His Tea

And even now, I'm so amazed
It's like a dream, it's like a rainbow
It's like the rain

I rub the sleep out of my eyes as I trudge into the kitchenette (oh god, when did I become the guy who uses words like 'kitchenette'?) and pour myself a cup of the black sludge I've become accustomed to calling 'coffee'. I walk into the living room, taking a tentative sip.

"Morning, sleepy-head." I jerk in surprise and spill more of the hot liquid than intended into my mouth, burning my tongue.

"Fuck!" I hold the injured flesh gently between my teeth and hiss. Looking up, I notice Mark for the first time, sprawled across the couch, his trademark scarf and jacket donned though he seems to have no intention of moving.

"Christ, Mark. Aren't you supposed to be over at Buzzline?"

"No..." His voice is hoarse and strained.

I sit in a chair next to him, setting my mug on the table, and lean in closer. "But...it's your big day..." At 5:00 PM eastern standard time tonight the first half of Today 4 U has it's television premier on Buzzline. No one's first choice of programming, I know, but it's still a big step.

"I feel like shit."

"I can see that." He's pale. More so than usual. "You need anything?"

"Ugh, no. My stomach is killing me. Just the thought of food is making me nauseous." He brushes some stray sweat-soaked hair out of his face and breathes heavily.

"I'll get you some tea." I stand up and head to the kitchen a second time.

I hear him speak feebly behind me. "Actually, yeah...that sounds good." The words are quickly followed by an onset of coughs. I grab a tissue as I pour hot water over a tea bag as I walk back over to him. Every time I hear him take a strangled breath, I wince.

I set the tea next to my coffee and hand him the tissue. He wipes his hands and sets it next to my cup before picking up his own and bringing it to his lips, savoring the warm liquid. "Mm...thanks, I feel a bit better now." He sets it down again to let it cool.

I send him a playful wink. "Hey, anything for the big time director, right?" I hear him chuckle as I reach for my mug. My hand stops about an inch away from the handle. My eyes fall on the tiny flecks of red covering the tissue.

I freeze, unable to immediately process what I'm seeing. "Rog?" I look up to find him staring at me, concerned. Before I know what I'm doing, I'm grabbing his arm and dragging him toward the door. "Ro-Roger! What the fuck!? What are you doing!?"

"You're going to the clinic. Now."

"Roger, I'm fine!"

"No. You're not."

As I lead him down the stairs, I pray to every god I've ever heard of that I'm wrong.

AN: Well, there's chapter 7. If I'm up late tonight, I might post chapter 8, but I've been given a little...distraction. I just got the MASH Martinis and Medicine boxset and have just now been able to tear myself away (mmm, Hawkeye... drools ). Anyway, please review and I'll give you...well, if I had any talent as far as drawing goes, I'd give you this cute picture I have in my head of Mark imagining a chibi Roger in Santa Fe throwing his arms happily into the air as Fenders rain from the sky (if you read Through the Tears and the Laughter, you'll understand), but alas, my talent lies in words and rhythm. But you have the mental image now, and that's almost as good . Anyway, reviews time please!