Disclaimer: I do not own RENT, but it does make a lovely Christmas gift.

Author's Notes: Due to the deadline for Challenge Central coming up quickly, I've decided to post this chapter (and future chapters) unbeta'ed for the time being. After the Challenge is over and judging has been completed, I'll post beta'ed versions.

Please note the following font indicators:

ALL CAPS ITALICS: TTY CONVERSATION -chosen because it somewhat resembles the output screen of a TTY

Italicized writing – written words

bold – sign language only

"bold in quotes" - singing and speaking at the same time.

In some cases there are instances where someone translates for Mark, but as the speaker is using English, the font is normal to indicate this.


Instead of running for the TTY immediately, I went to Roger's room. He was lying on the floor, his arms and legs twitching grotesquely. His head was banging against the floor. Maureen moved behind Roger and held his head to prevent him from hurting himself. She looked over at me in anger. "What are you waiting for? Call 911!"

"The operator is going to need to know what's wrong. I can't hear you from the other room. What do I tell them?"

Maureen's eyes searched the room, looking for a clue as to what happened. After a moment, she found one. I followed her gaze and saw two empty prescription bottles on the night stand: AZT. Roger had evidently tried to end his life by overdosing on the medication that was supposed to save it.

I put the phone receiver into the TTY cradle and dialed 911. Immediately, letters appeared across the display. Thank God Joanne had given it to me.

911, WHAT IS UR EMERGENCY QQ GA In my panic, I had almost forgotten the shorthand. GA meant Go Ahead, meaning it was my tiurn to talk. QQ was a question mark.

MY FRIEND IS HAVING A SEIZURE. HE'S THRASHING AND HITTING HIS HEAD ON THE FLOOR. NOT WAKING UP AND NOT STOPPING. GA

HOW LONG WAS THE SEIZURE QQ GA

MORE THAN 5 MINUTES, BUT NOT SURE CUZ WE JUST OPENED THE DOOR GA

WE'LL SEND AN AMBULANCE. UR NAME, ADDRESS, FRIENDS NAME QQ GA

I'M MARK COHEN. MY FRIEND'S NAME IS ROGER DAVIS, WE'RE IN THE TOP FLOOR LOFT OF THE OLD MUSIC PUBLISHING BUILDING ON AVENUEB AND 11TH. GA

GOT THAT. AMBULANCE SHOULD BE THERE WITHIN 3 MINUTES. DON'T PUT ANYTHING IN R'S MOUTH, KEEP HIM FROM BANGING HIS HEAD, IF HE STOPS SEIZING, LAY HIM ON HIS SIDE. GOT THAT QQ GA

YES. GA

ARE YOU ABLE TO HEAR A KNOCK AT THE DOOR QQ GA

NO, I'M DEAF GA Oh God! I hadn't thought of that! Luckily the operator had a suggestion.

OPEN YOUR APARTMENT DOOR SO THE PARAMEDICS CAN GET IN, THEN CHECK ON ROGER. THEN RETURN. GA

I did as the operator instructed and opened the door to the loft. Ever since Mimi's near death experience on Christmas Eve, Benny had allowed us to leave the main entrance unlocked in case of emergencies. When I checked on Roger, he was still thrashing his arms and legs, but Maureen had a good grip on his head.

"The ambulance is on it's way. Don't put anything in his mouth and turn him on his side if the seizure stops. I need to get back to the phone." She nodded and I went back to the TTY.

THE DOOR IS OPEN. ANOTHER FRIEND IS WITH ROGER. GA

IS HE STILL SEIZING QQ GA

YES GA

DO YOU KNOW WHY HE'S HAVING A SEIZURE QQ IS HE EPILEPTIC QQ GA

NOT EPILEPTIC. I THINK HE TOOK PILLS. GA

WHAT HE TOOK AND HOW MUCH QQ GA

AZT. HE'S HIV +. THERE WERE 2 EMPTY BOTTLES. I KNOW HE HAD 1 FULL ONE, OTHER BOTTLE PROBABLY HALF FULL. GA

NOTED ON FILE. IS THE AMBULANCE THERE YET QQ GA

I SEE LIGHTS OUTSIDE. GA

WAIT UNTIL THEY ENTER BEFORE HANGING UP. GA

Just then two paramedics entered the loft. I gestured them over to Roger's room.

