Author's Note: Someone asked me a medical question about why Mark would die in an allotted amount of time if the treatment--To answer the question, it's because if the medication doesn't stop the white blood cells from mulitplying then there's a rate at how fast they're multiplying and destroying the rest of Mark's platletts and red blood cells. While I don't mention this rate becuase I don't actually know how they measure it, this explains why they would be able to guess an amount of time, becuase it would be the destruction caused by the white blood count over a period of time before death. Hope I answered that at least somewhat. I'm studying to be a nurse, so hopefully I got that right lol :) Enjoy.

Chapter Six

Roger stood beside his best friend, watching as he pulled on a pair of sweat pants, his face somewhere between a grimace and disgust, "I feel so weak," he grumbled as he managed to get them over his protruding hips, hiding the bruise on his back from the two lumbar punctures.

"You look terrible. Here, put you're arms up," Roger grabbed his large hoody, and with ease helped Roger pull it over his head and chest. Mark looked like he was swimming in the damn thing, probably because he was.

He'd finally managed to convince his parents to go back to the hotel, leaving Carley with the boys, against Emily's better judgment. However, the fifteen year old refused to budge. She was now talking to Doctor Beckett about how the bone marrow procedure would be done, what she would have to do and how she should prepare for it.

Joanne and Maureen were pulling the car around; Collins was filling the prescriptions, as well as picking up AZT for Mimi and Roger. Mimi had gone ahead to get the apartment ready and try to warm it up a little.

"Roger—" Mark suddenly sat back down on the bed, Roger instantly reached for his arm, unsure if Mark had become unsteady. "Do you remember that pact we made three years ago when you found out about the AIDS?"

"The one about dying?"

"Yeah—when I promised to be with you no matter where you were and how you died, that I'd be there to hold your hand and care for you?"

Roger remembered, he'd been in the middle of withdrawal and started sobbing about dying alone, afraid and cold. Mark had been there, holding him while he cried for a few hours, Mark had made the promise as the only other living person around who cared about him.

"Roger, promise me…"

"Mark," Roger paused, he stood up and took Mark's face into his hands, smiling weakly, "I promise you no matter where, or when you die, if I'm still alive, I'll be there to hold you through the pain and the fear. You will not die alone."

Reaching out, without even thinking about it, Roger grabbed Mark's shoulder and pulled him into a hug. For a second the filmmaker was unresponsive, but it quickly wore off as he wrapped his arms equally as tight around Roger.

"Come on buddy, let's get your sister and head home."

"Seems almost right that she's around, doesn't it," Mark said, his arm around his best friend's waist, Roger's arm still strewn across his shoulders.

"Yeah, you're kid sister isn't half bad."

They grinned just as Carley rounded the corner, offering both men a smile. Roger opened his other arm, wrapping it around her thin shoulders. "Let's go home and take care of you," Roger suggested.

While Roger was worried about his best friend, he couldn't begin to say how happy he was that after eleven days they would finally be bringing Mark home. Even if Mark had leukemia, that had to mean he wasn't going to die within the next few days.

"Mark, we'll see you in a couple weeks, get plenty of rest," Doctor Beckett said shaking the young man's hand.

"Thank you for all your help Doctor Beckett."

o0o

Mark slept the whole fifteen minutes it took to get from the hospital to the loft. Roger looked at his best friend curled up next to him and had pity. Glancing at Joanne he grinned, as he easily scooped the filmmaker up in his arms, and pulled him close.

"Carley, here's a key why don't you go upstairs and see how Mimi and Collins are doing getting the place ready. Jo, Maureen thanks so much for your help—we'll call you guys if we need anything."

"Take care of pookie," Maureen called from the passenger's side of the car.

"I will, we'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, probably, take care Rog," with a soft smile, Joanne pulled the car away from the curb and drove towards their own apartment. Roger sighed; pulling the precious body balanced in his arms he carried Mark up the stairs to their top loft.

Stepping inside he was stunned to see grocery bags on the floor, as Carley helped Mimi put food in the fridge and load the cupboards. Collins came out from the bedrooms and smiled, "You're all set up, his medication is in his room, Mimi has her's and your AZT is on the countertop. You'll be good for a month; anything else you need?"

