A/N: Um...should be studying. Am not. Doing this instead. Adam K! Mark and Will!Roger . Collins is actually still Jesse!Collins.

Don't own 'em...just borrowing.

Warnings: Um...so this is the first time an ending I wrote really depressed me. I have a strong constitution when it comes to sad. But yeah, so you might need a tissue or something. You have been warned

XXX

"How the hell did we end up back here so soon?" Mark asked no one in particular, staring at the bathroom mirror of the church. Dark brown eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, and tears that were shed when no one was looking stared back at him. First Angel, now Mimi. His own words not quiet three months ago echoed back at him. Perhaps it's because I'm the one of us to survive, he'd angrily thrown at Roger who'd called him out for his policy of detachment. Roger had spat back Poor Baby!. And while most of the time, Mark felt selfish when his thoughts crept back to that sentiment, sometimes the burden was enough to bring him close to breaking. Hell, when AIDS claimed the last of his friends- probably Roger because that just was how fate worked- it would crack him. He was certain. He sighed and rubbed his chin, feeling the three-no four- day stubble. Now wasn't the time to think of himself. Today he was here to honor Mimi's life and be there for his friends, but especially for Roger.

He took a breath, splashed water on his face, and readjusted his scarf. Not a completely inappropriate item of clothing. The church had no more heat then half the buildings on the block. Another steadying breath and he opened the door.

Roger was sitting in the vestibule on a bench, chewing on his bottom lip. "Ready?" He asked. His voice was steady but his turquoise eyes shone. His left hand held his right, and Mark knew it was to cover up his knuckles. APRIL. All thoughts Mark had about himself were washed away by this knowledge. Roger was burying a second love. Granted, he hardly was coherent for April's funeral...he made it through 10 minutes before Collins had to carry him out. Grief and drugs don't mix well.

"Only if you are." Mark said, quietly. He felt he'd misspoken, so he rambled on for a minute. " I mean, not that anyone ever is really ready..."

"Mark..it's okay. I am ready." He flashed a quick 'Roger Davis- I'm so cool I'm frozen' smile to reassure his friend, that lasted only a fraction of a second before falling. He stood up and hugged the shorter man quickly before they entered the church.

Benny, Collins, Joanne and Maureen were already there, as were members of Life Support and a dancer or two from the Cat-Scratch club. There was also a woman up front that Mark assumed was Ms. Marquez. Maureen ran up to Roger and hugged him tightly. Joanne's gaze met Mark's and she just raised an eyebrow, in a way that Mark understood as an apology for Maureen's lack of basic funeral decorum. He shook his head and flashed Joanne a quick sideways smile. Maureen had done the same thing to a less than receptive Roger at April's funeral. Though this time, Roger did hug the diva back.

As he slid into the pew next to Joanne, with Roger on the other side, Mark noted how much less tension there was now then at Angel's funeral. Thank God- or who/whatever- for small blessings.

The preacher spoke a few words, something about life/death, how life can leave in an instant...typical bullshit. Rest in Peace and etc. Then he opened it up for others to come forward. Collins stepped forward first, as Roger's composure had broken and he sat with head in hands.

"Mimi may have been tiny, but as Angel used to say, she was Tiger-fierce. And that girl had some claws. Hell, she got my boy there, Roger, out of the loft after a half a year of withdrawal where he wouldn't leave the house. Neither myself nor Mark could do it. But Mimi and her candle and pleas to "take her out tonight" got him out in one night." Here, Collins looked out at the crowd. "One magical night." He said, half to himself. "She was no saint, she had her vices. But she worked to give them up, though she fell now and again, as we all do. And from what I'm told, the girl could defend herself." Collins met Benny's gaze, remembering the New Years breaking-back-into the building party. "And she was my Angels best friend. She was,is, a key member of our little hodge-podge bohemian family. And she will be missed."

