Author's note: I am not Cede. I am stealing her name for this story, as I do not have one of my own. Nor do I have a face or body at the moment.

Another Author's note: I don't write fan fics. I think its stupid to waste your time on stories that cant do anything for you, because if you have talent, why not use it to write a book that you can get published and make money off of it. But I had to write this for my sister to prove to her I've got what it takes besides the Alanna feather story (oh yeah, you know what I mean, cede) and I am in between stories so here you go!

(flame me, I don't care. I never get on this site to check it any way.)

Cede did not write this. Thought I'd put it here also since cede told me that lots of you guys don't read author's notes…

Joanne looked down at the book. Flipping through it, she felt a slight pang of guilt. She knew she shouldn't be looking through this, that she should just give it to Mimi. But it was here, and she wanted to know things.

She came across a page, no different then others. It was written in blue ink, with lines scribbled out and lines added in the margins. There was a crude drawing of a face. At the top, the words "Your eyes" were bigger. It was the title. Joanne sighed.

Sitting down that notebook, she picked up the next one. She started to open it when a sharp knock made her look up. Tossing the book on the table, she stood up and pulled her robe tighter over her nightclothes.

Joanne looked through the peephole. Mark stood, rubbing his arms. Opening the door, Joanne looked at him oddly. "Mark? What's going on?"

He let out one long breath "I-"l

"Maureen isn't here. She took Matty to the store. She went to pick up some stuff for the protest."

He nodded, and then shivered. Joanne blinked. "Sorry, I'm being rude. Come in." She moved to the side, and Mark barged in, through the living room into the kitchen. He sat down, and Joanne sat down across from him. Looking at him, she again silently thanked God for not giving Matty his ugly hair and odd shaped face.

Last year, she and Maureen decided to be mothers. Instead of going to the sperm bank, they decided to have their friends be the fathers. Mark was Matt's dad, and Joanne's friend from the office, Greg, was going to be her child's father. They wanted Collins, but the AIDS thing got in the way. He understood.

Remembering the ordeal, Joanne sighed. Maureen was endlessly flirty. After they approached Mark about it, Maureen had (jokingly) asked if they wanted to do it tonight, or if he wanted to get a motel room. But still.

"Joanne?" Joanne was jerked from her thoughts by Mark's voice.

"Yes, Mark. What?"

"Do you have some cash?" Joanne frowned. Mark was never one to ask for money.

"I need to get Collin's AZT, but I forgot my wallet at home. The pharmacy was right down the street, so…please? I'll pay you back when I get my wallet."

Joanne suddenly realized she was wearing pajamas at eleven in the morning. "Uh, yeah, hold on. Why are you getting his meds for him? Is he okay?"

"Yeah. He's ju-" Mark paused. They had all learned to never say 'just this' or 'just that'. With AIDS, it was never 'just' anything. "He's got a cold. What are all the notebooks for?"

Joanne looked down at the notebooks. She started to tell him, but decided against it. He wouldn't understand. "Nothing. Let me get my purse." She stood up and walked to the bedroom and grabbed her purse.

Pulling out a wad of bills, she went back to the kitchen. "Here you go. Tell Collin's that I hope he gets better. We wished he could come to the protest. Matty'll miss him at the after-dinner." Mark nodded and headed for the door.

"Thanks, Joanne! I owe you, I'll tell him!" Got to run!" The door shut with a slam. Joanne still looked at the books.

She picked up the envelope that came with them. Opening it slowly, Joanne took a deep breath.

Hey Joanne.
I always liked you, you know. It was fuckin funny how Maureen left Mark for you.

Joanne rolled her eyes.

Anyway, I'm giving all my notebooks to you. You know why. I know I'm dying. You know what to do
No day but today
Roger

Joanne gasped. Did he really mean-was he really talking about-but that was years ago!

Joanne sighed. She remembered it like yesterday. Mimi wasn't doing really good, and Maureen and Joanne had taken soup over. But Roger had asked to talk to Joanne privately.

He had needed legal help, he needed to know how long someone could get put away for his plans.

Hmm. Suddenly I'm bored with this story. I want to watch TV. Tell my sister if you want more.

Bye- Pie.