A/N- some language in this one, guys, just letting you all know. I'll be more than happy to know what you all think!

4- Thicker Than Blood

It was raining when she opened her eyes. A quick glance at the digital clock by her bedside shown 8:34 am, which was ridiculously early, especially since she worked until 2 the night before. She groaned softly and rolled to her side, watching the raindrops slide down her window. Usually she loved rain, but today she was kind of disappointed with it. It was Saturday, and she didn't have to work until late in the evening, so she was planning to go uptown and explore it a little bit. She couldn't do that in this weather.

She closed her eyes, hoping to steal a moment or two of slumber, but suddenly she felt extremely awake. A bit frustrated, she sat up and stretched her arms above her head. Then she quickly showered and changed, and went out to the living-room after a while, clipping up her hair as she did.

Someone sat by the table as she walked in, hidden behind a copy of the Village Voice. An arm holding a colorful mug appeared and disappeared behind the paper every few seconds.

"Morning," she said.

The paper was down, and Roger smiled at her sleepily. "Why are you up so early?" he asked, surprised. He saw her when she got back the night before.

She yawned. "I wish I knew."

"Coffee?" he asked, already on his way to fetch her a cup. They were all really nice to her in the four days since she had moved in. Sometimes even a bit too nice, like Benny, who obviously expected to get something in return.

"Thanks," she said as he placed a steaming mug in front of her. She glanced at him as he sat back down. He still had that sad expression. With his hair falling down his eyes, it made him look like a lost puppy. She hesitated, knowing he probably wouldn't like what she wanted to say, but decided to speak anyway. "You know… she probably isn't worth it."

His head snapped up. "What?"

"The girl you're mourning on."

He looked at her through narrow eyes. "Collins shouldn't have told you," he said, looking away.

Shit. She didn't want to go between him and Collins. "Oh, he didn't," she said. She was always an expert in improvising. Roger turned and gave her a questioning look. She shrugged. "I'm a girl. I pick up on these things."

"Well, it's none of your business," he spattered. Then shortly after, he shook his head. "I'm sorry. It's just… I don't even know you."

"Might be easier to talk about this with someone you don't know."

"There's nothing to talk about. There's nothing to do. It's over. The only thing that bugs me is that I should have seen this coming." He took a sip from his coffee and put the mug down with a sigh.

"Go on," she said, very gently, careful not to scare him away.

"Cassie always said that the music was getting between us. She never really understood…" He raised his eyes to hers, looking straight at her. "Music is my life. I don't care being penniless or in the street as long as I can make my music. This is why I'm here."

She nodded. This was why they were all there. "Understandable."

"Well, not for everyone. Not for Cassie. So she left. She said she couldn't handle it anymore, that I must choose between her and the music. She just didn't realize that for me, there was never a choice."

She sat in silence for a moment, and then said, "Look, I don't know you for long. But my instincts in evaluating people never failed me. It's her loss, Roger, not yours. If she didn't understand who you really were, or if she did understand but didn't care, then she didn't deserve you."

He took a moment, taking this in. Then he looked up at her, a slow smile curling on his lips. "That helped. Sort of."

She returned his smile. "I'm here to listen if you ever wanna talk about it."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

Her eyes fell on his arm, where his tattoo was half visible under the sleeve of his T shirt. "Where did you get it?"

Roger followed her eyes. "The tattoo? I lost in a bet and had to do it. There's this place down the street, they've got pretty cool stuff. Why, you wanna have one?"

"Yeah, I've been thinking about this for a while."

"I can take you there, if you want."

"Really? That'll be great."

"Sure. Tell me when you've got a day off and we go," he said, smiling.

She smiled back. It felt as if she gained his trust. "Great." Outside, a thunder boomed.

"Great weather, huh?" he asked. She detected the sarcasm in his voice. "I hope it'll stop by the time I'll have to go out."

"Yeah, tell me about it," she replied, sipping her coffee. "You have a gig tonight?"

"Yeah. Too bad you can't come. We're gonna be awesome."

