but change just seems to keep finding its way to me” Grant explains, feeling partially responsible for the shellshock carried over the last year-and-some-change. Falling quiet for yet another moment, the air allows Taylor to take a second for herself as she sifts through the ways in which she can reply, her apartment’s visitor continuing to stare out at the sunset that begins to fall behind the collection of Manhattan’s skyscrapers.

“It’s been quite a few years since things changed this much. Aiden had been the producer since I started and I hadn’t shared that desk with anyone” Taylor explains, remaining seated as the man across the room from her tucks his hands in his pockets, slowly turning back toward her direction. 

“Everyone in the newsroom usually went about their own ways. Some roomed together to make the rent more manageable, but it wasn’t as personal as it is now” she continues, “there was a quiet respect everyone had for each other. Things were a little smoother and taken more day-by-day.” With a smile in the corner of his lip, Grant makes for the couch as the respected anchor shuffles off to one side, freeing a spot for him to claim.

“But, even though there’s been a lot of chaotic change since you came in, there’s been a lot of good change too” Taylor reassures, establishing a balance between the two halves as the man lowers himself beside her. “Everyone likes showing up to work more. They’re closer and more willing to speak freely. Do you even realise how rare it was for Sam to come up to the newsroom?” the woman continues to say, “you brought a lot of good change when you came in too.”

Gently placing his hand upon the woman’s thigh, Grant stares at the floor as the room goes quiet once more, their silence spent within the presence of each other instead of debating whatever’s at play. “Whatever the change may be- good or bad- I’m just glad it worked out in such a way where I ended up with you” the man confesses, watching yet another smile come over Taylor’s face, “even if I was never able to do the news for another night starting now, it’s all worth it as long as you’re here.”

Without the words to offer in return, the well-tenured anchor places her right hand within the pair her boyfriend rests atop her leg, the other resting against the side of his face as their lips press together. For a few seconds, the kiss lingers before the sensation of buzzing captures Grant’s attention, forcing him to end the romantic moment in favour of the phone that clammers for his response.

“I’m sorry, I have-” the man begins to apologise, retrieving his Blackberry as Taylor waves him off with an unperturbed expression, “you don’t have to apologise. Go ahead” she assures. With a nod, Grant presses his thumb against the green key on his handheld and rests it against the side of his head, “Grant Haste speaking” he answers, squinting at the sound of a familiar voice from the other end of the line.

“I’ll be right there, Bruce” Grant responds to his agent, letting a few seconds pass and a question be raised, “yeah, she’s with me.” With a few additional remarks, Bruce concludes the call with one reply of certainty from his client, “yeah, we’ll both be there soon” the anchor replies, unable to speak another word before his paid professional ends the call.

“What did he want?” Taylor asks aloud, having waited for the man to pull his head away from the handset before voicing her inquiry. “He wants us to meet him at the office” Grant responds with a confused tone in his voice, uncertain over what’s meant to be awaiting their presence. Equally at a loss, the apartment’s resident sits back in her seat as she ponders what could be of such importance that they’d be called to attendance in such a quick manner.

“If it was something about Sam’s heart attack, surely we’d be called back to the hospital, right?” Taylor suddenly inquires, her father-figure’s health standing near the top of her priority list at the moment. “It’s nothing about Vickers- at least not about his health” Grant retorts, picking himself up off the sofa and extending his hand, assisting his co-anchor to her feet as he finishes his thought, “but it seems important- whatever it is.” 

= Tonight at 9 is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onward =

\ Tuesday, May 29th, 2007 /
\ 10:00 pm est. - 7:00 pm pst. /

“Great fucking show, guys! Everyone- well done!” Shane exclaims, applauding to the crew that sit behind their stations upon setting his headset aside, the widest smile worn upon his face. “Listen, I don’t want to keep you guys long, but I did want to just say a few things to you and the crew outside really quick. I promise it won't take up more than a few minutes of your time, alright?” the man continues, watching a few collective nods and shrugs be returned to him as the men depart.

Organising a few things in his office, Shane lets a few minutes pass before following through on his request and stepping through the door, joining the closely-gathered workers that await his explanation for the meeting. Standing near the front of the group, Vince shares a spot near one of the desks closest to the news set with Olivia and Keith as Marcus and Sherry claim a space close by.

