The Mission (fast)|Roger/Joanne! FINISHED

[ROGER DAVIS]

The air was crisp, and Roger could feel that humidity hung thick in the air. It was going to rain. He figured that it'd match his mood well enough, and the cool, crisp air felt good, surprisingly. He hadn't been out of the house in three days, only briefly on the fire escape for a smoke, always glancing in to make sure Mimi was alright. That she was awake or asleep. To make sure she was still breathing.

Roger clicked the lighter, silent as he heard Joanne move up next to him, and he lifted the orange flame to the cigarette's end that dangled between his lips. He hadn't had the most intimate of relationships with Joanne as he had with Maureen, it was a simple fact that he didn't know Joanne as well as he did Maureen. He had lived with Maureen and the rest of the gang for more than four years. By the end of it, they had known each other's history; the way they liked their coffee, to how fast they got drunk, to how loud they were when they fucked. They also knew all their secrets, all of their faults. It was that fact that made Roger fall silent. Roger couldn't stand to hear the silence, because it made him think more, but the words that came out of his mouth made him think even more about the past.

In the distance, a police siren rang out on the darkened streets. "There's a place right down the street we meet only at night. A back alley two alleys away from the Catscratch. That's where we're going." It was the same alley that Roger and April used to shoot up in before they had been brave (or too sick) to bring their habit home to the Loft. His words, to his own ears, could have sounded comical if it had been any other situation. But it sounded grim and deadly when he spoke now, almost as if speaking of a past memory.

"My...ex. April," Roger started, a deep and pregnant pause filling the space between ex and the world April. The name was said almost as a whispered afterthought, as if saying her name would bring her back to life and have her see him in this state. Going back to the drugs. Having the thoughts of getting heroin. Of shooting up. The thought made his stomach turn, and he closed his eyes for a brief moment before continuing, opening his eyes slowly as they walked. "--turned me on to this guy. Best drug dealer in Alphabet City. If you can get fucked up on it, more than likely, he's got it." Roger glanced over at Joanne. He brought the cigarette up to his lips, taking a deep drag before he blew it out, the smoke traveling out of his lungs and up towards the darkening night sky. "You really shouldn't be here, Joanne."

He wasn't sure why he kept saying it over and over. Joanne had known Roger had been a drug addict shortly after they had met, he was sure Maureen had told him. But he was sure that Maureen hadn't told her about what had happened with April, what had happened in the seven months that he had locked himself up in the Loft. About the pain that he had put the roommates of the Loft through, the screams and the cries and the sounds of retching that seemed to last forever.

And then, after all of that was done...the silence.

Roger was sure Maureen had only tipped the iceburg, if she had even told Joanne at all.

[joannejefferson]

This was probably one of the strangest situations Joanne had ever been in. Joanne wasn't much of a talker when hanging out with her friends. She preferred to sit back and watch the others laugh and converse. Sure, she dropped in her two cents every now and again, but mostly she sat in silence. Now, she found herself in a place where silence could not be had and yet, Joanne was completely at a loss for words. She and Roger weren't exactly close. In fact, Roger was probably the person Joanne was more prone to clashing with... besides Maureen.

It wasn't that she didn't like Roger, because she did. She just didn't know how to connect with him. Roger was something of a broody man, or if that was the wrong description, he spent a lot of time inside his head. There was some sort of wall built around him that outsiders couldn't penetrate. Joanne, at least she felt this way, was an outsider.

She listened quietly as he told her where they would be going. Her fingers tightened around the cash in her pocket. She wasn't sure what she was going to use it for just yet, but it was there, just in case. His voice sounded sad, and almost empty like the words were being spun mechanically. What had this place meant to him in the past? What secrets did it hold? The Roger walking beside her was a new and almost frightening creature. Melancholy hung about him and his usual joking smile was gone... more than likely it was still hiding in the Loft with Mimi.

Suddenly, an almost forgotten name fell from Roger's lips, whispered like it was some forbidden spell. April. Joanne recognized the name immediately. It wasn't spoken of often, and the last time she really remembered hearing it was when Maureen had told her some minor details about Roger's past. April had been introduced to her as a phantom, a ghost from some other age. It had seemed that her presence in their lives had been some sort of dividing line. There was life before her, life while she was around, and life after. The little that Joanne knew of her came to mind, and the thought was so haunting she understood why Roger seemed so hesitant to even mention her.

