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find_rightbrainTitle: In the Eyes of a Young Girl
Chapter: Twenty-Two - 'Til You're Torn Apart
Feedback: Will make me love you muchly.
Characters/Pairing: Roger/April, Mark, Collins
Word Count: 1378
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own Rent, and I'm extremely unlikely ever to. Shiny?
Chapter Index
Chapter Twenty-One
"Life is full of grief, to exactly the degree we allow ourselves to love other people." - Shadow of the Giant, Orson Scott Card
"How the hell could Roger not know he's allergic to penicillin?" Mark muttered as the three of them rushed down the stark white hallway in the hospital. Cold linoleum floors, the walls all white and pale green, supposed to be calming, and the smell of antiseptic all around, wholly unwelcoming. And where the hell was Roger in all of this? Mark shook his head and kept muttering himself, mostly to work off the nervousness. He'd left his camera at home, and his hands felt empty without something to do with them, but he could hardly bring the camera here, could he? "I mean, his mom's a nurse. I'll bet you anything the idiot did know he was allergic and just didn't think it was important enough to tell anyone. I swear I'm going to strangle him as soon as he's better."
Ordinarily, Mark threatening Roger would have been laughable, but none of them could find anything funny about it given the real fear and concern in Mark's voice, and how his face was much paler than usual, drained of all color. Walking beside him, April held her hand out to him, and he took it wordlessly, squeezing her hand in a half-hearted attempt to reassure her. "He'll be fine, April Shower. I promise. He's survived stupid things like this before, he's got to…" Mark trailed off and tried to smile. It came out weaker than he'd meant.
Collins stopped outside one particular room and turned to the other two. "This is the room. They said we could go right in. April, do you want us to go in with you, or would you rather go alone?"
She bit her lower lip, looking at the closed door of the room. The blinds on the windows were drawn so she couldn't see inside. "Could you two wait outside, please? For a minute or two, at least?"
Collins gave her a tight, strained smile. "Of course."
April let go of Mark's hand and went to open the door. She hesitated right in front of it, her hand on the knob, then sighed and pushed it open, stepping inside. She closed the door behind her.
Roger lay on the hospital bed, his eyes closed, an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. She stood just inside the doorway for a moment, then slowly walked to the bed. He didn't open his eyes. They had a couple of machines hooked up to him, both beeping steadily. Steady heartbeat, steady breathing, normal she assumed, but still not conscious. He didn't look like her Roger, not like this. Even when he was sleeping he usually had some fire about him, that spark of unique Roger-ness. Now, though, she couldn't see that. Now… she couldn't quite see the life in him.
April cautiously touched his hand, and, of course, he didn't move. The doctors had told her he would be alright, that he would wake up soon and be fine, but… He didn't look like it. She stared at his face for a moment. He had a shallow cut along his cheek, no anything major, but she couldn't take her eyes off it. No life to his face, but that cut, bright red…
"Open your eyes, Roger, please," she whispered. "I just need you to tell me you're okay…"
She got no response, except for the steady beep of the machines, the slow rise and fall of his chest. No spark, no fire. Was that how Jessi had looked when she…?
April couldn't even finish the thought. Certainly couldn't stay here in this room with him, cold and not Roger. She had to get out. April let go of his hand, turned and rushed out the door, unsuccessfully trying to fight back tears. Mark and Collins both looked at her, startled, as she closed the door behind her and wiped the tears from her face with one hand.
"I… I think I need to go home," she said shakily. "I can't stay here."
Collins and Mark exchanged a look, and Tom said after a moment, "One of us needs to stay here. I'll take her home—you go in there and sit with Roger. Call us if anything changes."
Mark nodded as Tom stepped forward and gently put an arm around April's shoulders, starting to lead her back down the hallway towards the exit. She leaned against him gratefully, her cheek against his chest as they walked. Tom's support helped, yes, but… how much more of this could she take?
*
When she got home, April went straight to her room and locked the bedroom door behind her before Maureen and Benny could follow her to ask how Roger was. Alive. Stable. But she needed him awake, to tell her himself that he'd be okay. All the doctor's reassurances in the world couldn't stand in place of that, and until Roger returned to consciousness…
She sank down on the bed and pulled the blanket up around her, clutching it for whatever small comfort it could offer. "He'll be fine," she told herself quietly. "He will. The doctors said so, and Tom said so, and Mark… And he promised. He swore he wouldn't leave. He's gonna be okay."
