'Til Death Do Us Part
Chapter 1: Near Death...
SUMMARY:Rent story. Mimi/Roger; Angel/Collins. All four of them have AIDS, although Mimi and Angel are both close to death. This story is about how all four of them deal with the impending and devastating losses, and also carries over into the next life. This story details the existence of all four of them pre and post death...
Disclaimer: I don't own, or pretend to own, any of the characters from Rent, they belong to Jonathan Larson's estate.
Roger was blindsided by tears as he raced down the warm, dark streets of New York City. Faster, faster… he had to get to her before it was too late and he was cutting it very close to time. Mimi Marquez had disappeared early that week and had yet to be seen since. All of them had searched for her and the police had been called, although there was very little that they were willing to do – the cops weren't willing to sacrifice their time and resources to search for a homeless, poor junkie. Taxpayers always had to come first, right? Things had been going a lot worse for her recently… the virus was really starting to take hold; every time she was with Roger, they couldn't do anything. She'd be too tired, or too weak, or coughing, or feverish… it was only a matter of time now before she passed, but Roger wasn't willing to even contemplate her impending death, let alone admit it to himself or others. And the pain was obvious… it tore through his heart like a thousand daggers shredding him to pieces and tears stained his face; his eyes were darkened so much they were almost black. His heart was pounding in his chest so fast it was like it was about to burst through his chest and explode. Even time itself seemed to be against him – he couldn't seem to get to her fast enough. Yet the world seems to be spinning so fast that he was nauseous. Without his Mimi, life itself wouldn't be worth living… he had lost one girlfriend, April, to suicide after she discovered that she and him were both HIV positive, and so to lose the love of his life now would be unbearable… all the emotional progress he had made since he met her would be meaningless. And Mark Cohen, his best friend, was scared that Roger would try to commit suicide if – or when – Mimi finally passed away.
His feet pounded the pavement in rapid succession – he knew where she'd be, but the question was – could he save her in time? But what could he save her from? Fate? Her destiny? Mimi was going to die, soon, and there was nothing he could do about it. Sweat soaked his face, and his chest began to hurt from the pace his heart was beating at… no one – not even April – had touched his life; had made him feel like he was when he was with Mimi. He loved her with every breath she gave, every touch she made, every smile and every time her eyes glistened and sparkled with life; the life that was slowly fading from her body.
"Not now…" he muttered harshly to himself as he rounded the corner and crossed the street, almost getting hit by a car, in which the driver had slammed on the breaks and as now cussing explicitly in Roger's direction. But the struggling artist didn't flinch, or even really notice anything around him. There was just one name, one face, one person that held his mind in focus – the Latin beauty, the junkie… nineteen year old Mimi Marquez.
"Oh God…" he sobbed, still running towards the park. "God… please don't take her, please."
Inside, he was screaming. Every second he was apart from his lover, Roger could feel the light growing dimmer – the light that was drawing him to her, the light that Mimi exuberated all the time. She gave new meaning to the term 'light of his life'. Because, to Roger, she was the light. She was his life. She was Roger's reason for his very existence and why he didn't stray into becoming a junkie again. Earlier that day he had been at the Life Café with another one of his close friends, Tom Collins, a former college professor at MIT, who had been expelled because of his wild, anarchist theories. Collins, also HIV positive, was really the stability in the entire group – he kept things into perspective. I guess, because of his educative background, he was the backbone of the group who kept things from disintegrating into even more madness. He was also going through some very painful times, as his lover, Angel Dumott Schunard, a flamboyant HIV positive drag queen, was also beginning to seriously suffer from AIDS complications. He got colds and the flu a lot more now, and was recently admitted to the local hospital for a severe case of pneumonia, but recovered after a week and was subsequently released. Angel was also on death's doorstep. He and Collins were so much in love, that he was floating on air… never before had he or Collins been so involved with anyone. To Collins, Angel was the entire world; the entire universe and more… out of the entire group, their relationship was the most true, the most pure. There was more love between the professor and the street-drumming drag queen, and more purity, than any others… they understood each other and cherished every moment they had together. Every kiss, every embrace, every time they made love, every time they connected to each other physically and emotionally…
So he and Roger were pretty much in the same boat and they had each other to lean on. Mark, Maureen, Joanne, and even Benny, only could watch helplessly as the four lives before them were slowly being destroyed; ravaged by a disease that was unstoppable and merciless… a product of their society; their lifestyle.
