A/N: So here it is, the second to last chapter. I'm loving the reviews you guys are giving me, so I've prolonged it from its original three, to five now. Again, I own nada. Zilch. Zip. Enjoy!

"So what did you want us all here for?" Maureen Johnson asked, sitting on the floor of Mimi's apartment. Beside her sat Joanne, her on-again-off-again love interest and close friend of Mark's. Mimi sat above them on the couch, and next to her was Tom Collins, looking as though he knew exactly what was going on.

"Well..." Mark called from the other room, sounding as though he was struggling with something. "I don't know...I just found some old stuff and wanted to go through it before I fly back out to California tomorrow."

"What kind of stuff?" Collins questioned, peering in to see if he could spy the blonde boy. Mark emerged soon after, carrying a box of envelopes and folders, plopping it down and sitting by it. He reached in and picked up an envelope, spilling its contents on the floor. Out came a flood of pictures and a few papers.

"This kind of stuff. Roger had it all stowed away in the back of his closet. I figured we could, you know, sort out some stuff we want." He began flipping through pictures and tossing a few aside.

Maureen and Joanne quickly dug in as well, Collins and Mimi taking a little longer to follow suit. After a moment of contemplation, Mark held up a photo.

"Do you remember this?" He asked. "This was the day of the search for that taxi..." Laughing to himself, he examined the shot of Roger holding a paper with what seemed to be a license plate number.

"That taxi had a LEG hanging out of the trunk, I swear to God!" Maureen laughed. "I don't care if it was a Halloween prop or not, there was a LEG in that taxi!"

"I still think you made it up so we'd have something to amuse ourselves with for the day." Mark accused jokingly.

"I did NOT." She said taking the picture and placing it beside her. She pulled out another and laughed. "There's always the famous, 'No, you idiot' picture..." Fanning the picture at Mark, he snatched it away.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Mimi asked. "I think that was before my time..."

"It was..." Mark inhaled. "I asked Roger a question about his guitar...what was it again?" He looked to Maureen and Collins for an answer.

"I think you asked if you could glue a broken string back together." Collins replied. "And then Roger just gave you this priceless look, and I had to take a picture." He held up the picture of Mark looking inquisitive, and Roger giving a glare that could have melted the ice caps.

"So I was young and naive..." Mark sighed.

"Your mother's young and naive!" Maureen snapped, giggling. Mark glared at her.

"Don't start that again. I weaned Roger off of the 'your mother' comebacks two weeks after we moved in here because it came out of his mouth every two minutes." He began mocking conversation. "Roger, we need more eggs...your mother needs more eggs! Roger, do you have my t-shirt? Your mother has my t-shirt. It really was sickening..." Mark grumbled. "But some of them were really funny. Like when I told him he needed a shower, and he came back with the fact that my mother needed to shower. Some of them were golden."

"Mark...that wasn't funny at all, actually..." Mimi said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well...shut up, you had to be there." He let a smile crack his rather stony face and went back to surfing through the box.

"Do you remember when Roger broke that window?" Collins asked, leaning forward and snatching a few pictures up.

"I remember I wanted to kill him. It was the middle of winter and we had this gaping hole in our wall. I think I caught frostbite a few times." Mark laughed in response.

"Or that time where he was stinking drunk..." Maureen chimed.

"Which time?" Mimi laughed. "That boy was always pounding something down."

"The time he was drunk and insisted that Mark let him try on some of his clothes." Maureen fell into a heap of laughter, joined by Joanne.

"That must have been a sight." Joanne grinned. "Somehow I can't picture it."

"It was so hysterical. Mark, why did you let him?" Mimi said, crouching on the floor.

"I must have been a little drunk myself. Besides, you know how persistent and stubborn Roger was when he was sober. Add alcohol to that and he gets downright whiny!" The blonde answered, tossing Mimi a few pictures.

"But you should have seen him, he came out in Mark's little Pulp Fiction t-shirt and this pair of awful stonewashed jeans that must have been from 1987--" she was cut off by her own laughter.

"Yeah yeah, it was funny because it was about 20 sizes too small..." Mark rolled his eyes. "It was an inadvertent jibe at my...uh..."

"Scrawniness?" Joanne teased. Mark stuck out his tongue.

"But despite all the teasing and roughhousing and utter beatings that those boys put each other through, Roger and Mark got along pretty well." Collins said. "I just remember one morning, Mark was sleeping late because he had been up all night working on something, and Roger got this clever idea to wake him up at about...7:30. So how does he wake him up? He runs into Mark's room screaming and just leaps onto his bed and proceeds to beat the shit out of him." Collins leaned over to Mimi and mimed the actions that Roger took.

"That wasn't funny! I had bruises after that, I thought someone had broken into our loft!" Mark grinned a little.

"I can picture that..." Mimi said, snatching a few more pictures and putting them into her pile. "Thank you for these, Mark." She smiled, knowingly.

"No problem." He answered, grinning down at a picture that was all his own.