Song: "2:45 AM" by Elliott Smith
Time: PostRENT
Warnings: Character death, 2 words to be considered language, all-around emo-ness
Disclaimer: I don't own, sadly. But I do RENT! Haha, sorry I had to get that out of my system. I don't own the song, either.
A/N: w00t! It's my first RENT fic! And my first songfic! And my first deathfic! What's sad is I killed off my favorite character. I tried to keep this IC, so I'm sorry if they're still a bit OOC. By the way, I know the cause of death is unlikely and would probably be one or the other, not both, but oh well. This is my story.
Reviews are much enjoyed and appreciated! No flames, though, please.
I only vaguely understand where I am. No matter how hard I try, my eyes won't open, though I can feel sheets and blankets covering my body. I know someone's holding my hand, and I can smell the disinfectant. One word comes to mind: Hospital.
Funny, though, I don't remember being sick. Even if I were, I wouldn't be in a hospital (money is nonexistant in my life). I don't have a disease. Collins and Roger have HIV, but that still doesn't explain why I'm sleeping here. Or, that's what I assume I'm doing here.
The hand loosens its grip and it feels as though it's trying to pull me up.
"How is he?" someone asks, their voice coarse and tired. Roger. Why is Roger here holding my hand, asking about me?
"It doesn't look good," the person I assume to be a doctor responds with a sad undertone.
"Oh, God," I hear Roger mumble. I know he just sat down again; not by feeling or hearing it, I just know that's what he would do. It's what he did when I told him Angel wouldn't make it. So, does this mean I won't, either?
I try to remember what happened. I remember reminding Roger to take his AZT. I remember leaving to go to the Life to meet Maureen and Joanne. And then… it hits me like a sucker punch.
I'm going out sleepwalking
Where mute memories start talking
The boss that couldn't help but hurt you
And the pretty thing he made desert you
I had just left the loft and was riding my bike through an alley, making my way toward the Life. I stopped to record a homeless person warming himself over a barrel of fire. I guess I made the mistake of standing like I had any money at all because before I realized what was happening, I was on the ground looking into the night sky. After a brutal beating, the attacker realized I had nothing and ran off.
I lay on the ground for a few minutes before getting up again and trying to decide which was closer: the loft or the cafe? Knowing the cafe was, I remounted my bike and began riding in that direction. I guess I was less observant than usual since the last thing I heard was a car horn. I turned my head to see blinding lights and…
The next thing I know, I'm here with wires hooked to me and nearing death, apparently. My side still hurts, I realize. There's a tube down my throat breathing for me. Come to think of it, I'm in such pain right now I can hardly stand it.
"So, he's not going to make it." Roger again.
"Well, you never know," the doctor tries to soothe. "People have pulled out of stuff like this before. It's not-"
"Just save it, Doc. I know what's going on; I've been through it all before." No, Roger, listen to him. I'll pull out of this. I promise. Or… I'll try. Maybe. It just hurts so much.
I hear the door open, then close again. I assume that means the doctor is gone. Roger sighs.
"Marky, you've got to get through this, okay?" Roger's talking to me, now. "I can't do this without you. Who'll be there to remind me to take my AZT if you die?" I hear the smile in his voice. It quickly fades away.
There's a long pause. When he talks again, his voice is strained. "Come on, Mark, don't do this to me. I've run this course too many times already. Don't make me do it again."
I'm going out like a baby
A naïve unsatisfiable baby
Grabbing onto whatever's around
For the soaring high or the crushing down
With hidden cracks that don't show
But constantly just grow
This isn't fair! I should not be lying here with doctors once only a few feet away telling my best friend I might not make it. I'm supposed to grow old – be the "last one standing," in a bizarre manner of speaking. I still need to find the infamous "one," get married and start a family. I at least need to make just one more film. Bottom line: I should not be here, like this.
