Author's Note: Back with Chapter four, guys! Thank you for the reviews, all. It means so much. Keep it up, eh? I'd still like to hear more from you. As for this chapter, Collins and Angel make their debut!! But to make things easier, I'm referring to Angel as a 'she'. I don't know if anyone thinks that's incorrect but, figured I'd give you a heads up.

As soon as Mimi left, the loft succumbed to that awful silence again. I slipped off my boots for the first time since I got there and eased down the hallway, the scuffed wood floor icing my feet. I found Roger standing a few feet from the door with a palm against his forehead, his eyes shut. He inhaled and exhaled, and I remained silent for a few moments with my neck craned to watch him breathe. Every time he let out air, I found myself praying he'd take it in again. God only knows how long it would be until he stopped.

"Come out." He groaned. I gasped in disbelief and then treaded to him as asked.

"You heard?" He asked.

"Every word."

He collapsed onto the couch, his head in a cushion. I spun on my heels to watch him fall and he sighed deeply.

"You know Roger, not everything that happens to you has to be depressing."

"Don't be so sure." He grumbled.

A few moments passed and I saw Roger's AZT bottle was now thrown onto the metal table. I opened it slowly, knocked out a pill and grabbed a dirty mug to fill with water from the kitchen sink. Roger was still hiding beneath pillows, so I kneeled on the floor in front of him with the pill in my outstretched hand. He heaved and sat up, threw the pill to the back of his throat and gulped hesitantly from the mug. He set it down on the coffee table and I sat back with my fingers laced around my bent knees. He ran his fingers through his mangy blonde hair.

"So, what does this mean?" He finally spoke.

"What does what mean?" I asked.

"This. Her. Me."

"Well…what do you want it to mean?" I started slowly. He closed his eyes while thinking.

"Nothing. I don't want it to mean anything."

"Then why would you ask?"

He didn't answer.

"Roger."

"What? It doesn't mean anything." He stood up quickly and paced towards the window.

"Then why are there three unused matches in your pocket?"

He didn't answer that either. He put two fingers against the window pane and stared out at the night.

"Her eyes. They were…they must have been April's eyes. I didn't want to see them in the light."

"Mimi's going to come back."

"Not if I can help it." And then he stormed off the other direction.

"Roger if not her, it will be someone else. Just because April's gone doesn't mean your world stops."

"But it does, Mia! It does! How would you know? You have no idea what this is. This…merciless agony day-in, day-out. This…torture that is so much worse then death. You don't know, Mia. You don't know." He turned away from me fast and bit his lip so hard, it could have bled. I didn't think he'd want to speak again. But once again, Roger Davis surprised me.

"I wish it was me, you know? I wish it was me." I could hear his tears. I didn't ask him to turn around.

"Where does she get off? How come she got to die? She couldn't live with it, huh? Well, I'm living with it! I'm here, April! I'm still alive! …But I wish I wasn't. She got the easy way out. I wish I followed her." I was positive there were tears escaping now. I put my hand on his shoulder and he winced at first, but let it be.

"You're still alive, Roger. And there's still…time." I stumbled.

"Time?" He choked on a half-laugh. "Time for what?"

"Life."

"But I don't want it! I don't deserve it! I go through this misery every fucking day, and…and I ruin people. Collins – why do you think he's always away teaching? And Mark, god Mark, I'm so sorry for Mark. They have time, Mia. Not me. I just take it away."

There was a long silence before I could answer him.

"Pain fades, Roger. Nothing in the world lasts forever."

"Except death." He stifled.

"Did you expect it to be easy? To wake up one morning and know you can move on?" In complete frustration, he whipped around and lashed out at me.

"No! I didn't expect anything! I didn't expect to get sick, or for her to kill herself, or to have to even face this at all. What in life do we expect? What do we actually prepare for? We don't. Things hit us like a bus and there's no way to know which direction it's coming from, or when it'll turn around and hit us again. I live in fear, Mia. I live under the weight of this torment and as it keeps pushing down on me, I keep waiting for it to either be lifted off of me or just snap me in two. And in all honesty, I've lost hope for the first one."

I looked to the floor quickly as he threw his head back and clutched his chest. He put his palm against his forehead and continued:

"You say I have time, Mia. But I'm afraid of time. Because for me, that's the difference between life and death."

And then he looked at me, my eyes brimming with tears, my mouth trying to formulate words as I glared right at him.

