Meant to Be
McRaider
Summary: Mark-Centric, when Roger and Mark have a serious blow out, Mark leaves, with some help from Collins and Joanne, he manages to get away—but for how long. Mark begins a journey of his own.
Author's Note: Okay, I'm not sure how or why I keep gravitating towards series stories, I did this with Saving Grace too (I PROMISE I'M GOING TO KEEP WRITING IT!) However, after reading two different stories, I felt it was my own take on what might happen over a course of several years. This story itself takes place over roughly 4 years. Will there be a sequel…well I can't tell you that, but if people like it enough, I suppose I could be persuaded J
"And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation."
-Kahlil Gibran, "The Prophet"
Chapter One
January 9th, 1991
New York City
The snow fell down around the city, covering it in a fine blanket of white—beauty belying the true emotions rampaging through Avenue A's favorite residents. The two figures stood by the door, watching the third as he rapidly stuffed clothes into the duffle bag he'd just bought a week ago to sustain his life for at least a week.
Mimi was dead, it was something that had been on Mark's mind and in his heart for the nine days she'd been dead. She'd been rushed to the hospital by the ambulance on Christmas Eve right after her first near death experience. The doctor's didn't hold much hope for her.
Her condition only went down hill for the next seven days as she slowly died, her friends by her side at all times. On January 1st, 1991 at 12:01 in the morning, Mimi had died whispering the ends of her favorite song in Roger's loving arms. The next two days were a rapid cycle of automatic thank you's, receiving small gifts, calling friends, burying her and trying to move on. Benny had thankfully covered all the costs, and then had disappeared into thin air—no doubt grieving in his own small way.
Roger had spent nearly two days after the funeral in his usual silence and his own world; protecting his heart once again. Mark had tried with all his might to get Roger to open up again. It wasn't until two days ago on the 7th when Roger and Mark had burst into a considerably large argument. One thing led to another and Roger fled the loft, stating he'd be back later. He'd come back nearly twenty-four hours later, during which Mark had made his final decision.
Sighing, the filmmaker slowly turned and looked between two of his closest friends. His eyes landed on Collins, who was forcing a smile, "I wish you wouldn't do this Mark—Roger needs you even if he isn't ready to admit it."
"I have to do this Collins, I'm sorry—if I stay we're just going to go back to the way things were until one of you dies, or he dies—I can't keep picking up the pieces," he sighed and looked over at Joanne, "Don't you guys see, this is killing me—I can't keep watching these people I love just die."
"We understand honey—doesn't mean we have to like it, but we understand," she replied softly. Stepping forward, Joanne grabbed him in a hug. At first she'd found him so weird and aggravating, unsure what in the world her girlfriend and Mark could ever see in each other. But now she knew, because he was quite possibly the most wonderful man she'd ever met. "This is your plane ticket, make sure you call once a month, we wanna know how our boy's doin'," she whispered. Taking his face in her hands she pressed a kiss to his forehead, gulping back tears.
"I'll be careful, promise—" he took her hand and placed a kiss into her palm before setting one against her cheek, "Thanks for not telling Maureen about this just yet," he murmured.
"What can I say," she smiled meekly, "I can't resist your face." Stepping away she looked between Collins and Mark.
The older man smiled sadly, and opened up his arms. Instantly Mark fell against the larger body, burying his head in the African American's shoulder. Collins wrapped his arms around the boy and sighed, "Don't be a stranger, you're always welcome here—you know that. I gave Frank a call, he's expecting you—don't be afraid to call us if you need anything," Collins whispered; feeling like a parent sending his son off for the first time.
"Don't worry guys; I'll be fine, you'll see. I'll be back, I just—just for awhile," he replied softly as he took his bag and flung it over his shoulder.
"Mark, do you have money?"
"Yes Jo, I'll be fine," he replied looking at her somber eyes.
"All right, let's get you to the airport then," she whispered forcing a smile.
She squeezed Collins' hand before she and Mark left the loft. The filmmaker paused to take one final look back at his home for the past five years and shook his head, "I'll miss this place," he whimpered.
"I know honey, come on," she whispered. It wasn't that Joanne wanted Mark to leave; in fact she'd fought him with all she had. Telling him every reason why he had to stay. However, all his return points were equally matched—he needed to get away, find himself. He felt like he was drowning, so with no choice left, both Joanne and Collins had called in every favor they could; now they had an apartment, a possible job, a plane ticket and possibly a future for Mark—at least temporarily.
Joanne and Mark created a light atmosphere as she drove him to the airport, but she wouldn't deny how terrified and sad she was to be losing a friend like him, and so soon after losing another one. Finally pulling in front of the doors she paused and looked at him, "You don't have to do this you know—we'll be here, even if Roger isn't…"
"Jo—I have to do this, if I don't get out there, and try to make my own way then I never will. At least if I can try to have a life while you guys are still alive, then I know I can have one after everyone is gone. I have to try and create my own life now, so that when Roger and Collins are gone and you two move on I'll have something to hold onto. Otherwise I'll be lost."
