Disclaimer: RENT is Jonathan Larson's. I'm just playing with the characters. ("Catch, Mark!")

"Collins!"

Roger hug was half attack, and he knocked Collins back a step.

"Roger, you know I love you, man, but Mimi might get jealous," Collins said after returning the hug. "Besides. I think it's better if we stay friends."

"Oh, suck my cock," Roger retorted, an insult, not an invitation. "Come on, we got gingerbread!" Roger announced happily, turning back to the loft and hurrying to the 'kitchen'.

The loft had been fully (cheaply) done up for Christmas. A sheet of something like sturdier cellophane with a picture of a Christmas tree hung over one of the windows. There were even a few badly-wrapped packages underneath it. The aforementioned gingerbread had announced itself by smell, making the entire loft spicy and, somehow, warm, though the beat-up, second-hand radiator helped.

"How long has he been like this?" Collins asked. He hugged Mark. "Merry Christmas." Too merry…

"Uh, since a week after… y'know," Mark replied, straightening his glasses. "Merry Christmas."

"How are you?"

Mark shrugged. "You?"

Collins groaned. "Glad to be finished with this semester. I had a student declare war on me--"

Mimi stepped into the room. "You mean Izzy?" she asked. "Izzy loves you."

Collins turned, rolling his eyes, ready with a retort, but fell silent when he saw Mimi. "What… how… No." Collins shook his head. "That's not possible. I was with you, in the clinic. I saw…" He shook his head once more, unable to take his eyes off the bulge at Mimi's midsection, an undeniable sign of the twin fetuses inside her. "You had an abortion, Mimi."

Suddenly Roger was at her side, an arm around her waist. "It didn't work," he said.

Collins' gaze swept from Roger to Mimi, his mind racing, trying to discern how this was possible. He had seen the procedure, nothing Roger could possibly have done would negate-- Roger wouldn't, Collins told himself firmly, surprised by the thought. "You didn't try again?" he asked. "Mimi, you know I would've--"

She shook her head. "That's not what we want," she said.

Or not what he wants. Before Collins had the chance to say it, the door opened behind him and Maureen announced, "All right, the party can begin!"

Joanne followed her, in a mild huff. "Mark," Joanne said, smiling. "How are you?"

"I'm great." They embraced. "How are you?"

Mark opened his mouth, but before he had the chance to respond, Maureen squealed, "Oh my G-d!" All eyes turned to her as she hugged Mimi and Roger at the same time. Roger looked vaguely terrified as he patted Maureen on the back. "Congratulations!" She released them and held Mimi at arm's length. A soft look melted Maureen's features into a half-smile. "Oh… how long, Mimi?"

Joanne saw Mimi's pregnant belly for the first time. "Are you insane?" she demanded. "You can't have babies! You have AIDS!"

Roger turned to Mimi. "I told you we'd forgotten something!" he said. "We've got AIDS! How could we forget that?"

Mimi laughed. For a moment, any sense of sorrow faded-- but it was there, a vague shimmer in her eyes as she smiled. "It was an accident," she told Joanne. "But, they're here now." She shrugged. "Come on. Roger may lose his mind if someone doesn't eat some gingerbread soon."

"That's right!"

Cookies were eaten and presents, such as they were, deposited under the "tree", and the family settled around the loft with plates of cheap Chinese food. Joanne and Maureen were curled in a chair together, Joanne looking distinctly uncomfortable. Mark sat at one end of the couch while Mimi and Roger cuddled at the other. Collins was cross-legged on the table, despite the empty chair.

"I think this is the most peaceful Christmas we've had in… wow, three years."

"Wow," Joanne agreed.

"So, are we gonna play the game or what?" Roger asked. "Mark, you go first. Play with… um… seventeen."

Mark sighed. "All right." He swallowed a bite of chow mein noodles before saying: "When I was seventeen…" Mark blushed. "I was dating Nanette Himmelfarb. So I went over to the rabbi's house for the first night of Chanukah and… his wife's latkes, ugh, she froze them months in advance!" He laughed. "It took mounds of applesauce and sour cream to make them edible. And, um, Nanette had a younger brother and sister and I played driedl with them, after which Nanette…"

Mark paused. Should he tell this story? Nanette, holding onto his arm as they walked into school. "You were adorable with the kids. You'll be such a sweet daddy, Mark…" "And, Nanette broke up with me because of that night." Mark thought he was fabricating this story quite well. "I don't know exactly why…"

Mark closed his eyes. That was enough. His part was done, and he was free to escape. It was a beach this time, just before dawn. He stepped out onto the damp sand and made the first footprint on the earth.

"Aww, poor Mark," Maureen said, pouting adorably at him.

Joanne scoffed. "Look who's talking!" Everyone laughed at that.

"Joanne," Mark said. "You play. Since Roger will no doubt regale us with tales of horror," Mark jabbed, earning a blush of false modesty from Roger, "tell us about a happy Christmas memory."

"Um…" Joanne considered for a moment. "Okay. I was twelve. We were on vacation, I don't know where, but my mom was supposed to fly out and meet us-- my dad and I-- that day. Her flight got delayed and we were stuck inside because of a snowstorm. We spend the entire day playing board games, eating French fries and watching TV."

Maureen laughed. "Your best Christmas was when your mom wasn't there?" she asked. "That's sad!"

"It was fun!" Joanne protested. "That wasn't what my life was usually like, it was so… rigid and ordered. It was nice to be lazy and indulgent!"

"Amen!" Mimi giggled. She drank flat Coke from a red plastic cup.

"Let's hear your happy memory, Meems," Maureen said.