"It'll happen, Rog…" Collins had told him earlier that day, as tears burned his eyes as well – so much so that they were blinding him. The thought of having to face Angel's death soon was killing him – a poison seeping into his veins and invading his mind so viciously, that he was having trouble breathing.
FLASHBACK
"I know," the musician sadly replied, absentmindedly tuning his guitar. At the same time, Collins was lying on the sofa and flipping through a philosophically-inspired magazine.
"Just why her…?"
"Why any of us?" Collins retorted. "It doesn't matter who dies first, Rog. It's those left behind that are left to try find answers to questions that bear no sense of direction."
"Like you and me?"
"No. Like Mark, Maureen, and Joanne. Hell, even Benny would be wondering why…"
"Sure," Roger scoffed, bitterly. "I doubt he'd even notice if any of us got hit by a bus outside his apartment window."
Collins shrugged nonchalantly, and glanced over at his equally depressed friend and studied his expression and body language. Roger was in danger of coiling up in a recluse once again… it had taken them so long to pry him out of the apartment following April's death. It had taken six months. Both of them had cried all their tears and now were just depressed. Angel was in the other room, sleeping comfortably after having calmed down after a severe coughing fit. Collins had stayed with him the entire time, just holding him, while Roger watched miserably from the doorway… slightly envious of the closeness and the purity of their relationship. Mimi and him had been having more arguments and problems lately, with it always ending up with make up sex and just having a few hours of peace before the next argument began. But at that moment, Mimi was no where to be found…
"I love her, man." Roger commented, looking up from what he was doing and stared straight ahead. He then looked over at Collins, who's eyes met his own. Despite his own grief (although neither Mimi and Angel were dead at that time), all he could do was smile reassuringly and sat up. He moved over to sit next to his friend on the table and put his arm around his shoulders, affectionately.
"No matter what… we'll be okay."
Roger placed his guitar next to him and sighed. "You say that now, Tom."
"I mean it."
"Sure. Why?"
"Because," Collins choked up. "Because I have to. We all have to. What will happen to the others when we die, Roger?"
"You're the philosophy guru, you tell me."
"I don't know," Collins told him, honestly. "Philosophy tries to answer questions that sometimes can't – or shouldn't – be answered. I study the art of it; I don't pretend to know it all. Any philosopher who does cannot be accredited with being a teacher of it. It's irresponsible. I've been taught to be skeptical of life after death, to question it, but never to dismiss it, as science does. Philosophy is the balance of science and art… and the only response I can give you with any credibility is… I don't know. What do you want me to say, man?" the vagabond anarchist spoke, knowing that he, himself, did not and could not fit into the mould that renowned philosophers such as Immanuel Kant and Aristotle had carved out many centuries before.
Roger listened to his words, knowing that – despite everything, and Collins' obvious resistance to believe his own words – that his friend was actually right.
END FLASHBACK
Images of Mimi lying dead in a gutter or on a park bench resonated through his fragile mind and the panic that radiated in his body escaped him through harsh sobs that choked his throat and restricted his breathing to deep gasps. Nothing mattered anymore – it was all just a blur of colours and incoherent, shallow sounds that seemed to mock him and laugh at his erratic behavior. He dodged in and out of the pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk and jumped the railing to the park. About fifteen minutes earlier, he had received a phone call from Mimi. Being familiar with New York and Central Park, he thought he recognised the area from the background noise, in conjunction with Roger's knowledge of Mimi's habits… he knew where she'd be. On the phone, Mimi had been coughing and yelling; acting very erratic – like she was hysterical. Then, it sounded like she was choking, and then the phone line went dead, with not even a dial tone.
"Mimi…" he sobbed running along the path towards the area where he knew she'd be, fearing the worst but hoping for the best.
"Mimi, don't leave me… please baby."
It wasn't long before his worst fears were confirmed – as he ran up towards the centre of the park, he stopped when out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure lying against a wall, near a pay phone. It was Mimi. Apparently she had collapsed – as she had fallen, she had ripped the phone from its hook, which explained why there was not even a dial tone. Roger's eyes widened with horror as the image impacted the nerve cells in the back of his eyes and transmitted to his brain… the message was quickly interpreted, but again, time seemed to slow. There was no light surrounding her; no life radiating from her dying body.
