A/N: I think this is probably the fastest I've ever posted two consecutive chapters. There might be a little confusion with this one for those who are very familiar with the verse, so let me explain: I know it's supposed to go "A time to love, and a time to hate," but I thought switching them around would continue the theme and support the storyline better. A minor adjustment, I hope no one minds. Enjoy, and please review and tell me what you think! Thanks!


A time to hate...

"I hate the fall."

Mark looked up from his newspaper to find Roger lying upside down on the couch, a notebook resting on his stomach. He was randomly ripping out pages (some blank, others scribbled and doodled on), crumpling them up into little balls, and tossing them over his head and into the trash can. So far, Mark estimated that he'd made about three shots. The phone rang.

"Don't waste paper. And don't say that you hate things. It's not nice." He said, turning the page of his newspaper and taking a drink of his tea.

Ring.

"I'm not wasting it, it's already used. And who are you, my mother?"

Ring.

"You can dislike it severely. But don't say that you hate something if you really don't."

Ring.

"Well, I really hate the fall. It's so depressing, everything's dying. Are you gonna answer that?"

Ring.

"No, are you?"

"No."

"SPEAK!"

"Hey, Mark and Roger, its….its Benny," said the voice on the answering machine. Mark stopped mid-drink, setting his newspaper down and resting his chin in his hand. Roger swung his legs around and sat up abruptly. "Sorry I haven't called in a while. I've just been….you know….busy."

Roger snorted, shaking his head. Mark waved his hand, motioning for him to be quiet.

"Anyway, I wanted to know if you guys would like to have dinner sometime….sometime soon, actually. We can meet at the Life, or somewhere else, it doesn't matter." A nervous laugh. "Price doesn't matter, its my treat. There are some things I need to discuss with you guys….it might not be the best of news, but my investor and I…."

"Why does he call his father-in-law his investor all the time?" Roger asked, half amused, half annoyed as Benny's voice talked on. "It's not like we don't know who he is."

"Shhh!"

"….and I know its not the best situation, but it's his decision, not mine. I know you guys would have some trouble coming up with the rent, so I thought we could work out a deal over dinner. It would help you, help me….help everyone. There's really no downside. So, give me a call as soon as possible, and we'll see what we can do."

"Well, isn't that just lovely?" Mark asked, folding his newspaper and dumping his tea into the sink as the recording clicked off.

"Yeah, fuckin' beautiful," Roger mumbled, chucking the notebook across the room and standing. He placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head. "Bastard. I hate him."

"What did I tell you?" Mark said. Roger looked up and smirked, but was surprised to find that Mark looked completely serious. "Don't say you hate something unless you're sure you do."

"Well, I'm pretty sure that I do," Roger said, throwing his hands into the air. "I mean, he was one of our best friends. He meets a rich girl, not to mention he doesn't even tell us about her, then moves away and sells out one day without a moment's hesitation. The guy used to have morals."

"Selling out doesn't mean he doesn't have morals," Mark defended, pushing himself up to sit on the table. "It just means he's weak. He had trouble resisting temptation. You can't hate him for that."

"Sure I can," Roger said, sinking back down into the couch cushions. "Besides, he completely turned his back on us. Just moved out one day without a word. And now, the one promise he made to us, the one thing he could do to help us out, he's taking away. He's breaking his word, you can't deny that."

Mark shook his head. "No, no I can't. But don't hate him."

"Sorry," Roger said, leaning back and closing his eyes. "But it's hard not to hate a guy who turned on us completely. Come on, Mark, you can't tell me you've never hated anyone before."

Mark shrugged, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as he stared at the ground. "I used to think I hated April."

Roger's eyes shot open, his face a mixture of mild anger and complete shock. He turned to glare at Mark. "What? Why?"

"Think about it, Roger," Mark said, not meeting Roger's eye. "She screwed up a lot of things."

"Yeah, but….but….you never…." Roger stuttered. He couldn't think of what to say.

"She got you hooked on drugs," Mark continued at Roger's lack of articulation. "She gave you the virus. And when she should have been there for you, should have supported you, she killed herself because she didn't want to deal with the consequences."

"But….you can't…..you…." Roger finally stopped speaking, crossing his arms across his chest and shaking his head. He appeared angry, but Mark saw the confusion and hurt in his eyes. "Well, thanks for telling me this now."

"Roger, I didn't think it was important to say," Mark looked up at Roger at last, only to have him avoid his gaze. "Because I don't hate her."

Roger looked up in surprise, confused. "What? But you just said…."

"I just said that I thought I hated her," Mark stressed. "I thought wrong."

"She wasn't all bad, you know," Roger said, uncrossing his arms and letting them fall to his sides. Mark nodded.

"I know. I can't think of skating in the park, having late night coffee binges, going to your shows….I can't think of those things and hate her. It's not right."

Roger fell silent. He didn't know what to say….didn't know if anything he could say would matter at this point. He felt guilt settle in the pit of his stomach; for what reason, he didn't know.

"Don't hate Benny, it's not worth it," Mark continued, hopping off the table. He wandered over to the couch, grabbing his camera and his scarf. "He's weak. April was weak. Don't blame them for that."

Roger nodded, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. He watched as Mark put on his scarf. "Where are you going?"

"To film a little. Wanna come?"

"No thanks," Roger said, shaking his head. Mark nodded, heading for the door, but Roger spoke again. "Are you going to Benny's dinner?"

"Hell, no," Mark laughed. "I don't hate him, but I still think he's a lying, cheating, back stabbing son-of-a-bitch who doesn't deserve the time of day."

Roger let out a bark of laughter. "I'm glad we agree."


...and a time to love.

As soon as the phone rang, Mark was up, out of his chair, and to the phone faster than what he thought was humanly possible. However, he hesitated as his hand reached out to grab the receiver.

