Blink Tears Chapter 15: Perspective, a rent fanfic

Chapter Fifteen: Perspective

Contrary to the situation she was currently faced with, Mimi was tired. The young dancer flipped and flopped in her bed, changing sleeping positions from stomach, back, and side, and even moved from the somewhat comfortable guest bedroom mattress to the cold carpeted floor before trying to stay in the pullout futon she'd wrestled from the closet. Nothing worked. Mimi let out a frustrated sigh and ungracefully kicked her blankets to the side as she sat up in bed and pulled her knees closer to her chest. Cursing the clock showing 2:34 AM, Mimi swung her legs over the side of the bed and drew a wool blanket around her shuddering shoulders before pushing the door open and wandering out into the hallway.

The three women-Mimi, Maureen, and Joanne-had arrived at the tiny apartment almost hours ago and, for a while, they'd sat in an uneasy silence trying to come up with a topic of discussion. Their first Girl's Night Out had been such a success, but, now, none of the women had their heart set into a night of relaxation when the words of Collins' speech still burned through their mind. Even Maureen wasn't her usual perkiness, the drama queen always one to be the light in the dark with her immature banters and slurs. However, after an hour of just being in each other's companies as they mutely drank their beer, the three women had unanimously decided to call it a night. Each unknowingly fell into their restless night sleeps with a terrible thought on their minds, though none of them knew what was wrong.

They just knew something was wrong.

Hell, how could it not be wrong after what Mimi had just witness between Collins, Roger, and Benny.

Mimi cringed as her bare feet padded through the wooden floorboards of Maureen and Joanne's hallway, her teeth biting down her bottom lip from yelling out loud at the coldness entering her body. She drew the wool blanket closer around her body and quietly walked past the lover's bedroom door, for Mimi did not want to walk in on something personal or wake her friends from their slumber just because she couldn't sleep. No, Mimi walked on and soon stumbled through the small kitchen until she was in the living room.

Crash! The thunder outside made Mimi cringe.

Click. Click. Click. The light switch wasn't working and the living room was captured in darkness of the night light. With only the illumination of the moon and, occasionally, the flashes of lightning, guiding her, Mimi stumbled over the change from wooden floorboards to carpeted floor as she moved into the living room and fell comfortably onto the floor in front of the windowsill's bench. Tugging her blanket closer around her body, Mimi gently leaned forward and stared out in the night sky, at once she was getting lost in the pounding rain and booming thunder as flashes upon flashes of lightning lit up the darkened New York sky. The sight was nothing compared to that of the loft's, but it would have to do for now.

"You call yourselves friends? Well I have news for you! Friends do not find an argument over petty subjects every five seconds. Friends don't throw shit into other people's laps. Friends understand each other and try to help each other. Friends are our family. Is this what family means to you?"

Mimi frowned, unable to stop Collins's words from returning to her mind again. Shaking her head, Mimi looked up with glazed brown eyes and continued to stare out the window. A lone tear fell from her eyes, unexpectedly at best, but Mimi did nothing to stop it as she leaned into the bench, her heart in her chest beating excitedly.

Had they really made the mistake to forget about their friends?

"Don't let this family die, because it sure as hell seems like you're willing to."

After everything that happened the past two years before, thinking over it now, it did seem like they were taking everything they learned for granted. Everything was settling for Mimi though, Roger was her soul mate and she was able to get off of drugs with her friends' help. All the things that had happened just seemed to fall into place… Didn't they?

"Mimi?"

Turning slightly, Mimi's tear long since disappeared down her chin, Mimi found herself looking into the eyes of a fatigued-looking Maureen Johnson. The diva was clad in a long t-shirt that reached past her knees and her curly brown hair was frazzled to the point of standing a few inches off her head as her mouth opened into a large yawn.

"Maureen," Mimi greeted.

She'd never really spent any alone time with the older woman, mostly she was with her and Joanne at the same time, but Mimi had gotten a few details from Roger. Maureen Johnson, revealed lesbian, ex-girlfriend of Mark Cohen, and peppy woman beyond the usual realization. However, lately it seemed, she'd been hanging out with Maureen more and more. They had fixed up the loft together. There had been a soft side to Maureen, Mimi had found out, but it took time to get it out.

"You couldn't sleep either?"

Mimi nodded.

Click. Click. Click. The light switch.

"Oh…is the power out?"

"Mm-hmm."

Mimi heard Maureen hesitate slightly before walking deeper into the living room and plopping down gracefully onto the windowsill, rotating slightly to the side so she could sit in an Indian-style position and was still facing Mimi. Pursing her lips slightly, Maureen questioned, "What are you doing?"

Mimi simply shrugged her shoulders. Her pinky was extracted to gently press against the glass of the window as she cautiously traced a small water droplet as it moved down the window and joined with another droplet before disappearing down the ledge. She repeated the process with several more droplets, an uneasy silence looming over the two women. Neither knew what conversation to start up, except for the obvious one, and the two didn't know how to broach that certain delicate topic.

"I used to do this when I was a little girl."

Turning at Maureen's sudden confession, Mimi saw that the diva was tilting her head and peering out the window with narrowed eyes, a serious expression lacing her happy-go-lucky features. "Used to do what?" Mimi finally questioned after a moments of silence. "Get up late at night?"

Maureen shook her head. "My mother was a nurse and my father ran a business that required his attention almost twenty-four seven, so, most days and nights, I was stuck in the house by myself. Even when it was storming all hell outside, they'd leave me to myself. Not that I was really scared of being home alone. My parents dubbed me old enough to stay alone while they were out working."

"Home without your parents? Sounds fun."

"Most of the times it was, but I wasn't allowed to leave the house, so I had to entertain myself." Maureen let out a small smile and suddenly Mimi was aware of how her diva friend got into acting. "I'd watch the old movies and soon I'd be reciting all the lines from memory, which then got me to memorize all the strong gestures and different tones in their voice. When it was raining, and the power was out, I'd sit by the window and watch the racing drops."

"Racing drops?"

"The raindrops of the window." Maureen pointed to them. "It's like a race. I'd keep track of about four of them at the same time and I'd watch them race to see which was faster to go down the glass. I entertained myself." She looked down, head tilted. "Is that what you're doing?"