His voice brought her back to the present, back to the new cautious Roger, back to the reason they were even here. She wondered if it was somehow all connected, if the place they were headed to was what had brought them all together in some convoluted way. First the drugs, then April's death, and then December of the year they had all found each other. It seemed like a vicious cycle, and it had led them back to this place. Joanne didn't dare voice these thoughts to Roger though... it sounded insane enough in her own mind.

"You really shouldn't be here, Joanne." He kept repeating the phrase like he was trying to convince them both. She wasn't about to let him send her back. It was strange really. The moment she'd voiced her idea back at the Loft a need had set itself within her, like a compulsion from the lining of her soul. She needed to be with him, needed to see what would happen, needed to be the rock to hold him up if he stumbled. Roger could continue voicing whatever protective instinct it was to send her back to the safety of the Loft, but she would have none of it. She was with him, every step of the way, no matter what happened.

"I know this seems crazy, Roger. I'll even admit that if I weren't with you, I wouldn't be here." She sighed. It was always so difficult to say how she felt, to give voice to the churning fires inside of her. The phrasing always felt stunted, and her words were unsure. Still, she had to try to get them out, to tell Roger how she felt. Otherwise, this whole trip would be meaningless if he didn't know why she was here.

"You're just as much my friend as Mimi is. I know we don't talk much, and honestly don't really know each other that well, but I can't let you go this alone." The moment that passed after she'd spoken was thick with tension, or at least it felt that way to her. She didn't experience moments like that often; moments where words were demanded and lost before they could be spoken. Speaking suddenly felt like a lifeline, and without words passing between them something would inevitably die. Joanne just couldn't say what that thing would be.

[ROGER DAVIS]

"This is crazy." Roger agreed before taking in another harsh drag of smoke from his cigarette. "At least I know if I get arrested, I have a lawyer with me." The words could have been said with any hint of a smile, but there wasn't one that crossed Roger's lips. "And I'd sure hope as hell that you wouldn't be here if I wasn't here. I'd have to rethink on who I let MJ sleep with."

He knew he didn't have any control over who Maureen slept with; Roger wasn't even sure that Maureen had any control over who Maureen slept with, but he cared for her like a sister, albeit one that he liked to see walking around in her underwear at any given moment, as she used to do more often than not when they all lived at the Loft. Those days seemed so far in the past that Roger sometimes felt as if he had a hard time grasping onto the memories for comfort, though he found himself still secretly burned every time because April would make an appearance.

Sure, he loved Mimi. He loved her more than life itself. He would live and easily die for her, but yet, even though he'd do anything for her, there was still one piece, one tiny small piece of his heart that was still held by a woman that was six feet under the ground and had been for more than two years. He was sure that Mimi knew that, though he'd never voice it, for fear of fights. For fear of someone else knowing.

He wondered silently if April had lead him to the point he was in now, in some sick, twisted way she had known. Would she have done that? He wasn't sure. Joanne spoke once more, and Roger looked over at her as she spoke. "I'm getting drugs." Roger said almost plainly, as if she didn't realise what the little adventure was truely about. "It's not like people want company." Though, he figured that it was the reason April had gotten Roger hooked with her; she was afraid of doing it alone. They had walked, arms and hands intertwined, and they had shot up just the same. Together. Sure, the shame was there, but they still had someone to lean on.

And then, she had been gone, and Roger had no one. Sure, he had friends around...but it wasn't the same. "I can't lose her again, Joanne. I can't--I can't go through that pain again because I know that it'll kill me. You know, Mimi makes me out to be this perfect thing, this hard-as-rock stone man and she doesn't know how wrong she is. She doesn't see it, but little peices of me are cracking and flaking off right in front of her and soon there'll just be...nothing."

The words came seemingly out of nowhere, but they had been plucked out of the repeating mantra in his head, over and over again. His throat felt thick with unshead tears, and he tried to mask it by sucking in another drag from the cigarette. "I'd give everything to just--to take everything. The shakes and the puking and all that shit and just give it to me. I've dealt with all that shit, the puking, the hallucinations, all of it. Just give it all to me and just--make her better. Is that really so much to ask? I'm going to die anyway, might as well make worth something."

[joannejefferson]

Joanne grinned at Roger's remark. It may have been a strange thing to smile at, but Joanne couldn't think of any other response. Not to mention, what he'd said was funny and would be funny no matter how dire the situation was. She had to agree with him. Even Joanne would have done some serious thinking about messing around with Maureen if she was junkie. Lucky her she wasn't a junkie and never would be. It was one of the few plus sides of being a control freak.

