A/N: No worries, folks. I'm continuing the fic. :) Thank you for all the kind reviews.

XIX.

March 16, 1991

"Rog, don't go out, okay? You're still recovering and you might catch a bug…"

"Yeah yeah yeah Mark, I know. You've told me a billion times."

"I mean it. Don't leave the loft."

The only response Mark got from the lump on the bed was a grunt.

"Roger…"

"I heard you, Cohen, now fucking go to work already!"

A pillow flew towards his direction and Mark ducked before it hit him. Well, at least Roger was definitely feeling better now.

"I'll see you and Mimi later."


Roger kept his hands in his pockets as he wound slowly through the streets, reserving his draining energy as much as he could. Yeah, so Mark had told him not to leave the loft, and he wouldn't have, especially since he felt like crap and all he really wanted to do was stay in bed and sleep. But the call he'd been waiting for had finally come through, so there he was, on his way to tie up a few more loose ends. It wasn't going to take long anyway. At least Mark hadn't had Maureen come again because the bitch would probably strap him to the bed to ensure he'd stay.

He'd been told that they could meet near the Life, in an alleyway, if he wanted, since he'd asked for a near-enough, but fairly-secluded place where he couldn't bump into anyone he knew. But he told the guy to just meet him in the park since it was a bigger place and they could easily blend in, just in case.

"Are you Roger Davis?"

They were by the benches, just inside of the park. Roger found himself face-to-face with a somewhat tall, medium-built man in a dark jacket, jeans and boots. The guy's face was hard and stern. The mustache made things worse. This wasn't a guy you wanted to mess with.

"Yeah." He returned breathlessly after coughing a little into his hand. "Are you Fremont?"

The guy answered with a slight nod. "Ready to do business?"

Roger nodded, then placed a hand on his chest. The world was spinning. He felt as though he'd run a fucking marathon. Fremont stared at him with a slight frown.

"You feeling all right? Maybe we should do this another…"

"No. No. I'm great. Can we just do this sitting down? I gotta catch my breath a sec…"

No way were they doing this another time. This was going to be done today. Just today. After that, he would swear he wasn't going to do this again. Fremont gave him a smug smile. Roger wanted to hit him. What did the guy care right? He was just in it for the money.

"If you're sure."


Mark glanced at his watch. It was lunchtime. He wondered if he should call up the loft. He was uneasy somewhat, though he couldn't place why. Was Roger okay? He was probably eating now, if he wasn't lazy enough. Or maybe he was still in bed…maybe he should call up Mimi and ask her to check up on him. Roger was always more cooperative when it came to his wife.

"Mark?" a voice permeated his consciousness and knocked him back to reality. "Mark! I need you in Alexi's office! Now!"

It was Fred, Alexi's slave. He looked like he was going to have a heart attack. From somewhere in the corridor, he could hear Alexi shouting his name.

Shit. She probably had a problem with the new reel he sent. Fuck.

Mark jogged over to Alexi's office. Roger was probably okay. He was, wasn't he? He'd just check later. Or maybe he'd go home early. Just so he'd stop feeling anxious.

"Mark!"

Later. Later, he'd call.

The little rendezvous with Fremont had taken longer than Roger had expected. God, the day was a bitch. He just wanted to crawl into bed and pass out. He pushed himself to hurry in case Mark or Mimi called. If Mark found out he'd left, the filmmaker would kill him. And then the questions would come. Shit. He didn't want to handle that now.

By the time he got to the stairs to get up to the loft, Roger was starting to feel light-headed. He was still breathless, like he'd felt at the park a while ago. Fuck, he'd just hurried up a little bit. What was wrong with him?

He paused in the middle of his ascend to catch his breath. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. He could feel his hands get clammy. Was he getting asthma or something? He feared it was the pneumonia, but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

I just gotta get up to the loft then I'll be okay, he thought to himself, shaking his head tog et rid of his dizziness. Just move, don't stop.

The many steps that sat in front of him, waiting for him to climb them all, seemed to taunt Roger. Fuck, now even stairs were getting the best of him.

Just move. Don't stop.

"Cohen! Phone call!"

Alexi and Mark looked at the doorway where Fred stood, holding the phone. Alexi looked irritated. She was wearing her I-am-the-bitch-boss-and-all-you-slaves-better-do-what-I-say-face. Apparently, Mark's new segment hadn't complied with her 'fresh and edgy' standard. She wanted more cutting-edge life drama. She was halfway in yelling at Mark so when Fred appeared and cut her off, it didn't put her in the best of moods.

"Didn't I tell you we weren't supposed to be disturbed?" she practically shrieked at Fred, who cowered behind the doorframe.

"Who is it?" Mark found his voice. He wanted to know. It was his fucking phone call, not Alexi's.

"I didn't get it…but she sounded urgent…" squeaked Fred.

Mark ran a list of the people who knew his number at the office…it had been a 'she'? Maureen? Joanne? Mimi?

Shit, any of them calling at work meant bad news.

"Alexi, I have to take this call…I'm sorry…I'll be right back." He swiped the phone from Fred and left the room despite his boss' protests. He rushed to his own corner of the office, where the phone's cradle sat so he could be alone. From behind him, Alexi started yelling at Fred. Today wasn't a good day for Buzzline. It was probably that time of the month for their man-eater boss.

"Hello?" Mark spoke into the phone. There was a muffled sobbing on the other line. Mark felt his heart beat faster. "Hello?"

"M-Mark, you…Mark…R-Roger…"

Yes, it was Mimi all right. Fuck, what had happened? His feet had suddenly turned into twin blocks of ice and Mark felt the nausea from fear climbing rapidly up his throat.

"Roger? What happened? Mimi, Mimi…talk to me please. Are you all right? Is he all right?"

He could hear Dodge barking endlessly in the background. Shrill yaps that Mark could only translate as the puppy's own version of anxiety. He'd never heard Dodge bark that way before and it made his skin crawl. Mimi could barely string two words together.

""I came h-home early…Roger…he…I saw…he's collapsed on the l-landing…I don't know if he's…I don't k-know…I…I…" She was hysterical. "Mark…Mark…please…help me…"

She didn't need to say anything more.

"I'm coming home."

Fuck Alexi. Fuck Buzzline. Mark hung up and hurriedly headed for the door.

TBC

A/N: Who's Fremont? What's Roger up to? What'll happen?Stay tuned!Lol. Please r/r. )