Title: Less Than Ready
Summary: The end of the world as Roger knows it.
Note 1: This one actually takes place before Sunday Mornings and includes A Thousand Words, but it's still definitely the epilogue to this series. I don't know if you've noticed it, but every chapter makes at least one reference to another one. This one has lots of parallels to A Good Day, and to a few of the other stories/chapters as well.
Note 2: I forgot to post this earlier: Due to a reference to the Oklahoma City bombing that is evident in the musical (in Over the Moon, to be exact), the assumption I made is that the events of RENT take place from December 1995 to December 1996. Because of this time frame, this series caters more to the musical, though occasionally it incorporates movie elements.
Thanks: To everyone who reviewed. Namely, aenpaesum, em, TakeMeOrLeaveMe2010, Evangeline Daae, missxflawless, sundrynotes, Bound Dragon, LifeIsTooQuick, and of course, Korean Pearl.
He spends the first week fighting with her.
It starts when Mimi coughs. Roger's sitting on the couch, playing with strings on his guitar that are wound up just as tightly as he is. Mimi's in the kitchen, getting herself a glass of water. Mark and Collins are at their respective jobs, so the loft contains just Mimi, Roger, and the chasm between them.
It's not the first time Mimi's coughed. It's not even the second or third time. It's the five millionth time that she's coughed this afternoon, and the ten millionth time she's coughed this week. Roger's wanted to say something about it since the first time he heard one of the chest-rattling coughs, but every time he starts to speak Mimi cuts him off.
Not this time.
He sets down the guitar and stands, and Mimi sighs because they both know what he's going to say. It starts with "I think" and it ends with "hospital," but before Roger can get the words out Mimi is cutting him off again.
"No, Roger," She says, and puts her glass in the sink as if to say that's final. She should know by now that he's just as stubborn as she is.
She's looking to the side of him distractedly, as if there's something more interesting in the room that she'd rather focus on. When she does speak, it's with the monotony that comes with repeating the same declaration over and over. "I'm not going to the hospital. I don't want to spend the rest of my life lying in a bed. I want to live."
Roger feels like they're speaking two different languages. He gets up from the couch and tries not to scream in frustration. "That's why you need to go there!"
"People die in hospitals."
"And what you're doing here is so much better?" Roger replies hotly. Has she not looked into a mirror lately? Does she just not see the pallor of her skin? Has she not noticed the way that she has to lean on the metal table because she can't support her own weight? Have the coughing fits escaped her? "Forget it," He says, fuming. He climbs back onto the couch, picks up his guitar resolutely, and the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. "You would know all about ways to kill yourself, anyway."
It's the wrong thing to say, and he realizes it just a millisecond too late.
Mimi's voice sounds dangerous. "I told you that I was through with the smack."
Roger sets his guitar aside again, not nearly so gently this time, and rises once more to face her. "What do you want me to do? You're killing yourself, Mimi!"
She makes her way over to him slowly and angrily. "Oh, and you're making things so much better!"
"I'm trying to help!" And he is. He really is, no matter how much Mimi acts like he's nagging her.
"You're not!" She yells at him. Her throat is raw from all the coughing, so he's taken aback by the power in her voice. "Just let me do things my way!"
He's about to bellow back at her when something in him snaps. He sighs wearily, and in the silence Mimi throws him a suspicious look. He never gives up this easily. But right now he can't help it. He cares more about Mimi than about being the first one to slam the door and storm away.
"Go to the hospital," He says quietly. "Please." Roger has always depended on people for everything. Mimi's so independent that it hurts.
Mimi doesn't reply. She just sits down on the couch. And coughs, long and loudly and so much so that when it's over, she's gasping for breath and leaning on the cushion for support.
The next morning, she checks herself into the hospital.
He spends the second week not talking to her.
He takes a seat to the left of her bed. He gets there as soon as visiting hours begin and leaves even after they've passed. Every time Mimi falls asleep, he's the last thing she sees.
The others come and visit. Mark comes the first day, smiling a little lopsidedly and not carrying his camera. He apologizes for not bringing flowers, and Mimi rolls her eyes and tells him that she'd rather have him here anyway. Mark pats Roger on the shoulder and makes his way over to Mimi's other side. They talk a lot, and Roger wonders why it surprises him that Mark and Mimi are friends. He doesn't understand everything they talk about, and he tunes in and out, only pausing in time to catch small statements about French fries and other things that don't make sense to him.
