A/N: Sorry for the long wait. I have no excuses. That's not true- I've had school, work, family drama, grief and traveling outside of the country. But the biggest factor has been my old friend, writer's block. I hope somebody still wants to read this.

Mark had worked hard for months—years if you count all the time spent getting stock footage that he ended up using—on this latest project. It was a documentary on some of the many rituals practiced in the City concerning death and mourning and what we can all learn from them. It was inspired by the fact that in the two years before he started it, he had been to seven funerals, all of young friends or close family members. That much will certainly put death on a person's mind for a while. It would also drag most people down, and Mark was prone depression. This was why he was surprised that it actually inspired him, and that, despite being upset at each death, he did not feel successively more morose with funeral he attended.

For some cultures, he had a lot of trouble finding people willing to talk on film about it, due to various customs and superstitions. For others, he was awash in volunteers and footage. He even had on camera one person talking about how nice it was to be able to talk about it, as none of their friends wanted to. He had to admit, he found the whole project cathartic. He had footage of funerals, processions, interviews with family and friends of some of the deceased, interviews with funeral home workers and clergy, and interviews with doctors on both their own personal beliefs, how they feel when their patients die and of some of the people before they died.

Amazingly, it had an uplifting message, which people seemed to enjoy. In talking pretty much solely about death, it managed to celebrate diversity and life. Yes, death sucks, but as Mark saw it, it's something everyone goes through on both ends (as the mourner and as the deceased) and the best we can do is remember the good times and help each other through the bad ones, and try to enjoy ourselves as much as we can while we can. It doesn't hurt to think positively. He ran into a mother mourning the loss of a child with special needs. The kid was the mother's whole life, as she required 'round the clock medical care, and of course the mother was devastated; but she was also thankful that she got to know such a wonderful and beautiful child so well. "I thank God every day," she told him and the camera, "that I got to be Maddie's mom. That I got such a gift, such an amazing child, even if was only for twelve years." He figured this was something everyone could learn from. It seemed that others agreed.

"On Death in New York" actually garnered some positive attention by critics. In fact he had won a few film festival awards, and was receiving more attention every week. In fact, someone wanted to write an article about him for some pretentious avant-garde arts magazine. He was one of their new "filmmakers to watch", apparently. In just a few months, he went from nobody, to sort of somebody.

Mark was very happy for many reasons. First, he had a message, and it was being heard. People were actually watching and taking something from his film (he got quite a few letters stating just that). Secondly, he was able to fully support himself on just his art for the first time in his life. Also, he got to go to all sorts of cool new events meet new people.

He was invited to a gallery opening as he had gotten to know the artist recently. He wasn't whether it was just out of friendship, his new friend wanted him to have the networking opportunities or she just thought it would look good to have Mark at her gallery opening. Probably the first. He wasn't about to refuse the invitation, no matter why he received it. He wanted to be there to support a fellow just-starting-to-really-make-it artist.

Alison was still going a little crazy. She couldn't get the thought out of her head that if she slept with someone and got away with it, did Benny do the same thing? Could he still be cheating? He had done it before, so it wasn't a completely preposterous idea. She knew it was unlikely, though. They were getting along so much better, the counseling really seemed to be helping. Still, she couldn't help seeing little things, it was almost like her subconscious mind was actively searching for evidence that her husband had been unfaithful. He had to stay late some nights, he was too tired for intimacy pretty often, it seemed, he seemed just a little distant in a kiss, she could swear sometimes that she could smell a faint perfume on him that wasn't hers and he just seemed to act a little…off sometimes. It may have been in reaction to her acting strangely, sometimes, or he may have been acting strangely for the same reason she was.

She had some gallery opening to go to. Benny was going to come with, but he had to work late, so she went alone. She didn't want to get too dressed up, as she didn't want to draw too much attention. It would have been nice if he had given her enough notice to find a friend to drag along. So not only was she going without her husband, who had cheated on her in the past (and people would surely assume things about that, tonight), she was going alone, which added to the embarrassment factor. Oh well. It wasn't enough of a deterrent to stop her from going. It was just one of those events she couldn't miss, as it would knock her social standing down a peg.

