A/N- you'll get this comment as you read along, but I just wanted to clear this out now so I wouldn't ruin the effect of the ending- Maureen hates the name Annabel, I don't! I have nothing against it, on the contrary. I'm saying this just in case one of my readers' name is Annabel. I didn't mean to offend anyone. In some cases, Maureen's opinions and mine are divided :) This comment may not make sense right now, but I guess it will when you'll get to that point in the chapter. So… happy reading!

Have a wonderful weekend, guys, and… review? (using Maureen's pout)

5- New Beginning

"Someone's here to see you, Maureen," said Roxanne, a teasing smile slowly curling on her lips. She frowned at that, but looked behind Roxanne's shoulder anyway. Her frown melted into a smile as her eyes met Mark's. He waved at her shyly and she returned his wave, but turned away when she felt her cheeks redden in spite of herself.

"Seriously Johnson, is something going on between the two of you?" asked Steven, who showed up out of nowhere at the other side of the bar, apparently polishing some glasses.

She huffed impatiently. "Steven, we've been through this before. Nothing is going on." Roxanne shot her a skeptical look. She sighed. "You guys, he's my roommate, for God's sake!"

"In case you didn't notice, the boy's having a huge crush on you," Steven pointed out, almost shoving his towel in her face.

"Of course I noticed, I'm not blind, you know," she replied, rolling her eyes. Her two friends didn't look so convinced. She looked at them seriously. "Look, he's cute, he really is, but he's just not my type. So let it go, okay?"

"Fine, I didn't say anything," said Steven, raising both arms in surrender. Roxanne said nothing, but it was obvious that she was not so willing to let it go. She returned Roxanne's look and then turned away from them, approaching Mark. The scarf she gave him was wrapped tightly around his neck, she noticed, smiling. In spite of his endless protests when she wanted to give it to him, he didn't go anywhere without it. He was messing with his old camera, hardly paying attention to what was going on around him.

She smiled. She lived with the guys for a bit over a month now, and so far everything was great. Collins has just left them for another teaching gig at the beginning of that week. She hardly ever saw Benny, who had a new job uptown. She and Roger got along amazingly well, especially after that little talk they had on her first weekend with the guys. Luckily he went back to his old habits after a short while, and the loft was filled with music again. He even got himself a new haircut, which made him get rid of that puppy-look he had when they first met. He took her to have a tattoo just like he promised, on her next day off. She chose three little stars on her lower back, and he went in there with her and held her hand all the way through. She went to listen to his band with Collins couple of times and had to admit that in spite of Collins' teasing, the Well Hungarians were actually pretty good. And Roger was one hell of a singer. He had such passion in him, as if he understood each song to its very core, and he could adjust his voice to any kind of music; it was incredible listening to him. She could sit with him for ours, out on the fire escape, all night long, smoking and talking about music and comparing stuff each of them wrote. They didn't do that in a while though. She was still working her ass off at the Life, and Roger was dividing most of his time between his band and his new girlfriend April.

And of course, there was Mark, who became less and less shy in her presence as time passed. He always stopped by to visit her at work every afternoon, just sitting there when she was too busy to talk, always walking her home. She learned quite a lot about him during that time. More than anyone else knew about him, she suspected. He was everyone's counselor and advisor, but when it came to his own life, she wondered if he ever let anyone in the same way he had let her. And it made her happy that he trusted her enough to let her in. It felt as if he needed to talk to someone, and she didn't mind listening. Sure, Steven and Roxanne teased her endlessly about Mark's daily visits at the Café, about his being in love with her, but she didn't give a damn. She liked the attention. It was flattering, and sweet, and different than anything she had ever had before.

She was standing right behind him now, and he still didn't look up from what the hell he was doing with his old camera. She learned to like that old thing as well, although she couldn't realize his obsession at first. He used to film her at times when they walked back home together. She promised to let him take some pictures of hers as well, the moment she'd be able to take a day off. She had one condition though. She wanted to watch one of his films, one of those films he spent hours making, but refused to show them to anyone, claiming they were just a bunch of crap. He was reluctant at first, but eventually relented, when he realized he wouldn't be able to win against her.

She tapped on his shoulder, but gently so that it wouldn't startle him. He turned and smiled as he noticed her. There was still a lot of shyness and insecurity in his smile, but she was happy to see how those were beginning to fade away, a bit more with each day. She smiled as she thought back of the day when he first stepped into Life during her shift, a month or so after she moved in. He looked terrified that day, almost as if he felt he did something wrong.

"Hi," he said, placing his camera on the bar, giving her his full attention. He always did that. She liked that.

