I'd die without you (fast)|Tag: RENT - INACTIVE

[ROGER DAVIS]

The entire apartment smelt and felt like complete and utter death. The seemingly thousands of candles added to the tomb-like feel. But the lights had started to bother Mimi, and the soft glow was better for her eyes. Even though he felt hypocritical, he'd have died for a hit for both of them just to take the pain away.

His hands were shaking almost violently and he wished he had anything to calm them. He flicked the lighter, watching as the orange flame shot up, and between shaky fingers, he lit a cigarette, sucking in a deep breath of the smoke. He had retreated to the bathroom on the guise of needing to pee, but in reality, he needed a moment to himself, so he shut himself in the bathroom and currently found himself sitting on the toilet, sucking down a cigarette to try to calm his nerves.

It was hour seven in what Roger knew was thousands of more hours, and it terrified Roger. He wasn't scared for himself, he knew that, but he was terrified for Mimi. It was hypocritical, but part of him wanted to just go to the Man, get any sort of relief for Mimi and then just...start over. Or something. Anything to stop the sounds of her groans, the gagging and retching that made his own stomach turn and shift in queasiness. He curled his knees to his chest, wrapping an arm around him as he tried to calm his shaking. Holding a hand out in front of him, he watched as it twitched and shook in front of him. Shaking it slightly, he held it up, watching as it continued. "Fuck." he whispered, and took in a deep drag again from his cigarette, holding it in before he blew it out in a thin line, standing up from the toliet. He stubbed the cigarette out on the plate near the sink and grabbed the bottle of asprin from the medicine cabnet. He shook out two, tossing them back into his mouth before he bent down, turning the water and taking a drink straight from the faucet. He shook out two more and put the cap back on, exiting the bathroom.

He made his way down the short hallway to see Mimi on the couch. "Hey, baby." he breathed, sinking down to the couch, his legs hooked underneath him so he was kneeling slightly. He brought a hand up, pressing it against her sweat-soaked hair. "You're doin' good, baby. You're doin' really good." he wasn't sure of what else to say as he moved, pushing a wet curl from her face. He pressed a hand against her forehead, brows narrowing in concern. "Baby, you're burning up. You're really hot, honey." He told her, though he was unsure of what to do about it. Maybe he could draw her a bath. A cool bath, he told himself. "C'mon, honey, we gotta get you up. Y'gotta get up, baby."

He couldn't deny that he had the urge to cook up for her himself just to stop her pain. But it wouldn't help in the end. Sure, it would make her stop crying, stop shaking and retching, but in the end, it'd send her right back to the start. "We gotta get yout fever down, baby, and then you gotta eat something. Y'gotta try to eat something and drink something."

[cuervo]

(Taking this one in omnipresent tense. I often switch in and out of first or third person for this particular character in certain threads if it feels right.)

The flames from the numerous candles flickered before they died. Normally the dim lighting in the otherwise dark loft would have soothed Mimi, even put her in a romantic mood. But tonight was unlike most. After making that final decision, that choice, to live differently she knew it would be far from simple to follow up with her actions. This wouldn't be the first time she felt determined to save herself. While Mimi was still a young girl - free to be reckless and live dangerously and all that, she had started to think differently. Maybe it was all this time she spent with Roger that was affecting her so much, listening to him moan and reminisce about his old days when he made many impulsive decisions that (he silently knew and acknowledged but didn’t often admit out loud) ultimately put his life in jeopardy. Maybe “born to be bad” wouldn’t have to be her motto anymore.

She felt unbearably hot as she writhed beneath the thin blankets Roger has tucked her into out of a kind gesture. A mere half hour ago she had been cold and had moaned for them, but her goose bumps had since turned to drops of sweat. Her body temperature would probably be unstable, switching from warm to cool at the drop of a dime, for the next few hours. Mimi could barely gather the strength to kick the blankets off her, and it took her a few minutes to wrench herself from its suffocating grip. The blankets fell to the floor in a crumpled heap and Mimi was grateful for that small newfound sensation of relief. Roger wasn’t by her side at the moment, probably in the washroom taking a breather. Mimi thought she smelt cigarette smoke, but she couldn’t be sure. Her nose had been picking up a lot of strange scents, and the majority of them were likely imagined in her ill state.

