Title: Last Word
Summary: Roger couldn't hold in the rage any longer. Mark just kept blathering on about feeling the pain--how he shouldn't cut himself off from it. But Roger had never felt the pain more fiercely in his life. He had to let it out! Takes place during "Goodbye, Love".
Just a Note: Well, this is my first fic on this account. I really hope you like it. It's a bit different than how I usually write, considering that it is in second person and present tense, so I hope it's not awkward. Critique is greatly appreciated, especially because this is an experiment. Let me know how I did on my characterization on Roger, please! I'm more of a Mark writer, it comes more naturally, but I wanted to give Roger a try. Takes place during Roger and Mark's conversation during "Goodbye, Love" (Playverse, but I haven't seen it unfortunately, so I'm hoping I'm not too off with what happens). Bold italic is Roger, regular bold is Mark.
Disclaimer: I don't own RENT! Thank you, Johnathan Larson! (It all belongs to him)
"I hear there are great restaurants out west."
You roll your eyes in your head. Restaurants? Honestly? That's all Mark can say after Angel's funeral, as Mimi is dying, as Collins is dying, as you are dying. You decide to humor him, at least for the moment. But rage is building up despite your determination not to blow up at him, to not get angry. You promised yourself that you wouldn't hurt him.
"Some of the best."
You almost snap. Mimi floats into your head and suddenly, she's all you can see. You just have to voice your hurt.
"How could she?"
"How could you let her go?"
You turn away, angry, but trying to hold it in. You want to shout, but even Mark – no, especially Mark - knows when to back away. You don't want him to. You crave the challenge, the biting words, the chance to let it all seep out.
How could he pin this on you? She was the one that wanted smack, after all. She crawled back to Benny. But… you could have stopped her. And Mimi would have been unhappy. So, everybody would lose.
You don't know how to answer the question in a way that he would understand, so you throw out something vague and try to switch the subject.
"You just don't know ... How could we lose Angel?"
"Maybe you'll see why when you stop escaping your pain! At least now if you try -- Angel's death won't be in vain."
That's it. You lose it. How could anyone's death not be in vain? And how could he say that you were avoiding pain? You had never felt it so purely in your life. Mark had no right to lecture, not while clutching that stupid camera… At this point, you don't care if you scare him away. You shout.
"His death is in vain!"
You take a breath to calm yourself. Mark seems intent on having the last word, even if he is a little taken aback.
"Are you insane? There so much to care about, there's me -- there's Mimi!"
You scowl. Mimi was with Benny, not you! And she's dying. You can't do it. You can't watch. April was quick and sudden. Mimi will not be – you're certain.
And why in the world does Mark expect you to stay for him? He's barely around! Work, call Alexi, work, film for that stupid failure of a movie that you doubt he'll ever finish… The Mark you used to know was always there. You would have stayed for him. This is not the Mark you know.
"Mimi's got her baggage, too."
"So do you!"
He sneers at you and the emotions overflow. You had reigned in your temper before, but Mark has to know that it was temporary
"Who are you to tell me what I know, what to do?"
"A friend!"
"But who, Mark, are you?"
You're satisfied to see him stunned, speechless for a moment. You continue on with your rant.
"Mark has got his work! They say 'Mark lives for his work!' And 'Mark's in love with his work!' Mark hides in his work."
"From what?"
Mark is skeptical, surprised at your accusations, but as always, holding the camera tightly. Ready to shield himself from the world as soon as it becomes too much. You shake your head at his doubt. Maybe he'd learn to shut off the machine for once and join in before it's too late, before you're gone as well.
"From facing your failure, facing your loneliness, facing the fact you live a lie!"
He frowns deeper at every jab, obviously smarting from the blows. You go on. Mark used to have the last word often. Not anymore. It was your turn to call the shots. You weren't high, you weren't going off to find smack – No, not this time. You wanted the last word and you intended to get it.
"Yes, you live a lie -- tell you why! You're always preaching not to be numb, when that's how you thrive! You pretend to create and observe, when you really detach from feeling alive!"
His knuckles tighten around the camera, turning white as his face turns red.
"Perhaps it's because I'm the one of us to survive!"
You shake in fury. You must have the last word. Too long, you didn't, you had no control. Mark monitored your every move, even checked the loft for hidden smack. He planned everything. He even put away the freaking – sorry, precious – camera. At first, you thought it was a nice gesture, showing how much he cared. Then you realized that he was only protecting it from you.
Who cares that he'll be that last? you wonder. Not you! He'll always have his camera for company, and his work.
Yet, you make the mistake of looking into his angry, but determined face and think again. Who cares? You do.
Mark has always been there, and now he's living a life you'll never get. Maybe he's right. Maybe you should do something. Maybe you should even apologize.
But you want the last word and you want it to sting.
"Poor baby!"
You turn around, face your back to him. Just because you want it to sting doesn't mean you watch to watch it at work.
Pain disappears. A plan, a route, is clear – to Santa Fe. Away from Mimi, away from the city.
You disengage.
Thanks for reading! Again, feedback is awesome, I'd really like to hear what you liked and what you didn't, what hit you and what just missed the mark, etc.