"How very modest of you, Roger," said a third voice. They turned to look at Mark, who walked over to the counter and got himself some coffee as well. His voice was a bit raspy because he had just woke up; huskiness that wasn't normally there. She smiled. He hardly ever spoke around her, and when he did, it was only when being spoken to, and never without blushing.

"Well, we will be awesome," Roger insisted as Mark took a seat across from her. "Collins tells me you're a singer," he told her.

She laughed softly, a bit shy with his sudden interest. "Guess you can say that. I write a bit too."

His eyes lit up. "Really? I write most of the stuff for our band. Maybe I can show you some of it, and you'll show me what you've got. You know, for second opinion and stuff."

She smiled. He was excited like a little kid. "Sure."

"And if you want, you can come to one of our rehearsals. I wanna see if you're as good as Collins says you are."

"Do us a favor, Davis, don't drag her down. She's here for more serious purposes," said Collins, entering the kitchen.

Roger looked at her questionably, looking a bit offended by the fact that Collins obviously didn't categorize his band under serious. "Oh?"

She felt bad for him. She already knew that his band was practically his whole life. "It's not a big deal, I… thought I'd try out Broadway," she said meekly, raising her knees to her chest, leaning her head against them.

Roger almost choked on his drink. From the corner of her eye she could see that Mark was shifting in his seat, leaning slightly forward. "Wow. Well, that's… ambitious."

"She is an ambitious girl, Davis," said Collins. He kissed the top of her head and sat beside her. "As I said, don't drag her down." He looked around him. "Anyone saw Benny?"

"I don't think he slept here yesterday," said Mark.

Roger nodded. "I haven't seen him since yesterday morning."

Collins sighed. "Boy oh boy. Ladies of New York, beware." He shook his head and looked at the three of them. "So what are we gonna do today?"

"I've got some work to do," said Mark.

"And I still have to unpack," she said, realizing it was the perfect weather for it. Most of her stuff was still in her bags, and Belinda's boyfriend, who happened to be in New York, got her the rest of her stuff from the dorms. Her room was a mess, with bags and carton boxes all over the place.

"Know what?" said Collins after a while. "We're gonna help you unpack."

"We are?" asked Roger.

"Yes," replied Collins, shooting him a look. "Mark, you can do your work a bit later, can't you?"

"Sure," said Mark, smiling shyly at her.

Collins acted as if he didn't notice. "Good. So we can get to work."

"What, now?" whined Roger. "We didn't even have breakfast yet!"

"Fine, we'll have breakfast first," said Collins, rolling his eyes. No one said anything for a moment or two.

"Uh… I don't think there is anything for breakfast," said Mark, making Roger groan in frustration.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

"Oh my God, I can't believe you've got this!" said Roger, taking out a tape she didn't even remember she had. He was going over the box where all her tapes were, and she thought it was a great opportunity to get rid of the stuff she didn't listen to anymore. "It was my favorite couple of years back. Then my dad accidentally taped something on it."

"Aww, poor Roger," said Collins. He was standing on a ladder at the far end of the room, armed with a hammer and some nails, to hang her mirror and some other stuff.

"I'm serious! I didn't talk to him like a week afterwards."

She laughed. "You can take it if you want."

He stared at her in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

She shrugged. "I haven't listened to it in months, and it's most likely I won't start now. I'd rather give it to you than just throw it away."

"Wow. Thanks Maureen," he smiled. "Care to keep it for me until we're finished?" he asked, throwing it in her direction. She caught it and placed it on the bed next to her. She was sitting there folding some sweaters from a nearby bag. "Okay, I'm done with the tapes," said Roger after a while.

"Great. Why don't you start with this bag over there?" she said, nodding towards a small bag close to him.

Roger nodded and approached it. He opened it, but then jumped back in a sudden motion that startled the rest of them. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed, moving as far away from the bag as he could.

"What?"

"There's no way I'm unpacking this bag, sorry," Roger mumbled, looking terrified.

"Why the hell not?" asked Collins.

"Because I can't!"

