A/N - Well, here I am again. Chapter 50!! How on earth did that happen?! 😱😂 Another 5.7k words for you. Hopefully it isn't rubbish. I hope you are all staying safe and well wherever you are in the world. Thanks for reading, as always! ❤ - H. x

"Come on, Declan, Joe's here," Ali pleaded, tugging on Dec's jumper sleeve, "Don't keep him waiting – you want to be on time, don't you?"

Dec stared back at her for a long moment, glassy eyes holding more than a hint of panic as he refused to budge from his seat on the sofa, holding a contented, albeit somewhat worried, Rocky tightly on his lap. He blinked slowly, and as his eyes reopened, a sense of stoical calm came over his features, washing away the deer-in-the-headlights look and replacing it with one of expressionless professionalism.

With a nod, he gave Rocky a final, fond pat on the head, removed him from his lap, and rose from the couch on wooden legs, hiding his wobbliness as best he could from Ali's concerned gaze. Giving her a swift peck on the lips and a little half-hug, he swung his checkered backpack onto his back in one quick motion, stumbling hurriedly out of the room and through the front door, legging it for the open door of the black van idling in his driveway.

"Morning," Joe greeted as Dec clambered in, swiveling in his seat to get a glimpse of his employer and friend. Noting that Dec looked somber and sullen, he quickly decided to just get on with the drive through the busy streets of London. If Dec felt chatty, he'd start talking of his own accord. You didn't want to bother Dec when he wasn't in a good mood.

Giving Ali a friendly wave as he turned around in their driveway, Joe pulled out onto the road, heading in the direction of ITV HQ. Traffic was heavier than usual today, so he'd gotten to Dec's rather earlier than they'd planned. He was beyond surprised Dec was actually ready when he pulled in 20 minutes early. Must be Ali working her magic again...

Dec really couldn't have found a better woman to be his life companion – organized, efficient, always on time...The complete opposite of Dec in that respect, to be honest, but it worked, and it worked well. He'd been working with the boys for a long time, and had been privy to many of Dec's failed flings and heartbreaks over the years. And Dec had never been as happy as he was when he got together with Ali. It really was lovely to see.

"Joe?" a weak voice sounded from the back, "Do we still have any of them sick bags? Ya know, the ones we'd keep in the back here just in case?"

Startled, Joe glanced in the rear view mirror, finding himself staring back at a pasty-faced Dec who'd gone rather green around the gills. "Yes, yes, umm, they're in the left-hand compartment under the seats. There should still be a couple in there."

"Thanks," Dec gulped, diving down and hurriedly yanking open the storage compartment. The sounds of retching were heard moments later, while Joe kept his eyes glued to the road, not wanting to embarrass Dec in any way. It wasn't the first time one of the boys had been sick in the back of his motor. Oh, no – when they were out on an all-nighter, Dec generally ended up chucking up at least once. He couldn't hold his liquor like Ant could, that's for sure...

His expression turning sad, Joe shook his head to clear his thoughts, surprised when an even weaker voice than before piped up, "There any water bottles in here, Joe?"

Eyes momentarily sweeping up to the mirror again, now finding a sweaty, ghoulish-looking Dec looking back at him – rather less green around the gills than before – Joe nodded. "Yeah, there's some stashed in the middle compartment. Help yourself. I think there's a few face towels under your seat, too, if you want."

"Thanks, Joe," Dec replied, looking mildly embarrassed but ever so thankful that their loyal driver wasn't prying into the reason behind his unexplained nausea.

Joe had an inkling that this rebellion of Dec's digestive system wasn't drink-related, or even illness-related. He knew Dec well enough to realize when he was suffering from major anxiety, and that's how Dec looked today. His heart went out to the poor guy. Life had taken such a strange and horrendous turn for him. He was honestly really glad he wasn't in Dec's shoes. He wasn't sure he would be able to cope.

The rest of the drive in was uneventful, except for the odd sniffle drifting up to him from the back, which he confirmed with a sneaky glance was not due to Dec having a cold or a runny nose. He wanted to say something, but realistically he knew there really wasn't anything he could say to make it better. All Dec needed was a warm presence by his side, a comforting hug, a caring arm wrapped around his shoulders, loving words whispered gently in his ear telling him everything would be all right. And Joe couldn't provide that. Only Ant could. And Ant wasn't here.

