Chapter Sixteen: Healing Time

April 26th, 7:20 AM, Eastern Standard Time

The first thing Roger woke up to was the gentle breathing of Mimi next to him and the soft feel of her hand enclosed tightly in his own. It had been like waking up every night before, almost the same kind of deep loving feeling that had Roger's insides turning as he squeezed the hand. He fought down the tight groan growing in his throat as he shifted on the hard mattress, eyes weakly opening as if they held two large elephants upon them. Roger shook his head slightly at the slight wooziness engulfing him as he wearily blinked against the bright fluorescent lights hanging above him. He swallowed at whatever had built up in his throat, stifling the rough coughs, and opened his eyes.

Roger winced, but, for the first time in those seconds he'd spent waking up, Roger realized he was not at the loft cuddling up to Mimi. The hospital room was a bright sterile white and he was in a half-lying half-sitting position on one of the hardcore mattresses as an IV line stuck out of his arm hooking up to two machines. Tilting his head in wonderment, Roger's eyes widened in awareness as he looked to his side and found the sleeping form of Mimi curled up next to him, squashed between the silver railing of his bed with her head on his chest. Carefully, Roger lifted his hand and tilted a stray strand of brown curl behind the woman's ear, she shifted and moaned softly against the touch, but, luckily, she did not wake.

"Welcome to the land of the living."

Startled, Roger turned his blurry eyes and focused in on the amused form of Benny, the usual strict-businessman clad in a simple pair of light blue jeans and a dark black sweater. He was sitting in one of the dark blue chairs near Roger's bed, feet crossed in front of him accordingly as he leaned in to put his elbows on his knees comfortably. His lips seemed to twitch into a slight smile at the sight of the two, though it disappeared quickly as he clasped his hands in front of his face.

"Benny." Roger was startled at how broken his voice sounded and closed his eyes and cleared his throat before trying again. "Shit, what the hell are you doing here?" It hadn't meant to come out as dark as he meant it to, but Roger could do nothing to smooth things over as he was overcome with a small coughing fit that, luckily, didn't wake Mimi -she was dead asleep.

"Here," the look on Benny's face clearly meant he wasn't fazed by the musician's harsh tone. He stood quickly and sauntered easily toward Roger's side, taking up a small white cup and carefully tilted it toward Roger's lips. "Let me help you," Benny said softly, "you don't want to wake Mimi…"

It wasn't hard for Roger to tell that Benny had added that last part to soothe his pride, but, for once, Roger decided not to remark. His throat was too dry for his liking to waste his breath on starting a petty argument. "All right."

The water sent a wave of euphoria shooting through Roger's body, the wet liquid flowing easily down his parched throat before the cup was slowly moved away from his lips. A bit of the water fell onto his cheek, but Roger was too weak to lift his hand and swipe it away, so he didn't seem to mind as Benny gently dabbed a white napkin to his cheek as green eyes closed against the pain in his leg. When the pain subsided Roger opened his eyes again, he saw that Benny had moved back to the chair and was giving him a look of deep concern, one that wasn't usually presented so freely.

"Thanks." Roger's voice was a whisper.

"No problem," Benny responded, his voice just as low as not to wake the still-sleeping Mimi.

Clearing his throat for what felt like the umpteenth time in the past fifteen minutes, Roger questioned again, "What are you doing here?"

"You know," Benny started calmly, "I'd thought you'd forgiven me for everything I did. My intentions were in the right place and I had wanted to do something right for all of you, I just did it in a bad way."

"There's no way to forgive you for all that rent shit." Roger weakly held his hand a few inches off the bed as a signal for Benny not to speak, the man having had opened his mouth simply leaned back casually and allowed Roger to finish. "Just being mad at you for leaving all of us in that hell while you flaunted off to the city and bought all those damned business suits," Roger explained with a shake of his head. "We didn't deserve to be treated-"

"I know, but-" Benny stopped as Roger's hand came up again.

"Though, I guess, we should've realized where you were coming from." Roger frowned. "I'm not apologizing."

