Fanfiction...wow I'm such a crazed fangirl...enjoy!
Disclaimer: Rent and all the characters belong to the fabulous J-Lar!
In Roger's POV
The voices slipping through the crack under my bedroom door are muffled and tense. The unfamiliar ones belong to the police officers, the large, balding man with salt and pepper hair and the slender, pixie-like, young girl with shiny red hair, who had invaded our apartment hours ago. The tired, slightly higher-pitched, and comfortingly familiar voice belongs to my roommate, Mark. I can't make out what they're saying, and at this point I don't really want to. I search the room for something to distract me and find myself staring at my guitar. It's mocking me, trying to give me hope when all hope is lost. I bite back the stinging tears in my eyes and curl my hands around the edge of the mattress. My mattress, on my bed, where just this morning she and I slept blissfully. I fight more tears as I ease myself off the bed and onto the floor.
"Roger?" a narrow shadow appears in the doorway. Mark.
"Roger..." he repeats sitting down next to me on the floor, "Roger, they want to ask you some questions."
I stare at the wooden floor, tracing the lines in it with my finger-tips.
"Roger!" he places a firm hand on my shoulder.
I whisper, "I don't think I can."
"Rog...you have to, they're with the pol-."
"I can't alright!" I snap angrily, "I just ca-." My voice cracks and I feel myself slam my head down into him. The dam holding back my tears explodes and I begin to sob in heavy gasps. Mark rubs my back awkwardly in an attempt to comfort me. "I- she- Mark- why?" I try to put a sentence together through my tears but it's useless.
"I know Rog...I know..." Mark whispers sadly. He continues our awkward embrace as my body rocks with uncontrollable sobs.
"I- Mark...I'm so sorry..." I choke out, "this is- all my fault! I- I- I should have brou-ght her with us!"
"Roger..." he grabs my chin and tilts my head upward so I can look at him. I don't want to make eye contact but I know he'll insist on it. I stare into those pale blue eyes as he says, "It's not your fault...How could you even think that?"
"But if I had just-"
"No. It's not your fault. I know it's hard to lose someone you love, but you've gotta stop blaming yourself. Roger, we're gonna get you through this. Together. I'll help you."
The thought of Mark, small, vulnerable Mark, who can't even look at a needle without passing out helping me through this hell that surrounded me, almost makes me laugh. Almost. Without another word I collapse back onto him and sob into his shoulder for what seems like forever. When the crying subsides I feel Mark turn his head toward the door and give a terse nod. The floorboards creak as the one of the police officers enter the room. Mark gently eases me off of him and stands, giving my shoulder an affectionate squeeze. He locks eyes with me and shakes his head slightly, firmly as if to say 'You can do it.' And I actually start to believe that I can. He walks steadily towards the door pausing to look back at me. Finally he exits.
"Roger Davis, correct?" the young girl officer steps forward. I finally get a good look at her. She is so small, so slight and nonthreatening. Her shiny auburn hair falls to her waist and spreads out in a curtain down her back. The features of her face are so angular and pointed. Her appearance sends a pang through my chest. She resembled her so strongly.
"Roger Davis? Am I correct?" her tone becomes sharp and snippy.
"Yes," I reply shakily. Even her eyes are the same beautiful hazel color. She sees my staring at her and gives me a distasteful look. I quickly avert my eyes, heart pounding.
"So the woman in the bathroom that we identified as Ap-."
"April Ericsson..." I interrupt the officer, wanting to say her name.
"Um...yes..." she's obviously annoyed with me, "and she was of what relation to you?"
"M-my girlfriend" my hands begin to shake, knowing what questions are about to come next.
"And you were the first person to find her like this?"
I swallow, "Yes..."
"Can you please describe the original discovery in as much detail as you can?" My breath catches in my throat. I try and choke out an explanation, but nothing is forthcoming. "Mr. Davis? Mr. Davis?" Her voice sounds far away. "MR. DAVIS! Please answer the ques-."
"Roger!"
"Excuse me?"
"Call me Roger...please." I don't know why I want this strange woman to address me in a friendly manor, but it's what I feel I need at the moment.
"Alright...Roger," she mutters uncertainly, "could you please answer my question?"
I gulp and begin to speak slowly. "We- Mark and I, Mark's girlfriend Maureen Johnson, and our friend Tom Collins- were going out to the Life Cafe for a little Christmas Eve drink. Maureen is- was- very fond of April..." I stop short after saying her name, trying to hold back the tears in my eyes. I look up at the officer and she stares impatiently, tapping her clipboard with her pen. I continue trying to keep my voice steady. "Maureen invited April to come along, but April seemed distant, saying she just wanted to stay home and rest. We came home about an hour later and I called for her." My hands begin to sweat and my breath starts to get faster and more painful. "W-when she didn't answer I went to look for her, until the only room I hadn't checked was the b-bathroom..." I stopped not wanting to continue. " I opened the door and the first thing I saw was the... note on the mirror. It said simply W-We've Got A-A-AIDS." My voice brakes and a fresh wave of tears roll silently down my face. "I took...the note off the mirror...and flipped it over...and on the back were our...t-test results." Those test results...my confirmation that my life was over. "Then I saw something out of the corner of my eye in the reflection of the mirror. It was her h-hand... I t-turned slowly a-and-and I- I- I saw-." It's useless.
I lose it completely. The image of her pale, fragile body lying there surrounded by a puddle of her own blood burned into my mind. Her beautiful hazel eyes, once so vibrant and full of love, were wide open in an expression of fear. They stared at me boring straight into my soul.
"That'll be enough...R-Roger." Her voice startles me back to reality. I stare at the floor and let the last few tears trickle down my face. Looking up I see her eyes are actually brimming with tears, too. She blushes, embarrassed to be seen crying and showing the holes in her tough exterior. "I just need to to sign these papers to verify the information you gave me," she grunted handing me her clipboard and pen, tears all but forgotten.
I slowly sign the pages in the places indicated.
Roger Davis.
Roger Davis.
Roger Davis is sick.
Roger Davis knows nothing about the disease killing him.
Roger Davis is scared.
Roger Davis is going to die...
I thrust the clipboard and pen out in front of me. After a moments hesitation she takes it. "Thank you Mr. Da... Roger." She turns on her heel and slowly begins to shuffle out the door. Right as she reaches the door frame she stops abruptly and turns to face me. "I'm... I'm sorry... for your loss."
I look up and find those hazel eyes trained on me. "Thanks," I mutter in a hollow voice. She exits the room and I catch a glimpse of her shiny red hair disappearing after her. Gone forever. Just like April. I'm diseased, and I'm going to die.
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