Still Life
Chapter Eight
Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, nor any of the characters contained therein.
Mark gasped and tumbled backwards, smacking his head on his bedside table. He groaned in agony, and stared up at the harsh, fluorescent glare of his light. He squinted and tried to roll over, but found he couldn't move his body. He vaguely registered someone calling his name in the background.
"Mark! Mark!" He smiled, stupidly. Mark was his name. The yelling was growing louder, and he could hear fists beating on his door. He began to softly chant his name along with the speaker, and closed his eyes, feeling numb all over. As everything grew dark to his eyes, he recognized the voice calling him as Mimi's.
"Hi, Mimi." He said, softly. She didn't hear him, and kept pounding on his door, begging him tearfully to open it. Mark frowned, confused. He didn't know why Mimi wanted to get into his room so badly, or why she sounded so worried. "It's okay, Mimi," He whispered. "You don't have to worry, I'm—". Abruptly, he sat up and vomited, all over himself. He clutched his stomach, and began moaning as shooting pains left him crippled. He struggled to try and sit up, but found he couldn't. He began to panic, as he realized he was choking on his own vomit. Distantly, he could hear a dull thumping on his door. Suddenly, the door burst open, and in the frame stood Roger, clutching his shoulder. He heard Roger yell something at him, but couldn't make out his words. Roger's face swam before his eyes, looking frightened and concerned. Mark struggled to talk, and Roger heaved him to an upright position. Mark coughed, and spattered the carpet in front of him with bile and blood. Roger was yelling again, and Mark feebly wished for him to stop. He clutched his stomach again, and swayed, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. He shivered convulsively, as violent spasms wracked his body. He felt someone pick him up, and squirmed, trying to free himself of his captor's arms. He heard Roger swear violently, and tighten his grasp. A cold sweat was beading on his forehead, and he began to lose consciousness, mumbling deliriously. He felt someone shaking him, and then blacked out completely.
Roger shook him, screaming at him to wake up, and yelled for Mimi to call an ambulance. Mimi, confused and shocked, ran immediately to the phone and dialed 911. Roger resumed feebly shaking Mark, begging him to wake up. Mimi conversed quietly with someone on the other end of the line, and hung up.
"Roger…" She said, softly. Roger didn't move from his position by Mark. She touched his shoulder lightly, and he started violently, but didn't take his eyes off of Mark. Mimi understood, and felt like she was intruding on a bond that would outlast everything life threw at them. "Roger…" She tried again, but was interrupted by Roger's silent sobbing. She saw his shaking shoulders and felt her heart break for him; she knelt down next to him and wrapped her thin frame around his body, and let him cry into her shoulder. They stayed, waiting anxiously for the ambulance. Finally, they heard sirens coming and leapt to their feet. Two official-looking paramedics came running into the loft, stretcher in tow. They ignored Mimi and Roger's desperate questioning, and loaded a prone Mark onto a stretcher, taking his pulse and shouting out medical jargon. Roger and Mimi followed them hurriedly down the stairs, unable to talk. When they arrived at the ambulance and attempted to enter it, they were stopped by a bored-looking official.
"No one but family is allowed in the vehicle. Sorry." He intoned, sounding completely unsympathetic. Roger snorted.
"Yeah, well, we're his parents, so open the damn door." He snarled, and pushed his way in, taking Mimi's hand in his own. The driver looked like he wanted to protest, but one look at Roger's sullen, angry form silenced him, as he turned back to the front, meekly. The paramedics shut the doors, and the ambulance sped off to the hospital.
Roger paced anxiously around the small waiting room, running his hands distractedly through his hair. Mimi watched him from a chair, an unopened magazine sitting in her lap. She closed her eyes, wearily, and sank back in the chair. Roger abruptly stopped his pacing and threw himself into a chair next to hers. He hunched over, and put his face in his hands. Mimi put a hand on his knee, and he grasped it, desperately. She wanted passionately to say something to comfort him, but understood that Roger's fears would not be assuaged until he got to speak to Mark himself. She settled for leaning her head against his shoulder, and hugging his arm. Roger sat stoically, not moving or blinking. His face was blank and unreflecting of the inner turmoil he was facing. He was tearing himself apart with guilt and anger, berating himself relentlessly. He stood up, shaking Mimi off, and stalked out of the waiting room. He wandered aimlessly around the sterile white hallways of the hospital, looking for anything to distract him. He spotted a coffee machine, and got two cups. He brought one back for Mimi, who accepted it thankfully, and didn't question him. Roger stared into the murky brown liquid, as though he could find the answer in his Styrofoam cup. He sipped it, and winced at the sugary-sweet taste. Roger preferred his coffee black, Mark had always been the one who would add five packets of sugar to his coffee. Roger felt his lower lip tremble, and blinked away hot tears. He looked up as he heard a doctor enter the room, and sprang to his feet, striding over to the doctor.
"Is he okay?" Roger demanded, anxiously. The doctor looked at him nervously, and cleared his throat.
"Ah…I'm sorry sir, but we can't release medical information to non-family members." The doctor stated, looking apologetic and a little bit afraid. Roger sighed, and ran his hands through his hair, staring up at the ceiling.
