Disclaimer: La la laaa.. still not owning any of these guys.

Notes: I really like this chapter. I think it's cute. ;; Cute like chibis and bunnies and other really cute things. Buuut in the theme of all I do, it's still sad and still slashy. Obviously, if you have a problem with this, you oughtn't to be reading it. Also, in my other thing.. my email apparently didn't show up because my computer hates me. If you want to email me directly, please please please! feel free to do so, but my AOL is down so I'm working out of yahoo. My yahoo mail is inangstasy. Hawt name, I know.

Thank you to all my reviewers! I love you guys so very much. Another thank you to my dearest, darlingest fraulein for being the wonderful little bundle of slashy angst that she is. And to all you phantom readers: I love you guys too.. but I'd love you even more if you'd revieeeew...

And to that certain person who I know is wondering: you're off the team because you said some hurtful and VERY uncalled for things about a certain blonde that I love very very dearly and I will NOT EVER tolerate that. She and my loyalty to her come first. End of matter.

Anyway! Onto the goods...

After about two weeks, I finally started sleeping again. It was only in short spurts but it was enough to get by on. Get by for what? To sit on my bed with my arms around myself crying and moping? Sounds worth it, I know.

I was glad of the fact that I was only able to sleep for small amounts of time. My dreams were horribly vivid and too sad to endure most nights. I remember one night I dreamt that I was kissing Roger in front of the Life and we were holding hands and laughing. It was snowing lightly and we were cold so we just stood there with our arms around each other. It was a beautiful scene and it made me happy...

Until the windows of the Life Café turned into a mirror and I saw our reflections behind the red writing. I looked to my left and then to my right quickly only to find that we were in our bathroom and Roger was lying in a bathtub full of blood. I fled the bathroom into the sanctuary of my bedroom and sat on my bed, rocking back and forth and crying until I heard Musetta's Waltz coming from Roger's room. I rushed in only to find that it wasn't his guitar playing it but an old radio. Sitting with the radio in his lap held like a guitar was Roger. I started to cry and rushed over to hold him, but he evaporated in my arms.

I woke up clutching my pillow and screaming to Maureen's rough shaking.

"Mark? Marky, are you okay, baby?"

I grope blindly at her without my glasses and cling to her with all my might. I try to tell her about the dream, but it just doesn't come out right. I'm crying too hard. But besides that, I don't really want to talk about it. It's already starting to leave me. Good.

After that particular dream is when I started taking Nyquil every night, I think. It knocked me right out and I rarely had dreams; especially not upsetting ones. Part of me wanted to have dreams about Roger and I considered stopping the Nyquil. It was the only way I could see him again. There were no pictures of him lying around. Roger hated pictures with a passion. I thought about it for a really long time before I remembered the film reels. I thought it odd how it took my so long to think of the movies. Funny how something consumes your life one day and the next it's completely forgotten.

I asked Collins to come in and sit with me to watch them. I didn't want to be alone.

The first ones we watched were of the year we had Angel. Images of Collins and Angel looking very happy were everywhere. Outside the Life, at the loft, in the park; no matter where they were they always looked so sublimely happy in each other's company. I had caught a beautiful kiss on camera. It was on Valentine's Day and the snow was getting ready to melt. There were hearts everywhere and Angel was wearing a small pink velvet dress. It was really very pretty. She had flowers in her hair and even put some in Collins's dreads and they were outside a small restaurant. The way they looked at each other right before they kissed was so beautiful and romantic. Angel wrapped her arms around Collins's neck and kicked her heel up when they kissed. It reminded me of a 50's film.

After those first couple shots of Valentine's Day, we decided to move on. After that was about the time Angel started to get sick and neither of us needed to see that.

I put in one of a couple years ago. I think it was right before Mimi left because in one shot she and Roger were all over each other in the peripheral view of the camera (I usually avoided filming them directly) and in the next shot on, she wasn't in it anymore and Roger spent more time behind me behind the camera than being filmed.

