Those Were The Days, a rent fanfic

Once upon a time there was a cafe
Where we used to raise a glass or two
Remember how we laughed away the hours
And dreamed of all the great things we would do…

Joanne Jefferson stood in front of what once had been the rallying point for her old friends and many others like them. Darkness stared out of the translucent door, and a heavy padlock on the handle and boarded up windows showed the place was off-limits. A sign announced the building was condemned, to be replaced with yet another apartment block. Joanne didn't believe it would happen anytime soon. The sign had been there for a decade, hardly readable through all the sprouting graffiti. Some of it was from patrons who opposed the demolition of the place that had once been their home away from home; most of it was simply a drabble from a passing homeless person.

Joanne stood, her hand on the door, her breath making fog on the cold glass. She closed her eyes and could almost imagine this place in its Golden Age. Could almost hear the laughing and talking from inside…and the singing. Her eyes snapped open as a tear slowly traced its way down her cheek.

Those were the days my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way.
La la la la...
Those were the days, oh yes those were the days

Twenty years ago, nearly to the day, Mimi's AIDS took her over, and she died peacefully in bed. Roger grew extremely angry and depressed. He left New York and the times when the others saw him became farther and farther between. Finally, two years after Mimi's death, he didn't come home at all. They wouldn't have known what had happened to him if Roger's older brother, Mike, hadn't called and said Roger had been living with him and his wife for a while now. Only a month after this call, they received another, this time with the news that Roger was dead. He had committed suicide by an overdosage of pills.

Joanne remembered how Mark had fallen apart when that happened. It was like something inside him died for good. He never went out with the others, and Collins, the only one permitted to enter the apartment, said that he rarely ate or bathed at all. And as if life had decided it wasn't being cruel enough, Collins came down with a bad case of pneumonia that weakened his system and let the AIDS slowly break down his life. He died within six months.

Two years after that, Maureen was diagnosed with breast cancer. Joanne did everything she could for her wife, paid for all the most expensive treatments, anything. But it was no use. Maureen succumbed to the cancer after only a year. Within six years, their perfect Bohemian life had fallen apart completely, leaving only a broken Mark and a grieving Joanne behind.

After that, Mark slowly emerged from his apartment. Joanne saw him occasionally. Usually at the Life, where they were both trying to hold on to the good memories.

Then the busy years went rushing by us
We lost our starry notions on the way
If by chance I'd see you in the cafe
We'd smile at one another and we'd say

When the Life was condemned, there wasn't anything to hold either of them in the City anymore. They both left in favor of a place where they weren't forced to face their sadness every day. They lost touch completely. Joanne wasn't even sure what part of the country Mark lived in anymore, but she lived in Chicago. Big cities always attracted her interest. The only reason she'd come back to New York at all was to visit her parents for Christmas. This was the first time she'd been able to come back in ten years. And she'd had to come to this spot, even though she'd assumed the building itself would be gone. Yet here it stood.

Just tonight I stood before the cafe
Nothing seemed the way it used to be
In the glass I saw a strange reflection
Was that lonely woman really me?

If she listened hard enough, Joanne thought she could hear the Life as it once had been, bustling with activity, echoing with the noise of the happy people who congregated there. She could almost hear Collins' booming laugh, the faintest strains of Roger's guitar strings, Mark announcing Bohemia's tribute...Maureen ringing her cowbell.

They were calling to her to come in. She could hear them shout her name…

And Joanne Jefferson, just back from her long stay in the Windy City, will perform the role of prosecutor in a mock trial, in which Benjamin Coffin III will be tried for the murder of Bohemia…

Through the door there came familiar laughter
I saw your face and heard you call my name
Oh my friend we're older but no wiser
For in our hearts the dreams are still the same

Smiling sadly, Joanne turned away to head back down the icy sidewalk to her car.