PARAMEDICS ARE HERE. GA

YOU MAY HANG UP NOW. GA SK

SKSK

I confirmed the end of my call and hung up the phone. By the time I followed the paramedics into Roger's room, he had finally stopped seizing. Maureen gathered the empty pill bottles and handed them to me. "Someone should go with him," she decided.

"I'll meet you at the hospital, then," I said, thinking she would be the one to go.

"No, I think you'd better ride in the ambulance. It's easier for me to contact the others and you know his medical history."

Maureen told the paramedics that I was going with them, so I followed the stretcher that they had placed Roger on. I hopped in the back doing my best to stay out of the way. I couldn't read the lips of the paramedics in the poor light, so I didn't really know what was going on. At least Roger had stopped thrashing and I could see the rise and fall of his chest. "Roger, how could you do this to yourself?" I muttered under my breath.

The ride to the hospital was mercifully short. We ran into the ER and everyone started talking at once. I really couldn't follow the conversation and didn't realize that one of the doctors was asking me a question until she touched my shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I didn't get that. Could you repeat the question?" I said.

The doctor said something but turned away.

"Sorry, still didn't catch it. You've got to look at me when you speak. I'm deaf." I pointed to my ear to emphasize the point. She tried again, looking directly at me. Even though she made effort to speak slowly, I still only got a couple of words. It was frustrating. Why couldn't I read her lips? "I'm sorry. I just can't make out what you're saying. Do you sign by any chance?"

She shook her head then indicated for me to wait. She went over to the admitting desk and came back with a pen, notepad and sheaf of papers attached to a clipboard. Taking the pen she wrote, Are you the person who called 911? I nodded. She continued her thoughts on the paper. The file says he overdosed on AZT. Do you know how much he took?

In the past 18 months, I have found that I feel the most comfortable responding using the same method of communication as the person I'm talking with. If they sign, I prefer to sign. If they speak, I speak. I was just about to pick up the pen and write back , but I realized how ridiculous that would be. There was nothing wrong with my voice. I took out the pill bottles Maureen had given me. "This one was full this morning. I just picked it up from the pharmacy yesterday. This other one was about half full. It belonged to Roger's girlfriend who died recently."

Did he take anything else?

I shook my head. "I doubt it. We have a bottle of aspirin, but I took the last one this morning. After Roger's withdrawal, we got out of the habit of keeping anything else in the loft, and he hasn't been out in a week." She marked it down on the chart.

Withdrawal? What was he addicted to and how did he detox?

"Heroin Me and my friends kept him in our apartment until the drugs were out of his system and he wasn't feeling the withdrawal symptoms."

So he's never been on Methadone or Buprenorphine? Luckily I recognized the names from the paper. They were withdrawal medications.

"He didn't take anything like that. I stayed with him, or my friend did. He didn't go to a center, either."

When did he last take drugs? Some of them stay in the body for a long time.

"About 18 months ago."

Any allergies or other health problems?

"He's allergic to Sulfa drugs and had mild asthma when he was a teenager. He's also been under a lot of stress lately and has been feeling very guilty." I didn't offer anything else, especially the reason for his guilt.

Has he been eating and sleeping?

"I'm not sure. I haven't seen him eat anything this past week and I can't hear if he's up when he's in his room."

Did he have any alcohol today?

"We didn't have any in the loft."

Thanks for the information. Fill out these forms and I'll get back to you when we know anything.

"OK. Thanks Doctor." She handed me a clipboard and a pen. I spent the next twenty minutes filling out forms and trying to remember the name of Roger's doctor at the free clinic. The forms kept my mind occupied. I was checking the last box when I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Joanne. Maureen was next to her.

