Author's Note: And here is the next chapter of LOST. I wasn't going to write this today because (gasp) the last chapter only received eight reviews. Then I thought that that wasn't really fair to the eight people who did review, so I decided to do it. So, despite it still being NaNoWriMo, I will update every Wednesday but, if a chapter does get ten reviews by the weekend, I'll do another chapter on Saturday/Sunday. How's that sound? Yeah, I'm so good to you all.

Well, this chapter is, again, an example at how I will take creative license with the story. And, for that reason, I think that this chapter (at least the beginning) is my favorite one so far. It's weird but I like it. I hope you guys do, too. Woot!

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor stake any claim, to any of the original characters shamelessly borrowed from Newsies – they are the property of Disney, © 1992. Any other character, when noted, is property of their respective owner and will be noted in the disclaimer. The core idea to this story – the adaptation of the Broadway musical, RENT, is © 1996 to Jonathan Larson.

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How can you connect in an age where strangers, landlords, lovers, your own blood cells betray?
Because one can never be sure if such a moment could be the last...

November 15, 2006

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And to top it all off, I'm with you…

--

"Good morning, Jack. It's time to rise and shine."

Sarah?

Jack heard the familiar female voice and sluggishly opened his eyes. He had made sure to go to sleep early the night before so as to get the damn holiday over with but, by sleeping for so long, he was now overtired. And possibly hearing things…

The old comforter that he had pulled over his head the night before was still there so, when he opened his brown eyes, all he saw was "My Little Pony", faded with age. He liked to use Sarah's old blanket; it still smelled like her to him.

But, wait. Sarah was talking to him. Wasn't she? Wasn't that what had woken him up?

He fought to remove the blanket from his head. His limbs were heavy and were no use to him as he wrestled with Minty and her friends.

Finally, just when Jack thought that Butterscotch was going to win, his head emerged out from under the blanket. He looked around eagerly. He was still on his couch, where he had passed out the night before, so he had a clear view into the kitchen and what he saw surprised the hell out of him.

Sarah was standing there, wearing that silly green 'Kiss the Cook' apron she liked to wear when she cooked breakfast on Sundays. Now, Jack knew it was a Sunday, so that was not what was weird – it was the fact that Sarah was standing there that Sunday.

"Sarah?" he asked, just to make sure. Not that he would ever mistake her for someone else. Her long brown hair, her bright eyes, her charming smile… there was no doubt about it. This was Sarah.

"Of course it's me, silly. Look at you, sleeping late like this. You're going to miss your breakfast," Sarah said. The way she spoke to Jack was as if he was a child who needed to be told what to do. She shook her head playfully at him. "Come now. It's time to get out of bed, Jack."

Jack was still confused but he did what Sarah said. He climbed off of the couch and set the crumpled comforter over its arm. However, he did not walk towards the kitchen just yet. "Sarah? Aren't you dead? I mean, I went to the funeral myself. I saw you. You killed yourself… didn't you?"

Right before waking up, Jack knew that Sarah was dead, had been dead for two years now. But, standing there, facing off with the girl, it was a lot harder for him to accept that.

Sarah widened her eyes before laughing girlishly. "What a dream you must have been having, Jack. Maybe it's a good thing that I woke you up when I did. Me? Commit suicide? How silly," she said, her voice rising in pitch to match the girly way in which she had laughed. It was not the normal way that Sarah spoke but, at that moment, Jack did not care; he was just relieved that Sarah was still there.

"A dream?" Jack echoed. "Yeah, of course. That must be right." He cracked a smile, almost laughing at himself. "I don't know where that came from but, I tell you, it was sure realistic. I remember David telling me about your death, I remember your mother crying… I even remember the note. Wow. That must have been one hell of a dream."

He pulled on the oversized grey sweatpants he was wearing, making sure not to trip, as he made his way over to the kitchen. Sarah had prepared him her special Sunday breakfast and, as always, she had covered it with a lid so that the meal would be a surprise.

"Go take your seat at the table, Jack," she instructed as she picked up the plate and led the way over to the small oval table by the (not broken) window.

Something seemed wrong about this to Jack – and not just the fact that Sarah was standing there before him – but he did not say anything. Instead, he pulled one of the two seats away from the table and sat down.

Sarah waited until he was seated before setting the plate before him. But, when Jack reached a hand out to remove the lid, she smacked it away.