"Look," He gritted out. "That guy in there? He's my best friend. And it's my fault he's in there." At this, Mimi made a noise of protest, but Roger quieted her and continued. "Mark doesn't have any family in the city, all he has are his friends. And now you're trying to tell me that because of some stupid, idiot rule, I don't get to know if he's alright?" Roger's voice was rising, and the young doctor backed up a few paces, looking around nervously. "Just fucking tell me whether or not he's going to be okay!" He screamed, and a nurse came hurrying over to him.
"Sir, if you don't quiet down, you'll have to leave the hospital." She said authoritatively, and motioned for him to sit back down. Roger swore, frustrated, and stomped off to the hallway, Mimi following. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, feeling very tired. He felt Mimi slip her hand into his, and he squeezed it reassuringly, grateful she understood what he was feeling.
"I can call Mark's family." Mimi said, quietly. Roger nodded, thankfully.
"I'll call Collins, Maureen, and Joanne." He offered. She smiled, and pecked him on the cheek.
"It'll be okay, Roger." She said to him, and left to find a payphone. Roger sighed, and set off in the opposite direction, looking for the payphone he had passed earlier. He found it in a few minutes, and stood staring at it. A man huffed impatiently behind him.
"Look, buddy, other people have to use the phone." Roger spun around to face the man, and got up close to his face.
"Listen, 'buddy,'" He sneered, mockingly. "Some of us have best friends in the ER that might not be coming out alive." The man's eyes widened, and he stepped back, muttering an apology, as he left hurriedly. Roger rolled his eyes and turned back to the phone. He picked up the receiver and inserted quarters into the slot. It rang once, twice, and then Collins picked up.
"Hello?"
"Hey…Collins. It's me, Roger. Roger Davis, you know." Roger knew he was babbling, and forced himself to concentrate. "Uh, yeah, listen, I'm calling about Mark. He's in the hospital. It's, uh," Here Roger began to choke up. "It's pretty bad, Collins…I don't know if he was breathing…" There was a silence on the other end of the line, then at last Collins spoke.
"I'll be right there." A click, and the line went dead. Roger placed the telephone back into cradle with trembling hands. He took a moment to compose himself, then picked up the telephone again. He dialed Maureen and Joanne's apartment. He waited for five rings, until:
"Hi!" That was Maureen's high-pitched voice. "You've reached Maureen and Joanne. We can't answer the phone right now," Here there was a noise as if two people were wrestling for control of the phone. "Probably because we're having wild, passionate—" Here there was another scuffle, and a yelp from Maureen, as Joanne seemed to gain control. "Please leave a message at the tone." She finished calmly. Roger sighed, wondering how you told something this serious to a machine.
"Hey, guys, it's me, Roger. Um, I'm calling from the hospital. Mark's here. Not here with me, but he's here in the hospital. In the ER. I—I don't know if he's okay. Collins is coming, and Mimi's here. She's calling his family. The doctors won't tell us anything. Come as soon as you get this message—okay? Alright, bye." He hung up, and walked away from the phone. Roger met Mimi back in the waiting room.
"I called his mother." Mimi said, softly. "She was hysterical…screaming and crying." Roger snorted.
"That sounds like Mark's mom." Mimi gave a half-smile, and continued.
"She's coming up right now, she should be here in a few hours. I think his sister's coming too, as well as his dad." Roger rolled his eyes.
"I'm sure Mark will be overjoyed to see them." Mimi raised an eyebrow at him.
"Mark doesn't like his family?" She asked.
"It's not that he doesn't like them, it's just that he avoids them at all costs. They never really understood the whole starving-artist deal we all have going. His mom sends us kitchen appliances every birthday and Hannukah." Mimi smiled.
"Does she know that Mark trades them for camera stuff?" Roger grinned.
"I don't think she even knows Mark has a camera." Mimi smiled, half-heartedly. Roger looked down for a moment, and continued. "Mark and I have been roommates and friends for so long…we never needed anyone else, 'cause we had had each other. His family out in Scarsdale might have grown up with him—but you, me, Collins—"
"And Maureen!" Mimi interjected cheerfully. Roger grinned, and kept going.
"And Maureen are really his family. His dysfunctional family, that is." Mimi scoffed.
"We're a hell of a lot less dysfunctional than my actual family." Roger took her hand in his.
"And mine." He said, planting a kiss on top of her head.
"Much as I regret to inform you, my family was the picture of normality." Came a deep voice from behind them. They turned around and greeted Collins with a wave. He sat down beside them. "Any news?" Roger shook his head.
"We're waiting for Mark's family to get here." Collins nodded his understanding, and they resumed waiting in silence.
A/N: Alright! Another chapter, and in a reasonable amount of time! And it's even pretty long, so I feel pretty good about this one.
Alisa—thanks very much for the praise, I appreciate it. It means a lot to me to know people enjoy my work.
TechieRemix—I checked out Cellophane Sun (which, by the way, is excellent, and I urge you all to give it a look) and I can assure you, this story will not be going in that direction.
SparkilyDragnStikers, BwayDiva, and Harper's Pixie—thanks a lot for reviewing,guys. Sometimes I get so sick of this story I want to stop writing it, but reviews keep me going, 'cause I know how much it sucks when authors don't update.
'K, guys, there was sort of an "Eh" reaction to Mark taking the drugs—most people seemed to prefer him just buying them. In my defense, I can only say that I needed some action in the story. Chapter after chapter of Mark brooding would get boring to read (and write). Plus, more Roger this way! And we all know that's not a bad thing.