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?
Roger headed into the doctor's office. He had one long-sleeved shirt with the left sleeve cut off for his cast. It was convenient, but he regretted one thing—he would not need to take his shirt off for the doctor to see his arm. And Roger wanted to take his shirt off. He decided he was probably a slut for even thinking such a thing, but the desire nagged at him.
His feelings mingled, the concern at his attraction to the doctor mixing with, heck, the attraction! And worry, but that he was accustomed to. "How have you been?" he asked, drinking in the sight of those beautiful eyes.
Mark felt a mixture of concern and relief when Roger entered the office. Mark had been worried that Roger wouldn't return to his office, seeking a different doctor instead. Over the past two weeks had contemplated calling the authorities about him but never got around to picking up the phone. He was relieved that Roger had returned, but couldn't help but notice that he was still in a considerable amount of pain. He was moving even more gingerly than before.
Roger held out his arm. "You... you have to do X-rays, right?" he asked gently. He knew he had been a jerk the last time. This time he promised himself to do better, to begin with, by demonstrating that he had been paying attention.
"Yes, that's right." Mark led Roger down to the X-ray machine and within minutes he was back in the office peering over the films. "Good news, Mr. Davis. The bones are healing well so we don't have to rebreak the arm."
Roger sighed in relief. He hadn't known about the rebreaking, and was suddenly very glad it wouldn't be happening. "So everything's going well," he surmised. He smiled. "That's great."
Mark returned the smile. "How is the pain? Have you had any shooting pains or numbness?"
Roger shook his head. "No. It's only a bit, and it's dull." Except, of course, for when Roger did something stupid. He had taken to slamming his cast on tables or counters when he was angry with himself. "So at this rate, four more weeks?"
Mark looked at the X-ray again. "Four more weeks in the cast, but I doubt you'll be completely healed by then. I'm still not sure about the damage to those tendons. They don't show well on X-rays. Since you're not able to move them in the cast, they won't hurt now, but I'd expect you to feel some pain once the cast comes off."
Roger nodded, settling the information in his mind. Four more weeks in the cast, then an immeasurable length of pain. He reached into his pocket and found the check, signed and made out with everything but the amount of money. "How much...?" he asked. He set the check on the table and his shirt slid off his shoulder and down to his elbow, exposing a series of gauze patches. Roger quickly, clumsily pulled his shirt back up, hoping Mark would just ignore that. He glanced at the doctor, his heart racing, trying to measure his reaction.
Mark's gaze immediately fell to Roger's arm. The gauze confirmed his suspicion that there was more to this young man than meets the eye. What was going on? Was Roger hurting himself? Was someone else hurting him? In spite of his suspicions, Mark still hadn't called anyone about Roger's injuries. Somehow, in his mind, that would constitute a betrayal. "What happened to your arm?" Mark asked.
"Nothing," was the first answer, the necessary answer. Roger continued, "I just, you know, accident." Usually he could think up a convincing other explanation, but for these injuries there simply was not one. He resorted to vague non-sentences.
"An accident?" Mark repeated. "I'd like to take a look. Any infection can lead to complications." From Roger's last visit, he knew not to ask too many questions or else he'd run away.
Roger chuckled nervously. "I'm sure that's not necessary. I cleaned it myself," he assured Mark.
"I insist on it. No charge," grinned Mark.
Recognizing that he had no way out of this, Roger sat and slipped off his shirt. A gauze strip wrapped his upper arm, and there were patches near his elbow and shoulder. There was one wrapping his wrist, too, this one covering a burn. The others were clean cuts.
Roger looked away, ceding his body to Mark's ministrations.
Mark gently took off the patches and then unwound the rest of the bandages. Most of the cuts were healing well. They weren't too deep and had formed scabs. One of them had a little redness around it, but a little antiseptic cream would take care of that. The burn was another story. It was second-degree at least and had some ugly, weeping blisters covering the skin.
"You did a good job with the cuts. Most of them can be left open now to let them breathe. That one, there, near your elbow should still be covered. I'll put this cream on it and give you the tube to treat it. Your burn is pretty serious though. The blisters popped and are now susceptible to infection. With all the healing your body has to do, it doesn't need to fight something else on top of it."
Roger nodded, surprisingly pleased at the doctor's praise. "What can I do for the burn?" he asked. He hated that one, hated the horrible color it had turned and hated the pain of it. Still, he was going to make sure it was okay. The doctor would tell him what to do and he'd take care of it. Everything would be fine.
Roger sighed in relief. The doctor had seen everything and wasn't going to ruin his life. He actually seemed like a good guy.
"Bathe it once a day in cool, clean water. Treat it with aloe and then put a new wrap on it every day. I have some bottled aloe here, but it's almost better if you can get it fresh from the plant. You probably should come back in here next week so I can check on this, too."
Mark took the aloe and rubbed it slowly into Roger's skin, being careful not to hurt him. He wrapped clean gauze around the burn and fastened it with tape. As he did this, Mark let his fingers roam from the wound and touch the skin surrounding it. Roger's arm was smooth and warm and Mark let his fingers linger. He wished he could touch more of Roger's body.
The feeling was mutual. Roger almost wished he had injuries on the rest of his body, just because that would mean Mark's hands on him. He realized just how dangerous that thinking was, because there were plenty of ways for Roger to get more injuries, and they did hurt when Mark's hands were gone.
Roger nodded. "I'll take care of it," he promised. "It'll be fine, right? In a month it'll just be another neat scar story I can tell."
Mark smiled. "Sure." All right, probably not, but at the moment Roger seemed to be looking more for reassurance than answers. "And you'll call me if it starts to hurt?"
Roger recited Mark's phone number, reminding him that he'd given his home number.
"That's right. Call any time if you need me or if you just have questions. If you're not sure, it's better for you to call."
"Okay. Thanks." He handed him the check, then headed for the door. He stopped about two feet away. "Look, doctor, if... hypothetically," he said. "Hypothetically, let's say, you were right. If you were right. Then what would happen?"
"Hypothetically, first there'd be an investigation into your living situation. If the person who is hurting you can be removed, they may do that or they may move you into a group home or foster care. Then the police will do an investigation and the courts will be involved. They'll make sure that they protect you. I'd have to testify about the injuries you received. People would protect you."
Roger nodded. It was a lot to take in. "It... it sounds like a great system," he said. "Very good for... people... in those situations," he added. "Well. Thank you," he said, and offered his good hand.
"You're welcome. Be sure to call if you need anything, and I mean anything at all." said Mark.
"I will. Thanks-- thank you-- really."
to be continued!
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