Alrighty, so here's Chapter 7! I first planned it to be a bit longer than it is, but I just couldn't write anymore, and thought that where I ended the chapter was a good spot. Plus, I got the main point across. I think this is going to be the last chapter for that one day, so yay! Let the fun COMMENCE! Haha.

So, read and tell me what you think! Feedback is VERY helpful, let me tell you. And it's always lovely getting reviews. :) So...just read and tell me what you think.

Note - All things belong to Jonathan Larson. Except Annalise. She's only a fragment of my creative imagination.

OH! And before I forget to mention this - I think I've finally settled on the idea of this being very? Pre-Rent, and sliiiiiiightly AU, since I'm not really going with the real story line. But canon is just like guidelines anyway, right?... XP

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"I don't believe it!" Mark shouted while searching through the blue baby bag, digging around. He had already checked every pocket thoroughly and still couldn't find what he was looking for. Sighing angrily, he grabbed the bag's sides and lifted it above the table. He tipped the bag over, dumping the contents onto the table. Brow furrowed, he searched through the small pile of random articles of clothing, diapers and other various items. He held up two devices that looked like speakers. Cocking an eyebrow, he carefully put them to the side.

'She packed these?' he thought. 'Of all the things you absolutely need in order to take care of a baby, she packed baby monitors? Great, but not what I need.'

"What?" Roger shouted back. He was sitting on the couch, trying to calm down Annalise. After him and Mark came back from the store, Annalise had been rather quiet, observing her new surroundings, and even taking a good nap. Around noon, she started to become fussy, which formed into another full-blown cry, wailing her bright, little blue eyes out. Thinking back, Mark realized it had been hours since Annalise had arrived, and she was yet to be fed.

Mark sighed angrily again, and gave up searching though the bag's contents. He closed his eyes and rubbed them, resting a hand on his hip.

"That bitch A) didn't pack a single Goddamn hat for her!" Mark counted off his fingers. Roger rolled his eyes and shook his head. Ever since they'd gotten back from the store, Mark hadn't stopped complaining about how she really needed a hat since the cold outside wasn't going to let up anytime soon.

"What?" Mark asked, seeing Roger shake his head.

"Oh, nothing. Go on." Roger replied, turning his attention back to Annalise, who was still crying.

"I mean, come on! She's only two fucking weeks old! It's below freezing outside – what if she gets sick?!" he shouted his eyes wide with anger. "AND! There aren't even any mittens or gloves! She could get frostbite! What was she thinking?!" he took a deep breath, and continued.

"And B), she also didn't pack any bottles or food for her!" he exclaimed. He was now sitting in front of Annalise with Roger, his face as red as his screaming daughter's.

He closed his eyes and leaned his elbows on his knees, rubbing his temples.

"She didn't pack any food?" Roger asked, not believing his friend.

"Nope."

There was a pause where Roger looked at Mark disbelievingly.

"Nothing?!"

"Nothing." Mark confirmed. "No food. No Bottles. No milk-stuff...Nothing."

There was another pause where both men looked at Annalise.

"Well, shit." Roger concluded.

Mark sighed again and got up, and headed towards the door. Confused, Roger followed him with his eyes.

"You going out?" he asked while Mark began to put his heavy, plaid coat on.

"Well, yeah. I've got to get her food. I can't let her starve!" Mark replied, looping his worn scarf around his neck several times. He wasn't kidding when he said it was below freezing outside – the thermometer that was hooked to the side of the kitchen-area window read the temperature to be at 14°ferenheit. Putting on his gloves, he turned to Roger.

"I'll be right back, alright?" Roger nodded, acknowledging Mark's comment.

Mark slid open the door and stepped out into the drafty hallway. Shivering, he quickly slid the door shut, in a sad attempt to conserve what precious heat they were lucky enough to be getting.

Quickly, he briskly made his way down the stairs and through the front door, and started his trek down the slushy, icy street towards the store.


When Mark arrived at the store, he stopped outside it, looking up at the bright, fluorescent letters, a few of them blinking incessantly. 'These trips to the store are going to be getting more and more frequent now, huh?' he thought, sighing. 'I really need to get a job now. There's no way we'll survive if I don't get one...' he entered the store, still lost in thought, and made his way over to the baby section for the second time that day.

When he turned the corner, he found a woman standing there, comparing different diaper brands. She was about the same height as him, maybe shorter, and African-American, with long, skinny braids which were pulled neatly back into a pony tail. She was clad in gray dress pants, black, shiny leather clogs, and a black, feminine trench coat which was bound closely to her body. Sitting next to her was a baby carrier, very similar to the one Annalise arrived in, only the baby resting in this one was much larger.

