A/N: Traveling to London early next week (so excited!), so I've made this chapter a bit longer in case I don't get a new chapter up until I get back. Reviews loved!

The next day, Mark sat at his kitchen table, flipping Alexi's new business card over in his hand.

"He's finally asleep and Kara left for work an hour ago. I made chicken up at Mimi's. Go up if you want some." Maureen pulled out the chair next to Mark and sat down. "You know, I'm getting pretty good at this baby thing. I keep telling Joanne this means we should have our own, but she's not convinced it's not a phase of mine." Maureen paused. "Mark, can I ask you something?"

Mark let Alexi's card fall to the tabletop. He looked at Maureen. "Sure."

"Do I really just go through phases?"

What a loaded question. He needed to think this one through. "Well..."

"I'm really not that bad," she protested. "I know that Joanne wasn't sure I'd keep the bakery job and they've promoted me! Plus, Joanne and I have been together over five years, you know. That's longer and you and I-" she stopped herself. "Oh, I'm sorry, baby. I told you before, I was a fool."

He shook his head. "Water under the bridge, Maureen. And you're definitely different than when we first started dating in high school. Things change. People change. Joanne wants kids, you know. It's just that unlike Roger and Mimi or Kara and I, she'll probably want to properly plan them."

"Or pencil them into her day planner, you mean." Maureen sighed. "She's an over organized uptight superwoman and I-"

"Still love her for it?" Mark finished. "So you cooked upstairs?"

Maureen nodded. "Lemon chicken. With whipped potatoes. And broccoli."

"Roger hates broccoli."

Maureen grinned wickedly. "I know."

He couldn't help laughing. "You're evil, Maureen."

She shrugged. "I try. You're on call tonight, right? So I'll stay on the couch just in case, okay?"

"Thanks." His eyes fell back down to Alexi's card. Maureen must have noticed because before he could pick it up again, she had.

"Alexi Darling. Producer." Her eyebrows furrowed. "Alexi Darling as in the woman from Buzzline like a million years ago?"

Mark took the card from Maureen's hand. "Try like five years ago. But yeah. She brought her nephew into the ER today. She was kinda shocked to see me there, I think. She left Buzzline two years ago and works for a small documentary film production company now. She actually asked me if I still filmed and if I had anything new. She said I had great perspective."

"Well, you do," Maureen agreed. "Wow. Left Buzzline. That show is still on and is a celebrity cash cow." She studied him a moment. "You have all that footage. You should show it to her."

"What footage? All I have is footage of-"

"You?" Maureen finished for him. "You know, you're pretty cute in front of the lens."

"That's a subjective opinion, I think."

"What? I think Kara would agree. You have to stop being so camera-shy, Mark. I mean, it worked pretty well in high school but we're like thirty now."

"Don't remind me." His eyes fell once again to Alexi's name. His footage, his focus the two things he'd been ignoring for the past few months. Yes, his work schedule had been brutal, but he knew deep down he'd been using it as excuse. In all honesty, there were a few reels he'd only been able to watch once or twice as they made him think entirely too much about his ever strained relationship with his father.

Therefore, he hadn't cut together something, hadn't found the story in the miles of film.

Last time he needed Angel's memory to kick his ass. Would Collins find a way to come back and kick his behind this time so he'd finish? Would he need Roger to take another trip to Santa Fe as well?

He didn't know what he needed, but Alexi's card certainly left the door wide open.

And three days later, Mark suddenly found motivation staring him straight in the face.

Roger had a cough. Roger was a stubborn ass, and Mark had been working long hours so despite that fact that only one floor separated them, he hadn't crossed Roger's path in four days.

He arrived home, exhausted. An equally exhausted Kara sat on the couch, trying to settle a fusing Tom.

"Mimi called. Roger's sick. I offered to take a look, but he wanted to wait for you to get home."

Mark's blood suddenly ran cold. Shit.

"What's wrong?"

"Cough that he can't kick, apparently. Mimi said he was up all last night and she's pretty sure he's running a temp today." She rocked Tom and gave him a strained smile. "Wasn't he at the clinic last week?"

"Well, Angel was, but I made him give me a blood sample as well. His T-Cells were decent actually, just above 400."

"Then hopefully it's not an OI. Not PCP."

"I wasn't-"

"Yes, you were." Kara knew him too well, apparently. She shifted the baby in her lap, a piece of her hair falling across her face and within the grasp of baby fingers that didn't hesitate to grab hold. "Ouch. No, sweetie. Mommy's hair isn't for pulling."

Tom was almost seven months old and Mark couldn't believe how big has was getting. He suddenly wished his son could meet his namesake, well aware of the irony that the child probably wouldn't have existed if Collins hadn't died in the first place.

Collins died because of pneumonia.

He searched his pockets for his prescription pad, found his bag and headed upstairs to Roger and Mimi's.

Mimi had been pacing the kitchen when he'd arrived, trying her very best not to worry. Angel was in her high chair, still awake despite the fact it was after nine. She was covered in baby food and waved a carrot-crusted hand at Mark.

