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Chapter Twenty-One

"Not going to make it?" repeated Mark traumatized. Not again, he thought desperately. Don't do this to him again. He didn't know whom exactly he was talking to, but he prayed to anyone to keep Mimi alive. Mark thought of all the suffering Roger had gone through with April, all the suffering he's going through with his AIDS… a man could only take so much.

"Mark!"

He looked behind Collins, and saw Roger speeding toward them, a frantic look in his eyes. He appeared to be terrified, frustrated… expressions that he once saw in his friend before. It was all some horrible deza vu. Mark met Roger halfway. Roger was about to scream, he knew it.

"They won't let me stay with her!" he yelled, pointing an accusatory finger down the hall. "She needs me… I need her! Mark- I can't do this again."

His pleas were of devastation and total hurt. He slunk his head down, and rubbed his eyes intensely. Mark placed his hands on Roger's shoulder, and led him to the waiting room after giving Collins a solemn look. He felt pity for Roger, and he only hoped that there would be one moment in his life where he would fulfill everything he's ever dreamed of. They sat in the waiting room, which was nearly empty except for a couple, bowing their heads in sleep. Roger was trying hard not to cry. Most of his ranting about the doctors came out halfway through his throat, and he couldn't help but choke on a few words.

"Why does this keep happening?" he asked miserably. "What did I do wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong, Roger," Mark replied. This sounded all too familiar. It was almost like the conversation they had when April left the world. "Look… at least you have someone solid. It's even worse when what you want is so near, and yet you can't…" He stopped. What was he talking about? He wanted to kick himself. He shouldn't shift the pity on himself to make his best friend feel better. He had to comfort him, reassure him that everything was going to be okay. Mimi, gone? How could two simple words cause so much agony? Roger laid his forehead on Mark's shoulder. A few moments later he could feel his best friend's tears soaking through his jacket. Mark just sat there patiently as Roger wept quietly.

It was a long night. No one slept. It was too hard to. Plus, Mark never was comfortable in an environment filled with bright, piercing lights, needles, and the aroma of human flesh circulating the air. It was all some horrible sci-fi movie. Collins and Maureen stayed nearby but minded their distance between him and Roger. Mark often found himself alone, however, because Roger tried to pry into Mimi's room now and again. He couldn't keep still. If he wasn't complaining, or trying to peek through the small window of Mimi's room, or picking the lock, he was pacing around God knows where. Mark tried to get him to eat something, but he would only take water. Mark did have his moment where Roger got up once again, only this time in a different direction.

"Where are you going?" Mark had asked for the hundredth time. It wasn't toward Mimi's room. Roger mumbled something, but he couldn't understand it. "What?"

"I said I need to use the restroom," said Roger irritably. Collins and Mark exchanged glances, and tried not to laugh. They didn't. The humor instantly dissipated and the tragic feeling of losing Mimi came forth again.

Mark didn't sleep at all. He stayed awake the whole night until the morning sun crept in. Collins managed some rest, and Maureen had taken a liking to an orange chair that she kept nodding to sleep on. Mark was wide awake though. He felt that he needed to watch over Roger in case he needed him. The extra time gave Mark a chance to think. About what? About anything. Mostly Angel. He was hoping that she would help Mimi back onto the track of life like she did once before. Miracles happened everyday. Mark hoped that Mimi would be the lucky one, and be saved by Angel once again. They could always depend on Angel.

Roger had been gone for a long time. Three hours. Where could he have disappeared to? Mark began to worry. He couldn't have gotten lost. No… they had been there too many times, he wasn't lost. Mark stood up, and started to walk around. He checked out various rooms, casually strolled up and down the halls, nonchalantly peered inside some curtains, but still, Roger was out of sight. He had checked Mimi's door three times, and knew he wasn't there. Where was he?

"What are you DOING?"

That was Roger's voice. Mark turned his head quickly. Two doctors, or nurses, were holding Roger's arms as he tried to struggle free.

"Calm down sir, you'll be back home soon," said one of the guys in white.

"I'm NOT crazy!" Roger yelled.

"We didn't say you were, sir," said the other. Mark walked toward them and tried to be as calm as possible. He would have liked to yell at them, but this was one of the times where he had to act mature.

"Excuse me, what's going on here?" Mark asked.

"It's all right, we've got everything under control," said one of the nurses.

"Mark-"

"I think you've made a mistake, this is my friend Roger. His girlfriend's in the hospital, I don't think it would do him any good if you go on treating him this way." Mark grabbed a hold of Roger's arm and pulled him away.

"Sorry," the other said. "He never told us. But he has to be aware that the needles and all other medical equipment are off limits."

