I haven't forgotten about this story, I've just been other wise occupied. However, I'm making time now to give you a good chapter. Show your gratitude with reviews!

Disclaimer: if I have to tell you that I don't own RENT, then you don't deserve to be reading my pathetic attempt at homage.
Mark came home that night, two hours late, shaking with a raging fever. I put my anger aside and cared for him with everything I had. When Thursday came around I seriously thought about canceling Jessica's lesson but Mark refused. I didn't trust him to stay in bed anyway, so Maureen to came to baby-sit, much to Mark's dismay.

Jessica was a prodigy in the making. By the end of our second lesson she had "twinkle twinkle little star" down pat. I'd never seen a little kid so happy.

"Mommy! Come listen! I can play Twinkle Twinkle all by myself!" Jessica called from the piano as I packed up my things.

"Alright, I'm coming sweetheart. Settle down, remember what the doctor said?"

Jessica looked crestfallen for a moment but perked right back up when her mother entered the room.

"I'll settle down once you come here so I can show you what I learned!"

I admired her ability to stay so normal in the face of such a dark future. I knew what it was like to know you were going to die, painfully at that; she was taking it a lot better than I had.

"Just keep up the good work. I'll see you on Tuesday." I said giving her shoulder a pat.

"Thanks Roger. I can't wait to play for my whole family!" she squealed excitedly.

I slipped out the front door, listening to the familiar tune being played without a hitch.

"How is he?" I asked as soon as I slid open the door to the loft and saw Maureen pacing the open floor.

"He's asleep. Again."

"That's not what I asked. I asked how he was." I snipped, heading for the bedroom.

"Relax Roger, he's no different than when you left two hours ago." She laid a ring-laden hand on my shoulder to stop me. "I know how much you care about him. God, how could anybody not? He just needs rest and love. You can help him with both, but he's got to accept that for himself. You can't force him to get better. It's just gotta happen."

Who would have expected Maureen to be spouting advice? Especially advice preaching patience. As much as I hated to admit, she was damn right, but it didn't making watching him hurt, hurt me any less.

"Thanks, Mo. Go home though, I got it from here."

She kissed my cheek, leaving a sticky wine colored stain, and left.

I put my briefcase on the kitchen "table" and went to check on my boy.

He was curled up on the left side of the bed, almost like a cat, on top of the covers. His pale blonde hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, at least his fever was breaking. I sat down, to watch him.

"Hmm you're home. Now I don't have to pretend to be asleep." He slurred.

I slid closer and took his clammy hand.

"What are you talking about?"

"Maureen was feeling mother-y. She didn't leave me alone until I pretended to be asleep. It was are you okay? Do you want some soup? How about water? Do you need anything? It was giving me a headache more than making me feel better. That's what I like about you; you always know what I need. Even if I don't"

He whispered the last part so softly I wasn't even sure if he'd said it. I thought about what Maureen said before I answered.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

If I won a single battle I lost all the others. Or so it seemed.

Mark regained his strength again and started to be more careful with his hours. I could tell he still resented my help, but I was also more careful to make it seem as thought he had more independence. I was happier than I can put into words about his recovery but if it's not one thing it's something else.

After teaching Jessica for three months, her favorite piece was Musetta's Waltz. Maybe I had let it slip that it was mine too? It made it all the more painful when she was admitted into the hospital with a bad prognosis for recovery. I visited her a few times bringing flowers or another simple trinket. Anything to bring a smile to her adorable, vulnerable, innocent face.

"Roger, I know you mean well but I'm going to have to ask you to stop visiting." Mrs. Oliver said to me one day when I was getting ready to leave. I was shocked and it must have shown.

"Jessica really loves you coming to see her, but it makes her miss the piano. It was the one thing that she had that she could still do after she got sick but now she can't even do that. I want her to have hope but it just doesn't look like she's going to make it this time." There were tears in her eyes when she looked at her daughter.

I looked at the sleeping little girl. She was paler and even more skeletal then when I'd first met her. There were bruise colored circles around her eyes. I knew that look; it was the slow process of dying. I'd seen it before, but it never got any easier.

"Okay. Let me come one more time, it probably won't be tomorrow but as soon as possible."

Against what was probably her better judgment, she agreed.

"Thank you." I said giving her a hug and dashing out of the hospital. I was a man on a mission and I wasn't going to be stopped for anything.

Mark was playing solitaire on the unmade bed when I got home. He was intently trying to figure out what to do with the five of diamonds he had in his hand.

"How's Jessica doing?" he said looking up frustratedly from the game.

"Awful." I said, realizing it wasn't an exaggeration.

"You look like you have a plan. I don't like that look usually."

I leaned down to kiss his permanently chapped lips.

"I know. I need to find something. I'll be back in a few hours."

He looked at me confused, but knew enough not to ask.

I checked all the music stores I knew of first. Keyboards were cheap, but I needed one that was light enough to put on Jessica's lap. She wouldn't be able to get out of bed to play. It was dark, cold and windy before I climbed the never ending flight of stairs up to the loft.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Mark asked from the kitchen, where he was eating a bowl of cereal.

"Not yet."

"You will." He said confidently, over estimating me.

"I have to."

Sensing my frustration he got up and gave me a hug.

"You took care of me, whatever this is will work out."

"If only it was that simple."