Author's Note: I'm not a big MaureenCollins shipper, but I think they're quite hot together. Anyway, I love Collins to death and I just wanted a piece of him inside my writing. I hope you enjoy reading it, and remember, my one-shot twists are usually...that... twist-y. Criticism is always welcomed.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, and even if I did own something, I'd surrender it to Mr. Larson because he is that worthy.

My last, Maureen

"...So the primary question is, although computers can store this infinite amount of data and information, can they be trustworthy in giving us the right answers? Yes, they do wonders for communication, in shrinking the globe, and are programmed in a way to give us definite answers. But, can they interpret how we really are, how we make our decisions?"

He paused, hoping for a series of epiphanies to glow on his students' faces, a voice to rise up and make an assertion about his query. He waited. Instead, a hundred or so blank faces stared back at him, their eyes glazed with boredom, their flaccid frowns, which had been plastered on for the last hour and a half, showing off their discrepancy for computer-age philosophy. Dear Lordy, save me, thought Collins as he continued to observe their expressions.

Like a strange blessing, a student raised his hand. Collins smiled, turning to the young man, who grew to become one of his favorite students.

"Mr. Cohen, yes, a thought?" asked Collins letting out a sigh of relief. Finally, he thought, someone to break the silence.

"I- I think they do influence how we make our decisions because they're becoming so dependable," he answered, not as confidently as Collins would hope, but at least his sentences were coherent. "I m-mean, it's just figuring out when to depend on it and how much, is what truly matters."

He stopped abruptly, a slight pink crawling from his neck. He fiddled with his glasses goofily, and Collins had to laugh.

"Well said, Mr. Cohen," he replied, "did a computer tell you that?"

Mark Cohen smiled meekly in return while Collins announced his assignment for next week. After a few expected groans, he dismissed the class, secretly thanking God that it was all over, as well. He straightened his papers and slipped it into his bag, waiting for the last student to exit so he could lock up. Mark approached his desk quietly, tapping his fingers on the wood.

Collins looked up at him. "Mark, do you mind closing the windows in the back for me?"

Mark nodded. "Sure," he muttered leaving his desk. Brian Douglas, one of the few of his better students, advanced toward his desk. He was also one of the more refined students, always wearing a nice casual suit to class that made him look like a Hilfiger model. He could always pull it off too, his body well-built, his brown hair nicely styled, the shape of his face carved in such a way that would even give Michelangelo a run for his money. Collins didn't even mind that every girl stared at him rather than listen to his lecture. The guy was handsome.

"Can I help you, Mr. Douglas?" asked Collins setting his bag on the desk.

"I just wanted to ask, umm... if there was a minimum for the essay due next week?" he asked uneasily.

"All I ask are three beefy pages. Hopefully the slackers in the class can handle that, but I'm sure that won't be a problem for you," he answered smiling.

Brian flashed him a white smile. "Not at all. You know, maybe we could discuss more about it later... over dinner."

Collins looked up suddenly. He would have dropped his jaw if he didn't think it was rude. He examined him carefully, trying to comprehend if he had heard correctly. "That's flattering, Brian, but I have a few good reasons why it is impossible for me to go out with you," said Collins steadily.

"Name them."

"Well, not only is it against code, but I find it immoral to date my students, especially those I have during the semester. Although, it kind of makes sense now why a smart guy like you would take my class over the summer. Oh, and there is one more thing."

"What's that?" he asked a bit disheartened.

"I'm not gay."

"Oh... I see." He was sort of reluctant when he said it, but Collins didn't think about it much. He was more insulted than he seemed, but he wasn't going to let his guard down as a teacher because of that. He bid Brian goodbye as he walked out of the room. A good-looking guy like that, thought Collins shaking his head, what a waste for the girls.

"That was a really great lesson, Professor Collins, it really opened my mind," commented Mark, a bit of quiver in his voice. Collins grinned, forgetting the whole episode that just took place. He looked up at his bleached blonde friend. It was just hilariously strange to find an authentic geek in his classroom. Then again... this was New York.

"I'm glad someone got something out of it," he replied, zipping his bag.

