Author's Note: Okay, just one thing to say. . .::sigh:: I guess lately I've been wondering whether anyone's still reading this story. It's got roughly 17 chapters to go and I guess I want to know if people are going to stick with me. So please leave me reviews and at least tell you've read it. Thanks.

On that note, thanks to everyone who did review the last chapter. I love you all and I hope you enjoy.

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Chapter 28: Proposal

June 1st

1:32 PM

The Loft

"Mark!"

Mark groaned and rolled over on his bed. It was only the beginning of June and it was already too damn hot to do anything but sleep in the afternoon.

"Mark!" Roger shouted again.

Mark groaned louder and got up. His head was throbbing and he felt as though the heat was sapping all his energy. At this rate they'd all be comatose by August.

Roger was standing in the kitchen frantically rooting through the cabinets and muttering angrily.

"You called?" Mark said sourly.

Roger looked surprised for a moment, then resumed glaring at him.

"Where the hell did all my beer go?"

Mark sighed. He'd known this was coming.

"I drank it," he answered sarcastically, completely fed up with Roger's foul temper.

"Right," Roger scoffed, "You'd be dead right now. What did you really do with it?"

Mark hesitated.

"I want the truth!" Roger shouted.

"I threw it away."

"Why the hell would you do that?" Roger demanded.

"Because you need to stop drinking, Rog," Mark answered calmly. "You're only making things worse."

"Things can't get any worse unless you decide to make my life hell along with the rest of the world."

"Roger, admit it, you need help."

"Fuck off," Roger snapped, "I can take care of myself."

"Not when you're trying to hurt yourself you can't. And not when you're drunk of your ass all the time either."

"I'm not trying to hurt myself for God's sake! I just want to feel better."

"Then do something that will accomplish that! Go. . .go write a song or something."

"I can't," Roger said softly, the anger in his voice fading to an agonized whisper, "My inspiration's gone. She took it with her when she left. I think . . .I think she was my muse."

"Roger. . ." Mark sighed, at a loss for words. He wasn't prepared for such a complete change in Roger's mood. Anger he could deal with but this depression. . .that was another matter.

"I don't know what to do anymore," Roger muttered, grabbing a banana out of the cow patterned fruit bowl Maureen had given them for Christmas the year of her protest.

"Have you spoken to her at all since you fought?" Mark asked hesitantly.

Roger shook his head, staring blankly at the banana.

"Then just wait and see what happens."

Roger started to speak, but Mark held up his hands for silence.

"I don't think she'd just leave you forever without even speaking to you again."

Roger nodded, still staring at the banana.

"You know. . .these things always made me giggle when I was a kid. Something about the shape. . ."

"Roger. . ." Mark said concernedly, "Are you okay?"

"No," Roger muttered, "but whatever. Not like anyone cares anyway."

Roger turned and wandered back into his bedroom, still holding the banana. Mark watched him for a moment, then walked around the kitchen, trying to figure out what he could do that would be interesting without requiring too much energy.

He picked up his camera and looked around for something to film, but everything in the loft seemed dull, covered in the laziness of the heat wave.

Finally, he sighed and picked up the phone, dialing Collins' apartment.

Aimee answered on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey." Mark answered, grinning immediately. "Are you alone?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I'm bored."

Mark heard her chuckle softly.

"I have a surprise for you," she said after a moment.

"Oh?" Mark asked, interested.

"Yeah. Meet me in the park in twenty minutes."

"Okay," Mark agreed eagerly.

He hung up the phone and picked up his camera out of habit. He went over and knocked on Roger's door.

"What?" Roger called irritably.

"I'm leaving. Have fun with the banana while I'm gone."

"Get out of here Mark. I'm just rolling around on the floor laughing," Roger answered dryly.

Mark got to the bench in record time despite the heat. The park was nearly empty except for a few people who looked as though they either had nowhere else to be or were completely oblivious to their own insanity. A woman in a purple string bikini was sunbathing on a sheet printed with Sesame Street characters. An old man who looked as though he'd seen better days was walking around mumbling into a large black garbage bag. And of course there was The Man. Always The Man.

He sat down on the bench and rested his chin in his hands, elbows propped up on his knees.

"You look excited to see me."

Mark jumped.

"Aimee!"

He got up quickly and gave her a light kiss on the lips. She grinned at him.

"That's more like it."

She sat down beside him on the bench and wrapped an arm around his waist. Mark rested his head on her shoulder.

"I can't take this anymore." He muttered.

"Can't take what?"

"Roger. He's just so. . .he hates the world. I took your advice today and got rid of all the beer. I thought he was going to kill me for a minute there."

"And then?"

"Then he just got really depressed and started talking about Mimi again. I don't know what he's gonna do if she doesn't come back."

"Mark, you did the right thing. You are doing the right thing. And that's all you can do. Roger's just going to have to get through this on his own. You can't take the pain away from him." She looked at Mark for a moment, then laughed at herself. "God, I don't know how I get all philosophical like this. Tell me to shut up. I'm hardly in a position to give anyone advice."

Mark grinned at her.

"You said something about a surprise?"

She grinned back.

"Yeah." Aimee rooted around in her backpack for a moment before pulling out a slightly crumpled piece of paper. "Here."

Mark read over it for a moment, then looked up at her, his eyes shining with curiosity.

"The Alexia Foundation For World Peace," he read softly, looking back at the top of the paper. Then he laughed.

"What?" Aimee asked, confused.

"Nevermind." Mark said, still chuckling, "It just reminded me of someone who I met a couple years ago. So . . .what is this exactly?"

"It's a competition. For a photography grant. You submit a proposal on a project that you think would further world peace. If you get it, you get funding for your project and you get a residency at the University of Syracuse. Tom showed it to me this morning and I thought it might be perfect for one of your documentaries."

Mark smiled at her, his eyes shining with tears.

"Thanks."

He gave her another kiss.

"So you really think I should try this?"

She nodded vigorously.

"Yes. Mark, think about it. This could change your life. It's time you did something for yourself."

Mark looked down at the paper again.

"This only gives me four days," he looked back up at Aimee. "I'd better get to work."

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