"Wait a moment, Jack. We need to put your bib on. We know how messy of an eater you are," she said, grinning coyly, as she gestured to the white shirt he was wearing. Where it had been white when he went to bed (as far as he could remember), it was currently stained with something crunchy and reddish brown. The sight reminded him of blood and his stomach turned.

It is blood…

Sarah walked behind him and guided his arms upward. He had no idea as to what she was doing but his mind was so preoccupied with other matters, he let her do it. Once his arms were lifted up over his head, she leaned down and grabbed the hem of his undershirt. Without a word, she lifted the dirty shirt up off of his head, leaving him naked from the waist up.

Jack thought it was quite strange that Sarah felt the need to remove his shirt before putting a bib on – he thought it was quite strange that Sarah wanted him to wear a bib – but he let her go on with it. It was just so good to have her there with him.

From out of nowhere, Sarah produced a red (with black and white print) bandana. She folded it into a triangle before twisted the ends of it into coils; she then tied the coils around Jack's neck. "There. Your bib. Now you can eat, my love," Sarah announced as she lifted the lid up off of the plate with a flourish.

Jack licked his lips in anticipation of what Sarah had prepared for him. But, when he saw what she had done, he lost any and all appetite he had had: she had taken ten AZT pills and had arranged them on the plate in the form of a smiley face: two for the eyes, one for the nose and seven for a wide grin.

He looked from the plate to Sarah and back to the plate. "What is this?"

As soon as she had lifted the lid off of his 'breakfast', Sarah had begun to remove her green apron. It was off and scrunched up in her hand; she playfully smacked Jack in the head with the cloth. "Your breakfast, of course. Go on. Eat up."

"How?"

Sarah tossed the apron down onto the table and added the lid on top of it. She mimed the gesture of eating as she explained how to do so, slowly. "Simple. Open your mouth, put in the food and chew." She took a moment to make an over exaggerated chewing gesture before smiling, and wiping her hands clean of imaginary dirt. "Now, I'm sorry, honey, but I have to be going. If I don't hurry up now, I might miss my bus."

Bus… Sarah… Bus…

No. Not again.

Jack pushed his chair away from the table as he watched Sarah flounce out of the apartment. "Sarah. Wait for me," he called as he got up and hurried after her. He stumbled on one of the long pant legs and cursed under his breath as she got a head start. She was at least a flight of stairs ahead of him by the time he finally made it out of the apartment. Nevertheless, he continued to run after her. "Sarah. Don't go near that bus!"

The only answer he got was another high-pitched giggle.

It seemed to take forever but, when he finally emerged onto the street, he quickly turned his head to the left, first, and then the right before spying Sarah. She was standing on a street corner at the end of the block, waiting. "Sarah!"

She did not turn around. He knew it was her though – her short stature, her long brown hair, the very way she stood there. There was no doubt about it.

He hiked up the waist of his pants as he ran, barefoot, towards her. He could hear the morning bus barreling down the street and knew it would only be a matter of seconds before Sarah did it again, before she walked right in front of an unsuspecting bus driver.

"Sarah!" he called, his voice strangling as he tried with all his might to make it to her. Somewhere, deep within him, he knew he would never make it. He had not saved her the first time; he would not do it again.

And then it happened. A few feet away from the corner, he tripped. His bare foot snagged on the oversized leg of his sweatpants and he tripped. He fell forward, calling out one word: "No!"

As he watched with unbelieving eyes, she took a step off of the curb and paused. The bus was only a block away now. It was time.

She took another step forward and turned around to face Jack. But, to his surprise, when she faced him, he saw this it was not Sarah who was standing there – it was Jessica. She lifted her petite hand, with that minor burn from her candle, and waved at him. "Jack," she whispered, though he did not hear her whisper over the roar of the bus.

He tried to get to his feet, he really did. But he could not. He reached an arm to her instead, disregarding the fact that there was at least seven feet separating them. "No, don't!"

She smiled and shook her head.

And then, right before his eyes, she jumped backwards – just as the bus ran by.

BAM!

Jack, who had been sleeping – and actually having one hell of a dream then – jumped up at the loud sound. The plain white afghan he had been using as a blanket (and not the "My Little Pony" one that he kept folded in a trunk along with most of Sarah's other possessions) flew up with him and landed at the edge of the couch as Jack sat up, his heart pounding. He had been stolen so abruptly from his sleep that he felt as if he was having a heart attack.

"Wha—what the hell was that?" he asked, quite incoherently, as he tried to put his eyes back into his head and stop his heart from beating triple time.

He turned his head to his right and saw David standing there with a smug expression on his face – and his hands suspiciously behind his back. "Dave, what just happened?"

