Death of a Muse

Legal Disclaimer-As stated before, the characters here, other than Mary Blaine, belong to Jonathan Larson's estate. No money is made here, just an artistic jones getting burned off.

Authors Note-So, this one's gonna get interesting. Everyone seems to want to know what is with Mary. She's well-check out the last line. That should answer the question. This chapter is an M, my children, due to the situations. Sweetie Pie, that is what I was getting at, so here you go. This one is dedicated to you. Review please.

Mary Blaine stirred in her sleep. She still felt the joy of meeting a wonderful man, and wanting to share the information with Erin, her roommate at the American Ballet Theater. Mark felt her stir, and gently put his arms around her. She hadn't said much since she got home. Collins had found some whisky, gave it to her, and then ran off to his apartment, ready to get his clothes and make the return trip to the loft.

She had fallen asleep on the couch, Roger keeping an eye on her. He knew the pain that she had gone through, he had found April. He knew what it was like not to just lose a good friend, but he hoped that she wouldn't experience the pain that he went through.

She hadn't said much, barely ate any of the food that Mark had made her, and was just simply quiet. It was scary that she was that quiet. Roger reminded Mark before he left to play with the band that the medic told him that she would act like this, he also reminded him that she had gone through a large amount of trauma.

Mimi had left for work as well, she had spent a little time with Mary, trying to get her to drink some tea and putting an arm around when she did cry. It helped to have another female there to help her, but Mary had stayed quiet.

When she fell asleep, Mark found himself sitting on the couch watching her. He pushed hair out of her face, gently, treating her like she was a porcelain doll. The second she started stirring, in the grips of what looked like a nightmare, he moved in next to her, gathering her in his arms.

She found herself waking to the semi-darkness of the loft, wondering first where she was, secondly wondering what had happened to her. The sickening reality hit her. Erin was dead. She held back a sob and snuggled closer to Mark. She realized that he had gathered her in his arms on the couch a few moments before she woke up, and she knew that if she stayed asleep, she would have a few more moments of peace before she had to face the reality of what had happened.

"Mary, honey?" Mark asked softly, "You awake?"

"Yeah," she muttered, "How long was I asleep?"

"About an hour," he replied, "You mind me here?"

"No, stay here, please," her voice was small, "I need this more than you know."

"I know, Mary, I do," Mark said, snuggling in a little closer, "You know I'm here for you, whatever happens."

"I know that Mark," Mary said, "You're the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Mark blushed. She was wrong, it was the other way around, he loved her.

"Same here," Mark sighed, stroking her hair, "Whenever you want to talk about it, I'm here."

"There's not much to say, she was my friend, she had a horrible boyfriend," Mary shifted so that she was resting her head on the crook of Mark's neck, her gaze out the window, "He killed her."

"We don't know that for sure," Mark said, "You have to let the cops do their job."

"I have had too many friends change their lives because of their boyfriends or their health Mark," Mary said, "It fucking sucks."

Mark laughed, it was the first time he had ever heard Mary curse.

"What, you didn't think I knew how to say that?" Mary asked, "Mark, I'm not that innocent."

"I know, just never thought I would hear fucking come out of your mouth," Mark sat up slightly, neck muscles screaming in pain, "You don't seem the type to curse."

"Dancers curse like sailors, Mark," Mary sat up with him, "Life fucking sucks right now, let me curse."

"Go for it," Mark said, "Use every word you got, missy, between listening to Maureen, Roger and Collins, I got you beat."

Mary used every curse she could think of for a few minutes, then looked at Mark.

"Feel better?" Mark asked simply.

"Yes," Mary replied, a slight smile growing on her face.

She gently pulled away from Mark and sat up. He did have a way of making her feel better when she felt like absolute hell. He shifted, sat up and put an arm around her.

"Collins is going to be here in a few minutes," he said, "He's going to be sleeping on the couch."

"Yeah, he told me that," Mary replied, "He's getting his apartment fumigated?"

"Yes, he is," Mark replied, "You can still sleep in my bed."

"Thanks," Mary looked into Mark's eyes, "No strings?"

"No," Mark said, "Unless you …"

"No," Mary's voice was soft, as she watched Mark's reaction.

He was a little stunned, but he realized there was something more behind her statement.

"Mark, don't take it that way," Mary said, "I don't sleep with just anyone. And I'm not saying that you and I aren't feeling something. I do care for you. I just can't…"

She was having a hard time putting the words in sentences. She turned from him and looked out the window.

Mark nodded. Something else was there and she couldn't say it. It was time that he did.

"You figure out yet that I am in love with you?" Mark admitted.

"What?" Mary asked.

"I'm in love with you Mary Blaine," Mark said, getting up, "I know that might be hard for you to get, seeing how we only have known each other for about 3 weeks. I knew it the second I laid eyes on you."

"Oh, Mark," Mary replied, "I love you too."

"You do?" Mark was happy.

"Yes, I do," Mary replied, "You and I have been all over this city, seeing it at its best and brightest, and all I can think of is how cool it is to see it from your eyes. You don't know what you're doing to me."

"Me?" Mark turned to face her, "You are in my every thought. When I heard today that a ballerina was murdered, I thought it was you. I literally shook with fear as we traveled to the theater. Roger had to keep me as calm as possible before we got there. When I saw you in the office I was so relieved yet so shocked by your appearance. Mary, how can I help you through this? You look so lost. I love you baby, and I want to help."

Mary stopped. Mark had bared his soul to her. She stood up, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him passionately. Breaking the kiss, she looked into his eyes. It was time she bared hers.

"I'm not lost," she said, "I'm a virgin."