Just a quick disclaimer before you begin this story: for one thing, I don't own RENT, Jonathan Larson does; for another, the story name is Adam Pascal's song. His, not mine. (I only wish.)

Chapter 1

Jaclyn Conway stood outside the loft, wondering if she really was doing the right thing. She was tracking down her sister's ex-boyfriend.

Jaclyn, though she preferred her nickname, Jackie, was tall, five-nine, and at 26 years old, she looked quite like Andy, except her eyes were darker, a midnight blue. Her hair color was the same, though, and many people often mistook her for her sister, especially if they knew Andy at one time or another.

But they couldn't do that anymore, because Andy Conway was dead. Jaclyn remembered the day, April 12, 1981, eight years ago, as though it were yesterday. It had broken her heart to get the awful phone call and have to attend her sister's premature funeral. Her father, of course, a drunken waste, hadn't attended. Jaclyn was angry beyond all reason with him. But he was in jail now, so she felt relieved. Neither her sister, nor anyone else, could suffer from her father's alcohol-induced wrath anymore.

Jaclyn checked the address on the piece of paper again, but by now, she had read it so many times, she had it memorized. Jaclyn was rich, which was how she could afford a private investigator in the first place. She sang on Broadway, in many different famous musicals, and made a living that way. If only she had known sooner what had gone on at home in her absence…

She'd run away from home after graduation, a month before her eighteenth birthday that June, a result of her father hitting her, and even once threatening her with a gun and a knife. Andy had begged Jaclyn to let her go with, but Jaclyn had refused, knowing Andy's education was most important.

Jaclyn couldn't wait anymore. She had to know who this man was who had made Andy's life worth living in her final few months. She walked into the building and up the stairs. Stopping at the door, she knocked three times. Her heart pounded with anticipation as she waited for someone, anyone, to answer. She jumped slightly when the door slid open in front of her.

There he was, standing mere feet away from her: the man her sister had loved for a painstakingly short time. He was tall, about six feet, and he had long, curly, dirty-blonde hair. But it was his eyes that mesmerized her the most, for they were startling green, like Kryptonite.

"Roger?" Jaclyn asked. "Roger Davis?"

"Y-yes," he stammered, "that's me. Can I help you?"

"My name is Jaclyn Conway," Jaclyn said slowly. "I'm here because…" Wait, why was she here? Looking into his eyes, which were pulling her toward him like a magnet, was almost making her forget. "Andy Conway was my sister."

Now Jaclyn understood why Roger was stammering like he was, and why his hands were shaking so badly: because she looked so much like Andy, it must be bringing back so many memories for him, painful or not.

Roger was completely silent for many long seconds. Then he spoke, realizing he looked like an idiot standing there like that. "I… I'm sorry. Come… come in… It's just, you look…"

"Like my sister," Jaclyn said wearily. "Yeah, I know." And that was all that needed to be said. She followed him into the main living area of the loft and he motioned for her to sit down. "Thanks for seeing me," she said. "Look, I'm sorry for bursting in on you like this, but…"

"It's fine," Roger said, "it's just… a shock, that's all." Jaclyn nodded understandingly. "So… tell me more about yourself."

"I sing on Broadway."

"You do?" Roger asked. "That's cool."

Jaclyn smiled. "Thanks," she said. "I lived in Scarsdale until I was 17, when I ran away to the city here. I'd finally had enough of my father."

"You, too, huh?" Roger asked her bitterly.

Jaclyn looked up at him. "Roger, please try to understand. Andy wanted to go with me when I ran away, but I told her no, that she had to finish her education first. If I'd had any notion of what was happening at home to her, worse than what had happened to me… I would have come home straight away and gotten her out."

"Would you?" Roger asked, more harshly than he'd intended.

"Yes," Jaclyn said, flinching at his tone. "She was very good at hiding it all from me. That's why I never knew about you until…"

Jaclyn paused, but Roger knew. "The accident," he said.

"Yes," Jaclyn said. "That's why I tracked you down. I wanted to know— meet— the man who had made my sister's life so worth living in her final months. It hurts me as much as you— if not more— that she's gone, you know."

Roger nodded. "I know," he said. "I'm so sorry, Jaclyn, I wish it hadn't happened."

"Me, too, Roger," Jaclyn said. "No one wishes this upon themselves."

After a moment, she stood up. "But I should probably go. Um, thanks for seeing me, Roger."

"Of course, Jaclyn," Roger said. "Come again, if you… if you want."

"I'll think about it," Jaclyn said. "Thanks, Roger. Bye."

"Bye," Roger said, and then Jaclyn left as quickly as she'd come.

"Who was that, Roger?" Mark asked, coming through the door from filming away from the loft, as Jaclyn was leaving.

"Her name is Jaclyn," Roger said emotionlessly. "She… she's Andy's sister, Mark."

Mark's mouth fell open. "Really?" he asked. "Wow, Roger, I… I don't know what to say…"

"You don't have to," Roger said. "Besides, we're just friends, if that. How can I be friends, even, with her, after I killed her sister?"

"Roger, you know you didn't," Mark said. He sighed wearily. They'd been through this so many times before. "The other driver was nearly asleep at the wheel when that deer came out of nowhere. They hit you, not the other way around. You did what you could to try and protect her."

"Yeah, and I failed, Mark," Roger said loudly, turning away from him.

"Roger, maybe the reason Jaclyn is here is because she's been hurting as much as you these last nine years. That's about all the guy sympathy I can give you."

"I'm not," Roger said emotionessly, looking down at him.

"Maybe she needs closure, too. You could help each other heal." Mark lowered his voice, making it higher-pitched, and he sniffled for effect.

"Maybe, but nothing more than that can come out of this, Mark," Roger said, looking down.

But Mark wasn't convinced. He knew Roger better than anybody, and knew that better things for him always started out this way.

OK, so right away, I apologize for keeping you readers waiting so long for this sequel. But I've been so busy, I haven't had hardly any time to write, and nearly no time to post anything at all. I guess you could call it a hiatus, but I do want to continue writing. I just won't be able to do it as much in the next several months. I hope this sequel is satisfactory. Please leave me a review about what you thought. We writers appreciate any feedback we get from readers. Thanks.

Until next time, lots of love,

Renthead07