"You'll have to be a bit more specific here, Roger," she said. She had no idea what was in that bag. She was in such a hurry to pack as much as she could as fast as she could, that she didn't remember what was where.

"Yeah, man, unless there's dynamite in there you've got no excuse."

"I'm not touching anything that contains lacy, pink lingerie!"

Collins burst out laughing. She and Mark were soon to follow. Roger stood there, his hands crossed on front of his chest like a stubborn little kid, blush slowly creeping onto his face.

"Under any other circumstances I had no problem with this, but as you're my roommate… let's just say it's enough I'll have to see those hung in the bathroom every once in a while… or try not to think about their existence while you and I are having a serious conversation."

"Sure, Roger, whatever. Just leave it, I'll handle it later," she said, her laughter slowly dying out.

They went back to work. She was folding the clothes Mark handed her from where he was sitting, at the foot of her bed, and Collins was still up there playing a carpenter. Roger reached for a box where she kept some old stuff. He commented on every second item he pulled out from there.

"Jesus, you're such a girl, Maureen," he muttered, holding out a rumpled stuffed bear. He threw it in her direction. She caught it and stuck her tongue at him.

"I think you made it clear when you weren't willing to sort out her lingerie for her, Davis," said Collins, making them crack up again.

"Where does this go?"

Her laughter dying out, she looked at Mark when she realized it was him who spoke. She was a bit surprised that he directly addressed her, and without even blushing. He held her old white and blue scarf and looked at her questionably. Hmm. She just bought a new one the week before, because she didn't know where she packed this one. So she didn't need it now, but she also didn't have the heart to throw it away. She loved that old thing to death. Then she met Mark's eyes, and knew what she had to do. She smiled. "Take it."

He looked at her confused. "What?"

"The scarf. I just got myself a new one."

"I can't take it, it's yours."

"But I wanna give it to you."

"Why?"

"Roger got this tape he wanted. Why can't I give you something too?"

"But it's-"

She took the scarf from his hands and gently wrapped it around his neck, her fingertips grazing his skin as she did. He looked somewhat awe-stricken by the time she finished. There was death silence in the room. She could feel Collins' eyes on her the whole time. "Please take it," she pleaded, locking her gaze with Mark's.

"O-okay. I will. Thanks," he said, blushing.

"Aw, isn't that sweet," remarked Collins from his place up the ladder. Mark turned to shoot him a look, his blush deepening. "I think I'm gonna get us some cookies and something to drink. I'll be right back."

"Do we even have cookies?" Roger wondered aloud once Collins was out of the room.

She smiled to herself and continued to fold shirts and sweaters. She was so focused at what she was doing, that at some point she forgot the boys were in the room with her. The only sound around was the raindrops against the glass on the window. Tap-tap-tap-tap-

A loud clamor from the kitchen shook her out of her reverie. There was a crash and a sound of breaking glass, followed by a shower of nasty curses.

"Collins," she murmured, already halfway down the hall. Mark and Roger were soon to follow.

Collins stood in the middle of the kitchen area, pressing a towel to his arm. He was bleeding, and it looked bad. There was broken glass everywhere.

"Shit, dude, what happened?" asked Roger, staring at the mess.

"Are you okay, Collins?"

"I'm fine. Stay there, don't come closer, I'm okay," said Collins, but she could see he was terrified. She heard it in his voice. The guys still didn't know about him being HIV+ and now he was bleeding… oh shit. It was already complicating their lives. The simplest thing like a bleeding cut suddenly turned into a deadly threat.

"It looks like a nasty cut, Collins. Why don't you let me-"

"I said stay back, Mark!"

"He's only trying to help, man!"

"Guys, you'd better listen to him," she said quietly. They didn't even hear her.

Mark stepped forward. "I'm not gonna stand here and do nothing, Collins, you're fuckin' bleeding!" he said, moving towards Collins.

She has never seen anyone respond so fast. Collins pushed him off so forcefully, that Mark nearly lost his balance. "Goddamit, Mark, I told you not to touch me!" he yelled. Mark, now in a safe distance, looked as if he was about to cry. "I'm doing it for your own good, guys, leave me the fuck alone, let me handle this," he said, pressing the towel tighter to his arm.

