DESTROYED

Chapter 17

SUMMARY: Okay, so I've decided to keep on writing for now. Otherwise I'd never hear the of it from a certain person. And no, Daina, I haven't cracked. I've decided to continue writing to finish the story for you and those who have requested me to do so. Okay, so anyway, in the last chapter our favourite group of bohemians came together and vowed to stay strong for Angel's sake. This chapter is about Mark, while wandering back to the hospital after going back to the loft to get his camera, manages to record something extraordinary… something that could potentially determine what happens to Angel and Collins. Also, Julia returns.

It was now three hours later and there was still no word on Angel's condition, and so they could only take that as a semi-positive thing because they would've informed them if he had died or if his condition had worsened. No news is good news, right? Collins had been there ever since Angel was admitted to the hospital almost a week earlier, but everyone else came and went as they pleased. But ever since they learned of what had just happened to Angel inside the hospital, and their reaffirmation of their friendship and family, no one was prepared to leave. Especially until they heard either way. Collins was feeling a lot better knowing that no matter what happened, he wouldn't lose the love and support of them but that doesn't mean the guilt inside him had dissipated any less.

It was just approaching 12:45 PM and the hospital was once again flowing with visitors and patients were being escorted too or from their rooms in preparation for whatever they were there to have done. Roger was asleep on one of those steely cold plastic hospital chairs, with Mimi also asleep on his lap. Mark was pacing up and down the corridor, obviously bored out of his mind without his camera around to keep him occupied. Maureen had disappeared to get some food with Joanne. And Collins was by himself, staring out a window at the busy New York life… people going about their daily lives, oblivious to all else except their own goals and lives. As it should be. Getting involved with other people's lives, especially those who don't want that involvement, can lead to very sticky situations… even tragedy.

Collins leaned against the window and let out a soft, wistful sigh, wishing that he had Angel in his arms… that they were back at their apartment (in which he hadn't been to in ages), just lying in bed with their arms around each other and talking, whispering, cuddling, kissing… doing what normal couples do. Having Angel in his arms was what he wanted more than anything, and now to be in a position where he couldn't control whether Angel lived or died… where he couldn't even get to say goodbye if Angel did in fact have to leave this mortal world behind… Collins was beyond the point of absolute anger or absolute agony. He was just letting go of any attempts to control it all now. Things would turn out how they were supposed to… but if Angel did die, he would never be the same again… but right now, there was no word either way, and so he vowed to keep strong and believe that Angel would pull through. Standing at the window, Collins looked up to see dark clouds' gathering in the sky… a summer storm was building, and it really suited his mood. Droplets of rain started lightly tapping against the glass and so the buildings, cars, and people in the distance started to become distorted by the rain. While absentmindedly staring up at the grey sky, he thought back to almost two years earlier… on a cold Christmas Eve…

FLASHBACK – CHRISTMAS EVE 1989

Groaning and holding his arm tightly to his chest, the force of the blows that had been dealt to his torso had severely winded him, causing him to cough and splutter while swallowing as much air as he could. The pain was excruciating and lying against that cold wall in the dirt was befitting to his situation… Thomas Collins, a computer-age philosophy professor, who had just been fired from his job at MIT had no where to go but back to his friend's lot, where they were having enough trouble keeping heat and electricity utilities and paying the rent… it certainly wasn't a very merry Christmas. Nevertheless, he had vowed that he wouldn't be the one to create a dark cloud over the rest of his friend's lives, and just wanted to hang out with those who he felt most comfortable with.

"Fuck," he muttered and winced, before letting out a shallow gasp and groan from the pain.

Struggling, he managed to push himself up against the wall and started shivering. Those bastards took his coat and it was threatening to snow… bleeding from his knee and with several cuts on his face, Collins felt the stinging sensation of the open wounds coming in contact with the external environment. This shit was not what he was needing right now… why couldn't God just pick on some other poor, unsuspecting bastard?

"You okay honey?" came a sweet, soft voice that startled him to the point where he felt his whole body jump from shock. Looking up and blinking through the tears and letting his eyes adjust to the light that was shining down on him from the street light, Collins raised his hand to his eyes to shield the excess light, and saw someone… a slender young man, standing just in front of him. The person then knelt down and his face came into view, and Collins couldn't help but gasp softly at the beauty of this man… his features were delicate and friendly; soft and surprisingly caring and comforting… who was this person?

