A/N from PinkElphaba: well, first I have to say that I'm definitely one of those girls who long to be in Maureen's undergarments, but since technically I AM Maureen, I consider myself luckier than others…

Nothing from what I'll say next will be original after Fae's A/N from our previous update but I'll say it anyway, so- you guys are UNBELIEVABLE! Thank you so much for your reviews, compliments, support and attention, it really means a lot to both of us. And personally, I'm happy with each "poor Maureen" review, because it means that this story reached another goal (other than breaking the "poor marky" pattern), and we succeeded in showing that the drama queen actually has a heart. Fae said she was so close to Mark's character, and I have to say that although Maureen's character is so different than my own (I'm much more Mark-ish I'm afraid…), she became such an insaparable part of me- hell, I BECAME Maureen Johnson! LOL

I can only speak for myself and say- REVIEWS ROCK MY WORLD so keep it up!

To our readers who are as Jewish as Mark and myself, have a happy new year and enjoy this holiday season. To all of you, Jewish or not, thank you again and enjoy the following chapter!

Chapter Eighteen

It was late afternoon when Maureen finally woke up the next day. Yesterday night's events were blurred in her memory, but it all started coming back to her as she lied in bed and stared at the ceiling. She backed away… Mark wasn't there… she wanted him back… God, how did I even let myself get there, she wondered miserably as she dragged herself out of bed. Her head was throbbing like after a really bad hangover, which was another unwelcoming thought, because it instantly brought back memories from that night nearly two months ago. The heavy feeling in the middle of her chest was a painful reminder of her still broken heart. She hated that feeling. She would have done anything to make it go away.

She tried to fix her messed up appearance in the bathroom but to no avail. She couldn't understand how it was possible that she was still tired, after sleeping all these hours… She quickly changed her Plinstons night-shirt into worn out jeans and a simple white tanktop and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Nothing left from last night's beautiful curls. Now it was as impossible as always.

She re-entered the bathroom to wash her face. In an attempt to avoid a face to face confrontation with her reflection in the mirror above the sink, she bent over and tried to stick her head under the streaming water, but failed in doing so. Repressing a sigh of defeat, she put some water between her hands and splashed it on her face. It felt good. Refreshing. Where did I put my face lotion, she wondered as she opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. She located the small bottle on the lower shelf and snatched it. Her gaze wandered among the familiar objects on the three tiny shelves. Rose scented body lotion, Strawberry body mist that used to make people turn their heads after her when she walked down the street, a bottle of aspirin and toothpaste, an ancient pack of condoms, forgotten on the upper shelf, a razor…

Her gaze fixated on that last object. A razor. A pink razor, of all things. It couldn't be Collins', not only because of the color but also because Collins used what officially was the guest's bathroom down the hall, since it was closer to his room. It could have been Joanne's… or hers, but she didn't even remember buying something so girly. She picked it up gently and held it in one shaky hand. The blade sparkled in the white neon light of the bathroom and hurt her eyelids. She accidently raised her head to face the mirror, but it was not her own reflection that stared back at her from the inside, but April's.

Her heartbeat quickened its pace as she instantly removed her gaze from the mirror. Air. She needed air. But she couldn't bring herself to leave the bathroom. As always, the thought of dead April brought the familiar sense of shortness of breath. She brought herself slowly to the floor until she was leaning against the wall, and tried to take long, even breaths. Her heartbeat slowly returned to normal and Maureen opened her eyes, breathing heavily and sweating.

She hated that the thoughts of April did that to her. She felt haunted by the memories of the past, and hated being powerless against their massive effect. She wondered if it would ever stop.

She looked thoughtfully at the razor she still held, and millions of questions were whirling through her mind. Was it very painful? It must have been. But then again April was one of those girls who was afraid of everything. She couldn't even cope with the smallest kind of pain. So how could she do that?

That seemed to be the million dollar question. How could she do that?

If someone as fearful as April was courageous enough to slit her wrists, did it mean that Maureen could, too?

She looked at her left wrist thoughtfully, then back at the razor in her right hand. How do they do it in the movies, she asked herself as she moved the razor closer to the vain, royal blue against the pale skin of her inner arm. How did April do it? What was she thinking the second the sharp blade first made contact with her skin? Did she change her mind when the first pain started? Did she cry for help? Didn't she know what consequences that act would cause? Didn't she even think of her parent? Her friends? Roger?

