Disclaimer: I do NOT own anything affiliated with RENT.

Notes: Have you ever seen a junkie high on heroin? I'll tell you something... it is a very interesting experience. Have you ever seen a junkie actually shoot up heroin? Now that's... a little scary. Mark bears witness to Roger's addiction first hand, and it begins the downward spiral of his detachment.

Going Under - Chapter 1

He asked me to go with him because he did not want to go alone. Benny had just moved out, marrying Alison Grey, of the Westport Greys--a rich family known all over the city as the "best place for real estate". In addition, Collins was in Boston on an interview with MIT.

His girlfriend went missing which didn't surprise me. She always had a knack for disappearing, especially when it seemed he needed her most.

We got on the subway together, heading… god knows where, but he said he knew where he was going… so I went along with it.

We got out in a shitty part of Manhattan; I was still getting used to the area, so I didn't really know where we were going. I followed him down the street; he was walking hunched forward as if he were hiding something, or trying not to let anyone see him, so I walked a few feet behind him. He looked paranoid, which scared me a little.

We finally arrived at the place he was supposed to meet some friend to make his 'pick up' as he called it. I went inside with him, and was a little surprised at how nice the place looked considering the reason we were there.

We went up some stairs, and headed toward another room inside this apartment, and into a bedroom with several other people, one actually holding a spoon over a lighter. I wrinkled my nose at the smell in the room. It smelled like tar, as if someone were paving the road. It was nasty.

A man pointed to a seat for me to sit in while Roger did what he had to do with his 'new friends'. I sat there and watched these unknown people do this horrible thing to their bodies. At first, I turned away, not interested in watching someone stick a needle in their arm, but I was so fascinated I couldn't look away.

It was… interesting, to say the least.

It was finally Roger's turn, and I watched him do the same thing the rest of these… junkies had already done. The man sitting beside a desk in the room handed Roger the needle he had just used. I shook my head; how could Roger use a dirty needle like that? Doesn't he know he could get some sort of disease from it? Or worse?

But he did it. He accepted the needle given to him, placed the nasty black drug on the spoon someone on the bed had handed him, and began the process, adding water from a nearby cup to the spoonful o' drugs to help liquefy the substance so he could put it inside the needle. It took him a few minutes before the drug melted enough, and carefully, with one hand and his mouth, pulled the disgusting liquid-like substance into the needle. That was skill.

Then he did it.

Roger made a fist, and bent his arm toward his shoulder, flexing his muscles. He carefully inserted the needle into a vain that popped up on his upper arm, though I could have sworn he just put it in the muscle itself. I watched, curiously, as his entire demeanor changed once the drug took effect--I was rather angry at him for making me come with him to this… filthy place, but seeing him like this… this was… wrong. He was barely conscious; his eyes became slits, if not closed completely sometimes. How was he even able to function like this? He couldn't even say a complete sentence without mumbling, nor could he even form real words. I panicked, but made no sudden movements in case this group of junkies freaked out, and I wouldn't even know how to handle that. So, I continued to sit in the chair quietly until it was time to go. I didn't know what to do with him like this, and I wasn't even sure how I was gonna get him home.

The man sitting at the desk, an older man, handed Roger a little baggie full of the black death, and Roger handed him some money. He slipped it in his pocket, but not before he missed several times. How he could even be slightly lucid was beyond me. Roger stood up finally, barely able to stay balanced, and walked out the door, leaving me in there alone with those people, as if he completely forgot I was there with him. I jumped out of that chair fast, and ran out the door following him. He nearly tripped trying to make his way down the steps. What was being in public going to be like? Thankfully, it was dark outside, so no one would see Roger, at least not too much.

Our trip home was similar to the previous one except Roger had his arm around me, mumbling incoherently about… something. A few times, he would mumble, and then completely pass out. Sufficed to say, the subway ride home wasn't nearly as pleasant as it could've been. I finally shoved Roger's arm off my shoulders, and scooted down a couple seats so I was still close enough to him, but not uncomfortably close to him. I didn't like this Roger.

The walk home wasn't any easier, though he seemed to regain some composure and could at least walk on his own. I had to guide him though, like a dog leading the blind. It was humiliating. All I wanted to do was get home and go to bed, and hope I wouldn't have terrible nightmares about the evening's events.

Finally, we arrived back at the loft, and Collins was hanging out in the living room. April was still out of sight. Collins noticed Roger's actions and shook his head. He gave me a sympathetic look, and I rolled my eyes, hurrying to my little corner of the loft I had turned into a sort of bedroom. I couldn't be in the same room with Roger anymore. He was freaking me out, and I just couldn't handle that. I sat down on my mattress, and grabbed the old video camera I had just bought from a thrift store. It still worked too. However, it didn't record sound; that I would have to edit in later with a tape recorder.

I sucked in a deep breath, and exhaled hard, trying to let go of the day. I turned my camera and tape recorder on, and started filming my corner room, narrating all that I filmed. Pathetic, I know. I turned the camera on me. "March 15th... The ides of March. It figures. The time… 9:15-ish." I wasn't certain since I didn't have a clock in my room. But I knew it was sometime after nine o'clock. I sighed hard before speaking. "Well, camera… would you like to hear about my interesting day? You would? Well…" I sat there for a good hour talking about the night's happenings to my camera as if it could help me somehow. It did… somewhat. I felt better being able to let that out, but I still didn't know what to do about Roger, or about this feeling that still lingered.

