AN: The title says it all. I have the most basic of storylines here, so updates may be insanely random. However, I will finish it. I will! Remember that reviews are highly encouraging. The perspective will switch often so I can explore all the characters, and while the focus might be slightly on Mark and his OC (yay! For once I've got an OC!) but I will definitely be developing on all the character's story lines from their own viewpoint. This starts about a year after the end of Rent. Awesome. So on with the show ... er, fic!

Disclaimer: If I owned Rent, Christmas Bells would have been in the movie. Oh, I know why they didn't put it in there. I know the reasons. I just love it too much to be rational.

From Here On In I Shoot Without A Script

by Sweetiepie1019

Dreams and Reality

He was having a nice dream. Really nice. It was one where Angel was still alive. Where Collins, Roger, and Mimi were healthy. Where Alison and Benny had never happened, Mimi and Benny had never happened, April had NEVER happened, and Maureen and Joanne had always been together so he'd never been dumped by the drama queen. And they didn't live in the loft. They were all successful, all of them. And yet not one of them had sold out. Don't ask how.

Screw nice. It was amazing. He refused to wake up, even as felt the pull back to reality from the alarm clock (a gift from his mother. How thoughtful) on his bed table (milk crate). He would stay here, in this world, forever. He was never, ever, ever going to...

"MARK! SHUT OFF THE FUCKING ALARM AND GET UP!"

...wake up. Sometimes he really hated Roger.

Mark sighed, rolled over and turned off the alarm. He'd had drams like this before. They were wonderful when he was having them, but, to put it politely, waking up was a bitch. It meant he'd have to sit there and remember everything as it was. He had to feel the hurt al over again. He sighed again and ran his fingers through his hair ferociously.

"COME ON, MARK!" He wasn't liking Mimi much either.

He grabbed his glasses and stumbled out of his room. "I'm up, I'm up. Did you take your AZT?"

Roger scowled from his place on the couch (held together by duck tape and the will of God). Mimi rolled her eyes at Mark dramatically. "Yes, of course, Mother Dearest. As if we wouldn't. Coffee?" She didn't wait for an answer before shoving a mug in Mark's hand.

He started blearily down at the coffee in a slight state of bewilderment. "We have coffee?"

Mimi grinned wickedly and nodded. "I got a raise. The boss was feeling a little lonely ..." She trailed off and gave Mark a wink.

Roger's scowl deepened, but his eyes crinkled with laughter. "It's a good thing I'm such a trusting boyfriend. I might get jealous," he stated in an aggrieved tone.

Mimi snorted as she collapsed on the couch next to him. "So trusting. Of course it probably doesn't hurt that my boss is a girl, and you work in the same bar." Mimi hadn't gone back to the Cat Scratch Club after last Christmas, and instead had taken a job bartending at the same bar that Roger's band played at. She had once confided to Mark that she was perfect for the job; she'd had enough practice warding off drunk men, and it was much easier now that she was fully clothed (mostly) and her (over) six foot boyfriend was watching from a stage only a few feet away.

Roger gave her a kiss, then smirked down at her. "Who knows? You could've pulled a Maureen on me."

Mimi threw back her head and laughed while Mark glowered. "Ah, coffee. A way for Roger to be an ass before noon." He raised his mug in a mock salute, with an ironic grin to match, then stumbled his way towards the kitchen portion of the room. "Have we got any Cap'n Crunch?"

Mimi turned around and raised her eyebrows at him from over the back of the couch. "I said I got a raise, not a new job. We still can't afford name-brand cereal. Unless Joanne or Collins buys it," she added reflectively. Then she heaved an immense sigh. "You take advantage of me the moment I treat you to one of the finer things in life ..."

Mark smelled the contents of his mug. "Mimi, I can tell you one thing. This," he pointed to his coffee, "is not one of the finer things in life." He tasted a bit, and found it wasn't that bad, but he was too grumpy to mention that. Or the fact he was beginning to feel awake.

Mimi glared at him and muttered a few expletives in Spanish under her breath. Thankfully (for Mark at least. Turns out bartenders could pack quite a punch) there was an interruption.

"You guys ready yet?" Collins voice drifted up from the fire escape.

Roger jumped off the couch and strode to the window. "Me and Mimi are ready. Mark just got up."

"Seriously? Mark, Maureen'll KILL us if we're late." Dave sounded panicked.

Roger quirked an eyebrow at Mark, accompanied by a smirk that had parts "I told you so," and "Maureen's going to kill you," in it. Mimi just smiled primly. Mark rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air. "Fine, I'm going. Can't even feed the skinny Jewish kid," he added under his breath as he grabbed a slice of stale bread and headed towards his room.

"Um, can we come up?" asked Collins pathetically. His voice seemed to be shivering.

"Does Dave have the money he owes me?" called Mimi from the duct-tape-God's-will couch.

"Lovely weather. And such a comfortable fire escape," Dave replied cheerfully. Mark chuckled as he closed the door of his room.

AN: Love? Hate? Anything? Tell me whatever – just write those reviews. Especially if you want this to keep going. How do I know if I'm doing anything right if you don't tell me I am?