"What?" He wondered.

"…No day but today."

The loft door heaved open.

"Dammit, I hate this city." Mark threw his camera on the table and unwound his scarf and hung it angrily. Then his eyes hit mine and I turned away fast, coughing and wiping my eyes. He looked to Roger who grabbed his guitar and then headed to the window.

"Okay, what happened here?"

Mark's eyes darted back and forth from me to Roger and when neither of us answered, he walked over to me.

"What did I miss?"

"Nothing."

"You don't seem like one to cry over nothing."

"Neither does Roger."

"What does that mean?" Mark asked me.

I looked at him for a moment, debating whether or not to tell him what just had happened since he left.

"He'll tell you later tonight."

I started over to the window where Roger was sitting.

"I wouldn't be so sure with him."

"Trust me, Mark." And I think he did.

I sat down beside Roger and he didn't acknowledge me. We both just stared out the window at the pulsing city, loud and thriving while wishing we could be the same ourselves. Maybe that we were thinking the same thing made up for us not saying a word. Maybe that was louder.

The loft dipped into that silence again. No wonder Mark was always fleeing when he got the chance. But just as I thought every emotion in the room was dead, the loft door once again slid open that night.

"Merry Christmas bitches!" A holler.

"Collins!" Mark yelped. He wrenched his camera off the table and started filming.

He narrated:

"Enter Tom Collins, computer genius, teacher, vagabond anarchist, who ran naked through the Parthenon." Roger and I both choked on a giggle.

Collins flipped Mark off. "Dammit boy, put this stuff down for me, eh?"

Mark reached into Collins arms and set a bottle of liquor, a pack of cigarettes, a bunch of bananas, a box of Captain Crunch and firewood onto the metal table.

"Look – it's Santa Clause!"

"Hold your applause." Collins threw a glance at Roger. He was now turning to face him.

"Oh hi." He mumbled.

"Oh hi, after seven months?" Collins threw out his arms and Roger sluggishly got up from his seat at the window.

"Sorry."

"This boy could use some stoli!"

"So you struck gold at MIT, huh?" Roger asked as Collins poured him a cup.

"Expelled."

"What!" Some of Mark's liquor split out of the paper cup.

"My theory of actual reality, you know. But I'm off to NYU soon. Still haven't left the house Roger my boy?"

"I was waiting for you, don't you know." Roger cracked a smile. Collins shouldered him and Roger stumbled. Collins was gigantic; I watched in awe still by the window.

"Well tonight's the night. Maureen is performing. We're all meeting at the Life Café afterwards. It's supposed to –" Collins stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes hit me. Immediately, I looked down in my lap and felt my face blush.

"Well, what have we here?" He asked.

"Oh!" Mark took a swig of his drink and then set it down to come over to me. He grabbed my hand and helped me stand up.

"This is Mia Cordon." He introduced.

"Mia Cordon, huh? How'd you find yourself here, Miss Mia?"

"I'll let you know when I figure it out."

He laughed. "I like this one. Don't lose her, Roger."

"Not mine, Collins."

"Mark?" He looked appalled.

Mark sighed. "No."

"I don't belong to anyone yet." I smiled.

"If you don't, you ought-to." He joked. He waved me over and shook my hand. His hands were warm and big, and I could barely see my fingers in his grasp.

"Pleased to meet you, Mia Cordon."

"The pleasure is all mine." I curtsied a bit and he threw his head back to laugh.

"Friends call me Collins. Tom Collins."

"So I've heard." He let my hand go and the room suddenly felt colder.

"How long you been staying here, Mia?"

"I've only been here a few hours."

"Oh lord! These boys don't waste a second, huh?" I burst into a fit of laughter, Roger snorted and Mark punched Collins' shoulder.

"But seriously. You shackin' up in Benny's old room?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Mark and Roger were generous enough to let me stay the night."

"Why just the night? Don't ever leave! Seems like these boys could use you around to keep their heads leveled, ay Marky?" He ruffled Mark's blonde hair.

"Yes, nice to have you home, Collins." Mark retorted.

"It's good to be home. And good to have someone new to come home to." We smiled graciously at each other. "Which reminds me…" He swigged his drink and then put it on the coffee table. Collins shooed us to sit down, so Roger sat on his chair and Mark and I flopped onto the worn couch.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our benefactor on this Christmas Eve, whose charity is only matched by talent – I believe. A new member of the alphabet city's Avant-Garde, Angel Dumott Schunard!"