"I'm afraid so," he finally admitted, getting back to reality. He touched his forehead and winced at the stinging of the wound. Pulling his hand away from his face, Collins squinted and saw the residue blood on his fingers. Dammit. The younger man smiled in a non-sympathetic way, but instead showing that he cared. Reaching out, he gently touched the handsome, yet injured man lying against the wall on the side of his face, just underneath one of the cuts he had obviously sustained during the mugging (in which he hadn't seen). The man kinda drew back at his touch a bit, not knowing who this stranger was.

"They get any money?" he asked, resting his hand on the man's shoulders. Collins shook his head in response and tried to sit up further, but couldn't without the assistance of his new acquaintance.

"No," Collins replied. "Had none to get. But they purloined my coat…" a sudden rush of anger surged through his body and glaring in the direction where the muggers ran off in, and yelled at his long-gone attackers, "WELL YOU MISSED A SLEEVE!"

He looked back at the stranger, who was holding something out to him… it was the remaining sleeve of his coat. He took it. Then, Angel reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, and before Collins could react, he gently pressed it against one of the wounds to stop the bleeding. "Thanks."

"Hell it's Christmas Eve!" the person cried, exasperated and wondered how people could do this to another human being, especially on the eve of the day of giving and love and friendship. Instead of releasing the anger he felt, he regained his composure and looked at Collins, who was studying him in return, with curiosity.

"I'm Angel," he smiled, charmingly and warmly.

"Angel…" Collins repeated, and smiled in response, momentarily forgetting any pain he was feeling. The beauty of this 'Angel' person was overwhelming and he immediately felt at ease… likewise, Angel couldn't help but be drawn to this fallen stranger, whose handsome features and vulnerability only ignited the attraction. But there was just something there that had them encapsulated with each other, and neither could identify what it was. It was energy…

"Indeed…" a curiosity and even an intrigued tone in his voice, and all the pain and anger fell away as Angel helped him to his feet. "An angel of the first degree," he complimented, grateful for this beautiful young man's help... and something told him that the attraction was reciprocated… mutual. "Friends call me Collins… Tom Collins. Nice tree…"

Angel blushed a little and grinned. They both realized that they were still holding hands after Angel helped him to his feet, but neither of them pulled away.

"Let's get a band-aid for your knee; I'll change! There's a life support meeting at nine-thirty, yes this body provides a comfortable home, for the Acquired Immune-Deficiency Syndrome," Angel couldn't stop himself from confessing his disease to this stranger, who's eyes widened with surprise and he thought for sure that this Tom Collins guy would become more reluctant. But instead, to Angel's surprise, Collins' eyes softened.

"As does mine…" Collins admitted, in slight shock that he and this beautiful soul were both infected with the same disease. This revelation caused Angel's heart to flutter and excitement caused him to squeal with delight… the attraction between them was instantly deepened.

"We'll get along fine; get you a coat, have a bite; make a night – I'm flushed!" Angel fanned himself with his hand and linked arms with Collins out of pure attraction and also to make sure that he would be okay. But Collins initially resisted, weakly, and lightly pointed back towards the lost.

"But my friends are waiting!"

But Angel ignored him and stopped and turned around to face him, lightly grazing the side of Collins' cheek with his index finger. He was in a very flirtatious mood and there was just something about this guy that made him…well he was just so drawn to him, like with no man ever before.

"You're cute when you blush!" Angel came dangerously close to admitting his attraction, but was a little scared. Understanding that Collins had somewhere else to be as well, he added, "… The more the merry ho, ho, ho! And I do not take NO!"

Collins couldn't believe the extraordinary personality of this vivacious Angel, who had instantly warmed his blood with the very first time their eyes connected. Finally, his resistance broke down and his muscles relaxed and allowed Angel to lead him away from the building. Was this the start of something special? It certainly felt so…

END FLASHBACK

Collins smiled at that memory of the first time he and Angel had met… if there was ever the perfect example of love at first sight, this was it. Angel was his soul, his life, his everything… the reason for love and existence. The first time they kissed was so sweet and tender, yet so passionate and fiery… the taste of Angel's lips made him melt and only want more, knowing at that moment that they would forever be together. Of course, it seemed like fate had different plans and well that was just another obstacle that they faced in the course of their lives. Well whatever. There was nothing much he could do about it now and in his mind he kept repeating over and over that Angel was strong and would recover… but it seemed that the more he told himself that, the less he believed it.