"MIMI!" his voice stung those around him – the pain he felt ripped through the warm air, a horrific tone signaled to those within earshot that another life was maybe about to be destroyed. He raced to her side and fell to his knees, sobbingly pulling her limp, lifeless, cold body into his arms. Roger's head rested against her chest and cried…
"No…" he cried, weakly. Although there had been witnesses to the event, not one person stopped to offer help or even call an ambulance… no one wanted to get involved with the problems of downtrodden bohemians from the wrong side of the track. Some figured that it was just another junkie passed out. Her hair was ragged and her eyes closed… she wasn't moving… breathing… she looked dead. And inside, Roger felt dead.
His hand slid across her small waste and gently rubbed her stomach, and buried his head into the side of her neck, praying to God for a miracle. Roger then pressed two fingers against her neck, and breathed a sigh of relief when he detected a small, weak pulse.
"Sir?"
He looked up and saw that a kind stranger had finally stepped forward, out of concern, to offer assistance.
"Sir, is there anything I can do?"
Roger noticed the man begin to pull what looked to be a cell phone from his pocket, while watching him and the unconscious Mimi.
"Call 911" he instructed, pleadingly. "Please! She can't die…" he turned his tear-filled eyes back to his girlfriend, who was dying in his arms.
"She can't die…"
2 HOURS LATER
"Where's my girl?" Maureen ran up to Roger who was sitting in the cold, hard plastic chair outside of Mimi's room (which they could only afford for three nights), with Mark at his side. He had to wait while the doctor was finishing up his examination of her. Joanne, Collins, and a very ill looking Angel were with her – Angel had to be supported by his lover as he was too weak and pale to move on his own. Panicking, Maureen grabbed Roger by his collar and pounded on his chest, crying.
"Where is she? How is she?" Maureen, ever the drama queen, tended to overdramatic things… even though she was genuinely distraught and concern, her actions caused a bit of a noise.
"I—" Roger stammered, honestly not knowing the status of Mimi's condition. "I don't know, Maureen… she… I found her in the park, she was cold, unconscious…fuck!"
Joanne wrapped her arms around Maureen's waist and held her, comfortingly. "Shh, baby," she cooed. "She'll be okay… she'll be okay…"
"She's fucking dying!" Maureen cried, resigning herself to her girlfriend's embrace. Meanwhile, Mark helped Angel sit down, and Collins pulled the weak drag queen onto his lap, and held him. Angel was coughing and was shivering. Collins wrapped his coat around his lover and kissed the back of his neck, lovingly, and then looked up at Mark, mouthing the words 'How is she?'. Mark just shrugged and shook his head. Collins had wanted Angel to stay home, but didn't want to leave him alone… and Angel didn't want to be away from Mimi at her time of need.
"Roger," Mark comforted. "Come on, man… sit down before you fall down." He guided him back over to the chairs and sat down with him. Roger sat between him and Collins. Though his vision was blurry, Angel coughed and then reached his shaking hand out to Roger and lightly patted his hand. Roger looked up at him to see the sick young man smiling down at him. It wasn't so much he was comforting him, but Angel was letting him know that no matter what happened, everything would turn out okay… Roger could see that in Angel's eyes, and that itself brought some sort of comforting feeling. Angel then leaned closer to him, his eyes red and watery. He was cold to touch.
"She'll fly again," he whispered, cryptically, yet warmly. "She'll live forever… in more ways than one."
It was then that the doctor came out of the room. Everyone except Collins and Angel stood up and watched him, expectantly. He came to a stop before them, with a somber look on his face, and Roger's heart sank faster and further than the Titanic.
"How is she?" Mark and Joanne asked at the same time. Maureen just held Roger's hand to support both him and herself.
"She's stable," the doctor replied, causing a lot of people to breathe a sigh of relief. "She hasn't been taking her medication…"
Roger's attention perked up. "What!"
"I found no trace of the AZT in her system… and her body's quick deterioration… and there was no medicine on her when she was brought in…"
"That BITCH!" Maureen yelled, crying. "How could she do that to us!"
"Maureen, shut the fuck up!" Collins venomously spat at her. Now wasn't the time to have insults and anger flying about the place, especially at the teenager whose life was hanging on by a thread.
Roger, meanwhile, was trying to keep his composure, though couldn't help but let the thought seep through his mind that the days and hours were darkening for Mimi – and there was nothing he could do to stop it. No doubt, the virus would soon begin to break him down as it was to Mimi and Angel… but the thought of not having his love by his side was too much to bear.
"Collins, go to hell!" she yelled back at him. Now was not the time for fighting among them to break out, either, but the situation was so tense that the air could be cut with a knife.