Damnit, how could she do that?

Maureen loosened her tight grip on the pink razor, and it fell to the bathroom's floor. She closed her eyes to clear her mind off the dangerous thoughts she had just engaged herself in. She blamed it on her shaky nerves. Yet, she knew for sure that she could never bring herself to do such a thing as commiting suicide. She was well familiar with the consequences. She saw what happened to all of them after April died. She could never make them go through it all over again. Other than that, she had so much more she wanted to do in her life… so many dreams she still had to come true… like fame, and family, and true love…

She padded out of her bathroom and into the living-room, where she knew she would find Collins. Meeting Collins meant to confront him, and she really wanted to avoid that but thought better of it. She'd better not postpone it but rather get it over with.

She remembered bits and pieces from what happened after she ran offstage. She remembered hearing Collins, Roger and Mimi in her dressing room; they talked but she couldn't remember what about. Then they took her home, and Collins helped her out of her dress and gave her two pills of Advil. He rocked her in his arms, lulling her to sleep as if she was a baby, whispering comforting words in her ear. Soon the pills' effect was taking over and her exhaustion wore her out, and she was fast asleep, leaning against Collins' chest. She woke up several times during the night, and once in the morning, to find Collins sleeping on a chair near her bed. His presence made her feel safe, and she drifted back to slumber without saying anything to him.

And now she had to face him, sober and wide awake.

He didn't even notice her when she walked into the living-room, barefoot. He was sitting on the couch, hunched over a newspaper, chewing at his pen thoughtfully. Maureen guessed he was trying to solve the Times' crossword puzzle, from last Sunday's paper. That was something she remembered from the old times, when they all still lived together in the loft. When Collins was occupied with the damn crossword each Sunday morning, nothing could distract him, not even a bunch of wild elephants running all over the place. Mark was easier to distract, she thought with a small smile. Whenever he tried to help Collins to solve the crossword she would come to sit in his lap, kissing his neck, tickling him… and she always got him distracted.

She coughed gently to draw Collins' attention without startling him. As he turned to face her, his concentrated expression slowly transformed into a much more worried one as he observed her. He looked somewhat relieved by what he had seen.

"Good morning," said Maureen quietly. She felt silly, saying it at such late hour, but couldn't think of anything better to say.

"It's practically evening among us normal people," said Collins. At least he didn't look angry, thought Maureen with great relief as she dropped herself on the couch next to him. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," she said shortly but meant it with all her heart. She glanced at Collins, who's face remained blank. This is not good, she thought, somewhat panicked all of a sudden. Maybe he IS angry. She didn't think she had ever seen Collins angry. She hated to think she would be the one who'd make him lose his usually calm appearance. "I totally blew it, huh?"

Collins' features softened. "No, not totally. You made a good impression on Anthony when you first met, I'm sure he'll give you a second chance, even after… what happened."

"No, I mean… I didn't mean the show."

"What is it, then?"

She glanced at him carefully. "You. I really messed up. Are you mad?"

Collins hesitated for just a second before he looked at her seriously. "I'll be mad only if you won't tell me what the hell is going on." No accusation, just pure concern. It made Maureen feel even worse, knowing that she let him down, made him so worried… He kept on talking, looking at her intently. "I'm not buying the stage fright excuse, Maureen, not from someone like you who thrives on the spotlight. And I hope to God it wasn't a drug affect but I think I know you better than that."

Maureen shook her head. "I don't touch that stuff. It wasn't that."

"Thank God. But be quiet, I'm not finished," he cut her off sternly. "You have been acting weird for the entire month. At first I told myself that everything was okay, that weird in your case is perfectly normal, but then it went even beyond your usual weirdness, starting with that day you locked yourself in your bedroom to CRY!" Maureen wanted desperately to say something, explain, protest, but he raised his hand to quiet her. "Now, I know you long enough to know when something is bothering you, Reeney, but I saw you didn't want to talk about it so I let it go, I said nothing, but not after last night. That breakdown of yours scared the shit out of me."

"I know," whispered Maureen, "It scared the shit out of me too."

"So we're gonna talk about it all now, whether you like it or not."

Maureen nodded. "Can I get myself a cup of coffee before we do?"

