Part of the Fire

by daysofinspirationx

I remember that day. I remember it in all of its essence. It was December ..

8. Making a Whole

Author's Note: Wow, it's been so long. Well, I've been reading a lot of stuff on the site, especiallllllllly lovablegeek, who you should check out because her stuff's incredible, and I realized I needed to put my whining behind me and actually sit down and write some of this, even though my self-esteem is down the tubes. Alrighhhhht. Enough of that rant. Enjoy? Maybe review?

-----

I was never good at figuring out the means to an end.

I understood where I was when I was there, and maybe, if I was lucky, where I was headed, but never what brought me there. And to this day, I'm still looking back down the road and wondering how the hell I got anywhere. This moment had been no exception.

Because I was sitting in a subway car between Mark and Roger, Roger looking away distractedly as he tried to brush his hand against Mimi's and make it look unintentional, and Mark drawing figure-eights in his palm with this thumb. Collins stood up with his arm around Angel's waist as she giggled with Mimi, his arm around the pole.

Call me crazy, but this had been the last thing I'd ever see happening.

At 7:00 at the loft, Mark and I had been waiting for –

"How long have we been waiting?"

Mark looked up and groaned. "Easily a half hour."

"I see why you don't invite him out." I muttered. Mark tugged at his trademark scarf wound so tight it was turning his neck red, sitting on the coffee table with his palms on his bent knees. I was sprawled on the couch, coat, gloves and all. Despite all the layers, it was still freezing.

"Roger?" I attempted again, raising my voice in frustration. "Roger?"

Mark hung his head and shut his eyes. "Roger!" He yelped. "If you don't get your ass out of that room in thirty seconds I swear I'm -"

"-you'll what?" Mark's head shot up, and Roger was towering over him.

"Thank you," he groaned.

"Oh yeah, you take it back now." Roger taunted.

"Shutup."

One look at Roger, with color in his cheeks and lighter eyes, and Mark and I immediately forgave him for the delay. To see some life in him was worth all the half-hours left in the world.

"We're late." I told them, handing Roger his leather coat.

"We're always late." He moaned.

"You're just now noticing the pattern?" Mark muttered.

"You're taking my job." Roger poked Mark's shoulder.

"What?"

"I'm supposed to be bitter and annoying."

"Then you can be obnoxious and overbearing if you want, can we go?" I hurried them towards the door.

Roger chuckled lightly. "Gladly."

We met Collins and Angel, who both showed us how to hop over the turnstiles to get on the subway without fare.

"It's not breaking the law," Collins reasoned as Roger barreled over. "It's just bending the rules."

Something told me Collins did an awful lot of that.

Now, the six of us were huddled in the subway car as it rattled, and I was trying to imagine any other moment in my life that was comparing to the ones I kept being thrown into.

Whether I was walking straight into them, or bounding over turnstiles to get there, I couldn't say.

"Do any of us even know how to ice skate?" Collins roared.

We laughed. "I don't think that's the point, man." Mark explained.

"Then why are we going?"

We glanced casually at Roger, whose eyes were darting to every corner of the subway, to take in everything he could. Collins smiled, and withdrew the question.

We wandered out of the subway car, up the stairs to the street, and all swore under our breaths to fight the cold.

"I wish it were July." I said, huddling into my coat.

Mark shuddered, imagining the heat. "No, you don't."

Mimi hadn't said much since our group convened, and neither had Roger. I watched them steal glances at each other as we hurried down the street to Rockefeller Center, and wished I was able to do that. To say more without words then with them.

Maureen and Joanne were already there, their arms wrapped around each other's waists. When Maureen caught a glimpse of us, her eyes lit up and she waved her arms wildly.

"Hi!" She bounded over to us. We exchanged hugs, jumping into one another's arms. She tilted her head and on a bench beside her were eight pairs of skates.

"My treat." She grinned.

"Can you afford it to be your treat?" Collins laughed, but he was already tugging on the skates.

"No." And the fact that she smiled while saying it told me it didn't matter.

As we all got the skates on awkwardly and were about ready to go, I realized we were breaking off. Maureen hollered to us to hurry up, but she went off with Joanne onto the ice effortlessly. Collins and Angel went off too, both skating with ease because the two of them could do anything. Roger and Mimi were still hunched over at the bench, as he laced up her skates for her.

"You and me?" Mark outstretched his hand, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Of course." I smiled. We waddled over to the ice, clasping each other's hand for balance and surprisingly, Mark didn't crash to the floor.

"You've done this?" I asked, trying to get my footing on the ice.

"Ice hockey. One season."

"Somehow I don't see you as the jock type," I got out as I felt my skate give way. Mark grasped me around the waist.

"That's the reason it was one season." He smiled, and helped me stand. He seemed to retain what he had learned that one season, because he started off and stayed on his feet, while I stumbled a few times.

"It's actually embarrassing that you're better than me at this."

He laughed. "I apologize." Once I warmed up to it, I was skating easily. It was one of those things that you watched from a distance, where you never think you can do it right. And the moment you jump in, you realize it was worth it anyway. I knew something else like that.