“Alright, thank you for staying back for a little bit. I really appreciate it” Shane remarks, looking out at the crowd as he begins speaking, the front doors parting to present a hurried Grant and Taylor the moment he begins speaking. Stopping in their tracks momentarily, the lead anchors meet the eyes of the man that stands atop their platform just as his do for them, the brief pause buying the recently-approved executive producer a moment to unclutter his mind.

“I just wanted to say that I know it’s been hard lately. It’s been a struggle to get the show together for the last few weeks and it’s taken a lot more effort to get things in order around here” Shane begins, pausing for a moment as his hands dip into the pockets to each of his sides, “I don’t want anyone thinking that hasn’t been recognised. I know I haven’t been the captain of this ship for too long, but I still wanted to make it my responsibility to tell you that it’s been noticed.”

“The work has gotten harder, and you’ve all shown that you’re up to the task. You’ve been kicking ass and everyone- everyone sees it” Shane begins to conclude, “there hasn’t been a lot of stability in the last few weeks, and we wouldn’t have been able to course correct if it wasn’t for you. So, I just wanted to say thank you. I wanted to give you the props you deserve and make it clear that I appreciate all of you. That’s all.”

Unprompted, the crew gathered around applaud themselves and each other for their work, taking pride in the respect shown as Shane steps off the transparent platform, earning a few pats on the back from his colleagues as the evening comes to a conclusion on a good note. “I know we’re in a rush right now, but when the holidays come, I think we owe the crew a couple bottles of wine-” Taylor whispers, joining Grant in continuing to march for their offices, “-I mean really nice.”

“I agree, but first thing’s first-” her boyfriend responds, hurriedly strolling across the bureau with his office in sight, “-let’s make sure we all have a job by the holidays.” Coupled together, the primetime broadcast’s anchors dip into Grant’s office as their executive producer watches on, unsure of the reason behind their appearance, and refusing to bother with asking too many questions about it. Sharing a few remarks with those that approach, Shane’s feet soon take to the nearest exit.

“Wait, why are we in your office?” Taylor inquires, pausing in the middle of the room with a set of wandering eyes, the pair soon taking toward her boyfriend’s desk. Taking the phone from its machine, Grant presses the handset to his ear and quickly dials a number, pressing the bottom half to his chest as he answers the question asked of him.

“Because I don’t know anyone’s extensions by heart” the man confesses, quickly returning the handset to his ear, waiting for the soft, feminine voice on the other end of the line. “Hey, Nicole. I know this is an odd question, but would Bruce happen to be in Mr. Vickers’ office?” Grant politely wonders aloud, nodding his head for a moment before the satisfied gesture pauses, his eyelids pulling closer together momentarily as he looks up at his girlfriend, “Robin’s there too?”

With her head pulled back, Taylor looks at her co-anchor with a confused stare before continuing to listen to his end of the conversation, unable to make out what’s being said on the other end of the line. “Wait, all four of them? Who are the other two?” Grant asks aloud, the squint remaining in his eyes as the woman sharing his space in the office reacts similarly, her boyfriend’s confused expression kept on as her own eyes widen upon his next remark.

“Who the fuck is Ross Walker!?” Grant blurts out, gazing around his office momentarily before his sights fall upon the woman across from him, her clearly-shaken visage prompting his guard to rise, the response he gets from Vickers’ secretary not striking him with much comfort.

|

\ Tuesday, May 29th, 2007 /
\ 10:06 pm est. - 7:06 pm pst. /

“Can I come in?” Shane inquires, peering his head through the glass door to his friend’s office on the level below his own, spotting Aiden behind a small tower of loose papers. “Sure, why not?” the eight o’clock producer replies, watching the primetime E.P enter and passing a wave to Doug as the latter man steps past the entrance.

“That was a good show” Aiden remarks, sitting at his desk with a small glass of wine sat beside his computer’s monitor, “how’d you manage to get Zoellick to come on?” With his head leant to the side, Shane blows a gust of air past his lips as he steps into one of the unoccupied seats across from his friend’s desk. “He actually contacted us” the visitor replies, “well, his agent contacted us. But I figured we needed the interview to make up for the lack of Grant and Taylor.”

“Fair enough” Aiden responds, shrugging his shoulders as he extends an empty wine glass to his friend and reaches for the bottle with his opposite hand, looking to offer it to his once-roommate. “How’s everything going at eight o’clock?” Shane inquires, passing a look over his shoulder at the newsroom he can see from within the office’s chambers, catching a glimpse of the glass fragments his friend had been incapable of digging out of the carpet as he does so.

