A/N: It all belongs to the genius Jonathan Larson, though I wish it
belonged to me. This is my first RENT fanfic and I would really like your
input so review please! There will be a little M/R slash later on, but it
wont be bad. From Roger's POV.
--------------
I mentally checked off all the people he cared about that were still living.
- Family: Haven't talked to them in 3 months - Collins: Working in Santa Fe teaching at a local college while running Café de Angel - Maureen and Joanne: Still living in New York, but on vacation together in Canada. Maureen was doing a one-time show there. - Mark: The one who meant more than anything to me was right there as always, but now, so far away. Hooked up to all sorts of tubing and machines.
Lets see, today is Wednesday. Maureen and Joanne should get here tonight. They scratched their plans as soon as they heard how sick Mark was. I looked over at Mark, sleeping for the first time in 24 hours. I wondered if it was induced by medication. It didn't matter. Mark needed rest badly. It had been a long two days.
Monday Mark woke up not feeling so well. This was a switch because ever since Mimi's death a year ago, I (the AIDS-infected Roger) was usually the one in that position. For 2 months after Mimi left, I barely moved and only ate meagerly and only when no one was watching. The whole time, Mark never left my side. When I got sick, Mark was the one there to feed me my medicine. So when Mark didn't feel well, I had no problem making him a small breakfast, putting him back to bed and going out to buy some groceries and Pepto-Bismol.
When I walked into the loft an hour later, I heard sounds coming from the bathroom. I put down the two bags of groceries on the table and went to see if everything was all right. I gently knocked and then opened the door to the bathroom. "Mark?" Mark was on the floor covered with the vomit that didn't make it to the toilet. At a closer look, Mark was crying. *Oh God, he must be miserable* I grabbed a washcloth, ran some water over it, and bent down to wipe off Mark's face. At first Mark turned away.
"Come on, Mark, its me, Roge. Its ok man, don't be embarrassed."
Mark gave in and I gently wiped off his mouth and face. I sat down on the sticky floor and put his arm around Mark. He was sweating profusely.
"Mark, are you ok? What's wrong? What hurts?"
Mark's forehead was burning up. And his skin felt so clammy. Mark started moaning and kicking his legs grasping at his stomach. And then he vomited again, all over me. This made Mark more ashamed and he started to cry even harder. Even if it didn't turn out to be that serious, I thought it was best to go to the hospital and see if they could make it better. And I had a feeling it was serious. Mark never got sick and was always so strong. For him to be open with how weak he was, it had to be serious.
"Mark, its ok. Everything is gonna be alright. But you're sick and burning up. We have to go see a doctor. I'm gonna go call the hospital. Ok, buddy?"
Mark just lay sobbing on the floor. He must have felt horribly to not object to going to the hospital. He knew it was the only doctor we could get, and he hates doctors and hospitals. Even since his little sister died when he was in high school. He was closer to her than he was to anyone else, and it killed him to see her suffer so much and then die in a hospital. After calling for an ambulance (the only way to get to the hospital I packed in a bag some extra clothes for the both of them, some cereal, a book of phone numbers and the blanket off of Mark's bed. I also packed my AZT, so Mark would be proud.
I knew it could be a while before the ambulance showed up. They know that its not a real emergency. When I walked back into the stench of the bathroom, Mark was shaking and coughing violently between his heaves. All I could do was sit and stroke Mark's hair and be with him until the ambulance came. We rocked back and forth as I racked his mind thinking of what could be wrong. Mark wasn't HIV positive like most of the rest of us were. He hadn't been around anyone sick.
"Roger." Mark said between sobs, "ummm, you are gonna go with me to the, the." He couldn't make it to the end of the sentence without puking again. I grabbed his hand.
I wiped off his face and said, "Of course Mark, I'll be with you the whole time. I'm not leaving you. Everything will be ok."
Wow, when I'm sick and sad, Mark always seems to be more comforting than that But my pitiful words seemed to be enough of an assurance to Mark who tried to give a weak smile. You could tell how weak he was.
"Thanks, friend. Now where is that ambulance?"
Then I heard the paramedics pull up. I tried to help pull the small blonde headed boy up and then seeing he was too weak to stand, I picked him up and carried him downstairs to the waiting medics. Every movement seemed painful to Mark. They made him lie down in the ambulance and you could tell Mark tensed up. Though small, Mark was always the strong one. Giving me help, hope and courage. Now he was terrified and it ripped my heart out to see. He was still vomiting and his stomach still in great pain. He let out a shriek when he lay down again. He also was having problems breathing.
I sat by his head and squeezed his held. Mark started breathing quicker and I tried to calm him down. The medic treated us with gentleness, a rare thing for the poor bohemian inhabitants. As he explained that Mark needed an IV so he would not become dehydrated, he brought out a needle. I soon realized that Mark was terrified of needles. He started shaking and kicking and trying to get away.
"Hey Marky, it's gonna be ok. These people are trained to do this stuff well. It won't hurt at all and it will make you feel better" ::Almost screaming:: "No please, no needles. I so scared." "Shhhh, come on. It will be ok. I promise. I'm right here beside you. Don't be scared." "Tha. Thanks"
Even though he was still sobbing, Mark calmed down enough to get the IV. I held down his arm. He screamed and kicked as the needle went in and the rest of the way to the hospital. It was the hardest thing in the world for me to hold him down against his will and subject him to pain. It hurt worse than anything seeing someone so close so distraught. Mark's whole body was shaking.
"Roger! ROGER! MAKE IT STOP! GOD IT HURTS!"
