[Author's Note: First of all, the fact that this story is based on the play is very important: in this story, Maureen and Joanne's engagement did not happen. It is important that you understand this because you will be very confused if you don't. Anyway, this is my first RENT story, so I'd love to hear any and all feedback you have to offer, especially in regards to my very OOC portrayal of Maureen.

Also, I thought I hated this story, but I reread it and am actually quite pleased with my earliest attempt at Mojo. Still, though, that doesn't count for anything if you guys don't like it. So… please review! Please!]

[Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from RENT. Full credit for all characters used in this story, as well as all other references made to the play goes to the brilliant creator and composer of RENT. Thank you, Jonathon Larson.]

No More Excuses

"Mark, that was unbelievable," I whisper.

Collins elaborates: "Man, it's a good thing you quit when you did: tabloid trash like BuzzLine doesn't deserve anything this good."

Maureen nods and looks at Mark with still-tear-filled eyes. "You always had this in you- I always knew you did…" She drops his gaze. "And I always knew you were too good for me…" she adds, looking back up at him and smiling sincerely. "But then again," she turns around to look at me, "so are you, Pookie." She looks away again.

There are more compliments paid to Mark's film by Mimi, Roger, and Collins, but I miss them because I'm paying attention to what Maureen is saying to me. After she looks away, I look back at Mark and see his face flush a little. "Thanks, guys." He sets to work rewinding his film reel, clearly trying to deflect everyone's attention. Roger and Mimi are already back in their own little world together. And who could blame them, really? After all, they certainly have some catching up to do… months worth, actually. And Mimi, especially, has already had quite an eventful night.

After a minute or so of silence, I squeeze Maureen's shoulder and nod toward the door once she turns around to look at me. Let's get out of here; give everybody a little breathing room to sort out the night's… events. Maureen and I both hug everyone, which, of course turns into quite a production, and then head out into the cold December air- though it's barely colder outside than it is in Roger and Mark's loft. After all this time, I still can't believe that Maureen- my Maureen, who's so overly dramatic about so many things- actually lived in that decrepit place. But who am I to judge.

We've walked a little more than a block when Maureen slips her hand into mine. Usually I would be the one to take her hand first, so the gesture strikes me as somewhat odd. I'm sure I'm just over-analyzing; occupational hazard, I suppose. Besides, neither of us is quite ourselves right now- but who could be after almost losing Mimi like that? So I mostly ignore the gesture. But then, suddenly, Maureen just stops. She pulls me back toward her; not forcefully: just enough to bring me face-to-face with her, about a foot apart, if even that. "Joanne, you know that I love you, right?" I can see now that she hasn't stopped crying in the time since we left Mark and Roger's place; in fact, she's begun crying twice as hard.

And there are a few things that are strange about this. First is the fact that she didn't use my nickname. After all, Maureen rarely addresses me as anything but 'Pookie' anymore. The second thing is the tears. For all her histrionics, Maureen rarely really cries; and I haven't seen her like this since the week after we lost Angel. Now, though, she's all but sobbing and barely able to meet my eyes.

I know now that breakdowns like this are a large part of why Maureen loves acting: she loves being able to hide behind a character so she doesn't have to let me- or anyone for that matter- see through breakdowns like this that things really hurt her. She'd prefer that we didn't see the fact that she's not all so tough and self-assured as she appears. It seems to me that this would be a very hard way to live- always hiding, at the very least, some small part of yourself- but to her, it's easier to make something of a caricature out of herself: to pretend that she doesn't have a care in the world; that if people are bothered by something she does, then that's their problem; that she doesn't need anyone or anything. But after being with her (off-and-on, at least) for a year, I know that she does care, and she certainly needs people.

I've learned that almost all the drama is faked. It's her defense. In fact, it's the easiest way of gauging whether or not Maureen trusts someone. If she doesn't trust you, she responds by overreacting to every insignificant, little discomfort or bump in the road in an attempt to mask her true problems. But that's just my Maureen. The only thoughts and opinions you'll ever have to force out of her are the ones that make the biggest difference.

I snap out of my musings and realize that Maureen is still looking at me (more intently now), waiting for my response. By now, she's holding me by my shoulders, and I can tell that she's very torn: part of her wants to collapse against me and cry as hard as she obviously needs to, part of her wants to run- somewhere, anywhere that I won't find her- and let it all out while she's alone and doesn't have to fear anyone's judgment. It breaks my heart.