“You mean the Carly Carpenter show with Carly Carpenter that- more often than not- doesn’t actually feature Carly Carpenter?” Aiden replies, rolling his eyes as he sarcastically finishes his response the moment before he takes a swig from his glass, “so damn good.” Pouring himself a small glass of wine, Shane returns the cork to the bottle and places it on his friend’s side of the desk, a shrug in his shoulders and a wave of the hand responding to his fellow showrunner.

“It’ll only be a matter of time before Taylor and Grant are back full-term” Shane replies, taking a gentle sip from the glass as he finishes his thought, “you’ll have your girlfriend back and jutting her chest out on nightly television before you know it.” Shrugging the remark off as less-than-believable, Aiden takes another sip from his beverage as the man on the other side of the conversation speaks up once more, lifting yet another original question.

“Speaking of which, where is Carly?” Shane inquires, crossing one leg over the other as his friend’s Blackberry begins to buzz, skidding atop the hardwood desktop without its owner’s mind paid to it. “She’s off on a date with Brant Washington” Aiden replies, finishing the last of what’s in his glass as his phone continues to beg for his attention.

“What!?” Shane exclaims, quickly recovering the glass that he’d almost let slip from his grasp out of shock, “she’s your girlfriend! What the hell is she doing on a date with someone else!?” Squinting his eyes as he peers to the side, Aiden reaches for the bottle atop his desk as his handset ceases its cry for his attention. “Dude, calm down. It’s not an actual date” the man replies, pouring himself a tall and generous second helping of liquor as his phone begins buzzing once more.

“Carly’s a journalist before anything else. How else do you think hot journalists get their information?” Aiden replies, capping off his beverage with the glass slightly over half way-filled. “Alright, what does this Brant guy do that’s got Carly willing to go out with him for a scoop?” Shane inquires, watching the man’s lips part as he attempts to answer the question, only for the primetime producer’s attention to split elsewhere, “and for god’s sake, are you gonna answer your phone or what?”

“Whoever’s calling can leave a message and wait for me to get back to them” Aiden replies stubbornly, “I’m a very busy man that’s clearly very busy. They can wait a few.” Letting the phone’s second attempt at calling for his attention die out, the eight o’clock E.P takes another sip from his drink as he waits out the call, prepared to answer the questions set for him.

“Brant’s a financier at Lehman. She’s running with a thought piece one of the guys upstairs brought up about the housing market” Aiden replies, setting his glass back atop his workspace as his phone begins buzzing for a third time, “she’s looking for some insight as a favour. Vince is trying to pull some strings with Zoellick’s agent to get a small piece for eight o’clock when she gets back in full-time, so they’re doing each other a solid.”

With a subtle nod, Shane slowly lifts the glass to his lips as he takes the man’s claims into consideration, reading them as best he can as his ears inevitably take to the phone once more. “For fuck’s sake, dude. That could be Carly for all you know” the visitor remarks, immediately watching Aiden shrug the notion off. “That’s not the ringtone I’ve got assigned to her” the eight o’clock producer replies, preparing to take another sip before watching his friend snatch the device off his desk.

“Hey, what the hell!” Aiden exclaims, reaching out with his free hand as Shane answers the phone, pressing it to his ear and greeting the man on the other line, leaving his chair and walking to the corner of the office to buy himself some time. “Shane, this isn’t cool!” the phone’s rightful owner remarks, cautiously setting his drink down as he leaps out from his chair, rounding the desk and marching after his friend, whose amused expression soon begins to fade into loss.

With his hand extended, Aiden’s reach for the device is halted in mid-air as he watches the call’s answerer pull the phone away from his head, looking at the screen with profound confusion. “You might want to take that” Shane remarks after a moment of pause, looking his friend in the eye as the machine’s owner snatches it back, looking at his friend with disapproval before reluctantly taking part in the call.

“This is Aiden” the man responds cautiously, squinting his eyes after the first few words are spoken from the man on the other end of the line. “Woah, Grant- slow down” Aiden interjects, leaning closer toward his desk as the handset digs into the side of his head, ear pressing to the receiver as well as it can to decipher the hurried words spoken from the other end, “alright, I’ll be down in a second!”