He squeezed my hand so hard, I thought it would break. Right before we got to the hospital, I think they put something in his IV to help sedate him and help with the pain. I was thankful for by this time, I couldn't be strong. I couldn't even stop crying.
--------------
I mentally checked off all the people he cared about that were still living.
- Family: Haven't talked to them in 3 months - Collins: Working in Santa Fe teaching at a local college while running Café de Angel - Maureen and Joanne: Still living in New York, but on vacation together in Canada. Maureen was doing a one-time show there. - Mark: The one who meant more than anything to me was right there as always, but now, so far away. Hooked up to all sorts of tubing and machines.
Lets see, today is Wednesday. Maureen and Joanne should get here tonight. They scratched their plans as soon as they heard how sick Mark was. I looked over at Mark, sleeping for the first time in 24 hours. I wondered if it was induced by medication. It didn't matter. Mark needed rest badly. It had been a long two days.
Monday Mark woke up not feeling so well. This was a switch because ever since Mimi's death a year ago, I (the AIDS-infected Roger) was usually the one in that position. For 2 months after Mimi left, I barely moved and only ate meagerly and only when no one was watching. The whole time, Mark never left my side. When I got sick, Mark was the one there to feed me my medicine. So when Mark didn't feel well, I had no problem making him a small breakfast, putting him back to bed and going out to buy some groceries and Pepto-Bismol.
When I walked into the loft an hour later, I heard sounds coming from the bathroom. I put down the two bags of groceries on the table and went to see if everything was all right. I gently knocked and then opened the door to the bathroom. "Mark?" Mark was on the floor covered with the vomit that didn't make it to the toilet. At a closer look, Mark was crying. *Oh God, he must be miserable* I grabbed a washcloth, ran some water over it, and bent down to wipe off Mark's face. At first Mark turned away.
"Come on, Mark, its me, Roge. Its ok man, don't be embarrassed."
Mark gave in and I gently wiped off his mouth and face. I sat down on the sticky floor and put his arm around Mark. He was sweating profusely.
"Mark, are you ok? What's wrong? What hurts?"
Mark's forehead was burning up. And his skin felt so clammy. Mark started moaning and kicking his legs grasping at his stomach. And then he vomited again, all over me. This made Mark more ashamed and he started to cry even harder. Even if it didn't turn out to be that serious, I thought it was best to go to the hospital and see if they could make it better. And I had a feeling it was serious. Mark never got sick and was always so strong. For him to be open with how weak he was, it had to be serious.
"Mark, its ok. Everything is gonna be alright. But you're sick and burning up. We have to go see a doctor. I'm gonna go call the hospital. Ok, buddy?"
Mark just lay sobbing on the floor. He must have felt horribly to not object to going to the hospital. He knew it was the only doctor we could get, and he hates doctors and hospitals. Even since his little sister died when he was in high school. He was closer to her than he was to anyone else, and it killed him to see her suffer so much and then die in a hospital. After calling for an ambulance (the only way to get to the hospital I packed in a bag some extra clothes for the both of them, some cereal, a book of phone numbers and the blanket off of Mark's bed. I also packed my AZT, so Mark would be proud.
I knew it could be a while before the ambulance showed up. They know that its not a real emergency. When I walked back into the stench of the bathroom, Mark was shaking and coughing violently between his heaves. All I could do was sit and stroke Mark's hair and be with him until the ambulance came. We rocked back and forth as I racked his mind thinking of what could be wrong. Mark wasn't HIV positive like most of the rest of us were. He hadn't been around anyone sick.
"Roger." Mark said between sobs, "ummm, you are gonna go with me to the, the." He couldn't make it to the end of the sentence without puking again. I grabbed his hand.
I wiped off his face and said, "Of course Mark, I'll be with you the whole time. I'm not leaving you. Everything will be ok."
Wow, when I'm sick and sad, Mark always seems to be more comforting than that But my pitiful words seemed to be enough of an assurance to Mark who tried to give a weak smile. You could tell how weak he was.
"Thanks, friend. Now where is that ambulance?"
Then I heard the paramedics pull up. I tried to help pull the small blonde headed boy up and then seeing he was too weak to stand, I picked him up and carried him downstairs to the waiting medics. Every movement seemed painful to Mark. They made him lie down in the ambulance and you could tell Mark tensed up. Though small, Mark was always the strong one. Giving me help, hope and courage. Now he was terrified and it ripped my heart out to see. He was still vomiting and his stomach still in great pain. He let out a shriek when he lay down again. He also was having problems breathing.
I sat by his head and squeezed his held. Mark started breathing quicker and I tried to calm him down. The medic treated us with gentleness, a rare thing for the poor bohemian inhabitants. As he explained that Mark needed an IV so he would not become dehydrated, he brought out a needle. I soon realized that Mark was terrified of needles. He started shaking and kicking and trying to get away.
"Hey Marky, it's gonna be ok. These people are trained to do this stuff well. It won't hurt at all and it will make you feel better" ::Almost screaming:: "No please, no needles. I so scared." "Shhhh, come on. It will be ok. I promise. I'm right here beside you. Don't be scared." "Tha. Thanks"
Even though he was still sobbing, Mark calmed down enough to get the IV. I held down his arm. He screamed and kicked as the needle went in and the rest of the way to the hospital. It was the hardest thing in the world for me to hold him down against his will and subject him to pain. It hurt worse than anything seeing someone so close so distraught. Mark's whole body was shaking.
"Roger! ROGER! MAKE IT STOP! GOD IT HURTS!"
He squeezed my hand so hard, I thought it would break. Right before we got to the hospital, I think they put something in his IV to help sedate him and help with the pain. I was thankful for by this time, I couldn't be strong. I couldn't even stop crying.