What if...? This fic is truly random, and i can't even begin to explain my inspiration for it. Well, i can, but i don't want to. ;D Enjoy, and please R&R. -erika

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Alex sat down at the tiny table in the back of the crowded diner. Her dad sat across from her and smiled, wrinkles crinkling around his eyes. She popped open the menu, and shifted. She was full of energy and agitated, and not even slightly hungry. She ran her fingers through her hair as she looked through the menu.

"What do I want? I'm so indecisive. What are you having?"

"Meat loaf dinner, I think." Her dad had folded himself into the chair, looking a bit oversized for the tiny table. Alex herself fit neatly and compactly into the booth. She curled her legs next to her and frowned at the menu.

Their waiter, a tall, dark haired kid approached, with a handful of silverware and some napkins. He placed knives and spoons, and gave alex a fork, then frowned at her dad's fork and walked away with it. Alex smiled, and her dad glanced over his shoulder in puzzlement.

"Your fork was dirty," She whispered in a Boston accent. (Your fock was dahty). Her dad chuckled at the old family joke. The kid returned, and placed another fork at her dad's place. As his sleeve pulled up, she noticed purple bruises. She glanced up at his face and noticed more bruises. He kept his eyes down, and hurried away again.

When he came back with two glasses of water, he knelt next to them, and was still tall enough to meet their eyes.

"I'll have the meat loaf special and a coke." Her dad folded his menu and sat back.

The kid met her eyes, and raised his brow. It wasn't a normal waiter look, though. It was questioning, all right, but it wasn't a "what will you have?" but more like a "who are you?" sort of look.

"Ah.. tuna on rye.." She watched him write it down, slowly, almost painfully. He looked up at her again, but this time all his expression said was "and..?"

"Anything else?"

"Coke." She smiled slightly.

"Weird kid," Her dad muttered once he'd walked away. Alex shrugged.

"Hey Bobby! Hurry up, table six!" Someone shouted from the kitchen.

"So you're moving into the city."

"Yeah." Alex played with her fork. "Hopefully." She sighed and looked up at her dad.

"Well, what kind of a job are you thinking of getting?"

"I dunno. I just want a job that .. means something, you know? I want to work with people who challenge me and inspire me." She frowned. "I want something that uses all of my skills. Something creative, something ... something that requires logic." She shook her head. "I guess advertising kind of does that. You have to put together ideas at a fast pace, and sell them.. I could do that. Plus, I'd have to work weird hours... and I'm definitely good at that."

"Well, it's for you to figure out. You're going to have your associate's degree soon."

"Yeah."

The kid popped up behind her dad's shoulder and put two soda's in front of them, then ducked away.

"You could work for the newspaper. Get an internship or something. They're looking for new blood."

"Lovely."

"You could take pictures or write. Who knows. I'm sure they can use you for something."

"I feel like a super hero trying to find a cover job." She sipped her soda.

"The Times is hiring."

"What about the Daily Planet?"

"Ha. Ha. You could always check out city hall. Nothing wrong with government jobs."

"As long as they pay real money, I'm not too picky."

----

He watched her laugh, then ducked his head when she looked up at him. He could feel her eyes following him even as she talked to.. he had to be her dad. Her sweatshirt was zipped halfway, and she wore a blue/gray scoop neck shirt with a little ribbon bow in the center, just above her cleavage. She wore a simple necklace with a bead or something that fit perfectly in that little hollow of her neck. Clavicle. He thought. What an ugly word for such a beautiful place. He watched her smile. Someone put money in the jukebox, and suddenly the Boxtops were playing The Letter.

"Lonely days are gone, I'm a goin' home, my baby just a wrote me a letter..."

He grabbed the tip off a table and crumpled it into the pocket of his apron.

"Bobby! Eyes on the prize, c'mon man!"

He shoved the swinging door with more force than necessary and stormed back into the kitchen.

----

"We gotta get going. See if you can get his attention."

"I'm trying, he won't look at me." Alex peered over her father's shoulder, trying to catch the kid's eye, but he deliberately avoided her gaze.

As he took the order from the table next to them, her dad gently tapped his arm.

"S'cuse me, could we get the check?"

"Uh.. sure.." He held a crumpled check as the people at the other table asked him another question. Finally, he laid it down, and walked away.

"I thought I was gonna have to snatch it from him."

"Mm."

"She wrote me a letter saying she couldn't live without me no more.."

----

"That kid is not cut out to wait tables."

"Eh. Maybe not, but don't be too hard on him. Looks like someone gave him a good beating." Alex shivered in the cold winter air.

"Mm. He looked at everything except you. I couldn't believe it. Definitely not a good waiter."

"Yeah... well, food service isn't for everyone."

----

Bobby pulled his tips out of the apron pocket, and shoved them in the pocket of his jeans. He untied the apron, and balled it up, handing it to his boss.

"What the hell is this?"

"I quit."

"You just fucking started, Goren."

"And now I'm quitting."

"What the hell are you gonna do? I know you got a nut of a mom to look out for."

The kid had the greasy man up against the tile wall of the kitchen, his arm pressed against his neck -- not hard, but firmly enough to scare him.

"Don't talk about my mom."

"What'd she do to you, anyway?" The man overcame his fear and ran his beady eyes over the kid's bruised face.

"I said shut up." But he let him go, anyway.

The little greasy man laughed nervously. "Fine, get outta here. Lousy fuckin' waiter anyway. I was just doing your brother a favor when I hired you. But where you gonna go now, huh?"

The next day, he enlisted. He wanted to challenge himself. He wanted to work with people who inspired him. He wanted all of the things that girl had been talking about, but mostly, he wanted to go to college so that maybe, somehow, he'd be on the same level as her, and she'd look at him as more than a bad waiter. She'd looked at him, though, in that instant he'd made eye contact with her. He could have sworn he answered his question, and asked him one back.

"I'm Alex. Who are you?" It was a challenge. He took it.

Fin. Please R&R.