Disclaimer: I absolutely do not own anything from Rent. The only thing I can say I own is Brenna.

Note: Yes, I have created another fic. Yes, I'm crazy. Yes, you know you love me lol Anyway, I'm rather proud of this fic because of the spontaneity of its creation. I'm sure that any regular readers I have will be able to see some similarities between Brenna and my other added characters in my other fics. However, while the character may be the same, the story itself is essentially different. In the past I've planned my fics out to a T. I have timelines, I know where chapters begin and end ahead of time. This fic just sort of forced itself out. I tried to stop it I swear xD But it was either write it or have my head explode...and I rather like my head O.o

Finally, I'd just like to say a little bit about how inspiring a film Rent is. I'm sure many of you who will read this, maybe even all you, will already know that. But to anyone who reads this that has not seen the film yet, I highly recommend that you immediately rent it from the nearest available place and watch it. Very few things in this world have touched me on such an emotional level. So far the list consists of a short story by Stephen King and this movie. The characters, the story, it just all captivated me, and it couldn't have come at a better time. I'm having issues in my life that I'm having difficulty dealing with, and then I finally watch Rent on Christmas Eve of last year ironically xD and it made everything a little better.

So, please enjoy this fic, I know I'm going to have fun writing it. Keep in mind that I do have two other fics that need attention, but this one could possibly take precedent over them. Alright, I've rambled enough. READ! and review...

Chapter One: Help

Brenna sat in her seat on the bus, which seemed to hit ever pot hole between Massachusetts and New York. A few miles back they had hit a particularly bad one and her bag had been jostled from the overhead rack. She picked it up and stuffed it in the seat beside her for the rest of the trip. Which would only be another half an hour or less. She kept glancing at her watch, praying that they would be on time. Mark said he would be waiting for her at the station, but that he couldn't wait too long before getting back home. She drummed the fingers of her left hand on her thigh and chewed on her right thumbnail as she stared out the window, thinking about earlier that day when this "adventure" had began.

The school year was just about to start. Roger was going to be pissed. That was the only thing he had ever insisted upon, that Brenna go to school. A good school. She was about to start at Harvard Business School. Tomorrow was the orientation, but she wasn't going to be there. She was going to be in New York City. She had been in the process of packing up her books in a box when the phone in her apartment rang. She let it ring, wanting the answering machine to get it. She had a lot more work to do and she didn't want to be distracted by any calls. The machine beeped and she heard this:

"Hello, Brittany? This is a friend of your brother's. My name is Mark. I think we saw each other once, but anyway I..." Brenna had dropped the book that was in her hands into the box with a thud and dashed to the phone. She snatched it off the cradle and held it to her ear.

"Hello. Mark?" she said.

"Brenna? Oh, I'm so glad I caught you." She heard him sigh with relief on the other end.

"What are you calling for?" she asked, frowning at the grimy window that was next to the phone, "Is Roger OK?" Immediately, she knew the answer was no, or something akin to it. Mark paused.

"No, no he's not. I need your help. Hes trying to quit his, er, habits, but he just keeps relapsing. I'm running out of ideas. I know you're about to start school and everything but I really think you should-"

"I can be there in 5 hours." Brenna had been looking at her watch while he talked. If she left now she could catch the 5:20 bus. "Can you pick me up at the station?" Mark paused again, though this time it was probably more from surprise.

"Uh, yeah," he finally said, "You don't mind riding double on my bike do you?" Brenna had told him "no" and then hung up.

She stood there a minute, thinking about what had just transpired. She had just agreed to not just ditch orientation, but probably school entirely. Why? Because Roger was her brother, and it didn't matter how far apart they had grown over the years. If he needed her she would go. No questions asked. She let out a sigh. Oh boy. What was she getting herself into? She shook her head, not wanting to think about it, and started shoving things into a small travel bag. She told her neighbors they could have anything in the apartment, and then she left.

