Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Author's notes: Thank you reviewers. I did research for this chapter and I think all of my medical facts are relatively accurate, however I had sites that contradicted each other although they were both sites that were respectable so I just sort of was picking and choosing data for what I needed for the story. See one of my previous author notes if you are mad about this.

Roger quickly latched his hands onto Mark's body, feeling the weight quickly transfer to him. "Mark? Mark?" When he got no response he turned around. "Collins!" He shouted quickly before turning his attention back to Mark. "Mark, can you hear me?" He lowered him to the ground carefully, taking his hand in his own. "Mark come on, wake up." He used his other hand to lightly slap Mark's cheek.

"What happened?" Collins asked from behind upon his arrival.

"He just passed out." Roger turned back around. "He sounded sick. Is he sick?"

Maureen and Joanne bounded up. "Oh my god, Mark!" Maureen clapped a hand to her chest. "Is he alright?"

Joanne shot her a look. "Of course he's not alright he's unconscious. How can you ask a question like that?"

"Out of concern for a friend." Maureen just shot the look right back to her girlfriend. "What happened?"

"I just answered that Maureen." Now it was Roger's turn to send her a look.

"Well it's not my fault that I run slower than Collins!"

"He just passed out." Collins filled in for the two.

Joanne remained focused on Maureen ignoring this information. "You wouldn't be so out of shape if you went to the gym with me like I've asked you to."

"Excuse me, but you get all sweaty at the gym. And the only time that being sweaty is not gross is when we're having one of our hot passionate fu--."

"Nobody wants to hear about that Maureen." Joanne interrupted quickly.

"About what?" A groggy voice asked quietly.

"About Maureen and mine's sex life." Joanne answered without even thinking about the question.

"You're right I don't want to hear about that."

"Welcome back to the real world Mark." Collins was the first to notice that the filmmaker had awoken and was glancing around. All of the bickering and other forms of noise stopped.

Roger turned back around. "Mark, are you OK? What happened?"

Mark gave an uneasy half smile. "Did I scare you?" He repeated the words from earlier, hoping to lighten the mood. It didn't work.

"Yes." Roger answered, his tone no nonsense. "What's going on?"

"I'll explain later." Mark removed his hand from Roger's, and started to force himself into a sitting position. "We should get out of the rain."

Collins knelt down and put a hand on Mark's shoulder, forcing him to stay lying down. "Don't be getting up so fast. Relax. Rest a minute, then we should probably go to the doctor and get you checked out."

"I'm fine." Mark shook his head, taking Collins hand off of his body. "I don't have to go to the doctor's."

Joanne frowned. "Mark, you don't just pass out for no reason. This could be serious. You really should go."

"Listen to her Marky." Maureen nodded.

"I know what it is." Mark sat up. "Let's just go home, I'll explain when we get there." He paused at the look on Roger's face. "It's not a big deal." He assured, although the colorless skin of his own face probably didn't help matters much. He held his hand out for Roger. "Help me up?"

It was slow going back to the loft. In the time it took, Mark somehow managed to convince Joanne and Maureen to go home. It was mostly with the help of Collins. By the time they got inside, Mark was looking tired again, and the two men forced him onto the couch where Musetta was already sitting, curled tightly in a ball.

Roger sat on one chair near the couch, Collins on another. "OK Mark. What's the deal?"

"Well…" Mark launched into an explanation of how after the funeral he had gotten into another fight with Cindy that ended up involving just about everyone in his family, and everything had just started coming out. Somewhere in the process, someone had grabbed him, and that had put him into another panic attack. Nobody had known what to do, and they ended up having to call for an ambulance where the paramedics sedated him and took him to the hospital. He was fine but was out of it for a while. Then he explained how when he really came out of the whole thing his throat was really sore and he felt sick, and that the doctor had told him it was esophagitis, an infection that hit him because his T-cells were starting to go down.

This led to his explanation of how he had stayed away for a few extra days until the worst of it was over so he wouldn't be spread it to Collins or Roger, and how the infection made his throat so sore that it was difficult to eat. Hence the weight loss, and the passing out.

The entire explanation went uninterrupted, aside from Mark stopping to take sips from a glass of water that Collins had provided, starting to take a lozenge that the doctor had given him, or the occasional cough, but the second he finished, Collins spoke up. "I've gotten that a couple times. I have this tea back at my place that really helps. I can go get some." He offered. "And I can pick up some soup and other foods that are a lot easier to get down. Even though you're getting better that pain's gonna stick with you for a few days."

