Author's Notes: "Nous rencontrerons encoure, Dirait On" is French for "We Will Meet Again, So They Say." It's winding down…be ready!

I OWN NOTHING (only plot).

Please read, review and enjoy!

Angel felt around in her jacket pocket, thankful for the small amount of money that she had stuffed in there the day her and Roger went to the park. The drag queen continued to remember that day as she trotted down the subway stairway, on her way to Maureen and Joanne's apartment.

Roger found it hard to sleep, his stomach ached so. Mark periodically would come in; bring bags of ice to his friend who was too ashamed to take it while the film maker was in the room. Mark wasn't going to push Roger into a conversation if he didn't want to. He too felt like shit for finding himself involved in the whole situation, but most of all for losing Collins' trust something that he kept closely to his heart.

"Mark."

The film maker turned to face him.

"I'm so sorry for getting you into this, it wasn't my intention."

Mark smiled faintly, walking over to Roger's bedroom door.

"Never is Roger."

The rocker, who was propped up against his bedpost, looked toward the window, thinking of her, as fucked up as it was. He really did love Angel, despite every bone and muscle in his body telling him not to. This, relationship, caused Roger to question everything from his sexuality to his sanity. No one in their right mind would purposely try to fuck things up for themselves.

No one.

Angel had finally reached Maureen and Joanne's apartment, out of breath from the running she did from the subway. She didn't know why she was in such a hurry, she didn't know how else to deal with not being with Collins or Roger.

She found Joanne's name on the small marquee and pressed the button to their apartment. Angel looked a little out of place, but she knew she could count on Maureen and Joanne to take her in at least until she could plot her next move.

"Who is it?" Joanne's voice sounded.

"It's Angel."

Without a returning answer, the front door to the apartment complex was unlocked for her. Using the elevator, she traveled up the 3 floors to her friends' apartment, knocking shyly on the door.

Collins had no strength left in him. Every book that he owned was on the floor. Every picture of him and Angel was broken in pieces; even the cups and mugs that she owned were broken. He didn't care. It took everything his being not to go into her closet and destroy her clothes. But not even Collins, who had been hurt so badly by the ordeal, could hurt his Angel, no way no how. He stilled loved, even though his mind ordered him not to, his heart could not and would not let go of him. She had done too much for him. Without even knowing it, Angel liberated Collins and taught him to love, to truly love.

Joanne quickly opened the door, a smile seemingly painted on her face. "Angel, how are you?"

Angel could tell when someone didn't want her around in seconds, and it was beaming from Joanne right about now. "Is this a bad time?"

Joanne sighed. Yes, it was. She didn't want to see anyone right about now. After finding another number in Maureen's jeans, Joanne was just about finished with everything. Nothing was working out for her and Maureen, and the thought of that scared her.

"No Angel, I'm so sorry please come in." The lawyer ushered Angel into her apartment, closing the door behind her.

"Where's Maureen?" Angel asked placing her bad onto the floor next to the couch.

Joanne walked over to the kitchen, taking a glass out. As she walked over to refrigerator, every number that she'd found of Maureen's popped into her head….

Sana….Lisa….Sheena….Dana…Adette….

Slamming the glass onto the floor, Joanne cried out angrily. "I have the slightest fucking idea."

Collins paced around the trashed apartment, trying to think of what to do with himself next. Sighting his cigarettes, he pulled one out shoving it into his mouth as he lit it hurriedly. He had told her to leave, but he wanted her back home. He didn't want to lose her. There had to have been a reason why she did this to him, Angel would never hurt anyone like this. What did he do to make her act this way?

Roger closed his eyes as he tried to breathe in deeply. Shit was going to be so different now. As he thought this, he walked over to his guitar, careful not to disturb the bag of ice that was soothing his very large bruises. He sat himself back down, laying the guitar against just the wrong spot on his stomach before screaming out in pain. Mark raced into the room, trying to get a sense of the Roger's situation before sighing frustratingly. Roger moved the guitar onto the bed, lifting up his shirt to eye his bruise that was now taking up his entire side. "Holy shit Roger. We have to go to the hospital. You might have a broken rib."

