Thanks for the reviews. They've kind so far. ::grin:: Also, I just want to ask that if any of the characterizations seem a bit off, tell me. This is the part of fanfiction that I find so hard because everyone has their own ideas about what these characters are like. So, if you don't like the way I characterize someone, tell me. I need a bit of construction work on this, but overall, I'm proud of what I'm banging out. And remember, reviews are the food of life…

Peace

-elodie

Wisp

Chapter 03

Winnie was glad when a doctor came to talk with her, closing the curtain between her and Mimi. She felt like she was intruding. Mimi and Roger were crying and kissing and saying they loved each other.

Her heart aches. No one had ever treated her like that. She always felt like this around couples. In high school… God, she was lucky if a boy even realized that she sat next to them in class. Then again, she wasn't in class much.

The doctor, Doctor Lawrence, had asked Mark to leave, but Winnie said that she didn't mind having him there. She needed someone there for her, even if it was a perfect stranger.

"Well, Miss Winnie – what is your last name, first of all?"

Winnie wouldn't look at him. "I don't want to tell."

"And why is that?"

"Because you'd make me go back home."

The doctor sighed and stood at the edge of her bed. Winnie could see Mark carefully scrutinizing her. She sighed with relief that he wasn't filming.

"Miss Winnie, are you a runaway?" She nodded. "And how old are you?"

"Seventeen. Eighteen on Christmas."

Mark spoke up." Winnie, it is Christmas. You're already eighteen."

Winnie thought about it for a moment and then the corner of her mouth twitched. "You can't send me back. I'm a legal adult now. Well, doctor, my full name is Winifred Wielkopolski, but my family always called me Winnie."

"And where did you run away from?" The doctor's voice was gentle.

"Gloucester."

"Massachusetts?"

Winnie nodded.

"And may I ask where you will be residing once we release you?"

Winnie froze. "Um, well…" She lifted her head up and looked at the doctor apologetically. "As of last night, my permanent residence was a bench in the park."

"You have nowhere you can go? Is there a friend you could stay with?"

"She can stay with me."

Winnie leaned around the doctor and stared at Mark with wide eyes. "Oh, but I don't want to be a bother…"

Mark insisted. "Not a bother at all. We've fit five people in the loft before. We can certainly fit three. Where else are you going to stay? A park bench?"

"OK…" She smiled shyly at him.

The doctor cleared his throat and scribbled a note on his clipboard. "Well, not that that's settled, we can probably discharge you tomorrow or the next day. You'll have to get counseling a few times a week. We can set that up soon. As far as I see, you're healthy and ready to leave."

*          *          *

Two days later and with Mark's help, Winnie trudged up the stairs to the loft. Her frail, out-of-shape body was already out of breath, but Mark walked slowly so she could keep up.

He couldn't believe just how little she was. He wasn't exactly tall. He was about 5'8", perhaps a bit taller. But she couldn't even be five feet tall.

Unlocking the door, he let it swing open and with a grand sweep of his arm, he said in the most dramatic way possible, "Your castle, your highness." Placing his camera down on the table, he motioned for her to sit down. "Make yourself at home. Well, I guess it is your home now, right?" Winnie shrugged, gazing at the view out the window. It was really cold. She hugged Mark's coat around her, staring at the bloodstains on it with a queasy stomach.

"Anyway, I'm sure you want to take a shower. I'm going to call a friend to pick up a few things for us. Want anything specific? Food, aspirin, gum?"

"Chewing gum. Wintergreen."

"OK. Anything else?"

"Yeah…" Winnie smiled softly. "A cinnamon scented candle. I mean, if that's OK…"

Mark nodded. "Anything you want. And I guess I'll take you or have Maureen take you to a few thrift shops to get some clothes. Anything else you'd like?"

Winnie nodded and blushed. "Well, kind of… I – I haven't been able to shave my legs in the last few months and I'd kind of like to, but I'm not allowed any sharp objects. It's just this weird thing with me. I'd shave compulsively when I was younger. It was a comfort thing."

Mark stared at her for a second, but nodded again, grinning widely. "If that's what you want, I'll shave your legs for you."

"And cut my hair? It's knotted and scissors are sharp."

"Well, you might want Maureen to do that. As you can see, my hair cutting skills are not as fine as my shaving skills are." He pointed to his head and she tried to stifle a laugh. His blond hair stuck out in all different directions.

"OK," She blushed, sorry that she'd laughed. "Do you mind if I go take a shower?"

