Author's note: Have your tissues handy!
True to her word, a few days later, Allison had Roger moved to a different room. By this point, Roger was beyond caring. HE was beaten, bruised, hungry, and suffering from not having his AZTs. And he didn't care anymore. Allison moved him gently, and had a meal waiting for him in the room. "Eat," she told him. "You'll need your strength. Roger glared at her silently, too weak and worn out to say anything. He gazed around the room. It resembled a normal room, except for the window, which had iron bars over it.
Allison smiled wryly. "You understand. Precautionary measures."
Roger shrugged. Allison smiled. "Eat! Be comfortable. May as well be, since you'll be here awhile." She started to leave, but stopped, noticing that Roger was clutching the wall for support. "Easy there, maybe you should lie down." She guided him to the bed, where he promptly collapsed. Allison shrugged. "He'll sleep it off."
Roger, however, knew otherwise. He was fully aware that he was dying. He embraced it, accepted it. He was ready for it.
Suddenly, Angel appeared, smiling. Roger laughed. "Mimi was right, you do look good."
Angel beamed. "Thanks, sugar, but that's not why I'm here. You can't die yet. It's not your time."
"But…"
"No buts. Mimi needs you. Sweetie, you can get through this. Regain your strength. Escape from here. Mimi and the group are planning a rescue, but they'll need your help. Play along for a few days, and you'll be out of here. Oh, and when Allison comes back, ask her for a supply of AZTs. You still need them, no matter how stubborn you want to be."
Roger smiled sheepishly. "Yes, Angel."
Angel nodded. "Good boy. I've gotta go. Take care of yourself, honey." Angel vanished.
Roger's eyes snapped open. It was dark, and Roger wondered how long he'd been out of it. Allison sat perched on the dresser. "We were beginning to think you had left us. Drink this," she added, thrusting a glass of water into his hands. Roger did, thirstily. Allison smiled. "Need anything?"
Roger nodded. "My pills. I need my AZTs."
"Okay, I'll go pick some up. How many do you need?"
"I take five a day, every three hours."
"Alright, I'll enough. Eat. The food's fresh." Allison smiled. "I'll be back in an hour with your pills. If you need anything, call me." She pointed to a phone. "My number is speed dial one. But don't try calling for help. Your apartment has been disconnected from that number. It won't register it." Allison left.
Roger glanced at the phone, an idea forming. After eating a bit, he picked the receiver, listened for a dial tone, and punched in Joanne's number.