Author's Note: Sorry about the delay, and I hope this doesn't suck. Enjoy and please review! =)

CHAPTER 23

Roger jolted awake when he heard the front door slam. He groaned and shut his eyes tighter, rolling over onto his stomach so that he could bury his face in his pillow. He heard several murmurs coming from the next room, and within seconds, someone was knocking gently on Roger's door.

"Roger?" Mark asked. Roger winced as the door creaked open and he held his breath, as if that would drown out the sound and make him disappear into the blankets.

"Rog, we need you out there." Mark shook his friend gently.

"What?" he grunted, his response muffled by the pillow. Mark latched onto his arm and gently tried to tug him of bed.

"Come on, this is important."

"What the fuck are you doing Mark?" Roger asked, yanking his arm out of Mark's grasp.

"It's April," Mark told him with a worried expression on his face. Roger immediately shot up and pushed past Mark into the loft.

"Is she back?" he asked, looking back at Mark. He sighed and shrugged, shaking his head. Roger looked into the living room and saw Collins, Benny, and Maureen sitting on the couch, looking up at him.

"Where is she?" Collins and Benny shifted uncomfortably in their seats and Maureen looked over to the answering machine.

"She left a message."

"Subtle, Mo," Mark chided her, leaning against Roger's door frame.

"Well she did!" she defended herself. "What are we supposed to do, dance around it and make him guess?"

"No, I just don't think—"

"That's right. You don't think."

"Guys, shut up," Collins ordered them. Maureen rolled her eyes and turned her attention to her cuticles, and Mark crossed his arms over his chest. Collins went over to Roger, who was currently getting frustrated as he fumbled with the answering machine. He helped him out and once again, April's sobbing voice filled the loft.

"What the fuck was that? When did she call?" Roger asked, turning back to his friends.

Benny shrugged. "We were all out."

"Is she okay?"

"We know as much as you do," Collins told him, sitting his friend down in the chair by the couch. Roger stood back up so that he could be eye-level with Collins.

"You didn't call back?"

"We can't, Rog. Places like that won't let you talk to the patients. They won't even tell you if they're there. Confidentiality stuff."

"Of course she's there!" Roger fumed. "She just called! She wants to come home! Why won't they let her come back?" His voice broke off and he wandered aimlessly over to the large industrial window opposite from his bedroom.

"I'm sure she's fine," Benny tried.

"Yeah, just homesick," Collins suggested. "She probably just misses you."

"Then they should let her come home!"

"Don't worry, she'll be okay."

"Y-you shut up, Benny! This has nothing to do with you."

"He's right, though," Collins told Roger, sitting back down on the couch. "She's getting better. She wanted this."

"I'm going to call back," Roger stated. He picked up the cordless phone and huddled in a corner of the room, beginning to fumble with the telephone.

Collins sighed and sat down on the chair, and Mark followed suit and sat on the couch next to Maureen. Collins began speaking in a low voice, so low that even Benny, who was sitting next to him, could hear. They proceeded to murmur about the situation at hand, but since he couldn't hear, Mark turned to Maureen and furrowed his eyebrows.

"What was all that about before?"

"What was all what about?" she asked, focusing her attention on her fingernails again.

"You know what I mean."

"You making me look like an idiot?" she asked, looking up into Mark's face.

"I didn't make you look like and idiot! You were just—"

"I was just what? Trying to be helpful?" she whispered harshly. "Or is it just that I can't do anything right?"

"What? I never said that. Mo, don't be mad."

"I'm not," she reassured him, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms.

"I'm sorry," he told her, resting a hand on her back. How was it that he always ended up apologizing for things he knew weren't his fault?

"It's okay, Pookie." She patted his knee gently and retreated back into the couch. Mark noticed her sudden reclusion and shifted over further away from her, leaning on the arm of the couch.

"Fuck!" Roger yelled, punching the wall in front of him. Collins immediately rushed over to his side and moved him over to a seat.

"Rog, relax, please."

Roger rested his head in his hand and sighed. How did Collins expect him to relax at a time like this?

"What… how am I supposed to take this?" Roger asked quietly, shutting his eyes and sighing.

"She told me before she left that she really wanted to get better and she wanted you to, too."

Roger looked up when Mark said that.

"What?"

"She wrote us a note," Mark said casually, walking into the kitchen. He had forgotten about it until now.

"What?" Roger repeated.

Mark felt around on top of the fridge and when he found what he was looking for, placed it on the island and sat down on a stool.

"She wrote us a letter and told me to read it when everybody was here."

"Is that it?" Roger asked, moving towards Mark. Mark picked up the envelope and nodded.

"Yep." He carefully tore it open and pulled the letter out. "Want me to read it?"

"No, Mark, I don't," Roger replied sarcastically. He leaned onto the island and watched Mark closely as he unfolded the letter.

"'Dear Roger, Collins, Maureen, Mark, and Benny,'" he began.

"'Thank you for all your help in the last little while. I'm sorry if it has seemed like I've come barrelling into your lives and messing everything up for you, but you have really helped me through a lot and helped me make some important decisions. So thank you and sorry, and I promise I'll make it up to you all eventually.'" Mark cleared his throat and looked up at his friends. They were staring back at him.

"Don't look at me! God, I hate public speaking."

"There are only four of us…" Benny reminded him.

"Shut up, it's public enough. Stop it!" he whined at Maureen and Collins who were purposely staring at him like the Children of the Corn. "You're creeping me out."

"Just keep going," Roger told him gruffly.

"Sorry. Okay… 'Roger, I love you.' Oh, I don't love you, she does."

Roger rolled his eyes. "I figured."

