-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)

"Why aren't there ever any kids?" Roger asked one afternoon, staring down at the street. Collins left this morning. Roger watched him go and then sat there long after Collins was unrecognizable in the crowds. He's has been sitting there ever since.

"What do you mean?" I asked, looking up from the notebook I was jotting down script ideas in.

"It's three-thirty. No kids walking home from school or playing or… anything. There are never any kids." He explained.

"Well, aside from the fact that it's Saturday- this isn't the best neighborhood. Or the best people. I don't know. I don't expect the artist down the block or the photographer next door or the actress downstairs to have kids. Do you?" I asked. He shook his head, not looking away from the window. "It's not our focus. It's not our life. Maybe someday."

"Yeah. That makes sense." He mumbled, laying his head down on his knees.

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The Next Day

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"I was thinking about going up to the roof. Want to come?" I asked Roger. He sat up quickly.

"Yes. Yeah. Let's go." He hopped off of the couch and ran to his room, emerging in seconds with shoes and a jacket. I laughed inwardly, amused at his eagerness, then took a deep breath and sighed it out, proud of how changed he is. His body needs coke so much less than it did even a week ago. And that simply means that he has long good spells in between the bad ones. But the good ones are taking over. And they're great. "Come on. Mark." He said, annoyed that I wasn't moving fast enough. I laughed and got my stuff on.

"All right." I grabbed my camera and walked out the door first, blocking the stairs to go down.

I saw Roger see me do that, saw him flinch, saw him see himself through my eyes. In my mind I said, 'I'm sorry, Rog. It's going to take more time.'

He didn't say anything until we stepped out of the stairwell and onto the roof. Then he took a deep breath and sighed,

"I love the spring." He smiled, leaning against the wall and looking around at everything in sight. It's been so long since he's voiced a love of anything. I'm glad we came up here. "You're quiet." He said to me, then looked away.

"Just looking at a new man." I said quietly, not intending for him to hear me. I realized that he had heard me when he said,

"A doomed man."

"You're not doomed, Roger." I said, surprised.

"Bullshit." He said, though not aggressively. Roger spoke with the air of one resigned to his fate. I don't think he's really come to grips with having HIV. But that's ok. That will come in time, too.

"Look at Collins, he-" I began, but he cut me off.

"Collins! Oh, come on, Mark! Collins is doomed, too." Roger said, laughing bitterly. "He just hides it better." Pause. "He spends his life trying to impart his knowledge to the youth of a nation of hypocrites who despise him. He's hiding. He's unfulfilled. He's dying just like everybody else." Roger spat, and I let him. I may have disagreed with some (but not all) of the things that he said, but I let him say it all the same.

He needs release somehow.

(Roger's Perspective)

"Hey- Mark?" I asked him, lying on the floor near the window. He looked at me strangely (for about the fifth time) for choosing to lie there.

"Yeah?"

"Where's Maureen?"

"What do you mean?" He asked. He's always asking me what I mean these days. Like I'm never clear enough the first time.

"Where's Maureen? Did she move out?"

"Sort of."

"Why?" I asked, trying to ignore the nagging in the back of my head- the urge, desire for the one thing that I know I can't have. I closed my eyes and rubbed my face with both hands.

"Honestly? Because I was afraid she'd get hurt if she stayed here." He told me. I was grateful that he was honest, but it hurt all the same. Even if it was true. Even if I'd proved his fear right every time I hurt him. Even so.

"Oh."

"But- well, if I'm being honest- she hasn't been back in a while because-" I heard him take a deep breath. "Because we're not seeing each other right now."

"What?" I sat up and looked at him, surprised. "What do-"

"She cheated on me. And I think I'm only now realizing that I'm really pissed off about it." Mark said quietly, staring down at his hands. Typical. Get mad after the fact. Let her off the hook. At least she told him the truth. For once.

"Are you- over? Or-"

"Just… on a break, I guess. I don't know. I've been trying not to think about it." He said. I got up and sat on the opposite end of the couch.

"That sucks, Mark." I started biting my lip, which hurt like hell. They were raw from me biting them every time I wanted a hit. I've got to figure out a better way to curb it.

"It is what it is. Don't worry about it." He said, but I felt so guilty about it that it was hard not to worry about it.

"Well, but-"

"Don't. It's not worth it. I'm trying to tell myself that." He switched gears suddenly, standing up. "Are you hungry? I'm gonna make something for dinner." And then, without waiting for an answer, he walked quickly into the kitchen and started rummaging around in the fridge.

God, I feel so helpless! And stuck. And lost. And angry.

And grateful. And strong. And so, so blessed.

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The Next Day

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Maureen showed up the next day after calling and telling Mark she was coming over. I headed for my room, not wanting to get in the middle of whatever was about to happen. Because something was about to happen.

I sat on the bed, my door only half-closed, and waited anxiously.

Will it be like it was when she- when April- and I fought? Screaming and yelling and throwing things but always, always ending with sex?

I don't think I've ever heard them fight before. At least, I've never heard Mark fight with her. I've heard the tail end of Maureen's tirades, though it seemed like it was always in the background, always so separate from me.

"Hey, baby." Maureen said to him. "Where'd Roger go in such a hurry?"

"We were up late. He's probably pretty wiped out." Mark told her, which wasn't a lie. We watched the stupidest movies together half of the night.

"How are you?" Maureen asked him after a pause.

"Good. Things are pretty good around here." Mark said, and I smiled, proud of myself. "How about you?"

"I'm ok." She responded. Then, "Listen, Marky, I need to tell you something. I- was really drunk the other night and I slept with someone. I'm really sorry, Marky. Do you forgive me?" Maureen asked. What the fuck? There was a long pause during which neither of them spoke. "Mark?"

"Well, we aren't really together right now, so it doesn't really matter, does it?" Mark finally said.

"What?" Maureen asked, surprised.

"You heard me." Mark said, annoyed.

"Well, yeah, but-" Maureen sounded stumped. "So you forgive me?" She asked.

"No." Mark said. Damn.

"No you don't forgive me?"

"That's what I said." He told her. "It doesn't seem like you care about our relationship, and we aren't technically in one, so you don't have to worry about it. Ever again." Pause. "You're free to go. We aren't together anymore. Do what you want." Fuck. I knew how hard it must have been for him to say that.

"I care! Don't say that. I care. Marky… Mark. I want to be with you." She said.

"You've got some way of showing it." He retorted, and I heard him stand up. "I think you should go."

"No. No, Mark, come on. I'll do whatever you want. Really. I love you. Don't act this way." Maureen said, beginning to get worried. "You- you can't do this. We're good together. Baby, honey, you love me. I made a mistake. I'm sorry. Please. Honey." Through the crack in my door I saw her start to kiss him.

It was all starting to make sense. She was attracted to power. When Mark's being meek little Mark, there's no appeal. But here he is finally standing up to her and she can't apologize fast enough.

And he fell for it. And tomorrow he'll be her slave again. And so tomorrow she'll start running around on him again.