Throwing another swift look at the mirror as they pulled up to the back entrance to ITV headquarters, Joe saw Dec hurriedly splashing water on his blotchy face, no doubt trying to clear away the evidence of his heartache. "We're here, boss," Joe said lightly, training his eyes on the tarmac outside his windscreen so as to give Dec an illusion of privacy.

Several seconds of silence passed before a steady, but emotionless, voice reached his ears. "Aye, thanks, Joe. And sorry...I'm just not feeling chatty today, wasn't trying to be rude."

"You don't need to explain yourself to me, Dec," Joe said kindly, eyes finally meeting Dec's, "We've all got days like that. Feel better, and text me when you're ready to leave. I'll meet you back here."

"Can't I just text you now?" Dec asked, a sudden flash of barely-veiled panic crossing his features despite his valiant attempt at a cheeky smile, "Don't really feel like sittin' in boring meetings all morning."

Deciding to ignore the fact that Dec looked like he was going to fall apart in front of his very eyes, Joe played along, quipping, "Too late, buddy. Georgia's just clocked we're here. You'll have hell to pay if you skip out now."

Seemingly relieved that Joe hadn't picked up on his near-breakdown, Dec let out an unconvincing bark of laughter, shouldering his bag as he pulled open the door. "Damn. See ya later, then," he groaned, rolling his eyes comically at Joe before climbing out of the van, being accosted immediately by a very chirpy, altogether-too-cheerful, Georgia.

"Hiya, Dec!" she grinned, falling into step with him as he immediately started walking at a fast clip towards the building, barely sparing her a glance, "Ready for a morning of exciting meetings?"

Met with an incomprehensible grumble by way of an answer, Georgia sighed, remarking, "Oh, in that sort of a mood, are we? Well, at least try to pay attention, then. There's a lot to go over today."

Dec merely sighed, head down and shoulders bent, as if he was burdened down with the weight of the world. Suddenly noting a few droplets of water on the side of his face, and then realizing that some of his hair was completely soaked, she queried, "What happened to you this morning? Why's the left side of your face all wet??"

"Don't ask," Dec snapped, throwing her a daring glare, "I'm not in the mood."

Hurt, Georgia fell silent, walking silently alongside as they made their way through the bowels of the building to the boardroom where the first meeting was being held. Dec hadn't been easy to work with at times during the final two shows of Takeaway, but that was weeks ago. It was a month today since the finale. She'd been hoping he'd be in a somewhat better frame of mind by now.

As they turned onto the final corridor before the designated room, a mere 10 feet from the door, Dec stopped suddenly, turning towards Georgia. "Do I look okay? Me hair's all right? Everything...else...look all right?"

Finally able to get a good look at him, Georgia took in the heavy bags underneath his eyes, the puffy, overtired look to his blotchy face, the red rims around his eyes...Wait, red-?

Quickly pulling him into the unisex restroom nearby, she whispered, "You might want to sort out your face a bit, lovely. It's still a bit...obvious."

Faced with himself in the mirror, Dec stared for a moment before dutifully splashing his face with water, the cool water feeling good on his overheated skin. Eventually deciding he'd had enough of trying to make himself look presentable, he snatched a couple of paper towels out of the dispenser and blotted his face dry, carefully re-styling the few strands of hair that had gotten caught in the spray of water and had flopped over onto his forehead.

Meeting Georgia's eyes in the mirror, Dec shrugged. "Good enough?"

"You look great," she smiled, fixing a stubborn piece of droopy hair for him before steering him towards the door. "I'll be sitting next to you, so if you need anything, just let me know, okay? You can take a break at any point if you need one. Everyone else can blather on for a few minutes by themselves," she giggled, managing to raise a small smile from Dec, who seemed suddenly to be vibrating under her hand.

Watching in concern as he opened the door to the conference room with a fumbling, seemingly shaky hand, she squeezed his shoulder in a show of silent support. But she needn't have worried, apparently, as he quickly switched into full-on professional mode as soon as they entered the room, smiling and shaking everyone's hand, making small talk and joking with members of the production team like nothing was wrong.