She nodded sadly, ignoring the tears that had started streaming down her face, "God, if I was any other woman, I'd kiss you. I'm going to miss you Mark—more than you'll ever know," she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Listen to me Mark, if you ever need a friend, someone to talk to, or ever for a hug—don't hesitate to call me; please don't stay away forever—because Roger doesn't have that long."
"I'll be back, in one year, I promise," he whispered pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Take care of Maureen, Rog and Collins."
"I will," she replied.
Without another word, Mark slipped out of the car, taking his bag with him, with no more than a glance behind; he disappeared into the large building. Leaving the past behind, leaving the Mark Cohen people knew and loved behind.
o0o
It was a two and a half hour flight, most of which Mark spent wishing he smack the child sitting behind him every time his seat went forward another inch from the harsh child's kicking. Mark groaned as they pilot announced they'd have to wait on the runway for another half hour as they landed in the Chicago airport; silently cursing the idiot parent who allowed their child enough sugar to keep him or her awake for a three hour flight. He silently vowed never to have children after this flight.
By the time Mark finally was herded off the plane with the couple hundred other people, he gasped for air, feeling as though he'd suddenly developed claustrophobia. He glanced at his watch; it was now three in the afternoon, which meant his meeting was in half an hour. He looked down at his clothes, unsure how far his apartment was from both his possible job and the airport.
Deciding he didn't exactly have time to waste, Mark grabbed his bag from the turnaround, grateful it hadn't gotten lost, and hurried out of the airport. Hailing a taxi was by far the easy part, "Do you know where the Tribune TV station is?" Mark asked as he threw his luggage in the back and climbed in.
"Yeah," the man answered with a thick accent, making Mark a little nervous.
"Great, I need to get there in twenty minutes," Mark said looking at his watch again.
"Son, that place is forty-five minutes away, and you're going to hit traffic by the time you get there…"
"Look I've got a hundred bucks in it for you if you can get me there in thirty five minutes, without traffic," Mark added.
The driver glanced back at him, "You from New York?"
"Uh, yeah," grinned Mark.
"You know how to talk to a cabbie son, all right," with that the man shot out of the parking space.
In the half an hour Mark spent talking to the man, he was pleased to say he'd gotten to know him somewhat, the cab driver's name was Stan, he had three kids, two boys and a little girl, all under the age of nine. As promised, thirty five minutes after leaving the station, and breaking at least four laws. Mark stepped out of the cab, trying to get his land legs back and handed the man a hundred dollars, "Keep the change, and thanks for all your help—"
"Son, you got a place to stay?"
"Uh, yeah it's an apartment complex in Fairview Park," Mark responded.
"Tell you what, take as long as you need, I'll drive you there, I'm off in an hour anyway. The apartments are only twenty minutes from here, but it'll be dark before too long."
"I don't hav—"
"Don't worry about money; you seem like a good kid, who just could use a few breaks. I'll be here waitin' when you're done."
"Thanks," Mark said smiling.
o0o
Franklin Sheppard sighed, rubbing his forehead as he listened to the TV; their show and he was forced to listen to it. Papers surrounded him in the small office, as he tried to remain organized. He looked at his watch, he didn't like tardiness, but Thomas Collins had told him that Mark was the most punctual man unless something literally kept him from being on time.
Just as Frank was about to give up on the kid the door opened, reveling Mary, his blonde secretary, she smiled softly at her boss, "Sir, Mark Cohen is here."
"Good send him in, and while you're at it, would you please make sure Daniels and Jackson know they're fired!" he ground out.
Mark stepped into the crowded office and looked down at the man behind the desk. He was probably in his early forties; he was a well built man, neither fat nor too skinny, with dark brown hair and gray eyes. His eyes seemed to hold coldness to them; one Mark had never really seen before, but he didn't say a word.
"Cohen, have a seat: You're friend Collins went to school with me, he's a good guy—He says you're a pretty damn good guy as well. He sent me your video. I'm not going to cut any corners here Cohen, frankly I'm tired and I want to go home, so I'll give it to you straight. You've got one month to show me everything you've got, I'll put you behind the camera with one of our starting reporters; if you can keep up in a month and give us everything you have, and then you've got the job for as long as you want it. If you're anything like Daniels' there," the man paused pointing to the TV, whoever held the camera recording the reporter, was doing a terrible job, the camera was moving and fidgeting everywhere, "Then you'll be gone within two weeks. You start first thing tomorrow morning, six o'clock, don't be late. Do you have a car?"
"Ah—n—no sir," he replied softly.
"All right, when you leave let Mary know, she'll set you up with a commuter car until you get one."
"So I have the job?" Mark whispered grinning from ear to ear.
"Yeah kid you've got the job."
Mark let out a whoop as he stood up and shook the man's outstretched hand, he wasn't going to fail this. Grinning he left the room, and headed to the desk where Mary sat. She looked up at him and offered him a sweet smile, "What can I do for you honey?" she asked kindly.