A few moments later, Roger returned and kneeled beside her. Mimi shifted her head slightly to glance up at his face, attempting a smile that turned out more like a grimace instead. She sighed as he smoothed her damp curls and mumbled encouraging nothings in her ear.

“Mm…” she moaned in response when he took note of her fever. Even though the blankets were no longer covering her, her body still felt like it was on fire. She readily agreed to take a bath, but the idea of moving didn’t sound nice at all. Her petite body felt fragile yet heavy, and her sunken eyes looked at him with a glimmer of desperation.

“Roger…” she croaked. “I can’t move…help me…”

[ROGER DAVIS]

It hadn't been too long ago that Roger had been in the same situation that Mimi was in now. It had been a forced rehab, put in place by his Loftmates after April had died. He remembered the chills, the sharp pains. He remembered seeing April sitting on the bed, on the dresser, anywhere in the room. She would laugh, sometimes she would cry, and more often than not, she'd tell him he was worthless. It was the hatred that he had spewed at Mark, and Collins, everyone that had tried to talk to him that he remembered the most. Thankfully, Mimi hadn't gotten to that stage yet, though he was sure it was coming.

He remembered it far too well. His hands moved, fingers running along her cracked lips before he frowned deeper as she spoke, her voice horse and cracking.

He moved, lifting her up into his arms, and he realised once again how small she was compared to him. Roger wasn't a large man by any means, but Mimi looked small and frail next to him. He carried her down the small hallway to the bathroom. He set her down on the toliet, feeling himself swallow to try to clear the lump from his throat. He turned slightly to turn on the tub to fill it up with the cool water. He turned back to her. "Okay. Let's get this off. Lift your arms up." Roger told her, lifting the shirt up and over her head. Any other time, Roger would have made some highly sexual remark, but he watched as her body trembled with the fever. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her tattered shorts, sliding them off of her body. "Okay. It's gonna be cold, okay?" Roger asked her gently before he moved, lifting her up into his arms and lowering her down into the water.

"You're gonna be okay, baby. Just a few more days and you'll be on the homestretch. I know it seems like a long time, but you're not doing it alone. I'm gonna be right here with you every second." Roger told her, smoothing her wet hair back. Soon, the tub was full and Roger moved, turning off the water. He rested his arms onto the edge of the tub, leaning his chin against his arms. "You can try to eat some soup and then we'll try to sleep, okay?"" He watched her silently, letting the silence spread over the bathroom.

"I'm proud of you, baby. I love you so much."

[maureenjohnson]

It had been a long and gruelling day for one Maureen Johnson. Well, gruelling if laying around her's and Joanne's apartment and thinking up ideas for a new performance piece on the meaning of an artist's life meant anything.

She was currently curled up in the corner of the pristine white couch, hunched over a notebook filled with random phrases and lyrics to protest songs, her dark eyes narrowed as she scratched out a few words. Glancing up from the scribbles on the page, Maureen chewed on her lower lip and tucked a dark curl behind her ear. As immersed as she appeared to be in her work, she couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, she hadn't heard from Roger or Mimi for nearly a week now. It was surprisingly unsettling.

A visit won’t hurt. she thought to herself.

Standing up, she brushed some imaginary dirt off of her jeans before making her way to the door, not bothering to leave a note or anything to let Joanne know of her whereabouts. She shut the door behind her before taking off down the hall, the stairs and out the main doors.

Soon, Maureen found herself climbing the stairs up to Mimi's and Roger's apartment. She paused at the door, wondering if she sould swing by Mark's beforehand, but the feeling of foreboding that tingled up her arms got the better of her. Raising a hand, she rapped her fist quickly against the door.

" Roger? Mimi? Anyone there?"

