A/N: This fic is in place of my normal holiday shorts. It's a show fic, spanning from the day of Angel's funeral to the New Year's after the end of the show. I hope you enjoy it.

Oh, and could we maybe get some other authors doing holiday pieces? Just shorts? I'd love you forever…

And thank you to Broadwaystar2b for lending me her Carols for a Cure CD which totally put me in the mood to write this.

Chapter 1 –Halloween

(Mark)

The afternoon is unseasonably hot, and the gorgeous spring-like morning air gives way to humidity and oppressive heat. I'm too depressed to go and try to catch up with Collins and Benny after leaving my message with the Buzzline agents, so I head back to the loft instead, still half-hoping that Roger will have had second thoughts and gone home.

I catch my breath for a moment as I turn my key in the lock and open the door, wishing for a miracle. The lot is empty. I force myself to shrug and downplay the reality of it to myself, acting the part of the strong one for the sake of an imaginary audience. I turn on the lights even though there's plenty of sunlight streaming in through the windows, and put on a pot of coffee, telling myself it's still early morning and Roger's spending the night down at Mimi's. He should be back in a few hours, I continue in my mind, knowing it's a lie. Part of me knows that by letting Roger go in such an emotional state is putting his life in danger. But there was no stopping him. I'll be lucky to ever see my best friend again.

I pour myself a cup of coffee and take a sip, wincing at the bitterness of it. I search through the refrigerator for a moment, looking for milk, but the only carton on the shelf expired two days ago. I pick it up and sniff it cautiously, but my nose is immediately assaulted with the stench of spoilage. I pull it out and dump it down the sink, then pour out my coffee as well, my appetite gone. I go into the living room, but the sight of Roger's guitar case lying open and empty on the floor makes me forget my purpose. I pick it up delicately and carry it into Roger's empty room.

The sheets are torn off the bed, lying on the floor like deflated spirits. The closet and drawers are all still open, gaping and dark and empty, little pieces of trash still stuffed in corners, some of Mimi's clothes on the floor of the closet.

I put the guitar case down on the chair where Roger normally keeps it and begin shutting the drawers. I tell myself that if I can hide the evidence of his hasty departure, it won't have happened. I pick the sheets up off the floor and begin carefully making the bed.

There's a knock at the door just as I'm finishing up. My heart beats faster as I go into the other room, but I know that it's likely only Benny, coming to gloat. I open the door to find Mimi standing on the doorstep, a dirty duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

"I'm leaving," she mutters before I can come up with anything to say. "I just came to get my things."

She pushes past me and goes into the loft, her eyes on the floor.

"Whoa, whoa," I call, rushing after her. "What happened?"

"Benny wants me out," she says, so quietly that I almost wonder if I've heard correctly.

"Well wait," I say, taking her bag and steering her over to the couch. "He can't do that, can he?"

Mimi pulls the tie out of her long hair and shakes it out, grabbing a strand and wrapping it around her fingers nervously.

"Yes he can." Her voice sounds sad, defeated. Suddenly I want to strangle Roger and Benny both. I hate it when people fight. Especially when no one's at any particular fault that can be fixed.

"No he can't," I insist. "If you're paying the rent, there's no way he can make you leave. It's not legal, Joanne can-"

"I'm not," she interrupts.

"What?"

"I'm not paying the rent. I haven't for months."

"Oh." The reality of what Mimi's just said hits me like a splash of cold water. I should have known, I think. I don't want to know any more, but I can't just let her leave with no money and nowhere to go.

"So then…how have you been…"

Mimi sighs.

"I've been paying. Just not…not with money. Today after—what happened, I told him that that would have to stop. But I—I lost my job last week and Benny—he won't give me time to get some."

"So he's just throwing you out?" I ask. I know Benny's been making low blows lately, but I can't believe he'd go this far. Mimi shakes her head.

"No, he…he wants me to go to rehab. He says he'll pay for that but I—I can't do that. I want to get clean but I can't…he says if I don't, I have to get out. So I'm getting out."

Mimi starts to get up, but I stop her with a hand on her shoulder and sit down beside her.

"Wait. Don't go."

"Why, Mark?" she asks, starting to cry. "You're the last person who should care what happens to me."

"Mimi-"

"I'm leaving, Mark."

"You can't," I say, unable to help myself. I don't particularly want her to stay, but at the same time, I can't bear any more guilt over letting my friends go.

"Mark, I can't keep going on with Benny like this. He wants me out. And I can't go to rehab. I'm leaving. I'll get another job somewhere."

"Mimi, why not?"

"What?" she asks, looking confused.

"Why not go to rehab? I mean, I know it's not an easy decision to make, but Roger—"

"I can't," she says emphatically.

"Why?" I press, not sure why it bothers me so much.

"I…I'm sick, Mark," she says at last.

I sigh again. I should've known this, too, I tell myself. I need to stop denying everything.

"I need to get clean," she continues, "but I just can't…I can't stand to think that if I go to rehab I might not get out."

"Stay here," I blurt, unable to help myself.

Mimi looks at me hard, her dark brown eyes filled with guilt.

"You don't want to do that," she says quietly.

"Yes I do," I insist, convincing myself at the same time. "Just until you have a chance to get back on your feet. Come on, it's the least I can do."

Mimi looks doubtful, but she nods slowly after a moment.

"All right. Just for now."

She picks up her duffel bag and heads into Roger's old room.

Strange, I think, how I've already stopped thinking of it as his.

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