Needles? Mark nodded. "Got it, he's just a bit out of it." They nodded and left. Mark looked at him seriously. "Needles?" he repeated his thought.

"Mark, I can't take it, it's driving me nuts! They might as well have just thrown me in the asylum."

"You said you wouldn't even think about doing that anymore," said Mark.

"I needed something…anything… and it's all good right? From the hospital." Mark knew that he was trying his dry humor on him, but it wasn't funny. Mark just frowned and stared at him disappointedly, and Roger threw him a dirty look.

"I didn't do it, if that makes you feel better," he said.

"Roger, don't let this get to you. She's going to be okay-"

"Mark this is life. This is the way life is, and I'm so fucking tired of it. Death seems to be a lot better than this. At least you don't see anyone die." He choked up and fell to his knees. "Not Mimi. Me. Mimi. Me instead of Mimi."

Mark knelt beside him and hugged his friend. How was it that a few days ago Mimi was as excitable as ever, and now she was lying on a hospital bed, possibly her deathbed? How was it that life threw everything at them, but lemons? There wasn't much time for anything. God, give us more time, Mark prayed. Give Mimi more time.

"Help me Mark," whispered Roger softly.

"You gotta be strong, man," replied Mark. He felt himself becoming teary as well. "Mimi's doing all she can, but she's weak right now. You've got to be strong for Mimi and for you. If she sees you like this… what is she going to think? If she sees you breaking down, she'll be even more afraid. You can't do that to her."

"You're right." He pulled away. "Why are you always right?"

Mark shrugged. He really didn't know. He was good at giving his friends advice and yet they failed to do him any good.

"Is everything all right with you?" asked Roger trying to wipe the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Fine… I'm uhh... single again."

Roger sniffed and looked at him. "I'm sorry man."

"No, I called it off. We're cool. Don't worry about me, take care of yourself. I'll get some pizza. You have to eat something."

"Why bother? If I faint, I'm at the right place to do it."

"Come on, let's get back before Collins get worried. Then I'll pick up some pizza and soda."

"Mark?" They stood up.

"Yeah?"

"It's 8a.m."

"Oh. Then I'll get some coffee." 8a.m., man he couldn't even keep track of the time. It was all such a mess. They returned to the waiting room where Collins and Maureen tried to ask as nicely as possible where the hell they had been. They had explained what happened, and Collins had some great news.

"I bought you some time with Mimi. The doctors said you could go in right now. But I'm afraid she's still unconscious," said Collins.

"That's fine, I just want to be with her," said Roger.

"I'm gonna go get some coffee. Orders?" asked Mark.

"Cappuccino, strong," said Collins.

"Vanilla latte," murmured Maureen. Mark looked at Roger.

"Nothing," he said and left abruptly. Mark switched expressions with Collins, but Collins sighed.

"Get him some coffee. Black. He needs something strong."

"All right, be back soon." Mark treaded out of the hospital as quickly as possible. It felt nice to be outside again, the sun providing a soothe feeling of heat unlike the cold ones the hospital gave off. There was a Starbucks nearby so he went there, although they overcharged ridiculously. But he did have to admit. They served damn good coffee.

He entered the peaceful coffee shop, the air filled with the fresh scent of mocha, soft music playing in the background, unruffled with noise and commotion. It was so calm, so tranquil. He stepped up to the counter and the young lady smiled at him, asking for his order. They were always so perky at Starbucks. He gave her the order, and she asked for his name.

"Mark," he replied and she scribbled it on each cup with a black Sharpie pen.

"Mark," she repeated. He looked up to see that she was gone, however. That voice was not coming from her. He turned around. Michelle smiled meekly.

"Michelle. Hi." He didn't know what else to say. He definitely did not expect to see her there so soon. What he had hoped was that they'd just sort of stop seeing each other without a reason or a word. Obviously, he didn't like heavy break-ups. Plus, he didn't feel like another argument. Michelle was just too much for him…too much like his parents…

"Mark. Can we talk?" she asked, tiredly. She looked as if she didn't get much sleep. He probably didn't look so good either.

"I guess. But I have to leave in a few."

"Can't you drink it here?"

"It's not just for me, they're for my friends at the hospital." Mark stopped himself from saying anymore. If he mentioned that Mimi was in the hospital she might freak out and go into that whole I-told-you-so ordeal. He looked down and leaned against the counter.

"Mark. Mark I'm really sorry. I lost my temper last night."