"I'm sure there are others who appreciate your lectures, Professor."

"Collins."

"Professor Collins," Mark corrected himself.

"No, Mark, call me Collins," he said. "Class is over, you can call me Collins."

"Oh..." He looked discouraged. Collins shook his head and grabbed his bag, walked over to the door, flicked the lights off, and locked up. Mark followed close behind him, looking down with every step.

"It's... it's just strange calling you Collins," said Mark out of nowhere.

"I'll tell you what's strange," said Collins, picking up the pace as people filed in for the number two bus. Mark tried to keep up with him, "having the guy you live with call you Professor."

They flashed the driver a pass and took a seat near the front. "The only time you can call me Professor is if you're a fine-looking twenty-four-year-old French girl in a maid's outfit." He leaned his head back, hearing Mark huff, and seeing him smirk from the corner of his eye. "Or in class. That or in class."

The bus began to move and the run of the motor seemed to soothe him. He closed his eyes, tired of the morning hours he had to work and the careless students he had to attend to each day. He wondered if there were actually people who wanted to learn something as Mark did. He was a great guy; he just wished that he didn't treat him like the genius of all geniuses. He was a struggling man, just like every other person in this city. And he just wanted someone to be with. A certain girl to make him happy for the rest of his life.

"Prof...err... Collins, our stop's here." A hand shook his shoulder briskly and he opened his eyes warily. He yawned and stood up groggily, following Mark out of the bus the best he could. They still had a few more blocks until they reached their building, but Collins was actually grateful for it. A nice walk was what he needed to get his blood flowing again. Ahh, wait, thought Collins, I know what'll get my blood flowing.

"What are you doing?" asked Mark curiously.

"Just having a smoke," he replied slipping the weed between his lips. "You wanna try?"

He shook his head. "No, even Roger hates that stuff."

"The guy prefers poking holes through his body," Collins said shrugging. Mark frowned and looked down. He didn't know how someone like Mark would end up with junkies and drunks like Roger, Benny, and him. It was almost third-world unnatural. He was just a regular guy who played around with his camera and laid low. But, he had mind-boggling thoughts that really could catch anyone listening to him off-guardedly. And really, he just pitied the guy. He could amount to so much, but just look at him. He was pathetic.

Collins tossed the weed over his shoulder, avoiding any more disgusted looks from Mark. "So why don't you have your camera today?"

"I ran out of film," he said. Shit, thought Collins. He placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring pat. They finally drew near their building and entered through the graffiti-written doors. They climbed up four flights of stairs and entered their loft. Mark hurried into his room, leaving Collins clueless and a small nagging feeling of regret.

"Did someone bully him at school today?" asked Roger. He was sitting on the couch, cleaning his guitar with a worn-out rag.

"I don't know what's wrong with him," said Collins, taking a seat on the table set in the middle of the living room. "That guy's awfully lonely."

"He'll come around," said Roger, strumming a chord.

"I mean, really, who's he got? You're always out with your girl, Benny's got his flock of chicks, and I'm always at school. Besides, he's still kind of uncomfortable with the 'new guy.' Can't you get him to stop calling me Professor?"

Roger laughed hurling the rag at him. It landed on Collins face and he blew it off. He went over to the couch and slumped himself next to the rocker of Avenue A.

"So what about you?"

"What?" asked Collins sitting up lazily.

"What about you?" repeated Roger. "You and your love life?"

"Awful," responded Collins. "I swear, if there's a girl out there for me, she ain't looking hard enough."

"Or maybe it's you."

"Trust me, I've been looking." Collins paused. He had just taken another route to Roger's reply. Maybe it's you. Maybe there is something wrong with you, he thought to himself.

Roger stared at him thoughtfully. "Here, I've got this friend who's coming over. I'll tell her I have to cancel to spend time with April, and maybe you guys will hit it off."

"You crazy," he said pulling his beanie over his eyes.

"Not that crazy." Roger leaned over to him and patted his knee. "Come on, just give her a try. You might really dig her."

Collins surveyed him slowly. "Is she really great?"

