A/N: Same old disclaimer stuff.
Okay, so if you look back at the first chapter, April dies on February 5th. It is now January 31st (?) in this story. So the story is going to start sloooowing down. Yeah. Okay. Read and review!
Chapter 9- Tell Her
"Mark, are you cool, man?" Roger asked, shaking him roughly a few times. "Mark! Say something!"
"Where've you been?" Mark said.
He put his hands on Roger's chest and shoved him away as hard as he could. Roger's eyes grew wide with surprise and Mark got to his feet, feeling sick and nauseated. He pushed his arm against his stomach and took shallow breaths. When the pain had lessened a little, Mark hobbled over to the nearest tree and fell against it heavily.
He looked up and down the path and saw that the dealer, The Man, was gone.
Mark felt mean, like a puppy that had been teased one too many times. It was uncharacteristic, this anger he felt, but Mark felt good. It was an adrenaline rush. Without it, he didn't think he could move, much less speak. He didn't feel like himself anymore- he didn't feel like the weak, frightened little Mark he had been just an hour ago.
This anger made him feel... different.
Mark looked up when he heard Roger walking towards him and glared at him. He felt so much pissed off energy directed towards Roger that it made the pain his body was going through seem almost nonexistent.
Almost.
"What the fuck is wrong with you!" Roger screamed at him. "I saved your fucking life back there and this is the fucking thanks I get?!"
"You almost killed me a few days ago!" Mark screamed back. He felt a stab of pain rush through his gut but he ignored it. "Why didn't you let that guy, your DEALER, just finish me off?"
The now familiar insanity entered Roger's eyes and Mark waited for him to strike out again. Although the night was freezing cold, Roger wore only a t-shirt and jeans. His arms were slick with snow and his hair and face were dirty. Mark noticed that Roger's entire body seemed to be shaking but he was sweating heavily.
The look in Roger's eyes faded and he stared at Mark with an expression of pure misery.
"I..I'm sorry, Mark." Roger said softly. "I don't know what happened. I just... snapped that night."
Mark touched his face with his hand and felt the stitches on his lip.
"You did this to me, Roger." he said. He pulled down his scarf and the collar of his sweater with vehemence. "And this. See my neck? My fucking jaw? You did this to me!"
Roger's face twitched as if all his features were held together by an invisible string.
He took a step towards Mark.
"I know." Roger said. His voice cracked and it sounded as if he were on the edge of breaking down. "I'm sorry."
"Where the fuck have you been, Roger?" Mark asked. He lowered his arm. "All this time, where have you been?"
"With friends." But the way Roger's eyes flickered down told Mark he was lying.
"We're your friends, Roger." Mark said. "Me, Collins, Maureen... April."
At the mention of her name, Roger looked back up and stared at Mark.
"How is she?" he asked in a whisper.
"Bad. Tired." Mark said. "Collins says she may be in shock. That's where she's at. At his apartment. Sleeping."
Roger nodded and wiped the sweat forming on his brow.
"She's been looking for you, Roger. To the point of exhaustion." Mark went on. "Where the fuck have you been?"
"Christ, I told you I was with friends!" Roger screamed out suddenly. He gripped the sides of his head and closed his eyes shut in an almost comical parody of fury.
Mark waited.
It wasn't as if he had a choice anyway.
The adrenaline rush was fading.
He didn't think he could stand up on his own, at least not in the next few minutes. He felt as if the lower part of his torso was surrounded by a steel fence that grew tighter and tigher with each passing breath. If he had a choice, he would have walked away, back into the night, back into Collins' apartment. He suddenly didn't care about what happened to Roger anymore. He was in too much torment to care. All he wanted to do was crawl into Collins' nice warm bed and have April sleep against him for, oh, eternity.
But Mark couldn't move so he waited.
Finally Roger lowered his hands and opened his eyes.
"She looked for you for two days, Roger." Mark said quietly. "She didn't sleep and I don't think she ate either. For two days."
"I know."
"How the hell would you know anything about what April's been through?" Mark asked, irritated.
"Because she found me."
Mark felt his jaw drop and he gawked at Roger.
