Hey, guys! Kris here. I know it's been a long time since I updated this, or anything... a REALLY long time, but I looked back on this recently, and the idea was too good to retire, so im continuing as best as I can... Ive been busy stage managing, as well as catching up on school work, but since one of our major productions just ended, im gonna have more time on my hands, as im only doing a small amount of scenery building for the next one, blah blah blah. You dont care about my life, I know, sorry I ramble! enjoy this chapter! more to come!


-One week later-

Roger and Mark walked slowly through the park together. The filmmaker had insisted on Roger coming along for another one of his filming sessions, and besides, the rock star wasn't complaining about being able to spend as much time with his best friend as possible. The sun was shining, making the usually frigid landscape a degree or two warmer for once. Their hands were laced together again, Mark walking as close to Roger as possible, a content smile on his face. Roger gazed down at him for a minute before sighing sadly, and looking ahead. The conversation he had with Maureen a while ago kept replaying itself in his head.

What he wouldn't give to have his life guaranteed!

"Did you sleep well last night?" Mark's gentle voice broke the silence. "Anymore nightmares?"

Roger looked at him, forcing a smile. His care meant a lot, but ever since his run-in with Isaac, the terrible dreams never seemed to stop.

"Like a baby." He lied with ease, leaning over, and kissing Mark's nose. This caused the small man to blush and look away, further distracting him from any hint that Roger wasn't being truthful. They continued to walk on, until Mark spoke again.

"Y'know…. Maureen and Joanne were talking about you getting your own bed, if they can find the space in the apartment…." Roger listened halfheartedly.

"Yeah?"

Mark nodded. "Mhmm…. But, I'm thinking I should tell them to just forget it."

Roger quirked a brow, his attention was caught.

"Huh? Why?"

Mark suddenly blushed, a mischievous smirk spreading onto his face.

"Well…. Maybe I don't want you to stop sleeping in mine…."

Roger suddenly froze, unable to use any of his words as they continued their slow pace. Mark had anticipated a reaction, but when he saw Roger's shocked and stoic demeanor, he fell into a discouraged silence, obviously hurt. He let go of the taller man's hand.

"I'm…. I'm sorry…" he murmured. "I didn't mean to…. Uh…." He kept the silence going after that.

Roger winced a bit on the inside. Today was going awful for him so far. Between his paranoia about his feeling for Mark, (which were only going to get more out of hand if things like the filmmaker's bed comment kept going) and his anxiety about the fact that Isaac could be hunting them down as they spoke, he felt sick to his stomach.

A few minutes later, a sudden loud scream snapped him forcefully from his thoughts. They had walked onto a concrete bridge, a few yards above a nearly frozen river that flowed strongly with a current. Roger looked at Mark, who seemed equally confused. They paused to listen closer.

The scream sounded again, however, this time it only lasted for a few seconds before it was quickly drowned out by the rush of the icy water below.

"What is that?" Mark asked quickly, worry in his tone. Roger ran to the side of the bridge, peeking out to the water. After a few seconds of searching, his heart stopped in his chest at what he discovered.

A little boy was screaming and flailing, being swept along and under the unforgiving current as he struggled to breathe, and escape. He was drowning. Downstream, the waves crashed against sharp rocks that jutted out at vicious angles. If the child wasn't saved soon?

He'd be a goner.

Roger acted without thinking. He took off his heavy leather jacket, and tossed it at Mark before climbing up onto the edge of the bridge.

"Roger! What are you-" the ex-junkie didn't even have time to hear the rest of what Mark had to say, for he had already jumped. He was in free fall for a few seconds before roughly crashing against the surface of the water, and beginning to sink down towards the bottom as the frigid temperatures knocked the air from his lungs, and sent him into a minor shock.

He slowly opened his eyes, and all it took for him to recover was seeing the desperate eyes of the boy further down river, his once powerful fighting now becoming slow, agonizing kicks and paddles that lead him nowhere. He was running out of time. Roger shot forward, glad he hadn't cut swimming lessons in gym when he was a teenager.

The current was strong, stronger than he could have ever imagined, and he soon understood why the boy who was crying for help was being tossed by it like a rag-doll. It almost got Roger a few times too, but he knew enough about his situation to know how to avoid the boy's same fate.

