Notes: This is supposed to take place while Roger's with the Well-Hungarians but before he meets April and starts using drugs; I wrote this for a speedrent challenge (235) "What if Benny hadn't married Allison?"
Warnings: Adult language, extreme violence, character death, all around dark piece...
Disclaimer: Rent and its characters all belong solely to Jonathan Larson
"He's cheating," Maureen said softly.
"What?"
"Look, I don't like you, but I don't think cheating is right."
Allison raised a doubtful eye.
"Think what you want. I've never cheated on Mark."
"How do you know Benjamin's cheating?"
"I saw him. He was getting pretty hot and heavy with her in the stairwell."
Allison swallowed hard, blinking back tears. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I know you two are getting serious and I think you have a right to know. Just…just please don't tell him I said anything, okay?"
"Who is she?"
Maureen shrugged. "I'm honestly not sure."
"Well thank you for telling me," Allison said, standing up.
Maureen nodded and followed her out of the café, leaving a few dollars on the table to cover the coffees.
"She won't even tell me why," Benny slurred.
"Ben, what difference does it make? If it's over, it's over."
"Leas' I still got Mimi."
"Who?" Mark asked.
"Hot little dancer I been seeing."
"So you've been cheating?"
Benny took another swig from the beer bottle and shrugged. "Yeah."
"Then what difference does it make if Allison dumped you?" Maureen asked.
Benny glared at her. "Because I love her."
Maureen rolled her eyes. "Yeah. That's love for ya. Seeing 'hot little dancer' girls on the side."
Benny threw the near-empty beer bottle at her. Maureen ducked and the bottle smashed on the wall behind her, beer splattering down. Roger, silent until then, got up from his seat on the couch and stood between them.
"Benny, knock it off!"
"You tellin' me what ta do, you fuckin' wanna-be?"
"I'm telling you that you're drunk and you need to calm the fuck down and stop throwing things."
Benny glared at him and turned, storming out. Roger turned and saw Mark guiding Maureen to the couch.
"You okay?"
She nodded. "I'm fine, guys. Really. None of it hit me. I, um, I told her what I saw."
It had been a week since Maureen had seen Benny and Mimi in the stairwell. Benny hadn't noticed her. Maureen had turned and gone back into the loft. She told Roger and Mark right away, immediately torn between loyalty to Benny and a sense of obligation to tell Allison.
"Figured you had when he said they broke up," Roger said.
Mark nodded and set about cleaning up the broken glass. Roger offered to help but Mark said he'd take care of it. An uneasy silence filled the loft.
"Hey, isn't Collins supposed to be back soon?" Roger asked.
"Think he said the 21st," Mark said.
"Twentieth," Maureen corrected.
Roger gave a small smile. Mark dumped the bag of glass into their trash can in the corner.
Maureen opened her mouth to say something, but the loft door slammed open. Benny. He looked pissed.
"You saw us? You saw us and you told her?"
Shit.
Roger and Maureen jumped up from their places on the couch. Roger tried to approach Benny while Mark went towards Maureen.
"Benny, just calm down, okay?" Roger said.
"You told her! I love her! I love her, you stupid bitch!"
Maureen couldn't say anything.
Benny glared at her, angry tears in his eyes. Roger took another step towards him. Benny reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun.
"Back off, Roger!"
Roger jumped back, hands raised. "Whoa! Benny, calm down."
"Do not tell me to call down, you fuckin' bastard!"
"Benny, just put the gun down, okay? I'm sorry. I—"
"Shut the fuck up!"
Roger looked like he was contemplating reaching for the gun. Benny saw and aimed it him.
"Roger, this ain't about you. Sit your fuckin' ass on that couch and don't move."
Roger glanced over his shoulder at Mark, who nodded. He sat down.
"Ben, can you just talk to us without the gun?" Mark asked.
"No. No more talking."
The gun aimed at Maureen. Roger jumped up from the couch, knocking him in the arm before he could pull the trigger. Benny spun and backhanded him. Roger fell to the ground with a hard thud, the force of hitting the cement floor knocking him out. Benny aimed the gun again and this time fired.
The alcohol threw off his aim. Maureen flung herself to the ground. Mark saw Benny's face. The uncertainty of whether he'd hit her. He took advantage of it and rushed at Benny.
The pair wrestled over the gun. Mark normally would've been no match for Benny in terms of strength, but intoxicated Benny was clumsier, not quite as sure of his movements. Maureen crawled over to Roger, eyes tearing up when she saw the blood on the ground beneath his head. She grabbed his wrist and felt for a pulse. Still strong.
Behind her, a shot rang out. She screamed as she turned and saw Mark crumple to the ground. Benny stared in drunken disbelief at the blood pouring from Mark's chest. He dropped the gun and ran from the loft.
Maureen's scream turned into a wail. She ran for the phone and called 911.
"My-my roommate…he shot my boyfriend. And he knocked out my other friend. And…and…"
"Miss? Miss, calm down please. Where was your boyfriend shot?"
"In our loft."
"No, where on his body?"
"Oh, his-his chest. There's so much blood. Seriously. Please…just hurry up."
"We will, miss. We just need the address."
Maureen spit it out and hung up, running to Mark's side. Roger groaned, coming to slowly.
"Maureen?"
She was knelt between him and Mark. He couldn't see Mark. Roger sat up slowly and felt the back of his head.
"Fuck, that hurt," he mumbled.
Maureen was sobbing and shaking Mark's shoulder. Roger tried to stand but got dizzy and decided to stay on the ground, crawling over to them.
"Maureen, what happened?"
Roger froze when he saw Mark's blood. He stared with wide eyes.
"What happened? How did this happen? Where is he?"