I bring my hands to her cheeks and brush my thumbs right below her eyes as gently as I can. It does no good though. She flinches a little (a clear sign that something is really bothering her, because she only shows her true hesitation at being touched when she's too upset or exhausted to try to hide it), and her crying only gains momentum when I move my thumbs away. "Shhh… Of course I know that, Honeybear." I try to pull her into a hug, but in spite of my best attempt at gentleness, it's too much for her right now. She pulls away from me and takes a step back. "And you know that I love you… right, Maureen?"

She nods quickly and then resumes the walk back to my apartment. After a few minutes, her hand finds mine again, and I realize that I'm going to have to keep pushing her a little- which can be dangerous with Maureen, since you never really know how far is going to be too far. But I'm going to have to coax her enough to get her talk to me, because something is obviously not right- and it's not just about Mimi, or even Angel. "Maureen… Honeybear, why would you ever think I don't believe that you love me?"

She doesn't answer. She just keeps walking with her head down, tears rolling down her cheeks, gripping my hand like she might die if she lets go. "M- Maur- Maureen?" She shakes her head. "Honeybear, it's going to be okay. All right? Should we just wait and talk about it when we get home?" Maureen manages a weak nod, and we finish the walk in silence.

As soon as we walk through the door, Maureen lets go of my hand and bolts for the bedroom. Luckily for me, she's in too big of a hurry to get away from me to remember to lock the door. I give her five minutes to cool off before I cautiously open the door.

And I see that the five minutes has accomplished nothing. Now Maureen really is sobbing- uncontrollably. She's curled up on her right side, lying on my half of the bed. She's hugging my pillow against her with her face buried in it.

I sit down on the edge of the bed closest to her, and when I do I can feel through the mattress that she's trembling. I rest my hand on her waist in the spot right below her rib cage. She tenses but doesn't try to push me away. "Maureen, can you please tell me what's bothering you? I'm only trying to help you, Honeybear."

Between her sobs and the muffling effect of the pillow, it's hard to understand her; but I manage to make out Maureen's feeble reply of, "I don't want to."

"You don't want to, or you want to but you're afraid to?" I ask her as I move my hand to her back and begin rubbing slow circles.

"I said I don't want to!" she all but screams. But I don't move my hand. I've gotten used to these kinds of unpredictable reactions, and I've also learned that 'no' doesn't always mean 'no' with her. After a minute, she whimpers, "I'm so sorry, Jojo; I shouldn't have yelled at you." Maybe this problem is bigger than I thought.

"Don't worry about it. I know you didn't mean it," I tell her, even though I'm not totally sure I know that. I take the pillow from her and offer a hand for her to hold instead. She accepts the offer and interlaces her trembling fingers with mine. "Maureen. Something is obviously very wrong, and I need to know what happened to you." She won't look at me, but at least she's quieted down enough to actually listen to what I'm saying. She doesn't respond for a few minutes. She just plays with my fingers and thinks while tears continue to trace the contours of her face.

Finally she answers me in a voice just above a whisper. "I don't know if I want to tell you or not, but even if I want to, I can't because I don't know how to explain it."

"Okay, well, let's assume that you do want to tell me, and I'll help you. Okay? Why don't you start with my question from before? Why are you worried that I don't believe you love me?"

"Because I cheated on you so many times. Because you broke up with me when you found out. Because we broke up and got back together so many times that people didn't even know week to week whether we were even speaking. Because I called you paranoid and a control freak and broke up with you because you were mad at me for cheating on you… which was obviously the most freaking moronic thing I could have done…" Her voice jumps at least three octaves from the start of this statement to the finish, and I know that I need to say something pretty clever very quickly or I'll have to wait out another round of sobbing before I can find out from where all of these worries have materialized.

"Honeybear, that last time wasn't all you. We both decided to split. But that's all in the past. Why is it bothering you so much all of a sudden?" Better than nothing. At least it was a sensible response.

But it's not good enough to keep Maureen's emotions at bay. She sits up, leaning against the headboard, bringing her knees to her chest with her arms resting on top, and she buries her face in her arms while she continues to cry. I slide up next to her and put my arm around her shoulders, hugging her close to me. After ten minutes or so, she relaxes enough to curl up against me and rest her head on my shoulder. I press a gentle kiss into her soft, dark hair, and she wraps her arms around my waist. "I never explained to you why I cheated on you. I mean, obviously, no matter what the reason is that doesn't make it okay… But I just thought you should know why." The last sentence is nothing more than whimpers.

"Maureen. Maureen, don't cry. Look at me." I lift her chin a couple of inches until she's almost making eye contact. "It's going to be okay; just take a deep breath. It's okay- I promise." She obeys and breathes as deeply as she can manage, snuggling a little closer to me. "There you go. Okay, now, explain away. I'm all ears."