She was talking to a well-known art collector and fellow trust-fund baby who was studying a new subject every time Alison saw her (this year it was the Pirahã, an obscure tribe of people in the Amazon). Nothing truly noteworthy. After a little while said trust-fund baby left and was replaced with another artist of some sort who introduced them to a somewhat obscure, avant-garde filmmaker. Alison was actually surprised when she saw Mark. She shook his hand politely noting, again, how well he cleaned up. Though, he could still use some help if he was going to hang out with this crowd more.

The four conversed inanely for a while, all the while Mark and Alison tried to avoid eye contact and act as if this was not awkward at all. In fact, according to the others, the two had never even met. After a while, though, it was just a little too much for her and Alison pulled him aside to speak to him alone. Mark momentarily gave her a panic-stricken look that seemed to ask her, "Is this really a good idea?"

"I think we need to talk."

"What are you talking about?" Mark was good at following directions.

"Not so much about that," she told him obviously referring to the thing she had forbade him from speaking about. "I mean, well we couldn't just sit there and pretend it didn't happen."

"Okay. So we are talking about that. What is there that even needs to be said?"

This was not going how she had planned it. "It's not about that, but in spite of it. You're going to think I'm nuts, but I think we should still be friends."

"You're right. You're crazy."

"Look," she said trying to explain it as best she could, though she might have had one too many glasses of champagne. "You and I get along so well. Why throw that away over a silly little mistake?"

"Maybe because," he paused, "This really isn't the best place to talk about it." This was true. Alison told him to meet her at a specific coffee house nearby. Until then, they wouldn't speak to each other for the rest of the event, and they would leave at different times, lest someone assume something. Especially considering she was not here with her husband.

Alison was still paranoid about someone finding out, apparently; which made Mark wonder all the more why she wanted to keep in contact with him. Then again, what did he have to lose? She was the one putting something on the line, here, and yet she was the one who insisted. He did have to wonder why he was so special. He always had to dissect this sort of thing. Why was he worth it? Unless he was just reading far too much into it, and she was going on the assumption that the fact that they had slept with each other would have no bearing on their interactions once they got past this one little bump. Or maybe, now that he was making a name for himself, he might be a worthy social pawn for her. But she didn't seem that conniving.

Mark sat down opposite Alison at the café about twenty minutes after she had gotten there. He still wasn't exactly sure why he was doing this, but he reminded himself that he could always say 'no' if he didn't like what she proposed. She a waiter came by and she ordered chai lattes for the both of them. Mark loved chai lattes.

"Shall we continue where we left off?" Mark asked her.

"Sure. I believe you were telling me why we should never talk to each other again."

"Right. Because the events of 'that night' could never have any bearing on a friendship?" he asked sarcastically.

"So you've never been friends with a girl you slept with after you slept with her? I never took you for that type, Mark."

"Of course I've remained friends after sleeping with girls. None of them were married, though."

"Okay, we slept together. Acknowledge it and get over it. It won't happen again. I think our friendship worth too much to throw away over something so trivial. I mean it was one night, we were both drunk, and it's not like my husband hasn't done the same who knows how many times."

"I'm sorry, but my days of being 'secret friends with' people ended in Middle School. Don't lie; you can't be seen with me. That's why we had to meet here, and arrive at different times."

She laughed, a little. "You got it all wrong. Our friendship doesn't have to be a secret. It'll just look like I'm your supporter. The artist with the wealthy benefactress, it's not too uncommon. I can help you navigate all this stuff," she said indicating to her dress and his suit, in reference to all the social aspects of being a successful artist, especially where interaction with wealthy snobs was concerned. "You make me look like an appreciator of the arts and a philanthropist. Underneath it all, though, we can just spend time hanging out together and, you know, being friends."

"So you're saying, on the surface it'll look like we're friends and your helping me with all this, but underneath it all we'll be friends and you'll help me out with all this?"

"Yes."

Mark was a little confused, and would surely spend a lot of time trying to figure out the social workings of the upper class some other day, just not today. "Okay," he shrugged, "sounds fine to me." He still didn't quite understand why it was worth putting her marriage on the line, but he guessed that it just wasn't that much of a gamble. It would look perfectly innocent. And it would be perfectly innocent, too. They wouldn't have to hide anything they did from now on.

Uh, yeah, so there it is. I hope you all enjoyed it, or something. Hint: The next chapter may come faster if I get some reviews (positive or negative- constructive criticism is always welcome and makes writing easier).