Thank you, again, for the reviews.

I've tried writing other Fics lately (for a different category), but I can't seem to write them correctly and some of the fans are a little…

Anyways, thanks for continuing to read the story, and you have no idea how much I appreciate you all D

I think I'll stick to RENT fics for now.

Sorry for not updating in a while.

Italics are thoughts

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Asha was immediately rushed into the Emergency Room. Mark had stayed with her as long as he could, holding her hand, letting her know she was safe, but soon he was pushed into the waiting room.

Ben had been arrested at the scene, much to relief of Mark and Asha.

After calling the loft to let people know what was going on, he shuffled over to the waiting room, which was a vibrant shade of yellow, and slumped into one of the equally vibrant red chairs.

Mark hated hospitals. It wasn't just a general dislike, it was hatred. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the kind-faced nurses who may have lied to you through words but you could see the truth written all over their faces. Or maybe it was because of the waiting rooms, like this one, always bright and cheery when everyone in it was depressed or sad.

Or maybe he grudgingly thought you hate hospitals because most of your friends will spend their last days in here, weak and helpless.

A lively little girl sat down in the chair opposite of him. At first, she patiently stared at the floor. After a few minutes passed, however, she began to tap her toes on the floor rhythmically. When she got stern glares from others in the waiting room, she gave an indifferent shrug and bounced up in down in her chair a little. Then she turned to face Mark.

"What are you here for?" she asked, with a bit of accusation in her voice.

Mark, who had been fitfully dozing off, glanced around for the small voice that had woken him.

"Friend…" he mumbled, getting ready to doze off again.

"Oh. I'M here 'cause of my daddy."

"Oh." Mark tried to sound sympathetic, but he didn't have many emotions at four in the morning. Except sleepy, that is.

The little girl continued. "He's got some kind of tumor in his head, and he didn't really wake up this morning…"

"I'm sorry…" Mark said sincerely. Losing a father at this age would be unbearable.

However, the girl didn't seem to lose her bright energy. "But I know he'll be ok. I just KNOW he will…" she said, more to herself than Mark.

Mark's heart ached with pity. This little girl was obviously being strong for someone, perhaps a mother or a sister. While she seemed cheerful, he could tell an underlying tone of worry and frustration in her voice. He was sadly reminded of Mimi and Angel, who no matter what was thrown at them, told everyone it was going to be ok.

He wished he could do the same for his friends. He wished he could have told Angel everything was going to be ok, instead of hiding behind his camera and saying very little. He wished he could have told Mimi everything was going to be ok, instead of huddling in the waiting room, pretending to call people. He wished he could strong for his friends, like this little girl was.

Tears sprung at his eyes, but Mark swallowed them quickly. The little girl took notice.

Her striking hazel eyes grew wide. "Are you ok?" she asked with sincere concern.

"Yeah…Yeah…I'm fine…" Mark sniffed in reply.

Soon, a weary, depressed, middle-aged woman came panting through the glass doors. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face was pale.

"I'm here, Mommy!" exclaimed the little girl, raising her hand and waving it.

The mother walked over to her daughter and kissed the top of her head.

"I met this man, Mommy! He's here 'cause of his friend!" the girl whispered into her mother's ear.

The mother barely glanced at Mark before giving her daughter a little shake.

"What did I tell you about talking to strangers? Come on, the doctor's waiting…"

She grasped her girl's hand and began to lead her towards the entrance doors to the hospital lobby.

"I hope your friend is okay!" the girl called behind her as she disappeared through the revolving doors.

Mark waved sadly back at the little girl. As soon as she was out of site, he closed his eyes, and prayed that someone or something would keep that girl's father living and healthy.

Insert line here

The morning sun dawned brightly through the windows of the hospital. Mark had restlessly slept in the waiting room after hearing from the doctor he would not be able to see Asha until visiting hours.

Mark realized there was no use trying to get more sleep, so he wandered through the halls until he came to the hospital cafeteria.

He scrounged up a stale bagel and cream cheese, and sat slouched over his meager breakfast at the bar table.

Mark glanced up every once in a while, only to see men and women in similar situations as he was. Tired, frustrated, and anxious. He couldn't imagine how Collins had done it while Angel was in the hospital. Spending hours with a dying loved one, then wandering around only to find others in the same predicament.

Mark thankfully realized visiting hours had started, quickly finished the last few crumbs of his bagel, and scurried out of the cafeteria.

He hurriedly asked the nurse manning the desk which room Asha was in, then sprinted up the steps to room 1204.

He gave a soft knock on the door, to which he heard a frail, ragged voice reply "Come in."

He gradually opened the door, and tried not to look horrified when he saw Asha, who was smiling a watery, feeble smile at him.

He had, of course, been with her last night, but he hadn't really taken in the incredible injuries Asha had received. The left side her face was swollen, and was a sickly green color from the bruising. Her arm was slung in a cast, and deep purple gashes enlaced her neckline. An IV was attached to her good arm.

"Hey, Mark…" she said in a hoarse voice, obviously trying to sound cheery.

Mark sat down in a chair sitting next to her bed, and cautiously scooted up to her. He had covered abuse stories before for Buzzline, and he knew the victims were often very sensitive to touch. Asha sensed this.

"It's ok…I know I'm safe, Mark."

Mark immediately took this gesture and grasped her knotted hand. Asha winced a little, to which Mark immediately loosened his grip.

"Asha…" Mark started cautiously, "why didn't you tell me he was abusing you?"

Asha's eyes instantly filled with tears. "I don't know…" she moaned softly "He's never done that before…I mean, he's verbally abused me…but never physically…"

"Then...do have any idea why?"

Tears now flowed freely down her face. Mark gripped her hand tightly.

"I'm sorry…" Mark said, regretting he had said anything, "I just want to make sure this guy gets put away for as long as possible…"

Asha shook her head. "It's not that…it's just…Mark, he found about us. Having that little get together after work. And all the other times…"

Mark's heart seemed to have stopped. This is my fault. If I had just left her alone, she wouldn't be here. This is my fault.

Head pounding, Mark let go of Asha's hand. He didn't want to do any more damage than he had already done. He got up from his chair, and, face expressionless, left the room. He heard Asha protesting desperately behind him, but he sadly ignored them. Being there would only put her in more danger

Not aware of his surroundings, Mark wandered through the halls, disregarding the doctors asking if he needed directions. It was though he was in a daze of grief and resentment. Finally, he found himself back in the waiting room.

He saw Roger, Maureen, Joanne, Collins, and Melanie huddled guardedly around the waiting room chairs. He shuffled up to them.

"Hey, man, you okay?" Roger asked gently, putting an arm on Mark's shoulder.

Mark didn't know whether it was the presence of his friends or the realization hitting him, but he broke down. He choked out heartbroken sobs, grateful to feel the arms of Roger, Maureen, Joanne, and Collins around him, as well as Melanie rubbing his back. He could tell she felt misplaced, but nonetheless was comforted by her concern.

Mark was never one to show his emotions freely. But all the events that had happened in the past few hours had pushed him over the edge.

Mark cried for Asha, who had been so unfairly unloved and beaten. Mark cried for the little girl and her mother, who were about to lose a loved one. Mark cried for his friends, the only ones he cared about and who cared about him, who had so little time to live.

But mostly, Mark cried for himself, disheartened, frustrated, and alone.

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Very sad chapter to write…

Reviews are love.

Update soon.