A/N: I am SO SORRY that I haven't updated in three months! I feel really bad. Things have been hectic, but on the up-side, I did finally finish my Wicked fic. So currently this fanfic is the only one I have in-progress, which should lead to much faster updates...The drama starts, just barely, in this chapter.

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The next morning, Saturday, Mark woke up early. His first instinct was to get up to get a cup of coffee, but instantly afterwards, he remembered his condition and the fact that he really couldn't get himself into his wheelchair very well. So he lay back against the pillows instead and allowed his mind to roam.

His parents were coming. Mark inwardly cringed when he thought about how they would react upon seeing him so beat up. His mother in particular had always been highly overprotective of her son, calling him 'Marky-poo' even into his adult years, and babying him far more than she had ever babied his sister Cindy, four years his elder. Of course, Mark knew a lot of it was his own fault – he had been a shy, quiet, kid, and he'd never given his parents any reason to believe he didn't want or need their help. Their attitude toward him now was his punishment.

Footsteps pulled the filmmaker back into the present.

"Mark? Honey, are you awake?" Anna asked gently as she entered the room in her bathrobe, leaning on her crutch for support.

"Yeah, I'm up," Mark said, raising his head, "Figuratively speaking, at least. Literally, I'm kind of trapped on the couch."

Anna smiled. "Here, let me help you." She leaned her crutch against a table, wheeling Mark's wheelchair to a spot right in front of the couch. Then she helped her husband lift himself gently off the couch into the chair. Mark winced.

"Ouch."

"You okay?" Anna asked concernedly, taking Mark's former seat on the couch.

"It just…hurts," Mark explained awkwardly, not meeting his wife's eyes.

"Mark, let's talk. Can we talk? We haven't had a real chance, just the two of us, since the crash."

"We can talk," Mark allowed, "What do you want to talk about?"

"The crash. You." Anna said quietly, laying a hand on his knee, "I know what you did when the semi hit."

"Oh, that," Mark waved a hand and tried not to blush. "You're my wife. What was I supposed to do? It was nothing."

"It was everything," Anna disagreed.

Mark's cheeks went red. "Yeah?" he mumbled.

"Yeah." Anna confirmed, smiling and squeezing her spouse's hand. Then she turned solemn. "Sweetie…I know Roger told you what the doctor said about your legs. I can tell." Mark looked away. Anna pressed on. "I want to let you know that I believe you will get through this. I believe you will walk again."

Mark looked up. "Really?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes. Don't give up hope, hon. We can do this. I'll be right here with you the whole time."

Mark smiled gratefully, but before he could respond there was a knock on the Loft door. The two looked at each other in alarm.

"My parents? Already?" Mark wondered.

But the door opened to reveal Roger and Mimi instead.

"Good morning!" Mimi chimed brightly, skipping to the couch and hugging Anna and then Mark.

"Um…hi?" Anna asked tentatively, watching as her friend bounced into the kitchen to make coffee.

Roger shook his head, rolling his eyes. "She's been like this all morning, and she won't tell me why."

"I'll tell you now that Mark and Anna can hear, too," Mimi said, turning the coffeemaker on and leaping into the old armchair.

"So, what's up?" Mark asked.

Mimi straightened, her eyes shining. "Okay. You know how the Tompkins Performing Arts Theatre chooses a dance studio every year to perform the ballet 'Swan Lake' in April?" When she received three nods, she went on, "Well, this year – they chose us!"

Anna squealed and hugged the dancer tightly. "Oh, congratulations, Meems!" she exclaimed, "I'm so happy for you!"

Roger kissed his wife. Mark smiled. He didn't know much about dance, but he did know enough to understand it was an honor to be chosen for 'Swan Lake', and that it was something Mimi had wanted ever since she'd opened the studio.

"Congrats, Mimi," he said, smiling.

"Thanks!" Mimi babbled on for a while before they remembered the coffee, and they had just about finished breakfast when the phone rang.

As usual, no one moved to pick it up.

"Speak!" the message, unchanged all these years later, rang through the room.

"Ma-ark! Honey, it's Mom! Pick up the phone! Oh never mind, don't bother, I know you won't anyway. Just wanted to let you know that your father and I are going to be there in about a half hour. We can't wait to see our Marky-poo!" Click.

Mark's cheeks glowed, and he buried his face in his hands. Roger also put his face in his hands, but his shoulders were shaking with laughter.

"Oh, Marky-poo!" Mimi sang, mimicking the message, "You'd better get ready! They can't wait to seeeee you!"

"Shut up," Mark mumbled to his hands. But he agreed that he had to get ready, so he and Anna disappeared into their bedroom to get dressed. Meanwhile, Mimi woke Rachael up and told her that her grandparents would be arriving soon. Rachael was less than pleased, but grudgingly got dressed and ate some breakfast. Even Angie, discovering her parents' absence in the apartment, stumbled upstairs. Therefore, when the dreaded knock on the door came, all the Cohens and Davises were congregated in the living room.

