Author's Note:

Author's Note- These characters belong to Jonathan Larson, not me.

I head straight for the park, and the sun is just starting to set, making it more difficult to see. It takes me a few seconds to realize that Mark has joined me. We walk along the perimeter of the park and up all the paths, remaining silent. I'm glad he followed me; just having him here is comforting. There is a bench full of young people; all probably junkies, and I go over ask them if they have seen Mimi. No one would give me a straight answer, but suddenly I hear Mark call my name. He is frozen in his tracks staring straight ahead; I notice what he sees immediately and go over.

You could barely notice the diminutive form sleeping on the bench, but I recognize that curly black hair, and figure. I go over and touch her gently, trying not to scare her. She awkwardly rolls over and I see the dirt on her face and leaves stuck in her hair. "Roger?"

"Yeah Mimi, it's me." I look over at Mark, but he has moved away, but still remains close enough. "Can you sit up?" She nods and sits up, coughing as she does. I didn't think it was possible for her to get any thinner, but she has. Her eyes hold a hollowness in them, I've never seen before. I put my arm around her and hold her, cradling her small frame to me. "I'm here, baby, I'll take care of you." She silently nods and hides her head in my chest. I wave for Mark to come over. "I'm going to take her to the loft, ok? Go get some food and meet us there." I reach into my pocket and give him what little money I have.

"Sure thing." He crouches down and touches Mimi's leg, "Hey." The word barely comes out, and I notice her smile at him. "I'll see you guys at home." He leaves us, and I stay holding Mimi until the sun is completely set. Having her back in my arms overwhelms me more than I thought possible. For the first time in months, I feel complete. I stand us up, and she is very weak, but we somehow make it out of the park and walk the few blocks home. Neither of us speaks as we travel. We make it to the loft and I pick her up, barely an effort, and carry her up the stairs. Mark is already there with food waiting for us. He meets me at the door and we both carry Mimi to the old beat up couch we found with a sign that said 'Free to Good Home' and lay her down. I'm reminded of that Christmas Eve a few years ago. I try and step away, but she holds on, even with her weak grip.

"No, don't." Her voice is soft but stern, and I do as she says. Mark comes over with some soup that he heated up and I help Mimi sit up and try and force her to eat some. She won't look me in the eyes, but at the same time, she won't let me go. A part of our bodies are in contact every moment. Mark lurks around, looking uncomfortable until he finally announces he is going to go visit Collins. Mimi perks up at the mention of her old friend's name, "Collins, how is he?"

"He's doing ok," I answer her, it wasn't the complete truth, but she didn't need to worry. Collins had caught a common cold a few weeks ago, which developed to pneumonia and he hasn't really recovered. He hasn't been up to leaving his apartment, so Mark and I have been making daily trips to visit him.

"Only ok? What's wrong?" She finally looks at me and I try and mask the truth in my face, but she sees right through me. "Roger, tell me."

"He's been sick, but he's getting better." I push her hair out of her face and behind her ear. "No need for you to worry."

She tries to stand, "I want to go see him." She loses her balance before she is upright, and falls back into the chair.

"Not until you are feeling better ok? Mark will fill him in, don't worry." I look at her delicate features and just feel the need to take care of her, to love her. Before I realize it I am reaching out and touching her cheek and she puts her hand over mine, finally looking me in the eyes. "Mimi, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let you go."

She smiles at me and shakes her head, "Forget regret, right?" She grips my hand and removes it from her face, entwining our fingers together. I nod in agreement, and I'm about to say something but she brings her other hand and places a finger over my mouth. "Shh, no more apologies or excuses. I know, I understand." She leans over to me and finds my mouth with her lips and I close my eyes and let the feelings I repressed for so long flow out. We don't allow ourselves to speak, afraid of the many realities that could easily break this spell. The rest of the night is spent rediscovering each other, our bodies, our scents, our cravings and needs. The only words uttered before falling asleep in each other's arms were 'I love you' spoken by me.

I wake up to find myself alone. I sit up suddenly, "Mimi?" I rush out of the room and look around our small loft. Mark is sleeping on the couch, the bathroom door is wide open and Mimi is nowhere to be found. I do notice something else missing. Where my guitar once sat, there is nothing. It only takes me seconds to realize what happened to it. I fall back into a chair, berating myself for being so stupid and letting her in again. I know better, I should have been up front with her. I had myself convinced that she came back to me to get help, to finally clean up. All she wanted was some food and a warm body to sleep next to. I push the pile of books sitting on the table onto the floor violently, standing up and kicking the chair. Mark sprouts up from the couch.

"Roger, what's wrong?" He rushes over to me and pulls me over to the couch. The anger inside of me is too strong and I push him away, causing him to lose his steps and fall back onto the table. He stands again, "She's gone, isn't she?" He looks as sad and disappointed as I feel.

I nod slightly, "She took my guitar." I answer solemnly as I point to the empty space where its home once was. In disbelief he walks over and stands over the now barren spot on the floor.

"Holy shit, are you sure?" He looks up at me, not wanting to believe.

"No, it fucking walked away, of course I'm sure. Jesus, Mark…"
"I don't know, maybe you forgot it somewhere, or maybe…" He gives up, finally believing the truth. "Shit, Roger, I'm sorry." He shakes his head and goes back towards the couch, stopping at the folding table. "No… no… she didn't." He starts frantically tossing papers aside and drops to the floor looking through the pile that I knocked over.

"What?" I have a feeling what he is going to say, but I can't let myself consider the possibility.

"My camera. I put it on the table last night when I got back." He looks up at me with terror in his eyes, "It's gone."