"I'm not asking you to."

"Good." Roger shifted slightly. His gaze shifted around the pale white hospital room and he questioned, "What happened?"

Benny pursed his lips and shrugged. "How much do you remember?"

Roger shook his head; his memory was filled with so much chaos that it had his head swimming from all the images and thoughts flashing through. He distinctly was remembering the red, white, and blue lights of the ambulance bus, the fire truck, and the police car. They'd gotten him and Tammy out of the building and separated them into different ambulances once Roger had told them about his HIV status. The musician was reluctant to leave though, for Mark was still in the building trapped. Still, Collins had easily ushered him into the ambulance and stayed with him on the way to the hospital, where his leg had been splinted and he'd been given a bed for rest. Roger guessed he fell asleep…hell it had been a long day.

"You had a fever last night, Mimi was worried."

"A fever," Roger question, finally finding his voice. "How-"

A small hand stroking his cheek broke Roger's words. Green eyes looked down to see the calm eyes of Mimi staring into him, she'd straightened slightly so that all her weight was not on Roger and moved so she was lying half on the bed and half on the chair. "Doing okay, love?" she whispered softly, her eyebrows furrowing with worry. "You've been asleep for a long time."

"What time is it?" Roger whispered, not trusting his throat to make his voice louder than necessary.

Benny looked to his watch and said, "Almost 7:30 AM."

"That doesn't seem so bad."

"April 26th."

Looking to Mimi, his face colored in confusion, Roger questioned his girlfriend. "Seriously?"

"You slept all day!" A chuckle followed the blunt statement as Thomas Collins stalked into the room calmly, he held a cup in his hand and a clear plastic container containing, what looked to be, a ham sandwich. The anarchist handed the sandwich to Benny, who took it with a nod, before moving to Roger's side and hugging him happily. "Glad to see you finally up." With that he handed the cup, filled with coffee, to Mimi and promptly moved to plunk down on the seat next to Benny.

Roger chuckled at Collins' antics. "No wonder I fell like hell."

"Don't worry," Benny laughed, "you look it too."

"Benny, be nice." Joanne walked in next, her own coffee cup in her hand, and promptly slapped the man upside his head. She ignored the catcalls from Collins and Mimi and walked up to Roger to place a calm kiss on his cheek. The lawyer moved to sit down on the seat next to Mimi. "How do you feel?" she questioned -always the mother hen.

"Terrific, considering my leg is as numb as all hell and I've got an itch that I can't reach." Roger rolled his eyes at their laughter. "I'm glad my pain amuses you."

Mimi giggled. "Not amuse…entertains."

Roger blinked. "What's the difference?"

Joanne simply shook her head and leaned over to swipe a plastic fork from Benny's meal. She threw it at his stomach and said, "Here, this should help."

"Hey! I was using that." Benny frowned.

Mimi took the fork and experimentally dug it under the cast of Roger's leg. Roger smiled and Mimi giggled again. "Feel better, love?"

"Much. Still want the fork, Ben? I'll be glad to give it back." Benny paled at the sight of the fork. "Hah," Roger continued, "shows you to make fun of my devilishly handsome looks!"

"Don't be such a hothead." Benny couldn't help but smile. It finally seemed as if the African-American fit in with the bohemians, and he seemed more comfortable in his skin when they were around. The feud between Roger and Benny still showed up form time-to-time, but it was safe to say everything had been put aside for now…today… No day but today.

Holy shit…

Roger's eyes wavered unsteadily around the room suddenly as a thought entered his mind. "What happened to Mark and Tammy?" he questioned. "Did they get out all right? We got separated when I was put into the ambulance and-"

A long, childish squeal cut Roger off as heads whipped to the door just in time to see a blur of brown and black whip by the door and continue on through the pale white hospital hallway, though they were quickly followed by a young woman in a white coat. Roger shot a confused look toward his bohemian friends at their amused looks, and watched curiously as Joanne let out a frustrated grunt and hopped up to stick her head out the door. Anticipating the timing, Joanne stuck her hand out the door and snatched the back form of, who Roger guessed to be, Maureen Johnson.