[cuervo]

Roger scooped Mimi up carefully in his arms and her stomach lurched from the movement, as gentle as it was. Despite this inevitable nausea, it did feel good to have his strong, protective arms around her. She coughed quietly and took shallow breaths as he transported her to their washroom (thankfully nearby) where a cool bath awaited.

The plastic of the toilet seat was unusually rough beneath her bottom. Mimi weakly lifted her arms just enough for Roger to slip off her clothes, then dropped them to her sides again. As he removed her shorts, she wiggled her hips slightly in a feeble attempt to make the job easier for him. If it weren't for her mindnumbingly ill state, she might've flashed back to some private and romantic moments they had shared getting naked and bathing together. Mimi grimaced and nodded in compliance as she listened to Roger warn her about the temperature of the water and tell her he would place her in the tub.

She gasped and shuddered violently as Roger lowered her into the water, the difference in temperature giving her a momentary shock. Reflexively Mimi's hand shot out quickly to grip at Roger's arm, all ready wrapped around her tiny torso.

"O-Okay" she stuttered in response to Roger's promise to be close by. Mimi wanted so much to be strong, not only for herself but for him, but here she was shaking like a leaf struck by gusts of wind. Yes, the suffering would only last for a few days, and after she had gotten over the worst of it the pain would ease and she'd feel normal again. Normal. What a joke. When was the last time she felt truly normal? While it hurt to realize this, the last time she was a normal, plain and unassuming girl must've been three years ago, when she was sixteen and yearning to leave Ohio. It had been at that same age when she arrived in New York. Three years had passed by just like that, and she had immersed herself in a lifestyle that was far more dangerous, fast and exhillirating than the one she had been raised to know. Burried beneath her wild, playful exterior and her carefree spirit was a heart of gold. Mimi, despite how hard and far she has fallen, is still the girl who longed for passion and life.

Mimi shifted uncomfortably in the bath and glanced at Roger. Slowly, she was adjusting to the temperature of the bathwater. "What...kind of soup?" she asked breathlessly. It was so difficult just to piece together the simplest of sentences. She caressed her own smooth legs absentmindedly as she waited for her lover's reply. Suddenly, Mimi heard a female's voice call both their names. Or at least she thought that was what she heard.

"...Hear that?" she croaked, frowning at Roger.

[ROGER DAVIS]

He watched her shiver from where his chin rested on the edge of the cool tub, and he looked down at the clear water. For the longest time after April's death, Roger had a complete and utter fear of the bathtub, only getting in it to shower for one, maybe two minutes at the most. He had never filled it up, nor laid down in the tub. It was a psychological fear that had stuck with him for nearly a year and a half, until Mimi had coaxed him into the bathroom one night, saying that she was going to break his habit. It had taken a long time, but soon, he had been naked and sinking down into the water, though she had seen how uncomfortable he had been. That had easily been remedied by Mimi's graceful touch and arching hips.

Still, he tried to stay away from the bathroom, more so in the Loft than in Mimi's apartment. The water shifted under his gaze, and Roger's eyes looked from the clear water to Mimi's face, hearing her question about the soup. "I dunno. Whatever we have, I guess." Roger stated, moving to kiss Mimi's knee. He lifted his head as she spoke, croaking out a question.

He had heard something, but had passed it off. Glancing over at the door, Roger felt a frown spread on his face before he looked at Mimi. "Stay here, okay?" Roger asked, though he really didn't want to leave Mimi in the bathroom by herself. Partly it was because he was worried about her, but partly it was his fear that April had left with him. He never kept razors out, much to Mimi's annoyance. He hid them as far away from the bathroom as possible, something he and Mimi had rarely talked about. If he had the thought that she needed a razor, he'd always present her with one, but usually would stay in the bathroom while she shaved. It had, of course, been the unspoken topic that always should have been talked about, but would probably always be kept hidden.

He stood up almost reluctantly, glancing back once more before he exited the bathroom and made his way to the front door. The lack of a peephole made Roger open the door, only to see Maureen standing there.

"Baby. Hey."

