A/N- here's another one, you guys. Today's chapter is dedicated to Beth- happy birthday! Thanks to those of you who read and reviewed the last chapter, in spite of the problem the site had with its alerts. Just thought I'd let you know that from now on, updates are gonna be less frequent. Sorry about that, guys, but I'm not even a week into this new semester and things are hectic already. I promise to update as soon as I can, so just stay tuned.

Now read on. Another NYTW reference is hidden in there- I just love this workshop thingie. It's so… well, weird. Please review!

15- Goodbye, Love

She woke up to the sound of rain drops tapping against the window. She just laid still for a moment, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. This was definitely not her bedroom. Everything was neat and organized, well, except for some clothes that were scattered all over the floor. She recognized some of them as her own. A sound of streaming water came from the bathroom. Although it was raining outside, she felt all nice and cozy under the covers. It felt soft against her naked body. She snuggled into it, to keep warm.

Of course she remembered where she was. She just couldn't believe she did that. Mind you, she wasn't feeling guilty, not a bit. It was just a little… weird… to think that she had just spent the most incredible night in the arms of another woman.

And then she realized that this other woman was back in the room, wrapped in a towel, and staring at her smiling from the doorway. "I thought I'd have to shake you."

"What time is it?" she asked, sitting up.

"Early. Almost 7:30." Extremely early! And as if Joanne could read her mind, she smiled and shook her head. "I know. But I gotta be at work on 8."

"I should probably get going too," she said quietly, suddenly embarrassed. She hated the mornings after. Everything seemed so damn complicated by the light of day.

Joanne came over and sat at the edge of the bed. She touched her chin. "I had a great time last night," she said softly, honestly.

She nodded. She had to admit that she did, too. But it felt as if everything was happening so fast. Maybe they needed to slow things down, or… something.

She looked up, and her eyes met Joanne's. She leaned forward and laid a small kiss on her lips. It still felt weird. She'd just have to get used to that. "You'll be late."

"Screw work," Joanne murmured before they kissed again, this time more passionately. Hmm. Maybe taking things slow wasn't such a good plan after all.

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She closed the door as quietly as she could and, shoes in hand, walked towards the hall on tiptoes. Hopefully, no one was up yet and she could sneak into the bedroom unnoticed, and no one would ever know she didn't spend the night at home.

"Don't bother, Maureen, I'm up," said a voice from behind her.

She jumped, startled, and turned. Mark was sitting at the table, embracing a steaming mug. "Shit, Mark, you scared the hell out of me!" she hissed. She put her shoes on the floor and walked over to him.

"That makes us equal then," he said quite calmly, although his expression suggested otherwise. Shit, shit, shit. He watched her silently as she took a seat across from him. She stole a glance at him. He looked exhausted. "Well, aren't you gonna say something?"

She looked at him carefully. "What do you want me to say?"

"Maybe where the hell have you been all night?"

"At a friend's house."

"At 2am?" he fumed. His face turned slightly red. She could tell he was furious.

"It was an emergency. Her boyfriend just left and…" her voice trailed off as she met his eyes. She knew she sounded pathetic.

"Do you really expect me to buy this?"

"Why would I lie? I don't have anything to hide."

"If that's true, why did you bother to walk in her so secretly?"

"Because I didn't want to wake you. Like I should have guessed you'd stay up all night, waiting for me," she said kind of mockingly, but most of it wasn't turned against him, but against herself. She should have guessed.

"Well, I did. I hope that makes you happy, to know that I do care about you," he added dryly. Well, he obviously still remembered that fight they had during the summer.

"I'm sorry, I wanted to leave you a note but I left so quickly, it slipped out of my mind," she lied lightly, doing her best to look innocent. It seemed to have worked, too. At first Mark still looked somewhat suspicious, but then, after a moment, he just let out a heavy sigh, looking at her as if she was a hopeless case.

"Damn it, Maureen, don't do these things. I told myself I'd wait another hour before I'd go down and look for your disfigured body in the dumpsters in the alley across the street."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh please, Mark, don't get so melodramatic."