"'If you're reading this letter, that means you're home and safe. At least, I hope you are. I'm sorry I left so quickly, but I needed to do this before I changed my mind – not because I didn't want to do this with you. I want you to turn yourself around – not for me, not for your friends, but for yourself. I left you money if you change your mind about rehab, and I really hope you will. Do what you see fit, but please at least consider it before you make a decision. I love you and I have never stopped, even through everything you've put me through lately. I miss you and I hope you come home soon.'" Mark quickly looked up at his friends to make sure they weren't looking at him, and returned quickly to the letter.

"'Collins, thank you for being the shoulder for me to cry on… literally. You are an absolutely wonderful person and I can only wish the best for you over the next little while. Maureen, thank you, too, for helping me through everything in the beginning. I hope it's okay that I call you my friend.'" Maureen stifled a laugh at the general cheesiness of the letter and received a gentle shove from Collins.

"'Congratulations to you and Mark on your one year anniversary. I know you guys are perfect for each other, and I'm sure and your relationship will go far.'" Mark smiled at this, and Maureen frowned and looked down at her feet.

"'Mark and Benny, I don't really know you very well, but I hope that when I come back I will get the chance to get to know you better. You seem like great people, and Roger has only ever told me good things about you.

"'All that's left to say is a big thank you to all of you, and I really am sorry. I talked to my parents, and they are holding my apartment for me. I left you a key just in case anything explodes or something. I'll be home soon and I promise I'll try to make everything right again. Love, April.'"

A silence fell over the five and they all contemplated what to do next. A small sniff came from Roger who proceeded to shut himself up in his bedroom again.

"Well that went well," Mark tried, letting the letter float from his hands onto the island.

"He'll be fine," Benny told everybody. They nodded in response and retreated back into their own thoughts.

"I'm going to try and talk to him," Collins said, standing up. He went over to Roger's room and knocked gently on the door, opening it slowly. He disappeared into the bedroom and just the three were left. As Mark sat down on the chair, Maureen stood up slowly and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I think I'm going to go out."

"Of course you are," Mark scowled.

Maureen turned to Mark and narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Where are you going to go?" he asked, looking up at her. She shrugged.

"I don't know. Around."

"Have fun," he shrugged, trying to hide his anger. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back into the chair.

"I will," she told him defiantly as she put her coat on. She left the loft and slammed the door behind her.

"She's just overreacting," Benny told his friend after a short pause.

"Story of my life."

* * *

"How are you holding up?" Collins asked Roger, sitting on the edge of the bed. Roger sat leaning against the headboard with his guitar in his lap. He wasn't playing it, just holding it.

"All right," he sniffed. "Not crying," he reassured Collins who laughed quietly. Roger swiped at his eyes and fingered the guitar in front of him. He plucked one string. "Do you know what rehab is like?"

"Uh, no, not really," Collins shook his head. Both men looked toward the shut door when they heard the front door slam shut. "I mean, I'm sure it's hard, but the result is great, right?" Collins sat down on the edge of the bed. Roger shrugged and nodded slowly.

"Are you thinking about it?"

Roger sighed. "I don't know. I'm not helpless, I can do it on my own."

"I don't doubt it." Collins gave a small smile. "But sometimes it's easier to be around people who are going through the same thing and understand where you're coming from."

"Yeah…" There was a long silence where Roger studied his guitar and Collins stared off into space. "I miss April."

Collins nodded. This was starting to get old hat for him.

"Just think, though. She's doing this so that she can be healthy again. She wants to come back and spend the rest of her life with you. She really loves you, you know that?"

"I guess. But we'll never be really 'healthy.' I can't believe I'm putting her through this."

"What do you mean you'll never be healthy?"

"AIDS, Collins. Where have you been?"

"What?" he asked in disbelief.

"Fuck, we have fucking AIDS. I'm such an asshole."

"Roger, calm down. How did that happen?"

"I don't know. Probably a needle. I can't believe I screwed her up, too. She had real potential, you know? She was gonna do big things… and I fucked that up. I hate my life." Roger shoved his guitar off of him and off the bed, one of the strings breaking in the process.

"Shit!" he yelled.

"Rog, relax," Collins tried quickly. "Please."

"You keep saying that – how the hell am I supposed to calm down? I've got a shitty life, I have no clue where my wife is, I'm addicted to drugs, I feel like I'm gonna hurl and I can't figure anything out!"

Collins remained silent as he thought about what to say. "Honestly," he sighed. "I can't tell you what to do because I have no clue. Coming from someone who knows, though, you're a fighter, and you can definitely deal with whatever comes your way."

"I want to know what's coming my way," Roger complained, his hand covering his face.

"I know. I know the feeling. But sometimes you just have to take a step back and think about everything before you go on. You can't tell the future, but you can prepare for it."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked bluntly.

"Well, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I think you're making the best choice you can by getting off drugs. No matter how you want to do it, it's gonna be great for you."

Roger mumbled something inaudible and played with the bottoms of his pant leg.

"What?"

"I'm kind of scared," Roger whispered, looking at Collins through the corner of his eye.

"Roger…" he replied quietly. "I know."

"I don't know what I'm gonna do," he sighed. He slumped over and stared down at the blankets underneath him.

"You could go to the doctor," Collins suggested gently. "That way you can be healthy."

Roger shrugged minimally but remained silent, so Collins continued.

"I can go with you if you like, and I'm always here if you need to talk. Just don't retreat into the Roger bubble. I don't want you to go through this alone."

Roger nodded slowly, but continued to stare down at the comforter.

"Are you okay for now?"

Roger nodded again. Collins stood up from his seat at the foot of the bed and moved over to Roger, hugging him quickly before he left the room. Roger flopped back against the headboard and sighed again.

"Thanks…" he murmured.