Notes: Uh, this is my first shot at writing slash. I'm not a big fan of Mark/Roger slash, but I'm gonna give it a try. It may suck, but hell. I'm trying. And I'm prepared to accept the beating from you AC. –whimpers in fear-
And another note: This is written from Ali's point of view. Ali is Mark and Roger's adopted daughter and she doesn't know she's adopted yet. This is just gonna be her life with two dads. Very squishy.
Oh and another quick note. If you don't know who the person they named their daughter after, it's Ali from Life Support. Yay…just stating in case you don't know.
Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson completely owns RENT and my soul.
Mark kicked the ground and grumbled. He buried his head in his arms and looked at the table. A silent tear fell from his tear as he looked at nothing. He picked his head up and looked at the photographs he had on his desk.
One was of a little girl with long brown hair. She was about four to five years old, missing her front teeth. She had vivid green eyes that were shining with creativity. She was being held by a strong man. His long blond hair fell in loose curls and was cuddling the girl. They were both smiling and laughing as the life of Central Park carried on around them.
The next one was just of the same little girl. Except this time, she was bigger. She was about eleven years old and had her arm through Mark and Roger's. Her long brown hair was now close to a glossy black and her green eyes were shining now with elegance and the lust to be a teenager. She wore a long light pink dress that made the natural curls in her hair ever more darker. Her skin appeared pale but she kept smiling. She was heading off to a Father-Daughter dance. But to her, this would be a FatherS-Daughter Dance.
The next was of two men. Their arms were wrapped each other and they were smiling. They both had blond hair. The one who had green eyes had his hair longer and in pretty loose curls. Mark looked at himself, blue-eyed with dorky glasses, embracing a pretty boy. Mark touched the face of the pretty boy, longing to hold him again.
But he couldn't. His love was gone, lost to a disease that had taken all his friends except one now. After Angel dying twelve years ago and Mimi behind her, lasting only a few months after that Christmas Eve. Collins now remained, teaching at Columbia University for longer than ten months.
But Roger was gone. So recently. Only two days ago, was Mark sitting beside him, feeding him ice chips, trying to soothe the agony that Roger went through. Mark held back the tears, trying hard not to cry.
Mark felt another tear roll down his cheek as he looked at the pictures in his office. Mark picked up work for a New York 1 as a camera man and also worked on his documentaries outside of work. He was recently nominated for best Documentary at the Sundance and won it.
Mark heard the door open slowly and he looked at up. A young girl with glossy brown-black curls stood in the doorway. She was about twelve years old, but he trusted her around New York City alone. She was wearing a school uniform that declared she was from P.S. 52. Her green eyes were dull and were red from tears.
"Hey Pappy," she said, shutting the door. Mark smiled at his adopted daughter.
"You okay?" she asked softly. She knelt down next to Mark and looked at him. Mark swallowed and nodded.
"Yeah, I'm doing better," he lied.
Ali smiled gently and touched his hand. "He's alright now. He doesn't have to suffer anymore," Ali said. Mark looked at his adopted daughter and smiled at her.
Ali thought that Roger died from some odd disease like anorexia. She thought that she was named after some celebrity that they once met together. Ali thought that her daddy was a victim of a disease that he couldn't control. She didn't know that he died from something that he had given himself.
Mark remembered the films that were stashed all around him. He remembered who Ali curiously pondered the films. How she thought maybe there was more to her Daddy's illness. When she considered that there was more than just a celebrity that her namesake was from.
Mark looked at Ali, with her big green eyes, showing sympathy for something she didn't understand. That was when Mark decided it was time. It was time to show her and let her understand.
"Ali, do you remember when we promised that one day you would understand Daddy's sickness and who you were named after?"
Ali looked at him. "How could I forget?"
Mark sighed and took her hand into his. "No day but today, right?"