Mark shook his head and showed her to the bathroom. "Not at all." He discreetly grabbed the two razors sitting by the sink, Roger's taped one and his ancient one, and his them behind his back. "We don't have much hot water, usually, so you should probably try to get through quickly."

Winnie nodded and smiled softly, suddenly very self-conscious. "Well, thanks. For everything, I mean. If it weren't for you, I'd be out on the streets. I must be a terrible burden."

"No, never a burden." He started to slowly back out of the bathroom. "And anything you need, I'm your beast of burden. I'll even shave your pits if you want." He grinned and Winnie could feel her face flush crimson.

"I was afraid that was asking a little too much…"

"For you, nothing's too much."

As he closed the door behind him, Winnie noticed the can of shaving cream but noted the absence of razors. She shivered. She would never handle a razor herself again.

*          *          *

"Mark, don't screen. Throw down the key!" Mark heard Collins' voice crackle from the old answering machine. He grabbed the small pouch and tossed it out the window, grinning at the form of Collins down below.

A minute later, Collins let himself in and set the shopping bags down on the floor. "Now, I'm assuming it isn't you who wanted the candle, am I correct?"

Mark nodded. "Yup, that's Winnie's."

"Winnie's?"

"Oh, a girl Maureen and I took to the hospital last night."

"Mark, is it OK if- Oh, excuse me, sorry…" Winnie's towel-clad form had appeared and then disappeared rapidly back into the bathroom.

Collins raised an eyebrow. "The elusive Winnie?"

Mark nodded and called to her, "Winnie, it's OK. He's harmless." He flashed a cheeky grin at Collins. "This is my friend, Tom Collins. Collins, this is Winnie."

Winnie emerged from the bathroom, still in a towel, but with Mark's coat wrapped around her, self-consciously pulling the sleeves as far over her bandaged wrists and hand as possible.

"H-Hi Collins," She said quietly.

"And hello to you, Miss Winnie. I believe this is your candle." He held out the candle to her. She tentatively reached out and took it, holding it to her chest, feeling the smooth wax underneath her fingertips. She loved the smell of cinnamon.

"Thanks. Mark, do you have any matches?"

Mark grabbed the matchbook off the table and passed it to her. "Yep. Here you go."

She smiled in thanks and wet off to light the candle.

"Mark, why exactly is she here? I'm quite curious. It isn't every day that there's a girl in your apartment." Collins moved in closer, whispering so she couldn't hear.

Mark shrugged. "Well, she didn't have anywhere to go when she got released. So I offered. It is a bit lonely here, anyway. Roger's always gone or locked in his room. She's really lost right now. I don't know much, but she's a runaway, just turned eighteen and has more than a few problems."

Collins smiled and clapped him on the back. "You fucking do-gooder. But I commend you. Now, let's see the real reason you asked her to stay." He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Mark blushed. "But that was the real reason."

They glanced at Winnie, leaning on the table, staring at the lit candle transfixed. Collins said, "Sure it was."

"Hey, Winnie," Mark said to her, much louder than when he'd been talking with Collins. "What was it that you were going to ask me?"

Winnie turned, a bit startled by the sudden increase in volume. "Oh, I was just going to ask if I could borrow some clothes."

"Oh, yeah sure. C'mon, I'll get you some."

She followed him into hi bedroom where he pulled a sweater and a pair of brown corduroy pants out of his dresser.

"Here," Mark said, handing them to her. "You can wear these for now. The pants will be really long, but you can just roll them up and pin them. And if the waist is too loose, then I can give you one of Roger's belts."

Winnie smiled shyly. "Thanks."

"No problem. Like I said before, we can ht a few thrift shops some time. You can actually find clothes that fit."

"Thanks."

"Y'know, you don't have to thank me for everything."

"Oh, sorry." Winnie blushed.

"No problem."

*          *          *

Roger came in later that night and collapsed on the couch.

"Rough day?" Mark looked up from his notebook.

"Huh?" Roger looked exhausted. Roger was exhausted. He forced his mind to work. What had Mark said?

"I said, rough day?"

He said 'rough day.' Roger nodded. "Fuck yeah. Mark, she's really dying…"

Mark awkwardly sat down next to him. "Yeah, she is, Rog."

"I feel really sick." He began to cough. Mark began to notice just how pale and thin he'd gotten.

Mark reached over and felt Roger's forehead. "Hey, you're burning up."

"But I feel so cold…" Roger was shivering.