"Pookie!" Maureen laughed happily. "Baby, come on, we were just having some fun."

The white-coated doctor came up quickly. "You will not overexert my patient!" he yelled unhappily. "I allowed you to take her out as long as she was kept safe and calm! She is still healing!"

A feminine voice came in, giggling. "I asked her to do that. Haven't you seen the movies? They do it all the time."

"Get in the room!" Joanne's finger pointed toward the interior pointedly. She gave Maureen a stern glare and turned to the doctor, "I've very sorry, sir-"

However, Roger zoned out of the conversation between Joanne and the doctor and was solely focusing on the two women coming into his room. Maureen was at the helm, her lips pouting slightly, but soon her face lighting up at the sight of him awake. There was something about the happy-go-lucky girl that seemed uncharacteristically -or, at least for Maureen- calm. She had a flair of tranquil to her, though her gestures still seemed wild, Maureen seemed different. She walked into the room pushing in a wheelchair though, the occupant's eyes wide with happiness and a large grin splitting her lips.

"Roger!"

Roger smiled simply. "Tammy, you look great."

Tammy Carson, sister of April. She looked much better than when Roger had seen her before, her green eyes so full of life and her skin building more color into them so she didn't look so pale. Her long brown hair had been cut shoulder-length, still cascading down gracefully as a petite hand came to tuck a stray piece behind her ear. Tammy was clad in a comfortable pair of black sweats and a long gray hoodie as white bandages covered her cheek and her wrists, fading red scratches showing every so often.

"Well," Tammy wheeled away from Maureen and moved closer to Roger's side, "that's all thanks to you and Mark."

Roger took her hands and smirked. "Are you all right?"

"More than you, apparently." Tammy chuckled. "I'm fine, a little malnourished all the same, but real good considering. The doctors won't let me out of this wheelchair until I get all my strength back." She rolled her eyes at that. "Your friends have been keeping me company though."

"His friends?" Maureen questioned with a laugh. "Don't count yourself out so soon!"

"All the same…" Tammy blushed. "Thank you."

"What about your shoulder?" Roger questioned. "The knife wound looked deep."

"Oh," Tammy rolled up her sleeve cautiously and flashed a white wrap going around her arm. "It's not too bad. You were right before, it hurt like hell once I got over the shock of it all." She pushed her sleeve down. "They've got me talking to this therapist though, and it actually isn't too bad. I had nightmares last week and-"

Roger massaged her hand delicately. "You don't have to explain."

"I want to," Tammy assured him, "and I will. It's just…some things are harder to get over."

"Hey now," Mimi placed a hand on her shoulder this time, "if there's anything you need, just come and talk. We'll listen."

Tammy blushed again. "Thanks."

"Wait," Roger shook his head. "What about Mark? Where did he go? He did get out, right?"

Tammy turned away this time, allowing Maureen to come up. "Actually, that's where we just were."

The bohemians looked away, and it only made Roger's heart start beating even faster in his chest. Suddenly the pain in his leg lifted from his body and he felt undeniably numb. He vaguely felt Mimi's hand moving into his own and he looked to see her eyes averted; even Benny held a look of sorrow in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, Roger questioned, "What happened?" his voice was croaked. "He's all right, right? He's alive?"

"Yes!" Maureen said quickly, she realized how high her voice had gotten with that word and recoiled slightly. She sighed contently and closed her eyes before continuing more confidently. "Mark was in surgery-"

"Surgery!" Roger's eyes bugged, he sat up quickly and fought off a wave of dizziness as he swatted Mimi and Joanne's hands away. He grunted against the movement as he sat up straighter and questioned, "What in the hell happened? Start from the beginning!"