Life.

"You got Roger out." Mark restated.

"I know. It surprises you?"

"It does." He nodded. "But I'm not worried."

"You shouldn't be. He'll be okay."

Mark shook his head at first, but then he saw Roger's hand laced in Mimi's. He changed his mind. "Maybe."

We skated on, and Mark stopped to lean against the railing.

"You alright?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He chuckled. And his eyes met the tree. "I'm a sucker for Christmas." He rolled his eyes.

"But you're Jewish."

He groaned. "Don't remind me." I giggled, and saddled up beside him. "I don't know, I always loved Christmas. This tree, these lights, everything… it's something I wish I had growing up."

"I never much appreciated it," I now realized. "I mean, it was better when I was a kid. When you're wide-eyed and dreaming, and there's such thing as Santa, and your stomach's always killing you from the candy canes. It's good then. Just like everything is."

"And now?" He asked me.

"Now… it's not the same."

He turned to me slowly. "Where were you going for Christmas yesterday?"

I exhaled, turning back to the ice. "My brother's."

He treaded cautiously. "You go every year?"

"Every year for the past few."

"Alone?"

"Yeah." I swallowed.

"He won't notice you never came yesterday?"

I thought about the question. Well now he wouldn't, because we weren't even living in the same time. Because here I was, defying all laws. But if we still where, would he?

"No, he won't." I said assured. And I turned back to him. "Come on, let's go." We saddled up besides Collins and Angel.

"Hey, you're not too bad at this boy!" Collins exclaimed, clasping Mark's shoulder. He shuddered.

"Not too bad yourself."

Angel grinned at me. "How you doing, chica?"

"Pretty well, I have to say. I've never done this for Christmas. I'm loving it."

She smiled her honey-smile. "I know." There was a twinkle in her eyes, and I tried to forget the fact that this would be her last Christmas.

My stomach churned.

I channeled my inner-Roger, trying to tell Angel with my eyes to remember this moment, this day, this year. To do anything to engrain it in her mind so when she left, she left in flying colors.

Even though she would anyway.

But I don't think she heard me, because my eyes have never spoken loud enough. I shook my head and grabbed Mark's arm, we said our goodbyes, and peeled off. I wanted to give them their moments.

Maureen clutched my arm as we passed her, but we didn't stay because I saw the contortion in Mark's face.

When she was far behind us I said to him, "Eventually you're going to have to -"

"I'm trying." He cut me off. "I'm trying."

And I decided for once, not to push anything out of anyone.

Mark and I continued on, light conversation, or sometimes not at all. Just watching and listening, taking it all in. I imagined the bunch didn't get to do things like this very often, and I knew the next year wouldn't be as bright as tonight was for all of them. There was the ever-looming question of what the hell was I doing here and for how long. I turned to Mark to find an answer and saw him glaring off at Roger. Then to Angel. Then to Collins. And I realized, each one of them was taking it one day at a time. Collins and Angel, both with their disease and their new relationship, and Roger with moving on and coming into the world again. Mimi, too, was no different, and Maureen and Joanne, grateful for the moments their relationship actually worked. And then there was Mark, who was just thankful for everyday that he was still surrounded by his family.

And I realized I had to do the exact same thing. One day at a time. Whether I was there until tomorrow, or for the rest of my life. That scared me a bit, but I knew that I was starting to grow into this place and time. And besides, I had gained much more than I had ever left behind.

One day at a time.

I skated up besides Mimi. "Hey." I said to her.

She smiled to me and I saw her hand find its way to Roger's again. "Hey." She breathed.

She didn't seem as lively as last night. She seemed worn, a little frail, and her eyes didn't hold as much light. She wasn't saying much, her or Roger; they just contemplated.

"You alright?" I asked her.

"I'm okay." She was lying.

"If you, I don't know, need to go…" I started awkwardly.

"Mia." The way she said my name breathed new life into it. "I'm okay. Thank you." She said. "You got him out."

I patted her hand slowly and was turning back to go, when my skate caught a pebble and I crashed to the ice. I heard Mark swear, and the scraping of his skates towards me.

But his hand was no longer the one outstretched.

I looked up, and Roger was looking down at me. I accepted his hand, and once again Roger Davis surprised me. "Thank you," he said.

He was helping me up, but he was saying thank you. When I got to my feet, I looked at him quizzically. His eyes darted to Mimi, and when I nodded to let him go and he laced his fingers in hers, I knew what he had meant.

I had never felt this responsible for anyone's happiness in my life.

"You alright?" Mark finally asked.

"I'm fine." I smiled. "So's Roger."

We had been skating for a while; Mark and I were side by side, when we finally reached Maureen and Joanne. She linked arms with me, and we stayed together. Mark didn't seem to mind, and I silently gave him credit. Collins and Angel ended up behind us, skating along. And finally, we reached Roger and Mimi. Once again, we had all found our ways to each other. Collins made a joke, and we were all laughing. Mimi was starting to look livelier, more comfortable. Roger's eyes seemed brighter, Maureen was her usual bouncy self, Joanne seemed less uptight. Collins and Angel were the support and Mark and I just watched the connection happening right before our eyes.

