One Week

Part One

Disclaimer: All credit belongs to the late Jonathan Larson. Thank you so much for creating such a wonderful production as RENT for us to enjoy.

Summary: Nineteen years after her birth, a familiar face returns to seek some answers from Mark.

A/N: Before I begin, I'm Mari and this is the first story I've ever posted under here, although not the first story I've written for this fandom. I've seen RENT on Broadway twice previously, and I'm going to see it a third time next month. It gets kind of addicting after awhile doesn't it? =) I hope you all enjoy, and comments would be wonderful. This is set half in the future (2017) and half in the past. 3

*//

March 2017

"Jay, you're crazy. You can't haul your ass to New York City, especially by yourself—"

Nineteen year old Jaylynn Davis stood in the middle of her apartment, silently fuming as she threw the remainder of her clothes into her large, overstuffed duffel bag.

"I'm going Michelle. I have to. I owe it to myself before I, you know…" Jaylynn trailed off, twisting a strand of her highlighted hair around her finger.

"Die?" a voice groaned from the doorway, kicking in a large cardboard box.

"Chris, you're such a shithead. That's really compassionate!" Michelle shouted. She walked over and punched Chris on the shoulder, emitting a glare from an already pissed off Jaylynn.

"He's right, you know," Jaylynn argued, throwing her duffel bag by the doorway.

"Dammit, Jay, you talk about everything like you're the only one in this room who's HIV positive!" Michelle stated loudly, motioning to Chris.

"Believe me, if anyone has death knocking on their door, it would be me, thank you very much. You, Jay, are as healthy as my great uncle Bart who will be 100 next month," Chris added. Michelle rolled her eyes as Jaylynn laughed. Leave it to Chris to pathetically attempt to lift their spirits.

"I'll just take that as a compliment," Jaylynn said.

"Just be thankful you didn't screw up your life with drugs like I did!" Chris grinned, pretending to fake his own death.

"What a going away party," another voice shuffled through the poor excuse for a door.

"You know it," Chris whispered, opening an eye briefly and then dramatically "dying" once again.

"Matt, you're just in time to join our pity party—you know, the one where Jaylynn falls into her own despair and Chris dramatically jokes around about it," Michelle sighed, handing more clothes to Jaylynn.

"I'm going away for a week, tops. I'll be back in DC before you can say—"

"DING DONG THE WITCH IS DEAD!" Chris screeched, still lying motionless on the floor.

"Please take him with you?" Matt whined, pretending to kick his best friend in the side.

"I guess that's it then. You have everything, right?" Michelle asked. Jaylynn nodded and slung her duffel bag over her shoulder and surveyed the room one more time.

"Do I get a hug goodbye? Or do I have to beg?" she asked, laughing as Chris quickly stood up and sprinted over to her. He engulfed her in a huge bear hug.

"Someone made a fast recovery. I thought you were a goner…okay Chris, cutting off all oxygen," Jaylynn stuttered.

"Sorry. Love you baby girl," he said, blowing her a kiss. Matt followed suit and gave her a hug, then plopped back down on the couch, waving sadly.

"Do you guys think you can prevent burning the house down or throwing any wild parties in the time it takes for me to drive Jay to the train station?" Michelle retorted sarcastically.

"Yes, mommy," Matt stated. Jaylynn waved at them both before shutting the door behind her and Michelle.

"CALL ME, BABY!" Chris shouted after her.

*//

You had to admit, they all made an odd pair. Jaylynn had met Michelle in high school and they had instantly bonded, enough to follow each other to college in DC. Jaylynn had met Chris in college, and after months of begging, he had moved into their apartment. Matt was Chris' best friend, and moved in with all of them after he was shoved on a waiting list for dorm housing. 

Jaylynn threw her duffle bag in the backseat of Michelle's Explorer, then hopped in and waited for Michelle.

"You sure about this?" she asked, sticking the key in the ignition and backing out of the parking deck.

"Stop asking me. Yes, I'm sure," Jaylynn muttered, frustrated at Michelle's attempts to keep her home.

"But you have everything? Your train tickets, extra money, credit cards, pills, cell phone? All the information on this guy? Are you sure he even still lives there?"

"Even if he doesn't, there has to be someone who knows where he is, don't you think?" Jaylynn responded, trying to shut Michelle up. She took out a piece of paper from her jacket pocket and started to read. "CyberArts, 11th Street and Avenue B, New York City. Happy now?"

