Author's Note: So, I had an idea for a sort of… alternate universe. It's pretty much all explained in this first chapter, so… yeah. Just a different situation for our usual crowd. Also, I've named each chapter after a song from the 70's (at least, I think they're from the 70's) a la the show. First up: Rock and a Hard Place by The Rolling Stones.
Disclaimer: Don't own the 70's. Don't own the show. Yeah…

Tarnished Gem
by, Caliente

Chapter 1: Rock and a Hard Place

Jaclyn Burkhart was a spoiled brat. She always had been and made no apologies. In fact, she was prone to saying, "If you were always given everything you'd ever wanted and were as cute as me, wouldn't you be?" No one argued with her. Few could. After all, she attended a posh, private all-girls university filled with people who she didn't even view as peers – how could they? She was rich, a cheerleader, beautiful… a triple threat. The gem of their fair institution. She had the perfect everything. Perfect life, perfect skills and, most importantly, perfect boyfriend.

Michael Kelso was the most amazingly handsome thing to ever grace their campus. From the moment the girls had first set eyes on him, they'd all known he was there for one reason and one reason only: Jackie. He wasn't that suave or debonair or any of the other million and one qualities that they would've expected for their gem but he was incredibly handsome and even more incredibly rich. One of the heirs to some sort of family fortune that was never discussed but simply known. They were perfect for each other in every superficial way possible.

They were the 'it' couple of the Madison elite. Everyone talked about how gorgeous their children would be and the incredible money-making merger their marriage would create for their parents companies. Michael would be given a cushy job within the company, despite his very obvious lack of intelligence, and Jackie would stay home with the children and the nanny. Their whole lives were mapped out for them from the moment they met to the day they said, "I do," and beyond. There was no worry. No question. It just… was.

Of course, not all was as perfect as it appeared. As legendary as Jackie was as a perfectly crafted gem of elegance, she was also famous (or, perhaps, infamous) for her overbearing nature and loud prissy whines. Anybody who questioned her was promptly squashed. And Michael, who was the dimmest of his siblings, also had a famously wandering eye. And hands. And every other body part. Girls could hardly resist him, even with the ninety-five pound ball and chain he carried around most of the times. No, despite all appearances to the contrary, this was not a fairytale marriage-to-be.

But that didn't matter. Like their parents before them, they weren't marrying for love. No, no, that was a privilege restricted to the poor. They were marrying for power, wealth and prestige. The honor of carrying the most handsome/beautiful being on their arm in exchange for everything they could have ever wanted in the world. Jackie would have Michael to provide for her once her father passed on and Michael would have someone of proper background to bear his (legitimate) children. Everyone would win. Everyone would have everything they'd ever dreamed of.

Except love. The one thing that Jaclyn Beulah Burkhart had ever wanted was the only thing she had always been denied. For a time, she'd thought she might love Michael Kelso. She tried to convince herself, repeatedly, that he was everything she'd ever wanted in a man. That he was the one. And that the growing pit in her stomach that grew with each passing day was nothing more than nervous energy about all the planning she would have to do once he popped the question. She'd almost had herself convinced, too.

Until she met her new roommate, Donna Pinciotti. Donna was everything that Jackie had never been or wanted. She was an incredibly tall girl who wore plaid when they weren't required to dress in uniform or according to a specific code and had red hair. Red. As if the rest wasn't bad enough. She didn't wear make-up or care about clothing or matching or style or anything that mattered. She talked about things like feminism (a four-letter word to Jackie) and working and school as if they were actually important to her future. And, more than anything else, she talked about her boyfriend/fiancé, Eric Foreman.

It would be fair to say that Jackie liked her from the start. She didn't know why she liked her but she did. Maybe it was because they were so different. Or maybe it was that, through Donna, she was able to live vicariously. Because Donna had that one thing that Jackie had always wanted – she was completely and totally head-over-heels in love with the skinny string bean of a man who'd been her neighbor since she was six… and, even more incredibly, he loved her back. Not because Donna wasn't attractive, she was actually quite beautiful under the giant lumberjackness, but because Jackie had never seen a couple like that outside of the movies.

At night sometimes, after she and Donna had spoken about Eric and Michael and all their dreams of the future, Jackie would lie in bed and wonder why it was that the princess who had everything would cry herself to sleep over something so silly. So insignificant. Love. Who needed it? She had Michael and he would provide for her and she would give him children and they would live in a large mansion and everything would be just perfect. Just like Daddy had always told her they'd be. So she wouldn't have love – so what? She'd have money and power and lots of pretty things. And that would be enough.

She might've been able to convince a lot of people she believed that. Certainly all of her friends at the university (except maybe Donna) and her family and, hell, even Michael… but she could never convince herself. And it hurt. Every night. That pit in her stomach would contract and her heart would feel so heavy she thought it might break her chest with every beat. She couldn't stop it. Just like she couldn't stop the increasing frequency of her tears or the emptiness she felt whenever she realized that she'd always be alone. She'd have Michael, sure, just like she'd had her parents, but, in the end, she'd still be alone.

