A/N Thanks to everyone who has written reviews so far. I actually wrote most of this the end of last summer into the fall. I should have stared typing it during the time I was home before my son was born, because doing it now, while it is a little "me time," is hard to do with a five week old. Currently I type in twenty minute intervals or so! Anyway, I hope you like it. It was fun to write. Please keep reviewing,

CHAPTER 7



Roger and Mark were sitting on the living room floor outside of the bathroom door. They could hear the shower running inside. Both of them were looking straight ahead or at the floor or the ceiling. Anywhere but at each other. "Do you realize she only got here about 24 hours ago?" Mark asked.

"I know."

"Do you have any idea how much has gone on in 24 hours?"

"I know."

"I mean, you and me. And me and her. And you and her. And her and them," Mark gestured his head toward the front door their friends had left through. "And me and them. Even you and them. And her and, and him." The last word sort of hung in the air.

"I know." Was all Roger could say again, but he had been thinking the same thing. "You know, in 24 hours I haven't seen that stupid camera of yours either."

"Yeah well, since seeing Cass sitting in that chair yesterday, for once, I felt like there wasn't anything I wanted to preserve on film forever." Mark said softly. "You know?"

"I know."

They sat there on the floor in silence for a few more minutes. The silence was broken by the alarms on both Roger and Mark's watches going off at the same time. They both hit buttons on their watches to silence them and sat there for a second. "Go take your--"

"I know." Roger cut him off. He sat there for another second, then got up off the floor and walked to the kitchen. Mark could hear him turn on the water and fill a glass. He could hear the drawer Roger's pills were in open and then shut. A second later Roger came back to his spot just outside the bathroom door and sat back down on the floor.

Their eyes never met. They both keep looking straight ahead. "Mark." Roger said softly.

"What?"

"Thanks."

"Your welcome."

They sat like that for a few more minutes. Finally Mark spoke. "How long has she been in there?"

Roger looked at his watch, but still not at Mark. "At least twenty minutes. Maybe twenty five."

"There's no way she has any hot water left. Not in this building. Even if we were the only people in this entire place to use any water at all today, there would still be no way she could have any hot water left. Right?"

"Probably. We should probably get her out." Roger reached over and knocked on the bathroom door hard. "Cass." Nothing. The shower was still running. He knocked again, louder. "Cass." Still nothing.

Neither of them moved from the floor. They still hadn't looked at each other. Roger knew what Mark was thinking. And Mark knew what Roger was thinking. That's why they still both sat there another minute. Thinking about the last time a distraught girl had locked herself in the bathroom of their apartment. How Roger had come home to find Mark yelling at a bathroom door to hurry up. That there were other people who lived here too. Other people with places to go and things to do. That he knew what she was doing and she could have just as easily done that in the bedroom. That she had been in there forever. How after a few more minutes with no answer from inside, Roger had kicked the door open. Ripping the lock out of the wall.

Mark wasn't surprised at how they found her. Leaning against the wall. Her left hand lying on the floor of the shower stall. But he was expecting a needle in her arm. They both were. And no blood. But there was blood. A lot of blood. All on the shower floor. And the yellow post it, with those three words written on it. Stuck to the bathroom mirror.

Once again, Mark was getting paler by the moment, but turning a sick shade of green at the same time. "Oh God." He said, barely audible as he stood up. He reached for the doorknob, but not quite far enough. He just stood there for a second.

Roger stood up too. He looked at Mark. Saw his face. The fear and terror and pain in his eyes. He knew his own face probably said the same thing. "I'll go." He said so quietly Mark almost couldn't hear him. "I owe you that at least."

Roger stepped forward and grabbed the doorknob. Since it no longer had a lock, when he turned it, it opened easily. He stepped into the bathroom. "Cass? Cass you gotta get out. There's no way you've got any hot water left. Turn off the shower and get out. Okay?"

Mark couldn't hear Cass, but he did hear the water turn off. "Okay. We're right out side if you need anything." With that Roger came back out of the bathroom. "She said she would be right out." He told Mark, who at least had some color coming back into his face now.