Do I answer it right away? Will I seem desperate to talk to him?

Mark pulled his hand away. He didn't want to seem emotional, didn't want to let Roger know how much he missed him.

If I answer after the machine, will it seem like I don't care that he's calling? That I'm too busy to even realize that he's gone?

Mark didn't want that, either. He did want Roger to know that he was thinking about him, still wishing him well after the fight they'd had before he left.

Maybe it wasn't Roger at all, he thought, crossing his arms across his chest. Maybe it was Maureen, calling to complain about her latest fight with Joanne. Maybe it was Collins, calling to check up, just to talk. He knew it probably wasn't Mimi; no one had heard from her in a while. Maybe it was Benny, wanting the rent early this month….

"SPEAK!"

"Hey, Mark. It's….Roger. I just….just wanted to call and check in, see how everything's been going. Um….I guess you're not home, then. Probably out filming, or….or something. When you get this, though, give me a call. I'd really like to…."

"Roger!" Mark finally picked up the phone, gripping it with both hands. "Hi!"

"Oh, hey," Roger's voice said, sounding a little startled at Mark's enthusiasm. "Didn't think you were home."

"Yeah, sorry, I just walked in the door," Mark lied, although it did soundlike he was out of breath. "So….how have you been?"

"I'm okay," Roger said, and Mark leaned against the side of the desk, twirling the phone cord in his hands. "It's been….a little rough. I've been making some money, though, playing on street corners and stuff."

"I thought you sold your guitar?" Mark asked, confused.

"Oh, I didn't tell you? Yeah, well I sold the car when I got here," Roger said, and Mark could hear the smile in his voice. "How was I supposed to make money if I didn't have a guitar? I didn't quite think that one through."

"Guess not," Mark chuckled. An awkward silence followed as Mark sat open mouthed, trying to get the words he wanted to say to come out. His throat, however, didn't think that was a very good idea, as it constricted and made it difficult to breathe.

"Hey…." Roger's voice began, at the exact time Mark finally managed to blurt out, "So…."

They both laughed nervously. Roger continued, apparently fearful of another awkward silence. "Go ahead."

"No, its okay," Mark said, shaking his head into the phone. "I was just going to ask….how the weather was….in Santa Fe."

Smooth, Cohen. Real smooth.

"Oh," Roger sounded slightly disappointed. "Oh, it's….hot."

"Oh," Mark mumbled. He felt tongue tied, still gripping the phone tightly. "I figured. It's cold here."

"Yeah, it always is." Another silence. "How is….everyone?"

"Fine," Mark said, knowing what Roger actually meant. "They send their love."

"Well, send mine along as well," Roger said. Then, finally, "How's Mimi?"

"I don't know," Mark said. "I haven't seen her in a while."

"Oh. Okay."

Mark couldn't take it anymore. His shoulders slumped and he ran a hand through his hair, standing straight again. "Roger, what are you still doing there? Come home."

"Mark…." Roger's tone was exasperated. "I can't. I just can't, you wouldn't understand."

"Try me," Mark said, and Roger sighed.

"I have to write a song, Mark. I have to leave something behind, have to do….something."

"And you can't do that here?"

Roger didn't say anything after that. This conversation was so old, so worn out. They had it every time Roger called, and every time, it ended the same.

"Roger," Mark began again, when he realized there was going to be no response from the other end. "What are you afraid of? Falling in love? Committing? Being dumped? What?"

"Mark, I have to go. I have an interview with a guy….about a gig."

"No, you're not leaving!" Mark said, practically yelling into the phone. "We're finishing this conversation right now. You're going to tell me what you're afraid of, why you won't come back when I can hear in your voice that you want to."

Roger sighed again. "It's complicated."

"What's so complicated about falling in love?"

"Nothing, that's the problem," Roger said. Now we're getting somewhere. "I just, needed to get away, before….before I did."

"Before you did what?"

"You know."

"Fell in love?" Mark asked, leaning against the table again. "Why? What's so wrong with that?"

"It's not that easy, Mark," Roger suddenly sounded sadder, lonelier than ever. "I don't….want to hurt her. And I don't…."

"Want to get hurt," Mark finished for him. "No one does. But would it be worth it? Would the love that came before be worth the pain that would follow? That's what you have to decide. You know she loves you. You know she doesn't love Benny."

"I know," Roger whispered. "I know. I'm trying, Mark, trying to figure this out."

"Come home, let me help you figure it out," Mark didn't see the hurt in asking again.

"I will, soon," Roger said. "I just need some time alone. It's not permanent."

"I know," Mark said, standing again. "I better let you go."

"Okay. I'll call again. Soon. I promise."

"Alright," Mark sighed. At least they'd gotten somewhere this time. "And Roger?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't think about regret, okay? Just, think about what your heart tells you."

"Okay." Roger took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. "Bye, Mark."

"Bye."

Mark hung up the phone, sighing and sitting down against the wall. The silence in the loft was almost deafening. He remembered when it was too full, when Collins, Maureen, Benny, Roger, and he had all lived together. It was always loud then.

Maureen left, and it was just the boys. That wasn't a problem. Mark didn't exactly want her around all the time anyway.

Benny left, and Mark was still okay with that. They hadn't really talked to Benny much anymore. He was always gone.

Collins left, and Mark was sad. He liked Collins. Collins was one of his best friends.

Roger left, and Mark didn't think he could handle it much longer. He didn't do alone very well. Roger was his best friend. He'd always been there.

Mark couldn't help but think that, eventually, this was how it was going to be all the time. Quiet, empty, lonely….

Only when they're gone, Mark thought bitterly as he stood, there won't be any phone calls, either.


Next chapter: keep silence/speak