Roger eased his eyes open, blinking, letting himself adjust to the seemingly bright lights above him. The room slowly came into focus and Roger could hear the beeping of machines and see the drab white walls.

"Roger?" Mark sat forward in his seat. "Christ, you scared the shit out of me."

Roger took a deep breath, clearing his throats. "What happened?"

"Why don't you tell me?" Mark said. "When did you stop taking it?"

"What?"

"Don't bullshit me, Roger." Mark said. "Your AZT. When did you stop taking it?"

"When I ran out," Roger said simply. "We're pretty much f-ing freezing."

"And without that drug, you're dying!" Mark said. "You need it."

"We can't afford it," Roger said. "You're gonna put a price on your life? Shit Roger. We can't be that proud. We can ask for help. With this, we can ask for help. We need to."

"My mother doesn't even know that I'm gay. She doesn't know I've got AIDS. You think I could tell her that, Mark?"

"What about my parents?"

"You ready to tell mommy and daddy that not only did you date a lesbian, but you ended up being a homo?"

Mark sighed. "Not when you put it that way." he said "OK, listen we have to figure out something because this is important."

"How about we start by getting the hell out of here." Roger said. "Because if there's one more thing we don't need to worry about paying for, it's a hospital stay."

"Look, what about Collins? Did the ATM over at the Food Emporium ever get fixed?"

"That's an awful lot of money to take out as an honorarium."

"I think that we need to make an exception. You need the medication."

Roger managed to push himself up in bed. "Can we start by getting me the hell out of here? I don't want to stay here."

"Roger..."

"Don't... argue with me, Mark! Get me out of this f-ing place. Either you can help me or I'll do it myself, but I'm getting out of this hospital."

"Fine," Mark kept Roger from pulling out the IVs. "Fine, let me... let me help you before you hurt yourself."

"We can get out once the nurse takes a break." Roger said.

"You sound like you've done this before."

"Yeah, like you haven't." Roger grabbed his clothes, beginning to dress. "We're not cheap, we're just poor."

"Not poor..."

"We're starving artists. Whatever the hell you want to call us. It doesn't change the fact that we're broke."

Mark walked over to the door, looking left and right. "Well now's your chance if we're gonna get out of here."

Roger slowly and stealthily moved after him and they nonchalantly made their way out of the hospital. The snow was falling harder now and the street was blanketed.

Why did that seem to be too easy?" Mark said.

"We're out, don't jinx it." Roger began to walk, arms wrapped around himself for warmth, keeping his stride even with Mark's this time.

"We're gonna get back to the apartment, we're gonna shovel out the bedroom and then I'm going to head back to the Food Emporium to get some cash so you can get your AZT."

"Oh and just leave me alone in the arctic," Roger said. "Thanks a lot."

"I won't be long," Mark said. "Money, drugs, home."

"Just... let's get home now, work from there, OK? I'm freezing."

"Here," Mark handed Roger his scarf. "Take this before you freeze to death."

Roger took the scarf, wrapping it around his neck. "What about you?"

"You need it more than I do right now. You don't look too hot. Your immune system isn't that good right now..."

"My immune system's shot to shit," Roger interrupted. "Nothing's gonna change that. Not now, not ever."

"It's that kind of attitude that gets you into trouble," Mark said. "Your outlook sucks."

"Why shouldn't it?" Roger said as they reached the apartment, walking up the dilapidated staircase to the top floor. "You can't tell me you honestly haven't thought about it. About me dying."

"I try not to," Mark said. "And you shouldn't think about it either."

"Why not?" Roger said. "Not thinking about it isn't going to make it go away. I've still got this thing and like it or not, Mark, it's gonna kill me. It killed Angel and Mimi. It killed April..."

"April killed herself." Mark said.

"Because of it," Roger said. "She slit her wrists because she had it. Because she thought she gave it to me." Roger cleared away some f the snow from the top of the bed and worked to stuff the hole in the ceiling. "We were both into the needle. I could have given it to her."

"Will you stop talking like that," Mark said "It doesn't matter who gave it to who. What matters is that we do something about it. And once I pick up your AZT, we can go on taking care of it. So quit with the doomsday scenarios." Roger sat down on the edge of the bed, picking up his guitar and playing a few chords. "Roger?"

"Right," he said "Doomsday, whatever."

Mark sighed, trying to search for another scarf, but coming up empty handed. "Keep that on so you don't freeze. I'll be back as soon as I can. Try to get some sleep Roger."

"Sure thing," Roger said, not really paying attention to him.

Mark paused a moment and then headed back out again into the storm. Roger took a deep breath before fiddling with a tune on the guitar. A broken, unfinished melody.