Author's Note: Yes, I stole the Rent characters from Jonathan Larson, but
it's okay, cause he stole them from Puccini. I stole the Aida characters
from Disney, who stole them from Verdi... Sensing a trend here? I thought
that this would be fun... (Note, I've not actually SEEN Aida, but I know
what happens, and I've read the libretto of both musical AND opera, so I
figure I'm okay... besides, I'm not quoting anything. Well... For the most
part, anyway.)
Prologue: If I Never...
The Darkness stretched around him, tangible and malevolent. He could almost hear the hooded specter of Death creeping ever closer, as he inched towards asphyxiation. The pounding of his heart was deafening, in the empty space that would become his executor, and his tomb. But it wasn't empty. In the corner, curled silently, there was another. He panicked, realizing too late what had happened. She wasn't supposed to be here! She had escaped! He pounded against the rock, struggling to be heard, but he knew, even as he screamed, that he there was no rescue behind that stone portal. That world was lost to him now. He crumpled against the wall, his strength giving way to despair, but she was at his side, and his arms locked around her, pulling her to his lips. Already, he could feel her heart slowing, as the lack of air began to take its toll on her already frail system. How long had she waited for him, here, in the blackness of this foul tomb? How long since she had tasted food, or quenched her thirst?
But even as he cursed himself for allowing this to come to pass, he was secretly, and selfishly relieved that she was by his side. The prospect of facing an early demise wasn't quite as foreboding, with her here. He pushed the selfishness aside, and shook his head. Lonely or no, she should not have been subjected to this. This was HIS fate. This was HIS destiny. Not hers.
And yet, despite his desperate entreating, the gods had turned a deaf ear to him, and she remained by his side, slowly sinking deeper into that endless sleep that claims all men in time. *I almost wish I had never met her* He thought, desperately. *But no. If I never loved her, I would not have died, true. But neither would I have truly lived.*
He gazed down at her, where, in the darkness, he knew she would be. In spite of the void, he could just imagine that he could make out the slope of her nose, the sharp awareness of her eyes, and the beauty of her skin, skin as black as the darkness which even now threatened to crush his spirits. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, and his fingers came away wet. He wished there was something he could say, something he could do. But she had made the sacrifice on her own. Rather than live without him, she had chosen to stay by his side into eternity. And then, he had it. It had seemed so simple, so trite when he had said it to her before, but now, the words that sprang to his lips.
"There'd be no ties of time and space to bind us..." He paused, wondering if she was still conscious enough to hear, but soon, he heard her voice, weak and trembling.
"And no horizon we could not pursue..." Even in the darkness, he could tell that she was smiling. Together, they continued.
"We'd leave the world's misfortunes far behind us, and I would put my faith and trust... in you." A sigh escaped her lips, and she slipped into unconsciousness. Radames kissed her lips for the last time, and slid back, allowing himself to succumb to the darkness.
**********
Roger woke in a cold sweat, with a shout on his lips. Realizing where he was, he let it die before uttering a sound. Mark would kill him, or at least stare groggily, anyway, if Roger woke him up. Then there would be questions, and prodding. Mark was a little over protective. So much so, that Roger often found himself wondering if, despite all the posturing about Maureen, his thin roommate might be gay.
Shaking the thought away, he swung his legs off the end of the bed, and, not bothering to pull a shirt over his sweating torso, shambled barefoot into the kitchen, looking for something that might help lull him back to sleep. He had just liberated the last bowl of Cap'n Crunch from its box, when he heard footsteps behind him. Not bothering to turn around, he grunted. "Bad dream." Mark shrugged, even knowing that Roger couldn't see him. "We need more cereal."
"Sure," Mark grinned. "I'll just pick some up when I get paid for the Hollywood blockbuster I filmed." Without thinking, Roger turned to his best friend and grinned back. But a thought occurred to him. Mark was too alert to have just woken up.
"How long have you been awake?" In spite of himself, Roger found himself getting worried. No matter what anyone thought, Roger DID care for the fragile filmmaker. They had been through too much with each other for him not to care.
Mark shrugged. "An hour or so. You were shouting." He smiled, apologetically. His hand twitched, and if Roger hadn't been so unnerved by his dream, he would have smiled. Mark was always itching to film things, even when he didn't have his camera.
"It was nothing. Really." Roger turned back to his bowl of cereal, and began to spoon it into his mouth. "And the milk went bad." He didn't stop eating, though.
"C'mon, Roge." Mark, looking frail and vulnerable in the dim light that filtered in through windows that desperately needed cleaning, tried to reach out and touch Roger, to comfort him. Roger shied away, but the sight of Mark's injured eyes, eyes in which it seemed sometimes that you could look and never find the bottom, caused the emotional dam that Roger had begun to build again since the dreams had started to burst. For the first time since he had found April lying in a pool of her own blood, Roger began to cry.