"Mar!" she proclaimed loudly, slamming her little fist on her bowl, which sent even more carrot mush flying. Angel was defying preemie odds. The fact that she hadn't suffered any major HIV-related complications was a small miracle. Her reflux had begun to improve and at ten months, she had even started forming a few one-syllable words. Much to Mark's surprise, she'd learned his (well, minus the K, anyway) pretty quickly. He had figured he might be the last person the little girl would be excited to see since the last time he'd seen her, he'd stuck her with a sharp object.

Mark heard the coughing before he even had to ask where Roger was.

"Shit, Mark, that's cold."

"Roger, stop talking and just breathe."

Mark listened a moment before unhooking the stethoscope from his ears. Roger's left lung in particular sounded like complete crap. "Get your coat. We're going to the hospital. You need a chest X-ray." And a few other tests, his mind told him as he started to tally up the orders.

"What? No. Mark, can't we-" Roger stopped mid sentence to let out a harsh cough, "Just go to the clinic in the morning?" The words left him out of breath.

"No. Your lungs sound awful and you're running a temperature of 102. I think you could have pneumonia and you need antibiotics. Now." Roger wasn't winning this round. "If you'd gone to clinic when you started feeling like crap, this could have been avoided, you know."

"You lecturing me?" Roger asked. "Because that is the one I don't like about you since you added extra letters after your name."

Mark ignored his comment. "Well you deserve the lecture. Why didn't you go?"

Roger coughed again, the spell lasting longer than his first. Mark could feel Mimi hovering in the background, despite the fact that Roger had told her to keep herself and Angel away from his germs.

"Roger?" he asked again. He wasn't about to let this go.

Roger took as deep of a breath as he could manage. "Because you weren't working at the clinic this week, okay? I don't trust anyone else."

Under normal circumstances, Mark might have been flattered at the words, but he knew how much a day delay on an infection could spell disaster for Roger's fragile immune system.

He just sighed. "I'm going to talk to Mimi. Where's your coat?"

Four hours later, Mark stood next to one the supervising ER residents and stared at Roger's chest x-rays.

"Pneumonia," he said. "Shit."

The resident studied the film a minute before yanking it down. "Not too bad yet, though. Your patient is pretty lucky you dragged him in." He handed Mark the film. "Though I don't know too many thirty-one year-olds with a first year pediatric resident as their PCP."

"Long story." One Mark didn't really want to get into.

"His CD4 counts are actually pretty good, considering. He's still over 200, so this is probably just your typical pneumonia strain. His O2 stats are decent enough to avoid admitting him. Some erythromycin IM before he leaves and a scrip for orals and he'll probably be fine as long he isn't exposed to anything else on the road to recovery." The doctor smiled. "Give yourself another couple of months and you won't need a second opinion on a case like this. You read about HAART?"

"Yeah. Triple cocktail. One of the recommended paths is Favirenz, zidovudine, lamivudine."

"Initial results sure beats zidovudine alone. If your patient can kick this infection, it-"

"Is worth trying," Mark confirmed. "I know. I've been trying to get him to come in for weeks. His wife is also HIV-positive." Mark left out the part about Angel because deep down, perhaps, he hoped the little girl defied odds.

"Two birds, one stone."

"I guess," Mark agreed. The resident left, turning back into the chaos of the ER.

"I was right. You have pneumonia."

Roger flopped back on the gurney. "Shit. I just want to go home."

"Well, you'll get your wish. I'm not admitting you."

Roger's head perked up. "You're not?"

Mark shook his head. "No. But you better call the band and the club because you're not leaving your apartment for at least two weeks."

"Two weeks?" Roger protested, coughing the second he'd finished voicing his displeasure. He rubbed at his chest. "Shit, that hurts."

Mark reached into the drawer next the gurney for a packaged syringe. "Hence why you need to stay home. And get better." He paused a moment as he grabbed a pair of gloves and quickly thought over what the senior resident had said.

"And I want to change your HIV medication," he added.

"What wrong with the AZT?" Roger's eyes widened at the needle in Mark's hand. "You're going to stick me with that, aren't you?"

"No, Roger, it's just for show. Of course, I'm going to stick you with it. It's an antibiotic to give you a head start while you get your prescriptions filled." Mark shook his head. "I don't get you, Roger. You took heroin once upon a time. And you didn't snort it."

"April did the poking," Roger admitted, coughing into his hand. He rubbed his chest. "I couldn't look. And it was..."

"Different," Mimi finished. "Definitely different."

Mark just shook his head again, grabbed an alcohol wipe and yanked up Roger's sleeve. "Whatever. And, yeah, I want to change your HIV meds. I tried talking to you about last week, but you bolted. Not taking you off the AZT, really, but adding a couple of more medications to the AZT. Combination therapy. Something Mimi should do as well." He stuck the needle in, noticing Roger shift his gaze and wince when he did so.

"More pills?"