"Entertaining myself?" A pause. "Something like that…"

Did thinking about the past count as entertaining yourself?

"Stop that."

Mimi blinked, jumping from her thoughts. "Stop, what?"

"Thinking."

"I'm not-"

"Yeah you are." Maureen gave a small smile. "I can tell… So, stop. We've all been thinking too much these days."

Mimi frowned. "You're not worried?"

"Of course I am." Maureen leaned into the wall behind her and gently scooted over so Mimi could sit across from her on the tiny bench. She drew up her legs and comfortably laid her chin on her knees. "I feel like an idiot for the way I acted before. Sometimes I get so caught up in what's happening that I don't really realize what's happening… You know?"

"It happened in the past. It's not worth thinking about."

"If it's about something that helps you learn for the future, than it should be worth it." Maureen tilted her head and looked out the window. "Everything had been so screwed up before, when I was with Mark and Joanne. I never realized how real everything was until I stopped thinking about myself and started looking at other people's emotions…started realize how hurt everybody else was."

"We learned a lot over those two years."

"I guess we just…forgot…" Maureen frowned. "I don't want this family to die."

"Neither do I."

XXXXXXXX

SLAP!

Roger bit his lip from screaming out as the wooden plank he had just dropped came back full force to hit him across the face. It had drawn across his right cheek, leaving a red scratch as Roger fell to the floor. He fell to the alley's wet ground and coughed up whatever was building in his throat as he gritted his teeth at Jimmy's laughter. There was a time and place to let loose his anger and frustration on the old barkeep, and, looking to see Mark with a gun to his temple, Roger decided another time would come. Another blow came to his stomach as the chubby body of Jimmy Tank swam through his vision, but Roger refused to scream out. No matter what, Roger wouldn't give the two druggies the simple pleasure to see him in pain.

Gritting his teeth, Roger turned his head and blinked through the raindrops hitting his face as he came to stare into the cold eyes of Jimmy. The old barkeep certainly had done a number on himself since Roger had last seen him, right before the Well Hungarians moved from his bar. How the man hooked up with Frank, through drugs or some kind of gang, Roger did not want to know. Thinning brown hair lined the chubby man's head, hair patted down carelessly trying to cover up the bald patch building as large dilated brown eyes wavered unstably.

Frank, on the other hand, was just the same as Roger had remembered. The guitar player and him had never been close with each other, even while they were in the band, but they'd toughed it out because their music didn't sound good without their sounds meshed together. Still, each held a deep loathing for each other. Roger thought of Frank as a bigoted bastard who didn't care about their music, but solely focused on the groupies, drugs, and rowdy lifestyle that came with being a musician. The man simply had no heart.

Apparently that fact hadn't changed over the years.

Eyes glazing over as another raindrop pounded across his face and hit his red scar, suddenly sensitive as he wiped a finger across the cut and wiped the crimson blood on the leg of his pants, Roger looked to see Frank run a hand through his hair and peer down at him with a malicious grin. As much as he hated to admit it, but, with Roger on the floor and Frank illuminated in the flashes of lightning with a gun held in his hand, the scrawny druggie looked inferior compared to him.

"Can't be leavin' the damned scene out in the open." Jimmy coughed, giving Roger a good kick in the side. "Catch yer breath there Davis, head into the damned window you broke and step back to the wall. Got it?"

Not trusting whatever was going to come out of his mouth, Roger nodded and shimmied his way into the window and cautiously moved one leg at a time into the frigid basement. The water lining the floor reached a few inches above his black boot and splashed as he stepped across the concrete and moved deeper into the room. It wasn't very well illuminated, especially considering the time of day, and the only thing Roger could really make out was the couch in the back, but that was only because Tammy's makeshift fireplace stood in front of it.

"Get movin' Davis," Jimmy poked the wood into his back, roughly pushing Roger toward the wall, "and don't be trying nothing."

The beer-stained breath nearly made Roger retch as he stumbled forward through the darkness of the basement, the only thing reaching him and making everything around him real was the slush, slush, slush of his steps moving through the sheet of water below his feet. Soon a tentative hand was on his shoulder guiding him through the darkness, and Roger looked down to see the glazed eyes of Tammy trailed on him. She gave him a small nod as they traveled the short distance to the basement wall and turned around to stand against it, elbows near each other in reassuring contact.

It felt like they were in a shooting line, and they were the obvious targets.

Crash… Roger's head whipped to the side just in time to see Mark stumbling over his own two feet as the blond filmmaker fell face-first into the basement, his hands catching him just in time before he could land his face plant. Mark coughed roughly as Frank kicked him solidly in the gut, causing him to fall onto his face anyway, and had Frank bending down low enough to whisper a few words into his ears. No matter how much Roger leaned in, the musician couldn't hear the exchange of words, he just watched as Mark shook his head and earned himself another kick to the torso.

"Don't…"

The soft-spoken whisper to Roger's side, which only could've came from Tammy, made Roger realize how hard he was clenching his fist. He squint his eyes against the darkness and frowned as he looked at his palm and found the small nail marks digging into his skin. Tammy touched his shoulder again and suddenly, his mind moving quickly, Roger jerked away subtly. "Don't," he said, "I'm bleeding…"

Giving a gentle nod, Tammy's eyes told him she understood his hesitation. Roger's cheek was bleeding and he was HIV, even in that dire situation he didn't want to worry about getting other innocent people infected with the disease.

"Get up!" Frank was yelling, a small yelp eliciting from Mark's mouth. It looked as if Mark had had the same idea as Roger, don't let them hear you cry out in pain, but the filmmaker just couldn't stop it as he was hit over the head with the gun. "Get up and join your friends!"

"Stop!" Roger shouted, he stepped forward and received a hit from the wooden plank by Jimmy that sent him to the ground clutching his stomach as he gritted his teeth in pain. Tammy fell down next to him, not touching him as per his request, as she shot him a worried look. Roger wasn't looking at her though, for his eyes were trailed on the broken filmmaker in front of him. "He can't see!"