"Okay, well… for it to really make sense I have to sort of start with Mark… Well, actually way before Mark."

"Okay…"

"S- s- so… um… you know how- well, maybe you didn't notice. Maybe I shouldn't say it."

"You're too far in to go back now. And if whatever you're going to tell me upsets you this much, I think it's probably something I should know about. Am I right?"

"Yeah… You are," she admits. "Okay, so, did you ever notice two things that I told you about me that… didn't make sense together, really?"

"I don't know. Which two things are we talking about?"

"Well… okay, so I told you that I'm a lesbian: not- not bisexual."

"Uh-huh."

"And, um, but then I also told you that you're the first girl that I've ever dated."

"Very true. So where is this going?"

"Well, both of those things are true, even though they don't really make sense together. And that's because… well, um… my parents don't know! I've never told them because I'm too scared!" She hides her face in my chest as her body is wracked with sobs all over again.

I rub her back and rock her back and forth on my lap just a little. "Shhh… Honeybear, come on. Keep going. Let me hear the whole story, and then we'll figure out how to fix everything. Okay?"

"Okay." She takes a shaky breath and starts in again. "So, I never dated a girl because I didn't want to have to tell them. I know that sounds really childish, but they're my parents, you know? And of course I know them well enough to know that this is one thing that they just aren't capable of accepting. I just never liked the idea of them hating me for something that I can't control and telling me to change myself when I can't.

"So I just dealt with it, and lied to them, and lied to every man I've ever been with. But then I met you, and I just… I- I love you. I can't give you up just because I'm scared, and I can't make myself not love you just because I'm scared…

"That's the whole, stupid reason I was cheating on you. I wanted to make myself stop loving you, and I thought that I could do that if I proved to myself that- that what I feel for you isn't anything special… But it is… It is." She's begun to whimper again, but she forces herself to control it and continues.

"I know I have a reputation for being a cheat, and I guess kind of… a slut, basically. But, believe it or not, I feel guilty for every single time I've cheated on anyone. I've hurt people, and I hate myself for it. I can't make excuses for it because there aren't any, but I can at least explain my reasons. I cheated on all those men I've dated because I never really loved them. I cared about them, sure. But I didn't love them because I couldn't love them. I couldn't because it's just not in me to love a man. Believe me, if I could do it, I would have figured that out by now. I was only dating them to please someone else because I was afraid of what would happen if I didn't… And then I cheated on the only person I've ever really, really loved because of the same stupid fear!"

I can sense in Maureen's voice how angry she is with herself, and it hurts me to know that she feels that way. But I don't say anything because I'm afraid to interrupt her when she's being this open with me; it doesn't happen too often. So I just stay silent and continue to rub her back, hoping that that will offer her enough comfort to keep her talking. She tries and fails to hold back the bitterness in her voice as she keeps going.

"What it comes down to is that I tried to change myself and I can't, and I hurt a ton of people while I tried. A bunch of those people I'll probably never see again, so I just have to move on. But I see you every day, and Mark almost as often! I can't move on! And I swear I will never forgive myself for hurting you guys. Never." I want to tell her that it's okay; that she can and should forgive herself- because I've already forgiven her and moved on. But I just keep quiet and let her finish.

"And now, tonight, seeing Roger and Mimi finally back together, it made me realize something. All four of us have been doing the same break-up, make-up, and repeat routine for the last twelve months. And it took Roger almost losing Mimi permanently for him to realize that he can't keep doing this non-committal thing. Well, I've been acting the same way. I have no idea why you're still willing to stay here and put up with me; all I know is that I can't lose you again. I just can't deal with that anymore, because I feel certain that one of these times you're not going to come back. And I'm just not strong enough to deal with that." Maureen is gripping my waist tighter and tighter, as if she's afraid that I might suddenly decide to just walk away from her permanently right now.

"I want to commit to you. I really, really want that. But to do that means facing my parents, who I honestly don't trust not to disown me over this. And I'm scared. The only reason I wouldn't take us seriously before… or pretended not to (if you're willing to trust me when I say that I was only acting), was because if I told myself that I wasn't serious about us, then I could tell myself that there was no reason I couldn't keep lying to my family."

There are so many things that I want to say to her, but for a couple of minutes, all I can do is stare at her in silence. I've never seen her look so desperate or lonely before. "Maureen, I'm so sorry. I had no idea that you were trying to deal with all of this."

"It's okay… I didn't want you to know before, but I… um… I just needed to talk to someone." And this from the woman who refuses to ever admit that she could possibly need anyone- want someone, maybe, but she never uses the word 'need' in regards to a person. "And now that I've gone through the whole list of failures all over again I'm back to being in complete disbelief of how much I've ruined out of fear. And it's fear of my parents' opinion, no less! It's so ridiculously childish that I can't even believe it."

