Chapter 1: Goodbye Love

I stood at the edge of the cemetery. The air was crisp, burning my throat as I sucked it in. I pushed my gloved hands further into my pockets as I watched my breath creep out of my mouth in wisps that melted away into oblivion - just like my former life, the life that I was currently standing at the edge of. I had forgotten how cold New York could be in the late fall. Guess that's what I get for living in the land of no seasons. It's funny; I actually missed the cold, feeling the air bite you as it rushed by, the taste of that first snow. How if you looked out at the city in the wee hours of the morning after a snowfall, how peaceful it all looked – before the hustle and bustle and the snow melted into gray slush. That was one of my favorite memories, sitting on the fire escape of the loft with a blanket wrapped around me, knees up to my chin, just watching the city and marveling in the quiet. So peaceful…I could feel the tears welling up. I quickly brushed them away. A trip down Memory Lane was not what I needed at the moment.

I sighed; my breath appeared in a long trail, like I had been smoking in an old 1940's movie. Turning my gaze back to the burial I had come for, I saw the small remains of what had once been a lively and vibrant group. They turned and walked away, only looking back once – this was the end.

Now it was my turn. I urged my feet to move, and with heavy laden steps I walked over to the freshly dug grave. The final death, the end of an era so to speak, an era that I hadn't been part of for the majority of the time. How I regretted that – and yet, it was just too painful to come back.

I knelt down on the dirt. To my left was a familiar headstone – Angel Dummot Schunard 'today for you.' It was fitting, perfect actually that they be together in death as well as in life. I looked further down, I couldn't quite bring myself to confront what was in front of me. Next to Angel was Mimi, then Roger and finally April. Funny how even in death they were all connected in a strange sort of reality – forever resting with their mistakes and joys. I wondered where I would be put, if I was buried here at all. Next to Collins? In between Mark and Joanne? I shivered; thinking about your own grave in a cemetery wasn't the smartest thing to do.

Finally, I turned to the grave I was practically kneeling on. This one was the hardest. Although there was no headstone yet I could picture it – Thomas B. Collins and some cute inscription, most likely a comment on anarchy or his Actual Reality theory. Thomas B. Collins: my best friend, brother, father, fellow anarchist, lover (though never like that, just in the fact that we loved each other more than I had ever thought was humanly possible, in a strictly platonic way). He was my family, the person who took me in, my protector, my lifeline, the only one I could tell anything to and not be afraid of judgment. The one who understood. And one of the few good people left on this planet; he watched as his family broke apart. It wasn't fair that he was taken, and yet he had longer than anyone had expected, now he was once again with his Angel. I started crying, why Collins – people that good shouldn't die this way.

I picked up a handful of dirt, letting it sift through my fingers back to the cold ground. I cleared my throat – more for something to do then anything else.

"I keep expecting to hear you walk up behind me and give me a huge bear hug while exclaiming something crazy that will make me laugh," I paused, my voice breaking, "You were – are so important to me, more then anyone ever. You took me in when I needed it, put up with me at my worst, supported me in everything I did, I don't think words can express how much I love you. We had such good times…" I cracked a watery smile, getting lost in memory lane again, "If I can ever be half the person you were, I'll consider myself a job well done because Col-you were one of the best people I knew. I know if you were here you would laugh and sush me, but I'm serious – you and Angel. I'm glad you two can be together again, it's nice to know that love actually does exist. And I want you to promise me that you'll shake up Heaven a little! Collins… I want – I wanna say I'm sorry – for not being there, I mean, when you – when you…" I broke down sobbing then. Silent body shaking tears that soon turned into loud wet pools that turned the ground I was kneeling on to mud. "What am I going to do without you Collins?" I put my head down on the cold earth, my sobs still racking my entire body.

I have no idea how long I stayed like that. Minutes, hours, time seemed to stand still – the world stopped spinning and the sky fell down. Alright, I know that was dramatic, but they didn't call me the drama queen for nothing, I suppose. But just now I didn't care how dramatic I was being, one of the only people in this world to keep me sane and living was gone.