Jimmy chuckled; he bent down and scooped something from the ground. "Are these his?" he questioned, dangling a broken pair of black-rimmed glasses, the instrument soaked through and cracked. Had they been there all that time since Mark left? "No wonder he can't see," Jimmy slurred, he tossed them wordlessly to Mark's feet. "Here ya go…"

Roger bit his lip, eyes closing for a second as he struggled to control his erratic heartbeat. "He's visually impaired."

Turning slightly, eyebrow arching, Jimmy questioned, "Visuallyimpaired? Wha's that shit about?"

"Means he can't see, idiot." Frank mumbled, crouching down in front of Mark and tilting his head down expectantly. Mark didn't do anything against the movement, though Roger guessed it was because he was too scared, not because he couldn't see. Grabbing Mark's chin roughly, forcing his glazed blue eyes to look up, Frank frowned and shouted back, "There's nothing wrong with him! He's can't be blind."

"Not blind. Visually impaired." Roger gritted his teeth. "He can see shadows, but it's too dark for him to see anything."

"Same damned thing," Frank growled, he pushed Mark's chin away and waved the gun at Roger. "Well, Davis, he's your friend. Help him."

Without warning, Frank grabbed a fistful of Mark's hair and hauled the filmmaker to his feet, a smile growing on his face as Mark hissed. Moving quickly and roughly, Frank pushed Mark into Roger's arms and laughed as Mark stumbled backward and fell into Roger's chest. Turning his friend around to face him, Roger squeezed Mark's shoulders reassuringly. "Hey, Mark. It's me, man, Roger." The musician squeezed again, unhappy that Mark was still as tense as ever. "Mark?"

Mark seemed to chuckle and smile, the expression not meeting his sightless eyes. "We're in deep shit, aren't we?"

"Mark-"

A nudge to the back cut Roger off as he was pushed forward to the wall of the basement, once again standing alongside Tammy, Mark taking his place own place by standing on his other side. The two druggies stood before them, one swaying from one foot to the next as he drunkenly mumbled a few incoherent words under his breath, and, the second, pacing the length of the basement in an annoyed manner as he scratched his temple with the gun, finger careful not to set anything off.

Jimmy mocked, "He won't say anything about this if he knows what's good for him. Still think that, Frank?" Frank glared, eyes narrowing dangerously as the grip he had on the gun tightened. Roger wasn't sure if Jimmy was too drunk to notice or what, but it seemed as if Frank was going to shoot him if he didn't shut up. "Well! Hold up your end of the deal! Shoot the girl!"

This request made Tammy shiver up, her body going tense at Roger's side as she held in a tight gasp. They wouldn't do that, would they? Would they sink so low from kidnappers to murder? Hell, Mark did tell Roger about them killing Tony…

"Calm down," Roger whispered, trying to reassure the young woman, "they wouldn't do anything."

"They would." Tammy nodded numbly. "They did."

That was when Roger finally noticed the red patch growing on Tammy right shoulder, a bundle of cloth tied together in some sort of makeshift bandage as the crimson red soaked through easily. Mumbling a curse, Roger took the wound in his hand gently and prodded it experimentally, though; she didn't seem to notice what he had done. "Are you all right?" he questioned worriedly. "Does it hurt?"

Tammy shook her head, glazed eyes seemed to be in a trance-like state. "No…well, maybe…I think it's the shock of it all. It was a knife though, not a bullet."

"It should be hurting like hell," Roger muttered. "It will when this is all over."

"It's all talk," Tammy whispered back. "There's been a lot of that going on lately. Sometime you've just got to face the facts and understand that things don't come that easily anymore. Maybe we'll get out of this…maybe not… When your hope goes away there isn't much left to hold onto." Wordlessly, Mark reached out his hand and held Tammy's. Tammy looked up and smiled feverishly. "Does that hope come back when everything seems hopeless?"

Shit, Roger thought to himself, she's not thinking straight anymore. Mark said one year though, for one year she's been down here with these bastards. After so much time of being locked up to fetch those drugs, how does your hope stay alive? Especially in a situation like this…

BOOM! Another followed quickly. BOOM!

Tammy screamed.

On instinct, Roger placed his hands on Mark and Tammy's shoulder and pulled them down to the ground roughly as the gunshot sound floated through the air. He looked up, albeit hesitatingly, and found the cowering tubby form of Jimmy on the ground, hands on top of his head as he looked up with wide eyes. Falling to the floor drunkenly, Jimmy held himself up by the arms and gave Frank a devilish glare.

"What the hell was that!" he shouted. "You could'a killed me!"

"What. A. Waste." Frank said slowly, his tone challenging. "Get up, you tub of lard."

Looking up slowly, to where they just stood, Roger's eyes widened as he realized the bullet that had just been fired off would've hit him in the face if he hadn't ducked when he did. The expression on Tammy's face made him realize she knew what he was thinking, and Mark just sat there, on his knees, shaking.

Of course he is Davis! Don't be an idiot! He's as good as blind right now. He doesn't know what's going on! Roger mumbled a curse as he placed a reassuring hand on Mark's shoulder. "Mark, you all right?"

"No."

"Are you hurt?"

"No." Mark shook his head. "Shit, Rog-"

"I know…"

XXXXXXXX

Shit, Cohen. You are in deep shit…

The gunshot, Tammy's yell, Jimmy laughing, and Frank's hissing threats of a painful death- they all brought memories of that night. Mark was vaguely aware of how hard he was shaking, and he attempted to calm himself for the sake of Roger's worriment and Tammy's fear, but he couldn't stop the convulsions from overtaking his body as he remained on his knees. The gentle squeeze of the arm to Mark's right made him look up, his eyes meeting nothing but the darkness of his vision, the entire darkness that had darkened Mark's very nightmares for the past month.

This blackness was different. This blackness was…

Blind.

Everything was gone. Mark could see nothing. It was different than being out in the alleyway with Roger, his vision already fading to the nothingness that it truly was, for it was here, in the basement, that Mark actually felt like he could see nothing. Shaking his head, the soft whispers of Roger floating in and out his ear as thoughts pounded through his overflowing mind, Mark widened his eyes despite the pain burning through him. He tried to look at something. Anything. The movement only caused his eyes to water though, from tears or the strain Mark did not want to know the answer. Finally, Mark deflated, his heartbeat physically pounding against his chest as he continued to shake his head in defeat.