"No, I- I understand it; I understand what you're afraid of. But, Honeybear, they're you're parents. I mean, I was scared to come out to my family, too; but, when it comes down to it, you're their daughter. They're going to love you no matter what. I mean, my parents don't really understand, necessarily, but they accept it either way."

"It's different for me, though," she tries to explain as she sits up to make eye contact more easily. "You have no idea how conservative they are: how much they've always looked down on and condemned homosexuality- and not hesitated to remind me of that. I mean, they already think I'm a complete slut! But this is going to be the last straw. I just know-"

"But I thought you said you were close to them- to your mom, at least."

"Sort of," she says, laughing humorlessly, "but it's more wishful thinking than anything. And, yeah, my mom at least tries to be a little more lenient, or acceptant, or whatever, than my dad. But that little bit of leniency isn't going to get me anywhere. I mean, honestly, you have no idea. Everything always turns out the same way: I try to please them, realize that if I do things their way I'm going to be miserable for the rest of my life, and then do the exact opposite of what they want and expect from me. And now not only will I be revealing to them that I fit their definition of a total disgrace; but I'm a total disgrace who's been lying to them for almost a decade! Joanne, I swear they're going to disown me… if I even get off that easy. And as much as I like to think that maybe that would just make my life easier, since I wouldn't have to worry about meeting their miserable standards… I'm scared of it actually happening. Ugh, I sound like such a child!"

"Maureen. That's a totally reasonable fear. I mean, no one wants to lose his or her parents. But it seems to me that- one way or another- they're eventually going to find out. And it's probably easier that they find out now- before something happens to cause them to figure this all out just because there's no way to lie about it."

"You're right," Maureen tells me. Finally, she's calmed down almost completely. "Tomorrow. This is all going to be a thing of the past by tomorrow night… I'm sorry, Pookie."

"It's okay, Honeybear," I reassure her with a loving smile. "No worries, alright?" I lean over and press a soft, affectionate kiss onto her lips. We pull back just a few inches and look at each other. We both smile. "Man, I never knew things were so… complicated."

She sighs heavily. "Yeah. But soon they won't be. Whether or not that's entirely good remains to be seen."

"Whatever happens, I'll be right here. I promise." With that, we both lie down, and Maureen curls up more on top of me than next to me. Within minutes, we're both asleep.

…

I get back from work late the next night- almost nine o'clock. And I haven't the slightest idea what kind of news to expect from Maureen. Of course she'll be back by now, but I can't decide whether or not she'll really be back with bad news- no matter how convinced she was of it. Somehow, I just can't imagine anyone treating their own child as harshly as Maureen said her parents would over their daughter's sexuality. But I suppose there are plenty of people who are capable of imagining far worse, even, than Maureen has been envisioning for all these years.

But when I walk into the living room, it becomes evident to me that Maureen's fears were well founded. She's curled up on the very end of the couch, wedged up against the armrest, with her knees pulled up to her chest. She's staring straight ahead at nothing. Her face is totally blank, and she has clearly been focusing all of her energy on trying to stop crying before I got home… to little avail. The glazed-over appearance of her eyes and the red splotches on the skin around her eyes betray the fact that she most definitely has been crying- whether or not she still is.

"Hi, Pookie," Maureen says flatly, once she notices me. She attempts an unconvincing smile but gives up immediately. She still hasn't so much as glanced in my direction.

"Hi, Honeybear," I reply as I sit next to her, planting a soft, sweet kiss on her temple and coaxing her into snuggling up to me. "Do you want to talk about it?" I ask carefully.

She shrugs. "Might as well," she responds without emotion. I nod, trying to be encouraging, but I'm dreading whatever it is that Maureen is about to tell me. "It went about how I expected it."

I don't say anything; I just nod again. Why? Why must she- of all people- go through this? She did nothing to deserve it. She's the most incredible woman I've ever known. So, why my Maureen? "I was just blunt about it, you know?" I nod once more.

"We all sat down, and I just said, 'Okay. I should have told you this when I was fifteen, but now I'm almost twenty-five and still haven't told you. So I'm here to fix that.' And, of course, they say, 'Okay, go ahead, lay it on us,' or however they said it. So, I said- and I quote, 'I'm a lesbian, and I'm finally telling you this because I have a girlfriend who I love more than I ever thought I could love anyone. We've been together for a year.'

