To Be

DISCLAIMER: I do not own RENT or anything affiliated with it.

Mark looked around quickly as he stepped out of his room, hoping that Roger wouldn't be around. Since he wasn't, Mark hurried across the room, wrapped his scarf around his neck, grabbed his camera and headed for the door. It wasn't until he was safely out of the loft and down a couple of flights that he realized he had been holding his breath the entire time. He walked outside into the cool air of early spring and sighed. Roger had been somewhat obsessive about Mark's health lately. Mark suspected it had something to do with the fact that Roger had no control over his own health.

Mark crossed the street quickly and walked into the Life Café, where Maureen was waiting for him. He walked to the back and slid into the booth across from her. "What's up, Mark?" she asked.

"I had to get out of that apartment. Roger's driving me insane," Mark replied.

"He's just worried about you. You don't look like you're getting better," she pointed out. Mark sighed and stared down at the table. "When are you going back to the doctor?"

"Which one?" Mark asked. "I have an appointment on the sixteenth. More blood work. They keep checking to see if the cancer's come back… it really freaks me out," he told her. Maureen took his hand in her own.

"I'm sure it will all be okay," she assured him.

"When have I heard that before?" he asked.

"You've got to stop worrying so much, Mark. You're going to give yourself an ulcer. And that's the last thing you need right now," she reminded him. He just nodded and sighed. "We should order. You need to eat something."

"I'm not really hungry. I had some Cap'n Crunch back at the loft," he said.

"You need more than a bowl of stale cereal, Mark."

"I didn't bring any money," he muttered.

"So then I'll pay. But you're going to eat," she told him. He just rolled his eyes and smiled.

"Thanks, Maureen."

LINELINELINELINE

"Hey," Mark said, opening the door and walking into the loft.

"Hey. Where were you?" Roger asked.

"I went to the Life to meet Maureen."

"Did you take…?"

"Yeah, I did. Don't worry so much, Roger. You'll give yourself an ulcer. Leave the worrying to me," Mark said, smiling.

"You're happy. Long time since I've seen you like that after talking to Maureen," Roger told him. Mark took off his scarf and threw it across a chair, then placed his camera down on a table near the door where he wouldn't forget it.

"Yeah. She's not as bad as she used to be."

"She got scared when you got sick. It changed her," Roger said.

"It changed everyone, I guess," Mark replied.

"We weren't exactly expecting to get so close to losing you. You're the one who's supposed to survive, remember?"

"Don't remind me." Mark walked over towards the kitchen cabinet and looked down at the two pill bottles lined up on the counter. The bottle of antibiotics had long since been finished off. He picked up the bottle of Prozac and looked quickly at the contents, mentally calculating how many more days he could go before he would need more. "We have any money left from last month?"

"Maybe a hundred dollars. Why?" Roger asked.

"Prozac's getting low. How are you on AZT?" Mark asked him.

"I've got plenty. I just refilled it two weeks ago," Roger replied. Mark nodded and turned around.

"What are we going to do about next month?"

"What do you mean?" Roger asked.

"The checks aren't going to keep coming forever, Roger. The movies aren't going to make money indefinitely."

"Yeah. But we can make it for a while still," Roger replied. "I'll find something. Don't worry so much, Mark."

"That's easy for you to say."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Roger asked.

"Let it mean whatever you want it to mean."

LINELINELINELINE

"I can't take this much longer," Mark said. He was talking to Collins from the payphone across the street from the Loft.

"Mark, you've got to calm down," Collins said. He'd moved back closer to the school once Mark was better. "What's going on over there?"

"I can't fucking control myself, Collins. It's like every nasty comment I've ever wanted to make is coming back. And I can't stop myself from saying them," Mark told him.

"Has Roger said anything to you about it?" Collins asked.

"No. I think he's probably trying to figure out how to approach it so he won't make me angry with him," Mark admitted. "I really don't mean to say this shit, it just slips out."

"Has the Prozac been helping any?" Collins asked.

"Yeah, I guess. I'm almost out," Mark admitted.

"Maybe you should lay off of the stuff for a while. You don't act like yourself on it," Collins told him.

"Maybe so. I don't know," Mark replied. The phone beeped indicating that his money had run out. "I've got to go, Collins. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye man." The two hung up and Mark made his way back across the street towards the loft. He climbed up the five floors quickly, only managing to earn himself a few minutes of wheezing.

"You okay, Mark?" Roger asked, coming out of his room at the sound.

"Yeah. Walked too fast," Mark replied. He sat down on the couch and waited until he could breathe more normally. "I guess I should know better by now, huh?"

"Yeah, guess so," Roger replied. He walked over to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. "Want anything while I'm up?"

"No, I'm good," Mark replied. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch.

"Tired?"

"Yeah. But I can't go to sleep – doctor's appointment," Mark replied.

"Blood work again?"

"Yeah. Got to keep an eye on it so it doesn't have a chance to get bad if it comes back."

"You really think it will?" Roger asked.

"I don't know, Rog. All I know is that if it does, it's going to be up to Maureen and Joanne to survive and live for all of us," Mark told him.

"What?" Roger asked.

"The bone marrow transplant was a last resort, Roger," Mark told him. "If it comes back, there's nothing they can do."