"Come on, man, stand up. Calm down."

"It's messed up, isn't it?" Mark questioned, blinking against the nothingness. He tilted his head to where he felt Roger's presence and gave a small smile as he felt his friend haul him to his feet and push him back against the concrete wall of the basement. Tammy was nearby, she had to be, but Mark figured she didn't seem to notice. She was probably just as phased about this as he was right now. "Really messed up, Rog…"

"We'll be all right. Just think positive-"

"What's so positive about this?"

"We're in this together. We'll live through it together."

Roger sounded so sure of himself. Mark frowned.

"I got you into this mess, and I can't get you out."

A hand went under his chin and forced Mark to look up. He could just imagine the piercing green eyes trailing into his very core as Roger squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and whispered, "You don't need to take care of me. It's my turn to look after you-"

Mark nodded. He listened stonily to the words floating through his ears, knowing Roger didn't expect him to answer back but just listen and hang on to the reality of their surrounding -however bad it may be. That's what Mark did though; he respected and trusted Roger like no other, and if Roger thought this would help Mark would listen for eternity. It did seem to help though, for Mark's heartbeat had calmed to a dull thump and the darkness began to become more comfortable, albeit it was still a scary notion not being able to see anything. Nevertheless, soon the whispers had to stop. Granted, Mark knew Roger was trying his best to comfort him and Tammy, they were still in the dire situation of two druggies with a gun.

Gentle squeezes on the arm would have to do.

"Mark," Tammy's whisper came anyway. She reached over and touched his shoulder. "You shouldn't have come-"

"Shhh," Roger hissed, trying to intervene an apology. "Plenty of time to talk later."

Mark ignored Roger though. He knew, for a hardcore fact, if Mark was in Tammy's position -which he felt he was because he dragged Roger into this- Mark would need to hear comforting words. Just like Roger gave him. The filmmaker reached over blindly, Tammy's hand soon finding their way to intertwine with his fingers. He whispered softly, barely audible, "What I'd do for a friend…"

He didn't have to see it. Mark could feel Tammy's smile.

"Hate to break this love fest kiddies," the harsh snap of Frank as alcohol-infested breath reared through their nostrils and caused Mark to pale, "but we've got business to attend to now that we've got some good friends here again."

Tammy's hand was ripped from Mark, and Mark let his hand, now feeling as empty as ever, fall blandly to his side. A squeeze from Roger made him square his shoulders though, and soon he could feel Frank's presence in front of him. Frank was inches from his face, Mark could tell from the smell, and he had the harsh breathing of an angry man. Could Mark blame him? He and Roger had just ruined Frank's simple plan of threatening Tammy.

"Got somethin' to say for yourself Cohen?" Frank questioned; his voice a low and threatening whisper. It just egged Mark on to counter back with a hard punch to the nose, a kind flip of the bird, or even a muttered curse in Hebrew. "Ol' bastard's right, ya know?" Frank meant Jimmy. "We warned you not to come back and be a hero or else we'd kill her… I thought you'd keep your end of the promise but I guess some things are too good to be true. Heh…"

"Leave him alone." Roger was in front of him immediately, the movement causing Mark to be squished against his best friend's back and the wall behind him. "Take your fight with me Frank. It's what you've been waiting for, isn't it?"

The words of Roger made Mark frown, deeply. Roger was enticing Frank, trying to figure out if the druggie would really try something, and it was working on Frank. They all knew it. Even Jimmy had shut up long enough to hear the exchange of the two old band mates, interested immensely in an upcoming brawl, bloodshed, or, possibly, both.

XXXXXXXX

"Open your eyes!"

"We're going to get killed like this!"

"We're making record time."

"That's because you've broken at least five laws!"

"Relax, you're fine."

"You killed that old homeless lady!"

"She got right back up. Jeez, breathe a little."

Benny opened his eyes and right away his hands flew to the sides so he could hold onto the tiny handle that was near his seat. Collins seemed to be reaching speed with his Range Rover that Benny never thought to be possible. He looked to his side and nearly blanched as the car did a dramatic turn around another street and sped down through the city streets, two wheels hopping onto the sidewalk as Collins maneuvered the car hastily. Now, Benny did want to get to the police station real quick to warn the officers what had happened to Roger and Mark, but he did not want to die in his car.

"SLOW DOWN!" Benny yelled, watching with wide eyes as the speedometer hit marks that no car should make in New York City. It was only lucky for them that it was 3 o'clock in the morning and the roads were mostly empty.

"We'll be there in a few seconds," Collins yelled back, the sides of his lip arching in a smile that made Benny squirm. "Think if we had walked it would've taken us too long to get to the police station instead of the seconds we're wasting right now."

"What the hell do you mean wasting? We're almost going 80 MPH!"

"I think you're exaggerating a bit, Benny. Looks like we're nearly hitting 90..." Benny glared and Collins smiled cheekily. "You know, man," Collins said happily as he tapped the steering wheel, "I really need to get my license."

"You don't have a valid driver's license?!"

"Of course not. I never took the time to learn to drive!" Collins laughed.

Benny blinked. "There are some things you just need to keep to yourself-"

Collins chuckled good-naturedly; he turned the wheel down another corner and honked at a tiny Hyundai as its flashing lights signaled it about to come out of the parking spot. Collins gave a small wave as they passed, missing the other care by mere inches, and Benny looked over just in time to see the young man flip them off and drive the other way.

"How in the hell can you be so calm?" Benny yelled, wincing as he smacked his arm against the door handle to his right. "We're going to the police station for specific reasons that…oh, let's see…Mark and Roger are going to get killed!"

"They are not going to get killed." Collins said, his eyes wavering around the streets. "We'll get to the station and we'll get help."

"We just got back from there and they didn't believe us. Don't think they will now-"

"Ahhh, my good man, but before we didn't have this," Collins reached into his jacket pocket-

"DON'T LET GO! TWO HANDS ON THE WHEEL!" Benny flung himself over and grabbed the spinning devise as Collins calmly poked through his jacket pockets and mumbled something about "maybe I left it at the loft… damn it…" as he patted down his pockets. Watching with wide eyes and a beating heart, Benny watched as Collins looked down to the floor of the Range Rover and reach down blindly where the pedals were. "WHAT THE HELL! TAKE THE WHEEL!"