After a few more minutes, the door opened and Cass stepped out. She had on a pair of boxer and a tee shirt with a light towel wrapped around her wet hair. "Sorry" was all she said, very quietly. Making sure not to make eye contact with either of them.

"It's alright. Are you okay?" Mark asked as he went to put an arm around her to give her a hug. "Jesus Cass you're freezing! How long were you in that cold water anyway? I mean, I think your lips are almost blue!"

"I, I don't know. I guess I ran out of hot water. Sorry."

"It's okay." Roger said as he sat her on the couch. "Let's just warm you up a little right now. Okay? Before you get hypothermia in September."

Cass just sat there as Mark got her a blanket and put it over her. They were sitting on either side of her, and Mark was rubbing her left hand, trying to warm her up. "I'm sorry." She finally said.

"For what? Using up our hot water? That happens every time anyone takes a shower. You'll just have to learn to take quicker showers." Roger smiled at her. "Otherwise you'll freeze to death staying here."

Cass got a faint smile on her face as she looked up at Roger. But when she turned towards Roger, she was facing away from Mark, who all of a sudden jumped up.

"Oh my God Cass! Your heads bleeding!"

"What? Oh shit. I'm sorry. I must have pulled out a stitch or something. I'm sorry."

"You've got stitches in your head too?" Mark asked, wide eyed.

"Well, I fell into the mirror on the wall and well, I'm sorry." She said again as she unwrapped the towel from her long brown hair.

"It's okay." Roger said standing up to look at her head. "Just stop saying 'I'm sorry.' Okay? Please?" He carefully moved her hair around he found the stitches. "Here they are. Yeah, it looks like you caught a stitch and pulled it all right. Probably when you were washing your hair. Don't worry, I can fix it."

Mark stood up, took one look at the top of Cass' head, went pale again and sat back down. Roger sort of laughed at him. Any other time he would have found that really funny, but right now he was mainly trying to make Cass laugh. He was holding the towel to Cass' head to try to stop the bleeding. "Mark doesn't do real well with blood. We all know, when he sells out and makes it big and famous as a big time Hollywood type movie maker, it won't be for making horror films!"

Mark sort of laughed, but still had a serious look on his face. "How are you going to fix that? You don't even know how to sew buttons back on things."

"I do know how to sew buttons back on stuff, I just choose not to." He saw Cass get the slightest of grins on her face. Good, better than nothing. "But it doesn't matter. She doesn't need stitches again, just to close up the spot where the stitch was. Go get me the superglue from your drawer."

Mark got up and headed towards the bedroom he had converted into an office, but was definitely hesitant about the whole thing. "You're going to super glue her head? Are you sure that's a good idea? Maybe we should just take her back to the ER and have them fix it."

"Trust me." Roger shook his head. "The last thing Cass wants to do is sit for eight hours at a New York emergency room to get one lousy stitch put in her head. Trust me. I know what I'm doing." He picked the towel up to check to see if it was still bleeding and put it back down again and gently pushed on it.

Cass was just sitting there, listening to them. Sort of. Sort of just starting straight ahead. Roger figured he better get her back into the conversation. He didn't know what else to do, so he started picking on Mark. He knew Mark would either figure out what he was doing, or understand later when he apologized.

"See what Marky over there doesn't realize," he started again, "was that I've had my head glued back together a bunch of times. Which actually probably explains a lot, but anyway. See Mark's only got his two sisters, Cindy and Molly. But I've got two brothers."

Mark was looking at Roger like he was crazy. What the hell was he doing? Giving her a family history and then gluing all this newfound Davis family knowledge into her head? Well, he didn't really know what else to do, so all he could do at this point was trust Roger. He seemed to be doing okay, even if Mark thought the whole thing was strange.

"See Cindy's like what, three years older than Mark. And sure they fought, but not really fight, fight. And Molly's like ten years younger than us, so it wasn't like he ever really got into it with her.

