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Mark Cohen
03 July 2008 @ 01:20 am
[following this]

Mark had made it little more than a half a mile before he left the path and went to sit against a tree. He carefully laid his camera aside and drew his knees to his chest and let the defeat and destitution consume him. His face hurt and his heart was broken. He needed to get back and talk to Prior, a conversation, the prospect of which, he wasn't relishing.

But there was time. He'd do it today. Right now, he needed to take a moment for himself. He needed to stop bleeding and wait for his mouth to stop throbbing in time with his heartbeat so he could actually speak.

He'd thought they were okay, he and Roger. He'd thought that they'd found the place where neither of them were alone. Apparently, that meant Roger was on the beach with Brian fucking Kinney and Mark...

Mark had his camera, the same as always.
Mark Cohen
14 June 2008 @ 02:17 pm
Roger was really lucky Mark was around to keep the radio equipment going. It was rare there was dead air on the island, but this morning it couldn't be helped. Mark had the board open and was checking the relays, trying to figure out why one of the inputs had suddenly decided to die. He wasn't an expert, but the technology was some he was actually familiar with and he'd been keeping it maintained since before Chris disappeared.

He had just made a final connection and was closing up, feeling pretty damn smug. It was something he was good at, and something he didn't get to do all that often. Now that the system was patched, all he had to do was clean up before Roger's show.
Mark Cohen
25 April 2008 @ 02:51 pm
He was so fucking pissed. It was gnawing at his guts and had him all tense and snappish. But being pissed didn't mean he wanted a confrontation, so he'd stayed away from the hut all day and nearly half the night before he came home and dropped into bed, then was up and gone before Maureen woke up.

So fucking pissed. It wasn't like they were together, but she didn't even bother to put a tie on the door or something. And Harkness? Harkness? How could she fuck House's boyfriend of all people? She really didn't have any shame.

The longer he thought about it, the more he figured he could deal with some confrontation. He'd never had a problem calling Benny on his bullshit. Of course, he wasn't hopelessly in...whatever...with Benny. Maybe that's what made this worse.

Mark stalked back to the hut and opened the door. He hadn't really planned anything out, so the next thing he knew, he was kicking her mattress. "Wake! Up!"
Mark Cohen
05 March 2008 @ 04:06 am
Mark had been turning it over in his mind, then last night as Maureen slept, he'd turned it over in his hands. The island had seen fit to give it to Mimi, and she'd asked him to keep it for her. More than once he had thought about flushing it or tossing it into the ocean, but ultimately he had kept his word. He'd kept it in with his old reels, hidden where no one who would be tempted by it would find it. It was heavy in his hands, and yet all he could think about as he looked at the brick of heroin was how much Mimi was going to be hurting as the disease took her life.

It was beyond the point where addiction meant shit.

He was still thinking about it the next day in the kitchen as he had a cup of tea before he went back to the clinic. Everything else was on hold.

He should really tell someone.
Mark Cohen
04 February 2008 @ 02:26 pm
Mark is too awesome to go away! Em put him up for adoption and after the process, he's now played by Shan.

If there's anything I should know about Mark and your pup, please don't hesitate to let me know!
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Mark Cohen
20 June 2007 @ 02:50 pm
As much as Mark hated to have to see any of his friends lying unconscious in a bed, with Roger, he had to admit by now he was used to it. It sucked, and what sucked worse was he'd grown to resent it. It was petty and awful and made him hate himself more than he'd already become prone to, but he couldn't pretend it wasn't there. At least not to himself.

He slept on the floor while Roger was asleep that weekend. He tried, the first night, to lie next to him and pretend it was all okay, but it really wasn't. Why aren't I with him? he kept asking himself, and finally had to exit the bed (sliding off carefully, a habit, not to wake the bed's other occupant even though Mark knew nothing he could do would wake Roger before the island was ready to let him wake) and curl up on the floor, huddled around his pillow like a kid.

