Author's Notes:

This is my first Rentfic. *looks around nervously* My only experience with writing for these characters is being Lola's evil beta reader. It's a lot easier to come up with ideas than it is to inflict them on my characters, I've found out. This is a pre-Rent fic, about Mimi mostly, although Angel will play a significant role in it later on.

Jonai was nice enough to beta the first few parts of this, eons ago, so thank you, Jonai. And thank you, Danielle, for pushing me to write this, over my objections that it sucked too much to be posted.

The characters aren't mine, I just rented them from Jonathan Larson for ten bucks a chapter. Constructive criticism is welcome, but be gentle with the flames, please. Also, reviews! Please?

Crashing Down

by Dulcey

You were flying high on your ego cloud

With a diamond stuck to your paper crown

What a drag it is to come crashing down

--Daphne Rubin-Vega, "Broken"

"You've tested positive for the HIV virus. I'm sorry." The doctor looked at me sympathetically. Two little sentences, but they spelled out the end for me. I was seventeen years old, and I was dying.

"How long do I have?" I whispered, trying to control the shaking in my voice.

The doctor shrugged. "If you take care of yourself, you could have quite a few healthy years ahead of you."

"How many is 'a few'?" I demanded. "Two years? Ten? Twenty?"

"I'm afraid I can't say," the doctor replied. "I'm sorry."

I went home, and didn't come out for two months. The AZT the clinic had given me sat unopened on the counter. They had also sent a pamplet on AIDS support groups. I hadn't bothered to read it. Why should I? I could sit and listen to a million sob stories about how AIDS had changed their lives. It wouldn't change anything for me.

I spent days at a time in bed, getting up only to go to the bathroom, or grab an occasional snack from my ever-diminishing food supply. At first, my girlfriends from the Cat Scratch Club came to visit, bringing food and trying to cheer me up. As the weeks went by, their visits became less and less frequent. I couldn't blame them. They had enough troubles of their own.

I never heard anything from Eddie.

Was it really just two years ago that I'd been safe at home in New Jersey? I was the youngest out of four children, and the wildest out of the lot. My brothers Santos and Jose worked part-time jobs after school and managed to put themselves through college. My sister Maria got married when she was seventeen, and had two little boys of her own the last I heard.

I was the one who got caught smoking in the girls room in sixth grade, and brought home C's and D's while my siblings made the honor roll. The only one who could control me was my father. My mother could scream and cry, my brothers could lecture me on disgracing the family name, and it didn't affect me at all. But when my father looked at me sadly and said "Mimi chica, how could you do this to me?" it made me want to cry, and promise to be a better daughter.

He got sick when I was fourteen, and went to see the doctor. The doctor told he had lung cancer, from twenty years worth of smoking his pipe. Papa died three months later.

I ran away six weeks after that. The one part of school I had enjoyed had been theatre class, and I thought that if I went to New York, I could be an actress. I hadn't thought about how difficult it would be, and two months after I'd arrived, my money had run out.

Elena, my next door neighbor, was the one who told me about the Cat Scratch Club. "Robbie's the owner, and he's kind of an ass, but you get good tips," she told me, leaning against her door and smoking a cigarette. "If you know how to deal with drunk guys hitting on you, you'll do just fine."

"I don't know," I said doubtfully. I hadn't come to New York to dance in a sleazy nightclub. On the other hand, I needed money, badly.

"Look, why don't you come down with me tonight?" Elena offered. "You're really pretty, and I'm sure Robbie would give you a tryout. If you like it, you can stay, if not, no harm done."

"All right," I gave in. "I'll give it a try."

As it turned out, all the smoke made me cough, and the guys in the front tables kept trying to grab my feet as I danced. But I made sixty dollars that night, so I told Robbie that I'd take the job.

I'd been at the Cat Scratch Club for almost six months when I met Eddie. I'd seen him from the stage as I danced, a tall, dark-haired man with eyes that seemed to bore right in to me. Because I was in a good mood, I smiled and blew him a kiss during my number. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but when I came offstage, there he was, waiting with Robbie.

"Mimi, this is Edward Martinez," Robbie introduced us. "He'd like to talk to you." He pulled me closer and hissed "Keep it short. I'm not paying you to talk."

Edward held out his hand. "I enjoyed your performance."

"Thank you, Mr. Stephens." I shook his hand, not knowing what else to say.

"Please, call me Eddie," he said. "You're an extraordinarily beautiful young woman. "Have you ever considered acting?"