"Well, my brothers and me, we fought. Like with fists and bats and hard stuff. But that's what brothers do. That and just do stupid stuff. Like jumping off garages and stuff. Well, stuff like that gets you messed up. Well, my aunt's an ER nurse. And my mom's a regular nurse. Well, she wasn't gonna waste her time taking three stupid boys to the ER every other weekend. Unless they couldn't patch us up themselves, it was kitchen table medicine."

Roger lifted the towel again. He parted her hair away from the cut. He held out his hand to Mark for the glue. Roger was still talking to Cass, he wasn't sure she was actually listening to him, but was pretty sure she at least heard him talking.

Mark handed him the glue. Roger, still holding her hair away from the open cut, opened the glue top with his teeth. He spit the top to the ground. "Okay, this might sting for a second, then it will dry and be fine. We just got to remember to not let you pick at it. It feels weird like when you go to brush your hair. Having this dried up glue glob on your scalp. The trick is to not get it in your hair. Mickey moved once just as my mom squirted it out and got glue all over in his hair. She had to cut it out. Luckily he already had a buzz so it only took a few weeks for the bald patches to grow in."

Roger put a few drops of glue at the opening in her stitches. Actually it was more like three or four of the about twelve stitches in the two cuts she had yanked out, but he wasn't going to bring that up. He was being very careful to not hit her hair. He knew how girls were about their hair. And Cass had great hair. He was also very careful to not get it on his fingers. The last thing he needed to do would be glue himself to her head. That wouldn't help any right now.

When the glue hit the open cut, Cass made a "sss" sound and flinched, but only in the slightest. Good Roger thought. But he kept talking, trying to keep her with them. "So like I said, Davis boys got kitchen table medicine.

"Not like Marky. His mother never let him do anything fun when we were little. She called it dangerous. Nope he got to play with his big sister. And you should have seen it. She used to dress him up and put those little girly things in his hair. What do you call them, barrettes? Yeah, that's it. I've seen pictures. They had tea parties, complete with dolls. She had this playhouse in the backyard and all. All pink and frilly and stuff." He blew on the glue to dry it some more. "I tell you, after a childhood like that, it was amazing Marky here made it out alive, much less straight!" He laughed.

Mark was looking at Roger like he was crazy. What was he talking about? Mark didn't even know Roger when they were as young as he's talking. Tea parties? Dress up? Pictures? None of that ever happened. Mark remembered Roger getting fixed up by his mom and aunt, true, but it was after a fight. Or a run in with his father. Mark was almost about to say something to Roger when Roger looked up from Cass for the first time since he started this whole strange thing. Roger had a weird, nervous look on his face. Almost pleading with him. Then he started shaking his head up and down like to say "hurry up and help me here you idiot."

"Um, yeah well, I guess I was saved by all the great role modeling you did for me." Was the best he could think off. Mark saw Cass' eyes look over at him, even if only for a few seconds. But he did see her almost, even if it was oh so slight, almost grin. Like she was maybe, somewhere, deep down inside, just maybe starting to laugh at what Roger had been saying.

Roger blew on the glue again. He very lightly tapped it to make sure it was completely dry before he let go of her hair. "There. See that's not so bad right? And Mark worries I fried all my brain cells. He's the one that gets squeamish at the sight of blood. Anyone's, including his. He cut his finger one day, on a bagel, which by the way is like the number one reason New Yorkers visit the ER on a Saturday or Sunday morning. I thought he was gonna pass out. And we of course didn't have any Band-Aids. I stuck a napkin from the pizza place over it. Covered it with plastic wrap, and taped it all up with some gaffer's tape he had from a shot he worked on. And see, he's still got all ten fingers, and is doing fine."

Mark held up both hands and wiggled his fingers at her to drive the point home. Mark realized she had a faint smile on her face. Roger was grinning like an idiot at the sight of that too. Mark made himself smile too, in a big way, but he wasn't feeling very happy yet.

Roger sat back down on the couch next to her. He picked up her hand and felt it. It was still pretty cold. "Are you any warmer yet?"

"A little I guess."

"Do you want some coffee or something?" Mark asked. "Or some tea?"

"No." She was sitting in the middle of the couch. She had her bare feet up on the couch, with her knees bent in front of her. Her left arm was wrapped around her legs. Her right arm with the cast was sort of doing the same thing, but not quite.

