Forgiven

Summary: A phone call regarding his family forces Roger to face his demons.

Mini A/N: I haven't written much of anything for RENT (or any other fandom) in almost a year besides the typical short or drabble, so forgive me if my writing seems a little shaky. Many of my other (and much older) RENT stories from two years ago can be found in my bio. This is set about four months after the end of the play/movie (Dec. 1990 + 4 months April 1991). Enjoy, reviews are appreciated.

Late April 1991

Mark hummed a little tune to himself as he jogged up the stairs of the subway station, careful to avoid the rush hour crowds as he headed in the direction of Alphabet City. It was Friday, the end of a long work week at Buzzline, and thankfully, he didn't have to be back in Alexi Darling's good graces until Tuesday because Monday, well, Monday was the whole reason why he was humming in the first place.

Somehow, in the middle of a forty hour work week, he had finished his second documentary, which chronicled the underprivileged Manhattan art and music programs in the public school systems and the importance of those programs in society today. It had been a labor of love, and now, after completing all of the edits, it was over. It had taken eight months, a drastically shorter time frame than Today 4 U: Proof Positive had been, but with this film, Mark felt like he had accomplished more.

He had even arranged for a small screening of it at Tompkins Square Park for Monday evening, and had been passing out flyers left and right for weeks, and the hype had slowly been building up. Even Alexi was bringing a few of her benefactors to witness the screening, and secretly Mark hoped that somehow, just maybe, this could be the big break his was looking for all along.

Mark glanced around left and right, for once taking in everything he could without his camera, which was in the shop for minor repairs, and bounded down 11th and Avenue B, only pausing to take out his key and unlock the lobby of the decrepit apartment building he called home. He climbed the stairs quickly and yanked the sliding door shut behind him, looking for Roger, or anyone for that matter, to bestow his good mood upon.

To his slight disappointment, he found the loft empty; the only sign of life being the slight scent of Mimi's perfume in the air and new guitar strings of Roger's laid out on the makeshift coffee table.

Sighing, Mark took off his coat and tossed it on the couch before making his way over to the blinking answering machine on the kitchen table. He grabbed a pen and pad of paper just in case and hit the "play" button before rummaging through the fridge for something to hit.

Beep.

"Hey, it's Roger. Forgot to leave a note. Took Mimi to the Jersey Shore for the day, just to walk around. Be back sometime tonight. Later."

Mark smiled. It was good to have Roger and Mimi back to normal, drug free, happy. He grabbed the orange juice and poured himself a glass.

Beep.

"Hey guys, Benny here. On vacation in the Bahamas for the week, so I'm pushing back the rent 'til the 3rd. Get it to me when you can, no rush. The plumber will be by to install a new water heater on Tuesday, and the new air conditioning unit will be delivered on Thursday, just to give you a heads up. Ciao."

He chuckled to himself as he thought of how the past year's experiences had shaped Benny's character and how he had turned over a new leaf in the process. This was the old Benny that Mark had known in college; the Benny that had a heart coming back into the picture.

Beep.

"Mark, it's Mom! Just checking in on you. Don't let it be next Hanukkah before you call me, okay? Love you."

Beep.

"This message is for a Mr. Cohen. The repairs on your camera have been completed and you can pick it up anytime tomorrow after twelve. Have a nice day."

Beep.

When there was no answer, Mark set down his orange juice and made his way towards the answering machine. His finger lingered over the "erase" button, but then:

"…Fine, I'll call. I said I'd call. Give me the phone."

There was a brief pause, and then the message continued:

" Roger…hey, it's Jimmy. Hopefully this message gets to you in time…but this is the only number Mom had listed. Listen, uh, we're all here at the hospital. Mom's…she's not doing well. She had an aneurysm this morning. If you get this, call me back at the house at (914) 555-0809. Hope to hear from you."

Mark gaped at the answering machine openmouthed. Instantly, he scrambled to hit the "rewind" key and grabbed his pad and pen to jot down the number. He stared at the number for a few moments, unsure of what to do. Should he get involved in what was very much a family matter and call Roger's brother back? Should he trust his hunch and drive all the way down to Seaside Heights in the hope that somehow he'd find Roger and Mimi on the boardwalk?

