Disclaimer: Still don't own them
Authors Note: Thank you very much to McRaider, Cameragirl, Ragazzabella, PunktoFaerie, Prettygirlfrontwoman, and Not All Tears are Evil, For reviewing! I really appreciate it!
Chapter 2: Tears and Rain
Roger wasn't a crier. He's pretty much reserved tears solely for his friend's deaths. He cried when April died, cried when Angel died, and again when Mimi died. Other then those occasions, he didn't cry. But as the flames broke and spit out the window of their loft, he felt his eye's start to water.
He stared at the flames as they shot out the window that Mimi used to come in through, where he and Mark once burned their eviction notices and spilled them over the side, where Mark would toss the key from down to Collins to let the professor into the loft. One solitary tear slid down the side of his face.
"NO" he yelled suddenly. The old woman standing next to him shot him a look of surprise. If he cried it meant Mark was dead. He was Roger Davis; he had survived a lot and he always managed to pull through. He wasn't going to give up on Mark, Mark who's always been there, just yet.
You see, on the surface Roger was the bad ass rocker. When the shit hit the fan, it was Roger who was physically stronger. Roger was the one who came to Mark's rescue the first time he was mugged in the city. After that incident Mark used to refer to Roger playfully as his "knight in shinning armor." They all laughed at the incident, but still in the back of everyone's mind, they knew that if Roger did not appear when he did, Mark might not be here right now. So Roger was the tough guy.
On the surface.
Mark was more emotionally stronger than anyone. He was there holding the poor bohemian family together. He knew how much they needed him, how much Roger needed him there when… when it finally happened. Mark needed to be by his side when the disease finally took hold of him. Mark wouldn't leave them like this.
With another sickening jolt, Roger realized all of Mark's footage and the copy of Today 4 You: Proof Positive was going up in those flames.
He couldn't help thinking about how much he wished Collins was there. Collins would know what to do.
"Well Collins isn't here, Davis, but you can do this too" He whispered to himself. He decided to make his presence pretty clear.
"HEY!" He ran over to one of the fire chiefs, or at least the guy who looked like he was in charge. The man finished directing a group and then turned to Roger.
"Son, I'm just a little bit busy right now"
"I know that Sir." Roger said, carefully trying not to show how panicked and how upset he really was. "I'm looking for my friend. We live here; he was here when the fire started. A little shorter then me, blond hair, blue eyes. He wears glasses, and probably was wearing a scarf." Roger said desperately.
The fire chief looked at Roger sadly.
"There were a lot of people inside. I haven't been able to get a full count; no one knows how many people were staying in that complex. But that building was way over capacity and not at all up with fire safety regulations, the place went up like a matchstick house. He might have gotten out; I haven't seen anyone of that description." The chief was obviously distressed with this fire. He knew that a lot of people were dead because of the cities disregard towards the lower class.
"I'd ask the EMS chief…" Roger must have looked blank, because the man continued. "By the ambulances, they've been running people over all night. I didn't get a look at everyone"
Roger glanced down the alleyway and saw three ambulances stationed a little further away from the fire trucks. One had a fireman sitting inside it, with an oxygen mask over its face. One was empty and another was pulling away from the scene, lights and sirens wailing.
Thanking the fire chief, he ran off in the direction of them.
He went to the ambulance that was currently not doing anything. To his surprise he was face to face with a boy and girl who couldn't have been older than him. In fact they both looked about 20.
"Hi" Roger began. "I'm looking for my friend. His name is Marc, little shorter then me, glasses, blond hair, blue eyes… He was in the building, have you seen him" Roger asked desperately
The girl looked at her partner, then back at Roger. "I think we brought someone in who matches that description. We didn't get his name, and because of all the ashes and soot, I'm not entirely sure he was blond, but he probably had light hair. He looked about your age though"
"Where is he? Was he ok?" Roger pleaded.
The boy spoke next "We gave him the best treatment we could; he's over at New York General. That's just a few blocks down and one avenue over.
"Thanks" Roger shouted at the two before tearing off in the direction of the hospital. It was the same hospital Collins was at.
Roger had never ran faster in his life. He was sprinting full speed, dodging people left and right as he ran to the hospital. He was well aware of the fact that the young EMT's were not reassuring about the man's condition. He didn't miss the way the boys green eyes darkened slightly at Roger's description. He didn't miss the hesitation the girl had before her partner stated his friend's condition.
He didn't have much time to brood over their ominous demeanor as he reached the red sign that glared "HOSPITAL" over the street. He ran inside.
The first thing he noticed was that the usually not so busy hospital was packed. Their where various people covered in dirt and soot that had obviously been in or near the fire. The hospital had patients all over the place, obviously not having rooms for the less serious patients.
"Mark" He called out tentatively. He wasn't really expecting an answer. He just felt the need to give it a shot. No one replied.
He ran to the desk and asked the woman at the computer. "I'm looking for my friend, He was in the fire, and the EMTs said they might have brought him in here" He asked desperately.
"What his name" The woman asked.
"Mark. Mark Cohen." Roger replied. The woman typed in the computer. "Nothing's coming up for a Mark Cohen. We do have about 12 John Doe's from the fire though. What does Mark look like?" The woman asked.
"He's 24, blond hair, blue eyes, about five foot nine. Skinny." Roger said desperately.
"We have someone who fit's that description" She said. "Room 23"
Roger was off.