I'm very sorry about the long wait. I had a minor mental break and had to be hospitalized for 5 days (not a very pleasant experience. the nurses treat you like children, you get sleeping pills at night and ativan when you're visibly upset, whether you want them or not, the group sessions are reminiscent of health classes on depression and drug use, they try to make you go to AA whether or not you're an alcoholic, the food sucks, and they don't let you smoke cigarettes...which is cruel and unusual to do to a room of depressed people! ...But I'm alive, so I guess it was a good thing, in the end). That was in November, and since, I've been getting my life back under control... or attempting to. Oh, and Christmas, of course...very busy time.

Merry (late) Christmas, everyone! I hope your holidays are going well!

This chapter is full of many conversations...but its pretty important. Next chapter is huge...I'll try to update much faster, this time around.

I do not own RENT...Please, no sue: *my* rent is due and I don't even have enough to pay that

Dealing with the Man and Names

Reye was twisting her fingers in her hair and popping her gum. Both signs she was nervous, and to see them combined was never a good thing. Mark took a breath and watched her. Maybe I was out of line for asking if we could shoot up again...I mean, we did just do it two days ago...

Finally, she broke the silence. "This is really hard to explain without sounding rude, so I apologize in advance, Mark." She took a breath and twisted her curls around her fingers and probably got some tangled in her rings. "Ya see...heroin is expensive, and it wasn't a big deal before, when you just did some here and there...but lately, we've been doing it more often and...well..."

Mark sighed in relief. "Reye, if you want me to start putting money in, I'm okay with that." He chuckled at the look on her face. "Jeez, its not that big a deal. I mean, it makes sense. In fact, I'm sorry I haven't offered before now." She continued to stare at him and he just started laughing.

"Don't you laugh at me, Mark Cohen!" she sulked. "I was all nervous about this all day! I thought you'd think I was being so rude. I mean, I hate asking for money, especially from friends."

He smiled, leaning over and giving her a half-hug. "Don't worry about it. From now on, I'll pay for my share of it, you won't even have to ask."

She grinned. "Yeah, okay! And, if you want, I can hook ya up with our dealer so like, if we're not around and you feel like relaxing, you don't have to worry about that."

Mark frowned slightly. "I dunno about all that..."

"Oh, he's not so bad. Doesn't talk much, doesn't hassle you. He operates mainly through contacts. And his stuff is always clean. Not a bad guy at all. His name is Alex, and he's over by that old theatre on A from sundown to sun-up. I'll take ya there sometime."

"Yeah, maybe..." Mark hesitated. He wasn't sure about getting involved with an actual dealer, even if Reye thought he wasn't so bad... What does that even mean, 'not so bad' for a dealer? After all, he wasn't even all that serious with this stuff anyways.

"Well, we'll go see him tomorrow...just in case. Cause he's not gonna sell to ya unless one of his customers introduces you. He's really careful, ya know, won't even talk to a new person on their own. ...And its really not a good idea to get H off some random dealer. One time, Shauna had to go to the ER because the bastard she bought from had cut the heroin with a bunch of arsenic and shit."

"Well...okay.

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Mark didn't see the man right away. He was standing in the entrance of a little alley beside the old Aztec theater, smoking.

Reye walked straight up to him, no nerves, no fear. "Hey, Alex. How's the wife doin'?" He shrugged, hands in his pockets. Reye smiled and gestured to Mark. "Alex, this is my friend, Sweettooth."

The man nodded at him and Mark just dumbly smiled back.

"Well, see you later." Reye said, shaking his hand before turning and walking away with Mark in tow.

"You're right, he is quiet." he remarked with a laugh.

She grinned. "Yeah, he doesn't have much he has to say...not a conversation guy." She smirked again. "But anyways, he knows you now so he'll sell to you. He's really good with faces."

"Did you actually get some? I didn't see you make an exchange."

She grinned. "I did when I shook his hand. And he doesn't actually have a wife...well, he might, but I wouldn't actually know. Its a code he worked up. Mentioning his wife gets you a certain amount, his kid another, his mother another, so on, so on, so on. I'll teach ya all that later."

Mark laughed. "Pretty advanced covert action he's got going there."

"Yeah. He's super careful that way. Most dealers aren't like that...but then again, most dealers get caught at some point. Alex never has."

"Still, he should be careful. Even the most careful guy can run out of luck at some point." Mark pointed out.

"V. true, v. true. That's one of the reasons I never got into it. Alex offered me a job a few months back, nothing professional just dealing a bit to people I know in order to pick up a few extra bucks. But I decided against it...I mean, the offer is always open...but to be perfectly honest, I might not be the right type for a dealer anyways. I'm too trusting and I don't like asking for money...and I'd always want to give my friends discounts...Plus I barely have a working knowledge of the metric system..."