But Jessi had promised too, and look where she was now, where they both were. Her Jessi, her baby, her heart-sister, was buried in some cemetery in Monterey, California, three thousand some miles away. Chris had told her—the funeral had been last week. And April, Jessi's star, April-love, beautiful girl, all the random nicknames she'd collected over the course of their friendship… Sitting here alone in an empty room, half-crying and clinging to a blanket, hoping and almost praying that her Roger wouldn't follow after her Jessi. She never prayed, but this time… Lost little girl, all alone without someone to hold her. If she'd just go out into the living room, the others would have held her, but she didn't want them. Not right now. Just Roger and Jessica, and they couldn't…
She couldn’t think about this any longer. She needed something to… to distract her. Anything, damn it. Normally when she needed to be distracted she’d listen to one of Roger’s tapes, the recordings of him singing, but now that would hardly do any good when it would only bring her back to the thing she was trying to forget about. She dropped the blanket back on the bed and stood up slowly, searching through the dresser silently. She didn’t even really know what she was searching for until…
Her hand touched a razor, and she pulled it out slowly, staring at it in complete silence for almost a minute or two. What the hell was she doing? Taking your mind off of Roger and Jessi for just a little while, she reminded herself. Right. Focus on something other than the fact that his best friend was dead and her boyfriend had come damn close to it.
Almost as if it were held by someone else’s hand, April watched in morbid fascination as the razor traced a short, thin line across the inside of her arm, just below the bend of her elbow, and after a second blood welled up along the cut in tiny beads of red. A second cut, a third… She stopped herself after that, set the razor aside on the dresser and just watched as the blood rose to the surface of her skin, beaded, ran down the bend of her arm, and soon enough dried. At least the blood was some proof she was actually alive… Better than thinking about the lifelessness of Roger in the hospital, or the empty place in her life that Jessi had always filled. Far better.
April jumped when someone knocked on the door, and Collins’ voice called, “April? Mark just called. Roger’s awake. D’you want to go see him?”
“I… um… yes! I just… give me a minute, I’ll be out in a second…” She grabbed the razor and hid it in the dresser drawer quickly, hunted through the closet for a sweatshirt and threw it on before unlocking the door and giving Collins a shaky smile. The falseness of it stung her, but he didn’t seem to notice as she said, “Okay, ready. Let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter: Twenty-Two - 'Til You're Torn Apart
Feedback: Will make me love you muchly.
Characters/Pairing: Roger/April, Mark, Collins
Word Count: 1378
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own Rent, and I'm extremely unlikely ever to. Shiny?
Chapter Index
Chapter Twenty-One
"Life is full of grief, to exactly the degree we allow ourselves to love other people." - Shadow of the Giant, Orson Scott Card
"How the hell could Roger not know he's allergic to penicillin?" Mark muttered as the three of them rushed down the stark white hallway in the hospital. Cold linoleum floors, the walls all white and pale green, supposed to be calming, and the smell of antiseptic all around, wholly unwelcoming. And where the hell was Roger in all of this? Mark shook his head and kept muttering himself, mostly to work off the nervousness. He'd left his camera at home, and his hands felt empty without something to do with them, but he could hardly bring the camera here, could he? "I mean, his mom's a nurse. I'll bet you anything the idiot did know he was allergic and just didn't think it was important enough to tell anyone. I swear I'm going to strangle him as soon as he's better."
Ordinarily, Mark threatening Roger would have been laughable, but none of them could find anything funny about it given the real fear and concern in Mark's voice, and how his face was much paler than usual, drained of all color. Walking beside him, April held her hand out to him, and he took it wordlessly, squeezing her hand in a half-hearted attempt to reassure her. "He'll be fine, April Shower. I promise. He's survived stupid things like this before, he's got to…" Mark trailed off and tried to smile. It came out weaker than he'd meant.
Collins stopped outside one particular room and turned to the other two. "This is the room. They said we could go right in. April, do you want us to go in with you, or would you rather go alone?"
She bit her lower lip, looking at the closed door of the room. The blinds on the windows were drawn so she couldn't see inside. "Could you two wait outside, please? For a minute or two, at least?"
Collins gave her a tight, strained smile. "Of course."
April let go of Mark's hand and went to open the door. She hesitated right in front of it, her hand on the knob, then sighed and pushed it open, stepping inside. She closed the door behind her.