One particularly moving clip from this time period was on my birthday. Maureen had taking my camera hostage and was filming the scene so that I could 'participate for once'.

IIIII

"Pookie! Just give me the camera! I won't hurt it, I promise. Pinky promise! It's your birthday! Get in front of the camera and participate in your life for once instead of just filming it!"

The camera is handed off grudgingly and an obviously disgruntled Mark reluctantly takes a seat at the table where his birthday cake is about to be served. A very nicely dressed but drastically thin Roger walked over to the ticked off camera man and plopped himself gracefully into his lap. The camera zoomed in on them via Maureen's strange closeness rather than the zoom button as Roger planted a big, sloppy kiss on Mark's cheek and ruffled his hair.

"Roger!" Mark flushed but grinned. "That's gross!"

"Gross my ass. You liked it." The musician wriggled rather suggestively, causing Mark to turn on Maureen. Perhaps she was more easily thwarted.

"Maureen! Get that thing out of my face! I'm not this bad with you guys."

There was a chorus of "Yes you are!" from everyone present that made Mark bush even brighter and avert his eyes.

The camera cut out not long after that and the next frame was Mark blowing out the candle on his cake and Roger, still planted in his lap and obviously not going anywhere soon, grabbing a small handful and smothering it onto Mark's face.

"Oh no you don't!" A retaliation was launched and Roger's chin and near his mouth was soon doused with frosting which he licked up in one swift motion.

"Mm... frosting. I want some more."

Mark's eyes widened visibly behind his glasses.

"Roger, no. No. Nononono!"

But it was too late. There was no saving him. No sooner than he had opened his mouth to protest, Roger's tongue was all over his face in the grossest manner. Mark winced as the coarse hair of his boyfriend, lover, best friend (which did he fall under in the presence of company again?) scraped his face. He shrieked and writhed and laughed but there was no hope.

When he was done, Roger licked his lips and gave a satisfied sigh. Mark wiped his face, a disdainful and disgusted expression on his face.

Roger poked Mark's side with a grin. "You know you liked it. It was totally hot. Sexy to boot."

"More like gross."

"Pft, more like totally sexy."

"More like get off my lap before I strangle you because it was so gross."

"Bring it on!"

"Well okay then."

Mark reached his hands up to make like he was going to strangle Roger, but Roger was faster. He pinned Mark's arms over his head and leaned in to kiss him. Or so it appeared. Out of nowhere Roger began fiercely tickling his camera man's sides. Yes, his camera man. He tickled him until Mark toppled out of the chair and Roger, to everyone's great amusement, straddled him on the floor and continued to tickle him. Mark shook his head and tried to wriggle free, all the while protesting, but Roger would hear none of it.

"No! This is what you get for being a dick when all I was doing was being sexy. My hotness is no great cause for you too be a bitch and now you must suffer the consequences!"

IIIII

This little scene of fun was sure to spoil eventually, knowing Roger and I didn't want to see it go bad. I remembered that day now that I'd seen part of it. How Mimi had showed up and ruined everything for me. For us. It was the only time Roger had ever shown real affection toward me in front of everyone; flirted with me even, and she had to show up.

Roger had told her to leave and that he never wanted to see her again and reminded her of the night she left. She had refused to leave at first, but eventually Collins had talked her into going and Roger just stormed off into his room, slammed the door and played angry guitar riffs for the rest of the evening.

As usual, Maureen and Joanne were the next to clear out and Collins stayed awhile so I wouldn't have to be by myself. When Roger had finally emerged the following day, my camera was still sitting where Maureen had left it when Mimi showed up and there were even a few streamers about (Maureen had insisted on decorations). I knew he felt bad for ruining my birthday and to apologize for it, he had woken up for breakfast and sat next to me while we ate. Usually he'd take whatever he was going to eat and hide in his room, when he'd been a jerk he'd sit next to me to apologize. I understand Roger's language perfectly.

I curled up with Collins around me and just cried until my face hurt. My entire body was sore from crying. My emotional pain had become physical.