"I noticed," he replied. The terrifying scene that the two were going to tear each other apart replayed in his mind. He hated to see them fight; he hated any violence like that whatsoever. What was there to fight over anyway? It was stupid. And he couldn't believe Michelle, of all people, didn't have enough sense to stop the fight. Instead, she was the one who started it.

"I hope that you could forgive me," she said desperately. "I didn't mean it, I… I really care about you."

Mark looked at her but something felt funny. He didn't feel compassion, or love, or his heart swelling up. He just felt passive, bored. He looked through her.

"Michelle. I can't. It's over," he said plainly.

She looked at him horrified. "You can't mean that."

"Michelle. I was obviously wrong about you. You weren't the girl I thought you were," he said bluntly. Why was this coming along so easily? Something felt strange, but right. He said it without hesitation when usually he would be shaking in his boots.

"I've always been the same girl from the moment I approached you at Life Café. Mark you can't do this, we need each other."

"I think I could do pretty well without you." He was beginning to become annoyed with her desperateness.

"Mark you saved me."

Huh? "What?" He was beginning to think this girl was a bit off her rocket.

"I love you Mark."

He stood there in silence. The girl he was looking at before him was not the same girl that came up to him at Life. It was all some façade. It was all some hallucination. He use to look at Michelle and think that this was the most wonderful woman in the world, and that she was the one to fill him with happiness forever. But now that he looked at her, he just saw another face. Another face lost in the crowd. Another face in this world of deceit. "Michelle, I don't love you."

"Mark, order's ready," someone called from behind a counter. He looked at the far end and saw four drinks. He walked over and stirred some sugar and cream in his coffee, and sprinkled some cinnamon. "Can I get a placeholder for these?"

"Sure," said the girl and ducked underneath.

"It's her isn't it?" Michelle was behind him.

"What are you talking about?" Mark knew very well who she was talking about but decided to take this opportunity to awaken the devil inside her, just to prove how evil she really was.

"Maureen, you've been with her all this time," she claimed.

"Right, like I have enough money to spend on the both of you, let alone Maureen." He didn't mean it as it sound, just that Maureen would be hard to spoil because she asked for so much. But Michelle took it the wrong way.

"How could you do that to me?"

"I didn't do anything to you Michelle," he said.

"God, I gave you all of me Mark and I got nothing in return."

"That's not true Michelle," he said protectively. "You were very important to me, but somewhere along the line, you changed."

"Mark, I'll change…"

"No. I don't want you to feel persuaded to change to make us work out… to make us happy. People are supposed to be together and feel comfortable with another regardless of pet peeves. Someone shouldn't have to change for someone unless it comes naturally. People shouldn't change each other, but make each other better."

She was quiet this whole time. Mark had finished with the coffee, and grabbed the handle. He started to walk out leaving Michelle speechless. Please let me make a decent exit, he thought madly. He didn't want to have to trip or anything, how awful would that be?

"Mark," she called. He stopped in his footsteps but didn't turn back. He just waited. "Does this mean it's over?" Mark shook his, and proceeded out. It felt kind of nice. Mark Cohen had never dumped a girl before. Maybe he should do it more often….

Nah. He was sick of dating for a while.

He returned to the hospital with the beverages and Roger was still inside with Mimi. Mark tried to hand him his cup but he refused it. He didn't feel well enough to eat or drink anything, he said. Mark just sighed and drank it himself. He was getting wired. The caffeine was giving him a weird effect. Although he felt sleepy, his veins were jittering like crazy. All day long they occupied themselves with cards, snacks, chess games, puzzles, and silence.

Later that night, Mark started to feel exhausted and he wanted to take a few chairs and just sleep. But he tried to stay awake for a bit more. There was a bit more people than usual in the waiting room. Maureen was sitting between Collins and Mark. Her head was resting on Collins' shoulder, and her eyes were closed. As quietly as possible, Collins and Mark carried out a conversation over her head, without trying to wake her.

"He's in bad condition," said Collins softly. "I've never seen him so obsessed. He was devastated when this happened to April, but this is almost insane. The boy is hurting and we need to be there for him."

"I know, I'm here, he knows we'll always be there for him," said Mark.

"You can't tire yourself out though. You and Maureen should go home, get some sleep. I can handle Roger."

"No, Collins, that's all right. I want to be here for Roger. I want to be a good friend. I can't let him go through with this alone."

"The thing with Roger is that he is alone, and we can't do much about it but let him deal with it. He feels so alone, more alone than ever, now that Mimi is slowly drifting away. I mean the one person he loves is lying sick. He's lost and just utterly lonely. Roger just needs to be with her as much as he can right now."

"Isn't there anything we can do?"

"Hope and pray. We just have to be here for him."