Clearly trying to de-escalate the situation, Aiden’s thumb presses into the red button on his keypad before the rest of his phone is slipped back into his pocket, a quick turn away carried. “What’s going on?” Shane wonders aloud, turning to follow his friend’s figure across the room, left with as little of an answer as the eight o’clock producer is provided.

“I don’t know, but Grant told me to come with my fist’s balled” Aiden responds, motioning his hand toward his friend as if to guide him into following, “I’ve never gotten into a fight in my life and you live off of going to the gym- I think I’m gonna need you.” As if having waited all his life for this moment, Shane pops up without a second of hesitation and follows suit, led by Aiden through the On Air newsroom in favour of the building’s lower levels.

|

\ Tuesday, May 29th, 2007 /
\ 10:19 pm est. - 7:19 pm pst. /

With an expression of clear anger worn across his face, Grant leads the charge toward the building’s lower levels, stepping out of the elevator and onto his desired floor. “Sam!” Taylor shouts, having followed closely behind her boyfriend before a last-second glance toward a nearby coffee stand catches her full attention.

“What are you doing out of the hospital!?” Grant calls out, following his girlfriend’s lead as she steps toward the company’s president, who dresses as if he’d already put in a twelve hour shift. “When Robin calls and says her ex husband is making an unexpected drop-by, did you honestly think I was just gonna sit around in a hospital bed waiting for updates?” Vickers responds, adjusting the plaid jacket over his baby blue dress shirt and salmon tie.

“Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect from you” Taylor replies, stopping in her tracks as her father figure continues walking forward, joining the pair as they become a trio- all making way for his office. “I’m turning seventy two in a few weeks and can still run a 5k” Vickers responds, shaking his head as he hands the woman a styrofoam cup, not needing the hot beverage as much as he assumes she does, “the only people that think I’m laying in bed all day are people that don’t know me.”

With a gentle few pats on the back, Grant moves with the flow of the situation at hand and simply takes joy in knowing the man’s more than able to hold his own, his mind more so concerned with the war that he believes remains ahead. “For fuck’s sake, I’m just glad you’re conscious” Taylor responds, earning a chuckle from the older man to her left side as he pats her on the shoulder. “The only prick you’ll have to worry about watching go unconscious is the one in my office” Vickers declares.

With a passing few seconds, the triumvirate turn the corner nearest to the eldest’s office, a smile offered from the woman stationed behind the desk set up just near it. “Mr. Vickers!” Nicole exclaims, watching the man smile and bow his head toward her as he does each morning. “Thanks for giving me a head’s up!” Vickers replies, extending his hand to shake the woman’s own, “I’ll make sure my gratitude is shown in your next check!”

Amused and appreciative in spite of her shock at the man’s astounding feat of physical composure, Nicole remains mostly-silent as the triad set for the man’s office, awaiting the shelves of awards and cabinets chalk-full of liquor. Within seconds, their destination presents itself, occupied by four faces- two of which are familiar to Grant whilst the other two are no different from any stranger he can find passing through downtown New York.

“Woah, Sam- you’re-” the older gentleman sitting in the president’s seat begins to remark, only to be cut off by the same man he speaks toward. “Not dead or bedridden and easily capable of kicking your ass back through the front doors you entered through?” Vickers questions, nodding through the pause that the man replies to him with, arms crossing over his chest as his ground is stood, “yeah- I’m exactly that.”

“Um, Grant, this is-” Bruce begins to speak, clearing his throat before beginning and stopping before he can continue, his introduction already capped off by his client. “Ross Walker. He’s the founder of LMC, owns the second-largest percent of the company and stopped working here in ‘99 from what I’ve heard” Grant interrupts, soon turning his head toward the much-younger woman that stands beside the distinguished man.

“I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. You can either leave before you have to watch me kick your husband’s ass or stay here and watch” Grant concludes, stepping away from his well-respected colleagues with a balled fist, “like I said, I don’t c-”

Before he can finish his thought, the near-aggressor’s arm is taken into Vickers’ deceptively-strong grasp, one half of the company’s leading primetime anchors held back from starting a fight. “Keep it together, kid” the company’s president interjects, looking Grant in the eyes for a moment as he waits for the tension in his readied arm to cease, which takes a few additional seconds.

