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?

At five o'clock Mark arrived home. It had been an eventful day at the office. Mark hadn't expected Robert to turn up for work, but he had. He was in his usual bad mood, but no more hostile than usual. The morning passed uneventfully. However, around one thirty four uniformed police officers had shown up at the clinic. Since his receptionist had called in sick, Mark had the dubious pleasure of sending them to the X-ray room. A few minutes later, they returned, escorting a very angry Robert with them. Robert managed to get out a few derogatory remarks aimed at Mark on his way to the door, which earned him harsher treatment from the police. He couldn't wait to tell Roger that Robert had been arrested.

"Roger?" he called. Roger didn't respond. Mark frowned; that wasn't normal for Roger. Usually he arrived eagerly when Mark called. "Roger? Where are you?"

Roger jumped and inched out from his hiding spot behind the washing machine. He was sore from staying in one position all afternoon, and it hurt a bit to move, but he managed, slowly first but gaining speed as he climbed the stairs. He peeked out. Yes, it was Mark. Roger emerged. "Hi."

"There you are! I've got some good news for you. Robert was arrested this morning."

Roger smiled shakily. He glanced behind him. No one. He shut the door to the laundry room, but that didn't make his heart stop pounding. "That's... good news," he agreed.

Mark smiled and wrapped an arm around Roger. "I'm glad they didn't wait. You should have seen the look on his face when the police got there. He wasn't too happy with me, I can tell you."

"H-he knew it was you?" Oh, that wasn't good. That was not good. If Robert knew Mark had anything to do with this, then Mark wasn't safe. It was that simple. Roger gnawed nervously on his thumbnail.

Mark shook his head. "I don't think so. He was mad because I pointed the police in the direction of the X-ray room. He's never liked me, so he just used me as a scapegoat, I think." He thought for a moment then decided to change the subject to get Roger to relax a little. "So what did you do today?"

"N-not much." Roger realized then that he hadn't cooked, or even though about cooking. "I didn't make dinner," he said. Roger immediately headed towards the kitchen.

"That's ok, Roger. You don't have to cook. Do you want to go out or something?" Mark had gotten used to Roger's cooking and was a little surprised that he hadn't cooked, but figured everyone needed a day off. He must still be affected by the trauma of going to the police.

Roger shook his head. Not outside. He was safe here. The idea of coming home at night terrified him. "Maybe... we could... g-get pizza or something?" he suggested tentatively.

Mark smiled. "That's a great idea. What toppings do you like?"

"Anything. What's your favorite?" Roger wasn't just saying that. He did like all toppings--he was after all a teenage boy with a teenage boy metabolism.

Mark suspected as much, but that did not stop him asking, "Are you sure you don't have any favorites, Roger?"

Roger shook his head, but he murmured, "Pineapple and mushrooms."

Mark smiled. "I'll just order the works, then. If that's ok?" He went to place the call then came back to Roger. "It will be here in half an hour." He sat beside Roger on the couch. "What shall we do in the mean time?"

Roger shrugged. He inched closer to Mark, fighting the urge to cuddle up and bury his face against Mark's side. "We could watch television?" he suggested. "Or play a board game?"

Mark made a motion for the remote control. "Let's see what's on tonight. I haven't sat and watched TV for a while."

Roger retrieved the remote and handed it to Mark.

"What do you feel like? News? Sports? Cartoons?" He started flipping channels pausing briefly on each one before changing to the next.

Roger shook his head. "Anything."

Mark put the TV on a news program and they watched in silence for a few minutes. After a story about President Clinton's foreign policy and another one about university libraries linking their networks together, the program turned to local news. Mark had a sinking feeling about this.

Roger shifted. Surely there couldn't be anything... right? Who would-- there wasn't even enough information, it wasn't a good story... He took a deep breath. Of course not. Of course.

Mark shuddered as the reporter started the next story. Even before they said a name, Mark knew it was about Robert. He looked over at Roger.

Roger had gone rigid. He was staring at the screen. "It's not me," he whispered. It couldn't be. That wasn't possible. Real people weren't on the news. The news was about other people. People in big cities. Strangers. "It can't be."

Unfortunately it was about Roger. They didn't mention him by name, but the story gave enough details to make even Mark uncomfortable. They gave Robert's name, occupation, and home town. They mentioned Roger's captivity and the treatment he received at Robert's hands. It made Mark feel uncomfortable. Worst of all, they mentioned that Robert was putting pressure on the courts to speed up the trial.

"Are you alright, Roger?" asked Mark.

Roger shook his head. He felt dizzy and sick. "I need to call my parents... make sure they didn't see that."

Mark nodded. "That's probably a good idea. Do you want me to give you some privacy?"

"It's okay if you want to stay." Roger knew it was Mark's place and he had to respect that. He picked up the phone and dialed his parents' house.

At that moment, the doorbell rang. Mark went to collect the pizza and brought it into the kitchen. He really didn't feel like eating any more, so he left it in the box and put it in the fridge. They could reheat it later. It only took a minute and Roger was still waiting for his family to pick up when he returned.

"Hello?"

Roger sighed. "Hi, Ad. How are you?"

"Casual conversation. He's evolved!" Adam teased.