Except, Mark didn't know where this was going.

We stopped skating at the base of the tree to gaze up. Even Roger, despite his proclaimed hatred for all things festive, took a moment to take it all in. No one said anything. The silence went unnoticed. I can't tell you the things going through all their heads at that moment. Kind of wish I could. I know that what I was thinking was Christmas had become a time of remembering for me. Remembering what life used to be, and how it had become something I never wanted from it. Remembering what my brother was born as, as opposed to what he was dying as. It wasn't a time of birth, but a time of realizing I was leaving things behind. Like watching your car trunk fly open and all your belongings being deposited along the road behind you. Everything you held close being sucked away from you.

This was the first Christmas that my life was taking a turn in a positive direction. The first Christmas about rebirth. First Christmas I felt anything at all.

"Christmas is alright." Roger finally spoke.

"Yeah, it's alright."

-----

Ice-skating was short-lived.

It was freezing, the subway was even worse, and now the eight of us were stalking back to the loft.

"I'm starving." Roger groaned.

"Second that!" Maureen yelped.

We all mumbled in agreement.

"We got enough money for dinner?" Collins asked.

"No." We chorused.

"There's no food in the loft." Mark remarked.

"Dammit." Roger groaned.

Mimi looked up at him, "What are we gunna eat?"

I smiled slow. Thought of Andrew. A few Christmases ago.

"I think I have an idea."

We found a grocery store a few blocks from the loft. The eight of us pummeled in the automatic doors, breaking off into the aisles. Roger and Mimi went off together, as did Collins, Angel and Mark. Maureen found herself in the junk food aisle, and Joanne and I trailed through the store. I picked a box of hot chocolate off the shelf.

"God, I could use this," I said.

"Take two." Joanne warned. "They're animals." I smiled, reaching for the other box left.

We passed Roger and Mimi in the back by the refrigerated section, and Roger had his eyes fixed on something.

"What?" I asked.

"I haven't had milk in…so long." I realized how deprived they were, how much they craved something I had had every day.

"We'll get milk." I told him. I grabbed a carton.

Collins came bounding over with potato chips, which I took from him.

"Oh!" I heard Maureen holler.

Joanne and I ran into her, Mark coming up behind her. She was gripping a roll of cookie dough.

"Can I make cookies? Oh, I really want to! It'll actually feel like fucking Christmas!" She bubbled.

"Maureen, we can't even pay the rent, how are we gunna pay the gas to run the oven?" Mark groaned.

Maureen pouted and returned the cookie dough. I came up behind her, reached around and grabbed a box of Oreos beside her forearm.

"Good enough." I said.

The last thing I snaked off the shelf was a box of painkillers. The boys probably hadn't had medicine since they moved to the city. Besides Roger's AZT, which he hated to take anyway.

We brought the lot to the check-out counter, and it came to a little over 20 dollars. Joanne and I, the only ones with money, split the tab willingly.

We were walking out, all gripping a plastic shopping bag, when Roger sauntered up behind me. His hands were digging through his pockets.

"Here." He said sheepishly, holding out 3 dollars to me. All he had.

"Roger, don't be ridiculous." I yelped.

"No, just take it. I don't accept charity."

"It's not charity; I'm your room mate."

"Take it," he barked.

"No, I –"

"Please." He told me, the few dollars clenched in his fist. I balled up his hand and returned it to his pocket. I kept walking and didn't stop.

Not even when a few minutes later while we were all talking, I felt Roger's hand creep into my back pocket.

I knew I'd give it back to him later, anyway.

---

We had made it back to the loft without major frostbite.

And now, the eight of us were all assembled in various positions across the living room. Mimi was on the floor, leaning on the coffee table, with Roger close behind her. Collins was in Roger's chair, Angel lounging on his lap. Joanne was on the arm of the couch; Maureen, Mark and I sprawled across it. The potato chip bag was ripped apart, mugs of hot chocolate all across the coffee table, the Oreos package half torn, the Cap'n Crunch Collins had bought spilt on the table with some actually in bowls with milk. It was a mess. But it was Christmas.

We were all laughing in turn, doubling over in hysterics. The kind of laughter that made nights worth remembering.

"Alright Roger, go!" Maureen urged.

"Okay, okay," he started. "The shittiest Christmas I can remember was… oh. Okay. I was in the 4th grade and my brother Dane and I were playing a neighborhood baseball game in the streets. It was a big deal, there was one every Christmas Eve with all the kids on the block. Anyway, I get up to bat in the ninth inning to win it for us all, and the pitcher sucks. He throws an easy one to me and I wail on it. The ball's flying and I'm dashing past first…second…I'm not even looking to see where the ball is going. Then I hear the pitcher holler, 'Oh shit' and we hear a crash. The ball had soared right into our living room window. And then, it hits the Christmas tree and the entire thing comes crashing out the front window."

