Roger returned to the Loft hours later. He and his band mates had spent two hours trying to find if there was a company or local store that would be willing to loan them a guitar for an unspecified amount of time, but with no luck. If they couldn't find a backup guitar, he would have to leave the band indefinitely. He seriously hoped it wouldn't come to that, mostly because it would mean explaining to the others why he no longer had a job.

For now, however, he decided to just push those worries aside. Right now, all he wanted was food in his stomach and a couch to collapse on. Most of all, he needed to feel Mimi's gentle hand brushing against his rough cheek, or her warm lips on his own, to remind him how much she was worth all of this. But when he slid the door open, he found the Loft completely empty.

"Hello?" Roger called out, scanning the room for any sign of his friends. He started searching the Loft, looking into the bathroom, the room he shared with Mimi, and even Mark's room. But there was nothing. Not even a note on the metal table. He didn't like this. It wasn't like them to go off without telling him in some way, even if they were as short as Mark's 'Gone Filming' memos.

"Okay, guys. If you're here, the joke's over. It's not funny." As his worry started to increase, he glanced over at the window. Someone had taken a can of that artificial snow spray and drawn an arrow pointing up on the window. Next to the arrow was the words 'Come on up'. A small smile formed on Roger's face as he remembered a time that now seemed long ago, when another message had been left for him on that same window. Since he had ignored that message, it was probably not a good idea to do the same with this one. Roger left the Loft and made his way up to the roof. Once he made it up, his first thoughts was that it was deserted as well, but then he saw it. Propped up on display on the old cushioned chair that he and Mark had brought up to the roof on the day they had first moved into the Loft was his red fender, looking as sleek and new as ever. Hardly believing it, Roger moved almost numbly up to the chair and picked up the fender in his hands. His fingers made a few experimental plucks of the strings, revealing the fender was perfectly in tune.

"And this time, you better keep it," a voice scolded. "That's the second time you've sold your instrument. I'm starting to think you're not interested in being a rock god anymore." Roger spun around to find Mimi with her arms crossed, leaning against the wall bordering the roof.

"Mimi?" Roger was stunned for a moment. "How did you…? Aw, sh-t. Emily promised she wouldn't…."

"I made Emily tell me. So if you're going to blame anyone, blame me." Mimi abandoned her spot by the wall and walked up to Roger as she spoke.

"How'd you get this back?" Roger asked, holding up the fender slightly.

"I still had some of my Christmas bonus from my dance class at NYU left over." Mimi explained. "When you combine that with the offer I made the pawn shop owner to arrange him a date with one of my old friends from the Cat Scratch, he was very easily persuaded to return it." Roger flinched slightly.

"You didn't have to do that, Meems."

"I know I didn't have to, but I wanted…."

"No, it's not that. I pawned the fender to pay for your ring. If you give up your money to get the fender back, it's like… you're helping pay for your own ring."

"And that's a problem?"

"That's not how it's supposed to be, Mimi," Roger couldn't bring himself to look at her. "It's my job to buy the ring."

"Oh, Roger," Mimi shook her head. "You know we've never lived by those old traditions. And you should know you don't have to act like the tough guy all the time. There is no chance I'm letting you give up your fender for a ring. And yes, if it means, as you put it, that I'm pitching in for the ring, then that's how it's going to be."

"I can't let you…"

"I'll make this easy for you, Roger," Mimi cut him off. "If you're not taking the fender back, then I'm not going to keep the ring."

"What? But…"

"In case you've forgotten, I remember you once saying that love's not a three-way street." Roger once again flinched, remembering the day he'd shouted that at Mimi. Before he could say anything, Mimi continued. "Well, Roger, it's not a one-way street, either. This isn't just about you giving to me. Once in a while, you need to accept me giving to you. The fact that you were willing to give that fender up for my ring is enough. Can't you let me show how much it means to me by letting me get the fender back in return?" It took a long moment for Roger to find his voice again. Finally, he gripped the fender tightly in one hand, and reached out with the other to bring Mimi closer, so their foreheads were touching.

"Why do you put up with me?" Roger asked in a soft whisper.

"Guess I just love you too much." As if Mimi's words were an incentive, Roger deposited his fender onto the chair before lifting the dancer clean off the floor, capturing her lips in a fiery kiss, twirling her around in his enthusiasm.

"Okay," Roger chuckled once Mimi had been returned to the ground, relishing in the feeling of her twisting his locks around her fingers. "I'll keep the fender. And thank you for getting it back."

"And thank you for loving me so much." Night fell as the two held each other close, treasuring the love they had found in each other.