He was up already on the third morning, guessing Roger would be coming around sometime that day. He'd gotten his clothes on and was trying to make his hair lie flat (lately a losing battle; it was time to have someone cut it for him) when he heard movement in the bed behind him. A little pit opened up in his stomach and he took a slow, silent breath before turning around. "Morning sunshine," he said with a light smile, pulling up a chair and sitting next to the bed. "Sleep well?" He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer.
imax :: crappydefeated
Mark Cohen
30 August 2006 @ 11:55 am
dated 28 August, 11pm

Still half-tipsy and a little giddy from dancing, Mark walked unsteadily into the compound, still humming the song he and Veronica had tangoed to softly under his breath. He remembered (the way you remember things you only just thought of two minutes ago when you're drunk) that he'd planned on going to see Roger before he went to sleep, and headed for the clinic. It wasn't too late yet, maybe Roger might still be up.

He slipped inside quietly, shutting the door behind him and sliding his shoes off at the door. It didn't look like Roger was awake; he was laying limp in the bed, and didn't even move when Mark came in. Steadying his steps, he went slowly over to the bed and stood with the edge of it pressing against his legs, his hands hanging loose at his sides. Roger looked peaceful but exhausted, still, even after weeks of laying in this bed without moving. He must be going crazy, Mark thought, knowing how much his friend hated being caged in.

His hand strayed to Roger's face, brushing a curl away from his eyes, his hand lingering on his friend's cheek. God, he looked so fragile. It scared the shit out of Mark, seeing him like this; but at the same time he couldn't help thinking it might be good to be prepared. It'll be a hell of a lot worse if he gets sick, he thought, his eyebrows drawing together as a poignant sorrow twisted his heart.

Roger was laying mostly to one side of the bed, and without even really reasoning why he was doing it, Mark eased gently onto the bed beside him, stretching out with his arm loose around Roger's waist. It was different from usual, how he'd sleep with his back to Roger's chest, his head tucked in under his lover's chin, Roger's arms strong around him while their breathing fell into a slow pace and they drifted off to sleep together. Roger's breathing was shallow and his face drawn in lines of stress and dull pain, even in repose, and Mark pressed his face to his friend's chest with a ragged sigh.

As long as he's here now, you're okay, he told himself. Stop worrying about tomorrow and live in today. He's here, he's alive, and that's more than a lot of people have to be thankful for. The pep talk didn't entirely work; but then, he'd only been halfhearted about giving it in the first place. At least it dispelled enough of his rising fear to let him drowse, though he was pretty sure the wine helped that along too. It will be okay, he repeated to himself, It has to. Nothing happens for no reason. And that time the little voice sounded sure enough (or sounded enough like Angel) that he was able to believe it.
imax :: exhaustedexhausted
Mark Cohen
12 August 2006 @ 10:34 am
It was nighttime, and Roger still hadn't appeared. Just from hanging around the compound, Mark had heard that there were others who'd disappeared, which somehow was not nearly as comforting as it should have been. He was sick of feeling like this-- sick of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Clementine was pissed and while Mark wanted to help her, being around her was only making him crazier. So, he went to seek out the other person who'd understand what he was feeling.

He found Mimi in his bed, where she'd pretty much been since they evacuated the clinic. She looked like she was sleeping; he sat gingerly on the end of the bed and curled up against the wall, figuring he'd just sit and wait for her to wake up.
Mark Cohen
Mark awoke feeling chilly, which was strange; lately he'd been waking up crowded by Roger's long limbs and, as an added bonus, suffocated by a nice mouthful of his hair to boot. But not this morning. It seemed the musician had gotten up early, which was weird in and of itself because Roger liked nothing better than sleeping till a decadent hour. Weirder still, it seemed he'd been so groggy he'd put on a pair of Mark's pants by accident.

Well, whatever; he shouldn't be that hard to find. Right? Pulling on Roger's discarded jeans, Mark fumbled with his glasses and made a quick tour of the compound. Even crammed full with bodies as it was, it didn't take Mark long to figure out that Roger wasn't here at all. His heart thudding loudly in his chest, he made a final tour of the storage room before heading back into the dorm room and bending to shake Clementine awake.

"Clem," he whispered hoarsely. "Clem, wake up."
Current Location: the basement dorm room