Mimi
He's awoken by an incessant pounding on his door. He goes from asleep to dozing to sleepy to semi-conscious to fully awake in approximately point-five seconds.
"Mark! Dammit! Wake up, Mark!"
"I'm awake!" Mark fumbles for his glasses while jumping out of bed. He gets them on his face just in time to pull open his bedroom door. On the other side stands Roger, screaming and swearing.
As soon as the door is open, Roger launches himself at Mark. Mark stumbles back a step before steadying himself and grabbing Roger by the shoulders. "What is it?" he asks, oddly calm. "What's wrong?"
Roger's eyes shine in the darkness. "Mimi," he sobs and collapses onto Mark's bed.
Mark reaches down, touches Roger's hair, and quickly whispers something reassuring. Then he sprints to the other bedroom and over to Roger's bed. He leans over Mimi's still form. It's next to impossible to see her face in the darkness.
"Mimi?"
No answer. He reaches out and lays two fingers against her cold, damp neck. Her heartbeat is faint but there. He tilts his head and puts his ear near her mouth and nose. Her breath comes at irregular intervals, and it tickles slightly. Suddenly Mark feels a hand touch his face. "Roger?" Mimi's voice is little more than an exhalation of breath.
And—just like that—Mark's split in two, with one part watching himself from above again. It's funny how things always seem more surreal in the dead of night. Mark, the one still below, takes Mimi's hand from his face and kisses her fingertips lightly. "Hang on, Mimi," he tells her. Practically commands her. "I'll be right back."
As he's rushing away, he hears her call out "Roger?" again.
Mark finds Roger curled into a fetal position on Mark's bed, still sobbing, still barely this side of hysterical. For just a second, Mark feels himself wobble. His vision goes blurry, and he feels almost as though he'll pass out. He closes his eyes tightly and forces the feeling back down. Opening his eyes again, he grabs Roger around the shoulders and pulls the other man to an upright position on the bed. Roger blinks at him, confused.
"Mimi's alive," Mark says, giving Roger a little shake. He doesn't add that she won't be for much longer. "And Mimi needs you."
Still blinking, Roger nods. Mark smiles encouragingly. Then he takes Roger by the hand and half-drags and half-carries Roger back to the bedroom where Mimi lays dying in bed. The musician pauses in the doorway, and Mark has to push Roger to get him inside the room.
"Go hold her," he says firmly, almost harshly. The Mark that is floating above everything chuckles. Where did this stern voice come from? This isn't like Mark at all.
Roger takes a step towards the bed then whirls back around, eyes wide. "An ambulance!" he mutters. "I forgot to—shit!"
"It's okay. I'll call. Go."
"Shit, shit, shit!" Roger repeats in a near-scream. Oh, crap, thinks Mark. Roger's now on the wrong side of hysterical.
Mark grabs Roger's face in both hands, and Roger struggles weakly against his hold. Mark stares into Roger's whirling green eyes, trying to convey calmness and strength, trying to will Roger into obedience. Roger stops struggling.
"Go. See. Mimi." And Mark shoves Roger further into the room.
Roger stumbles backward, falls onto the bed. Slowly he rolls over onto his belly and crawls up beside Mimi. He scoops her into his arms and whispers into her hair, words so low and soft that Mark can't hear them because Mark's already gone for the telephone in the living room.
When the dispatcher tells him the ambulance will arrive soon, Mark says, "Okay." And only then does Mark let out the breath he's been holding, close his eyes, and collapse to the floor in a shaking heap.
---
Author's Notes: Thank you very much for those who have reviewed. I hope you continue to enjoy this story. Though the theme is pretty well set by now—Mark's dealings with death—I will be trying to keep things from getting repetitive or boring. After all, I think how Mark deals with death would very much depend on whose death he's dealing with. Suggestions and comments are always welcome.