Maureen trails off after this, and I can see her eyes filling with tears. For a few minutes, I just hold her, but eventually I prompt her to continue: "What happened next, Honeybear?"

"They just sat there in silent shock for, like, a month," she begins, sobs starting to choke her. "And then my dad said, 'This is completely unacceptable. We raised you better than this.' And I lost it a little bit and practically shouted, 'Don't you get it? I tried to change for you, just like I've always tried to change for you. But I can't because this isn't something I chose!'" By now, Maureen is verging on hysteria, and I'm trying desperately to sooth her even slightly without interrupting her. Not that it's working.

"Then my mom made some comment about how that doesn't even matter because when I do make choices I always choose the things they disapprove of," she tells me. Her voice cracks badly at the end of her sentence, and she finally falls apart like I know she's been close to doing since the moment I got back. Except worse. I pull her all the way into my lap and rock her back and forth slowly, delicately.

"It's okay, Honeybear; it's all going to be okay. I'm right here, Baby; I'm going to take care of you." As I continue whispering to her, doing my best to be comforting, I feel her start to tremble. I wrack my brain, trying to come up with something- anything- to say to her that could possibly be helpful. She's scared- terrified, to be more accurate- and who could blame her? But more importantly, how do I fix it? Or can I? I sigh. Of course I can't. But maybe I can help, at least. "Maureen?"

Her only response is to feebly whimper, "Pookie…" She snuggles still closer to me, which I wouldn't have believed possible had she not accomplished it.

"Maureen, I know that what they said hurt you- especially because, after all, these are the people who raised you- but can you please tell me what happened next, Honeybear?"

She takes a minute to collect herself before answering with, "Well, next, my dad started in on a lecture that basically explained the fact that my little confession from today is the crowning glory of all the many things I've done wrong with my life. And this long, drawn-out production of a lecture began with- what else- but the words 'No daughter of mine…'" She pauses and takes a deep breath. "So, after all of this stuff that they said, I'm both proud of and completely horrified by what I did next. But at the time I just said the first thing that came to my mind without bothering to consider it first." I expect her to keep going, but she chooses this moment to pause and rest her head on my chest again. Though Maureen's settled down considerably, I can still feel fresh tears soaking through my blouse.

"What did you say, Honeybear?" I gently prod.

"I stood up, and first I looked my mom in the eye and said, 'Well, this is the last choice you'll have to disapprove of.' Then, I looked my dad in the eye, and I said, 'I guess I'm no daughter of yours.' And I left… Part of me wanted to tell them that I loved them before I left, but I didn't. I couldn't. I needed to just walk away. That was the only way it would have worked."

Maureen is back to crying steadily now, and as soon as she's finished explaining she buries her face in the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and clinging. I don't know what else I can say or do, so I just continue to hold her in my lap and rub her back while she cries. I let her go for a good ten minutes or so before I say anything. "I'm so sorry Maureen… And- and maybe it's not my fault, exactly, but I feel so guilty for this."

She sits bolt upright and looks at me. "Don't say that, Pookie. Please don't say that; it's not your fault at all. I couldn't have told them off like that at fifteen because I was still so dependent on them. And besides that, I hadn't built up my whole… um… fake-indifference thing." So she finally admits it. "But none of that is the case anymore." She slowly relaxes against me again. "And it took me a year, but I finally realized that you're so much more important to me than two people who have never really accepted me, or the way I live my life. Now that the trade-off is being with you, I'm just done caring what they think. I just care what you think… You mean everything to me, Joanne."

"And you mean everything to me, Maureen," I whisper back. "But you have every right to miss them, Honeybear."

She slowly pulls away from me and sits up. "And I do. I mean, I will. But right now- now that there's no one and nothing to stop me- I'm going to do one more thing I should have done a long time ago…" I watch in confusion that slowly melts into shock as Maureen reaches under the couch and retrieves a tiny velvet box. She opens it, revealing a beautiful gold ring with a cluster of seven tiny diamonds in the center. "I certainly haven't been the best girlfriend ever, but I'm really going to be better this time- I swear. I want to be better forever. If you'll be here for me to be better for?"

"Maureen," I breathe, "I can't, I mean, I never would have- Yes. Yes, Of course, yes! I love you! Of course I'll be here forever… Yes." While I'm saying this, Maureen slips the ring on my left ring finger and then pulls me into a hug. She's still crying, but now she's smiling, too.

"Do you promise?" she teases, not letting go of me even slightly.

"I do," I say, willing to play along- willing to do just about anything to make her happy. "Do you promise?"

Maureen pulls back, looking me in the eye and letting her brilliant smile fade a little, just until it melts into a look of complete and perfect serenity. "I do."