"Sorry. I forgot it was your field of expertise," he shook his head sadly, and then got up and went out to the fire escape with his mug. She released the breath she didn't even know she was holding before she leaned her head against the table, feeling extremely tired all of a sudden.

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Cheating on Mark, sad to say, came naturally. She remembered how difficult it was for her in the past to resist temptations and remain faithful to him, but now was a whole different case. She was head over heels in love, and it felt great, like she'd been asleep all that time, and now she just remembered to live again. It's been couple of weeks since she and Joanne first got together, and so far everything's been amazing. It was almost Thanksgiving. Collins was still away, but he hoped he could come home around Christmas for a while. Roger was still in his room, although Mark bothered to tell her he was getting better and better. She still spent considerable time at Joanne's, but never stayed the night so that Mark wouldn't suspect anything. So far, he didn't.

When Joanne was at work, she spent time working on her protest. She told Mark about Benny's plans and he was as pissed as she expected him to be. There was no point telling Roger, but they called Collins at the MIT and told him. She wandered around clueless for a while, wondering what would be the thing that would work best against Benny's plans. And then, one night, inspiration stroke, and she started writing. She wrote for hours, almost until dawn. She read it to Joanne the next day.

"Well?" she asked when she finished, looking at Joanne expectedly.

Joanne said nothing for a while, but looked as if she was looking for the right words to express what was on her mind. Eventually, she said, very carefully, "Well… I think you'll have to soften it a bit."

Soften it? "What part of it?"

Again, Joanne looked somewhat hesitant. "The part about the cow."

"That's practically the whole thing!"

Joanne slowly nodded. "Exactly."

She looked at the carpet, momentarily defeated. Joanne hated it. It was obvious. She hated it and she thought it was crap. It didn't sound like crap when she was working on it; it sounded strong and convincing and… The cows were a damn metaphor! Joanne was supposed to be intelligent, she above all people was supposed to get it! "It's only a rough draft," she said defensively.

"Honey, it's not bad. I'm just saying that if you want people to listen, you must make the content more accessible to them."

"And you don't think blind cows are accessible enough?"

"Well, the part about the cow that gouged her eyes out is pretty scary, you must admit. You don't want it to be scary, do you? You want it to be convincing."

She did have a point. She was somewhat hesitant herself about that part. "I guess."

"Work on it a bit more. You'll get there. You've still got time."

She nodded. An inner voice told her that if it was Mark, he would never have thought it was crap. She glanced at her watch. "I should get going," she said quietly.

"Why don't you stay?"

"Joanne, we've been through this, you know I can't-"

"How long is this going to continue?" Joanne cut her off.

She looked up, surprised. Joanne never did that. Her tone was far from being sweet and understanding. It was that serious, no-nonsense tone which she probably used when she was questioning a defender on the stand. "What do you mean?"

"You, sneaking behind your boyfriend's back, having a secret affair with me." Joanne looked at her seriously, almost accusingly. Oh no. She knew that conversation would pop up sooner or later. Just as she knew she had to tell Mark. "I don't like being the other woman, Maureen. I don't like to hide here instead of going out because you're afraid someone will see us together and go tell Mark. Or maybe…" she stopped just to give her a meaningful look. "Maybe you're ashamed to be seen with me."

She couldn't believe her ears. She stared at Joanne. "What? How can you say that?"

"I didn't mean me specifically, I meant women in general. Maybe you don't want to ruin that heart-breaker image you've worked so hard to achieve."

"That's not true!" Although some of her thought otherwise.

"Then what is your problem? And don't tell me you need time, I gave you plenty of that." She sighed. "Maureen, I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore. Either you're with him or you're with me, but you can't have both. Make up your mind."

She knew Joanne was right. She couldn't delay it any longer. Mark had to know. "You're right," she whispered. "I'll tell him."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, I promise."

"Good," Joanne said, her voice softening, as she leaned forward to kiss her. She returned her kiss, distracted. All she kept seeing in front of her was Mark's broken expression once he'd find out the truth.

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She walked home slowly, taking her time. She knew she should probably just get it over with, but she couldn't bring herself to go faster. Her mind was racing. She tried to think what she'd say, how she'd tell him. Her feelings hadn't changed. It was over long time ago and she knew it, but she was with him for over a year. It wasn't going to be simple.

