A/N: Update a little late as I was celebrating my b-day with my family this weekend. As always, feedback loved.

"May 21, 1996. Close on Mark, who finally has a sheet of paper that gives him the legal right to prescribe narcotics…"

"Roger, shut that off!"

"No way. And don't try and hide. Where's your diploma?"

Four years of classes and clinical rotations and Mark was done. And he'd actually managed to sit through the entire graduation ceremony, including the extremely loud "Yay, Mark!" Maureen had screamed when his name was announced. She was shameless about it later, of course. He'd expected nothing less really.

"Come on, Mark. Look at Kara. She's bragging."

Kara snaked a hand across Mark's back, waving her diploma. "Damn right. I paid a lot of money to get this thing and I think I might just show it to everyone I pass on the street today." She smiled brightly. "And Mark is hiding his behind his back." She yanked at it, catching him off-guard. She handed off her own diploma before flipping his open for Roger to film.

"Guys…" he protested.

"Give it up, pookie," Maureen told him, as she kissed him on the cheek. Kara was thankfully looking in the opposite direction and missed him blushing. He may be long over Maureen, but the woman could still easily make him blush. "We're just proud of you is all."

Joanne gave him a comforting pat. "Live it up, Mark," she said, gently bouncing Tom on her shoulder. Mark's mother had insisted on holding on to the baby during the ceremony and Mark had scooped him up and ran towards his friends the very first second he could. Tom had been passed between Maureen and Joanne, with the lawyer currently in possession.

"Because once you frame it, you kinda forget it exists, even when it is hanging on your office wall," she continued. "I've told you before, welcome to corporate America." Tom seemed to hate those words as much as Mark did and let out a wail. Mark reached out his arms and Joanne handed him over.

The baby settled, blinking his eyes at his father. "Just don't drool on the gown, okay? It's a rental."

Mimi laughed. "It doesn't matter if you ask, drool just happens." Angel gurgled in her arms, taking her spit covered fingers out of her mouth and promptly flinging said spit-covered fingers onto Mimi's dress. "See?" While balancing Angel with one arm, she reached into the diaper bag hanging from Roger's shoulder to retrieve a baby wipe. She dabbed at her shirt.

"Where are your parents?" she asked.

"Mingling with mine," Kara answered before he could. "I think I'm going to need a drink after all."

"Or ten of them," he muttered. "I owe my dad for life for paying for that." He shifted Tom's weight slightly and pointed to the diploma still in Roger's hands with his elbow.

Roger jerked Mark's camera up, still filming. "Nah. Benny paid for Mimi's rehab and we aren't about to owe him for the rest of our lives. Ever been to the Life Café, Kara?"

"No," Kara admitted, "But I've certainly heard enough about it. Mimi works there, right?"

"Right," he confirmed. "I'm sure Mark's told you about how he likes to dance on the tables there, then?"

"Um…no." She turned her face to his. "Leading a double life, huh?"

"Would you believe I'm a lightweight?" he said with a slight shrug.

"No, not for a minute after meeting your friends," she answered with a snort and leaned in to kiss him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Roger approaching closer with his camera. He broke off the kiss to reach out and put his hand across the lens. Tom protested the action, squirming. Kara gently lifted him from Mark's arms.

"Show's over, Roger."

Roger just pushed Mark's hand away. "Nope. You always have this thing pointed at us. You can take the heat a little while longer." He handed Mark back his diploma. "Now hold it up proudly for all the folks at home, Dr. Cohen."

Dr. Cohen.

Shit.

His eyes scanned the reception room, falling directly on his father, who appeared to be in the middle of a discussion with Kara's mother.

His thoughts must have registered on his face, because next thing he knew, Kara was rubbing his shoulder.

"Mark. Mark, what's wrong?"

She was staring at him, truly concerned. He shook his head for a moment, before smiling to let her know he was fine.

"Nothing's wrong," he told her.

"Well, that's bullshit."

"Roger!"

"I'm really okay," he said again. He was good at pretending things didn't bother him and frankly if he had his way, he'd never think about his relationship with his father ever again. He took the diploma from Roger's hands and held it up. "Happy Rog?"

The glance Roger gave him told Mark that Roger was well aware that he was avoiding something. But his best friend, thankfully, didn't push the issue. He just pointed the camera lens back at Mark. "You know, I'm getting pretty good at using this thing."

"No, you're not," Mark shot back. "Your focus is off."

"Well, that's probably just because the focus is on you."

Those words sounded eerily familiar.

"I don't like my focus."

"Why?" Collins asked. "Because it's you?"

"You just graduated from medical school, Mark," Roger continued. "What are you going to do next?"