Collins heaved open the loft door again and in pranced a pair of patent-leather heels and zebra tights. My heart leapt into my throat and I had to swallow my breath to keep from screaming. As she spoke, I replayed the words I'd heard a thousand times in my ears:

Today for you –

Tomorrow for me

Angel leaped onto the coffee table.

"Today for you, tomorrow for me!" She threw hundred dollar bills at us three.

"And you should hear her beat!"

Mark and I spit out in unison, "You earned this on the street?"

And then she told a story I already knew the ending to. So for the first time I was listening to this tale, I just sat back and felt the purest form of belonging I'd ever felt. Mark, Roger, Angel, Collins…and me. There were very few moments of my life that I knew were perfect. This would be one of them.

"We agreed on a fee, a thousand dollar guarantee –"

I felt myself shout out, "Tax-free?!" A smile exploded on her face and she nodded vigorously.

"And a bonus, if I trimmed her tree!" She used her drumsticks to chop Roger's hair. He batted her away but his laughter told a different story. Angel's weightlessness struck me, because she had always appeared so grounded and level-headed. But her leaps and bounds across the room were effortless, and she seemed so lithe and free and alive. I envied Angel for the first time in my life in that second. How I envied her ability to truly be alive.

"After an hour, Evita, in all her glory –"

Angel grabbed my arm and pulled me onto the metal table with her as she danced.

"- Like Thelma and Louise did when they got the blues, swan dove into the courtyard of the Gracie Mews!" She jumped off the coffee table and left me dancing on it. She grabbed both of my forearms and we twirled beneath each others' arms. She started a drum solo on the coffee table, furiously banging her drumsticks. She threw them to me and I started playing myself, which allowed her to prance around the room and throw herself onto Mark, who jumped awkwardly. She finished too quick and was standing there in her final pose. There were noises of appreciation from the three boys and I caught my breath to scream for her.

"Isn't she fabulous?" Collins bellowed.

Angel curtsied a bit and then sat on the couch besides Collins. I took a seat at the edge of the coffee table, facing all four of them at once. Their eyes on me was almost too much to take.

"Angel, this is Mark and Roger, my boys. And this is Mia, who fell from the sky."

Angel smiled fondly.

"I crushed the wicked witch of the east when I fell, too."

"Nah, Roger's right there." Collins threw a pillow across to hit him.

"Thank you, Thomas." He grumbled.

"Collins didn't mention you." Angel turned back to me.

"She's a recent development." Mark added.

I smiled at him graciously and he blushed a bit.

"So am I." She winked at me and reached across to pat my hand. Collins stood up to pour himself another glass. I saw him filling two other paper cups and I stared puzzled until he returned to the couch holding them out to Angel and I.

"Collins, what had happened to you?" Mark finally asked what we'd all been wondering.

"Mugged." He said carelessly and paused to take a swig from his cup.

"What'd they get?" Roger asked.

"Nothing. I had nothing. 'Cept my coat." He pulled his shoulder in and rubbed his arm furiously which reminded us all of the bitter cold.

"Seriously guys, this is insane. We need a fucking heater."

"We need fucking cash." Roger returned.

"Ain't it the truth?" Collins held up his glass in a form of toasting.

We all returned the gesture.

He smiled contentedly as we all took a sip at once. That was the first silence of the loft that night that felt like it was meant to be there.

It soon ended. There was pounding on the loft door.

Collins shot a glance at Mark. "Who are you guys expecting?"

"No one." Mark answered, bewildered. His voice trailed off as he got up towards the door.

"Benny." Mark spat distastefully as a tall, dark man strolled into the loft. We all whipped our heads towards the door and I took in yet another character that I had really known for years but was now meeting for the first time. Benny raised a hand to his head to remove his dark sunglasses and lodged them into his neon windbreaker. His head was shaven clean and his chin was held high. Despite his stern look and cold eyes, I could see his face was smooth, his features soft. Yet not as soft as they were in the picture that was now in my overnight bag.

"Well, well, well. A little get-together, I see?" He said flightily.

"And it's just like you to show up without an invite, Benjamin." Roger sneered.

"Collins, home from MIT?"

"Home, sweet, home." Collins muttered hesitantly as he sat on the arm of the couch with his legs wide and his palms resting on his thighs. His glare was intense and Benny looked away before Collins burned his retinas.

