A/N: Well...was supposed to be a oneshot. Is now gonna be 4 or 5 chapters.

Mucho character death and Mark's eventual break. I'm convinced that mental/emotional burdens cause as much if not more damage than physical burdens. And really, what's worse? To die very young (20s-30s) but to have lived the last few years of your life with family or to live to 80-90 but to have spent the last 60-70 years alone? I actually think the latter. I'm 22 now but if I found out I'd likely die at 25 or even 30, at least I know that I have had as full of a life as I could have and have friends and loved ones. But to make it to 100 and to have watched all my friends either move away or die? No thanks. Anyway...I'm done rambling. Feel free to add your two cents in a review (hint hint) I really AM curious where people stand on this issue.

Same Cast...um...for Mo, Jo and Benny...it doesn't matter who you picture. I saw Tracie!Joanne and Eden!Maureen.. Benny was a combination of Rodney & Taye but it really doesn't matter.

Anyway...still just borrowing.

Maybe a year-ish after the last chapter.

Here goes

XXX

He hardly looked like the Thomas B. Collins they had known for years. Always a big presence, to see Collins so small in the hospital bed made Mark stop dead in his tracks. A chill shot through his body. He shook it off and taking a deep breath he crossed the threshold. Roger was right behind him. How the rocker was calmer than Mark was a mystery. After all, Mark wasn't facing what would essentially be him, yet he could barely speak and hovered near a chair, feeling his legs would give out any moment.

"How you holding up?" Roger was the first to speak. It seemed a dumb question but at least it broke the silence.

"Rog, man, do you ever think before you speak?" Collins was at least still his own self mentally. As Roger struggled to think of an answer Collins gave a laugh. "I'm just playin' around boy. It's the first question anybody asks. And, truth be told..." Collins' voice softened and his eyes got misty. " I'm good. Not physically, but I'm..ready to see my girl again."

Mark gulped and said a prayer of thanks for his decision to stay near a chair. When death had been a vague threat hovering over them it had been easy to celebrate "Living with...not dying from disease."

Now it was like 'dying from' had taken over.

"Mark, you okay ,little man?" Collins asked. "You're green."

That snapped Mark back to carrying on as if nothing was wrong. Not now, not ever. "Fine."

A lie, and but a lie Mark told so well, even ever observant Collins didn't notice.

Another moment or two of silence passed, and then Collins spoke up.

"Mark, did you bring your camera?"

Mark nodded and gestured to the bag on the floor. It never was far from his side.

"Good. I need you to record something for me. I don't trust a lawyer- nor do I have money for one- and I want to make sure my things- limited though they are- go to a good home after I'm gone."

There was stunned silence and then Mark dug his camera out. There was no trying to convince Collins of his longevity. He was going and it would be painfully soon. Mark wound his camera up as Roger helped Collins sit up.

Biting his lip to check any emotions that might slip out, the filmmaker detached himself from the reality of what was going on as Collins began to record his will. Roger stepped out of the room, leaving Mark no safety net.

"I, Thomas B. Collins, being of sound mind and body hereby bequeath...you know, this fancy language has got to go. I'm dying and I'm leaving all my stuff to you punks. There's not many of you, and that's good, 'cause I ain't got much stuff.

To Mark Cohen- I leave: the drumsticks Angel left me. You'll do right by them, I know. Also, all my photo albums- your the visual man. Hell, you probably snapped half of the ones in there. Also, whatever VHS tapes I posses. Most of them are clean...some unlabeled ones...well, just don't start watching anything with any body around unless you are 100% sure it's not porn.

To Roger Davis I leave- my records, tapes and what have you. And the record player I wouldn't let you touch when I was living. I know tapes and even CDs have taken over but you're a musician, you understand the power of vinyl. I also leave you this final thought : Lennon was and will forever be so much cooler than Elvis.

To Maureen Johnson I leave my clothing, especially the leather jacket my Angel bought me. You can do what you want with the rest but the jacket needs to stay in your possession until the end of time. Except my few pieces of traditional African wear. I'm not sure what I have left in my suit cases but that is to go elsewhere. No offense, girl, but I don't want them to end up torn up and used in some protest...which I've probably cursed into existence.

To Joanne Jefferson , my books. I'm sure something in there will be of use or at least amusing. Also my notebooks and personal writings. As with the tapes...90% clean but I tried my hand at erotica and some of the stuff I wrote when I was stoned off my ass is really dirty.

To Benjamin Coffin the Third , I leave my traditional wear. It's in a suit case , a different one than my normal wear. I don't expect you to wear it. Oh, and my bull-horn I used when I was in my 'running naked through public spaces and screaming nonsense' phase. You can yell at bums to move from your SUVs so much easier now.

My remaining possessions are to be sold. 25% of the money you can rake in you split up among yourselves , the other 75% is to be donated in equal amounts to Life Support, and then any AIDS charities. Always ACT UP! FIGHT AIDS!" Collins was interrupted by a coughing fit and Mark moved to stop filming. That didn't need to be on tape.

"Maybe we should continue tomorrow." Mark said, pouring the philosopher a glass of water that was ignored after a sip or two.

"Mark...there's likely not to be a 'tomorrow'." Collins whisper was pained. "The doctors talk...when they think I can't hear them or I'm supposed to be sleeping. This will has to be done. NOW."

Mark swallowed and nodded. Collins took a deep breath and Mark detached again and continued filming.

