Wow, thank you all so much for your encouraging reviews!!

They really helped me gain a little confidence about this story. :D

I hope you all had a wonderful New Year's!

I have a few things I forgot to mention: this story was heavily inspired by the movie Life as a House by Mark Andrus. Think of this statement as my disclaimer. It applies to the whole story. And that goes for RENT, too. DON'T OWN.

Other random bit - Lena, the nurse in the last chapter, was named for Lena from the book Song of Solomon.

AGAIN: VERY VERY IMPORTANT: This whole story/plot bunny was inspired heavily by the movie Life as a House. I don't own it. Or RENT actually. So consider this a disclaimer for the story. :)


NEW YORK

"Uncle Collins?" the young boy looked up from his scribbly crayon drawing. "Do you think that your friend Roger will like me?"

"Of course he'll like you." Collins said warmly, casting a glance toward his five year-old nephew. "Why wouldn't he like you?"

"I dunno." Elijah mumbled, pausing in thought and resting the green crayon against his chin. "I was just wondering."

"Are you nervous about going to Santa Fe, bud?" Collins asked seriously, flopping down beside him on the couch. "Because I thought you might like to go, rather than be bored all day in a hotel in Toronto while your mom's at her business conferences."

Elijah stuck his tongue out. "I want to go. I'm excited that I get to be with you all summer long!"

Collins chuckled. "Me too, Eli. And don't worry, there's nothing not to love about you. Roger will be charmed."

"I'm gonna give him this picture." He decided suddenly, holding it up for Collins to see. "See? It's the city! Here we are, here's the Life Cafe, that's the Empire State Building, and there's the Statue of Liberty."

"That's really good, man! I bet Roger would really appreciate that."

Eli's face lit up at his uncle's approval. "Okay! I'll put it in my bag!"

"Speaking of bags..." Collins trailed off, his eyes wandering over to the door to Mark's space. "Uh, hey Eli? Why don't you go make sure you didn't forget any of your toys you want to bring...? I could've sworn I saw your favorite truck and a couple other things lying around by the table..."

"Oh no! I have to bring that! And where's Fuffsy?"

"Who's Fuffsy?" Collins asked as he rose and stepped toward Mark's door.

"My bear!" Eli said determinedly. "Maybe I already packed him..." The little boy shrugged and scurried away.

Collins knocked on Mark's door then. "Mark?" The door creaked open.

There was a scramble as a box of film reels hit the floor and the contents went everywhere. "Oh sorry, man. I didn't mean to barge in and scare you. Let me help..."

Mark, face flushed, waved him off. "It's fine, I'll get it." Collins bent down to pick up a reel that had come to rest next to his shoe. "I said I'll get it." Mark repeated, tone hardened significantly.

Collins' back straightened. "Ok." He put up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry."

Mark harrumphed quietly as he threw the reels into the box and shoved it violently under his bed. He then reached for his blue and white-striped scarf, slowly disengaging it from the chair it was lazily wound around.

"Mark... I know you like that scarf a whole lot, but we're going somewhere hot." Collins remarked, as he tried to lighten the mood, a chuckle building in his throat. "You aren't going to need that."

"I don't want to go." Mark replied suddenly and resolutely.

"Mark..." Collins began, the chuckle becoming a lump as he was unsure what to say.

"No, Collins!" Mark turned toward his friend, face livid. "I don't... I don't want to see him, don't want to talk to him... I don't. I can't."

"You don't mean that," Collins' voice had gone soft, escaping as a small breath.

"Oh, but I do. That's the thing." Mark continued, "I don't want to go, to do what he wants. Indulge his wishes. He left us, Collins." There was a pause, and Mark kicked the box further into the abyss beneath the wilting bedframe. "Fucking left us!"

"Mark, you know Roger... he runs from things, Mimi died... it was hard..."

"Don't make excuses for him." Mark sighed tiredly. "That's all he ever did, was make excuses."

"But Mark..." Collins said gently.

"No..." Mark interrupted, shaking his head. "I fucking know how hard it was. You don't think Mimi dying was hard on me too?"

"Well, it was hard on all of us, man. But Roger... he's..." Collins tried.

"He's a sellout." Mark said coldly. "Just what he never wanted to be. He's out there in fucking Santa Fe living his dream... he's out there putting out records, making money... he abandoned us."

"Mark..." Collins found himself speechless.

"He abandoned me." Mark's hurt voice amended almost noiselessly, shaking his head. "We were supposed to be best friends. That meant nothing to him, I guess. And he just... left."

"I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt you, Mark. He was just in pain. He must regret that now."

"Too fucking bad." Mark spat. "He barely ever calls. He's evidently moved on. Well... so have I. I've accepted it."

Collins closed the distance between them, looking Mark in the eye. "Obviously that's not true, or you wouldn't be so upset about this, man." Mark glared. "All I'm saying is… give this a chance. We could probably use this. It'll be almost like having the whole family together again. Just think of it."