Roger lay on the hospital bed, his eyes closed, an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. She stood just inside the doorway for a moment, then slowly walked to the bed. He didn't open his eyes. They had a couple of machines hooked up to him, both beeping steadily. Steady heartbeat, steady breathing, normal she assumed, but still not conscious. He didn't look like her Roger, not like this. Even when he was sleeping he usually had some fire about him, that spark of unique Roger-ness. Now, though, she couldn't see that. Now… she couldn't quite see the life in him.
April cautiously touched his hand, and, of course, he didn't move. The doctors had told her he would be alright, that he would wake up soon and be fine, but… He didn't look like it. She stared at his face for a moment. He had a shallow cut along his cheek, no anything major, but she couldn't take her eyes off it. No life to his face, but that cut, bright red…
"Open your eyes, Roger, please," she whispered. "I just need you to tell me you're okay…"
She got no response, except for the steady beep of the machines, the slow rise and fall of his chest. No spark, no fire. Was that how Jessi had looked when she…?
April couldn't even finish the thought. Certainly couldn't stay here in this room with him, cold and not Roger. She had to get out. April let go of his hand, turned and rushed out the door, unsuccessfully trying to fight back tears. Mark and Collins both looked at her, startled, as she closed the door behind her and wiped the tears from her face with one hand.
"I… I think I need to go home," she said shakily. "I can't stay here."
Collins and Mark exchanged a look, and Tom said after a moment, "One of us needs to stay here. I'll take her home—you go in there and sit with Roger. Call us if anything changes."
Mark nodded as Tom stepped forward and gently put an arm around April's shoulders, starting to lead her back down the hallway towards the exit. She leaned against him gratefully, her cheek against his chest as they walked. Tom's support helped, yes, but… how much more of this could she take?
When she got home, April went straight to her room and locked the bedroom door behind her before Maureen and Benny could follow her to ask how Roger was. Alive. Stable. But she needed him awake, to tell her himself that he'd be okay. All the doctor's reassurances in the world couldn't stand in place of that, and until Roger returned to consciousness…
She sank down on the bed and pulled the blanket up around her, clutching it for whatever small comfort it could offer. "He'll be fine," she told herself quietly. "He will. The doctors said so, and Tom said so, and Mark… And he promised. He swore he wouldn't leave. He's gonna be okay."
But Jessi had promised too, and look where she was now, where they both were. Her Jessi, her baby, her heart-sister, was buried in some cemetery in Monterey, California, three thousand some miles away. Chris had told her—the funeral had been last week. And April, Jessi's star, April-love, beautiful girl, all the random nicknames she'd collected over the course of their friendship… Sitting here alone in an empty room, half-crying and clinging to a blanket, hoping and almost praying that her Roger wouldn't follow after her Jessi. She never prayed, but this time… Lost little girl, all alone without someone to hold her. If she'd just go out into the living room, the others would have held her, but she didn't want them. Not right now. Just Roger and Jessica, and they couldn't…
She couldn’t think about this any longer. She needed something to… to distract her. Anything, damn it. Normally when she needed to be distracted she’d listen to one of Roger’s tapes, the recordings of him singing, but now that would hardly do any good when it would only bring her back to the thing she was trying to forget about. She dropped the blanket back on the bed and stood up slowly, searching through the dresser silently. She didn’t even really know what she was searching for until…
Her hand touched a razor, and she pulled it out slowly, staring at it in complete silence for almost a minute or two. What the hell was she doing? Taking your mind off of Roger and Jessi for just a little while, she reminded herself. Right. Focus on something other than the fact that his best friend was dead and her boyfriend had come damn close to it.
Almost as if it were held by someone else’s hand, April watched in morbid fascination as the razor traced a short, thin line across the inside of her arm, just below the bend of her elbow, and after a second blood welled up along the cut in tiny beads of red. A second cut, a third… She stopped herself after that, set the razor aside on the dresser and just watched as the blood rose to the surface of her skin, beaded, ran down the bend of her arm, and soon enough dried. At least the blood was some proof she was actually alive… Better than thinking about the lifelessness of Roger in the hospital, or the empty place in her life that Jessi had always filled. Far better.
April jumped when someone knocked on the door, and Collins’ voice called, “April? Mark just called. Roger’s awake. D’you want to go see him?”
“I… um… yes! I just… give me a minute, I’ll be out in a second…” She grabbed the razor and hid it in the dresser drawer quickly, hunted through the closet for a sweatshirt and threw it on before unlocking the door and giving Collins a shaky smile. The falseness of it stung her, but he didn’t seem to notice as she said, “Okay, ready. Let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-Three