Every day now. I can't help myself. All I wanted was… if I had to die, then I had to die alone. Nameless, faceless, meaningless.

The little girl who would have been pretty, a lifetime ago.

Sadistic, masochistic, I know, but the whole part of being me was that it was painful. I hurt Roger and I just deserved to hurt in return. Dying would have been escaping the hurt. So I couldn't be me anymore. I had to be no one so I wouldn't be escaping.

It made sense to me in theory when I made the decision. But… now… it's every day that I walk past Mark and Roger's building. For all my talk of separating from myself, I miss Roger so bad.

I walk past and just stop and stare up. I'm not scared of them seeing me, they wouldn't recognize me anyway. I'm not pretty anymore, I'm not vibrant—I'm just this dirty little street girl with too much hair. And that's all they would see. They could probably walk right into me, help me up and continue walking without realizing it was me at all. Or Mark could. I can't help but hope that Roger would recognize me. We're supposed to be connected.

I wish I knew what was going on with Roger up there. If he's sick, if he misses me… hell, I don't know if he's even alive.

And my dirty hands are pulling the door open and my legs are walking up the hard cement stairs like I've made this trip a thousand times before, because I have. But not ever like this. My body has gotten used to not walking up stairs and I'm so tired halfway up that all I want is to stop and sit down. My legs don't stop, though, and suddenly I'm in front of a door covered in marker scribbles.

Mimi Marquez & Roger Davis, March 25, 2002- 3 MONTHS. STILL EXISTING. ROGER HAPPY.

I die, without you. Love you, RogerBaby.

I HAVE ALWAYS LOVED YOU. YOU CAN SEE IT IN MY EYES. ~ROGER DAVIS,2001

I gingerly trace my fingers over the messages about me and Roger, trying hard not to cry. This shouldn't affect me, because I'm not me anymore.

But, I'm lying to myself and I know it. I can't escape from being in love with Roger. And I can't escape the fact that I'm getting really sick… and I'm going to die. I want to make things right with Roger before I do, I can't let it end like this. I need him to know that it wasn't my plan to go out and hurt him with Mark. I need him to know that—even though we fought all the time—I loved… love him. More than anything.

I can't lie to myself anymore.

Myself has gotten too intuitive and sees right through it.

My hand's curled into a fist and I timidly knock on the door. I don't know what I'm going to do if Roger's not here, if he's—I'm not going to think about that. I can't. Roger'll be in there and he'll be okay.

I can't stop my entire body from tensing up, though, when I hear the "attempting to open it up" noises from behind the door. My eyes open hopefully when I see the blonde hair, but reality comes crashing down the second I catch sight of the glasses perched on the face below the blonde hair. I clear my throat, swallow hard, and finally manage in a small voice, "Mark?"

He looked like he was going to say something, but now his eyes open wide in recognition and his mouth snaps shut. I manage a weak smile while I watch his features harden. Oh God, what's wrong? "Mimi," Mark responds coolly. My attempt at a smile immediately disappears. "You shouldn't have come back."

And suddenly I'm staring at the marker-covered door again. Mark shut the door on me.

I reach out again and bang on the door.

No response.

I didn't expect one.

"Roger?" I whisper pathetically at the door. You dumb little girl. Do you really think he's going to answer you? He's not even fucking in there… You saw how Mark responded. Roger's dead. There's no other explanation. He got sick or… or he committed suicide after your inner slut decided to pop out. You killed the man you love, Mimi, and there's no way you can just go waltz back into his best friend's life.

By this point, tears are absolutely streaming down my face. I turn numbly and start slowly, carefully making my way down the stairs. Wouldn't do me any good to fall down these stairs again. I look down at my feet, making sure to carefully plant my foot on each step. On the landing on the floor where I used to live, I run smack into a body. My eyes lift, staring forward at a broad chest clothed in a green button-up shirt. "Fuck, I'm sorry," I mumble, my nose all stuffed up from crying now.

My eyes lift even more now, and I find myself looking into a pair of dark brown eyes, sparkling in recognition. The mouth that goes with the eyes curves into a little smile. "Mimi!" Benny.

