Standard disclaimers apply. This is my first RENT story. It is Roger-centric. Roger and Mark will be paired with Original Characters.

Chapter 1

Collins felt numb. His breath quickened. His love, Angel Dumott Schunard, was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it. It was Angel's time to leave this Earth. AZT wouldn't help; not countless doses of it. Praying to God wouldn't help. Whether they liked it or not, Angel was at the end of her life.

Collins was sitting in the hospital bed with her, rocking her, trying to calm the both of them. Angel was crying, panicking; Collins realized he was, too.

"I'll never forget you, Angel Dumott Schunard," he murmured to her. "You saved my ass that day in the alley, after all."

"And you were more of a man than I ever thought I'd get, Thomas. Thank you."

Then Angel took her last breath, a content smile on her pale face.

Collins let the tears fall as he hugged Angel one last time, giving her a kiss on her forehead, and then tore himself away and went out to the hall. He pressed himself against the wall, his chest heaving, as he began hyperventilating, and his blood ran cold. He sank slowly and hopelessly to the floor.

One of the doctors came out and put a hand on Collins' tense shoulder. He recoiled away from it.

"I'm so sad for you," said the doctor. "He's—"

"She," Collins said automatically, his voice filled with pain, "she, damn it!"

"My apologies," said the doctor, as he realized what Collins was talking about. "She's in a better place now... away from pain, grief, and despair."

Collins stood up swiftly in anger, and jerked away from the doctor. Then he turned back around, as a thought surfaced.

"Is that what you doctors always say when a patient dies? Although, I suppose, in your opinion, she wasn't really a patient, just because AIDS killed her. Was she just someone you took in because we paid you with all we had? Did you just take her in because you have that Hip— Hippo—"

His voice choked off to sobs, so the doctor finished the sentence for him. "Hippocratic Oath," he said. "No, that's the reason. We never turn anyone away, even if they're uninsured. Does she have anyone she would have wanted informed if she died?"

"No," said Collins. "She's been on her own for years, disowned by the family she had left, until she found us."

"So you wish to claim her body, since you're nearest kin?"

"There's no question about that, Doctor."

"Collins."

Collins whipped around. Mark was standing there, Roger, Mimi, Maureen, and Joanne beside him. Mark didn't have to say but one thing for Collins to understand what he was talking about.

"It's happened, hasn't it?"

Collins nodded; his throat was too painfully tight for words.

"She was good to all of us," said Mimi, holding him close. "We'll all miss her forever."

"What are we gonna do with the body?" Collins asked, barely able to speak past the lump in his throat.

"We'll find a funeral home," Mark said, fighting back his own tears, "one that will take her as she is. Did she say where she wanted to be laid to rest?"

Collins shook his head. "No," he said, "there wasn't time. She just wanted someone to be with… and that was me."

"Knowing Angel, anywhere will be fine with her," said Mimi. "But I think it should be somewhere close to home."

There was a general agreement to this statement.

"What about the park nearby?" Maureen asked. "We could ask the city for permission to bury her there."

"You mean, where all the little kids play?" Mark asked, taken aback.

"You bet."

"No way, they'd never let us," Collins said disbelievingly. But he still looked hopeful.

"We should start asking around," Mark said. "I'll see if I can find anyone who'll do it."

"OK," said Roger, "and we'll go to the nearest funeral home and see if they'll accommodate us."

"Right," said Collins. "Mark, go." Mark nodded and disappeared. "The rest of you, come with me."

Collins turned and walked out, his friends right behind him.

"Get out of here! We don't help queers like you!"

Collins stared at the slammed door in front of him, stunned. They'd just been kicked out of one of the funeral homes for being different… he'd called them queers! They were Bohemians, not queers!

"Just because you have no imagination, just because we're different! Or is it because we're poor?" Collins yelled at the closed door, enraged.

He felt a hand on his shoulder again. "Collins," Roger said, "come on, we'll find another place. Come on." He began to slowly pull Collins away, when they heard a new voice.

"Roger! Collins!"

It was Mark. He raced up to them on his bike, screeched to a stop, and jumped off.

"Guys," he said, "I found a place that will take Angel. Come on, it's not far from here, maybe six blocks."

They all followed him curiously. He walked his bike next to them as they made their way to the funeral home, and a little while later, they were there. The coroner met them outside.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said. Although they all knew those were automatic words he was required to say, Collins still flinched. "Come in, we'll talk."

"Oh… well, maybe just a few of us should go for now?" Mark suggested. "Just Collins and Mimi, will that do? You two knew her best."

Collins cast a worried glance at Mark and Roger, and then he went in with Mimi.

"Mark," Joanne said quietly to him, "how are we gonna pay for this?"

"When my second advance comes in, I'll send it straight here," said Mark. "Mr. Hanson, that coroner we just spoke to, already agreed to that."

The rest of the group sighed with relief.

"And he said he'd accommodate us for… future deaths," Mark said hesitantly, swallowing.

They all knew nearly every one of them had a premature death that was inevitable and approaching faster than they liked.

