Disclaimer: I don't own or am affiliated with anything doing with RENT. I love these boys though and wish they were mine. But sadly they're not. They belong to the masterful Jonathan Larson. The doctor however is mine.

Notes: Sorry fraulien first of all. I was gonna send this to you and have you read it first for an opinion, but when I finished I was sooo excited to post it I just had to. But I totally appreciate your opinion. If it weren't for you I wouldn't even be here in the first place so thank you. NyQuil is a wonderful thing. I got the idea for this story after I woke up from a NyQuil induced dream. Rated-R for language, sexual situations, and drug use. Please kindly review. Thank you all. Love you all.

It's Over

"I watched them lower the casket into the ground from a distance. I couldn't go. Couldn't be there. Couldn't stand there as my friends cried for their loss. Their loss? They didn't know him. Not like I did. They didn't love him the way he was meant to be loved. Tenderly, passionately, lovingly. He deserved all the good things in life, and instead gave it all up for his friends... his family. For me.

"It was unfair how quickly his life was taken. It shouldn't have happened the way it did. It should've been me. It should've been me! He was innocent in all this. He was just there for me as he always had been. It happened so suddenly. So horribly.

"After Mimi died things got really rough for me. I started using again to kill the pain. I couldn't take the pain any longer. He was there to comfort me and help me get through it as he always did. He always took care of me. I'll never really understand why. I wasn't worth the trouble. I was the trouble.

"I was just getting out of rehab for the second time, finally getting over Mimi after a year of torturing myself, and he was the only one who cared enough to help me. The others were angry with me for using again. I don't blame them. I was the biggest asshole to all of them while I was using. Especially to him. But he took it with a grain of salt and dealt with me as best he could.

"I never deserved him. As a friend, or anything else. Why he even bothered with me is beyond me. Why he ever gave his time for anyone is still a mystery to me."

"Mmhmm." The therapist Roger was speaking to listened intently. He had been seeing Dr. Richardson for a few months now. The accident happened nearly a year ago and Roger's only been able to talk about it now. The only reason he'd been seeing a therapist is because he knew Mark would want him to. Someone to talk to about what happened. "Roger, please continue." She gestured.

The musician squirmed on the black leather couch attempting to find comfort. It had become increasingly difficult for him to talk. He was sobbing softly, trying to remember the exact details of that horrible moment. Dr. Richardson handed him a tissue then sat back in her chair. He nodded a thanks and cleared his throat, trying to continue.

"He was the most amazing person I had ever had the privilege to know. My best friend." He sniffled then blew his nose. Taking a deep breath, Roger continued once again.

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"Roger," Mark knocked gently against his best friend's bedroom door. "Roger you have to come out some time. Come on. Please." He pleaded from outside the door.

"Go away Mark!" Roger shouted. "I don't want to go anywhere. I don't want to see anyone. And I don't need you to bother me. Just leave me alone."

Mark lowered his head in defeat tottering back to the living room plopping down on the tattered couch, and tinkered with his camera. "March 15, 7:30 pm. It's the Ides of March according to Julius Caesar. Well, Shakespeare anyway. Roger still won't come out of his bedroom. Ever since Mimi died last month he's been a complete wreck. I think he's using again, but I'm not certain. And I have no real way of finding out." The sorrowful filmmaker laid down his camera on the couch and sighed heavily. The expression on his face made evident the worry in his heart.

He did everything he could to not cry. He was so scared for his best friend. He remembered what happened last time and how hard it was for both he and Roger to go through it. The heartache it caused, the distance it created between Roger and his friends. Between he and Roger. And the withdrawals, the pain he watched Roger go through. The thoughts were enough for tears to well up in his sad blue eyes.

Roger sat sideways on his bed, his back up against the wall. A spoon, a needle, and the stash he had obtained from Mimi's place before she died lay in front of him. He had taken it away from Mimi when she had agreed to get clean. Something in him kept him from throwing it out. Something like this. He didn't know why at the time, but he knew now.