"Hey," Mark's voice interrupted his thoughts and Collins turned around just a little as Mark came and stood next to him at the window.

"Hey man," Collins replied with a small smile. Acceptance of the situation at hand was never going to happen, but he definitely didn't mind some company.

"You okay?"

"Shouldn't I be asking that?"

"Does it matter?"

"Probably not," Mark agreed. "To answer your question, I'm okay. You?"

"Seen better days," Collins replied and let his entire body weight rest against the window. All of his energy was almost gone; he could feel it – and Mark could see it. But the adrenaline was still keeping him awake, so there was little chance of him getting any sleep. "Doesn't seem fair…" he whispered, wistfully and lowered his eyes to his hands. "That Angel's gotta suffer cause of me…"

"He's not suffering 'cause of you, Tom," Mark replied and clasped his hands behind his neck, stretching his arm and neck muscles as best he could. "Think about it - he's still alive. No matter what, Sam hasn't succeeded… Angel hasn't let him."

"I guess he was right, then."

"Who?"

"Sam. When he said that even I didn't want to let go of the past."

"Why?"

"I dunno… I guess I was just scared or something. Angel is everything Sam's not, and I guess I felt I didn't deserve him," Collins explained. "Like something was gonna come along and destroy what I have with Angel because he was too good for me… when really the only thing to destroy it was me. I dunno, man… either way, Sam was right."

Mark, feeling the weight of fatigue finally taking a hold of him, felt himself practically fall down on the chair next to the window, against the wall.

"Fuck, Collins," he muttered. "Never say 'Sam was right'. That's just…"

"I know."

"And stop blaming yourself. It's getting old."

"Uh-huh."

"I mean it."

"I can do whatever I damn well please."

"Get over it."

"Bitch."

"I know."

The two of them paused and looked at each other, before erupting with laughter. It was an ice-breaking moment and gave both of them a little bit of relief from the torment that was going on in their lives. Collins felt lucky to have the friends he did, and in the world they existed in, he needed them more than anything – should Angel die, he'd still have them, true. But they wouldn't have him anymore.

"So what you gonna do?" Mark asked, more seriously. "I mean, about Sam and Julian?"

Collins just kept quiet upon hearing Julian's name, figuring it was he who probably did this to Angel now. Like I said before, it's not rocket science. But what could he do now? I mean, there was no way the law was gonna make them pay – there was no evidence! Their history with Sam would be brought into question and it would be a classic 'us' versus 'them' type thing… plus, Sam and Collins' relationship would also be a central issue, as well as Angel – Collins didn't want to put Angel through the stress of having his entire life and indeed lifestyle questioned. At least, not without total certainty that Sam and Julian were punished for it all.

"What can I do, Mark? Those assholes are gonna get away with almost killing the love of my life; the cops are damn sure not gonna do anything about it; and Sam's gonna be laughing it up that he's finally got his revenge on me."

"Sam didn't win anything, you know…"

"Sure, Mark. And Angel isn't lying in that operating room almost dead because of me. Come on man, you look me in the eyes and tell me you don't believe that."

As much as Mark wanted to open his mouth and disagree with everything his friend just said, he couldn't deny the inevitable fact that if Collins had been honest with all of them from the beginning, none of this would've happened – or at least, not turned out as badly as they have.

"It'll get better."

"Sure."

"I'm serious!"

"I know you are. Doesn't mean I believe you anymore than I do."

Mark sighed, giving up on trying to convince him otherwise, and ran his fingers through his blonde hair, and then stood up.

"Look, I got something I gotta do; I'm heading back to the loft. Need anything?"

"Nah I'm cool."

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, seeya later man…"

"Yeah."

