Chapter Eleven
When You Were Young

"C'mon, Rog," April purred, running her fingers up his arm as she straddled him. Roger couldn't help but notice the track marks on hers, most of them fresh.

"Don't you want it?" April whispered into his ear.

Roger pushed her away. "You're high, aren't you," he said, flatly.

"What does it matter? I keep telling you to try it."

"Goddammit, April, don't you—"

"Try it," April murmured, waving the needle in his face. "Just try it."

"I feel kind of weird being here," Trai murmured, pulling her tank top down a little further. "Do me a favor, keep doing the boyfriend thing."

"No problem," Mark told her, keeping his arm around her waist and following Roger through the throng of people in the Catscratch. "Though I either come off as your boyfriend or your pimp."

"Just stay close," Trai told him. "I really don't like people in this place staring."

It was March 13th. Mimi's last night as a dancer at the Catscratch—she'd be waitressing for the next two months or so.

She'd told Roger the night before that some of the guys in the crowd were starting to make her uncomfortable—that she was afraid one of them would try something. Roger had immediately told her he was coming to watch the show. He wanted to try and make sure nothing happened. Trai and Mark were there to make sure he didn't kill anyone.

The atmosphere of the place had Roger a little jumpy. Even CBGB's made him the same way. The smoke, the smell of the alcohol, knowing that there were drugs around. He wasn't a junkie anymore, but his body occasionally wanted a hit.

Trai and Mark could recognize this as they sat at a table close to the stage. Trai put her hand on his leg, which was bouncing nervously. "You don't need it," she told him softly. "You don't need it anymore."

Roger gave her a weak smile. "Thanks."

"This is weirding me out a little," Trai admitted to Mark and Roger. "Is that just me?"

Roger shook his head. "It takes some getting used to."

Trai had never been to a club like this before, had never thought she would have to go to one. She'd gone to a few clubs before—her boyfriend in college, Ethan, had been a rocker like Roger, and she'd met him at a concert when she'd, very shyly, asked if she could interview him for The Dartmouth. He'd agreed, and had ended up asking her to dinner off-the-record.

"It doesn't bother you at all?" Trai asked Roger.

"It does. A little. Days like this, knowing she could get hurt, I almost want her to quit. But I can't do that—she loves to dance."

Trai nodded, shrugged. "I had a friend who sang at a cabaret in college. I went to see him a couple times. He was really good—and I'll admit he looked damn good in stilettos. Nice legs. Anyway. He told me once that it wasn't the most glamorous, but it paid. I feel the same way about my work. Not many kids from the educational background I have think, 'Hey, I should write erotica.'"

Roger laughed, and smiled at her gratefully, knowing that she was talking to keep his mind off the real reason they were there.

Mimi took the stage in twenty minutes. Roger and Mark had watched her dance before, but even with her experiences at the cabaret in college, Trai had never seen anything like she was seeing now. Just the sexuality of it was enough to make her wonder, again, how Roger was comfortable with his wife working at an S&M club.

Mimi, meanwhile, was just trying to focus on finishing her set and getting out. She'd grown less comfortable with the dancing since finding out she was pregnant, which was why she'd be waitressing at the Club for the next month or two instead. She hadn't even been legal when she'd stated working at the Club seven years before, in 1985. She'd only been fifteen years old, but she'd run away from home after dropping out of school, and she'd desperately needed a job.

She'd acted older, but Jessie, the owner of the Club, had seen straight through. Despite that, Jessie couldn't deny that Mimi could dance. Shortly after getting the job, Mimi had met Angel in Central, when he'd scared off the skinheads giving her a hard time. When she admitted to having nowhere to go, Angel had immediately taken her in.

Mimi finished the dance and left the stage, going into the changing room and getting out of her uniform, glad that she likely wouldn't be gracing the stage again in more than a year.

She'd asked Roger, Mark, and Trai to meet her outside the dressing room. She was glad, at least, that they'd been there.

Still, the person who met her in the hallway wasn't Roger. It was one of the drunks who'd been eyeing her the past few nights.

Mimi tried to walk past him, but the drunk caught her wrist. "Don't walk away from me," he slurred, pushing her against the wall. Mimi tried to extricate herself from his hold, but he was too big for her. "C'mon, baby, don't you want it?"

"Get off of me!" Mimi struggled against him as his hand made its way up her skirt and fingered her panties. "Get away from me!"

Everything happened in what seemed like a split second. Roger tackling the guy, knocking him to the ground, the crunch of bone snapping as Roger's punch broke the guy's nose. Trai steadying Mimi, pulling her into her arms as she shook and almost started to cry. Mark running to get Jessie.

Trai held Mimi close. "Shh," she whispered. "Shh, shh, it's okay, Meems… he won't be able to touch you."

Mimi tried hard not to cry, the hot tears stinging behind her eyes, shut tightly. She was trembling, almost hyperventilating. Trai just held Mimi close, knowing the feeling all too well, knowing her comforts would be in vain.

Roger made sure that the guy was knocked out just before Mark came back with Jessie. Trai said quietly to Roger, "Would you mind if I took her home? I… I know how to deal with this…"

Roger shook his head. "Take care of her? Please?"