Now, Brenna sat looking out the bus's window, still chewing on her thumbnail, as they pulled into the bus stop. She barely recognized Mark, who was standing there waiting for her. She grabbed her bag from beside her and joined the line of people exiting the bus. She stepped down onto the sidewalk and walked over to Mark, who was standing on his tiptoes trying to see into the bus. She tapped him on the shoulder. He jumped and nearly lost his balance.

"Sorry 'bout that," she told him, "You had shorter hair last time I saw you." She was trying to make this as casual as she could. She didn't want to think about why she was here. Mark smiled a bit.

"You had longer hair," he said, and that seemed to break the ice. Brenna actually laughed a little. She ran a hand through her shoulder length, choppy hair. He led her to his bike, and they managed to tie her bag to the back while she perched precariously on the handle bars. They made it back to Mark and Roger's place, but Brenna thought it to be a minor miracle. She slid off the handle bars and stared up at the building. She followed Mark, who was carrying his bicycle up the steps. She followed him up the stairs to the door of their apartment.

"He doesn't know I'm coming, right?" she asked. She had assumed that this whole thing had been kept from Roger, and the look Mark gave her confirmed that thought. She sighed and nodded for him to open the door. He did. They both walked in, Mark setting his bike down against the wall. Brenna looked around, amused at the similarities between this place and the apartment she had left earlier that day.

"Roger?" Mark called out, taking his scarf off in the process, "Roger, I'm home, and I, er, have someone with me." That was when they both heard the sound of vomiting coming from the bathroom. They looked at each other and then Brenna followed Mark quickly to the bathroom. She could barely take seeing her big brother, a heap on the floor, with his head hanging over the toilet.

"Oh, Roger," she said sadly, and he looked up at her.

"Brenna?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper from the effort of throwing up. Brenna walked into the bathroom and knelt beside him.

"Yeah, it's me." She reached out to brush a lock of hair out of his face, and was greeted with the exceptionally sweaty surface of his forehead. She retracted her hand, looked at it, and then wiped it on her pants. "You're a mess."

"Thanks for noticing," he replied, as he moved away from the toilet and leaned against the wall with a groan, "You shouldn't be here. You've got school." Brenna looked at him with eyebrows raised.

"No, I should be right where I am," she told him firmly, "Believe it or not, you're more important than school. Come on let's get you to the couch." She nodded for Mark to help her as she grabbed one of Roger's arms and heaved him to his feet. They both guided him to the couch and let him lay down. Mark went to go make some food, and Brenna sat on the floor beside her brother. She was staring at him for several minutes before he said something.

"Go ahead," he said, laying his arm across his eyes, "Say it."

"Say what?" Brenna asked him curiously.

"Tell me I'm an idiot." She sighed.

"Roger, you're not an idiot. You just made a bad decision." Roger chuckled a bit.

"You sound like," he started, and then coughed a little into his hand, "You sound like Mark."

"I believe my exact words were 'Roger, you're an idiot' actually," Mark said, looking up from the coffee pot.

"Yeah," Roger said smiling, "But you said it in that bleeding-heart, artisty way."

Mark scowled and threw a towel at him. Roger laughed, but the laughter quickly turned into a coughing fit. He sat up, coughing violently into his hand. Brenna quickly got to her knees in alarm, patting him on the back. She sighed with relief when the coughing subsided and her brother settled back onto the couch, his eyes closed. He looked exhausted. In just a few minutes he was asleep. She reached a hand out and tenderly stroked his hair, staring into the face of her slumbering big brother. He looked so pale, and skinny and malnourished from the vomiting. With another sigh she stood up and walked over to the counter where Mark had a pot of coffee and a loaf of bread set out. Brenna sat down on a stool and grabbed a slice of bread.

"So, you're Mark?" she asked as she nibbled on her bread. Mark grinned a little and nodded.

