Chapter Thirteen: Grasping Troubles

"No, sir. You don't understand-"

"I understand perfectly Mr. Collins. If you would like to come down to the station to fill out a missing person's report then we can get down to business, but under the circumstances, it just doesn't seem to us that you have enough information. This is New York City, sir, and we do not have time for hoopla. You have one witness, who happens to be visually impaired, and you're telling me he just got his memory back a few hours ago after watching footage that does not even contain these men's faces. We need some hardcore evidence if you are claiming murder and kidnapping."

"She's been missing for four years! Shouldn't that be evidence enough?"

"As you clearly state before. However, it appears that you also said that Tammy Carson has been missing for one year, not four. You said yourself that she went home after her sister's death and then came to New York. Please, we need the facts to be correct."

"You're not going to do anything?"

"You need to come down to the station."

"What about these druggies? They've got guns! Do you want this city to be shot up?"

"I will assure you, we will not let any harm come to this city. Please, I do not need to sound repetitive. Come down to the station, sir."

"What will happen then?"

"It'll be up to what is specifically on the footage. Your so-called witness needs to come down-"

"Are you saying my friend is a suspect?"

"That's really-"

"Well! Is he?"

"Please, sir. Calm down. Under these circumstances-"

"It's not circumstances! This is actual shit that's going down in our city and a woman could be in danger, or, worse, she could be dead! Haven't you been listening to anything I've been saying? A man is already dead."

"Mr. Collins, I've checked this man, Jimmy Tank, in out records and it appears as if he's fled the state of New York as soon as his bar was caught up in a drug bust-up. He's on the run."

"He's a runaway and I just fed you a tip! Doesn't than entitle me at least a checkout of the building?"

"We are not going to get in on this matter. I've already relayed too much information that I ought not to of. I will have men sent to this building that you described, but nothing else can be done because we are not authorized to enter the building."

"What's your name?"

"Pardon me?"

"Your name. What is it?"

"Sergeant Michael Simmons. How is this relevant to your case, sir?"

"It's not. I'd just like to know who the hell wasted fifteen minutes of my time, after getting nowhere, with a case that can cause multiple deaths, so I can tell the news your name when something actually does go down. Now I ask you Sergeant, can you live with yourself with that on your conscience? I'll be you can't."

"Sir-"

"Thank you!" Collins slammed the phone down angrily and for a few seconds all he could do was glare down at the phone, fists clenched tightly against his side as his heart beat unsteadily in his chest. Never in his life did Thomas Collins want so badly to march into the police station and bash a man of the law to their oblivion. However, as the image entered Collins' mind, he immediately smirked at the thought and controlled his intense heartbeat.

"I take it they didn't believe you?" Whipping around quickly, startled from his thoughts, Collins found himself eye-to-eye with Roger. Roger smirked at the reaction of his presence and said, "Must've been a real deep thought to get you to zone out."

Collins rolled his eyes. "Unfortunately not."

Roger sighed and shook his head as he confirmed his first question. "They didn't believe you."

"Not in the slightest. We need to head down there to fill out a missing person's report and Mark needs to be questioned-"

"Questioned? Why the hell would he need to be questioned?"

"Apparently he's a suspect-"

"Suspect!" Roger roared and spat the word out as if it was venom.

"Roger, calm down and listen for a second. Right now we've got to see where they are coming from. Considering everything that's happened they're thinking logically about this, as opposed to us, and, as I told them, Mark is the only witness to this whole thing. The footage helps out his case but it was turned off after he got into the basement with Tammy, all they have to go on is his word." Collins said, "Now think, man, in the earlier footage, the one you told me about, did Tammy confess to anything that was happening to her?"

Chewing his bottom lip mercilessly, Roger paced the loft as a hand ran through his hair and down his face. Roger was dead tired and his brain had seemed to be on overkill. Collins waited patiently for the musician to get everything together, he needed the musician's help on this. Everything was working out though, or, at least, better then Collins would've initially expected, and Collins was just happy to see Roger still in the city. After everything that happened, after all the talks it would've been amazing if Roger still had thoughts about running.

