A wall of white was up outside. Roger lay back on the bed, staring at the broken skylight and the snow that fell through it. "This is bullshit," he sighed, swinging his feet off the bed and walking slowly to the large window which overlooked their city block. He wrapped Mark's scarf tighter around his neck and stepped out onto the fire escape.

The frigid wind smack Roger in the face immediately, sending a chill straight through him. He looked down. Nobody had moved into the apartment downstairs after Mimi died. Roger preferred it that way. It was quiet all the time, as quiet as it could be on the block.

Roger sighed. It had to be below zero when the wind blew, but he wanted to be out there, needed to be out there. He looked down to Mimi's apartment, memories flooding him

"Hey...stranger!" Mimi teased, calling up to Roger. "The power's out again!"

Roger hung his head over the edge fire escape. "Thank Benny!" he called down. He smiled. It had been thirteen months since their first meeting in the apartment. She had come up to look for a light and it led to romance. Mimi loved Roger and with the exception of the few months they spent apart around the time Angel died, they had been together ever since.

It was cold. The coldest day yet in January. The small space heaters were running day and night with no relief in sight. Now, with the power out again, they would all be freezing.

"Come on down," Mimi called. "It's slippery, be careful."

Roger laughed. "I'll use the stairs." He stepped off the fire escape and back into the apartment. Mark had gone out with Collins to the Life Café. Roger knew that his roommate would tell him not to shut himself in, so he grabbed an extra scarf and slipped out of the apartment to head down to Mimi's.

Roger brushed the snow off his shoulders and out of his hair. His cheeks were beet red and ice cold. He stepped back into the apartment. The bed was covered with a soft blanket of snow. He sighed, coughed, as he settled himself on the ragged sofa, lying down with his knees pulled into his chest. He shivered as he closed his eyes and attempted to sleep.

The wind nipped at him as Mark finally made his way to the ATM. "Thank God" he said , removing one glove so that he could punch in the code. A-N-G-E-L. Nothing. "No, no" Mark said, trying to put in the code again. Still nothing. "Shit." Roger needed his medication and if it was the last thing he did, Mark was going to get t he money.

He checked his pockets. Five dollars. He could at least pay to get into the cab and drive about halfway to the complex. Mark stepped out into the street, trying to hail a cab. Like always, many passed by before Mark stepped further into the road. He jumped into the yellow taxi.

"Corner of 11th and Avenue B." Mark said. He paused. "Actually... just go until we hit five dollars."

The cab began to move, surprising Mark by going all the way there. He handed over the money. "Keep it buddy. Merry Christmas."

Mark smiled. "Thank you. Thanks. Merry Christmas." He got out, ran to the building and sprinted up to the apartment. Mark slid the door open and tried the lights. "Power's out," he said softly. "Great." He walked further inside, seeing Roger on the sofa. "Roger?" he whispered.

Roger simply lay there as Mark stepped closer. Beads of sweat dripped from his brow and off the ends of his hair. He shook both with fever and from the cold. Mark gently sat on the sofa, cradling Roger's head in his lap.

"Christ..." Mark said softly. "You're on fire."

"Did you get it?" Roger said through chattering teeth.

"No..." Mark admitted softly. "We need to... get you back to the hospital."

"No," Roger said firmly. "No, Mark. It's Christmas... Eve. No."

"You're sick..."

"I'm not going back there." Roger said. "Promise me you won't take me back to that fucking place."

"Roger..."

"Mark. I'm fine... I'm fine. Just promise."

Mark sighed. "I promise." He brushed Roger's hair gently back off his forehead. "I promise just... try to sleep. It'll be better in the morning. You'll see."

Mark felt Roger's head get heavy in his lap one he fell asleep. He listened to Roger breath and felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Even if Mark was tired now, he couldn't go to sleep. He sat up, still stroking Roger's hair. He would watch him all night, trying to convince himself that in the morning everything would be better and Roger would have recovered. He desperately wanted to believe it, but he couldn't. He knew it wasn't true. He knew this was just the beginning.