Eyes turned to Benny. Benny had been the one who stayed on the scene with Mark when Collins and Tammy had hightailed it to the hospital. He began with a cough. "It took hours to get Mark out from the debris, I'm not sure exactly, but it was because they needed to get the fire out. There was a pole holding the ceiling above him together and they had to do this maneuver so the roof wouldn't collapse on him-"

"Some things we don't need to know," Maureen whispered, flopping onto the arm of Joanne's chair and settling Tammy's chair next to Mimi. "Just get to the point."

"They got him out and they treated him in the field before taking him to the emergency room; I rode along in the ambulance. They explained to me that they thought something impeded into his back and might've hit his spinal chord in such a way that…I'm not sure…a- there was…"

"What? There was what?"

"They took him to surgery and pulled all this medical jargon on me." Benny shook his head and massaged is temple. "The surgery lasted three hours, and it had something to do with his back and legs. They're still waiting for him to wake up from the anesthesia and-"

"He woke up!" Maureen cut in, Tammy nodding along with her words. "We were just there, but they kicked us out."

"They'll find out about his vision and his legs." Benny continued. "That's what they're doing, probably-"

"Legs?" Roger questioned, eyes wide with worry. "What do you mean? Are you saying he might be…?" The word didn't register in Roger's brain, and he couldn't bring himself to say it.

First the filmmaker's eyesight and now his legs?

"He might not regain any function of his legs."

"Let me see him."

"Roger…" Maureen tried. "We were all ready-"

Roger looked to her desperately and repeated with more force, "Let me see him."

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The doctors and nurses had been reluctant at first, they didn't want to exert their patient with drastic news and they did not want Roger to be moved all the way up to the ICU, where Mark's room was. However, Roger had been persistent, even through swears threatening his life and death over their dead bodies. Finally, after nearly an hour of yelling and frustration, the doctor had finally relented and told Roger that as long as somebody went with him it would fine for a few minutes. Tammy was quick to volunteer but, considering her own predicament, Collins had been selected instead while the other bohemians took Tammy back to her room.

Collins had been pushing Roger in the wheelchair, something the doctors had insisted on because of his leg. The anarchist had been mostly silent throughout the whole trip, but he struck up conversation to occupy Roger's mind, which Roger was grateful for. "He might not look the same, what with all the scratches and bruises…"

Roger nearly laughed. "Are you kidding? Look at me!"

Before coming Roger had taken a look at himself in the bathroom mirror, and, though Mimi had helped him take a quick shower, Roger had a chance to sneak in a peek at his bruises and scratches. Though Frank had been high at the time, it didn't bring any relief from his multitude of blows -especially when he needed to use the gun. Needless to say with black bags under his eyes, his right eye swelled red, and Roger's cheek marked, the musician looked anything but attractive. It all made Roger laugh at how, when he was a teenager, he'd get the scrapes on purpose to impress the ladies. Of course, now, it only made Mimi worry more than ever.

"You don't look too bad, man." Collins had responded. "Still as ugly as ever."

"Thanks…"

"I never remembered how damned ugly you looked…"

Roger shook Mark's voice out of his head and sighed. His memory was still coming in short bursts. Soon though, after traveling the three stories and through fifteen hallways, Roger's head snapped up as the wheelchair came to a stop behind one certain door. Collins carefully spun the wheelchair around and crouched down so he could face the musician face-to-face.

"How's his vision?" Roger asked, speaking quickly before Collins could get a word in edgewise. "He can see, right?"

"Mostly." the anarchist nodded. "His vision comes and goes most times, but he can see."

"Good."

"Look, Rog," Collins sighed. "Are you sure about this? I don't need you to go freaking out because the boy's hurt."

"Yeah, well, what do you expect me to do?" Roger questioned monotonously. "He's my best friend and he's hurt, I have a right to be worried for him."

"Right now, you need to be there for him. Be strong for him." Collins shook his head. "Help him cope."

"What about me? Do you want me to hold in my feelings?"

"What the hell do you think Mark was doing for the duration of your withdrawal?"

Crap.