"Now that all the shit I had has been divided, I have to- no- want to, just speak a piece here on how much I valued this life I shared with all of you. We never had much money...well, except Benny but that's proved to be useful...but we shared love. And as the great John Lennon wrote "All you need is love." That's about all we had ninety percent of the time but we survived somehow. This family doesn't have to die, and it won't even as members of it do. Another wise man, Mark Cohen, once said, "Friendship is thicker than blood." Ain't it the truth. I can safely say I've not talked to blood relatives in ten years or more even. But you crazy people that are watching this video where there for me. Through all the various and, to be honest, too few ups, and the most painful of lows. From my coming out, to being kicked out and through testing positive, Roger, Mark and Maureen, you were all there. Though you were just in the 8th grade when I graduated high school, you three were my first best friends. My first surrogate family. Benny, Benny, Benny. You came in just about the time I was arrested for my little Parthenon stunt. But, for a while at least, we had each others' backs. You got me my first job at ...some Community College in the SUNY system...Nassau Community I think. I lasted a little while there. That lead to M.I.T but you were long moved out. Joanne, you were the last to come into our little family, but you and I always had fantastic discussions about gender issues and civil rights for the GLBT community. You've got a good head on your shoulders. Use it well, and don't be afraid of doing something improper to make a point. Anyway, just know that I love all you punk kids , and from where ever I end up, I'll be watching out for all of you guys. And hopefully, drinking the finest Vodka and smoking a weed so potent it hasn't even hit Amsterdam yet." Collins laughed and blew a kiss to the camera, then motioned for Mark to stop filming.

The younger man did as was asked then excused himself to find Roger. Not hard to do, he was sitting, eyes wide with terror and shaking by the door.

"He's finished his will. I think we should..." Mark didn't have to finish his sentence. He couldn't anyway. He was too numb and a little pissed at Roger for bailing on him to really think.

Roger nodded. Mark gave them a few minutes alone. He dug in his pockets and found a quarter or two . He spied a pay phone and went to call Maureen and Joanne.

"Hello?" Maureen's voice was a little flustered and Mark knew what he had interrupted.

"Mo, it's Mark. You might wanna get down here to the hospital. Collins...he's not doing too well. He doesn't think...oh, Maureen..." Mark couldn't help the way his voice broke. He steadied himself as Maureen gasped out an "Oh...God." There was silence then Maureen said "We'll be down there as soon as we can."

"Thanks. Rog and I'll be here. He's...in there right now."

"Oh, Marky." Maureen said, her voice breaking. Mark hung up, and then dial Benny's number.

"This is Benjamin." He answered business like.

"Benny...it's Mark. Collins...he's...this is it, I think"

"Right. I'll be down there....Janet, cancel my meetings and hold my calls." Benny was heard calling as Mark hung up.

Roger emerged not ten minutes later, his face streaked with tears.

"You going in again?" He asked.

"I'll let Mo and Jo and Benny say their piece first. I had to film the fucking will of our best friend. I need sometime to regroup."

"Right. Mark..I'm sorry I left you alone in there. I just...that's me in a year or two. I couldn't."

"It's fine. Just...It's fine." Mark wanted to be mad at Roger but he couldn't.

The pair sat in silence until Benny showed up with Maureen and Joanne right behind.

Maureen ran and enveloped first Mark, then Roger in huge hugs.

"So...who goes first?" Joanne asked. It sounded insensitive but they knew what she meant.

"You go, Maureen. Then Benny, Then Joanne. Then I'll go. I filmed his will...I can't go back in right now." Mark got out. His voice was drained of emotion by that point.

The group made small talk as Maureen said her goodbyes to the 'vagabond anarchist'. Occasionally peels of laughter could be heard.

She came back out about ten minutes later and ran straight to Joanne. "Honeybear...that was the hardest thing I've had to do since Angel died. Harder." She sobbed as her lawyer held her.

Mark just watched, wishing he had his camera shield.

Benny stood up, only pausing momentarily to take a deep breath. He entered with a purpose.

He exited ten minutes later with his sunglasses shielding his eyes. He nodded to Mark and Roger, and sat down in a seat nearby.

Knowing that Benny was upset made Mark nearly desperate. He wanted...no needed his crutch of detachment. This burden of being the one to survive was really beginning to wear on him.

Joanne let Maureen free and went in. She had to grab the doorway for support before entering. She was new to the family but had gotten to know and love Collins as much as the rest of them.

She didn't last ten minutes.

"He's really...he's just hanging on by a thread. We should have done this yesterday."

"There is no past." Mark murmured. He walked in.

The room was already beginning to smell like death. It hovered over the two men. It was hard to believe that not an hour ago Collins had been coherent enough to give his possessions away.

"Hey, again." Mark managed.

"Hey."

" I don't..." Mark started.

"I don't either. I love you man. I know this can't be easy...hopefully when this whole crazy ride comes to stop for you, there will be some prize for having dealt the crappiest card in the whole game..." Collins said.

Mark snorted a little then there was silence. It dragged on for about three minutes. Then Mark dashed to the bed, whispered "I love you too." as he hugged the philosopher, then grabbed his camera and bolted from the room.

The call came at 3:30 the following afternoon. Plans were made, bills were paid, possessions were divided and sold. The whole thing netted Mark $25 and cost him one more chunk of his sanity. But hey, sanity is over-rated, right?

XXX

A/N: I've got 2 maybe 3 more chapters in mind but I can't promise how quickly they'll come up. School is going to eat me alive after Spring Break.