Still Life

Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, nor any of the characters contained therein.

Mark chuckled softly to himself, and sat down on the couch. He propped his feet up and turned on the old television, flipping idly through the channels. He sat up when he heard the door to Roger's room open, and smiled at Mimi.

"Hey." He called out, and turned his attention back to the screen.

"Hey." She replied, and sat down next to him. She stared at him, and he turned to her, bracing himself for another lecture.

"What's up, Mimi?" She started.

"Oh, nothing. How do you feel?" He shrugged.

"Alright, I suppose. How do you feel?" He asked, deftly deflecting attention from himself. She smiled, and he knew she had seen through his tactic.

"I feel good. Better than I have in a while."

"That's good." He replied, and they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Mimi shifted slightly, and stared intently at the screen.

"Roger's worried about you, you know." He turned off the television, and gave her his full attention. "He'd never tell you outright, but he loves you, and he's worried. We all are. You're not acting right…you seem different. You're not the Mark we know." Mark was silent, and he struggled not lash out at her verbally.

"The Mark you know?" He asked, his quavering voice betraying the emotions below it. "There is no Mark you know. There's the Mark I've always been, and the Mark you've always seen. And I'm beginning to figure out that those two Marks are very different people." He took a deep breath, and seemed to regain control. "Mimi, I'm sorry. I know you have your own problems, and they're a lot bigger than mine. I just—I just need to figure out who I am." He gave her a lopsided smile. "I need to figure out how to make two Marks into one." She looked at him pityingly, and he couldn't take it. He had had enough of pity and sympathy and the barely-disguised looks of worry people were sending him. He scowled, and stood up, startling Mimi.

"Mark, where are you going?" She asked, nervously.

"Out." Was his brusque reply, and he quickly strode over to the door and opened it, flying down the stairs and out of the building. He was overcome by an uncontrollable urge to run, to shout, to do anything. Anything to get rid of the gloom that was settling over him. He tried to push aside his annoyance at his friends, and walked a little faster, jamming his hands in his pockets. He had gone two blocks before he realized he had forgotten his camera. He turned around, grudgingly to go back to the loft to get it, when he bumped into a very familiar person. Roger's old dealer was grinning at him, and motioned for Mark to follow him into the alley to the side of them. Mark's initial response was to firmly refuse and walk away, but for some reason his feet and mind weren't on the same page, and he found himself cautiously following the man into the dingy, dark alley. The dealer looked surprised that Mark had followed him, but shrugged. Business was business.

"What can I get ya, pretty boy?" Mark remained mute, and stared at the disheveled, dirty man in front of him. The dealer was frustrated by his lack of reply. "What is it you want kid, pot? Crack?" Something in Mark snapped, and he was startled by what came out of his mouth.

"Smack." The dealer looked mildly surprised at the clean-cut young man with the boyish features who stood in front of him, demanding heroin. "And a needle." He added, as an afterthought. The dealer gladly obliged, and held out the aforementioned goods. Mark reached out to take them, but was stopped by the blade of a very lethal-looking stiletto.

"First, the money." The dealer warned, and kept the blade out. Mark rummaged around in his pockets, and pulled out a few crumpled bills.

"It's all I have." Mark said, truthfully. The dealer took them warily, and inspected them. Satisfied, he handed the drugs to Mark, leaving him very much alone in the alley. Mark looked down at the needle in his hand, and up at the sky above him. He frowned, stuffing the offending articles in his pockets, and headed off to a place where he could be alone.

A/N: Alright! The long-overdue chapter five, with a pitiful attempt at a cliffhanger. I'm going to see RENT on the 29th, so maybe I'll have some awesome inspiration after that. Oh, and just a hint—reviews make me update faster, so if you want to see poor Marky's fate with the drugs, review please!

Mad propz to the-fraulein, for being my most faithful reviewer, and thanks to L.M Ward and Alisa. Yay, reviewers!