I laughed bitterly. "Of course, but between starving as an actress, and eating as a stripper, I'd rather eat."

"You need someone who knows the ropes of the acting business," Eddie told me. "Unfortunately, these days talent isn't enough to get your career started."

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused. "If you're better than everyone else who auditions, you should get the part."

Eddie smiled at me, in a way that made me shiver. I didn't like it at all. "Mimi, how old are you?"

"Eighteen," I lied.

"You're just a child," he said, making me feel like I was about two years old. "You don't know how the real world works."

"What do you want?" I snapped, sick of the whole conversation.

He laughed softly. "You've got spirit. I like that."

"I'm up in two minutes," I said shortly, starting to brush past him.

Eddie caught my arm and turned me around to face him again. "A friend of mine is a producer for a new Broadway musical. He still hasn't cast his female lead, and from what I've seen tonight, you would be perfect for the part."

I looked at him skeptically. "So you could get me an audition?"

Eddie nodded, and put a hand on my shoulder. "That's right."

"What's in it for you?" After two months in New York, I'd learned that nothing came without its price.

"I get a percentage of the profits. And,"--his hand slid down my back as he pulled me to him until our faces were inches apart--"I'm sure we can come up with some sort of arrangement."

His breath was warm and sticky on my face. I looked out on to the stage, where Katya was dancing. She was twenty-nine, and had been at the Cat Scratch club since it opened. When she wasn't dancing, she looked old and tired, and I'd promised myself that I wouldn't be like her. I wasn't going to let myself get trapped here like she had. I was Mimi Marquez, and I was determined to do more with my life than dance in the same smoky nightclub night after night.

I turned back to Eddie, who was watching me expectantly. "All right," I whispered. "I'll do it."

**************

The next four months was a flurry of parties and people. Eddie introduced me to his friends, who introduced me to acquaintances of theirs, who introduced me to still more people they knew. I auditioned for producers and assistant directors and everyone else Eddie told me I should perform for. Whenever I went to dance for someone new, Eddie had me wear the tight-fitting outfit I used for the Cat Scratch Club. "You've gotta stand out," he told me time and time again. "I hate to tell you, kid, but sometimes a nice ass is the difference between getting the part or going home empty handed."

I started sleeping with Eddie two weeks after we met at the Cat Scratch Club, and at his urging, with anyone he said could help me get my career off the ground. It wasn't new for me. I hadn't been a virgin since that day when I was thirteen when Brian Chissolm invited me to his place after school. I'd been with my share of men, back in New Jersey and here in New York. Besides, a stripper was only a step up from a hooker, Eddie kept reminding me. It wasn't like fucking a practical stranger was a huge stretch for me.

No, sex was nothing new to me. Although--I only let myself think this on those rare nights when I went to bed alone--it never seemed so dirty before.

Finally, the day came when Eddie came home, grabbed me in a bear hug, and spun me around before he announced that he'd just met with the director, and I had the part. "You're gonna be a star, kid!" he announced gleefully, his breath sweet with booze. Obviously he had been celebrating for some time already. "You're gonna be a goddamn Broadway star!"

The rest of the night was spent in a blissful haze of alcohol and sex. When I woke the next morning, the bed was empty. Eddie's razor had disappeared from the bathroom, and his clothes from my closet. In fact, there was no sign that he had ever been there at all.

I got dressed and took the subway uptown to the theatre. I'd never actually been there, but according to Eddie, I was supposed to start rehearsals the following week. The woman there had no idea who I was.

"Mimi Marquez?" she asked, squinting through her bifocals at a list in front of her. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I don't see your name anywhere."

"But I'm the new Sophia!" I insisted. "My manager told me I'd gotten the part!"

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "That role was cast two weeks ago."

My breath caught in my throat. My heart began pounding. "No. No, that can't be right. There has to be a mistake. My manager said that he talked to the director, and that I'd gotten the part of Sophia."

The woman sighed impatiently. "And exactly who is your manager?" she snapped, making it clear she was losing patience with me.

"Eddie Martinez," I whispered.

"Eddie Martinez." She showed no sign of comprehension. "I've never heard that name before in my life. Now if you please, I have a lot of work to do, and I don't have time to waste with chit-chat."