She hoped to get into their bedroom uninterrupted, but there he was, sitting in the living room, and got up when she walked in as if he was waiting for her. And then as he approached, she noticed he was smiling. He wasn't smiling for a long time. She almost forgot how adorable he looked when he did.

"Good, you're home," he said, taking her hands in his. Caught off-guard, she let him lead her to the couch. Something was going on, she just wasn't sure what it was. When they sat down, Mark turned and took something from behind a stuffed pillow. Then he turned to face her again, handing her a single, perfect red rose. She took it silently, giving him a questioning look. He smiled sheepishly. "I've been a jerk. And I've been thinking about what you said, and you were right. I wasn't here for you when I should have been. But everything's gonna be okay now. Roger is better, he really is!" His eyes were shining. "I got him out of the apartment today, we went to the park…" his voice trailed off as he probably realized he was rambling. He took her hand and gave it a little squeeze. "I'm trying to say that I'm sorry. I know it's impossible to turn back time, but maybe we could start over or…" his voice trailed off again when she shook her head. She felt so bad to break his hopeful wish like that, but she knew it would be wrong to lead him on. The hand that was squeezing hers slowly let go. He just watched her now, waiting for her explanation.

"Mark, there's something you should know," she started slowly. By the look on his face, she knew he already realized where she was going with this. He shook his head just when she said, "There's someone else."

"No."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking away.

He just stared at her for a moment, then whispered, "What are you saying?"

She turned to face him again. His eyes looked amazingly blue, almost transparent. And then she realized it was tears. "I'm saying… that it's over. It's been over for a while."

"No. Maureen, please don't say that. We can work things out, we can-"

"We can't pretend there's something there when there's nothing."

"Nothing? I love you!"

"I love you too, baby," she said softly, touching his cheek. He backed away. "But it's just not the same anymore." He looked as if he was about to cry. For a moment she thought she should just drop it, but she knew how wrong it would be. "Look, do you remember that talk we had when it first started? I was scared and you said you didn't care if it'd last a week or a month, as long as we had it? Remember?"

"Yeah, but that was-"

"Over a year ago. I've never believed we'd last so long, but we did."

"Where did we go wrong?"

"You know where."

He looked away. There was a pause. The hard part was still ahead of her. She still had to break the thing about Joanne to him. When he turned to look at her again, she knew it was going to be his next question. "You said there was someone else."

She nodded. "There is."

"How long?"

"Couple of weeks."

"This is really happening, isn't it?" A tear slid down his cheek, but he didn't seem to be aware of it. She nodded. She could feel herself choking with tears as well, but she held them back. She wouldn't cry. It was supposed to be easier for her; she was the one who was leaving. "Well, I hope… he'll take a good care of you."

"I think she will," she said quietly, locking her gaze with his.

He blinked, as if thinking he misheard her. Then, when he got it, his eyes widened in horror. "S-she?"

"Yeah."

"You're dumping me for another woman?"

"Mark, it's really not the point-" she reached over to touch his hand. He pulled it away.

"The hell it's not," he said and got up. She did, too.

"Mark, listen to me-"

He was pacing around now, moving as far away from her as he could. "I'm not interested to hear about your sexual adventures with another woman."

He was getting nasty. He only did that when he was seriously hurt. She looked at him pleadingly. "Just hear me out."

"I've heard enough," he said sadly. "Just go, Maureen."

She hesitated, but then she thought it might be for the best. "I'll… stop by tomorrow to get my stuff," she said. Mark said nothing. He stood there with his back to her, as if waiting for her to leave. She sighed, and turned to go.

She staggered down the stairs as if she was drunk, her vision blurred with tears. She couldn't hold back anymore. She didn't get farther than that. She just sat on the stairs, buried her head between her knees and cried her eyes out.

A door opened, and she heard a gasp and footsteps. She raised her tear-stained face to meet the worried eyes of a young Latina. The girl obviously got that look as an invitation, for she hurried to sit on the stairs beside her.

"Dios mio, chica, are you okay?" she asked in a singsongy, Spanish accent.

