RENT: Looking for More (20/?)
Author: Jen (jennamajig)
Feedback: Adored
Pairing: Roger/Mimi, Maureen/Joanne, a little Mark/OC, but a Mark centric fic.
Word Count: 2,000ish
Rating: PG-13/T
Genre: General.
Summary: Mark reaches a pinnacle in his life and makes an interesting decision. Set Post-Rent.
Notes: Written for challenge #44 on speed_rent, now expanded. Comments are always appreciated and treasured.
Disclaimer: Rent is not mine, I am simply borrowing.
A/N: For anyone that remembers this story, a long overdue update! You can find the latest chapter here at ff.net (along with the rest of the story for those new to it).
Before he knew it, he and Kara made a habit of seeing movies together in some of the precious hours they had in between shifts. Some good, some so awful they would throw popcorn at the screen. One so boring, they'd ignored it and made out in the back row of the theater like a pair of horny teenagers.
In fact, if it weren't for Kara's expanding belly, this would have been a typical relationship. It had the comfort of a new, yet connected relationship. That was something he hadn't had since Maureen, he realized. He had his friends, and loved each and every one of them, but this was different. It fulfilled something else, something he didn't realize how much he missed or needed.
He couldn't help smiling as he dragged tape across one of Mimi's boxes. She teased him gently as they loaded as much as they could into the back of one of the in-town U-Haul rental trucks.
"Do you like her?" Mimi asked him.
"Of course I like her," he answered. "But what kind of question is that? I like a lot of people."
"Not enough to grin like an idiot," Roger piped in as he hoisted another box into the back. "Last box. It could work out, you know."
"Or it could not." He leaned against the truck. "We go to the movies."
"And are three months away from having something that will share your genes," Roger shot back. "I like her."
Mark was surprised to hear that. Not that he thought Roger wouldn't like Kara, but that he hadn't really spent any time with her. Maureen's constant prodding had lead to a couple of awkward meetings at the loft when Kara had spent the night. Mark supposed that apart from that, Roger and Kara might have crossed paths on the way to the bathroom or something. Kara and Mimi shared the common bond of pregnancy, but honestly, he and Kara didn't even talk about the baby much. It was the elephant in the room of sorts. They were content to date. And if Mark only thought about that, it was easy to smile.
"Thanks. I think," he told Roger and watched Roger pull down the door to the truck. "This is it, right?"
"It's only Brooklyn."
"It's not the loft."
"It will have heat."
"Then it definitely isn't the loft."
Roger shook his head. "I guess it marks the end and the beginning."
"Poetic words, Davis. Going to work those into a song?" he teased.
Roger shrugged. "That kinda shit sells like crazy these days. Could make a lot of money. Money that could help my kid."
"You're growing up, Roger."
"Nah," Roger said. "Just moving on. It's not Santa Fe."
"No, it's not. It's Brooklyn."
Roger laughed. "Man, it will be weird. I have a feeling the next couple of months will be weird."
Mark didn't realize how true Roger words would be.
--
It happened so fast, by the time anyone could take a breath, life had completely changed.
Mark stared at the incubator, wishing that anything but this was happening. But it was. She was so damn small. Nothing that small could survive. Nothing that small was ever *meant* to survive.
"Fuck, Mark. What are we supposed to do? What the hell am *I* supposed to do?"
Roger sat in a chair, hand touching the plastic. It was the closest he or Mimi had come to touching their child since birth. And it was quite possibly the most defeated Mark had ever seen Roger look.
Roger had been through a lot. Hell, they all had really. Being a junkie or being the one helping said junkie get clean were two not-so-great parts to play. And finding April
Things were never supposed to end up this way.
Roger and Mimi hadn't even lived in Brooklyn a month when Mark had gotten a frantic phone call from Roger saying Mimi was having contractions. She was only seven months along and was panicking, dragging Roger along for the ride, but Mark hadn't been worried. Early contractions could happen in first pregnancies. He told them to so and to the hospital and he'd meet them there. He thought it would be fine. Modern medicine to the rescue and all.
He should have known better, really.
The contractions didn't stop. They only got worse and no amount of medication or wishful thinking was holding them back. Babies could survive at this stage, but Mimi's HIV status didn't make things any easier. Especially when the contractions got even stronger and she was ready to push before a C-section could even be fully discussed.
The baby wanted out into a world it wasn't ready for.
Early tests indicated baby girl Davis was indeed HIV positive, but only time would tell for sure. However, it was time Mark feared wouldn't exist. Despite the fact that she'd been 28 weeks to term, her lungs were still struggling, not truly developed enough to survive. She was on a respirator and he'd seen the grim look on the pediatrician's face.