"Here it is!" Collins came up, head mindful of the steering wheel above him that Benny still held. He took the steering wheel calmly, not really paying attention to the fact that they'd hit a stack of newspapers that was lying on the curb. "Look here," Collins shoved something into Benny's hands, "this baby will help our argument."

Benny held the picture out in front of him, squinting in the little amount of light. It was the picture of Tammy and April, the note to Mark on the back scrawled in the woman's quick handwriting. "The picture…"

"Right in one!" Collins chuckled to himself. "Tammy told Mark she got kidnapped! They'll have to check out the place now!"

Arching a brow, Benny questioned, "What place? We still don't know where they are! Could be on Staten Island for all we know."

"Of course not." Collins rolled his eyes. "Where else besides Alphabet City would they be in if they're looking for drugs, beer, and guns? Damn, man, you've lived here for nearly ten years and you wouldn't think a druggie would stay here? These guys are idiots, they aren't thinking straight."

"Still got a gun." Benny shook his head, scowling. "Davis I'd expect to run into this, but Mark's smarter than that."

"Is he?"

"What?"

"Look," Collins sighed, "Mark isn't thinking straight either. I'm guessing they just found the note from Tammy and Mark's emotions got all riled up because of what she said about him. She's in danger and he won't let her die in the hands of those two. Roger's easily swayed. They know what they're getting into, but that doesn't mean they're thinking of all the consequences of what will happen."

"And those would be…"

"Murder. Death. Kidnap. Pain…" The car swerved again. "Pick your poison."

"Damn."

"Exactly. Look, Benny, Roger and Mark aren't idiots in this…well, they aren't compared to Jimmy and Frank, but that's not the point…okay? Don't doubt them so quickly though. We can't do anything right now, just sit back and get the police. Everything is out of our hands."

"We can't feel so," Benny searched for the right word, deflating, "helpless."

"Sometimes we've got to be helpless to help somebody."

XXXXXXXX

Bloodshot eyes crazed and dilated of a typical druggie, Frank's hold on the gun tightened in one hand as the other hand shot out like the crack of a whip to grab hold of the collar of Roger's leather jacket. The man was too short to pull Roger off his feet, but the situation was all the same dire as the gun came out to drag under Roger's throat and poke up so strongly that it had Roger gagging as if he was being choked. It didn't help that Tammy was behind them whispering pleas of letting them go, doing nothing but aggravating the stoned man.

"You have no idea how many times I've dreamed of doing this…" Frank whispered, the gun coming harder onto Roger's throat. "So many times I've wanted revenge for everything you did to us. All the things you got…the women, the drugs, and all the fame for being the pretty boy front man of the Well Hungarians. What were the rest of us? NOTHING! Tony and I, all we did was lug around the equipment, get shit thrown at us for your petty mistakes. WE got us at clubs. All the work was done by us! None by you!"

Eyes flaring, heart beating, Roger didn't seem to care a gun was being shoved under his throat. "You think all that shit makes me a bad person? Who the hell are you to say I had it better. Because of April I got HIV," this comment, Roger noticed out of the corner of his eyes, made Tammy squirm, "and because of those petty mistakes I lived in a rut because of everything I did."

Frank challenged, "Who the hell do you think killed Tony?"

"NOT ME!" Roger growled. "He was murdered by that bastard over there," a finger was pointed at a cowering Jimmy; suddenly the old barkeep didn't know whose side he was on. "Don't tell me Tony died because of me! I didn't pull the damned trigger!"

"WATCH YOUR MOUTH!"

Clank!

The gun was ripped easily away from Roger's throat, and, before the musician had time to even blink, Roger was sprawled on the ground hissing through the pain as he held his aching head in his hand. There was a notion of when to pick your battles, but the fury behind Roger's heart was too great to ignore. Even through the threat of a gun and the thumping of his head, Roger looked up with cold eyes. "Couldn't give a damn if he died, could you? He was nothing more than a toy to you. Just like Tammy is."

Smack! A fist across Roger's cheek for his troubles. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

Massaging his jaw, Roger looked up from his position on his hands and knees. "Don't I? You loved April, didn't you? Not her specifically but the notion that she was a person who could give you so much drugs that it would make your head spin. Didn't matter how, April aimed to please. She gave drugs out to whoever asked because she believed that made her even more loved than ever. More so than her parents ever loved her."

"You treated her like dirt," Frank hissed. "Nothing but a pawn in your little loveless mind game."

"I. Loved. Her." Roger yelled cautiously. "She was the first woman I ever fell in love with."

Mimi…

I do love Mimi, she's my everything. Still, it's not a reason to forget April and throw away everything she ever did for me. Without April I never would've met Mimi and fallen in love with life. April helped me, she just helped me in more ways than I'd ever thought possible. Even in death…

"Where is he? Where'd you put Tony?" Roger questioned, suddenly curious. "Did you burn his body so no evidence of his death could be traced back to you? What was it? Is fire really the answer to all your problems?"

"SHUT UP!" Frank's fist flew, slamming into Roger's already-scratched cheek and causing the musician to fall back onto the water-soaked basement ground. "You don't know shit! After you broke up the band everything went downhill!"

Roger couldn't stop, his eyes narrowed. "Didn't have the talent to go on without your so-called pretty boy front man? Isn't that just pathetic! You had to resort to smack and alcohol, in turn throwing away your whole life and music career!" Smack! Another punch across the cheek. "You don't get it, do you?" Roger fired, unfazed by the punch. "Quitting the band was the best choice I made!"

Frank grabbed Roger's collar again and brought the brown-haired man to his feet. "Who the hell are you to say anything about us?"

"Who are you to blame me for your misfortune?" Roger spat back. "I'd get the hell away from me if I were you."

"Afraid of a gun?" Frank whispered, his voice low and dangerous. "Afraid I'll get too close to kill you?"

"I'm not afraid of you," Roger whispered dangerously, "but I'll be damned if I transfer my HIV status to you." Once Roger was dropped, the musician couldn't help but smirk as Frank backed away slowly. "You should be afraid of HIV and AIDS. It's a disease."