After having known him and Ant for so long, she shouldn't have been surprised. But it still caught her off guard how quickly they could switch off their private side and turn into a polite, cheerful, and fully in-control professional. There certainly was a reason they're so well-liked and respected in showbiz circles.

Once the pleasantries were over, everyone took a seat at the long table, leaving a space for Dec and Georgia roughly in the middle. Georgia took a seat on Dec's right, and he couldn't help the wave of loneliness that came over him. He missed that warm, familiar presence on his right, his partner in crime who made boring meetings fun and made him giggle like a school boy with naughty drawings and random observations.

Sighing, Dec rested his chin on his palm, propping himself up and steeling himself for a long, exceedingly dull start to the morning. There was no real reason he had to be here for this bit – it was just a bunch of facts and figures. Last year's budget compared to this year's, changes to the show's demographics based on the audition show figures so far....Just a bunch of stuff he didn't actually need to know.

His mind drifting, Dec couldn't help but think about what Linda had said yesterday about having a chat with Ant about the future – their­ future – a proper one-on-one. He really would like that, he couldn't deny it would feel good – well, beyond good – to have his confidant back. To feel like someone truly understood him again. And Ant always did, without fail. And he always had good advice, too.

But he shouldn't. He really shouldn't. Ant's health and happiness came before everything else. Or at least it should have done. If only he hadn't been so self-...

"Declan!" Georgia hissed, not-so-subtly jabbing him in the ribs, "At least pretend like you're paying attention! For goodness' sake!"

As his mind zoned back into the task at hand and his eyes refocused on the room, Dec realized a handful of the people around the table were throwing him annoyed looks, clearly having noticed he was completely absent from the conversation.

Ducking his head in embarrassment, Dec whispered back, "Sorry, did I miss owt?"

Grinning, Georgia shook her head, faking an exaggerated yawn behind her hand to indicate the conversation so far had been very, very boring.

Resting his head back on his palm, Dec tried to remain present, but as ever, his mind started wandering. After another quarter of an hour of dull talk regarding budgets and amounts allocated to various components of the live shows, Dec was back in the land of wakeful Oz, mind once again focused on his best friend.

Until an incessant, loud, and extremely familiar ringtone sounded, startling him and the rest of the occupants of the room, which immediately grew quiet except for the loudly ringing phone.

Which happened to be Dec's.

Mortified, Dec fumbled his phone out of his pocket, fully intending to silence it and let the call go to voicemail. Until he realized why that ringtone was so familiar. Only hesitating a split second, he hastily swiped up, accepting the call and holding the phone to his ear. Business etiquette be damned.

"Alreet?"

"Alreet, Deccy? It's me," came a warm, husky voice through his phone speaker, loud enough to be heard by those sitting closest to Dec at the table.

"Aye, I know it's you, ya daft radgie," Dec retorted fondly, a genuine spark coming into him as his entire demeanor changed and his face lit up with a warm, shy smile, "Everything okay?"

"Oh, aye," Ant chuckled, "Ya have a minute?"

"Erm," Dec paused, suddenly remembering where he was and that there was an entire room full of people staring at him with a mixture of amusement, annoyance, and affection. Hurriedly pushing his chair away from the table, he hesitated before mumbling, "Sort of...I'm in a meeting, just a sec."

Pushing his way out of the room and into the corridor, he leaned up against the wall, relishing the cool feeling against his back. "Alreet, I'm out," he murmured, Geordie accent rising to the fore, "What's ga'n on?"

"Ye didn't tell me you were back to work this week, Declan!" Ant admonished, a hint of worry creeping into his voice, "That for BGT?"

"Aye, well, didn't think I should mention it..." Dec mumbled, tone heavy with an emotion Ant couldn't quite place, "But aye, production meetings for the BGT lives...You've just saved me from listening to more boring s***, so thanks for that. Why're ya callin'?"

Chuckling, Ant joked, "The 's***' you're talking about is all the budget stuff, right? Still haven't worked out why we need to be at them meetings! Such a load of naff all..."