He stared long and hard at the substance lain before him. He contemplated not doing it, but remembered the feeling it gave him the first time he did it. How it took away all his pain. His grief. His loss. He hadn't actually done any of it yet, but the thoughts have been there since his beautiful little girl died in his arms. He knew he had it, and that was enough for him to consider it. The pain was to much for him to handle, but he had waited this long before he had removed it from the little wooden box hidden in his closet.

Now the moment of truth, Roger thought. Should I, or shouldn't I? The more he waited, the more his heart ached. It was becoming unbearable. He gave in.

The sensation he felt reminded him of the first time. Everything was better. The pain was gone. However, he knew it was only temporary, and would have to leave his room sooner or later to get more. But right now, all he cared about was how he felt at that moment and nothing else.

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"Roger, why did you decide to," Dr. Richardson searched for the right words.

"Take the hit?" Roger interrupted. "I'm not really sure." He sneered. "Yes I am. I took the hit because I was hurting... badly." He stopped talking, holding back tears, and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "I didn't know how else to handle it. I know I should've talked with Mark instead, but as usual, I pushed him away." He paused. "Why did I always push him away? Why couldn't I just talk to the one person who's been there for me in all my times of trouble. Like when April died." He broke down again, sobbing uncontrollably.

She handed him another tissue. "It's alright Roger. When you're ready, you can continue."

The miserable musician nodded slightly. Once he regained his composure, he continued. "You see, April was the one who introduced me to the drug in the first place. She was my girlfriend at the time. Mark, Maureen, who was Mark's girlfriend at the time, April, and I were always doing couple things together. Not that we excluded our roommates, but it was just one of those things, you know?"

Dr. Richardson nodded in understanding. He went on. "Well, one night we were all out partying, for my birthday, and April stayed home 'cause she said she wasn't feeling well. I was so drunk that night 'cause well, it was my twenty-first birthday, and I was high. All the others were drunk too. Well, when we got home," He paused chuckling some at the memory. "My friend Collins had to practically carry me up the steps to the loft." His expression changed as he continued. "And when we got inside, I called out for April. I thought maybe she was asleep 'cause she never came out. I of course, after drinking so much had to go to the bathroom." He did all he could not to burst into tears again. "Suffices to say, what I saw was not what I had expected." Another deep breath to hold back his tears. It wasn't working.

"It's alright Roger." Dr. Richardson's voice was soothing to him.

He resumed through his tears. "She was... in the tub... Blood everywhere." He broke down again, sobbing harder than before. He sat up; Hyperventilation took over.

"Calm down Roger. It's alright." She scooted to the edge of her seat placing a hand on Roger's back rubbing gently. "Slow your breathing, or you'll pass out. That's it."

Roger did calm down after a few minutes and laid back down on the couch.

"Would you like to continue Roger?" She smiled warmly at him.

He nodded. "I screamed. I didn't know what else to do. I was shocked. Mark must have heard me 'cause he ran into the bathroom. He opened the door, and the next thing I knew he ran out. Then Collins walked in and I remember him holding me in his arms." He paused again trying to hold his composure. Another deep breath. In and out. "I don't remember much of what happened that night, but Mark later told me what had happened. April had written a note on the mirror. It just flat out said 'We've got AIDS.'"

"That had to have been really hard for you to deal with." Dr. Richardson stated.

"Very much." More tears spilled from the beautiful green eyes of the musician.

The doctor decided to change the subject. "Tell me more about Mark. You mentioned he was your best friend?"

This helped bring a miniscule smile to Roger's face. "Mark." He closed his eyes thinking about his best friend. "He was the best thing to ever happen to me. If it weren't for my Marky," Sorrow lingered on his face. "My Marky." He sniffled a small chortle thinking about his confidant. "He has always been my anchor. The one person I could always count on. Even if I didn't want his help..."