"Ready?" Collins questioned, to which Roger nodded. "Seriously, Rog. I don't want to have to drag you out if you start yelling some kind of nonsense about how Mark should've known better than to get hurt under your watch-" he paused at the glare from the musician. "I'm just saying…"

"I get it," Roger responded. "No worries, Thomas."

"That's all I wanted to hear, man."

Roger and Collins traveled into the room, and for a moment Roger felt truly pathetic being stuck in a wheelchair. Of course, he felt even more pathetic for having such a thought once he saw the condition his best friend was in. The boy was pale, to say the least, he had scratches and bruises surrounding his body and his chest was wrapped in one large white bandage. He was hooked up to at least three machines, each one of them producing their own steady beeping sound that made Roger go crazy.

It was the same sound as Angel.

Angel…

Shit!

"Don't worry about it man." Collins seemed to sense his thoughts and smiled down at him good-naturedly. Roger had almost forgotten that in a few months it would be the anniversary of Angel's death. "I'm fine," Collins insisted, though there was a faraway look in his eye.

Roger simply nodded, not wanting to drag memories from Collins, and turned back to his best friend. He waved Collins off and wheeled closer to the man's bed, eyes wavering uncertainly as he came closer and peered to the man's bruised eye. Figures, Roger thought to himself, he gets over one black eye just to gain another just one week later. Fortunately for Roger, the calm rise and fall of Mark's chest indicated life from the filmmaker. Always a good sign.

Collins plopped down in the cushioned chair next to Roger. "He's not going to bite."

Recoiling back at the anarchist's voice, Roger caught himself staring blankly down at Mark. He looked to Collins and hissed back, "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Saying good morning Mark would be a fine starter."

"Mark!" Roger yelped, eyes widening at the cracked voice.

"That's close enough." Mark shuddered involuntarily, his eyes blinked open a few times before settling underneath the bright fluorescent lights. Sharp blue turned toward Collins and Roger as a smile arched the corners of Mark's lips. The filmmaker grunted from the pain of the small movement though, making Roger as unsteady as ever. "They told me you hadn't woken up yet," Mark continued, "but I knew you'd wake up soon. You're never up on time."

Collins stifled a laugh.

Roger, however, looked less than amused. "Get you eyesight back and you call me ugly, I wake up and you call me lazy. What the hell is up with that?"

Mark smiled from his stiff position. "Big description of the best friend role is taunting. I take that part very seriously."

"Are you all right?" Roger questioned, suddenly very worried. He noticed how tense Mark was and moved to squeeze the filmmaker's shoulders. "Do you want me to get the doctor or nurse or something?"

"No…'s jus-" Mark grunted, "just some back pains." He gave a weak smile. "Nothing to worry 'bout."

"That's not-" Roger stopped as he saw the stern look from Collins, clearly telling him drop it and talk about something else, so, instead, Roger took a deep breath and questioned, "Have you seen Tammy yet?"

"Saw her for a few seconds when I woke up, before the nurse kicked her and Maureen out of the room." Mark gave a gentle smile. "I'm just happy for that simple fact, you know? The doctors are telling me my vision is coming back in and out, though I'll still need those glasses."

Roger arched a brow. "Blurry?"

"As hell." Mark smirked. "Not too bad, but, I guess, that's not too good either."

"Given you a headache?" Collins questioned.

"A bit." Mark nodded, eyes squeezing shut as he said it. "I was hoping one of you could get my old pair at the loft, maybe it'll help me out a bit."

"No problem." Collins nodded. "I'll swing by the loft later this afternoon."

"Thanks." Mark grunted again. "Shit…"

Roger hissed to Collins, "Do something!"

Collins had the same worried look in his eyes though, so he didn't have to be told twice. Fortunately Mark hadn't heard or seen their exchange, and if he did he had no objections, but, just in case, Collins stood up lengthily and stretched. "Well," he yawned, "I think I'm going to go talk to your doctor." He hastily explained, "Maybe he can get me a pair of glasses for you so I don't have to go all the way back to the loft."