In reality, that was probably one of the reasons Joanne was even walking with Roger to do what they were about to do. She had a compulsion to control something, to do something productive, to help. The only way she'd seen to do that was to walk with Roger, to keep him talking, to be there so he couldn't give in to his temptation of getting a fix for himself and Mimi. What gave her the permission or even the idea that she had any right to be his policing system she couldn't say. Still, she had a deep-rooted need to help him, to be a real friend to Roger. If there was anything Joanne understood, it was the pain of loss and the fear that Mimi wouldn't survive.

"Yeah you're getting drugs, but not that drug so here I am. Besides, you're not people. You're Roger and Roger has friends that are here to help him through this. Since I'm one of those friends, I'm not leaving." She answered him softly. Joanne would repeat those words as many times as Roger needed to hear them until he accepted it. That was one thing that Joanne had learned from her small group of friends. They were each other's strength, and would always be there when they were needed.

Maybe Joanne had to prove herself to Roger, and even to herself that she could do this, that she could handle being the shoulder he needed to cry on when he needed it. Maybe it was important for her to be there for him now, to allow herself to lose control in a way she rarely did, to let herself feel something open and out loud.

No opportunity could present itself better than with Roger's next words.

"... little pieces of me are cracking and flaking off right in front of her and soon there'll just be...nothing." It was a shock to hear Roger be so vulnerable, especially with her of all people. That didn't happen very often. They were two people cut from similar stone, Joanne realized. Neither of them liked for people to see them vulnerable, to see them cracking and flaking off in pieces.

"I'd give everything to just -- to take everything." She could hear the tears hidden in his voice and looked away from his face to somewhere, anywhere else. It was one thing to hear his hurt, but to see it written in his eyes was just... it was too much.

No, Joanne... don't you turn away when he needs you... Be strong for your friend. The admonishment was clear in her head, and her eyes turned back to Roger's.

"You are making it worth something, Roger. Mimi needs you more than any of us. None of us can give her what you can, and that's love. We can medicate her, and cook for her, and talk to her, and keep her company but she's gonna make it through this because you're the only one who knows what's happening to her. You're the only one who can tell her what the light at the end of this tunnel."

They couldn't lose Mimi. The Latino girl was a fighter, and she had Roger to help her. Roger had the rest of the group to hold him up. Joanne just refused to believe that Mimi wouldn't come through this.

"She can do this, Roger. You both can. Don't give up."

[ROGER DAVIS]

A hand came up, pressing against his eyes to wipe away the tears that had slipped past his eyes. He wanted to tell her that even though she wasn't supposed to be there with him, he enjoyed it, because he really didn't want to go alone. He didn't even know how the Man would react to Roger coming back after all these years.

He brought the cigarette up to his lips, glancing over at her as she spoke once more, about how he was making it worth something. "I love her." Roger said honestly, his voice a soft whisper against the silence of the Alphabet City streets. "I love her too much, and I know she loves me too much because sooner or later one of us is going to be gone." It was then that Roger realised that maybe Joanne was a proxy. A stand-in for Mimi, one that he could tell. It was easier telling Joanne for some strange reason, than telling the woman that he loved more than anything. "And--and I know the fact is going to kill us. It nearly killed me before."

A breath escaped his lips, and he felt himself swallow. Joanne stated that Mimi would get through this, that he would get through it, and Roger felt his eyes close. "I'm scared. For her. For me. I'm just--terrified."

The alley came up, almost looming in the distance, and he could hear the Man talking on the payphone tucked in the alley's darkness. Roger turned to Joanne. "Look, you can't follow me here. The last thing I need is for him to freak out and kick my ass or stab me or something, okay?" Roger told Joanne, his voice lowered slightly. "I'll be two seconds and we can go back home."

[joannejefferson]

Joanne watched as Roger wiped the tears from his face. She wondered what to do. Should she hug him? Pat him on the shoulder? Walking idly with her hands in her pocket, Joanne considered the situation and tried to push the discomfort from her mind. After all, how was she to know how to comfort someone with a touch. She barely managed with Maureen. Truth be told, the only reason they were as publicly affection as they were was because Maureen was like a magical creature that pulled it out of her. She wasn't really a physical person... under most circumstances.

"and I know the fact is going to kill us. It nearly killed me before." This was one of the things that Joanne had say she rather disliked about Roger. He was an extremely negative person, which she supposed came from having your girlfriend die in your bathroom and leaving a note saying "we've got aids." Still, there were a ton of things that could kill Roger long before the Virus ever took hold, and Joanne just wished he'd see that more often. As he continued to speak, she understood that it was just the result of his fear of dying, especially without ever having truly lived.