His voice was tired, and he knew that he hadn't spoken to Maureen or Mark or anyone, really, in a while. Not since Mimi had stopped. He was sure that he looked like shit, and Mimi worse off.

[maureenjohnson]

The sight of Roger when he opens the door is enough is enough to bring a small squeak of alarm from Maureen lips. He really did look like a mess. " Oh my God... Roger," she choked out, finally beging hit by the wave of warm, stale, ill-smelling air that wafted from the apartment; it was a familiar scent that brought back painful memories. " What's happening? Is everything okay?"

She leans around him in an attempt to peer inside, her brows pulled together in worry. "Is Mimi alright?" her eyes dart back to his face " Are you alright?"

((ooc: I hope this is enough for you to work off of...))

[joannejefferson]

It had been an unusually simple day for Joanne. A good portion of her clients had either postponed or canceled their meetings for the day, and for once in a very long time she was actually caught up on paperwork. It had sent her home from the office with a very broad smile. That had changed the moment she'd walked into the apartment she and Maureen shared.

The first thing she had noticed, and the observation came with a slight frown, was the silence. Usually when she walked in, she would meet one of a few reactions, generally the sound of Maureen's voice accompanying any of them. When that did not occur, Joanne looked around the apartment in confusion. After shedding her work clothes and settling into something more comfortable, Joanne took more time to look around. She'd gotten home earlier than she usually did so Maureen's absence didn't seem completely unusual. It was then that she noticed the open notebook on the couch. She smiled as she glanced at the scribbled words and scratched out phrases on the page, the signs of Maureen's brilliance at work.

Well, this is interesting. I wonder where she might have gone. She couldn't find a note, which generally meant that Maureen would be somewhere Joanne could easily find her. For once, her jealous tendencies were not getting the best of her, and she thought of the few places Maureen might be. Deciding that she and Maureen would eventually meet up with each other, Joanne grabbed her keys and headed for the Loft. She figured that their friends might have heard from Maureen sometime today.

You know, come to think of it, she hasn't mentioned Roger or Mimi lately. I wonder how they're doing.

Not long after that, Joanne was welcoming the familiar sight of the Loft into view. It had been far too long since she'd been there. Seeing Roger and Mimi would be wonderful treat to end her day.

Walking into the building, she began to climb the stairs she'd seen so may times before, and heard two very familiar voices above her. Joanne couldn't make out what they were saying, so she increased her pace just a bit. She reached the Loft just in time to see Maureen and Roger at the door.

"Hey." She said with a small smile and a wave.

[ROGER DAVIS]

At Maureen's gasp, Roger's brows narrowed deeply. He brought his hands up, holding them out. The flurry of questions came, and Roger nodded, bringing a hand up to press against Maureen's cheek. "It's okay, baby. Nothing's happened. Mimi, she's--She's kicking. I'm trying to help her as much as I can, but...but it's worse than before. It's worse than when I kicked."

The last time he had been in this situation, he had been close to death, and even more close in his own mind. He hadn't let anyone in his room until Collins had grabbed a hold of him tightly in a bear hug and drug him out to the living room while Maureen and Mark had gone to work on Roger's room. It all seemed so long ago, but when reminded, it almost felt like yesterday.

Roger pushed the door open to let Maureen past, and when Maureen asked if Roger was alright, he shook his head. "Just don't ask me that right now, MJ. I don't--I'm running on autopilot right now. I'll tell you how I'm feeling when I start feeling again." Roger Davis had many abilities, some were considered talents that people appriciated, and some were considered curses that people (and himself) despised. One was the ability to completely detatch himself from a situation emotionally. Sure, he was forcing himself to be strong for Mimi, shutting his emotions down until he was alone. He knew, sooner or later, he was going to have a breakdown. He'd just made sure that no one was around to see it. He couldn't do that to his friends again.

The sound of Joanne's voice made Roger look over Maureen's shoulder to see the Lawyer. "Hey, Jo. Maureen, I need your help. You and April were always the better cooks of the Loft. I just burn shit. Mimi needs something, I don't know what. Just something to eat. Whatever you guys fed me when I was getting clean, make that. She hasn't eaten anything in like, six hours. She just pukes everything up."