"She.... what? When? She...?" .
"She found me here. I was trying to buy this morning and she... she found me." Roger said. His voice had become so soft that it was nearly inaudible. "I tried to run when I saw her but she ran after me. I... I said a few things I shouldn't have. And she..."
Mark stood up straight.
"What did you say?"
Roger shook his head and his eyes pleaded with Mark but Mark wasn't going to let him go.
"Roger, what did you say?"
"I told her that I..." Roger shivered again. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. "I told her to get away from me. I told her that I hated her. That I wished I never met her. I told her that all she was good for was money and a good fuck and that now, she wasn't even good enough for that."
Mark stared at him, incredulous.
"Christ, Mark, the look on her face was..." Roger shook his head and groaned. "She didn't cry or say anything. Just looked at me like... like she didn't know who I was. She walked away and... and I..."
"You don't deserve her." Mark said coldly.
"I know." Roger said. The trembling had intensified. "I-I haven't had a fix in almost a day. M-Maybe eight... nine hours. That's the longest I haven't, you know, and I want to tell her that I'm sorry. Mark, I'm really trying to stop. A day without it is hard but I'm trying. I'm quitting now, Mark. For her and you and everyone. I swear."
Roger was going through withdrawal.
Mark felt like hitting him. April's face drifted into his mind -her still, peaceful, sleeping face- and Mark was furious.
"That's bullshit." Mark said. "Complete bullshit. You haven't been staying with friends, have you? How'd you get here so fast, Roge? Why were you in the park in the first place?"
Roger's eyes widened.
"You were here to shoot up, that's why!" Mark screamed. His body flared out in protest, sending shockwaves of hurt through his stomach and chest and Mark winced, clutching his stomach again.
But he went on.
"You were here to buy from that guy, weren't you? Admit it, Roger! You were here to buy whatever shit that guy was going to sell you and you were going to shoot up! That's why you were here!"
"This is where I've been staying!" Roger screamed back. "I've been sleeping here, Mark!"
Mark was stunned to silence and he watched as the invisible string that held Roger's face together snapped. Roger started to cry, to weep, and Mark stood there, watching him.
"I couldn't go back to the loft." Roger said, wiping his face with his grimy hands. "I was scared that April... that she would be there and she'd see me and...but I swear to you, I haven't taken that shit in nine hours. Fuck, it feels like nine days..."
Roger suddenly began to cough, an explosive, painful coughing fit that lasted a minute or two.
The sound reminded Mark of April.
He remembered the night he had woken up to her coughing outside his bedroom.
What if she's waking up right now? Mark thought.
What if she gets up, calls out my name, calls out Collins' name and realizes that we left her alone?
Correction- I left her alone.
What then?
He knew he had to push whatever he felt aside and get Roger to April.
He would deal with everything else- later.
Mark stood up but he couldn't quite straighten his body up without the tree for support. He looked at Roger who was shaking violently now and Mark wondered how the hell Roger could have beaten up the man, no- The Man, in his condition.
"Let's go. We have to go now before she wakes up." Mark said but Roger stared at him as if he had no idea what Mark was talking about.
"Roger, we have to go."
Roger shook his head and took a step back. He looked frightened.
"I-I-I can't, Mark." he stammered. "I can't go with you. Not right now."
"And why not?"
"Look at me, Mark." Roger said. "I'm all fucked up. And the things I said to her. She won't want to see me. I don't want her to see me like this."
Mark looked at him, feeling the first twinges of pity. The last drop of his anger dissipated and with it, Mark's defenses. Roger looked sincere and he sounded sincere and Mark could almost feel the remorse coming off of Roger in waves.
"Do you really think April cares about what you look like?" Mark asked, not unkindly. "She'll be happy just to see you. Just to know you're okay..."
"I am NOT okay!" Roger screamed out suddenly.
"She isn't either." Mark said quietly, in contrast. "But she will be if you're there with her. All she wants is you, Roger. In whatever condition."
Roger's face twitched again and he took another step back.
"Mark, I can't." he said. "All the things I said to her.... I don't want her to see me like...I know she hates me..."