The entire room erupted in laughter. Maureen stamped her feet to overcome her wave of hysterics, Mark and I ramming into each other on the couch, Collins bellowing laughter always the loudest. Even Roger chuckled to his own story.

"God, did your parents murder you?" Collins asked.

"Well, yes…after Dane and I hid in the bushes out back for four hours and had the neighborhood kids tell our parents we fled to Mexico."

A new round of laughing fits. If there was one thing Roger could do, it was tell a good story. Maureen wiped her eyes to clear the tears.

"That's great," she wheezed, out of breath.

"C'mon Mark, you go!" Collins howled.

"I'm Jewish."

At the moment, this seemed like the funniest thing in the world. We were drunk on each other's company. Either that, or the Stoli that Collins had poured into all of our hot chocolates.

"Alright guys, not that funny…" Mark attempted to calm the room.

"C'mon Mark, you must have one shitty Hanukkah story." I needled.

"No."

"Oh," Roger moaned.

"Well, that's not true -"

"See?- "

"They were all shitty."

We all doubled over in laughter at this one too. Once our laughter dispersed and we all sat trying to regain control, I realized how long we had been sitting there. It was almost four in the morning.

We were in mismatched clothes, Maureen, Mimi and Angel all requesting old sweatshirts from the boys to fight the cold. Maureen had on an old pair of gym pants she never took when she moved out, and Joanne was huddled in a blanket. We were exhausted, and I realized there was a slim to none chance any of us were going anywhere. I looked to Collins and he smiled, getting up to grab more blankets.

"So where's this Christmas on the shitty scale?" Angel asked.

"Pretty high." Roger groaned.

"What? Are you kidding?!" Maureen hollered.

"Maureen, we just froze our asses off, raided a grocery store, and sat here pigging out while talking about our pointless, ridiculous lives."

"Ya know Roger, that's not as bad as you think."

"What could be worse?" He asked.

Maureen smiled. "Doing it alone."

That shut Roger up enough.

"Well said." Collins applauded. We all smiled, settling into our blankets and our skin. Joanne sunk onto the couch besides Maureen, Angel and Collins shifted to a more comfortable position, Roger rested his head to the floor.

"Definitely could have been a worse night." Joanne said.

"Definitely." Mimi added.

We said very little after that, little sparks of conversations in throaty whispers as we dozed off. Close to 5:15, the entire room was asleep when I saw Mimi moving.

"Mimi, you awake?" I called to her.

"Yeah," she hissed, "I don't sleep much." I crawled out from under Mark's sleeping form, snaking my way to her on the floor.

"Hey." I said, sitting with my back to the coffee table.

"Hey." She returned, smiling with sleep in her eyes.

"How was tonight?" I asked.

"He was good." Somehow she knew Roger and tonight were synonymous.

"He seemed quiet."

"He's warming up." She explained. "I know what it's like after you find out what's happening to your life. It takes a while to warm up to it again."

"You'll do great things for him."

"You think?" She asked.

"I do." I told her with conviction.

"He moves slow."

"That he does." I agreed.

"Too slow?" It was a question.

"Just enough. It's caution, really." I told her. "Doesn't want to lose more of his life."

"I know that feeling."

"Is it scary?" I asked her. It seemed like an obvious answer, but I wanted to see how she'd answer it. She sucked in air quickly, shifting in her place before responding.

"It's more then scary." She whispered, like her fears were something she'd only confide in me. "It's terrifying. And you can't escape it. And you can't do anything or talk to anyone or believe in anything for a long time, because here you are wasting away in your own skin and people are telling you it'll be okay. 'No it won't fucking be okay', you want to scream. 'I'm dying, and you're saying I'll be okay?'"

I inhaled slowly, it all hitting too close to home.

"I understand, you know." She went on. "I understand I deserved it, I did it to myself, and that I need to actually make things worthwhile before I lose it all. I get it. But the only thing I hate is the lies."

"The lies?" I gulped. "Which?"

"All of them. The ones everyone else says, and the ones we tell ourselves. They're really the same, actually. Because when you first find out, you just sit there screaming and hating and crying and saying it's not fair. And then you tell yourself it's not real. The lying starts. And when you finally get yourself to come to terms, to feel anything at all, everyone around you starts lying too."

"You know people lie to protect themselves," I told her.

"But they don't deserve to." Mimi said. "I'm dying, and they're worrying about how hard it is for them to accept the truth? At least they're not counting down the days."

This was something I'd never understood, nor would I. It was something that shocked me, and it's something I still think of whenever I recall Mimi and all her glory.

"You want to know my shittiest Christmas?" She asked me.

I looked at her puzzled, wondering if she was feeling lightheaded. But I had learned to trust her.

"Yes..."

"The one 2 years ago, when I found out my life was over."

I didn't know what to tell her.

"What made you get tested?" I asked quietly.

"I don't remember. One of those acts of fate, I guess. Cause I wouldn't have in a million years. But something brought me to it."

