Author's note: Still don't own anyone. But you knew that. And if you
didn't, then this story probably wouldn't have made any sense to you, since
you lack basic literacy skills. Also, as far as I know, the layout of the
museum depicted in this story is completely imaginary, having never been to
any museum in NY myself. In fact, I don't know if such a place exists at
all. And finally, I haven't decided if I'm gonna make this M/R... or not.
Input would be appreciated.
Chapter 1: Reunions and Reprises
The sunlight filtering through the window looked rather bland to Roger. Perhaps it was because he was bored stiff. He still wasn't quite sure why he had agreed to come, since he and museums had traditionally never gotten along, but it was too late. He was there for the long haul, watching with disgusted disinterest as Mark wended his way among the cluttered display of dusty pots and rusty weapons. As long as Mark was enjoying himself, Roger reasoned, the day wasn't a TOTAL waste, right?
"Roge! Come look at this!" Mark squeaked excitedly. Roger sighed. No doubt another boring explanation of the War of 1812, or a display of antique muskets or something. As he made his way over to his former roommate, he wondered, not for the first time, why they couldn't have gone to see a movie instead. After all, it wasn't every day they could afford to do anything at all, let alone make an event of it. But Mark had gotten some flow from his flick, and so here they were, like real people.
"...nd they were buried alive!" Mark was talking, but Roger, lost in his own thoughts, only caught the tail end. "Isn't that romantic?" He turned his thin face back to Roger, who frowned.
"Yeah. Romantic." He looked at the plaque that stood in front of several artifacts that looked vaguely Egyptian, not that it made a difference to him. It detailed the story, sort of a Middle East Romeo and Juliet. For some reason, reading it made Roger feel empty. Like something had been missing, but he'd been to preoccupied to notice. Which was ridiculous. After all, he had Mimi, right? Sure, he got jealous every now and then, but ever since last Christmas when she had... No, Roger scolded himself. Don't think about that. Mimi was fine. Everything was FINE, dammit. He was happy. THEY were happy. And maybe, he'd found his happily ever after.
Only, happily ever after doesn't last forever, right? Wasn't that how the saying went? Eventually something has to happen. Something breaks, someone dies...Mimi dies... Roger dies... "NO!" Roger froze. He hadn't meant to shout, but that thought, the one that burned in his head, a cancerous feeling that had taken hold of him since last Christmas... It frightened him. And when he died... Who would take care of Mark? Mark! Damn! Roger looked up to see Mark looking at him oddly.
"Okay. So we won't go to the Life Cafe. I didn't know you hated it so much." He was fighting back tears, Roger saw.
"Hey... I didn't mean..." Roger stumbled. He was never good at expressing his feelings, and sorry had never come easy. Rock Stars don't apologize, after all. "I was thinking..." Yeah. Tell him you weren't listening. Great. "I mean... The Life Cafe sounds fine, Mark. Really." *Nice save, Davis,* Roger thought glumly, but Mark seemed satisfied, at least for the moment. He smiled. And Roger smiled back, fighting back the squirrelly churning in his stomach that Mark's smiles always seemed to elicit lately.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, Roger could have sworn he felt something inside him snap, like a flooded dam that had finally burst. Somewhere, he could feel the knowledge of what had happened nestle itself into a dark corner of his mind, but even as he became aware of it, he shied away. Ignore it, and it will go away, after all. *Can't you go five minutes without complicating your own life?* Roger scolded himself. The moment stretched on, and Roger shifted on his feet. "I could really go for that food about now, actually," he muttered. Mark nodded, and neither thought it necessary to point out that it was only 10:45. Far too early for lunch, and just a little too late for breakfast.
"I'll meet you downstairs. I just want to get a shot of this for my next film." Roger nodded, but Mark's attention had already been fully invested in fiddling with the old camera that never seemed to be more than an arm's length away. Shrugging into the new coat they had purchased earlier that morning from a hawker out on the street, Roger began to pick his way down the crowded corridors toward the exit. He had almost reached the door leading to the main lobby of the museum, when he collided with a girl carrying a large stack of papers, sending streams of white flying.
"I...I...Sorry." Roger managed, offering his hand to the distraught girl. "Let me help you!" Kneeling, he glanced over at the mystery woman and gaped in shock. Staring back at him was a self-assured woman with a sharply sloping nose, glittering eyes, and a distinctly familiar air.
"Have I... Met you before?" Roger felt as if his heart would burst.
"I don't think so... But you look...familiar."
Roger smiled gently. "I'm Roger. I used to play at a few of the clubs around here? Maybe you've seen me?"
The dark-skinned woman shook her head. "I just moved here from Los Angeles. I haven't had a chance to get out much." She motioned ruefully at the jumble of papers strewn about the floor. "I'd better get back. They'll be wondering what happened to me." She gathered the papers in a disjointed pile, and scooped them up. "It was nice meeting you, Roger. Maybe we'll see each other again. In fact, I'm sure we will." With that, she stood, and began to make her way through the bustling crowd, which seemed to have not noticed anything unusual.
"Wait!" Roger struggled to his feet. "I don't even know your name!"
She turned, then, and gave him a small smile. "Ada. My name is Ada." Then, she was gone.
Slumping against the doorjamb, Roger smiled. "I think I'm in love. Wait till I tell Mark. He'll be so..." Then he remembered. "Mimi! God...Has it been five minutes already?" He chuckled at his own wit, even as he wracked his brain for a solution to the new predicament he had found himself in. *Two in one day, Roge. Nice. That's gotta be a record!* He sighed, for the fourth or fifth time since the ill-fated collision, and made his way down the steps to wait for Mark.
