Eric's carefree sprint down the sidewalk was brought to a halt when he came to an interesting looking nightclub. A long line curled around the front of the building from its entrance in the back. The people standing in line were wearing mostly street clothes, so Eric assumed he wouldn't stick out too much. However, some die-hard clubbers were dressed to the nines in glam and disco suits. The woman in front of him in line had the most outrageous go-go boots he'd ever seen. But the place looked fun, and Eric decided to give it a go.

By some miracle of heaven, he got in. The bouncer hardly glanced at him before waving him through. Apparently, the joint wasn't too exclusive.

But Eric wasn't bothered by the "quality" of the crowd. He was just happy to sit on the sidelines and watch the display. Young adults danced in close proximity to each other to the sounds of various disco and pop tunes, infused with the occasional rock song. This club served up a playlist that Hyde would deem "crap," the same kind that Fez would use as an excuse to samba. It was exciting, so say the least. A disco ball threw color on the walls and across the faces of the dancers, currently jamming to ABBA.

He felt like Luke Skywalker when Obi-Wan Kenobi took him to that cantina on Tatooine. A new place, unfamiliar and potentially dangerous. Who knows what kind of adventure he might get into?

Deciding to take a chance, Eric wandered over to the bar, where he shouted over the din to the bartender.

"I'll have a beer!"

The bartender gave him a weird look, and for a minute Eric thought he might ask for proof of age. But the guy shrugged and produced a large glass. Since the teen didn't specify what kind of beer he'd want, he got it from the tap, instead of in a bottle. Inconvenient in a crowded place where people keep bumping into you, but that was the absolute last thing on Eric's mind. He was overjoyed at getting away with such a thing, and carefully navigated his way back to a small table, where he watched the dancing continue.

He was almost finished with his drink when a young girl, who appeared to be his age, came up to him.

"Hi!" she called over the music.

"Hi," the Wisconsinite replied, looking up at her in surprise.

"I'm Heather," she said, sitting without waiting to be invited. She was brunette and petite, and very pretty besides. Leaning in towards him and flirting shamelessly, the girl definitely got Eric's attention.

"Eric," he responded, trying and failing to look cool by taking a too-large swig of his beer.

"You're cute," she said, getting right to the point. "Wanna dance?"

"With you? I mean, sure!" he said, standing and following her to the dance floor. Some pop song he didn't recognize started playing, and it was at that moment that Eric remembered that he didn't really know how to dance.

He decided to dance with Heather the same way he danced with Donna: instead of trying to impress her, he made overly dramatic disco moves in an attempt to make her laugh.

It worked. She giggled and played along, which made him smile. It looked stupid to the outsider, but Eric was having the time of his life.

When the song ended, they drifted back to the bar, where they ordered more drinks and talked over the music for a minute. Eric was just about to ask her to dance again when a lumbering, and very drunk, man came up to them and grabbed Heather by the arm.

"Greg!" she said in surprise.

"Hey man," the guy said, standing over Eric. "You hitting on my girlfriend?"

"What? No!" Eric said frantically, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. "We were just talking."

"Oh really? Then why'd I see you dancing with her?"

"I really don't think you could've called that dancing," Eric quipped in spite of himself.

"You try'na be funny?" Greg slurred angrily.

"No, no-"

"Leave him alone," Heather said, but her boyfriend brushed her off. Several people turned to watch the argument.

"Stay outta this. You shouldn't be dancing with other guys in the first place."

"Maybe if you weren't such a pig-"

Her boyfriend interrupted her by pushing her away, and when Eric tried to intervene, worried for her safety, Greg turned and decked him in the face.

Luckily the jerk's intoxication prevented him from fully hitting the young Forman, but it was enough to knock him backwards.

By this time, the bouncer appeared and took each man by the collar and pulled them to the entrance, where they were promptly tossed into the night.

The drunken Greg stumbled off, forgetting Eric, and Heather stopped to apologize for her boyfriend's actions before turning and following him down the back alley. Eric could hear her chewing him out even after they turned the corner and made it back onto the sidewalk.

"So much for that," Eric muttered as he brushed himself off and wandered back down the street. Still, his spirits weren't completely decimated, and he was secretly satisfied with himself. His first real night in Chicago, and he'd been to the top of the Sears Tower, danced at a nightclub (with a girl!) and got into a fight.

He felt the swelling around his eye and winced. It hurt, but it hadn't even knocked him down, which was an improvement from the last time he'd been punched in the face. He'd have a black eye tomorrow, but it wouldn't last long.

Deciding to call it a night, Eric made his way towards his hotel. He was only a block away from his destination when a rough pair of hands grasped him by the shoulders and yanked him into an alley.

"Hey-" he began, but was cut off by an abrupt command.

"Give me your money!"

"I don't have any money-" Eric began again. It was actually true. Most of his cash was in his hotel room. He'd spent what he had with him at the club.

"You're lying," the guy said, and though Eric couldn't see his face in the darkness of the alley, he did see the small blade the guy had in his hand.

"No really-" he cut himself off when he jumped out of the way of the knife. It missed his torso but nicked his forearm, and while he was distracted by the injury, the mugger took the opportunity to clock Eric in the face.

For the second time that night, Eric took the hit, but this time it knocked him to the ground.

He was stunned, and the collision with the concrete made his vision go fuzzy.