I looked to the floor. "You made one mistake," I started, "and it's not your fault that -"

"No, baby, that's what we like to think. But we made a million mistakes. And we'd keep making them if it wasn't for that damn piece of paper."

We were silent for a moment.

"Can I tell you something?" She asked.

"Yes, sure, anything." I stumbled.

"Dying is the best thing that ever happened to my life."

I had never been more in awe of anyone in my entire life.

The sky was getting lighter outside the windows, preparing for the sun. Mimi was sinking into her covers, and the bags under her eyes were intensifying. She looked so small, so tragic. But so beautiful. How you could be all three, I don't know. Only she could.

She was dozing off; I could hear her breath slowing. I ran my hand through her hair lovingly. I wished I knew more. I wished we could keep talking. I wished we had more time.

Everything in life was about time.

Finally, I crawled up besides Mimi and lied down quietly. Timing my chest to rise and fall with hers, I waited until dawn.

I needed to make sure she got up.

---

I must have dozed off. Because when I woke up, it wasn't to Mimi's soft breathing in my ear or Collins punctured sighs. I woke up to murmurs and sunlight. Which was probably better anyway.

"Welcome to the world of the living," Collins said pointedly.

I decided not to say anything. I stumbled over to the metal table, looking back at the living room. The blankets were still sprawled across the floor and furniture, but at least the coffee table had been cleared. Maureen was still tucked into the couch.

Collins was in the kitchen, as always, bouncing around gleefully as he always was in the morning. Mark stood solemnly, his face in his tea mug. No sign of Mimi, or Roger, of Joanne or Angel.

"Where is everyone?" I slurred, slumping into a seat.

"Well," Collins started, "Joanne left for work really early, Maureen's still in a coma, Mimi wandered downstairs for something a few hours ago, Roger's in his room and I told Angel I'd meet her at her place in a little while. Wanted to wait for you to get up."

"Thanks." I said, rubbing at the sleep in my eyes. "Long night."

"Yeah," Mark put in. "I better start my filming." He grumbled, heading down the hallway.

"You can't take one day off?"

"I've taken too many days off," he told me. I shook my head.

"You off soon?" I asked Collins.

"That I am. You gunna be alright here? I know you're not up to much."

"It's alright, go. I'm sure Maureen will stick around."

"Yeah, it's not like she has anywhere to be." Collins continued, going to get his coat.

"How was Mimi when she left?" I asked.

"Alright. Seemed a little off, but that's to be expected. She'll be fine. I think she went to take her meds." He told me distractedly. "Why?"

"No reason." I paused. "Well, there's a reason." I corrected myself. "I talked to her last night."

"Yeah?"

"She's not going anywhere soon."

Collins smiled, opening the loft door. "I'd like to think that. I'll catch up with you later."

I waved him off, and he disappeared down the stairs. Roger wandered into the kitchen and I was happy for some company.

"Hey," I greeted him.

"Hey." He returned. It was something.

"You just wake up?"

"Nah, I've been up. There any coffee left?"

"I think it's gone," I frowned.

"Tea?" He asked.

"Won't Mark kill you?"

His hands were already on the tea bags. "Yeah. Screw Mark." He heated the water.

"What are you up to today?"

"Same as always." He said, which meant nothing.

"I'll be here."

"I know." This was what a lot of our conversations consisted of.

"You planning on seeing Mimi today?" I asked.

"I don't really plan on anything." He snapped. He didn't apologize, but I could hear it anyway.

"I'll be with Maureen. Whatever we do, you're welcome to join us."

He didn't say anything, so I pulled away from the table to get changed. Once in Benny's room, I grabbed my overnight bag, which I had only packed to stay 5 days at Andrew's. I didn't have much with me; clothes, a sweatshirt, some money but not nearly enough, my wallet, and now the picture of the boys from however long ago. I shuddered, trying to figure out what I was going to do with only three pairs of jeans, two sweaters, a few t-shirts and a sweatshirt and an undetermined stay in the loft. I slipped on jeans and a shirt and felt someone at the doorway.

"Hey," I sighed, seeing Maureen leaning against the frame.

"What time is it?" She yawned.

"11:30." I told her. "Sleep good?"

"Okay." She sat on the bed. Her eyes found my overnight bag. "Can't believe you have your entire wardrobe in there."

I laughed, and crashed down beside her. "Hardly. I was going somewhere for a few days. Had no idea I'd end up here."

"Go home and get your stuff."

I shook my head in defeat. "Can't."

"You run away?"

"You know, Roger thought the same thing."

"Is it true?"

"No." I admitted. She waited for me to continue, and when I didn't I felt her hand clasp mine on the torn comforter.

"I don't need to know." She stood quickly. "Come on."

"Where're we going?" I asked her.

"My place." I didn't ask why, or for how long because those weren't the types of questions Maureen bothered answering.

I followed her down the hallway, stopping at Roger's bedroom door. "Rog?"

"Yeah?" He mumbled from inside.

