Could be anyone/Mark OR anyone/Mark friendship

Summary: I watched him with his camera in hand, as always, he began to sing. And the words were so truthful.

"I watched him, and listened to him sing. He was right, how did he get there? How did we get here? "

I watched him pace the graveyard, hidden just behind a tree. I knew he liked to be alone, but I thought this was different. I watched him take his cell phone. God knows how he got that, I thought we were starving artists.

Then again, Mark's mother probably paid for it. God, she was overprotective. He dialed a number and spoke softly and sadly.

"Hi. It's Mark Cohen. Is Alexi there? Uh, No need to bother her. Just let her know that I'm running late…" He paused apparently interrupted and then his voice became harsh "for my appointment... I'm at my... Yes, I'll still be there...Yes, I signed the contract... Thanks." That was not what the Mark I knew sounded like.

But we we're all going through a rough time. I'm sure my mouth must have dropped open when he began to sing. Shy, conservative Mark, singing? I mean, he was after all, used to hiding behind the camera lens.

"How did we get here?
How the Hell...
Pan left - close on the steeple of the
Church

How did I get here?
How the Hell..."

How did he get to where he was? Why was he the only one alone? I mean he wasn't in love, and he wasn't sick. It must be pure torture watching his friends. Both watching us kiss and cuddle and watching some of us die.

"Christmas, Christmas Eve - last year
How could a night so frozen
Be so scalding hot?
How can a morning this mild
Be so raw?"

He was right. The memories of last Christmas Eve, where we all came together as a group, were amazing. It made that chilly night feel like a wonderful day in Florida. And now, as I watched him walk, cranking his camera and filming the graves, I could feel how freezing it was today.

"Why are entire years strewn
On the cutting room floor of memory
When single frames from one magic night
Forever flicker in close-up
On the 3-D Imax of my mind?"

Ah, film talk, now that's the Mark I know. But still, he's different; we're so use to him being cold and shut away. Not that he's not nice; he just doesn't share his feelings. He doesn't express them, like we all do. And why that one night? How could Christmas Eve change everything? And yet, I know it did. I could see how we followed a pattern from there on.


"That's poetic, that's pathetic."

I frowned. Mark had always been hard on himself, but I thought this was just a little over the top. I mean, he can't even cry like normal people. I've never heard him be this serious, and it's a little bit scary.

"Why did Mimi knock on Roger's door
And Collins choose that phone booth
Back where Angel set up his drums?
Why did Maureen's equipment break down?"

Wow. I've never thought about this before. Why did these things happen? Why were we all brought together? And is it for the better or the worse? Most of the time I think it's the former. But sometimes a thought creeps into my mind about the latter.

"Why am I the witness?"

He had a good point. Mark was always seeing, always watching. Why was it always him? He was the one who would slowly watch his friends die. One by one they would slip away. And he would watch.

"And when I capture it on film
Will it mean that it's the end
And I'm alone?"

God, I hope not. It wouldn't be fair. Mark would be here for us, and yet end up alone. Had we always known this was going to happen? Maybe. I guess I could've known. I guess if the thought crossed my mind, I pushed it away. None of us were going to die soon, I had thought. But now, that Angel was gone. Maybe, maybe he would be alone.

Unloved. No friends. He would've watched them all slip away. Die. One by one they would, but probably not too far away from each other. And he knew that he would watch. And he knew he would end up alone. Why did that bother me? How did he get there? And why did he have to be the one? No one should have to face anything alone.

-End-