And he sighed, thinking of how earlier that week he'd matched at New York-
Presbyterian. Match Day was a big deal, a day long affair where white enveloped where distributed, revealing the fates for the next three to seven years of residency. Kara had been freaking out about being placed outside of New York (which she wasn't), he'd just wondered if he had made the right choice for his first, second, and third selections.
In the end, he'd kept the interview and pediatrics it was at Morgan Stanley Children's Hospital of New-York Presbyterian.
And as he gazed over Mimi and Roger's daughter, he thought of the irony of the decision. He'd picked a path specifically to help this little girl and there was a good chance that she wouldn't even survive past his graduation date.
Fuck, was all he thought. Fuck.
"Pray, maybe?" he answered, putting a hand on Roger's shoulder. "Things could be a lot different in a day or two."
"Yeah. She could be dead. Shit, Mimi and I hadn't even agreed on a name. She can't just be 'Baby Girl Davis,' can she?"
"So, go back to Mimi's room and talk about a name. She deserves one."
Roger leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "Mimi's still out of it from that stuff they gave her for the pain."
"Morphine." Mimi had suffered some pretty bad tearing during delivery. Mark knew if wasn't life threatening, but she did need quite a few stitches.
"Yeah," Roger answered. "She hasn't really seen her yet, you know."
"I know." Mark wasn't sure what else to do at this point. Trying to sugarcoat didn't seem fair or true, and he wished he could offer more reassurance. Wished that he could say "it will be okay" like he had when Roger had been in the middle of detox after April. But that had been different; he had truly believed Roger could and would get over the hump. Here he didn't have such strong belief that everything would turn around.
Not fair. Life was never fair.
He just convinced Roger to go back to Mimi and promised to call Joanne and Maureen to let know what was up. After watching Roger disappear down the corridor outside of the neo-natal ICU, he'd slumped down on a bench. Staring at nothing until a voice interrupted his thoughts.
"You forgot to call in."
Kara. He'd forgotten he'd left her at the loft when he'd taken the subway to meet Roger and Mimi.
"I'm sorry. What time is it?"
Kara slowly lowered herself down on the bench next to him, taking a moment to adjust her weight. "It's just after 5:30. I called in for you. When you didn't call, I figured you might not make it to work. Family emergency."
"Thanks," he said softly.
"I'm sorry, Mark." He turned to look at her, watching as she subconsciously laid a hand on her stomach. He suddenly remembered that Kara was 26 weeks along. Would their child be in as much trouble if he were born two from now?
Their child. He shook his head. When had he actually admitted that?
"Respiratory Distress Syndrome," he said. "For starters. She's jaundiced, and " he trailed off. "She tested positive at birth."
"That doesn't mean that she really is.'
He sighed. "I know."
"How's Mimi?"
"Out of it on morphine. She hasn't really had a chance to see the baby yet. They rushed her away after birth and Mimi had some extensive tearing that needed to be stitched." He noticed how clinical his voice sounded, how detached. He wanted to blame that on medical school, but knew he couldn't. He'd used filming to detach himself from situations like this a long time ago.
This time, however, his camera was at home. He'd planned on filming the birth for Roger and Mimi and he had been sure this was false labor.
"What's her name?" Kara was making small talk, he knew. Trying to distract him.
"They haven't decided yet. Kara, Mimi was 28 weeks and you're--"
"26 weeks," Kara finished. "I know. We need to talk about this."
He nodded. "We need to buy a crib."
She let out a little laugh. "Okay, not where I was going to start, but you're right." She took his hand, lopping her fingers in between hers. "What are we?"
"I don't know," he answered honestly. They were dating, seeing movies, enjoying the company of each other. And also having a baby. Something had to change. "Do you want to move into the loft? Two cribs would be expensive."
He avoided the real issue, not realizing that the statement he'd made perhaps revealed more about his own feelings then he'd care to admit.
"Okay." She squeezed his hand. "Mark, I..." she trailed off.
They were perhaps more alike than he'd thought. The sentence hung in the air. So he did the only thing he could. He pulled her closer and kissed her.
When he broke the kiss off, they sat another couple of minutes in silence, each staring out on the corridor, watching the bustle of the hospital.
"I'm going to go see Mimi," he said finally, getting up. He fished into the pocket of his jeans, pulling his well-worn house key and handed it Kara.
"Make a copy. Buy a crib."
Kara took the key and he helped to her feet as she shifted her weight to account for her growing stomach. "Those are two things I can manage." The words 'for now' hung in the air. "I'll get some flowers for Mimi, too."
He watched her walk away a moment before turning in the other direction. For once, he didn't question what he'd just done.