"Are you kidding? She's like a best friend." Roger lifted up his shirt. A strange sensual feeling swelled in his stomach. "We got matching tattoos!"

"Matching...tattoos?"

"Yeah, see." Roger pointed to a Chinese symbol near his hip area. "Hers says rock. Mine says hard."

"Rock hard?"

"Or hard rock."

"I'm surprised April hasn't said anything about you spending time with another woman."

"She's not a woman," he said. The door bell rang. Roger got up and winked. "She's a tiger."

"Couldn't handle her, could you?" asked Collins, getting up. He straightened himself up, hoping to look halfway presentable. Roger smiled widely at his friend, and pulled the door open. A young woman appeared on the other side, dark curls coiled around her shoulders, big brown eyes, and full red lips. Roger welcomed her in and Collins cherished her beauty for a while. But, there was something different. An empty feeling filled in the space of ecstasy he would usually feel when he'd meet a gorgeous woman. Perhaps he was just feeling off. It had been a long day.

"Tom Collins," began Roger, ushering the girl in, "I would like you to meet a very good friend of mine: Maureen Johnson."

"Nice to meet you," she said and she smiled. She was beautiful. Collins always had a thing for smiles and she had a stunning one. He walked over to her gradually and took her hand, kissing it lightly. She giggled, her smile growing wider.

"Stop making me look bad," said Roger, rubbing the back of his head.

"Boy, I make every guy look bad," said Collins, drawing a little closer to her. She looked down bashfully, but boldly looked back up, pulling herself nearer as well. He could smell the scent of sweet pea on her hair, and could sense the beating of her heart. He bit his bottom lip and grinned, trying not to let her eyes steal away.

"Umm, so, yeah... Maureen, I hope you don't mind, but April and I had made plans beforehand so Collins will take you out, unless you don't like him or something," said Roger with an under sarcastic tone.

She shot him a look and gazed back at Collins. "I don't mind at all. We'll just show off our tattoos some other time."

Roger laughed. "Sure. Well, you kids have fun."

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And boy did he have fun. For the past month, he and Maureen were inseparable. He would call her every day at 8:30 a.m., right after his first class, to greet her good morning. He loved hearing her voice when she first woke up, husky yet satisfied, and the feeling that he was the first person she would be thinking of. They would talk late hours into the night; he'd go to every one of her performances. And as he fell into sleep every night, he thanked the stars that he had found someone that made him happy.

He tossed the sports pages to Mark who was putting in some new film in his camera. Mark was never up for sports, but he loved looking at the photos.

"Hey Collins, Benny and I are dragging Mark to that new stripper's club, Cat Scratch. Want to come?" asked Roger, absent-mindedly strumming a country tune. Collins glanced at Mark who gave him a horrified look. They were beginning to become really good friends.

"Thanks for the offer Roger, but I have a date with Maureen tonight," said Collins.

"You've been seeing a lot of her," remarked Mark.

The phone rang. They all looked at Roger, who continued strumming his guitar. "Don't even expect me to pick it up, you know I never pick it up."

"You're half a foot away from it!" said Mark.

"Home, home on the raaannngee," sang Roger loudly.

"Pick it up, fool!" said Collins.

Roger picked it up hastily. He held the receiver to his ear. "What?" He listened to the other end. "Where are you?" There was a long pause. "I don't know... Come on, Benny! Alright, I'll be down in a second." He hung up the phone and grabbed his jacket.

"There's a hundred in my wallet for bail," said Collins turning the page of his newspaper.

"He can't get rid of his date, who's persisting they go back to her place," said Roger walking to the door. "Seeing how he can't slap her, he wants me to go down there and drag him out."

"What the hell are you going to do?" asked Collins.

"Either have a seizure or pretend to be queer."

"The things we do for each other."

"Well, he did promise us security and food on the table as soon as he makes it, and you know you can always trust Benny." Roger shut the door, leaving Mark and him alone. There was an uncomfortable aura as Mark gawked at him.

"Yes Mark?" asked Collins looking over his paper.

"How much do you like Maureen?" he asked.

"I like her a lot. Why?"

"I mean... romantically?"

"Yes..." Collins dropped his paper and leaned forward. "Where are you getting at Mark?"