"Fine," she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

The girl gave her a look. "You always cry like that when you're fine?" She got up and nodded towards one of the doors down the hall. "Wanna come in for a moment? The heat's not working, but it's warmer than out here."

She hesitated, but only for a second. Then she got up and followed the stranger inside.

"I'm Mimi Marquez," the stranger said once they were inside.

"Maureen Johnson," she replied, her voice a bit shaky. She looked around her. The apartment looked smaller than the loft. It looked like one big room. The bedroom area was separated from the rest of the apartment by a curtain made of beads. She followed Mimi to the shabby couch, and sat down heavily.

"You live upstairs, don't you?" asked Mimi, raising her knees to her chest.

"Lived. I just moved out."

"It was that hard to leave?" She gave Mimi a questioning look. Mimi shrugged. "Isn't that why you were crying?"

"No… yeah… sort of. I just broke up with someone."

"Ouch. Which one of them was your boyfriend?"

"The blonde one with the glasses. Mark."

"The guy with the camera?"

"Yeah."

"If you broke up with him, you shouldn't be the one crying."

"It's a long story," she said. She didn't feel like explaining it all right now. She was exhausted from crying. Then she realized something and looked at Mimi again. "I've never seen you around. You're new in the building?"

"I've been here for a bit over a month, but I'm working nights mostly, which means I'm asleep when the rest of the world is awake."

She smiled. "What do you do?"

"I'm a dancer."

"Cool. What kind of a dance you do?"

Mimi looked somewhat embarrassed, but then looked straight at her and replied, "Exotic. I'm working at the Cat Scratch Club."

She only heard about it from Benny and Roger at the time. She remembered how they spent hours trying to convince Mark to go with them. Of course they came up at loss. She was working at a place like that? She looked hardly 16. Before she could stop herself, and asked, "Aren't you a bit young to work there?"

Mimi looked a bit offended. "I'm 19."

"And that's not young?"

"I'm old for my age." Mimi reached for a cigarette pack that was on the coffee table and offered her one. She hesitated, but then took it. She watched Mimi as she lit both cigarettes with what looked like an expensive lighter. Not something she thought this girl who worked at a strip club could afford. Before she managed to remove her gaze, Mimi's eyes met hers, and as if she knew what was on her mind, she said, "It was a gift from my boyfriend. He's the one who got me this apartment, too. Someone he knows owns some buildings on this block, so…" her voice trailed off. "We're not together anymore," she said, her voice a bit sorrowful.

"Sometimes it's for the best," she said. Especially if the guy Mimi had just described was who she suspected.

"I guess. It takes time to heal though."

She blew the smoke from her cigarette away as Mimi's words sank in. Her thoughts drifted back to Mark, only one floor above her. She wondered what he was doing. Was he having the same conversation with Roger? Was he locked up in their… his… bedroom crying? Was he using his anger to write a new screenplay? How long would it take to heal?

"Maureen? Are you okay?"

She blinked, and smiled apologetically at Mimi. "Sorry."

"I don't want it to sound like I'm kicking you out or something, but I'd better get ready for work. You can stay if you want."

It was nice of her to say that, although she thought she probably shouldn't stay, since they hardly knew each other. And in a while, Joanne would start to wonder where she was. She shook her head. "No, that's okay. I should get going anyway. But thanks for having me."

"No problem. You sure you'd be okay though?"

She managed a confident smile. Yes she would. She always did.

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She was back at the building the next morning. It was early, almost 8am, but Joanne's alarm woke her up after a night in which she slept very little, and still it was impossible to fall asleep after that. Instead, she waited until Joanne left for work before she got dressed and headed to the Village.

The door was open, so she let herself in hesitantly. Roger was sitting at the table with a bawl of Cap'n'Crunch in front of him. Watching him sitting there was as if the nightmare of the last six months never happened. He raised his head to the sound of the opening door, and the spoon he held froze halfway to his mouth when he saw her. Slowly, he set the spoon back in the bawl.

"Morning," she said, a bit hesitant. Obviously, Mark told him everything, but what was Roger's opinion about all that? Would he be pissed at her? Would he kick her out?

