Mimi sits on the floor of the community center, staring up at the ring of faces. Gordon, Pam, Ali, Sue, Paul, and others whose faces are in shadow. Sitting exactly in front of her, like a jury, are Roger, Angel, and Collins. Their blank eyes stare almost reproachfully at Mimi, who finds her legs are numb and she can't move from her spot on the ground. She reaches out and calls for Roger to help her, but he only swings forward like a propped-up doll, his head lolling on his neck and his body limp. Collins and Angel are in similar positions, lifeless as puppets.

A shadow falls across the ground in front of Mimi, and she turns to see The Man, standing still and cold outside the circle. She raises her hands over her head for help, but he does not touch her. Instead, he takes his hands form his pockets and flings white powder over everyone. It replicates in midair, becoming a thick, suffocating blizzard. Yet somehow, only Mimi is suffocating, clawing at the layers of white sand as they pile onto her body. Before she closes her eyes in defeat, she catches a glimpse of Angel, Collins, and Roger, all bound with huge iron chains to their chairs…

"GAHHH!" Mimi sat straight up in bed, her long, messy brown hair falling wildly onto her face. She pushed it away and stared at her surroundings, trying to accept that the comfortable, familiar setting of her loft was real, and not the cold, horrible ring of faces. Mimi shivered and suddenly realized that she was covered in sweat, so much so that the sheets below her were soaked through. She took a deep breath, squeezing the thin blanket on her chest. The cold winter night pressed in from all sides, already chilling her dripping body.

"Mimi…girl, what's wrong?" Someone stirred beside her, and she shrieked. Blind fear clutched at her as visions of The Man flooded her brain, and she thrashed around, falling out of bed as a result. The THUD and the pain actually made her calm enough to realize that the face staring down at her was Roger's and not the one she had been dreading.

"Oh my god, Mimi, are you okay?" Roger, looking worried, reached down and pulled her up, sliding her onto the mattress beside him. She touched the wet sheets and shuddered again, which made him pull her closer. She pressed against his bare chest and sighed, trying to get rid of the images still floating around in her brain.

"Yeah, baby, I'm…I'm fine, it was only a nightmare."

"Jesus, I hate those. Yours must have been really bad to get you this upset." She nodded, focusing on the comforting heat of his body and his love. A sudden sob escaped from her throat, and after that tears flowed easily. Roger only stroked her back and said, "Shhh, shhh, it's okay Mimi, it's okay." When she was done, he simply asked, "Want to tell me about it?"

"Oh god…it—it was just like everyone at Life Support was staring at me, and you and Collins and Angel too, but…" Mimi explained the rest of her dream, feeling Roger's arm tighten around her when he heard certain things. It felt hard to mention The Man and his role in her nightmare, but Mimi felt too scared to keep that to herself. By the time she was done, Mimi felt exhausted and washed out, but calmer. Without thinking, she squeezed Roger's arm, taking in the feeling of his muscles and skin and hair. He kissed the top of her head, and somehow she managed to smile.

"Meems," he said softly, using a nickname that he reserved for certain moments, "I think we both know what something in there meant. You've got all of us there for you, especially me and Angel, but girl…" he stroked her shoulder and sighed. There was no need to clarify what he meant.

"Baby, I think I should go back to sleep now, I got work tomorrow," Mimi said abruptly, trying to end the conversation. She slid down in the bed, recoiling at the wetness of her sweat.

'Want to switch sides?" asked Roger, sensing her movement. She felt so much better now, just from that little gesture. As angry and hurt Roger might be about her vice, he loved her enough to sleep on a bed soaked in his girlfriend's nightmare sweat. If that wasn't true devotion, she wanted to know what was.

"Thanks, babe," she whispered, and he lifted her, as though she were a pillow, onto his other side. He shuffled over and flinched as soon as the cold dampness touched his bare back. But then he turned onto his side and put his arms around her again, and she felt more safe and loved than she ever had. As Mimi drifted off to sleep, a single image drifted faintly through her mind: Angel, covered in a light dusting of white powder, suddenly struggling weakly against the giant, crushing chains that encircled her torso…

The next day Angel began to cough.