MUAHA! I got it out on time! For once! I said it shall be out this weekend and it is still this weekend! YAY! Who cares about those papers I didn't do and that test I didn't study for? All I gotta say is, you guys better enjoy this. And review. Or that F I'm gonna get on tomorrow's test shall be in vain. VAIN, I SAY! ahem Anyways, here you go...


20 minutes later at the club:

Mark followed Chris into the new club, wincing slightly as he was assaulted by bright flashing lights and pumping music. Mark didn't really like clubs. They were too hormone driven – he preferred a crowded restaurant full of friends. This one didn't look too bad, though.

It had opened last week, and was quickly becoming a popular spot among those embroiled in the LA night life. The dance floor was the standard strobe-lit area full of pulsing, grinding dancers, but the bar was set off to the side, and there was a small side room full of booths and tables where customers could take a break from the loud music. The decor was very well done too – it was modern without being tacky. Mark liked it immediately.

"Let's grab a table!" Chris shouted over the sound of the music, and they all followed him to a dimly lit booth in the corner.

Mark sighed in relief as the music got quieter when they moved away from the dance floor. He waited while everyone else sat down and threw his coat down on the seat next to Roger.

"I'm gonna go get something to drink. Anyone want anything?" he asked, hooking his thumb in the direction of the bar.

"Sure!" Chris beamed. "I'll have sex on the beach!"

"Not gonna happen," Mark said with a smile. "What do you want to drink?" Chris pouted.

"You're no fun," he moaned, reveling in the thinly veiled glare Roger sent his way. "Really, though. That's what I want."

"Okay. Blake, what about you?"

"A sufferin' bastard."

Mark turned to Roger to ask what he wanted. Before he could say anything, though, the guitarist stood up.

"I'll help you," he said with a slight smile. Mark smiled back, feeling his stomach flop. He inwardly groaned. It should be illegal for someone to have a smile like that. It was all Mark could manage to stop himself from jumping the unsuspecting guitarist.

He led the way to the bar, grabbed the attention of the bar-tender, and put in their orders. Roger ordered his regular Jack and Coke, then slumped against the bar next to Mark. Roger felt their shoulders brush, and he repressed a shiver. He cleared his throat.

"So, what do you think of the place?" he asked Mark. Anything to get his mind off of how hot Mark looked, how close he was. All he had to do was lean in just a little bit – Roger snapped his mind back on track before he could get carried away.

"Not as bad as some I've been to. It's actually kinda nice. But you know I don't like clubs."

"Yeah. How long did Chris bother you about it before I showed up?" Mark grinned. He felt slightly out of place here, and he was acutely aware of the clothes he had on, the silk shirt whispering against his skin making him feel even more exposed. Roger had this way of making him forget about everything else, though. No matter what was going on, if Roger was there, Mark could relax.

"Only about an hour." At Roger's horrified look, Mark laughed. "Believe me, that's really not too bad for him. When he wants something, he doesn't stop until he gets it. It may be annoying sometimes, but his stubbornness is probably a big reason the show has done as well as it has. Christian does an incredible amount of work on it. He's not only the host, but he does a lot of the PR, arranges all the interviews, finds most of the stories. He's the one who saw Today 4 U and was adamant that Beth hire me. I owe him a lot."

Roger watched Mark talk about Christian and felt his gut wrench. There was something there; an affection in his eyes as he spoke. Mark obviously cared about the guy a lot. Roger wondered just how deeply, feeling the jealousy coil in his stomach. He tried to fight it. He knew that Chris was a good guy and had probably helped Mark through a lot. He should be thankful for that, not angry because he wasn't the one by Mark's side. He was just being selfish.

"He must be a good friend," he managed to murmur after a moment.

Mark looked up. He didn't know what exactly was going through Roger's head, but he knew that vulnerable look on the guitarist's face only too well. It was the same look Roger had on his face when he'd left for Santa Fe after Angel's funeral, the same look he'd given Mark countless times during withdrawal when he'd been too proud to ask to be held or reassured.

"Yeah. He is a good friend," he answered, putting a hand on Roger's forearm. "I'm lucky, though. He's not the only person who makes my life worth living," he admitted quietly.

He squeezed slightly when Roger met his gaze with a smile. The guitarist put his hand over Mark's on his arm. Detached, almost as if he were watching it from across the bar, Mark felt himself lean in slightly.