"Dammit, Roger, I see you right now and I don't hate you." Mark said. "And you're the reason the wall in the loft has a new coat of my blood on it!"
Mark stopped himself before his frustration could speak for him again. He took a deep breath, though it hurt, and let it out slowly. Mark thought about the old Roger, his bestfriend and not the junkie, and it was enough. When he spoke next, his voice was once again quiet but not soft.
"Roge, I love you. I forgive you for... for what happened, for what you did. April loves you too, Roger. What you said to her, those were just... words. Only words. She's been looking for you at the expense of her own health. She didn't care if she got hurt, all she wanted to do was to find you. If you don't think that April could forgive you for saying something she knows you didn't really mean, then maybe you don't know her as well as you think you do. She loves you. You have to know that."
Roger looked at Mark and Mark knew he wanted to believe.
Roger looked like he was ready to go with Mark.
He just needed a push.
"She loves you, Roger." Mark said. "Do you love her?"
Roger nodded without hesitation.
"Then you have to come back with me. Because if she thinks that you're still out in the city somewhere, she won't stop looking for you no matter what I say. Do you want her to come out here and look for you again?"
"No." It came out in a ragged whisper. "God, no."
Mark held out his hand and Roger looked at it blankly.
"We have to get to Collins' apartment before she wakes up."
Mark saw Roger's hand twitch and he knew, absolutely knew, that Roger would take a step forward and grab his hand and....
But he didn't.
Roger took two steps back and Mark pushed himself away from the tree.
"Roger, don't."
"Tell her I love her, Mark." Roger said, taking another step back. "Tell her not to look for me. I'll find her when I'm... when I'm better. I just can't let her see me like this. Tell her I love her. And that I'm sorry. Please?"
"Tell her yourself, Roger." Mark said, taking babysteps towards him. "Roger, don't do this! Don't run away again!"
But Roger was already backing away, each step growing larger and larger.
"Just... tell her, Mark. Okay? I'll come and see you both. In a week. Maybe. Tell her anything, any excuse. But tell her I love her."
And before Mark could say anything else, Roger turned around and ran into the night.
For awhile, Mark looked after him in disbelief.
He left, Mark thought. He left again.
"Roger!" Mark screamed out. He pressed his arm against his stomach, pushing the pain back. "ROGER!"
But there was no reply.
Mark walked into Collins' apartment feeling as if he were already dead.
It had taken him nearly two hours to walk back and he had been on the verge of collapsing at least a dozen times. Thankfully the streets were nearly empty and still dark enough to provide him the anonymity he wanted. His clothes were a mess and for the first mile or so, he had led a wet trail of mud and other debris from the park behind him. He was cold and hungry and tired- too tired to even get his camera from the loft.
He turned on the lights and slipped off his sneakers, kicking them to a corner with his feet.
"Collins?" Mark whispered loudly. He knew it was far too early for Collins to be home but he still called out.
He was answered by silence.
He walked to the bedroom and though he hadn't prayed in years, he uttered a short plea to God that April would be in bed, still asleep.
Let April be inside, please God, let April still be here and I swear I'll go to service every single day of my life, Mark thought as he forced each leg to propel him forward
He pushed the door open and felt faint.
"Thank you." Mark said out loud. He sank to the floor and almost cried with relief. "Thank you thank you thank you."
At the sound of his voice, April shifted in her sleep and made a small sound of an interrupted sleeper. Mark held his breath, not wanting to make another sound and crawled on the floor towards her. He was too weak to get up again and he used the last of his strength to move to the head of the bed.
April's hand was dangling over the side of the bed and Mark took it and pressed it to his lips. She was wonderfully warm and Mark moaned, feeling her soft hand against his cold, cold face.
It comforted him beyond words.
He wanted to push himself up and lay down on the bed next to her. Wanted so badly to hold her and just turn off his mind and body for a few hours.
But I'm dirty, he thought sadly. I'm too dirty to touch her, to be next to her. I should stay on the floor. This is where I belong anyway. This is where I....
Without letting go of her hand, Mark slumped against the bed and blacked out.
