Chapter Twenty-Four: Cynical Town Can be Tough on an Angel
"'Course I need to worry about you. We always worry about the people we love."—Hero's Quest, Tyroshaun

Stepping out of the diner, April wrapped her arms around herself, shrinking into her now ever-present sweatshirt. Lately she hardly dared to go without it, between the cuts and track marks… At least only Roger knew about the track marks, and somehow not even he had noticed the cuts on her arms and thighs. How he had missed that, she didn't know, but she was grateful for it.

April hunched her shoulders and started down the street, her eyes on the sidewalk the whole time, her thoughts elsewhere. September 10th. Over a year since she'd moved into the loft, and look where she was now. Twenty-one years old today, and… "God, Jessi would be so upset with me if she knew what I've been doing," she muttered under her breath. "Happy birthday to me." Not a word from any of the others, not that that really surprised her. Still, she could have expected something from someone, just one word…

"Hey." April jumped as she heard Roger's voice behind her, and turned to face him.

"Roger, why do you always have to do that?" she demanded. "You scared me half to death!" She tried to glare at him, but it didn't quite work. This was the first time Roger had met her after work since his accident two months ago, and she hadn't even been expecting him…

He smiled at her, obviously able to see that she didn't mean the glare. "Because it's fun," he said, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "And I know you don't mean it when you yell at me for it."

She gave in and grinned up at him. "You know me too well." She hugged him quickly, careful not to squeeze too hard—she'd been careful about that since he broke his rib, though it was supposed to have mended by now. "So what made you decide to pick me up, hmm?You didn't even tell me you were coming…"

"Well, I can hardly let you walk home alone today, can I?" When she looked up at him and raised an eyebrow questioningly, Roger grinned and leaned down to kiss her. "Happy birthday, angel."
She squeaked happily and stopped right there on the sidewalk, pulling him to her for another long, deep kiss. When she pulled away, she grinned up at him brightly. "You remembered," she said softly.

"Of course I did. You think I'd forget something like that?" He brushed his fingers over her cheekbone, smiling down at her. "Now come on, we've got to get home." He took her hand and started to pull her down the street, a quick smile his only response to her questioning look.

When they reached the loft, April was the first one to the door, and almost immediately after she stepped inside, Maureen pounced on her and hugged her around the neck. "Happy birthday, 'Ril!"

April blinked and hugged her back, looking around the room slowly. Streamers hung from the walls and ceiling, and on the windows, and a cake sat on the table, unlit candles already in it. She laughed softly, more startled than anything. "Maureen, you didn't…" Releasing Maureen, she looked to Mark, Benny and Tom, all three of them grinning at her reaction.

"We did," Mark said, obviously pleased at her reaction. "Maur thought you should have a real birthday party, and I helped her... You like it?"

"Oh, Mark, you didn't have to…" April said softly, and then trailed off, shook her head and stepped forward to hug him too. "Thank you."

He smiled brightly at her with that innocence only Mark could possess. "Anything for you, April Shower."

Maureen bounced to the table, beckoning April over. "Come on, let's light the candles so you can blow them out and then we can do the presents!"

April laughed and followed Maureen to the table with a grin. "Maureen, you are like a little kid sometimes."

"You've told me that a million times," Maureen said as she struck a match and started to light the candles. "Believe me, by now, I know."

Later that day, after the candles, presents and birthday wishes, April sat on her bed with Roger, quietly staring out the window with a bit of a smile on her face. Roger watched her for a second and asked softly, "What is it?"

She turned to face him. "What?"

"It's just… I haven't seen you smile like that for a long time."

April grinned and moved a little closer to him, leaning against his chest. "Everyone's been so… quiet these past few months. Since the car crash. Like we've all been walking on eggshells trying not to upset each other or something. Today we were all ourselves again. We laughed. We were a family again. I missed that."

Roger put his arms around April and smiled down at her. "I know. I did too." He kissed her forehead. "I'll try not to let us get like that again."

She shifted a little to look up at him. "You think you can help it?"

He shrugged. "I'm the reason everything started to get weird in the first place. I should be able to keep it from happening again, right?"