Trai nodded, giving Roger's shoulder a squeeze before she put her arm around Mimi and led her home.

When they got up to the loft, all Mimi wanted to do was shower. She was still shaken up, so Trai gently asked if she needed help. Mimi wordlessly nodded, and Trai helped her undress, stepping into the shower with her and helping her clean up, though fully clothed herself. Though Mim hadn't been raped outright, Trai still knew the fear, the desire above all else to be clean. She remembered, so many nights, washing her skin raw because she felt like Jason's smell was still on her.

Mimi wrapped herself in a towel and sank to the floor of the bathroom. Her ponytail and clothes sopping wet, Trai sat down across from her. "I know enough not to ask if you're okay."

Mimi breathed out shakily. "Why does this freak me out so much? He didn't even do anything…"

"Meems." Trai softly took Mimi's hands in hers. "Honey, that doesn't matter. He tried to attack you. It's normal to be afraid."

"How was it for you?" Mimi asked quietly.

Trai swallowed hard before she admitted, "I can't even… I can't even put it into words. He violated me in every way possible. But I can tell you… that even though you feel afraid… it goes away. Don't let it stop you, honey."

"I… I guess I was afraid because… because if he raped me I could've lost the baby… and if I did, I didn't… I can't… I don't want to think about how long it might take before Roger and I get that chance again."

Trai nodded. "I can understand that. And I can tell you now—if you need to talk, come to me."

"Thanks, Trai," Mimi whispered, giving her a tight hug.

"No problem," Trai said softly, hugging her back. "No problem."

"Nooooo!"

The howl of pain and rage came from the bathroom as Mark stumbled into the loft, weighed down by multiple grocery bags. The filmmaker's glasses were just visible above a stalk of celery.

A shock of light blond hair obscuring his vision along with the damned celery, Mark tried to deduce the source of Roger's shout.

"Mark!" came the choked cry. "Mark, it's April!"

Immediately, Mark dropped the groceries and ran into the bathroom, not caring as bottles and cans shattered and crashed behind him.

Roger was sobbing on the bathroom floor, holding April's limp body in his arms. Mark saw the cuts on her wrists and immediately knew that April was dead.

"The note," Roger choked. "Read—read the note!"

Confused, Mark picked up the note lying on the floor next to Roger. There, in April's assured, confident block letters, were the three simple words that would irrevocably alter both Mark's and Roger's lives:

WE'VE GOT AIDS

Roger and Mark got home about half an hour after the girls did. Roger was a little shaken as well, still angry that the guy had even gotten his hands on Mimi. He was angry with himself too—how had he let that happen?

Mark knew how much Roger was beating himself up over this. "Rog, you didn't know. You couldn't have known he was back there."

"Mark, don't you get it?" Roger was pacing the living room of Mark and Trai's loft. "I'm her husband. I'm supposed to protect her and I didn't. I'm supposed to stop this shit from happening to her!"

"You said that about April," Mark reminded him quietly.

"Shut up. Shut up," Roger whirled on him angrily. "Do not bring her up."

"You told me you'd get her off smack. You told me, and you came home the next night high," Mark reminded him. He knew it was harsh, but it was the only way to get through to Roger. "You said you'd protect April, and it didn't work. You can't constantly be watching her, Roger. You can't always know everything. There will be times you aren't there, because you didn't know you had to be—like tonight."

Mark could tell Roger was getting anxious again, noticed it in the same tics and twitches he'd learned to look for when Roger had still been addicted to smack. He knew Roger hadn't wanted a hit this badly since the months where Mimi had been missing—though they'd broken his addiction a year before, Mark had had to physically restrain Roger from leaving the loft some nights.

"You don't need it," Mark said, echoing Trai's words from earlier, trying not to think of how many times they'd been through this.

Roger's pacing was restless, like a caged animal's. "I could take that guy down. I could fucking kill him with my bare hands."

"Rog, don't talk like that." He remembered how violent Roger had been during withdrawal. He remembered the bruises and black eyes he'd gotten.

"Wouldn't you want to?" Roger demanded. "If someone did that to Trai?"

"Someone already has done that to Trai, and Goddammit, Rog, stop talking like that! You're not a fucking junkie anymore! You don't need the smack! You turned your head for two seconds and something almost happened to Mimi! Almost! Just calm down!"

Roger slowly realized how much he had to be freaking Mark out. He'd never had the urge for a hit this bad.

Slowly, he sank down on the couch. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Mark sat down next to him. "I know."

"Rog, you have to. If not for yourself, then for me! You're not helping the fact that you have AIDS by doing drugs! It's why you have it in the first place!"

"Shut up!" Roger yelled, angry, hurt.

"No! I'm not going to give this up! Dammit, Roger! I let this go on with you and April for too long! I should've stopped you the first time you came home high! April wasn't good for you, Rog," Mark persisted. "She shouldn't have done this to you. Shouldn't have infected you and left you to die. And you shouldn't be doing this to yourself."

"You can't tell me what I should do," Roger said, angrily, his voice low.

"I can when it can save your goddamned life!"

"I don't need saving!"

