Roger's door knocked one day in March 1990 while he was practicing on his o so holy guitar.

Damn, he couldn't help but think; - Mark really gotta stop forgetting his keys!

In a swift move he opened the door, expecting to see Mark's apologetic face begging for the keys or his jacket or anything else he was capable of forgetting.

It wasn't Mark. It was, fair to say, maybe his total opposite. Angel, out of all people, was standing in the doorway. He was surprised to see her, and more than a little happy. Company from Angel… Well, the words in general spoke for themselves.

But there was something different about her. She looked good, as she always did, and of course, she was soaking wet because of the rain, so it could be that. But there was something more. Did she look sick? No, not quite. She looked… exhausted. That was the word. Roger was never very good with words. Still, she smiled.

"Angel?" he grinned, - "What… What are you doing here?"

"I'll tell you if you'll let me in, it's freaking cold out there!"

Roger snapped back to reality. "Of course!" he said, - "Come in."

He had to admit he had begun to get slightly worried. "Sit down," he said, pointing to the couch. Angel did as she was told.

"Can I get you any…?"

He stopped. That was when he noticed the slight bruise on her lip. Fresh blood was running from it.

"Angel, what happened to you?" he asked, pointing to his own bottom lip.

She took a deep breath. "Guess these three lovely homophobic assholes came along today, wanting to teach me a lesson."

She shrugged and smiled weakly. It took a little while for Roger to understand what she had said, but then he rolled his eyes.

"God, Angel…" His voice was barely over a whisper now. Why was that, he didn't know. He guessed it had something to do with the anger growing in him. He rolled his eyes at his own bad attempt to be comforting and sat down beside her.

"How bad is it?"

Angel smiled as if appreciating his concern and carefully rolled down her turtleneck, revealing a diligent bruise on her chest. It was colored purple and at the size of a fist.

"This bad, I guess," she said, - "Guess they left some good bruises on my legs and back as well."

She shrugged and leaned back. Roger was dumbfounded. He didn't really know what to say, because what do you, as a completely straight man, say to a drag queen who has just been beaten simply for being who she is supposed to be?

He took a deep breath and said: "Where's Collins?"

Now, Roger, that was clever. Now she probably thinks you don't want her here. Better fix that up!

"I didn't mean it that way," he hurried to apologize and a slight grin curved on Angel's lips, - "I just think you should call him and tell him."

Angel nodded. "I know," she said, - "I know I should. It's just…"

Roger frowned, leaning forward, folding his hands in front of him.

"You don't want to make him worry?"

Angel shook her head and buried her face in her hands. Roger laid a comforting hand on her back. "You know Angel, that's too kind of you. You need him to care for you right now."

"Roger," Angel stopped him by putting a hand on his knee. In case of possible intimidation (which however absolutely wasn't there) she pulled away quickly and continued: "Everything can't be about my needs, honey… Collins worries too much for me as it is, I can't have him kill three guys because of me."

Roger shook his head, again staying dumbfounded. Then he asked her what he actually should have asked as soon as she told him what happened: "How are you feeling? Are you hurting?"

She sighed. "Well… My head feels like it's gonna blow off and it felt like they crushed my ribs, but really I don't think there are any serious injuries."

She looked herself over for a minute, as if seeing through her own clothes. Roger nodded. "Well, at least that's something."

Angel nodded. "I guess," she attempted a weak smile before adding: - "You know, what hurts me the most is that I can't have my life choices without having this happening to me."

Roger looked at her concerned, and again the hand on her shoulder was back. "Ange…"

She shook her head. "It's OK, really… It's the prize I'll have to pay for being who I chose to be…"

Roger shrugged. "Well, I guess the problem is that there shouldn't be a prize."

Angel looked at him and smiled weakly. Her eyes had gotten new light in them by now. Then she sighed more happily. "You know, Roger," she said, - "You are truly different from many other straight guys, you know that?"

Roger chuckled. "I guess that's a compliment?"

"Of course it is!" Angel exclaimed, and then she calmed down and became more serious again: "And thank you so much for letting me stay here for a while. I owe you big time."

Roger shook his head. "Anytime Angel."

Angel suddenly looked around the loft. "Where's Mark?"

Roger frowned and shrugged. "Don't know. Buzzline? I actually don't have a clue what he's doing at the moment."

Angel nodded. "He really should quit that job, don't you agree? It doesn't make him happy, does it?"

This was so not Roger's conversation, but he got along with it: "Guess not… Never really thought of it that way before."

Those were true words. He hadn't. Angel smiled weakly. "You should," she said, patting his shoulder gently.

