April begins with a taste of summer - seventy degree temperatures and almost three days of pure blue sky. Mark and Roger take advantage of the change in the weather by going out for walks each day. The sights in Alphabet City are nothing to look twice at, but at least the air is fresh and the sun is out. Everything seems to be moving along at a nice pace; Mark has been filming again and sometimes he even hears Roger playing guitar in their - his - room. Life is not sunshine and rainbows, but it's pretty decent.

And then things fall apart.

One day about two weeks into April, when temperatures have fallen again and cold rain washes the outside windows of the loft, blown there by a chilly spring wind, Roger bursts into the loft while Mark is cooking dinner. His stony expression and drenched appearance shock Mark, who follows him to their room. ROGER'S room damn it. Mark stands in the doorway and watches as Roger changes his jeans out for a pair of old boxers, draws the curtains in the room, and crawls into the bed.

"What's going on Roger?"

"Nothing. Just leave me alone."

When Roger is like this, there's nothing to be done. Mark knows that from the days directly after Mimi's death. As he leaves Roger's doorway and walks back to the kitchen, there's a knock at the door. When he opens it Collins pulls him out to the hallway. "Did Roger come home yet?"

"Yeah" Mark replies, nonplussed. "Do you know something about what's wrong?"

Collins looks grave and sad in the dusty, pale light that comes from the dirty windows in the hallway of the building. "We went for something to eat and he saw a friend of Mimi's there. This girl didn't know that Mimi was gone, and when Roger told her, she asked what happened. When he told her Mimi had AIDS, the girl accused him of giving it to her. It wasn't her fault - she'd just been told her friend died, and she was upset. But he stormed out of the bar and I hoped he'd come back here eventually."

"He's here, and he's acting like he was back in January" said Mark. "I'm not sure what to do."

"Let him be for a while Mark. He needs time I think. You know how Roger is - who knows what crazy thoughts he's thinking? Give him time."

Collins said goodnight and went back downstairs. Mark was left alone to wonder how Collins dealt with his own life, after losing Angel. Roger was so messed up, but Collins seemed to be reasonably functional. His thought process was interrupted by Roger, who left his room to use the bathroom.

That night was rather quiet. Mark moved back to his room, which was cold and empty feeling after so many weeks of not being used. He barely slept at all that night, and wondered if Roger was laying awake in his room across the loft. When he rose the next morning he found Roger's room empty. Forcing himself not to panic, Mark spent the day filming and when he returned at 6pm Roger was back in his room. This odd behavior continued for several days, until Mark decided he had a fair idea of where Roger was and that he'd had enough time to beat himself up over the bar encounter.

The next day Mark rose and left the loft at 11am, leaving his camera behind. He made his way to the public cemetery several blocks from their building and sure enough, found Roger sitting near Mimi's grave. Following his gut, Mark sat down next to his friend.

"You haven't been sleeping with me."

Never in a million years would Mark have thought Roger would be the one to initiate a conversation.

"You've been in your room with the curtains drawn, or out of the house. Why would I think you'd welcome me in there with you?"

Roger sighs and looks around. "It's not you I have a problem with, it's me."

Mark laughs out loud and Roger stares at him. "It's like we're having a breakup talk. 'It's not you, it's me' - it just hit me as funny."

Then he gets serious and faces Roger, sitting down on the grass in front of him. "Collins told me what happened. What's going on in your head?"

Roger looks away across the tombstones. "When she accused me of getting Mimi sick, it just drove something home. I could have been the one who got her sick. I can never be with someone who isn't... like me." He spits the last two words as if he's disgusted with himself. "I felt dirty, and afraid, and like I was going to be alone forever. Which is why I wouldn't have minded you being around. But I guess I couldn't bring myself to speak to you."

Mark doesn't know what to say. He feels so bad about Roger's trouble, and there's absolutely nothing he can do to make it better.

"You know, some of what you said definitely isn't true."

Roger looks at him with empty eyes. Empty of emotion, of feeling. "What part?"

"You will never be alone forever. And all you have to do is speak to me, like you said. I know where you're going with this, but I won't let you convince yourself that your life is ruined and you're worth nothing. You have now, Roger. You have today, and tomorrow, and probably at least a few days after that, even though you're never sure with the nature of your sickness. But you have to use the time you have, and not cut it short. If you can't figure that out, then you certainly can't figure out to come to me when you feel alone."

Mark gets up and walks away, feeling sorry and disgusted with his friend. He stops to get food and Roger's medicine on the way home, and then spends the day feeling annoyed and trying to separate his clothes from Roger's. By the end of the day he's gotten most of his things back in his room; he cooks a solitary dinner and goes to bed early.

Around 8 pm he hears a key turn in the door and assumes Roger is home. He turns over to try once more to sleep and is startled half to death a few minutes later when he hears the door open. He can't see in the dark but a minute later the bed behind him moves down and an arm goes around his waist. He hears Roger laughing quietly at his obvious terror as he relaxes into the familiar arm. "Who'd you think I was, the boogy man?"

Mark smiles a huge smile in the dark and snuggles down into bed. Suddenly he's so tired he can barely keep his eyes open. "Welcome home Roger."

He doesn't expect Roger to answer but is pleasantly surprised as a sleepy voice answers him quietly.

"Thanks."