A/N: January 3rd, 10:30 PM, Central Standard Time. I actually, as I said on the AN for the last chapter, was going to have this be the end of Chapter Three. So when I'm making the chapter the first half has already been written. I'm wondering how everybody is going to take my description of Mark...well, yeah. And, just to tell you, if I receive any reviews saying that they think I'm doing Mark's character wrong, PLEASE tell me why. Mark's character is really the whole point of this story, really the whole series. If I'm messing that up, PLEASE tell me now before I mess up too much.

.-.-.

This chapter rated PG-13 for language and drug reference.

Figuring Out My Life – Chapter Four

After a long walk, Collins is almost dragging my almost limp body into the loft, calling out for Roger. When Roger emerges, he looks at me oddly. "What the hell happened to him?"

"Found him by 14th and Avenue C. He nearly got himself killed, had I not showed up." Collins dumps me on the couch, and I find myself shaking again, not for cold or fear or sadness, but from...a need, a thirst to leave thisworld behind...

"Figures. I'll get him fixed up." I look up at him, confused at his amazingly calm voice. Yet when he looks at me and our eyes meet, I see something I've never seen there before, something hard to describe...is it distrust? Disappointment? ...Suspicion?

Collins looks at Roger with a wary gaze. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay and – "

"Go on and go." Now I'm positive what that look he's giving me means. He's suspicious. Suddenly, I realize what he'll think if he finds out what I did last night. He wouldn't understand how much I needed that, how much I need it now...he would think I had done it on whim. He doesn't understand...

"Well...all right. Call me." With one last uncertain look at me, Collins turns around and walks out of the loft, leaving me and Roger alone, me shaking on the couch, him standing over me with a stern gaze.

After a very painful silence, I look up at him with pleading eyes, about to defend my actions, deny anything he accuses me of, even open my mouth with an excuse formulized in my head...but the look he gives me cuts me short...almost as if he's hurt...

"Mark...why? Why did you...leave me?" His hands are shaking, and I want to look away, but his gaze draws mine like a magnet, and I seem unableto break eye contact. "You left me, when I needed you..."

Just as I think up something to say in response, I feel as if a bullet is shot into my stomach. I double over, clutching my gut, and I groan from the sheer pain. Roger stutters. "Mark?"

"I-I need to be alone..." What if he caught on? What if he found out what was going on, what had happened last night? That I had left him to...get high? Dammit, why did I even do that? How could I? I stand up, rushing into my room, slamming the door a little too hard behind me. I almost collapse on my bed, wanting to scream from the pain. I feel sick to my stomach, and I try to get up to go to the bathroom, but suddenly my entire body is aching...my head, my stomach, every joint in my arms and legs...

"Mark!" I hear the door burst open, and I shield my eyes against the light coming in. I grab a pillow, trying to cover my eyes with it and block out the sudden light that makes my head throb. My eyes screwed shut, I want to scream...let out this pain...get away from this pain...

I feel a strong hand around my wrist, wrenching my hand away. The pillow falls, and my eyes snap open in fear. Roger is looking at me dead on. "What the hell happened last night?" He is so close, I can almost see myself reflected in his pupils. His eyes are confused, cloudy...suddenly, the clouds seem to part. "Mark..." He pulls my hand closer to him, and uses his other hand to wrench up my sleeve as I struggle to pull away from him.

I know he sees the track marks, however few they are, going up and down my forearm. He knew all along, didn't he? From the moment he saw me stagger into the loft, pale and sickly... "Roger, it's not...not..."

"God, Mark, you didn't..." Roger looks up at me, but I'm turning away from him, trying to pull my arm away from him, trying to escape him. His grip on my wrist loosens, and I fall on the bed, shaking. "You didn't."

"I did!" I'm sobbing into the blankets now. "God, Roger, I can't stand my life anymore! I had to get away! I...I have to get away..." Fly...Life's getting you down, and gravity's pulling you down...so you gotta fly...It was such an open invitation, and I am accepting that invitation with open arms.

"Mark, no..." He's crying now. I knew he wouldn't understand. "That's...It doesn't...Mark..."

"Don't you DARE accuse me of anything!" I yell at him, and I don't care that he's crying or if I'm hurting him. He doesn't understand how much it hurts now being in my painful life, or how blissful it was for me to escape. I have a reason...this is how I'm breaking the cycle. That's what I was supposed to do, wasn't it? Break the cycle. "YOU did it too! I thought YOU, of all people, would understand...I need it...I need to be able to fly..."

"Mark, you may think it's flying, but..." I can't even look at him. He doesn't understand... "Don't wreck your life like I wrecked mine."

"I'm not wrecking my life! I'm starting a new one!" I kept telling myself that. That was why I was now hooked, after just one night. I'm starting a new life. "Just...leave me alone..."

I feel the springs on the bed moan softly, and I hear footsteps as Roger stormed out of the room. "You helped me get off. So I'm going to help you. Before you wreck what you have that the rest of us lost." The room shakes slightly as he slams the door, the wobbly end table threatening to fall over if it's placed under more strain. I bury my face in my hand as I hear a soft click, and I know he's locked me into my room. How will I get out now? I can't stay in this world anymore...it's too...too...

Too what? You keep saying everything is 'too' something, but you don't know what. Too what?

Too much. It's too much.

.-.-.

"Collins? Hey, it's me. No, he's not all right, dammit! He fucking...OK, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. But, Collins, the idiot...Collins, he...fine. I'll tell you when you get here."

