Chapter Fourteen: But Now the Air is Filled with Confusion
The Fall was a fall from innocence to knowledge.—The Handmaid's Tale, Margaret Atwood

Mark sat in his room, holding his camera in front of him and pointed at himself. "May 11th… No, May 12th, 2:07 AM. April's asleep in the next room, Maureen's out in the living room, the other three still aren't home yet… and someone's still keeping secrets. I'm sick of it." It had been almost a month—not quite—since he'd noticed Maureen holding April in the bedroom, April looking as if she were about to break down. That had worried him, but he'd shrugged it off at the time, since the girls obviously weren't about to tell him. But there had been other things since then, little things, and not-so-little things, that still worried him.

Like last night. Maureen had dragged them all out to a club—much to April and Mark's dismay—and they'd stayed out for most of the night. And then out of the blue April and Roger had gotten into an argument, vehement but quiet enough that no one else could have heard it over the music and general noise of the club. After that, April had just taken Maureen by the arm and told her they were going home, with no more explanation than that… Mark had followed them both home, but he hadn't asked what had happened. He'd almost been afraid of the answer. He still was, but…

He had to ask. If something was upsetting April, he should know. They all should know, but apparently only Maureen was allowed to know whatever secret April was keeping. It bothered him, especially knowing that it had to involve Roger, somehow. He grimaced and looked straight into the camera. "I'm going to ask Maureen, and hope she doesn't kill me. I have to know what's going on."

Mark turned the camera off, set it down on gently on his bed, and walked to the living room. Maureen sat on the couch, her knees pulled up to her chest and chin resting on her knees as she stared at the television. Not that there was anything particularly interesting on at this time of night—morning—even after Collins had stolen cable for them. Mark turned off the television as he passed it, and before Maureen could protest, he sat down next to her on the couch and said bluntly, "Tell me what's going on with Roger and April."

She stared at him. "Mark, what…" She stopped, and composed herself, the surprise disappearing from her face almost immediately, consummate actress that she was. "What d'you mean, what's going on?"

Mark sighed. "Maureen. Do you honestly think I don't know when you're keeping secrets? Whatever's going on with the two of them, you know about it, so don't play dumb. It's really not working."

For a moment or two, she just watched him quietly, silently struggling with something, and at last sighed. "I shouldn't tell you. April didn't even want to tell me, I just sort of… found out. Not exactly on accident, but still…"

"Maureen, please," Mark said softly. "Roger's my best friend, and April's like my sister. If there's something that's upsetting the two of them… and obviously you, because you're involved whether April meant you to be or not… I should know."

She glanced away from him, at nothing in particular, and bit her lower lip. "Mark, I really don't think… I mean, April's going to…"

"Just tell me and April doesn't have to know. I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it were important."

"You swear not to let anyone know I told you? Not even Roger or April?"

"Of course. Please, Maur, just tell me."

She winced and looked back to him at last. "Roger's… well… he's…" She gave up trying to say it delicately after a moment or two. "Roger's using drugs. Heroin. He has been for… two months now, I guess."

Mark couldn't do anything but just stare at her for the longest time. Finally, he managed to ask numbly, "He's what?" She started to repeat herself, and he shook his head a little. "No, it's okay, I understand. I just… I wish that didn't make so much sense. But it does explain some things…" Like why Roger had been acting like even more of an ass than usual lately. Why he'd been disappearing recently with no explanation whatsoever, why he snapped at anyone who asked where he'd been. Damn. "And April?"

Maureen shrugged. "Just… stressed. And upset. She can't get Roger to listen to her, Roger's being a bastard as usual… More than usual, actually."

"I should talk to him," Mark said quietly. "Or her. Both of them actually."

"No!" Maureen shook her head vehemently. "You can't talk to them! Then they'll know I told you and—"

"Did you tell April you wouldn't tell anyone?"

Maureen bit her lower lip again. "Not exactly, no."

"And does Roger even know you know?"

"I don't think so."

Mark sighed and gave her an exasperated look. "Then what's the problem? Maur, this is important. Roger could… He could get really hurt. So could April. We have to talk to them. Maybe I could… I mean, Roger's my best friend, maybe he'd listen to me if I just… say something." Right. He knew even as he said it that that was stupid. Roger was stubborn—if he wouldn't listen to April, Mark very much doubted he could do any good. Worth a try, though…

Maureen had been studying her hands quietly, and finally looked up at Mark in frustrated. "Fine. Go ahead and talk to them, if you think it'll do some good."

Mark nodded and stood up. "Thank you."

She frowned. "For what?"

"Telling me," he said simply. He hesitated for a moment, and then walked to the door of April's room. He didn't want to wake her up, but… Mark tapped gently on the door. "April?" he called softly. "Are you awake?"

The door swung open almost before he got the question out. April stood there in the doorway in her nightgown, looking tired but awake nonetheless. "You know," she said simply. It wasn't a question.