Chapter 20

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A/N: Sorry about the delay. I've been really, really busy with school/rehearsals! The next one should be up sooner, though. But, wow, 20 chapters. In the beginning of this story I was convinced that I would wrap it up quickly or I'd give up first. There's still a lot to go without an end in sight, so enjoy!

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Maureen woke up the next morning, her arm hanging off the edge of the bed. She was grateful to be back in her own bed rather than Roger's which was a lot less squishy. Shifting around in her place, she found it difficult to get comfortable. The mattress was lumpy and tilted. Only one night in their bed and Roger had made it uncomfortable, too. She gave in and settled, realizing she probably wasn't going to get much more comfortable.

Maureen had returned home later the evening before to much questioning from Mark. She skilfully managed to dodge his accusation and make him forget about her disappearance using her persuasive tactics, at least for the time being. She hated herself for what she was doing to everybody around her but realized she couldn't change it, so decided to learn to live with it instead.

She crawled across the bed to the dresser and pulled out one of Mark's tee shirts, tossing it on quickly. She huddled back underneath the covers and laid her lips gently against Mark's shoulder.

"Mark," she sang, giggling. She wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Five more minutes," he moaned sleepily.

"No, now," Maureen complained, resting her chin on his shoulder. She ran her fingers down Mark's arm and slid her hand into his.

Mark made an inaudible noise and Maureen rested her head on his chest. He wound his fingers into her hair and his eyes fluttered open. "What time is it?"

"High noon?"

"What?"

"I dunno," she giggled.

"Oh," Mark yawned, resettling his head on the pillow and shutting his eyes.

"Wake up," Maureen whined, shaking Mark. "Let's go for a walk!"

"Sleep…" he replied drowsily.

Maureen moved her hand up to into his hair and looked up into his eyes, which were open again.

"Please?" she pouted. "I'll be your best friend."

"In that case," Mark started, lifting his head off the pillow. "No." He flopped back down and shut his eyes tightly from the light.

"Jerk," Maureen laughed, sitting up and placing her hands on Mark's shoulders, shaking him awake. "Come on!"

Mark sighed loudly.

"Okay, okay. Here I go," Mark replied, not moving. Maureen hopped out of the bed and tossed a pair of boxers at his head. She put her own clothes on and when she noticed Mark was still not up, jumped on the bed.

"Get up!" she yelled, landing on Mark's stomach.

Mark yelped in pain and wrapped his arms around his girlfriend to keep her stationary.

"What the hell are you on?" he laughed.

"Can't I just be excited to spend the morning with my boyfriend?" she smiled innocently, knowing very well that she was anything but.

He smiled back and kissed her. Things were going to be okay.

"Tell you what. I'm going to go take a shower, and you can join me if you like," he grinned. "Then we can go grab some breakfast from the Life or something and I'll take you to your rehearsal. Sound good?"

"Yeah it does." Maureen smiled and flipped over onto her back allowing Mark to put on some pants. She stretched and Mark rested a hand on her stomach, kissing her quickly.

"I'm going to go start the water," he told her, sitting up and getting off the bed.

"I'll be there in a sec," she replied. She watched Mark leave the room and slowly sat up, shaking her head in frustration.

Any feelings that she had been trying to repress for Mark came flooding back and she wanted to be with him again. She knew that she couldn't do this and she had to make a decision, but maybe she could tag along with him for just a little while longer. She didn't want to leave him just yet.

Maureen punched down the mattress, trying to flatten the lump that had been bothering her all night. She realized that it wasn't the misshapen mattress, though; something was underneath it. She hopped off the bed and lifted the heavy mattress carefully, finding the culprit. Maureen pulled out the needle and bag of white powder underneath that Roger had left there the night before. Standing up quickly, she held the two objects between her fingers like she was afraid to touch them. She stared at them and poked at the powder inside the bag.

"You coming or what?" Mark asked, leaning into the bedroom. His eyes opened wide and the smile that was on his face disappeared. Maureen looked up at Mark quickly, looking like a deer caught in the headlights of a pick-up truck.

"What's that?" Mark asked slowly.

Maureen shrugged. "It was under the bed."

Mark suddenly understood.

Maureen's strange absence, not telling him where she was, lying through her teeth.

"That's why you leave all the time…" he said quietly, still staring at Maureen.

"What?"

"No, how didn't I see it?" he asked, his voice louder. "Roger's into it, April's into it… it was only a matter of time before you were, too, right?" He laughed bitterly.

Maureen dropped the drugs onto the bed and walked towards Mark, who felt like his legs were made of lead and couldn't move.

"Mark, it's not mine," she reassured him.

Mark shook his head at her and all the colour drained from his face.

"I swear, Mark."

Mark managed to step back into the loft and leaned against the wall, still in shock.

"Mark, it's not. I wouldn't even know how to use it," she rationalized. "Believe me." She carefully cupped Mark's face in her hands and rubbed his cheek with her thumb.