"Mark and Tammy were arguing…then the bus…more arguing- but it was nothing about what was happening to her. She wouldn't tell him." Roger shook his head absently as he wracked through his jumbled thoughts. "They were running again…somewhere, that place in the alleyway so they could climb through the window… yeah. Shit, Mark got a shot of the inside but we don't know exactly, just what he described. Tammy didn't have time to explain anything, Frank came down and it cut off right there."

"Did you get an image of what he looked like?"

"Not really… It was mostly the carpet and then it cut off."

"Eh, that probably won't help. You know, they think he ran off."

"What?"

"After the drug bust-up Jimmy ran away. It's nothing to worry about for us, once they see that it is the same Jimmy from you and Mark's past then it'll be easier to convince them of what happened," Collins reasoned. He looked around the living room suddenly frowned. "Where's Mark?"

"Sleeping. I took him to his room, for now."

"Huh, I figured he'd be down a few minutes into his speech after I slipped him those damned pills. How's he doing with all this?"

"He's as best as he can be but-" Roger stopped suddenly, his brain only now registering what Collins had just said. "Pills? You gave him pills? Which ones? The ones for his headache?"

Waving a hand dismissively, Collins said, "They were… well, technically they're his nighttime pills. You know? Full of that crap that makes him drowsy in about two to three hours after he takes em' until he eventually drops out. Used to give it to em' all the time when he first moved to the city, back when he was getting mugged everyday, said it was headache medicine back then too. Most of the times I saw him take it he'd go out right away, but I guess that's because he was already down for a nap-"

"Are these the same pills you gave me when I was going through withdrawal?"

"No, these are actual pills that help a headache. I got em' from the doctor 'cause we didn't have money to go out to the pharmacy to buy it. " Collins retracted the pill bottle from his pocket and held it out to Roger, who examined the orange bottle wearily. "The pills I gave you were placebos."

"Placebos? As in those sugar pills?"

"The one in the same." Collins winked. "The doctor I talked to called me an idiot for asking him about it but I used em' anyway and they helped you out a bunch of times when we didn't want to give you any actual drugs." He placed a finger to his temple and said, "It's all part of the mind, my friend."

"Damned things might've been useful to Mark."

"Probably not. He knows what they are. Besides, Mark's a complex kind of guy; he doesn't use his brain to process something as simple as… I don't know, having the flu, for example. Anyway, I've been thinking, what we heard of Mark's record of what happened that night, he hit his head against the side table. Now, the doctor said he didn't have a concussion, but, due to the psychological facts we know now, it could be a mix-and-match process."

"Mix-and-match? Psychological? What do you mean?" Roger questioned, clearly confused.

Collins tried to explain his thought, "It could be psychological, but it could also be by the way he hit his head. I'm not entirely sure, but I think it might be both at the same time. Mark's mind was suppressing the memory and he hit his head. It's possible the two mental and physical priorities came into play and messed with his head more than we might think."

"So, there's a chance he might get his vision back?"

"There's a chance he could get it back, but we won't really know until he's checked out by his doctor. The doctors will probably come up with a reason we aren't thinking of. Don't forget, we can hope-"

"Hope?" Roger raised a brow. "You honestly think hope will do us some good?"

"The prospect of hope is a lot more powerful then one might think. Hope is the power that gives us the power to move through each day, face the dangers in this world and help us feel that everything can and will get better soon."

Roger blinked. "You're such a professor."

Collins chuckled.

Click. Knock. Knock. Knock. Mimi's head poked into the loft and she gave a hesitant smile as she saw Collins and Roger in the middle of the living room having, what looked to be, from her view, a heated conversation. She questioned, "Is it okay if we came in?"

"That was quick," Roger said, moving to open the door fully. He arched a brow at the rest of the bohemians crowded in the hallway and with a small sigh ushered them into the loft. He closed and locked the door and watched wearily as everybody slinked into the living room. "Did you already eat dinner?"

Benny looked to him confusedly. "Haven't you checked the clock, it's almost 9:30 PM."

Looking to the clock on the wall, Collins sighed. "So it is."

"Where's Mark?" Maureen questioned, looking around the loft for their filmmaker. "Is he sleeping? I really wanted to talk to him about something." She looked to his bedroom door and chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully, an expression she only used when she was incredibly serious about something. This made Collins smile, it was always nice -albeit rare- to see the softer side of the usual happy-go-lucky diva.