"Uh—" Roger looked around, before realizing he was still holding Mark's body in his arms. "Help me get him to the couch at least, he's exhausted."

Collins easily took the filmmaker and deposited him on the couch. Collins looked down at the youngest Bohemian. The only person younger than him was Mimi at twenty-two. Roger was five months older than Mark, then it was Maureen, Joanne and Benny, Collins was the eldest at twenty-seven.

He sighed; it was amazing how the youngest and probably one of the weakest physically, he'd also been one of the few that held them all together. Or at least he'd tried. As he'd pointed out to Roger, he'd be the one to survive.

Collins felt the air rush out of his lungs as he realized the truth—that wasn't true anymore, he was no longer the one who would survive, it was just what Mark had told his mother. He was no longer the survivor; he was now just another victim of fate.

"We're here Mark," whispered Collins as he pulled a blanket over the boy's thin form.

Once everything was put away, Collins set forth to make a decent dinner for everyone, Roger took up a seat on the couch, quickly becoming a pillow to Mark, who curled up, his head on his best friend's thigh. In the chair near the couch, Carley took up space with a smile on her face as she regaled her life back at home.

"So you're what a freshman in high school?"

Carley grinned, "Nope, I'm a junior, I skipped two grades—top student in my class too! You should hear all my teachers, always telling me I'm outdoing Mark and Cindy," she grinned widely.

Roger chuckled, she had Mark's smile, "There's no denying you're a smart kid Carley, and I certainly knew it. I know, I thought you were smart when you took apart the toaster when you were five."

"Put it back together too," came Mark's mumble from Roger's thigh.

"Hey there sunshine," chuckled Roger as he rubbed his friend's back.

"Have to go to the bathroom," he muttered as he slowly sat up. Roger watched him closely, waiting for a sign that the reason he needed to go wasn't to pee.

"You okay?"

"Uh huh," mumbled Mark, slowly standing he made his way slowly to the bathroom. Proving just how "okay" he really was.

"Roger—" Carley waited until the guitarist's green eyes were on hers, "I want to stay here until he dies."

"Sweet heart that could be year—"

"Roger, you know as well as I do," she whispered gently, "Please let me stay until he goes. I haven't seen him I six years, I miss my brother—I've only got a little longer left."

"Carley you're always welcome here honey, I won't kick you out, but I'm not going to fight with your father over it, understood?"

"Yeah," she replied softly. She looked at Roger quietly and smiled.

"Dinner's up boys, Carley you get to cook breakfast," Collins called as he dished out what looked like spaghetti with meatballs.

"Those aren't meatless balls are they?" questioned Roger as he moved over to the table, he grinned as Carley hopped up on one of the stools.

"Meatless balls—ew."

Roger nodded, "That's what I said."

"It tastes the same," Collins defended.

"If you close your eyes," returned Mark as he joined them by the table. He looked down at the food, "Seriously though?"

"They're meatballs, now eat, shrimp—you're already skinny."

"So how goes school?" Mark asked, rapidly changing the subject to his baby sister.

Collins and Roger shared a quick look, perhaps somewhere between thankfulness, and sorrow.

"It's okay, busy—Mom told you I was a junior now right?"

"She might have mentioned it--the one time I answered the phone; yeah," grinned Mark.

"They don't hate you Mark; Mom misses you so much."

"She's not the reason I left Carley."

"I know; but Dad's mellowed out…at least a little anyway."

"He never hit you or Cindy; I wouldn't expect him to. Carley I'm not the boy he wanted; he wanted a reincarnation of him."

"Yeah, but he still loves you, somewhere inside I know he loves you."

Roger and Collins were eyeing their food as they slowly continued to eat. Mark glanced at Carley and forced a soft smile, "How about tomorrow you and I go out—get a little filming in, maybe get a cup of coffee?"

"Mark are you sure that's such a—" the glare Mark shot his best friend quickly silenced the musician.

"They said I could live a normal life Roger, my normal life is filming. If I'm dyin—" Mark paused, looking down at the food in front of him, he'd barely eaten any of it. "She'll be with me the entire time. If I get too tired we'll just head back home."