"Maybe I should hide. Break it to them gently." Mark suggested, paling.

Anna shook her head. "There's no time for that. But I'll answer the door and do my best…" And, leaving her crutch behind, she went slowly to the door and pulled it open.

"Anna! Darling, how are you?" Julie Cohen chirped, pulling her daughter-in-law in for a tight hug.

"I'm doing fine, Mom. It's good to see you again. How long has it been?" Anna asked, trying to block Julie's view of the rest of the room.

"Oh, about three years, dear, but who's counting? The time flies by, doesn't it? Where is that son of mine? And Rachael, where is she?"

"Right here, Grandma," Rachael said, pushing her way in and hugging her grandmother.

"Rachael! You've gotten so big! How old are you now? Thirteen?"

"I'm sixteen, Grandma."

"Sixteen? Goodness!" Julie looked like she might launch into a long monologue, but her husband, Gregory, suddenly appeared, mounting the last set of stairs behind his wife and breathing heavily.

"Julie, let the poor girls breathe!" He good-naturedly hugged Anna and Rachael, then said, "Well, are you going to let us in the apartment, or keep us out here?"

"Oh, sorry, of course you can come in. But there's something I need to tell you first…"

"Honey, it's okay!" Mark called from inside, "They might as well see for themselves."

"See what, exactly?" Julie asked suspiciously. Anna stepped aside to reveal Mark in his wheelchair, with the Davises hovering at the side.

"Mark?! My baby!" Julie rushed over to her son, taking in his injuries with horror. "What happened?"

"We were in a bad car crash a couple weeks ago," Mark explained, "Mom, I'm fine," he insisted as his mother began to fawn over him.

"Tell us about this car crash, son," Gregory instructed.

Mark quickly told about the crash and everything that had happened afterward. "…So you see, I'm perfectly okay. We both are."

"You don't look okay to me! Why didn't you call your father and me right away? We would have come down to help!"

"Really, Julie, everything's okay. They were both doing so well, we didn't see a reason to worry you," Roger, who with Mimi and Angie had been skulking to the side, broke in.

Julie blinked as if she hadn't realized until then that were three more people in the room.

"Roger!" she exclaimed, hurrying over and engulfing the musician in a warm hug, "I didn't see you there! Tell me, dear, since my son seems so unwilling, is there anything else about this my husband and I should know? Any hospital bills, or…permanent disabilities?"

Roger glanced at Mark, who was shaking his head slightly from side to side. He smiled down at the older woman. "No, that's it. Nothing else."

Julie didn't look as if she entirely believed him, but she turned away to her husband. "Gregory, I think you'd better run out to the car and get our bags. Roger will help you. We were thinking about staying in a hotel room instead of here, because I know it can get rather crammed," she told Anna, "But now I see we're simply going to have to make do."

Gregory and Roger exited the Loft, and Julie turned to her granddaughter. "Rachael, would you and your friend – it's Angela, isn't it dear? – get me some more blankets from the closet? It's freezing in here. If the heater is broken, we'll simply have to get a repairman." When the teenagers had disappeared down the hall, she turned to Mimi. "Mary, would you run down to the corner grocery for me and get some good food? I don't even have to look in the refrigerator to know all it contains is stale bread and a few moldy oranges."

"It's Mimi," Mimi said quietly. It was well known that Julie was not overly fond of the dancer, especially after finding out that she had formerly been a stripper at a raunchy nightclub. Mark's mother had known Roger since he and Mark had been best friends back in school, so she wholly loved Roger and his daughter, but she had never quite approved of Mimi.

"Of course it is. Here, take this money, and hurry back." Julie said distractedly.

"I'll go help you," Anna began, standing, but the senior Cohen clucked disapprovingly and pushed Anna back down.

"Oh no, you won't. You sit right there, dear. You're on crutches; the least you can do is sit and relax for awhile. Let me take care of things for now. Don't worry about a thing."

Anna shrugged at Mimi, who grimaced and slipped out the door.

"This should be fun…" Mark murmured to his wife when his mother had temporarily left the room. Anna only smiled.

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Mimi decided to detour into her apartment to get a warmer coat before leaving the building. She was just on her way out the door again when a sharp knock startled her. Opening the door cautiously, she saw to her surprise a gangly young woman dressed in ripped jeans, a wild, multi-colored sweater, and black and white beat-up Converses. The girl had darkish skin, a bit darker than Mimi's own, but lighter than Collins' had been and certainly lighter than Benny's. She had big, dark eyes, and her black hair was long and in dreadlocks.

"Can I help you?" Mimi asked politely, taking in the girl's bizarre appearance.

"I hope so. Are you Mimi Marquez?"

Mimi frowned. "That was my maiden name, yes."

The girl bit her lip. "I'm Adrienne. And I think I'm your daughter."

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A/N: Ooooh...cliffie! Review!

And if you didn't notice, the title of this chapter has a double meaning.