Joanne comes during one of her lunch breaks, looking ticked off about her job, though the irritated expression melts away as soon as she steps through the door. She hands Roger a cup of coffee and gives Mimi a cup of hot chocolate, her favorite. She has nothing for herself, but says that her hands will be occupied anyway. When Mimi asks what she means, Joanne only grins and pulls out a vibrantly red shade of nail polish that makes Mimi nearly squeal. Joanne paints Mimi's fingernails and Mimi makes her talk about what's bothering her at work. Roger stares out the window, not liking the nail-painting parallel.
Collins comes over after class. He swings through the door with his characteristic smile on his face. He ruffles Roger's hair as he sits on the bed beside Mimi. He asks her if there are any books that she wants him to bring while she's here on vacation and she tells him that this isn't her typical sort of vacation, but anything he brings is fine. He tells her stories about kids in his class and the ridiculous things they've been writing on papers and assignments. Roger doesn't pay much attention, but when he does listen, he doesn't find the humor and fails to see why Mimi laughs so hard.
Maureen comes late, after Collins has left and when Mark and Joanne have returned. She comes bearing pictures that Mimi later props beside her on the table. After they admire the pictures, Maureen tells them about her adventure in getting them. Roger leaves after the pictures are shown, to get a dose of fresh air, and he returns in time to witness Maureen acting sillier than usual, hamming things up and being as egocentric as Roger has ever seen her. Mark makes dry, sarcastic remarks and Joanne scolds harmlessly, and finally Roger understands that everyone's trying their best to distract Mimi from her life, or what's left of it.
They all depart eventually, leaving Roger alone with Mimi in the room. Maureen and Joanne exchange glances over his head, and Mark sends him a worried look. Roger ignores them all.
Collins stops back in the next day, bringing a meal for Roger that he hadn't even thought to eat. While Mimi pulls faces at the hospital food, Collins pulls Roger out into the hallway and finally says what's been on everyone's mind.
"Stop sulking," he orders. "There's not enough time left for you to be mad at her."
"I'm not mad," Roger tells him, and he really isn't. In fact, he's surprised that Collins even thinks he is. Yes, he and Mimi had been fighting a lot the week before, but he thought everyone knew that Roger's brand of anger was revealed in a refusal to be around the person he was angry with, not a constant presence by the individual's side.
Collins looks confused. "Then why aren't you two," He points one finger at Roger and the other in Mimi's direction, "speaking?"
Roger shrugs and answers as honestly as possible. "I can't find anything to say."
Collins just looks at him, and Roger looks right back. Finally, Collins sighs. He doesn't say anything more to Roger, but he pops back into the room to tell Mimi good-bye and that he'll see her soon.
Mimi stirs in the bed, the sheets rustling against each other. The sun is setting, and the room is enveloped in fleeting rays of orange-pink sunlight that fall on Mimi's face.
Roger leans forward and reaches over to hold her hand. It feels weak and tired, but in the way that she squeezes back he can detect some of her undeniable Mimi determination. He loosens his grip and uses his other hand to trace the lines on her hand.
Lifelines, is what they're called.
He presses his palm to hers, and watches as their lifelines collide.
He spends the third week talking to her.
He's not sure exactly what it is that changes, but he has a feeling that it can be mostly summed up in the word desperation.
So he talks, and he talks more to her than he thinks he's ever spoken to anyone else in his life. He doesn't let go of her hand, and he only looks away from her eyes when the moment is too intense for him to bear.
The others are surprised. Mark raises his eyebrows when he walks into the room and sees Roger leaning on the bed, telling her about the time that he got suspended in school for continuing—not starting—a fight. When Maureen comes in and hears his voice she exclaims, "Holy…" and trails off at the sharp look that Joanne gives her. Collins just stands in the doorway, something close to comprehension dawning on his face.
Roger talks because he doesn't have time (because she doesn't have time), and he's suddenly found that there is much left to say. He talks about growing up in Jersey with a dad who was only his half of the time. He talks about his drug days with April, and about how he never really loved her, but he wouldn't have known that it not for Mimi. He talks about how he feels like he's never been able to make anything up to anyone, about how he's indebted to so many people. When he says this, Mark starts to speak up, about to tell him how that's not true, but Mimi silences him with a look.
He keeps talking, and he doesn't care that the others hear. He tells her that he never lost his faith, just misplaced it, and about how he's still sorry about the time he wasted in Santa Fe. He talks about the first time he played the guitar, and how about once in awhile he feels like playing the piano, even though he hated taking lessons as a kid.
