Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thank you for the reviews. In response to a couple of questions…I am not yet sure whether or not Mimi is going to die in this story. Anything so far referring to her health is just a reminder of how sick she is. If, however, she does die, it will not be without some purpose. I love Mimi…I wouldn't kill her just to kill her. Here's chapter three. Please read and review. I don't own Rent.

Chapter Three:

The next morning, Mark was pouring himself a cup of coffee when Mimi emerged from the bedroom she shared with Roger. Though she looked tired, she smiled at Mark as he grabbed his camera and aimed it at the dancer.

"Close on Mimi. Former dancer of The Catscratch Club emerging from her bedroom looking in desperate need of some coffee."

Mimi stuck out her tongue and covered the camera lens as she stole the cup out of Mark's hands. Mark grinned as she took a sip and made a face.

"Too bitter?" he asked as she grabbed the sugar and poured what seemed about half of it into the cup. "Would you like some coffee with your sugar?"

"I need a new addiction."

Mark laughed, surprised at the joke.

"It's nice to see you've got your sense of humor."

"It helps. Thanks Mark."

"No worries. Where's Roger?"

"Asleep. I don't want to wake him." She broke off to sip the coffee. "He's been great." She broke off again. "I'm sorry Mark."

"For what?"

She just shrugged and ruffled his hair before going back into the bedroom. Realizing that he was still holding up his camera, Mark set it down and chewed his lip. Suddenly the door to the loft slammed open. Mark jumped and turned towards the noise. In stomped none other than Maureen Johnson.

"I can't take it anymore!" She pranced dramatically into the room and threw herself onto the couch.

"What is it now Maureen?" Mark went and sat on the table in front of her. He was used to this.

"Oh Pookie…" she took a breath and calmed down somewhat. "I'm sorry. This was rude of me. But it's Joanne! She's driving me crazy! We are always at each others throats. And I am planning another performance and she backed out as my production manager! I can't do it all by myself."

Maureen grabbed Mark's hand in her own and started drumming her fingers on his palm. She was silent for a moment as she continued massaging his hand.

Mark? Are Mimi and Roger…?"

"Asleep in their room. We should keep it quiet if we're going to talk here."

Maureen looked embarrassed. Mark looked at her kindly. Though she was always classic, self-centered Maureen, she was making an effort to check on Mimi and help her out. Mark could never really stay mad at her for the things she did. It was just…Maureen.

"So…Pookie? What do you say? Will you help me out?"

"Huh?"

"Come on! Please! Be my production manager again?"

Mark blinked at her and then scoffed. Typical Maureen!

True, he could never stay mad at her…but he could walk out on her. Mark shook his head gently, and ruffled her hair like Mimi did to him.

"Goodbye, Maureen!"

He stood up and grabbed his camera, jacket and scarf. He headed towards the door, turning back to a pouting Maureen.

"If Mimi and Roger come out here, tell them I went out and tell them to take their AZT. And Maureen? Call Joanne."

Outside, the air was chilly. Mark wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck. Taking off in no particular direction, Mark lifted his camera to his eye and scanned the streets. He currently had no new ideas for a film. He still refused to use a script but nothing new was coming to him. Night after night, he reviewed his footage hoping something would jump out. But nothing came. He just needed new inspiration.

Soon, Mark found himself in a familiar place. Without realizing it, he found himself back in front of her apartment. Sophia's. He looked up at all the windows wondering which one was hers.

I wonder if she's okay or if she is still upset from yesterday.

Mark went up the steps to the many buzzers and scanned for her name. There is was. S. Hunter. He held out his finger to the button, contemplating whether or not to press it. But he lost his nerve and stepped back down into the streets. Mark paced back and forth for quite some time. He really wanted to talk to her again. Mark sighed.

Why? Why am I so pathetic? I need distraction. I need to film.

Mark lifted his camera once more. Across the street, an old man was walking with a little girl who was clearly his granddaughter. He filmed the two walking together. The girl was wearing tiny white shoes and pigtails. The tender moment caught on film was ruined with the sound of an angry driver honking his horn. Mark sighed and turned around, camera still up to his eye.

He found himself face to face with Sophia. She grinned at him staring deep through the camera lens and straight into his eyes.

"I saw you pacing out here from my window."

Mark was speechless. He continued to stare at her, catching her on film. Sophia extended a small hand and gently lowered Mark's camera.

"I was hoping to see you again, Mark."