He began a steady rhythm, slowly swimming up to the surface, and gasping for air once his head broke the water. He swam forward with everything he had, beginning to close in on the boy's location. The rocks were getting closer, and closer.

Mark, holding Roger's jacket, with his eyes wide and frantic, was watching this whole exchange from the river bank, chasing after his best friend's form as best he could as the current carried him quicker. Soon, a crowd started to gather as well, the boy's mother hysterical, and on the phone with paramedics.

Roger yelled in agony as a wave sent him flying into a dull rock. He'd have a nasty bruise on his shoulder, but an inch closer, and his leg would have been sliced open by another rock below. He paddled quicker and quicker, soon only a few feet from the struggling boy.

"I've got you!" he screamed, reaching out. "Take my hand!" the boy coughed and spat, doing as he was told. When their fingertips were mere inches away, there was a sudden drop off, and both lost their balance with the current, and were thrown far under the water. Roger sank lower and lower, disoriented by the rough change.

The small boy was sinking, too. This time, he was unconscious. If he stayed under much longer, he wouldn't make it. Roger took a few seconds to recover. His lungs were begging for air. However, swimming up to the surface would mean having to go all the way back to the bottom for the child, who didn't have that kind of time.

He channeled whatever amount of strength he had left, and pushed forward again. Finally, he slipped a tight arm around the boy's waist, and began forcing himself towards air, his vision beginning to blur as his body was starting to give up.

When all seemed lost, though, he broke through, his head above the angry current, and the boy safe in his arms. He swam to the side, even as the waves carried them further, but down a different path, away from the sharp rocks that would have meant a gory demise. He couldn't even find the ability to paddle himself anymore, and simply let the much more gentle current push him along, until he was washing up on a river bank, a mile away from where the bridge he dove off of was stationed.

He somehow managed to tug the boy out of the water, laying the child flat on his back before collapsing back into the wet sand, the water gently pushing him each time a new wave washed over the beach, and his body. He let his eyes fall closed as water remained in his lungs. He couldn't breathe, but he felt too tired to try.

When his vision was about to go dark, loud yelling caused him to remain in the physical world. He heard the pounding of feet, and sirens as people rushed the scene. Paramedics forgot him for a moment, grabbing the child at once, and whisking him away to the ambulance. He felt two familiar hands tugging at his arm, and a cracking voice starting to plead with him.

"You jackass! What were you thinking?! Answer me! Oh god, please… please… can I have some help over here!? Roger? Roger! Wake up!"

Then, one of the familiar hands was pounding on his back. This caused him to lurch forward, and vomit up all the water that was restricting the oxygen he needed. He began coughing, more of the dreaded water coming up with each round. He sucked in a much needed breath of air, and continued to breathe heavily in between his coughing fits.

A sigh of relief filled his ears, and he didn't move or protest as his head was tugged into Mark's lap. The albino slowly began stroking his hair, and rubbing his back, murmuring words of affection and reassurance into his ear.

"That's it, Roggy… breathe, okay? Breathe… the paramedics are coming soon…."

After what seemed like years, Roger slowly managed to blink his eyes open, gazing up at Mark with confusion, and wariness.

"Thank god you're alright…." Mark whispered. Roger could see there were tears in his eyes.

"Mmm…." Roger rasped, trying to speak. Mark continued stroking his hair.

"It's okay…" Mark answered. "I'm here…"

"T-the…" he coughed. "The kid?"

"The paramedics took him to the hospital… they aren't sure if he's gonna be okay just yet, but they said what you did really improved his chances…" Mark gave a small smile. "You're a hero, Rog…"

"D-doesn't… feel like it…" he said again before moaning in pain when his shoulder throbbed. More sounds of footsteps caused him to look up as paramedics approached.

They chose to treat him for him injuries on the scene, and instead, let him lay on a gurney in the truck while he slowly recovered, rather than making him spend a night at the hospital. He narrowly avoided hypothermia, but he was still forced to wear a heavy blanket when he finally stepped out of the ambulance.

At once, news reporters were swarming him, taking his picture, congratulating him. He couldn't help but smile a little. Was it stupid? Yeah. Would it help his case?

Hell yeah.

Once the excitement had died down a bit, and the emergency units had begun to pack up, and start heading out since everyone was treated, and considered in good condition, Roger sat on the back bumper of an ambulance with a hot cup of coffee someone had given him to warm up. The blanket he was forced to wear was still on his shoulders, and even if it was scratchy and annoying, he was still grateful for it. His shivers had only stopped about an hour ago.