She took a seat on the stool beside him, crossing one leg over the other. Her short skirt rose a bit as she did, fleshing a bit more of her thigh in the process, and Mark looked away sharply, as if to hide the blush that rose on his cheeks. She was about to say something about that when Steven showed up as he always did, out of nowhere, placing a steaming mug in front of Mark.

"There you go," he said. "Can I get you anything else?" he added, throwing a side-grin in her direction. She rolled her eyes in reply. He could be so childish.

"No, thanks," replied Mark, shaking his head.

"Apple pie with ice-cream. With two spoons. And if anyone asks, I'm on a break," she said, giving Steven a no-nonsense look.

Steven looked as if he wanted to make a nasty comment, but luckily he didn't. "Coming right up," he said and vanished.

Mark waited until none of the waiters was around, and then he turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised in silent question. "Ice-cream in the middle of the winter?"

"Of course. It's the best time for ice-cream. The only time it doesn't melt all over. Besides, someone has to feed you," she said, smiling teasingly. "You're way too skinny."

"Oh, look who's talking," he smirked. "Besides, one of the reasons I left Scarsdale was so that I wouldn't have to listen to this every single day."

She laughed softly. "Sorry." She watched him as he carefully sipped his tea. "But seriously. The moment I get my paycheck, which is in about a week, I'm going to make sure you'll have a decent dinner."

"What, you're gonna cook?" he asked, trying to look terrified.

She hit his arm, giggling. "No, I'm gonna take you out for a nice restaurant."

Now he really looked terrified. He actually went pale, looking at her wide-eyed. "Li-like a d-date?" he asked weakly.

She didn't realize that it did sound like a date until he asked that. Shit. How could she reply to that? "Of course not, silly," she said as lightly as she could. "Like a friend who thinks that her friend needs some meat on his bones." It sounded lame, even to her ears, but Mark wasn't the guy to argue with her, although he obviously didn't buy that.

They sat quietly for a while as Steven got back with their pie and ice-cream, but it was a comfortable silence, not an awkward one. Inside, she was still cursing herself for her slip. Mark's stammered question still echoed in her ears, mocking her. God, she hoped it didn't put any ideas in the boy's head. She hoped it didn't sound as if she was encouraging those feelings he obviously had for her, because she wasn't. She didn't want to mislead him. It's not as if she felt anything back.

"So what's up?" she asked casually, hoping to take the conversation away from the awkward note it started in.

"I've got something for you," said Mark, smiling, as he took something out of his coat pocket. It was a page he probably ripped out of the paper. He straightened it on the counter, and handed it to her.

She took it and knew exactly what he wanted her to see there. She shook her head and handed him the paper back. "That's sweet, Mark, but I can't," she said quietly.

He looked as if he wasn't expecting this. "What do you mean, you can't? I thought it was your favorite musical."

"It is. But I just can't."

He looked at her as if she was crazy. "This is an audition. For a Broadway show. Your dream? Remember?"

She laughed softly, suddenly realizing how much change her life underwent in such a short time. "I guess it just doesn't matter anymore," she said slowly, hoping that this way, it would make sense in her head as well. She was thinking about this for a while, she just didn't realize that she did.

"What do you mean?" asked Mark, stuffing the paper back in his pocket.

"I don't want this. Broadway is great but it's just not me. I'm a free spirit, an independent soul. I wanna do things my way. I wanna write my own stuff, sing my own stuff. I could never take orders from some director who thinks he knows better. That's simply not who I am. I need to make my own choices, my own decisions."

Mark sipped his tea and watched her for a moment. Then he slowly smiled. "Should we feel responsible for this sudden shift in your attitude? Now that you had a taste of the wonderful Bohemian world?"

"In a way," she replied, returning his smile. "But I guess I would have understood this myself at some point… one way or another."

"Well… if you'll ever get into Broadway, I promise I'll be there in the front row on opening night."

She laughed softly. "You won't be able to afford it."

Mark smiled mysteriously, as if he knew something she didn't. "I'll be there."

"Well, as it's not gonna happen any time soon, you've got some time to save the money," she said, playing along.

"Doesn't it make you feel kind of disappointed though, to give it all up?" he asked, suddenly serious.