Sitting down on the arm of the couch, the small furniture already filled with Joanne, Maureen, and a sleeping Blink, Collins placed his hand over Maureen's and smiled kindly. "He's sleeping but you can speak to him tomorrow."

Roger, however, looked wary of having his best friend's ex-girlfriend speak to him. In his defense, he hadn't seen or heard what Collins had said to the rest of their bohemian family and he was still a bit protective over Mark. "What do you need to talk to him about? Maybe I could tell him for you."

Maureen sighed and leaned into Joanne. "It's nothing, Roger. I just wanted to apologize for something I said to him."

"Oh," Roger stated simply, embarrassed. "Well, yeah, he's not up for visitors I don't think."

"Maybe we should just get home." Joanne offered, taking Maureen by the hand and hauling her off the couch. "Come on, honey bear, we'll come back to see Mark tomorrow. You can talk to him then."

"Do you need a ride?" Benny offered, holding the keys to his Range Rover up. "Or you can take my car and give it back tomorrow."

Interesting, Collins thought to himself with a grin as he plopped down on the cushion Maureen had just vacated. He took Blink in his lap and stroked the tired dog's ear as he watched the exchange between Maureen and Benny. They'd come a long way since their first meeting, especially since it was just last year that they hated each other. I need to catch up on this. Maybe they had a talk at the Life Café tonight… Ah, well, maybe not. I'll ask Mimi later.

"No, thanks," Maureen replied to the suggestion. "It's a nice night. We'll walk."

Joanne looked less than pleased. "Nice night? It's raining!"

"So, we'll get wet." Maureen squeezed Joanne closer to her.

"The things I put up with." Joanne chuckled, kissing her girlfriend.

"Good," Maureen whispered, nuzzling Joanne's neck.

"Here," Benny held out an umbrella, "if you're not going to take my car than at least take this."

"Thanks." Joanne grinned.

Maureen and Benny exchanged hugs. It neither was hurried or quick nor was it long and lasting, but it was truthful and friendly. A lot could be told from a hug, Collins knew that for a fact, and it was that particular hug that told Collins there was some relief in their odd friendship.

"So," Mimi started after Maureen and Joanne took their leave, she pursed her lips and looked to Roger worriedly, "what happened?"

"It was just…" Roger trailed off, looking away from his girlfriend as he moved to the windowsill and stared absently out into the New York rain. He opened his mouth; eyes narrowed slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but just closed his eyes thoughtfully and shook his head.

"Is that glass?" Benny questioned in disbelief, pointing to the colorful shards crunching underneath Roger's shoes.

Whoops, forgot about that. Collins unintentionally chuckled aloud, earning himself a glare from Roger and confused looks from the other two. He raised his hands in his own defense and said, "Forgot to clean that up. It's nothing to worry about." Benny gave him a look. "Really."

"All right." Benny stated hesitantly.

"Is there something we can do?" Mimi questioned, stepping over the glass and moving to grasp Roger's arm comfortingly. She ran a hand over his cheek and delicately forced his eyes to face her own eyes. "Anything at all?"

"No," Roger whispered, "I don't think there's anything you can do now."

"Are you sure?"

"Well…"

Roger seemed to cringe at whatever thought was in his head, making Collins weary. The musician ran a hand through his hair and turned slightly to face the man still standing in the middle of the living room- Benjamin Coffin III. Benny looked around dumbly, almost as if Roger wasn't looking into his eyes. He looked back and said, "Me?"

Terrific. Collins chuckled again, this time gaining no attention from the other three. He smirked as he watched.

"You still have all your business contacts?"

"Some. Why?"

"We need your help…" Roger scratched the back of his head idly. "I need your help."

Benny got that familiar childish glint in his eye, and for a second Collins thought Benny was going to go back to his gloating. For so long when it was just the five of them-Roger, Mark, Benny, Collins, and Maureen-and the two would be at each other's throats like clockwork. With Roger and Benny it was all yelling, all mayhem and most of the time it was Mark to pick up the pieces. It wasn't necessarily because Mark was closer to Benny or because he knew what to say to an angry Roger, but it was because he was usually the only one home at the time. Maureen had her performances and Collins was always with his teaching and tutoring duties.

