Into The Dark
Disclaimer: I own no one if you recognize them.
Summary: After being spurned, Roger has a supernatural experience in an alley.
A/N- For Tracey...one of her holiday wishes. Based on Hans Christian Anderson's The Little Match Girl.
The air was thick with falling flakes of snow, and the streetlights merely illuminated the white powder building up on the sidewalk. Roger Davis stumbled around, the black rubber tourniquet still attached to his arm. Tears poured down his face, as he stepped into the blackness of the alleyway.
Mark. He thought, his mind an incoherent mess. How? Why? He stopped, falling into a snow bank. The cold snow barely touched him.
He had been clean for three years, memories of Heroin withdrawal still very vivid to him. He had been on the road to recovery…and then Mark had made his special announcement.
Maureen and I are back together! We want to get married!
Who knew two little sentences could change his world?
After hearing that, the first thing Roger did was find The Man and buy Heroin, the drug he had kicked from his life. As he slowly pushed the plunger down and the drug began to flow through his veins, he knew he was hooked. If he couldn't have Mark, he would have the Heroin. It was a simple fact.
He flicked his lighter. In the midst of the dancing flame, he saw an old film projector, showing something. Mark ran it, tears glistening in his soft eyes. Roger stared, trying to figure out what he was showing. Then, the flame died.
First April…then Mimi…now Mark. He thought, leaning his head back. I am doomed to always be miserable. He flicked the lighter, allowing his hand to momentarily bask in its warmth. He stared at the flame, wondering if he would see something again.
Roger…I love you. Since the moment I met you.
But Mark…
But Mark, nothing. It's true.
How could he have forgotten Mark's declaration of love? How could he forget how happy he had been to hear it? What had made Mark change his mind? Had he been a bad lover somehow? Could it have been his HIV status? What had Mark to hurt him so badly?
Now, the cold was sinking in. He could feel it, pierce through his leather jacket. He began to shiver, and yet, made no effort to move. Even if he did move, he had no place to go. If he went back to the loft, he would have to deal with Mark and Maureen, not to mention Collins reading him the Riot Act for getting fucked up.
He flicked the lighter, hoping that somehow, it would give him enough warmth to survive the night.
The rain was coming down. He and Mark stood, almost bathing in it, on top of the roof. Then, Mark reached over, pulled him close and kissed him.
What was that for?
Because I love you.
The flame died down. He let out an almost inaudible wail. Were the drugs affecting him that badly? Why was his mind playing such awful tricks on him?
He gave the lighter one last feeble flick. The butane fueled the flame higher than it had ever gone. Standing just beyond the flame was…April.
"Ready?" she giggled, extending her hand. Roger jerked back. "Don't be frightened." Gently, he placed his hand in her delicate hand. Before she could pull him forward, she looked down. "Don't be frightened. This is what you've always wanted." He shook his head.
"I never wanted to die." He murmured. She giggled.
"Silly one. You wanted to be loved." She murmured. Roger nodded, willingly following her. As he faded away into the darkness, he couldn't help but notice his body, left in the snow bank.