As if he knew what was on her mind, Roger smirked and gestured the empty seat next to him. "Come in, I'm not gonna kick your ass."

She walked over and sat beside him. He looked great, better than she expected. It was a relief to see at least one of them in a good shape. She felt like shit.

"Breakfast?"

"No, thanks, I just came to take my stuff," she said quietly, looking over his shoulder at the hall.

"He's not here," said Roger in reply to her silent question. "He left early, I think it was for the park. He took his camera with him."

There was a short pause. She had to ask it. It was one of the reasons that kept her awake the night before. "How is he?"

"He had better days, but I'm sure he'll get over it." He looked up at her and shook his head. "You don't look too hot yourself," he noted.

"Yeah, tell me about it," she sighed, leaning her elbow on the table and her head against her arm.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Nah, I'll be fine."

Roger hesitated, but then a slow, devilish grin curled on his lips. "A girl, huh?"

She made a face and smacked his arm. Looking up at him, he looked as if he was hoping for some more information. So typically Roger. She rolled her eyes. "Her name is Joanne and she's a lawyer."

"Oooh, a lawyer, nice job, Maureen," he said teasingly, and she thought it was funny. They were having a normal, brother-and-sister-like conversation, as if he hadn't just finished half a year of withdrawal. Then he got serious. "As long as you're happy."

She nodded. "I am." Although the last thing she felt at the moment was happiness. "Watch Mark for me, will ya? Don't let him do anything stupid."

Roger shook his head sadly. "Don't worry. One suicide in this apartment was more than enough."

This was when she realized what she had just said. Oh shit. "Sorry, I didn't mean-"

"That's okay, Momo," he gave her a small, reassuring smile. He was using her nickname again. That alone was a good sign.

"I'm really glad that you're okay, Roger."

"Not quite okay yet. Let's just say that the worst part is over."

"I'd better get this packing over with before Mark gets back," she said, getting up. She didn't want to traumatize him more than she already did.

Roger nodded. "Okay. Call me if you'll need help."

She didn't call him. Although she did have quite a lot of stuff to pack, she thought it would be for the best if she did it alone. She didn't know how long she was in there, stuffing as much as she could into the two bags she brought with her. It wasn't enough, so she took only the things she knew she'd need most. While zipping the second bag, it suddenly dawned on her. It was final, she was leaving.

She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her hand. Then, slowly, she slid her ring off her finger. She held it for a long moment, just looking at it. She turned it over and her eyes caught sight of the inscription. Always, M. At first she thought to leave it on the dresser, but now she thought better of it. She'd keep it. Simply out of instincts. She found a silver necklace in a small jewelry box she had just taken out of the dresser, and slid the ring through it. It would raise fewer questions if she'd wear it on that necklace. It'd look like a locket or something.

Going out to the hall, she could hear Roger talking to someone. She realized who it was too late, when she entered the living room and her eyes met Mark's. She nearly dropped her bags to the floor. Shit. She hoped she'd finish before he'd be back; she didn't want him to see her leave. He looked bad. His glasses couldn't hide the fact that his eyes were all red and puffy. He obviously spent hours crying. It broke her heart to know that she was the reason for it.

"Hi," she said, her voice nearly a whisper. Mark nodded in return, hardly even looking at her. "I'd better go."

"You need help?" Roger asked, obviously trying to break the tension.

"No, thanks, I got it." Her gaze locked with Mark's one last time before he looked away and disappeared down the hall. She sighed.

Roger walked her to the door. "Don't worry about him, he'll be fine."

"He's in your responsibility now," she said, only half joking.

"That's okay. I owe him as much," Roger said seriously. "Take care, Momo. And stay in touch, huh?" he added kind of awkwardly.

"Hey, we broke up, it doesn't mean I'm not your friend anymore. Nothing's changed."

"I sure hope so," Roger said, leaning over to give her a quick hug. "Bye Momo."

"Bye Roggie."

He gave her a look, and she forced a smile before she left. She closed the door slowly and leaned against it, closing her eyes. A single tear slid down her cheek as she touched the ring on her necklace. Goodbye, love.