"He's going to Disneyworld!" Maureen shouted, popping herself into the frame. Mark silently thanked her flamboyant nature.

"I'm not going to Disneyworld," he answered. "But I am going to Brooklyn."

"Which ain't Disneyworld," Mimi said with a laugh. "But it does have Coney Island. You guys signed the lease, then?"

Kara nodded, the tassel on her cap flicking with the movement. "I love the apartment and the price is right. I'm doing my residency at New York Methodist, so I really like the idea of a shorter commute. Mark's the one working in Washington Heights."

He shrugged. "That's what the subway is for, right? And I have a bike. It'll be a hell of lot nicer than the loft-"

"And warmer," Roger injected.

"And warmer," Mark agreed. "Kara and I will both have jobs that pay in something other than experience, so the rent is doable."

"And unlike myself, you have no student loans," Kara pointed out.

Mark stole another glance at his father across the room. "No, I don't."

A moment of silence passed between the group before Roger turned off Mark's camera and handed it back to him.

"Let's get out of here and really celebrate. How quick can you both ditch your folks?"

"Roger," Mimi hissed.

Roger just looked at his wife. "I don't know about Kara, but I know there's a reason Mark is standing over here and not next to mom and dad."

"I get that, but you shouldn't say it when they're like five feet away."

"Meems, they are more than five feet away and definitely too far away to hear me."

Kara grabbed a glass of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter with her free hand. "Well, I love my parents, but even I'm ready to send them back to Connecticut at this point." She downed a generous amount in one gulp. "Tell you what. Why don't Mark and I go make nice and say good-bye to the folks and we'll meet you at the Life Café?"

"Make nice?" Mark repeated. "Can I use Tom as human baby shield against your dad?"

Kara rolled her eyes. "My dad tolerates you just fine."

"Tolerates is definitely the right word."

She downed the rest of her glass of champagne before tugging on his arm. "Come on, let's get this over with."

Over with. Well, he had graduated and Columbia had its money. Maybe this would be the last time he'd face his father in an awkward social situation.

And maybe pigs would fly.

Mark ended up shifting his weight uncomfortably as Kara handed Tom off to both his and her mother, the two women gushing over the newborn.

"You sure you don't need your father and I to come and help you move?" his mother asked.

I need you to help as much as I need a tetanus shot, he thought. But instead he gave his mother a tight smile and shook his head. "We've got friends to help us out. We'll be fine."

"I don't see why you don't just hire a moving van," Kara's mother said. "We know money's tight with the baby and all, but we can help out."

"Evelyn, why the hell would-"

"Frank," she said, cutting him off. "She's our daughter and we are always willing to help."

"Not needed, Mom, but thank you. Thank you to all of you," Kara said, giving Mark's parents a smile.

"Well, we figured that you might want to save up for a wedding and—"

Mark and Kara immediately shared a wide-eyed look. Oh no, Mark wasn't going to let his mother open up that can of worms. He opened his mouth to steer the conversation away.

"Katherine, I'm sure Mark and Kara are doing just fine the way they are."

His father. Again.

Who the fuck was this man? Mark watched him take Tom from his mother's arms and smile at the baby. It was a smile that was completely foreign to Mark, as he couldn't recall ever seeing such a look on his father's face when he was growing up.

Mark was simply speechless.

"Um, I know each of you has a drive ahead of you and it is a weeknight and all…"

Kara was talking, but Mark was still staring at his dad. His camera was in his hand, switched in the off position for when Roger had handed it back to him. Not shifting his gaze, he turned it on and started filming because later he was sure he might never catch a glimpse of this again.

It was just like his father at work. It was his father strangely…happy.

His dad suddenly seemed to notice the lens and his face changed. He shifted Tom's weight and handed the baby off again to Frank this time, which despite the rough exterior he showcased to Mark, also doted on the baby.

Maybe it was just Tom, Mark reasoned. Nothing more, nothing less.

They finished exchanging good-byes and such, and walked out of the reception hall. Mark breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the fresh air on his skin.

Until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Congratulations, Mark," his father said and for a second Mark swore he caught a glimpse of the look he'd seen moments before across his father's face. But if it appeared, it disappeared just as quickly.

"Thanks," he'd said softly, standing still as he watched his and Kara's parents head towards the parking garage.

"You okay?" Kara asked. It was then that Mark noticed his camera was still going. He shut it off.

"As okay as I'll ever be," he told her. "Let's go meet up with everyone at the Life."

"So what's up with you and your dad?"

Mark looked up from the box he was closing. They'd rented a small in town U-haul truck to transport all the salvable items from the loft to Brooklyn, despite the fact that Mark couldn't honestly remember the last time he'd ever driven a vehicle. Both he and Kara started residency the first week of July, meaning they both had a few weeks off.