"It's called highly active antiretroviral therapy or HAART for short. There are a couple of new drugs the FDA approved a few months ago."

"Sound expensive," Mimi said, her forehead wrinkling in thought.

"Since they have been formally approved, chances are your insurance company should cover it. And if not, I'll see what I can do." He threw the used syringe into a nearby bio-hazard container. "Angel needs to go on the medication, too."

He saw Mimi swallow. "Right." Talking about these things was a reminder of reality, Mark knew.

But he just wanted his friends to have a reality to consider. If Roger or Mimi or little Angel died because of something silly like pneumonia it would feel like the last four years had been futile.

Of course, the last fours years hadn't been enough to prevent Collins from dying, he silently said to himself as he stripped off his gloves and reached for Roger's chart, noting the medication dosage in it. As he shoved the pen back into his pocket, he realized how easily he'd fallen into a routine doing such things.

Futile or not, treating Roger felt as natural as holding a camera in his hand.

"I'll bring some more information home for you guys," he continued. "If you want to read-"

Roger held up a hand, stopping him. "Don't bother. After all, you're the doctor, Mark."

Mark blinked, contemplating Roger's words. Damn. He was the doctor.

When had things really changed?

Mark stared at the screen flickering in front of him.

"Is that your friend Collins?"

He turned his head to find Kara perched on the edge of the couch. He hadn't heard her come in. Her hair was slightly tussled and she was wearing her robe. He hoped he hadn't woken her up.

"Yeah," he said softly. "His thirtieth birthday." Right before he it was confirmed he had full-blown AIDS, he also knew, but left the words unsaid.

"I wasn't sure you'd come home. I didn't see you when Mimi and Roger got back a couple of hours ago. I thought maybe you stayed to catch a couple of hours of sleep in the on-call room before your shift."

He shook his head, his eyes turning back the screen. "I waited for some further lab results, so I got in an hour or so after they did. You were sleeping. I got someone to cover for me so I'm working tonight." He turned at look at her. "Did I ever tell you about how I worked for Buzzline?"

"That sleazy tabloid news show? Yeah, you mentioned it, but never elaborated."

"Nothing to elaborate on really. I lasted less than two months before quitting to finish Today 4 U." He paused. "But I ran into the woman I worked for there a few days ago. Alexi Darling is her name. She works for a documentary film company now."

"Oh." Kara got up off the couch's edge and gestured for Mark to slide over, situating herself into the empty space. Together they watched Maureen light the candles on the cake and present it to Collins, who blew out the candles. Mark didn't miss the coughing that occurred both before and after all the candles were extinguished.

The scene ended a minute later and the screen went dark. Before Mark could switch off the projector, he saw himself pop up on the screen in mist of what he remembered as the beginning of clinical training. He had no idea that both of those ended up on the same reel.

"It's you," Kara said, snuggling in close to him. "I never get to watch footage of you. Do you ever miss it?"

"Miss what?" he asked, though he had a feeling he knew exactly what she meant.

"Filming. I haven't seen pick up your camera as much in the last couple of months."

"I've been a little busy with work." It was the truth. He had.

"Yeah," Kara agreed. "I guess we both have been. You know, you never did tell how you went from film to medicine. We must have watched hundreds of movies together, including footage of your friends and I have to admit, I don't know the whole story. I didn't even realize you had footage of you." She gestured towards the screen. "You're pretty interesting, you know."

Mark let out of short chuckle. "Ha. Collins told me the same damn thing." He pulled away from Kara and got up to shut off to projector. "I'm putting Roger on HAART, by the way."

"Oh no, you don't." Kara got up. "Don't use work to avoid the subject."

Great. He didn't need Kara to start in on him as well. "I'm not avoiding anything, Kara. I'm making conversation. I just spent quite a few hours with Roger at the ER and-"

"And he's not dying," Kara interrupted. "He's not okay, but he will be. Mark, you are a good doctor. But stuff like this," she pointed to the projector, "tells me you are also a good filmmaker. How did you go from one to the other?"

How. That was certainly the question. The very same one he'd found himself thinking a few hours ago. The only answer he really had was that it was a journey of self-discovery that was still unveiling twists and turns each day.

He blinked.

Damn it. Collins was right. Collins was fucking right.

"It's a long story," Mark finally told Kara.

She tapped the projector. "One that's perfect for the big screen?" She raised an eyebrow. "Did that Alexi Darling happen to give you a business card?"

Medical stuff researched, some dramatic license taken, much like ER and House do :).
Those curious, some stuff referenced in this chapter:
OI: Opportunistic Infection; PCP (double meaning here!): Pneumocystis pneumonia (referenced in earlier chapters with Collins) or Primary Care Physician.
Erythromycin: broad spectrum antibiotic used to treat respiratory infections; Zidovudine is more commonly known as AZT. CD4 count also means T-Cell count.
HAART therapy was introduced in 1996 and expanded the lifespan of those living with HIV by decades, a real turning point (and interestingly enough, right around when Rent opened on Broadway).