A/N: Here's chapter seven, everyone! It's another long one. I hope you'll enjoy it, I hope I'll get reviews for it! Thanks to my reviewers, you really made my day. I watched the deleted 'Goodbye Love'-scene today. FA-BU-LOUS! It's a shame they cut it. There were some moments there that fed me ideas for my next chapters, so expect some angst!

Enjoy chapter seven, and please review!


Chapter 7

Right after she had started gagging, Leni heard hurried footsteps and a moment later a concerned Roger burst into the bathroom.

"God, baby…"

He knelt next to her, held her hair and rubbed her back in slow soothing circles.

She coughed up spit and stomach fluid twice more before sitting back and closing her eyes, trying to quell the flow of tears. She heard water running.

Something moist touched her face. She looked up and saw that Roger was dabbing at her face with a cold, wet towel. His free hand held the chipped mug in which he and Mark normally kept their toothbrushes. It was filled with water and she took it gratefully, rinsed out her mouth, spat into the toilet and then flushed.

Roger helped her to her feet and she washed her shaking hands.

"You okay?" he asked softly and tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ears. "D'you want some… I dunno… tea or water or something?"

"No thanks," she said, giving him a strained smile. Her throat hurt and her voice was croaky. "I'm just… really hung over."

He smiled in understanding and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Come back to bed, baby."

She nodded and let him lead her back to bed. He slipped under the covers first and then opened his arms for her. She snuggled up to him, his body heat felt wonderful after having her bare feet on the cold bathroom tile.

"Go back to sleep," he advised her, kissed her hair and closed his eyes.

Leni couldn't sleep. The fact that he was being so sweet hurt like an open wound and she hated herself so much for lying that it took all of her willpower to just stay still. She felt like running from the loft, from Alphabet City… somewhere.

Even as Roger's breathing slowed and it became evident that he was asleep, she just stared blindly at the ceiling, unblinking, ignorant of her burning eyes.

Don't think…

She breathed deeply. Suddenly it felt so important to do that.

Don't think of what happened.

When had she ever really paid attention to breathing? Or to feeling? She now felt Roger's arms around her, his bare chest beneath her head.

Don't think of what might happen.

She loved the feeling of being in his arms. And she hated herself. Did she deserve him? Certainly not.

Don't think…


Then next day brought her monthlies. As much as she normally hated that time of the month, the accompanying cramps and backaches, she actually welcomed it this time. It gave her an excuse to stay away from Roger's bed and for being irritable and distracted. The men believed without a second thought that it was due to her condition.

Five days after the incident, she couldn't take it anymore. She broke down to a co-worker, telling her everything and sobbing into her shoulder. The friendly woman who saw Leni not really as a gown-up but more like a screwed up kid, told her to go to the hospital to get a test done, right after work. She even came with her and held her hand as they drew blood.

Later that very same day, Leni sat in her apartment, her high school yearbook open on her knees. She had thumbed through the pages, trying and failing to recall every last detail of what her senior year had been like, of what her friends were doing now… she only knew about Alessandra, and that was because Allie had been too stubborn to let the friendship die down and kept calling, although Leni hardly ever called back.

It occurred to her that, if she really was sick and the rest of the group rejected her for lying, as they surely would, she would be alone.

The thought made her tear up once more, but before she could reach for a tissue, a knock on the door interrupted her musings.

"It's…it's open," she called. Please, please don't be Roger!

It was Mark. He had barely entered when he launched into what was obviously a rehearsed speech.

"Time is up, Leni. I told you I would wait for you to tell him and you haven't, so now I… why are you crying?"

The anger in his voice died down and was immediately replaced by concern.

Mark had never been able to see a woman cry without offering some sort of comfort. Now he sat down next to Leni and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"What is it?" he prodded gently.

"Remember when you told me to be careful…?" she began quietly, not once meeting Mark's eyes. "I wasn't. Roger and I… we were both drunk off our asses and we forgot to use any…" She felt Mark's arm slowly slip from her shoulders . "I went to the hospital today to get myself tested. It'll take them about a week…" A deep, shuddering breath. "Mark, I'm scared!"

Mark pulled her into his arms as she began to cry loudly, each sob shaking her entire body. He could do nothing but whisper soothing nonsense into her hair while his own head reeled.

Roger found them like this and he hurried immediately to his girlfriend's side.

"What is it, baby?" he asked as he eased her out of Mark's arms and into his.

She didn't answer, just buried her face in his shirt and cried. Roger looked at Mark helplessly.

The filmmaker sighed. He did not want to have to say it, but there was no way around it.

"She's scared, Rog. She took an HIV test today."

Leni's sobbing ceased and she looked at Mark, horror clearly written in her face. Roger still held her close as he cast Mark a confused look.

"The hell…? You're already positive." It was directed at Leni, but again it was Mark who answered.

"No, she wasn't, Roger. She was negative all this time."

The musician let go off her, and got to his feet. Without looking at her, he said, "And there I was wondering how I'd fuck this one up. Great! You took care of it for me."

