Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, except Amelia. The rest of them belong to Jonathan Larson, the creator of Rent. I am making no money off of this, so don't get all riled up. Just read it and tell me what you think.
A/N (9/14/02): I went back through and cleaned up these chapters a bit, as I'm planning on continuing the story soon. Please R/R even if you've already done so, and let me know if there's still interest in the story. Thanks!
December 18, 1998
"Ow! What the …Mark? Is this your cam …oh. Never mind." Roger picked up his guitar case and placed it on the table, squinting to make anything out in the near blackness of the loft.
Mark poked his head out of his bedroom, and noted that at least it was a little lighter in the main room with the moonlight.
"What?"
"Never mind. Did you find a flashlight?"
Mark sighed. "No flashlight. Got batteries, though. Well, I think they're batteries. Find any candles?"
Roger's eyes slammed shut. Would you light my candle? Mimi hadn't made it to Easter. And here they were, a year and a half later, the week before another Christmas and once again with no power. You're shivering. He shook his head to clear the memories. Six months of silence for April, ten for Mimi. Once again Roger had let his guitar collect dust in the corner and shut himself into his own world, a world full of pain and not much else. Once again Mark had been there, making him eat, making him try to sleep, making sure he lived through every day, and making him take his AZT. AZT break. He clenched his fists. Standing in the darkness, everything seemed so much closer. No no no no no…he was past this. He forced his eyes open and looked around. The moonlight seemed strangely bright after his period of forced blackness. Thank God for the moon.
"No!" His voice was raw and he threw himself on the couch, his head in his hands.
Mark jumped. "No…candles?" He made his way carefully across the room to where Roger's shape was silhouetted against the windows. "Roger?" He reached out to touch the musician's shoulder, but Roger stood up and smiled painfully.
"Mimi. Sorry. No. No candles." He turned abruptly and started throwing old newspapers off the table into the garbage can that doubled as a stove.
Mark nodded and watched Roger go. He noticed Roger's jacket lying on the couch and tossed it at him.
"Here. It'll get colder soon."
Roger shrugged the jacket on silently. Mark opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a timid knock at the door.
"Who…hm." Mark mused as he navigated his way across the room. Maureen and Joanne had left a few weeks back for a vacation someplace warm, thanks to a particularly well-won case on Joanne's part. They didn't say so, but it was pretty clear they were going to find someplace to be legally married, as long as they didn't kill each other first. Collins was in Washington DC for a conference and wasn't expected back until the weekend, and nobody knew where Benny was. It was therefore with considerable confusion that Mark opened the door.
A girl stood in the hallway, and from what Mark could see she was playing with what looked to be a flashlight. She looked up as the door opened and smiled nervously.
"Uh…hi. I'm Amy. Well, Amelia really but…Amy." She looked down and shifted her weight before continuing, and Mark was willing to bet money she was blushing. "I just moved in downstairs. I was wondering…do you have any batteries?" She waved the flashlight (for Mark had been correct) around. "Mine don't work any more."
Mark nodded and stepped aside. "Come in." She looked at him oddly and he remembered his manners. "I'm Mark. And this is" he turned to gesture to Roger, but he was nowhere to be found. "Roger? Hm. Oh well."
Amy stepped in, and once she was out of Mark's shadow he got a better look at her. She could have been a poster child for Ralph Lauren. Her brownish-blonde hair hung halfway down her back where it erupted into soft curls near the end. She was rather petite, and her chin was just level with Mark's shoulder. The filmmaker in Mark instantly noted her too-large button-down shirt, man's sweater, khakis, and penny loafers and summed up the impression instantly, the word "preppy" playing around the edges of his thoughts. As he was forming this thought, Amy took in Mark and the loft with large, dark eyes. Finally finding his tongue, he shut the door and spoke.
"Roger's my roommate. Don't know where he went…but yes. Batteries. I know I just found some…" he disappeared into his bedroom and emerged momentarily with batteries in his hand. "Yes!" He grinned triumphantly.
Amy smiled in return. "Thanks." She took the batteries from his outstretched hand and fumbled with the flashlight. "Your roommate…he went in there when you opened the door." She nodded towards the door leading to Roger's bedroom. Suddenly a beam of light cut the darkness. "Ah hah! Let there be light!" She laughed slightly at her own joke.
Mark looked at her, not quite knowing what to say. He smiled. "Great." Watching her, he wished for his camera. There was an air of innocence and youth about her that was rare on his side of town. She looked up and noticed him watching her.
"What?" She smiled self-consciously.
"Oh…nothing!" Mark hurried to say, adjusting his glasses awkwardly. "I just…nothing." He looked at a spot of moonlight on the floor and silence reigned for an awkward few moments.
"I uh…I should go. Thanks for the batteries. I'll…see you around?"
Mark looked at her. "You're welcome. Yeah…come on up any time. I mean, if you need more batteries or…" he stopped, wondering if it was possible to sound more idiotic than he did right then. "…or even if you don't." Yes. It was possible.
Mercifully, Amy smiled. "G'night Mark. Nice meeting you." She nodded her head kind of shyly and left, her flashlight beam bathing her path in weak yellow light.
Mark watched Amy go and shook his head. Forget it. Don't even think it, Cohen. Just – stop! Sighing, Mark knocked on Roger's door.
"Hey…Roger…what's going on?"
Silence.
"Roger? C'mon…we have a new neighbor."
Suddenly the door flew open. Roger looked like he was teetering on the edge of depression, and if he wasn't on that edge, he was on the edge of mad as a hornet.
"We have a new neighbor, Mark. She lives downstairs and she came up here asking for batteries. Think about it." His eyes were hard as he stared down at his best friend.
Light suddenly dawned in Mark's head. Mimi's apartment. The candle. Oh crap.
"Ah. Well…yeah. Didn't think about it that way," Mark hedged, not sure what to say. Even after ten months of guiding Roger through his rage and near suicidal thoughts, Mark was always at a loss as to how to comfort him.
"Forget it, Mark. Just…forget it." The door closed and Mark was left alone in the darkness. He sighed again and picked up his camera from off of the table, moving into a beam of moonlight.
"Zoom in on the loft. As we approach another Christmas, we once again freeze in the dark. Amy lives downstairs and she wanted some light. Roger's thinking about Mimi again." He panned around the room until he reached Roger's door, then swung the camera back to himself. "Zoom in on Mark, who is once again alone. Cut to the window and watch the snow fall."