"There is more to you than a virus, Roger, and there are thousands of things that can kill you much faster that AIDS. I won't say I can relate to the terror of what having AIDS means, because we both know that I can't." She sighed. "I do, however, know what its like to live everyday regretting the day before, and that is something none of us should ever do." Her eyes looked up into his.

"It's okay to be afraid sometimes. The hard part comes in overcoming that fear."

She saw the alley appear not far from where they were. They had reached the point where she could only watch and wait, the point at which her mere presence had to be felt from a distance. Even she knew that the Man, whoever he was, would not want to do anything with her around. Thus, instead of protesting, she simply pulled the two hundred dollars cash from her pocket and held it out to him.

"Here, take it and make good use of it. I've got plenty more where that came from." The expression on her face was one that wouldn't welcome argument and she hoped that he would understand. Sure, it was a lot of cash to just throw out at someone, but being who she was Joanne expected Roger to take it without protest.

"I'm not as street smart as most, but even I know that these alley deals can get expensive. So go buy Mimi some meds so we can get back." She smiled not knowing what else to do besides stuff her hands back into her pockets and try not to stare down the alley she knew Roger was about to walk into.

[ROGER DAVIS]

There is more to you than just a virus."

A breath escaped his lips, and Roger found himself looking down. For a time, Roger had thought that the four letters were all that he was left, though it was proven time and time again he was more than that from his friends and Mimi. He was the person that could make anyone smile. He was the man that wrote songs that could make people melt. He was the owner of the hands that made a shudder trave across skin. He was the one they'd miss if he was gone.

Joanne's statement echoed Mimi the night she had first came into the Loft; throwing smack down onto the table and kissing him like she had known him forever. He remembered for a brief moment, he had melted into the tender touch, because it had been seven months since he had felt such softness against his lips. But then, he had pulled away. She then went on, telling him her mantra. No day but today. It was what she lived by, and if he wanted to be happy, he needed to as well. No Day But Today. It kept swimming around in his brain, until he felt cash being pressed into his hand. Roger looked down, his mouth opened slightly in shock. Two-hundred bucks?!

"Oh, Jo--" Roger started, looking from the cash to Joanne's face. As she explained her reasoning, Roger felt his mouth open, but he was unable to say anything to her honest generosity. "Thanks, baby." Roger told her, and leaned in, giving her a small peck on the cheek.

He turned and moved to the entrence to the alley, seeing the Man standing in the alley outlined in the dark.

"Well, well. I was wondering when you'd show, Lover-boy."

Roger walked, pulling out one of the hundreds that Joanne had given him. "Let's just pretend like this is our hallmark moment."

"I'll give you three for 250."

Roger's eyes widened. "Two Fifty?!" Roger exclaimed, his voice rising slightly. "That's fucking bullshit!" Roger seethed, watching the Man with fire in his eyes. "You fuckin' told me 50!" Roger moved, digging into his pocket to pull out the extra 40 bucks. "I got 240. Just fuckin' give it to me, okay?"

The Man took his money with a smirk, tossing the small bag to Roger. "Y'know, you should think of gettin' back on the horse. You were alot better when you were on drugs. Then again, y'don't have your little red-head for me to fuc--"

Before Roger knew it, he lashed out, hitting the Man straight in the jaw. The Man hit back, sending a punch to his face, and before he knew it, Roger was down on the ground, a hard kick sent to his stomach from the Man's steel-toed boot. However, the sound of sirens in the distance made the Man look up, and then quickly flee down the alley and into the dark streets of Alphabet City.

Roger felt himself cough, feeling the hard, dirty street of the alley under his body. His hand unclenched, and he saw that he still held the small baggie of pills. A sigh escaped his lips as he rolled over onto his back, looking up at the dark sky. His eye had already started to swell, and he brought a hand up, feeling at his now split lip. He wasn't sure if any of his ribs were broken, but his side burned.

God, if there was any time to have heroin, it was now.

[joannejefferson]

Joanne sighed in relief when Roger didn't protest. She hadn't been so sure he was going to take the money without a fight, but he had and for that she was grateful. There was no need to announce her presence to the Man with an argument. She watched as Roger walked into the alley, a smile on her face as she thought about the fact that he'd kissed her. Granted, Joanne wasn't the type to smile because someone had kissed her on the cheek, but this smile had been brought on by the person. Roger and Joanne weren't the closest of friends, but his simple kiss was a sign of their friendship, of his trust. Well, that and the fact that he hadn't protested.