"Roger," Mark called in a daze. Maureen stared at Mark and pulled away from him, gasping, and proceeded to walk back into their bedroom. She sat down on the bed and leaned her side against the headboard, shocked as to why Mark wouldn't believe her. She didn't want to care, but she couldn't help it. She didn't want Mark to think that about her.

Immediately, Mark entered the bedroom and Roger hobbled in after him. Mark inadvertently pointed to the powder and needle on the bed.

"Is that yours or Maureen's?" he asked quietly, obviously scared that it really was hers.

"It's mine," he shrugged, snatching it off the bed. In retrospect, he realized he should have said it was Maureen's. Then she would have been out of the loft so fast her head would spin and he wouldn't have to deal with the diva anymore. He knew that he needed it too much though, as a security blanket if as nothing else. When he couldn't find it last night, he nearly had a conniption.

Mark breathed a silent sigh of relief and ran his fingers through his hair. Roger left the room again, leaving Mark and Maureen alone once more.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized, quickly sitting next to Maureen on the edge of the bed. He shyly draped an arm around her shoulders and placed a hand on her knee.

"It's okay," she shrugged uncomfortably.

"How did you get a hold of it, though?"

"The mattress was lumpy and when I looked to see what was there, it was that stuff."

Mark hugged her and kissed the top of her head. "Why didn't I believe you?"

"I don't know… it's okay. Don't worry," she replied, shaking her head. "It's all good," she giggled.

"Should we go take that shower?" Mark asked, grinning. "I'll make it up to you."

"Sure."

Mark pulled her up from the bed and led Maureen to the bathroom when they heard Roger call from his bedroom.

"Be quiet this time!"

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"Finally!"

"Sorry," Roger laughed. "I should have called you before."

"Yes you should have," Roger's mother laughed. "What have you been doing?"

"Oh, you know… the usual."

"That doesn't say much. Come on, dish!"

Roger laughed at his mother's choice of words. They had always been very close since they were near in age. She had him when she was 16, so they had been through a lot together. They didn't talk on the phone very often, but they were still pretty close.

"April went to rehab."

A long pause followed this, but Roger knew his mother was still on the line because he could hear her breathing softly.

"Mom? Say something…"

"How do you feel about that?" she asked slowly. That was the first time anybody had asked Roger how he felt.

"I'm proud of her, I guess. I was kind of mad at first."

"Why?"

"When I came back, she was gone. She didn't even tell me."

"Came back from where?"

Shit. "I was just hanging out with the band for a little while."

"That's weird. She left while you were visiting friends?"

"Well, I was gone for a while. Like, a week."

"Roger, what's going on?"

Roger sighed. He figured he'd have to tell her sooner or later.

"April found out that she got AIDS, and since I'm the only person she's been with for a while, I probably do, too."

Miss Davis gasped.

"There's more— Mom, don't cry," he pleaded, hearing her sniffling on the other line. "I kind of proposed to April and we got married at the courthouse. Then she told me that she wanted to go to rehab and I ran away for a long time. Then I came back and she was gone."

"Roger…"

"I know. I'm sorry, I am. I'm so sorry. I'm fucking everything up and I hate myself for it, I really do. I want to get better."

"Will you go to rehab?"

"I… I can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I don't want to. I can't do it."

"Please Roger, for me."

"I don't need twelve steps. I want to do this on my own."

"Is that safe?"

"It's gotta be. I'm trying to stop."

"I don't know…"

"I do. I need to do it myself. I'm not helpless."

"I know you're not," she gave a small laugh. "I just worry about you."

"I'll be fine, I will. I'm strong like you. I can handle anything." He paused. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. Well, yeah, be sorry. I just, I can't believe this is actually happening to us."

"I know. I love you. I never wanted this to happen. I was supposed to be a good son."

"You are. You just made a few mistakes," she sniffed. "We all do."

"Don't cry, Mommy," he sang. "I should write a song for you."

She gave a watery laugh. "Maybe. I'm sorry I'm not there for you."

"It's okay, we all have our stuff," Roger shrugged.

"So I have a daughter-in-law?" Miss Davis asked, as if just registering it for the first time.

"You do. Don't be mad. I didn't even tell Mark about it."

"Then who was your witness?"

Roger wrinkled his nose. "Maureen."

"The snotty girl?"

"Yeah. I hate her, I really do."

"Don't say that."

"It's true! She's a bitch."

"Oh, Roger, sweetie, hold on a sec. There's somebody on the other line."

"Sure."

Roger listened as his mother clicked over to the other line and tapped his fingers along the ground. He was leaning against the side of his bed, staring out the cardboard-covered window. He was such an idiot. At least his mother took it better than he though she would.

"Roger? It's your grandma. I have to go and get yelled at. I love you."

"Love you, too. I'll talk to you soon, I promise."