Letting out a giggle, Dec couldn't help but smile at Ant's rant. He'd missed this. More than he'd even realized.

"Anyway...Look, Declan, I miss youse an' I wanna have a proper sit down chat with ya, just the two of us...No Linda, no anyone else sittin' in...Just us, hanging out, having a catch-up, talking about us...About, erm...About the future...Ya know, like we used to do back in the day..." Sounding almost anxious, as if afraid of rejection, he added, "You up for that?"

His heart stuttering in his chest, Dec could barely believe his ears. Ant...His Ant...Wanting to talk about them, their future?! Words failing him for a moment as his eyes involuntarily welled up, Dec cleared his throat, eventually managing to croak out, "Aye, I'd love that...Erm, when? Where?"

Relief evident in his voice, Ant quickly piped up, "Well, I was thinkin'...I could order in a Chinese or whatever ya want and we could have lunch at my place, then hang out, chill, whatever, the rest of the afternoon? Waddya think?"

"Y-your place?" Dec stuttered, happiness rapidly leaving him and instead being replaced by anxiety, "Erm...Aren't there...paps...around??"

"What the hell does that matter?" Ant questioned sharply, "Anyway, Anne's got the girls this week, so we wouldn't be able to hang out all day at hers like we could at mine..."

When nothing but silence met his remarks, Ant became concerned. "Declan?? Did I say sommat wrong?"

A shaky breath, then, "Nah...Just sorta...had it...with paps...Ya know what I'm like..."

"Aww, Deccy, it's just an idjit with a camera, he can't do nowt to ya...If there's any outside me house, just tell 'em to do one! The hell cares if we're papped at each other's house??"

"The tabloids do," Dec commented bitterly, seething anger evident in his dark tone, "It'd start all over again, they'd never leave us be!"

"For f***'s sake, Dec!" Ant exclaimed, "We've been in the public eye since we were teenagers – we knew what we were gettin' into when we started in telly. Get used to it, man!"

"No we bloody well didn't and you know it!" Dec shot back, "We were two thirteen year old kids who wanted to be actors – we had no bloody clue what it was like to be famous. Sometimes I wish I'd never found out..."

Letting out a long sigh, Ant's voice took on the sound of a mother trying to appease her overwrought child. "All right, Declan, we don't have to meet up at mine, we can go wherever you want. We can go out if ya want, whatever – my treat. Just thought you'd be more relaxed at my place..."

"Nah, nah, yours is fine," Dec immediately piped up, "Sorry, I'm just sick of seein' me face in the papers...I miss the days me ugly mug wasn't in the rags every flippin' day of the week." Suddenly realizing what he'd just said, he swiftly backpedaled, "Sorry, sorry, that wasn't...Erm, ya know, it's nowt to do with you...Erm...Oh, God..."

"Declan!" Ant jumped in, sounding mildly amused although rather guilty at the same time, "It's all right. I know what ya meant. I'm sick to the back teeth of it, too. So when're you free? Me diary's empty, so if owt works for you, I'm game."

"Erm...Tomorrow??" Dec squeaked, voice impossibly high pitched, his eagerness all too evident in his reply. "I'm free all day, nowt special going on. I mean, if you wanna do later in the week, that's okay, but tomorrow is-"

"Deccy!" laughed Ant, affection more than clear in his voice, "You're babbling, son. Tomorrow it is – twelve o'clock sharp, ya hear? I'll order us in a Chinese, all the trimmings. It'll be grand!"

Sensing the end of the conversation coming, a desperation to keep Ant on the line overcame Dec, who blurted out, "Anythin' new with you? How's things with you and Anne-Marie?"

"Plenty of time for that tomorrow, love," Ant smiled, "I know you're tryin' to avoid it, but you've got work to do! Georgia'll have me head if I hold ya up any longer. We'll have all afternoon to chat, all right? Love ya, pal, have a good day, all right?"

"Aye," Dec agreed, sounding decidedly crestfallen, "You, too, Anth. Love you."

"Come on, Dec," Ant hurriedly replied, trying to ensure Dec didn't end the call just yet, "Don't get all het up. I'll see youse tomorrow, okay? We'll chat, an' cuddle, an' stuff ourselves silly, how 'bout that, eh?"