Now, the nervousness set in, and it was not a feeling that Joanne liked. Roger wasn't exactly directly in her line of sight, so she moved a little further away. The spot she chose to stand in was a perfect spot to spy from as she was hidden in the shadows of the night but she could see clearly into the alley where Roger was talking with the Man. Of course, it was beginning to look like a not so good idea as Joanne might have been better off not seeing what occurred.

The words weren't precisely clear to her, and she only caught bits of the conversation, but the self-satisfied smirk on the Man's face and the growing fury in Roger's alerted her that something was very wrong.

Damn drug dealers. This is why I'm an attorney, because of scum like that guy ruining the lives of people like Roger. Anger rose in her and she tightened her hands into fists inside her pockets. It was times like this that Joanne would recite random quotes in her head to keep herself calm. Call it crazy, but drawing her mental attention to something else kept her from doing stupid things. In this case that stupid thing was running across the street and into the alley.

These are the times that try men's souls. Thomas Paine. The Crisis. It was surprising how applicable those words were. This was definitely a moment in life that would define Joanne, and maybe even add definition to the lives of her friends as well. New experiences had a way of doing that to a person.

"Then again, y'don't have your little red-head for me to fuc--" The words sent Joanne in motion. She didn't really know much about April. In fact all she knew about her was that she was Roger's ex and she was dead. Even still, she was well aware that there was only one person that the Man could be talking about when he mentioned a red-head and Roger in the same sentence. She also knew that mentioning April was a bad idea on the best of days.

Of course, sprinting across the street down to the alley was not the smartest idea she'd had. Lucky for her, she missed the Man by a split second when the sound of sirens sent him running. Without pause, she ran to where Roger lay on the ground with a hand on his face.

"You alright?" She glanced around the alley just to make sure the Man wasn't coming back.

"We'd better get out of here and get you cleaned up." She looked down at him and noticed that he held a small bag of pills in his hands.

Well, at least we got what we came for before Roger punched the guy in the face. She thought wryly. She knew they were lucky that nothing more had happened. People had been killed for lesser offenses against drug dealers.

[ROGER DAVIS]

"You alright?"

"Feels like he fucking punched me with brass knuckles." Roger muttered painfully, rolling onto his side to sit up. He moved, brushing away the blood on his lip with his sleeve. With Joanne's help, Roger stood up slowly, a hand at his ribs. "But I got a least a little something to help her. Three isn't a lot, but I can grind it up, make it last." If there was one thing Roger was good at, was making drugs last.

He glanced over at a window, looking at his reflection. His eye was already starting to change into many different colours, and his lip was completely split. He turned to Joanne. "I-I can't go back to her like this. She'll only freak out. She'll get upset and then she'll get stress and I can't have her stressed out because I decided all of the sudden I was some sorta...fighter." He paused, and then looked at her. "Can I go to your place? Get cleaned up and then we'll go to the Loft again. I just--she can't freak out over this."

[joannejefferson]

"Feels like he fucking punched me with brass knuckles."

Joanne helped Roger to his feet, grimacing when he finally stood up holding his ribs. That wasn't good at all. Actually, now that she got a good look at him, he looked pretty beat up. He was still talking, so she focused on what he was saying. Apparently, whatever he'd gotten was a fairly small amount but he thought he could make it last. She smiled slightly, already knowing that her next thought would probably bring on some protesting at some point if he didn't do it now.

"Roger, you're staring into the face of a nearly bottomless bank account. If you think Benny's girl what's-her-name-face is rich, then say hello to Filthy Fucking Rich and Friends. We can get more medicine if we need it. That will not be a problem... unless you make it one."

Watching him closely, she noticed that his eye was beginning to swell and bruise up. Blood was trickling down his chin from a split lip, and from the way he was holding himself, he was probably turning purple in places she'd rather not think about.

"Can I go to your place?"

Roger had a point. It would not be good for Mimi to see Roger like this. Adding stress to an already stressful situation wouldn't be a good idea. Still, Joanne hesitated a moment before answering. They weren't exactly far from her apartment and its sparkling cleanliness and the first aid kit she kept there 'just in case'. This was definitely a just in case moment, but Joanne wondered if Mimi and Maureen would worry if they stayed gone too long. It had been a while since they'd left the Loft and either way some part of this would be difficult to explain.