When Mark stepped into the aisle, the woman looked up and looked at Mark. She smiled, and went back to looking at diapers. Mark imitated her smile and quickly walked over to the shelf opposite the diapers.

When he looked up at the different foods on the shelves, he became even more perplexed than he was while looking for diapers. So what could a two-week old eat, exactly? He knew most babies were breastfed, but seeing as it was Mark and Roger toughing it out alone, that was completely out of the question. Thinking that, he stepped over to look at the bottles. There were all different sized ones.

'Now what?' he thought, grabbing two different sized bottles. Quietly, he quickly looked over his shoulder to see if the woman was still there. She was. He wanted to ask her for help – he really had no idea about babies whatsoever. But on the other hand, he didn't want to look like a terrible, irresponsible father. Grabbing a third bottle from the shelf, he looked at all three of them, still no idea which one to buy.

"Shit." he sighed quietly, looking back up at the large variety of bottles. He pulled down a few more and began comparing them.

"Excuse me," he heard from behind him. Surprised, he looked over his shoulder to see who was talking to him. When he saw it was the same woman, he turned around.

"Oh," he said quietly. "I – I'm sorry. I didn't mean to uh...to swear..." he said nervously, thinking she was scolding him for cursing under his breath.

"Oh! No, it's not that...it's just, you look like you're having some trouble, and I was wondering if...you needed any help?" she said, nodding at the many bottles in his hand.

Not expecting her to say that, Mark just looked at her for a second.

"Oh...uh, yeah...yeah. I don't know which...to uh...which bottle...to get." he said quickly, fumbling over the bottles, showing her each one as he did.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Well, how old is your baby?" she asked.

Mark looked up at her. 'Why does it matter how old she is?' he thought.

"She's two weeks old." he answered slowly, looking at her questioningly.

She smirked and laughed. "Ah, so you're a new daddy? Figures..." she chuckled, taking the bottles out of his hands. Brow furrowed, Mark looked from her, to the bottles, and back up to her.

"Newborns," she began, looking at the shelf of bottles, "should be fed every one and a half to three hours if breastfed." she looked up at Mark. "Is your wife breastfeeding your baby?" she asked.

Not sure what to say, Mark stumbled to find the right words.

"Oh, no...I...no, she..." he said, shaking his head, eyes wide. There was an awkward pause.

"So you're bottle-feeding the baby?" he asked.

'I guess, since neither Roger nor I have breasts...' he thought. "Um...yeah." he said, looking up at her.

"Okay...well, bottle-fed babies at two weeks old should be fed about two to three ounces of formula," she said, reaching over and taking a can off the shelf, "every two to four hours." she looked up and found a small bottle and handed it and the formula over to Mark, who looked at it, perplexed.

"Uh...thanks." Mark said, looking up from the formula and bottle to the woman.

"No problem." she smiled. "Oh! But if this is your only bottle, you should get at least one more. You know, so you can always have at least one clean one..." she grabbed another bottle off the shelf and handed it to him.

"Right." he said, taking it from her. "That would be a good idea..." he smiled slightly. There was an awkward moment where Mark just looked around, not quite wanting to leave just yet. There were so many questions he wanted to ask her about taking care of a baby. 'How often do you need to change diapers? Can I feed her jars of baby food? When do they start talking? When do they learn how to walk? Potty-training? Or how about doctor's, or shopping for clothes?'

"I'm Mark, by the way. Mark Cohen." he said, breaking the silence by offering his hand to the woman. She smiled and took it.

"Joanne Jefferson, nice to meet you, Mark." she smiled, shaking his hand.

"You too...so, how old is your son?" he asked, trying to start a conversation. He nodded down at the infant in the baby carrier. Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed.

"Oh...Oh! No! No, he's not my son! No, he's my nephew..." she blurted out quickly.

"Oh," Mark said. He could feel his while face blush; he felt stupid for assuming it was her son. But then again, she assumed he was married just because he had a child.

"Yeah, I'm just babysitting him for my brother...No. I mean, I'm just..." she began.

"Ah,"

"I mean, I'm a lesbian!..."

"Oh!" Mark said, surprised at her random confession.

"I mean, not that lesbians can't give birth or anything! I just..."

"Oh, No...Yeah...No...Yeah. Yeah." Brow furrowed, he just nodded and agreed with her. 'This is awkward...' he thought.

"Yeah...so..." she concluded, blushing from here to tomorrow, avoiding Mark's eyes.

"So...uh...you know a lot about babies, Joanne, was it?" he asked, trying to switch topics to a more useful and helpful one.