So, Jackie ran away. One night, she slipped out of her dorm and to the Lincoln Daddy had bought her and took off into the night. She didn't know where she was going or what she was doing; she just knew she couldn't sit another moment in that room feeling the way she felt. She drove and drove and drove, off into the night. Far, far away. To a place where they wouldn't know her. Where they wouldn't care that she'd just escaped from the university looking like her version of a hobo.

She ran all the way to a bar in Kenosha. She still didn't know what she was doing as she parked the Lincoln in the dingy parking lot and walked into the bar, suddenly very aware of her state of disarray. What would they think of her dressed in a pair of old sweatpants and a t-shirt with Donny Osmond's face on it, her hair a mess and wearing no make-up? One look at the place told her they probably wouldn't think a damn thing. It was a dive and Jackie wrinkled her nose at the dingy walls and chairs. Could she even touch anything in there?

"What can I get you girl?" a rough voice asked her. Jackie jumped slightly to see an old bartender cleaning a glass behind the bar and inspecting her with more attention than she was comfortable with. Not that she wasn't used to attention but this kind was definitely unwanted. It was scrutiny, pure and simple, and no one (except her mother) was allowed to scrutinize her. She was Jaclyn Burkhart! Which, she supposed, was why she was there. "Are you even eighteen yet kid?"

"Of course I am!" Jackie replied almost instantly, hands on her hips with indignation. "Why would I come here if I wasn't?" Actually, the question she should be asking herself was why she'd come there at all. This place was disgusting and she was certain the floor had never been washed. Her slip-ons stuck to it slightly as she walked to the cleanest looking bar stool and sat down. Then she tried to smile, despite the disgustingness of the situation. She was already unhappy enough; she didn't need to do battle with some old, dumb bartender. "Do you want to see my ID?"

"Nah, it's fine," another voice told her. She glanced toward it and saw a younger bartender, closer to her age, with curly hair and sunglasses (Who wore sunglasses inside? And at night? Honestly!) looking her way with a neutral expression. Jackie decided, almost instantly, she didn't like him. And it wasn't just because he seemed to have no visible interest in her – she couldn't exactly blame him given how she looked at the moment. No, it was more the fact that she couldn't really read him. That would irritate her to no end. "So…?"

Jackie blinked. A drink. Right. Normally, she would get something posh, like a glass of really good wine or one of those cute little drinks with umbrellas and fruit and whatnot. Especially when she was dressed cute, then she always ordered drinks to match her outfits. But tonight… tonight wasn't about that. She wasn't even sure what it was about. All she knew was she wanted something un-Jackie-like. Something that would have her mother absolutely horrified. "I'll have a beer."

The curly-haired bartender simply nodded at her request. No questions. No odd looks. No nothing. It was almost enough to make Jackie smile. Almost. "Good choice." Since she didn't specify which kind of beer she wanted, and he doubted she'd know one from another anyway, he poured her a glass from the tap. Simple, easy and not involving much of an effort from him, just the way he liked it. He placed the beer in front of her and she stared at it for a long moment. "Anything else for you?"

She started to say no but stopped herself and thought about the question for a long moment. Biting her lip slightly, her dim eyes regained the smallest fraction of the sparkle they usually held. "Do you… do you have any food?" she asked in a tone that sort of made her seem like a bad child asking for candy when they knew they shouldn't. Jackie didn't care. It was late and she wanted something salty or sweet or… fattening to go with her very first beer. "Like chips or something?"

Quirking an eyebrow at her for a moment, the bartender nodded again. "Sure, we have pork rinds and peanuts." Usually, they only brought that stuff out for football and hockey games but if this chick wanted something to eat, he wasn't gonna stop her. She looked like she could use it. And an adjustment in music tastes. Donny Osmond was just cruel and unusual. Made his skin crawl, just seeing his face, even when it was plastered on an incredibly hot girl. Or maybe that was especially. He pulled a bowl of each out from under the counter and placed them in front of her. "That it?"

Still biting her lip slightly, though now it was more to keep from cringing at the thought of just who might've touched those nuts and rinds before her, she nodded lightly. "For now, yeah." Then, she did something she hardly ever did. "Thanks…" she trailed off when she realized she didn't know the bartender's name. She finished with an, "I appreciate it," instead. Manners, she'd learned long ago, were reserved only for peers and no one less. Certainly not the help. But, at that moment, she just didn't care that much. About anything, really.

About five rounds later, Jackie had decided that she not only loved beer but also peanuts and pork rinds. "They're just so… so… salty!" she was saying, a big grin on her face. "And yummy. I don't know why I don't eat them all the time. I mean, sure, my school has gourmet food but these are sooo much better than that! And you can eat them with your hands! Isn't that amazing? I love eating with my hands. And drinking beer. It's good too. Can you believe I never had any before? S'not lady-like enough, I guess. Hey, can I have another? Please?"