"CyberArts? Is that the name of the apartment building?" Michelle asked, turning into the parking lot for the station. With all the torture that Michelle was giving her, Jaylynn probably could have walked the 10 blocks to the station but Michelle insisted on seeing her off instead.

"It's what it says, doesn't it?" Jaylynn replied through gritted teeth.

"Ugh, I'm sorry. I'm being a shitty best friend right now, aren't I?" Michelle laughed, giving Jaylynn a tight hug.

"Kind of," she joked, hugging her back.

"See you in a week?" Michelle winked, handing Jaylynn her duffle bag.

"It's been one week since you looked at me…" Jaylynn sang, shaking her head at the song choice. Barenaked Ladies. God, that song was old. She remembered it from somewhere, but couldn't place her finger on it. Shrugging, she waved as Michelle drove away.

*//

An agonizing four hours later, Jaylynn had finally arrived in Penn Station.

"Thank god," she said to herself, squeezing past the old lady she had to sit next to on the train. All she had been hearing for the past few hours were the names of her twelve grandchildren and five great grandchildren, along with every goddamn thing they had ever accomplished in their lives.

After struggling through the massive crowds, Jaylynn finally had a chance to hail a taxi. Shoving her suddenly heavy bag next to her, her alarm on her watch began to beep, causing her to jump about five feet in the air.

"Yo lady, we goin' somewhere today? You got a destination?" the driver spat, chewing his gum loudly.

"Yeah, CyberArts Building, 11th Street and Avenue B," she replied. A nervous feeling had startled to settle in her stomach as she downed her pills with the water bottle stowed in her bag, remembering that she probably should have taken them with food as well. Great, so she'd show up and puke all over his doorstep. Fantastic. Staring out the window, she drummed her fingers along the window as she drilled the already memorized information into her head. Mark Cohen. "Hi, Mark Cohen? I'm Jaylynn Davis, remember me?" It sounded horrible to her. Before she knew it, the cab had slowed to a stop in front of an industrial looking building.

"'Hey Princess, 11th and B right here," the driver stated in a menacing tone. Jaylynn paid the cab driver and stood in front of the building for a good twenty minutes before actually attempting to move. A faded sign above read "CyberArts: Studio and Residential Lofts. A little to the left hung a sign that read "Office". She figured that would be the best place to start. Opening the glass door cautiously, she noticed a businessman in his late thirties to early forties holding a heated discussion on his office phone. She approached the desk and absentmindedly started tapping her fingers. She must have annoyed the man because he covered the end of the phone and glared at her.

"Can I help you with something? You here about the rent?" he questioned, looking her up and down.

"Uh, no. I'm actually looking for someone—"

"I don't do favors for free…hold on a second," he snapped into the phone.

"Okay—"

"Kidding. It was a joke. Anyway, I'm Benjamin Coffin the Third. Call me Benny. All the other shits, I mean tenants, around here do," he stated, sticking out his hand for Jaylynn to shake.

"Jaylynn Davis…pleasure," Jaylynn added, plastering a fake smile on her face.

"Yeah, hold on I have another call…Allison! Hey baby, yeah of course I'll be home for dinner tonight—"

"Look, do you know anyone by the name of Mark Cohen?" Jaylynn questioned, frustraded at Benny's attempts to flat out ignore her. The name seemed to have  gotten his attention, because he automatically muttered an "I'll call you back" to the mystery caller and hung up.

"Lucky me, that name just so happens to ring a bell. He lives upstairs on the top floor with his girlfriend, fiancée, wife—who the hells knows who she is. Apartment 4D," Benny replied, eyeing Jaylynn's duffel bag.

"Great, thanks Benny," Jaylynn smiled. Benny shrugged.

"We should have some more people living here with your kind of attitude. The grumps here could take a lesson from it. Don't seem to like me too much," he complained, dialing away on his phone again.

'Couldn't blame them,' Jaylynn thought to herself, rolling her eyes. She walked in the direction that Benny was pointing to from his desk and climbed the metal stairs, checking out the building with each step. It was decent—liveable at least. Kind of made her miss DC even more. Reaching the top floor, she found herself staring apartment 4D right in the face. She had two options. She could either knock and face the Mark Cohen who she barely remembered, or take the 7 PM train back to DC.

It was now or never, and with the last bit of courage she could gather, Jaylynn knocked.

The door…

*//