Mark laughed. "Yeah, that about sums up the traits of the worst dealer on Earth."

She pouted before laughing as well. "Yeah, true... I think I'm just destined to be a barista...which means I'm probably destined to work at Trubbel forever...I mean, I know we're doing okay for a basement business, but I don't really think this whole coffee shop thing is going to catch on. How many different types of flavored coffee could people like?"

"True...Did you ever tell your boss about that frozen coffee idea? The blender thingy?"

Reye popped her gum and shrugged. "Yeah...but he thought it was dumb. Said that cold coffee probably wouldn't be a big seller. Oh well...we're too small of an operation to be taking risks anyways...most of our money comes from the illegal shit he does through the store, laundering money and shit like that."

Mark laughed. "I always kinda wondered how you stayed in business considering almost everyone there has an unpaid tab."

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They went back to the apartment and talked until Marshall got home. On Reye's advice, Mark didn't mention meeting Alex to Marshall. They decided to go out to see a local performance: a modernized play version of Oliver Twist.

"So, what did you think?" Marshall asked, sliding an arm around Mark's waist as they walked.

"It was...interesting. And different..."

"It was like having my mind raped! And I can't decide if I enjoyed the experience or not." Reye cut in.

They both shot her a dirty look. "It was not like having your mind raped."

"Yeah, I've had my mind raped and this wasn't it...more like a mental...molestation." Mark interrupted, laughing.

"Yeah! If you want your mind raped, watch Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer." Marshall said.

"True! Or...A Clockwork Orange, that'll rape it nice and hard."

"Mark! You are such a freak!" Reye exclaimed, shoving him playfully.

"I thought that was one of your favorite movies?" Marshall asked, appearing confused.

Mark shrugged. "I never said it was a favorite...And I said it rapes your mind, I didn't say whether I liked that or not...I do...honestly, I have no clue why I like Clockwork Orange... Except that watching horror flicks from a young age has probably made me rather twisted. But Henry was way too much for me, I barely got through that one."

They agreed with a laugh. "You guys are right...That play was a bit fucked, but not that disturbing...not quite mind-rape level...I still can't decide if I liked it or not, though." Reye said thoughtfully.

"Well...it was really different. And it left me with a bit of a chill...I think I liked it." Mark decided.

Marshall laughed. "Yeah...Let's grab some take-out tonight, I feel like...Indian."

"Good idea!" Reye chirped as she began to bounce around the pair. Throwing her arms around Marshall's neck she declared, "I want a piggy back ride!"

Marshall laughed, pushing her off. "No way! Do you realize how short your skirt is, cochina?"

"Oh, I don't care if anyone sees my nalgas...What's the point of buying cute underwear if no one sees it?"

"Cochina!" Marshall muttered again, shaking his head.

Mark laughed. Reye walked up beside him. "They're mint green with cupcakes on them." she stage-whispered.

"Reye! Mark doesn't want to know what your panties looks like." Marshall scolded.

Reye grinned. "Marshall's wearing red speedos." she's declared.

Marshall turned red, letting go of Mark in order to chase after Reye. "I am not!"

"Maybe not, but that's something Mark probably does want to know. Right, Mark?"

Mark blushed, keeping quiet.

"He was walking around in his boxers this morning...I could tell you, but maybe he'd rather show you." She teased.

"Reye! Knock it off. You're too interested in my life for it to be healthy." Marshall snapped, no longer amused.

"Hey, I'm trying to help."

"Reye Alicia Valdez, you freaking act your age." Marshall snapped.

"Marcel Adriano Romero, you stop overreacting. Mark knows I'm just joking around, right Sweettooth?"

Mark shrugged. "Uh, yeah...its cool, Marsh...Um...didn't someone mention Indian food?" he said, switching the subject.

"Yeah...let's go." Marshall smiled, annoyance forgotten.

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"So...your real name is Marcel?" Mark asked with a teasing smile as he looked up at Marshall.

Marshall shrugged, carding his fingers through Mark's hair. "Yeah, Marcel Adriano, but no one's called me that since I was eight. I went to an elementary school where it was mostly white students, and after I started getting teased for my name a teacher suggested I let people call me Marshall, since they sound similar...plus, for some reason teachers always had trouble pronouncing Marcel for the first few weeks...Reye's always given me shit for it. She thinks I'm trying to hide my ethnicity or something... pretend that I'm white."

Mark frowned. "But you don't...I mean, I hear you guys speak Spanish sometimes, and Reye's a pretty white name." He defended.