I try to smile at him, but fail horribly and instead just start to cry with actual sound now. The recognition and smile immediately fades away into complete concern as his eyes sweep over my body. "Oh Benny," I whisper and suddenly I'm five feet off the ground, held up firmly in Benny's arms. I'm not sure entirely what he's doing, but my head rolls and buries into his chest anyway. I trust him.

I feel myself being set down on a soft surface. A blanket being gently pulled over me. My eyes flutter open now that the tears have started to slow. I'm in my apartment. My old apartment, exactly the way I left it. My head tips back and Benny's sitting on the couch, my head laying in his lap. One hand gently strokes my pile of tangled hair, while the other wipes off make-up streaks. Steve liked me to wear make-up.

Why are we in my old apartment? "Benny?" I ask in a tiny voice. "Why are we…? Isn't the person who's renting the apartment going to be… I mean…"

"Shhhh, Mimi." I shut up, looking at the expression on his face. He looks so… it's like a mixture of love and concern and worry and relief. "There's no one renting the apartment, I… uh… saved it for you." He looks down at me with an embarrassed grin, looking a little red. I smile a little, that's sweet. "I mean… it's not like you were paying to live here before and I was hoping…" He grins again and sits me up now. "Let me look at you, Mimers. I'm so happy you're here, I missed you… really, seriously, I missed you so much."

I slowly stand myself up, holding tightly to Benny's hand for support. I'm not the greatest at quick, or major, movements anymore. He reaches out and steadies me, resting his hand on my hip. Tears spring back into my eyes again as I watch him recoil some. I was so happy by his reaction to me, it's so much better than anyone else is anymore. "Don't cry, Mimi. No no no, shhhh, don't cry. I just… why are you so skinny?"

I stare at Benny, making my eyes go blank. What am I supposed to tell him? That I'm skinny because I'm sick and I ran away from my dealer so I've been living on the streets for the past two weeks? And I wasn't even eating properly when I was living with Steve for those five months? "Last time I weighed myself I weighed 95 lbs," I finally whisper in the quietest voice I can manage.

Benny sighs, letting go of my hand to slide his other hand down to my hip. I bite my lip, no wonder Benny reacted like that before, I can feel my bones against his palm. Disgusting. He reaches up after a second and pushes some hair out of my face. "Mimi, go have a shower, okay? Your comb and shampoo and everything is still… you like that vanilla and orange shampoo, right?" I nod with wide eyes, absolutely amazed by him knowing that and caring. I've just been using Steve's leftover shampoo, or restroom soap, lately and this is so… "Good. Go have your shower and I'll… I'll get you something to eat, alright?"

I nod again, less scared now. A small smile spreads across Benny's face, as he leans up to kiss my cheek. He lets go of my hips now and I start to shake a little. It's stupid, I know, but what if he doesn't… I mean, Benny doesn't really have any reason to stay and—"Mimi? Mimi, come on, look at me." I feel Benny tapping my chin to raise my eyes. When did he stand up? "I'm not going anywhere, promise. Come on, sweetie, just go have your shower, you'll feel better."

I don't really have any other choice.  Benny won't take no for an answer, I know. And he's always right too, the shower does make me feel better. That is, until it's time to comb my hair out. I just can't do it. I can't stand and I can't hold my arms up for that long. Too much hair. Wrapping a big blue robe that's not mine over my clothes, I take the comb and carefully make my way out to the main room. I have to support myself by holding my hand on the wall. "Benny?" I call softly. "I can't… could you… maybe comb my hair out for me?"

He turns around, looking at me in confusion from the "kitchen". "Why can't you comb your own hair, Mimi?" My shoulders slump a little, but he doesn't notice. He's turned back to the stove already.

"I can't stand up for that long." Clatter. My eyes widen as I realize Benny just dropped a ladle on the floor. He slowly turns, holding a bowl of soup in his hand. What did I do wrong?

"Sit down, Mimi," he commands in a strained voice. I immediately do as he says, watching him move around the kitchen. He adds crackers to the soup, then comes over and sets it in my lap. "Eat." I obediently take a small spoonful as Benny picks up the comb I left next to me. "I did think you'd be able to eat a lot of something solid right now if you haven't been… so I just…" He trails off and starts just gently pulling the comb through my hair instead.