Mark came to his senses when he realized how close they were, their faces a few inches apart, Roger's deep green eyes staring into his slightly widening ones. Roger's hand was still resting on his, and Mark knew that they had been standing too close like this, too intimately for it to be just normal friendship. They were starting to cross the line. Even though his mind was screaming out warnings, he couldn't stop himself. Roger was leaning closer…

They jolted out of the moment when the bar tender set their drinks down for them to pick up. Mark swiftly took his hand away, turning and pulling money out of his pocket and placing it on the counter, grabbing two of the drinks. His heart was racing in his chest, but he ignored it as best he could. He was feeling a strange mixture of relief and disappointment. His mind pulled up excuses, justifications, and within a minute he'd convinced himself that he'd misinterpreted what had happened.

Roger cursed under his breath as he followed Mark back to their table. He couldn't believe he'd almost allowed that to happen! If the bartender hadn't come up at just that second, he would've kissed Mark. Those expressive blue eyes had just been drawing him in; it was like he couldn't help himself. This was getting more dangerous every minute he spent in the filmmaker's presence. His flagging self-control was almost gone. He needed to figure out what to do, and fast. It seemed like there was some greater power at work here that wouldn't wait for him.

They slid back into the booth, handing Blake and Chris their drinks. Blake immediately shot his back, but Chris just took his, staring over it and at Mark, an eyebrow raising questioningly. Mark could feel his face start to heat up. Chris had seen what had happened at the bar. No doubt he'd pull Mark aside the first chance he got and drill him about it. Blake gave a slight sigh after pounding back his drink.

"Well, don't know about you, crackas, but there's a couple mad honeys on the dance floor I'd like to get ta know. Time fo' me to go ta work." Roger groaned. Chris watched Blake leave, and his smile was absolutely wicked. Mark gave him a questioning look.

"I have never met anyone as closeted as that boy is," he stated simply. "It amuses me." Roger laughed.

"Blake? Gay?" he asked incredulously. "C'mon, Chris, you gotta be kidding. He's always going on and on about girls. I mean, shit, he bangs enough groupies every night to more than make up for my abstinence from them." Chris grinned again.

"Exactly. 'Methinks the lady doth protest too much'." Roger laughed again.

"But seriously, that's not enough to decide whether he's gay or not. I mean, there's no real proof there!"

"Honey," Chris started, taking a sip of his drink, "when you're a flamer like me, you tend to get more attuned to noticing where the other sources of heat and smoke are coming from." Mark laughed this time.

"Only you would use that analogy to describe gaydar," he muttered with a smile, taking a swig of his own drink.

"I thought it was a succinct explanation," Chris said, grinning at the filmmaker.

Roger felt a twinge of jealousy again. God, who knew he was so possessive? Okay… so maybe he should've gotten hints as to that side of his nature when Mimi had been with Benny for a while. But still, this was worse than that. Mimi and Benny had actually been together. As far as Roger knew, Mark and Christian were just friends. Plus, it wasn't like Mark and him were going out. He sighed, and downed the rest of his drink.

"Mark fucking Cohen!" A screech came from across the room.

Seemingly appearing out of nowhere, elbowing aside a few people in her way, a young woman walked up to their table. She had bright red hair, blue eyes, and an outfit that reminded Roger of some of the worse things he'd seen Mimi wear while dancing. She promptly planted herself on Mark's lap without waiting for an invitation to sit down. If Roger could growl, he definitely would be right now.

"Oh my GOD, you look so hot!" the girl on Mark's lap gushed, hugging him around the shoulders and planting two kisses on either cheek.

"Thank you," Chris stated with a grin, but Roger could see the narrowing of his eyes. "However, Elaine, darling, I didn't give Mark my expert advice so that you could put your skanky paws all over him. Now if you'd kindly leave before you ruin the upholstery, we can all get back to the nice time we were having." The girl turned and glared at him.

"I didn't ask for your input, pretty boy," she seethed. "At least I don't pretend to be his friend when all I want is to fuck him and leave him like you've done to at least twenty guys I know."

"The day you develop the intelligence to start understanding my motives is the day I'll start having sex with women," Chris stated, venom clear in his tone. "Fuck off, Elaine."

They glared at each other for a very tense moment, then with an indignant flip of her hair, she stood and stomped off in the direction of the dance floor.

"Jesus," Mark said as she left, relief clear in his voice, "I never believed in vampires until I met her. I wonder what the fuck she wanted this time?"

"Sex or your help in some sort of project she's working on. Isn't that what she always wants?" Christian asked, his voice still angry. "God damn it, Mark! Why don't you stand up to her every once in a while? I'm not always there to tell her off."