Okay, so if you look back at the first chapter, April dies on February 5th. It is now January 31st (?) in this story. So the story is going to start sloooowing down. Yeah. Okay. Read and review!
Chapter 9- Tell Her
"Mark, are you cool, man?" Roger asked, shaking him roughly a few times. "Mark! Say something!"
"Where've you been?" Mark said.
He put his hands on Roger's chest and shoved him away as hard as he could. Roger's eyes grew wide with surprise and Mark got to his feet, feeling sick and nauseated. He pushed his arm against his stomach and took shallow breaths. When the pain had lessened a little, Mark hobbled over to the nearest tree and fell against it heavily.
He looked up and down the path and saw that the dealer, The Man, was gone.
Mark felt mean, like a puppy that had been teased one too many times. It was uncharacteristic, this anger he felt, but Mark felt good. It was an adrenaline rush. Without it, he didn't think he could move, much less speak. He didn't feel like himself anymore- he didn't feel like the weak, frightened little Mark he had been just an hour ago.
This anger made him feel... different.
Mark looked up when he heard Roger walking towards him and glared at him. He felt so much pissed off energy directed towards Roger that it made the pain his body was going through seem almost nonexistent.
Almost.
"What the fuck is wrong with you!" Roger screamed at him. "I saved your fucking life back there and this is the fucking thanks I get?!"
"You almost killed me a few days ago!" Mark screamed back. He felt a stab of pain rush through his gut but he ignored it. "Why didn't you let that guy, your DEALER, just finish me off?"
The now familiar insanity entered Roger's eyes and Mark waited for him to strike out again. Although the night was freezing cold, Roger wore only a t-shirt and jeans. His arms were slick with snow and his hair and face were dirty. Mark noticed that Roger's entire body seemed to be shaking but he was sweating heavily.
The look in Roger's eyes faded and he stared at Mark with an expression of pure misery.
"I..I'm sorry, Mark." Roger said softly. "I don't know what happened. I just... snapped that night."
Mark touched his face with his hand and felt the stitches on his lip.
"You did this to me, Roger." he said. He pulled down his scarf and the collar of his sweater with vehemence. "And this. See my neck? My fucking jaw? You did this to me!"
Roger's face twitched as if all his features were held together by an invisible string.
He took a step towards Mark.
"I know." Roger said. His voice cracked and it sounded as if he were on the edge of breaking down. "I'm sorry."
"Where the fuck have you been, Roger?" Mark asked. He lowered his arm. "All this time, where have you been?"
"With friends." But the way Roger's eyes flickered down told Mark he was lying.
"We're your friends, Roger." Mark said. "Me, Collins, Maureen... April."
At the mention of her name, Roger looked back up and stared at Mark.
"How is she?" he asked in a whisper.
"Bad. Tired." Mark said. "Collins says she may be in shock. That's where she's at. At his apartment. Sleeping."
Roger nodded and wiped the sweat forming on his brow.
"She's been looking for you, Roger. To the point of exhaustion." Mark went on. "Where the fuck have you been?"
"Christ, I told you I was with friends!" Roger screamed out suddenly. He gripped the sides of his head and closed his eyes shut in an almost comical parody of fury.
Mark waited.
It wasn't as if he had a choice anyway.
The adrenaline rush was fading.
He didn't think he could stand up on his own, at least not in the next few minutes. He felt as if the lower part of his torso was surrounded by a steel fence that grew tighter and tigher with each passing breath. If he had a choice, he would have walked away, back into the night, back into Collins' apartment. He suddenly didn't care about what happened to Roger anymore. He was in too much torment to care. All he wanted to do was crawl into Collins' nice warm bed and have April sleep against him for, oh, eternity.
But Mark couldn't move so he waited.
Finally Roger lowered his hands and opened his eyes.
"She looked for you for two days, Roger." Mark said quietly. "She didn't sleep and I don't think she ate either. For two days."
"I know."
"How the hell would you know anything about what April's been through?" Mark asked, irritated.
"Because she found me."
Mark felt his jaw drop and he gawked at Roger.