"I'm going to Maureen's for a while. We'll be back. Mark's going out filming. Collins might call."

"Okay." He said, devoid of emotion. I leaned into the door.

"Mimi's downstairs."

I didn't get an answer. Maureen rolled her eyes, and we headed down the stairway out into the cold.

The sun was beating down, and you'd think it'd turn the city into a sauna. But that was what summer was for.

"How far's your place?" I asked her.

"It's not. A little farther up the East Side."

It was more than a little farther.

When we treaded into Maureen's apartment, I realized she had really traded up. There was an elevator. You didn't have to throw down keys. That was enough of a step up.

But even inside the apartment, there was matching furniture without tears, a kitchen with a refrigerator, an oven that worked, a bathroom that was bigger than a closet.

"You've done well for yourself."

"No, Joanne has." She stated, dropping her keys on the counter top. "It's nice, isn't it?"

"Nothing like the loft." I said, my eyes still searching every corner of the room.

"You're right. It's not." Her tone said that wasn't as great as I had believed a moment earlier. "The bedroom's nice too. Come with me."

A short hallway out of the living room, and a doorway was tucked out of view. I stepped in; my eyes met a queen bed with clean sheets, two full closets, a small bathroom filled with white porcelain.

"The guys give me a hard time, you know."

"Hm?" I wondered aloud.

"For this. Leaving the loft, the starving artist life and moving in with Joanne, to a place with clean windows and appliances."

"You beat yourself up over it?" I asked curiously.

"Not much. It's not selling out, because I still don't have any fucking money. Just looks like I do, since Joanne owns all of it."

"Doesn't seem like you."

"What, to live in a life that I don't even own?"

"Yeah." I said.

"No, it doesn't." She shook her head before padding over to the closet, pawing through the contents. "For you." She tossed a sweater on a hanger into my arms.

I just looked puzzled.

"Come on," she urged.

"What's this for?"

"You have like, 6 pieces of clothing. I have everything from college, anything I've collected from anywhere and everywhere since I moved to the city, and all the shit Joanne's bought me. I won't miss any of it. Please, take it. It's smothering me."

I looked at her quizzically, and then fell into a smile. I wasn't going to pass this up.

"Hey, this would look fantastic on you…" her voice trailed off, and I watched her eyes light up.

I knew then I was on Maureen's good side; exactly where I wanted to be.

---

We returned to the lot a few hours later, Maureen and I lugging a few bags of her clothes.

"This is ridiculous," I told her, out of breath.

"What, me having that many clothes or allowing you to raid my closet?"

"Both." She smirked, dragging her bag across the pavement. I fingered the money in my pocket, pulling out a quarter at the phone booth to call Roger.

It rang four times, and the machine picked up. "Roger, it's Mia. Answer the phone, I'm across the street," I paused and waited for Roger's voice to click on the line.

"Hi." He said.

"Hey," my eyes wandered to Maureen, who saw a bunch of magazines at a newsstand. I fished a few bucks out of my pocket and allowed her to pick some up. She looked at me gratefully and scurried off.

"Throw down the key?" I asked Roger. His face was at the window as he chucked down the rusting chain.

"Here." He said into the phone.

"Thanks, I'll see you in a minute." He hung up, and Maureen returned with a copy of the Village Voice and two fashion magazines.

"I can't remember the last time I got to read this girly stuff," she said breezily, and we headed up to the loft.

Bursting in the doorway, Maureen and I collapsed on the couch, the bags at our feet. She grabbed a fashion magazine and I headed right for the Village Voice.

There was a few moments of silence as we read, until I spoke up.

"You working?" I asked her.

"Not now. Still looking."

"There's an audition," I started, my eyes skimming the print, "Broadway, open call." I finished.

She sighed lengthily, defeated. "There are more important things than Broadway."

"Like what?" I exclaimed.

"Protests. Actually doing something worthwhile." I had clearly underestimated Maureen.

"But you love the stage, and you know you want to be on it again."

She shook her head.

"April used to come with me to auditions."

I was quiet.

"I was performing when…" she cut herself off. "I quit that week."

The silence was deadly, and it got the better of Maureen when she picked herself off the couch and hung up her coat.

"Come on," she grabbed my arm. "Let's go put away this stuff." She hauled a bag towards Benny's room.

"Yeah," I said eyeing her coat, "I'll be right there."

It'd be a few hours until she noticed I ripped out the casting call and left it in her pocket.

"What's all this?" I whipped around to see Mark winding his scarf around one of the hooks.

"Back so soon?" I asked.

"It's freezing. What, 'dja raid the dump?" He asked, his eyes on the garbage bags.

"It's clothes. From Maureen." I finished. "She felt sorry for me." I joked.

"She's good at pitying," he chuckled and headed to the kitchen. "She here?"

"She's putting away some of the clothes in Benny's room."

"What about Collins?"

"Angel's."

"And Roger?" He asked.

"In his room."

"Has he been out today?"

"Don't know. Just got home."

"Roger!" Mark bellowed.