"I need a commuter car."
She nodded and pulled out the papers, "Okay, these are all the files, these are only temporary cars for you—most of our workers move here without anything, so we try to help them as much as we can. You need to find a car by the end of next week, and no wrecks. Understand."
Mark complied, "Yes ma'am."
"Call me Mary sweetie, everyone else does. Are you okay to get here and back tomorrow?"
"Uh, yeah I'll be fine."
"Good, we'll see you bright and early tomorrow Mark."
o0o
Mark rolled over to the sound of an annoying alarm clock, he suddenly realized it was his and sat up. He had a half hour to get ready for work; Stan had been kind enough to give him his personal number and offer Mark a ride back to work in the morning. He'd be there in twenty minutes, Mark quickly jumped in the shower.
The apartment Joanne and Collins had set up for him was actually nice, it wasn't huge, but a good size, he had a living room, a small kitchen, a large bathroom with a tub and shower, and a good sized bedroom with a walk in closet. The rent wasn't terribly high, and he'd already paid off the first two months of rent with his last pay check from Buzzline.
By the time Mark walked out of his apartment, Stan was already there waiting in his cab, "I thought you'd gotten lost," laughed the cab driver as he pulled away from the building and headed towards the TV station.
"Thanks Stan, I don't know how to thank you," Mark explained.
"Make the best out of your life you can Mark, everyone needs a chance in life, like I said you seem like the type that hasn't gotten many chances. This is your chance now to start over and do your best. Just succeed, that's all I ask."
"I will, and thank you again for the rides," replied Mark, shaking the driver's hand he hurried into the building.
Mark wasn't really positive where he was supposed to be going, whether he was supposed to be going to Frank's office or the newscast room, he was walking down the hallway leading to Frank's office, lost in his own thoughts when he felt another body connect with his. He grunted as they were both sent to the floor. He heard the unmistakable sound of paper flying up in the air and landed everywhere.
"Damn it!" hissed a very feminine voice opposite of him.
He rapidly scrambled to help clean up the mess, grabbing the papers and trying to pile them together, only to smack his forehead against her's, causing another grunt of pain. "Shit I'm sorry," he hissed in pain.
"No, its fine," she grumbled rubbing her forehead.
"I'm so sorry," he groaned, he looked up and that's when he got a good look at the owner of the very famine voice. She had auburn brown, shoulder length hair, bright green eyes with golden flakes around her irises. Her face was fair and pale, causing her eyes and hair to be far more striking.
"Its fine, I guess our head on collision merits an introduction," still on her knees she held out her hand, "I'm Kate Webber."
Mark offered a smiled as he felt a blush run through his cheeks: she was stunning when she smiled, "Uh—Mark, Mark Cohen," he finally managed a reply.
"Cohen! Webber, it's about damn time. Katie, I'd like you to meet your new camera man, Mark. Mark this is the woman you're going to be filming for the next month."
Mark felt his face grow hot as he looked back up at Kate, pleased to see that she had the decency to be blushing as well. "Uh—great, so what are we doing today?" Kate asked grinning suddenly.
Mark smirked at this, 'Wow' was all that popped into his mind. He didn't have a chance to continue that train of thought when Frank spoke up, "Right now we've got everyone assigned, why don't you two spend the morning getting to know one another, and I'll have something for you by this afternoon."
Neither Mark nor Kate noticed the smile the man had to hide as he walked away. Kate glanced over at the blushing man; she easily guessed he was about twenty-three or twenty-four. She had to smile slightly, realizing how cute he looked. "Uh—you've gotta be new here because I've never seen you; so have you been given the tour yet?"
Mark opened his mouth to speak and found the words wouldn't come out, so he simply shook his head no.
Kate perked up at this, setting the papers they'd collected down on a table, she grabbed his hand, pulling him forward, "Then come on, I'll give you the grand tour." Mark felt his heart jump in his chest as he followed her willingly.
Frank stood by the door to his office, watching as Kate paraded the new kid all around the newsroom, and the various stages. He shook his head as Mary came over and looked at the man, "You realize you assigned her that school interview with the teacher of the year…right?"
Frank smiled, "I know, she'll be there with time to spare, look at them Mary, how long has Katie been here?"
Mary shrugged, "I don't know Frank, maybe six weeks."
"Right, and aside from you, me, and Kelli, how many times have you seen her smile like that?"
"I always told people you were an old softie. Is that why you put Mark with her?"
"Mark's a fine boy, I can tell already he'll be a great assets to us, maybe even take my position one day, but: Mary those two just met and they already look at each other like I've looked at Angie for the past twenty-two years. They don't see it yet—give it time."
"So does that mean Mark's going to be here permanently?" Mary asked smiling softly.
Frank nodded, "Until he leaves, yeah."
Mary smirked, "Good, he's a sweet boy—so when were you going to tell her about that interview?"
Chuckling Frank replied, "As soon as she's given that boy the full tour and lunch."