A/N: This was inspired by the song title "Heaven Help the New Girl" by The Long Blondes.
Disclaimer: I don't own (1) "Heaven Help the New Girl" (2) RENT. Nor will I ever. :(

"Roger! I'm leaving." Mark yelled, to make his departure known. But no, Mimi was busy teasing Roger's lower lip by nipping it again...and again... and... again. Mark closed the loft's door behind him, glad to be away from the giggling couple. Knowing them, he probably wouldn't be back for a few hours, when he'd bang on the door and yell at them to put some clothes on, if they weren't asleep. Mark walked out of the apartment, and onto the street. He was going filming again, to where, Central park square? That sounded good to him.

Mark kept on walking. He took out his camera, and began looking for scenes that caught his eye. There was a Brazilian couple fighting, the girl pleading with her eyes to her boyfriend, take me back, take me back, I'm sorry. Then she caught sight of Mark and his camera. She began yelling at him in rapid Portuguese, and Mark quickened his pace, and turned his attention elsewhere.

To his left, there was a little boy - Mark did a double take to make sure - that looked exactly like Angel, in (Mark supposed) four-year-old form. The boy was crying on the apartment's stoop, his head hidden in the breezy, long pink skirt that he wore. Mark momentarily looked pained, but moved on.

Farther down the street, he saw an old homeless lady, feeding the pigeons with crumbs from her palms. The lady looked completely content, her eyes never leaving the pigeons. She didn't seem to care about herself, with her hair tangled and dirty, with her clothes worn and gray with use. The lady looked up and gave Mark a toothless grin and a wave when she saw that he was filming her. Mark smiled and waved back. That wasn't something he saw everyday, a bag-lady who didn't screech insanely.

The rest of Mark's journey continued in that same pattern, finding new scenes, but none that really inspired him. He sat down on the nearest bench. He looked around for inspiration, and noticed the girl sitting beside him on the bench. She had long wavy red hair held back in a messy ponytail, and pale skin, probably around fifteen years old. She wore sweatpants and a loose hoodie. She was bent down close to her notepad, where Mark assumed she was drawing.

Mark couldn't shake this off. Who did she remind him of? Then it hit him like a speeding train. April. That's who the girl reminded him on. Putting this aside, he focused on what the girl was drawing. She had leaned back, apparently satisfied with her efforts. Mark leaned to his right. The drawing was drawn in charcoal, and depicted two birds, one flying away; leaving the other perched on the electrical line. He was amazed. She could really draw; he could feel the sadness in the sketch…

"Oh my God!" The girl shrieked. Mark was pulled from his daze, and jerked back from over her shoulder. What was wrong? I don't see anyone threatening around… Unless she's looking at the pidgeon in front me..

"Whoareyou?!" She blubbered, a look of fright plastered across her face. OH. He thought, realization dawning. Yeah, I'd be pretty scared if some older person was leaning in –close- towards me too.

"Oh, sorry, I was just wanted to see your drawing. Or sketch, whatever it is, sorry. And I'm Mark. Mark Cohen." The girl looked at him. Mark saw that she had an icy shade of blue eyes, a relief to him. Now she didn't look exactly like April. But still, it was eerie.

"Oh, I see.. I'm Timory Jacqueline Thompson." She said emotionlessly, obviously relieved that Mark meant no harm. She looked at him for a moment, studying his face, her eyes falling onto his camera.

Something struck Mark. Hm… A fellow artist… This could mean inspiration from other inspiration! "Do you mind if I film you?" He hoped she'd say no, he really needed someone- ANYONE!- to film. Oh please oh please oh please OH PLEASE say no…

"No, why?"

"It's just that I'm a filmmaker. And if there's nothing to film… I don't see the point of being who I am. Anyways. What inspired your work of art?"

" Errrm.." Timory paused for a moment, lost in thought; a light blush rising to her pale cheekbones. "It's not really a 'work of art'… it's just a sketch.. And my inspiration is... Life at the moment."

"Which is..?" Mark raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

"...You know how some people have ADD, and therefore cannot sit completely still? … Well, my boyfriend is like that… Relationship-wise."

Mark winced. "Ouch. What's his name?"

"Maurice." Timory said his name with slight venom in her voice.

Oh, the irony of it all.

"What." Timory asked, no doubt annoyed at Mark's amusement.

"I've been in your situation. And her name... My ex's name was Maureen."

Timory laughed.


An hour later, Timory and Mark had become fast friends. They traded bits of their past, information about their arts, where they lived, and their views about their parents.

"Mm, yeah. My parents aren't the greatest, because Mom's never home, and Dad has a bit of a drinking problem, but that's okay. It's my life. So is wandering around at night when I don't have a place to stay…"

Mark was stunned. Sheesh, she had a lot of guts to wander around New York City at night as a fourteen-year-old. Even he wasn't that brave. That was really dangerous… even the Loft wasn't that bad… An idea formed in Mark's mind.

"Hey, can I write on the back of this?" Timory nodded, and Mark wrote neatly on the back of her notepad the address to the Loft, and handed her notepad back. "You can visit anytime as well."

Timory flashed a genuine smile. "Thanks, I really appreciate it." The two artists chatted for a while longer, and then she noticed how the sun was setting. She said, "I should probably go. It was nice talking to you, Mark."

"See you." Mark gave a small smile and a wave. Timory's a good kid, I'd love to introduce her to the other Boho's..

Timory waved, and started walking away.

Endnote: Yeah, I reposted this. Why? I realize that it really thinned out toward the end of the chapter. Is this any better? Haha, I realized earlier that I had Roger nipping Mimi's lip repeatedly, and I was like, "Oh jeez." So yeah. xD Reviews are love!