"How many times does a girl have to pee?" Mark muttered to himself, looking at his watch. He looked around the restaurant, his eyes on the look out for Maureen. She went to the bathroom… for the fourth time that night. The food hasn't even come yet, and she had to go to the bathroom four times. He knew it wasn't like the movies, where one of the people on the dates needed help with what to say, so they continued to go to the bathroom to meet up with their friend to help them out. Why? Because Maureen made the first move, and she always knew what to say. "It's been six minutes…" he trailed off, seeing Maureen walking back from the bathroom.once and you were on your pill." Wrong. Maureen lied, to be honest. She wanted Mark, badly. She was going to say anything to get him into her pants. And, hey! It worked. Mark saw Maureen look away and scratch the back of her neck. "…right?"

It didn't matter how many times Mark has seen Maureen; every time he looked at her, his breath slowly disappears, and his heart beat quickens.

Maureen sat down and put her napkin on her lap. "So, what were we talking about?"

Mark shook his head. "Nothing. We haven't started a conversation yet…" he said, chuckling. "You keep going to the bathroom, which is really weird. Do girls really pee that much?"

Maureen bit down on her lip. Well, I do now, she thought. "No," she answered casually. She opened her mouth to say something, but the cry of a baby tore through the air and hit Maureen's ear drums the loudest. Great; this was the one night she wanted to be care free. She didn't want to think about anything; especially the baby that was growing inside of her. But, where ever she went, there were constant reminders; a baby, another pregnant woman, a commercial for diapers. It was all never ending.

"Maureen…" Mark mumbled, his hand reaching over the table to hers. He could definitely tell something was wrong. "Are you okay? You seem a bit… uncomfortable."

The diva swallowed hard. She had to tell him. She was practically lying to him whenever he asked if she was okay. "Um," she started, shaking her head. "Mark, you'll always like me no matter what, right?"

Mark pulled his hand back a little, not liking where this was going. "Well… depends…"

"Like, what if I was pregnant…" she stopped, feeling the room spin. That was the first time she has ever said that aloud. She didn't know how Mark was going to take it. Hopefully he'd be one of those good baby daddy's and pick her up, spin her around and tell her how happy he was that he was going to be a daddy.

Mark chuckled a little. "You're not pregnant. We've only had sex once and you were on birth control."

Maureen looked over at him and shook her head. "I wasn't… on the… pill…" she said, slowly. She saw Mark's jaw drop and his eyes widen. Oh, shit. "I'm sorry, Mark! I really wanted sex! You deprived me of it for two years because you weren't readyyy and I really wanted to do itttt," she whined, the infamous pout forming on her lips.

Mark closed his mouth and nodded. "So… you're really pregnant?" he asked. When she nodded, Mark managed to smile. He couldn't stay mad at Maureen, even if she did lie about something really serious. "You know, Maureen… my mom is going to kill me."

"And my mom is going to be excited to become a thirty two year old grandma," Maureen said, chuckling.

Mark's eyes opened and he looked over to the side of the bed, where Maureen used to sleep. If we kept her, Maureen would still be laying next to me, he thought before sitting up and rubbing the sleepies out of his eyes. He rolled out of bed and cracked his back. He walked over to the calendar on his wall, and ran his finger over the dates. May 13, 1997. "Happy 14th birthday, Alexandra," he mumbled before rubbing his eyes. The smell of coffee immeidatly flew up his nose, and his face twisted. "Roger made coffee?" he asked himself, before making his way out into the main room, seeing Collins hold the cup of coffee, and no Roger to be found. "You're home!"

"Yeah, bitch. Here to stay, too. I got a teaching gig over at the high school over on… I don't remember the street. And guess what!" Collins paused, with a smirk. "I GET FUCKING PAID, BITCH!"

Mark laughed, shaking his head. "It's good to have you home," he said and walked over to the cough. "Pour me some, please?" he asked and picked up the Village Voice that was actually that day's issue. He went to ask where Roger was, but he saw a picture of a little girl in a 'Have You Seen Me' ad.

'Name: Alexandra Grace Johnson
Missing Since: April 29, 1997
Birthdate: May 13, 1983
Age: 14
Height/Weight: 5'1" 111 lbs.
Eyes/Hair: Brown hair, Green eyes
Identifying Characteristics: Birthmark on above upper lip on the left, pierced ears,

On April 26, 1995, Alexandra was last seen around 7:30 p.m. at her house, 955 Clove Road in Staten Island. She was wearing grey sweatpants and a pink T – shirt with white Reebok sneakers.'

"Holy, shit. Collins…" Mark called out, his hands almost shaking. "Collins, look at this."

Collins groaned. "Dude, I read about it. Monica and Clinton had sex. It's over with. The guy got a blowjob, good for him. Maybe his wife knows now to treat his husband better…" He stopped when he saw that Mark wasn't moving. "Dude, what is it?"

"Alex…" Mark paused and handed him the paper.

A/N: I don't like how this ended but, um… I still don't know where I'm going with this. Haha, I just wanted to write another chapter. I might delete this one, if no one likes it, or has anything nice to say about and try to go a different route.