No response.

"Man, he's stubborn."

I laughed. "What do you need him for?"

"There's a band playing. I thought maybe…it'd remind him of what he should be doing."

I nodded. "Roger?" I helped.

Still no answer. Mark and I headed for his door. We knocked together.

"Roger?"

"Roger, we're coming in there whether you want us to or not." Mark snarled.

He flung open the door, and the room was empty. I gaped.

"He was here ten minutes ago. He let Maureen and me in!"

Mark scanned the room, kicking around at the filth for any possible signs of any new needles. Anything to say Roger had taken a few steps backwards.

"He must have climbed out the fire escape," Mark reasoned aloud, his eyes still scanning. He put his hands on his hips, and Maureen found her way into the hallway.

"Roger's gone." I told her.

She shook her head. "He's fine. Mark, you remember. He used to take walks all the time."

Mark nodded, and let out a shaky breath. "Yeah, he did."

"He'll be home." She reassured us. Mark and I believed her.

"Yeah, I just got nervous, you know, cause -"

"I know." Maureen cut him off. Mark pushed past us back to the kitchen and Maureen shrugged.

"I'll go get the bags," I told her.

Mark's voice from the kitchen –

"Where the hell is my tea?"

I laughed. Roger caused trouble even when he wasn't home.

----

As usual, I had lost track of time and lost myself in my work. The legal pad was in my lap, I had about a sixth of the pencil left and I was sketching the skylight. So it was primitive work. But it was mine.

"Babe, I'm gunna take off." For the first time in what felt like decades, I looked up from the blue lines against yellow parchment. My eyes swirled inside my head, until they focused and refocused enough to make out Maureen.

"Is it late?"

"Only 9:30." She shrugged, her coat over arm.

"How long have I been working?" I asked, massaging my head.

"Probably 3 hours or so." I looked down at the legal pad to see only half of the skylight messily sketched, with some amateur shading.

"That was unproductive," I groaned, standing up and stretching.

"But it's something," she said, which couldn't have been more true. "I'll see you tomorrow." She kissed my cheek lightly.

"Night Maureen," I bid her as she headed for the door. She turned back to face me suddenly.

"He always comes home."

I looked at her quizzically, and then fell into a smile. "How did you know I was waiting for Roger?"

She grinned, "I lived here too." And the loft door shut behind her.

I waited a few moments after she left, the grin still plastered on my face. I swept a few chunks of hair that had fallen out of my messy bun behind my ears and repositioned myself on the couch. I rolled up my sleeves, got the pencil between my fingers again and heard the loft door open.

I bounded off the couch. "Roger!"

"Wow. That's a new one," Collins grinned.

I plopped back onto the cushion in defeat. "Sorry," I waved my hand, "I thought-"

"Yeah, yeah. Where's the boy?" He asked.

"He's gone."

Collins froze. "What?" He choked.

"He's fine." I told him. "I mean, he just went out for a walk."

"When?"

"3 o'clock."

"Who takes a walk for six hours, Mia?"

"The city's a big place."

"The city's an awful place."

"There's a lot to look at."

"There's a lot to screw with."

I gave up. "Maureen said he'd always go off for walks." Mark peeked out from his room.
"You're home," he greeted Collins.

"Did you know Roger's been gone for six hours?" Collins demanded.

"Yeah."

Collins gaped at him incredulously. "And this doesn't alarm you?"

"Collins, this is typical Roger. He'll be back," Mark stated firmly, taking a seat beside me on the couch.

"Neither of you have thought to do anything?" He asked of us. I trembled from the sound of his voice echoing in the loft.

"I told you Collins, there's nothing to do. He comes home when he comes home."

"And when he comes home with fresh track marks, do you still say that?"

Mark snapped. I could hear the crackle in my ears. He stood up and paced over to Collins.

"Don't tell me what Roger will or won't do. How would you know how long he stays out? How would you know if he'll come home? You weren't even here."

"Mark, you know I was teaching -"

"Yeah well, this isn't your classroom. We're not your students. Don't tell us what Roger is capable of, don't recite us your textbooks, okay? I know what Roger is capable of, because I'm the reason Roger's alive."

Mark glared Collins down, a man double his size and stature. But he held his ground, until he stalked off and slammed his bedroom door.

I stood up and started, "Collins, he's -"

"Right." He finished. He disappeared down the hallway as well.

The loft was suddenly silent. I looked around, uncomfortable from the tension still hanging in the room. I crashed onto the couch once again, pulling the legal pad into my lap as a source of comfort. Once my fingertips were wrapped around the pencil, I started to relax.

But I only got ten minutes of that.

The loft door opened again that night.

And in stalked –

"Roger!" I vaulted off the couch to him as he trudged through the door.

"Don't," he stopped me, "I'm fine." He dropped onto the couch, burying his face in his hands, leather jacket still wrapped around his shoulders. I slowly unwound the scarf at his neck, and he let me. I got up to hang it and then slowly reseated myself besides him.

"Where'd you go?" I asked.