"Guys, come on. Leave him alone, let's go," she said again, touching Roger's shoulder.

He shook her off. "No. What's going on here, Collins? You've never talked to Mark like that. What the fuck is your problem, man? He was only trying to help!"

"I don't need his help! I don't need your help! Don't make it harder than it already is, Davis, just leave!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I have AIDS, alright?" Collins blurted out. From where she was standing, the sparkle in his eyes was still noticeable. The silence in the room was thick and tense. Roger and Mark said nothing, but it obviously threw them completely off-guard. Collins sighed and shook his head. "The last thing I want is to give it to you guys," he said, his tone softening. "Now go. Let me handle this."

"You… What?"

"Shh… not now, Roger," she tried again.

It wasn't the right thing to say. He turned to look at her, his green eyes shooting fire. "You knew."

"Hey! Leave her out of this, Davis!"

"You knew and you didn't even bother to tell us!"

"Look, it's not the point right now-"

"The hell it's not," he spat, and walked past her. Mark hurried after him.

Collins looked at her sorrowfully. "I'm sorry they're jerks. It's really not your fault Momo."

All she wanted to do was to go there and give him a hug, but she knew she shouldn't. "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah. It's really not as bad as it looks like. I bet the cut is tiny."

"So much blood."

"Yeah. Go, I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"Positive," he said, smiling bitterly at the irony of it.

She found the boys in Roger's room, sitting on Roger's bed and talking quietly. The door was half opened and she knocked on it lightly. They both raised their heads when she stepped in. "Can I come in?"

Mark nudged Roger's elbow. Roger grumbled a bit, but then got up and walked over to her. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"That's okay."

"It just was the last thing I expected to hear."

She nodded sadly. "This is exactly how I felt when I found out."

"How long do you know?" asked Mark.

"Couple of days."

"But… how?"

"That's up to him to tell you, Roger."

"Fuck," Roger whispered, sitting on his bed.

She looked at him, and then at Mark, who was sitting at the other side of the bed. They looked devastated. Her heart broke. She guessed she didn't yet realize how close they all were to one another.

She sighed. "Look you guys, it's okay you're mad at him, but try to understand how hard it is for him. He had no idea how to break this to you in a way that'll make it easier. You mean a lot to him. And if he means something to you too, you must be there for him. We must help him get through this, or he'll never make it. Okay?" she walked over to the bed and sat between the two of them. She took Roger's hand in one of hers, and Mark's hand in her other. They looked up at her, and she knew they understood.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

The loft was dark and quiet when she got back from work. It was a bit after three, and it was no longer raining out there. She wondered if Roger got back from his gig yet, because she didn't feel like going to sleep and she hoped he'd keep her company for a while.

She was about to go to her room when she realized it wasn't completely dark. A flickering light from the television gave the room a dim purplish glow. Then, when her eyes got used to it, she noticed something else she didn't see before, and walked into the living-room. In the darkness, it was easy to miss the figure that was curled on the couch, fast asleep. She smiled as she walked over, slowly so she wouldn't wake him. She stayed at a safe distance and watched him for a moment. He looked so peaceful when he slept, so innocent. Like a child. His hands were clutching the scarf she gave him hours earlier. She smiled. It felt right to give it to him. It'd keep him warm.

She let her gaze linger on him for a moment longer than she probably should have, observing his tousled blonde hair, his peaceful expression, the glasses he forgot to take off, as if he didn't plan to fall asleep. She wondered if he'd ever let her in. She hoped that he would, after everything that happened earlier that day. She sighed. She wished they didn't have to find out like they did, but there was no going back now. The more important thing was that they finally knew, and they were going to go through this together.

She reached for the remote and turned the TV off. She felt for the plaid woolen blanket that was always on the back on the couch. She found it, and covered Mark with it. She ran a hand along his cheek before she was able to stop herself.

She thought she saw him smile before she turned to go to her room.