Roger turned into the kitchen, not realising his hands were shaking as much as they were. He spoke quickly, unsure himself if he was talking to himself or to the two women. "I-I was thinking that I'd go to the Man, get some pot or something. I know he sells Valium, I was thinking about getting her that 'cause it's cheaper than Methadone and--and if anything, if she can't hold down a pill, I could cook it up and get her to shoot it in little doses. The clinics are closed over the weekend and--and she's taking it really rough."

He brought a hand up, shakily running it through his hair before he turned around, as if noticing that the women were there in the first place. It was probably the fact that he had only slept maybe two hours since Mimi had started kicking. Roger let out a breath, wet with unshead tears as he looked at the two women.

"I-I just--I don't know what to do. She wont go to a hospital and--and I'm like this close to saying fuck it and going out to score for her." And himself, he thought silently. The pressure was just getting to be too much. "I--I don't know if we just--I think I made a mistake, because it's been like, four days and she's not getting better. She's getting worse."

[joannejefferson]

She's kicking. The words sounded in her mind like a religious chant. Kicking... Kicking... Kicking... Kicking what? Then it hit her. There was only one thing Mimi could be kicking besides her legs, and it was probably the hardest thing she'd ever have to get rid of. The smile that tried to rise on her face was had to fight off, but she managed. Still, she felt a certain elation at the idea.

Mimi Marquez, the dancer, the lively one, Ms. Born To Be Bad, one of her closest friends was kicking her drug habit. Joanne couldn't be more proud of anyone in that moment. Still, the look on Roger's face was quickly killing her excitement. She knew, not so much from experience, but she'd heard stories and worked with clients who had quit drug habits, and from what they'd told her, it was no easy feat. Even with the best medical care, quite a few people had gone back to doing drugs. But, in Joanne's mind, Mimi had something those people hadn't had. Mimi would have the strength and support of her friends, and so would Roger.

She followed him into the apartment, and tried very hard not to cringe at the state of things. Since she'd met them, she'd slowly gotten used to the general lack of sparkle at the Loft. Being the neat freak she was, it had taken awhile to not cringe every single time she walked in, and honestly the Loft had been in worse condition. Shrugging at what she knew was just their way, Joanne turned her attention back to Roger just in time to hear the desperation in his voice. It made her heart break.

Unsure of what to do, she looked to Maureen, as he seemed to be speaking more to Maureen than her. Before the other woman spoke though, an idea sparked in her head and she spoke. The idea was certifiably insane, and given any other situation she might not have suggested it at all, but this was a situation in which Joanne couldn't really afford to let her own emotions dictate her actions. Thus, like she did in most situations like this, she went into automaton mode, although she was decidedly less soulless than usual.

"Well, Rog... I could go and get the stuff for you. That way you could stay here, and Maureen can cook you guys something. I mean, granted I've never actually bought drugs from a guy on the street before, but I can do it." She felt like she was rambling but it was simply the result of how much she cared. Joanne wasn't always the most openly emotional person, and more than likely wouldn't be for much longer, but she really wanted to help her friends... especially Mimi. It was almost a need.

"I don't think Mimi would want you to leave, and this way you won't be tempted to buy her a hit. I mean, if you give her a hit, won't she have to start all over again? You said it's been four days. There's no need in doing it all over again."

She didn't want to sound harsh and it probably came off in some sort of gruff fashion. Of all their friends, Roger was the one Joanne had the most difficulty relating to. She looked back at Maureen, her expression one of both worry and confusion. In the courtroom, she was confident and sure, but here, with her friend's life on the line she was anything but sure. For once, it may have actually showed, even if Maureen was the only one who would be able to see it.