"Yeah," he replied, "I'm Mark. And you're Brenna. Coffee?" He held up a pot of almost black liquid.

"Please," Brenna answered through a mouthful of bread. She was suddenly aware of how much she was craving a cup of coffee. Mark poured some into a mug, and slid it over to her. He had a thoughtful look on his face.

"Were you really about ready to start school?" he asked her when she picked up the steaming cup.

"Yes," she said, letting the mug warm her hands before drinking, "But that doesn't matter. I'm here now, and I'm staying." She began sipping at her coffee, watching Mark carefully. He still looked like he was thinking about something.

"Why?" he said after a moment or two. Brenna looked confused.

"Why what?"

"Why are you here?" he asked, "And don't say it's because you're his sister, because that can't be all of it. You've never written, never called. I mean, I've never even seen you loitering outside the building." Brenna stared blankly at him for a few seconds, thinking about her reply.

"I'm going to take a guess," she began, "and assume that he's never told you about our childhood."

"He told me your parents were drug users and often abusive," Mark said with a shrug. Brenna abandoned her cup of coffee and focused on looking at her brother's friend.

"Thats true, but not what meant. I was talking about our relationship as children. Roger's and mine. He's never told you anything about that, has he?" Mark shook his head.

"No."

"Yeah, well," Brenna said sadly, "Let's just say we were never really close. In fact, a lot of the time I forgot I had a brother, and I'm sure the same happened to him. It wasn't his fault or mine. When he was old enough to be able to leave to house on his own I hardly saw him except for a few brief minutes in the morning. He usually stayed out all night or came home really late. When I became old enough I did the same thing. It was the only way to hide from our parents. They never cared where we were, and so we were allowed to come and go as we pleased, and usually once we were out of the house we stayed out until we got hungry. Then when he was sixteen he left, went off on his own, and as bad as it sounds I didn't miss him. How could I miss someone I had never really talked to? The last conversation we ever really had was when I was five! And then when I was sixteen I left too, and I made my own life." She finished with a sigh, staring down at the black pool of coffee in her mug. There was silence for a minute.

"How does that answer my question?" Mark asked her. Brenna grinned down at her hands, and opened her mouth to answer, but before you could she heard the door to the loft open behind her.

"Mark, Roger, I'm home," called a deep voice. Brenna spun around quickly in her seat.

"Shhhh!" she and Mark both said in unison.

Brenna watched as the man, a dark-skinned and tall person, quickly stopped talking. He glanced over at the couch where Roger was still snoozing comfortably, and then he looked at Brenna with a puzzled look on his face. Mark motioned him over to the counter. The guy walked over, and Brenna turned back around on her stool so she was facing Mark again. The newcomer took a seat beside her. He took off his cap and set it on the counter. Mark poured him a cup of coffee.

"So, Mark, whose your friend?" the guy asked with a wide grin. Mark narrowed his eyes at him.

"This is Brenna," Mark answered, "She's Roger's sister. I called her earlier and asked her to come down here and give us a hand. Brenna, this is Tom Collins. He's one of our other roommates." Tom Collins held out his hand to Brenna, still smiling broadly. She shook it, unable to not smile back.

"Just call me Collins," he told her, letting go of her hand, "I didn't know Roger had a sister." Brenna opened her mouth, but was again interrupted by the sound of the door sliding open.

"Mark, I'm home!" called another voice, this time very loud and rather high-pitched. Definitely female.

Brenna visibly winced when the voice reached her ears and she slowly turned around. Before her she saw a girl that looked about her age, maybe a little older. She had curly brown hair, large expressive eyes, and bright red lips. Brenna felt like slapping her for being so damned loud. She could tell that Roger hadn't slept more than a few hours in days, maybe even weeks. This moron was going to wake him up in no time.

"Maureen," Mark whispered urgently, "Be quiet. You'll wake Roger up.