David tried to look innocent but there was something about the slant of his grin that belied the wideness of his blue eyes. He brought his hands before him, showing Jack exactly what it was that had made the loud noise that had woken him up: a metal pot and a giant metal spoon. He could not help himself and he banged the two of them together again.

BAM!

Now that Jack heard it while he was awake, it sounded much more like the loud banging of a pot and a spoon but, in the middle of such a strange dream, it really had sounded like a bus running into a girl. He shivered and climbed out of the couch. "You know, Dave, I'd watch out if I was you. I'm gonna have to get you back for that."

David laughed as he turned his back on Jack and walked into the kitchen. He bent down and put the pot back into the cabinet where he kept all of the kitchen equipment; he just threw the spoon into the sink. "I don't think so, Jack," he said, turning around and resting his hands behind him on the counter. "In fact, I think that was only fair. Let's not forget the whole 'write-on-Dave-with-a-permanent-marker' thing from yesterday."

"Well, you should never have slept on my couch," Jack tossed back as he reached for the afghan and began to fold it up. Now that David had woken him up in such a manner, he did not think that he would be able to fall back asleep anytime soon. As he leaned forward to bring the two ends of the wide afghan together, he saw that he was wearing the same oversized grey sweatpants that he had been wearing in his dream. He made a mental note to roll them up before bed in the future.

"Alright. I'll give you that one. We all know about your secret love affair with the damn couch, so I'll let that slide. But how about telling Blink about Annie and me? Was that necessary?"

Jack thought about it for a second before nodding. "Actually, yes. It was. You couldn't expect me to keep something like that to myself, could you?"

David just glared at him. He did not even answer him.

"Fine. I won't get you back for the pot banging thing. We're even now. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Good," Jack said as he tossed the folded afghan onto the edge of the couch. He subconsciously pulled at the waist of his pants before joining David in the kitchen. It was only then that he noticed that David was fully dressed, wearing his shoes, already in his coat and, unless Jack's senses were still dulled from sleep and he was imagining this, too, David was wearing that musty cologne that Jack hated but Twister adored.

Jack cocked his head to the side as he reached for the coffee percolator. To get over the dream he had just had, he was going to need a gallon of coffee. He might as well start brewing it now. "Dave? What's with the get up? You heading out on me or something?"

David glanced down at his clothes before shrugging. "It is almost eleven thirty, Jack. I promised Annie that I would meet her down at the lot today at noon and help her with her equipment. Remember?"

Vaguely, that seemed to ring a bell with him. Besides, Jack should have known that it had something to do with Twister. For who else would Dave get all cleaned up and wear cologne for? Even though it had been two months since she dumped him, David still had it bad for her – even if he did not admit it.

Jack debated teasing David about his lingering affection for his ex-girlfriend but decided against it. David, after all, had more than enough ammunition with which to sling at Jack – especially after that girl from downstairs gave that note to Mush to deliver to him. He was just glad that David had decided to get revenge on him for his antics on Christmas by banging a pot by his ear. If David had wanted to be cruel, he could have always paid a visit to Jessica.

He shrugged, letting the soothing sounds of the dripping coffee occupy him instead of taunting David. "Have fun… sucker." Alright, he could not keep it all inside.

David, however, chose to ignore that. He knew exactly how Jack viewed his current relationship with Annie and he did not want to get into it with him now. Besides, if he replied to Jack's comment, he would be late in meeting with Annie.

And he could not have that.

--

David lifted the long sleeve of his brown overcoat so that his watch was visible. The digital screen told him that it was 11:59 am, that he had made it just outside the lot with only a minute to spare.

He did not see anyone outside on the lot – well, he saw plenty of them, all homeless, but as they were not Annie, it did not matter – but he figured that, since it was so cold outside, Annie would be working in the small performance building that took up much of the lot.

Always one to be on time, David waited until his watch beeped that it was 12 o'clock noon before walking over to the building and opening the door.

He had been inside of this building before and was always surprised at how large it seemed from the inside. It was an open space, with an open floor, with a makeshift stage all the way at the end.

There was one other person in the room when he entered the side door – and it was not Annie. As soon as he entered, the person, who was hunched over something on the stage, lifted her head. There was a smile on her caramel-skinned face but, once she saw who had walked into the room, the smile faded.

"I told her not to call you," was the greeting that David received.

Not that David was not feeling the same way at finding Kara Allen inside the room. When Annie had called him on Christmas, and asked him to help out with her equipment, he had assumed that she would be there when he arrived.