She shook her head. "I'm not giving up. I still wanna be someone. I will be someone," she quickly corrected herself. "I'll simply do it my own way. And Broadway will just have to wait… until it's ready for me," she stated simply, taking a bite from the ice-cream. It made Mark laugh. She suspected he didn't take her too seriously, but she was actually very serious. And now that she knew what she wanted, things felt much easier.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

They walked down the street, both her arms wrapped around one of Mark's, their hands stuck in one of his coat pockets. She was always cold, even with her own coat on. Mark said that is was because she was too skinny. It felt really awkward at first; she still remembered his horrified reaction when she first snuggled against him and stuck her hands in his coat pocket, but as time passed and they started to feel more comfortable with one another, it actually felt nice and familiar. And she found herself waiting for this time of day, when they walked home together.

"What's your middle name?"

"Huh?"

"What's your middle name?"

Mark gave her a side-glance. "What kind of a question is that?"

"It's a great question." Mark gave her a look. She shrugged. "What do you want me to ask? What was your major in college? What do your parents do? I ask only what I wanna know."

"And you wanna know my middle name?"

She smiled. "Yeah. I do."

"It's Jonathan."

"Jonathan," she repeated, trying it out. She smiled. "I like that."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Although it's kind of surprising your parents didn't give you a traditional Hebrew name. Something really old-fashioned like… Jacob or Aaron or…" her forehead wrinkled, and she gave him an appalled look. "Or Moses."

Mark burst into laughter. "You can say a lot of things about my parents, but they were very merciful in naming me and my sisters."

This caught her by surprise. From some reason, she assumed he was an only child. "You have sisters?"

"Yeah. Cindy is the eldest, then me, and then Sophie. She's in college."

"Normal names."

"Thank God for that." She smiled. Indeed. "Hey, what's yours?"

"My middle name?"

"Yeah."

"It's Annabel. But I hate it, I think it's perky," she said, pouting. She really hated her middle name. She'd rather being called Adeline, or Josephine, or May…

"It could have been worse."

"I guess," she shrugged. "Maureen means 'dark,' did you know that?" she said proudly. She strongly believed that your name had the power to reflect your personality.

Mark laughed softly. "No, I didn't."

They continued to walk in silence, as if both had nothing else to say. They never tried to make up conversation when it wasn't really necessary. Sometimes silence was better.

"Too bad you don't wanna try out for that musical," said Mark after a while. "I thought you'd be perfect for the lead."

She laughed. It was kind of weird to get such a compliment from the usually-shy Mark. She was glad he was beginning to open up. "And who said they would have given me the lead?"

"Why wouldn't they? You're an incredible singer, they'd be stupid not to."

She stopped dead on her tracks. She didn't remember singing in his presence. He wasn't there when she joined the Well Hungarians' rehearsal. There was this time when they all went out for that karaoke bar, but the place sucked so badly, she and Roger refused to go onstage and sing. She eyed him suspiciously. "And how do you know I'm an incredible singer?"

Mark colored and looked away, as if he had just realized he shouldn't have let it slip. "I… kind of… happened to listen to you…" he stammered. She gave him a questioning look. "Last week I got back home and you were in the shower…" his voice trailed off. He was blushing madly; it was visible even in the faint light from the street lamps.

She didn't know whether to get pissed at him for invading her privacy that way (because technically he didn't do anything wrong) or be flattered that he actually thought she was good.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," he said quickly.

"No, that's… okay," was all she could say. She wasn't sure how she was feeling about this. Suddenly she was feeling slightly uncomfortable, as if he did more than just listening to her as she sang in the shower. And although she knew Mark wasn't the kind of guy to do such a thing, it still felt extremely awkward.

"No, it's not. I didn't mean to embarrass you." She said nothing. He sighed. "Look… I didn't do it on purpose. And I didn't stand outside the bathroom door or anything, I would never…" he stopped and sighed, as if trying to get a grip. "I didn't have to. Your voice just… kind of echoed through the entire loft."

She laughed nervously. "That bad, huh?"

"Are you kidding? You were amazing," he said softly, looking straight at her, making her even more speechless. Then he looked sort of insecure again, and somewhat terrified. "You're gonna smack me now, aren't you?" he asked hesitantly.

She shook her head slowly. "No, I don't think I wanna do that." For a slight second, their gazes locked. She was the first to turn her gaze away, her heart beating a bit faster than usual. They resumed their walk. "But if I'll find out you were filming me, I'm gonna kick your ass."

Mark laughed. She felt relieved for being able to break the ice. She was still bothered by what she has just seen in his eyes, and even more bothered by the suspicion it reflected what was in hers. This made her absolutely terrified. She couldn't be falling for him; this was Mark, for heaven's sake. Her roommate, as she told Roxanne and Steven several hours earlier. Sure, he was adorable in his own dorky way, especially when he tried to make the fact that he was in love with her a little less obvious. She always tried to give him the feeling that he was doing well with that. And still…

"So when do I get to see one of those films you promised me?"