[ROGER DAVIS]

For a brief moment, Roger looked at Joanne as if she was crazy. It was a good idea, in theory, if the idea-giver hadn't been a highly respectable Lawyer with highly respectable parents...but she was. And she did. Everything about the idea was insane, and Roger actually felt a laugh escape his lips, one that was tired, but it escaped nonetheless as he looked at Maureen, then at Joanne herself. "...you. You buy drugs." It wasn't meant to be mean, but he knew it probably had sounded that way, and he felt his eyes close before he quickly continued. "Honey, look. No offense, okay, but no one would sell to you. You're--" he wasn't able to pinpoint what exactly it was about Joanne, so he let himself trail off. "There'd be no way that he'd sell at you. He'd think that you were a cop or something and he'd be outta there faster than you could blink." Pausing, Roger felt a sigh escape his lips. "Baby, if you wanna come with me, you can. Just to make sure that I don't--" he didn't want to state what was actually swimming around in his head.

Roger moved over to the phone, picking it up with a slight frown. He dialed, leaning against the table. "Hey. Hey, man. Yeah, it's me, look, I need a--" Roger's frown deepened and he sighed. "Look, cut the shit. It isn't that. I don't do that shit anymore. My girl, she's kicking. Yeah, I know. It's terrible for you. Look, y'got any or what?" Roger's eyes then got wide. "Fifty dollars?!" Roger exclaimed. "Dude, I could hit the fucking needle for cheaper than that! No--No, I don't--Look, I'll bring you what I have and we can work something out. Just have some ready for me, I'll meet you."

Roger moved, slamming the phone down back on the hook with a harsh sigh. "Fucking highway robbery." Roger muttered before looking at Joanne. "Look, I'm not going to have you get arrested or it spread that one of the best lawyers in New York is a junkie. I just won't do it. You can come with me if you want, but I'm not letting you possibly ruin your career for Mimi and I."

He turned, walking the short distance back to the bathroom to see Mimi in the tub. "Hey, baby." Roger said, kneeling down by the tub once more. "Baby, I'm gonna go get you something, okay? I'll be like 15 minutes at the most. Maureen's here and so is Jo. C'mon, we can get you dressed and Maureen's gonna make you something to eat." He moved, pressing his hand against her forehead. "You feel better. You're not hot anymore. Let's get some clothes back on you and get you back in bed."

[cuervo]

(Edit: Sorry Roger for not noticing the last bit of your post, I was rather tired when I read it and I forgot lol. It's fixed now.)

In response to Mimi's inquiry, Roger seemed to perk up a bit, tuning his ears in to the sounds of the voice muffled through the door. He promised he'd be back and urged her not to move, and even as exhausted and ill as Mimi was, she could sense reluctance in his tone of voice. It was as if he was expecting some sort of impending doom that would make matters far worse than they'd ever been. Perhaps the death of April was still swimming in his mind, which was no doubt crowded with many other morbid thoughts. Mimi nodded sleepily and sank farther into the tub, leaning her back against the cool plastic and tilting her head up. If she looked down too quickly or got too low to the ground, she felt too dizzy and there was a greater possibility of her getting sick. She also had to ensure she didn't move too quickly in the water, or else she was a goner.

Mimi sighed in frustration and slowly closed her eyes. Withdrawaling not only made you feel like shit, it really hindered your range of motion. They sounded distant but she could definitely hear voices now, two female voices. They sound suspiciously like Joanne's and Maureen's, and immediately she felt torn. A part of her longed to see them, to feel their comfort and encouragement while the other felt shamed, like she should crawl away from them and hide. Why should they have to see her looking so...vulnerable? So pathetic and weak? And it was her fault, no one could deny that she wouldn't be in this position if she hadn't gotten hooked in the first place. But more than anything else, Mimi craved the end. The light in her tunnel.

Luckily, soft footsteps drew near once more and Roger knelt down by her to speak. Mimi forced a ghost of a smile upon her lips and reopened her eyes a little, looking up at him.

"Okay..." she mumbled weakly. Her lover pressed his palm against her head and she sighed. Yes, she wasn't breaking a fever anymore. It was a good idea to be in the bath afterall. But then the gears in her mind shifted and she could feel herself begin to panic...just what was he going to get her? Surely, after four days of hell, Roger wouldn't allow her to endure all over again...

