"Go get 'em, boss." Zoe packed up her tools, speaking more than usual. She glanced at Elisha beside her; Elisha lifted her head too, flashing Landon an encouraging gesture, eyes clear and bright with genuine anticipation.
Make-up done, Landon drew a deep breath and walked toward the set.
The air itself felt heavier than usual; the crew moved with deliberate, hushed steps.
Director Robert was running through the final beats and emotional pivots with Sarah Clarke.
Seeing Landon approach, Robert clapped his shoulder.
"Landon, this scene is one of Tony's biggest moments—Season One's major turning point.
I need every ounce of energy you've got, but remember: control beats eruption. I want layers—watch Tony try to pull himself together even as he falls apart."
"Understood, Director," Landon answered, voice low.
Sarah Clarke gave Landon a nod; her eyes already carried Nina's veiled chill and the flicker of a woman about to be exposed.
"We'll make it a great face-off," she murmured.
"Positions, everyone!" the assistant director called.
Landon and Sarah stepped to their marks.
The camera framed them.
Behind them, the CTU operations center; the other actors, playing techs, froze at their stations, conjuring the dead hush before a storm.
"Action!"
The camera rolled.
At first Tony walked toward Nina, clutching the freshly decoded evidence.
His face was confused, brows knit, eyes clinging to one last thread of hope.
"Nina, I need you to explain this," he said, voice still steady.
When the proof was shown, she didn't deny it.
Nina's silent admission shattered the final illusion in Tony's heart.
Landon's performance hit its first crescendo.
His pupils contracted sharply; every trace of color drained from his face. Lips parted, but no sound came.
He half-stepped back, as if the colleague he'd trusted carried a lethal toxin.
The camera pushed in, catching every twitch of muscle and the terror in his eyes.
"Why?" The word tore from his throat.
Shock turned to fury.
Landon-as-Tony flushed crimson, gaze fixed on Nina, chest heaving.
"Jamey… and Matt! Everyone who died because the intel leaked—was it you?"
He stepped forward, voice suddenly razor-sharp.
Veins throbbed at his temples, showing Tony's urge to tear her apart.
At last the storm peaked and hardened into something colder.
"Jamey? Matt?" Nina still watched him calmly, a faint, almost mocking curve at her lips. Tony's rage froze.
The color ebbed from Landon's face, leaving a pale, icy mask.
The fire in his eyes froze; he looked at Nina as though she were a tumor that had to be cut out.
"You don't get to speak their names," Tony said, voice terrifyingly quiet.
Throughout, Landon's emotional shifts built layer upon layer, shaking everyone watching.
Behind the monitor Robert clenched a fist, face alight with satisfaction.
Sarah Clarke was equally brilliant.
The confrontation crackled with dramatic tension.
"Cut! Perfect!" Robert's voice rang with excitement. "Great work, both of you! Moving on—printing this one!"
The instant the director called cut, Landon swayed slightly, pulling himself out of that razor-edged emotion. His breath came fast; fine beads of sweat dotted his forehead.
Channeling intensity like that drains every reserve.
Zoe darted in the moment Robert finished, touching up his make-up with swift, gentle strokes. "Boss, that was incredible," she whispered, voice trembling with excitement.
Landon nodded, accepted a bottle from a crew member, took a small sip, steadying his racing heart.
He lifted his gaze and swept it across the set.
Not far away Elisha stood, hands clasped, eyes sparkling, never blinking.
When his glance met hers she flashed a radiant, admiring grin and thrust up both thumbs, mouthing a silent "Wow!"
Landon gave her a small nod in answer, then looked away, letting Zoe finish.
Over the next hours he re-shot the scene from several angles and tighter close-ups.
Every retake, he kept the emotion raw and continuous.
He could feel Elisha's gaze most of the time—an unspoken pressure, yet also a strange, steadying spur.
When the final setup wrapped and the director announced his work was done, Landon felt drained but deeply fulfilled.
Heading toward the make-up trailer to remove the prosthetics, he found Elisha falling into step beside him, bright smile still in place.
"Hey, that was amazing!" she chirped, sincere admiration in her voice. "That last shift in your eyes—chilling. I got goosebumps just watching."
"Thanks," Landon replied.
"Really, when this airs, tons of people are going to remember the name Tony Almeida," she added, eyes shining with anticipation for his future.
At the trailer door Zoe already had the removers laid out.
Elisha stepped up, brushed a quick kiss to his lips, then waved breezily: "See you tomorrow!"
She had plainly seen the fatigue that shot through him after the take.
Her smile was sweet, her manner brisk—no clinginess at all.
"Tomorrow," Landon answered.
Elisha spun away, stride light.
Zoe watched her go, gave a small shrug, and began removing Landon's make-up without comment.
Eyes closed, Landon let the bustle of the set and the scene's fierce emotions fade.
Elisha's admiring gaze and that final understanding gesture warmed him.
With the latex gone and his own clothes back on, he stepped outside.
The sun was setting. He slid into his car but didn't start the engine at once.
Having purged all that darkness in front of the lens, he felt strangely calm.
He checked his phone: a text from Tracy saying she'd be home for dinner and had big news about the fast and the furious.
Landon drew a breath, started the car, and headed home.
Elisha's adoration burned bright, but it was fleeting; for now he couldn't give it more space.
All his energy, all his anticipation, waited for the call that might change everything.