Mark nodded in agreement. Hope and pray. Mark knew Collins was thinking of the same thing. Angel. He knew that Mimi had to go through another tunnel before leaving this world forever. And he knew that Angel had to be standing right at the end of it to tell her to go back.

Mark fell asleep that night. He couldn't help it, he was so tired. A few times he would open his eyes and see Roger in the row in front of him. The doctors must have kicked him out, thought Mark sleepily trying to comprehend as much as he can before falling back asleep. Thankfully Roger was asleep all those times Mark woke up in the middle of the night, so he didn't have to worry about him. He slept uncomfortably, but it was something. He missed the way it felt.

He was later awoken by a hand shaking his shoulder.

"Mark."

Mark groaned. Not now, he thought.

"Mark?"

What? "Hmm?" he opened his eyes warily to see Roger. "What's the matter?"

"Mimi woke up."

"What?" Mark tried to sit up but his head weighed a ton. It rattled a bit and he yawned.

"She woke up, but only for a few minutes. And then she fell out of consciousness again. But she woke up, and I saw her, and she said my name." He was a bit more excited than usual, and it seemed as if that moment with Mimi stored the faith and trust and hope he had lost back into his heart. "I'm going to go back in the room."

Mark nodded wearily and Roger left. Collins appeared next to him. "Go home. It's an order."

"I can't."

"Look Roger's going to be fine, and Mimi looks like she's coming along. If anything big happens I'll tell you. Go play with your film reels, or take some pictures or something. Just get out of here."

"You better call."

"I'll fly over there if I have to, I'm Superman. Now get out of here Mark."

Mark tried to give him a smile but he was too weak. He needed to go home and get a proper sleep. As he walked home, his legs felt more and more like rubber. Every step, every dragging second, exhausted him even further. He almost fell asleep while walking. A century or so later, he arrived at the bus stop just as the bus pulled up. There he tried not to drift into a world of dreams although he kept nodding off next to the man beside him. When he got off and went into his loft, he practically threw himself onto his bed. Ahh, how comfortable. Nothing felt more like Heaven than his bed right there. He didn't bother changing, and snuggled into his covers, drifting into a nice long sleep.

A few hours later he woke up for no particular reason. He just didn't feel tired anymore. Actually, he felt as if he needed to do something. Like there was something he'd been wanting to do for a while now, but just didn't have the time to do it. He hardly even thought about it until now. So he got up, and washed up a bit before heading to the cemetery to visit Angel's grave.

He arrived with the wind's chill wrapping around his neck. He pulled out his scarf from his pocket and tied it around his collar. He liked going here now and again to visit Angel. She was always a comfort to him whenever he was really depressed. She always reminded him about friendship, and how much each person meant to each other. He was a definite philosopher of friendship being thicker than blood. The leaves rustled beneath his feet as he approached Angel's grave. Angel Dumott Shunard. Today for you, tomorrow for me.

Mark smiled. Angel, you were always the optimistic one, he thought contentedly. She was always the one that made everyone smile, the one that everyone had to adore. Why she came to their lives so suddenly and left so quickly, he didn't know. Why did God tease them so, to send them such a wonderful angel and then call back for her in no less than a year? He missed her so much. He had learned a lot from her. He was much happier knowing that she gave him the confidence he needed. Ever since she died, his confidence faded along with her. He started to feel depressed all over again.

"I'm trying," he said softly to her gravestone. "I'm trying to be as happy as I can. But it's hard when another one of your friends is dying. So many of them… why are there so many of them?"

He didn't know whom he was asking exactly. All he knew was that there were no answers to his questions, and that they were just questions to be pondered at forever. Perhaps when they reached where Angel is, she can give them the answers. Of course by then it would be too late.

"Save Mimi, Angel," he said softly. "If anything, at all…I'd rather be the unhappiest person in the world than have Mimi die."

A small breeze swept across him. He turned and listened to it whistle softly. If he listened hard enough, he could swear that he heard the wind whispering to him. And the whispers from the wind would be Angel's voice telling him that everything was going to turn out all right…

Mark paused. He heard something. He could hear it. A soft voice crying with the wind. Angel? What was she trying to say? He stayed as quietly as possible and listened hard. It was inaudible. They were just murmurs. Mark shook his head. They weren't Angel's… a small figure caught Mark's eye. Across the cemetery was Maureen praying near April's grave.

April…. God, why April? Why Maureen? Why did she have to be here? Mark glanced once more at Angel's grave, and he felt a strange feeling send down his spine. Something told him that he needed to go to her.

Whatever you say Angel, thought Mark.