Author's Note: I really don't like writing notes like this, but since it's the first chapter I feel like I should. This is my first Rent fic, and my only fic on So far I like it, and I hope I'm able to finish it before school gets hectic again, fingers crossed. Reviews are appreciated, even if they're negative.

Disclaimer: I own Paige and her family, but no one else. At least so far. Maybe later someone else I own will show up. Anyway, all the recognizable characters belong to other people. I hope you like it.

December 24, 1990, 9 p.m. Eastern Standard Time:

Paige Kirkley lights candles as she unpacks. The power is out. Carefully she rummages through another box of photography equipment, searching for her camera. The sun had already set when she arrived at her new apartment in Alphabet City, and the power blew fifteen minutes later.

"What a shitty Christmas Eve," she murmurs to herself. Luckily she finds her camera in the dark, still intact despite the bumpy four hour trip from Syracuse.

One of the panes of glass from the fire escape window is broken, and through it she can hear distant sounds of traffic. She loads a roll of film for tomorrow and places the camera on the window sill. Next she grabs a bag of clean clothes and starts looking through it.

"Mark! Roger! Anyone-help!" a woman yells outside, much closer than all the other sounds. Curious, Paige picks up the camera and steps outside. On the ground she sees the woman who yelled, along with another woman who is holding yet another girl in her arms.

The fire escape rattles as someone runs onto it two stories up. Paige looks up and sees three men looking down at the women in the street. "Maureen?" one of them yells back.

"It's Mimi- I can't get her up the stairs," the first woman answers. Paige feels the metal shake again as the guys run back inside. She snaps a picture of the girls- Maureen, Mimi, and the one without a name. She takes another as the guys from upstairs help carry the unconscious girl inside.

Paige doesn't notice that the power is back on when she steps inside. She walks straight to the door and opens it a crack, watching silently as the strangers rush past. Upstairs she hears the thick metal door slide open and then close again.

Paige Kirkley closes her own door and says a silent prayer as she blows out the candles.

December 25, 1990, 1 p.m. Eastern Standard Time:

The apartment still looks bare, but Paige has finished unpacking. Most of her belongings are in the closet, which is now a dark room.

The only piece of furniture in the apartment is a worn-out couch with a missing leg, left behind by the previous tenant. With a stack of old books she manages to prop the corner up enough to sit on it without it wobbling. She sits on the couch and counts the money left after the move: thirty-seven dollars and eighty-three cents.

It'll have to do, she thinks, pocketing the money and pulling on her coat.

She nearly stumbles as she walks outside the building. A man with blond hair, a corduroy coat and a striped scarf is crouched on the steps, filming a homeless man sleeping on the sidewalk. He nearly drops his camera, but manages to catch it and keep his balance.

"Oh God, I'm sorry. Are you ok?" she asks as she helps him up. He dusts off the knees of his pants and smiles at her.

"I'm fine, no harm done. I shouldn't have been standing there anyway." She recognizes him as one of the men on the fire escape the night before. "Are you new in the building?" he gestures to the door she has just walked through.

"Just got here yesterday," she answers, smiling.

He returns the smile. "Mark Cohen." He holds out a gloved hand, which she shakes.

"Paige Kirkley."

"So where did you move from, Paige?"

"Syracuse."

"Rich girl, huh?"

She laughs. "I wish."

"I guess if you were really rich you wouldn't be in Alphabet City."

"Hey Mark!" someone yells. Paige and Mark look up to see a man leaning out of a top story window. "Get your ass back up here!"

"My roommate, Roger," Mark explains. "I'd better go before he and his girlfriend destroy the place."

"Ok, well, maybe I'll see you around."

"That'd be great. See you later."

Paige turns to go as Mark pulls open the door. "Oh, hey Mark?" she asks, turning back.

"Yeah?"

"Do you know any stores that are open today?"

2:16 p.m. Eastern Standard Time:

After a trip to a twenty-four hour drugstore three blocks over, Paige returns with a bag containing a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, a gallon of milk, and a box of cereal. She has spent twelve of her thirty-seven dollars. She tells herself that the rest will have to last a while.

Mark is sitting on the steps when she turns the corner, this time camera-less, staring in the opposite direction.

"Did they actually destroy the apartment?" she laughs. He looks up and smiles.

"You know, in general I'm really glad that they're dating, but there's only so much time I can stand to be in the same room with them. And I went over the limit a year ago." She sets down the groceries and sits next to him.

"Sucks to be the third wheel, doesn't it?"

"Sure does." He peers into the bag. "Planning on living on peanut butter for the next few days?"

"It's not exactly the Christmas dinner I've been dreaming of, but until I get a job or a rich relative dies it's all I have."

"You should've at least picked up some alcohol or something."

"They didn't have any at the drugstore."

Mark stands, picks up the bag and hands it to Paige. "Follow me," he says, stepping inside.

They walk the four flights of stairs, leaving Paige's groceries by her door along the way. "What are we doing?" Paige asks softly.

"A friend brought over some vodka last night--sort of a strange tradition--and we didn't finish it. I'm pretty sure that Roger and Mimi will be distracted enough that, if we're quiet, we can take it and leave before they notice," he explains. "The problem is opening the door quietly."

That problem, it seems, has already been taken care of when they reach the top of the stairs. The door is open just enough for a person to slip through.

"Did you leave the door open?" Paige whispers close to his ear.

He shakes his head and peeks through the opening. "I don't see them," he breathes. They slip silently through the door. Paige stops just inside while Mark tip-toes to the kitchen, where the bottle is sitting on the counter. Just as he picks it up a bedroom door creaks open, revealing a shirtless Roger.

Everyone freezes. "What the hell are you doing?" Roger asks.

"Run!" Mark yells, sprinting for the door and grabbing Paige's hand. He pulls her through and slams it shut in his roommate's face. They run downstairs to Paige's apartment. She locks the door behind them and leans against it to catch her breath.

Just as her breathing is about to return to normal, Paige begins to giggle. "Did you see his face?" she snickers.

She is still fighting back her laughter when Mark hands her a plastic cup of the stolen liquor. He grins. "Merry Christmas," he says, and he knocks his cup against hers.