A/N: wow. Thank you guys for reviewing! P.S. -- Mark and Joanne are already friends in this … erm, I don't exactly know why, but they're chums.

Roger's forehead was damp with sweat, and his fingers were numb. He was trying to pull Mark out of the loft. Roger had a good hold on Mark's arm, and his scarf, nearly choking him. The little filmmaker wouldn't budge.

"GOD DAMN IT MARK!" Roger shouted. He finally let go of him and plopped down in a seat. "We have to go talk to Maureen if we want to convince her to quit!"

"But she's Maureen," he quipped. He began cracking his knuckles, something he did when he was nervous. "You really think that she'll listen to us? Can't we just get, you know, Collins or someone to do it?"

"Sure Mark, that's a great idea!" Roger said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Mark sat down in a chair across from Roger. "Fine. You go, then."

"Mark, you think Mo will listen to me?"

Mark thought a moment. "Oh, well, you do have a point, there..."

"Ha!" Roger smiled. "So you'll come?"

"No."

"Please?"

"I said no, Rog."

"I'll make my puppy-dog eyes!" Roger threatened.

Mark jumped out of his seat and flew out of the door. Roger thought that his puppy-dog eyes were incredibly cute and cuddly, but almost everyone else thought otherwise. Mark could never choose between having a seizure or just swallowing a slug.

The two men made their way over to the girls' apartment. Mark was sweating slightly, but Roger's shoulders were thrown back, and a proud expression was strewn across his face. But when both of them saw Maureen's smiling face and happy-go-lucky attitude, all confidence was drained out of them completely.

"Oh my God, you guys, hey!" she whisper-squealed. "Pookie's asleep, so be quiet." She ushered them inside and sat them down on two chairs. Joanne was lying peacefully on the couch under a large comforter. Her small curls of hair were falling over her eyes and nose, moving every time she breathed out.

"I want her to rest up for tomorrow," Maureen said. "You know, to make her proud of me." She gave her girlfriend a gentle kiss on the cheek. Joanne stirred and slowly sat up. One arm reached out from under the blanket to shove her hair out of her face, then was immediately withdrawn back into the blanket.

When she realized that Roger was in her house, she moved back.

"Roger," she said hoarsely and hurriedly, "I have a cold. I don't know why Maureen didn't tell you. And not to sound rude or anything, but get out of my house."

Roger nodded quickly with a small chuckle. His hand covered his mouth. "Feel better." He turned to Mark with a smirk on his face. "Bye, Marky."

Joanne held in her cough until Roger walked out the door. Right after, she began to cough and shiver. Mark watched as Maureen went over to her and took her in her arms. Joanne rested her head on Maureen's chest as the diva rocked her back and forth. Once Joanne's coughing subsided, she snuggled under the comforter again.

"Sorry, Mark," she whispered, then sneezed a few times. "I think that I'm gonna head to bed. And no, Maureen, you can't join me." With an apologetic smile, she stood shakily and walked to the bedroom after stroking Maureen's cheek for a few seconds. This left Maureen and Mark alone in the living room.

"God, I feel so bad for her," Mark said. "It sucks being sick."

Maureen nodded. "I really hope she can come tomorrow. You're coming, right Mark?"

Mark shifted in his seat. "That's, um, actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

Her face fell. "You can't come?"

"Mo, I didn't say that."

"What, then?" She was growing impatient.

He sighed. "Can I have a glass of water?"

"Damnit, Mark, this isn't some kind of speech!" She slammed her hand on the side of the couch in anxiety. "What the hell do you want to say?"

"What I'm trying to say is that, uh, um, well," he cleared his throat, "I need to say that, erm," swallowed loudly, "Uh, Mo, can I go in and talk to Joanne?"

"Make it quick, you little albino pumpkin head!" she screeched.

xXxXxXxXx

Joanne was awoken by the sound of her girlfriend calling Mark an albino pumpkin head. She moaned and sat up, knowing that one of them was going to come bursting through the door any --

"Joanne, so glad you're up!" Mark said, his large head peeking in the room. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

She sat up on the bed and patted the spot next to her. "Sure."

He walked in and shut the door, then ran over, only to trip on his own two feet. He fell on top of Joanne in a rather awkward position, if you catch my drift.

"Mark, this is so unexpected," she teased in a deep voice.

He quickly sat up, blushing a deep shade of red. "Um, Jo, I really need to tell you --"

"That you don't want to go tomorrow?" she asked. Her throat began to tickle, so she reached for her glass of water and downed the whole thing in a single breath, along with two Asprins. "I have a headache and I think something like the flu, but I'm still going. She'd be devastated if you didn't. Mark, I'm asking you as a friend to please consider --"

"My God, would you let me talk?" Mark asked in a loud whisper. "Listen, I can't let her hear this." Joanne nodded, and Mark proceeded to explain his entire plan: from talking to Benny, to coming over here with Roger, and finally, attempting to convince Maureen "Stubborn-As-A-Jackass" (as he so lovely put it) Johnson.

Joanne sighed. "What's in it for Maureen?"

"Um. Jo, that's a great question. Uh, can I use your phone, please?"
Mark speedily dialed Benny's cell phone number that he read from the little scrap of paper that he had it written down on. "Hey, Benny, it's Mark … Uh, nope, I haven't talked to her yet … I'm at her house now. Joanne's sick with the flu, and Roger isn't here … Benny, he can't be here … WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHY CAN'T HE BE HERE? THE MAN HAS AIDS! YOU WANT HIM TO DIE? … Benny, you ass. I'm serious, that's not something to even joke about … I called to see what Maureen would get if she didn't perform … You're kidding me. You really know her? … Wow, Mo would love that! … Nah, I'll tell her … Because she hates you … Okay … Bye."

Joanne was burrowed under her blanket when he hung up the phone. "What'd he say?" she asked quietly.

"Well, basically, Muffy --"

"Alison. It's Alison, mister," Joanne said mock-sternly.

"Fine. Alison knows an actress on Broadway. What's the the name … uh, hmm. Dina? Dina Mennel? Well, it slipped my mind." Mark paused for breath. "Anyway. Alison knows this actress, and the show that she's in is looking for an understudy. The auditions are the morning after Mo's performance, and you and I both know she'll be bombed after the party at the Life after the show. If she gets enough sleep for this audition and skips the protest then -- Joanne Jefferson, are you listening?"

No. She wasn't. Joanne was curled up under her blanket, fast asleep. Mark sighed and spread another blanket over her. He knew that he couldn't put this talk off forever.

A/N: too lazy to put it in bold. anyhoodles, whaddaya think so far?