Warnings: HIV/AIDS, cheating, mentions of suicide

I do not own RENT.

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Aftermath

Chapter Two: Tested

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She was sitting on a tacky green leather couch in the waiting room of the clinic wondering why the hell it was so cold in here. This was just to keep the other thoughts at bay, which would keep her from breaking down.

She shifted a little and Mark looked up from his hands that were folded in his lap. He gave her the faintest impression of a smile and she just looked down at the carpet again.

She had been living with him for the past three weeks because she couldn't go home to the apartment she shared with Maureen. She couldn't look at Maureen, couldn't think about Maureen, but couldn't stop Maureen from being in her dreams every night.

The drama queen had come by the loft two days after that day, begging and pleading for Joanne to come back. Because baby, I'm sorry, it was an accident, honey, I was drunk and angry, and I didn't mean to, pookie, honey, I never would have slept with him if I had known he was positive, baby, I'm sorry… Joanne had yelled that she shouldn't have cheated in the first place; that she needed some distance for a while, and that she was going to stay here in the loft.

Mark had come back later that afternoon and briefly he wondered why Joanne was curled up sleeping on the ratty old couch.

That evening, after Joanne had woken up and explained to Mark in as few words as possible about Maureen's visit, they set up Mark's projector and were watching his old reels of film.

She had been laughing because there had been a clip of Collins and Roger, drunk, singing Christmas carols on the fire escape, but her breath caught when the next clip started to play. The red is what stood out most, her red blood splashed all over the white tiles of the bathroom, her red hair just peeking out over the rim of the bath tub, her red lipstick on the mirror writing out her last horrible message telling Roger of his fate.

Now Joanne's fate as well.

She stood up and slammed the projector off. Mark made no move to stop her, just sat there silently watching.

"It should be illegal to film things like that," she whispered, her voice heavy. "Why would you want to document things like that? Why remember the bad moments?"

"Because," Mark whispered back, "if I forget what a bad moment feels like, I won't know a good moment when I encounter it."

And Joanne had almost cried again, wondering why the hell this had happened to her and why the hell so many bad things had happened to Mark.

It was the next morning when Mark had quietly suggested that Joanne should go get tested, because after all she had only seen Maureen's results and there was chance she hadn't given it to her.

She knew that that was impossible, but didn't say as much and promised to go, if it would make Mark feel better.

And now, here she was, two weeks later waiting for her results. Waiting, waiting, waiting for what seemed like an eternity. She took a deep breath and attempted to drown out the annoying whirring of the overhead fan.

Finally they called her name, and Mark gave her hand a squeeze that was meant to be reassuring, and a nameless nurse led her back to the exam room. She knew what the results were going to be. She knew by the way that the nurse avoided looking in her eyes. When the doctor entered the room, she knew by the way he sighed when he sat down across from her.

But even though she knew exactly what paper was going to say, it didn't seem to make that word less shocking, and it didn't stop the tears that came to her eyes.

Positive.

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Words: 650

This was written for speedrent challenge 186.

Review, if you would be so kind.

Dymond