"You're not the reason," she protested. When he gave her a skeptical look, she amended, "You're not the whole reason. Things just… happen."

"Yeah. Well. It won't happen again. I'm not going to lose them. Or you. Never you."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "You swear nothing's going to happen?"

"Promise." He frowned down at her. "Why're you so worried about it? I've lasted this long, haven't I?"

"I almost lost you," she said quietly as she looked up at him. "And it was right after Jessi… It scares me when everything starts to fall apart like that, all at once. I'm still scared."

"April-baby, look at me. I swear I'm not going anywhere. Okay?"

She nodded, and he pulled her closer and cradled her to him. April sighed and closed her eyes once more. For the moment, at least, for the first time in two months, she felt safe again.

Red. Those lines on her arms were bright red, and he could hardly bring himself to look away from them. April had fallen asleep without her sweatshirt on—some nights she even slept with it on, and when she didn't, she always waited until the lights were out to take it off, and somehow Roger had never noticed. When it started, the two of them had still been half at odds with each other, and by the time that was done with, it had become almost normal. He never saw… Hadn't noticed until tonight—this morning, actually, given that it had to be three, four, something like that—when he woke up, couldn't sleep… Something had drawn his eyes to her arms, pale in the streetlight through the windows, except for those cuts on her arms. No, just on one arm—must have been how she kept it from him for so long, only on one arm. On the other arm were the needle marks, track marks… And it had to have been for a long time, because there were scars next to the newer and healing cuts. Some on her thighs too, maybe even more than on the arm…

Roger closed his eyes and turned away. His angel, broken, scarred… Tainted, too, thanks to him—by now she needed the drugs just as much as he did, though he had never intended that. Never intended to get her into any of it, damn it. The drugs were his problem, he ought to be the only one affected… Then again, what he intended and what happened rarely turned out to be the same thing.

What was he going to say to her when she woke up? He couldn't just pretend that he hadn't seen all of that, that it wasn't there… He was tempted to reach out and touch the cuts on her arm just to prove to himself that they were real, but he didn't. She might wake up, and he couldn't deal with that just yet.

Slowly, Roger got off the bed and walked to the door of their bedroom, out into the living room. He paused as he passed by Maureen on the futon, frowning at her to make sure she was asleep, and then went on to Collins' room, shoving aside one of the blankets and stepping inside. He was asleep, as would be any sane person at four in the morning… Roger sat down on the edge of his bed and shook him.

"Collins," he whispered. "Wake up." Collins muttered something not quite coherent and tried to shove him away, but Roger refused to move, just shaking him harder. "Wake up, man, I need to talk to you."

Finally, Collins rolled over and turned to glare at him, blinking sleepily. "Can't it wait? Until, I don't know, the sun is up?"

"No. It's important." Roger hesitated a moment. "It's about April."

Collins sat up with a soft groan, but he looked awake now, at least. "Alright, what about April?"

Roger couldn't meet Collins' eyes any longer, and instead looked down at the bed. "She's got… cuts all on one arm. And on her legs."

"Cuts?" Collins raised an eyebrow at him, obviously worried and just as obviously asking Roger to elaborate.

Roger shrugged. "Cuts. Like… I don't know. I just noticed it tonight, but there are scars from I don't know how long ago. She had to have done it herself."

For a while, Collins didn't say a word. "Why are you telling me?"

"Because… I don't know what to do. At all. I thought you'd be able to… do… something? Talk to her, maybe?"

Collins glanced towards April's bedroom, visible through a gap in the blankets, and sighed. "I'll talk to her later, once she's awake. See if I can do anything. I'm not promising anything, but I'll try."

"Thank you," Roger said slightly. Ordinarily it would have grated him to say thank you, but now… For this, he didn't mind so much.

Collins shook his head a little. "It's nothing. Go to sleep, Roger. I'll take care of it tomorrow."

Roger sat there for a second, unmoving, and then leaned over to hug Collins quickly before he stood up and started back towards his room. He couldn't help but think, though… Why couldn't he just talk to April himself? Maybe he just couldn't stand the hypocrisy.