The gun was flashed again, this time in Frank's unsteady hands. He pointed to Roger and said, "I told Cohen I'm going to kill her. Move aside." Suddenly the adrenaline rush was pumping through Roger, and he didn't move. "MOVE ASIDE!" Frank was frantic, his hand shaking harder as the seconds rolled by. "This isn't your fight."

"It is when you mess with my brother!" Roger yelled, suddenly taking the upper hand of the situation. "In some way I should only thank you for making us understand each other better, but that does not forgive what you did! Wait for the police! They'll put you in jail for life."

"What life?" Frank raised the gun, he stepped forward. His whole mood changed. "What to kill for the justice of my sins. I should be so lucky to die…"

What in the…?

Soon the gun was pointing at Mark and Tammy…no, not Mark and Tammy…

Shit.

BOOM!

Tammy screamed, Jimmy cursed, Mark flinched, Roger ducked, and Frank…

Frank smiled.

The trashcan holding Tammy's makeshift fire tilted and suddenly the room was catching fire one at a time. Quickly the staircase leading out of the bar was set ablaze and they were trapped.

Trapped in a pit of flames…

XXXXXXXX

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN WE CAN'T GO IN!?"

"Please, sirs." The officer behind the long wooden desk, his face fallen in fear, held up his hands in defense. "I was told not to let anybody in unless it was a big emergency. Everybody is busy-"

"THIS IS A DAMNED EMERGENCY!"

"Benjamin?"

Allison Grey of the Westport Greys. She was the picture-perfect woman of a wealthy family, her black skirt and red blouse shined and ironed to perfection as it fit snugly around her body. Light brown hair shined easily and she looked over a pair of thin sunglasses, which she wore despite the early morning time, with light brown eyes. Benny met her confused expression with his own narrowed eyes, suddenly turning away from Collins and the arguing baby-faced officer.

"Allison," Benny greeted. He swallowed down whatever was climbing up his throat and nodded contently. "What are you doing here?"

"I came down here to have a late night dinner with my father's investors and my car got stolen." She absently tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and averted her eyes, suddenly embarrassed. "I tried for almost an hour to get a taxi but nobody would help me so I finally gave that up and hitchhiked down here. My father should be here in fifteen minutes to pick me up…"

"GIVE ME SOME DAMNED SERVICE BEFORE I BURN THIS PLACE DOWN MYSELF!"

"Sir, please. There's no need for threats-"

"APPARENTLY THERE IS!"

Allison looked up, frowning. "Is there something wrong?"

Benny opened his mouth to say no, but what was the use? Who the hell cared if Allison knew? Sighing heavily, Benny rubbed his temple, still slightly queasy from the car ride with Collins, and replied, "We came down here earlier to report a kidnapping and left our two friends at home, and when we got back it seemed as if they'd gone to handle things on their own. It's possible they're being held at gunpoint, but we don't know where."

"Why would they risk their lives?"

Eyes flaring, suddenly remembering why he disliked Allison in the first place, Benny hissed, "Because they're helping a friend and sometimes you have to risk your life for somebody who you care about, even if it's at risk of your own life. We're family."

Neither noticed Collins had stopped shouting and was looking to Benny with a sudden smile plastering his face.

Allison's face dropped. "Oh."

"There's a thing of knowing who your really family are."

Allison nodded. She plastered on a faux smile of confidence and said, "Don't worry Benjamin, I'm sure they'll speak to you soon."

False hope from a false woman. Benny chuckled aloud at his thought and shook his head just in time to see Muffy shoot him an annoyed look. He didn't bother reassuring her of the false-truce between them, Benny just turned and moved back to stand next to Collins. They looked to each other and shared a mutual look of distress, something odd even up to Collins' standards.

"You all right?" Collins questioned, hand moving to let out a quick puff of his cigarette, promptly ignoring the protests coming from the officer.

Benny thought for a moment, taking another deep sigh. He looked to Collins and smiled, "Yeah."

"Good man." Collins chucked good-naturedly, suddenly he swung a hand around the man's shoulder and turned back to the officer. "Are we going to have to start this argument again or are we going to get some service done?"

"Sir, as I said, there is nobody who can speak to you-"

"This is a matter of life and death," Benny interjected. "Don't tell us that in a police station nobody can talk about that!"

"We just don't-"

"Don't what?" Collins challenged. "Don't have the time to save three people from dying? Hell you've ignored so long that they could already be dead! Is that why you applied for such a job, boy? To waste our time enough that our friends could be lying in a gutter somewhere?"

"No-"

"Than what is it?" Benny said, eyes narrowing dangerously. "We've got evidence."

"Nobody-"

"Excuse me," a feminine voice to their right made heads spins abruptly, "is there a problem here?"

Benny's breath hitched in his throat as he noticed Allison standing with her hands plastered to her hips and her lips puffed out dangerously. She stalked up to stand between Collins and Benny and placed a finger on the desk pointedly. "Listen Mister…" she read the man's nametag, "Clark, but I believe there are lives at stake on times like these and that means service is a necessity."

"Ms. Grey-"

"No." Allison placed her finger to the man's lips. "Just get your skinny ass up and do something." Moving to intervene the odd situation, Benny stopped as he felt Collins's hand on his shoulder telling him to wait. As the officer flew quickly away from the desk Allison moved away and looked beyond the two men at- "Officer Sherman Long, these two are in dire need of your services."

Benny and Collins turned quickly; suddenly finding themselves in the presence of a uniformed officer with flashy badges came up, his eyebrow cocked in a businesslike manner. "Well," Officer Long said, "looks like we've got troubles. What seems to be the problem?"

Collins held out the photograph and explained the situation quickly.

Suddenly Benny was taking Allison's hand and moving her away from the officer and anarchist. "What was that?" he questioned once they were outside underneath the protection of the tiny roof as the rain poured down before them.

"Look Benjamin-"

"Please call me Benny. I've always hated that name."

Allison continued, "I understand that I put you in an awfully terrible position last year, but I feel I understand your reason for leaving me for this so-called bohemian lifestyle. And I know this is more than my affair. We were born in two very different worlds; there was just nothing there to keep us together. You love your friends, anybody can see that. I'm very sorry."

"It's not easy to forgive what you did-"

"I don't expect you to forgive me. Just take what I just did as a good-natured deed."

