Perhaps it's because I'm the one of us to survive

Mark laughed bitterly thinking back at the conversation he and Roger had before he ran away to Santa Fe after Angel's funeral. If he could go back in time and change everything he would start here. Roger had no idea how much he really meant to him. Even when Roger eventually came back he still had no clue. Far be it for Mark to make an effort to explain himself. Habit had fixed that situation. Why mess with something that established?

Now he was alone, and it was too late. How was he to know that those last five months were to be his last. There was no signs, nothing. Just the sudden illness, then.... nothing. Just like Roger to run away. That's not fair, Mark knew he had no control over the situation, but it made him forget the pain for a while. Until the anger wore off, and the agony came back. Mark knew that things were never going to be the same, and he didn't know how he was going to survive with out him.

After Roger came back, and Mimi was found, life was almost bearable. No longer alone, the time spend with everyone was happy, even if it was borrowed time. The group was closer after the loss of Angel, and the temporary fear of almost losing Mimi. But it was tumultuous at best, Mark knew it would not last forever. Little did he know how short it would actually be. Mark realized he was crying, and had to stop. Even now it hurt to think about his life, and losses.

Mimi was the first to go. Everyone knew it was coming, even after her miraculous recovery, she was not as healthy as she had been before. Living on the streets had gotten to her, and it showed. Roger had tried to make the best of that time, as did everyone else. Mark loved Mimi, she was like a younger sister, the one that everyone took care of. Never did Mimi fault her for Roger falling in love with her, you can't control things like that. Still it hurt Mark every time he saw them together. It was too painful when he couldn't even express his deepest feelings to his supposed best friend.

After Mimi passed on, Roger withdrew even more in himself than he did after April's suicide and consequent discovery of his AIDS. Mark did all he could do to help him, be there for him, and love him as a friend should. Still he couldn't say the words that clung to his dry throat. Instead he listened to Roger's increasingly dark and stirring music while he filmed the last days with his best friend. Not that he knew then, but looking back, and being able to measure their time in days did nothing to alleviate the pain. Mark loved Roger with more passion as time passed and still could do nothing.

It wasn't until the last hours that Mark finally swallowed his pride and confessed. Roger only looked at him with his sad dead eyes and smiled. Mark realized how ironic the whole situation as only an artist could. Deep confessions like that to the dying deserved to be on talk shows and soap operas. He also realized that Roger had known the entire time. When Mark should have been embarrassed he was only relieved. Relieved that someone understood, relieved that someone else knew, but mostly relieved that Roger accepted it. Death came easier for him when he knew that he was loved into his death.

Mark truly was the one of them to survive, but he would do anything to trade parts with someone. He could not live like this, being alone, knowing he sent the one he loved into death without the opportunity to respond, living with regret. Feeling foolish Mark turned back to the table and returned to the work that he had been neglecting. Almost finished he knew that Roger would be pleased with the final result. A little too late, but still a necessary action. Finishing the final splice Mark went to preview his movie.

Across the screen flashed the words.... Better Late Than Never: A Confession of Love