Brief Note: To those of you who are apparently uneasy with the semi-violence…I suggest either a strong cup of Joe, or you just not reading the story lol. Enjoy, anyhow.

"Don't say anything to Roger," Mimi begged as Mark as they went back up the steps to the Loft. Mark's arm was around Mimi's shaking shoulders, trying to calm her down.

"What the hell happened back there, Meems?" Mark asked quietly, stopping on the middle of the stairwell.

"Nothing. Nothing happened," she said refusing to look at him.

"Mimi, please," Mark pleaded, gripping her arm gently. She immediately flinched, and pulled her arm away from his grasp, wincing.

Mark shook his head. "Bullshit, nothing happened. Meems, if that guy came back here and threatened you, or hurt you, you need to tell the police."

"NO!" Mimi snapped, quickly. "Nothing happened. We don't need the police. Nothing happened." She kept repeating 'Nothing happened.'

Mark sighed, and decided that he would first concentrate on getting Mimi back inside the apartment before trying to convince her to admit that something had happened downstairs.

"Don't say anything to Roger," Mimi said, not looking at Mark as he quickly fiddled with his keys in the door. "I don't want to upset him."

Mark glared at her. "Fine. I'll let you tell him," he said, pushing the door open.

"You guys back already?" Roger called from the other room, as he walked in to greet them. "That was fast."

"Well, I didn't have as many bottles to recycle as I thought I did," Mark said, looking at Mimi.

"Told you doing that was a waste," Roger gave a small smile. "How much money did you get?"

"About seven dollars," Mark murmured, sheepishly.

Roger smirked. He draped an arm gently around Mimi's neck. "How are you?" he asked, softly.

Mimi scuffled her shoes nervously across the floor. "I'm okay."

Roger pulled her closer to him and kissed her on the forehead. "It'll get better, baby."

Mimi smiled, weakly.

Mark shook his head in disgust, and walked into the other room.

"Where are you going?" Roger called out after him.

"Kitchen," came Mark's gruff reply. "I need a Heineken."

***

Roger entered the bedroom later that night, to find Mimi already asleep, curled up in a fetal position on her side. Her pillow was close to falling of the edge of the bed, and Roger quickly reached over with his hand and fixed it.

He wanted to wake her, wanted to comfort her. He knew she must be hurting. But despite the fact that the sheets were twisted around her knees and her pillow kept sliding out from beneath her head, she looked so peaceful. He would talk to her in the morning.

Quietly, he quickly slid into a pair of worn pajama pants, and slid his shirt over his head and slid beside her into the bed, wrapping his arms gently around her waist as his eyelids began to increase in mass, and finally he fell asleep.

***

Mimi woke up early the next morning to find Roger's arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Carefully, making sure not to wake him, she unraveled herself from his arms and walked over to the dresser to change, not noticing that Roger had stirred and had begun to watch her.

Quickly, she pulled on an old pair of sweatpants, not particularly caring how she looked this morning, and began to pull her T-shirt over her head to change her shirt.

"What's that?"

Mimi jumped, and quickly yanked the collar of her shirt back over her head.

"Jesus Christ, you could've warned me you were up," she mumbled.

"Meems, what is that?" Roger asked quietly, slowly getting out of bed.

"What's what?" Mimi asked, tiredly.

Roger walked over and tugged her shirt up so it was exposing her ribs. "That," he declared, pointing to a small ugly bruise just above her navel, and her ribs looked a little bruised too.

"Stop it!" Mimi snapped, pulling away from him.

"How did that happen?" he asked her, impatiently. "That wasn't there before."

"I…banged into  the corner of the dresser," she mumbled, folding her arms protectively across her chest.

"Bullshit," Roger said, quietly. "Did something happen when you went out with Mark yesterday?"

Mimi shook her head and began to walk past Roger, who grabbed her elbow to pull her back. "Answer me, damn it!"

"Let go of me!" she shouted at him, yanking her arm from his grasp. "Just leave me the fuck alone," she hissed, hurrying out of the room.

Roger stood there, silently, startled by Mimi's explosion.

"What happened?" Mark whispered sleepily from the doorway. "I heard shouting."

"Mark, what happened yesterday?" Roger asked.

"She didn't say anything to you?"

Roger shook his head, impatiently.

"She walked off by herself while I was putting the bottles the machine and I_"

"You let her go off on her own?" Roger interrupted.

Mark stared at him. "Roger, she's not a child. She's twenty."

Roger sighed. "What happened?"

"Well, a few moments later she came running back down the hall, and she was near tears. She looked pretty shaken up. I think whoever…you know…"

"I know."

"…I think he snuck up on her or something. Or threatened her. She was really upset."

"Why didn't you tell me yesterday?"

"I figured she would tell you herself. I told her to."

Roger shook his head. Mimi didn't tell him anything these days. "I swear to God, I'll bury that fucker alive once I found out who he is."

"But that's just it, Rog-if he knew where she lived, don't you think it's probably because she knows him from the club or somewhere, and knows his name?"

"I don't know…" Roger said, slowly. "I mean he could've figured out where she lived some other way…"

"Roger. You need to talk to her," Mark said.

"You don't think I'm trying? She won't even let me near her! I put my hand on her arm and she fucking exploded at me!"

"You need to make her listen to you, Roger. It's obvious that she's hiding something from you."

Roger sighed. "Fine. I'll try again now."

Mark watched as he walked past him and into the kitchen.

"GODAMMNIT!!" he heard Roger yell, a few moments later.

"What happened?" Mark exclaimed, rushing quickly into the kitchen.

Roger slammed his fist against the refrigerator and tore off a note in which Mimi had written in her loopy script, with purple pen;

Rog-

Went to take a walk. Needed some time to myself. Be back later.

"What the fuck does she think this is, a game?" Roger exclaimed.

"Calm down," Mark said, gripping his shoulder tightly. "You'll talk to her when she comes back."

Roger snorted in disgust and sat down at the barstool by the kitchen counter, helpless.

Mark dragged up a stool and joined him. Together they stared blankly at the wall, refusing to meet each other's eyes.

And they waited.

***

A/N: Oh, I know that those of you naughty M/R fans are just dying for a hot love scene in the kitchen on the barstools! Haha, just kidding. Don't worry, she'll be back. Reviews are the best thing since Daphne playing with a 'Limbo-Elmo' doll!