He smiled a little as he saw Mark approaching, putting his camera away. He had been talking to a few reporters himself, but Roger could tell the entire time that he was speeding through interviews to get back to the rocker's side. He wasn't worried, now. He was terrified.

"How are you feeling?" Mark whispered, taking a seat beside him. Roger shrugged a little, sipping the coffee.

"A lot better than before, if that counts…"

Mark smiled.

"You bet your ass it counts… I almost lost you…. What were you thinking, huh?"

Roger smirked.

"That's just it… I didn't."

Mark rolled his eyes a little before slowly reaching out, and taking Roger's hand in his own.

"It's not as cold as it was…" the small man commented, stroking it gently.

"Yeah…" he paused for a bit before looking his best friend in the eyes. "I'm sorry… for putting you through all sorts of hell… I'm pretty sure this has been the craziest month of your life…"

Mark looked back.

"And the best… despite everything… I still have you… and that makes up for every fucked up, and weird thing that can, or will happen to me…"

Roger blushed.

"I'm still sorry…. And another thing? I love you, dork."

Mark grinned, reaching up, and grabbing a hold of Roger's collar.

"I love you too, you big dumb idiot…" he yanked Roger down into a loving kiss, his other hand reaching up to cup the side of the taller man's face.

This time, Roger didn't think of his feelings. He didn't think of consequences. He didn't care about second chances, or guarantees. His head was spinning the best type of spin, and his heart was racing. His mind was fogged with the only person in the world who mattered right now. Mark.

He kissed him back, and he kissed him back hard, wrapping his arms around him, and pulling him into his lap. Mark's thin fingers tangled in his wet hair, making the kiss last even longer. The two went like that for nearly three minutes, and Roger was reminded that they were in public when Mark began nibbling on his neck, and a paramedic burst into laughter.

The filmmaker quickly pulled away, his face bright red, but a smile on his face. Roger leaned their foreheads together with a grin of his own, a blush decorating his cheeks as well.

"I say we stop caring about whether or not I'll be here forever…" he whispered slowly. "We have now, and a very wise woman once told me that there's no day but today…"

Mark began tearing up at the memory of a beautiful, feisty dancer, full of life, love, and hope, who would kick the ass of anything that stood in the way of her happiness.

"Maybe it's time we listened to her…" Mark answered, his hand taking Roger's once more. Roger smiled, nodding.

"I couldn't agree more… Mark Cohen, will you be my boyfriend?"

Mark giggled a little, like the love-struck idiot he was right now.

"Gee, I dunno… I'll have to think about it…. Of course I'll be yours, genius… I've wanted you since high school…"

Roger quirked a brow.

"Well, shit! Who could blame you?"

Mark snorted, and bit his ear playfully, Roger yelped, and began laughing.

"Ow! Play nice!"

The filmmaker's arms snaked around his neck again.

"Oh really, Davis?" Mark muttered, that same mischievous grin from earlier coming back. "You have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into… you're lucky if I even ever decide to play nice again…"

They stayed like that until it was time to leave, together. Playful, happy, and feeling more alive and well than they had both felt in years.

The next morning, Isaac smiled as he picked up the newspaper from his kitchen table. He read the headline with excitement.

"EAST VILLAGE RIVER RESCUE TURNS COMMON MAN HERO."

"Well…. Look here!" Isaac called. "Roger Davis… twenty six… who normally spends his days inside his times square apartment… turned hero yesterday evening when he performed a daring river rescue of a child in trouble…."

One of Isaac's gang members grinned.

"I have a buddy who has a good idea of where the two little shits are nesting…"

Isaac looked up at him before patting his shoulder gratefully, and throwing his newspaper back down onto the table.

"Let's start getting ideas for a house warming party going, then…." He laughed a little bit. "I think it would be rude if we put off paying our good friends a visit any longer…"

His gang member quickly walked out of the room. Isaac stood up, walking slowly over to his window overlooking Manhattan.

"Second chance or not…. My god, Davis…." He began. "I must say…. You're a fucking idiot…"


ESTABLISHED MARKER! WOOOOOO! Enjoy it, guys. Chapter 10 is on the way!