rent: we're all mad here
title: we're all mad here
fandom: rent
rating/words: pg-13/~1,000
warnings: OC death (as per the challenge prompt)
notes: winner of RDV's 1000 words or less challenge: october
summary: Isn't it funny, he muses to himself, that the things he wants to forget are the very things that he will always remember?
VI.
Thankfully, he remembers and yet, at the same time, he prays every night that he can forget. He prays even though he's not sure if he believes in God anymore. He needs to forget the way she looked and the way she laughed and how her hair smelled when he hugged her and where the blotches on her face showed up when she cried.
Isn't it funny, he muses to himself, that the things he wants to forget are the very things that he will always remember?
But, time works in odd ways. He knows that the day will come when all he can remember is that her name was Kate and she was fifteen years old.
V.
It's a Thursday and he finds it sort of unfair that Roger made him stay out so late because he has work tomorrow and if he's late again, Mr. Barker's going to have his ass kicked.
Rolling open the door, he walks in and there she is.
She's lying on the floor, her eyes fixed blankly at the ceiling. In one hand is her worn out copy of "Alice in Wonderland" and in the other is a pill bottle, some of the pills spilling onto the floor.
He just stands there, staring. Because this isn't happening. This can't happen because she's Kate and that's the only explanation any one should ever need.
His legs buckle and he sinks to his knees.
IV.
Kate believes in time travel.
She tells him this as she lies in bed, her skin ashen, clutching "Alice in Wonderland" for dear life and he warns her that if she holds it any tighter, she's going to rip the goddamn thing in half and then what?
It's possible, she insists, time travel. With the right amount of drugs and persistence, it would work. That's why she thinks that Roger did drugs. He has things that he wanted to erase.
Something tells him that Kate has things she wants to erase too, but he doesn't mention it. He just asks what pill she needs this time and she shrugs.
He can't remember them all anymore. Can't remember which one makes it sunny and which one makes it rain or which one make her happy and which one gives her pain or which one makes her fade away and which one makes her glow or which one makes her shorter and which one makes her grow.
And, frankly, he doesn't care. But that little voice in the back of his head tells him to figure out which goddamn pill she needs because as long as there's still something left in her to be fighting for, he'll have to pull through.
III.
Sometimes he can't believe how happy she is.
Fifteen, a runaway, infected with HIV. But still, she is able to dance, giggle and smile.
He should be concerned because anyone who has a life like hers has no reason to be acting happy. It's possible that she's smoking something, he briefly considers. For his sake more than hers, he lets it go.
Her cheeriness is infectious and that, combined with Angel's bubbliness, made for some good entertainment. The group of friends were all terrible parental figures and he could only imagine the stuff that Kate could be getting away with behind their backs.
Again, this should be bothering him. He has to remind himself that she's tough and can take care of herself. He knows she can.
II.
It surprises him that he never saw this coming.
Usually he was good as predicting people's secrets, but this … this was totally unexpected.
One minute she's getting up from the couch, saying that she has to go to the bathroom. The next minute he spies her jamming a pill into her mouth.
He barged in, demanding to know what it was. She raised an eyebrow at him before handing over the bottle.
The prescription read "Zidovudine" and it takes a minute for his brain to register that Zidovudine is smart talk for AZT.
Kate's sick. Kate has HIV. He looks at her in shock and concern, and she shrugs, her response easy.
"I thought you knew."
I.
It's a Thursday and he's damn tired.
He meets Roger at the corner and they begin the walk home. Roger tells him about what's been happening. He wrote more of his song, Joanne and Maureen aren't speaking to each other again, but he and Mimi are getting along famously.
With a clatter and the steely crash of trashcans, someone comes tumbling out of an alleyway ahead of them. Exchanging a glance, they run up to the figure.
Surprisingly, it's a girl. A young girl at that, with black hair and wide green eyes .She blinks up at them, once, twice, before speaking.
"Hello," she says, propping herself up on her hands. "I'm Kate. I'm fifteen years old."
VII.
And now nothing's left of her except a copy of "Alice in Wonderland" and a memory.
He sits on the couch holding the tattered novel between his hands. The book is worn and yellowing, the cover ripped and faded. He is afraid. Afraid that if he doesn't open this book, all traces of Kate will be gone from the loft forever and afraid that if he does open the book, it'll be like Pandora's box. All of her memory will escape and simply fall through his fingers like sand if he tries to grasp them.
Hands shaking, he flips to the title page. Then, with growing intensity, he begins to skim, reading the silly notes that Kate had written in the margins, the tops and bottoms of the pages.
Turning a page, he notices that she highlighted a certain section of dialogue. Reading it over, he finds himself smiling.
'Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat: 'we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.'
'How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice.
'You must be,' said the Cat, 'or you wouldn't have come here.'
He couldn't have said it better himself.