Mark left, once again leaving Collins alone to his own mind and in being alone he was able to regain his thoughts of him and Angel in more 'normal' times. He remembered that every time they used to lie in bed together, Angel would seductively kiss his neck and let his tongue caress the soft skin behind Collins' ear, stimulating the senses and heating up the already intense passion that kept both of them more satisfied with each other than ever. Angel knew just the right spots on Collins' skin that could get the older man in the mood for some good ol' fashioned lovemaking (not that it took much coaxing). To think of the possibility that it may never happen again… and that there was nothing that was preventing him from going out and finding Samuel and putting his head through a brick wall… the only thing that was keeping Collins at the hospital was the small possibility that Angel might wake up and need him at his bedside.

"Angel…" he whispered his name, with so much sadness in his voice. Angel wasn't even dead, and it was like he was already feeling the anxiety and pain of losing a loved one. Seconds passed. Minutes. More minutes. More than thirty minutes after Mark had left his side, Collins was still in his same position at the window…

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't even noticed the middle-aged man in the white medical coat approaching with a clipboard in his hand.

"Mr. Collins?"

Turning around, Collins paled when he saw the doctor standing in front of him, looking solemn. Shit… he thought. Oh God… no… please no…

Stepping forward, he resisted the temptation to grab the doctor by the throat, shove him against the wall, and demand to see Angel, but knew that would get him absolutely no where.

Shaking very badly now, he wrapped his arms around his stomach and felt like he was getting smaller by the second.

"Wh… how is he?" was all he could say, his voice cracking with anticipation.

"The surgery… was successful," the doctor gave him the news he wanted to hear, and all Collins could do was close his eyes and sink to the floor – his legs finally gave out on him, despite it being the news he longed for. The doctor rushed to his side and knelt down to support him, but Collins gave him a small wave of the hand to let him know he was okay – sort of.

"Sir?"

"H…" Collins stuttered. "How is—"

He allowed himself to be helped up.

"He's stable; we're moving him back into ICU. Angel is under very heavy sedation; sir, he lost a lot of blood…"

"Will he live?" Collins asked, dreading the answer.

"We don't know," the doctor replied, honestly – and sympathetically. Right now, it could go either way because Angel had lost a lot of blood, especially from his shoulder and obviously his throat.

"The knife wound nicked one of his carotid arteries and so there was extensive blood lose. The wound in his shoulder was reopened, the tendons connection the muscle to the shoulder bone has been completely severed, and he will need to have reconstructive surgery on it tomorrow. Right now, we've just been able to control the bleeding and stabilize him."

Taking deep breaths, Collins lifted his eyes to study the body language and composure of the medical physician – there was a sense of hope there, he could tell – that all was not lost. But to have Angel still alive almost having all the blood in his body drained from him – it was a miracle.

"Can I see him?"

"Of course."

MEANWHILE, WITH MARK – 1 HOUR LATER

Rare was the occasion when Mark was without his camera, but his documentation of his life and the lives of his friends were very important to him – because sooner, rather than later, four of his best friends would be dead. Angel, Collins, Roger, and Mimi all had the virus that would eventually lead to their deaths, and that knowledge was not lost on Mark, Maureen, or Joanne. So, through the good times and bad, Mark would always be there to record their times together and preserve the past on celluloid and be able to step back in time every time he turn it on. Ever since Maureen left him, it became a solace as he lost himself in the work and found the beauty and creativity of filmmaking.

Running his fingers across the lens cap and walking down the sidewalk, Mark looked around at the bustling New York City life. He'd lived here for as long as he could remember, and never before did the city seem as dangerous as it did now… and never before had been so affected by violent inhabitants that called NYC home. The Alphabet City was never as scary, but it's not like he was afraid of it or anything – just more wary of everything going on around them.

It wasn't long, though, before he came across the alleyway in where Angel had been found – the place where Samuel initially attacked him. Stopping where he was, he couldn't resist the temptation to take a detour from his intended destination – the curiosity was just too great. But before he could even put one more foot in front of him to walk down the alleyway, a voice called out from behind him.

"MARK!"

Turning around, his breath caught in his throat when he saw Julia Sampson jog up to him, and she had obviously come from the direction of the loft where he had been just minutes earlier. She was looking quite tired from the hours of driving it would've taken for her to get to the city from where she lived. She was wearing low-riding jeans and a black and blue t-shirt, with blue sandals and her hair was pulled up into a basic ponytail – attire that was suitable for the summer, but apparently she hadn't been warned of the impending storm in the city, so she was also shivering a bit. Finally, she came to a stop just in front of him.

