Disclaimer- I wish I owned Flight 29 Down so it could be less G rated but sadly, it belongs to Discovery Kids.

"Stay away from me you sonuvabitch!"

"Oh come on Tay, don't be dramatic- you know she never meant anything to me."

"I don't know anything anymore." My timid voice shakes and falters.

"Oh come on baby," he grabs my wrist and tries to pull me towards him. My anger bubbles up again.

"Let go of me!" I cry desperately as I spasmodically flail around the arm he's gripping, trying to shake out of his steely grasp.

His drunken reflexes are lethargic. His grip loosens and I mange to pull away my arm. "Don't be like this baby." He steps toward me and his liquor soaked breath grazes my face.

"Go to hell," I spit out resentfully as I grab the door handle, twist it, open the door and walk out of his apartment for good.

I practically sprint down the corridor to the stairs. I have no patience for a snail-paced elevator. I run down the stairs two at a time, stumbling a couple of times because of my blurry vision. Tears have begun to well up in my eyes and it's none good for my eyesight. The emergency exit is in sight when I arrive at my final stretch of stairs. I race towards it and push. An ear splitting alarm sounds but I don't care.

The heavy door fans in warm, sticky air. I walk out into the humidity and jog to the next street corner. There, I sit down on a curb and grope around inside my purse for a pack of cigarettes. I find one and get myself a nice, relaxing cancer stick. A callus has formed on my thumb from working the safety lock on my lighter. I turn the wheel and press down, and a lick of orange flame rises from my hot pink lighter. I light my cigarette and put it pack in my purse.

A couple drags later I feel brand fucking new. It's like magic. I realize I left some stuff at his place but decide I'll deal with it later. I must look like a bum- makeup smeared, sitting on a curb, and smoking fucking camels. They're not even my cigarettes. I jacked them off of him out of spite. I close my eyes and take another long drag, then let the smoke seep out of every pore in my body. Like I said: magic.

"Those'll kill you, you know."

A look up at the source of the criticism and feel utterly shocked. "Jackson?"

He says nothing. I just look up at him, gaping like and idiot.

"How did you-"

"I'm visiting. I was walking back from a friend's house when I saw you sitting here."

"Oh," I say smartly. I always feel like a stupid kid when I'm around him.

"So what brings Taylor Hagan to this part of town?" Clearly no ones told him what's happened since he left.

I snort. "Nothing of importance- trust me."

"And the smoking- is that recent?"

"Fairly."

"Do you want some pancakes?"

"Sorry?" Jackson had clearly been smoking something at his friend's house.

"There's a diner close by. They make pretty good pancakes." He does a one up. "You look like you could eat something."

A wave of bone-crushing hunger washes over me. I realize I can't remember the last time I ate. "Sure."

We walk a couple blocks, mostly in silence, to the diner. Jackson spares little information about why he's in LA and I don't say much about how I wound up looking like a homeless person, parked on a curb.

The diner had annoyingly bright coloured lights out front spelling out: RHANDA'S CAFÉ. We walk in the door and a bell rings, noting our entrance. The décor was cheesy and the waitresses looked frumpy and old. It was all so 50's. Figures Jackson would find a gem like this.

"Hey y'all," a waitress says shuffling over to us, a big smile planted on her thin, cheap red lipstick wearing lips. "My name's Denise and I'll be your server today. Please follow me."

We saunter after her frantic waddling (she was rather big but insisted on sprinting everywhere), and I spare a couple looks in Jackson's direction. He hadn't changed. He looked perhaps a bit more mature looking but other than that, nada. He was the same old Jackson.

We sit down at the booth Denise led us to. We sit opposite from each other and look everywhere but at each other. I wonder who would speak first.

"So, how have you been Taylor?" Jackson's casual question gave me two options. Number one: lie. Tell him I've been great. Less drama and he wouldn't have to worry. Not that I thought he would anyway. Number Two: tell the truth. I always hated telling the truth.

"I'm great."

His look was scrutinizing. Apparently I didn't look 'great'. I didn't want any further questioning so I reciprocated.

"How have you been?" I fire the question back at him. Ha, let's see how he handles that!

"Fine." Of course he answered with one word. Some things never change.

"How are your new foster parents?"

"They're nice."

"And Texas? You like it?"

"Yeah, it's nice."

We both run out of questions. An awkward silence settles around us.

"Have you talked to any of the guys… since?" Jackson's question was barely audible and I wondered if I was meant to hear it.

"Not really."

He nods understandingly. "Have you?"

"I keep in touch by email with Lex."

Of course he did. They'd gotten close on the island. "How is the peewee?"

He smiles weakly. "He's good." I can tell he misses him.

"I guess you can visit him if you're here in LA."

"Yeah, I'm seeing him tomorrow."

"Oh."

Denise waddles back over to our table with a notepad and a pen and we order what we want. I order a stack of pancakes and a coffee: black. He orders the same.

After wolfing down my pancakes and chugging my coffee back, I make an excuse about having to get home. I offer to pay but he insists he's got it. We awkwardly hug goodbye and I dash out of the dinner into the night.

A/N: I think this is gonna be a three shot. I don't know. What are your thoughts on it? Reviews are appreciated :)