Mark could see little drops of water running out of her gray cast. He thought it was a fiberglass cast, not plaster like the old white ones from when they were kids. That would mean it was water resistant, but he still didn't think that meant you were supposed to stand in a freezing cold shower for thirty minutes and let water run inside of it. How does some thing like that dry? Mark shook his head as if to clear it. He realized that wasn't a top priority right now.

"Cass? What do you want to do now?" Mark very softly asked.

"I need to change the tape on my ribs. It's all peeling off and it itches." She said very matter of factly, still looking directly at her knees.

"Um, yeah, that's a good idea." Mark said. "I'll help you. Actually Roger may have a better clue as to what to do with that, seeing as he's had busted ribs before."

Cass was still looking at her knees. She had been doing really well up to that phone call. Now she was like traumatized or something. All Roger could figure was she had sort of pushed the last few days out of her brain.

Pretend it's not there. Don't think about it. It may all go away then. Roger knew this routine well. Keep as much out of your brain as possible. Blank, dark space. Zone it out and time will pass. Roger knew this was it. Like he had told himself before, as close as you can get to being totally fucked up without shooting up.

That must have been it. Come to think of it, most of the stuff Cass had talked about, with the exception of the story about her mother, had been either good stuff, or it had been from awhile ago. Like stuff with Mark. Either way, it was from way before these past few days.

Roger also knew that when the brain fog wears off, and the thoughts and problems of the present came rushing back at you, it really smarts. It's like going through a form of dead brain zone withdrawal. And it, like anything else, when your coming off it, hits you like a brick wall. And that was what happened. That phone call was what did it. It sent that brick wall flying at her at top speed, and it hit her, hard. And just by the looks of her, Roger knew she had been hit by enough lately. Whether it was a symbolic brick wall, or some bastard guy in Italy.

"Yeah, I can re tape them for you. No problem." Roger said snapping himself out of the thoughts and back to the conversation at hand. But wait. Some bastard guy in Italy. Maybe him putting his hands all over her ribs wasn't the best idea. "Um, unless you don't want that. I mean I would totally understand. We could call Jen and she'd come right up and do it right now. She's a great girl. And she's straight and all. I mean, she's really nice." Roger felt like he was digging a hole and the more he talked the deeper it got. And Mark wasn't helping. He was just nodding his head in agreement to everything Roger said about Jen.

"No." She said quietly. "I just want to get the old stuff off me and re tape it. You'll do it for me?" She asked, actually looking right at Roger.

"Sure. No problem. Whatever you want. You need anything else?" Roger asked her.

"I've got to do something about my stuff. I have to get my glasses if nothing else. I can't stand not being able to see. It's freaking me out even worse."

"Collins and Jason already left for the airport." Mark said. "I gave them the locker key you gave me before. That was about an hour ago. It will probably take an hour or so each way. Plus finding the locker at he airport. And then back here. Give them about another two hours, maybe a little more this being a holiday weekend and all, and we'll find your glasses. Anything else?"

"Yes, one more thing." She sighed. "And I need you to do this Mark, because she'll know who you are. I need you to call my friend Giavanna, in Italy. When whoever answers, ask for Giavanna DiMarco. Just keep saying it. They will either find her, or find someone who knows English to talk to you. If it's not her, tell them they need to find her and that you'll call back in one hour from America. They'll get her and she'll be waiting for you.

"Just make sure it's her. Nobody else needs to know where I am. She knows who you are. Just tell her I got here yesterday and I'm fine and will call her in a few days. And then give her your address to send my stuff to. Okay?"

"Sure Cass, whatever you want."

"And Mark," Cass said looking at him with eyes that were so serious they almost scared him. "Tell her to be careful. Very careful. And to stay the fuck away from him."

Mark nodded hid head and got a pen and paper for Cass to write down the phone number to reach Giavanna. As Mark started to dial, Roger helped Cass off the couch and they walked into the bathroom.

