Mark Cohen finally made it to the hospital at around 9.20 am. He walked into the emergency room and was greeted by a redheaded girl with braces.

"Good morning, Dr. Cohen. This is the patient I was telling you about," she said as Mark put on his white coat.

"Yes, thank you Annabel. I'll go see to him." Mark walked over to the hospital bed and nearly fell over when he saw the patient, who was breathing heavily, his chest heaving up and down, and his eyes practically rolling back into his head. The world almost seemed to stop for a minute. He was in his mid-twenties, with shaggy, dirty-blond hair, slight stubble on his face, a piercing in his left ear and a KIIS tattoo on his left arm. He was dressed in frayed blue jeans, a green muscle shirt which matched the colour of his eyes, and a leather jacket (which the nurses took off and placed on the chair). Mark's heart started thumping suddenly, while he couldn't stop staring at his eyes; which were olive green, just like his shirt, and filled with such warmth and a distinctive sparkle. Wow, he is gorgeous, thought Mark inside his head. He gently placed his hand across the patient's forehead and whispered, "Hello there, I'm Dr. Cohen. Do you have a name too?"

The man struggled to make his voice work but was having trouble doing so. Mark turned to another nurse and asked, "Hey Maria, did you find any ID on him at all? A license or something like that?"

Maria, the older nurse, held a little plastic card in her hand and said, "Yes, I found a driver's licence in his wallet. It says 'Roger Albert Davis'".

Mark nodded. "Thank you, Maria. Could you bring me my emergency tray please?" He turned back to the patient, Roger, who now propped himself up on his elbows and looked like he was trying to say something. Mark gently held his head and said, "Don't worry Roger. We're gonna make you all better, okay? Now, what is it you're trying to tell me?"

Roger slowly opened his mouth, but instead of speaking, his body bucked violently………….and out came a thick stream of dark, spicy vomit with thick chunks on it. The fact that half of it landed on Mark's shirt and the other half all over the freshly cleaned floor didn't exactly help either.

"What the fuck?"exclaimed Mark, who did a double take, glaring with disbelief at the huge, brown stain on his pale blue Van Heusen business shirt, then at Roger, who actually looked much better while Annabel and Maria got him cleaned him up and gave him some water to drink, along with some indigestion medicine. He blinked and looked at Mark apologetically.

"Oh hey there, Doc. Look, I'm really really sorry about that mess, man. Seriously, I am. I promise I'll stay away from the Lamb Rogan Josh from now on." He smiled lopsidedly at Mark, a guilty look in his eyes. "Oh yeah, and they call me Roger. Roger Davis. Nice to meet ya, dude." He extended an arm for Mark to shake while still lying on the hospital bed.

Mark looked at the hand, then looked at Roger, with a mad glare in his eyes. "Yeah, likewise," he huffed, as he got up off the floor and proceeded to clean himself at the sink. "Guess I won't be needing that emergency tray anymore," he said to Maria.

Roger awkwardly drew his arm back in, then hauled himself into a sitting position on the bed. "Thanks for all the help though, Doc. Ya know, I was really curious about this new Indian place down the street. A little pricey for my budget, but my rich-ass roommate Benny was buying so, yeah……." He chuckled softly while Mark checked his heartbeat and blood pressure. "Well, he's not actually rich himself. His girlfriend Muffy is, so he just keeps sponging her money every now and then. Speaking of which, is he here? The hospital said they were going to call him and-"

Mark spun around to face him. "Will you just shut the fuck up? First you puke your guts all over my brand new Van Heusen shirt, which is a very expensive one by the way, then you have the fucking nerve to act all casual and talk to me like it was nothing? You know, its filthy pigs and slobs like yourself that piss me off and make me so angry because all you care about is shooting up drugs and getting wasted!" He jabbed a finger straight at Roger's face as he said this.

Roger tried to gently push Mark's finger away from his face. "Whoa whoa whoa, hold on now, Doc. For your information, I've never touched a drug after my withdrawal several years ago and I don't drink as much as you think I do. And secondly, all I asked you was if you guys contacted my roommate or not." As if on cue, a tall, bald black man slowly stuck his head into the emergency room. Mark sighed in relief.

"Umm, is Roger Davis here?" he asked tentatively. Roger waved to him.

"Hey dude, over here," he said, beckoning to the man, who walked in and stood next to Roger. "Hey Doc, this is my roommate and old friend Benny, also known as Benjamin Coffin III." He pronounced the name with an exaggerated, mock British accent, which made Benny roll his eyes and Mark giggle internally (although he wasn't about to admit it). "And Benny, this is my saviour, Dr. Coran."

"It's Cohen" said Mark with frustration. He stuck his arm out and brusquely shook Benny's hand. "Nice to meet you, Benjamin."

"Nice to meet you too, Dr.," said Benny, shaking his hand back. "And please just call me Benny."

"Hey? How come you shook his hand and not mine?' Roger whined and pouted like a 7-year-old who was refused candy.

Mark stood in front of Roger so that they were at eye level. "Because he's not the one who barfed all over my business shirt," he murmered, while mustering up the angriest glare that he could, hoping it would make Roger cower with fear. But to his surprise, Roger just looked right back at him with that same sparkle in his eyes and a small smile playing across his lips.

"What the fuck are you grinning at, asshole?" Mark demanded the shaggy blond. "You think I'm singing a song here?"

Roger chuckled, his smile growing wider. "Oh no no no, Doc. It's better than a song. You could say that I like the feisty types." He threw in a wink for effect.

Mark did a double take again, trying his best to ignore the butterflies in his stomach, and looked over at Benny, who was now felling a little uncomfortable at the heated exchange between his friend and the doctor. "Yea thanks, nice to know," he said sarcastically. "There's some forms outside for you to fill. Now if you could please leave so we can use these rooms for some real emergencies?"

Roger kept grinning and he got off the bed. "Yup, will do. Thanks again for all the help, Doc. I owe ya." And with that, he exited the room with Benny, giving Mark a one-finger salute as he did so.

Mark shook his head, then walked up to his office, where he kept some spare clothes in case of need, and proceeded to clean and disinfect himself properly before getting back to work. Some people are so thick, he thought inside his head.

By around 6 in the evening, Mark decided to take a quick 10-minute break outside to grab some fresh air and maybe a coffee as well. He walked into his favourite coffee house, Coffee Beenz, and stood in the line. He closed his eyes and deeply inhaled the aroma of fresh coffee brewing while he waited. He quickly checked his pager before his turn came, when he suddenly heard a voice go, "Welcome to Coffee Beenz sir, what would you……….Whoa! Hey there!"

Mark stared at the figure behind the counter, his pager nearly falling out of his hand. "Roger?" he blurted. "What the hell are you doing here?"

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaand I hope that's enough to establish the characters and their relationships. Bet you didn't see this coming, did you? –snickers-

Oh, and I don't really know too much about what doctors do in ER rooms so please forgive me. Besides, this is a fanfic, not a medical journal anyways.