"Somehow I doubt it'll be all peaches and cream." Mark said in a scornful tone.

"Mark." Collins said seriously. "What happened months ago... that's over now. It's time to move forward."

Mark merely shook his head, throwing the scarf haphazardly into his suitcase.

"Come with me and Elijah to Santa Fe. See Maureen and Joanne. See Roger. And for fuck's sake, at least have a civil conversation with him. I mean it, Mark. I'm not going to be out there breaking up bitchfits."

Not even the hint of a smile crossed Mark's lips. He looked away.

"You want to go. Don't you?" Collins concluded abruptly, after a beat of pure silence.

"What?" Mark spun around defensively, an angry glint in his eyes. "Fuck, Collins, were you not listening these past few minutes? I don't, I fucking don't!"

"Yes, you do."

"Oh..." Mark scoffed. "And what, Professor Collins, led you to this idea?"

"You packed your bag didn't you?" And Collins walked out, the door sticking in the lock with a painful click as he exited.


SANTA FE

Roger stared quietly at the shattered remains of the framed single cover. Sprawled silently in the chaise lounge on the small porch, he cast an approving eye at the large stack of wood nearby, just waiting to be put to good use. Then he scanned the street, watching for his expected arrival.

He'd called Maureen's cell phone about a half hour earlier and left a short message saying that they should go out to lunch and he had a lot to tell her.

Sure enough, Joanne's silver station wagon pulled up the road and halted before the sidewalk, and out stepped Maureen. It was clear she'd tanned significantly since they'd last seen each other in person, and her hair was cut shorter.

"I tried to call you! Three times, you dumbfuck!" She shouted brazenly to him as she approached. She stopped in front of him, hands on her hips. "What did you think you were doing? Playing hooky all of a sudden? You just vanished! You could have died!"

"I could have." Roger smiled gently and reflectively at her. "I knew it was okay that I ran out of coffee and couldn't have a cup this morning. Your voice is better at that sort of thing anyway." He looked up at her, and she was, predictably, frowning. "Thank for waking me up. And uh... picking me up too."

He stood, and she let her hands fall to her sides, noticing the frame. "What's that?"

"Trash." He said suddenly, and he pitched it into the metal can, enjoying the clang it made hitting the inside.

She was about to inquire further when they were interrupted by the loud barking of a yellow labrador. Bounding around the side of the house from the backyard, the dog climbed the steps to the porch and nearly collided with Maureen, covering her in sloppy kisses. "Aww, hey Fender!" Maureen hugged the dog, rubbing his fur lovingly. "What's stupid Roger been up to? I bet you'll tell me."

"Nope. He's sworn into secrecy. It's part of the man's best friend deal." Roger insisted.

"Will you at least tell me over lunch where the hell you were for four days?"

He looked at her, wanting to tell her everything, but the words died somewhere deep inside him. "I can't. Sorry."

Maureen's eyes flickered in anger as she registered this as dry sarcasm. "Why not? I was so worried! Joanne and I both... and I... I… you… you're ridiculous...! You're inconsiderate and absolutely devoid of emotion!" She told him dramatically.

He didn't even flinch. "And you are one of the most remarkable women I have ever known, Maureen Johnson."

She stopped rooting around in her purse for her eyes and looked up, stumped momentarily. Roger bit his lip, realizing that his words had confused her.

"What?" She laughed awkwardly.

"Even your anger... it's just remarkable." He quickly turned it around into a joke, cursing himself for being so sentimental with her. Damn it, what the hell is wrong with me? ...besides that I'm dying?

She instantly forgot his slip-up, and laughed. "You, Roger Davis, are truly an asshole."

"Thank you, my dear." He told her, half-bowing, and speaking in a partial accent. "Now... shall we go to lunch?"

"I'm anxious to hear what exactly you want to talk to me about..." She told him. "Even if it may not be what I really want to hear from you."

What you want to hear... Roger thought. If you only knew how much worse the answers to YOUR questions were, Maureen.


LATER

"You enjoy the food?" He asked her as they walked.

"Delicious." She said decidedly. "You didn't eat much, Roger... and you're so skinny lately."

He ignored her worried gaze. "I... uh... I wasn't that hungry."

"Haha... Roger Davis... not hungry? Is this the same idiot who ate a whole bag of chips out of my cupboard and blamed it on Angel?"

Roger laughed hoarsely at the memory. He was glad when she didn't seem to notice the rattling in his breath.

"Seriously, Roger. Angel? You can't blame shit like that on people like Angel! How stupid are you?" He laughed again. "Tell me something. This proposal of yours, I mean. I have accepted this… this favor. You want to stay in our spare room, and I've said ok, no questions asked... and the two pull-out sofas can go to Mark and Collins, there's a cot for Elijah... but why? It's all so suspicious, Roger. I know you want out of your place, for some reason you've always been miserable in it. So what... are you burning it down? Just why are Mark and Collins coming anyway?" She looked at him, eyes stricken with curiosity.

