September 21, 1999

Jack didn't know why he still came to Brooklyn. Jamie had been dead for over a month now, as hard as it was for Jack to believe, leaving him with no ties to the Borough. Still, somehow he felt compelled to go, to catch up on what Jamie had left behind, even if it meant sacrificing his day off and spending the week's tip money on a cab across the bridge and another one back. Christ, I can't afford this, he thought, looking out the window at what must have been the hundredth traffic jam they were stuck in and recounting the folded bills in his pocket. I might have been better off walking. He sighed. It was clear that this trip was definitely not worth this much money. "Hey, man, just let me out here, it's fine," he said, after debating for a moment what his best option would be. The driver, focused on the traffic and the typical bad drivers, shouted an expletive out the window in a foreign language that Jack couldn't understand, but eagerly took the money Jack gave him.

Jack jumped out of the cab to be greeted with not only the familiar sights and smells of Brooklyn, but countless memories of his dead friend. It had been a sad two months for Jack and his friends, losing not only Jamie, but Sara - Jack's girlfriend, and his best friend's sister - and Sam, who had always been so cheerful and caring, the one of the boys that they all thought they'd never lose. Jack had never been able to let on to anyone, except maybe Sara's brother David, how shaken he had been by the deaths, especially when he was the one that everyone turned to when they were upset. He made it a point to keep up appearances for the other boys, to always be in control. After all, they needed a leader, that was decided early on; one person had to be the responsible one and look out for everyone else and their needs. That was where Jack figured into the picture. He was the oldest, he'd been working at the pizza joint the longest, he was the toughest - from an outsider's eyes, someone to look up to. And he had lived up to that, too, hadn't he? Wasn't he the one who lead them all on strike when the delivery boys got pay cuts? Not only that, but he came back after leaving for the bus stop, having told them all that he was finally getting a Greyhound out to Santa Fe like he'd always wanted, saying that he wouldn't abandon his family.

"Shit! Excuse me," a female voice said. While lost in thought, Jack had stopped paying attention so much that he'd walked right into a young woman, and knocked her purse and its contents to the ground.

Nice, Jack. Real nice, he thought, but forced a smile and bent down to the sidewalk. "God, I'm sorry. Let me help you," he said, bending to the ground to help her pick things up. She said a thank you, but he barely heard it - a pack of cigarettes had caught his eye, and his hand lingered over it. "Can I…?" he asked, gesturing to it.

The girl laughed. "Sure. Knock yourself out."

Jack lit a cigarette, put the pack in her purse, and looked up at her for the first time. He stared - there was something oddly familiar about her, but he couldn't place it. "Oh, I know who you are!" he said with a sudden realization. "You were Jamie's girlfriend, right? What's your name again?"

She nodded, chewing on her lower lip. "Aislynn Fitzpatrick. And yes, I was." Her pause made Jack realize what a stupid thing he had said; he apologized as he helped her to her feet. "Don't worry about it. Who're you?"

"Kelly, Jack Kelly," he said. "You're not from Brooklyn, are you? I sorta remember him saying you lived someplace else, and going to visit you, or something-"

"The Bowery. I've lived there for two years; I'm from Boston."

They talked. It was casual, maybe even chilly, but they were still talking. After about an hour one of them suggested lunch, the other agreed, and as the afternoon progressed, they got more and more friendly. It was getting late, and the subject of heading home had just come up, when Jack realized something that he wasn't about to pass up. "Hey, Aislynn," he began, not sure how to bring up what could be a touchy subject.

"Hm?" she said, and glanced up from where her eyes had been on her feet.

"That, uh, key that Jamie had, the one he always wore. Do you know what it was for?" he asked unsurely.

"Nope. He never told me. I guess I'll never know."

Jack sighed. "Well, uh, one of the boys found it in his stuff after…you know. And gave it to me, I'm not sure why. But I thought maybe you might want it. We could take a taxi back to Manhattan, split the fare or something, and I could get it for you…" He looked to see what her response was. She was already hailing a cab.

As he lead Aislynn down the corridor to his apartment, he was beginning to think that perhaps he shouldn't have invited her. It wasn't like he often used the place, which would better be described as a room, anyway; usually he stayed with the rest of the boys. It had often crossed his mind to give the place up, but then since Sara's and Jamie's and Sam's deaths, he found that more frequently than he would have liked, he needed to be alone. Thus, the apartment. Without looking at her, he opened the door and turned on the light. "Let me find it. Feel free to sit down wherever," he said, beginning to look through the small drawers in his bedside table.

Aislynn sat on the edge of the small mattress, leaving her purse on the ground. It wasn't a particularly nice place, but it could have been worse. It was certainly better than the places she would be staying if Jamie hadn't made arrangements with some friends to make sure that she always had a place to stay. Sometimes, when she really thought about him, she thought that he may have actually loved her, as unusual as that would have been at their age. The thought always made her feel a bit guilty. Sure, they had been together for two years, but -

Jack kissed her. The key was resting on the wooden dresser, but Jack was kissing her, and she was kissing him back, and his hands were on her shoulders holding her down on the bed, and his tongue was in her mouth and all of a sudden, she knew what she wanted. Breathlessly, he asked if she could stay, lightening his grip on her, and she nodded. She tried to choke out a 'yes,' but he was taking off her shirt and then his jeans and she knew it just wasn't worth it to talk.