Feedback: Adored
Pairing: Roger/Mimi, Maureen/Joanne, a little Mark/OC, but a Mark centric fic.
Word Count: 2,000ish
Rating: PG-13/T
Genre: General.
Summary: Mark reaches a pinnacle in his life and makes an interesting decision. Set Post-Rent.
Notes: Written for challenge #44 on speed_rent, now expanded. Comments are always appreciated and treasured.
Disclaimer: Rent is not mine, I am simply borrowing.
A/N: For anyone that remembers this story, a long overdue update! You can find the latest chapter here at ff.net (along with the rest of the story for those new to it).
Before he knew it, he and Kara made a habit of seeing movies together in some of the precious hours they had in between shifts. Some good, some so awful they would throw popcorn at the screen. One so boring, they'd ignored it and made out in the back row of the theater like a pair of horny teenagers.
In fact, if it weren't for Kara's expanding belly, this would have been a typical relationship. It had the comfort of a new, yet connected relationship. That was something he hadn't had since Maureen, he realized. He had his friends, and loved each and every one of them, but this was different. It fulfilled something else, something he didn't realize how much he missed or needed.
He couldn't help smiling as he dragged tape across one of Mimi's boxes. She teased him gently as they loaded as much as they could into the back of one of the in-town U-Haul rental trucks.
"Do you like her?" Mimi asked him.
"Of course I like her," he answered. "But what kind of question is that? I like a lot of people."
"Not enough to grin like an idiot," Roger piped in as he hoisted another box into the back. "Last box. It could work out, you know."
"Or it could not." He leaned against the truck. "We go to the movies."
"And are three months away from having something that will share your genes," Roger shot back. "I like her."
Mark was surprised to hear that. Not that he thought Roger wouldn't like Kara, but that he hadn't really spent any time with her. Maureen's constant prodding had lead to a couple of awkward meetings at the loft when Kara had spent the night. Mark supposed that apart from that, Roger and Kara might have crossed paths on the way to the bathroom or something. Kara and Mimi shared the common bond of pregnancy, but honestly, he and Kara didn't even talk about the baby much. It was the elephant in the room of sorts. They were content to date. And if Mark only thought about that, it was easy to smile.
"Thanks. I think," he told Roger and watched Roger pull down the door to the truck. "This is it, right?"
"It's only Brooklyn."
"It's not the loft."
"It will have heat."
"Then it definitely isn't the loft."
Roger shook his head. "I guess it marks the end and the beginning."
"Poetic words, Davis. Going to work those into a song?" he teased.
Roger shrugged. "That kinda shit sells like crazy these days. Could make a lot of money. Money that could help my kid."
"You're growing up, Roger."
"Nah," Roger said. "Just moving on. It's not Santa Fe."
"No, it's not. It's Brooklyn."
Roger laughed. "Man, it will be weird. I have a feeling the next couple of months will be weird."
Mark didn't realize how true Roger words would be.
--
It happened so fast, by the time anyone could take a breath, life had completely changed.
Mark stared at the incubator, wishing that anything but this was happening. But it was. She was so damn small. Nothing that small could survive. Nothing that small was ever *meant* to survive.
"Fuck, Mark. What are we supposed to do? What the hell am *I* supposed to do?"
Roger sat in a chair, hand touching the plastic. It was the closest he or Mimi had come to touching their child since birth. And it was quite possibly the most defeated Mark had ever seen Roger look.
Roger had been through a lot. Hell, they all had really. Being a junkie or being the one helping said junkie get clean were two not-so-great parts to play. And finding April
Things were never supposed to end up this way.
Roger and Mimi hadn't even lived in Brooklyn a month when Mark had gotten a frantic phone call from Roger saying Mimi was having contractions. She was only seven months along and was panicking, dragging Roger along for the ride, but Mark hadn't been worried. Early contractions could happen in first pregnancies. He told them to so and to the hospital and he'd meet them there. He thought it would be fine. Modern medicine to the rescue and all.
He should have known better, really.
The contractions didn't stop. They only got worse and no amount of medication or wishful thinking was holding them back. Babies could survive at this stage, but Mimi's HIV status didn't make things any easier. Especially when the contractions got even stronger and she was ready to push before a C-section could even be fully discussed.
The baby wanted out into a world it wasn't ready for.
Early tests indicated baby girl Davis was indeed HIV positive, but only time would tell for sure. However, it was time Mark feared wouldn't exist. Despite the fact that she'd been 28 weeks to term, her lungs were still struggling, not truly developed enough to survive. She was on a respirator and he'd seen the grim look on the pediatrician's face.
