All Wet
By Misty Flores
Email: mistiec_flores@yahoo.com

Fandom: Pre-RENT (movie)
Pairing/characters: Joanne/Maureen, Joanne/Other
Rating: Hard R
Summary: Joanne Jefferson's defined, in control life is turned upside down when she comes across one Maureen Johnson.

--

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

If love was a war
It's you who has won
While I was confessing it
You held your tongue
Now the damage is done

Well, there's blood in these veins
And I cry when in pain
I'm only human on the inside
-- 'Human' The Pretenders

--

Perhaps Antonia hadn't quite expected the bombshell she had just delivered to be met with such silence, but Joanne had no other recourse. Gone completely numb, she only stared dumbly, processing the words, repeated over and over in her head until they became a ringing gong, and understanding them was all she could do.

Dizzy, dazed, and suddenly too warm, Joanne's mouth suddenly shut when the spike of pain came, deep and searing. It slid into her chest and choked her, and she literally gasped, palm suddenly at her heart, body shuddering as if she was trying to shake off her devastation.

There was an image in her head, and it was impossible to clear it, stroked into a roaring visual when Antonia's fingers settled on hers. She snapped her hand back, and her gaze fell on the frightened, defiant woman on the other side of the table.

And still, she said nothing.

Antonia's lips pressed together, trembled, and hazel eyes glanced up and down, far and wide, and then back to Joanne. "I didn't mean for it to happen," she said suddenly, and then shoulders slumped, and she shook her head blindly. "No. No I did."

Joanne's heart was hammering, and she struggled to control her breathing, inhaling sharply through her nostrils, fighting the urge to give up and walk out. "Why?" she asked, a choked whisper.

Antonia's posture was stiff, her hands folded together. Her jaw was clenched, and still, she seemed to remind Joanne of a petulant child, eyes moist with unshed emotion. "Well you seemed to be so stuck on her, maybe I wanted to see what the appeal was."

Disgust and anger rolled up her spine, and with it, came her strength. Standing, she gathered her purse and her jacket.

A slender wrist, capturing hers in a hard grip, stopped her assent. "No, Joanne, please. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Don't walk out on me. Just let me explain."

"Explain what!" She was loud, and the volume of her voice startled even her, as Antonia glanced away, and Joanne stiffened, suddenly aware of the stares, the clink of china, the arena into which she had been entered. "Is that why you brought me here? So I wouldn't make a scene?"

"Joanne-"

"No. I'm done." Shaking off her hand, Joanne's eyes stung with furious anger, shrugging into her coat.

"Fine." Antonia's flash of weakness was gone, eyes sparkling with moisture. "Fine. Go, but before you do, answer me one thing: are you more upset about me or her?"

In an instant, her throat went dry, and Joanne was frozen.

"Hate me if you want, Joanne, I want you to. I want you to understand what it felt like to be used. I was falling in love with you, but all you cared about what getting over your precious Maureen." Signaling for the check, Antonia's shoulders straightened, hand in her purse, digging for and pulling out a compact. "For the record, she seduced me. I made the choice, but she started it."

Cold eyes met hers, and then Antonia looked away.

--

Seldom could Joanne ever really find issue with Mark Cohen. Despite being Maureen's ex, he had become a good friend, a favored lunch partner, and on occasion, a confidante. It was almost ironic, Mark's placement in her life. She genuinely liked him, and the thought was disturbing. Maureen had taken issue with the tight friendship at first, citing that it was weird and wrong for the two of them to mesh so well. Collins snorted and said it said something about Maureen's 'type', and Roger miffed that Joanne was Mark with a spine. Mimi said almost nothing about it at all, she just said she was glad that there was very little residual weirdness, and it was to both of their credit that it worked so well.

Whatever the reason, Joanne and the shy Jewish boy had tailored together a friendship that was built around more than Maureen. Still, he could share her commiseration about Maureen's antics, and often would, with an amused, pressed together smile and a geeky role of his eyes.

"That's Maureen for you," he would say, and that would be that.

The evening after she had come home to Maureen puking up her dinner in their toilet, however, it was simply not enough.

"You knew," she seethed, eyes wild and fists clenched, stalking the wooden loft floor with sharp clacks of her heels. "You knew that she had a problem and you didn't tell me?"

"She was getting over it!" he said, pushing his glasses up his nose with a pointed finger, camera for once, turned off and sitting in his restless hands. "She promised me there wouldn't be anymore of it-"

"And you just took her at face value. Just like that." Hands on her hips, Joanne could only stare disbelievingly.

