Mark stood in the doorway, staring at Roger's sleeping form. He felt like such an idiot. How had he not known Roger had a drug problem? The guy lost his job, got kicked out of the band…Roger sighed and his eyes fluttered open. Mark sauntered over, trying to control his anger.

"Mark," he mumbled.

Mark winced as Roger's legs kicked beneath the blankets. He hated seeing any of his friends in pain. Roger's face was pale and sweaty as he writhed on the bed. Mark picked up a towel from the sink near the bathroom and held it out to Roger. He took it and wiped at his face, looking confused and desperate.

"Maureen….Is Maureen here?"

Mark's jaw tightened. "She's in the waiting room."

"She's supposed to go get me something," he mumbled.

"She's not getting you anything, Roger."

Roger's eyes widened. "Mark, she said—"

"She said no. And she told Collins and I what you wanted."

"Shit," he whispered.

"You're going to get through this, Roger."

"I don't want to get through it! I just want to get out of this damn hospital! I just—"

"Shut up! You're not doing this. Maureen's not buying your drugs and neither is anyone else."

Roger's eyes turned fearful, then flashed with anger. "So what? You just here to yell at me?"

"No, I'm here to make sure you're not dead and that you don't do anything stupid."

"Go to hell."

Mark sighed and turned to leave. He reached the door before Roger called out to him. Mark stopped, but didn't turn.

"Mark? Marky? Please….don't be mad, okay? I didn't mean to….I didn't….this wasn't supposed to happen…"

Mark could hear the tears in Roger's voice and turned back to him. "And what the hell was supposed to happen, Roger?"

"Nevermind."

"No, you brought it up. What the hell was supposed to happen when you swallowed a bottle of aspirin and a bottle of vodka?"

"I just wanted it to stop," he whispered.

Mark shook his head and crossed back to Roger's bed. He sat down beside Roger, his anger dissipating. Roger curled up in the fetal position, clutching his stomach. Mark waited in silence. After a minute, Roger uncurled himself. "Mark…"

"I'm right here."

"Mark, I need…."

"Don't even finish that sentence, Roger. I'm going to go talk to the doctor. I'll send Collins in to sit with you."

Mark left, nearly bumping into Collins.

"Hey, man. How's he doin'?"

"He wants the drugs. In withdrawals. Told him I'd send you in."

Collins nodded. "Well, Mo's got some rehab info in the waiting room."

"I'll look it over. Any sign of the doctor?"

"Nah. Should be here soon though."

"I'll hang around here then. How's Maureen?"

"Uh, okay, I think. I mean, I only saw her a minute to ask her to hang onto the pamphlets. Figure we oughta talk the three of us before talkin' to Roger."

Mark nodded in agreement and headed back to the waiting room.