"When I'd get to hear one of your songs."

She gave him a look, amused. "Boy, you learned to answer back." Mark smiled, but said nothing. "Fine, I'll let you read them. Although they're not that good anyway."

"Somehow I find it hard to believe."

She snorted. "Please. I can probably tap-dance better than I can write songs."

She wasn't even aware to what she had just said, until Mark stopped and looked at her. "Let's see it then."

"What?" she asked, confused.

"You must be awfully good tap-dancer," said Mark, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

She narrowed her eyes at him and then sighed when she realized she got herself into this. She had no idea how to tap-dance. And Mark seemed to know it pretty damn well. Ugh. She took her hands out of his pocket, blowing into them to keep them warm, and walked back a bit. A nearby streetlamps shed its light upon her, almost like a spotlight in the middle of the deserted street. She closed her eyes with sudden hesitation, then opened them. He'd get his show alright, she thought, a slow smile curling on her lips.

"Uhh, I'm pretty sure that's not how you tap-dance, Maureen," said Mark, who was watching her improvisation of a dance with his arms crossed in front of him.

"Of course it is, shut up and watch- Fuck!" It happened in an instant. She tripped on her own feet, lost her balance, slipped and crushed on the snow-covered pavement with a soft thud.

Mark shot himself forward. "Shit! Maureen! Are you okay?" He knelt beside her, looking panicked. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm okay, my nice, fat ass softened the fall," she laughed, although her back side hurt like hell. So did her left leg, over which she tripped.

"You don't have a nice, fat… I mean you do… have a nice… I mean… Are you hurt?"

Under any other circumstances she'd stop and inquire this thing he had just said about her ass, but not now. "I don't know if I can move," she said weakly, biting her lower lip. She couldn't pretend it didn't hurt because it fuckin' did. She hoped she didn't break anything.

"Well…" said Mark slowly. "We could sit here for a while, but it's freezing and wet and I don't want you to catch a cold."

"It really hurts, Mark," she said, fighting back tears. She was determined not to cry in front of him.

To her complete astonishment, Mark raised his hand to her face and gently wiped some tears that still managed to escape, using his thumb. "I know it hurts," he said softly. "But you're not really dressed for sitting in the snow, with this skirt, so we gotta take you out of here. So come on, put your arms around my neck."

She gave him a look, unsure whether to laugh or cry. "Are you gonna carry me home?"

"This is exactly what I'm gonna do," Mark replied evenly.

She didn't even try to protest when he slipped his arms under her and carefully picked her up. She really didn't think she could make it home on her own. She looked at him gratefully. "Thank you."

Mark smiled. "You're welcome. Ready to go?"

"Yeah," she answered miserably, leaning her head against his corduroy-clad shoulder. Suddenly, there was nothing she wanted more than a warm shower and her bed.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

It looked as if they walked in on a make-out session, for two heads looked back at them from the couch, trying to adjust to the sudden light. She recognized Roger's dirty-blonde hair in a second. His clothes were rumpled. April was peering from behind his shoulder, her long red hair in tangles, her clothes messed up. Then Roger seemed to focus, and he got up from the couch and hurried towards them. "Mark, what the fuck?" he asked, taking her from Mark. She felt numb and tired. She was soaked to the bone and shivering violently. She snuggled closer to Roger's chest. He smelled like April's perfume.

"Hey, is she okay?" asked April as she approached them as well.

"She fell and hurt her leg. I don't think it's broken," said Mark, slipping out of his coat. He spread it on their metal table and nodded towards it. "Here, put her down."

Roger did. She laid back, even though the table was extremely uncomfortable. She pressed her cheek against Mark's coat. It was still warm. Mark was standing next to her, running a hand through her hair soothingly. She watched Roger, who took off her shoe and felt her left foot. She held back a curse and some more tears as the sharp pain went through her like a knife. His touch was gentle, but it still hurt.

He looked up at her. "It doesn't seem broken, but we'd better check it out at the hospital just in case."

"I don't think we should take her out again tonight, Roger, it's really cold," said Mark. "And we need to warm her up. Is the heat on?"

"Is the heat ever on?"

"You guys, I'll be okay. I just need a shower."

Mark and Roger exchanged one look, then looked at her, somewhat intimidated. She rolled her eyes. Boys. "You don't have to go in there with me." This seemed to calm them down. "Just help me get there."

"I don't think it's a good idea you'll go in there alone," said Mark.

"I'll help her," said April. "I'll get your stuff, Maureen. You boys just make sure she'll get to the bathroom safely, okay?"