Although, explaining the time frame might be easier than explaining his face. She sighed and shook her head approvingly.

"That's a good idea. I've got a first aid kit. We can get you cleaned up. Mimi has enough on her mind. This can stay our little secret."

[ROGER DAVIS]

Roger, you're staring into the face of a nearly bottomless bank account. If you think Benny's girl, what's-her-name--"

"Muffy." Roger interjected, and then listened to her speak. He allowed himself a slight laugh, though he winced. "Ow. Don't make me laugh." Roger stated, and then let a sigh escape his lips. "I can't get her hooked on one drug while trying to kick another. These are just--" Roger searched for the word. "Smoothers." Though it wasn't a good word, he knew, but it was the only one that came to mind. He almost felt bad for even thinking about taking her money, though he brought a hand up, wiping at his lip once more. A bottomless bank account, huh? Where had she been almost three years ago when he had been stealing and hustling for money just to get a hit? He didn't voice that thought, but started walking, tucking the small baggie into his jeans pocket.

He walked, glancing over at Joanne as they walked along the dark streets. He felt himself frown, feeling himself fall back into the silence. "...you didn't hear what he said, did you?"

Maybe if she hadn't heard it, it hadn't been said. Maybe if Joanne hadn't heard it, it would have been like it had never been said, because even though it had crossed his mind more than once that April had slept with the Man or anyone else for drugs. He hadn't spoken about it, because he hadn't cared. The drugs had been, at one time, more important than April's fidelity.

"I--" Roger paused, looking over at Joanne. This would be their little secret. "...I don't want her to know that I almost got myself killed because some drug dealer talked shit about my dead girlfriend." However, he glanced over at her, quickly correcting himself. "...Ex girlfriend."

[joannejefferson]

"Muffy." Joanne laughed at the name. She always forgot it which she attributed to the fact that is was a ridiculous nickname. Of course, she'd heard worse before, and would probably continue hearing worse. Her laughter faded as Roger responded to what she said about the meds. No, getting Mimi hooked on painkillers wouldn't do her any good.

"Good point. Just know that I'm here if you need me... for anything." It was a true enough statement, and as she walked alongside him she wondered what it had been like for him when he'd kicked. Had it been this difficult? Had it been worse? She didn't really know much about what had happened then beyond the minor details that slipped out. No one liked to talk about it, and being who she was Joanne hadn't felt the need to ask. Now, she was beginning to reconsider that approach. Maybe silence was the problem.

"...you didn't hear what he said, did you?" The words were soft spoken and hesitant. Before she could answer, he kept speaking and let him, knowing that he needed to say the words. It was odd really, recognizing characteristics of herself in Roger. They had an amazing ability to keep things hidden, but after a while something would slip out. Control could only go so far until the liquids boiled under pressure. This was Roger's slip up, his boil over.

"I didn't really hear the whole conversation, but I caught the last thing he said. I started running before you ever swung." She paused, looking up at him for a while before continuing on.

"Maureen never told me what happened. All she said was that April died and you got clean. I never asked anymore because I could tell it was a touchy subject. But I'm thinking that maybe now is a good time to talk about it." She sighed.

"I can understand why what he said upset you. You loved April, and junkie or not, she means a lot to you and implying what he did can really mess with your memory of her. Especially with what's going on now, him saying that must really mess with your mind."

It occurred to her that maybe Roger wouldn't want to talk about it, and she stopped walking and stepped in front of him. Her eyes stared into his and she gave a serious empathetic look.

"We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to, but I need you to know that what you say won't go beyond tonight unless you say so. I know what its like to hold everything in until you boil over, what it feels like to have no one to tell, how easy it is to keep secrets from yourself. I'd say that's something we have in common." Joanne fell silent, and started walking again.

It had been a long time since she'd allowed herself to give in to something so pervasively. Since leaving the Loft she'd been saying and doing things she'd never really done before, and she wasn't quite sure what to make of this strange freedom. Whatever the reasoning, she knew this night would be locked in her memory forever, for more reasons than one.

[ROGER DAVIS]

When Joanne laughed at the name Muffy, Roger found himself scoffing slightly, pulling out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lit one in silence. "You know, I've only seen her once, and that was like, a 'hi-bye' situation. Benny doesn't like to show her off 'cause...well, I think he's ashamed of us. Now that he's got some money, he forgets that he stole and lied and cheated right next to us for years."