He chuckled again and leaned back. He liked Angel's company, but he couldn't blame Collins for worrying so much about her. The world just wasn't nice to her kind, and he knew that this wasn't the first time she had been beaten for being so… Unique. Suddenly he asked: "Do you want to take a shower or something?"

Angel looked at him and smiled weakly. "I hate to barge in on you…," she began but Roger cut her off:

"Not at all, Angel, it's right there." He pointed to the bathroom door.

Angel giggled. As if she didn't know. She sighed and said in an over-dramatic voice, which revealed that she still was grateful for his gesture: "OK, if you insist!"

She got up from the couch, not without effort. "Need any help?"

She raised an eyebrow. "In the bathroom?"

Roger's eyes widened. "No, no, no, that was not what I meant…!" He really should work on his words.

Angel laughed. "Just kidding, but no thanks, I'll be fine. I'll always be."

Roger nodded vaguely. "Yeah," he said, - "I know."

He thought for a while and as Angel was at the bathroom door, he yelled after her: "Wanna buy some clean clothes from Mark or something? He's kind of tiny!"

Right then the door opened and Mark entered. "I heard that, Roger, who are you talking to?"

"Angel!" Roger yelled as if he and Mark were standing at both sides of a football stadium.

"Oh!" Mark said, his mood suddenly lightening, - "Why is she here?"

Angel, still standing in the doorway suddenly felt the urge to speak up: "You can talk to me, you know, I'm right here. Mark, I am here because I was attacked today and no thanks, Roger, I appreciate your services but I would rather walk in my own clothes."

Mark looked like he had seen a ghost and Roger asked Angel if she'd rather freeze to pneumonia than walking around in Mark's clothes.

"Yes," Angel said, and suddenly turning to Mark, - "No offense, honey."

"None taken, but Angel," Mark hurried to ask, - "You were attacked? How…? I mean… Are you alright?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

Roger sighed annoyed by Angel stubbornness and walked towards his own closet. "You can at least borrow some of my clothes because if you don't wanna be seen dead in one of Mark's two sweaters, I understand you."

Angel sighed. "Alright, fine but only if you say so."

At the same time Mark yelled: "Hey!" so loudly Roger almost fell a few inches into the closet. He handed Angel a hoodie that was even too big for him and a pair of jeans. Angel glared his clothes skeptically over and shrugged.

"Are you satisfied or not?" Roger asked her, slightly annoyed.

Angel grinned. "You and Collins have the exact same style, of course I like it."

"No we don't!" Roger interrupted.

"Yes you do!" Angel and Mark said in unison.

"No we…!" Roger began, but then he turned to Mark, - "Oh, shut up Mark, as if you know anything about clothes except for the latest… scarf fashion or… something!"

Mark only grinned in a way that made Roger doubting his sexuality.

When they heard the shower being turned on, Roger yelled after Angel: "You'll find towels in there… somewhere!"

Angel laughed. "Found them!" she said, - "God, when was the last time you cleaned this bathroom, how did Collins manage living here? No wonder he likes living with me… And worse; how did Maureen manage… OK, don't answer that!"

Roger and Mark couldn't help but laugh at Angel going on and on about how bad she felt for Maureen and Collins and how happy she was for them moving somewhere else.

"Shall we shut her up?" Mark asked, - "She is being terribly cocky right now."

Roger just laughed, his face turned towards the bathroom door in amusement. "No," he laughed, - "She's much more fun when she's talkative."

Mark rolled his eyes. "She is always talkative!"

Roger shook his head. "She wasn't ten minutes ago…"

"Oh," Mark turned silent. He hesitated before asking: "How many times have this…" he made a hand gesture, - "Happened to her before?"

Roger shrugged. "You tell me…," he said, scratching his forehead for a moment before continuing with a frown: "She seems used to it, don't you think?"

Mark's turn to shrug: "So it seems."

"Mark?" Roger suddenly asked, a sly grin appearing on his lips; the grin that made Mark sure that shit was about to go down.

"What Roger?" he asked, tired of playing this game.

"Let's play truth or dare!"

Mark frowned so much he looked like he was eighty. "Truth or dare?" he asked. Roger nodded with a grin that reminded of the weird cat from Alice in Wonderland.

"Without Maureen?"

Roger's grin faded. "Still like her or something?"

"Of course not!" Mark denied.

Roger rolled his eyes. "Then what is it?"

"It's just that I don't think you have anything embarrassing to ask me about let alone make me do? You've pretty much done everything and you know everything!"

"OK, then…," Roger said, chewing his bottom lip, thinking, and then he blurted out: "OK, do you think Angel's cute?"