And he sighed, thinking of how earlier that week he'd matched at New York-
Presbyterian. Match Day was a big deal, a day long affair where white enveloped where distributed, revealing the fates for the next three to seven years of residency. Kara had been freaking out about being placed outside of New York (which she wasn't), he'd just wondered if he had made the right choice for his first, second, and third selections.
In the end, he'd kept the interview and pediatrics it was at Morgan Stanley Children's Hospital of New-York Presbyterian.
And as he gazed over Mimi and Roger's daughter, he thought of the irony of the decision. He'd picked a path specifically to help this little girl and there was a good chance that she wouldn't even survive past his graduation date.
Fuck, was all he thought. Fuck.
"Pray, maybe?" he answered, putting a hand on Roger's shoulder. "Things could be a lot different in a day or two."
"Yeah. She could be dead. Shit, Mimi and I hadn't even agreed on a name. She can't just be 'Baby Girl Davis,' can she?"
"So, go back to Mimi's room and talk about a name. She deserves one."
Roger leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "Mimi's still out of it from that stuff they gave her for the pain."
"Morphine." Mimi had suffered some pretty bad tearing during delivery. Mark knew if wasn't life threatening, but she did need quite a few stitches.
"Yeah," Roger answered. "She hasn't really seen her yet, you know."
"I know." Mark wasn't sure what else to do at this point. Trying to sugarcoat didn't seem fair or true, and he wished he could offer more reassurance. Wished that he could say "it will be okay" like he had when Roger had been in the middle of detox after April. But that had been different; he had truly believed Roger could and would get over the hump. Here he didn't have such strong belief that everything would turn around.
Not fair. Life was never fair.
He just convinced Roger to go back to Mimi and promised to call Joanne and Maureen to let know what was up. After watching Roger disappear down the corridor outside of the neo-natal ICU, he'd slumped down on a bench. Staring at nothing until a voice interrupted his thoughts.
"You forgot to call in."
Kara. He'd forgotten he'd left her at the loft when he'd taken the subway to meet Roger and Mimi.
"I'm sorry. What time is it?"
Kara slowly lowered herself down on the bench next to him, taking a moment to adjust her weight. "It's just after 5:30. I called in for you. When you didn't call, I figured you might not make it to work. Family emergency."
"Thanks," he said softly.
"I'm sorry, Mark." He turned to look at her, watching as she subconsciously laid a hand on her stomach. He suddenly remembered that Kara was 26 weeks along. Would their child be in as much trouble if he were born two from now?
Their child. He shook his head. When had he actually admitted that?
"Respiratory Distress Syndrome," he said. "For starters. She's jaundiced, and " he trailed off. "She tested positive at birth."
"That doesn't mean that she really is.'
He sighed. "I know."
"How's Mimi?"
"Out of it on morphine. She hasn't really had a chance to see the baby yet. They rushed her away after birth and Mimi had some extensive tearing that needed to be stitched." He noticed how clinical his voice sounded, how detached. He wanted to blame that on medical school, but knew he couldn't. He'd used filming to detach himself from situations like this a long time ago.
This time, however, his camera was at home. He'd planned on filming the birth for Roger and Mimi and he had been sure this was false labor.
"What's her name?" Kara was making small talk, he knew. Trying to distract him.
"They haven't decided yet. Kara, Mimi was 28 weeks and you're--"
"26 weeks," Kara finished. "I know. We need to talk about this."
He nodded. "We need to buy a crib."
She let out a little laugh. "Okay, not where I was going to start, but you're right." She took his hand, lopping her fingers in between hers. "What are we?"
"I don't know," he answered honestly. They were dating, seeing movies, enjoying the company of each other. And also having a baby. Something had to change. "Do you want to move into the loft? Two cribs would be expensive."
He avoided the real issue, not realizing that the statement he'd made perhaps revealed more about his own feelings then he'd care to admit.
"Okay." She squeezed his hand. "Mark, I..." she trailed off.
They were perhaps more alike than he'd thought. The sentence hung in the air. So he did the only thing he could. He pulled her closer and kissed her.
When he broke the kiss off, they sat another couple of minutes in silence, each staring out on the corridor, watching the bustle of the hospital.
"I'm going to go see Mimi," he said finally, getting up. He fished into the pocket of his jeans, pulling his well-worn house key and handed it Kara.
"Make a copy. Buy a crib."
Kara took the key and he helped to her feet as she shifted her weight to account for her growing stomach. "Those are two things I can manage." The words 'for now' hung in the air. "I'll get some flowers for Mimi, too."
He watched her walk away a moment before turning in the other direction. For once, he didn't question what he'd just done.