"Can I see her?" Roger asked the doctor, hopefully, ignoring the bickering of the others. The doctor nodded and stepped aside to let him in the room…
"Sure, but make it quick. She's sleeping."
Machines hummed, the heart monitor beeped in a consistent rhythm, and attached to what seemed like a million different tubes and machines, in the centre of it all on the bed, laid the small, fragile Mimi. Roger's heart froze, but couldn't resist from behind pulled into the room like he was attached to some magnetic field. When he reached her bedside, he took her hands in his and the sudden coldness of her caused him to jump back, slightly.
"Mims…" he sat down, trying to remain strong enough to get the words out. There was so much that he wanted to say to her, so many words that had remained unspoken and even feelings that remained unshared with the world. Now seemed like as good a time as any to bring out everything before his last chance died with her. He sighed and rested his head in the palm of one of his hands, and tried to think of the best way to do this. With his other hand, he let go of her's and reached up to her face and gently stroked her cheek, letting his fingers trace across her delicate, pale features; over her closed eyes, down her nose and across her lips.
"How you doing, babe?" he pathetically tried. "Oh God… Mimi… I'm so sorry. I'm sorry about everything – everything's just been so fucked up. I fucked up. I should've been there when you needed me…"
Mark and Joanne stood at the doorway and watched the emotional scene unfold… Roger had never been good at expressing his feelings, especially after April died and he clammed up. Mimi had been the only person on earth who could reach him beyond anything else, and even his music couldn't touch him the way the beautiful stranger had, who walked into his life on Christmas Eve the previous year, asking for him to light her candle. Mimi had an aura about her that no one had and an innocence about her that broke through every stereotype of a junkie. Her caring, gentle spirit held no bounds to the earth, and Angel always said that he knew she'd live just as hardcore and have just as intense fun in the next life as she did on earth. Mimi, though, was so scared of leaving everyone… and Roger had tried to get her off the stuff, but it wasn't working anymore. She figured that she was gonna die sooner rather than later, so her motivation to get clean had dried up months ago. But, despite everything, Mimi was content with her life at the moment – she and Angel were the life of the party most times, and she'd change nothing about it.
But for Mark and Joanne, seeing Roger dying through grief was torturous. At that moment, Maureen came up behind her lover and wrapped her arms around her stomach. Meanwhile, Collins was whispering comforting words to Angel, who was falling asleep in his boyfriend's arms.
Roger kissed Mimi's hand. "Come on, baby… come back to me. You can't leave now. There's so much I should've told you… I should tell you… everything about me is falling apart, and you hold me together. I… I'm… I'm disaster…"
2 DAYS LATER
Mimi had awoken and was still being treated in the hospital, with Roger never leaving her side. But as for the others, they came and went whenever they could. Roger was downstairs with Collins, Mark, Joanne, and Maureen, while Angel had insisted on staying with Mimi in her room so they could talk. Obviously, Collins and Roger had both been reluctant to leave them, but they had insisted to spend time alone… Angel and Mimi really understood each other for what they were and that they were different.
Angel laid down on her bed next to her and the two interlocked their fingers.
"In a creepy kinda way," Angel commented. "This really is quite peaceful."
Mimi snorted. "Sure. You and peaceful? Nice one, Ang. You can't stand things being quite for more than five minutes."
"Hey!" the vivacious, yet weak, drummer mocked being hurt. "So not true, honey! I could use this…"
"Right…" the conversation kind of trailed off as both were left in their own thoughts, though they both knew what each other was thinking. Both Angel and Mimi knew that it was now just a matter of days or even weeks for them to live and to leave their respective lovers behind, as well as their friends.
"Hey, Mims?"
"Yeah?"
"Where d'you think we're gonna go after it happens?"
Mimi frowned. "What?"
Angel shrugged and turned on his side to face her. "I dunno, just wondering. I mean, you're a junkie, and I'm a gay drag queen that kills puppies—"
"One puppy, darlin'. And she deserved it."
"You know what I mean," Angel playfully slapped her on her shoulder. "They worry about us dying, and not about where we're going once it happens, you know?"
Mimi nodded. "I know. We're so lucky to have them, Ang… I love Roger but he has so much trouble telling me he loves me, it hurts."
"He loves you, honey," Angel consoled her. "It's your job to make him see that. Let him do it in his own time."
"I could be dead by then."
"Perhaps. But you know he loves you. Do you really need to hear him say it?"
Mimi smiled, thoughtfully. "No," she conceded. "But he does."
