A/N: For those of you who may not have heard, I've been experimenting with a RENT hiatus. (Just couldn't let the fiction go, though.) But it's been about a week--maybe a little less--and I've been doing surprisingly well. I've kind of let it fall to the side with the exception of the tracks I love the most, namely "What You Own", "Without You", "Christmas Bells" and "Finale B." I think my success lies in the fact that I've managed to supplement RENT with every other musical, album, book, and film that Adam Pascal and Anthony Rapp have done apart from it. That, and having a few wonderful conversations with folks who understand the abstention thing. You know who you are…thanks. =0)

But enough of my ranting, you came here to read the story, right?

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, but I own a host of RENT-related material, all of which is helping keep me pleasantly distracted.

Metamorphosis

Benny had become something he never wanted to be: A liar.

"Bastards!" The cry echoed through the house, as the businessman read through the newspaper at the dining room table. Coming down the stairs, Benny wondered if he even wanted to know why his father-in-law was angry this time. But even if he didn't want to know, he was sure he'd find out anyway.

"Um…is something wrong, sir?" he asked, trying to gauge how bad the situation was. Although Benny had feelings for Allison, her dad was a different story.

They were more business partners than family.

"Look at this, Benjamin," Mr. Grey spat, holding up the copy of The Village Voice. "Someone named Maureen Johnson is planning some sort of protest in the 11th Street lot." Scanning the article, Benny tried to hide the smirk that crossed his face

Typical Maureen…always out to prove something. "Well, what can we do about it?" The older man slammed the coffee mug on the table in frustration.

"Simple. We clear the lot, by any means necessary." Somewhere, deep down, the idea of forcing a bunch of innocent people out of their homes bothered Benny. He knew that not long before, he would be cheering Maureen on in her efforts.

But business came first.

"Okay, I'll…get right on that," he said, turning to leave, hoping that the conversation would end there. But it didn't.

"Oh, and Benjamin?" Mr. Grey called after his son-in-law.

"Yes, sir?"

"I suggest you go and collect the rent from the squatters that live in the old music publishing factory on 11th and Avenue B. It's overdue, isn't it?" Benny swallowed hard. That was the last thing he'd promised Mark and Roger before he'd left for Westport: That they could live rent free, now that he owned the building.

And now he had to go back on his word.

Now he had to go ask--no, demand--two years worth of rent that he knew they didn't have.

"Yeah…sure…"

As Benny went out to the driveway and started the Range Rover's engine, he tried to shake the guilty feeling.

Sure, selling out was okay.

But lying wasn't.

Driving away, he thought. He thought that maybe, just maybe, trying to convince them to rally behind Cyber Arts--or better still--make a deal by getting them to stop Maureen's protest might soften the blow, if only a little bit.

Either way, he was already screwed.