"Too lazy?" Mark laughed.

"Damn right." Collins ruffled the younger man's blond hair and smiled down at him. "Take care, we'll all come to see you later."

Mark smiled. "Thanks."

Click.

"So…" Roger said as Collins left. "How are you?"

"As well as can be expected." Mark replied with a shrug. "Forget about me. What about you?"

"Better." Roger responded truthfully. "Doctors say I need to keep the splint on and I'll be as good as new."

"Great. I'm glad." This made Mark smile. Always one to care about his friend's welfare.

"Oh, yeah," Roger replied with a grin. "They checked my T-cell count and it's through the roof! Better than it's been in a long time, believe it or not."

"I believe it. Things have been going great for you…well, I mean, before everything that happened."

"Yeah." Roger nodded. "I was really surprised though; they'll be putting me on these new meds… Real technical stuff, if you want to know you'll probably have to ask Benny, Collins, or one of my doctors."

"If I want to know?" Mark questioned with a laugh. "You do remember who reminds you to take your AZT, right?"

Roger laughed. "Right, right…sorry."

"What about Tammy?"

"Malnourished, scratches, bruises, and all that shit, but she's doing better. She's been hanging around with everybody else and it's like all the life is coming back to her, but that'll probably take time." Roger shrugged. "It's getting better for her; she's still got a long way ahead of her. She told me the doctors recommended a therapist and she took them up on the offer…I'm not sure with the specifics." He sighed and leaned against his knee, delicately trying not to put to much pressure on his broken one. "The police questioned her last night and they'll need to question us sometime later…"

"Figures." Mark muttered. "Sure as hell glad they're interested now, though, it could've done us a helluva lot better if they listened before."

Roger grinned. "Yeah, but listen to this. Benny told me he got hold of the Village Voice and they got a statement from Collins! He mentioned that Sergeant Michael Simmons and the bastard got fired!" Mark laughed, which made Roger's smile widen.

"Wait, what happened to Jimmy and Frank?" Mark questioned, his laughter stopping so abruptly that Roger nearly jumped. "Did they go to jail?"

"You didn't see?"

"See what?"

"They're dead." Mark visibly paled and Roger's voice caught in his throat as he realized the length of what he'd just said. "Shit…man, I'm sorry. I-I wasn't thinking what would happen-"

"No," Mark finally croaked after a lengthy silence, "don't apologize. I remember now. Frank shot himself and Jimmy was caught in the crossfire." He repeated the words for his own assurance, "I remember."

Roger frowned. The one thing he shouldn't have to remember…

"Are you all right?" Mark questioned. "I didn't see them, but I'm assuming you did."

The bloody images of Jimmy and Frank's bodies flashed through Roger's mind quickly, though they were gone as quick as Roger could blink. Finding himself unable to think of words to say in that particular conversation, Roger simply nodded his head once and averted his eyes. He looked up, however, when he felt a weak grip squeeze his hand, and Roger followed his arm down to find Mark, visibly shaken, holding onto him reassuringly.

"The police are going to question us soon." Mark's voice was but a whisper. "They'll want to know every detail that happened and what we did."

"Lucky for us we've got Joanne." Roger smirked at his words. "She'll know what to do. Plus the film and Benny and Collins's statements will vouch for whatever we say, It'll be all right."

"It's going to be a helluva few weeks."

"At least it stopped raining."

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Mimi played with the leaf of the fake plant in Roger's hospital room as she waited for him to return from wherever the nurse had taken him. They were quickly starting him out on crutches, saying his leg wasn't too bad broken and his arm strength was good enough to be out of a wheelchair. She'd spoken to Roger's doctor and he'd said Roger would need to keep a splint on his leg for at least four weeks, and then he would need to come back in and make sure the bone was healing all right.

