Author's Note: Okay, before anyone points it out to me, I'm just gonna say now, the scene between Mark and Maureen is basically the scene that was in my other fic called 'Mend.' I decided to use it because it's an idea that I sort of put aside, and think it would fit well in this story. Sorry I haven't updated in ages. Enjoy, and review!

*Edited* Well, slightly based on it, lol.

"Coming!" Mark called quickly when he heard a knock on the front door. "Just a second!" He fished around in his top dresser drawer for a tie, and sloppily clipped it onto his shirt. Only moments after he glanced at his reflection in the mirror did he decide that the tie was overdoing it, and yanked it off and threw it aside.

"I'm coming!" Mark said breathlessly as he ran to open the door. "H-hi…," he stammered.

"Hi. Mark," Maureen said, shyly as she stepped inside. She had her curly hair up in a bun, and a few tendrils fell out and framed her face, along with a pair of dangly earrings that Mark remembered giving her a few summers ago. She wore a short tight black sleeveless dress, and Mark could faintly smell a trace of floral perfume.

"You look…great," he mumbled, blushing.

"Thanks," she giggled, her cheeks flushing as well. She cocked her head to one side, looking further into the apartment. "Are Roger and Mimi here?"

Mark shook his head. "They're on the roof."

Maureen raised her eyebrows.

"I don't know what they're doing," Mark added, quickly.

Maureen shrugged. "Oh, well. I'll see them tomorrow."

"So you wanna leave now?" Mark asked, grabbing his coat.

"Alright," Maureen said, watching him furtively. "No camera?" she smiled, seeing Mark's video camera perched on the table beside the coat-rack.

Mark blushed and shook his head. "Nope. No camera."

"So…you ready to go?"

Mark nodded and slowly slipped his hand into Maureen's. "Let's go."

***

"Tom? Do we have anymore of that solid gold dog food?" Frankie yelled to Collins from the kitchen.

"No, the kids dug their way through it," Collins called back, from the living room. "And call me Collins."

"So, you're referring to them as 'the kids' now, Tom?" Frankie teased, as she came back into the living room.

"Well, that's what they are, aren't they?"

Frankie kissed him, softly. "Don't you want to have kids without fur someday?"

"Some day. But not today," Collins laughed.

As they talked, Pepper and her two puppies lay sprawled at their feet, lazily. They had found out a few weeks after the puppies were born that they had one boy, and one girl. Frankie had named the boy Buddy, and Collins had named the girl Angel, ironically. His small but meaningful tribute to his deceased previous lover.

"What was she like?" Frankie asked Collins, settling onto his lap.

"Who?"

"Angel."

"Angel?" Collins said, surprised.

"Yeah, you know…your…girlfriend," Frankie said slowly, trying to figure out whether to refer to Angel as a girl or a boy.

"She was an amazing person," Collins smiled, relieved by the fact that they were able to talk about Angel calmly and casually. They'd never really brought up the topic of Collins's previous relationship before.

"Do you think I would've liked her?" Frankie yawned, reaching for the blanket they kept on the couch, which was now soggy from Buddy and Angel teething on it.

"Yes. I think you two would've gotten along very well," Collins grinned. "You're into interior designing and planning parties and stuff like that. Angel loved to do that. She loved to design her own outfits. Last Christmas, she…she came up with this incredible Santa Clause outfit. She liked to drum, too. She had this pickle tub she used to carry around with her. I remember she was playing it when we first met. I'd just been mugged- and she was sitting nearby, and she came over to me to see if I was hurt. She looked up at me and said, 'You okay, honey?'" Collins eyes twinkled as he reminisced over his old friend. "She was always looking out to help people."

"She sounds like a good person," Frankie said, softly. "I would've loved to meet her."

"Here-wait, you know what? I have an old videotape stashed somewhere during that phase where Mark had his video camera permanently attached to his hand. There's a short segment, like ten minutes long. It's just her with her drumsticks and the pickle tub." He paused, and looked up at Frankie. "Do you wanna see?"

Frankie smiled. "Okay."

Eagerly, Collins got down on all fours and rustled around a pile of old videotapes next to the T.V set. Finally, after a few seconds, he got back up again.

"I think this is it," he said, popping it into the VCR and sitting back down on the couch with Frankie.

Immediately, an image of Angel appeared on the screen. No costume, no makeup, no wigs. Just Angel in a plain white T-shirt and tight sparkly jeans.

"This is a little number I like to call…'Spazz,' Angel said, in a mock-sexy tone, before erupting into a crazy fury of movement with her drumsticks  and the pickle tub placed between her knees. Angel's masculine side was highlighted clearly, as his muscles bulged as he furiously beat out a rhythm on the drum. Collins thought he heard a girl laughing in the background. It was probably Mimi. Or Maureen.

