Disclaimer: RENT is Jonathan Larson's. I'm just playin' with the characters ("Way to go, Mark! You helped the Yoshis find the Super Happy Tree!")

Also major credit to rexmanningdays and crazybeef for catching the 'Scrubs' line. (Mark is kind of like J.D.)

It was morning. Mark's face was pressed into his pillow, his eyes were squeezed shut, and his hands were clamped over his ears. Roger and Mimi were fighting again.

"I just don't see how you can want to kill our babies!"

"Roger, listen to yourself! This is my choice!"

"But I deserve a say! And Mimi, if you didn't care what I had to say you would've done it already! Collins gave you the money, didn't he?" Mimi said nothing, but her expression spoke for her. Roger nodded. "Thought so. But you didn't get rid of them, Mimi, because you want them. Some part of you wants these children."

"Of course I want them," she hissed, fighting back tears. "Of course I do, Roger, but they will die. They will be sick--"

"That's not written in the stars, Mimi! There's a chance, yes, but everyone dies. Everyone… they will, too," he said, nodding his head. "They will, by HIV or, or pneumonia or a car accident, G-d knows, but they deserve the chance to live! Everyone dies but most get to live first--"

She interrupted, "Everyone dies? That's how you justify this? Everyone dies? All this boils down to is that you want babies. That's all you're thinking about, Roger, what you want and how you can get it."

"Yes, I want that!" Roger tried to snap, but he faltered. He coughed. "You can't fault me for wanting a family," he murmured.

"No." Roger turned away from her, gripping the table and squeezing his eyes shut. Mimi went to stand beside him. "I don't fault you, Roger," she said. "Not for wanting babies. But for ignoring that I am sick, and so are you, yes. Yes, I find fault there. Just because you want something doesn't mean you can have it, Roger. You're not a child. You need to accept that."

Roger shoved Mimi's hand off his shoulder. "You think I don't know that?" he asked. "But this…" Roger caught himself and shook his head. "Look. Let's… let's think about this, okay? Just take some time not talking about it."

Mimi nodded. "Okay," she said, feeling her heels dig in.

Mimi visited Collins' class on Wednesday and again on Friday. She told him she couldn't help herself. She just wanted to learn. He asked her to stay after class and asked her how everything was going. The first time he asked, she only said, "I still have it."

On Friday he handed her a beat-up copy of Homer's Odyssey. "It's due next week," he said, "if you plan on coming."

"What would you do?" Mimi asked. "If this was your baby?"

"If I was a pregnant woman?" Collins asked. "Or if I got my girlfriend pregnant?"

"I wasn't even going to tell him," Mimi said. She folded her arms over her stomach. The idea of two little people inside her made her tremble. "I was actually…" she paused. Her fingers twitched, wishing for a cigarette. "I was going to ask if you would take me to the clinic. But now…" Mimi shook her head. "Roger's being an ass."

Collins nodded. "He has a habit of doing that."

"Collins, help me."

"Decide what you want, Mimi."

"I already know that," she snapped. "I don't want HIV-positive babies. I want children but… not like this. So does he, by the way. The difference is that I know we can't have them." She sighed. "And I don't want to lose him, either, but… it's not fair to bring two children into the world who are just going to die. And what if they don't? Roger's lucky, he could live another ten years. Then what? Our nine-year-olds get adopted? Put in foster care? You know, if it wasn't for the disease, I would have them. That's the worst part. If not for this stupid sickness--"

Mimi interrupted herself. She had learned years ago how to cry quietly, how to swallow the gulping sobs that would choke her and shudder her tiny frame. The knowledge fled as she sat on Collins' desk, disgusted with herself, with Roger, with the entire world for being cruel and unfair.

---

"Okay, now watch. Thread the string through, here-- you have to be careful, because if you do this the wrong way you can't tune the guitar. Then through here-- remember what this is called?"

"Bridge."

"Right. And you twist it like that… and there you go. There's your D string. Next time you'll do it yourself."

"Yeah."

"Let's hear you tune it."

"This won't tune!"

"So we hear."

"Nice! Your E is a little off, but close. Here. This is what it should sound like."

"I'm too high."

"Yes. Better. There. Okay. What were we doing last week?"

"Woody Guthrie."

"Woody Guthrie, okay. Did you practice? Play it for me."

Twenty-four minutes, and many mangled run-throughs of "This Land is Your Land" later, Gabriel ("Friday, 4:00") left the loft. Roger placed the money in the box under the bed. How much does an abortion cost? He shook his head. I want them… but I can't stop her if that's what she wants. Roger frowned. He wasn't certain he had the money for an abortion

He knew Mimi had Collins' money, but these were not Collins' babies. They were his babies. If Mimi decided that she wanted an abortion, if that was her choice, Roger would pay, not Collins.

"Being powerless does not justify making the wrong choice," Collins said.

Roger had heavy smudges under his eyes. He hadn't slept well in weeks, at all in the past few days. It was midnight or later, and he sat cross-legged with a cup of tea in his hands. "But how do we know it's the wrong choice?"

"That's always the wrong choice."

"She would have suffered--"

"Am I suffering?" That caught him silent. "April chose a coward's way out. I'm not suffering. And give it time, Roger," Collins continued. "Give it time, and neither will you. You do have time. This is only death as much as life is death."

Roger sighed. He wanted those children, but if Mimi chose to have them aborted, he would swallow his anger. He would pay as much as he could, he would hold her hand, he would make himself do the right thing.

Following this resolution, Roger locked the box, stood, and settled on the couch with the acoustic guitar. He didn't think, just opened, humming until the tune became recognizable and the hum became words, sometimes original, sometimes old.

When Roger looked up from the guitar, Mark was sitting on the couch watching him. "Hey," Roger said. "Enjoying the show?"

Mark cleared his throat. "I didn't mean to…" He moved to stand, but Roger stayed him with a hand on his arm.

"You didn't. Stay." Mark did. "You want me to play you something?" Roger asked.

"If you're in the mood. Or… if you want to talk about…" he trailed off. Roger knew what he meant.

He nodded and set down the guitar. "I can't shake the feeling that they're already people," he said. "Isn't that horrible? I'm pro-choice, Mark, you know that, but… I mean, this… this isn't rape or, or incest, this is me and Mimi, and…" Roger sighed. "I've just wanted this for so long," he said. "Boys aren't supposed to think like that, but even when I was a kid…"

I'd have your baby, Roger. Mark started, shocked at the thought. What? I can't have Roger's baby, I'm a man! I don't have a uterus or a vagina or… or any of the other things you need to have a baby.

But if I was a woman… Mark gave himself a firm shake.

"I just feel like they're children already and it would be killing them," Roger concluded. "But it's her choice," he added hastily. "I don't mean to be unfair to Mimi."

Mark smiled gently. "It's okay for you to want things, too," he said.

"Yeah," Roger said, risking a grin. Mark grinned back, so Roger let his smile widen, and soon both were laughing. It was into this fog of giggles that Mimi stepped, her eyes rimmed in red. Roger, then Mark, fell silent as they noticed her. "Love--"

Mimi opened her mouth and forced out two short, clipped words: "It's done."

Then she went into Roger's room before he could speak.

To be continued!