When Joanne gave her word that she'd be there if he needed her, for anything, Roger stuffed his free hand into his pocket, kicking at a stray can on the ground. His tongue darted out, licking at his split lip. He nodded in agreement, but was silent. When she stated that she ahd began running before he had ever swung, Roger took a drag from his cigarette. "I'm not a fighter, you know. I don't--I don't fight."

However, Roger's eyes stayed downcast to the ground as Joanne started speaking. About Maureen, about April and how she thought that now was a good time to talk about it. Roger found his mouth opening slightly, brows narrowed before he brought the cigarette up to his lips again, taking a deeper drag. "I know Maureen'll never admit it, but I know one of the main reasons why she cheated on Mark with you is because of me." Roger told her honestly, his voice quiet. "Mark--" Roger found himself scoffing, shaking his head sadly. "I fucked Mark up so bad. He ignored Maureen for me, the one girl I can safely say he loved more than anything. He ignored her for me. And I treated him like complete and utter dog shit for a while. I'm actually surprised that he's still around because--because I said shit to him that I know hurt him. He saw things that--"

Roger found himself cutting off, shaking his head as Joanne continued speaking about how he loved April, and about how thigns messed with his mind. Maybe the reason why he and Joanne had never talked wasn't because she had been sleeping with Maureen, or because the social classes were so much different...but maybe it was because they were both so alike. She agreed with his inner thoughts, and then turned, walking in step with him once more. Roger silently watched her, unsure of what to make of Joanne's statement. It was so open and honest.

"April found out she had AIDS two days before she died." Roger told Joanne, eyes trained at the dirty pavement. "For two days, she knew that fact. I bought the razor that she killed herself with. We shot up the night before. We had sex the night before." Roger shook his head, almost scoffing ironically. "We did everything together, so I guess it's no different that she already knew that I was sick too."

Sniffing in, Roger took in a drag from the cigarette before continuing. "They said that she had been dead for about two hours before I found her. I think the worst thing was that I wasn't there when she died. And then I get to thinking, well what did she think about when she was bleeding out? Did she think of me? Was she thinking that she loved me or that she hated my guts, or that she didn't want to die anymore but--but didn't have the energy to get up?" He looked over at Joanne, tears burning in the back of his eyes. "And then I remember what happened when I overdosed after her funeral. I remember thinking that I was sorry. That I loved everyone but I just couldn't stay. And then...there was nothing. No pain. No heartache. Just...nothing."

Of course, the pain came afterward, when he had woken up. When he had faced the room full of people that cared about him. "Mimi's got a choice to quit. I was forced." Roger explained honestly. "They came in, took my stash, took my money and almost everything from my room that I could sell if I wanted to. The pain I felt was--I can't even describe to you what it feels like to kick drugs. First, it was just the cramps and the hot and cold and then--then the hallucinations started. She would be sitting on my bed. Laying next to me. I could feel her lips on my cheek. My neck. She'd tell me that she loved me. That she wanted to fuck me. I could feel her breath against my ear, that's how real it was. And then, it always ended the same. She'd start screaming. Screaming like how her mother screamed when she saw her in the coffin. I had to watch her over and over again, tear at her face, at her wrists. Tell me that she wasn't beautiful, that she was just a virus. A sickness. And then, she'd tell me I was just the same. That all I'd do was destroy the people and things around me, one by one."

Roger felt himself fall silent again, unsure of whether or not he should say anymore to Joanne. "I tried to kill myself again that night. It didn't work because I was too weak and I think I just passed out instead because I couldn't find anything sharp and--and my brain wasn't working well enough to tie a knot. The thing no one understands is that if she had asked me to die with her, I would have done it. That's how much I loved her." He paused, and then looked over at Joanne. "Please don't tell Maureen that. Or anyone."

Roger felt himself pause then, his eyes widening slightly as if realising something that he hadn't though of in a long time. Of course, it hadn't been that long, but it seemed like both forever ago and last night. "I love Mimi even more than that, if it's even possible. When I saw her dead in the Loft, I just--I knew it was over. I knew I was over."

[joannejefferson]

The smell of rain hung on the air, and as they walked Joanne looked up at the sky. One advantage of living in New York City was that it was always lit, which made seeing the sky a little easier at night. The only sad fact about that was that you never quite saw the sky for what it was. The city lights drowned out the blinking stars.

A remarkable metaphor for the lives we all live. The story that Roger was telling was a perfect example of those city light. A brilliant, burning moment in his past, it overshadowed the stars in his life. One thing that she knew was certain, though, was that the stars would always burn longer and brighter than the lights of New York City.