Mark scooted back a little, a bit intimidated, but tried to grab on to his courage. "I don't want to accuse you of anything. I mean, you can yell at me after, if you want, but... it just seems that you like Maureen in a more sisterly way."

"How do you mean?" asked Collins. He was a bit affronted.

"I mean... you guys go shopping together, talk like you guys are best friends... you even get manicures together."

"A brother needs clean fingers... especially with all the blisters from grading papers."

Mark gave him an awkward look. Collins looked down, feeling a bit confused for a moment. For some reason, a feeling of defeat overwhelmed him. He wasn't angry at Mark, he was just... well, he wasn't too sure. He quickly got up and headed for the front door.

"Hey Collins, I didn't mean it-" but he didn't let him finish. Instead, he slammed the door. He took out a roll of marijuana and began to smoke it.

He laid his head against the wall. What just happened in there? Why didn't he defend himself, his masculinity? Why was he feeling so embarrassed about something that wasn't even true? And why was he questioning himself now?

A perplexed feeling clouded his heart, deciding whether these doubts were real or not. He didn't have a problem with homosexuality, and yet... he couldn't bring himself to admit that he, Tom Collins, could possibly be interested in... men. He was with the greatest woman on earth, how could he possibly be thinking of anyone else? And men, for that matter. It couldn't be so.

After this search for the perfect woman, could it be that he had been wrong all along? He didn't know what to think. But, just maybe, he would never be completely happy without knowing for sure. He wouldn't feel true love until he knew for sure. Nothing in the world meant more to him than being with Maureen, but... if this wasn't for him, then he didn't want to break her heart by pursuing a love that could never be. He never had to fight about his own sexuality before, but now...

"Hey sweetie." Someone pecked him on the cheek. Collins opened his eyes and saw Maureen beside him. Her hair was tied up, and she was wearing tight-hugging jeans, a lilac-colored blouse, and violet eye-shadow that matched her belt. Dear God, he noticed her eye-shadow. Okay, cool it Thomas, thought Collins.

"Hey baby," he said kissing her on the lips. She softly bit his bottom lip, making him pull her closer for more. 'Kay, that wasn't bad, thought Collins smiling.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked.

"Just..." He took a deep breath. He remembered his roll and slipped it in his pocket. "Waiting for you." He hung an arm around Maureen as they began to head out of the building. "So where are we going?"

"A friend's. She got a gig for a small modeling company in Paris, but usually models from there transfer to the top, like Gucci, Calvin Klein..."

"Maybe she can give you a recommendation," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her, nibbling her neck.

She laughed. "I don't know; do you really want to tempt me with all those male models?"

He started to laugh, but suddenly stopped. Her last words made him think of tall, dark, and handsome men in expensive Giorgio Armani suits... Get out of my head, he said quietly. He tried to repress every male-related thought out of his brain, and continued to listen to Maureen as she chatted throughout the cab ride to Jill Murray's apartment.

Twenty minutes later, they were dropped off in front of a nice, modern apartment building. They went up the stairs and into an open apartment that had a good thirty or more people inside. It was surprising that a cozy apartment like this would fit that many people, but the party also commenced into the halls and into the residence of her neighbors.

"Do you see your friend anywhere?" asked Collins. He tried to peer over the crowd for a short, dark-red headed woman. Everyone was very dressy, which made Collins wish that he hadn't dressed so casually. He wasn't totally a slob, but he knew he'd get better looks with a suit on.

"I can't find her... hi Elise," she greeted a blonde with a peck on the cheek.

"Hi Maureen. Who's your friend?" Elise asked, eyeing Collins.

"This is Tom Collins, he's a professor at NYU," said Maureen, grabbing onto his arm. "Honey, this is Elise Gabriels, Jill's agent."

"Nice to meet you Ms. Gabriels," he said, shaking her hand gently and giving her a wide smile.

"Pleasure," she replied. "You know, you are very handsome. Have you ever considered modeling?"

"Once, but they kept telling me what to wear." They laughed and Collins leaned over to Maureen's ear. "You want something to drink?"

