A/N: This chapters sad. You don't have to read it. The first chapter can just be a one shot if you don't want to read the end. Heh. But, if you do, enjoy. Many Many Character Deaths.
Ten years later, to the day, Mark Cohen stands in a graveyard. Around him are seven graves, close to each other as if they were family. In a way, they were. Mark pushed his glasses up, as he looked around him. It shouldn't be this way. He should be meeting them in the Life Cafe, the loft, hell even back in Scarsdale. Not in this rundown cemetery. He looked at the sky, as tears began to fall down his face. He wasn't one to cry. Now, it seemed like he had no choice. Slowly, he began his rounds.
His first stop was Benjamin Coffin the Third. The man had become an ass, up until the last two years. He had married into money after completing college at Brown. Turned on by the power, he'd divorced the woman and took as much of her money as he could. He married again, this time someone richer. He never did get around to starting that charity, although he had started talking about it again a short time before he died. He died too young, they all had. Ben's had been the only unpredicted death. Just goes to show, you shouldn't walk around New York in a suit after sunset, at least not in the area Benny had been. He'd had two kids, a seemingly perfect family. He must have remembered his friends, although he hadn't stuck around long after the funerals. His kids were named Thomas Collin and Roger David. The wife was pregnant with their third kid, a girl if he remember right. Mark didn't even know if the kid had been born, he'd never talked to his wife. He moved on.
Maureen Johnson was the next one on his sad tour. She had been his everything for awhile. She'd ended up dropping out of college, and moving in with Roger shortly after high school. She'd become a performer, true to her word, and never gave up a fight she believed in. Mark had adored her completely, and they had been together for awhile once he finally rejoined his friends, his family. Then she had left him for Joanne, left her for Jordan, left him for Anthony... somewhere along the way she picked up the same disease it seemed the rest of his friends had. Why was he the only one that didn't get it? He couldn't answer that. She hadn't survived long after it turned from HIV to AIDs. After the funeral he'd never talked to Joanne again. He hoped she was doing well. He missed her sometimes, not nearly as much as he missed Mo. He stifled a sob as he moved on to his final friend, his best friend, the one he missed the most.
Roger Davis had left his legacy. Almost everyone Mark ran into these days had a Well Hungarians poster on their wall or carried around in a knapsack. Roger was a living legend in Alphabet City. He'd never gotten famous, never gotten rich. He'd become addicted to a drug that left deadly consequences, and lost a love to it. He'd gone into depression, given up music, only to fall back in love with his tiny dancer. She had given him something to live for, and he turned back to music. She died, and so did he, finally. He couldn't stand losing another love. He wished he could say AIDs killed Roger, as horrible as that is to say, but in the end Roger killed Roger. Mark finally broke down and sobbed outright as he remembered the day he walked in to find the blood spattered wall and the note from his former best friend. 'bury me between them Mark.'and he had. Roger was between his two loves, hopefully at peace.
The next friend he mourned was Thomas Collins. The man had been an inspiration to him since the day they'd met. He always had that higher knowledge, had always been the smart one of the group. After they parted, he'd gone to a variety of different colleges and ended up in New York in a loft. Soon, he had his friends join him. He started traveling, became a professor like he'd wanted to be. Then came the fateful night where he'd contracted HIV. In the end, he'd deal with it for six years before it killed him. If there was just one thing Collins was, he was a survivor. He was buried next to Angel, his guardian angel, his one true love which he never thought he'd find. He'd found her alright, but she'd been ripped away from him too early. Mark could only hope they were together again. Collins had lived up to his promise. He'd changed the world, or at least a small part of it. He'd changed Mark at least.
Then there was Mark. Mark had dropped out of Brown, moved to New York, and started filming. He wanted to change the world with his films. The only finished film he would ever make was still in his closet. He had watched his friends die all around him, until it was that he was alone. Mark had never wanted to be alone, and now that he was, it was terribly ironic. At least to him. He had sold out, working at a sleazy show called Buzzline. He hated it, hated himself, and fucked the executive of the show every other night. Just to say he could. Now that he was at that ten year mark, and now that he was alone, he felt it was okay to just quit. What was the point of life, when you had to go through it alone? He wanted his family back. All he had to do was pull the trigger. holding the already loaded gun that he had brought to his head, he squeezed his eyes shut behind his glasses. He wiped away his tears, and let out one last sob. then pop.