"You'd better. Be careful. Bye."

"Bye." Roger clicked off the cordless phone and tossed it on his bed.

He didn't need twelve steps.

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"What time is it now?"

"It's still one forty-seven, Mark."

"Well where is she?" Mark fumed, standing up from the chair. Collins shrugged and forced himself to keep his eyes open.

"When did she leave?"

"I dropped her off at rehearsal at two and she hasn't been home since," Mark replied, busying himself in the kitchen.

Collins yawned and nodded.

"You don't have to stay up," Mark shrugged, blinking tears back. This is what he had been driven to. He was sick of waiting.

"It's all right," Collins replied, yawning louder this time. "I've got nothing else to do anyway."

"You could sleep," Mark suggested. Any attempts at getting Maureen off his mind were futile; why did he keep trying?

Collins shook his head. "I don't want you to wait alone."

"Thanks." Mark wandered back into the living room and plopped back down into the chair. "I don't know what to do."

"About what?" Collins asked. "Maureen?"

"Yeah. I'm sick of her doing this all the time. I can't deal with it anymore."

"Maybe you two should take a break. You seem to want different things."

Mark stared off into space, contemplating the stupidity of Collins' suggestion. Of course they wanted the same thing. They loved each other, that was enough.

"We don't need a break. We're fine," he reassured his friend.

"Then why are you waiting up for her at two in the morning?"

Mark shrugged and lowered his eyes to the bottom of the door. He stared at the crack of dim light coming through the space between the door and the ground for several minutes, mentally screaming at the top of his lungs. He heard snores coming from his right and concluded that Collins was asleep.

His eyes shifted to the sleeping professor. He didn't know what he was talking about. He was usually a great advice-giver, but clearly his drowsiness got in the way this time. Maureen was perfect for him, and he was perfect for her. They were just what each other needed.

Without any warning, the loft door swung open and Maureen came in, stumbling slightly. Collins awoke with a start. She tossed her coat in the closet and shook off her shoes.

"Hey," she greeted Mark and Collins, flopping down onto the couch next to Collins.

"Hey Mo," Collins replied. His role was to keep the situation calm. It always was.

"What's up?" she giggled, tucking her feet underneath her and shivering slightly.

"I should ask you the same," Mark shrugged, still staring at the door. "Where have you been?"

Maureen looked up into Mark's face. A look of confusion, fear, and slight anger graced his usually innocent face.

"It doesn't matter, I'm here now." She smiled and shrugged. The light caught on the locket that Mark had given her for her birthday and he frowned.

"It does matter," Mark insisted. "It's two in the morning, Maureen!"

"Pookie," she interrupted him. "Don't be mad."

"Don't be mad? Where the hell have you been?" Mark asked, his face now turning red. Maureen shrugged and stood up, making her way over to Mark.

"Mo…" Collins protested, trying to pull her back by her shirt. She shrugged him off and sat on the arm of Mark's chair. Mark was currently fuming in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest. Maureen rested a hand on his arm and placed the other one on the back of his head, turning his face to her.

"It's okay, Mark. It's fine."

Mark sighed silently. He wanted to believe her, he did. He just didn't want to be waiting around for her while she went gallivanting around the city.

"No it isn't," Mark forced out. He so badly wanted to give in and hug her and have everything back to normal, but decided to stand his ground for once.

Mark stood up quickly and walked to his bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Maureen slid into the chair, her legs hanging over one of the arms.

"You okay?" Collins asked after a few moments.

"Yeah," she shrugged.

"All right. I'm going to go to bed," Collins replied, standing up slowly, his eyes drooping. He kissed Maureen on the forehead and disappeared into his bedroom.

Maureen stretched her arms over her head and hopped off the chair, wandering over to her and Mark's room. She opened the door and grabbed her pyjamas. She could feel his eyes following her from the bed as she did this.

"I'm going to take a shower," she told Mark, walking back out of the room. Mark watched her leave and frowned.

He wished he knew what was going on inside her head that made her think it was all right to come in at two in the morning and expect him to think nothing was out of the ordinary. It wasn't an unusual occurrence for her to go clubbing alone, though. She knew Mark wasn't into that kind of thing; he was more of a homebody. He knew she'd be dancing with other guys, but it didn't bother him. He trusted her. Even so, it was unnerving to have her coming home so late like nothing was wrong.

About twenty minutes later, Mark heard Maureen come back into the room, the strong scent of oranges wafting in after her. She always smelled good. He kept his eyes shut because he was far too tired to open them up, anyway. He listened as she put away her clothes and slid into bed next to him.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"Aren't we fighting?"

"I'm not going to sleep on the couch," Maureen told him.

"So you're going to sleep in here?"

"Where else would I?"

"I don't know."

"Because I'm not sleeping on the couch."

"Well, neither am I."

"Okay. Because I'm not."

"Fine, I heard you."

"Fine."

"Fine. Night."

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