Title: The Four Wars
Summary: Maureen had always been strong-willed. There was almost no battle they wouldn't take charge to, almost no war she wouldn't fight- hell, she started half of the ones in her neighborhood. And every time she fought, she fought to win. Almost. One Shot.
A/N: This is my first Rent fanfiction, so take it easy willya! I tried not to make it toooo descriptive, but still wanted to add emotion into it. Excrustiating! Got any pointers? I'd be glad to hear them!
The first war was forced onto her- or rather, forced inside of her. Living in New York, she did- of course- understand about all of this, but even while it was going on, 11-year-old Maureen couldn't believe it was happening. Despite the burning sensation that boiled between her knees, the fact that she could see and hear her uncle- right in front of her- doing it to her, she couldn't believe it. She was in so much pain, her eyes were spewing out tears. But she just couldn't bring herself to believe it.
She couldn't speak, could barely make a noise as it all happened before her. He was her uncle, the one she stayed with almost every weekend when her parents were out of town. Why was he doing this?
When every thing ended, she just fell asleep. She was so tired, and had lost a lot of blood. In fact, just a little too much. Worried, her uncle took her to the E.R the next day. They gave her a Morning After pill, and hooked her up to a few IV's. For the day, she was monitored and then sent home that evening.
She never told any one- including the nurses- that she'd been raped. They'd say that she was just over-exaggerating. And she couldn't even believe what was happening before her, much less fight it. But she did know one thing, whether the doctor's could tell it or not: she had been pregnant. And taking that pill had killed the living thing inside of her.
She was miserable.
The second war was just a fluke, or so she liked to think. Just another one-night-stand when the guy didn't have any condoms and she'd gotten pregnant. Maureen had been about 20 at the time, and was working at a local bar- though she hadn't been on shift that night. It was an accident, though it could have been prevented. But she hadn't prevented it- big deal, plenty of women get abortions.
Or so she told herself. But she knew it was wrong. Even with such a strong nature, she wouldn't have wanted to kill any body- much less a month old baby. Why did she do it? Because she couldn't take care of it. Because she could barely support herself on the job she was working at, much less pay for the adoption of a child.
So she had the abortion done and over with. At first, the idea of just taking some pills didn't seem to do any thing. But then she started her period. And Maureen Johnson knew she'd done it again.
How could a person just kill their own child like that? Why didn't she fight against it- do some thing, do any thing she could not to have killed the baby?
But she hadn't even tried...not the way it felt to her. She'd just done it and gotten it over with.
She was no better than a murderer.
The third war, she was as in love as she'd ever been before she met Joanne. Mark, who she'd moved in with. She'd thought he was the love of her life. She thought it would be fine if she got pregnant. But it wasn't. Not in the least.
Mark couldn't handle a baby at that time in his life. And truthfully, Maureen couldn't either. They were both only about 23 and Mark couldn't even afford to pay rent in a normal appartment building much less take care of a baby. But she wasn't going to kill another child.
That was when Mark, Benny, Roger, Collins, and Maureen all moved into the same building on Avenue A. They all pitched in, in the end, to help Maureen with the adoption papers and the whole process. The pregnancy was draining. The labor was worse.
Still, the biggest pain was looking her beautiful- no, gorgeous- baby daughter in the eyes. Giving her a name. Realizing that the last nine months of nausea, diarrhea, vomiting, weird craving, mood swings, no sleep- and then trying to wait for her hormones to get back in to whack- was all for nothing. Sure, plenty of parents were looking for a new born baby so adopt as their own. Maureen knew she was selfish, but she already loved her baby more than any thing else in the word.
Isabella Antionette. That was her name, a name only comparable to Shakespeare. She liked it, it was dramatic...but the goodbye to her daughter was said with bitter tears. That day, she had murdered herself.
Mark tried to comfort her with logic. But Maureen really didn't want to hear any of it. He didn't know what it was like to carry a child for nine months, to give her name, to hold her and love her and want her happiness more than any thing else in the world. And, secretly, she blamed him for this.
The fourth war occured 5 years later, when every one she'd been living with had forgotten about the baby. Her baby, the one she still knew and loved and cared about...and wished she could get in touch with. Maureen finally broke up with Mark after 3 years of cheating on him. And found some one new.
Joanne.
Her Pookie, her love, her lover, the one of a kind. The one who loved her and would never want to see her and any kind of pain. And Maureen, to be honest, didn't fight it. She didn't fight becoming a tesbian. She didn't want any thing more to do with men since that wonderful, beautiful baby of hers had been taken away.
But Joanne never knew. Never knew Maureen was raped, had gotten pregnant, had had to give a baby up for adoption. Joanne never knew that Maureen hated men because she blamed them for all the pain she went through- of 9 months of labor, of loving her baby so much that she would die for it in a heart beat and then having to give her away. Joanne never knew that day why Maureen started crying when a little girl ran up to her on the street saying; "Mommy, Mommy!"...
only to find out that she wasn't her mommy.
She started crying, only because she'd felt that leap of joy in her heart, only to resume the realization that she wasn't that child's mother.
But Maureen knew, she still had hope that some day she would meet up with her baby again. Even if she hadn't fought giving her up, she would fight for seeing that baby of her's again...
Just once more.