However, Collins knew they were behind that. In one month they'd beaten their petty fight and settled it like men, just like Collins knew they would. Hell, sure he and the rest of the bohemians were mad at Benny for selling-out when he met Muffy, but he came back. Benny came back and realized their friendship was indeed thicker then blood. They could hold a grudge, and that same grudge could rear its ugly head every now and then, but that didn't mean forgiveness wasn't an option.

Forget regret. No day but today.

"Well," Benny finally said, "what do you need?"

Collins nodded. He realized in those five words that everything could and would be fine between them.

"Maybe it would be better if I sit this one out?" Mimi suggested, sensing the tension in the room. Roger was looking at her as if she shouldn't be in the room anyway, and by this time she'd found the perfect exit. "I can always sleep over at Maureen and Joanne's place."

"You don't-" Roger stopped himself, realizing how false his words sounded.

Collins knew the musician didn't want Mimi to go through this now, not after coming so far along through her withdrawal. How would an ex-druggie of nearly six months handle knowing one of her friends was kidnapped by two druggies?

"It's fine." Mimi smirked, rubbing Roger's arm tenderly. "Really, I understand."

Roger looked down to his girlfriend and couldn't help but smirk. "Joanne and Maureen already left."

"Actually they're probably waiting downstairs for you," Benny piped up, the familiar glint back in his eye. The two may not have been fighting anymore -or, at least, they weren't fighting too much anymore- but Benny was still the same ol' Benny. "Walking into this room I figured something happened, so I told Maureen to wait outside for a few seconds."

Breathing a sigh, Roger shook his head. "Smart ass."

Benny just shrugged.

"Fine." Roger drew Mimi into a long, passionate kiss before returning his own childish glint. "At least I got the girl."

"You know." Mimi smirked against Roger's lips. "If I wasn't so tired that would earn you a slap in the face."

"Good." Roger smiled.

Mimi stopped at the opened loft door, mid-step on her way out. "Promise me something?"

"Anything."

"Tell me what this is all about one day."

Roger smiled and nodded.

Mimi glanced one more time around the loft before leaving.

"So," Benny smirked. "What happened?"

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXX

"You'll hurt him! Please, Frank, stop! PLEASE!"

It was a swirl of colors, images meshing together to form one large mess inside his brain. The hand held him up by his neck, breathing becoming more difficult by the second as a metal object was shoved into his mouth. Everything was hazy. Mark bit his lip from screaming out but only succeeded in getting a full taste of the familiar metal and the coppery blood. His eyes were opened wide, blue staring into those of a crazed brown eyed man, his facial expression bloodthirsty.

"It all started when Davis met you. Well, now it ends here."

The hand at his neck was squeezing tighter, Mark was gagging against his taste buds as he tried to catch a breath of fresh air, and out of the corner of his eye all he could see was the disheveled brown-haired woman and her tear-stained eyes- Tammy. She was kicking, punching, and thrashing as she fought against the heavy man holding her back. The gun was cocked and everything slowed, painfully.

"Say goodbye-"

"Ooff! Holy shit!"

Mark grunted against the pain as a familiar soft lump of fur bounced on his chest. He barely had time to catch his breath and slow his ecstatic heartbeat as the same furry lump, who had to be Blink, pushed against Mark's abdomen until his snout was pressing its cold, wet nose to his cheek. Swatting away the dog's snout, Mark pushed himself into a more traditional sitting position and leaned his back against the headboard as Blink fell from his stomach and settled confidently in his lap.

Ruff! Ruff! Blink yipped excitedly, his head settling peacefully on Mark's thigh.

Turning his head to the side, letting his hand stroke Blink absently, Mark squint his sightless eyes through the darkness and looked towards the lone window in his room. Tilting slight so that his dominant ear was perked slightly in the air, Mark cringed as the booming sound of thunder brushed his eardrums, telling him that the day had not ended yet. Everything was still happening.

But, then again, what exactly was going on?

Another boom of thunder made Mark shiver. The lightning before his eyes made the shadows whiter.

