He's Not The Normal Kind of Super Hero

by Scarfy

He’s not the normal kind of super hero. He’s not charming. He’s not that handsome and he’ll never get the girl. He doesn’t need a cape and he doesn’t need a theme song and he doesn’t really need that girl anyway.

Title: Not the Normal Kind of Super Hero
Author: a-bit-of-wit (AC)
Feedback: I really need it. I don't know what to think about this fic.
Pairing: Roger/Mimi (I'm not going to even let you think of it Mimi/Mark. Because I'm the author, and I get to do that.)
Word Count: ...They don't have that function on word perfect. :O
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and implied drug use
Genre: Friendship-fer-riffic-ness! (Totally a Genre.)
Summary: He's not the normal kind of super hero.
Notes: Argh. This fic sort of made me angry at myself after I read it. I didn't come out as well as I wanted it too.
Special Thanks: ...to life!
Spoilers: N/A
Warnings: Really Confusing. Almost Gag-Sweet. Um, yeah. And I don't know anything about comics...ha. :3
Disclaimer: I don't own RENT. Yeah.

Author Note:

PANELS- IN ORDER THAT THEY OCCUR FROM LATEST TO PRESENT:

Fifth- Her Fault

Second- Santa Fe

Sixth- The Packet

Fourth- The Man

First- Withdrawal

AN: Only really use that if you're confused. It sort of distracts from the story to look up at this every five seconds.

He's not the normal kind of super hero. He's not charming. He's not that handsome and he'll never get the girl. He doesn't need a cape and he doesn't need a theme song and he doesn't really need that girl anyway.

The first panel is a familiar scene. Her shaking in the bathroom, laying helpless and alone against the tile floor. Him, scared as hell as his enters- supposedly going to the bathroom or something of the sort. She knows it's him as soon as he lightly grips her shoulder. When Mark is scared, he suddenly turns more soft and flaky then usual, and his grasp on her arm is gentle. Roger, on the other hand, is rough and frantic- especially when ever she's like this in the bathroom- he's too scared to lose another person there. And there's no yelling. There's no question if she's sick or not. If it was Roger, she was sick. If it was Mark, it was withdrawal. Unbeknownst to Roger, Mimi was addicted again. After six months of being clean...Mimi had screwed up her life- again.

Still as feebly, he slowly helps her to her feet, saying something comforting to no one really, because he knows she's too far gone to pay much attention.

The second panel is a single memory. It was her yelling tearfully at him, repeating over and over that he doesn't know what he's talking about until the words grow meaningless and useless on her tongue. It was right after Roger had left for Santa Fe, and she had grown somewhat directionless. And it was the lack of direction that led her to explode.

He was following her out the door, yelling at her down the stairs. "Don't to anything rash, Mimi!" She remembered that- only could retrieve from her brain the sound of his voice and her loud footsteps down the stairs. "He'll be back. He'll always be back." She wished she'd listen to him then.

The third panel was her on that Christmas, leaning forward on the table and trying to make since of the joyous fast paced world around her. Roger's arms were around her shoulders, holding her to the point that she was sure he would crush her. But she felt safe, and alive. And... oddly loved. And it doesn't need to make since because that was how she felt. Before she knew it, it was only her, Roger and Mark. She was still tired, and slowly pulled her head forward from Roger's chest, who was about as asleep as she was. Mark seemed stunned though, and muttered the first thing he had said since she had came back. "You saw her, right?"

Mimi nodded, closing her eyes and grinning with as much power as she could. "Damn Straight, Mark." Mimi replied hoarsely. She felt Roger chuckle, if only barely, behind her and closed her eyes.

The fourth panel was her in front of The Man, hands shaking and head swimming. She pulled the money, less subtly then she should have, out of her pocket. The much loved substance was in her fingers, and she thanked him wordlessly. When she looked down from the white packet up to him, he looked somewhat distracted. She peered up at him, then slowly turned around to see what he was looking at.

Mark. "The fuck." She whispered quietly, quickly shoving the packet in her pocket. He had already seen her though. Mimi needed it too much to feel remorse as of yet, but didn't move when he reached his hand into her coat pocket and pulled out the substance, then held it out wordlessly to the dealer. The Man fished up the money, shrugged, and Mark returned Mimi's packet to him. This was apparently a transaction they had made many times before, possibly with Roger. Mark turned back around and walked back down to the main street. Mimi followed him like a guilty puppy, not saying a word.

Just as silently, they both walked back to the loft.

