A/N: Okay, I have a LOT more written already. I just couldn't decide where to end it without making it TOO LONG. I wanted to make this a one-shot but obviously I can't so... here goes. I just felt like being MEAN so I wrote this. I have another version which I can post later that's first-person-Roger... but its waaay different... anyways. Read and... I dunno. Enjoy?

"Where ya goin', Mark?"

Mark faced Roger distractedly, wrapping his navy blue and white scarf around his neck. "Out."

"You're looking pretty nice for just goin' out. And no camera? Something's fishy here."

"I'll be back sometime around one, I think," Mark said, ignoring Roger's comment. He pushed the door open and took a step outside.

"And you smell good. Spill, Mark." Mark paused in the doorway, contemplating whether or not to say anything. In the moment that elapsed, something clicked for Roger.

"Does Mark have a date?"

Mark threw up his hands in defeat. He turned and stared, crossing his arms. "What do you want to know?" he asked.



"Where'd you meet her?"

"On the subway."

"No one talks on the subway."

"Obviously, she does. Can I go now?"

"One last question."

"What, Roger?"

"Is she perty?"

Mark rolled his eyes and walked out of the loft. Roger chuckled softly and strummed a random cord on his guitar, humming. He soon found himself playing Musetta's Waltz, as usual.

E-G-B-E-D. E-G-B-D-C.

His fingers slipped and he hit a wrong note. Sighing, he reclined on the couch and closed his eyes.

I've gotta learn a new song.


Mimi skipped down the street, humming to herself. It was 1:30 in the morning, she had just gotten off work, and she wasn't the least bit tired. She caught the eye of a man a few yards ahead accidentally and stopped skipping, quickly diverting her attention elsewhere.

As she walked past him, she could feel his gaze on her back. She walked a little faster, nervous. His footsteps followed her around the corner.

"If you want some of this girl, you better think twice," she called without stopping. "Unless you feel like being HIV positive."

She didn't hear any more footsteps after that.

Mimi danced down the street, singing. A few people stared, but she paid them no mind. It wasn't as if New York City wasn't full of strange people, anyway.

As Mimi came nearer to her home, she could hear the sounds of someone yelling. She stopped singing and slowly made her way to the door. It sounded like it was coming from the alleyway between her building and the one next door. She crept into the alley and sidestepped closer to the noise.

"Hand over the wallet!"

"I told you, I don't have any money!"

Mimi gasped. Mark?

"Let me go! Please! I don't have anything!"

"Bull! Where's your wallet?"

Silence. Then the sound of a fist impacting with a body.

Do something, Mimi.

Mark's voice was weaker now. "Please…"

More punches. A body colliding with the ground. Kicking. Cracking. Screaming.

Do something, Mimi.

"Okay! Stop! It's right here!"

"Now we're getting somewhere… let's see."

Do something, Mimi. She was frozen in place, horrified.

"What the… you've got two dollars!"

"I told you I didn't have any—oh, God. No."

Mimi caught the glint of a blade. She screamed, and the mugger turned her way. She put her hand over her mouth, but it was too late. He was heading toward her.

"Go, get out of here!" Mark called from further down the alley. The mugger was getting closer. "This isn't your problem! Just go!"

"Mark, it's Mimi!" she cried, clutching to her purse, ready to swing if he got too close.

"Mimi? Oh, God. Mimi, get out of here!"

"Hey there, pretty lady," whispered the mugger. Mimi swung her purse at his face, but he caught it easily. "Normally, I'd have a little fun with you, but I'm in a hurry. Come 'ere." He grabbed her arm and pulled her back to where Mark was. She could see that his nose was bleeding, and he was lying on the ground, clutching his side. The mugger let go of Mimi and roughly pulled Mark up by the arm. Mark hissed in pain, but stayed upright.

"Now, watch." Mimi stared at Mark, her brown eyes glistening with fear and a silent apology. Mark stared back, his eyes seeming to say, "It's okay."

The mugger flipped open the knife again. Mark and Mimi's eyes widened in horror. He grinned at Mimi. "Ready pretty lady?" She lunged for the knife, but he pushed her away and thrust the knife into Mark's stomach.

Mimi froze, suddenly unable to make a noise or move a muscle. She stared at Mark's face. His mouth was slightly open, and a sickening gurgling sound erupted from his throat. The mugger held the knife in place, watching Mimi's reaction with sick amusement. After what seemed like an eternity, he pulled the knife out and dropped Mark to the ground. He casually strutted over to Mimi and wiped the blood off on her hands. She shifted her gaze down, still frozen, and stared at the warm, wet liquid that covered her palms.

When she looked up, the mugger was gone.

Suddenly, Mimi could move again. She ran to Mark and knelt down, wiping her hands on her skirt.

"Mark, babe, are you okay?" she asked, turning him over onto his back. His eyes were closed, and a thin stream of blood was running from his mouth. His hands were both over his stomach where he had been stabbed. He slowly shook his head no. She stood up and looked for any sign of other people.

"Help!" she screamed. "Anyone! Help! Roger! Someone! Help!"