Cheering up at that prospect, Dec couldn't help but grin as a warm feeling of excitement spread through him. An entire afternoon with Ant, no pressure, no therapist, nothing but the two of them having a chilled day together like they used to do. "Aye, sounds amazing!" he enthused, tone considerably brighter. "Right, s'pose I oughtta go," he added ruefully, "They'll prob'ly need me soon..."

"Aye. Tell everyone I say 'hi' and send me apologies for them havin' to deal with you on your own!" Ant quipped playfully, tone purposefully light. "Take care o' yourself, Declan."

"You, too, ya radgie...And thanks, I'm looking forward to tomorrow," Dec smiled, voice overflowing with unbridled affection. "Talk later."

As the line went dead, Dec let his head lean back against the wall behind him, closing his eyes for a few seconds. He couldn't deny he was a tiny bit nervous about tomorrow, but the overwhelming emotion was excitement at seeing Ant and spending part of the day with him. It felt like they were slowly starting to find each other again, like their bonds were resoldering themselves together, like the walls that had risen up between them were starting to crumble into dust, leaving them with an ever clearer path to each other. It felt like maybe, just maybe, they could put all the hurt and angst and anger behind them and rebuild their relationship. Maybe hope wasn't such an impossible thing after all.

With a spring in his step and a happy little smile on his face, Dec turned on his heel and reentered the boardroom, making sure to put his phone on silent mode and pocket it before pushing his way through the doors. Feeling every eye on him, Dec merely grinned sheepishly and jogged over to his seat, studiously avoiding the annoyed glare being directed at him by Georgia.

"Right. Now everyone's here, maybe we can get started on the concept plans for the show openers," stated one of the producers drily.

"Righto," chirped another, "So, we've got some suggestions from Simon that we've been putting into motion. He wants this year's live shows to be themed around 'The Greatest Showman,' his favorite movie. Diversity have been contracted for the first show, and they're working on choreographing a really super opener that'll be sure to bring the house down."

"Yes, and we've been kicking around some ideas for how to include you in that, Dec," stated another producer, Lucy. "Now Ant's out of the picture and it's just you, we thought maybe it'd be fun to make you the greatest showman."

At that, Dec's head shot up, eyes wide and holding pure hurt that was impossible to ignore. "What'd you have in mind?" he asked suspiciously, happy smile of just a few moments ago now long gone.

"Well, you've performed with Diversity before on your show. We thought you could maybe get into a top hat and tails and perform with them – the star of the show, basically. You would be the 'greatest showman' from the film."

"Hell no!" Dec blurted out, panicked gaze sweeping across the table and finding multitudinous shocked and clearly annoyed faces. "D'ya know how much work and rehearsals went into that End of the Show Show? No, I'm not doing it. Not without Ant."

"Seriously??" questioned the nonplussed producer from before – Tony, was that his name? – "You saying you can't perform without Ant? Hell of a show this is gonna be, then..."

Taking a deep breath, Dec fought the urge to roll his eyes, stating coldly, "If you watched Takeaway, you'd know I already did two entire shows without, erm," his voice caught slightly, "A-nth. I can learn most any dance move ya tell me to, but I'm not comfortable performing sommat that intricate without Ant. We're not on Diversity's level of dance, we mirrored each other in that routine 'cause we're about on the same level, the two of us. An' if I'm all on me own... Nah, I'm not doing it."

"Well, that's bloody brilliant then," Tony muttered angrily. "Got any suggestions for the diva here, anyone?"

A protective snarl met him, Georgia meeting his gaze across the table from him, her normally cheerful face dark and stormy. "Dec is not a diva, and I expect you to apologize to him right this minute. That's the whole reason he attends these meetings – to be involved in the production process and give his suggestions and ideas. Give him a bit of slack, will you? He's doing the best he can under the circumstances."

Defiance still sparking in his eyes, Tony eyed her for a moment before deciding it was probably in his best interests to comply. "Sorry, Dec," he mumbled, sounding anything but sincere and refusing to look at Dec.

