Since I am chronically incapable of relaxation, I've begun a new fic. It's my first attempt at an AU young-Jate story – I was going to write something set on the island, based on my thoughts about how the rest of the season will play out, but I respect the writers too much to mess with the canon, and besides, I think everyone's sick of Juliet…

I'm putting up the first two chapters to get it started. Don't forget to let me know what you think. I'm actually pretty excited about it (well I alternate between excitment and sheer unadulterated hatred, but I was like that with all five of my previous fics) – I've got some pretty interesting (hopefully) stuff planned… I've never been to New York, or the US, so I apologise if you have and the details are a little off...

By the way, I know it's the holidays, so a lot of you guys are probably busy, but if you haven't reviewed my last story, could you please, please do so? I'd like to think that more than four people have opinions on how it turned out...

Chapter 1. Order

As a pre-med, Jack Shephard's life was all about order.

He woke up at exactly five on week mornings, so that he could go over his notes before breakfast, heading down to the dining hall at seven with his best friend and dorm mate, Marc. From eight to six, he attended classes; from six to seven he caught up with his friend over dinner, then went back to his dorm to study until he fell asleep, exhausted.

Occasionally, if he was on top of his workload, he would allow Marc to drag him to a party at one of Columbia's frat houses, but that was as far out of his routine as he ever broke. He didn't have a girlfriend, didn't date; he never went anywhere to meet girls, and even if he did, he just didn't have time.

It didn't exactly make for a thrilling life, but it was the only way he knew how to cope with the rigorous demands of becoming a doctor, like his father, and his father before him.

That was why he was surprised to find himself in Hell's Kitchen, instead of anatomy class, at eight o'clock on a Thursday morning.

Marc had spent the night at some girl's place as usual, calling as Jack was heading down to breakfast to ask if he could borrow some money for the subway. Jack's conscience wouldn't allow him to leave his friend stranded, broke, in a strange neighbourhood, no matter how inconvenient it was, so bypassing the dining hall, he agreed to meet him at the diner across the street.

It took him almost an hour to get there, but despite having such a lengthy head start, Marc wasn't there when he arrived, so he took a booth by the window, flipping idly through the menu while he waited for his friend to show up. Jack had no doubt that he would eventually, he always did, but like most of his former classmates, Marc had regressed in consideration since they'd started college. He was so wrapped up in himself these days that Jack figured he probably didn't even realise how much he was putting him out.

Glancing out the window, scanning the busy New York street, he was pulled from his thoughts by an unfamiliar voice; he looked up to see a girl, maybe a year or two younger than he was, standing over him, watching him impatiently.

Disoriented, he stared back, noting the way her dark curls fell into her eyes, giving her a slightly wild appearance, worlds apart from the preppy girls at Columbia. "Sorry?"

The girl dropped her tight, forced smile, giving him a disgruntled look. "I said, 'Is there anything I can get you?'" She held up her pad so that Jack could see it, making a show of readying her pen. "I have about eight other tables, so you'll excuse me if I don't have time to give you the royal treatment you're probably used to."

"Do I know you?" he asked, thrown by her coldness. He was pretty sure he'd never seen her before in his life, and yet she was acting as if, with one word, he'd somehow managed to insult her.

He could see her sizing him up, taking in his clothes, his watch, his clean-shaven face, and neatly cut hair. "How could you? You obviously don't live around here. Cornell, right? Or Columbia? One of the Ivy League schools?" she said, more as a statement of fact than a question.

"Columbia," he agreed, taken aback by how accurate her guess was. He didn't look that out of place in this neighbourhood, did he?

She screwed up her face in disgust at his answer, her voice disdainful. "I won't keep you then. What do you want?"

Confused by this strange reversal of what their roles should have been, Jack scratched around for an answer. Until that point, he'd been building an appetite, but looking over the menu again, he found that it had vanished.

"Uh, just coffee," he told her finally, afraid to say anything else at the risk of incurring her wrath, watching her walk away towards the counter. Already the conversation seemed surreal; he couldn't wait for Marc to get there so that they could go back to school, where the girls left him alone for the most part.

Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was almost eight thirty; even if Marc had shown up right then, it would be at least ten before they were back on campus. He hadn't missed a lecture yet; he would have to find someone who'd taken detailed notes, otherwise he'd have to fill in the blanks himself at the library, which was an extra few hours of study he didn't need. He was drowning as it was.

Checking the street again, seeing no sign of his friend, he began to drum his fingers impatiently on the tabletop, dropping his hand into his lap when he saw the waitress returning. He didn't want her to take the action personally, like he knew she would; she obviously had a chip on her shoulder about something. All he could think was that she hated him because he was at college, while she was stuck in a diner in Hell's Kitchen, working for minimum wage, which really wasn't his fault.

Stopping by his table, she set the mug down carefully in front of him, all traces of her attitude gone as she offered him a placating smile. "Here's your coffee."

Looking back at the kitchen, she lowered her voice, her eyes pleading as she added, "I'm sorry if I was a little rude before, I just… I'm just having a bad day." She let out a bitter laugh. "A bad month, actually. Don't tell anyone, okay? I need this job."

Her fear of what he might do was so genuine that Jack felt a wave of involuntary sympathy. His parents had always covered his expenses, including his tuition; he couldn't imagine what it was like to work such a menial job. "Okay," he agreed, his eyes going to the nametag on the front of her dress, "Leah."

She glanced down at her badge, as if unsure where he'd gotten the name from, a shy smile creeping over her face when she looked up at him again. "Thanks."