A/N: Sorry that this took like forever, but I have school and junk. Summer's coming, so updates should be quicker. Hope peoples are still reading. And if you read, please have the decency to review, k? kk.

Maureen may have left Joanne's apartment with her dignity, but she sure didn't walk out into New York with it. She put her bags down at the first bench she saw, and sat with her head in her hands, putting forth her best effort not to cry.

She felt disgusting because she hadn't showered, she could still smell and taste alcohol on her breath, she was hung over like all hell, she didn't have a place to stay, and to top it all off, she didn't even have a girlfriend to make it all better. The only time that she could remember feeling worse was Angel's funeral.

Maureen sat on the bench for a while, analyzing the situation

Joanne was mad at her. They'd broken up, and this fight would take slightly more than a pout to fix. Joanne had accused her of being an incompetent for the role of her future wife. She had called her immature and irresponsible.

Joanne said that she couldn't take care of herself.

Joanne was getting ready to settle down, find a life partner, have a family. Was that what Maureen wanted? Was she ready to commit herself to one relationship for the rest of her life? And if so, did she want her life partner to be the workaholic lawyer Joanne Jefferson?

Maureen didn't even have to consider the question. The answer was yes, and would never change. Maureen had been in tons of relationships in her life, but never had she been involved with someone who made her feel the way Joanne did.

Still, she knew that she'd have to make some drastic change in her behavior to win Joanne back. Joanne wanted responsibility. How could Maureen prove that she was responsible?

The answer rang loud and clear in Maureen's mind, but she tried desperately to push it away. She couldn't avoid it, yet she was unreasonably afraid of it.

Get a job.

But where? Maureen hadn't exactly finished college. Her boyfriend at the time, Mark, had convinced her to drop out in Sophomore year to live the life of a starving artist. He told her between his films and Roger's songs, they would make it big.

That was the only time Maureen could ever remember Mark lying to her.

Still, Maureen knew she had to do it. It was the only way she could prove to Joanne that she was responsible. Joanne was always on her about what was she going to put forth, how was she going to help out, what did she do with herself while she was home alone. She knew Joanne was afraid that she was out getting drunk, or worse, getting laid, when she was home alone.

Overall, Joanne said living with Maureen was more like living with her daughter rather than her girlfriend.

Sure, there were plenty of places where a 25 year old woman who hadn't finished college could work. McDonald's, Starbuck's, Taco Bell. But those were the kind of jobs that teenagers looking for a quick buck would take. Mimi of course would suggest the Cat Scratch Club, but Maureen wasn't so sure if that's what Joanne meant by "responsible".

She decided that she'd hang out at the loft until she could find a place to stay, and she would start job searching tomorrow. She had about two hundred dollars of emergency money to her name, which might be enough to pay for the first rent or so, but she didn't want to commit herself to an apartment before she knew she could pay. Yes, she could squat like Roger and Mark, but that wasn't very responsible either.

Her mind made up, Maureen picked up her bags and made her way over to Avenue A.

The door was opened when she got to the loft, so she invited herself in. On the other side of the door, she found the four of them, Roger, Mimi, Mark, and Collins, gathered around the coffee table playing poker with the cards Mark had bought for Christmas last year.

"Well, well, well," Roger said, grinning, "Look who we have here. Last night's contest winner."

Maureen could've cried. The last thing she wanted was to be reminded of the fact that Joanne had left her, especially over that ridiculous contest.

Instead of breaking down however, she switched both bags over to one hand, flipped Roger off with her free one, and headed for Benny's old bedroom, the only unoccupied one.

Roger laughed. "Sorry Mo, didn't Collins tell you?" he shouted after her, "We're renting out the spare room to a chick named Hannah."

Maureen kicked the door open, and shouted a "fuck you" at Roger. Hannah was Joanne's ex girlfriend's name.

The room was like she remembered. A twin bed stood in the middle of the room, looking barren and ghostly due to its lack of sheets and pillows. Other than that, it was empty. She tossed hr bags on the bed, and then went back out to the main room. She wouldn't bother unpacking. First of all, she had no where to put her stuff. Second, she'd be out of here soon.

As Maureen walked back out, Mimi patted the spot on the couch next to her. "How'd it go down Maureen-chica?"

Maureen sighed as she sat down. Maternal instincts taking over, Mimi wrapped an arm around Maureen's shoulders, who in turn rested her head on Mimi's, silent tears sliding down her face.

Just perfect. Maureen thought to herself. Go on and cry your eyes out right in front of everyone.

But no one said anything. Mimi just took her thumb and wiped the tears away while Maureen looked up at her with sad eyes.

"Venido chica," Mimi said, standing up and holding her hand out to Maureen, "Vayamos a mi sitio." Mimi sometimes defaulted to Spanish when she was upset in someway, whether she was concerned, angry, or scared.

Maureen nodded, standing up. She didn't understand much Spanish, but between what she remembered from school, and the hand gestures from Mimi, she knew she was saying something along the lines of, "let's go to my room." Maureen figured she probably just wanted to talk away from the guys. Considerate on Mimi's part.

Roger had a puzzled look on his face, being that the only thing he knew how to say in Spanish was probably the numbers one through ten, but got the idea when the two started walking off to Mimi's room.

"Hey!" Roger shouted after them, "If you have something to say, why can't you say it en el here-o?"

Mimi rolled her eyes at her boyfriend's pathetic attempt at the language, and Collins told him to give it a rest.

Mimi closed the door behind her, and they both sat down on her and Roger's bed cross legged, facing one another.

"Ok chica," Mimi started, taking Maureen's hand in hers, "tell me all about it."

And so she did. She told her about waking up with a hangover, and not remembering how she got home (Mimi later filled her in on how Collins had carried her back to her apartment), she told her about finding her bags packed, and about Joanne calling her too irresponsible. She finished her story by telling her about her need for a job, how it was necessary if she ever wanted to be with Joanne again.

The whole while, Mimi just listened, nodding and squeezing her hand at times, but overall just listening. It wasn't until Maureen was completely finished that she spoke.

"I can help you find a job," she offered.

Maureen smiled, "Thanks for offering, but I think I have to do this myself, if you know what I mean."

Mimi nodded, "I know exactly what you mean." Then she hugged Maureen, and for that brief moment, she felt loved again.

"Come on chica," Mimi said, pulling her up off the bed, "relax for a little while, have some fun."

Maureen shook her head, "I think I'm gonna just go to sleep, my head's still killing me."

Mimi nodded, and let Maureen go off to her room, this time with no snide remarks from Roger. Once inside, she locked her door, before going over to her bags to find out exactly what Joanne had packed for her.

She tossed aside shirts, three pairs of jeans, undergarments, socks, then she stumbled across something that made her eyes well up with tears. The bear Joanne had bought for Maureen for their three year anniversary, just months ago. She shoved clothes back in her bags, but left out her large winter coat to use as a blanket.

She curled up on the barren mattress, strangling the stuffed animal in her grasp, shivering under the jacket. She thought about how much warmer she'd be if Joanne was here, if she were wrapped up in her arms. And that was all it took. She broke down, and cried -no, sobbed- herself to sleep.