"Sure. Screwdriver?"

"Jill has help fixing up drinks over at that cart there," said Elise pointing near the window. "Just tell the man what you want, and he'll be able to fix it up for you."

"Thank you very much. Would you like anything?" He didn't forget his manners.

"I've already had three before I arrived, but thank you."

He nodded and softly told Maureen that he would be right back. So far, he wasn't having a horrible time at a party where he hardly knew anyone. Usually, he would know at least a couple or more people. And usually, it wouldn't be a problem making some new friends. But, this time he had a date, and it had been a while since he remembered how to act with one.

Making his way through the crowd, a strange feeling crept in inside his stomach. He didn't like the fact that he was keeping his true emotions away from Maureen. It wasn't fair to her. Hopefully, some alcohol would help suppress his nagging judgment.

"Two screwdrivers please," he said to the man, who was ironically wearing a red suit, like every other bartender in any given sitcom. He tried to stifle a laugh as the man raised an eyebrow, and started pouring drinks.

"I thought that was funny too," someone said next to him. "For a moment I thought I was being watched by millions nationwide."

Collins looked to his left and surprisingly saw one of his students right next to him. He had a black tux on and his hair had that same quaff.

"Brian, I wasn't expecting you here," said Collins, a bit tentatively.

"Jill and I are friends," he said. "We're in the same modeling agency. Well, we were, until she was transferred. She's living out her dream, and mine. I've always wanted to go to Paris."

"Well, don't be so pessimistic, you'll get your chance," reassured Collins.

"You really think so?"

"Are you kiddin'? A good-looking guy like you?" Collins stopped himself. Brian saw his hesitancy and offered him a small smile. His eyes glistened and Collins noted the dimples between his smile. He felt a sudden stir within him, like butterflies from high school coming back to flutter inside his stomach. He looked down quickly and cleared his throat.

"Well, I'm here with a date," he said quite sternly, trying to assert himself.

"Really? What's his name?"

Collins smirked. "Her name is Maureen." Can't fool me smartass, he thought. But he still avoided eye contact. The bartender set his drinks in front of him. Collins quickly took a glass and gulped the shot.

"Can I have another?" he asked. The bartender gave him a weird look, and rolled his eyes, making him another drink.

"Why are you acting nervous?" asked Brian tenderly.

"I'm not," he said. Get yourself together Collins, he thought, you can handle this. But he'd never fought with his own identity before.

"Just... relax," he said, slowly touching his fingers with his own, lightly tracing to his wrist. Collins gulped, his heart beginning to race. He tried with all his might to suppress that urge within him, yearning to come out. The bartender clanked the drink loudly in front of him, making Collins jump a bit.

He took the shot again in one swig. "Do you have anything bigger?" The bartender groaned and Collins just took Maureen's glass and left. He began to dread next week's class where he had to face Brian all over again. He wasn't afraid of some things, but living in fear of losing someone, he was afraid of. This time, it was the fear of losing himself.

"Sorry it took so long," he said as he handed Maureen her drink.

"It's alright, a few people offered me their drink while you were gone," she said, laughing a bit.

"Who?" asked Collins, wanting to know what kind of asshole would hit on his woman.

"A few men who thought I had a pretty smile," she said, waving at a man across the room.

"I hope you told them to get lost," he said, turning her to him.

"Well, I didn't want to be rude," she said. "Oh come on, honeybear, you know I don't care about them. Is that mine?" She gestured to the drink in his hand.

"You sure you haven't had enough?" he asked.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said taking the glass. She hiccupped. Collins sighed and looked at her earnestly. She laughed and took his hand. "Come here, I want to show you something." He shook his head as she led him across the hall. She handed the glass to a random man, and Collins just shrugged at him. She opened one of the doors, and he followed her inside. It was pitch black and empty. Maureen flicked on a light and Collins smiled. They were obviously in Jill's bedroom, a wonderful white-walled room with red rugs, a tall king-sized bed fit for a queen, and pricy lingerie carelessly thrown in different locations of the room. It smelled of roses and vanilla, candles lit near her dresser.

"Isn't Jill going to get mad when finds out we've trespassed in her seduction room?"

