Title: Burn
Author: Lioness Black
Pairing: Mark/Roger
Rating: PG13
Genre: Drama
Summary: Mark is in an accident. He's alive, but he's not the same.
Spoilers: Post-Rent
Warnings: Possibly disturbing images? Some swearing?
Disclaimer: Not mine, just good fun.
It all started with an accident.
I wasn't there, I was no where near where it happened, I had no idea Mark was anywhere near it when it happened, let alone right in the middle of it.
There was an electrical fire in an apartment building uptown. I heard about it on the radio, but I didn't think anything of it. I was just waiting for the news to be over the music to come back on. I had been attacking the dishes, since they had been piled up there for more than a month and a family of mice had taken home in it... it was time to wash the dishes.
I didn't answer the phone, I let the machine get it.
"...is this the home of Mark Cohen?"
I looked over, like someone was actually standing there to look at.
"This is the phone number we have for Mark Cohen."
I looked back to the dishes, it was for Mark.
"Mr. Cohen was involved in a fire, he's at the Cornell Medical Center on East 68th street."
They didn't say anything else.
I abandoned the dishes. I almost forgot to put on shoes.
---
I had no idea what Mark had been doing at that apartment building. After convincing a nurse that I was Mark's brother, or maybe she just felt sorry for me, I stood in the burn unit and stared.
I wasn't allowed in, I could only see him through glass at this point. It didn't even look like him. He had bandages over half his face, and all up his arms, and his hands. His glasses were nowhere to be seen.
It didn't look like him, but I would know Mark anywhere.
I pressed my nose against the glass and stared. I couldn't look away.
I didn't even notice that I was crying until the glass fogged over.
---
A few days later, Mark was in normal room, one I could go into. He was sleeping the first time I went, and he slept the whole time I was there. The second time I went, he was awake.
His bed was in the upright sitting position, and a table was in front of him. He was sipping water out of a glass, leaning forward to suck the water from a straw. His hands were still bandaged.
He looked in my direction when I entered with the eye that wasn't covered by bandages. He pulled away from the straw. "Roger."
Mark's eyesight wasn't so terrible he couldn't recognize someone without his glasses.
"Hey, Mark," I said. I walked into the room. "I... the last time I came, you were asleep."
"You just missed my mom," he said.
"That's a relief."
He smiled, but didn't laugh. He leaned back against the pillows. He turned his head. "Sit or something. You're kind of... wobbling."
I laughed and pulled up a chair.
We were quiet for a few moments. I didn't know what to say. How happy I was that he was alive, what the hell was he doing at that building, how much I loved him in every way you could possibly love someone. Instead of saying it all at once, I didn't say anything.
"They haven't let me look in a mirror," Mark said. "You're my best friend, Roger, tell me. How bad does it look?"
The question startled me. I wasn't expecting that. "Um, well, Mark, it's all under bandages."
"Then take them off!" Mark's eye begged with me.
"I don't think I should."
"Then call someone who will. Roger, please. I need to know what it looks like. I have to know. I know you'll be honest with me. I need to see my face, I've seen my arms and hands when they change the bandages and they look terrible. I need to know, I know you'll tell me the truth."
"Does it matter how you look? You're alive! You survived a fire for god's sake! Can't you just be happy with that? I'm happy with that. Mark, I'm so happy that you're alive, you have no idea." I was pleading with him, too.
"What goddamn use is being alive if I look like a fucking monster!?"
Mark had yelled at me, pushed me around, punched me, even, but I had never heard him sound so hateful.
I stared at him like I stared when he was unconscious in the burn unit. Like I could barely recognize him, and I only knew which one was him because he was Mark and I always knew Mark.
My voice shook. "I'll get a nurse or something."
I had to beg and plead, but I got a doctor who would remove Mark's bandages so I could see, and so he could see. Mark studied my face as the doctor pulled back the bandages.
"Don't expect him to not be shocked," the doctor said to Mark. "It's not that bad, but he's going to be shocked, even still, okay?"
The doctor was right, I was shocked. The entire left side of Mark's face was shiny red, all of the folds and creases, smile lines, they were all gone. The skin had melted and reformed into something new and featureless. A good portion of Mark's hair was gone, and his eyebrow was gone, but he had a white gauze patch still over his eye.
"Can you take off the patch?" I asked.
"It can't be exposed to direct light for some time, in hopes of saving some of Mark's vision," the doctor explained.
"Well?" Mark said, looking to me. "Shock's over, what do you think?"
"It's different," I said weakly. "Mark... I don't know what I'm supposed to tell you. You don't look the same."
"The burn is still healing," said the doctor. "This isn't the final product, but, no, Mark, you're not going to look the same."
"Can I see?" Mark asked. "Can you get me a mirror so I can see?"
The doctor pulled a small hand mirror from his pocket. "If you're sure."
"I'm sure! I want to see!"
He held it up in front of Mark's face, and Mark stared for a long time.
"Get out," he whispered. "Both of you. Out."
"Mark," I said. "Please-"
"OUT!" Mark shouted.
I turned, and I left.
I didn't know what else to do.