Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, this is just for fun.

This chapter is sort of a cliffhanger, again, but I'll try to have the next part up this weekend.

It had been easy enough for Mark to leave the loft in an angry huff, furious that Roger would interfere with his life, his business, his personal business like that.

Returning was somewhat more difficult. Returning, Mark had calmed down. He no longer could complain about Roger interfering. Roger only cared. Roger had said "forever", which meant more than just the sex.

Right?

And even if not, it meant that Mark was damn good in bed. He smiled to himself as he climbed the stairs to the loft. If he was good enough for Roger, who had probably screwed or been blown by half the city's population in his rock star days, he was good.

Mark stepped into the loft and closed the door behind him. He shrugged off his coat and set down the camera he hadn't used.

"Mark."

Mimi was leaning against the table, holding a warm mug between her hands. Her hair was down, and she was wearing Roger's old sweats, which led Mark to wonder what Roger was wearing.

Then he noticed Mimi's nipples standing up against her shirt and between that image and the previous thought, Mark was having trouble concentrating on anything but the bloodflow to his groin.

"What the hell, Mark?" Mimi asked.

He shook his head, trying to restore circulation to his brain. "Huh?"

She straightened. "Roger told me what happened this morning."

"Oh."

Mimi raised her eyebrows. "Oh? That's all you have to say, is oh?" She set down the mug. "Mark, it goes both ways, okay? You can't treat Roger like that."

"Like what?"

"Like dirt! Like someone you fuck! Do you have any idea how important you are to him? He didn't even want to ask you into bed because he was afraid you'd reject him, when anyone can see you've mooned over him for years."

"But I didn't!"

Mimi scoffed. "Oh, you didn't?" she asked. "And what exactly did you mean by telling him he was nothing more than an HIV-positive junkie?"

"I didn't…" Mark trailed off, realizing that he had. "What…" His face adopted a pinched look, a cross between anger and rat. "Well how about you?" he demanded. "How about you turning your body into an incubator because Roger wanted babies?"

"I wanted them, too!"

"No you didn't! You wanted to make him happy! You wanted Roger to be happy, and happy with you-- if you had wanted them, you wouldn't've had an abortion, but fuck the women's movement as long as your boyfriend's pleased with you, right, Mimi?" Mark demanded. The harshness of his tone was no surprise, not to him. Mark knew how he sounded when he was pushed to his limits.

"Oh, and you're really great, Mark, aren't you?" Mimi snarled back. "I carried children. How about you? How about cutting yourself every time life gets too tough? Why don't you just kill yourself already and we'd all be so much happier!"

Tears streaked across Mark's cheeks. He knew, in the suppressed logic of his mind, that he should stop, but there was so much anger bubbling up in his stomach that he didn't even try to force himself.

"Well G-d knows you're enough to induce that! I feel sorry for your babies if you don't kick the bucket soon!"

Mimi recoiled as though struck. She blinked rapidly, between blinks staring at Mark. She didn't deserve that. Maybe Mimi had destroyed her own life, but she wasn't a bad mother.

She hadn't had the chance to be!

"Prick."

"Whore."

They gave the insults without feeling, speaking as they felt they should rather than as they actually felt, both too distraught to care.

"Mark?" Mark turned. "Mimi?" Roger was standing by the bedroom, clutching the door with one hand. They stared.

"R-Roger… you woke up."

He nodded. "Um… I… sorry," he muttered. "I'm sorry." Then he disappeared back into his room and shut the door behind him.

TO BE CONTINUED!