Roger shook his head. "No, no, no, that's not the rules, Maureen. One challenge each. We agreed."

"Fine." Maureen subtly flipped him the bird.

"Anyway, Joanne asks."

Joanne sighed. "Okay," she said. "Mimi. Tell us about… a Christmas you'll never forget."

"Okay…" Mimi paused, thinking, then her face slowly lit. She cuddled closer to Roger. "I was using, pretty bad," she said. "I had no place to live so I was on the streets. I was cold. Hungry beyond feeling it. And I was ready to die. I didn't care anymore." Roger held her. As Mimi's faltering voice filled the room, all the heat seemed to leave it. "And just as I was thinking maybe now would be a good time to just close my eyes and die, someone came along and picked me up. And she took me back to her apartment, where she made me drink some water and she made… pancakes."

The family started. Pancakes? Because they had all remembered the previous year, but there had been no pancakes. There had been stale Cap'n Crunch and a lot of huddling together against the cold. Mimi smiled. "That's when I met Angel," she said. "Oh, we had met before-- I applauded her telling off that skinhead. But this time… that's the first time Angel saved me."

Roger held Mimi more tightly. Maureen cooed. But Mimi was having none of it. "Okay, now I want to hear you story, Maureen. Talk about your first Christmas away from home."

"Oh, that's easy," Maureen said. "I was in the city, in this production-- some little show that did no good for itself-- and I went to the cast's Christmas party."

"How many men did you sleep with?" Mimi asked. By this time everyone was engrossed in the telling of stories. Only Roger continued eating-- and Roger was always eating.

Maureen laughed. "Only one!" she said. "Anyway, we were lonely, that's all. And single. Well, I was, anyway. I want to hear Collins' story now. Tell us about-- what, stop shaking your head, Roger. You always challenge Collins and it's always about the last few years, I want to know about when he was a kid. Come on, let's have a story about little Tom Collins!"

"You don't have to--"

"If I can remember," Collins interrupted Roger, "I don't mind. Christmas never meant all that much to me," he admitted. "I remember getting a stuffed rabbit one year. It was cycloptic, really old and losing its fur, but I didn't appreciate at the time that you aren't meant to love things that are used beyond repair."

"What was the bunny's name?" Maureen asked.

Collins snorted. "Benny Rabbit," he said, much to the amusement of his companions. "And now I think it's time for the story of how Roger's parents traumatized him. It's just not Christmas without childhood trauma."

Roger rolled not his eyes but his entire head. "Right," he said. "Um… did I tell you the story about the Guns 'n' Roses record?"

"Yes!" chorused Maureen, Collins and Mark.

Roger stuck out his tongue. "Fine. Okay, this story isn't about me, this is about my brother Frankie. Shut up, Maureen. Okay, so one Christmas, well, winter--"

"Then it's not really a Christmas--"

"Shut up, Maureen. Frankie caught a cold. We thought. But it turned out he had pneumonia. Because Frankie… Frankie and me used to go out on the fire escape to listen to records and tapes and stuff. Because then my dad couldn't catch us and row. One night I told Frankie I'd be home to play records for him, since he wasn't allowed to touch my stuff--"

"Oh, that's nice--"

"Shut up, Maureen. I blew him off to get high with my friends, and Frankie stayed out late waiting and caught pneumonia. And he--"

"Died?"

"Maureen Johnson I said shut the fuck up! No, okay, listen, Frankie got really sick and he was in the hospital-- said it and I'll kick your ass, Maureen-- so it was after Christmas but one day I ditched school to be with Frankie, um, and then I brought my guitar and asked him what he wanted, but he said he wanted me to make crank calls. So I did. For like two hours. The bill was tremendous, Dad had me working in his store for weeks. I'd do it again, though."

"Of course you would, Roger," Collins said. "You're a moron."

Roger opened his mouth to retort and Maureen said, "The only person likely to suck your cock is Mimi, Roger, so don't bother."

"I'd suck Roger's cock." It was not until the entire room had fallen silent that Mark realized he had said that out loud. "Hey, if you paid me enough I'd do anything!" he added. "I'd lick your bathroom floor clean. I'm a sell-out remember?"

Later, after Maureen and Joanne had left, Mimi walked Collins out. He had wanted a word with her. "Is Roger making you do this?" he asked. "Mimi, if you don't want the babies--"

"I don't," Mimi admitted, "but I do. And he does. But most importantly, Collins…" Mimi shook her head. "I can't go through that again. I can't. Can't afford to and… and just can't."

She knew she was selfish to say it. Hell, Roger was selfish in wanting babies, too. But under the pragmatic reasoning, the lack of cash and concern for her health, Mimi doubted she was strong enough to face the pain, the wait, and Roger's poorly concealed anger.

In the loft, Roger asked Mark, "You didn't mean what you said, did you?"

"What about?" Mark asked tiredly. His eyelids were getting heavier by the minute and as he plucked at the sleeves of the maroon jumper Roger had given him for a present and badgered him into wearing, Mark could think of nothing but his nice, warm (empty) bed.

"Doing anything for cash. Sucking cock."

"Oh." Mark shook his head. "No, I… it was just a joke."

Roger nodded. "Good. Well… good night."

"Good night." Hug me? The desire, the need, bubbled deep within Mark, and he opened his mouth to ask.

Then the door to Roger's room slammed shut, and there was no one to reply.

TO BE CONTINUED!

Concerning Mimi's abortion: she had saline injection which is usually reliable but not always. (Not like a D&E or anything, when you KNOW. This is fairly reliable but has on occasion failed.)

Reviews would be very appreciated! Please?