As he spoke, Joanne reflected on some of the burning moments of brilliance in her past. The first that came to mind was the day she'd met Maureen. She still couldn't say what had possessed her to walk into the Life, but she remembered clearly how lost and broken Maureen had looked. There had been no tears in her eyes, yet the dejection had been so raw and deep that it had drawn Joanne like a magnet. She absolutely hated to see that look on someone's face. The conversation between them had been casual and for whatever reason fate had determined, they'd been together in the most off and on relationship in history since.

"Mimi's got a choice to quit. I was forced." Listening now to the horror of what Roger had been through, she understood more deeply why he was as closed off to the world as he was. For a moment it made her despise April's weakness, but as she thought about it she realized that April had killed herself out of guilt and fear, not out of anger or hatred. The girl had been a sacrifice, and whether or not it had been her intention to become one that was the result. Maybe that was why Roger held to her memory so tightly because she was the defining line in his life. There was the Roger before April, and now there was Roger after.

"...she was just a virus. A sickness. And then, she'd tell me I was just the same. That all I'd do was destroy the people and things around me, one by one." His story was so vivid, the emotion of it so clear and deep, she could see it playing out before. The image of his beautiful red-head, her smile almost reminiscent of Mimi's, the vicious anger in her unreal eyes. There was no way Mimi would see the things Roger had seen. Joanne firmly believed that. Roger had pointed out an obvious truth about the difference between what had happened to him and what was going to happen with Mimi. She had the choice. Roger had been forced by fearful and grieving friends...and he had been a grieving wreck himself.

"If she had asked me to die with her, I would have done it." The words weren't a shock at all, and to an extent Joanne understood his reasoning. Yet, Roger and their friends had all missed what had probably been April's point. She hadn't wanted him to die with her. She had wanted him to live on, to not let the virus take hold of him as she feared it would her. At least that was Joanne's hope. Suicide had always seemed like a selfish idea to her, but she hoped that for April there had been more to it than escape.

"I knew I was over." Words simply stopped coming from him at that point and Joanne didn't know what to say. She allowed the silence to fall between them, and walked on for a long while, her mind reflecting upon April and the hidden stars. What did one say when gifted with the secret jewels of the most closed hearts?

Abruptly, her apartment building loomed over them like some monster of Corporate America. Compared to the Loft, the place seemed like a 20 story castle, and she felt a little like Aladdin walking into the Sultan's palace for the first time. She wondered if her friends had felt the same way when they'd first seen it.

"Thank you." The words were barely whispered, and she hardly thought Roger would hear them. They felt inadequate but she had no response to what he had trusted her with, no answer for the heartbreak he had poured out to her.

[ROGER DAVIS]

As the building loomed in the darkness like a monster coming out of the concrete jungle, Roger felt his gaze look up towards the sky, and as he did, a drop of rain tapped him on the forehead. He jerked slightly in surprise, and lifted a hand. "C'mon, we better get inside."

Roger quickly moved inside the large building, into his large, expansive lobby. The man at the elevator smiled at Joanne, but gave Roger a look, as if she had brought the trash with him. Roger felt himself frown, walking to the elevator and leaning against the wall after he pushed the elevator button. He could feel the man's gaze, hot and studying, as if he could burn Roger into the ground with a single glance. He paused, and then looked over at Joanne, watching her before he spoke slightly loud, enough so the man next to him could hear. His voice was even-toned, yet pressed. "God, do you ever get the feeling that people are just watching you?" Roger asked, glancing over to see the man frown deeply, annoyed and look away. "I hate it when people watch me!" Roger paused, and then dug into his pocket, pulling out another cigarette. It dangled between his lips before he looked over at the man. "Y'got a light?"

"Excuse me?" The man asked, sounding offended. "You can't smoke in here." The man's words were thick, almost as if Roger had asked him the most disgusting question on the planet.

Roger rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall. "And you can't fucking keep your eyes on something other than me. I'm glad we're playing the state the obvious game. We're both tied, by the way. You want to ask me something?" Roger asked frustratedly, and then rolled his eyes. "Then stop fucking glaring at me, you prick!"

It was then that the man huffed off and walked away, leaving Joanne and Roger in the mostly quiet lobby, only to the sound of the grumbling of the man, who died out as he turned and walked into the stairwell. He crossed his arms over his chest for a moment before he sighed out.

"People are fucking idiots."