Finally, Angel set the drumsticks down, heaved a huge sigh, and placed the sticks down on the ground. She grinned. "How do you like that, baby?" she teased, directing her question towards Collins, obviously. She stood up and walked towards Collins, who was off-screen, with her arms outstretched to give him a hug. When her figure was no longer visible, the tape stopped.

Both Collins and Frankie sat in silence for a moment.

"I haven't watched that video in ages," Collins said, finally. "I haven't heard her voice in so long."

Frankie smiled and kissed him on the cheek, gently. "You okay?"

Collins nodded, sadly. "I just miss her."

"I'm sure she's in a better place," Frankie whispered. "And that she isn't suffering anymore. She's drinking strawberry daiquiris and getting her nails manicured and having the time of her life."

Collins grinned. "I hope so."

"I know so."

Collins wrapped his arms around Frankie's shoulder. "You tired?"

"It's eight pm."

"So? I'm an old man. I need my rest."

Frankie laughed. "Whatever you say, grandpa." She pinched his rear and winked at him, before strolling off into the bedroom.

Collins smiled and stared at the now blank TV screen for a few moments.

"You coming?" Frankie called from the bedroom.

Collins nodded and smiled gravely. "I'm coming."

***

"Hey, long time no see," Seb exclaimed, as Mark and Maureen entered the Life Café.

"Hey, Seb," Maureen chirped, giving him a peck on the cheek. "How you doing?"

"I'm good now," he winked, pulling a little golf pencil from behind his ear. "Usual table?"

"I guess so. If that's alright with you," Maureen said, looking at Mark.

Mark nodded. "It's fine."

"Great! Like old times," Seb said, as he lead them to their table.

Like old times, Mark echoed in his head as he and Maureen followed Seb to the table.

"Do you guys know what you want?" Seb asked them, after they were seated.

"I'll just have a Caesar salad…I'm trying to keep with my diet," Maureen said, blushing a bit. "Do you know what you want, Marky?"

"What?" Mark said.

"I said do you know what you want?"

"You called me Marky."

Maureen frowned. "I did?"

"Yeah."

Maureen shrugged. "Oops. Déjà vu, I guess."

"I guess," Mark repeated, uneasily. He turned to Seb. "Ummm. I'll have some mineral water…and uh…a burger, I guess. Well done."

"Alright. I'll have it with you in a bit," Seb said, closing his little clipboard as he went to another table.

"So…how've you been?" Maureen asked, pushing a few spilt grains of salt with her finger.

"Since this morning? Fine," Mark said, smiling a bit.

"Still no word from Jan?"

Mark shook his head.

Maureen sighed. "I'm sorry, Mark."

"It's not your fault," Mark mumbled. "I just…feel like things aren't going to be the same between the two of us anymore. I know that we're not the first couple to have a miscarriage…but Jan was really hurt by this. Emotionally. And I can't help but think that maybe things are over between us."

"You shouldn't think like that," Maureen said, softly.

Mark smiled, weakly. "I can't help it."

They sat in an awkward silence for a moment, until Seb returned with their food.

"Thanks," Maureen said, and when he left she began to pick out the pieces of chicken in her salad.

"What are you doing?" Mark asked, watching her. "I told you, I'm trying to watch my figure. I've decided to become a vegetarian. For a few weeks."

"A few weeks?" Mark laughed. "Isn't that like a lifelong decision that you make?"

Maureen shrugged. "It doesn't have to be."

Mark sat back and picked at his hamburger bun. "Do you remember the time we were here after your riot performance, and we terrorized Benny and his father in-law?"

"Are you kidding?" Maureen exclaimed. "I still laugh about that! God, what a prick."

Mark shrugged. "He had a good heart."

"Yeah, made out of stone," Maureen retorted, taking a sip of her water.

Mark laughed. "Let's not talk about Benny. How've you been?"

"Since this morning? Fine," Maureen teased.

Mark laughed again. "Where does the time go?"

"I don't know," Maureen said, shaking her head. "But I do know that this salad tastes like shit without chicken or dressing."

"This burger isn't too hot either," Mark said. "You wanna just…take off?"

"Sure."

"Alright. Seb…check, please?"

"Give him a big tip," Maureen whispered when she saw the disappointed look on Seb's face.

Mark made a face. "Do I have to?"

"I'll chip in too," Maureen giggled, fishing out her imitation snakeskin pink purse.

