Author's Note: Yes, I realize you have no clue what Mimi and her mother are talking about. ::laughs evilly:: I will say this before you have a chance to comment or even *think* that you somehow do know. You don't. But you will in the next chapter. So just enjoy trying to figure it out from the hints I've given you. ^_^

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Chapter 26: Nachos and Storms at Night

May 17th

5:22 PM

The Loft

"Roger!" Mark called at the top of his lungs, "Dinner!"

There was no answer save for the sound of the door being locked as hard as possible. Mark sighed and turned back to Collins and Aimee, who were standing in the living room, arms laden with takeout containers.

"He's been like that since Mimi left," he said glumly.

Collins nodded understandingly.

"I guess it's natural he'd take it hard. Especially after April." Collins handed the take out container to Mark. Mark opened it just a crack, inhaling the pungent scent of Mexican food.

"I know. . ." Mark muttered, "It's just. . .he acts like it's her fault somehow, like she did this just to hurt him."

"That's Roger for you. I don't think he knows how to see it any other way."

Mark grabbed three plates and they sat down at the table.

"So what did you bring me?" he asked Aimee, grabbing one of the take out containers out of her hands.

"Nachos," she answered, grinning. "I remember you said you liked them a while back."

A while back, Mark mused, savoring the sound of the words in his mind, A while back as in a while since they'd met. He liked the sound of that.

The nachos were warm and drenched in thick, stringy cheese. Everyone was silent for a few minutes, enjoying the meal. Suddenly, they heard the scraping of the latch on Roger's door and he poked his head out, watching them intently. Finally, Mark turned and faced him.

"Looking for food?" Mark asked hopefully.

But Roger just shook his head and turned his back on them.

"No. I just thought you'd all died for a minute there."

With that he went back inside the room and closed the door.

"What the hell was that about?" Mark asked, looking at Collins.

The professor shrugged.

"Don't ask me."

"I think he's drunk," Aimee said softly.

"What?" Mark asked in surprise.

"Didn't you see the way he was leaning against the door frame?"

"Yeah," Mark said reluctantly, "I guess I just didn't want to. At this rate he's gonna become an alcoholic before he even has a chance to talk to Mimi again."

Aimee looked at him sharply.

"Make sure he doesn't."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" Mark asked angrily.

Collins stood up as though sensing that they needed to be left alone.

"I'm gonna run now, guys. I have an early class tomorrow."

Collins turned and left as they called their goodbyes after him. The second he was gone, Mark and Aimee turned back to one another.

"Easy. Make sure there's no alcohol available to him." Aimee shot back, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"He's a fucking twenty five years old! What am I supposed to do, put him on a leash?"

"If that's what it takes! What did you do when he was going through withdrawal?!"

"That was different!"

"How?!"

"He was delirious half the time and the rest of it too weak to even get up off the floor on his own!"

"And if you're not careful, he'll get like that again. God, Mark, do you care about anyone other than yourself?"

Mark just stared at her for a moment in hurt silence, then began clearing away the dishes as quickly as possible.

"Thanks for dinner," he muttered, "Don't you have somewhere to be now?"

"Mark. . ." Aimee said softly, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist. "I'm sorry. I just. . ."

Mark turned around and took her hands gently.

"I know. You're right though, I probably should do something about it. . .I just don't know how much more of this I can deal with. He hates the world already."

Aimee kissed him gently.

"You're a good friend, Mark. Roger's lucky to have you."

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11:47 PM

Buffalo

Mimi crept out of the bedroom and into the darkened living room, sitting gingerly on the couch. For a moment she was surprised when it didn't creak, then mentally shook herself, forcing herself to remember that most people in fact did not have the pleasure of listening to their furniture complain every time they sat down.

Lightening flashed bluish behind the drawn curtains and rolling thunder punctuated the flash just seconds later. She'd always loved storms at night. Somehow they had a way of making a bed feel softer and the covers more cozy. She pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, feeling strangely as if she'd gone back in time during the course of the accident and was now a little girl again.

"Sneaking out of bed again?"

Mimi jumped slightly at the sound of her mother's voice.

"I couldn't sleep," she said softly, "I never can anymore. I'm so sick of the nightmares."

"I know, honey, I know. They're awful, aren't they?"

Mimi nodded slowly, surprised that her mother was admitting to it.

"It's not like I didn't have them after. . .before," Mimi said softly, "I guess I just. . .had other ways of coping then."

Her mother nodded in silent understanding, then went over to sit beside Mimi on the sofa, putting an arm around her daughter's shoulders. Mimi shrugged her off, then instantly felt a pang of regret as she remembered how hard she'd worked as a child to earn so much as a sideways glance from either parent.

"Mimi. . .I don't know how to tell you this, but don't let this ruin your life."

Mimi snorted.

"A little late for that. It already has."

"Only if you let it."

"This from the queen of coping with family disasters," Mimi snapped, suddenly angry.

Her mother sighed.

"Look, I know I'm not in a very good position to be giving advice, I just want what's best for you."

"Of course you do," Mimi said sarcastically, "You're my mother. When you're not too busy taking care of yourself."

There was a long guilty pause, then Mimi steeled herself and took a deep breath.

"Why didn't you come after me after Aaron. . ." Mimi trailed off, her voice cracking painfully, "After the first accident?"

"That's something I don't think I'll ever be able to answer. I don't think I've ever stopped regretting it but. . .you father and I couldn't cope. We couldn't cope so we let you go. . .and by the time we'd gotten strong enough to bring you back it was too late. You were an adult and you had a life of your own whether we approved of it or not. I guess I ought to apologize."

Mimi shook her head.

"No. Don't. What happened happened. There's already too much guilt between us."

Her mother leaned in and hugged her and Mimi hugged back for a few seconds, then pulled away.

"I think I'm gonna try to go back to bed now."

"Okay."

Mimi turned and started to go, then paused and turned back.

"One more question."

"Shoot."

"Does Dad still blame me?"

"Why would you think that?"

Mimi shrugged.

"I don't know. . .It just feels like he's avoiding me."

"Your father hasn't been feeling well lately. They're not sure what's wrong but he's in the process of a series of tests."

"Is he okay?" Mimi asked, suddenly concerned.

"I'm sure he'll be just fine."

Mimi turned and went back into her bedroom, letting it go even though she could tell by the fake smile and forced cheerfulness in her mother's voice that it was a lie.

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Review! Or else. . .bad things will happen to Roger and Mimi! Worse things than already have. . .like. . .um. . .I dunno. . .but BAD THINGS!