The fifth panel was Mark and Mimi talking over coffee. Roger was currently mad at the both of them- Mimi didn't even remember what he was yelling at her about...she was too high. But Mark explained that Roger was mad because of something Mimi had did (both of them didn't know) and had attacked him about his not so secret feelings about Maureen.

"Ah," she said with a little laugh. "I agree though. Like it or not, Mark, you follow her around like a little...kitten." She pressed her lips to the rim of the mug and slowly leaned her head back.

"Kitten?" Mark echoed, looking down at the black substance inside his cup- supposedly coffee. Mark knew better then to eat anything Mimi had made. He wrinkled he nose and pushed it away.

"Yeah, Markie...Pookie...Kittie?" She waved around the mug. "Coincidence? I think not."

Mark sighed, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "Why kitten?"

Mimi nodded slowly. "Because they are fluffy."

He frowned, leaning back a bit. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything, Mark. Everything." Mimi told him simply, and she could tell Mark had learned that is conversation was done. Like all other pitiful 'fights' they had, Mimi would win. Maybe because Mark didn't want to try.

"Anyways, he just wants you to have a backbone." She nodded, tilting her head to the side. After a pause, she took another sip of your drink. "He does care about you, you know? So just...go buy a backbone."

Mark stiffened. "That's high talking from a girl who supposedly fighting with her boyfriend."

For the first time, Mimi gave him a straight look in the eyes. "Oh, Well. Whatever I did was probably my fault anyway."

Mimi could tell that Mark didn't know what to say to that, and he merely frowned and nodded. Slowly, he stood up and moved to the window, not really knowing what to say to that. Seconds later, she saw him duck down. It took her a few moments to realize why he was doing that.

"You saw her, right?"

Mark looked up fearfully. "Damn Straight, Mimi."

It almost hurt to look at sixth panel. Mark was holding the white packet- the know dreaded white packet- a few inches from her face. His voice was oddly shrill, as if he was struggling to keep it in control.

"Mimi- you started? Again...Oh God." He pulled it back. "Why the hell?" A few angry movements later, the packet was on the table and Mark was a few feet away, misplaced.

"You don't understand, Mark." She spat quickly, pacing around the room. "I needed it. You've never needed something like that." Mimi pushed her hands into her pockets. "You don't understand."

Mark took a few moments to say anything back. He was trying to understand. He couldn't though. "But Roger- and withdrawal?" He pressed his hand to his forehead, repeating. "Mimi, why the-"

"I don't know." Mimi muttered before she could catch herself and change her mind. "I really don't. He was just there and it was so easy..."

"Just because it's easy doesn't make it ri-"

"I know." She said with a sigh. "Just don't tell Roger." Her voice rose quickly, and she snatched his sleeve. "Please- Don't. I'll get off. I'll do it all again."

She expected his question, and wasn't surprised when he pulled his arm away. "How? How do you plan to go through withdrawal alone?"

Mimi shifted somewhat nervously. "You helped Roger...Can you help me?"

Mimi could tell that Mark didn't know what to say to that, and he merely frowned and nodded. "Yeah."

Mimi smiled sadly, knowing that it was going to kill Mark to hold that from Roger. But it would be better for all three of them: Mark, herself- Roger included...that Mimi's more then telling of Mimi's slip up was at least avoided. He would find out eventually...She knew. She couldn't hide it. But she couldn't stand telling him now. Not Now.

Seventh Panel of their story.

Return to the first panel. Like always, Mimi liked to begin at the end. Her shaking arm around Mark's shoulder as he slowly led her back to Roger's bed. He was curled up in the corner, face twisted comically. If she could see it more clearly, she was sure she would of laughed. But she couldn't.

Seconds later she was swiftly under the covers, arms weakly wrapped around Roger's neck as if it was the only thing she had to hold on to. She wanted to hold him like he did- that sort of way that it seemed like they would never have to let the other one go. It wasn't believable when she did it though.

She knew long after she closed her eyes that Mark was there, leaning contently against the doorway and looking at his two screwed up, madly in love, and somewhat crazy friends. Even if the sight was as pitiful as it was, Mimi knew that was always how Mark saw them.

"Mimi, you realize you may not always have tomorrow."

"Yeah, Mark. I know. That's supposed to be my philosophy, remember?"

"Tell him. Tell him tomorrow then."

Mimi buried her head into Roger's shoulder, who was still sleeping consistently.

"...By tomorrow noon, I promise you he'll know."

Roger was her true love, her muse, her star, her comfort and her rock. And he would always be.

But somehow, in this little broken world of her's, the capeless, girless, charmless, Mark was her one and only hero.

So put that in your pipe and smoke it, DC comics.