He talks until his mouth hurts, ignoring the astonished expressions that the others have. He knows that Mark must be itching to film this. When he's telling Mimi about how she changed things in his life he sees Joanne get up and leave the room, looking like she's on the brink of tears. He doesn't focus on it, just sticks singularly to his task at hand.
His only encouragement is the understanding in Mimi's eyes when he talks continuously, the way she squeezes his hand after he chokes something out, the simple way she says, "Mm-hmm," and "I know, baby," in between her coughs. The room buzzes and beeps, Mimi moves subtly on the bed, and the sound of Roger's voice wards off the feeling of despair, at least temporarily.
The last week is Mimi's.
Roger knows the end is coming as soon as she opens her eyes. There's something weak in them, and Mimi's eyes have always revealed more than she would have liked. He wonders if the others can see it, and he doesn't know if he hopes that they can or that they can't.
She spends the first day of the week talking. Her voice is croaky and has lost its melodic twinge, but Roger still appreciates the sound of it. She speaks clearly as she talks about her weeks in New York. She talks about stripping and liking the feeling of the spotlight even while hating the job. She talks about Angel, about how she used to visit her apartment whenever she wanted and they would have so much fun together. She talks about her mother, who she says that she wants Roger to call, and about her deceased brother Carlos, and her younger sister, Isabella. She tells him about the first time she saw him, about how she knew that they would know each other someday.
Roger sits on the edge of his seat, soaking up every word that comes out of her mouth like it's an oasis in a desert. The others do the same, not even pretending to hide their curiosity. Collins sits in a chair on her other side and Mark pulls one up beside Roger. Maureen and Joanne lean against each other at the foot of the bed. All eyes are trained on Mimi, giving her the attention she's always had.
But when Roger takes a moment to look around at everyone's faces, he sees that this is more than just curiosity. There is respect in Joanne's face, and Mark is listening raptly, visibly engrossed. Maureen looks at Mimi with something akin to admiration, and Collins—yes, Collins understands.
Roger thinks that Mimi must be glad to see that there is no pity staring back at her.
The second day, Mimi doesn't speak at all; it hurts her throat too much. They can all see that things are drawing to a close. Mimi is getting weaker, and her hand feels limp in his. The beeping on the monitor by the bed is slower than it once was, and Roger feels number than he did before.
When the others arrive, they observe the silence of the room and immediately get it. Mark gives Roger a sideways look, but Roger stays seated with his head bowed. Mimi's voice is broken, so she can't talk, but Roger can't speak because his heart is breaking.
The others all size up the situation at the same time, but it's Maureen who acts first. She sits on the edge of Mimi's bed, by her foot, and says brightly, "I remember the first time I met you, Mimi. It was after my protest, remember?" She laughs as she begins to recall the memory. "I had no idea who you were, but I remember liking the coat you were wearing."
Mark catches on. "And we all met at The Life after that, this big group of us. And Benny was there, remember?" He snickers a little. "Maureen mooned him."
"Well, you can't really talk, Mark," Joanne joins in. "If I remember correctly, you were the one who started dancing on the tables."
And Collins laughs. "Please, girl. Like you weren't dancing by the end of the night."
Roger knows what they're doing, and he wishes he could find a way to let them know how grateful he is. He knows Mimi feels the same, because she squeezes his hand with as much strength as she can muster.
When he looks at her, he's surprised to find that there's water in her eyes. Mimi doesn't cry often.
The others pretend not to notice.
The rest of the day passes with Mark, Maureen, Joanne, and Collins trading stories and finishing each other's sentences. Joanne reprimands Maureen when she gets too bawdy, and Mark and Collins nudge each other as they remember stories from when they all lived back in the loft. They laugh a lot, Maureen even snorting once or twice, and Mimi and Roger even manage to crack smiles, Roger's much more feeble that Mimi's.
Mimi falls asleep in the evening and they all prepare to leave. Roger gets up and follows them out into the hallway, searching for words that can match up to his gratitude.
"I…" He starts, not sure what he's trying to say. Collins stops him before he can even try.
"It's nothing, man." He claps Roger on the back, and then Roger begins to see the worry that's been lurking at his eyes all day. "Just make sure she's ready to listen to more when we come back tomorrow, alright?"
Make sure she's still alive.