"Did they tell you anything?" asked Maureen.

"No. They asked me some questions, but I still haven't heard what's going on with him. He was breathing on his own when they took him into the back, though," I said.

"That's a good sign" said Joanne, while signing.

"Did you get hold of Collins?" I asked, also signing.

Maureen shook her head. "No. I tried that club he was talking about and also left messages for him at home and at the university. Plus I left a note on the table."

I returned the paperwork to the desk and Joanne tried to find out what was happening. She wasn't having much luck. We couldn't find anyone who knew anything about Roger's condition. They just would state they'd try to find out and then they'd forget about us. Once, a nurse came out, only to tell us they were still working on him.

Joanne had come prepared and passed out paperback books. Although mine was well-written, I just couldn't concentrate on the story. I was too worried about Roger.

After an hour and a half of fidgeting, I grew tired of trying to read. Luckily, Collins arrived, but I could tell that he was having a hard time. He couldn't keep still and looked very uncomfortable, like he wanted to escape the waiting room as soon as he possibly could.

"Collins, you OK, man?" I asked. "You look like you're freaking out."

"Sorry. I just don't like hospitals. Too much has happened here in the past months. They bring back bad memories."

"Are you going to be alright? " I asked.

"I could use a joint right about now." He tried to keep his expression light, but I could tell from the look in his eyes that he wasn't really joking.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Angel. Most of the time, I remember her when she was feeling good and how much she cared about the world. But when I come here, something makes me think about the end and how much pain she was in. It scares me. I don't ever want to see anyone else suffer like that again. And then I realize that it's going to happen to me someday. I'll be in pain, barely clinging to life, fading away in the hospital. I can't stop thinking about it when I'm here."

"Like you're confronted with your mortality?" I asked.

" Yeah. It's almost like I'm being haunted , like in a Christmas Carol. The ghost of Christmas past and the Ghost of Christmas yet to come."

"Maybe you should focus more on the present. After all, 'No Day But Today'" I reminded him.

"I'll try, but it's hard being here. Especially since we're alone with our thoughts and we're all worried about Roger. I don't want him to leave before his time."

"I just wish we knew something." I said.

It was at that moment when two people dressed in white coats approached us. One was the woman who attempted to speak to me earlier. The other was a bespectacled man with graying hair and a wizened look in his face. The woman said something to us that I didn't understand.

Joanne looked at my puzzled expression and realized what was happening. She has a very thick accent, German is my guess. Do you need me to sign? I loved the fact that Joanne always asked before helping me. I nodded. She wants us to follow her to a more private area. I panicked inside. I had a flashback to when my grandfather had collapsed at the dinner table when I was fourteen. He'd had a heart attack and didn't survive. The doctors told us about his passing by escorting us to a small one like this one. I could tell the others were thinking it was bad news as well.

With a glance between the four of us, Collins became our spokesperson. "Doctor, is Roger alright? Is he still alive?"

The doctor looked surprised to hear the second question. Then she realized the mental trauma she had inadvertently caused. "Oh! You must have thought... the room... oh dear. I do apologize. I did not mean to make you worry. Mr. Davis is conscious. We gave him charcoal and pumped the excess medication from his stomach. Physically, he should be fine in a day or two." I was flooded with relief. Roger was alive! "AZT is not fatal in high doses, but in some cases, it does cause seizures. He'll have to be monitored for a few days."

Collins nodded, then looked puzzled. "You said he was alright physically. How's he doing mentally?"

The gray-haired doctor spoke up. "Yes, that's more my area of expertise. I'm Doctor Sheffield. I'm the psychiatrist on call for tonight. Mr. Davis's mental condition is more complicated. He is very distressed, and in order to treat him effectively, we had to put him in restraints. I've given him a mild sedative, but I'm concerned that he's still a danger to himself."

"Can we see him?" I asked.