Unlike Roger, who would be out of the hospital in a matter of hours, Tammy would be released by the end of the week. The doctors didn't want her released until she gained some strength back, considering she had been underweight and very fragile from staying in the basement for a year. Mimi kept a close eye on the woman and noticed that she absolutely lit up when one of the bohemians talked to her, almost yearning the attention. Still, the woman was a shy one, and, as Mimi knew from experience, it was hard to come into such a tight knit family. Tammy was different though, she seemed unable to stand in a large crowd of people -which was odd for a person living in a place like New York City.

"It's not horrible or anything like that," Tammy had explained to Mimi over lunch, during their own private conversation. "Crowds have never been my kind of thing. Since I was a kid I had trouble with all kinds of enclosed places: elevators, walk-in closets, and crowded rooms in general. It's claustrophobia, I guess…" She had laughed at that. "Probably wasn't good when I was stuck in a damned basement-"

"Hey Meems!" Mimi jumped almost two feet into the air as two arms wrapped around her waist, the odd reaction causing Roger to stumble back. "Jeez." he laughed, steadying himself on his crutches. "Sorry Mimi, I didn't mean to scare you."

"My fault," Mimi responded lightly. She placed a hand on Roger's shoulder and steadied him as she looked to the doctor at the door and questioned, "How's it looking?"

"Real good." The man smiled. "I just need to draw up some papers and we can get you out of here in about an hour."

"What about payment?" Roger questioned. "We don't have insurance for the new meds-"

Cocking a brow, the doctor questioned, "Didn't you know? Your friend paid for everything all ready."

"Benny..." Roger breathed a sigh and shook his head. "Thank you."

"No problem." He looked between the two lovers and said, "I'll just give you a moment while I gather everything up."

"Thanks!" Mimi called after his exiting form. She turned to Roger and questioned, "You okay with Benny paying the bill?"

"Do I have a choice? We're broke-"

"Roger," Mimi said sternly, "he's doing this to help."

Roger simply laughed. "Relax, Ben's fine by me. We talked about it already, I gave him my okay."

"Than why question the doctor about it?"

"My amusement of your reaction." Roger said, a serious expression plastering his face. "It was very well received too."

Mimi slapped his arm. "If you didn't have crutches I'd kick you."

"That's a relief," Roger shook his head and plunked down easily on the nearest chair. He patted the arm of the chair and Mimi complied easily as she gently leaned against his body and leaned her head against his neck. "How are you doing?" he questioned. "Benny told me you were worried because I had a fever going last night."

"Yeah, I heard that much of your conversation…" Mimi trailed off, she tried to avoid the question, but Roger wasn't stupid.

"Mimi," Roger said, "I'm all right now."

"But you weren't before…" A single tear fell, Mimi couldn't help it. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and said, "After everything I went through, almost dying after Christmas and going through that shitty withdrawal," Roger cringed at that, "I thought everything was supposed to get better! Not worse!"

"My T-cells are high, love." Roger brushed away her next tear. "I'm fine now."

"What about later?" Mimi questioned. "The future! Hell, even tomorrow!"

Roger frowned. "No day but today, Mimi. Remember?"

"I just-" Mimi fell onto Roger's lap and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I don't want to lose you, Roger."

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Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

Maureen bit her bottom lip impatiently as she paced the length of the hallway outside of Mark's room, her heels making the small rhythm against the white tiles. It hadn't bothered her and she wasn't really in a place to be bothering people, especially considering Mark's neighbor consisted of a man in a coma. Still, there was something that bothered Maureen herself all the same, though, it hadn't necessarily been the sounds that bothered Maureen, it had been the endless waiting. She'd been literally pushed out of the room by a uniformed officer who had been questioning the blond filmmaker and was forced to wait in the hall while Joanne gained access to see him -though, it had been because she was his lawyer.

Still! Didn't she deserve a chance to see Mark? Didn't Maureen earn a right to visit her sick friend?

Damn right she did!

Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

But, no! Maureen was even shoved out of the room by Joanne after her lover had said that it would be a much easier process to go through without having her ecstatic presence in the room. Even after she'd promised to keep it down, not to say anything, Joanne still refused to grant her entrance into the room. So, there she was now, in the hallway, pacing, ignoring the click, clacks of her own shoes…waiting…waiting….waiting…

Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

An hour of waiting.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

An hour of wondering. Wondering whether Mark was all right. Wondering how Roger was coping with all of it. Wondering what would happen to Tammy once this was all over. Wondering who the next person to end up in the hospital would be…the next one to di-

Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

Finally, feeling little to no energy left in her, Maureen flopped down on one of the plastic chairs in the hallway and buried her face into her hands. She didn't cry, for there didn't seem to be a point for tears, but she did mourn April and Angel and Tammy, and Mark and Roger's newfound pains. Maureen mourned the fact that she'd hurt Mark and Joanne when she'd been dating them, and she cursed the fact she wasn't big enough to admit she was afraid of commitment.

Commitment meant things were real, though. And commitment meant the future was coming.

And Maureen was afraid of the future.

Her friends dying… that was the future.

Collins, Mimi, Roger…

Hell, only time would tell if Joanne, Mark, Benny, and even herself would live long enough.

Wiping a hand across her face tiredly, Maureen squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. There was another time to think about the nightmares of the future, but, as long as they weren't happening right now, Maureen would settle on the nightmares and joys of today.

Of right now.

No day but today.

Maureen nodded to herself and soon found Joanne tapping her shoulder. "Honey bear?" the dark-skinned lawyer said softly. "You can go in now."

"Thanks Pookie." Okay. Some habits are harder to break than others. "Do you mind if I talk to Marky alone for a minute?"

"Go ahead."

Walking into the white hospital room had been like a daze to Maureen. She looked with wide eyes to find that Mark had occupied the lone bed in the middle of the room and he was lying fully on his back, and, though his eyes were close, Maureen could tell he was very much awake. On their walk up to the room Joanne had better explained Mark's leg situation to her, saying the filmmaker would have to go through physical therapy to gain control of his legs, though it might take as long as three to six months.

It doesn't matter, Maureen thought. She walked closer and looked happily as she noticed the familiar black-rimmed glasses donning his face. He can see now, and that means he'll be all right again.

"Maureen?" Mark questioned suddenly, the croakiness in his voice startling Maureen. His eyes were open but he couldn't move his head, Joanne had explained that had something to do with his spinal chord and how it was very painful to move. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, Marky." Maureen sat in the chair next to his bed and scooted closer so Mark could see her. "How you feeling?" she questioned as she reached out to take his hand in her own and massage his knuckles. Before he could answer though, Maureen said, "Truthfully?"

Mark closed his eyes and opened them again slowly. "Better every minute. Honestly."

"Good." Maureen smiled. "I'm glad, Marky."

"What happened to Joanne?"

"I asked her to give us a minute."

"Is something wrong?"

Maureen took a breath and frowned. "I'm sorry."

Mark seemed to recoil at that. "Wh-what?"

"For everything I did to you that year with Joanne when I dumped you," Maureen explained. "I'm sorry." She leaned down to kiss his cheek and couldn't help but smirk as Mark blushed. "I was never good with relationships and I fucked up when I dumped you, I hurt your feelings and I'm sorry. It was all my fault when-"

"Wait, Mo." Mark coughed. "Jeez, what is all this?"

"It's called an apology, take it while you can." Maureen tilted her head and smiled. "I'm not good at apologizes, but I'm learning."

"Well, th-that's…" Mark stammered through his words. "There's n-no reason ta' apologize."

Maureen's smile fell. "After all I did to you? I hurt you! And Joanne, granted, but it ended up affecting you more!"

Mark simply shrugged, wincing in the process. "Still helped me in some ways, Mo. Tha's nothin' to be ashamed of. Being with you taught me how to stand up for myself a bit more."

"But-"

Mark squeezed Maureen's hand weakly. "Don't worry about it."

"I want you to forgive me." Maureen confessed. "I don't feel right about this."

"Maureen," Mark whispered, smiling, "I already forgave you for everything."

And Maureen smiled.