Roger turned on the bathroom light as they walked into the room. Cass picked up the hair scrunchie she had left on the sink before and pulled her hair into a loose ponytail. She sat down on the toilet seat until he was ready. Roger started ripping off long strips of the two-inch tape and sticking them to the side of the sink. "Okay, are you ready?" He asked her. She nodded and stood up.

He knew she had on a white sports bra under his tee shirt, along with a pair of boxers, slung low across her hips. But when she turned to take off the shirt he saw her back for the first time. He tried to put the thoughts that came rushing in out of his mind. "Well the good news is that your extended shower before loosened up all the tape so it should come off real easy. Especially because they put pretape down first and that's meant to lift off real easy. The bad news is we don't have any pre tape, so next time it won't come off as easy. Maybe we can get some alcohol or something that will help then.

"How long did they say you had to leave them taped up?"

"I don't know. A week or two, I guess. The broken one wasn't broken that bad, it was more like a bad crack. Whatever that means."

"Well maybe instead of taping them, we can just wrap them. With Ace bandages. That's what I got one time. Then you don't have to worry about the tape or getting it wet when you take a shower."

"Okay" was all she said.

"Yeah, right. Speaking of getting things wet, were you supposed to get your cast wet?"

"I don't know. I guess not." She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well let's get the tape off of you and let you dry out a little. I'll look for my old ace bandages, but I may have to run out and get some because that was a long time ago. As for your cast, well, let's see if it dries, or at least stops dripping water out off it and see what happens. You may need to go to a doctor and get a new one. Till we find out, why don't we put a bag over it while you take a shower next time. Okay?"

"Uh huh." She was sitting on the edge of the sink, facing Roger and the shower, facing away from the mirror. Roger carefully started to remove the tape from around her ribs. He had seen her face. He had seen the bruises on her neck and the backs of her arms. He had even seen her back briefly. But as he started to uncover her from tall the tape, he really saw her. Really saw her for the first time.

All the thought that he had started forming in his mind before came rushing back at him. All the connections he knew he could make just by looking at the bruises on her body. He could almost tell the story of what happened to her by her bruises. He knew what caused certain bruises. He knew and didn't like knowing. He knew partially because it was common senses. It a takes a right handed hit to leave a bruise on the left side of someone's face. And partially because he had seen some of it done. Seen it done, and then saw the bruises the next day. On his mother. Bruises like four little circle ones in a row with a fifth on the other side of a bicep. That took squeezing and shaking. Or around her neck. That took choking.

The ones on her back, well a lot of them were from something hitting her across her back. But the ones that ran along her shoulder blades, the big almost triangular matching ones, those came from being slammed into a wall.

And then there were the ones on her things. The outside of her thighs had some smaller ones. Like from maybe falling into furniture. But the larger ones along the outside of her thighs, were bigger, and sort of round. Yeah, it could have been a fist, but that would be pretty low to hit at. Most likely it was from a kick while she was on the ground. She had said something about hiking boots when she first got here. That must have been what did those on her thigh.

As well as her chest and ribs. Due to the cracked ribs, her side was extremely bruised. As Roger took the tape off, he saw there was no way to really know how many bruises there actually were on her chest, ribs, stomach and hips, because it was more like one giant bruise rather than separate ones.

As he leaned over more to get the lower tape, he saw the inner part of her things. The bruises were on both of her legs and started about two inches or so above her knees and went up till they disappeared under the lower edge of the boxers she was wearing. Those were the ones that turned Roger's stomach. More so than the damage to her face or anything else.

Roger knew that there wasn't much that you could use to bruise someone like that. Because of where he was talking about and the angle it would take. Pretty much straight on from the side. The inside. The space between her thighs. Not much could do that, except maybe another leg. Or especially a knee. A knee trying to force Cass' legs open. He tried to get the image of that out of his mind, but it wasn't working. Roger also knew it would take a number of hits to bruise her thighs like that. Either him pushing her with his knees, or her fighting like hell to get away and him trying to keep her still.