I decided to join Collins out in the living room now that I felt a little better, and filmed him while we all hung out. It would be a good way to avoid Roger in all his fucked up state. I went about the room, filming various items scattered about the loft. Then I put the camera on Collins, asking silly questions like, "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?" or, "What would you do for a Klondike bar?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Roger. He was lying on the floor with his legs up in the air. What the hell was he doing? His eyes were closed, and it looked as if he was trying to sway while lying down. Maybe he was trying to roll around. What got me, and I had to film this because it was just so… unusual; he started to scoot across the floor snake-like, but on his back. Then he raised his chest into the air, and his whole body bent backwards. He was gonna hurt himself, I was certain.

I turned away. It was too much, and I was reminded of why I was mad at him in the first place. Collins jumped up from his position on the floor. "Okay, buddy. Time for bed. Come on." He helped Roger up, and pretty much carried him to his corner of the loft. When he came back out, Roger followed him. Collins just shook his head. I think after tonight, he just might take that job at MIT. Roger was becoming a major handful, and even Collins was losing his patience with him. Moreover, I was the only other one who even cared enough about him to try to help, even if he didn't want it.

Roger started dancing to the non-existent music playing in the loft. I guess the music was in his head. It was kind of funny though, since Roger can't exactly dance. I had to get that on film. It was too good to pass up.

Apparently, his eyes were open, though no one could tell, and he waved his hand at me. "No, don't. I look bad on camera." It was the first time since earlier I understood his words. Besides, looking bad on camera was the least of his worries.

After a couple hours of filming, I got really tired. I turned off the camera and tape recorder, and sat down on the floor beside Collins. Roger had finally settled down, and was lying on the floor, almost normal again, but not quite. It was obvious he was still high, but he was at the point of his high where he was fun again, and not the scary man I saw earlier.

By the time everyone was ready to hit the hay, Roger had completely chilled out, and fell asleep on the floor in the last place he slithered to. Collins crashed on the couch, and I headed for my bedroom. I laid down, feeling incredibly exhausted, but couldn't quite get to sleep. Everything I saw tonight with Roger was still fresh on my mind. I got out of bed, grabbed my camera, though I wasn't sure why, and made my way out to the fire escape. It was a good place to think. I start messing around, just filming the city from where I stood; it was rather invigorating. Or maybe it was just the cool almost-spring air. Either way, I found myself really enjoying it.

I had bought the camera originally to start filming the million and one scripts I had written since high school, though none of them were really that good. But I needed somewhere to start, so I figured, why not. But I found I really enjoyed filming for fun. Maybe I'll do both, or, maybe someday I'll write the perfect script and become the next George Lucas, or Steven Spielberg. Yeah, right.

Sleep finally hit me, and hard, and I almost didn't make it back to my bed. When I awoke the next morning, I opened my eyes to a perky Roger staring down at me. "Holy fucking hell. What are you doing in here?" I bolted out of bed, and put a pair of sweat pants on. It was the only thing I had clean at the moment.

"Morning. Did you sleep well?" Roger asked, handing me a glass of orange juice.

I drank it rapidly, then handed him back the glass, practically running out of my room to avoid having to talk to him. I was still very angry with him, and I didn't want to say something I might regret… or that could get my ass kicked.

"Hey, where are you goin'? I wanted to talk to you…" But I was already out of the room.

He followed me, so I scurried off to the bathroom. I hid in there from him for a little while, and decided to use the time in there for a bath. I spent a good hour or so in the bath, trying to wash away last night's memories, and get that smell out of my nostrils. I emerged from the bathroom only to find I was all alone. I found a note from Collins on the fridge, "be back in a bit. Gonna find us a portable heater." I chuckled.

I went to my room, and sorted my laundry figuring I may as well. I loaded my clothes in a bag, grabbed my camera, and headed for the laundry mat. I hadn't even realized I grabbed my camera until I got there. I laughed. Why did I bring my camera? I was gonna do laundry, and there wasn't anything cool, or special to film at the laundry mat. I shrugged to myself, put in a load, and decided to film the other people doing the same thing I was doing. It was strangely soothing.

I returned home later that day, and Roger was chilling on the couch with his guitar and his girlfriend in his arms. The infamous girlfriend had finally returned.

"Hey, Mark. There you are. I wanted to talk to you." Damn. I was caught.

"Okay, but um… hold on." I went to put my laundry away, and grabbed the tripod that came with the camera, and set it up in the living room. I set the camera on the couple on the couch. "Okay, shoot." I chuckled to myself at my own pun.

"Dude, what's with the camera?" Roger didn't remember the previous night's activities, apparently.

"I dunno. But it's fun. Just pretend I'm making a movie about you, or something. And… action." I clapped my hands together mocking a clapboard.

"You're weird."

I rolled my eyes. "What did you wanna talk to me about?"

"Last night."

I knew it. I didn't wanna talk about last night. I would rather just sit here and film them. "What about last night?"

"Did I dance last night?" Roger actually remembered that?

"Um… actually yeah, you did. Why?" I moved the camera closer to them, and zoomed in on Roger.

"I knew it! You own me five bucks," he told April.

I let out an exasperated sigh. That was all? I wondered if he actually remembered it, or was just asking because of his bet with April. It didn't matter. I continued to film them being all cute on the couch. I wouldn't have believed last night happened if I hadn't witnessed it myself; but here these two were, oblivious as always. Whatever.

I pulled the camera off the tripod, and left the room. They were boring me. Well, not boring me, but making me feel lonely. I really needed a girlfriend.