I hear Roger trying to hold back his sobs. That boy really needs to let his emotions flow every once in a while. Only when someone he loves is dying does he show the true depth of his sadness. I've seen him cry only three times: April, Angel, and Mimi. Luckily, Mimi pulled through, so he didn't go through a complete breakdown – only a mini one. The fact that he's crying over me is comforting, in a way.
"God, I'm so sorry, Mark. I was supposed to go with you. Instead I had to be my asshole self and stay behind." That's right; he was supposed to have been with me. "This wouldn't have happened if I had just listened." No, Roger, you couldn't have done anything to help. It's not your fault.
He squeezes my hand. I think he wants to see if I can respond. I squeeze back. His sobs quicken. I only imagined I had returned the gesture. I've lost all control. That's not a good sign. I can't open my eyes or grip with either hand. The doctors were right. I can't give up, though. I have to keep fighting.
I'm looking for the man that attacked me
While everybody was laughing at me
You beat it in me that part of you
But I'm gonna split us back in two
Tired of living in a cloud
If you're gonna say shit now you'll do it out loud
I never even got to live, really. Sure, I went through the motions, but that was about it. Roger was right when he said I hid behind my camera, before he went to Santa Fe. I never took hold of the moment like Angel did or Mimi still does. I put my life on hold, thinking I had all the time in the world. It never even crossed my mind that I could have been hit by a car on my way to eat a late dinner with some friends.
But there was one period of time when I did live – truly live. When we met Angel. It was impossible to not live if you knew her. Some people are the life of the party. Angel was the life of life. That sounds so weird, but it's true. She brought so much joy and laughter and everything else imaginable into our lives. She's the main reason we're all so close now. It's sad to think she's not part of it.
I guess I won't be part of it for much longer, either.
"Mr. Davis?" It's the doctor from before. "Like I said earlier, it doesn't look good. Does he have any family we could call?"
I know Roger well enough to know he's shaking his head. "I'm the closest thing he's got." Blood-wise, that is a blatant lie; otherwise, it couldn't be closer to the truth.
The doctor leaves again. "Sorry, Mark," Roger says once the door closes. "I don't know if you want your family here or not, but considering you haven't been home in a while, I doubt it." That's fine, but where's everyone else? "I called the rest of our 'group,'" He knows me too well. "They're on stand-by. Visiting hours are long over, but the staff let one of us stay. They all voted for me since we live together and all."
I want so badly for all of them to be here and I want to tell Roger he was right about my hiding and now I wish I hadn't. I want to tell Collins that I'm proud of him for getting on with his life and not completely shutting down after Angel. I want to tell Maureen and Joanne to work it out because they're perfect for each other. I want to make Mimi promise she'll take care of Roger no matter what.
It's 2:45 in the morning
And I'm putting myself on warning
For waking up in an unknown place
With a recollection you've half erased
Looking for somebody's arms to
Wave away past harms
I know I won't make it. The pain is too intense. I don't want to try to fight anymore. I just don't think I can. It's true what they say – there's a brilliant illumination in my eyes. I would say it's a bright light, but that's not even close.
I hear the steady tone of me flat-lining now and I'm not scared. I am sorry, though. I promised Roger I'd make it and I can't. There are doctors buzzing all around me and I know they're trying to bring me back. The funny part about that is I don't want to be brought back. I kind of like it where I am. The pain is still here, but it's not as immense as before. I'd move on entirely, but I'm not sure what awaits me there. I'm actually… kind of nervous as to what I'd find.
But now I can see Angel, and I know what Mimi was talking about when she said, "She looked good." She looks happier than I've ever seen her (if that's possible) and she looks more perfect than any picture.
"Come on, sweetie," she says to me. She holds out her hand for me to take.
"Where are we going?" I ask. Leave it to me to be skeptical about moving to "the other side."
I'm walking out on center circle
The both of you can just fade to black
I'm walking out on center circle
Been pushed away and I'll never go back
"Santa Fe. Where else?" She gives me a wink and a smile. Sorry, Rog. I take her hand and the pain leaves completely.