"No," the bartender answered, "I think you've had enough." She'd been rambling on and on for some time and his head was starting to throb. Damn job. Too bad the Fotohut had gone all to hell… there were really about a million other things he'd rather do than listen to Jaclyn Burkhart (she'd told him her name about an hour ago) go on and on and on about being rich and how hard it was and how much she loved beer and salty foods. He handed her another drink – a hangover killer. "Drink this instead."

She did as he asked, chugging about half of it before spitting some of it back into the cup. "Eugh! This tastes like tar! Are you trying to poison me!" Her tone was high pitched and whiny and, amazingly, even more annoying than the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard. Now that was skill. "Oh…" Uh-oh. That didn't feel right. She grabbed her forehead as the room spun all around her. "I don't feel so good…" She looked at him, panicked. "Where – where's the bathroom?" He pointed and she raced off, slamming the door behind her.

After a few minutes of unloading the contents of her stomach, Jackie reemerged with an incredibly embarrassed look on her face. "Um, I'm really sorry," she apologized to the curly-haired bartender. His partner had left about half an hour earlier. "I'm not normally like this. Really. I know you probably hear that a lot but I'm not. I swear." Tonight had been a mistake. A big, big, big mistake. Obviously, the life she had was the one she was meant to have. This just wasn't her. She blushed heavily, avoiding his gaze as she started to pull out her wallet.

"Sit," the bartender instructed in a tone that brokered no argument, placing another glass in front of her. "Drink that," he pointed to it and she managed to identify it as water, "then drink more of this," he pointed to the hangover killer again, "then I might just let you drive home. Maybe." The princess, annoying as she was, wasn't going to die on his watch. Not even she deserved that. And neither would any of the other drivers on the road.

Jackie furrowed her brows but followed his instruction. She wasn't used to anyone bossing her around. Not even her parents tried anymore. It was kind of nice to know that someone cared, even if it wasn't anything more than a job requirement. But, at any rate, she had more important things to worry about at that moment. "Ew, my mouth tastes like butt," she complained as she drank the water. Oh, if her mother could hear her now. Butt. She'd die on the spot, Jackie was sure. "What the hell did you put in that last drink anyway?"

He quirked an eyebrow at the butt comment but let it slide and focused on her question instead. "Secret recipe," was all he'd offer. Even at her annoying prodding, he just shrugged it off. "I just know it works," he continued after a few minutes of whining. "First-hand." So, with a scowl, she drank it as quickly as humanly possible. Because… ew. Seriously. The butt taste, yeah that wasn't going away. Talk about a bummer. What she wouldn't give for a breath mint right then.

"Well…" she started after a long moment, slowly rising and throwing a fifty dollar bill on the counter, "thanks, I guess." It still felt weird, thanking him. But she figured if he hadn't deserved it before, he did now. And Jackie, bitchy as she was, did have the ability to appreciate when someone, even a poor someone, helped her. Standing up slowly, she headed toward door, ignoring the gaze of the few lingering patrons of the dingy little bar.

"No problem," the bartender responded, picking up her bill and smiling a little to himself. See, there was some karma. He'd been nice to the rich priss and now he had a big enough tip to splurge on the new Zeppelin album. "You be safe kid," he added absent-mindedly after her. She probably shouldn't be driving yet but she'd seemed coherent enough as she kept up the constant complaining and, well, he really didn't want her hanging around anymore. Better she go back to wherever she'd come from (and take that damn Donny with her).

"Yeah," she murmured under her breath as she pushed her way into the cold nighttime air. It was very late now and Jackie knew she'd hate herself in the morning because she had class at 8am but none of that mattered. None of anything mattered, really. Her whole life had been planned out for her and she still didn't know how to cope. This bar thing obviously wasn't the answer, since all that'd gotten her was a splitting headache and a nasty taste in her mouth. Running away probably wouldn't prove any better. What would she do without her pretty things? Without people to love and adore her…?

Jackie didn't have any more answers then when she'd left campus but she did have one thing – a new determination. One way or another she was going to figure out how to make her life something that she could stand living again. Maybe living with an Amazon like Donna was rubbing off on her or something. She'd never felt so independent or… or… tough before! If she hadn't already gone out drinking, it would've been a moment to celebrate. But, for now, she'd settle for a few hours in her warm bed and the weekend to look forward to.

She was going home with Donna to meet Eric and their friends. She'd met Mr. and Mrs. Pinciotti a handful of times and her father, who had repeatedly hit on the latter, had warned her as many times that they were not the type of people to associate with. Mr. Pinciotti owned his own business but it was far too small-scale for the likes of them. "And they live in Point Place," her mother had added before heading to the open bar. "Do you know what kinds of people live there?"

It'd been a rhetorical question but, if the Pinciotti family was any indication, they were good people. Maybe a little poor and, yeah, some were probably of the white trash variety but Jackie didn't care. For once in her life, she was going to meet normal people who weren't going to look at her like the perfect gem that needed protection and love and adoring. Not that she minded most of the time – they ought to worship her. But, maybe, just maybe, this would be good too. She had hope, anyway, and that was more than she'd had in a long time…

To be continued…

So, lemme know what you think! Like it, hate it… no, actually, just that first one. ;)