Marshall chuckled, leaning down to kiss Mark shortly. "Thanks, babes, but...I have to be honest, she does have a point sometimes. I mean, Reye is her real name. She's mentioned that she sometimes wishes she'd have had a traditional Mexican name, but she's too attached to Reye to change it. And I never actually spoke Spanish until Reye came along, I mean...I could, but if I didn't have to, I didn't. And all the slang we use is Chicano slang, stuff I picked up from her and Lillia...

"Its-its really hard to explain. I mean, I've always been proud of my heritage, being Argentinean...but my family doesn't like to identify as Latino or Hispanic. They consider themselves almost European...and I grew up being called Moreno and wishing I was lighter because I'm the darkest of my family, and I came to New York in seventh grade and found out that I'm light-skinned!" he laughed. "That's why Reye and I don't see eye to eye on some things...we're both Latino, but we grew up really different. I wanted to be lighter, she still wants to be darker, I had to be re-trained to speak Spanish casually, she always has, I never thought about race issues until recently and she has posters of Guevara, Chavez, and Malcolm X. Hell, I used to mark 'Caucasian' on my standardized tests in school." he laughed again and shrugged. "Like I said, its hard to explain."

Mark nodded. "So...what's your family like? You don't usually bring them up."

"Well, babes...they're difficult... I still keep in touch with my younger sister, Lucy (her real name is Lucia, by the way) and my grandmother. My parents and younger brother refuse to speak to me until I 'give up this perverse lifestyle', as they put it. Its been seven years, now. My brother is going to college in a year, I'm going to try to contact him then...maybe being away from our parents will change his mind about me...At least, I hope.

"My other sister, Natalia, is twenty-two and graduates from the University of Michigan this Spring. She hasn't spoken to me in five years, but not because of the way I live...we had a fight because I knew Lucy was going to drop out of college and I refused to talk her out of it...it was her own decision to make. But Lucy ended up working as a cashier and getting pregnant before marriage, and Natalie's never forgiven me for it.

"I don't see the big deal, she married the guy a year later and she's perfectly happy with her life. Has another kid, too. Just because I'm the oldest, Natalie always wanted me to fix everything...but I'm just not that type of person."

Mark nodded, kissing Marshall's collar bone in sympathy. "Maybe you're doing it the right way, Marsh. You can't always prevent other people's mistakes, and if you try and they still fail...it can be really hard to deal with. I've always tried too hard to fix everyone around me, and look where its gotten me."

Marshall leaned down and kissed his brow. "Yeah, right in my arms...we both did something right."

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Mark tapped the side of the syringe, pushing the air bubbles to the top like Reye had showed him. For having a job! He calls me a mooch for months and now he's pissed at me for having a job! The makeshift tourniquet snapped off and he clumsily retied it, pulling hard with his teeth. Fucking asshole...Why was he even in my room anyways? And of course he'd find the pay stub and confront me. He tapped the vein in his forearm. How dare he think that I don't contribute! I've been spending my own money on groceries and bills since my first paycheck...maybe not my whole paychecks, but a lot. He grimaced as he slid the needle into the vein slowly. I swear, sometimes its like he does nothing all day but think of reasons to pick fights with me. He pushed the plunger down and watched as liquid H and his own blood flowed into his vein. Whatever, let him throw his little fit...I'll get over it.

Untying the tourniquet and tossing the syringe aside, he collapsed on his bed, in bliss.

Thank god Reye sold me a stash to take home...

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The next chapter is...about half done. The only part *not* done is a scene that...I've been putting off writing for a while, because I've never written anything like that before... read a lot of it, but never written any...wish me luck.

PS: I thought it was about time we got to know more about Marshall, which is the purpose of some of the conversations. I also thought it was about time I resolved the fact that 1: coffee shops didn't exist till like two years after this time line, 2: Trubbel Cafe stays in business despite the fact that it only seems to have three employees and Reye never seems to actually *sell* any coffee, just give it away on "tabs". I also decided that it was about time Mark's heroin use wasn't 100% dependent on Reye, Tyler and Marshall (Marcel lol...sorry, I'm Latina and I sometimes have to throw in some stuff because of that). So...those problems are now solved...I'm rather proud of myself, hahaha.

PSS: I based their opinions of the Oliver Twist play on a movie I once saw called Twist. Its about Dodger, who is a heroin-addicted rentboy, and Oliver, a teenage runaway who Dodger recruits to his lifestyle. It is loosely based off Oliver Twist, in that there are parallels in story sequence and characters. Its a very good, very dark and very intense film that didn't quite rape my mind, but left it slightly altered. I recommend to those who are not faint of heart.