Roger prayed it was the second one. He knew it had to be. Cass was a fighter. He could tell that the minute he met her. When he yelled at her at the front door, and she never batted an eye. She just told him what she wanted. Or when she laid into him about Mark. She had no hesitation then either. Even when she apologized to him later. He told her that she was right about the whole thing. All she said was she knew she was right, she just shouldn't have told him that right then. Yeah, he thought, Cass was a fighter all right. Roger would have loved to have seen what that bastard looked like after it was over. He knew she had put up one hell of a fight. He couldn't have looked all that great either.

"I want to see it." The sound of Cass' voice broke into his thoughts. That's when he realized he had been standing there for a minute or two, just starring at her.

"What?"

"I said I want to see it. Or them, the bruises. Me. I want to see me. I haven't really looked in a mirror yet. I want to see what I look like."

Roger didn't know what to say. If he could barely look at them, how was she going to? "Cass are you sure? I mean, they're just bruises. They'll be gone in a few days. I mean you saw your face. It's already looking better. It's just more of the same."

"No." She said very quietly. "I haven't seen my face. I haven't looked. I was afraid to."

"Are you sure?" He was right next to her now, almost whispering into her ear. At that she turned around and leaned into the bathroom mirror. She just stared for a second, not saying anything. She backed up a little so she could see her ribs and stomach. She turned to see her back and the backside of her upper arms. She looked down at her thighs. Tipping her head first one way to the outside, then the other to see her inner thighs. With her good hand she pushed the edge of her boxers up higher on her thigh to see how far up the bruises went.

After a minute or so, she reached over and picked up her tee shirt. When she picked up her head, Roger saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. She put her casted arm through the shirt and lifted it and her other arm up to pull it over her head. Roger took it and did it for her so she wouldn't have to move as much.

"Thanks. Will you see about those bandages for my ribs now? If you need to buy more Mark knows where my wallet is."

"Okay." Roger was very quiet again. "Cass, are you okay?" He asked as he wiped a tear off of her good cheek.

"I'm," she took a breath. "I'm," he was sure she was going to say fine, but he knew she was anything but fine. "I'm, I don't know." And she rested her head on his shoulder as he pulled her in close and hugged her. This time she did hug him back. Roger got the feeling if Mark hadn't knocked on the bathroom door to see if they needed anything, they may have just stayed there, together. Safe in that little room from the outside world. Forever.





Cass was sitting on the couch with her feet tucked under her and the blanket over her lap. Roger was in the kitchen getting her something to drink and Mark was sitting next to her, relaying his phone conversation.

"Well I spoke to Giavanna. She must have been there when I called. She's real worried about you. Said she couldn't believe she let you get on a plane alone, after you just walked out of the hospital. She said they wanted to keep you there a few more days.

"Now, about your stuff, she said she didn't know about your glasses. She thinks she sent them with you in your suitcase, but she's not sure. So hopefully when Collins gets here, we'll find them. But," he took a deep breath, "about your stuff.

"Apparently, she did the best she could that night to get you some important stuff, which is in your suitcase. She said she wasn't exactly sure what she sent you because she was hurrying and upset and all. She said your place was pretty messed up.

"After you left the hospital, and were at the airport, she went back to your place. She said to tell you not to worry because she took one of the dock guys with her."

Roger had come back from the kitchen and handed a cup of tea to Cass. She took it, but just held it. She was looking at Mark, listening to him, but her eyes never went higher then his shoulders. Roger could tell Mark was building up to something. Whatever it was, he didn't want to tell her. Roger went back into the kitchen and came back a minute later and handed Mark a cup of tea too.

"Thanks." Mark said as he took a sip of the tea. His mouth was going bone dry on him as he tried to talk. "Well, she went back, with this guy, to pack up the rest of your stuff. Well, your place was, well, trashed then. Really trashed. She said he must have come back at some point and just destroyed your place."

Cass' eyes moved from Mark to the cup of tea in her hands. Mark was getting quieter as he spoke. As if something worse could happen if he said the next part too loud. "She said he trashed just about everything you had. Your clothes, your stuff, everything. She boxed up everything she could save. Somethings she had to toss though, they were too messed up. Something about red wine and paint at your place." Cass just nodded, so she must understand what Mark was talking about. "Well I guess he dumped that on a bunch of your clothes. And she said he did the same thing with just about any shampoo or suntan lotion or stuff like that. It got dumped on your stuff and all over the walls and stuff. She said some stuff like that she got cleaned up, but there was other stuff, like clothes and books and papers that got ripped up and destroyed.