She was not. Her girlfriend was. The same girlfriend that she had dumped him for.

Awkward…

David wanted to retort to Kara's comment. He wanted to say nasty things to her and berate her for stealing his girlfriend. But he could not. Instead, he faked a smile. "Well, I'm here anyway. Is there anything I can do?"

Kara brushed her long dark hair out of her face as she bent back down over the large black box that was taken up much of the stage's space: the sound system. She gave it a once over before turning back to David. "Maybe. You know how to work one of these things?"

She was pointing at the box, with her other hand resting on her hip. She did not look happy to have to ask him for anything; but, then again, she did not look happy to be dealing the sound system either. It was as if it was a choice between the better of two evils: David or the sound system. She chose David.

David nodded. "Sure. It's simple."

"Then what are you doing over there?" Kara shot back, annoyed at herself for having to ask him for help.

"Alright then," David mumbled under his breath as he walked across the empty room and made his way to the stage. Once he got beside Kara, he removed his overcoat and placed it on the floor. "So, what's the problem with it?"

Kara threw her hands up in the air. "I have no clue. I press the on switch, it doesn't work. I plug it in, I press the buttons, nothing. I got a spark the other day and that was it. This piece of shit just doesn't want to start."

"Did you ask Annie – Twister – for help?" David could not help himself. He had to ask.

Kara snorted. "I told her about the problem, if that's what you want to know. What did she do? She called your skinny white ass for help. Without telling me, I might add. You know, after we spent Christmas together, she went out this morning but promised me that she'd meet me here after she got some errands taken care of. But, as you can see, she's not here. And, to top it all off, I'm with you."

"Hey, I wasn't expecting to find you here. Annie said to meet her here at noon. I'm here, she's not. But, I'm not surprised. That's just Annie. You learn to get used to it after awhile."

"Not me. I don't put up with that nonsense." Kara was lying, lying through her teeth, but there was no reason why David needed to know that.

But he did. He chuckled as he walked behind the sound system and started to fiddle with the wires and buttons. He did not even need to look down as he worked with the massive black box. He kept his blue eyes on Kara's dark brown ones. "Why don't you pull the other leg while you're at it?"

Kara crossed her arms over her considerable sized chest. "What's that supposed to mean, Davey?"

David tensed at that name but ignored it. "I think you know, Kara. I mean, why else are you here, without Annie?"

"Twister is busy. She has her performance tomorrow and there's a lot for her to do. Besides, she said she'll be down here very soon."

David shook his head. "You don't have to try to convince me. I know what Annie is like. Trust me. I lived with that woman for years, so I know what she's like. She won't do anything for herself unless she can help it. Why do you think she has us? She doesn't love us. She doesn't love anyone."

David stood up, his voice becoming clearer as he spoke. Despite the shocked expression on Kara's face, David continued. He had been holding all of this in for quite some time. It felt good to be letting this out – especially to the girl who had freed him from Annie.

"Do you know how many times she cheated on me? I was her fall back, that was all. She knew I would do anything for her. Shit, I would still do anything for her," he added, gesturing at the box, "and she knows it. Tell me, honestly, would you do anything for her?"

Kara could not believe what David was saying. It only occurred to her that he had finished his rant with a question when he stared at her expectantly, awaiting her answer. She shook her head. "Yeah, of course, but that's because I love her—"

She did not get to finish her statement. David cut her off with a knowing look. "Does she call you 'pookie' yet?"

"Wha—no. I may call Twister by her nickname but I don't need one. Especially not one so infantile as 'pookie'," Kara replied, adopting a haughty tone. She was trying not to show how much David had rattled her with his words. "Listen. This conversation is too weird for me."

"Fucking weird," David agreed with a smirk, most unlike him. He was feeling relieved and the expression told Kara that.

Kara waved her hand in an effort to clear the air. "Yeah, anyway. You came down her to fix the sound system. Why don't you do that?"

David gestured to the box. "I did already. Check it out."

"Oh." Kara lowered her defiant glare and walked around David so that she was behind the box. She flipped the on switch and was surprised to see that the display had lit up. "Lucky shot," she mumbled.

David just smiled. He picked up his overcoat, slung it over his arm, and stepped off of the stage. He could tell that Kara was staring daggers at his back but he did not care. He made it all the way to the door before spinning around. He blew Kara a kiss – she flinched – and waved. "Tell Annie I said hi."

And, with that, he left. For once, David Jacobs had gotten the last word. It felt good, too.