“I’m going to assume you’ve already clued him in?” Ross inquires, turning his sights toward the woman at the trio’s centre, again earning the aggression of her boyfriend. “Don’t fucking talk to her! Not one-fucking-word” Grant warns in a stern voice, unballing his fist and instead pointing a finger toward the older man, making a mental note of the founder’s frail condition.

“I said it at the time and I’ll say it until I’m dead and gone- I was speaking on the investor’s behalves” Ross proclaims, defending himself before switching the course of the conversation. “And for your information, her name is Kaye” the company’s founder corrects, turning his finger to point at the same young woman Grant had warned moments prior, “she is my wife and you will not talk to her that way.”

“Oh, that’s Kaye?” the confrontational anchor responds with raised eyebrows, “as in Taylor’s old friend?” As her arms uncross, the woman in question places a hand against her hip as the other hangs by her side. “The one that was fucking Ross behind Robin’s back, yeah yeah yeah- that one” Kaye replies with her eyes rolling, “god forbid someone fall in love with an older man. Go ahead, sue me.”

“Well when you sleep with him behind his wife’s back, I think there could be some legal justification in that” Robin remarks from afar, muttering beneath her breath- though loud enough for the rest of the room to hear. “It’s not my fault you couldn’t keep up anymore, honey” Kaye quickly retorts, her own brand of confrontation taken in the owner’s direction, only for the calmest voice in the room to come from its normal occupant.

“Everyone shut the fuck up before I have a second heart attack in protest!” Vickers exclaims, quickly readjusting his stance as pointing his finger toward the ground, “and I’m serious! You may not think it, but I’ll induce another one just to prove a point- don’t threaten me with a good time!”

“Alright, listen! I’m not here for a fight!” Ross exclaims, pushing his hand into the sides of his desk chair in an attempt to usher himself upward, only for his first try to falter. Clearly in a slight daze, the founder’s legs give out beneath him and force him back into the rolling chair, his eyes widened as his wife leans in to check on him.

“God, you make Sam look like a spry chicken” Taylor quips, wearing a snarl at the man’s inability to even leave his seat, taking the moment to poke some light-hearted humour at the man’s expense. “I am a spry chicken, I’m just stuck in an old man’s body” Vickers corrects, stepping ahead of the woman slightly before situating himself between the two opposing factions- the founder with his much younger wife and his primetime anchors.

“Alright- Ross. You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here” the company’s president begins, directing the group’s attention toward the frail man once more, their collective eyes watching him make a second attempt at standing- this time successfully. “Like I said, I was just speaking on behalf of the investors” Ross replies, continuing to defend his honour, “I never have and never would defend what Barry did to Taylor, but the only way it wouldn’t have crippled us was with a miracle.”

“And that miracle happened” Aiden retorts, finally catching up to the ground and entering the office as Shane squeezes past him, eluding Vickers before throwing a fist into the jaw of the fragile founder. The unexpected assault not yet intended to be over, the Tonight at Nine executive producer keeps his grip on Ross’ shirt collar, holding him up and preparing a second swing.

Without a moment of reluctance, Vickers catches Shane’s attempt at a second shot and pulls him around, sending the much larger man flying back with a single headbutt. “Everyone knock it the fuck off!” Grant exclaims, now taking over for the military-experienced president of the news division as the voice of reason, getting between all three members of the warring sides with his hands held outward.

With push having come well past the point of shoving, Grant keeps himself in the centre of the chaos, preventing another escalation from occurring. Adjusting his ruffled jacket as if the day were just another one of many for him, Vickers nods in his anchor’s direction and slides his fingers through his own hair, unphased by the strike of his own cranium against Shane’s.

Helped up by Aiden, the well-built executive producer of nine o’clock, presses his open palm against his own bloody forehead, staring at Vickers both annoyed and impressed. “Fuck, I just came here to give you a warning damnit!” Ross exclaims, sunken back into the same chair he’d struggled to free himself from the grasp of. Waving his much younger wife off, the company’s founder grunts with his teeth pressed together as he pulls himself from the seat, leaning over the desk.

Met with silence as everyone aside from himself and Kaye gather themselves, Ross catches his breath and clears clutter from his mind as he stares toward the well-populated office. “The cancer is back and it’s going to win this time” the clearly-ill man reveals, passing another glance toward his ex-wife as she stares on, both eyes looking toward him with a look of profound perplexity as he finishes his remark.

== Tonight at 9 ==