"Too late," came a muffled reply from the couch. Roger slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Nice going," Brenna said irritably to the girl, Maureen, who was prancing over to the counter, her eyes fixed on Mark. She froze when she heard Brenna.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked haughtily. Getting more annoyed by the second, Brenna stood up and looked Maureen right in the face.

"I'm Roger's sister, and I have a problem with you barging in here and waking him up. He's exhausted!" She was yelling now.

"How was I supposed to know he was sleeping?" Maureen shouted back, looking over at Mark, as though it was his fault she was being yelling at, "And, hey, this is my house! I can do what I want!"

"Our house," Roger corrected her, joining everyone at the counter, "Brenna, calm down. It's OK. I wasn't that tired." He sat down on the last stool next to Collins. He was still rubbing one eye as he poured the remaining coffee into a mug of his own.

Brenna and Maureen stared at each other a moment longer, and then Brenna made to sit back on her stool, the last one available. However, Maureen rushed over and sat down on it in the blink of an eye. She sat there, her arms folded, looking at Brenna with childish pride. Brenna couldn't believe what she was seeing. Mark looked embarrassed.

"Well," Brenna said with a shrug, taking a step towards Mark, "I guess I'll have to go sit on Mark's lap." She had made the assumption that there was something between Mark and Maureen, and she was right. Maureen glared venomously at her and then got up to go sit on Mark's lap. Brenna smirked triumphantly as she reclaimed her seat on the other side of Collins. He and Roger were both laughing heartily.

"That was excellent," Collins told Brenna, patting her on the back and chuckling. She grinned at him and reached for her mug of coffee. The beverage was now lukewarm at best, but it was still coffee. If only she knew how great friend's she and coffee were going to be by the end of this ordeal. Maureen was still glaring at her as Brenna took a drink of her not-so-warm coffee. Brenna could sense more childish discussion.

"You're not staying are you?" Maureen finally asked her, her arms still folded as she sat on Mark's lap. He still looked rather embarrassed.

"No, she's not," Roger said before Brenna could answer. Brenna glanced grumpily over at him, tired of this cat-and-mouse game.

"Yes, I am," she stated firmly, the two of them staring hard at each other.

"You can't stay here," Maureen said matter-of-factly, "We all contribute to pay for this place. You just got here. You don't have a job so you can't contribute." She sounded very happy at her observation. Brenna looked at her wearily, like she were a child that was trying to be allowed to stay up all night. She got up and went over to her bag that was still sitting on the floor near the door. She dug through it a few seconds and then returned to the counter with a wad of money. She counted out several bills, and laid them on the counter's surface.

"That should cover my share for a while," she said. Everyone was staring at the money. Even Maureen seemed speechless now. "I was going to use this money to pay for books, but I'm not going to need any textbooks here."

"You're not staying!" Roger shouted angrily, standing up. Brenna looked over at him and stood up too.

"Yes, I am!" she shouted back, "Stop trying to make me go away! I already told my neighbor's they could have anything left in my apartment. I brought some clothes, two books, a toothbrush, and a few photographs. I'm going to go look for a job tomorrow, and then I'm staying until I think you're OK."

"Why do you care?" he asked her, still yelling, "It's not exactly news that I have a drug problem " The others were just sort of staring at them, like they were an interesting television program.

"We're family!" Brenna screamed at him with all her might, breathing heavily, "It doesn't matter what happened in the past. I'm here now, and I'm not leaving. I'm not going to leave my brother here to suffer when there's something I can do about it. I can help. Let me help. I want to help." In the end, she was pleading with him, her face softened now. She could feel tears wanting to well up in her eyes but she held them at bay.

Roger stood completely still, looking at her like he had never seen her before. Then, without warning, he walked over and wrapped his arms around her. Brenna quickly wrapped her arms around him and they hugged each other tightly. It was the most physical contact they had had since she could remember. The tears broke through and she cried silently into his shirt.

"I need your help," he told her, his voice cracking a little. He was crying too.