"Yeah," she answered, glad to get off-topic. "Yeah, I'm always babysitting little Jared here..." she said, looking down at her nephew.

"Nice, nice..." Mark said, picking at the price sticker on the jar of formula. "So, uh, I know this may sound weird, but, are you doing anything today?" he asked, biting his lip. He had come up with a brilliant idea, and he needed as much help as he could get.

"Umm...no, why?" she asked, thoroughly confused.

"Uh...well, I was just wondering if you could come back to my apartment with me..." upon seeing her shocked and confused face, he realized what he said, and held his free hand up."Oh, no! Not like tha – !"

"Not that that doesn't sound lovely and all, but I told you, I'm a lesbian, and – " she interrupted his explanation, backing away slightly.

"What? No!" he interrupted her, smacking his free hand to his forehead. "Not like that! I was just wondering if you could show me how to take care of a baby!" he stepped back a bit too, to show her he meant no harm to her.

She just stared at him.

"I have no idea what I'm doing..." he pleaded, holding up the can and bottles slightly."Please. Just for a little bit."

She looked at him and to the items in his hand, and back up to his face, contemplating.

"Nothing will happen, I promise you..." he said, really hoping she'd agree.

She looked at him and bit her lip. Mark tried to give her his most innocent look. Finally, after a few minutes she sighed.

"Fine, but nothing had better happen, or so help me God, I will castrate you and put you in jail for the rest of your life. I am a very good lawyer, and I see sick cases like this all the time, and I am not afraid to go through that process. You got that?" she asked in a low, menacing voice, backing Mark up into the shelf of baby foods. Mark's head had shrunk into his shoulders, and he was trying to back up as much as humanly possible into the shelf. His bright, blue eyes wide with fear of the threat, he nodded his head in agreement, his face just inches from Joanne's.

"Okay then." she said in the same low voice, smiling and backing away from Mark. "Let's go check out, and head over to your place. I'll show you how to feed your baby!" she said, walking towards the registers.

Mark swallowed. "'Kay!" his voice cracked, and dragged himself away from his position on the shelf to follow Joanne to the front to pay.


"So, not trying to be nosy or anything, but why isn't your wife breastfeeding your baby?" Joanne asked as she and Mark walked to the loft. They had gone from the store to her brother's house to drop off Jared, and were now on their way to the loft.

Mark was quiet for a minute, feeling slightly awkward. He could feel her dark, brown eyes looking at him.

Mark cleared his throat. "Um...Annalise's – my daughter," he added in when he saw Joanne's confused face, "mother and I aren't married."

"Oh...I see. You two are dating – "

"We aren't dating, either..." he sighed."It was uh...a very drunken one night stand, actually." he said quietly, feeling ashamed. Joanne raised her eyebrows when she heard Mark tell the truth about how his baby came to be.

"Oh," she said, nodding in understanding, "I see...She was a mistake..."

Mark stopped walking, and looked at Joanne. "No." he said, shaking his head. Joanne stopped and looked back at him. "What?" she asked, confused.

"Annalise...wasn't a mistake, because you regret making mistakes. I don't regret having her at all." he said, looking her in the eye. "Maybe in one way she's a mistake, in that you learn from your mistakes, and I hope to learn a lot from her. But I definitely don't regret having her." he admitted softly.

"So what is she, then?" she asked quietly.

Mark pondered her question for a minute.

"Well," he continued, "I guess if anything she could be considered an accident." he said. Joanne looked at him questioningly.

"...Aren't those the same thing?" she asked.

"Mmm...No." Mark answered, continuing to walk towards the loft. "You see, you always regret mistakes. But accidents, you just have to cope with, and deal with it day to day." he smiled. "You've got to learn to accept what happened, and move on." He thought about what he had just said for a moment, and decided that it was true with other things going on in his life. He'd have to tell Roger that sometime.

Joanne looked over and smiled at Mark. "You're a wise man, Mark Cohen."

Mark smirked and laughed. "Come on. We're almost there." He couldn't wait to introduce her to Roger and Annalise. He had a feeling he'd be seeing more of Joanne as time went on.


So, there it is, Chapter 7. I've had Mark's little speech thing at the very end planned out for quite some time now (now that I think about it, I think I've had that part planned in my head since April or so, but I couldn't think of where to use it.) and this just seemed like the perfect time to use it! Hehe.

What did you think? Did I surprise anyone with making the woman Joanne? I hope so...since it's Pre-Rent, I figured she'd have long hair. :) Oh, and I know about their swearing. Joanne's going to crack some skulls about their foul mouths, trust me. XD Haha.

Anywho, review and tell me what ya think. Feedback is always much appreciated!

-EB91