Author's Note: Just wanted to let you all know that there won't be an update tomorrow. I'm taking the day off from actually writing to scope out the plot of the next few chapters since it's going to be so crucial to the story. So yeah. . .anyway. . .thanks for all the reviews and look for another update of Friday.

Oh yeah! If you want to read some other great rentfics, so read/review Before You Wake and November by em0xstatic because they're awesome stories!!

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Chapter 23: Breakdown

April 20th

11:47 AM

The Loft

"I like your mother," Mimi commented as Roger helped her up the stairs to the loft.

Mrs. Davis had agreed to drive them back from the hospital after Roger had spent the past six days with her, waiting for Mimi to be released. The ride back had been pure torture for Roger. They'd both been tense, nervous in the car and overly cautious of one another, pretending that nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Yeah," Roger answered distantly, "I guess I ought to call her more often."

He pulled the heavy door open and held it open for Mimi, then went in after her.

"Mark?" he called.

"Hey guys," Mark greeted warmly, hugging them both.

Roger noticed that someone had cleaned the loft while they'd been gone, clearing out the magazines and other baby paraphernalia that had accumulated.

"How're you feeling?" Mark asked, turning to Mimi.

She shrugged.

"Tired. I think I'm gonna go lie down for a while."

Roger nodded.

"You want me to come with you?"

"No."

Roger gave her a concerned look.

"I just want a little time to myself."

She retreated into the bedroom. Roger moved to follow her but Mark stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Let her go."

"Leave me alone!" Roger snapped, turning on Mark. He turned and walked across the room, grabbing his guitar off the table and sitting down with it. He plucked out random, angry chords for a few moments, trying to pick out a new melody.

"I wish she would at least talk to me," he said finally, looking up at Mark.

"Roger. . .give her time. Give yourself time. You've both just been through an incredible trauma—you can't expect everything to go back to normal immediately. Oh, and whatever you do, don't tell her what you told Collins."

"He told you?" Roger asked, surprised.

Mark shook his head.

"Aimee did."

"Then Collins told her?"

"Yeah, I guess so. He's worried about you, Rog. We all are."

"Oh, cut the crap," Roger snapped. "Worry about Mimi. I'm fine."

He grabbed his guitar case and headed for the door.

"Where're you going?" Mark demanded.

"I don't know. Out."

"Right. Go shoot up. Do whatever you need to do as long as you don't have to admit that other people have emotions."

"Back off, Mark, I just need some space," Roger snapped back, knowing in his heart that Mark was exactly right.

"Right. Space to go back to destroying yourself. Like you did before. Like you always will. Run away, Roger, it's what you do best."

"Fuck off!" Roger shouted, half-throwing his guitar case down and taking a swing at Mark. He struck a glancing blow off Mark's jaw, then instantly jumped back, staring at his fist as if it had just bitten him. "God, Mark, I'm sorry. . ."

Mark just stared at him in shock.

"Roger, what the hell is wrong with you?" Mark asked, rubbing his jaw.

"I'm. . .I'm—I don't know I—just can't do this—I can't—" Roger started to cry, covering his face with his hands.

Mark cautiously put a hand on his arm and Roger buried his face in Mark's shoulder, sobbing violently.

"Roger. . ." Mark trailed off, completely at a loss for words. "I. . .I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. It's just. . .it's hard for me too."

"Yeah I know," Roger muttered gruffly, pulling away. "Sorry."

"It's okay."

Mark looked around the loft awkwardly for a few moments, his eyes searching for an excuse to leave. Finally he grabbed his camera and headed for the door.

"I'm gonna go film now. Will you be okay if I'm gone for a while?"

"Yeah."

Mark nodded, then quickly turned and left. Roger curled up on the old green sofa, grabbing one of the moth eaten pillows and hugging it tightly to his chest. He started to cry again, his body weak with grief and guilt. He and Mimi had been through plenty of hard times in the past, but in the past they'd always been there for each other. This time, Roger felt like he was completely and utterly alone.

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12:03 PM

Collins' Apartment

Mark rapped loudly on the door, praying that someone would answer. After only a few seconds, he heard the scratching of the handle being turned and Aimee poked her head out.

"Mark?" She raised an eyebrow questioningly. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Is Collins here?"

"No, he has a class. . .Why? Mark, what happened?"

"Good." Mark said shortly, walking into the apartment and wrapping his arms around her and kissing her deeply.

"Mark. . ."

She pulled away from him enough so that she could see his face, eyeing him with concern.

"God, Aimee, I can't do this anymore," Mark sighed, pulling away from her and going to sit on the couch.

"What?" she asked gently, sitting down beside him and resting her head on his shoulder. "Can't do what?"

"Deal with Roger and Mimi. . .with. . .everything. . .I'm so sick of being the sane one."

"I know." She kissed him lightly, "I know it's hard, but they need you."

"Well what happens when I need someone?" Mark asked, his voice harsh with tears, "Who's there for me when I fall apart? They act like I don't even care! Like I'm just there for them. I'm the tissue for them to wipe their snotty little noses on whenever they need a good cry. But if I need one of them, oh no, they're all too busy or else nowhere to be found."

Aimee wrapped her arms around him and Mark kissed her again, wishing he could lose himself forever in her love and never have to come back to the real world and face the tragedy he was being forced to live with.

"Forget all of that. It doesn't matter right now. All that matters is that you're here. And I'm here for you. As long as you need me."

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