Blink brushed Mark's cheek again, the touch calming Mark slightly. His thoughts were in a whirl, everything pushing through his mind making out another migraine. He hardly heard the storm outside his window and was settling his head down, chin resting on his chest, as Mark instinctively brought his hands up to hold his head.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Tammy was still in that basement. She was still with those two druggies.

She could be dead.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

So close- so close to be killed. Mark took an unsteady breath, his air catching in the base of his throat making him cough. In his lap, Blink was growing restless against his tense body, tail beating wildly against Mark's arms. Mark was still holding his head though, thoughts of that night bursting through his head. He didn't know what was to be done… Why didn't anything make sense anymore?

Thump. Thump. Thump.

A month had passed, though, and Mark hadn't realized what his mind blocked out until now. Had Tammy been killed already? Could Jimmy and Frank have fled from the country because they knew Mark witnessed everything? Were these the reasons Mark had blocked everything out of his mind?

Thump. Thump. Thump.

It didn't help. What might've been- it doesn't help when reality sets back in. The pain doesn't go away.

Whether Mark liked it or not, that didn't matter.

What happened… it just happened.

No matter what, Mark thought to himself, it's still going to hurt…

Ruff. Ruff. Blink whimpered his playful yip, barely energetic. The dog seemed to sense his pain, his anguish. A wet snout brushed against Mark's cheek and he didn't bother brushing Blink away as he took the dog in his arms and stroked Blink's soft brown fur. Blink relaxed in his arms, the erratic doggy heartbeat unbelievably calm.

Mark swung his legs over the edge of the bed, unsurprised as he realized his shoes were still on. He placed a hand to the door, bracing his sightless eyes against the darkness in front of him, and peeked into the living room to find one shadow-formed person hunched over the floor.

"Roger?" Mark guessed, taken aback at how weak his own voice sounded to his ears. He pushed open his door and stepped into the living room; his shadow-formed roommate hadn't heard him so he cleared his throat and tried again, "Rog?" Much better. "Rog, something wrong?"

"Mark? Shit, damn it!" Roger cursed his shadowed-form straightening as he held his hand to his chest. ""Damn…"

Concerned, Mark sidestepped the coffee table, stepped over the creased carpet, move around the couch, and walked over to his best friend. Mark looked to Roger and said, "Are you okay?" He reached out to grab Roger's hand but the musician backed up quickly. "What?"

"I just cut myself," Roger said "There was glass on the floor. I was cleaning it up."

"Oh." Mark nodded absently, backing away from the carnage and choosing to instead flop back down onto the couch in their living room. He patted Blink's head and said, "How long was I out?"

"Not too long. Maybe an hour? I'm surprised you're not still sleeping."

Mark shrugged and repeated, "Helluva storm."

"Right. Heavy sleeper I am, I probably couldn't even sleep through it."

Mark listened to the rustling in the kitchen, looking to the movements of his shadow-formed friend as he held an object, probably a broom, and swept the glass shards up.

"Where is everybody?" Mark questioned. "Blink's here, does that mean everybody got back from dinner already?"

"Yeah, actually it was a few minutes after you fell asleep." Whirsh. The sink turned on, probably Roger washing his cut out. "The girls are having another night out and Benny and Collins went out."

"Police station?" Mark questioned bluntly, no remorse in his voice. "That's where they went. Right? After everything I said, after everything that I said happened that night to me… Did they?" He hadn't realized how quick his words were coming out until Roger had plopped down on the couch next to him and was telling him to calm down.

"Yeah. Benny's got some contacts at the police station. He and Collins took your film down there and they're going to fill out a report."

"They don't need me?"

"Well- I don't think… No- Actually, not now." Roger scratched the back of his head, leaning deeper into the couch cushions. "You were sleeping so they wanted to go down there to see if there was something they could do. Without you. I mean, after everything you've been through-"

"Yeah." Mark nodded, vaguely aware his voice cracked at the single word. He realized soon that Mimi had probably left the loft to give him space, but he didn't know if she knew what had happened. Would Roger tell her that?

"Hungry?" Roger questioned suddenly.

"No. Thanks, though." Mark frowned. "I don't think I could keep anything down."