A/N: Yes, I know that in the musical, they were sentenced together... but I like the way THIS scenario worked better. It made it seem more... beautiful that they were together at the end.
Prologue: If I Never...
The Darkness stretched around him, tangible and malevolent. He could almost hear the hooded specter of Death creeping ever closer, as he inched towards asphyxiation. The pounding of his heart was deafening, in the empty space that would become his executor, and his tomb. But it wasn't empty. In the corner, curled silently, there was another. He panicked, realizing too late what had happened. She wasn't supposed to be here! She had escaped! He pounded against the rock, struggling to be heard, but he knew, even as he screamed, that he there was no rescue behind that stone portal. That world was lost to him now. He crumpled against the wall, his strength giving way to despair, but she was at his side, and his arms locked around her, pulling her to his lips. Already, he could feel her heart slowing, as the lack of air began to take its toll on her already frail system. How long had she waited for him, here, in the blackness of this foul tomb? How long since she had tasted food, or quenched her thirst?
But even as he cursed himself for allowing this to come to pass, he was secretly, and selfishly relieved that she was by his side. The prospect of facing an early demise wasn't quite as foreboding, with her here. He pushed the selfishness aside, and shook his head. Lonely or no, she should not have been subjected to this. This was HIS fate. This was HIS destiny. Not hers.
And yet, despite his desperate entreating, the gods had turned a deaf ear to him, and she remained by his side, slowly sinking deeper into that endless sleep that claims all men in time. *I almost wish I had never met her* He thought, desperately. *But no. If I never loved her, I would not have died, true. But neither would I have truly lived.*
He gazed down at her, where, in the darkness, he knew she would be. In spite of the void, he could just imagine that he could make out the slope of her nose, the sharp awareness of her eyes, and the beauty of her skin, skin as black as the darkness which even now threatened to crush his spirits. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, and his fingers came away wet. He wished there was something he could say, something he could do. But she had made the sacrifice on her own. Rather than live without him, she had chosen to stay by his side into eternity. And then, he had it. It had seemed so simple, so trite when he had said it to her before, but now, the words that sprang to his lips.
"There'd be no ties of time and space to bind us..." He paused, wondering if she was still conscious enough to hear, but soon, he heard her voice, weak and trembling.
"And no horizon we could not pursue..." Even in the darkness, he could tell that she was smiling. Together, they continued.
"We'd leave the world's misfortunes far behind us, and I would put my faith and trust... in you." A sigh escaped her lips, and she slipped into unconsciousness. Radames kissed her lips for the last time, and slid back, allowing himself to succumb to the darkness.
**********
Roger woke in a cold sweat, with a shout on his lips. Realizing where he was, he let it die before uttering a sound. Mark would kill him, or at least stare groggily, anyway, if Roger woke him up. Then there would be questions, and prodding. Mark was a little over protective. So much so, that Roger often found himself wondering if, despite all the posturing about Maureen, his thin roommate might be gay.
Shaking the thought away, he swung his legs off the end of the bed, and, not bothering to pull a shirt over his sweating torso, shambled barefoot into the kitchen, looking for something that might help lull him back to sleep. He had just liberated the last bowl of Cap'n Crunch from its box, when he heard footsteps behind him. Not bothering to turn around, he grunted. "Bad dream." Mark shrugged, even knowing that Roger couldn't see him. "We need more cereal."
"Sure," Mark grinned. "I'll just pick some up when I get paid for the Hollywood blockbuster I filmed." Without thinking, Roger turned to his best friend and grinned back. But a thought occurred to him. Mark was too alert to have just woken up.
"How long have you been awake?" In spite of himself, Roger found himself getting worried. No matter what anyone thought, Roger DID care for the fragile filmmaker. They had been through too much with each other for him not to care.
Mark shrugged. "An hour or so. You were shouting." He smiled, apologetically. His hand twitched, and if Roger hadn't been so unnerved by his dream, he would have smiled. Mark was always itching to film things, even when he didn't have his camera.
"It was nothing. Really." Roger turned back to his bowl of cereal, and began to spoon it into his mouth. "And the milk went bad." He didn't stop eating, though.
"C'mon, Roge." Mark, looking frail and vulnerable in the dim light that filtered in through windows that desperately needed cleaning, tried to reach out and touch Roger, to comfort him. Roger shied away, but the sight of Mark's injured eyes, eyes in which it seemed sometimes that you could look and never find the bottom, caused the emotional dam that Roger had begun to build again since the dreams had started to burst. For the first time since he had found April lying in a pool of her own blood, Roger began to cry.
A/N: Yes, I know that in the musical, they were sentenced together... but I like the way THIS scenario worked better. It made it seem more... beautiful that they were together at the end.