"Don't go to any trouble." Mark shook his head.

"It'll be more trouble if you starve yourself." Collins stood. "I'll be back later tonight."

After he left, Roger looked over to Mark. "So how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine I guess." He shrugged.

"So you don't think this is a big deal." Roger tried to make the comment seem nonchalant, but subtlety was Mark's specialty, not his.

"Not really." Mark transferred Musetta to his lap carefully. "You do though, don't you?"

Roger stood as though he was going to start pacing. "Well…yeah."

Mark grabbed his arm as he got in front of him. "Roger we both knew I was going to get sick eventually. It comes with the territory of being sick." He tried reason with the musician before things got out of hand with him. He could see where this was going.

"Yeah, but…shit Mark. I only got my first OI a couple months ago. You got diagnosed a couple months ago and you're getting one. You're supposed to have at least two years. That's what the doctor tells you when you first get diagnosed."

"I thought you didn't pay attention." Mark dropped his arm.

Roger started his pacing again. "I didn't. I found it in your pamphlet that he gave you."

It wasn't a particularly happy moment, but Mark had to smirk. "Now who's the dork?"

"I couldn't sleep one night and it was just lying around." Roger justified his actions quickly. "Mark why isn't this bothering you?" He stopped his walk and turned to face his friend.

Mark sighed. "Because…I already knew that I was going to die, didn't I?" He didn't wait for an answer. "So I have an aggressive strain of the virus…that just means it's going to come a bit faster. At least I don't have to sit around waiting and wondering if tomorrow's the day I'm going to go." He paused. "Why is this such a big deal for you?"

"I don't want to have to sit around and just watch you get sick and die!" Roger shouted suddenly. His response was well-timed, it's just that the emotion got the better of him.

Mark shouted right back, his own emotion getting the better of him, forcing him to ignore the pain it caused. "You don't think I felt that way when I wasn't sick! I never wanted to have to watch you go!"

"Damn it Mark, I'm not as strong as you! Or Collins, or whoever!" He wanted to throw something, but found nothing that wouldn't break and cause destruction.

"I'm not exactly gone yet Roger!"

"Well you act like you're just giving up and walking into your grave tomorrow!" Roger quickly shot back.

Mark didn't put a hand out to stop Musetta, who shot up at all of the shouting and leapt off of the couch. "Just because I'm accepting it doesn't mean I'm giving up! I know that I have more time if I fight it. You think that I don't want more time with everyone?" He shook his head again. "I want so much to be fine Roger. If I could go back in time and just not go see my mom and stepfather than I would, but I can't so I learned to just accept the fact that I'm going to die."

"Mark, I'm supposed to die first! I got sick first, that means I am supposed to die first!"

"Well, I guess I got so sick of taking care of you that I decided to force you to take care of me! Is that what you want to hear Roger? That I'm getting back at you for all those years of me taking care at you, and making you watch this happen to me! Because I'm not! And there is absolutely nothing keeping you here! If you don't want to be here then you should just leave and go back to Santa Fe or wherever it is you want to run to now!"

"I don't want to run anywhere Mark! I just don't want to have to sit around and watch someone that I love die!"

Mark's mouth was open to rebut, but nothing came out. He froze. "Did you just say that you love me?"

Roger didn't say anything for a moment. "Well you don't think that I would cuddle and read and kiss and all that stuff with someone that I don't love do you?"

"I love you too." He spoke a lot quieter now, the anger emotion gone. His voice was suddenly much more rough and strained. "Roger, I know this me getting sick thing is bad, but I'm not gone, and I don't plan on going until I finish my film. But we both know that I'm going to die."

"I know…I overreacted, I'm sorry." Roger apologized in an awkward manner, and then looked around, bending over at a crate and picking up a book. "We were on page 28 right?"

Mark sighed. "Roger I'm not reading to you."

"I know. I'm gonna read to you." He took a seat next to Mark.

"Roger you shouldn't get near me, I'll get you sick."

"Well we both know that I'm going to die eventually anyway." Roger threw Mark's words back in his face, and didn't give him a chance to respond before he started to read. "That's something else that gives me a royal pain. I mean if you're good at writing compositions and somebody starts talking about commas."

There's that one. Bonus points for anyone who can tell me what book Roger just started reading from.