"Eat!" I look up, realizing I haven't taken any more bites since that first one. "Goddamnit, Mimi, eat your fucking soup!" My eyes widen and I take a token spoonful as we lapse back into silence. What did I do wrong? "Mimi?" His voice is gentle now. He feels bad for yelling before, I guess. "Why are you so… weak and sick and everything?"

Can't tell Benny that. He'll just yell at me. And I'll sound stupid. Besides, why should he have to ask that, it should be obvious. I've been gone… "I haven't been taking my medicine," I finally whisper, knowing Benny wants a response.

He's pulling the comb harder now. I can tell he's mad. "Why haven't you been taking your medicine?" He asks, his voice steel. Crap.

"I… I didn't see any point," I finally stutter, scared of his reaction. He's gonna be mad and—he's gone. My mouth twists into a frown, that's not what I expected and—the couch next to me sinks down again.

"Take this." A hand is thrust in front of me, little pills in it. I stare up at Benny with wide eyes. "They're probably expired, but just take them, Mimi. I'll get you a new fill of prescription tomorrow, but just take them for today. I don't want you to…" He's worried. I take the old AZT and obediently swallow it with a spoonful of soup.

I wish I knew why he was doing all this.

A long time later, I'm finally finished my bowl of soup. Benny takes it and washes it. He's being so… "You're going to bed now."

"I'm what?" I let out a squeal, as I'm suddenly lifted up in Benny's arms again. Before I realize exactly what's going on, he's set me so I'm sitting on the edge of my bed. And his hands are pulling at my bathrobe, then my shirt. Of course. I should have expected that this is why he's being so nice. This is what they always want.

As Benny pulls my shirt off, I stare numbly down at the floor waiting for him to make the next move. Bra unclasping. And then kissing and Benny doing whatever he wants to me. And—but it stops after the bra-unclasping. "Mimi?" Benny's voice penetrates my consciousness. I slowly raise my eyes, finding him staring at me in compete concern. "What drawer do you keep your pajamas in?"

I wordlessly point at the bottom drawer, watching him in confusion. He kneels down and sifts through my pajamas, eventually pulling out a long sleeved pair. That's really weird, you'd think he'd… "Lift up your arms, Mimi," Benny tells me softly. I do as he says, incredibly confused, until he starts to carefully pull the top over my arms and then my head. "Do you think you can put the bottoms on yourself, or do you want me to help?"

"I'm… I'm okay," I respond softly, as Benny helps me stand. My eyes widen a little as I realize. He's actually putting me to bed. The bottoms are relatively easy on—maybe the food and old AZT helped—but Benny scoops me up almost immediately after getting them on. He gently "tosses" me onto the bed, then crawls in beside me.

My eyes widen more and I think I start to panic a little, though, as I watch Benny. He undoes the buttons on his shirt, then starts on his pants. Fuck, I thought… Benny looks up now, noticing my panic. "Shhh, no, Mimi, I'm just—" He desperately points at my pajamas. "Sleep… Is it alright if I…?"

He wants to join me. Sleep in the same bed as me, but not sleep with me. A small smile comes over my face. "Yeah, it's okay." I nod a little, as Benny smiles and undresses himself. I'm actually okay with Benny sleeping next to me in just boxers. He lays me down and crawls in next to me before I realize.

"Won't Alison be mad? If you don't…"

"Don't worry about Alison," Benny interrupts sharply, causing me to cringe away. He sighs a little and draws me back into his arms. "I'm not married to Alison anymore, just don't worry about her, alright?"

"But, what?"

"You need sleep, Mimi," He interrupts me again, with a sigh this time. "We'll talk about this tomorrow, sleep now."

He doesn't need to tell me again. I don't really have enough energy to think about whatever's going on with Benny's marriage. I do feel better than when I woke up this morning, but… I cuddle myself more into Benny's arms, a small smile on my face. He feels so warm… and safe… and he cares about me.

For the first time in months, I feel good going to bed. I don't feel so awful about kissing Mark, I can make things okay, I can make Roger… It's far too reassuring that Benny doesn't hate me, has just accepted me back.

Maybe things can be okay?

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Author's Note: Well, after a long wait, and the grounding of my beta reader, this is finally here! Thank you sooooo much to Ellen for reading this, and I *am* going somewhere with Marky. ;) Hopefully you all liked this, I'm kinda proud of it!

Disclaimer: Nope, no one's mine!

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