Written for the beautiful Harper's Pixie, who wanted a story about Mark's thoughts on the Life Support meeting when Roger comes in. I really enjoyed writing this, and it's all for her! Thank you, dear! Much looove!
Note: Most of this is based off of the movie version, when they start singing 'Will I?' Or at least that's what I was picturing in my head. Anyhoo. Flashbacks are italics! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Oh, Jonathan, how I love thee.
Mark was surrounded by disease. He was the only healthy one in the room, recording the dying on his camera so they would last forever.
It fascinated him and repulsed him, the idea that soon these people would only exist on film.
As he turned the camera to Angel and Collins, sitting side by side, Angel looked up and smiled. Even with her wig off, she still looked wonderful. Collins gently squeezed her hand, and she returned it, putting her head on his shoulder.
Mark envied their love. Not because he was in love with Angel or Collins, but because they fit so perfectly together. Brought together by chance, they embraced each other fully, without question. Mark had never really had that kind of connection.
"Roger, come on," he urged his friend, lying in a tangle of sheets. "Come with me."
"Where are we going?" Roger mumbled, still half-asleep.
Mark lightly pushed him. "There's this new café. Collins is coming, and it sounds like a nice place."
"I can go later tonight," he muttered, pushing Mark's hand away and rolling over. "Let me go to sleep."
Actually, Roger ended up going there three days later with a girl he would never see ever again.
Mark turned the camera on Paul, the soft-spoken leader of the bunch. Paul was extremely sympathetic to everyone, never pushed anyone past their breaking points, never egged anyone on annoyingly. All his words were carefully chosen, all his motion specific. He had been living with HIV and AIDS for an astounding four-and-a-half years. His immune system was strong, but now starting to give.
He was grateful to Paul, grateful for the chance to film this. Paul didn't mind, and if something was awkward, Paul would look at Mark and he would turn off the camera, simple as that. By now, everyone was used to Mark, used to the camera being constantly on and filming them. Collins and Angel were the most natural, having a camera in their faces most of the time anyway. Sometimes they would flash him a smile.
Mark liked having his opportunity, but sometimes he wished Paul would have told him the camera wasn't allowed. To watch some of this footage...it was heartbreaking.
"Come on, Roger," Mark said, the musician's clock blaring a red 9:14, gleaming off the filmmaker's glasses.
"What is it?" Roger growled, opening on eye to glare at Mark. Mark frowned.
"We said we'd go see Maureen perform today. It's her first show and she's really nervous. She wants all of us to come, even you."
"Roger, whattsa matter?" a voice sounded from the numerous covers. Some red hair and gray eyes poked out from underneath them.
"Nothing, April," he said in a soft voice, then turned to Mark. "Yeah, yeah, we'll be there soon. Go ahead without us." So Mark went with Collins and Benny to watch Maureen strut her stuff onstage.
Roger and April never came. They were getting smack from their dealer and shooting up in the kitchen.
Mark focused on Steve and Gordon. Complete opposites. Gordon was cynical, the most negative out of all of them. He was bitter. His girlfriend gave him HIV, and then left with another man after leaving a short, five second message on his machine saying, "We're positive. Sorry." Gordon never really got over that.
Steve was just...sad. He got HIV from a blood transfusion; he got into a car accident and needed the blood. However, no one had tested it for diseases. Steve got the news in the hospital two months later when he came in for a check-up. Completely surprised, dumbfounded. He didn't blame the hospital. Steve understood they didn't know. The blood had given him life...but it also was his death sentence all the same.
Pam got it from a cut on her hand. She was a paramedic, once. Guy was bleeding everywhere. She had a cut right above the plastic glove... diagnosed three months later, when she had a horrible cold and went to the doctors.
Ali got it from her second boyfriend. Condom broke. She still loved him anyway. They came here together, to the life support. He died right in Angel's first month of joining. He had only been 23.
Their stories, all on Mark's camera.
"Roger, please," Mark said softly, "come out."
"No."
"Roger, you're shaking." He didn't have enough money to pay his dealer; Roger was going through the first stages of withdraw. Collins had told Mark about it earlier.