"No! Wait! Roger!" she cried, then hacked roughly. She immediately regretted raising her voice. After a moment or two of regaining her composure, she parted her lips. "Please...nothing like...that" came her last plea. It didn't make too much sense by itself, but she hoped that he'd catch her tone of voice and realize what she meant.

[ROGER DAVIS]

The sound of her voice raising to a near terrified panic, Roger's brows narrowed deeply. "N-No. No, baby, stop." Roger begged, tears clogging his voice as he brought both hands up, pressing them against both of her cheeks. As she coughed, hacking and shaking, Roger felt tears sip down his lips. "C'mon, baby." he whispered sadly, smoothing back her wild hair from her forehead. "Calm down. Breathe."

He moved, pressing his lips against her forehead as he clenched his eyes shut, trying to cover up the sound of a sob escaping his lips. He placed kisses on her forehead, a sigh escaping his lips as he heard her plead at him to not bring that home. He pulled back slightly, brushing away tears and water on her face with a thumb. "Listen to me. If I wanted to get that...I would have done it a long time ago, baby. For both of us." He stroked the worried lines on her forehead. "It's gonna be okay, I promise. I told you I'll take care of you. C'mon, let's get your clothes on and get you into bed."

He lifted her out of the tub and to her feet, wrapping a too-large towel around her thin frame. He carried her back to the bedroom and laid her down on the bed. He removed the towel and pulled on a thin pair of ratty shorts and one of his shirts. "I'll be back, honey, okay? I promise I'll be back soon and you'll be feeling better."

[ROGER DAVIS]

((OOC: SLIGHT TIME JUMP. ROG HAS GONE AND NOW HE'S COMIN' BACK! YAY! He got his ass beat up, so he's lookin' pretty rough, but yeah. XD ))

Maybe it had helped. He'd never admit it to anyone, but maybe the little adventure that they had been on together had helped him in some way. It was strange that it had to have been with Joanne to make him a little more...was it at ease? He wasn't at ease, not by a long shot. His ribs and stomach burned. His jaw hurt. His lip stung and his eye was slightly swollen, though whatever the cream was that Joanne had put on it, while it smelled like complete and utter throw up, was working. It was cooling the painful area around his eye, though as he walked up the stairs back to Mimi's apartment, his stomach twisted into knots once more.

The half of the pill he had crushed up at Joanne's and snorted (since, in his own mind, taking pills took too long, and Joanne wasn't the type to have syringes on hand) only took a slight effect, leaving him only tingling and his pupils like pinheads. After five years of heroin and hard drugs, a half a pill of Valium wasn't going to knock him on his ass. If anything, it'd calm his nerves some. He needed to have at least most of the control over himself instead of being completely and utterly smashed. It'd be nice at the moment, but he knew he needed to be awake for Mimi. There'd be time to completely fall out, as it were, and go into some mind-numbing stupor. He wouldn't shoot up heroin, but he knew he'd be able to get completely shitfaced with the right amount of alcohol.

Fingers curled around the knob on the heavy metal door, and he pulled it open, stepping in quickly. He didn't see Maureen, but didn't stop enough to really look. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the two and a half pills that were left from the man. He made a bee-line for the bathroom, pausing slightly in the doorway. He stood still, his mind trying to remember. He broke his stillness and jerked to the sink. He got down on his hands and knees and opened the cabinet under the sink. He reached in and pulled out a small box. Saved from Mimi's first kick, Roger had tucked it away in the back of the sink for reasons he didn't even realise. Had it been for a 'rainy day' as many people did? Was it because he knew that one day, he'd need it for real uses, life saving uses? He wasn't sure, but the needle was there nonetheless, orange cap securely on the sharp tip. He held onto the syringe between his teeth as he dug in the cabinet for a cotton ball and some alcohol. Hands full and syringe secure in his mouth, Roger made his way to the bedroom. He entered as quietly as he could and set the items on the dresser by the door.