"Hey, Julia," he replied, slowly, just as she pulled him into a hug which, needless to say, stunned him. After the shock wore off though, he returned the gesture but could feel his heart repeatedly slamming into his ribs in rapid succession. "What you doing here?"

"I tried to call the loft but no one was there, you know? So I figured something was up." Even though she wasn't yet fully accepted by the group, and she knew that, Julia did feel a strong connection to them through her strong friendship with Collins. And Mark felt she could be trusted, but he may be biased, considering well… it doesn't matter. She didn't know what had happened with Angel in the hospital, and he was dreading have to repeat the events again. "What's been going on? Is Collins okay? Angel?"

"Well, uh…" he stammered and fidgeted, looking around them nervously. "You missed a lot, Julia. Bad shit has gone down."

Her face fell. "What?"

Mark looked down the alleyway again and gently took her by the arm and pulled her in its direction. If he was gonna tell her then they should at least have some privacy. Julia allowed herself to be pulled away, her resistance breaking down, and she followed Mark into what she didn't know was the 'scene of the crime' that took place last Friday. It was a long, narrow alleyway that was filled with garbage bags, debris, glass, razor sharp barbed wire, among other things… a dirty, disease-ridden environment that she certainly wasn't accustomed to, and she scrunched up her face in disgust at the horrible smell. Apparently, though, it didn't seem to bother Mark – or if it did, he didn't show it…

"Mark, what's going on?" without warning, and out of a sudden fear that crashed into her for some reason, she grabbed his hand and stepped over a knocked over trash can, with all its gross contents spilling out across the walkway. Mark hesitated nervously, before adjusting his grip on her hand in a reassuring manner that he wouldn't let anything happen to her – to him, she lived an obviously sheltered life when it came to her stepping outside of her comfort zone. Before he could reply though, Mark came to a stop so suddenly that Julia almost crashed into him from walking so closely to him. He stared down into the pile of debris and glass, with a horror. Julia's eyes followed his gaze, and once they focused on what he was staring at, she too was overcome with fear – her expression mirrored Mark's. Blood. A hell of a lot of it. And shreds of a flowery white garment, maybe from a skirt, that had been dyed red from all of the blood…

"Fuck," she whispered and moved closer to Mark, who in response placed his arm around her waist in comfort. "Mark, what the—"

"Don't you get it?" he replied. "You think this life is cool now, Julia? This is where Angel was attacked… the crime scene…"

Julia whimpered and felt the stinging burn of tears in her eyes, as vivid images flashed through her head of what must have happened – the pain Angel must have been in and the fear of dying. Mark moved to let go of her, but she held onto his arm, letting out a soft protest of 'no'. The reality of how these bohemians lived and how different their lives and struggles were to her own cushy lifestyle had hit her with the full force of a freight train. Looking down at her, Mark then realized how scared she actually was, and so kept his arm fully around her – he wasn't used to being in the position of having to protect someone, but given her obvious naivety, he didn't mind at all. Using one arm, Mark shifted so that the strap of his camera fell off his shoulder, and yes he was planning to get this on film… not show it to anyone, but just in case… Julia watched him and then realized what he was doing.

"You're gonna film it!"

"Just trust me, okay!"

"Dude, that's not cool."

"I said, 'trust me'!" he snapped, unintentionally. "I know what I'm doing. This may come in handy for the cops…"

"You think they'll do anything?"

"Probably not. But it's worth a shot, isn't it?"

Julia didn't respond; not wanting to argue with his logic… whether it was skewed logic or not, she knew there was a reason behind it. She couldn't understand how they lived, so it wouldn't be appropriate for her to dictate to him what was right or wrong; what was moral or immoral. Morality went out the window as soon as she stepped into the East Village. Using one hand, Mark manipulated the camera so it was ready to roll, but then had to let go of Julia so he could actual film the environment – if cops weren't gonna do their job, then he'd do it for them. It wasn't him being heroic, but after what had just happened to Angel in the hospital, where he was supposed to be protected and to recover from his already substantially serious injuries, Mark had lost even more faith in the city officials.