For his part, Dec appeared to be trembling – or at least his hands clasped in front of him on the table were – and his head was down, his chest rising and falling in a seemingly controlled manner and eyes closed. Concerned, Georgia turned to him, nudging him and whispering, "You okay there?"

A moment passed, then Dec nodded, opening his eyes and giving a fragile smile. "I'm fine, sorry, carry on," he said, a bit of color rising in his pallid cheeks when he realized the entire table was staring at him. Running a hand through his hair, he swallowed noisily, finally working up the courage to ask, "Can we keep my role minimal for the opening night? I, erm, I'd prefer not to have a big routine to remember the first night. Just sommat simple...I don't know what you guys have in mind for Diversity, but if there's some way to just bring me in at the end of the routine, no dancing or owt...I'd be more comfortable with that..."

Nigel Hall, one of the executive producers from Syco, immediately acquiesced, saying, "Yes, of course. We can work on something – we'll get in touch with Diversity, see what their take is on it. I'm sure they'll find a way to bring you in as part of the routine – Ashley's always great with coming up with ideas."

"What if we fly you in?" suggested another producer, "Are you up for that?"

Shrugging, Dec nodded despite the nervous flip of his stomach at the prospect of being suspended in the air by mere wires. "Sure, whatever."

"All right, so the opening night's going to be a massive show – loads of pyrotechnics and all that jazz – but we're sticking with the 'Greatest Showman' theme for the rest of the shows as well. We're thinking maybe a little opening sketch for the second show? We're working up ideas at the moment with our creative department and the writing team. Something prerecorded...We'll include you in the process as well, Dec, obviously, so you can give feedback on our ideas."

Seeming to relax a tiny bit, Dec nodded again. Prerecorded skits he could handle – no matter how many times you messed those up, you could always redo them until you got them right. Prerecorded telly had never really held much appeal for Dec – or Ant, for that matter – but now it seemed to hold a sense of security that he craved. In fact, he'd be really, really happy if every single live show opened with a prerecorded sketch....

"Yes, all right. So we'll keep working on that for show two, I doubt it'll need much in way of budget...Show three...We want you singing for that one, a little show stopper of an opener. We're thinking maybe just you and some backup dancers, coming down to the stage through the audience, that sort of thing. The crowd'll love it!"

Choking, Dec coughed, "Me? Singing? Live?? Have you heard me sing?!"

"Of course we have!" grinned one of the producers, "We want something big, like a classic showbiz song in keeping with the theme this year. We're open to suggestions if you have anything in particular you'd like to sing, we'll basically just be providing the backing music and the dancers, so it's whatever you want, really. So you can start thinking about that and get back to us. Obviously we've got a vocal coach lined up who will work with you to get the song right closer to the date. Sound good?"

If he was expecting an enthusiastic response, he certainly didn't get one. Dec had gone very pale and very quiet, giving a single curt nod before covering his face with his hands, massaging his forehead with shaking hands.

When no further response came, the producer shrugged and rolled his eyes, mouthing to the rest of the table, "Moody git," resulting in most of the people around Dec tittering despite Georgia's death glare and signal to be quiet.

Peering out from underneath his hands, Dec scanned the room for the reason behind all the frivolity. "What's so funny?" he asked suspiciously, sounding almost sort of breathless, "Did I miss sommat?"

"No, no, nothing at all," Jillian, one of the creative team, piped up. "Tom just um...He, um..."

"I, um...I dropped my pen in my water," Tom supplied haltingly, looking incredibly awkward and throwing Jillian a glare for dropping him in it, "Silly me, eh?"

Letting out a disbelieving huff, Dec snapped, "Yeah, you expect me to believe that? You were laughing at me, and don't even try and deny it!" The spark of anger disappeared as quickly as it had come, being replaced by a sullen look of annoyance mixed with barely veiled anxiety. That is, until the producer from before stage whispered, "See? Told ya!" resulting in a slightly louder round of giggles and a furious glare from Dec.

"Can we please get back to the f***ing meeting??" Dec barked, voice strained, "You're bloody lucky I even turned up, so get a bloody move on before I walk the f*** out!"