PSSS: The next chapter will include things that are going to force me to up the rating to M, so keep that in mind if you search for this story again.

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For those readers who have stayed with me throughout my little hiatuses and long months of no updates, I really appreciate it! To show my love for you, here are some more teasers for future chapters:

(Now, these aren't as vague as the ones before, so there may be some *Spoilers* if you think about the teasers long enough...if you don't want to spoil the story, just don't analyze them that much:).

Remember, these are just little pieces from what I already have written for future chapters. I've also cut and paste the teasers that I put up before that haven't shown up in the story yet, in case any of you forgot those.

Remember, if there's an ellipsis (...) it may be written that way, or it may be because I cut something out of the sentence that I thought was TOO revealing. Also, these are randomly ordered. In one scene, I replaced the character's name with NAME. I felt the teaser was more powerful this way, although it does read a little awkwardly :P)

Enjoy!

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"NAME! NAME please, please let me out! Please, NAME!" Mark shouted as he pounded on the door, every so often seizing the knob and turning it uselessly. NAME had put something against the door and it wasn't budging an inch. "Let me out! Goddamnit, please! NAME! NAME, let me out! You can't keep me in here! Please, let me out!"

He didn't hear anything from the other side for a long time, and then he heard the sound of NAME's junky radio blasting, to drown out his voice.

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He couldn't believe he had yelled at Roger that way…screamed at him even. He had never done that before, not really. Part of him felt something at that, like guilt almost. Then he smiled, on the other hand, it had felt good, yelling like that. Roger didn't give a fuck about him, anyways.

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It was possible that Mark was going to say more, but he was cut off by a sudden punch to his face, his body knocked down to the floor. For a moment, complete silence fell about the room as Mark and Roger just stared at each other.

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"Can you knock off the whole trying to 'save me' bit? It is really getting annoying..."...

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He suddenly stopped at the sound of ... The air caught in his chest at the sight of Roger standing next to his dresser, his arm still up and eyes wide, gazing at the broken ... at his feet as if even he couldn't believe what he'd done.

"Oh fuck...Mark, I'm-"

But Mark was already on his feet, pushing past Roger as he went down on his knees to gather the broken pieces...

Roger stared at him, at a loss. "Mark...please, I'm sorry-"

"Get out." Mark said quietly.

"Mark, I-"

"I said, get out!" Mark shouted, getting to his feet. "Get the fuck out! I fucking hate you, just leave!"

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After a couple blocks he found himself unable to run anymore, suddenly hit with a wave of body pain and nausea that was so strong that he has just enough time to stagger into an alley before he retched. ...He coughed and continued to gag, dry heaving painfully for a few minutes...he simply shifted slightly to the side, collapsing on the dirty ground beside his puddle of vomit, gasping for air.

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Mark woke up to the sound of his projector running. It was in the other room, but Mark had almost like a sixth sense for his equipment. Quietly slipping out of bed, he slowly and silently crept over to the doorway. A hot flash ran through his body at the sight of what Roger was watching.

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After this point are the teasers that I had given you before, minus the ones that I've already used in chapters.

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Mark opened his eyes, wincing at the bright light. He heard voices, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. Then the voices got louder and one of them was shouting…and then two of them. And then a new voice came in and then it got quiet. Groaning, he threw an arm over his eyes, only to feel something tug at his skin. ...
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He stumbled in, and nearly fell into Roger. He looked up at him, noting that Roger did not look happy.

"Where the hell have you been? Its five in the fucking morning and you didn't even come home last night!" Roger demanded.

Mark stared at him, irritated. "Where the hell have you been, Roger?"

"How the fuck does that make any goddamn-"

"And since when have you cared where I go?" he snapped, interrupting him.

Roger started yelling something, and then stopped, taking a step closer to Mark as he started looking him up and down... Suddenly, Roger's eyes went wide...
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Roger looked the filmmaker up and down. Mark was wearing brown corduroys and a green sweater. His scarf was missing, revealing numerous hickeys on his neck and leading down under his sweater. His eyes were half closed. His lips were dark and bruised.

Roger frowned deeper. Mark hated hickeys, always had, yet he kept coming home with more and more. He remembered how upset he had been after the one time Maureen had given him a hickey. He actually stood up to her about it and complained about it to Roger long after the actual hickey went away.
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Roger watched the door shut before walking over to the couch and collapsing on it. He braced his elbows on his knees, holding his face in his hands. For the first time he forced himself to see the truth: he had lost Mark.
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Please review.

Much Love and Happy New Year: Di