Roger stared. There was genuine concern in Christian's voice, a hint of fear. Something had happened with that girl that Roger didn't know about. He didn't like it.

"I know, I know," Mark moaned, leaning back. "It's just… you know I'm not good at being an asshole like you are." Christian snorted.

"You're too fucking nice to everyone, Mark. It's gonna get you into trouble. Not everyone is a good person, and not everyone will be your friend." He sighed, his lips quirking up a little. "How the hell did you survive for so long in New York?" Mark smiled.

"I had friends who looked out for me," he said, glancing at Roger quickly.

"Good. Maybe now that he's back, he can take on some of his old duties. I swear, Mark, you'll drive me to drink." Mark snorted.

"Like one more vice could add to your already impressive list of them."

Roger watched the exchange feeling a little left out. He felt a sick feeling settle in the bottom of his stomach. He knew it was unrealistic and selfish, but he didn't like the idea that there were parts of Mark's life – possibly big parts – that he didn't know about. Mark downed the rest of his drink and stood up.

"I'm going to the bathroom. I gotta at least try to get the smell of her cheap perfume outta my clothes. I'll be right back."

Roger watched his retreating form, then turned back to Chris. He was peeking out at Roger from behind his hair, sipping at his drink. There was a very obviously amused smile on his lips. With a mental shrug, Roger went back to his own drink.

"You're really cute when you're jealous, y'know," Chris stated without looking up. Roger choked on his drink.

"Excuse me?" he asked after he'd gotten done coughing. Chris sighed.

"It's always the good-looking ones who're the densest," he moaned. "Well, except for yours truly." Roger just kept staring at him incredulously, waiting for an explanation.

"It's not like it's so hard to figure out, Rog," Chris continued at his questioning look. "You missed him, him being gone made you realize how you feel about him, and now you want him back as more than a friend. One of the oldest stories in the book."

Roger decided to neither confirm nor deny that one. Chris could probably see right through him anyway. Time for a change of subject.

"What the hell was that all about?" he asked. "Who the hell was that girl?" He could see the anger coming back into Chris' eyes.

"Elaine Davidson. Small time actress. She used to have a pretty successful modeling career, but the photographers didn't take too kindly to it when they had to start figuring out ways to cover up the track marks. Your basic piece of LA scum."

"What does she have to do with Mark?"

"Well, you've probably already noticed this, but Mark has a tendency to help people out even when they probably don't deserve it," Chris said.

Roger gave a slight wince, remembering how Mark had stuck by him all through the withdrawal and the way he'd closed himself off after it. Mark had had every right to give up on him, but he hadn't.

"Elaine met him at one of the company parties. I think one of the people from the PR department was dating her at the time. She was really in the dregs of her career then, and Mark agreed to do a photo shoot for her, free of charge, so she could possibly score a new agent. No one wanted to touch her at that point." He finished his drink and winced.

"She was able to pick up an agent easily enough after she had the photos from Mark's shoot. The guy's got this… I dunno… this ability to bring out the beauty in things. He could make the crack whore on the corner with running make-up, skinned knees and a bruised face look like the fucking Mona Lisa with the right camera angle.

"He's already had at least three big offers from major networks that I know of. I'm sure there's one or two I don't know about. Wouldn't take any of them though. I think he only stays with Vivre because we trust him, let him do his own thing. Stay true to his art, y'know? Every offer he turns down pisses more people off, though. Lots of them would probably kill for some of the same opportunities to sell out he's had.

"Anyway, Elaine latched on to him and never let go. Figured she could still use him for something, I guess."

"I don't know why the hell he puts up with shit like that," Roger muttered, his thoughts trailing back to their life in New York, the faces of all the people Mark had let use him sticking out. The worst had been Maureen. Roger thought Mark would have learned his lesson.

"If you do figure it out, please let me know," Chris mumbled. "It's almost like he wants people to use him. Like if he can help them out, even just a little, he doesn't care how hurt he gets in the process. He's too selfless. In this town, people would sleep with their own mother to get a slot on network television. Mark isn't like that, though. He cares too much. That's a rare thing, even if it is kind of naïve of him. I respect him because he's willing care that much, though, and I don't respect anyone."

Roger could feel his jaw clenching. Everything Chris was saying was dead on. It wasn't fair, but that was just the type of person Mark was. Roger was surprised that Chris knew his best friend as well as he did after less than a year of knowing him.

He looked around the room, and saw Mark had stopped on his way back from the bathroom to talk with some people standing around the bar. He laughed at a joke someone had made, and someone clapped a hand to Mark's shoulder. Roger frowned.

