So here's my next chapter. Sorry it's so short. My muse is faltering on me these days. Anyhoo, thanks for all the reviews!

Disclaimer: I don't own, I RENT!

Chapter 8: Oreos

"Where is it?" Jo rummaged through the cabinet in the loft's kitchenette searching for . . . something.

"Where is what?" Mark asked as he walked in from a long day of filming. It had been two weeks since Jo had returned to Mark's life and the pair was still inseparable except for filming and writing.

"The Oreos!" Jo exclaimed, "I put them somewhere! I just don't know where!" she continued shuffling through the cabinets until finally: "HA! Found them!" she pulled the unopened package to her chest then set it on the metal table. Then she opened the refrigerator and pulled out the milk. Grabbing two mugs, she filled them with milk then opened the package of Oreos. "Mmm . . ." Jo hummed, "Oreos are delightful." She brought her assorted items over to Mark who sat on the dilapidated couch. As she set the Oreos down, she handed Mark a mug and sat down next to him.

She grabbed a cookie and dunked it into the milk. Popping it into her mouth, Jo chewed happily on the sugary confection. Mark followed Jo's lead and reflected on memories of the two of them doing this when they were young.

"Okay, talk." Jo commanded. "What's wrong?" There was always something 'wrong' with Mark. The Bohemians didn't realize this yet but Jo had known for years. Whether it be Mark's weight, his cutting or just plain problems; Mark always had something wrong going on. He was just really good at hiding it . . . with the exception called Jo.

"Jo, I'm fine." Mark insisted. He knew that oreo time was talk time but he at least would try to fight it.

"'Fine' is not 'good', Mark; spill!" Jo replied smartly.

Mark sighed. "You won't leave this alone will you?"

"Do I ever leave it alone?"

"No,"

"Then the answer's 'no'. Stop diverting!" Jo said through a mouth full of Oreo. "What's wrong?" She asked again.

Mark sighed again. There was no getting away from this. Usually he could fly under the radar when it came to him and his problems. Usually no one looked at him close enough to see his pain. No one except Jo . . .

"How long are you staying here?" Mark finally asked what was bothering him. "I mean, you're back now. But you have a life in San Francisco. When are you going back?"

Jo studied Mark carefully, "I don't know." She said, "Do you want me to go back?"

"NO!" Mark cried out before he could stop himself. "No . . . I just got you back. I don't want to lose you again."

"Then I'll stay. I'll stay for as long as you need me, okay?"

". . . Okay."

"Now, what else is bothering you?" Jo prodded gently.

"Everything," Mark said, finally ready to open up a bit, "My friends are dropping like flies, my girlfriend dumped me for another woman, my mom won't stop calling, and I'm stuck being the shoulder to cry on." Jo quietly listened and dunked her eighth cookie into her milk. "You're gonna get fat doing that." Mark pointed out. Jo stuck her cookie covered tongue out before speaking.

"So, you've got problems. Everyone has them; some worse than others. Yours are definitely up there." She said, switching to psychologist mode. "Why are these problems to you?"

"Well, my best friend dying is . . . well, scary." Mark confessed.

"So, you're scared. That's normal."

"Not for me it's not. I'm supposed to be the rock of this family. I can't be scared or weak. That's not who I'm supposed to be." Mark confessed weakly.

"Mark, you don't have to be strong all the time. You're human. If you push yourself too much you'll snap." Jo said wisely.

"I'll be fine. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You know what I mean. You have problems too. You're thin, you 'died' and you haven't contacted your parents yet." Mark snapped.

"I'm not going to contact my parents . . . yet. I'm not ready." Jo replied quickly.

"When will you be?"

"Aren't we supposed to be talking about you?" Jo snapped back, obviously irritated.

Mark knew he hit a touchy subject. "You started it." He teased, trying to get Jo in a better mood. He obviously failed because she glared venomously at him. Jo's mood swings were legendary; about as bad as Roger's temper. "Okay, I'm sorry!" Mark quickly apologized, hoping Jo's bad mood would falter. It did. Jo's glare softened and her face became kinder.

"It's okay . . ." She said quietly, "I'm just not ready for that yet."

"Okay," Mark said softly, "But you're still scary when you're mad."

Jo laughed, "I know, it's a gift." She chuckled before turning serious. "But something else is bothering you. I know it."

Mark rolled his eyes, "Jo, there's so many problems I have. I can't name them all now!"

Jo huffed, "Fine, but we will talk about them during Oreo time. Okay?"

"Fine."

"Fine."

And with that, the two ate their Oreos in a comfortable silence; occasionally making faces at each other for fun.