"I can't believe this…" he heard her whisper, in awe. He wasn't surprised at her reaction, but was surprised at her lack of ability to understand it. "How can you guys live like this?" Immediately Julia regretted asking that, knowing how bad that sounded. Mark looked at her, knowingly, but wasn't offended.

"Maybe you should ask Sammy that," he replied. "You wanna know what a trashy life is? Can't get more fucked up than his."

"I don't wanna know," she conceded, still holding onto Mark's shirt while he filmed. "Is it always this bad?"

"You have no idea. People like you watch the news and see the rioting and car chases without having the slightest reality check. No offence."

"None taken."

After Mark finished, he replaced the lens cap but kept the camera on standby just in case he saw anything else that caught his attention. He then knelt down next to the puddle of blood, being careful not to touch it.

"Fuck… shit, Angel…" he whispered in disbelief about how much blood there actually was, and how Angel could survive another attack given all the blood that he was robbed of.

"I'm sorry," Julia whispered – the group was very close, something she had yet to understand, but wished they would allow her to. If anything, she wanted to break down the barrier and distrust between herself and them. She wasn't surprised that they, except Collins, was so distrusting of her and wary of her presence, and Mark certainly seemed more accepting of her than the others – also, there was Angel, but they connected over Collins. "It's gotta hurt bad…"

"More than anything," Mark nodded. "The worst thing is not being able to do a damn thing about it."

She helped him stand up straight and then linked her fingers with his, and the two of them stared at each other. Generally speaking, they're polar opposites – coming from different backgrounds, living different lives, holding different values and different interests, so it would be safe to guess that these two hooking up wouldn't be a good idea. But right now, logic and reason was non-existent in the bohemian world in which Julia had willing crossed over into. She didn't understand them anymore than they did her, but if the circumstances were right, no one would be able to tell (on the surface) that she wasn't one of them. Julia desperately wanted to understand, without getting too close… and that couldn't happen. So the situation called for her to re-evaluate her priorities and values that were programmed into her from an early age. And given that they were standing in a dirty alleyway, right next to a pool of Angel's blood, it certainly wasn't the time nor place for them to act in anyway with each other. Instead, Mark eyes flickered with uncertainty.

"Angel was attacked." He simply said. She wanted to know? He would tell her. Confusion was what he read on her face.

"I know that—" she started to say, but he raised a hand to keep her quiet so he could finish.

"A second time," he continued. "In the hospital."

Julia's eyes widened. "WHAT!"

"I think Sam lured Collins outside, leaving Angel alone… it was last night…" Mark's throat closed up and could barely keep it open long enough to say what he had to. "Someone then went and slit Angel's throat. He was tortured a second time!"

Julia almost fainted at that news and lost her balance, but Mark caught her by the waist just in time to keep her falling down into the garbage and barbed wire.

"You okay?"

"No… no one heard him screaming!"

"I guess he shoved a sock in his mouth or something, I don't know!" Mark cried and started walking, still holding onto her hand, pulling her along. "Angel's in surgery now… I don't know…"

"How's Tom?"

"Collins? How do you think!"

"I mean… how is he holding up?"

Mark shook his head and jumped over some barbed wire, while Julia stepped around it. Her hold of his hand just seemed to grow tighter as they moved further down the narrow passageway between the two tall buildings.

"He's okay, I guess," Mark assured her. "He's opened up a bit… he knows he's got us. He still blames himself, though…"

"It isn't his fault."

"Part of it is, but I know what you're saying. It's not all his fault."

"Way to support your friend, Mark."

"Well I ain't gonna lie about it, especially to him. He abandoned us all you know…"

"So you still blame him?"

"Fuck, no Julia! It's just I'm not gonna sugarcoat it for him and the reality of it is, he did fuck up and now both of them are paying the price."

Julia again didn't reply to that – it was clear how much her knowledge of life was different from Mark's, so again them hooking up probably would just result in fighting and constant bickering or whatever. After all, they are from two different worlds. But then again… opposites can attract. In fact, she found herself admiring Mark's position and how he wouldn't back down from it – like he was admitting that neither him nor his friends were perfect and that they saw the world for what it was. Cold. Harsh. But love and friendship and family made it all bearable… and that was all they needed.