"She.... what? When? She...?" .
"She found me here. I was trying to buy this morning and she... she found me." Roger said. His voice had become so soft that it was nearly inaudible. "I tried to run when I saw her but she ran after me. I... I said a few things I shouldn't have. And she..."
Mark stood up straight.
"What did you say?"
Roger shook his head and his eyes pleaded with Mark but Mark wasn't going to let him go.
"Roger, what did you say?"
"I told her that I..." Roger shivered again. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. "I told her to get away from me. I told her that I hated her. That I wished I never met her. I told her that all she was good for was money and a good fuck and that now, she wasn't even good enough for that."
Mark stared at him, incredulous.
"Christ, Mark, the look on her face was..." Roger shook his head and groaned. "She didn't cry or say anything. Just looked at me like... like she didn't know who I was. She walked away and... and I..."
"You don't deserve her." Mark said coldly.
"I know." Roger said. The trembling had intensified. "I-I haven't had a fix in almost a day. M-Maybe eight... nine hours. That's the longest I haven't, you know, and I want to tell her that I'm sorry. Mark, I'm really trying to stop. A day without it is hard but I'm trying. I'm quitting now, Mark. For her and you and everyone. I swear."
Roger was going through withdrawal.
Mark felt like hitting him. April's face drifted into his mind -her still, peaceful, sleeping face- and Mark was furious.
"That's bullshit." Mark said. "Complete bullshit. You haven't been staying with friends, have you? How'd you get here so fast, Roge? Why were you in the park in the first place?"
Roger's eyes widened.
"You were here to shoot up, that's why!" Mark screamed. His body flared out in protest, sending shockwaves of hurt through his stomach and chest and Mark winced, clutching his stomach again.
But he went on.
"You were here to buy from that guy, weren't you? Admit it, Roger! You were here to buy whatever shit that guy was going to sell you and you were going to shoot up! That's why you were here!"
"This is where I've been staying!" Roger screamed back. "I've been sleeping here, Mark!"
Mark was stunned to silence and he watched as the invisible string that held Roger's face together snapped. Roger started to cry, to weep, and Mark stood there, watching him.
"I couldn't go back to the loft." Roger said, wiping his face with his grimy hands. "I was scared that April... that she would be there and she'd see me and...but I swear to you, I haven't taken that shit in nine hours. Fuck, it feels like nine days..."
Roger suddenly began to cough, an explosive, painful coughing fit that lasted a minute or two.
The sound reminded Mark of April.
He remembered the night he had woken up to her coughing outside his bedroom.
What if she's waking up right now? Mark thought.
What if she gets up, calls out my name, calls out Collins' name and realizes that we left her alone?
Correction- I left her alone.
What then?
He knew he had to push whatever he felt aside and get Roger to April.
He would deal with everything else- later.
Mark stood up but he couldn't quite straighten his body up without the tree for support. He looked at Roger who was shaking violently now and Mark wondered how the hell Roger could have beaten up the man, no- The Man, in his condition.
"Let's go. We have to go now before she wakes up." Mark said but Roger stared at him as if he had no idea what Mark was talking about.
"Roger, we have to go."
Roger shook his head and took a step back. He looked frightened.
"I-I-I can't, Mark." he stammered. "I can't go with you. Not right now."
"And why not?"
"Look at me, Mark." Roger said. "I'm all fucked up. And the things I said to her. She won't want to see me. I don't want her to see me like this."
Mark looked at him, feeling the first twinges of pity. The last drop of his anger dissipated and with it, Mark's defenses. Roger looked sincere and he sounded sincere and Mark could almost feel the remorse coming off of Roger in waves.
"Do you really think April cares about what you look like?" Mark asked, not unkindly. "She'll be happy just to see you. Just to know you're okay..."
"I am NOT okay!" Roger screamed out suddenly.
"She isn't either." Mark said quietly, in contrast. "But she will be if you're there with her. All she wants is you, Roger. In whatever condition."
Roger's face twitched again and he took another step back.
"Mark, I can't." he said. "All the things I said to her.... I don't want her to see me like...I know she hates me..."