Mark was watching Cass, trying to read what was going on in her mind. He wasn't getting anything though. So he continued. So she boxed up everything she could save. She said she would ship it out tomorrow."

Mark paused to take another sip of his tea. It wasn't helping. It was only wetting down the chalky feeling in his mouth and then making it worse as soon as it dried up again. "Well, so tomorrow she'll send it all out. She said it should only take about five days at the most, so that should be Friday. Oh wait, tomorrow's Labor Day. She won't be able to send it then till Tuesday."

"I don't think there is a Labor Day in Italy Mark." Roger quietly corrected him.

"Oh, yeah, that's right. So then Friday I guess. It should get here, we'll see what you need, and then we'll just go shopping if we have to. Right?"

Cass was still starring at her untouched tea. At least it would help warm her hands up, which were still cold from the shower Roger thought.

"Right. So." Mark continued. "She also said to tell you that he's gone. No one's seen him since then. But she said not to worry about it. She said that when he took off, he didn't take his passport, which had been locked in the office. So without it he can't leave Italy."

"Where is his passport now?" Cass asked, without looking up from her tea.

"She said Andre has it. That he got there a few hours after you left the hospital. And that she's supposed to call him if she hears from you. But since she didn't talk to you, just to me, she hasn't heard from you yet."

"Good" was all Cass said. Roger had found the two Ace bandages for her ribs and was waiting to wrap her up. He helped her get her get her shirt off and got her to sit up real straight and very carefully started to wrap her ribs back up tight. After he taped the ends of the bandages down he asked her how it felt.

"It's fine. It's better than the tape."

"Do you want something to eat Cass?" Mark asked.

"No. I don't want anything right now. Just some more Tylenol. Like four of them."

Mark got her the pills and some water. She swallowed them and leaned back on the couch.

"Can we just watch TV?" She asked Mark and Roger

"Sure. Whatever you want Cass." Mark told her.

Roger sat down on the couch next to her, with Mark on her other side. "Luckily we now even have cable. Thanks to Mark's many talents and years of splicing the cables on Maureen's broken down, cheap equipment."

"What he means is," Mark explained, "that Jen has cable and I spliced a line up here for us. So we now have cable. Illegal cable, but cable none the less." He smiled at her.

Cass managed a slight smile back at him. She leaned against Mark's shoulder and started watching the TV. Within twenty minutes she was completely asleep.

Roger whispered to Mark "I'm gonna go take a shower."

Mark nodded. "Undo the top lock so Collins can get in with his key in case they get here before your done."

Roger undid the deadbolt so only the knob was locked. Twenty minutes later, he came out of the bathroom in a pair of boxers and a sleeveless tee shirt. Cass had slid down on Mark's chest some. Mark had his arm around her and had his head resting on the back of the couch with his eyes shut. Some old movie was playing on the TV.

"Did she wake up at all?" Roger whispered when Mark opened his eyes.

"No, just slid down a little. So what do we do now?" Mark whispered back.

Roger just shrugged. Cass stirred a little, but didn't seem to wake up. Roger mouthed the words "I don't know. Wait I guess" to Mark who just shook his head. Roger sat on the other end of the couch. God he was tired. It was only going on like seven at night. He couldn't remember being this tired this early ever.

He looked at Mark who looked exhausted. He had laid his head back down on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. Roger leaned against the back of the couch and started to watch the movie.

Roger remembered thinking that this was a dumb movie, when he felt hands on his shoulders. He opened his eyes and saw Jason in front of him with one finger to his lips to tell him to keep quiet. Roger realized he had fallen asleep when he saw it had gotten dark outside. Actually they all had fallen asleep. Mark and Cass were still sleeping. He got up and walked to the kitchen where Collins had put down the suitcase.

Collins motioned them into the hall where they could talk. "How did this afternoon go?"

