Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape, or form, own Rent and its characters. Jon Larson is my hero.

Warnings: Language.

This is from a personal experience I had a few days ago. That's all you need to know. R&R, please.

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It's so tall. I feel almost obsolete next to its looming size. I'm almost swallowed by its enormous shadow.

I have to move. I have to go inside.

Red. Blue. Red. Blue.

The colors flash across my face like a warning sign. I so badly just want to turn and walk away. I want to run so far away. No one will ever find me. This shadow won't swallow me. The size will shrink in the distance. I'll be safe.

But I know I can't do that. Even though it might kill me by walking in, I have to go. For her. For him. They need me. They need to know that I'm here and I love them with all that I have. They need to know that I can overcome my fears and be there for them when they need me most.

Friendship is not being there when it's convenient.

It's about being there, when it's not.

I just have to suck it up, grow a pair, and walk in.

I can do this.

Right foot. Left foot. Right. Left. Right.

The light almost blinds me. It's so white. It's so, clean. All the people in the lobby look miserable. There are people in wheelchairs mumbling non-seneschal nothings; people twiddling their thumbs, waiting for someone to tell them either good news or bad.

It's almost painful to walk through.

It's not the best part of New York, so some of the people are most likely drug addicts. Someone whizzes past me on a gurney, cops falling in right behind.

"This man has swallowed ten dime bags of heroin.."

Jesus. How is that man still breathing?

I turn away from the painful sight. I've seen too many people die in a similar manner. I don't need to see it happen again.

My shoes squeak against the amazingly sterile floor.

"Can I help you?"

My eyes snap to the cheery face in front of me. How does she do that? Has she not looked around her at all?

"Uhm, I'm here for two people. Roger Davis and Mimi Marquez-Davis?" My hands are fidgeting.

Her auburn eyes flicker down to the files on her desk. She finds the one I'm here for. "Ah, yes. They're in room 23A." She flashes me a quick smile.

I feel so dumb. "Sorry, miss. Where is that exactly?"

She laughs. "Sorry, dear." She points a perfectly manicured finger-nail. How does she have time for all this? "Go through those double doors, mkay? Down the hall, and it's the third door on the left." She smiles yet again.

I nod a quick thank you.

Someone else steps up behind me. They ask where their loved ones are. The nurse shakes her head sadly. Sobbing is heard.

I push my way through the double doors quickly. Another gurney flashes pat me.

"These women were caught in a flash fire.."

I catch a glimpse of their burns. I have to turn back. They seem to be in so much pain. It hurts.

22B. 22C. 23A.

"Hey, guys."

She's connected to the IV. The cleanliness surrounds my senses like an avalanche. I almost want to leave the room. I feel so nauseous. I can't do this. I can't—

"Hey, man." He pulls me into a hug. He smells like cigarettes and leather. He probably lit one up like he always does when he's nervous.

"How's she doing?" I feel like I'm drowning. It's too much. I'm going to die here. This is where people die. What if she—

"She's fine. They both are."

"Both?"

He cracks a huge smile. "Baby Alexis, meet your Godfather Mark."

She's set in my arms. My eyes swell. The smells and fears are gone. The hospital is gone. It's just me and the baby. She's gorgeous.

"Hey you." I look up at the mommy of my godchild. "Guess what her middle name is?"

I can only gulp in response.

"Cohen."

I look down at the precious little joy that is my godchild. My voice is barely above a whisper. "Thank you Mimi. Thank you."

You know, I always thought that I would be forgotten. I mean, I never did anything of importance. Sure, I was going to outlive my friends. But, I was nothing. I never showed the world what I was worth. I never had anything to my name. I'd given up on a woman ever wanting me. But now, I had little Alexis.

My name would live on. My spirit. My life would be told to her.

Thank you, Mimi. Thank you, Roger. Thank you for remembering me.

--

I know it was a little odd. But, the part about walking in, the people, the smells, and the white, was all from a few days ago. I actually had to walk out so I wouldn't get sick. It was awful. But, this story came to me on the drive home.

I hope you liked it. R&R?

Te Amo,

saygnightx.