Dear Prudence, open up your eyes, dear Prudence, see the sunny skies
The wind is low, the birds'll sing, that you are part of everything
Dear Prudence, won't you open up your eyes?
Look around.
"Dear Prudence" The Beatles

"Leah Maria Davis," Mark sounded out each syllable for the hundredth time to the secretary at the main desk to the emergency room. "Little girl, about this tall," he bent his knees completely and used the floor as part of the scale, "came in with her father, her uncle, and her uncle's girlfriend."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cohen," she replied for the hundredth time, "you are clearly not family, and she is a minor."

"No shit," Mark retorted angrily. "He's my brother! I... took my wife's last name!" Without warning, he stuck his hand behind his back and dragged Maureen next to him. "My wife, Maureen Cohen!"

"Yeah, he took my last name... he likes to think of himself as the girl."

The secretary didn't look the least bit pleased, or humored, for that matter. She furrowed her eyebrows, cast her eyes down once, and then looked back up. "I'm sorry, Mr. Cohen. The waiting room is right there, I suggest you go sit down and get comfortable while you wait for the patient's information you are requesting."

Sighing angrily, Mark turned around and walked away.

Maureen mooned the woman.

"Indecent exposure!" the secretary shouted, and then picked up the phone and started dialing crazily.

"Proof?" Maureen shot back, raking the room with her eyes for witnesses before discovering that nobody else had seen the act. "Good," she mumbled, and followed Mark suit into the adjoining room.

"Christian!" Mark cried in surprise, and then launched himself into the seat next to Chris'. The younger man's face was blotched with red; he'd clearly been crying. A hand was pressed to his forehead and he was taking deep breaths. "Chris, man, what happened? Are you okay? I have no idea what's going on right now—"

"It was my fault," Christian forced out, not removing the hand from his forehead.

"What happened?" Mark demanded again.

"I'm not sure—I just know that I had been asleep, and then I heard Roger shouting in the room she was sleeping in, and I went in there, and I left the window open, so she was cold—" he stopped talking abruptly. "Roger never told me he had AIDS," he whispered.

In that single seven word sentence, Mark could sense the endless amounts of grief and loneliness. It was quite clear that Christian was pained by this news. "I don't think he ever remembered to tell me," he gasped, trying to hold back his sobs.

"Roger forgets a lot of stuff," Mark comforted him. "Did you ever say anything that might've made him think he told you?"

Christian shook his head, and then pulled the arm away from his forehead, revealing a face with eyes full of fresh tears. "I remember... when... when he got here, I told him I was gonna k-kill him for being out in the c-cold... but nobody should be out in the cold with a little girl... maybe... maybe he th-thought he did..."

Then his body was shaking, and his knees were drawn up to his chest. Instantly, Sophie put her arm around his shoulder and gave him a one-armed hug, and then she was crying, unable to hug him anymore, needing to hug herself.

For some reason, seeing Sophie cry pained Mark in his chest, and he pulled her into a standing position and wrapped her arms around him. He was aware that Maureen was behind him, but she'd cheated on him so many times, that it didn't matter. What also alarmed Mark was that nothing else mattered when Sophie was in his arms.

"Roger!" Maureen shrieked from behind him, and instantly Mark had let go of Sophie and spun around, blindly running toward the form of his best friend.

Everything was aside—the argument they'd had, the fear, the anxiety—Mark was happy to see Roger alive. When he pulled back from the huge hug he'd given his taller friend, he saw the expression on Roger's face—idiotic glee and overreaction.

"Let me guess," Mark began, "you... exaggerated. She's fine... maybe a cold?"

Just like that, Roger was laughing, clapping Mark on the back. "You know me too well, Cohen."

"You know me just as well," Mark snickered. "So, anyway—she's fine? Perfect? Scott-free? Not ill at all?"

"Well, she's got a severe case of sniffles," Roger grinned. "And just the common cold. She's fine, Mark," Roger sounded like he was saying this more to himself than his friend. "She's... she's going to be okay."

Then, his eyes caught Christian.

"Chris," he breathed. "Jesus, man, I'm really sorry. I... I should've told you. I really should've." He walked over to his brother and gave him a giant bear hug. "I just... I didn't want to worry you, really. You're my baby brother, I'm not supposed to be causing you pain. I love you too much to do that, doofus."

The younger Davis didn't seem entertained by this. "Since when?"

Roger's eyes dimmed. "A couple of years, now," he decided.

"Why did you—"

"Mister Davis?" a doctor in green scrubs called from the doorway. "Your daughter," he motioned to a nurse who was carrying Leah, wrapped up in a pink floral blanket. "You'll have to sign her out," he held out a clipboard.

The baby was left in Mark's hands, and as he held his sleeping goddaughter close to his chest, everything was okay in the world. She smelled like baby powder, and as he inhaled her sweet scent, her long sandy hair tickled his nose. She was perfect, he was convinced.

Soon, they were finished and were on their way out. Mark handed the baby back to Roger.

The world seemed brighter with this little girl in it, Mark discovered. He wrapped his arm around Sophie's shoulders and gave a squeeze, and she looked over, blushing.

As Roger sashayed out of the double doors to the hospital, his daughter in his arms, the woman at the desk called out to him. "Excuse me," she said, and then gestured to Maureen. "Do you know this woman?"

"Why, yes I do," Roger spun around and replied, smiling. "That would be my brother Mark's wife," he jabbed his thumb at Mark, and then waved to the secretary, turning back around.

As they shuffled out the doors, Mark leant in. "How did you—"

"I know you too well," Roger smirked back.

A/N: XD Yay, Leah survives!

I put links as to what Christian and Sophie look like in my profile. Of course, they don't like quite as modelesque as those pictures do—though Christian has a huge house, he's quite poor, but he is attractive. Sophie is pretty, but not modelesque as the hair model woman.

Oh, and did anyone else hear that RENT's coming out on a Blu-Ray disc? Meaning more room for special features? XD Hooray!

Review!

–Steph.