"Does it really matter?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck. She began to spread kisses around his neckline, pulling him closer to the bed. He tried to free his mind of any reservation, and pushed Maureen gently onto the quilted blankets. He slowly brought his lips to hers, sliding his hand underneath her blouse. She scooted up a bit, forcing him to climb further onto the bed, their bodies pressing one another closely. He took off her blouse over her head, trying to feel every bit of sensuality she offered, restraining every feeling of uncertainty, any doubt at all. He ran his hand over her breasts, grabbing onto her purple, lacy bra, which matched her lilac blouse, which matched her violet eye-shadow, which matched her belt.

"Collins... Collins, why'd you stop?" Maureen breathed.

"Something... something's wrong." He pulled himself off and laid his head on the headboard.

"What's wrong baby?" she asked, crawling over to him, her eyes leering.

"Maureen... Maureen, I can't." He looked at her gravely, and for the first time, he frowned at her. She scrunched up her brow, baffled at first, but then sat down, cross-legged.

"Your gay, aren't you?" she asked after a few moments of silence.

"Yeah..." he said quietly.

"What? Oh my God, I was kidding!" Her eyes filled with tears, looking at him scandalously.

"Maureen, I didn't know it at first-"

"Oh my God, so I turned you gay?" she asked outrageously. "Great going, Maureen, you really know how to pick 'em." She grabbed her shirt from the corner of the bed and put it on. She bit her lip to keep from crying.

"Maureen, listen to me," he said grabbing her wrist. "Please, give me a chance to explain. I swear on all the marijuana in this city, it wasn't you... at all."

At first he thought she would refuse to listen, but she calmed herself down. He had to say it. He had to confess everything he's been holding back. It was the best for both of them. And he knew someday... he would look back and forget regretting this.

"I had feelings like this before you came along, and I thought you would be the person to make it all right. But it was me. It's just the way I am, I guess. It wouldn't matter if it was another girl, but it would have turned out the same way. I don't know if these feelings are legit, but I can't help but feel them."

She sniffed and wiped her tears hastily. "I know. God, I should have known. I mean, you loved shopping with me, and I thought- I don't know. It felt nice having a guy along to do all the stuff I love, knowing that they loved it too."

He nodded. "I know what you mean. You are a wonderful person, Maureen. But, I just can't find a woman to fulfill my needs. I know that sounds horrible..."

She held up her hand. "I know. I understand. Sometimes... sometimes, I think that there isn't a man out there to make me happy." She laughed. "Maybe I'm gay?"

"That'll be the day."

"Can I ask you... what kept pushing you? Who?"

Collins thought for a moment. "The unbelievable desire of Brian Douglas."

"Oh... oh, he's cute. He's gay? Fuck."

"I know, that's what I thought."

She smiled, and looked up, a bit of restlessness in her eyes. "Can we still talk like this?"

He grinned and took her hand. "Of course we can. We're still friends." She intertwined her fingers with his. He suddenly began to laugh.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Mark knew all along..."

"Who?" she asked. "Oh...oh your roommate. The goofy looking guy? Always has a camera?" She thought for a moment. "He's kinda cute, I guess."

"Whoa, take it slow. I hate to think that you'd go from me to him."

She laughed. "Okay. You too... take it slow."

He nodded. "I know. I've still got things to figure out." The door swung open, causing them both to jolt. Jill Murray stood behind the door, a hand on her hip.

"What are you guys doing?" she demanded.

"Nothing... trust me," said Maureen honestly.

"What? I fix up this room and you guys aren't having sex?" She shook her head. "I'm sorry for interrupting. Condoms in the drawer next to you, hun." And she closed the door. Maureen snuggled near him and hugged him close.

"Collins? Do you mind starting off your homosexual life tomorrow?"

"I guess. Why?" She pressed his lips to his and straddled on his lap. She untied her hair, which fell all over the mysterious features on her face, and she smiled seductively. For one night, they were in each other's arms. For one passionate night, they caressed, kissed, and Collins held her as she slept, softly whispering his last words to the last woman he would ever be with.

"I love you Maureen."