"Yeah," said Collins, softening a little, as he moved to the kitchen. "And you better eat something too, you don't look too hot."

"I don't feel too hot either," she answered, watching him from the couch. He made them both coffee and quickly returned to sit beside her, carrying two mugs and a small plate of toasts, peanut butter and strawberry jam for her.

Maureen didn't need further persuading. She took a small bite of the toast and started telling him everything. Collins' face remained expressionless as he listened intently to her story. She talked for nearly twenty uninterrupted minutes, telling him about the day she and Mimi bumped into Joanne and her new lover in the costume shop, the same day in which she later saw Mark kissing Michelle on the hallway. She told him about the bitter-sweet memories Purple Sky still held for her and her hesitation to do that gig in the first place because of that. And finally, she told him about the previous day's events, starting with the nasty fight she and Mark had when he came to fix her equipment, and ending with her breakdown.

"…So I got on that stage and all I could think about was that night when we first met, and I just… froze. And then I didn't see him sitting with you guys and I kinda… I don't know…" she sipped her coffee and put the mug on the table as she continued, "I couldn't get him out of my mind and it was terrifying because I suddenly realized-"

"…That you still have feelings for him?" completed Collins gently.

Maureen slowly nodded and buried her head in her hands. "I'm pathetic," she mumbled desperately.

Collins touched her hands, moving them away from her face, making her facing him. "No, you're not. Just a little confused. Do you love him?"

"I miss him. I miss this feeling of being with him, being close to him. I think the first time I realized it was when you made me do this stupid flirting thing," she frowned.

Collins burst out laughing as he remembered that long ago party. "Poor Mark, that was hilarious! He didn't know what came onto you that night!"

"You said that flirting with him will tell me exactly how much I wanted him… well, as much as I hate to admit it, this was exactly what it did. At first I tried to convince myself otherwise, that I didn't want him, that I couldn't want him, but as time went by…" her voice trailed off. She couldn't transform her thoughts into words. Saying aloud that she wanted Mark back was much different than saying it to herself in her head. Hearing herself saying it was strange.

Collins looked at her seriously. "I'm glad I got you convinced by this flirting thing, Maureen, but right now I didn't ask if you wanted Mark, I didn't even ask if you missed him. Missing someone and loving someone are two completely different things. Do you think you're still in love with him?"

Maureen took her time thinking about Collins' question. She wasn't sure she had an answer. Yes, she needed Mark, yes, she wanted him back, yes, she was insanely jealous because he now had Michelle, but was that love? How could she tell if it was? She looked at Collins and replied carefully, "That's a scary thought."

He took her hand in his. "Yes, but is it a true one?" he asked gently. "Because if it is, you should tell him."

Maureen shook her head. "I can't."

"You have to!"

"I can't ruin his life again, Collins, I've done THAT too many times. I won't forgive myself if I ruin what he has now with…" she couldn't bring herself to say her name, but Michelle's perfect image was clear in her mind. So were Mark's words; she'll be twice the person you'll ever be! She makes me happy! How could she argue with THAT? How could she even fight it? All she kept doing was making him miserable. She shook her head. Stop thinking about it!

Collins squeezed her hand gently. "The least you can do is try. Who knows what you're gonna find, hidden right there where no one even thought of looking. He might feel the same."

Maureen let out a skeptical snort. "There is no way he feels the same. I hurt him too many times, and we both know that Mark is not stupid. It's true, it took him forever to get over it but I'm sure he IS over it by now. He made it pretty clear yesterday morning that he did."

"Look, Maureen, you HAVE to tell him. It will be the biggest mistake of your life if you don't. Don't give up on that, how can you even think of doing it? Maureen Johnson never gives up!" his tone became more pleading and persistent as he looked at her. "He might be with Michelle right now and that's fine. You said it yourself, you hurt him a lot, he's trying to get over it, to move on. But just as Joanne was not the one for you, Michelle is not the one for him, I can promise you that. I don't see in his eyes that spark I used to see when he was with you. I told you that from the day I introduced you, remember? You were made for each other. You can't give it up."

Maureen shook her head in protest. "Collins, I dumped him, for A WOMAN, I made his life a living hell when we were together, I made him even more miserable when I left…"

"Exactly so," said Collins calmly, "This is why you should be the one to do the first step." He gave her his intent look again. "You have to do this, Maureen. You know you do." He glanced at his watch absentmindedly, then did a double take and jumped off the couch as he noticed the time. "Oh, damnit!"