Shoulders touching, Mark felt Roger tense up slightly.

Way to go for brute honesty, Cohen! Now stick your foot in your mouth to make things more comfortable.

"Look-" "Listen-"

Each man stopped, waiting for the other to start again.

"Roger-" "Mark-"

They sighed together.

However dire the situation, Mark couldn't help a small smirk crawl up his face. Mark let Blink from his arms and watched the tiny-shadowed lump settle down in the tiny space between him and Roger. Seeing that nobody was saying anything, for fear that the other was going to talk to, Mark responded quickly, "You go."

"There was just- I was just… No, that's not right. After everything this week- It's just that… Man, there isn't much to say-"

Mark couldn't resist a chuckle. "Doesn't seem to be the case." He smiled wider as Roger returned the laughter.

"Okay, well, then I wanted to apologize."

"Apologize?" Mark blinked, not expecting that. "I thought we already did- I mean, before we watched the footage. I understand Roger, really. It's no problem, what you said. I understand-"

"No, it's not that," Roger interjected, a hint of frustration in his voice, though it seemed to be directed at himself rather than at Mark. "Well, okay, it is that too, but it's more then that. Everything that happened, everything you told us tonight, I realized that I should've been more respectful of your opinion. Frank and Tony beat you up so many times, I knew it was them and I didn't do anything about it. I'm sorry. I guess I didn't realize it was that bad."

Mark merely shrugged. "Neither did I."

"But… I mean, you warned me they were bad news and I was so hotheaded back then. April and I were using, you were in the middle of our fights all the time, you got beat up because I wasn't there for you, and you still stuck it out through my withdrawal. It wasn't fair to you."

Eyes narrowed in on Roger's hunched shadowed-form. "Are you blaming yourself?" Receiving no immediate answer, Mark muttered a curse under his breath. "Roger, it wasn't your fault. I mean, maybe Tammy was right… I was just trying to be a Good Samaritan and it all blew up in my face–almost literally."

"Shit, man, that's not funny." Roger shoved Mark's shoulder, receiving a growl from Blink. "Man, this dog loves you."

"Thank Maureen."

Roger rolled his eyes. "So I will."

"Did you even go to your job?"

"No. I took the week off." Roger chuckled. "Told em' I had a family emergency that was life-or-death and they're letting me off. I don't start until next week."

"Lazy ass." Mark laughed, shoving Roger's arm back. "Where's my camera?"

"What?"

"My camera," Mark confirmed with a confident nod. "For a month I've been letting you handle my camera. I want it back."

"Gladly," Roger said, hopping off the couch to wander somewhere in the kitchen. The musician grabbed the precious object and examined it humorously. "You know, I'll never understand what you like about photography."

Mark merely rolled his eyes. "Why do you like your guitar?"

"Easy- Ah, oh…"

Mark could hear the blush in Roger's tone. He laughed. "Roger Davis does have a brain!"

"You realize I can break your camera?"

"Give it here!" Mark swiped blindly as his friend dangled the camera in front of his eyes. "You know, that's not funny! Would you yell into a deaf person's ear?"

"I don't know. I did it all the time when I was thirteen and it got kind of old after a while." Roger laughed before handing the camera to Mark. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic." Mark whispered truthfully. He loved the cold feeling against his skin, the way the metal still felt warm even though he hadn't used it properly in nearly a whole month. Mark didn't even need his eyes to remember what his camera was like: the simple handle, used for cinematic affect, various buttons along the right, the mesh of silver and black, and the film- Wait. The film.

"We had to take all the film from your camera." Roger explained, as if reading the filmmaker's mind. "Anything extra, that wasn't from that night, you put in a shoebox in your room. Remember? Do you have any more?"

Mark frowned, he was anxious to use his camera. "I think I have some in my camera bag- my old one, not the one Benny bought. I think I lost it before you found me-"

"Actually, after you came home, Maureen found it tossed in a dumpster-" Roger said, hopping off the couch.

"What was Maureen doing looking through dumpsters?" Mark questioned, followed his shadow-formed friend as Roger disappeared into Mark's room. He was probably rummaging through Mark's closet, looking to see if it was stuffed in there.

