Author's Note: Wow. It's been almost four months since I've updated or even touched this story. I hope you're all still interested. I'm working on updating all of Rent-fics, in the chronology that they were updated, so Seven Seas is up next. Don't hesistate to leave plenty of feedback, and I'll try not to wait so long between updates this time around. Again, this is another bit of a slow chapter, but the scene will change, and soon, the story will come to an end.


"So, what you're saying is that you don't understand it?" Mark asked quietly, pushing his glasses onto the bridge of his nose.

Roger nodded. "I don't."

"What's not to understand?"

"Well," Roger began, clearing his throat dramatically. "Why would anyone name their kid Atticus?"

Mark groaned, letting his head collapse on the side of Roger's hospital bed. "Who cares?"

"I care!" Roger declared, grinding his fist into the mattress.

Mark shook his head, raising it from the mattress. "Roger, no one named their kid Atticus. Harper Lee named his character Atticus."

Roger grinned thoughtfully. "Why?"

"Augh!"

Roger shrugged. "Besides, isn't an atticus one of those things that people used to count with?"

"Roger, that's an abacus."

"Oh," Roger replied sheepishly. He sighed, watching as Mark scribbled on a piece of notebook paper.

Roger had been in the hospital for almost two weeks, and although he was nearly healed, he didn't want to face the world outside of the pallid building. His mother, during a typical lapse in judgement, had decided that she couldn't stand being without Adam and Annie, and had taken them back. Roger, however, wouldn't be permitted in the house under any circumstances. I don't want it to be awkward for you, she had said. Matthew's changed already, but still. It might be awfully tense for you.

Tense. It would hardly be tense. Fatal would be a more accurate description, but at least it would keep Annie and Adam safe. Adam had never fallen victim to Matthew, but Roger knew that would be coming to an end. His little brother had promised to look out for Annie; a death wish in its own right. Adam was too small; he had always been scrawny, and it wouldn't take much abuse from Matthew before he was out of the running. Then, the bastard would move onto Annie, and there would be no one to protect her. Far be it from Mrs. O'Neil to remove her head from her ass and notice the malaise going on around her. Matthew hadn't changed, and God only knew what it would take for that to dawn on Roger's mother.

"Roger?"

Roger blinked, breaking his stare. "Huh?"

"Muriel's here," Mark said with a small grin. He had developed a bond with the husky black nurse over the past few weeks. She had noticed the boy trying to sneak into the ward before visiting hours, and had taken him under her wing, escorting him to Roger's room every day, and giving him left-over Jell-O to snack on while he and Roger visited. She also happened to be an authority on "To Kill a Mockingbird."

"Salutations, honey," Muriel greeted Roger with a smile. She grabbed the chart from the edge of his bed. "How're you feeling today?"

"Like crap," Roger replied, despondent. "Muriel, why would anyone name their kid Atticus?"

Muriel sighed, cocking her head at Mark. "Kid, have you ever considered showing up without Harper Lee in tow?"

Mark shrugged. "I don't know."

"Oh, well. Mr. Davis, I can't say as I know why Atticus Finch is so called, but I do know that you're lying. You feel fine."

"Oh, yeah?" Roger challenged.

"Yeah," Muriel replied. She shook her head. "Why don't you want to go home, kid?"

Roger sighed. "I'm not going home."

"You are. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Roger asked quietly.

"Hon, you're almost recovered. Sure, you're going to be on crutches for a while, those gorgeous eyes of yours might be puffy for a bit, and you won't be doing things like you're used to for quite a while, but there's no reason for us to keep you here anymore, Mr. Davis."

Roger bit his lip.

"Roger," Muriel said softly. Roger looked up. She had never called him that before. "Why don't you want to go home?"

Mark nodded, looking to Roger expectantly.

Roger took a deep breath, and shook his head. "I couldn't tell you-"

"You could."

Mark nodded again.

"My step-father..." Roger began shakily. Muriel laid a gentle hand on his knee, giving it a slight squeeze. "My step-father... he, uh, well... he does- things."

Muriel nodded. "What sort of things, Roger? Honey... he didn't do this to you, did he?"

Roger shrugged miserably. "I can't tell you."

Muriel only sighed, patting him on the knee. She smiled sadly at Mark before she left the room.

"Honey," she whispered. "Make him talk."