"Very strange. And draining. I don't remember the last time either of us fell asleep on the couch this early. Unless we never went to bed the night before. You get her stuff?"

"Yes, her suitcase is just inside." Jason answered. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know. No. Not really I guess. I mean she took like a thirty- minute shower. You know we had to have run out of hot water after like ten minutes. And she only got out because we told her too. It took forever to get her warmed up again.

"She did have Mark call her friend in Italy. She's gonna send her the rest of her stuff. But I guess the guy that did that," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, towards Cass in the apartment, "went back to her place there and trashed all her stuff. Ripped up a lot of her clothes I guess."

"Has she said anything yet? Talked about it at all?" Collins asked.

"No, not really. I took the tape off her ribs to re-tape them. Man is she a mess. That was the first time she had even really looked at herself in a mirror. Sort of freaked her out."

"Well," Collins continued, "the reason it took us so long is because we made a stop first. We went by the Life Support office." Collins saw the storm clouds start to cross over Roger's eyes. He knew he wouldn't be happy about that, but they needed to find Cass some help. Collins was sure of that. He ignored the not so happy look on Roger's face and kept going. "We talked to Elizabeth. You remember her. Tall, pretty, brown hair in a bob, great smile. Well we told her what we knew so far. She gave me the phone number for the women' crisis center on 28th street. She said you really needed to get her to go there, but if she won't go there, to try to get her to Life Support at least and she would talk to her." Collins paused for a second. "Elizabeth suggested maybe she come with you to a few meetings and then she could talk to her then."

"Yeah," Roger said, shaking his head up and down, "that's a good plan, we'll do that, right after, how 'bout never." And he gave Collins don't push it look for a second and then continued. "No seriously though, thanks you guys. I'll give Mark the phone number for the place on 28th. You know he's more of the 'group therapy' type than me. But thanks again. We'll call you tomorrow."

They left and Roger went inside and closed and locked the door behind him. Just as he started to walk back into the living room, the alarm o his and Mark's watches went off again. Fuck! He punched at the button to silence it, but it didn't matter. Mark's had woken them both up.

"Sorry." He told them. "It's just the alarm on my watch. Why don't you go lay down in the bedroom. It'll be a lot cooler in there."

"Okay." Cass said as Mark helped her off the couch.

"God I am so tired. Did Collins ever make it back yet? What time is it?" Mark looked at his watch, and realized he already knew what time it was by the alarm on his watch going off.

"Yes. He and Jason just left. They got your suitcase Cass. It's right here. Do you want me to look for your glasses?"

"No, it can wait till morning. I just want to go to sleep."

"Okay. I'm gonna take a shower first. Are you going to bed?" Mark asked Roger.

"Yeah, I'll be in just a few minutes. I got to finish up in here. Give me five minutes. Okay?"

Mark nodded and walked Cass into the bedroom Roger took his pills out of the drawer. He realized he hadn't had anything to eat since the bagels around noon today. That was ten hours ago. If he took this dose now, that would be the second time today on an empty stomach and that would bake him nauseous all night. That was just what he needed. He put the unopened pill bottle back into the drawer an was starting to close it when Mark came out of the bedroom on his way to the shower.

"Hey, when you go in will you take her four more Tylenol and some water? Thanks Rog." And he went into the bathroom.

Roger got a glass and filled it with water. He poured four Tylenol into his hand. He was just starting to walk out of the kitchen when he heard Mark turn the shower on. He just looked at the bathroom door for a minute or so before turning back to the kitchen.

He set the Tylenol down opened the drawer and took out his pills. He popped what he needed into his mouth and took a sip of Cass' water. He picked up the Tylenol and water in one hand. With the other he reached into the bagel bag from this morning. What seemed like so many hours ago. Before he ever touched it he knew the bagels would be stale and already getting hard. Yuck. Made probable 12 or 13 hours ago, sitting out in the heat and humidity. There is nothing better than New York bagels, however there is nothing worse than stale New York bagels. Well, he thought, maybe somethings are worse. And with that he bit into the bagel and started to walk to the bedroom to go to bed.