Chapter 1: Reunions and Reprises
The sunlight filtering through the window looked rather bland to Roger. Perhaps it was because he was bored stiff. He still wasn't quite sure why he had agreed to come, since he and museums had traditionally never gotten along, but it was too late. He was there for the long haul, watching with disgusted disinterest as Mark wended his way among the cluttered display of dusty pots and rusty weapons. As long as Mark was enjoying himself, Roger reasoned, the day wasn't a TOTAL waste, right?
"Roge! Come look at this!" Mark squeaked excitedly. Roger sighed. No doubt another boring explanation of the War of 1812, or a display of antique muskets or something. As he made his way over to his former roommate, he wondered, not for the first time, why they couldn't have gone to see a movie instead. After all, it wasn't every day they could afford to do anything at all, let alone make an event of it. But Mark had gotten some flow from his flick, and so here they were, like real people.
"...nd they were buried alive!" Mark was talking, but Roger, lost in his own thoughts, only caught the tail end. "Isn't that romantic?" He turned his thin face back to Roger, who frowned.
"Yeah. Romantic." He looked at the plaque that stood in front of several artifacts that looked vaguely Egyptian, not that it made a difference to him. It detailed the story, sort of a Middle East Romeo and Juliet. For some reason, reading it made Roger feel empty. Like something had been missing, but he'd been to preoccupied to notice. Which was ridiculous. After all, he had Mimi, right? Sure, he got jealous every now and then, but ever since last Christmas when she had... No, Roger scolded himself. Don't think about that. Mimi was fine. Everything was FINE, dammit. He was happy. THEY were happy. And maybe, he'd found his happily ever after.
Only, happily ever after doesn't last forever, right? Wasn't that how the saying went? Eventually something has to happen. Something breaks, someone dies...Mimi dies... Roger dies... "NO!" Roger froze. He hadn't meant to shout, but that thought, the one that burned in his head, a cancerous feeling that had taken hold of him since last Christmas... It frightened him. And when he died... Who would take care of Mark? Mark! Damn! Roger looked up to see Mark looking at him oddly.
"Okay. So we won't go to the Life Cafe. I didn't know you hated it so much." He was fighting back tears, Roger saw.
"Hey... I didn't mean..." Roger stumbled. He was never good at expressing his feelings, and sorry had never come easy. Rock Stars don't apologize, after all. "I was thinking..." Yeah. Tell him you weren't listening. Great. "I mean... The Life Cafe sounds fine, Mark. Really." *Nice save, Davis,* Roger thought glumly, but Mark seemed satisfied, at least for the moment. He smiled. And Roger smiled back, fighting back the squirrelly churning in his stomach that Mark's smiles always seemed to elicit lately.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, Roger could have sworn he felt something inside him snap, like a flooded dam that had finally burst. Somewhere, he could feel the knowledge of what had happened nestle itself into a dark corner of his mind, but even as he became aware of it, he shied away. Ignore it, and it will go away, after all. *Can't you go five minutes without complicating your own life?* Roger scolded himself. The moment stretched on, and Roger shifted on his feet. "I could really go for that food about now, actually," he muttered. Mark nodded, and neither thought it necessary to point out that it was only 10:45. Far too early for lunch, and just a little too late for breakfast.
"I'll meet you downstairs. I just want to get a shot of this for my next film." Roger nodded, but Mark's attention had already been fully invested in fiddling with the old camera that never seemed to be more than an arm's length away. Shrugging into the new coat they had purchased earlier that morning from a hawker out on the street, Roger began to pick his way down the crowded corridors toward the exit. He had almost reached the door leading to the main lobby of the museum, when he collided with a girl carrying a large stack of papers, sending streams of white flying.
"I...I...Sorry." Roger managed, offering his hand to the distraught girl. "Let me help you!" Kneeling, he glanced over at the mystery woman and gaped in shock. Staring back at him was a self-assured woman with a sharply sloping nose, glittering eyes, and a distinctly familiar air.
"Have I... Met you before?" Roger felt as if his heart would burst.
"I don't think so... But you look...familiar."
Roger smiled gently. "I'm Roger. I used to play at a few of the clubs around here? Maybe you've seen me?"
The dark-skinned woman shook her head. "I just moved here from Los Angeles. I haven't had a chance to get out much." She motioned ruefully at the jumble of papers strewn about the floor. "I'd better get back. They'll be wondering what happened to me." She gathered the papers in a disjointed pile, and scooped them up. "It was nice meeting you, Roger. Maybe we'll see each other again. In fact, I'm sure we will." With that, she stood, and began to make her way through the bustling crowd, which seemed to have not noticed anything unusual.
"Wait!" Roger struggled to his feet. "I don't even know your name!"
She turned, then, and gave him a small smile. "Ada. My name is Ada." Then, she was gone.
Slumping against the doorjamb, Roger smiled. "I think I'm in love. Wait till I tell Mark. He'll be so..." Then he remembered. "Mimi! God...Has it been five minutes already?" He chuckled at his own wit, even as he wracked his brain for a solution to the new predicament he had found himself in. *Two in one day, Roge. Nice. That's gotta be a record!* He sighed, for the fourth or fifth time since the ill-fated collision, and made his way down the steps to wait for Mark.