"I don't pretend to understand that woman's mind. She gave it to Collins and Collins washed it up for you. Ah! Here it is." Roger appeared in the doorway and held up the object happily. He tossed it into Mark's lap before picking up Blink and settling back down on the couch.

"Great. I think I got some extra film-" Mark paused. He was digging in the torn bag when something unfamiliar brushed against his fingers. Pulling the offended object out, hoping it wasn't some dead rodent that had crawled in from the dumpster. "What's this?"

"Let's see." Roger snatched the object from Mark's hands quickly. "Maybe it's somebody's phone number you forgot about!"

Mark chuckled. "Sure." He waited for Roger to speak but was met with silence. Blink was brushing his snout against Mark's palm, making the filmmaker turn his attention away from his film-finding-escapade. "Rog? What's it say?"

Roger frowned. "Damn…"

"What is it?" Mark questioned, confused.

"A photograph." Mark heard the fond smile in Roger's voice. "It's April and Tammy, together- Holy shit, man. Was this in your bag the whole time?"

"It's torn up on the inside and there's a big hole. I duct taped it down but…" Mark shook his head. "Collins didn't look through the whole thing."

"Wait, it's got a note." Roger read aloud:

Mark, Jimmy and Frank didn't see your camera so I slipped it out before they hauled you into the alley. I've pretty much told myself they'll kill me and I can't do anything about it, but, well, I wanted to thank you. I know that sounds stupid. Frank kidnapping me was something I should've prevented though and I should've had the guts to run before. There isn't anything you could've done Mark. Don't blame yourself.

Mark frowned. "We've got to get her out of there. It's not safe."

"Mark, listen, I'm for that as much as you are, but we don't know if she's even there anymore."

"We have to at least try."

"The police-"

"Since when have you cared about the police? They aren't going to do anything about this Roger, so just give it up. If she dies that death will be on my conscience for the rest of my life. I don't care if that sounds selfish, but I won't let that happen to her. Not after everything-"

Suddenly, the phone rang. "Speeeeeeeeeeeak!"

"Hey Rog," Collins, "Benny and I got to the police station and I'm sorry to say there was no luck, even with Benny's contacts. They need to talk to Mark before anything. Also, it seems the cop I talked to on the phone didn't believe me, no cops were sent to the city. Well, we're on our way home, don't worry we'll figure something out."

"MARK! STOP!"

Don't stop. Don't think.

"MARK!" Roger was running after him. "Mark! Damn, man, slow down! Just stop for a second!"

Remember Tammy. She's counting on you, Cohen.

Don't let her down!

Roger was running though. Running through rain. Running through the city's storm. Not giving a damn -he was following Mark.

Roger's voice: "Mark, man… Neither of us can do this alone and I promised that I wouldn't leave you, but you've got to help me to. I've fucked up a lot of our promises, but I'm not going to be making promises anymore. This is my word to you because I know there's nothing else that can break though that. I'm here for you, Mark…"

Mark stopped.

"What the hell, man?" Roger questioned, voice heated. He stalked up to him, though Mark was still facing forward, and draped a coat around Mark's shuddering shoulders. "What in the hell was that, Mark!"

Mark turned his mind in a haze. His sightless eyes focused on the shadow-formed Roger in front of him; vaguely aware of how broken he looked standing in the middle of the rainstorm. "It's just not going to work, Rog. You heard Collins, they don't believe us. After blocking everything out, not knowing is worse then going blind. I have to know."

"What they did to you-"

"I don't care." Mark said bitterly. "I said I didn't believe in Chaos Theory or fate or anything like that, but now I'm thinking this is what I'm supposed to do. I mean, after all these years it's more then a coincidence that I run into her. She needs me, even if she won't admit it."

"Mark-"

"What about Mimi?" Mark questioned, stopping Roger suddenly. "You left for Santa Fe and came back to find Mimi missing. You searched, didn't you? Well, that's what I need to do. Think about it, Roger! Think what would've happened if you were too late!"

Roger faltered.

It was below the belt, but Mark was desperate.

Way to be rash Cohen. Seems like your and Roger's roles are switched.

Roger ran a hand through his hair. "Mark-"

"If you're not going to-"

"Let's go."