"He-he shot him. They were fighting over the gun…the ambulance is coming…he…"
As if on cue, the ambulance sirens pierced the night air, breaks screeching to a halt in front of the building.
The first paramedics immediately set about helping Mark. They stabilized him as best as they could before transporting him. Maureen cried, not knowing what to do.
The second ambulance arrived shortly after the first.
"Definitely gonna need stitches, sir," one of them said, pressing a bandage to Roger's head.
"Only going if she can come with," he said, looking at Maureen.
"Sure, of course."
The police arrived as they were loading Roger onto the stretcher.
"You know who did this?"
"Benjamin Coffin III."
The officer nodded, jotting the name down. "We'll meet you at the hospital."
Maureen called Collins from the payphone in the waiting room.
"Hello?"
"Collins, it's Maureen…you-you gotta come home."
"What? Why? What's goin' on?"
"Benny…he…he shot Mark."
"What?"
"He-he shot him."
"Is Mark okay?"
"I don't know," she cried.
"I'm leaving right now."
The officers had to question Maureen immediately. She recounted what had happened, giving them the full names and phone numbers as well. They gave her their cards and left her alone just as Collins was arriving.
"Collins," she said.
She let him pull her into his arms and cried. He tried to reassure her even as his own fearful tears fell.
An hour passed before they released Roger. Nine stitches and a mild concussion. In a busy New York City hospital, it didn't warrant an overnight stay.
"How is he?" he asked right away.
"We don't know."
Collins stood and hugged Roger tightly. "You okay?"
Roger shrugged and sat down beside Maureen. He held her hand tightly and the trio sat in stunned silence.
One of the officers approached slowly. "We wanted to let you all know Mr. Coffin has been arrested."
They nodded.
"Mr. Davis, if you don't mind, there are some questions we need to ask you in private."
Roger nodded and followed them to the far corner of the waiting room.
"I called Mark's mom," Collins said. "His folks are on their way."
Maureen nodded. "I forgot to call them…thanks…" she mumbled.
Three more hours passed. The Cohens arrived, Mr. and Mrs. Cohen looking fearful and tired. Cindy and her husband were right behind them. Cindy was already crying, fearing the worst.
The doctor approached slowly. "Are you all here about Mark Cohen?"
They nodded. Maureen sat between Roger and Collins, clutching their hands.
"How is he?" Mrs. Cohen asked.
"We did all we could. I'm sorry but the blood loss was massive. The bullet hit his lung and several main arteries. He passed away. I'm sorry."
Maureen's eyes widened as her body tensed in shock. Collins buried his head in his hands. Roger pulled Maureen into his arms, holding her tightly to him as they both sobbed.
"How do you find the defendant?"
The foreman stood up. "We the jury, in the above entitled case, find the defendant, Benjamin Coffin III, on the count of assault in the first degree, guilt."
Maureen sighed.
"On the three counts of assault with a deadly weapon, we find the defendant, Benjamin Coffin III, guilty."
She felt Roger squeeze her hand tightly. Collins had one arm around her, his hand reaching all the way over to Roger's shoulder.
"On the count of second degree murder, we find the defendant, Benjamin Coffin III, guilty."
Maureen burst into tears. Roger and Collins hugged her between them. They were interrupted when they heard someone approach them.
"Maureen?"
She looked up, tears streaming down her face. "Allison, hi."
She'd heard by now of how Benny, drunk and angry, had arrived at her penthouse. He screamed, waving the gun around until she told him about what Maureen had said.
"Maureen, I am so sorry. I didn't…I never thought he…I'm sorry."
Maureen nodded. "I know. Thank you."
She nodded and walked away.
"You sure quitting the band is the right decision?"
Roger nodded. "I still want music in my life but they're getting all fucked up. All these groupies and drugs…just doesn't seem to have a point. Especially not…"
"Not when you've seen how quickly life can slip away?" Collins guessed.
"Something like that."
"You guys find a new apartment?"
"Yeah…not even in Alphabet City. Movin' on up," Roger joked.
"You guys will be okay."
Roger nodded, staring out the café window. Collins reached a hand out and touched Roger's arm. "Hey."
Roger looked back at him.
"He'd want this."
"What?"
"I know that look. Mark would be okay with it. He'd want you both to be happy."
Roger nodded, blinking back tears.
Maureen knelt at the grave. "Hi, Pookie. I…I haven't come to visit in a while. I'm sorry. And…I'm sorry…Roger, um, Roger and I have been seeing each other. I know he talked to you about that when he visited last week…"
She stared at the headstone, tears on her cheeks. "And I don't know if he told you he was going to, but he…he asked me to marry him…I-I still love you, Mark. I do…but I love Roger too. I said yes…God, I just…I wish I knew you're okay with—"
Maureen felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped. "Jesus! You scared the shit out of me!"
The young man stood with a soft smile on his face. "Sorry. He's okay with it."
"Excuse me?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. He just says he's okay with it and capture it on film. There's still some in the camera and more in the box that his scarf is on."
Maureen's eyes widened. "How do you know that?"
Another shrug. The young man smiled. "Have a nice day."
Maureen stared in disbelief as the young man started to walk away. "Wait! What's your name?"
"Angel," he called.
Maureen stared at the young man's back, then at the tombstone. "Thank you," she whispered.
She stood slowly and walked out of the cemetery. Roger was waiting beside the beat-up old car. He hugged her tightly when she came over. Maureen kissed him softly.
"It's okay," she said softly.
Roger nodded and kissed her forehead. "Ready?"
She nodded and got in the car. "Roger?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you." She'd never said that. He knew she did, but she'd never said it. Leaning over, Roger kissed her.
"I love you too," he whispered.
"Let's go home."