Perfect timing for moving. Not perfect timing for what Mark was certain could become an interrogation.

"You're asking about this now?" he said.

His friend just stared at him. "Yeah, I am. We may have grown up a little, but you still avoid everything until you can't anymore. You were moping for at least an hour last night at dinner. I know because I've pulled the same crap. Don't think you owe your dad anything because he wrote you a check."

Mark sighed. "He did more than just write me a check, Roger. And it's…complicated."

"Where the fuck have I heard that before? Oh yeah. When Kara was pregnant and you didn't think that telling me about your issues was a good idea. Fuck, Mark, we've been through this before. I'm your best friend. Fucking talk."

"Talk?" he asked. "Roger, I thought we both had agreed that we don't need to talk about this shit. Because if I'm going to talk about my dad, you'd actually need to tell me a thing or two about yours."

Mark didn't intend for his words to come out as harsh as they did, but even so, that didn't stop Roger.

"My dad is an asshole," Roger answered, his voice remaining even when he said it. "He left my mom with five hungry kids to feed. Now you know something about him. Your turn."

Once again, Roger was going to be a stubborn shit head.

"I'm not my dad," he simply said, not exactly knowing why those words were the first to come out of his mouth.

Maybe it was because deep down he was still trying to convince himself that those words were actually true.

They had to be. He had a different plan and path for the choices he'd made in life.

"No, you're not," Roger agreed. "I'm not my dad, either. Doesn't mean he still didn't fuck up my life."

Mark blinked. "Fuck up your…? Roger, I've always assumed you had a good reason to be pissed at your dad. My dad…well, he never hit me. He never verbally abused me. He was just…cold. And now, he's…" Different, Mark wanted to say, but that didn't seem right. He wasn't sure what his father was now.

"You don't need someone to beat the crap out of you to leave a bruise, Mark." Roger shook his head. "My dad didn't hit me, you know. He didn't really care enough to invest the energy, I think. Indifference does a hell of a lot more damage."

Profound words. Roger was a lot smarter then he looked, despite the fact he hadn't even finished high school. You needed depth to write lyrics, Roger had once claimed.

"What if sometimes I wonder if my dad really is more than just the person I'd seen growing up?"

There. Perhaps he'd said out loud part of what he'd been wrestling with for the past couple of years.

Roger shrugged. "Still doesn't mean you owe him for the rest of your life because he paid for medical school."

"So you don't think I'm a sell out for asking for his help?"

Roger was silent for a minute. "We all need help eventually, even though it sucks asking. I know who paid for my rehab, Mark."

"It was Cindy that paid, actually," he admitted. "I just-"

"Asked for the money?" Roger finished. "Where would I be if you hadn't? Same goes for my appendix. Mark, I suck at being grateful."

"Yeah, you do," Mark agreed. "But it wouldn't be the same if you didn't." His eyes fell back down the box in front of him and he studied cardboard for a moment. "I wish I really knew what was going with my dad and I. I really do."

Suddenly the sound of footsteps interrupted the two friends as Mimi and Kara returned with a slew of boxes from the liquor store down the street.

"Do you have the keys to the truck?" Kara asked, extending her hand. "By the way, I'm driving."

Mark reached into his pocket. "Here. And who said you're driving?"

"Despite the fact that I've never seen you drive, Maureen warned me that you drive like a sixty-year-old man."

Roger burst into laughter. "Maureen is finally right about something," he managed to get out.

Mark shot his best friend a look. "She is not! Besides, when did you ever see me drive?"

"Early summer 1990," Mimi said. "When we rented that car to drive to the Jersey shore. Maureen wasn't talking with Joanne, I think, at that point, so you were the only one with a valid license and no trail of unpaid parking tickets. You drove like forty on the New Jersey Turnpike. My grandma drives faster than forty on the Turnpike." She looked at Kara. "Angel – the first one – made fun of Mark the entire ride."

"And she stole the keys from you while you were sleeping so she could drive back," Roger reminded him.

Oh, yeah. He'd forgotten about that. Angel had also hidden his pants in the process, leading to more embarrassment, but that was a story best left untold.

Kara grabbed the keys from Mark's hand. "Okay, now I'm definitely driving." She picked up one of the boxes next to the door. "We have to be out of here by midnight or we're squatters."

Mark and Roger exchanged a glance. "Been there, done that."

Kara shook her head. "I'm sure I'll find out the real story behind that later." She turned and balancing the box on her knee, slide the door open and headed back down the stairs.

Mark grabbed any empty box. "Good-bye, Alphabet City."

Roger tossed him a roll of packing tape. "Welcome to Brooklyn."