Roger eyed his friend, knowing that he was right.

Angel watched Joanne as she scooped up the broken glass into a trash bag. "I'm sorry Angel; I'm just a mess right now."

Walking over to the distraught lawyer, Angel kneeled onto the floor careful not to get glass into her knees. "I understand hunny."

"She just won't stop cheating on me."

The drag queen eyed Joanne as stray tears began to fall. "I love her so much, but she just…won't stop. I beg her, and I cry to her…but nothing ever changes."

Collins wept aloud, he wanted his Angel and he wanted her now. Whatever he was going to do, he was going to apologize for whatever he did and then and only then would things be the same. Grabbing his coat and keys, Collins ran out of the house and onto the street hoping he would find her.

Roger and Mark made it to the bottom floor, walking toward the subway. "I don't want to go man. M'fine."

Mark ignored him. "You're not fine Roger, your speech is starting to slur."

The rocker tried to pull himself away, almost falling before Mark caught him. "I just want to get you checked out, and then I'll leave you alone. I gotta try to talk to Collins."

Roger stopped in his tracks, eyeing Mark. "What do you mean talk to Collins? Talk to Collins about what?"

Mark began to pull at the rocker who still wouldn't move. "I have to apologize to him."

"Apologize for what?"

He couldn't believe what he was hearing; Roger really was trying to comprehend the situation. Were his bruises not enough evidence? "Roger, you slept with Angel and had nerve enough to call what you had a relationship. Angel belongs to Collins, not to you. You drag me into this and expect me not to try to reconcile with Collins who has been our best friend for years? You're out of your fucking mind."

Angel continued to comfort Joanne who was finally coming back to herself. "I'm sorry sweetie, now, you came to have a good visit and that's what I'm going to make sure of."

The drag queen, who had almost forgotten the day's events, shuddered at the thought of how angry Collins was with her. "I just…need a place to stay for a few days Jo, nothing else. I have money to pay you…"

Joanne looked at Angel hand with had a wad of cash in it and pushed it away from her. "Nevermind that. What happened? Where is Collins?"

Mark blatantly stared at Roger who was dumbfounded by his words. "I-I can't stay here." Limping as he ran, the rocker ran back toward the loft lunging himself up the stairs. His bruises screamed at him as he opened the loft door running toward his room. Roger grabbed everything that he owned and shoved it into a rickety suitcase. He'd leave; he'd leave so he wouldn't have to deal with any of this anymore. He'd get some air, he'd leave, now. The rocker placed his guitar into its case, putting his jacket on quickly.

The film maker had ran as fast as he could, trying to catch up with Roger. He was running again, and this time he had the courage to stop him. "Roger! Roger!"

Roger heard his friend and even more quickened his pace. Mark couldn't stop him before and he would stop him now. "Fuck off Mark. I'll be back."

Mark was out of breath, holding onto his chest. "Don't…do…this Roger. Don't leave…again."

"Why the hell not?"

"How would Collins feel if he knew that you left without apologizing?"

"I'll call you when I get to where I'm going." Shoving him out of the way with his shoulder, Roger walked over to the already open door, adjusting his hand that was holding the guitar.

"You don't have any money Roger."

"Not much, but it'll do."

"Just go."

Roger stopped. "What?"

"Just leave like you always fucking do! Run from your problems! Leave everyone to clean up the mess you've caused again. Fucking bastard. Get the hell out of here."

"Mark."

"Fuck off I said. Don't come back." Mark couldn't believe what he was saying.

This was all Roger needed. "I won't."

Gone.

Mark went over to his boxes of film and threw a canister against the cement wall shattering it. "Fuck you Roger! Fuck you! Leave! That's all you ever do…leave me."