A/N: Drumroll, please...the moment you've all been waiting for! As in the last chapter, italics flashback. FYI, this is not the end of the story, just in case you were worried. The entire story emerged from the image of the last paragraph of this chapter. I hope I haven't disappointed anyone. I've said this every chapter so far (so why quit now?): reviews arelove.
Also, I don't know much about heroin addiction/withdrawal/recovery, so I have no idea how valid my timeline is. I just kind of made it up. Apologies if i screwed it up too badly.
A nurse walked in to check on Mark, snapping both him and Roger back to the present. The look on Roger's face said that he was obviously confused as to how him getting clean had anything to do with Mark having HIV. The nurse left just as suddenly as she had appeared, and Mark coughed before continuing.
Roger hadn't had a hit in a little over a month. Mark was at his wit's end, trying to keep him calm, and help him through the pain, the sweats, and all of the other things that came from quitting heroin cold turkey after more than a year of steady use. For the most part, Roger stayed in the loft. This made it easier for Mark – he knew that there was no heroin in the loft, and no one to bring him any. Mark's job became making sure Roger ate, and making sure that he took his AZT on time. Whenever Roger complained, Mark made it abundantly clear that he had no choice in the matter. Mark had promised to see him through this, and he was going to, no matter what.
Roger was in his room. As was his habit, Mark knocked twice before opening the door. "Rog? I've got to run to the store for some food, and your AZT. Is there anything you want me to get?"
Roger turned around to face Mark. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked pale. His hands were shaking. Mark frowned slightly. "The only thing I want, Mark, you're not going to give me."
Mark crossed his arms in front of his chest and nodded. "You've got that right. I'll be back a bit later." He walked away without closing the door. Roger sat on his bed and watched Mark wind his scarf around his neck before leaving. Roger walked out to the fire escape, and watched Mark walk down the street. Once Mark disappeared around the corner, Roger grabbed his leather jacket and walked out of the loft.
Mark returned to the loft with a couple of bags of groceries. He put them on the table before walking into Roger's room. "Roger!" Mark shouted when he saw his roommate. Roger clearly had been to visit his dealer in Mark's absence. Mark found him with the needle stuck in a vein in his forearm, although the heroin was still in the syringe. Roger's hands were shaking, and Mark couldn't tell if it was because of the withdrawal, or if Roger was having second thoughts.
"Roger, come on." Mark hoped that his voice sounded as calm as he wanted it to. "Give me the needle, Roger. You haven't come this far just to give up now." Roger looked up at Mark, his eyes hard, his hands still shaking. "Roger, please. You don't want to do this. Give me the needle." Mark reached out his hand.
Roger took a deep breath, and gave Mark a look so filled with hatred that it pained Mark to see it. "You want the fucking needle that bad, Mark? Here you go." With that, Roger took the needle out of his vein and stuck it into Mark's outstretched forearm.