Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Thank you very much to the grand total of three people who submitted reviews. I'm hoping to get more than that with this chapter and the ones to come, but I wasn't very disappointed this time, because the reviews I received were very nice. To answer burntoemerge's question, this might end up being slash if I can find a way to dispose of Mimi. But I don't want to give anything away, so just keep reading if you want to find out for sure!

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Mark had held Roger for what seemed like hours. With his arms clasped around Roger's emaciated body, Mark could feel each quivering, spastic breath his lungs struggled to take in beneath the bulging ribcage. Eyes locked on the clock that he could barely read in the growing darkness, Mark wondered how many times Roger had breathed since he had collapsed. With a pang of nausea, Mark couldn't help but also wonder how many breaths Roger had left.

Roger's breathing began to calm, grow slower, and when he felt the deteriorating muscles become less tense, Mark knew that he had finally fallen asleep. Gently, gradually, Mark untangled himself from Roger and sat up, careful not to move the mattress as he placed his feet on the floor. Keeping the puddle of bile in mind, Mark felt his way around the room with his feet before remembering Roger's sheets. Those won't do, Mark said as he tiptoed over and gently removed the chilly, soaking sheets from the mattress before proceeding outside.

Leaving the sheets in a wrinkled heap in the corner, Mark went into his own room and ripped up all the blankets he could from his bed before returning to Roger's room. Careful not to wake him, he wrapped the blankets around Roger's tremulous body. Before leaving again he felt compelled to give Roger another small kiss on the head.

With a shaking sigh Mark closed the door to Roger's room and plopped down on the couch. Roger couldn't hear, he was sure of that. The awkwardness in the way he spoke and his failure to respond to any of Mark's words were more than enough proof. But the question irking in the back of Mark's mind was whether or not this hearing loss was permanent.

Fingers twitching, he snatched up the phone from the side table, but his free hand levitated above the numbers. Who should he call? He felt Mimi should know about this first, but perhaps Collins would be of more help? Joanne would be a good choice if Collins didn't pick up and Maureen, well… Maureen didn't even cross Mark's mind.

Clumsily he began to dial Collins's phone number, then sat trembling with nerves as the phone began to ring. Panicked thoughts rushed at a frenzied pace through his brain. Pick up, pick up, I can't stand being the only one who knows about this, I need to tell someone now, I need help

"Hello?"

"Collins!" Mark blurted out, his voice cracking unintentionally. "Look, I need you over here right away. There's something wrong with Roger."

"Be right there," came Collins's voice without a moment's hesitation, and he hung up right away.

Mark gave a shaking sigh of relief, glad that Collins understood the urgency of the situation without him having to waste time explaining everything. Slowly he hung the phone up, debating whether or not to call Mimi. Having so many people in the loft at once might be a bit too noisy while Roger was trying to sleep. Mark winced at this thought; the noise wouldn't make a difference if Roger couldn't hear.

Tapping his feet, he waited for Collins to arrive. He hadn't bothered calling Mimi; he was sure she would eventually show up anyway to check up on Roger. It was inevitable that she would find out, so why have her worried sooner? Besides, if Collins had a solution, maybe there wouldn't be any need for worrying.

The sound of knuckles against the door eased Mark's tension tremendously. He got up to open the door for Collins, who slid into the room, a first aid kit under his arm. "What's the problem?" he asked hastily, looking around the loft and noticing Roger's absence. "He in his room?"

"Yes," Mark said, leading Collins to the couch. "Here, let's talk here. I don't want to wake him, it took a couple of hours to get him to sleep."

Though Collins sat there silently, his eyes were screaming at Mark for an explanation. Mark sighed, adjusting his glasses with still-twitching fingers. "I went into Roger's room earlier to see if he was awake and he… couldn't hear me," Mark began, his voice shaking a little. "He… I don't know, he couldn't hear me, couldn't hear himself, couldn't… hear."

Collins gazed past Mark, his eyes fixed on Roger's bedroom door. "Couldn't… hear?" he repeated. "Just… all of the sudden?"

"Yeah, he woke up and… that's what happened."

They sat in an unpleasant silence, both with their gazes cast downwards as they twiddled their thumbs and bit their lips. If Roger had gone deaf, that's all there was too it; there was no point in discussing it because there was nothing more to say. Only time would tell if Roger's hearing loss was permanent. Mark began to feel like a fool for believing that Collins could just pop in and make it all better. Collins was good at fixing a lot of things, but this… this wasn't fixable.

"My dad's deaf, you know."

Mark nearly jumped at the sound Collins's voice as it penetrated through the eerie quiet. Blue eyes met brown and Mark found that he had no words with which to respond, so he uttered a "Really?"

"Yeah… he was a musician, but… like Roger, he… woke up deaf one morning, after a really high fever… and that was it for him."

Collins's words hit Mark like a sack of bricks and he felt as though the force had sent him hurtling out the window of his apartment. Up until now he hadn't given any thought to what would become of Roger's only remaining passion: music. Music was what had kept him alive for this long, and now that it would be impossible for him to enjoy it anymore… Mark dreaded to think any farther than this.

"Maybe it's temporary…" Mark said contemplatively, with all the hope he could muster.

"Yeah," Collins agreed, though he knew that this fake hope wasn't fooling either of them. "Yeah, you're probably right… I'm sure Roger will be fine when he gets better."

Despite their faithful words and assuring smiles, this false confidence was drowned out by the volume of the unspoken truth; it was too likely that Roger would never recover this time, and he would never hear again.