The boys nodded and April disappeared down the hall. Roger came over to stand on the other side of the table, looking down at her. "You're still shivering."

She flashed him a faint smile. "I'm okay. Really. I feel better."

Roger bent down as if to pick her up again. Mark stopped him. "That's okay, Roger, I'll take her."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Go back to uhh… whatever the hell you two were doing when we walked in."

Roger's face turned bright red as he ran a hand through his hair, looking sheepish. "Yeah. Right." He leaned down and placed a small kiss on her forehead. "I see you're well taken care of here," he said, glancing at Mark. "Call me if you need anything, okay? Don't worry about waking me up or anything."

"Okay. Thanks Roger."

"No problem. Night guys."

They watched Roger as he vanished in the hall. Then Mark looked down at her, and smiled. "Ready to get up again, Annabel?"

She frowned and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Oh, just shut up, Cohen."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

"Will you be okay?" asked Mark, tucking the blankets more closely around her, still looking worried.

"Actually… would you mind staying here with me tonight?" she asked slowly. She didn't want to be alone, because she wasn't sure she could make it to the guys' rooms in case she'd need one of them. On the other hand, it might have been the wrong thing to say to Mark, who looked completely taken-aback.

"Uhh, I… I mean… Sure, if you want me to," he stammered uncertainly.

"If you don't mind," she repeated, her gaze never leaving his.

He didn't say anything for a little while. He looked transfixed. Then he seemed to come back to his senses as he slowly nodded. "Okay. I'll just change. I'll be right back."

"Mark," she said, stopping him just as he reached the doorknob. He turned and looked at her questionably. In spite of the pain that was still pounding in her leg, in spite of the fact she was cold and tired, she smiled at him. "Thank you for today."

It seemed to embarrass him. He returned her smile as he nodded, and left the room.

She laid on her side and snuggled deeper into the covers. The room was cold; it felt as if she was inside a refrigerator. She smirked to herself. She could bet Roger and April found a way to keep warm. She closed her eyes, letting herself doze off until Mark would be back.

She couldn't believe this day ended the way it just did. She dreaded the thought of going to the hospital the next day to get her leg checked, but she knew she didn't have much choice. She already had a nasty bruise on the back of her thigh, and she feared it's gonna get even nastier in a day or two. At least the guys promised to go with her. They were really sweet to her, even April, whom she knew very little. She had never seen Roger so worried as she had seen him less than an hour ago. She couldn't believe how close they all became in such a short time. Collins was right. It did feel like they were all family.

The door creaked open, making her open her eyes. As they adjusted to the darkness she made out Mark's features, illuminated by the faint light from down the hall. He walked in hesitantly and stopped at the foot of her bed. "I think I'm gonna crush here for the night," he said, nodding towards the floor.

"You're not serious, right? You'll freeze to death down there," she said, making efforts to sit up. She pulled the covers back. "Come on, come here."

"H-here?" he echoed, looking horrified.

"Well, it is warmer," she pointed out.

Mark mumbled something she couldn't quite make out, and then walked over and crawled under the covers, leaving his glasses on her nightstand. She moved a bit to make some room for him too. He laid behind her and pulled the covers back over both of them. "Better?" he asked, his lips close to her ear.

"Much better," she replied, cuddling against him. It felt nice; especially as he finally seemed to loosen up a bit. "Just do your best not to kick my leg during the night, will ya?"

"Ha, ha."

"Good night Marky," she mumbled, already half asleep. She hardly heard his reply. As she drifted off to slumber, she thought how safe and warm it felt, to be held by someone that way. And she realized how much she needed that. Sure, she was a free spirit, but even those needed someone to be there for them every once in a while, she rationalized.

Mark's breath was soft against her neck, tickling her, and it suddenly dawned on her that she couldn't stop thinking about him. This was something that never happened to her before. Little details from that evening flashed through her mind, bothering her, keeping her awake with dangerous thoughts. Of course, everyone knew how Mark felt about her. He kind of gave himself away in telling Collins, and Roger seemed to know all about it too by the look he had given them before he went to his room. It didn't even escape Roxanne and Steven, who hardly knew him. Sure, protesting that nothing could happen between them was easier than facing the true, but what was the truth?

She closed her eyes again, determined to fall asleep and leave all those confusing, torturing thoughts for the next day, although she feared she knew the answer. Because honestly, and she would never admit it to either Steven or Roxanne (or Collins, for that matter,) she wasn't sure she didn't start feeling something in return. There was something there, some sort of a new, unfamiliar beginning, like nothing she felt before.

She was sure of one thing. It was definitely not friendship.