They walked further down the alleyway silently for a few more moments… what more can be said? Julia's unfamiliarity with the surroundings would leave her as fresh meat to the creeps that often crawled around these areas, so she made sure to stay glued at Mark's side.

"So…" she spoke up, wanting to kill the awkward silence. "How are you handling it?"

"Not good," he confessed, giving her a sad, despaired look. "It's like the family is falling apart all over again, you know?"

"I haven't seen anyone as strong as you guys. I guess you have to be," she agreed and lightly kicked at a small tin can.

"You wouldn't last two minutes."

"Thanks."

"It's the truth. A preppy rich girl like you? I still don't know what you're doing here…"

That was enough. Julia harshly yanked her hand away from his and came to an abrupt, glaring harshly at Mark, who also stopped and turned around.

"What? You okay?"

"No I'm not okay!" she spat back. "I'm sick of you rubbing it into my face of how I don't and couldn't possibly understand, and that I couldn't survive here—"

"You couldn't!"

"And I'm inclined to agree with you. But my friend is hurting and his boyfriend is almost dead, and THAT'S why I'm here, Mark! You act like I'm not supposed to be here," she yelled at him, sick and tired of his, in her mind, condescending behavior. "Like there's some invisible barrier that forbids me from being here; like it's not normal!"

"It isn't!" he replied, but wasn't yelling. He knew why she had suddenly been pissed off and regretted saying what he did… he didn't mean for it to come out like that. "You forget, Julia that people from your type of neighbourhood that cast us out as outcasts, like we don't belong… like we're the drain on society. It's your society that condemns us and treats us like animals! Don't go at me with your self-righteousness… you may be here for Collins, but don't pretend you understand it! You're society tells us that we're the failures and brings us out as the bad influences on people's kids, like we're nothing but poverty-stricken lazy artists who have nothing better to do. And you know something? They're right. We're the ones that get treated like nothing… so there is a barrier. I'll bet anything if your family knew you were here, they'd go nuts. It's society that put up that barrier. Not us."

Mark couldn't help but throw that out at her, and Julia stood there in stunned silence. Everything he said was true… they were outcasts, deemed so by people like her. That really did suck… no wonder it was so hard for her to gain their trust.

"I—" she stuttered and took a step back. Mark instantly regretted going off at her like that.

"Julia I'm sor—"

"No," she interrupted. "Forget it; you're right. Why trust me? I get it…" she turned away and started walking towards the end of the alleyway, where there was a backstreet that diverged in both left and right directions.

"Julia!" he called after her, but she didn't turn around, so he chased after her. But before he could reach her, Julia reached the end of the path and came to a stop when she saw two young men talking quietly about thirty feet away from her. They looked like shady characters, and the younger looking one seemed to be yelling at the other man, who looked somewhat pissed off.

"Julia, look, I'm sorry—" Mark approached her, but stopped when he also saw what – or who – she was staring at. And he recognized them.

"Fuck!" he muttered and grabbed Julia's arm and pulled her against the wall, to remain out of sight of Samuel and Julian. He pinned her to the wall with his own weight, and she glared at him.

"Mark! What are—"

"Shh!" he hissed. "That's Sam and Julian."

"What!"

"Shh!" he hushed her again. Their faces were within inches of each other now, and to say there was some tension there would be an understatement. Mark had never used force like this against any woman before, and never before was he so controlling… but he couldn't take a chance of those two psychos finding them.

"Stay here," he instructed firmly. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going!" she kept a hold of his shirt. "Are you crazy?"

"That's besides the point," Mark replied. "Just stay here…" he stepped away from her and she let go, silently praying that he didn't do something he'd regret. Mark wasn't the heroic type – that's more of Roger's thing. Instead, he was kinda the outsider looking in… so to be thrown into the centre of the situation like this was more than a little daunting for him. He kept low and quietly snuck behind a stack of garbage bags to get a little closer to what they were saying… he then removed the lens cap off the camera and tried to remain as still as possible. He'd have to get closer to be able to clearly here what they were saying… after he was in a good position, he pointed the camera in their direction and started filming.

