Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine. Everyone understand? Great. On to the story.

December 25, 1990, 7:46 p.m. Eastern Standard Time:

The bottle is empty. Neither Paige nor Mark is completely drunk, although both are on their way. They are sitting on the floor in front of the couch, leaning their heads back against it.

"This is the strangest Christmas," Paige giggles. A lock of her chin-length black hair falls slightly over her eye as she talks, and she makes no motion to move it. "Usually I spend it laughing while relatives drink, not laughing while I drink with a near-stranger."

"Near-stranger?" Mark raises an eyebrow although he's still smiling. "Is that all I'm worth? I got you that alcohol; I should at least be an acquaintance."

"What about an extremely new friend? Does that work for you?"

"Absolutely," he says. He raises his empty cup. "To extremely new friends."

Paige copies the motion. Both lift their cups to their mouths, but, seeing that they are out of alcohol, put them down again. "We need more booze," Paige says. Mark nods his agreement.

"We could look for more upstairs, but I doubt we'll find any."

"Might as well try."

They stand slowly and stumble out the door. "Race you!" Paige shouts. She is already running when Mark realizes what she said. She jumps the stairs two at a time, Mark trailing behind. She reaches the door breathing hard, but smiling. "I win."

"Not fair," he pants. "You had a head start."

The door slides open. "Roger was wondering if you were coming back," the man says to Mark, grinning. He turns to Paige. "And you've brought a friend. Collins, Tom Collins," he introduces himself and shakes Paige's hand.

"Paige Kirkley."

"Hey Mark, where's the booze?" an irritated-sounding Roger shouts from inside. Collins takes the empty bottle from Mark's hand and turns inside.

"He and his new friend drank it all," he laughs and holds it up for Roger to see. He pushes Mark and Paige inside and closes the door.

"You are so dead, Cohen," Roger grumbles.

Mimi laughs. "You weren't going to drink it anyway," she says and plants a short kiss on his mouth.

"Hey Mark, who's your new friend?" a girl asks from the couch.

"Oh sorry, this is Paige, she just moved in two floors down. Paige, this is Joanne, Maureen, Mimi, Roger, and Collins." Paige waves shyly at the group. She recognizes them all as the group outside last night.

Mimi looks much better, she thinks. She wonders what happened last night, but doesn't have the courage to ask.

She and Mark both sit on the floor by the coffee table. Mark is on her left, and Maureen is leaning against Joanne's legs on her right.

"When did you move in, Paige?" Maureen asks.

"Just last night actually."

"Oh really? Where from?"

"Syracuse."

"Syracuse?" Maureen repeats, smiling. "Why would you move here from a place like Syracuse?"

The grin on Paige's face fades slowly. The alcohol no longer has the same effect. The heaviness in her throat returns. The room seems darker.

"Um," she swallows and takes a deep breath before she continues. "My mother died."

Mark isn't smiling anymore either.

"She had a heart attack and died in the ambulance a few months ago." No one says a word, or even makes a sound. "My father died when I was seven, and my step-father and I don't get along well, so I thought it'd be good to get away."

"I'm so sorry, Paige," Maureen apologizes.

"It's ok, you didn't know. Anyway it's getting easier."

The room remains silent for a few more seconds. "I'm going to make some coffee. Does anyone else want some?" Mark asks weakly. He is answered by various murmurs and nodding of heads.

"I'll help," Paige offers, standing with him. The walk to the kitchen. Mark begins rummaging through cabinets for coffee and mugs. "I didn't mean to bring everyone down," she mumbles. "They were all having such a good time 'til I had to open my mouth."

"It's not your fault. Maureen asked, you just gave an honest answer."

She feels a little comfort from Mark's words, but is still worried that the rest of the night will be a reflection of that short conversation.

Coffee is quickly made and divided into mugs and other beverage containers that Mark could find in their sparse kitchen. Both he and Paige grab a few and attempt to return to the group without spilling. Just before they reach their destination, however, they are stopped by the whistles and cat-calls of those crowded on the couch.

Confusion is evident on both their faces. That is, until Collins points to something hanging about their heads. Paige shoots a quick glance upward to see a small bundle of mistletoe taped to the ceiling.

"Where did that come from?" Mark asks, still staring at the green plant.

"Collins brought it," Roger grins evilly.

"I knew it would come in handy," Collins chuckles.

Mark stops staring at the ceiling and glances at Paige, a blush forming on his cheeks. Paige can feel her own face begin to burn.

"Just get it over with," Maureen says loudly.

Very slowly they lean in closer. Paige can feel Mark's breath on her lips. He smells like cinnamon, she thinks vaguely as she closes he eyes. Soft lips press lightly against her own.

The kiss is not very long, but it is enough to earn more whistles and cat-calls, as well as more blushing. Paige spills a few drops of coffee before she regains her composure. Both their faces are beet red, but both are smiling.

December 26, 1990, 1:26 a.m. Eastern Standard Time:

Paige left Mark and Roger's apartment two hours ago. She is now sitting on a ledge on the roof, looking at the world through the lens of her camera. There isn't much to see; most people are at home.

A couple walks down the road holding hands, dodging a parked taxi on the curb. Paige focuses on them and snaps a picture.

"I thought you went back to your apartment to sleep," Mark says behind her.

She jumps, startled. She hadn't heard him come up. "I did, but I couldn't sleep."

Mark sits down next to her and begins winding his own camera. "I didn't know you were a photographer," he smiles, gesturing to the bag of lenses and film on the ground.

She shrugs. "Just something I like doing. Though maybe I could find a job here." Mark finishes winding the camera. He holds it up to his eye and begins filming. "Is this what you do, make movies?" she asks.

"It's not a job at the moment, just something I do."

Paige lifts her camera to her eye and takes a picture of Mark as he continues to film her. She frowns slightly. "Did you know I was up here, or do you come up to film sometimes?"

"I couldn't sleep either, and I just felt like I should do something instead of lie around. Somehow I ended up here." The camera shuts off. He winds it again and resumes filming.

"I was thinking about you," she admits, looking past the camera at him. "I was hoping you would be awake, but I was too afraid to knock on the door."

The camera is still rolling, but Mark has dropped his arms.

Paige surprises even herself as she kisses him. At first his body stiffens against hers in shock, but he quickly relaxes and returns the kiss. Their mouths open slightly, both experiencing that blissful initial taste, both hungry for more.

The camera shuts off again just as they pull apart. Paige wonders what it will show when it's replayed.