He fell into the old habit quickly, and in any other situation it would have shocked him at how well he did it. It was almost automatic, as if he had been born to do it. He crushed the other half of the pill up, and set it in the spoon. The water in the glass that sat on the dresser was dropped, drop by drop, into the spoon with the crushed up powder. Digging into his pocket, he flicked the lighter, holding it under the spoon silently. He glanced back at Mimi laying in the bed. He had to double-check her chest to make sure it was rising and falling before he turned back, clicking the lighter off. He stuck the cotton in and swirled it around slightly before he sucked up the liquid into the syringe. He held up the needle, looking at the end as he tapped it slightly to release all the air bubbles.

He turned then to Mimi, moving to the bed. He sank down on it slightly, leaning over to press his lips against her wet forehead. "Honey." he said in a whisper, barely spoken. In a few hours, he'd get her out of bed and into the bath. She needed a bath, more than the ten minute soak she had to kill the fever. He'd wash her hair so it smelled like the strawberries he was used to and loved and not the bile that clung to it like a curse. He pulled back, bringing a hand up to push strands of her curly hair from her face. "C'mon, baby. Open your eyes for me. I got something for you. I'll give you this and in a few hours, I'll wash your hair."

Any other time, the thought of a bath with Mimi could have sent a wild smirk on his face and his blood racing in his veins. They'd pretend they were in the oceans that they'd never see, swimming together, or in a boat out in the middle of no-where, where no one could ever reach them. Their lifelines would be each other; Roger had once remarked that he had forgotten how to swim, it had been so long and he'd watch as Mimi would smile and say that she'd show him how again. Their only danger lurking in the water would be the soap that could sting their eyes. They'd move with the rhythm of their own oceans.

Soon, Roger thought slightly as he watched Mimi stur, they'd go back to that place. Mimi wasn't dying, he told himself. She was living again. Roger knew more than anything that the very act of living was as hard as dying. But she needed to do it. He needed to do it. They both needed each other to live because sooner, rather than later, they wouldn't be able to live anymore.

"Open your eyes, baby, c'mon."

[cuervo]

((Okay, Rog. I apologize but I haven't had time to really read the thread, but Mimi wouldn't know what happened, anyway. So she's going to be confused.))

Mimi stumbled into a deep slumber almost as soon as her head had hit the cushions and all faded to darkness until she'd rise again. While Roger was gone, she shifted in and out of sleep every ten or fifteen minutes, struck with anxiety every time she woke. It was a blur, the events that had soon passed. Mimi barely remembered Roger's strong, warm arms lifting her naked and unsightly body out of the tub like she was weightless. She was resting upon the worn yet comforting cushions of the couch wearing a thin shirt and a pair of shorts, which meant Roger must have dried her off and dressed her between that foggy gap of time when she took a bath and ended up here. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Mimi didn't recall ever being this whacked out from junk withdrawal. But it had been a little while and it was entirely possible that she had underestimated the damage done...

His voice found its way to her ears in scrambled sounds and tones as if he was speaking in a language from another planet that she couldn't decipher. But after a few moments of hearing her lover's voice she made the connection that Roger had returned, that he was back by her side like he promised. Mimi willed herself to half-open her heavy eyes, which were a little glazed over. "Roger..." she said groggily. "Slow down, what...?"

Mimi hated how confused and befuddled she felt right now. She was usually very sharp and quick to understand how Roger felt and what his words meant even before he'd finished speaking. She had a knack for guessing the ends to his sentences that never ceased to fill her heart with pride and confidence, and to startle Roger. Mimi waited for her eyes to refocus on the dim light in the room before she could really get a good look at Roger. Once she did, her lips parted in horror. He looked hurt.

"What...what happened to you?" she asked in a voice that was a pitch higher than she had intended. Mimi was instantly filled with worry and fear. Had the Man gotten furious with the fact that he was starting to lose his customers and taken his anger out on Roger? But the Man never got violent...whenever he got pissed, he acted like a yappy dog - all bark and no bite. Roger had handled him many times before. Despite her worry for Roger's condition, Mimi was ultimately relieved that he had returned.