Sam was so close to beating the shit out of Julian… he didn't think his friend would go so far as to slit Angel's throat! If he died, they'd be up on murder charges for sure!

"Fuck, Julian!" he almost yelled. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"At the time?" Julian responded, casually, not getting why his friend was wound up so tight. "I dunno… seeing him lying there so helpless. That feeling of control. You know – you must've felt it too, last week."

Sam slammed his hand down onto the metal sheet that was perched against a light post, after being discarded. The banging noise caused Julian to jump back, slightly shocked at the strong reaction he was getting… Sam had been in on the plan all the way! Granted, he didn't know about the knife or what Julian was planning to do to Angel, but now Sam thought they were both way in over their heads.

"You just better hope he keeps his mouth shut!" Sam growled. Friendship aside, he wouldn't hesitate the tear him apart if Angel did divulge the details of both attacks – now Julian was in deep too, so if Sam went down he could take consolation that his idiot partner-in-crime (literally) would go down with him.

"Or what?" Julian challenged. "He can't prove anything! With the history between us and them, there's nothing they can do about it!"

Mark kept the camera firmly focused, and just whispered to himself, wanting them to slip up and say something stupid… something that can prove to the cops that they did it, and would therefore force their hand to act. Surprisingly, Mark didn't feel at all nervous, but did feel his heart beating harder and harder…

"Come on, come on!" he softly implored. "Give it up."

Sam stared up at the cloud-ridden sky and exhaled the smoke from the cigarette he had lit minutes earlier… too bad Randy was having a bit of trouble getting the stash. The business deal hadn't turned sour, yet, but it was just a little more difficult than anticipated, and Sam was impatient. He needed his fix. Things were getting bad with Angel and Collins, and even though Julian was right in that they couldn't prove anything against them, there was still the possibility that they would talk.

"You better be right, Julian. I swear, I won't hesitate to get them to beat you into an early death if we get fucked over. You hear me?"

"Fuck you. We're in the clear!" Julian replied and took a chugged down some more beer. "Get over it!"

"I'm warning you…"

"Dude, I got it covered!" he insisted, chuckling at the paranoid behaviour Sam was exhibiting – and he wasn't even high!

"Like I said, you better be right."

Julian walked over and patted Sam on the back, reassuringly. Despite the threats and the fact that neither were afraid to screw the other over if the time absolutely called for it, they were friends through and through. They lived in a very harsh world, in which it was every man for himself, and they were no exception to the rules.
Sam shook his head and leaned against the light post, taking another drag of his cigarette and kept his thoughts to himself. He was terrified of getting caught out for rape and attempted murder, and if Angel died then it would be murder… and as much as he wouldn't hesitate in killing someone who came between him and his business deals, when it came to Angel… if Angel died, the pain that would be inflicted on Collins is too much for Sam, considering that he still loved him.

He then looked at Julian. Julian wouldn't intentionally hurt him, and they would always look out for each other… unless circumstances dictated otherwise.

"I still love him."

"I know, buddy. I know it hurts. But believe me, you're better off without him! I mean, you see what he did to Angel, right? Whose to say he wouldn't do that to you?" Julian pointed out.

"I know."

"Look," Julian sighed. "If anything happens, I'll have it covered, okay? You're not going to jail. I gave Angel what he deserved, and you sure as hell did last week… you know they still haven't cleaned up the blood, right? No one gives a damn about what happened to him!"

"You attacked him in the hospital, Julian!" Sam retorted. "I think they'll care, now, if not for Angel – for their reputation and legalities or whatever… they don't wanna be sued, so they're gonna care now!"

"You shoulda seen it, Sam!" Julian ignored him and smiled, reliving what he did. "I cut his hands, so he couldn't do anything… then his throat… you should've seen the fear. Even you would've got off on it!"

"Shut the hell up!"

Mark couldn't believe what he was getting on film… Julian had just made a total confession! This was gold! If there was ever a time Mark's camera proved useful, this was it. A smile spread across his face as he turned the camera off he leaned against the wall for support.

"Oh my God…"

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Mark has just caught a confession on camera… things are gonna get interesting. Next chapter: Does Angel live or die? Collins makes an emotional plea to his lover.