"Look, it wasn't as if I had a lot of time, Joanne!" he snapped, face red and mottled with frustration. "Okay? April had just killed herself and Roger was going off the bender, and there was only one of me."

"And what? Your girlfriend didn't merit a peek in? Bulimia is a disease, Mark. Just like drug addiction."

"You don't think I know that?"

"So what?" she shouted, suddenly incensed and unsure why. "As long as Roger was okay to hell with Maureen?"

"It wasn't like that!" In his emotion, Mark nearly dropped his camera, struggling to his feet. "Maureen told me she was fine. She was eating and Roger pretty much had command of the toilet. I couldn't watch them both. I had to take her at her word."

Overcome, Joanne closed her eyes and sucked in a long drawn breath. Fingers to her temples, she contemplated the situation Maureen had been in, those long months ago.

"God" dammit, Mark," she breathed, and kept her eyes shut, lost in the silence. "I don't know how to help her." It was a shameful admission, and Joanne felt suddenly extremely young. "She said it was only this one time. That sometimes she falls back, when she's unsure and scared and we had this fight-"

"Hey"" A hand pressed on her shoulder, gentle and unsure. "Hey, she at least admitted it to you, okay? It took me months to get it out of her. Months. And you know Maureen. She works so hard to put up that camera façade sometimes you can't see behind it."

"Yeah, well, maybe that's why you two aren't together anymore," Joanne said, a grumble barely audible, before she winced and glanced up, tired and sad. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I didn't. You did what you could." Mark's mouth quirked again, a sympathetic bittersweet expression. "When I first met her, it was a whirlwind. I didn't know which end was up. I only saw what I wanted to see, and now""

"Now she's human?"

"Now I'm human," she corrected, shoulders slumping. "I'm only human. But I love her, Mark."

He stared at her, taking her in behind his glasses, seeing her as only he could. "And that's why you have her. And why you'll both pull through this. Because she loves you too."

--

In the street, it had begun to rain.

Joanne couldn't seem to bring herself to care, as she stood on the curb, staring up into the black sky, feeling the polluted water splash against her cheeks. Arm raised, she tried to hail a cab, smiling bitterly when one pulled up immediately, presumably to take advantage of the easy business of the restaurant clientele.

There was a payphone just a few feet away, and when Joanne caught sight of it, she began to move, jerking open the little booth and fumbling for some coins.

Joanne's memory wasn't exactly photographic, but it was good enough. Cold fingers fumbled against metallic buttons, until there was a tinny ringing. She waited, and then heard the now familiar, "SPEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK."

"Dammit." Slamming down the phone, she jerked outside of the both, feeling large drops of rain splotch against her skin.

With nowhere else to go, she suddenly made determined strides, turning on her heels and stepping into the cab already waiting for her.

She told him to drive her to Alphabet City.

--

The driver must have thought she was insane, with her wild eyes and sopping wet clothes, driving straight into a slum. But he took her money and bade her good luck, streaking off the curb to safer waters.

The Life Café was crowded, nothing new, and she had to push her way inside, pushing wet curls off her forehead, searching for the brunette who could stand out in any crowd.

Maureen was nowhere to be seen. Sucking in an uneven breath, Joanne determinedly moved toward a familiar large man in a leather jacket, catching his attention with a snap of her fingers, leaning in and asking for her.

"Maureen?" he repeated, arching his back and scanning the crowd. "Where the hell's Maureen?"

"Just went to the bathroom," replied another, in a tattered sweat shirt, black bangs flopping into his forehead.

She nearly rolled her eyes. It was strangely fitting. Straightening, Joanne nodded. "Thank you."

Maneuvering through the crowd, she saw the line of women slumped against the wall, waiting for the bathroom to open. Joanne grimaced and moved past them all.

"Um" excuse me? Preppie?" said one, interrupting when Joanne grabbed hold of the doorknob. "That's occupied and there is a line."

Joanne jerked her head and smiled acidly. "Don't worry. This won't take long."

Jerking the doorknob, she pushed in hard with her shoulder, ignoring the protests and stepping into the musty bathroom.

What she found took her incensed anger and unsettled it completely. Slamming the door shut behind her, Joanne locked eyes with a kneeling Maureen, teetering up from the toilet, face unusually pale.

Stunned into silence, Joanne only stared, as Maureen took her in, releasing her long brown curls, heading toward the toilet. "What are you doing here?" came the raspy voice.

