A/N: So, I watched RENT the other day with my best friend and I've come to the conclusion I wanted to write for it again. This is basically the warming up to when Maureen and Joanne first meet. There's kind of nothing there so bare with me. I hope it's going to be a good one. And If i get some nice reviews, I'll write faster! So, anyway. Enjoy! :D

"…Tell me what you want!"

"Commitment."

"That's all? Why didn't you just say so in the first place?"

"What?"

"All you have to do is ask and I'm yours…"

Maureen's eyes glazed over with tears as she looked up from the floor to Joanne. Clothes were flying out of the closet as fast as the curse words that were coming out of Joanne's pristine mouth. A dress shirt of the lawyer's flew and landed right in front of the diva. She slowly bent down and picked it up. She held it up to her face, taking in the aroma of clean cotton and Chanel No. 5. It was almost perfect. She continued to intoxicate herself with the familiar yet wonderful smell. But she heard the infamous Doc Marten's stomp their way out of the closet. So, before Joanne could even notice the shirt was missing, Maureen quickly stuffed it under the bed and continued to look down at the floor.

"I asked you, Maureen. I fucking ASKED you for commitment." Anger and hurt dripped off every syllable. "But you couldn't even give me that. I don't see why I should give you another god damn chance."

Not only did Joanne feel betrayed and hurt, she felt stupid. She was continuously being let down by the diva. If Maureen wasn't giving their number out to someone, she was dancing with some other girl at a club. If she wasn't looking at another girl walking down the street, she was flirting with anyone with legs. Joanne was warned by everyone who knew Maureen. She got the looks, the "good lucks", and little sly remarks on needing a huge backbone. But never did she think they would become this true.

Maureen opened her mouth to say something but Joanne just put her hand up in response. "You're disgusting. I don't want to hear anything you have to say. You tell me you love me and you go behind my back and make a fool out of me! How DARE you!" Joanne tried to keep the fighter face on, tried to make herself seem strong. But when she saw Maureen's fat tears, Joanne just broke down. She threw her back against the wall and slid down, looking at the diva.

"Baby, what happened?" Joanne stumbled on her words. "What did I do? Did I not give you enough attention? Did I neglect you in anyway? Did I… I don't know. Just tell me, what did I do to deserve this?"

Maureen took that as a time to plead her case. But instead of pouting and giving off excuses, she stood up and walked over to Joanne. She sat down in front of her and took her hand. How could two people so different be so right for each other, she thought to herself as she squeezed Joanne's tiny fingers. "You didn't do anything, babe. You never did a thing wrong to me. You treat me like a princess, like I'm your queen!" Using her free hand, Maureen took her index and middle finger and placed it gently under Joanne's chin and lifted her head up so their eyes would lock.

And they did. Like the first time they met.

The snow was falling perfectly on her dark locks. Her boots were still making their famous noise. And not to mention, her hips were swaying in tune of the beat in her head. She was ready to mingle. Was she single? Not quite. Actually, no. She wasn't. But she couldn't take her boyfriend much longer. Not only was he talking about the future which scared the complete shit out of her, he was TALKING ABOUT THE FUTURE. Commitment and Maureen Johnson? They don't mix too well.

"Now where to go?" Maureen asked herself as she looked around. She needed a good bar or something. Somewhere she could use her magic. Somewhere she would feel at home regardless of home many times she's been there. Somewhere like…"The Cherry Tavern. I like the sound of that!"

Maureen wrapped her delicate fingers around the door handle and shook her hair once more before making her entrance. Usually, when she walked into any place (and by any, I mean any - bars, clothing stores, baby stores, grocery stores, etc) she would get "The Stare". Roger called it that because… that's exactly what it is. Googly eyes, lines of drool, and the casual ball itch is what it'd consist of. And sure enough, when she walked in, about six of the ten guys sitting at the bar did exactly what she expected.

"Free drinks… hah, don't mind if I do."