(( Author's Note: Okay, this is yet another idea of mine that just wouldn't go away, so I have to put it down on paper. If you like it, review, if you don't, that's okay. Just please, no flames, alright?

Disclaimer: I do not own RENT, any of it's characters, the answering machine message, the songs, the items, blah blah blah blah blah. I do, however, own myown original .

Rating: T for swearing, and other such content, such as drug use.

Pairings: Roger&Mimi, Eventual Mark&OC, some Mark&Maureen, Maureen&Joanne

Published: July Second, 2006

Hopeful Update Schedule: Once a week))

As usual, it was cold in New York City with more slush than snow, though a light snow was falling now. And, as usual, it was just as cold in the loft. The heat had been turned off, once again, making its inhabitants bundle up in sweaters and coats. A phone rang before the answering machine picked up.

Speeaaak!

Markie, it's Mom. Don't tell me you're screening your calls again.

A pause.

Well, I just wanted to call to wish you Merry Christmas. Maybe you can actually come over this year?

Another pause

Oh well. We love you.Bye!

The young man perched on a chair rolled his eyes at the answering machine as he pulled a coat on over his sweater, and wrapped a scarf around his neck. Roger was with Mimi somewhere, so the loft seemed quiet and empty without the usual guitar chords thrumming throughout the apartment . Grabbing the camera that sat on the table, Mark Cohen left the apartment, exiting into the cold New York air outside, though he was not sure what to film. The homeless seemed almost cruel now, and besides, he had already tried and failed with that. Walking through a few back alleys, he was paying little attention to where he was going, which caused the events to follow. First, he ran into someone, hearing a surprised yelp which sealed it for him that he wasn't the only one not paying attention. Then, he almost dropped his camera and picked it up quickly, looking up to see who he had bumped into. A young woman, now on her hands and knees, collecting now-wet papers from the slushy groung. The look on her face was almost pained, and she didn't seem to realize how wet her knees and hands were getting, so absorbed was she in the task of collecting her papers.

"I am so sorry, I wasn't paying any attention," Mark apologized, helping to pick up the papers. The woman gave a wry smile as she stood up, taking the papers that Mark handed her.

"It's alright, they'll dry," she said.

"I'm uh...I'm Mark,"

"Evangeline. Big, long name that nobody ever uses. No, it's Evvie. You a film maker?" she asked, nodding toward the camera Mark had nearly dropped in the snow.

"Yeah."

"I'm a writer. That's why I looked like my best friend died when those papers fell. They're my life, basically. The only prospect I have of ever getting money is to be published. "

Mark nodded, and there was an awkward silence before Evvie spoke.

"I've got to go. My brother will be wondering where I dissapeared to. Nice meeting you, Mark. Merry Christmas!" And before Mark could reply, she was gone, dissapeared around a bend.

"That was odd," he murmured, slightly confused. Shrugging, he continued along his way down the alley, soon forgetting about his meeting with Evvie.

When Mark came back home, still with no footage, Roger and Mimi were in the loft. Mimi, still recovering from her close call with death, and about a year, by now, of withdrawal, was curled up on the couch with a blanket over her knees. Roger sat across from her, his guitar, as usual, in his hands. They were laughing over something said before Mark came in. Quietly, he set his camera back down, when, again, the telephone rang.

SPEEAAK!

Hey guys, it's Collins. Throw down the key!

Mark, Mimi, and Roger all went out onto the balcony, and looked down to see Collins.

"Hey man!" Mark called, throwing down the key. Collins caught it with one hand and waved, coming inside and up the stairs. A few moments later, there he was in the loft.

"Merry Christmas everyone!" He called, holding up a bottle of alcohol and a stack of cups. Pouring it into the different cups he handed one out to each person. It had been two yers since Angel's death, and though Collins had recovered slightly from it, you could still see the sadness in his eyes.

They all drank, savoring the taste.

"So, did you guys hear about Maureen and Joanne?" Mark asked dryly as he set his cup down, having finished.

"No," everyone answered at once.

"They broke up. Again. Something Maureen did."

"You surprised?" Collins asked, kicking back onto the couch.

"That they broke up or that it was Maureen's fault?"

"Both."

"Yes, and no."

They all chuckled slightly at this, though there was no real humor behind it.

"We got a new resident in Alphabet City," Mimi said, speaking up just as the silence began.

"Really? Who?" Roger asked, sitting beside Mimi, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"She's a writer. Some girl called...Evvie, I think it was."

"Yeah, I met her," Mark said.

"Knocked into her and sent her papers into the slush, but..."

Collins laughed and shook his head.

"So, we gonna go or what?" he finally asked. Everyone exchanged a glance, and in a moment, they were gone.

Entering the cafe, they ignored the manager's pleas to go away and not move the tables.

"Can we get some tables together!" Roger called to some other Bohemians on the opposite side of the resteraunt. Soon it looked almost exactly as it had the night after Maureen's protest. When the seats had been re-arranged and their orders placed, Mark looked up to see a shockingly familiar face. Evvie sat diagnol from him, chattering happily with a man who looked astonishingly like her. As if she could feel his gaze, her head turned, and she blinked, doing what could only be described as a double-take. Realizing who it was, she grinned and waved before continuing on with her conversation. Collins, who had been sitting next to Mark, elbowed him and wiggled his eyebrows. Mark shook his head with an eye-roll.

It was then that Benny decided to show up.