"For a walk." He said into his hands. Maureen was right.

"Why'd you sneak out?"

"Hoped to skip the third degree," he said. "Wanted to see if any of you would trust me. Judging by your little display when I walked in, I'd say no."

"You know, trust doesn't cancel out fear."

"Fear," he scoffed, leaning back, "Fear of what?"

"No one wants you to -"

"Fuck up again."

"To get hurt." I said, instead.

"Fear's for me, Mia. Not for you guys." He leaned back into the couch, intertwining his fingers over his eyes. I got up quietly, pulling a dirty dish from the cupboard and placing Roger's AZT, two painkillers and an Oreo cookie onto it. I filled a glass of water and returned to Roger. His hands were still over his eyes. I sat besides him, offering the plate.

"What's this?" He asked, without looking.

"Comfort food."

He laughed. "AZT and painkillers. Funny how that changes, huh?"

Not funny in the way that I would laugh.

He took the medicine slowly, painfully, letting it slip down his throat. When he coughed, I put my hand on his back to steady him. He nodded thanks.

"Maureen trusted you." I said when he popped the Oreo in his mouth.

"Yeah?" He mumbled between bites.

"Uh-huh." I leaned back besides him. "And Mark."

"You don't say?" He smiled slyly.

"I do." I grinned.

"Did you?" He asked.

I took his hand in mine before he could jerk away. "Give me reason to."

Roger and I heard footsteps at our backs, so we whirled around to see Mark padding out of his room.

"You're home." He said.

"Perceptive." Roger nodded, standing up. "So, you going to reprimand me now, Pops, or wait till later?"

Mark shook his head. "It'll have to wait." His coat was over his arms. "We're taking a little trip."

"But Marky, I just came in from the cold," Roger jested.

"Well, we're gunna have to put you in harms way for just a few more hours."

"Where we off too?" Roger asked him.

"CBCG's."

Roger looked at him hard.

"There's a band playing."

Roger knew exactly what he was trying to do and he looked around in anger at first. And then his face softened, and I knew Roger was finally beginning to understand the actions of Mark, and appreciating them.

"We got enough time to get there?"

Mark smiled. "Always do." He clasped Roger's shoulder.

"Mia?" He asked me. I jerked in surprise.

"No. Go." I told them, pushing them to the door. I knew this was not a moment meant for me. "I'll see you later tonight."

"Okay." Mark drawled as they headed for the door.

"Night, Mia." Roger said quietly.

"Night."

And they were out the door.

Satisfied, I picked up my legal pad and headed out of the living room. I looked in all the bedrooms until I found Collins.

"Got enough rooms?" I joked, sitting beside him.

"Nah," he spoke quietly, his hands in his lap, "when it was all of us, Benny had his room, Mark and Roger shared, Maureen had hers and I slept on the couch whenever I wasn't teaching."

"Man, you have enough of you starving artists in here?"

He laughed. "And then April hung around." He continued. "She and Roger would commandeer Mark and Roger's room, Mark was always sleeping in Maureen's, and I'd take hers when I got home."

"Tight?" I asked.

"Yeah." He exhaled, reminiscing. "But not painful."

"What about when April stopped hanging around?" I asked.

He shook his head, "Then it got painful."

I nodded.

"You know, I didn't leave to escape Roger. I left to pay for Roger. He would have fucking died if I didn't work to pay for his AZT. And even then, all of us were starving. Me at MIT, and them here."

"You don't have to defend yourself for me." I told him. "But don't lie to yourself." This hit him right in the chest.

He got up and paced to the window. "I did leave to escape Roger."

I nodded.

"But I didn't want to – I mean, I didn't mean to – Mark… he knew what he was doing."

"No he didn't." I said. "He had no idea. He made it up as he went along."

"But he cared about Roger."

"Don't you?"

"Yeah but…differently." Collins felt remorse. Even I could feel it radiating from him into the air. "Mark's ruined isn't he?"

"Not ruined. But broken." I followed Collins' footsteps. "So's Roger. And so are you. You're all kind of chipped, I guess."

"How do we end up this way?"

I shook my head and looked out the window, to find his line of vision. "I don't know, Collins. I really don't know."

There was a long silence filled with our breathing until he found another question to ask.

"You think a whole bunch of chipped people could make a whole one?" He asked me.

I smiled, the words fitting into my heart in just the right way. We looked out the window, at the awful city, at the frightening city, at the city that chilled and abandoned and left you cold and alone. But it was the same city that brought them together. The city that brought me to them. It couldn't be all bad. There was good. Everything had good. It was just a matter of how deep it was, and how bad you wanted to find it.

"You're the philosopher," I said to Collins that night, "but if you're asking me, I think that's what we have to believe to get by."

---

Author's Note: Alright, and there's your chapter eight people. Thank you all for your continuing support for this ridiculous creative whim. Any ideas for plot you can leave in a review, I'd love to see what you're thinking about. And thank you all for writing and posting, because your brilliance gives me inspiration. REVIEW!