I listen to Roger slam the phone down on its base, and both of us simultaneously give out a long sigh. Roger hasn't let me out of my room since he locked me in about an hour ago. Why the hell does he think he can do this? He can't control my life like this. He has no right.

Come on, it could be worse, a cynical voice whispers to me. At least you don't feel like your stomach's being ripped in half. Just your head.

I hear a loud rapping on my door, and I snap back, my nerves completely shot. "WHAT!"

"Mark, I'm going out for a minute. Stay in there."

"You can't lock me in my own room! I could call the police!" My hands are shaking as my nails dig into my palms.

"Too bad the phones in here." I can just see the sarcastic smile that curls his lips. "Try to calm down." With that, I hear his footsteps as he rushes away, muttering something under his breath. The sound of the door of the loft makes a metallic clang, and it shocks me into reality.

I'm locked in this room. Trapped, just like I'm trapped in my sick and tortured life. Somebody up there must really hate me to do all this shit to me. I find a way to get out, and now I need that way. Dammit, why doesn't he understand! He's too wrapped up in himself to realize what I'm going through.

I hear an odd tapping noise from outside that jerks me sharply out of my thoughts. I blink a few times, listening as the tapping continues. It sounds like something rapping on glass...I raise the blinds of my bedroom window, craning my neck to see somebody standing on the fire escape, rapping on the window. I slowly crank the window open, whispering loudly over to them. "Hey!"

The woman turns her head to look in my direction, and sees my head sticking out of my bedroom window. A smirk plays across her features. "Hey, kid. Glad to see you're all cool."

"Help me out of here." I'm almost begging her, and I'm leaning as far out of the window as I can to look at her.

She smirks a me still. "Can't do that, or your buddy'll come looking for you. He doesn't understand, does he?" I shake my head vigorously. "But you understand. And I understand. Gruff doesn't understand how much people like you and me need it. He just does it for the high. But you and me...our lives suck. We weren't meant to have such horrible lives. We were meant to fly."

"You understand..." The words flow out of my mouth, but they don't seem to make sense on my lips, as if the puzzle doesn't connect in all the right places.

"Yes, Mark. So, I've got a present for you." She holds up a small baggy and a shining syringe. My heart leaps. "Eh, but I can't just give it. I need some cash to pay the man back."

"How much you need?" The prospect of getting out of my shitty life is too much to pass up.

The woman smirked. "Show me what you got."

I rushed into my room, digging for my emergency stash of money, pulling out a twenty dollar bill. It's old, but it's legal tender. I hold it out the window, and I feel the bill slip out of my hand, swiftly replaced by the small baggy and the needle. I pull them in, almost ready to try it again almost immediately. "When you get yourself out of there, you and I can fly together, like we did. Remember? You and me, Mark."

I nod at her, and she disappears down the fire escape, out of sight in seconds. I retreat into my room, knowing exactly what I have to do to gain my ticket on a train out of my shitty life...

.-.-.

"You say he did what?"

"I don't know why he did it, Collins. But he did it all last night probably. He's probably been going through torture all day. I didn't know what to help him, and I knew he'd try again if he left...so I locked him in his room."

"Smart move, Roger, for once."

"Gee, thanks for nothing." From another place, another dimension, another world, I faintly hear the sound of Roger unlocking the door into my bedroom.

"Hey, Mark...Mark? ...Mark!" Muted footsteps as two people enter my room.

"MARK! Oh, God..."

"Is he even breathing!"

"Mark..."

"Roger, check if he's breathing..."

"Mark...why..."

"Calm down, Roger..." I'm so far gone I hardly realize who is there, what they want. It doesn't matter...I'm a thousand miles above them...

"WHY!"

.-.-.

The next thing I know, I'm in a cold seat of a subway, shaking uncontrollably. I come plummeting back down to earth, and I hate it. God, what is it with this fucked up life? Why do I even have to come back? It's so painful...

Suddenly, I'm doubled over, feeling like I want to throw up once again. Strong arms are immediately around my shoulders, holding me very tightly. "Ok, deep breaths..." I oblige, not sure what else I can possibly listen to.

"Mark, calm down, me and Roger are here." Calm down? How can I calm down?"

"Keep breathing, you idiot, don't go back to that shallow breathing." I obey his words, at the moment understanding that he knows best. Maybe he does understand...No, he doesn't understand. I don't want to come back. I want to leave...Maybe I'll leave them, go find Rube. Now that I'm out of the loft, maybe I can get back to 14th street and Avenue C and find her. She promised me so much. She seemed to understand...

"Oh, God..." Two single words are the only things that can escape my mouth when suddenly my vision grows hazy and cloudy,

The last few words I hear are probably from Collins, "The sooner we get there, the better," before my entire world fades into black.

.-.-.

A/N: January 4th, 12:40 AM, Central Standard Time. Yeah, I've got school tomorrow. And yeah, it's past midnight. Whoop de do. :P I had to finish writing this chapter. I REALLY hope I'm getting this description of Mark and his highs and the 'coming back to earth' accurate. I would hope nobody has first-hand accounts of this sort of thing, but anybody who has more knowledge about it, I would LOVE if you would share it with me.

P.S. I read somewhere that the main side effect of taking heroin is constipation. Is this correct? I thought I heard people get pretty bad headaches. Again, I wouldn't know. TELL ME EVERYTHING YOU KNOW ABOUT SMACK. ...That sounds so wrong. oo;;;