"Like I said," he turned back to see Chris had been observing him again, "you're cute when you're jealous."

Roger almost sputtered a little. He didn't like the fact that Chris could see through him so easily. He was about to tell Chris to mind his own damn business, but he was cut off before he could start talking.

"You're so insecure. Really, Roger, you don't have to worry about it. He could've had any number of people in bed by now if he'd wanted to. One flash of those blue eyes and they get in line. His humanity, his integrity, it's refreshing in this sleezy town. People are naturally drawn to it. Present company included." Roger could feel anger welling up inside him. So there was something between Chris and Mark?

"Jesus, that was meant to have a calming effect," Chris muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "The point is he hasn't taken anyone to bed, Roger, even if he could have. Not me, not any of those vultures gathered around him right now, no one in the whole God damn city. You've got nothing to be jealous of."

Roger felt rightfully sheepish. He felt his face get hot in shame, but Roger Davis did not blush. He looked back up at Chris, who was grinning again.

"I know," he muttered. "It's just… frustrating I guess." Chris snorted.

"Frustrating? You have no idea. Why don't you get it through your thick skull that you want him? Why don't you fucking act on it? If you keep waiting around, it might be too late." All the old arguments against it flew at Roger even though Chris was starting to make a lot of sense.

"But I… I mean, you said… I don't even know if he's…" he stumbled over the words.

He couldn't believe he was getting this flustered. It wasn't like him. He could understand now why Mark liked Chris. He was one of those people you couldn't help but feel safe talking to. God knows Roger would have never let down his guard this far if it were otherwise.

"Don't know if he's what? Interested? Sweetie, I'll tell you right now that the only time I've ever seen him happy, I mean really happy, is when he's with you. There certainly wouldn't be an issue of biological inclination either. At the very least he's bi." Roger couldn't help but grin a little.

"Your all mighty gaydar inform you of that?" he asked sarcastically.

"My gaydar is never wrong. And don't try to change the subject." Roger swallowed nervously.

"The fact of the matter is, Roger," Chris started again after a second, "he needs you. I know he does. It may seem like he's fine, but he's good at keeping up a convincing facade. For all he cares about everyone else, he still doesn't want anyone to care about him. He won't let anyone in, really.

"It's kind of sad, but I think the main reason he doesn't want to show it is he doesn't want other people worrying. Doesn't wanna complicate their lives more, doesn't want anyone to see how broken he really is."

Chris locked eyes with him, and Roger could see the concern there, the fear, how much he truly cared for Mark. And how helpless he felt because he wasn't the one who could make it better.

"I know I said you've got nothing to be jealous of," Chris nearly whispered, "but if you wait too long, he might let something happen that he doesn't really want. I don't know how far he'd go in letting people use him if someone doesn't stop him.

"I try to help, but I can't protect him as much as I would like to. I care about him, Roger. At one point, I would have said I loved him. But I'm not the one he wants. And the main reason I stopped pursuing him is because of that.

"I'm not who he wants, but I know if I had pushed the issue, he would've let me."


1 month, 2 weeks, 5 days earlier, 9 months after Mark's departure, 1 month before Roger's arrival:

Christian knocked on Mark's door, waiting nervously for an answer. Mark had called in sick today, and that had never happened before in the nine months he'd known him. Something about his voice on the phone had been… off. Christian was worried, and had decided to come over as soon as he'd finished things up at the studio.

There was no answer, and Chris frowned. He knocked again, his heart in his throat, and waited for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he heard the chain moving on the inside, and the door opened. Mark stood there looking more tired than Chris had ever remembered seeing him.

"Jesus, Mark, you look like shit. Did I wake you up?"

"No," Mark mumbled. "I was awake."

There was something so incredibly dead about Mark's usually bright blue eyes. Christian heard warning bells go off in his head.

"Can I come in?" he asked gently. Mark nodded and stepped aside.

The first thing Chris noticed was that Mark's projector was set up. That was odd; the only time Chris had ever seen Mark's projector up was when he'd just finished his first documentary since being in LA and wanted Chris to take a look at it. It was off now.

"Were you watching something?" Chris asked, walking up to the projector curiously.

"Yeah," Mark muttered, sitting on the couch and slumping.

"What were you watching?" Chris asked. Mark looked up wearily.

"Just some old films I made… a long time ago."

Chris couldn't take it anymore. The way Mark was slumped on the couch, the weariness in his eyes, everything about it spoke of dejection. He needed to know what was going on or he couldn't help him.

"Mark, what's wrong?" he asked, moving to sit next to him on the couch.