"Dammit, Roger, I see you right now and I don't hate you." Mark said. "And you're the reason the wall in the loft has a new coat of my blood on it!"
Mark stopped himself before his frustration could speak for him again. He took a deep breath, though it hurt, and let it out slowly. Mark thought about the old Roger, his bestfriend and not the junkie, and it was enough. When he spoke next, his voice was once again quiet but not soft.
"Roge, I love you. I forgive you for... for what happened, for what you did. April loves you too, Roger. What you said to her, those were just... words. Only words. She's been looking for you at the expense of her own health. She didn't care if she got hurt, all she wanted to do was to find you. If you don't think that April could forgive you for saying something she knows you didn't really mean, then maybe you don't know her as well as you think you do. She loves you. You have to know that."
Roger looked at Mark and Mark knew he wanted to believe.
Roger looked like he was ready to go with Mark.
He just needed a push.
"She loves you, Roger." Mark said. "Do you love her?"
Roger nodded without hesitation.
"Then you have to come back with me. Because if she thinks that you're still out in the city somewhere, she won't stop looking for you no matter what I say. Do you want her to come out here and look for you again?"
"No." It came out in a ragged whisper. "God, no."
Mark held out his hand and Roger looked at it blankly.
"We have to get to Collins' apartment before she wakes up."
Mark saw Roger's hand twitch and he knew, absolutely knew, that Roger would take a step forward and grab his hand and....
But he didn't.
Roger took two steps back and Mark pushed himself away from the tree.
"Roger, don't."
"Tell her I love her, Mark." Roger said, taking another step back. "Tell her not to look for me. I'll find her when I'm... when I'm better. I just can't let her see me like this. Tell her I love her. And that I'm sorry. Please?"
"Tell her yourself, Roger." Mark said, taking babysteps towards him. "Roger, don't do this! Don't run away again!"
But Roger was already backing away, each step growing larger and larger.
"Just... tell her, Mark. Okay? I'll come and see you both. In a week. Maybe. Tell her anything, any excuse. But tell her I love her."
And before Mark could say anything else, Roger turned around and ran into the night.
For awhile, Mark looked after him in disbelief.
He left, Mark thought. He left again.
"Roger!" Mark screamed out. He pressed his arm against his stomach, pushing the pain back. "ROGER!"
But there was no reply.
Mark walked into Collins' apartment feeling as if he were already dead.
It had taken him nearly two hours to walk back and he had been on the verge of collapsing at least a dozen times. Thankfully the streets were nearly empty and still dark enough to provide him the anonymity he wanted. His clothes were a mess and for the first mile or so, he had led a wet trail of mud and other debris from the park behind him. He was cold and hungry and tired- too tired to even get his camera from the loft.
He turned on the lights and slipped off his sneakers, kicking them to a corner with his feet.
"Collins?" Mark whispered loudly. He knew it was far too early for Collins to be home but he still called out.
He was answered by silence.
He walked to the bedroom and though he hadn't prayed in years, he uttered a short plea to God that April would be in bed, still asleep.
Let April be inside, please God, let April still be here and I swear I'll go to service every single day of my life, Mark thought as he forced each leg to propel him forward
He pushed the door open and felt faint.
"Thank you." Mark said out loud. He sank to the floor and almost cried with relief. "Thank you thank you thank you."
At the sound of his voice, April shifted in her sleep and made a small sound of an interrupted sleeper. Mark held his breath, not wanting to make another sound and crawled on the floor towards her. He was too weak to get up again and he used the last of his strength to move to the head of the bed.
April's hand was dangling over the side of the bed and Mark took it and pressed it to his lips. She was wonderfully warm and Mark moaned, feeling her soft hand against his cold, cold face.
It comforted him beyond words.
He wanted to push himself up and lay down on the bed next to her. Wanted so badly to hold her and just turn off his mind and body for a few hours.
But I'm dirty, he thought sadly. I'm too dirty to touch her, to be next to her. I should stay on the floor. This is where I belong anyway. This is where I....
Without letting go of her hand, Mark slumped against the bed and blacked out.