"Roger, you seem to be doing well."

"Just peachy." He groaned through clenched teeth.

"Oh, there's more to the pack, I see."

"Mia." I offered, unsure of what emotion to portray so I chose to show none.

"Pleasure." He took my hand in his and nodded slightly before releasing it.

His eyes wandered to Angel who was grinding her teeth. She did not bother to introduce herself.

"Boys, I'm here to collect." He paced around the back of the couch, nose to the ceiling.

"…Souls?" Roger asked.

Benny rolled his eyes. "The rent." He persisted. His eyes suddenly strayed out the window, and in a flash he was hurrying to the fire escape. I craned my neck around Angel to see Benny leaning over the railing.

"Hey, you bum!" He shouted. "Yeah, you, move over. Get your ass off that Range Rover."

"That attitude is exactly what Maureen is protesting tonight." Mark quipped and in a flash his camera was glued to his face.

"Close up: Benjamin Coffin the third. Our ex-roomate, who married Alison Grey of the Westport Greys-" Mark continued his familiar narration. "Then bought the building, in hopes of starting a cyber-studio."

Benny humored Mark and spat his next few words at the camera's lens, "Maureen is protesting losing her performance space, not my attitude."

He shoved a hand in front of Mark and ripped the camera from his eye. Roger stood abruptly.

"Benny man, what happened to you?"

Benny, hand still on the lens, jerked his neck to see Roger, who dug his fists into his green fleece.

"The owner of that lot next door, Mr. Davis, has a right to do with it as he pleases."

"Happy Birthday, Jesus." Collins mumbled sarcastically before slurping from his liquor.

"I don't have time for this," he said frustrated. He released Mark's camera, which Mark was now holding in his hands, and strode over towards Roger.

"The rent." He again, persisted.

"You're wasting your time, Benny."

"You know we're broke."

"And you broke your word."

"There is one way you won't have to pay..." Benny offered slyly, a mischievous glimmer in his dark eyes.

"I knew it." Roger looked down and let out a grunt as he fell back into his chair.

"Next door is the home of Cyberarts. Everything you boys dreamed could be yours. You'll see…"

"Enlighten us." Collins moaned, looking Benny in the eyes.

"It's a state of the art studio. I'll let the rent slide, and you can stay here free of charge-"

"Too easy." Roger interrupted.

"- if you do me one small favor…" Benny continued.

"What?" Mark asked helplessly.

"Convince Maureen to cancel her protest." Benny stated simply.

"Benny! Come on, man." Collins groaned.

"Why don't you just call the cops?" Mark offered, irritated.

"I did. They're on standby. But uh," he stammered, "my investors would rather this be handled quietly." He breathed.

"You can't wipe out a tent city quietly, Benny." Roger threw up his arms.

"You want to produce films and write songs?" Benny raised his voice and pointed right at the boys. "You need somewhere to do it. This is what we used to dream about, so don't cast it off so quickly." He continued.

"You'll see boys… you'll see boys…" He looked around for a second and rubbed his chin, trying to find a way of convincing them. Then he came to life and sat on the coffee table beside me.

"You'll see the beauty of a studio that lets us do our work and get paid. Just stop the protest boys, and you'll have it made. You'll see." He said, his hands gliding in the air to enhance the illusion.

"And if we don't?" Roger stood again, challenging him. Benny got to his feet.

"You'll pack." He cleared his throat and started towards the door.

"Merry Christmas." He punctuated his exit.

"He could use some Prozac!" Angel exclaimed.

Roger let out a harsh breath. "How about heavy drugs?"

"Or group hugs." Mark added, coming back around to the couch to sit beside Angel.

"That reminds me." Collins put down his cup and stood. "We have a detour to make tonight."

"A detour?" Mark stammered.

"Anyone who wants to can come along." Collins shot a burning glance in Roger's direction. He locked eyes with him and shrugged it off.

"It's a group called Life Support." Angel tried to extinguish the flames shooting from Collins' eyes. "They help people cope. We won't be there too long."

"Mark?" I looked to him.

"Defenitly. But first, Maureen needs me."

"Duty calls!" Collins mocked.

"Roger?"

"I'm not much company you'll find." He scoffed.

"Hey, watch it man." Collins warned. He put a hand on Roger's shoulder and Roger ripped his shoulder from underneath it. Collins stepped back and breathed heavily.