Stunned, the room fell silent, all levity forgotten. This was not typical behavior. Dec never swore like that. At least not during professional meetings...Or over something as trivial as being the center of somebody's joke. He generally had a good sense of humor over things like that, and would often laugh at himself along with the rest of the team. But not today, apparently. He clearly wasn't in the mood for jokes.

Clearing his throat, the producer who'd made the offending joke continued on as if nothing had happened. "So that's the plan for show three. We're kicking around a couple of ideas for show four at the moment. The one that seems to be most popular is a dance routine for the opener – just you, Dec, with some backup dancers. Something choreographed, it doesn't have to be long, but we want something with pizzazz, something really energetic, a real crowd pleas-"

"What the hell, man?? Whaddya think I am, a performing dog?? Why the hell do I have to be so bloody involved in all the openers this year?!" Dec protested, voice oddly strangled-sounding and face drained of all color. "Why can't we just have simple, straightforward openers for most of the shows like every other bloody year since the series started?? Where other people do the performing and we, erm...I-I...just walk on or join in for a bit of fun instead of all this flippin' serious choreographed s***?"

Shocked into silence, the team exchanged glances, none of them seeming willing to answer Dec's angst-filled question. Until Nigel spoke up, apparently the only one brave enough to take the reins. "Look, Dec, we're just following through with the 'Greatest Showman' theme Simon wanted for this series...Everything's open to discussion and able to be tweaked or, or even scrapped, if you're not comfortable with it. We're not trying to overwhelm you or force you into things outside your comfort zone. We can tone it down, certainly, make it less involved, right team?"

Being met with several nods, Nigel added, "No need to stress, Dec, we'll work something out, okay?"

Fidgeting uncomfortably in his seat, Dec offered up a wan smile. "Thanks...Sorry, I'm just-"

His voice cracked and he stopped, raising his eyes to the ceiling for a moment and chewing on his lower lip. Returning his suspiciously shiny gaze to the occupants of the room, he mumbled, "Sorry...Carry on."

"Right, okay," chirped the producer from before, "So for show five, we want to do something with magic. Erm, we can make it as simple or as involved as you want, Dec." Pausing, his gaze briefly met Dec's, finding a pair of eyes uncharacteristically swimming with anxiety and self-doubt looking back at him. With a nod of understanding, he continued, "I think we can come up with something pretty straightforward for that, yes."

Clearing his throat, he took a deep breath before dropping the bombshell. "Now, for the final, we have something specific in mind...Or, rather, Simon's team does...Nige, you care to explain this one?"

Nigel nodded, "Yes, of course. So we want to include all of the finalists in the opener this year. We're working out how we can make that happen. Simon wants the opener for the finale to be big and live, he made that much clear, but he left the rest up to the creative team. Obviously we won't know the full list of finalists until Friday night, so specific choreography and final planning will have to be done pretty quickly."

Hesitating, he let out a little sigh before adding, "We do know that we want you as the star of the show, Dec. We're thinking maybe something along the lines of having the finalists scattered around the theatre, with the camera following you as you interact with each one in some form or another. Obviously we'll get some choreography in there to spice things up a bit..."

He spared a glance at Dec, who was staring, unseeing, at the table in front of him, wringing his hands silently, body tense and hunched and chest rising and falling rapidly. Trying again to get a response, Nigel asked, "You good with that, Dec? Like I said, lots of wiggle room in there for the specifics, but it's a rough outline of what we want."

Dec slowly nodded, twice, not raising his gaze from his trembling hands.

"Good, excellent!" Nigel smiled, ignoring the little voice in his head telling him that they maybe shouldn't be asking Dec to do this at all. Quickly moving on, he managed to pick the worst possible topic to bring up at that particular moment.

"The other big change this year for the live shows, which we haven't really touched on yet is that we'll be broadcasting live from the Hammersmith Apollo. The seating capacity is obviously huge compared to what we're used to in the studio – we can fit over three and a half thousand people compared to the 500 or so we used to have at the studio. So the atmosphere is going to be tremendous, we're anticipating it'll really bring the shows to life as well as adding extra pressure on the contestants. We're expecti-"

His words were drowned out by the slam of the conference room door, turning everyone's gaze away from him and instead directing it towards the one empty seat at the table. Dec's.