I heard feet shuffling behind me, but didn't bother to look up, it was probably just some cemetery staff person or something. Then the feet stopped and the person spoke.

"Hey, umm… sorry to bother you... I just… ummmm…. forgot something… I didn't mean, well I'm just, uh…"

The odd and fumbling speech pattern caught my attention. I looked up and just as I had suspected was met with clear blue eyes. Eyes that I used to know so very well.

"M-M-Maureen?" He asked.

"Hey Mark," I replied. He helped me to my feet, always a gentleman. I brushed the dirt off my jacket. We stood there for what felt like an eternity. He was looking at me with a puzzled expression, with good reason I suppose – this was the first he had seen or heard from me in almost a decade. I looked down, not sure of what to say.

Mark finally broke the silence, "You came for Collin's funeral?"

It was an awkward question, accusatory, he didn't know I'd been there for the others. How could he, I had kept to the back, an out-of-site-out-of-mind type of idea. It was such a drastic change from what I was used to, my sweet, innocent Marky standing in front of me accusing me of something he didn't even understand. Taunting me almost, as if he felt I didn't have a right to be there because I left. I burst into tears. By now my mascara was in stripes down my face, my eyes red and puffy, pieces of dirt stuck to me. Mark, out of habit it seemed, opened his arms and I fell into them, sobbing openly. Mark just held me while I cried, not caring that I was getting his shirt and scarf wet. He was still wearing that ridiculous scarf. I started laughing at that.

Mark looked at me strangely, "What's so funny?"

"You're – you're… that scarf… You're still wearing that scarf!"

Mark managed to crack a smile at that. Then his face went serious again. "Maureen, why are you here?"

I pushed his arms off me, "He was my best friend – did you think I wouldn't come to my best friend's funeral?"

"Well you weren't exactly here for anything else, you didn't talk to any of us – me – in almost ten years, what the hell do you expect me to think?" Mark was yelling at me now, I don't think I had ever hear him yell. Especially not at me.

I stared at him silently for a while. Mark had changed so much. It makes sense of course, people don't stay the same, I had changed. But yet, I guess I hadn't expected Mark to. He had always been a constant, you always knew how Mark would react.

When I spoke again, my voice was quiet, deathly calm, but I couldn't keep the bitter anger out of it.

"I was here for Mimi and Roger. I spoke to Collins daily. I've even seen Collins in the past ten years. Just because you personally didn't hear from me didn't mean I dropped off the face of the Earth, or that I stopped caring about any of you. The world does not revolve around you Mark Cohen!"

"Coming from the Drama Queen herself, that's a harsh one!" The sarcasm was dripping from his mouth.

That one stung – I was not the same person I was ten years ago, and even then there were reasons and stuff that I knew had been explained by Collins. Obviously Mark's listening skills left something to be desired.

"So you're the only one who can change over a period of time – is that it? Well, unlike you I've changed for the better, you've just become bitter and cold. And don't give me any of those crap excuses about how you're the only one to survive or any of that other shit you used to spew, you're not alone and your sure as hell not the only one hurting from all of this. Now if you don't mind, I would like to finish mourning in peace!" I was breathing heavily now, my face flushed and my body shaking. I flung myself back to the ground.

"I just came to get my jacked," Mark said quietly. He picked up the coat and walked away.

I started crying again. Silent tears streaming down my face. I didn't even bother wiping them away. I was frozen, just crying. Of all the ways I had pictured seeing and talking to Mark again, that was never how I imagined it.

"Goodbye love," I whispered, watching my breath carry the message away. I wasn't sure who it was I was talking about, or if it even mattered.

"Maureen."

I turned, Mark was back, standing just staring at me.

"What?" It came out harsher then I meant it to. I saw a look of hurt flicker briefly over his eyes. "What," I said again, softer, calmer.

"Where have you been?"

"Santa Fe."