Eric felt the mugger going through his pockets when he heard another masculine voice shout, "Hey!"

The criminal took off, and the sound of his footsteps echoing against the alley walls was the last thing Eric heard before darkness overtook him.

…..

Eric regained consciousness less than an hour later, and found himself staring at a ceiling lit by plain florescent lights. He blinked at the abrupt assault on his eyes and groaned. One of his eyes wouldn't open more than a fraction of the way, and when he tried to touch it he was punished with a jolt of pain.

"You're finally awake!" a voice said gently, though it was coming from his left side -the swollen side- and Eric had to sit up and shift his whole body so that he could put the source in his line of sight.

It was a young woman. She was not much older than him, with voluminous blonde hair and a kind face. Eric couldn't remember when, but he'd seen her somewhere before.

"We were afraid that you weren't going to wake up. I was about ready to take you to the hospital…"

He looked around and found that he was sitting on a mat in the back of a record store. Rows and rows of vinyl greeted him and large posters of various rock stars lined the walls. The front windows revealed that it was still dark out, letting him know that he hadn't been out for too long.

It was then that he remembered this place. He'd passed it multiple times since he'd arrived. With that memory came the recognition of this stranger; she was one half of the couple that had watched him almost get run over by a skateboard- the girl that had told him he looked like Mick Jagger.

"What happened…?"

"You were mugged in the alley next door. Its a good thing my boyfriend found you when he did. We patched you up ok, I think. You were only unconscious for about an hour."

"Which is a shock, considering how swollen your face is," a man's voice could be heard from directly behind Eric. The injured teen tried to turn around, but his head hurt too much and he gave up on the idea. Noticing this, the new speaker walked around to face him.

The man looked to be almost thirty, with a long face, dark hair and thick eyebrows. He must have been taller than Kelso, maybe even taller.

"Richard Thomson. Ritch."

"He owns the store," the girl explained.

"How're you feeling, kid?" Ritch asked.

"Uh…I have a headache…"

The blonde handed him ice wrapped in a small dish-towel, which he gratefully took.

"You're lucky that Aaron found you before that dillhole killed you," his nurse murmured. "He did get your arm though."

Eric looked down at the small bandage wrapped around his arm.

"Hey, is the kid awake?" a friendly male voice called from the back. The guy who had been standing out in front of the store with the blonde girl, presumably her boyfriend, appeared. He was wearing the same outfit he had on earlier in the day, when he'd asked if Eric was "on" something.

"Hey babe," Eric's nurse called softly as the new arrival came to sit on the ground next to her. He looked vaguely like George Harrison around the time of the 'Let it Be' album, just a bit younger, and without much facial hair, though he did have a decent pair of sideburns.

"I'm Aaron," he said kindly, taking a closer look at the swollen eye Eric was sporting. "Jesus, this guy must have hit you with a boxing glove."

"Actually, I already had a black eye, he just made it worse."

"Who gave you the black eye in the first place?" the girl asked.

"Uh, some guy in a club punched me."

"You're must be a popular guy," Ritch said. Eric snorted.

"What can I say, people just can't keep their hands off me."

Ritch smiled. "I like this kid."

"Here," the young woman said, directing him to put the ice back on his face. "I'm Joy, by the way."

"Eric."

"Well, Eric," Aaron said. "Something tells me you're new to Chicago."

"That obvious? I didn't have any money for him to take, anyway..."

"No, every dude gets mugged here at least once. But stumbling through street traffic and getting yourself punched in a nightclub does give it away."

Eric was surprised, but not offended by this man's words. No one in Point Place was this straightforward without being mean.

"Where are you staying?" Ritch asked, leaning against the wall, still standing.

Eric named his hotel, and the older man nodded.

"Not bad," he said. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Seventeen…almost eighteen," Eric said. "What about you guys?"

"I'm nineteen, Aaron's twenty-one, and Ritch is twenty-eight," Joy informed.

The talk went on like this for a long while. Eric, finally having people to talk to, explained why he came to Chicago from Point Place, and how he'd ended up with a black eye from the ever-so-chivaric Greg.

The three were genuinely interested in Eric's story. For one thing, they had all been new to the city at one time or another, and could relate. Also, they found the idea of running away to be exciting in Eric's case, since he seemed so young and innocent in appearance.

Eventually Eric, with the help of his three new friends, attempted to stand. When he was finally on his feet, he sighed.

"Well, I'd better get back. Thanks you guys for your help. Really."

"Not a problem," Aaron said. "Come by any time. We don't work here, but we hang out."

"They're always here," Ritch called playfully from the counter. "Scaring away customers."

"Yeah right, man," Aaron replied, walking Eric to the door. "Think you can get to your hotel alright?"

"Yeah. Thanks again," Eric said before leaving the shop. Like the night before, he was so weary he could barely walk straight. This time, however, he was careful to change out of his clothes, and had to lie down gingerly to keep from irritating his raw face. The dull pain did little to hinder his sleep, though, and he was quickly back into the realm of unconsciousness.

a/n: thank you so much to my reviewers! just so you all know, the names of the chapters are classic rock and pop songs. I figured you already know this, I just wanted to say that those songs are of course not mine; I'm just borrowing the titles! Also, these songs all were released any time from 1977 or before- I only wanted to use songs that Eric would have listened to by this point in time. please keep reviewing, you guys!