Chapter One- Looking for Wisdom in All the Wrong Places

Roger sat, his guitar cradled in his lap. He had been working most of the afternoon on a new song. It had taken him almost a full year to start playing again after Mimi's near-death experience, as he had been too afraid to leave her side long enough to get his guitar. It was only at Mimi's refusal to speak to him till his fingers were calloused again that made him pluck out a few songs, and then a few more.

Mimi slept on the couch, a book opened and resting upon her stomach. She was still as thin as she had been, still as beautiful, and still very much in love with Roger, a sentiment she knew was returned. She was twenty-three now. Three years had passed since that fateful night when she had returned from seeing Angel in that warm, white tunnel, before being turned away. She still had life to live, and it was her full intent to live it.

Mark sat at the table, the Village Voice splayed open in front of him. His camera was in its bag, which hung from the chair next to him. He continued his refusal to work for Buzzline. He was not a sellout, and had hated ever giving anyone the chance to peg him as such. He made a decent living selling footage to real news stations when the opportunity presented itself, otherwise he filmed and made do with what that got him.

Collins was…somewhere, though none knew for sure, and they were okay with that. Anymore, Collins was growing restless of the city. They figured that it would not be too much longer before he left again. The absence would be temporary, as always, but he would still be gone.

Mimi stirred in her sleep. Roger looked over from his guitar, as her book fell to the floor, but Mimi did not awake. Roger smiled at the sleeping beauty. They both knew death loomed over them, ready to steal them away before either could blink, but they didn't let that affect their love, their devotion, their passion. Seeing she would not wake, at least not now, Roger turned his attentions back to the Fender nestled in his crossed legs and the notebook beside him.

Mark folded the Voice and tossed it aside. He sighed. The news today was grim, it almost always was anymore. "I'm going to go out for a bit," he said, winding his scarf about his neck. "Don't forget to take your,"

"AZT," Roger finished. "I won't. I haven't in years." Roger hadn't even looked up.

Mark smiled, before he strode to the door. He didn't know just exactly where he was going, perhaps out of the city even. He was trying to do more than film the homeless and beggars that littered the street like yesterday's newspaper. He walked to the subway, smiling as he remembered the performance that Collins had put that Christmas, when Angel was still with him. Her time had been cut so short, especially her time with Collins. He turned back and shouldered his camera bag, before waving to an unobservant Roger.

She had to stop. She had let her feet pound against the pavement, propelling herself away, for as long as she could. Now she could not breathe, and could barely stand. She had not gotten as far as she had hoped to. She dug out the little change she had in her pocket. Barely enough for a subway ticket, but still enough. She smiled breathlessly. She trudged to the stairs that led to what she hoped would be the place she could call home.

Finding a seat, she collapsed into it. She swept her hair up into a messy bun atop her head, hoping that it would help her to cool off. It worked, if only a little. She had nothing. Wrong, she had the clothes on her back and this hair tie. Her jeans were ripped, and her t-shirt was grungy, and clung to her with sweat. She cursed herself for not thinking to bring along any other clothes.

She looked around the compartment. There was a woman in a business suit, texting; a couple of boys with a basketball; a student trying to focus on her studies; and a blonde haired man with a striped scarf about his neck, despite the warm of the September day. None of them seemed to be paying attention to her, or anyone else for that matter. She sighed, she was better off not being noticed.

Except she was.

That was the end of Chapter one. I hope you like it. I have only a vague idea where this is going, and merely am writing as the muses move me. None of my stories bear a disclaimer. THEY ARE FANFICTIONS, therefore, are not works by the original author. Please leave a review with constructive criticism. I would love to hear from you.