"What?" she asked, startled.

"I was supposed to meet Mimi and Roger in Life half an hour ago!" He was already halfway to his bedroom, putting on his trench-coat. Maureen followed him there. "Wanna come with me?" he looked at her through the mirror as he fixed his dark blue beanie over his head.

Maureen hesitated and sat on his bed. "I don't know. After last night I think it will take a lot of time before I have the guts to show my face out of this apartment again."

Collins took her arm and pulled her back to her feet, then wrapped his arms around her. Maureen laid her head against his chest. "New York will be deprived a pretty face if you don't come out," he said softly. She smiled against the fabric of his coat.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you yesterday by the way. I know you were only trying to help. I was really hysterical and I took it on the wrong people."

"It's okay, sweetie, I know you didn't mean it. I'm sorry I called Mark for help. I didn't know how bad it was between you two, and everyone else I would have called was an expensive option."

"So we're cool?"

Collins smiled and kissed her cheek. "We're cool. Sure you don't wanna come along? It'll do you good, you need some fresh air."

"No, I'll just stay here and drown in my own misery and self pity."

Collins frowned. "Just remember where it had gotten you the last time."

That was what started the whole damn thing in the first place, she thought bitterly. She managed a small reassuring smile. "I know. I guess I'm just not used to being miserable, that's all."

"Everything's gonna be okay, don't you worry about it, I'm sure you'll work it out in no time. Join us later if you'll feel up to it, okay?"

"Okay," she returned his smile, but then remembered something and grimaced. "Is Mimi okay? She didn't look so well yesterday."

Her question seemed to take Collins by surprise. He thought of it for a moment but then said, "Yeah, she did look a bit weak, but I'm sure it's nothing. She's just stressed out because of her work. She did four double shifts last week to get off yesterday for your show…"

"Oh fuck…" sighed Maureen as she broke from their embrace. Was there anything else she could still mess up? Mark hated her, she made Collins panic, and Mimi worked like crazy the week before just to see her friend running offstage.

"Maureen, I didn't mean it to sound like it was your fault-"

"I still feel that it was though," she said bitterly.

"Listen to me. Stop it. I don't wanna hear it. You had a lousy month, what happened yesterday was a perfctly normal reaction to all this. Try to listen to your body, your mind, your heart, it tried to tell you that it couldn't take it anymore. What you're gonna do about it is up to you. The only thing that still bothers me is that you should have come to talk with me sooner."

"I'm sorry…" she whispered.

Collins touched her chin, making her face him. "Don't. It's okay. Everything's gonna be fine. Now I really gotta run," he snatched his wallat from the top of the dresser and shoved them into his coat pocket. "We'll wait for you, think about it, Reeney!"

Maureen stood in the hallway, somewhere between her bedroom and Collins'. She had no idea what she was going to do. She didn't feel like going back to sleep, she was wide awake now, after that conversation with Collins. Watching a movie on TV was not a good idea either, she was too distracted to follow any film at that point. Should she go to Life? She felt too humiliated to do that. The memory of her breakdown was still fresh and painful in her mind, she had to let it die away a little before she could face other people. She really wasn't ready for Roger's teasings and Mimi's inquiries. She wouldn't know what to say, anyway.

She walked back into her bedroom. The sun was nearly gone by now, hidden somewhere in the west behind the buildings and coloring the room in a soft orange light. Maureen opened the top drawer in her dresser. She took Mark's photo out of its hiding and looked at it thoughtfully for a long moment. Should she go there and tell him the truth? How could she? What would she say? What if he'd kick her out like she deserved?

Damnit, so many questions…

She sighed desperately as she dropped herself on her bed and closed her eyes. So many reasons for why NOT going… but what if it WAS the right thing to do? What if Collins was right and they were made for each other? What if Mark was her one all along? Could she risk living in solitude in her future just because she gave up on him in her present?

Her eyes snapped open as she brought herself into a sitting position. They were burning in determination now, without a single trace to the pain and misery they contained only seconds before. You are Maureen Johnson, she reminded herself, you never give up. She looked at the photo once more before she got up and put it back in her dresser. She needed to go there, she knew she did, but she didn't want to show up uninvited and risk bumping into Michelle. So she decided to call him first.