Roger nods even though he knows he can't guarantee that at all, and when Collins reaches over to hug him, he can't contain his tears. He feels stupid, standing in the hallway, clutching Collins and bawling like a baby, but he feels a hand on his shoulder and another rubbing his back and he can admit that it's comforting to know that the others are here to support him through this.
The only problem is that it's not really Roger who's going through it at all.
At night, when it's only the two of them in the room, Mimi wakes up. Roger starts; he's been watching her and is surprised to see the sudden flash of her eyes in the dimly-lit room.
"Roger," She whispers very insistently, and Roger can see that it's hurting her and he wants to tell her to stop, she doesn't need to say anything, but he knows it wouldn't deter her.
"I love you," is what she says. She settles back into the sheets and a small smile slips onto her face, and then she murmurs something.
Roger leans forward and hears that she's saying, "It's a good day."
He's so surprised and taken aback that he doesn't notice as Mimi falls back into sleep easily. She's fading, and yet she still has a spark of something in her.
When the night passes, he wonders if it was even real.
The last day, Mimi fights. She fights for every breath, for every rattled intake and outtake of air that her body will allow her to win. Doctors hover over her, speaking in medical jargon, and Roger stands at her side, scared and unsure of what to do.
This is Mimi at her best and at her worst. Pale, sweaty and clammy, hair rough and tangled, hooked up to machines. Those haunting brown eyes are closed, and she's struggling and the machines are beeping erratically. A nurse runs in, followed by another doctor, and they yell things that Roger still doesn't understand.
One of them turns to him and tells him that he needs to move out of the way just as Collins, Mark, Joanne, and Maureen come filing in, and before Roger can refuse or struggle, one of them has pulled him out of the room with them.
He's numb and terrified at the same time, and words fall from his lips that don't make sense: "Mimi—why—but what—she can't—"
"Shh," Maureen tells him, and he's leaning against the wall and she's stroking his face. "It's okay, Rog."
It's not; that much is obvious. He pulls away from her, a silent warning that none of them should touch him, not now, because he needs his Mimi.
And that's the truth, plain and simple: He needs Mimi. He's needed her since before he even met her, since before she tumbled into his life. She's kept him going, she's reminded him of reasons to live, and she's been the light of his life just by being who she is.
He's back at the doorway before anyone can stop him, and he sees that Mimi's been switched over to a different bed—does that mean she's going to the emergency room? But he notices that something's wrong. There's no beeping, and the doctors are pulling away with hopelessness on their faces, and Mimi's lying so still…
"Call her," a nurse says quietly, and looks at an old doctor who has a look on his face that says I've seen it all.
The doctor sighs. "Six forty-six."
Roger turns away from the doorway and into the horrified eyes of his friends. They're all shocked, he realizes. He also realizes with a sad certainty that he probably is, too.
At the end of the hallway, there's a window. And if Roger squints, he can see the sun rising, slow and certain. New York is continuing, oblivious to what happens inside the hospital. Outside someone is getting married, and someone else is being born, and another person is celebrating a birthday, and a couple is celebrating an anniversary.
And inside, Mimi is dead.
Mark reaches Roger first, and though his mouth moves, no words come out. But it's okay, Roger thinks. Or rather, it's not, but it will be.
Mimi was always a lot wiser than him. Even in the throes of sleep and halfway in the clutch of death, she understood more than him.
"Are…are you okay?" Mark asks gingerly, and then winces as if he knows it was a stupid question.
No, he's not. But he's known Mimi, and he's loved her. He'll grieve, and he's Roger, so he'll grieve for a long time. But he's known and loved Mimi, and that has to count for something.
So before everything falls apart, before it takes the combined efforts of Mark and Collins and Maureen and Joanne to prop him up and to keep him from running away from everything, Roger decides to make a last grab for hope. Even if he doesn't believe it, even if he's less than ready for it, he thinks that somewhere, Mimi will be smiling. Or laughing at him. Or fighting, or talking, or not talking, but at least living. And if he focuses on what she's doing in that place, he doesn't have to think about what she's doing in this place.
"Yeah," He tells Mark, and Mark is shocked and also very good at hiding it. Roger nearly laughs, because he knows if that surprised Mark, then this final tribute to Mimi, to her uncanny ability to find something she loved in everything, might just knock him off his feet. Hell, it might just knock Roger off his, too, because he's smiling and about to start crying as soon as he says it. "It's gonna be a good day."