I whispered an apology and left, hunching my coat up to my ears and hurrying home. I'd go to bed, and when I woke up, this whole thing would have been a dream. This couldn't be happening to me. It wasn't fair. I'd done everything Eddie told me to do. I'd sung my heart out for directors. Gave them blow jobs at parties while their wives were busy comparing vacuum brands.

Maybe that was it. Maybe God was punishing me for everything I'd done in the last year. For running away from home, and dancing in a seedy nightclub for money, and screwing men when I didn't even know their last names. I'd burn in hell for what I'd done, but I was also being punished in this lifetime. Everything I'd dreamt of was over. I'd never be on Broadway now. Things couldn't be worse than they were at this very moment.

Except they could.

Three months later, I noticed a series of ugly bruises on my left thigh. No big deal, I figured. I'd probably hit my leg on the chair while I was dancing, and forgotten all about it. Then bruises appeared on my upper arms, and my neck. Okay, maybe I had some problem with blood circulation. It wasn't like I'd been eating properly, or much at all.

"Mimi, what's that?" Tina asked, pointing at a particularly large, ugly bruise on my upper thigh. I'd just come off the dance floor, I was hot, sweaty, tired, and in no mood to answer the same stupid question everyone had been asking me for the last two weeks.

"Aren't you up?" I mumbled. "The guys are waiting."

"Have you had a doctor look at that?" she continued. "It might be something serious."

Out in the club, the guys were beginning to holler. "They're getting antsy out there," I continued. "You're going to have a mob out there if you don't hurry up."

She sighed. "Mimi, I'm serious. My boyfriend's friend had bruising like that, and when he went in to have it checked, it turned out he had AIDS."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right. I'm not gay, Tina. I couldn't have AIDS."

"Mike wasn't gay either!" she insisted. "I'm just saying that you should get tested."

"Yeah, whatever," I scoffed. "Robbie's going to be mad if you don't get out there right now."

I spun around on my heel and marched off, feeling triumphant and...a bit uneasy. I changed into my street clothes and walked home. It was a quiet night, which I would have loved, normally, but tonight, I kept hearing Tina's words echo in my head.

When he went in to have it checked, it turned out he had AIDS.

I'm just saying that you should get tested.

This was ridiculous. I was seventeen years old. There was no way I could have AIDS. Things like this just didn't happen to people my age.

********

The bruising didn't go away. In fact, it got worse. I also came down with a nasty cold, which I attributed to working too late one night when I hadn't gotten enough sleep. I tried to tell myself that it was just a bug going around, that everyone had the flu in the winter. Except I'd never remembered being sick like this.

I stayed all day in bed, alternately shivering beneath a pile of blankets, and weakly stumbling across the room to open the window and let the cold air in. Orange juice stayed down, but I wasn't so lucky with solid food. At six o'clock, I crawled out of bed to the phone and picked up the receiver. I wasn't looking forward to this. Robbie wasn't very understanding about anyone missing work. At best, I'd be docked two night's pay. At worst, he might send one of his friends over to my place to drag me into work anyhow.

"Cat Scratch Club, this is Tina," the voice on the other end answered. Oh thank God.

"It's Mimi," I croaked weakly. "Can you tell Robbie I'm sick and I can't make it tonight?"

"Mimi, are you all right?" she asked in concern. "You sound terrible!"

"It's just--" I broke off and began coughing, a huge, hacking cough that felt like I was expelling every bit of oxygen left in my lungs. "Just the flu," I finished.

"Are you sure?" she pressed. "You know, Mimi--"

"I don't have AIDS!" I insisted. "I don't have it and I'm not going to get tested for it!"

"Just think about it, okay?" Tina pleaded. "Please, Mimi. If you don't have it, wouldn't you want to know?"

"I guess..." I whimpered. "Can you just tell Robbie I won't be in tonight?"

"If I do, will you get tested?" Damn. She never gave up.

I sighed loudly. "Oh, all right. I'll take the damn test, okay?"

"Deal." She paused for a moment. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"Fine, fine." The room was starting to spin again. I was shaking from yet another cold spell. "You make the appointment. I'll go."

"You're doing a really good thing, Mimi," Tina told me. "I'm sure it'll all be fine."

"Yeah, okay." I reached over for a blanket, and fell short by about six inches. "Talk to you later."

"I'll call you when I've got an appointment set up," she promised. "Take care of yourself, Mimi."

I hung up the phone and crawled back into bed. I had a comforter and three blankets piled on top of me, but I couldn't stop shaking.

It was just the flu, I told myself. There was nothing wrong with me.