I don't own Degrassi. This is just a little one-shot that I've been thinking about for a couple of days. There are a ton of fics about Liberty dealing with J.T.'s death, but I didn't find anything about Mia, so I threw this together. It's probably a little rough, but here it is…(don't forget to check out my other fics).

The Last of the Good Ones

Mia Jones carefully laid her lit cigarette on the lip of a glass ashtray and reached for a stick of concealer. After four years in the modeling industry, she was expert at hiding both her dark undereye circles and her emotions behind makeup. A small dot here and another there, blended in gently with a sponge, covered with a dab of powder, and suddenly the woman in the mirror looked more like her than the walking corpse that had been there a few moments ago.

She snorted at the bad pun and returned to her cigarette. Walking corpse jokes probably weren't appropriate, considering the occasion, although she secretly thought J.T. would have laughed. Yes, he would have, but the others would not.

Her eyes fell on the handwritten note on the bathroom sink. The slip of scrap paper had accompanied the invitation she'd received a month ago, the invitation that read IN MEMORY OF JAMES TIBERIUS YORK in big blue letters on the front. Five years, and it still hurt to read the "in memory" in front of his name. Her lower lip quivered.

The note itself was plain white, with rough uneven edges. The words were in black ink, spaced evenly across the page in firm cursive writing. The handwriting wasn't important though, Mia decided once again as she glared at the note. It was the words that counted, the words that brought back all those horrible memories.

Mia,

We've never known each other well, nor liked each other. However, we both loved a wonderful person who was taken from us too soon. I hope that you'll come to honor him on the fifth anniversary of his death and join in our remembrance.

Liberty van Zandt

Well, Mia had come. She would be there to honor J.T. And she could give a fuck if Liberty wanted her there. Liberty van Zandt, Miss A+ herself. Liberty van Zandt, who had the one thing Mia herself had always needed and thrown it away like trash. Liberty van Zandt, the girl that J.T. had truly loved.

It was so easy for Mia to close her eyes and let all those old feelings come rushing back. That butterflies in the stomach feeling when she realized that J.T. liked her back. The jealousy she felt when J.T. told her about wanting his and Liberty's baby, but giving it up. The pleasure at watching him with her daughter and realizing that this is what it was like for Isabella to have a daddy. Those little stabs of pain every time she heard him say Liberty's name. The overwhelming sensation of disbelief and heartbreak when they told her he was dead. And that tiny, petty part of her that whispered "I'm his girlfriend. And no one even called me."

There had been boys since, and men too. Tons of them, way too many to count. Mia slept alone only when she chose to, which was seldom. And yet there had never been another guy who had treated her so well, who had loved Isabella so freely as J.T.

Mia met her own eyes in the mirror and solemnly brushed away a lingering tear. It was over and done. She would put on her best smile, along with her best dress, and she would be there. But only because J.T. would have expected it.

Liberty van Zandt had an expression on her face like she was sucking on a lemon. No one had said so, but she could feel her lips puckering as she fought back the need to cry. Five years was not enough to get over J.T.; no amount of time would be enough for that. She forced a smile as she greeted yet another guest entering the Simpson-Nelson household. Was this a bad idea, she wondered, having the memorial service fifty feet from the curb where he had died? There was a little voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like J.T., asking why he would care.

Liberty had volunteered to greet the guests for a couple of reasons. J.T.'s grandma had aged a hundred years since her loss, and was much more comfortable in a high-backed chair in the living room than at the door. For another, as the mother of J.T.'s only child, Liberty had the right. And it was just easier, really. The rest of the house was just too much. Pictures of J.T. blown up to life size, videos of him playing on the TV, his favorite bands blasting from the stereo outside. And the memories of that last night mixed with it all.

A woman was getting out of a cab on the street, the hazy outline all Liberty could make out. As the door closed and the cab drove off, heels began to click and clack their way up the sidewalk. Then the woman stepped into the light and Liberty felt herself stiffen at the sight of Mia Jones, international supermodel, and the woman J.T. wouldn't give up for her.

Mia stopped at the bottom step. "Liberty."

Liberty could feel the puckered lemon expression returning. "Mia. It's been awhile."

"Yes, it has."

A tense silence stretched between them for long moments before Liberty opened the door and gestured for Mia to come in.

The back porch was the perfect place to have a cigarette and enjoy a beer, Mia decided. Perfect because it was entirely empty, to be precise. She was ready to go – get out of this house, out of Toronto and return to her lovely Parisian home where her mother and Isabella waited. "God, I want to be anywhere but here." She realized she wasn't alone when she heard a snicker from the darkened yard.

"For once, Mia Jones, I agree with you." Liberty stepped from the shadows, her arms holding a shawl tightly around her upper body. "I would run away in a heartbeat – but people would ask questions."

Mia shot her a glare. "Of course they would. Everyone knows you and why you're here. You were J.T.'s first love, the girl he had a baby with, the heartbroken lover that will never forget him. Why doesn't anybody remember me? The girl he loved when he died, that's what I'm supposed to be. But not one person recognizes that."

Liberty shook her head. "Not true. I recognize that. And you have no idea how badly that fucking hurts." She rubbed one hand tiredly over her face. "I could have left you off the guest list. Could have ignored you like you'd never existed."

"Then why didn't you?" Mia challenged.

Liberty's sigh was quiet. "I thought about it, believe me. I think I could've had him back, you know, if that night hadn't ended the way it did. He loved me. And there's a special connection between two people who have made a life together – but I suspect you know that."

Mia nodded. "Whether you want it or not."

"Whether you want it or not," Liberty repeated. "But regardless of what might have been, he cared about you too. And he cared about our children, my son and your daughter. He loved your daughter."

"She loved him too." Mia's voice was barely audible. "She never had a dad, you know. Lucas didn't want anything to do with her. So J.T. was the closest thing she had." She took a deep breath. "You might have gotten him back, I don't know for sure. But he never would have abandoned Isabella."

The two women moved slowly and silently until they were side by side at the deck rail, staring up at the stars. "I do know that much," Liberty finally admitted. "He was a good guy."

Mia reached her arm out and pulled Liberty closer. "The last of the good ones." And they cried.