***

The desperate look in our eyes, holding onto one another

Holding on for our lives, just letting go to discover

That love don't need a reason

And love don't need a rhyme

I'm standing here pleading

And you just cover your eyes

"Are you ever going to do anything more with that song?" Mimi interrupted.

Roger placed his guitar down. "What do you mean?"

"You've been playing those same chords and for days now. Are you ever going to add to the song?"

Roger shrugged. "I don't force these things. I wait for inspiration. Bugger off."

Mimi grinned and gave him the finger. "How's this for inspiration?"

"I'm sorry, but this is supposed to be a pretty song."

"Hey!" Mimi laughed, kicking out at him.

"Maybe you can sing back-up for the band?" Roger grinned at her.

Mimi rolled her eyes. "Yeah. When pigs fly."

"We could have a little Partridge Family thing going on. Me on guitar, you singing back-up. One of the twins on the drums, the other on the keyboard."

"You have way too much time on your hands," Mimi laughed. "I'm afraid of what you'll do while waiting for these babies to be born already."

"How about we choose names?"

"For the babies?"

Roger rolled his eyes. "No. For the guitar." He caught Mimi's foot before it could collide into his shoulder.

"You're too quick for me," Mimi smiled, zipping up her sweater as it became chillier. "How about Anna for a girl?"

"Anna? Not bad," Roger said, stroking his chin. "What if there's two girls?"

"Anna and…"

"Janis."

"Janis?"

"Yeah. Like Janis Joplin."

Mimi laughed. "Or Cher."

"Or Joy."

"Joy's not bad. I like Joy."

"So Anna is the first runner up for a girl's name, and Joy's the second…now what if there are two boys?"

Mimi groaned. "Trust me, there will not be two boys."

"How do you know?"

"Because I feel it in my gut. Literally. If there were two boys in there, they'd be rolling around and kicking the shit outta me."

Roger snorted. "Bullshit."

"No! Here, feel," she pulled up her sweater and placed his palm flat against her stomach. "Do you feel anything?"

"No."

"My point is proven," Mimi declared.

"Or they could be two really mellow boys."

"There's no such thing."

Roger laughed. "I think you're starting to show, Meems."

Mimi made a face. "I am?"

"Yeah."

"Great. I'm fat."

"You're not fat. You're pregnant."

"Same thing."

"You're beautiful."

Mimi rolled her eyes. "Anyway, we were deciding on boy names."

"Oh yeah. I like Corey."

"Corey…I like that."

"And the other boy would be…"

"There won't be another boy."

"Jesus Christ, you're stubborn."

Mimi laughed. "I'll bet you anything if anything we'll only have one boy."

"God, look at us. We're sick. We're placing bets on a couple of fetuses." He grinned. "And I hope there are two boys. Just so I can say I told you so."

"That's a pleasure you won't be getting from this womb," Mimi said, patting her stomach with her hand.

Roger laughed. "Okay, okay. Let's just worry about this when the time comes around."

"What time would that be?"

"I dunno. When you're having the kids."

Mimi cracked up. "Yeah, we could name both of them right there in the delivery room. The first words that come out of my mouth…FUCK! And GET IT OUT!!!"

"Fuck Davis Jr.," Roger grinned.

Mimi rolled her eyes. "Never mind. I shouldn't have started." She paused. "Don't they say it's bad to curse in front of your kids? Even before they're born?"

"Uh…I don't know." Roger pushed up Mimi's shirt and whispered, "Mommy did not just say a bad word. You kids sleep well." He kissed her stomach above her belly button. Mimi giggled.

"There, you happy now?"

"Yes," Mimi smiled, leaning against his chest, contently.

***

"Someone get the door!" Mark yelled from his room as a series of quick knocks were heard from the front door.

Silence. Mimi and Roger were still on the roof.

Mark had seen Maureen to her apartment about half an hour ago, and had then retreated home.

"Fine, I'll get it," Mark grumbled, grabbing his bathrobe.

"Maureen? What happened?" he exclaimed when he opened the door.

She was still wearing the dress she'd worn that evening, and her hair was still up. The only difference was, her mascara was running down her face, and she was crying.

"Joanne's gone."

"What do you mean she's gone?"

"She's just gone," Maureen sniffled, wiping at her streaky cheeks.

"Well, she's done this before, right? You've had little arguments like this before?"

Maureen shook her head and said in a shaky voice, "Not like this time." She shuddered. "This time I don't think she'll be coming back." Her body was racked with shaky sobs, and Mark pulled her against his chest, letting her tears soak into his terrycloth robe.

"She'll come back," he whispered, though he knew even as he said it that it probably wasn't true.

***

Song Credit: 'Rhyme and Reason' by Adam Pascal

Author's Note: Whoooo. That was fun. Review!