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"Roger," Mark didn't bother knocking this time. He entered the musician's bedroom with a sort of vigor. "Roger Davis, you will," He started yelling, but paused staring at Roger laying nearly lifeless on his bedroom floor, a needle in his arm. Mark stepped back in horror. "Oh my God! Roger, what have you done."

He dashed out of the room, picking up the phone. "Hello, 911. I need an ambulance now." Mark dodged back into the room after giving them the information, where Roger lain, taking him into his loving arms. The waterworks began long before calling the paramedics. "Roger, how could you do this? What the hell were you thinking?" He cradled Roger until the ambulance arrived. His tears fell onto Roger's face and clothes. His last words before the paramedics barged in were whispered. "Why Roger? Why?"

Two days had passed and Mark never left Roger's side except to call their friends and Roger's mom to let them know of the grave situation. The all remained in the waiting room. Every single one of them... except Mark. Mark held tight to Roger's limp hand. His tear stained face had proof he hadn't slept the entire time. Tubes sticking out of his best friend's body in many places. Mark had to explain to the doctors what had happened, and they recommended that Mark place him in rehab. Mark agreed halfheartedly. All he wanted was for Roger to wake up.

"Don't do this to me Roger. You can't leave me... not yet." Mark found this to be the perfect time to confess to Roger his feelings no matter how painful the situation. "Rog," Mark did all he could to hold back his tears. "I don't really know how to tell you this, but... I love you. I always have. And not just as my best friend either. I know it's strange and all, but I guess I've always loved you. You have been the most wonderful thing to ever happen to me. Whenever I saw you with Mimi, or even with April, it broke my heart 'cause I wished it was me you were with, not them." His tears poured out falling against his and Roger's hands.

"You always made me feel special, you know. Like when we were in school, and the jocks used to pick on me, you stood up for me. Me, this little nerdy kid. Even if I was older than you." A diminutive smile formed across his saddened face. "No one ever believed it though. That I was older than you. You were always so much bigger than me." The tears found there way out of Mark's dismal blue eyes. "Or the times when Maureen cheated on me. You were there for me. You comforted me, and helped me through it. Damnit Roger. You can't leave me. You just can't."

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"I finally woke up three days later. And he was right there for me. As he always was. You know, I heard him the whole time, ushering me to wake up. I felt his hand holding mine. It was the only reason I woke up in the first place. It was all Mark. It was always Mark..." Roger trailed off staring blankly at the ceiling of the good doctor's office.

Dr. Richardson nodded. "What happened after you got out of the hospital Roger?"

"Actually, it's kind of interesting..."

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Mark took Roger home in Joanne's car after a week's stay in the hospital. Joanne and Collins pitched in to help pay for the medical bill, and even though they wanted nothing to do with him afterwards, they still cared enough to help. Roger was still a bit dazed from the whole ordeal.

"Roger, I think you should go to a clinic." Mark started shyly.

"Maybe you're right Mark." Roger spoke quietly. He didn't want to argue with the filmmaker. He knew he was right. It had been seven months since Mimi had died. It was time to get over it. Or at least try to get over it.

Five months in rehab helped Roger deal with his pain of losing Mimi. Mark was there almost everyday to see him, to help him any way he could to get through it. Mark would cry every night for his best friend. Knowing what he was going through a second time. It hurt his so much to see Roger going though it all. And alone for the most part.

Mark brought him home using Joanne's car again. The rest of their friends were finally getting over their anger towards Roger as well. It was definitely a time for healing.

Mark laid beside Roger in his room every night to help him get through this. It was hard for both of them. Roger had a hard time admitting he needed Mark, but having Mark there with him was a true comfort for the musician. For Mark, just being this close to Roger made him happy. Well, as happy as one could get in a situation as such.

"Mark," Roger whispered softly.

"Yeah Rog. Do you need me to get you something?" Mark was ready to jump out of the bed at a moments notice.