"Are you sick?" Joanne asked, a question she couldn't stop from coming, eyes narrowing as Maureen laughed bitterly, turning on the faucet and gathering a puddle in her joined hands.

"Bad sushi," she said, in a tone that Joanne couldn't distinguish from sarcasm or honesty. "Why are you here, Joanne?" she asked, splashing water into her face, flushing her mouth with the liquid. "Get tired of your prima donna already?"

The anger came back, just as fast, just as painful. Sucking in her breath, she steeled herself against it, sopping wet and feeling like a fool. "Why did you do it? Why, out of everyone, did you choose me to fuck with, Maureen?"

Maureen paused, staring into her joined hands, not even giving her the satisfaction of staring at her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, you don't?" Swallowing, Joanne tried to contain herself, and found herself unable, staring at her former lover, overwhelmed with the images of Maureen's naked body entwined with Antonia's. "She told me you seduced her. She told me you started it. Why would you do something like that? What kind of person does that to someone else?"

"And what makes you think that was about you?" Maureen asked, head rising, hair flipping back, pinning her with startling clear green eyes.

"Oh, it wasn't?" Joanne asked, hands falling down. The door banged behind her, and she ignored the angry yell from the other side. "It wasn't about me."

"Why would it be about you? Maybe I just wanted a good fuck. Maybe she was available and willing."

Joanne stared, into a face she couldn't understand, into eyes she had once nearly drowned in, an expression that threatened to knock her into her own abyss of heartbreak. The door kept banging, and Joanne just gave up.

Mouth clamping shut, she suddenly ached, and could take no more. "You can't do this to me," she whispered. "You can't do this to people. You can't treat people this way, Maureen. I'm done." Maureen's mouth trembled, but her expression didn't change. "You asked me last night what I wanted? I want you out of my life. That's what I want."

Ignoring the moist orbs that haunted her, she stepped back, away, and then turned her head, breaking the intense stare.

Fingers closing around the doorknob, she twisted, nearly crashing into the women banging on the door.

"Excuse me," she said, and there must have been enough force in that to warrant apprehension, because they let her pass.

She was trembling, over heated, and whether she was brushing tears or raindrops from her face, she had no idea. Stepping into the cacophony of the crowd in the restaurant, she was simply intent on getting to the door.

"I would have left him for you."

Steps faltering, Joanne paused, the words at once meaningless and overwhelming. Head turning, she discovered Maureen only a few feet behind her, wearing an expression that couldn't be described. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, and they locked on hers like magnets, fists clenched, ignoring the crowd around them.

"Excuse me?"

"Mark. I would have left him for you," Maureen said again, coming forward, pushing aside a young Bohemian unlucky enough to be in her way. "But it wasn't what you wanted. You wanted a fast fuck and run, so that's what I gave you." Joanne blinked, completely lost, mouth dropping open.

The floor had gone quiet, and still, Joanne couldn't bring herself to care. "You said you weren't going to leave him," she hissed, coming forward, a sopping wet mess. "You said you weren't going to leave him. You told me that the first night."

"And it's not like you cared!" Maureen snapped, voice husky with unshed emotion, real tears now bright in her eyes. "I was a good enough for a good fuck and that was it, right? Not good enough to show up in your office. Not good enough for a fucking girlfriend or to meet your friends or your parents. I'm good enough to eat you out, but you need a real charmer like Antonia for the whole package, right?"

Maureen's voice cracked, and her green eyes shone so brilliantly, and whatever emotion Joanne was using for purchase, her leg to stand, was taken out from under her as she realized Maureen was actually crying.

"I thought you were different," Maureen whispered, as Joanne blinked and suddenly remembered their audience, and still, couldn't find her own modesty. "But you're just like everyone else. You make it look prettier. You smile and you listen and you pass time until the next girl. I hope it hurt you. I hope it felt like a punch in your stomach, what we did to you. It doesn't matter what I did."

"It doesn't matter?" Joanne repeated. "How does it not matter?"

"You made me love you," Maureen snapped, cutting through the air, and slicing deep into her heart. "And all I did was make you come."

In that lingering silence, Joanne was frozen, startled at her own reflection, as Maureen shoved past her and left her in the midst of her own Bohemians.

And still, Joanne couldn't let her go.

"Maureen!"

Unglued, she moved fast in the direction of her lover, chasing after her as fast as she could.

Outside, there was only darkness and rain, crashing down on her, soaking her to her core.

- end chapter