Taking Allison's hands, feeling the need to put his life with her behind him, Benny smiled. "Thank you."

"BENNY!" Collins poked his head out the station's door. He noticed Allison and flashed a small smile. "Oh, sorry…"

"No, I'm done." Allison smiled softly and wandered into the rain towards the limo which held her father. "Goodbye and good luck…Benny."

Collins nodded, watching the woman's petite form walk away. "Mm-hmm. Nice job, Ben."

"What happened with Officer Long?"

"We're getting somewhere!" Collins grinned. "Come on, he's getting together some officers and we're going to go look for Tammy."

"We're coming too?"

"You expect me to stay out of this?"

"What happened to letting the police handle this?"

"This is me and the law." Collins rolled his eyes. "We're not going to get in the way and we have to stay in the squad car."

"Figures."

"You coming or what?"

"Where to?"

"Officer Long seems to think they'll be at Jimmy's old bar…"

XXXXXXXX

The fire had built up quickly, water bouncing off the murky slates of rainwater and traveling across to burn the broken plaster off the wall as a wall surrounded the inhabitants. No longer could they get to the window to leave the building, and the roof seemed to be collapsing slowly as pieces of wood from the ceiling fell slowly. Roger, however, wasn't as afraid of the fire as he was of the gunshots ringing out around him -almost coming from nowhere.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Sensitive ears caught the sounds of the bullets ricocheting off the walls and floor.

"Stay down!" Roger called out. "Stay on the ground!"

Everything was red; it made Roger's eyes burn painfully as he blinked back tears away from his eyes. He'd gotten so confused in the fiery buildup that Roger had suddenly lost track of Tammy and Mark's position, unable to see beyond the red masses, and even found himself torn away from Frank. The only person Roger seemed to find was Jimmy…

The shell of Jimmy.

Roger had gotten a quick glance at the hole in Jimmy's neck and looked away quickly. Roger cursed the thoughts he had as a teenager when watching the action adventure films with his middle school friends. They'd always thought they were so cool staying calm when the bloody scenes came on in the horror films, but now it wasn't the same-

Now, this was real.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Shit, was it real…

CRASH!

"Holy shit!" Roger yelled as he dove away from the spot he was standing, he scrambled away and looked back just in time to see a large chunk of fire-induced plaster fall to where he was just standing. Still, Roger was not quick enough and cried out in pain as a large block of plaster landing on his right leg. The musician muttered a string of curse words-

"Roger!" Tammy cried. "Roger, where are you?"

"Over here!" Roger called, mentally slapping himself at how stupid his words sounded. "Are you all right!"

"Yes, but Mark's trapped!"

Head whipping up suddenly, eyes widening, Roger called back, "What happened?"

"I don't know…" Tammy cried. "The ceiling was coming down on us and he seemed to…know…and I-I there wasn't-"

"Tammy, calm down! What happened?"

"He pushed me out of the way!" Tammy yelled. "He's stuck! Under the debris!"

"Don't worry Tammy!" Roger called. "I'll come to you! Just keep talking. Okay?"

"All right." Roger heard her sniffle. "Where's Frank?"

Definitely need to specify conversations Davis…

Roger bit his lip from saying "I don't know" and instead went with, "Louder!" hoping she'd understand. Fortunately for Roger, she was smart.

"Mark's still breathing!" she yelled instead, trying to reassure Roger of his best friend. "He's breathing!"

Roger continued to listen to Tammy's yells; he bit his lip as he quickly placed his hands over the hot chunk of plaster over his leg and attempted to hold down a pained yell as he threw the lump from his leg.Roger shouted internally, his heart beating rapidly as he relived his leg from the heavy burden. He was bleeding, losing more blood, and Roger knew it probably wasn't safe to walk, but Tammy needed him…Mark needed him…

"ROGER!"

"I'm coming Tammy!"

"Roger, are you all right!"

"Never better," Roger muttered. He drug his leg with him, wincing with every step, and turned towards Tammy's voice. "Keep calling Tammy! Where are you?"

"Near the stairs! Everything's blocked off! We can't get out…"

"Don't worry, Tam." Roger more-or-less hopped. "I'm coming. Don't worry…"

And then he found Frank.

The same form of a broken shell as Jimmy and April before him. A bullet wound in his head.

Roger looked away, tears brimming the sides of his eye.

"Over here!" Tammy cried suddenly. "BEHIND YOU!"

Roger turned. The smile that had crawled up his face at the sound of the familiar voice fell as quickly as it came as he saw the brown-haired girl waving frantically at him, she kneeled beside the crumpled form of Mark Cohen, the blond buried under hundreds of pieces of fallen debris. Muttering another curse that had crawled up his throat, Roger limped quickly towards his two friends.

"Are you all right?" Tammy whispered, hand reaching out, but stopping as she saw the blood.

Roger gave a weak smile. "Don't worry. How are you?"

She gestured pathetically to her forehead and flashed a small smile. "Just a knock on the head."

Shifting slightly, very careful of the blood, Roger moved towards Mark and placed a comforting hand on the filmmaker's shoulder. "Mark. Mark, come on."

"He's all right," Tammy whispered. "He'll be all right. He's fine. Right, Roger? He'll be just fine."

"Mark, wake up."

XXXXXXXX

Maureen shuddered.

Joanne, having joined the diva and dancer out in the living room just minutes ago, looked to her and frowned. "Honey bear?" The dark-skinned lawyer placed a hand on Maureen's knee and was surprised to see her flinch at the simple touch. Exchanging a small glance with Mimi, Joanne placed her hand on Maureen's cheek and gently led her face over to face them. "Maureen," she tried this time. "What's wrong?"

"I have a…feeling." Maureen pulled her knees closer to her chest. "I've gotten them when I was young. My mother and father told me I woke up screaming bloody murder when I was a little girl, every time it was the night one of my relatives died. Once, in school, I fainted -later I found out a girl in my theater class died in a car wreck. Then April…" Maureen trailed off.

"You two were close?" Mimi questioned softly, trying to take Maureen's mind off the current situation.

Maureen, in turn, chuckled. "She was my best friend."