Collins and Mimi reappeared outside a little while later.

"We're on for Friday," Mimi said.

Collins came forward and gave Mark a hug. "Thank you, my brother."

Mark smiled. "That's what friends are for, Collins."

One month later...

Roger was pacing around the apartment, his brow furrowed with worry. Neither he nor Mark had gotten to the phone on time when it had rang today, and he had just listened to a voicemail that Benny had left, and it chilled his blood.

"Hey, guys, it's Benny. Look, I was wondering if you've seen Mimi. I haven't seen her in a couple of weeks. She dropped out of rehab... and I'm afraid that she may have started using again. If you find out anything, let me know."

The hours passed by in a dazed blur for Roger, as the entire group began to look for Mimi.

"Hi, Roger, Mark, it's Maureen... still no sign of Mimi. I just wanna know if she's all right. Joanne and I printed up some fliers..."

"Hey, it's Collins, just checking in. I'll call back if we hear anything. You heard from Mimi?"

"Roger, I spoke to the manager of the Cat Scratch Club. She hasn't shown up for work..."

"Roger, are you there? Look, I just went to the police station and I filed a missing-persons report. I spoke to a friend of Mimi's who said she saw her three weeks ago. She hasn't picked up her AZT in a while. She's been living on the street for a couple of weeks now..."

"It's Collins again. I'm really starting to get worried. How can she survive...?"

Finally, several long hours later, Roger heard Maureen yell, "Mark? Roger? Anyone? Help! It's Mimi! I can't get her up the stairs!" Maureen yelled.

"No!" Roger exclaimed.

"She was huddled in the park... in the dark... and she was freezing, and begged to come here," Maureen said.

"Over here. "Oh, God..." Roger said.

"No room on the couch," said Joanne.

"Just clear off the table, we'll put her there," said Roger.

Mimi was mumbling deliriously, but Roger recognized familiar words. "Got a light... I know you... you're shivering..."

"She's been living on the street," Joanne said.

"We need some heat," Roger said.

"We can buy some wood and something to eat," Mark said.

"I'm afraid she needs more than heat," Collins said. "She's going into hypothermia."

Mimi opened her eyes slightly. "I heard that," she whispered.

"Collins will call for a doctor, honey," Maureen said to Mimi, kneeling close to her.

"Don't waste your money on me, me, Mimi..." Mimi murmured.

"Hello, 911?" said Collins. Then he glared at nothing. "Oh, my God, I'm on hold! They can't do this to us!"

"Cold… cold… would you light my candle?" Mimi stuttered.

"Yes," said Roger, his eyes wide and scared. "Oh, God, find her a candle, guys, quick."

He didn't really know what to do, except start singing to keep her comfortable. She sang along with him as best she could.

I should tell you
I should tell you

I should tell you
I should tell you

"I should tell you Benny wasn't any—"

"Shhh. I know."

I should tell you why I left
It wasn't 'cause I didn't—

"I know."

I should tell you
I should tell you

I should tell you

"I love you..."

Then Mimi collapsed into a coughing fit, and Roger summed up his remaining courage and began to sing again.

Who do you think you are, leaving me alone with my guitar? He grasped her hand tightly. Hold on, there's something you should hear. It isn't much, but it took all year...

Roger waited until Mimi was looking at him again, and then he began to sing:

Your eyes
As we said our goodbyes
Can't get them out of my mind
And I find
I can't hide

From your eyes
The ones that took me by surprise
The night you came into my life
Where there's moonlight
I see your eyes

How'd I let you slip away
When I'm longing so to hold you?
Now I'd die for one more day
'Cause there's something I should have told you
Yes, there's something I should have told you

When I looked into your eyes
Why does distance make us wise?
You were the song all along
And before the song dies

I should tell you
I should tell you
I have always loved you
You can see it in my eyes

Mimi coughed harshly again, then went limp. Roger held her and they waited.

Several long seconds later, Mimi coughed and came back to consciousness. "Roger..."

"Mimi," they all breathed. She summed up what remained of her feeble strength and sat up.

"I was heading toward this warm… white light. And I swear… Angel was there… and she looked good!"

They laughed.

Mimi looked at Roger and leaned her forehead against his. "She said, 'Turn around, girlfriend… and listen to that boy's song.'"

"Her fever's breaking," Maureen said, smiling.

"But Roger…" Mimi inhaled a ragged breath. "I don't have much time…"

"Mimi," he choked, as she collapsed onto the table again, her eyes closing for the last time. "Mimi… I love you… Please… don't leave me…"

The tears welled up in his eyes and spilled over. He broke down and fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. The others were crying, too, but nobody felt the loss as deeply, and as painfully, as Roger.

Maureen came over to Roger and put a comforting arm around him, as Mimi said one last thing.

"I should tell you… I will always love you."

Then Mimi took her last breaths.

"She's in a better place now, Roger," Maureen said. "We'll all miss her. She made a dent in our lives; a good dent, that is, especially in yours. She made our lives worth living, just like Angel did."

Thanks for reading.

Until next time, lots of love,

Renthead07