Disclaimer: I still don't own it. Or, the lyrics used in this chapter. The lyrics are from "How did we come to this/Queenie Was a blonde reprise" from Andrew Lippa's The Wild Party

Authoress Note: Don't get me wrong, Mark is my favorite character, this story just kind of happened. Blame it on the Plot Bunny. It's evil. Pure evil. Thanks for the reviews! Oh, and the italics are either lyrics or flashbacks. It's pretty obvious which are which, but, if anyone finds it unclear, please let me know so I can fix it.

VivaLaVieBohemeA

Chapter One: No Witness, No Weakness, and No Regrets

Maybe I've been living in a daydream,

Maybe I've been talking in my sleep,

But, if I've been awake,

Pardon my mistake,

But time is running low, and

talk is growing cheap!

We play our games,

We place our bets,

No Witness,

No Weakness,

and No Regrets!

Filling up with frenzy,

Killing with a kiss,

How did we all come to this?

Time goes by,

Plans grow stale,

People die...

And parties fail.

How did we come to this?

Alexia was still shaking. Everything had happened so fast.

The lovely little dinner party had turned to hell on earth so quickly.

The power going out.

Mark going to fix it.

The gunshot.

The power coming back on.

Alexia peering into Mimi's bedroom.

Mark with a bullet in his chest.

Alexia started screaming. "MARK!" She ran to him and dropped to her knees at his side. "MARK!"

Roger rushed in, swearing loudly. Alexia was screaming, and it was distracting him from helping Mark. Or, maybe it was the panic blurring his already fogged thinking. "MARK!" Alexia shrieked again. "MARK!" Luckily, Collins and Benny had retained enough sense between the two of them to move Mark to the steel table that Alexia cleared hastily, throwing things here and there, this way and that, most of them landing like thunder on the concrete floor. Joanne had rushed into the kitchen to get a towel to stop the blonde filmmaker from bleeding out so quickly.

Mark could very well bleed to death before the paramedics even got there.

"Yes!" Maureen shouted into the telephone. "Alphabet City...Yes, the old records building! Just, please hurry! He's dying!" The words hit Alexia like a slap to the face. Mark dying. "Yes, I'll stay on the line! Just...hurry...please!" Maureen held onto the phone.

"Alexia..." Mark rasped, his voice barely a whisper riddled with pain.

Alexia took his hand, noticing how frigid and pale it was in hers. "Shh, Mark, don't talk. I'm here."

Mark's breathing was ragged and shallow. Joanne put the towel to the wound in Mark's chest, and the filmmaker winced in pain, his grasp tightening on Alexia's hand. Joanne moved out of the way, signaling Alexia to take over. She did.

There was so much blood.

And, as a single tear fell out of Alexia's big brown eyes and landed on Mark's pallid cheek, the filmmaker lost consciousness.

And now, Alexia sat in the driver's seat of her blue Mercedes, trailing the ambulance and gripping the steering wheel so hard that it seemed, to Collins who was sitting in the front passenger seat, at least, that if she held the wheel any tighter, she would snap it in half. Tears were blurring Alexia's vision. She blinked them away, only to have them replaced by more. Angel sat in the backseat, silently rubbing the small, delicate angel pendant that hung on a delicate silver chain around her neck, praying for Mark. Collins didn't say anything to Alexia until he saw her speedometer reaching for eighty.

"Alexia,"

"What?" She answered rather curtly.

"Alexia, pull over."

"No."

"Alexia?"

"I said no."

"Alexia, please. We don't have to keep up with them."

"Yes we do."

"Alexia-"

"I said no. I'm not pulling over."

Alexia wiped tears from her eyes yet again as Angel spoke up from the backseat, "Alexia, chica, slow down. You're going to hit someone and making the paramedics take care of more patients isn't going to help Mark at all."

Alexia flipped on her turn signal, and when they were safely on the side of the road, other cars flying by, not a care in the world, Alexia put her face in her hands and sobbed. Collins let her cry on her shoulder, and she sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed.

That made Angel cry, and Collins felt himself begin to tear up.

They may never see Mark alive again.

Later, at the hospital, Alexia was still crying as a very nice red-haired detective interviewed her.

"Tell me what happened." she asked.

Alexia took a deep breath and began. "We were having a dinner party for my birthday. Happy birthday, right? Mark gets shot. Happy freaking birthday." She sniffled, "Anyway, the power went out, but that wasn't anything new, that always happens in the building. Mark went in to check the breaker, it's in Mimi's room, and we heard a gunshot. The lights came back on, and I looked, and, there he was-"she choked up, "just lying there, a bullet in his chest."

A surgeon, covered in blood, Mark's blood, Alexia just knew. "Ms. Hemmingway," the doctor said quietly, "I need to talk to you."