"Leave me alone."
"Roger, we can go to the Life, get you something to eat, and then maybe go to the doctor's—" When Mark touched Roger's shoulder, the former druggie quickly became violent.
"I'm not going to the fucking doctors, so shut the fuck up and leave me ALONE!" Roger glared at him with sunken eyes. "I don't need to go out, I don't need food, I just need money." April had been gone for two months.
Mark told Collins that Roger needed rehab or else he'd die, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.
All three of them told Roger that the life support would be good for him, that it would help him. He shunned them all. He didn't need that shit, he said. He was fine on his own. But Mark saw the loneliness in his eyes. Roger missed living. Collins had Angel now. He had pushed Mimi away. He pushed Mark away. He pushed everything away, strumming his guitar.
Mark focused on the meeting, staring into the camera but not really seeing much.
"Anyone else want to say something?" Paul asked the group softly. They all looked down, looked around. They shuffled, coughed. Paul just smiled. "Well, then—"
Steve got up from his chair, the metal scratching a little against the tile floor. "I...I have something to say." He looked around, and Paul merely looked at him curiously, waiting for him to go on. "I'm...I'm really scared. I mean, when I'm in here, I'm okay. But when I go outside...when I have to face the world...it's really hard for me to deal with it." He paused, looking down shyly. "It's just so hard for me to handle. Sometimes, I...I don't know what to do. I've thought about suicide, but I couldn't do that. I thought about not taking my AZT...but that's like habit, now. I just want to move on with my life, b-but I can't." Tears formed in his eyes, one falling onto the floor. "I'm so scared what this disease is going to do to me, what it is doing to me."
Silence. They've all felt the same way. Maybe most of them still do. Maybe all of them still do. You can't read thoughts through a camera.
"Roger, why don't you come to the Life Support meeting?" Mark asked softly, and Roger just gave him a smile.
"I don't think so, Mark. That kind of shit's not for me."
"Angel and Collins will be there. ...I'll be there, too."
"Well, you three can have fun together. I'll stay here." He gazed out the window, and Mark knew he had lost him. The blue-eyed boy stood up, and took a few steps. He looked to Roger.
"You know, it really does help. Some of them say the things you say to me about it. Some of them are just like you, Roger." He broke off, and looked to the floor. "You need to get out of the house." Mark picked up his camera, and didn't look back.
He didn't expect Roger to come. He had learned by then that Roger wouldn't come.
Steve started to sing. It was a beautiful song, one that had been sung before by the whole group. But now...with just Steve singing it...there was something haunting about it, something incredibly tragic and moving. When he started to sing the verse again, Angel got up. Collins got up. They started singing too. Soon, everyone was singing. Hell, even Gordon was singing.
And Mark was singing too.
Mark had heard it enough to know the words. But now...now, it hurt. Now, it stung. He had been filming for so long, and had gotten nowhere...was this it? Was this all life had to offer? Did anyone really care if he went anywhere or not? Oh god, no one did care, did they? Not even—
Suddenly, a new voice. Mark swung his camera around, away from Steve. And there...in between Angel and Collins, stood Roger. He looked around at all the faces, a pensive look upon his features. Mark couldn't help the small smile that crept onto his face. He focused on the three friends. Collins and Angel both had their arms around Roger's shoulders. Roger had one arm around Collins's shoulder, and another wrapped around Angel's waist. Angel put her head on Roger's shoulder, smiling, and Collins met Roger's eyes. Roger just kept the song going, giving Collins a quick smile. It was a moment Mark would never forget. A memory etched forever in film.
The song ended quickly after that. "I guess that's it, then," Paul said, and everyone nodded. Mark stopped the camera, and went up to the three.
"I'm proud of you, Roger," Collins was saying, and slapped the musician on the back.
Angel jumped merrily in place. "I'm so glad you finally came, honey!" She gave him a big hug, and Roger met Mark's eyes. A little sheepish smile appeared on his lips.
"Well...I came, didn't I?" Mark looked at Roger for a few seconds, then laughed, nodded.
He finally came.
-fin.