"Nothing."

"Mark," Chris said sternly, putting a hand on his shoulder and feeling Mark shiver slightly.

"It's just… it's been two years today." Chris frowned.

"Since what?"

"…Collins…" Mark managed to choke out. Christian's eyes widened in understanding.

"Oh, Mark," he whispered sadly, pulling the filmmaker into a hug. "Why didn't you tell me? You shouldn't have been here alone all day if you're that upset."

"I'll be fine," Mark muttered, going boneless against his friend. "It's just, it's been two years, and it makes me remember… it makes me wonder how he's doing since I left. I miss him, Christian."

For some reason, Chris got the feeling that Mark wasn't talking about Collins anymore. Mark might just be babbling though. The dark rings under his eyes told that he probably hadn't gotten any sleep last night.

He pulled back, then looked down into his friend's blue eyes. His breath caught when he saw the tears pooling there. Christian couldn't stand it. He couldn't see Mark hurting so much. His need to make it better coupled with the deep burning desire he'd held for the filmmaker up until now forced him to lean forward and press lips to lips.

Mark stiffened slightly, and Christian rubbed soothing hands up and down his back, pressing their lips together more firmly, bringing one hand up to cup the side of Mark's face. He deepened the kiss a little, keeping it chaste, but moving his lips over Mark's, massaging lightly. He pulled back and placed a short kiss to a cheek, nose, both closed eyelids. Finally, he moved away again.

Mark opened his eyes slowly, and what Chris saw there nearly killed him. He'd only made it worse. Now, coupled with that deep sadness was a slight confusion, a tint of fear. He cursed under his breath and pulled Mark closer, wincing when the filmmaker stiffened again.

"I'm sorry," he breathed into his hair. "You didn't want that. I just wanted to make it better. Jesus, Mark, just hit me, push me away or something."

Mark was silent, and there was the sudden sickening realization that Mark wouldn't have pushed him away. That if it made Christian happy, Mark would have let him do what he wanted. Even if all it would accomplish would be to hurt Mark more. Chris pulled back, gripping Mark's arms firmly but not enough to hurt. He stared into those blue eyes.

"I would never do anything if you didn't want it, Mark," he stated truthfully, his own eyes starting to burn a little. "You're my best friend. I'm sorry. I went too far. You have to understand, it just, it hurts. I can't stand to see you sad. Even if it's just as a friend, let me help?"

He could see that Mark believed him in the relief that washed over his face. Chris pulled him into a hug again, making sure it was loose enough that Mark wouldn't feel like he was going to try anything. He rubbed up and down his back lightly again.

"I'm sorry, Mark," he said again, and he really was, and not just for the kiss. "You don't have to do this by yourself. You're not alone. I swear you're not alone."

Oddly, that phrase only seemed to set Mark off worse, and Chris could only hold him helplessly as he sobbed into his chest.


Back in the club:

Roger watched as Christian lapsed into silence. After a minute, he saw him look over his shoulder to where Mark was talking at the bar.

"Finally freed himself from their hooks," Christian said approvingly. Roger glanced over to see Mark walking back toward the table.

"Remember what I said, Roger," Christian told him before Mark got there. "He needs you."

Roger couldn't answer, because Mark had reached the table, handing them both a fresh drink and sitting down. At the silence he glanced at both of them.

"Ooookay," he drawled. "I'm sensing some heavy shit. What the hell were you two talking about?"

"Just pointing out some inconsequential things to your rather dense comrade. Nothing to be worried about," Chris stated with a grin.

"Yeah, right," Mark muttered giving them both another nervous glance.

"Seriously, Marky, don't worry about it," Roger said, patting him on the shoulder. He glanced back up at Chris. "After all, I think he might have been right about a couple things for once."

"I'm always right!" Chris snorted. Mark laughed.

"Well, glad to see your ego hasn't been affected," Roger muttered.

"Bring it, hair-boy," Chris said with a smile.

"You're calling me hair-boy?"

"I think we should start designating numbers," Mark said with a grin. "Hair-boys one and two."

"Hey!" both Chris and Roger protested in unison. Chris tapped his chin thoughtfully while Mark laughed.

"Well, as long as I get to be number one, I think this could work out," he said after a minute.

"Whatever," Roger grumbled.

Mark smiled and squeezed Roger's hand briefly under the table. He immediately realized what he'd done and looked away, a somewhat frightened look flashing over his face. If the butterflies in Roger's stomach were any indication, he was feeling the same way.

Shit. Seems like they both had some thinking to do.