He started to leave. "Roger," Leni called after him. I love you! "I'm sorry!"

His answer was simple.

"Fuck off!"


Leni just sat there, looking at the door through which Roger had just disappeared. She felt numb. In some twisted portion of her brain she registered that this was actually an improvement. A moment ago, she had been in pain and she had been scared. Now she was numb.

"Leni?" Mark asked tentatively, "Are you ok?" He put a hand on her shoulder. "You know I had to tell him. I'll talk to him, ok? He'll come around."

She didn't answer. "Is there anything I can do for you?" Mark tried one last time. She nodded and looked him in the eye. "Leave me alone! I don't want to be around anybody right now."

He sighed, thinking that he should have suspected it. "Fine. If you need anything… you know where to find us."

He tried kissing her hair, but she pulled away.

After he had gone, Leni walked into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on her face. As she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she started to laugh bitterly. She looked like hell! Her hair was dishevelled and the circles under her eyes were so dark they looked like bruises.

People kept telling her that she would be fine, but somehow she knew she wasn't. How stupid had she been, thinking that lying would be any basis for a relationship? Roger had his reasons for not wanting to date her and she had guilted him into it.

Her mother had always called her a hopeless romantic, someone with a flair for drama, but this was just too much. And now, she might pay the price for it.

Anger at herself burned inside her, and fear, and loneliness, and with a shriek of desperation, Leni rammed her hand through the door of her bathroom cabinet.


Mark heard her scream while he was preparing more coffee. Roger wasn't in the loft, he had probably gone to Tompkins Square Park to clear his thoughts, as he often did. The filmmaker was secretly glad he didn't have to deal with his roommate right now. Roger would be unbearable for the next couple of days, but Mark couldn't blame him. Ever since he had found out about being HIV positive, Roger had taken extra care not to endanger anyone around him. He didn't even let Mark look after any injury he might have sustained without surgical gloves and he would never, no matter how drunk he was, sleep with a healthy woman without a condom. He wouldn't sleep with healthy women, period.

The telephone rang, but Mark didn't feel like talking. After two rings, the answering machine picked up and his and Roger's voice yelling "SPEAK!" rang through the loft.

"Hey, Marky," said Maureen on the other end, "it's me! Joanne and I will be back in two days, and I just called to tell you that we'll have to party… yes, Pookie, I'll be right there. Sorry, I have to go! I miss you!"

She hung up.

Mark took a deep breath. Maureen, Joanne and Collins, they didn't even know. And who'd be the one to tell them? Who else but Mark.

He grabbed the coffee pot, hissed in pain and set it back down quickly, sucking on the fingers he'd burned on the hot metal.

There was a knock on the door.

It couldn't be Roger, he wouldn't knock, and Collins called to get the keys thrown down to him. Probably Leni.

Mark strode over to the door and pulled it open.

The girl on the landing smiled at him. She was thin, but not as thin as he remembered. Her skin was a healthy colour and her eyes were clear and alert. Eyes, that were so beautiful they had once inspired his roommate to write a song about them.

Before she could say anything, Mark had pulled the tiny dancer into a rib-crushing embrace, swung her around in a circle, then sat her back down.

"Mimi…"

She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I missed you, too!" she said and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"How are you?" he asked, noting that she looked fabulous.

"I'm clean," she announced happily, "my T-cells are up and I am, for lack of a better word, great. Especially now. I'm home!"

Mark, realizing that he was still holding her, quickly dropped his arms and gestured over to the couch. "Come on, sit down. I just made coffee…"


A few minutes later, they were sitting next to each other on the duct-taped couched, sipping coffee and catching up.

Mimi told him about rehab, her family and Nevada.
Finally, she asked, "How's Roger doing?"

"Physically, he's fine," Mark answered, "he'll be home later, he's taken a walk to, uh, clear his head. There was a bit of trouble with, um…"

"His new girlfriend?" Mimi guessed and laughed at Mark's sheepish expression. "It's okay, you know, we broke up and I expected him to move on."

"Have you?" Mark couldn't help but ask.

"There aren't many nice guys in rehab," Mimi answered and made a face, "but I'm over Roger, and now that I'm back here, I'll date again, sure."

She peered into his eyes, as if trying to read his thoughts. "So how are you, Mark Cohen?"

"Fine," he answered immediately, "I'm good." She just raised an eyebrow.

"No, I'm really…" he broke off. "I'm again the guy who can pick up the pieces. Who can take care of the mess Roger got himself into."

"Why, what happened?" Mimi asked, concern evident on her face. She put a comforting hand on Mark's knee as he sighed and began to tell the story. And while Mimi sat there and listened, Mark realised what he had missed about her most. It wasn't the way she could cheer up up any room with her laughter or the way she could turn any dull moment into a party, although he had missed that, too. But what he had missed most was the way she could be silent while listening to others, her presence alone offering comfort. Angel had possessed the same gift. And Mark found himself almost dreading the moment he would have to give Mimi up to Roger again.


to be continued

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