Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.

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They sat around the table in the loft that had always served them so faithfully in the past years. It had functioned as a dining area, a drum for Angel's sticks and a surface for Mimi to lay on on that Christmas night that could have easily ended with a tragedy. Contrary to what they had all believed, Mimi had rediscovered the road of recovery that she had begun to stray from and lived to see another year. However, they all knew that it would be a difficult task to follow that path much longer.

Roger now found himself staring across this very table at Mimi, illuminated by candlelight as she hacked away at a pumpkin. Even though her body had wasted away to nothing more than a skeleton with enervated locks that had once been alive with curls of honey brown, she was still as beautiful as ever in Roger's eyes, though Mimi herself never quite agreed. He looked on sorrowfully as Mimi's tremulous hands struggled to maintain control over her carving knife. Roger's own neglected pumpkin, long since deserted, sat purposelessly in his lap.

Mimi's caramel eyes, dull but not completely bereft of life just yet, found their way to Roger's face. Her gaze began to emanate grief and Roger stiffened, wondering for a second if Mimi could sense his unease. It was then he was appalled to find that a tear had managed to escape his eye and was running its course down his cheek. Quickly he swiped it away, his hand caked with dried pumpkin innards.

He mustered up every bit of happiness left in his body and focused them towards smiling at Mimi. The smile must have looked pretty genuine, because the sadness in Mimi's face was replaced with something resembling joy when she returned the smile and went back to her pumpkin. Roger could see the flutter of life that had seized Mimi's face when she had grinned and at once he knew it wasn't fair.

He tightened his grip around the handle of his carving knife bitterly as another tear slid without warning down his face. So many people were ungrateful for their lives and thus undeserving, but here was a young woman who was entitled to life more than anyone. She cherished every little moment she was given on Earth because she knew very well that it could be her last. Roger despised the irony of the situation. Those who appreciated life had a finite time to live it, whereas those who overlooked this gift seemed to almost be immortal.

Without thinking Roger suddenly stabbed his knife into his pumpkin, wrenching it and twisting it until the contents began to leak out. Startled, Mimi looked up from carving her name into her own pumpkin and watched helplessly as Roger marred his beyond repair. Once there was nothing left but a mass of pulpy orange in Roger's lap, he dropped the knife as though he had just murdered another human, bringing his pumpkin-covered hands to his face. He could feel Mimi's bewildered eyes on him and unintentionally he let a sob of grief escape his throat.

At once Mimi was beside him, then in his lap despite the slushy monstrosity that resided there. He could feel her chapped, parched lips against his cheeks, becoming wet as they kissed away the tears that had managed to pass the barriers of his fingers. He pushed his hands farther up his face until they were entangled in his hair. His lips were exposed and Mimi took advantage of this, pressing her own, damp with his tears, against them. He could taste death on her breath, but willingly he complied, cradling her gently, her bones so brittle in his arms that he felt the wrong move might shatter them. Death couldn't take her while she was still with him.

He was afraid.

Afraid to know that this could be the last time he'd hold Mimi. Mimi, underweight and trembling, her grip on Roger and her life always weakening. The last time he'd caress her he'd have to endure her clammy skin against his own. With his last hug he'd feel he might break her, and his last kiss would fall upon dead lips. He wanted to remember Mimi as she was when they first met, Mimi shrouded in moonlight and beautiful, vibrant when the candle's flicker lent some life to her face.

But that was impossible now. This was Mimi, spiritless, allowing herself to become a corpse before her heart even stopped beating. This was who she'd be until she took her last breath. She was hideous and beautiful all at once, a grotesque oxymoron in his embrace, one that he couldn't bring himself to let go even if he had wanted to. It wasn't her appearance that bothered him, but the fact that she was coming very close to giving up. He could almost feel her falling apart in his arms.

Everyday she looked in the mirror and saw a hopeless case. Roger had gotten rid of every mirror in the house, as he knew her own reflection discouraged her, plus he wasn't specifically fond of seeing himself deteriorating a little more every morning either. He was particularly content with selling the mirror that he had caught the first glimpse of April's lax body in. He knew he couldn't wash away the past, but there had still been a few bloodstains ensanguined around the edges that he was intent on scrubbing away.

April had taken the easy way out. She had been afraid of becoming what Mimi was now. But Mimi, Mimi was brave, and that alone kept her beautiful.

"You're beautiful, you know that?"

The words were choked and muffled into Mimi's hair, but she must have heard, as she had tightened her grip around Roger. She wasn't letting go, and Roger knew it was wrong of him to ever think she would have. Mimi was a fighter, and she would last as long as she could.

But after they had reluctantly disentangled themselves from each other, Roger couldn't help but think, as Mimi picked up her completed pumpkin only to let it fall from quivering arms and smash on the floor, that this would be her last Halloween.