He sighed softly, hoping that if he told her, maybe she'd completely forget her desire to know the real reason for his disappearance. "I have an idea. A...uh...project, I guess you could call it. I need their help. And uh, yours if you want. Maybe even Joanne's. Yes, definitely Joanne's."

"Oooh..." She said warily. "Another scheme cooked up by the nefarious Roger Davis?" After a pause, she grinned. "I'm so in."

He chuckled, smiling teasingly. "But you can't know what it is until they get here."

"What?" She whined. "That's so unfair! Come on, at least give me a hint." She tugged at his shirt, demanding.

"Nope. Sorry. You have to wait." He answered bluntly.

"I fucking hate surprises." She grumbled.

"Watch your language, missy. If Collins is bringing a youngster around, you'd better learn to censor yourself."

"Oh, I'll censor you." She threatened angrily.

"No thanks, don't you think Joanne might be jealous?"

She gasped. "Shut up, Roger!"

They laughed again as they stopped their walk up the path from the car, right in front of his porch yet again. Fender was lying in a large golden-colored lump, asleep in front of the door.

"I didn't think you'd know I went missing." Roger told her suddenly.

"Oh, you mean you didn't think I'd come snooping around after you didn't call me back and break into your house, and then check the message on your answering machine, and find one from your boss about him getting you a year's salary and health benefits after you are... 'let go'?"

He winced, and she put a hand on his shoulder. "Roger, where have you been for the past week?"

"Four days." He corrected her. Then, lying through his teeth, he replied. "I... uh... left. To think."

She nodded slowly. "Oh yeah? And what about Fender?"

"I always give him enough food and water to survive a nuclear bomb. And you know he has a door flap to go outside..." He explained lamely, trailing off.

"And you couldn't at least call me or Joanne to let us know that's what you were doing?"

"I'm sorry, I guess I wasn't thinking." He fumbled. "I'm sorry; I just didn't think to call you while I thought... I think." Roger shook his head and laughed awkwardly.

She giggled softly, but suddenly went silent before asking seriously. "Roger, what's the project?"

He took a breath. "I'm going to tear down this ugly shack. Make it a public, commercial property. A restaurant."

Her eyebrows shot into her hair, but a smile grew on her face. "But... you guys always used to talk about something like that. With Angel... before..."

"There's nothing stopping me now. I'll have the money. I can do it."

Her eyes were sparkling, excitement growing within her. "Where will you live? After you stay in our spare room of course."

"I'll...uh... figure something out." He turned his head away as he said this. He hated himself for lying to her.

"Look, this whole thing... with Mark and Collins and Elijah and all of us together... it sounds crazy... just fucking unreal." A smile spread across her cheeks. "But I wouldn't miss it for a threesome in a porn store!"

He chuckled and she sat down on one of the chairs on the porch, as he seated himself in the chaise lounge again. "When will they get here?"

"Friday." Roger said. "They're driving. They'll never want to ride in a car again. I suppose I'll have to let them rest up for awhile, and then... I'll put them to work." She laughed.

"Maureen, they're cheap labor. I'm serious."

"We're going to open up a restaurant...?" She said in disbelief. "I mean, with actual construction.... building it from scratch? Damn, one of us will end up dead."

He couldn't meet her eyes then. "At least we'd have a restaurant to show for it. A real restaurant."

"A blaze of glory in the restaurant business, huh?" She teased. "Sounds fun. Don't worry about me, Rog. I'll survive. Mark on the other hand..." She covered her mouth with a hand, stifling giggles. "Mark... construction? Something doesn't connect. I don't know though, maybe he'll surprise me with some hidden strength."

Roger chuckled halfheartedly. "He doesn't have to help, if he doesn't want to, I suppose. I just want him here with me."

"No, you don't." Maureen sighed, voice swiftly turning into a soft and sad whisper. "Trust me."

"I do." Roger smiled, hoping she could tell he was sincere. "It'll be hard, I know he's pissed as hell and probably hates me... but I have to do this."

"I understand." Maureen told him, nodding. No... you don't. And with that, she rose, gathering her bag up. "Well... I should go... Joanne will wonder."

Roger stood, sweeping her into a hug. She tensed at first, and then relaxed, obviously not expecting the gesture, but accepting it. "See you." He said softly.

"All right, let go of me, Davis. I'm taken." She teased. Then with a wiggle of her fingers, she set off down the path, got into the car, and departed.


Well, I'm not sure how soon this'll be updated. These chapters take longer to churn out than humorous stuff, so it might be a little while.

Plus... I'M SEEING ADAM AND ANTHONY IN RENT ON THE 10TH!!!!!!!!!!

(dies)

Sorry, I have to keep repeating it over and over to remember that it's really true. AAAAH!

Anyway. Let me know what you thought of this installment, please!!