Ms. Marquez stood as Collins took his seat. "Mimi left home at 17. As unglamorous as the East Village can be, it looks like heaven to a wide eyed girl from Spanish Harlem. Or so she told me her first week there. She was always so sweet to me, always calling, helping me when her father died. I still remember the call when she told me she was HIV positive. I cried more than she did. Any mother would. The last time I talked to her was Christmas day. She called to wish me Feiliz Navidad, and told me a little of her ordeal. I'm sure that she only told me what she thought I could handle. She told me she'd talk to me the next week, on New Years Eve. I never spoke to her again. I got a call from Roger December 30th. I didn't cry as much as I probably should have but I was in shock. To believe I only had my Mimi for 20 years. I cherished all of them, I just wish I had more of them." She spoke quickly, this was obviously hard for her. Granted, no parent burying a child would have an easy time giving a eulogy. She sat down and began to pray softly in Spanish.

Roger stood. He was a little shaky but determined to do right by his love. He carried only a small candle and a match.

"Mimi came into my life one Christmas Eve with a simple request. Light her candle. I did,- about four times." He gave a half laugh and let the candle, which he lay on top of the closed casket. "We had...ups and downs doesn't even begin to describe it. They were Mt Everest highs and lows below sea level. But, as Collins said, she got me out. At first her brown eyes and 'No day but today' attitude aggravated me. Down right pissed me off. But they got to me,none the less. I was only trying to protect her. I didn't know she was HIV positive as well and I wasn't going to risk her getting hurt by me. I was convinced I was disaster. She pushed me through that, and even though, like I said before we had many low points in the span of a year, she was my love. I left in a huff on Halloween, returned just before Thanksgiving to find Mimi missing. We looked and looked. Thank God for Maureen and Joanne. If they hadn't gone to the park Christmas Eve, Mimi would have died alone there. She died too soon, no doubt, but with family and friends about her. She was and remains my true love." Roger had held up remarkably well until then. His voice failed him completely. He had planned to sing "Your Eyes" but all he could force out was a mournful "Goodbye, love." As he blew out the candle, a fresh wave of grief hit him and he began to sob. Mark ducked out of the pew and helped his friend back to the vestibule.

Roger's sobs echoed in the empty hallway. Mark didn't know what to say or do to comfort his friend. All he knew was that it hurt him to see Roger hurting like that.

"Rog...you wanna get out of here, go back to the loft?"

"I..no..maybe. I dunno." Roger got out. He sniffed and buried his head into his hands again. There was a moment or two while Roger's sobs began to subside. When he finally spoke up again, his voice was hoarse but he rambled on anyway.

"I was fine. I mean, not fine, but I could've gotten through that better. But Ms. Marquez. I miss Mimi so bad I can't fucking breathe sometimes and I only knew Mimi for a year. A fucking year. Her mother knew her for 20. And she was...ridiculously composed. And it wasn't like she didn't love Mimi it was just like she realized that crying wouldn't bring her daughter back. And then...it's really fucking selfish of me, but I started thinking, I need to call my mother. Would she even show at my funeral? Will she even miss me? I've not kept in contact with her since I got back to New York from Santa Fe. Why should she miss me? I mean...and I know you hate when I do this...but I'm not going to see 30 most likely. Hell...I'm 23 now..maybe I'll make 25? I've got between 2 and 7 years most likely. I have to rebuild so much time. I didn't speak to her when I was with April. I remember talking to her once after April died..I know I told her I was HIV positive and then just hung up. Then it was a postcard in Santa Fe and two once I got back to New York. That's it. Yeah..I need to get out of here. I need to make a phone call."

"You want me to come with you?" Mark looked up at his friend.

"Nah. Go back in there and give Ms. Marquez my condolences. I can walk three blocks, I promise." He flashed a watery smile. Mark hugged him once more and went back in.

Roger ran the three blocks. January in New York was a bitch. Plain and simple. He ran up the stairs to the loft and nearly dived on the phone. He dialed a number he hadn't dialed since April had been found in the tub.

"Hi,Mom? It's Roger...I just wanted to check in, let you know I'm alive..." He began. When Mark arrived an hour later, his roommate was still on the phone with his mother. It almost made him feel guilty. But, then he realized, he had all the time in the world to contact his mother. And that thought hit him like a ton of bricks and he leaned against the counter and cried for all the time his friends didn't have and all the time he wouldn't have them.