Looking for the wireless phone through the apartment brought her back into Collins' bedroom. Just as she stepped into the room a loud ringing sound pierced the heavy silence, making Maureen nearly jump up to the ceiling with a start.

"SHIT!" her heart was still racing when she finally realized that the ringing was coming from under a pile of clothes on Collins' bed. She shoved it aside snatched the reciever. "HELLO!" she breathed into it.

"Maureen?" asked a familiar female voice.

Maureen's eyebrows knotted together as she tried to identify the voice at the other end. "That's right, who is this?"

"You have been living away from home for too long if you cannot recognize your own mother."

"MOM?" asked Maureen incredulously as she dropped herself on Collins' bed. Exactly what I needed to add to my trouble supply, she thought bitterly.

"How are you, sweetheart?" It was asked casually, as if they were speaking on the phone daily. The truth was, that Maureen didn't speak with her parents for almost two years.

"Why are you calling here?" Maureen cut her off coldly.

"Well, your father and I are in New York for a convention. I thought it might be a good idea to meet you for dinner."

"I'm not hungry," she replied shortly, her tone icy cold.

"Maureen, please, stop acting childish. We want to talk with you, work things out-"

Maureen couldn't believe her ears. Work things out? Oh please. "After nearly four years you want to work things out? It's a little late for that now, mom."

"Honey, why don't you just-"

"Mom, we went through this before, I'm happy with my life and my choices and I'm not changing my mind. That's it, that's final. Now I don't want to be rude or anything but I'll appreciate if you won't call here ever again."

"Maureen, don't walk away from us-"

"You taught me how," said Maureen before she hung up. She didn't even have a chance to digest what had just happened, when the phone rang again, startling her once more.

"I asked you not to call here again!" she steamed.

"Whoa, chill out Maureen, it's just me…"

She sighed, rolling her eyes at her mistake. "What do you want, Roger?" she asked coldly.

"I wanted to know if you knew where Collins is. He was supposed to meet us in Li-"

"He's on his way, he left couple of minutes ago."

"Oh." There was short silence before Roger added carefully, "Are you… okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," said Maureen shortly.

"Ummm… okay, so... thanks, talk to you later," he hung up quickly. Maureen dropped the reciever back on Collins' bed. She was so shaken by what had just happened, that she forgot why she even got to his bedroom. Then her gaze fell on that pile of clothes on his bed, and she smirked. And he dares saying that I'M making a mess. She could tease him endlessly about it later, she thought triumphantly. It made her feel a little better, a little like her old self again. Then she thought that while she was there she might borrow that cool new beanie he bought the week before. She had to stand on her tiptoes to reach to the top shelf in his closet, where she knew he kept all his beanies. She located the one she wanted and reached out for it…

And her hand made contact with a solid object that was hidden behind it.

Her forehead cringed in confusion. "What the hell…" she muttered as she slowly removed the beanies and scarves aside and pulled the object out. She gasped as she realized what it was.

Mark's camera.

She instantly remembered what was she doing in Collins' bedroom. She was looking for the phone to call him… to make sure he'd be in the loft when she'd come to tell him that she…

Her confusion grew as she turned her gaze from the camera to the back of Collins' closet, where it was hidden. How the hell it got there? She remembered saying something nasty about it to Mark the day before, but she couldn't remember what it was. Damn, she didn't even know he lost it!

She touched the old camera slowly, gently, as if it would break if she'd use too much force. Poor Mark. Maureen knew how much his work meant to him. She assumed that losing his camera must have been really tough for him. It was more important to him than his family, as sad as it sounded. At least, Mark had never tried to contradict her when she once stated that. She couldn't understand how it got to Collins' closet of all places. Why would Collins keep it from Mark? He knew how important that camera was for Mark, they all did. When did it even get there?

And then, all of a sudden, she didn't even care how it got there, or why didn't Collins say anything. Now more than anything she knew what she had to do. That camera was her sign.

She had to go.

She ran back to her room, where she shoved her feet into old pink All-Star sneakers and put the camera carefully in her bag. She snatched the first jacket she saw on the rack near the front door. It was Collins' brown leather jacket and it was three or four times her size, but Maureen could care less as she locked the door and left her apartment hastily.