"That's exactly what April said, and look where she is now!"

Mark didn't have time to register anything more than hitting the floor and a blinding pain before he realized Roger was on top of him, punching, clawing, flailing.

Bringing up April may have been low, but it sure as hell motivated Roger.

"Rog, stop it!" Mark yelled. "Hurting me isn't going to bring her back! Hurting me is not going to keep you from dying!"

Defeated, Roger sank back, lying on the floor of the loft, sobbing quietly.

"I gotta stop," he said numbly. "Every time I… every time I do drugs I think of her… maybe if I'd gotten her to stop. If I had listened to you instead of denying that I had a problem…"

"We can get help," Mark assured him. "Rehab…?"

"I should do this on my own."

And so it had started. Roger had attempted to get off the drugs himself, and had finally admitted to Mark that he needed help. The two of them had worked at it together, gradually, for half a year, until Roger had finally come clean.

The two friends stood over April's grave a week after Roger had finally gotten out of his addiction, reading the headstone.

Roger gently placed the half-dozen roses he held into the vase on her grave.

"You did this to me," he said quietly, almost inaudibly. "You made me fall for you, you got me addicted, you infected me… Goddamnit, you infected me…"

Roger was crying. Roger, the stoic one, the one who rarely showed emotion beyond his music.

Roger was climbing down to his and Mimi's loft via the fire escape while Trai was climbing up. Trai stopped and sat beside him when Roger sat down on the landing between the floors. "She's okay," she told him softly. "Just give her some space."

Roger sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands. "I know everyone's telling me I can't always protect her… but Goddammit, Trai, I can't go through another night like Christmas Eve…"

"Christmas Eve?" Trai questioned softly.

Roger glanced at her. "Mark never…?"

Trai shook her head. "He rarely mentions before he met me."

"I won't go into it. It's a bad subject for all of us."

Trai put a hand on Roger's shoulder. "You and Meems will be okay," she softly assured him.

Roger breathed out slowly. "You think she'll talk to me?"

"Yeah. She needs you. Come up to the loft if you need me, okay?"

"Okay. Trai… thanks. For everything."

"Like I said, not a problem." She hugged him for a second. "Go talk to Mimi."

Trai climbed through the window and sank down on the couch next to Mark. She lay down with her head in his lap, feeling a little better now that she was with him.

"You okay?" Mark asked her gently.

Trai nodded. "For the most part. Suddenly the go-to girl for rape and abuse, but okay."

Mark squeezed her shoulder. "I'm proud of you."

Trai looked up at him. "Mark, what haven't you told me about the last couple years before you met me?"

Mark sighed. "It's a hard story to tell. After you told me yours, I didn't want to upset you."

Trai sat up a bit and kissed him. "Please tell me," she said softly.

So, for the next two hours, Mark told Trai everything, starting with when he'd moved to the City and ending with Christmas Eve of 1990. It was a story he hadn't told in a long time, because he'd never had the need to tell anyone, and it was hard to get through some parts without tears. But Trai listened, occasionally offering comfort or sympathy, and finally said gently, "I'm glad that you told me."

Mark gave her a weak smile. It had felt good to talk.

"I'm glad I did too."

The phone rang, and Mark glanced at the clock. It was about ten o'clock at night. He wondered who'd be calling, but picked up anyway. "Hello?"

"Mark! Hi. It's Mom."

Oh, dear God. His mother. He hadn't heard from his mother in a few weeks. He'd made absolutely sure to eliminate every trace of her calls from the answering machine. Mark did not want his mother to freak Trai out.

"Hi, Mom," he said into the phone. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine. How are you?"

"Same. It's kinda late for you to be calling, Mom; everything all right?"

"Everything's fine. I just wanted to ask if you were coming home for Passover in a few weeks."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Sure. I can come."

Sitting next to him, able to hear the conversation, Trai blanched. Sure, she wanted to meet his family, but in a week or two?

"Anyone special you'd like to bring?" Jane Cohen pressed.

Mark smiled, completely oblivious to Trai's reaction. "Actually, yeah. Yeah, there is..."

A/N- Hello, my darlings!

"When You Were Young" is a song by the Killers and it's freaking amazing.

Tina101- Congratulations on being the only one to catch where "as you wish" is from, LOL. The Princess Bride is my favorite movie :)

NotEASYbeingGREEN- Thank you! And I'm not giving anything away, but there is most DEFINITELY going to be some Trai/Mark action next chapter…

MidnightPopcorn- Thanks! Never heard from you so this makes me happy :)

Diva Actress- Yep, slid that in as an Avenue Q reference!

ForLoveOrMoney- I'm glad you liked the part with Renzo; took me long enough to work out how to say everything correctly!

I Always Get It For Free x3- Oh, you can dream. I'm right there with you, lol. Although I just saw the amazing Kyle Post on Broadway as Mark… if I could put Kyle and Anthony in an atom smasher, create the perfect man, and dip said perfect man in chocolate… I totally would. –wink-

Mimimarquezc94- Thanks!!

Angel718- Thank you!!

Readerfreak10- Thanks!!

Next chapter should be soon! Have fun, lovelies!

- Sally