"Yes, but only one at a time, and with supervision. He's still very unpredictable. He may not be himself, which is why we wanted to prepare you beforehand. Oh which of you rode in with the patient?" I raised my hand. "Dr. Zeigler informed me that you're deaf. The medication that we gave Mr. Davis causes slurred speech and lack of coordination. Reading his lips may be difficult. If you don't mind waiting for a few minutes, I'll arrange for a nurse who can sign to escort you."

"Thanks. I appreciate that."

Just as Maureen prepared to leave to see Roger, another doctor slipped in and asked for Doctor Zeigler. She excused herself and left. I decided to speak to Dr. Sheffield. Although Joanne had signed for me during his introduction, I found I could understand him pretty well. I signed to her to stay put and went over to the psychiatrist. "Excuse me, Doctor, could I talk to you for a moment about Roger?"

"Of course." He indicated two chairs in the corner and we made our way over to them.

"I don't know what the protocol for this is or anything, but I think I should tell you about some of what Roger's gone through in the past few weeks. Wouldn't that help you treat him?"

"It may give us a place to start. What can you tell me, Mr...?"

"Cohen," I supplied. "Mark Cohen. Please call me Mark. Mr. Cohen is my father."

"Alright, Mark. Do you mind if I take notes."

"Go ahead, First of all, in the last three months, two of our close friends have died from AIDS. One of those was his girlfriend. It's been stressful for him."

"Losing a loved one is very stressful."

"I know. Roger doesn't like to deal with pain. He escapes. Before, he used to get high, but since he got clean, he'll try to get away physically. Mimi's only been gone a little while, so I know he hurts from that. And he found out my secret, so that made him worse."

"What do you mean about your secret, Mark?" asked the Doctor.

"I haven't exactly been forthcoming with the fact that I'm deaf. Roger only found out about it last week, and I've been hiding it for over a year and a half."

"Why did you wait to tell him? There's more to it than just the fact you're deaf, isn't there?"

"Yeah. Roger is directly involved. One night, he was having really bad withdrawal symptoms and he got violent. He hit me in the head, and I ended up deaf. He was lucid enough to remember hitting me and that I was away from our loft for a while and he put the pieces together."

"I see. That does explain a few things." I went on to tell the doctor about how Roger had been acting the last week. "Thank you for telling me this, Mark. I'm going to recommend therapy for him, and this will give us a place to start."

"Will you continue to treat him?"

"I'll give Roger that option, but he may be more comfortable with one of my colleagues." He scratched his chin. "How have you been in all this?"

"What do you mean, Doctor?" I was surprised at the question.

"You've had a lot of trauma yourself, Mark. You lost your hearing, lost friends to a terrible illness, and now are dealing with a friend's suicide attempt. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I said quickly. "Shouldn't you be worried about how Roger is feeling instead?"

"Mark, it's OK to let yourself feel. I take it you're the type to hold back and detach from their emotions. Am I right?" I was quiet for a long time, but finally nodded. "Sometimes, you just need a sympathetic ear to listen. Were you offered counseling when you lost your hearing?"

"They had someone talk to me a couple of times, but he thought I was adjusting well, so he didn't come back I go to Life Support. I talked to them about my problems last week."

"That's excellent, but sometimes it helps to have one on one attention. I know you're not my patient, but I strongly suggest that you talk to someone. I can write you a referral if needed."

My first instinct was to refuse, but I realized he had a point. "Yeah. Maybe that would be good."

He took out a pad of paper and wrote down an name and number. "I'll call Reg in the morning and tell him to expect your call. I think he'll be a good match for you, Mark."

Before I had a chance to reply, a nurse knocked at the door. When she entered the room, she addressed me, "I think it's time for you to see your friend, now. You can discuss any other plans later. "

It was time for me to face Roger.


A/N I did a little research on AZT and found out that it is not lethal in large quantities. Someone may take up to 50 grams (1 gram 3 large dose pills or 10 small dose pills). The notes I read did mention seizures as a possible side effect of a large dose.

Please keep in mind that I'm not 100 sure about hospital procedure or rules for referring someone to a counselor. Any mistakes are my own.