"Mark, you just got out of the hospital today…"

"I'm not going to spend the last days of my life cooped up in this stupid loft!"

Collins' eyes grew wide, as did Roger's as he suddenly glared at his best friend, "Why? Because it's safe here! You're safer here!" he yelled.

"Is that what kept you inside for practically a year?"

"Excuse me!" Growled Roger.

"You spent an entire year after your diagnosis, cooped up here! Why because it's safe! It's no safer in here than it is out there!"

"You know what, fine you wanna go out tomorrow fine! But when you come back exhausted and in pain, don't complain because I don't wanna hear it!" without another word Roger pushed away from the table and slammed his bedroom door behind his retreating figure.

Mark looked back down at his food, then up at Collins' meekly, "Thanks for dinner Collins, but I'm not hungry anymore," mumbled Mark as he slowly stood up and made his way over to his own bedroom. Closing the door much softer behind him.

"I'm sorry Carley, they're not normally like this," Collins apologized as he removed the two plates from the table and put them in the fridge.

"Its okay, do you mind if I just, go to bed, I'm a little tired."

"Go ahead, sleep well Carley."

o0o

Collins lay on the couch, wide awake, it was nearing two in the morning when he heard the creek of a door, he shook his head; there was only one door in the entire loft that had a creek. Seconds later he heard a knock and heard another door open.

"Roger?" came the soft whisper.

Collins smiled, that was just the way his two boys were, no matter who was around; they always ran to each other.

"Come on in Mark, what's wrong?" Collins could hear concern evident in the whisper from the darkened room.

"Can't sleep—I'm sorry I yelled."

"Come here," Roger offered.

Without a second thought, Mark slipped under the covers, seconds later he was spooned against his best friend. Roger smiled as he wrapped his over protective arms. "You're safe now Mark."

"Always safe with you," muttered Mark as he began to drift into sleep again.

"Yes you are," replied Roger, as he pulled the smaller man closer. He felt tears sting his eyes as he held a body that could very well not be there forever. "I only protect you because I can't live without you."

"Now you know how I feel on a daily basis," mumbled Mark softly.

"I'm sorry I hurt you Mark, it's all my fault—"

"No, you didn't do anything, not like you gave me the leukemia. Either way though, you're forgiven. Roger—"

"Yeah?" came the mumbled from behind him.

"Would you like to join us on our walk tomorrow?"

Roger smiled and pulled the frail body closer, "Mark, promise me you won't spend whatever time you have left looking through your camera."

"Then promise me you won't miss me."

"I can't do that Mark, I'll miss everyone when they die, but I've known you since we were just stupid little kids. I'll miss you more than you'll ever know. You're my best friend; no one will ever be able to replace you."

"It's weird—knowing that I'm probably going first now."

"You're really rather somber about it."

"I'm terrified about it—I've just gotten past the whole denying part, and I can't blame anyone so I'm can't be angry about it. So at the moment, I've accepted it. Roger, don't cry for very long over me."

"You realize I might be right behind you in dying."

"You should live, as long as you can."

"I'm not ready to give up on us just yet buddy."

"I know—but if I do die…don't cry for long; and don't shut everyone out. They're going to need someone to be the wall—grieve but be there for them too."

"When did you get so damn cocky," chuckled Roger from behind his friend.

"Rog."

"Are you ever going to sleep?" Roger grumbled as he leaned his head against Mark's shoulder, trying to drift off to sleep.

"Just one more thing—"

"You're not dying tonight Mark…"

"I know, but—look," Mark paused, turning around in his friend's arms he looked straight into the deep green eyes, "I don't want to die in the hospital, I wanna die here: In your arms, or in Collins' arms. No hospitals, if I die, I want it to be with all of my friends—my real family around me."

Roger sighed, and gently touched Mark's cheek, "I promise you that you won't die in a hospital and you won't die alone."

"Night Rog," whispered Mark finally as his eyes slid closed.

"Night Marky, I love ya little brother," leaning forward slightly; Roger pressed a kiss to the soft forehead and smiled.