"Exactly. Even after you die, if it takes longer than that for him to realise it, then you can't mess that up. Messing with destiny I hear can be pretty fucked up. Anyway, it's not like you won't be seeing him again."
Mimi squeezed Angel's hand. "You think we'll get to party with the Almighty?"
"Oh honey, He'd be crazy not to let us in!" Angel replied, in her diva-like attitude as always, and he turned to lay on his back. He always managed to be a source of total comfort, even if he wasn't sure if what he was saying was true or even gonna come into being.
"You think so?"
"Baby, I know so. We're good people. And we're in love. We're loved but two great, sweet, amazing, and hot, guys. I guess… keep trying to do good for yourself and for other people. I guess God takes care of the rest."
Mimi shifted into a more comfortable position where her head was resting on Angel's chest with their arms around each other. After talking with Angel, impending death didn't seem so scary for Mimi… that was Angel's magic with words. He was as his namesake… an angel sent from God to bring joy, comfort, love, forgiveness, awareness, happiness, and most importantly life to this small group of bohemians. Mimi brought an earthiness type of love to not only Roger, but to everyone. With Angel, he was loveable but didn't bring innocence – Mimi had a dirty sort of innocence about her, like she was trying to stand up, but kept falling back into the wrong – though her heart was struggling to become strong, she was a sweet child who just had ran, for the longest time, with the wrong crowd.
Angel kissed her forehead and started up at the ceiling.
"You believe in God?" Mimi asked.
"Mmmhmm. It's hard not to. He brought me Collins… gave me more love than most people experience in a lifetime. And he brought me all of you – and I finally felt at home… at peace. God blessed me with so much, I believe I'm going to him. We all are." He hugged her closer.
"Love is blind to everything that could destroy it… love knows no boundaries… love is expressed through a child's smile, or a baby's giggle. It's shown through the offering of a hand, or a hug, or just even a simple kind word. And the best thing about it, Mims… is that no matter what, when everything else seems to go wrong, we have each other to be strong. You got love here, honey. Don't let it go. Roger will get it in time."
"Easy for you to say, Angel. You're in love with a man who isn't scared to say that he loves you… Collins is so proud of you; so in love with you… he holds you and kisses you and comforts you, without suddenly turning and running away from you – from something he so wants to, so badly." Mimi began to choke up on tears that fell from her eyes. Her heart felt like it had been ripped from her chest and shoved into a shredder… the thought of not hearing Roger tell her, show her, that he's in love with her, before she died, was excruciating. She didn't need to hear it, because she knew that he was in love and that his love for her was very deep, as was her's for him… but still… she really wanted to hear him… for him to look into her eyes, and as corny as it sounds, for him to declare his love for her.
Angel pulled her closer to him.
"Hey," he cooed. "Come on, girl. Don't you start this on me… get any tears on my top and you're dead!" he joked. Mimi managed to crack a small smile, but still felt miserable.
"Hey," Angel tried again. He placed his index finger under her chin and raised her head so he could see her eyes.
"Babe, come on. Roger loves you. And by God, he'll know it before it's too late. I promise. Okay? I've never broken my promise to anyone… especially a friend. You believe me?"
Mimi didn't reply. She wanted to, but she just couldn't bring herself to get rid of the thought that Angel was trying to make a promise that even he couldn't deliver on. Roger Davis was a stubborn, thick-headed struggling musician who was failing to see what was in front of him. She knew he could say the words to her when she was asleep, or unconscious… but for some reason, he couldn't say it while she was awake; while she was able to hear the words.
Angel started coughing and had to sit up, so Mimi sat up with him and wrapped her arms around him. A few moments later, the coughing subsided and she handed him a tissue so he could wipe away the tears in his eyes. Despite his own health woes, Angel was willing to go all out to help his friends, and Mimi could see that… she appreciated it too. She sat aside a bit more so that Angel could get some of the blankets too, which he readily accepted.
"Ang? You okay?"
He nodded and laid back against her pillows, and pulled her into his arms again. "I'm just dandy, girl. Nothing can get me down, you know that," he flashed his charming smile at her, although he knew Mimi didn't believe him. But he didn't care. There was no way he could let Roger and Mimi be separated by death without sorting out what their lives meant to each other. And he wouldn't let himself die before it happened. The two of them just fell into silence and laid together, just thinking and enjoying each other's company. Time was running out.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:That's the first chapter, I hope you like it. Let me know if I should continue it.