"I didn't know that." Joanne frowned. "I thought you were just roommates with Roger, Mark, Collins, and Benny."

"We were," said Maureen. "I met Mark at Tompkins Square Park and introduced him to April, and Mark introduced April to Roger."

"Roger told me he met April in a bar."

"They did meet there. Technically." Maureen smiled at the memory. "I pawned April off on Mark when I wanted to audition for this off-Broadway role, which I didn't get, and they went to the bar to see Roger perform." Maureen shuddered again.

Joanne moved closer and took Maureen's hand. "Are you all right?"

"I am." Maureen frowned. "I don't think they are."

"Whose they?" Mimi questioned, her own body shuddering at the thought.

"I don't know."

"I'm sure they're fine." Joanne reassured the two women. "It's nothing, honey bear. Just chills. It's cold in here and you're wearing a sleeveless shirt." She hugged Maureen confidently, but it didn't meet her eyes, and it did not go past Maureen and Mimi.

"You don't mean that." Maureen hugged her back. "You're just as worried."

"No, I'm-"

"It's what Mark used to do," Maureen whispered. "He holds back his emotions and cares about us. Just like Collins said."

Joanne frowned and repeated her words from before, "I'm sure they're fine."

Mimi frowned too and said, "Who's ever sure of anything?"

XXXXXXXX

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Not again…

The searing pain pushed through Mark's whole entire body this time, though the pounding against his head left a distinct feeling making the filmmaker groan. He vaguely heard a sigh of relief from somewhere above him winced as a hand shook his shoulder. The voice was rough and scratchy, the touch, albeit slightly comforting, made Mark wince against the abrupt movement. Tightening the tight close on his eyes, Mark tilted his head, barely moving a few inches as another spasm of pain rushed through Mark's back.

"Mark. Mark… Come on, man. You'll be okay." The hand shook his shoulder more and more, which only caused the blond to groan. "Hang on. We'll get you out of here. I-I'll get you out of here. It's me, Mark, Roger. It's Roger. Come on, Mark. Open your eyes…Please, don't leave us…don't leave me…"

Mark couldn't resist. "You -gulp- real-realize how selfish tha…that makesss you sound?" He felt the corners of his lip arching upward. "Right?"

Roger cried. "Mark."

"Tha's me…" Mark gulped down whatever was stuck in his throat, but only succeeded in coughing. A hand closed around his own. "Tammy?"

The hand squeezed. "Yeah, Mark?"

His lip arched again. "I told you we'd make it."

"Yeah." Tammy chuckled. "Yeah, you were right."

Mark could hear the tears in her eyes. "Don't cry. It'll be all right now…"

Sniffle. "Uh-huh."

"Where's Frank?"

Roger's voice. "He's dead. Killed himself."

"What?"

"I don't know man…jus-just don't worry, okay?" Roger said. "Just focus on yourself."

"Ri-right…" Mark squeezed his eyes tighter and coughed. Shifting slightly caused him to moan in pain. "Jeezus, man."

"You're shivering." Roger pointed out. "Can you move?"

Mark frowned. "I-I…don't think so."

Tammy whispered, "You'll be all right, Mark. Just like you told me. We're both getting out of this. Okay?"

Mark chocked down his laughter. "Pr-promise…"

"Mark, man, look at me." Roger's voice floated through his ears. "You gotta open your eyes, man… You hit your head. Fall asleep in your condition and… Jus-just open your eyes, Mark. I know it hurts, man, but you've got to stay awake."

"Ti-tired…"

"Come on, Mark." Roger said forcibly. "No way in hell are you dying from this."

"You just promised," Tammy said. "Don't…please don't, Mark. You saved me. You both did."

"I'm fi-fine."

Mark squinted as he looked up to where Roger and Tammy's presence was sure to be. The light before him made him squint, scorching red fire pushing heat through the room as sweat poured from his forehead, or…rain. It was rain. Above, where the ceiling had been, a dark sky loomed overhead as the surroundings illuminated Mark in a shine of lightning and a crash of thunder. Stars upon stars littered the sky.

Mark chuckled and whispered his thoughts, "Holy shit."

"What?" Roger's worried voice pushed through his ears. "Does it hurt? Are you all right?"

Looking up into Roger's green eyes, watching the crystal clear teardrop stream down the musician's cheeks as wet, brown hair clung to Roger's forehead. The whole scene made Mark chuckle again, this time causing Tammy to gasp in worriment. Moving his eyes over, squinting through the darkness, only the illumination of the bouncing flames helping him, Mark painfully tilted his head and stared in the deep, dark green eyes of Tammy Carson. She looked just like April, but her hair was a light shade of brown instead of fiery red.

Shuddering, even against the pain, loud sirens blared.

"Would you look at that," Mark whispered. "Red and blue…"

"What?" Roger blinked, suddenly he was leaning forward. "What'd you say?"

"Still so dark," Mark's voice cracked. He was cut off with a hacking cough, but his smile never faded. "It's still so…shadowy, but there's something there." Water fell onto his head and Mark felt the euphoria rush through his body. "Never …"

Tammy questioned, "Mark, are you all right?"

"It's amazing, man."

Roger understood. Roger always understood.

"You can see?"

Mark coughed a laugh. "I never remembered how damned ugly you looked."

"You asshole," Roger cried. "You damned asshole."

Looking up slightly, sighting the crimson red, Mark said simply, "You're bleeding…"

"IS ANYBODY DOWN THERE?" The voice of a police officer. The white light flashed onto their faces. "CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME?"

Tammy stood. She ran to the window and shouted. "We're down here! HURRY! We've got a man in critical condition!"

"STAY THERE! We're sending in the firefighters!"

Roger grabbed hold of his head and laughed. "Holy shit, man. Holy shit…"

And as Tammy stood away from the odd scene before her, tears streaming down her face as she watched the two best friend's, more things made sense.

Burning, scorching fire bouncing before them.

Flashing red a blue lights of the police cars outside.

Yellow people with masks, firefighters, breaking through the walls.

Ruble falling. Debris gathering.

And even so, each of Roger and Mark blinking back their own tears-

Mark laughed, the expression finally meeting his eyes.

Even through the dark, the screaming from above, the death and destruction, the dying rain…

Roger and Mark smiled.