"When are you gunna let us in, man? How long will it take?" Roger's eyes stayed glued to the floor.

"Mia? What do you say?" Angel attempted slowly.

I looked to Mark immediately, and he was staring right back at me. There was a plea in his eyes, to go with him, to help him face what he had been stuffing down for so long: that Maureen no longer needed him, but he so desperately needed her.

And besides, I really freaking wanted to see Joanne.

"I'd love to. But, I think I'll go help Mark out first…if that's okay."

"No sure. Yes. Better than okay!" Mark sputtered surprised.

"Lord knows he needs it." Collins bellowed.

Mark grabbed his camera bag off the metal table and buried his camera within it. He grabbed my arm before I could change my mind. "Let's go."

"My coat's in Benny's room."

"No. Your room." Collins said earnestly.

"My room." I repeated slowly looking through him, to make sure the words were real. And they were. But I still had trouble believing it.

"I'll be right back." I headed down the hallway to Benny's – no, my room – and their voices drained out from behind me. I shrugged on my jacket and sat on the bed and just listened to them speak in the other room, to see what things they said without me, how they lived together without me. I listened –

"Roger. Come on man, this could be good for you."

"Collins." Mark warned.

"No, Mark. Seriously. You're letting him wallow too long. Get your ass up and come."

"Collins." Mark tried more firmly.

Roger wasn't speaking.

"Dammit, Roger!"

"Collins!" Mark yelped.

"God, shut the fuck up! Both of you!" Roger's booming voice. He had finally exploded since I got here.

"Why are you fighting over me? What am I, a child? Is that what I am? A child you need to take care of? Dammit, guys. I'm a fucking adult, and I can handle myself. And I do not, do not take orders, alright? If I want to go somewhere, I go. I want to do something, I do it. That's how I got where I am, right? That's exactly how I got here." He was half-laughing now. "That's how I got to this fucking miserable life. Because I did what I wanted. And you know what? That's the only way I'm gunna get out of it." He paused for a moment and all I heard was their breathing. Every breath weighed me down. I got up and slowly inched into the hallway, unheard.

"And Collins." Roger continued. "Who are you?"

"What?" Collins breathed, caught off-guard.

"Who ARE you to come in here after seven months and tell me where to go and who to let in? Who are you to do that, man? Man, buddy, boy…" He imitated Collins booming voice and terms of affection. "Mark has been dealing with me. Mark. For seven months, I was Mark's problem. Cause that's what I am to you guys. A burden. Well you know what? I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to be this. But I am. I fucking am and I will be and the two of you walking around telling me what to do won't change that. I have to change that." His voice got soft. He slowly picked it up where he dropped it.

"Guys, you want me to change. You want me to get better. I know, okay? I know. But I need a reason. Because right now, I'm really not seeing one. If I stay this person I am…I'm going to die. But even if I change, I'm gunna die anyway. So, why bother? You want to help me, Collins? Mark? Mia?" He walked to the center of the room to glare at me down the dark hall. His eyes burned my skin. I stepped from the shadows and with my head down paced towards him.

"You all want me to live? Give me a reason to." He swallowed the lump in his throat, the lump of all his fears and doubts and swallowed it down to hide it, to make it disappear. But it was still growing within him. It was still there, even if Roger chose to conceal it. It was glaringly obvious; it was shining through his chest. He ripped his leather jacket off the hook besides the door and scurried out onto the fire escape. I looked to Angel and just then realized she had not once peeled her eyes from him the entire time. Roger's outbursts could break Collins and Mark, but Angel…they'd never break her. Roger couldn't feel enough to throw her.

I wished then that I was Angel.

"Mark. Let's go." I said softly. He shut his eyes and rubbed his temples and there was a long moment where I just watched him and hoped he'd find the strength to come with me. But then he looked up and nodded and grabbed his camera bag. I knew Mark would always find some sort of strength. I didn't know how or where it came from, but he could always find it. He could always keep going.

"Welcome home." Mark choked out as he wound his scarf around his neck.

"Home, sweet, home." Collins sighed. He intertwined his fingers with Angel's.

"Will he be alright?" Angel asked hesitantly.

Collins glared up at Mark, who looked to me.

I answered for all of us. "We'll see."

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Author's Note: Chapter four is completeeeeee. Thanks for all your support, and please continue to read. I SWARE this is going to be good. We'll get past this first night, eh? Read and review!