"Hey, Rog. Let's get you to bed. I'll get you some Tylenol. Would you like some tea? Warm milk?"

"Just some water," Roger rasped. He let Mark pull him up and help him into his bedroom. By the time Mark had brought him the water; Roger had already changed into his pajamas and had climbed into bed.

"She wants to die at home, Mark."

"I know."

"That's so final… Like there's no hope."

Mark winced. "I hate to be the pessimist, Rog, but… Never mind. Just get some rest. You're very sick." He turned off the light and retreated into the living room. Winnie had curled up on the couch in his absence, a photo album open in her lap.

"Hey. You're still up?"

Winnie looked up. "Yeah. Couldn't sleep. And I found this album."

Mark plopped down beside her. "Oh, yeah. This is from about four or five years ago."

"There's no pictures of you."

"Oh, there's a few. But I took most of the pictures."

Winnie grazed her fingers over the plastic covering the pictures. There was a picture of Roger with his guitar and a picture of Collins and another girl with long auburn hair. "Who's this?"

Mark glanced at the picture and grimaced. "Oh, that's April. She was Roger's old girlfriend. When she found out that they were HIV positive, she slit her wrists."

Winnie squirmed a bit, further pulling the sleeves down over her hands. "Oh…" She flipped the page, seeing more pictures of the girl. She was a very photogenic girl, always smiling. She looked vaguely familiar. "I recognize her… Where was she from?"

Mark shrugged. "We were never really sure. We knew she's run away. She wasn't from around here. Maybe from Boston. She talked kind of like you do, actually."

"I think she might have been an old babysitter of mine."

"Really?" Mark's eyebrows shot up.

Winnie nodded. "When I was ten, I had this great babysitter. She was only thirteen and actually treated me like an equal. I think her name was April… I'm not completely sure." She traced the contour of the girl's face. "So she killed herself?"

Mark nodded. "Yeah… She and Roger were junkies. They were clean for awhile, but got pulled in by some of the band members. And everything went downhill from there."

"I can imagine…" She flipped the page again and smiled at a picture of Mark and Maureen kissing. Her hand had snaked down the front of his pants and his eyes were wide open in surprise.

"Hey!" Mark turned the page again quickly. "I'd forgotten that was in there. Collins took that one."

Winnie smiled at a few more pictures. There were a few of Roger and April and some of Collins and another guy.

"Who's this?"

"Benny. Our ex-roommate. Our current landlord. Maureen's sworn enemy."

"Ah."

On the last page was a picture of the six of them on what Winnie recognized as the Staten Island ferry. Maureen and Mark were hugging, big smiles on their faces. Benny was using Collins as an armrest and Roger held April like a baby in his arms.

"Can I ask you a sensitive question?" Mark asked tentatively, after a few minutes of silence.

Winnie nodded. "Maybe…"

"Why did you do it?"

Winnie froze, closing the photo album gently. "Well, I felt that I didn't have anything to live for. I was sleeping on a park bench, I had no friends, I was so cold… I was so out of it that I'd burnt my hand just to see if my hands still felt pain. So when I found that razor in your coat pocket…" She shrugged, starting to shiver again.

Mark reached over tentatively and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him. Winnie stiffened at first, but then realized that there was no harm at all and just melted against him. It had been so long since anyone had held her tenderly in their arms. Her shivering began to slow.

"How did you end up here?"

"Well," Winnie began." You know I'm a runaway, right?" Mark nodded. "Well, my dad… He'd beat me up a lot. Really badly sometimes. My mother had no backbone. He'd do it to her, too. But she didn't do anything about it. I didn't either. Not until the very end. I finally stood up to him and he just beat the living shit out of me. So I left. I didn't even leave a note. I just packed a small bag and hitched until I got here."

Mark twirled a tendril of Winnie's red hair around his forefinger. "I'm sorry…"

Winnie shrugged. "Don't be. But you know what I'm most mad about? I didn't get to graduate. I was smart. And I mean I was real smart. Not to be stuck-up or anything, but my PSAT scores were out of this world. My teachers hated me because I usually skipped to get high with a few acquaintances in the parking lot during class. And when I was in class, I never talked. I'd hide in the back corners."

Mark, for once, knew what to say. He sympathized with her. "I kind of know what you mean. I always felt my one big mistake was dropping out of college. I went to Brown for a few months, couldn't hack it. So I came here and met Roger and he invited me to stay with him."

"Hey Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"Why were you carrying around a razor?"

And then the lights went out.