-1My Respects to Mr. Larson, who created this world and owns the people. Much thanks for letting me borrow them for a while to play in mine.

Ready For The Fight

(Mark's Perspective)

One Week Later

"Maureen," I asked, feeling helpless and used and lower than low and about a thousand other different things, "what are you saying here? What's happening?"

She'd just told me that she'd cheated on me with another guy. She didn't say his name. A friend of the friend she's been staying with.

"I don't know." She replied, picking away at her purple nail polish. I could tell that she felt bad. Well, I hope she feels bad. At least, she said she did. Should I believe her? I don't know.

"Are you breaking up with me?" No! I should have said 'Do you want to break up?' I'm always letting her call all the shots.

"What? No! I don't want to break up, baby." She told me. Oh, thank God. I smiled and reached for her hand across the table, but she continued, "But… maybe it is best if we… take a break." My hand landed back on my side of the table. "No, no, it's not because of that. Just hear me out, ok?" Maureen asked.

"Ok." I said quietly.

"It's just that- well, we never see each other anymore. I'm not even living there, Mark. As soon as this thing with Roger is over, it'll be fine. We'll be fine. But I think we should take a break until then. Ok? Not because of… what I did." She finished lamely. "I made a mistake, baby, and I'm really sorry." She told me. But does she mean it?

Whether she really did or not, I decided to believe her. "It's ok." I said, looking up at her.

"We're ok?" She asked.

"Uh, yeah." I said, thought I wasn't exactly sure that I was.

"Ok. Great. I've gotta go. See you later, Marky!" And she left me in the Life without so much as a kiss goodbye. Or an 'I still love you'. Or any form of the break from Roger that I so desperately needed but wouldn't admit to.

I paid the bill and walked the few blocks home, the questions that I hadn't asked her echoing over and over in my head. Was that the first time? The only time? They were questions that had been haunting me for quite a while.

They were questions that haunted me because I knew the answers.

(Collins' Perspective)

"And why do you look so sad?" I asked Mark as he came back into the loft, then motioned to Roger, who was sleeping on the couch.

"I'm not, actually. It was nice to get out for a while." He told me.

"And I'm sure that seeing Maureen didn't hurt any." I joked with him. He blushed. Good, I'm glad it actually went well.

"And why are you in such a good mood?" He asked.

"Well, I, uh-" I started to say, then froze. I can't do this. Not to Mark. Not right now. He needs me.

But I know that if I tell him this, he'll tell me to go. He'll say that it's ok, that he'll be fine, that he can take care of Roger. He'll say that. And maybe it'll be true. He'll tell me I should go.

And, secretly, that's what I want him to say. I want him to tell me that I'm free to… do whatever I want. I need him to tell me that. And I need to not feel guilty about it. But I should. And I do.

I don't know who I'm kidding. I already know that I'm going.

"What's up?" Mark asked. I almost couldn't look at him.

"I was offered a job at MIT." I said in what I hoped was a neutral voice.

"That's awesome!" Mark said, smiling and clapping me on the back. I pointed at Roger, reminding him to be quiet. "Well, why do you seem so bummed? This is a good thing." He asked, lowering his voice.

"It's bad timing." I told him. Mark thought about that for a second, glancing over at Roger.

"It's perfect timing. You should take it." Mark advised me and I smiled inwardly. Typical Mark. Predictable Mark.

"Are you sure? I mean, Roger-" I began, but Mark cut me off.

"-is getting better." Pause. "When do you go?"

"End of the week." I told him. "You're really ok with this?"

"Yeah." He said. "I'm really excited for you."

"But are you happy?" I surprised myself by asking. He froze momentarily.

"Honestly? I don't really think that I'm anything right now." Pause. "But that's the way it has to be." He glanced at Roger again and I knew what he meant. He had to distance himself from Roger in order to help him. It made sense.

I told Mark that I needed to pick up a few things that I wanted to take with me (my possessions are currently scattered between the dwellings of numerous friends) and left, so happy I thought I'd burst.

(Mark's Perspective)

A few minutes after Collins left, Roger woke up in one of the foulest moods he's had, and certainly the worst since the big meltdown last week.

I tried to divert Roger's attention to something else by telling him of Collins' news, but instead he just started in with a tangent of, "Good, maybe now we can having some fucking fun around here. I'm so sick of this bullshit! He's a freaking Nazi and you're no effing better and I hate this, I hate this loft, and I swear to God, it's not gonna help. I want a hit so bad right now-" And that was when I snapped. I threw the glass that I was trying to calmly sip water out of against the wall and Roger jumped. "Jesus, what the hell, Mark?" He spat at me, pacing the room. It was too much. Roger, Maureen, Collins. I was being let down by them all.

I strode to the door to the loft.

"Mark? Where're you- what're you doing?" He asked me, confused.

(Roger's Perspective)

"Go. Just go." Mark shot at me, opening the door.

"What?" I asked, surprised. He's just gonna let me go?

Mark walked away from the door and stood near the couch. "I can't do it anymore. So… just go." Mark said. He fixed his gaze on me and stood there, waiting for me to leave.

I took a few steps towards the door, feeling him out.

He didn't move an inch.

Shit. Oh, shit. Do I have any money? No. Doesn't matter. I started getting excited, felt the blood coursing rapidly throughout my body, wondering where my dealer, any dealer, would be. My hands rubbed together, already eager for the next hit.

Before I got to the door, however, Mark said, "But don't come back." I stopped in my tracks. What?

"What?" I asked aloud, my back to him.

"If you leave, If you go get high, don't bother ever coming back. I won't let you in." Mark said evenly, no expression in his voice.

I stood there for a few seconds, completely stuck. I wanted to feel good so badly. I could go feel good right now.

But… could I live without my best friend? I would have nowhere to go. Do I want to get high more than I have a desire for a home? More than I need Mark? I didn't know for sure, but I was about to find out.

I took a deep breath and headed for the door.

And then I closed it.

And I knew that this time, I had made the decision, that it hadn't been made for me.

And I knew that I would be ok.