"No Mark. I just wanna talk." They hadn't spoken to each other in almost three months since Roger's been back. Mark just did what he could for him based on what happened last time.

"Really?" Mark contained his almost outburst of joy. "Okay Rog. What would you like to talk about?"

"Us." Roger turned around to face him.

Mark's expression was one of surprise. What does he mean? Mark pondered. "About us? Like what?" He swallowed his breath.

"Well, first I want to thank you for being so patient with me."

"Roger, you know I would do anything for you." Mark grasped his hand holding it ever-so-gently.

"I know. I also know I've been the worst friend ever..."

"Roger don't say that." Mark interrupted. "You haven't been the worst friend ever. Had you died though you would have." Mark tried to smile hoping Roger would understand that he was kidding... somewhat.

Roger caught on, smiling back. "Marky, I wouldn't know what I'd do without you in my life. You are the bestest friend I have ever had and I wouldn't change that for the world. You know that, right?" Roger gave a gentle squeeze to Mark's hand.

Mark nodded. "I know. I feel the same way about you."

"Marky, I have to admit something to you I never thought I'd ever say." Roger sat up in his bed still holding Mark's hand.

Mark followed. "What is it Rog?"

"I love you."

Mark was taken back a moment. "You love me?" He beamed hearing those words, but his smile slowly faded. "You mean as a friend, right?"

"That's just it Mark. Not just as a friend." Roger lifted Mark's hand to his lips tenderly kissing it.

Mark's face turned bright red. "I, I don't know what to say Rog. I mean, I have something to admit to you too." He paused a moment. He wanted to make sure his words were perfect. "I've, I've always loved you Roger." He did everything he could to hold back his tears of joy. Oh, how he longed to hear those words from Roger.

Roger grinned. "I know."

Mark's face flushed even more. "Y, you know? H, how do you..."

Roger placed his index finger to Mark's lips hushing him. "Shhh, It doesn't matter."

Roger's lips found there way to Mark's. Mark's heart fluttered with excitement. Roger brushed his hands lightly over Mark's face. Slowly Roger's hand made its way down the filmmaker's chest. Mark felt like he had died and gone to heaven.

Roger's kiss increased in passion. He laid Mark down never removing his lips from Mark. Lifting Mark's sweater to just under his chin, Roger kisses made their way down Mark's chest. Mark let out a soft moan. Roger grinned through his kisses.

The musician's hands found there way into Mark's pants. Another moan escaped the filmmaker's lips. Roger teasingly unzipped Mark's pants with his teeth. Mark bit his lower lip holding back more moans. His breathing became heavier. Harder. As well as another part of his body.

Roger smirked seeing, as well as feeling Mark's member standing at attention. He proceeded to help Mark release some tension. Mark's body shuddered, letting out an incredible groan. Roger's kisses once again made their way up Mark's chest and back to his lips.

Reaching over Mark, but never leaving his lips, Roger picked up a condom. He was ready to show Mark just how much he loved him. Mark was on cloud nine.

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"So you and Mark made love?" The doctor asked curiously.

"More than once." Roger's face radiated. "And it was amazing. I have to admit, he was the best lover I had ever had." His demeanor shifted. "He was the best everything I ever had."

"Weren't you worried about giving Mark AIDS?"

"I was, at first, but I figured as long as we used protection, and was really careful, then it'd be okay. I just wanted to love Mark. To somehow make up for all the times he gave to me. Helped me. I wanted to give back what I could to him, and showing him how much I love... loved him. He deserved more, but he told me all he wanted was for me to love him. And I did. As best I could." Roger bit his lower lip holding back tears once again.

"I see. You must've really loved him."

Roger just nodded. He was lost in thoughts of him and Mark sharing wonderful, passionate times together.

Dr. Richardson then changed the subject. "Now Roger, tell me what happened on the day of the accident."