Shit.

He paced around the kitchen for a few moments, clutching the piece of paper that held the number in his sweaty palms. Mrs. Davis had practically been a second mother to him when he and Roger had been growing up; she had been the typical soccer mom, always active in the community, always around, always caring. She practically had raised Roger and his four brothers and sisters single-handedly after she and Roger's father had gotten divorced, and still somehow she always managed to be so positive and upbeat. She was always eager to lend an ear when he needed advice, and Mark had never thanked her for that. Now he regretted it.

He even started mentally kicking himself for screening all of his own mother's calls for the past two years; only calling her back either when he got around to it or when it was Hanukkah or Passover.

There was nothing to do now but wait for Roger to get home, and it was causing him to jump out of his own skin.

Pausing by the windows, Mark glanced out into the empty side streets absentmindedly, not even hearing the shrill ringing of the phone in the background. It broke him out of his trance, and he practically dove for it over the coffee table on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Roger?"

Mark cradled the phone against his chin, hoping that the person on the other end would have been Roger, but the voice was very much female and somewhat anonymous to him.

"No, I'm sorry, this is his roommate Mark, can I take a message?"

"Mark! Oh my god, I'm so glad it's you! We didn't know if this was still the right number, or if you guys still even lived there! This is Julie, Julie Davis. Is Roger there?"

Mark paused. Julie Davis? The last time he had seen Roger's kid sister was when she had been a tag along, bratty twelve year old six years ago, the summer before he had left for Brown. He had almost even forgotten that any other member of the Davis family existed besides Mrs. Davis because she had been the only one to bother to make any contact with Roger over the years.

"Wow, I haven't…haven't seen you in years." Great, the girl's mother could be dying and you're making small talk.

"Yeah…it's been a long time. Is uhm, Roger there, though?"

Mark mentally smacked himself. "Oh, right. Sorry. No, he's actually out right now, but I'm expecting him back soon." There was an awkward pause, and then he added: "I'm so sorry to hear about your mom."

"...Thank you. She's in surgery right now. We don't know anything, but the doctors…"

He could have sworn he heard a sniffle in the background. "I'm sure everything will be alright in the end." You idiot.

"Maybe." Mark heard the beginnings of soft sobs break out over Julie's end and winced. "…I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but please, have Roger call as soon as he gets in. Jimmy's at the house. We need him up here with us."

"Of course. As soon as he gets in I'll have him call. It might be awhile, but no matter what, I will have him call, I promise."

"Thanks Mark."

He hung up the phone and sighed, leaning back against the couch. He rested his head backand closed his eyes, still clutching the paper in his hand.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, he heard the sliding door creak open, and he bolted upright. Please be Roger.

It was. He heard Mimi's laugh before he even saw her, and when they both crept in, he tried to greet them as cheerfully as he could.

"Hey," he started. "Did you guys have a good time?"

Roger grinned and only let go of Mimi's hand to take off his jacket. "I seriously forgot how much I love the shore. We had a great time."

Mimi nodded and ran her fingers through her dark brown curls. "I told Roger that when he gets rich and famous with his band that I want to own a house on the beach," she joked. "Did we miss anything good when we were gone?

Mark motioned to the kitchen. "Actually…"

Mimi smiled and sprawled out on the couch, kicking off her black cowboy boots. She reached for the television remote and began flipping through the limited channels, finally settling for a made-for-TV movie. "Did Maureen try to stage another ridiculous protest in support of the poor conditions that hot dog vendors work in?" She giggled slightly and motioned for Roger to join her on the couch.

Mark cracked a smile, remembering last month's Maureen-related fiasco. "No, nothing like that. It's uh, you probably should hear this. Actually, you need to hear this."

Puzzled, Roger stared at him from his position on the couch. "Need to hear what?"

He motioned towards the kitchen, and reluctantly, Roger got up to follow. Mimi looked over as well briefly, but was too enamored in her movie to pay attention.

Mark fast forwarded through the messages until he reached Jimmy's. "Just listen. You need to hear it."