His voice had a whisper to it as he raised his eyebrows slightly.

Mark's eyes widened and he shook his head disbelievingly. "You can't ask me that!"

"Just answer the damn question Mark!" Roger nearly yelled, and then his voice got the whisper again: "Do you?"

Mark shrugged and made a face. "I don't know…"

"You don't know?"

Mark shrugged again. "Guess not. Roger, how can you ask me this, she's a…" He leaned forward and whispered: "She's a guy."

Roger sighed annoyed and leaned back. "Mark, let's just say you were a little bit unconventional for once… Angel as a girl. The way she looks in drag. Nothing removed, nothing attached. Is she cute, yes or no?"

Mark again shook his head. "I don't know," he said again, causing Roger to groan whiningly, - "What do you think?"

Roger's eyes widened slightly. "What I think?"

Mark nodded. "Yeah."

Roger seemed to think of it for a while, before a slight grin appeared on his lips. "Of course I do," he said and nodded conformingly, - "She's one hell of a woman, but… I don't know, she's too kind, you know. I'm… worried."

Mark thought Roger had gone through a lobotomy. "Roger?" he asked with a frown of amusement on his face, - "You have feelings, how come?"

Roger snorted. "If you didn't hide behind the damn camera all the time, you would've noticed too! Besides… Angel is… I don't know, she's like a sister already. You know the sudden urge to protect her… It is there."

Mark nodded, finally giving in. "Fine, I see what you mean." He hesitated before continuing: "And fine, I admit it, she's kinda cute."

Roger chuckled and muttered a 'finally'.

Right then Angel came out of the bathroom, dressed in Roger's clothes. "What are you guys talking about?" she asked.

"Nothing, not you!" Mark blurted out, and Roger looked at him as if he couldn't believe his stupidity.

Angel chuckled and shook her head. "I borrowed a bag I found in your bathroom for my own clothes, hope that's OK?" she asked as she sat down on the couch beside Roger, looking slightly uncomfortable in Roger's clothes. She was simply too feminine for them.

"Sure, it's fine," Roger assured her.

Angel sighed and took a brief look at the clock that was hanging on the wall. "Oh, shit! It's four pm, Collins will be home any minute, I'd better hurry or he'll truly have a reason to worry!"

"We can call him and tell him to come here if you want to," Mark said.

Angel shook her head. "Thanks honey, but I'd have to go either way. Looking forward to see my man, you know."

The guys grinned but then Roger asked: "How are you going to explain my clothes on you?" He added a chuckle.

Angel sighed. "Figured he's gonna notice the bruises either way." She frowned. "They're quite ugly."

Both Mark and Roger smiled apologetically. "He ain't gonna be happy," Mark assured her.

She shook her head. "I know… Still, we don't have secret for each other and I simply can't hide anything from him."

Mark and Roger nodded slowly, pretending to understand, when all three of them knew they didn't. And it wasn't a problem. Angel was cool with it.

Mark and Roger followed her to the door as she was about to go. As she was in the doorway she turned to Mark and gave him a hug. It seemed to surprise him a little, but he gladly accepted it. "Thanks for everything, Mark," she said, - "I truly appreciate it."

Mark didn't really understand what she thanked him for, but he let it be.

Then Angel turned to Roger and hugged him as well. "And thank you so much for sticking up for me today, I truly needed it."

Roger rubbed her back slightly. "Anytime, Angel," he said.

"And you'll get your clothes back by tomorrow!" Angel smiled.

She sighed and as she was about to walk away, she remembered something. She reached for her purse and pulled out two 100 dollar bills. "One for each of you," she said, handing them to her friends, - "Look I know your concern for me can't be returned in money, but it's all I have to give at the moment, so…"

Mark and Roger both shook their heads. "No, Angel, we can't accept this, it's too much." They both waved their hands like a couple of mimes or clowns or something and it made Angel giggle.

"Just accept them," she said as firmly as she could, nearly pushing the bills down their hands, - "For me?" By the last question she batted her ever so long eyelashes that she knew they couldn't resist.

Damn, it worked.

That day everything went back to the way they had expected: Angel returning home into the arms of a deeply concerned lover who held her for half an hour after she'd told him what had happened, never forgetting to mention how nice Roger and Mark had been to her.

And Mark and Roger… They went back to their normal lives, both looking forward to seeing Angel again, which would be tomorrow. And they both knew that no matter what happened to her, no matter who treated her badly, she would always be more of a man than they would ever be, and more of a woman than they would ever get.

She was just that. One of the boys and one of the girls. All rolled into one. She was Angel.