Roger was ready to ball just thinking about that wretched moment. He wasn't ready to talk about it, but he knew he had to. To help himself.

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Mark woke up in Roger's bed yawning after another wonderful night of them making love. Mark was so exultant over his and Roger's newfound relationship. It had been six months since that first night, and Mark was loving every minute of it. Roger was too. They had finally become more than friends. What they were meant to be all along. Together.

Mark looked over at his sleeping counterpart with the most affectionate smile. He gently caressed Roger's face with his fingers. The touch woke Roger up. He turned and smiled amorously at Mark.

"Good morning lover."

"Indeed it is a good morning." Mark's permanent grin was evident of the love he had for the man laying beside him.

"You're perky this morning." Roger sat up pressing his lips against Mark's.

"I can't help it. I love you."

"I love you too."

"Let's go out for breakfast this morning." Mark hopped out of bed ready to start the day.

"With what money."

"My mom send me some money yesterday."

"And you're just now telling me this." Roger stood up to get dressed.

"Well I wanted to surprise you. Thought we could have a little breakfast, then maybe go shopping for groceries?"

"Sounds like a plan."

Mark and Roger made their way out of the loft and the endless amount of stairs leading down to the exit.

"So, to the Life Café?" Mark suggested.

"Sure."

The lovers were interrupted by someone Roger hadn't dealt with in over a year.

"Hey cutie pie. You still owe me."

"Roger, just ignore him." Mark dragged Roger away from the man. Roger glared at him, but continued walking.

"Hey where're you going? I ain't done talkin' to you yet."

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"Who was that man?" Dr. Richardson wondered.

"My ex-drug dealer." Roger said flatly.

"Ah, okay."

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"Two please. And yes we have money." Mark flashed a few bills in the waiter's face who grudgingly lead them to a table.

"The service here is still horrible."

"Roger, behave."

"I am. Really." The lovers sat down at their table and ordered their food and beverages.

The couple was having the greatest time enjoying their food and each other's company. The day was going swell. Pleasantly even. Mark was feeding Roger, and vice versa. The world was their burrito.

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"Is that when it happened?" Dr. Richardson shifted her legs from one to the other.

"Yeah." Roger couldn't hold back any longer. He curled into a ball on the couch, sobbing into his knees.

The doctor leaned closer to Roger comforting him the best she could. "It's alright Roger."

He could barely get the next sentence out. "He killed him. He killed Mark! That son-of-a-bitch killed my best friend. My lover. My... world." He clenched his fists and his teeth, still sobbing into his knees.

"Calm down Roger. Tell me what happened exactly."

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"I love you so much Marky." Mark was not alone in his heaven.

"I love you too Rog. More than anything." Mark grasped Roger's hand tightly.

It happened so fast. A few burly men entered the café in long trench coats. At first no one paid any mind to them until they started shooting up the place. A plethora of screams filled the room as people ducked under their tables to escape the gun fire. Roger hadn't noticed until he turned to Mark and his body fell to the floor. A single gunshot wound to his chest. Roger fell to the floor in utter terror.

"Mark... Mark... Mark get up. Mark, please, get up."

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"I held him there, in my arms. His blood was all over me. His blood. Everywhere. Like April." He fell to the floor of the office. He was hyperventilating again. Dr. Richardson knelt beside him trying to comfort him once again.

"Roger." He wouldn't answer. "Roger I need you to calm down. If you don't I'll have to call an ambulance."

"Mark, didn't, get, an, ambulance." He couldn't catch his breath.

"Roger," She tried to lift him up onto the couch. "Roger, calm down now." She demanded. She ran to her desk and dug out a paper bag. "Here, breathe slowly into this. Come on Roger."

He did. He knew deep down he had to slow his breathing. If he didn't Mark would be mad. He had to stay alive. For Mark. For his memory.

End

Like it? Love it? Hate it? Was it a weak ending? Was it good? Please kindly review. Love you all.