Disclaimer: Rent was created by Jonathan Larson. Someone else now has the rights to it; I'm not sure who, but not me. I'm only having a bit of fun. Please don't sue me... pretty please?

Twenty minutes later, Mark was studying the x-rays of Roger's arm. A clear crack could be seen on the film. Mark furrowed his brow. The break pattern could not have possibly been caused by a fall down stairs. Someone had to have twisted the arm with such force that it caused the tendons to tear and the arm to snap. The bruising on Roger's arm also supported this theory.

"Roger, I'm afraid you do have a fracture. I'm also seeing some significant tearing to some of your tendons on the x-ray. Just the fact that I can even see the damage tells me it's pretty bad. We'll try letting it rest for a little while. I can't do too much while the bone is knitting anyway. You say this happened when you fell down the stairs?"

Roger nodded. He felt ill at the news. A fracture... He didn't have the time to rest a while. Well, he would just do his best, and... he could manage with one arm. He would be fine. After all, the last three days had been okay, and he had not used his arm. "Yeah. I-I tripped."

"Roger, tell me the truth. I've seen this kind of break before. That pattern isn't possible from a fall. The only way they happen is if someone else twists your arm. Is someone hurting you?"

"No." Roger saw the likelihood of this being answered. After all, he was sitting half-naked and comfortable with this (incredibly attractive) man touching him, the intimacy established a trusting atmosphere. Still. It wasn't a question that applied to Roger, not by his thinking.

"How did it happen, then?"

"I told you," Roger said softly, "I fell down on the stairs at the library." He couldn't deal with this. His arm was killing him, not to mention other bits of him--luckily the majority of the minor injuries were on his legs and rear, and the doctor hadn't seen there or he would probably have a fit. But it hurt badly, and Roger was not in the mood for an interrogation. He started to clumsily pull on his shirt.

"Fuck!" He'd been too hasty and jarred his arm. He continued yanking. He needed to go.

Mark could tell he'd gone too far. The last thing he wanted to do was drive Roger away while he was still in pain. He decided to let it go for the moment. It was more important that Roger get treatment or he could damage that arm further.

"Roger, let me put that in a cast before you go. You'll do more damage to the arm without one."

"It'll get better," he muttered. He had one arm in a sleeve and was now groping blindly for the other. "I'll just, I'll leave it, I'll be fine. Thank you for your time but I really do need to get going."

"It won't," Mark replied. "A break like that won't just heal itself. Roger… if you want full use of that arm, let me put a cast on it. No more questions, I promise." There were many questions he wanted to ask, but healing that arm was his top priority.

Roger paused. He thought for a moment. No more arm… no more sports, a lifetime of slow clumsiness, and most important of all no more music. He let his shirt slide off. "Just make it work," he whispered. He sat, utterly defeated, staunchly refusing to raise his eyes. The fact that the doctor obviously knew more than he did about medicine did not help the matter.

Mark gathered supplies and arranged them in the order he'd need them. He gently took the injured limb into his hands and ran his fingers along the place where the X-ray revealed the break to be. "This may hurt a bit." He had to set the bone properly, and that required forcing the bones into place and making sure that the joints were lined up properly.

Roger nodded. "I know," he murmured. Mark's fingers felt good on his skin-- not good enough to move him from his determined self-hatred, but enough. He waited for the pain.

Mark took a deep breath. He didn't want to cause any more pain. Roger had obviously experienced enough to last him a lifetime. He quietly counted to three and set the arm as smoothly as he possibly could. He let his hand linger a moment longer than necessary. Roger's skin was very smooth and he enjoyed touching it much more than he should have, professionally. It had been too long since he'd last touched another man.

Roger's body jerked once when the bone was set, at the sound and at the feeling of the sound. He gasped, careful not to pull his arm out of Mark's grasp. He didn't want the doctor to stop touching him. He tried to focus on something other than the pain, even the hair swinging in front of his eyes, anything. Roger tried to remember his last haircut. It had been at least two years ago...

"Thank you," he said softly.

Mark continued to caress Roger's soft skin as he gently pulled on the stocking that would form the base of the cast. He trimmed it back and wrapped the arm in cotton and plaster.

"You're going to have to come back in a couple of weeks for more X rays. In the mean time, you can take Ibuprofen for the pain and swelling. I don't normally do this, but let me give you my home number, if you have any questions or it bothers you."

"Thank you," Roger whispered. He didn't know what to say, or precisely how to explain what it felt like to know he would be completely, or almost completely, useless until his cast came off. "When will the cast come off?" he asked. He still hadn't looked at Mark, but felt cold without his touch.

"The cast will be on for at least six weeks, but I need to see you back in two weeks to make sure that it's healing properly and to see if any of the damage to the tendons has healed. I won't make any promises. You still may need surgery."

He nodded. "All right." Roger picked up his jacket and realized he wasn't going to be able to dress himself. He clutched the jacket close. "Should I schedule an appointment?"

Mark nodded. "I'll take care of that for you when we get to the other room. Do you need a hand?" He motioned at the jacket. "When I broke my arm when I was fifteen, I had to live in button-down short sleeved shirts that my mom bought for me. I hated it, but it was so much easier to get dressed with them."

Roger nodded. He knew the doctor was trying to establish a bond and he appreciated that, he truly did. But that didn't mean he was open to a bond with this kind man who he would give anything to caress. Roger liked him too much, and he knew it. "Thanks."

Mark gathered up Roger's shirt and eased it over his arm and head. He let his hand stay on Roger's back for a few seconds. With a start, he realized exactly how attracted he was to this man. He wished he could bring him back to his place and protect him from the world. He wanted to wrap his arms around him and hold him forever, for a moment...

Roger enjoyed the contact. It spread a sort of calm warmth through his body, making him feel good. He liked how it felt when Mark eased his shirt on. The attraction disturbed him, and even more the fact that he didn't shy away from it. No, he stayed right where he was, not moving away from Mark's gentle hand but relaxing against it.

Mark noticed that Roger was relishing his touch, so he made his movements more deliberate. He knew it was wrong to fall for a patient, especially such young patient, but he couldn't help but feel he wanted to find out everything about this young man. It had been entirely too long since his last relationship.

After a few more moments of touching, Roger knew he had to stop. He leapt up, smashing his cast on the table. It hurt like a bitch, and brought him back to his senses. "W-we had better make that next appointment," he said hurriedly. What had he been thinking!?

Mark was startled when Roger pulled away but realized he had almost let things go too far. He was a professional, so he should act like one. He cleared his throat. "You're right. Is there a time you prefer?"

Roger shook his head. "Any time."

"I'll schedule you for the end of the day, then. 4:30 in two weeks. In the mean time, keep it elevated at night, try not to use it, and if you need it, use this sling. Also if you find that the cast feels tight or your fingers feel numb, make sure you call me. In rare cases, the limb swells and the cast cuts off the circulation."

Roger nodded. "I'll look out for that," he murmured. "Is there anything more?" he asked as politely as he could, already sidling towards the door.

"If you need anything, and I mean anything, be sure to call. And try to avoid libraries for a couple of weeks, okay?"

Roger nodded. "Yes. Thank you. I'll be careful. Goodbye."

Mark walked Roger to the door and watched him walk away. He felt conflicted. Any other time he saw similar marks on a patient, especially a young one, he'd notify social services. That was the right thing to do. But in Roger's case, he was under the impression that telling someone would be the worst thing he could do. He decided to think about the situation for a while.

to be continued!

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