Disclaimer: Not mine. Still.
A/N: Okay, I lied. This is the last chapter. Thanks for reading my story. Be on the lookout for more of my stuff because I'm going to start a new series soon.
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Epilogue
Over a month had passed since Joanne's trial, and life had slowly turned back to normal for the trio at the loft. Maureen had become less dependant on the boys, and they no longer had to fall asleep with her, but that was what they were used to, so they still all shared one bed.
Roger had just come home from an audition for a gig and Mark was messing with his camera the day the faithful phone call came. Maureen looked up from her nails and over to the phone. "The phone still works?" she asked with a laugh. "I thought it got cut off because we didn't pay the bill." Roger shook his head. "We paid the bill."
"No shit Sherlock." She said with a laugh, rolling her eyes the answering machine went off. She looked at the answering machine for a moment. "I guess it wasn't that important…" she said, going back to painting her nails.
Roger shrugged. "They'll call back, who ever it was. They always do." He picked up his guitar from where he had set it down and began to play the Musetta's Waltz. Mark held back a laugh and pointed his camera at Roger. "Let's see if you can get that last note." He said, filming Roger.
He looked up from his guitar and flipped Mark and his camera off. "Oh fuck you." He said, laughing. "That's low." Maureen said with a smile. "You can film me Marky." She said going behind him and tugging on his scarf. "Hey!" he protested, turning to face her, his camera still rolling. "What was that for?"
She grinned, clapping her hands. "It got your attention, didn't it?" Mark rolled his eyes as Maureen danced around in circles. "My nails won't dry!" she said with a whined as Roger continued to play music in the background.
Roger snorted, shaking his head. "Next time don't use the whole bottle on your fingers" he called to her. "I did not!" she shot back, waving her hands around in attempt to dry them.
Mark laughed as the phone rang again. "The phone rings!" he cried happily, turning his camera towards their phone. Maureen skipped over to the phone. "We screen…hey! You're not supposed to answer it!" Mark protested as she picked up the receiver.
She shushed him, waving her hand. "Hello?" she asked. "Hold on one moment please." She turned to Mark. "Put the camera away" she said, covering the mouthpiece. He nodded, slightly confused. "And Davis, cut the music, I can't hear." Roger set his guitar down. "Yes mommy." He said with a smirk, going to get a beer. She flipped him off before uncovering the phone.
"Sorry about that. Yes, I am Maureen Johnson. How may I help you?" She paused, listening to the man on the other line. She nodded slowly. "Okay…" she said in a choked voice. "Thank you for telling me…" She paused again, biting her lip. "Okay." She said, nodding slightly. "Thank you." She said again, hanging up.
She turned to Mark and Roger, tears trickling down her cheeks. "Mo, what's wrong? What happened?" Mark asked, concerned. Slowly, she sat down, bringing her knees up to her chest and hugging them tightly.
"Joanne…she's dead…" she said quietly. "She killed herself and it's all my fault!" she cried, her body shaking. "It's all my fault!" Roger started to say something but Maureen stopped him. "Don't you dare say it wasn't." she said hotly. "She's dead because I got her arrested and she got sent to that stupid place."
Both men looked at her sadly, shaking their heads. "No, it's not your fault, no matter what you say."
"Just go away" she said quietly. "Leave me alone." Both of them left the small living room, but they could still hear Maureen talking to herself, saying "It's all my fault…" over and over again.
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A/N: The end! Don't hate me too much. Look out for my new story and be sure to review!