"Did you see the news tonight?" Roger asked. He held his breath, hoping the answer was no, hoping they hadn't... After all, Adam sounded so normal. No one could see a program like that, learn such things, and still sound normal.

"Do you want to talk to Mom?" Adam asked softly.

Roger pressed a hand to his forehead. They had seen it. "Yeah, please."

He head, as though from a distance, "Mom, Roger's on the phone!"

Then, in his mother's chiding tone, "His name is Joshua, Adam--"

"He wants to be called Roger--"

"Just give me that!" Annie's couldn't hide the rawness in her voice when she reached the phone. "Joshua..." She started crying again. "Is what they said true? Did he really do all of that to you?"

Roger nodded. "I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't want you to find out about it; I never thought it'd be on the news. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. We're sorry you had to go through that. It was Robert's actions and Robert's fault, not yours."

"Is that how Dad feels?" he asked. He was afraid his father would take the opposite approach, that's what you get for being a homo.

"Of course! He knows that you didn't ask to be treated like that."

"It's also why... why I can't come home, Mom. I can't... let them... see me like this. Dad and Sasha and Adam."

"They still want to see you, Joshua. Sarah too. They don't think less of you for it."

"I'll... I will try," he promised. "I really wanted to keep this from you, Mom, I really tried."

"I know, sweetie, but you don't have to protect us. I'd much rather know the truth." She sniffed a bit. "I love you. We all do."

"I love you, too." He glanced around and couldn't see Mark. Roger's chest constricted. "I need to go, Mom. I'll talk to you soon-- you know the number, don't you?"

"Yes, Adam gave it to me this afternoon. He looked Mark up in the phone book, sweetie; we all miss you. I'll call tomorrow or the next day, alright?"

"Okay. I love you. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Joshua." And with that, she hung up the phone.

Roger put down the receiver. "M-Mark?" He peeked into the kitchen.

"I'm in here, Roger. I put the pizza in the fridge. After seeing the news, I didn't want feel hungry any more."

Roger shook his head. "Neither did I." He moved closer. "Maybe just bed?" he suggested.

Mark nodded. "I feel like turning in early. Tomorrow's going to be hectic at the office." He started to make his way up the stairs and to the bedroom.

Roger followed. He was still very nervous about someone in the house, someone who didn't belong there. He knew there was no one, but he remained very uncertain. He followed Mark into the bedroom and locked the door, something he hadn't done before. Then he pulled off his jeans and crawled into bed.

Mark stripped down to his boxers and slipped into the bed behind Roger. "Why did you lock the door?" he asked.

Roger moved one of Mark's arms around him and held his hand. "I'm scared all the time," he admitted softly.

Mark moved his other arm around Roger to tighten his grip on the younger man. "That's understandable. I'm here to protect you tonight."

Roger woke early the following morning. He hadn't slept well, so waking wasn't difficult. Feeling somewhat groggy, he crawled out of bed and went into the bathroom. He took care of things there, then headed downstairs. It was halfway down the stairs that the panic hit, but Roger pressed on. He made it to the kitchen and started making breakfast.

Mark stayed in bed a little later than usual and woke to the pleasant sounds of Roger cooking in the kitchen. He showered quickly, dressed and then went to the kitchen. "Good morning, Roger." He sat down at the kitchen table. "I was hoping you'd come with me to the clinic today."

Roger immediately winced, but he calmed when he remembered--Robert won't be there. It's okay. He set a plate of food in front of Mark. "Okay."

Mark thanked Roger and began to eat. He noticed that Roger was more edgy than usual. "Are you OK, Roger?" he inquired.

He nodded. "I'm fine," he said. He nibbled at his breakfast. "What do you want to do at the clinic?"

"Well, I'm going to need to get X-rays of your arm to make sure it's healed properly. Then I want you to have a full physical and blood work. You're overdue for some of your vaccinations, so we'll get you those. And if you're willing, I'd like for you to talk with one of my colleagues for a few minutes." He tried to gloss over the last part, but he really wanted Roger to talk to someone. He was concerned about the anxiety that Roger had displayed in the last day or so.

Roger nodded. All of this made good enough sense to him. He wasn't crazy about needles, but Mark was a doctor, so Roger trusted him. He agreed. "What does your colleague do?" he asked. "I-is he... a specialist in, in STDs or something?"

Mark couldn't lie to Roger. "No, not in STDs. We'll test you for those, too. I know you've only had one partner, but we're not sure about Robert. No, my colleague is a specialist in psychological trauma. I just want to make sure you're handling everything alright. I only have a bit of knowledge in this area, so this is more for my reassurance."

Roger nodded. Luckily, he was not impacted by the usual social concern that going to a therapist made him crazy. His mother was a therapist and he knew therapists were okay. Besides... this was Mark. He automatically agreed. "I'm just gonna go get dressed," he said, but didn't move, a little nervous about being alone.

"Do you want me to come with you?" He wondered if this aversion to being alone was anything to be concerned about.

Roger hesitated, then he nodded. "Would that be okay?" he asked. It didn't seem intrusive to him at all.

Mark smiled. "It's fine. I don't mind." They went up to the bedroom and Mark sat on the bed. "Is this anxiety new or has it just gotten worse in the past couple of days?" he asked as Roger changed his clothes.

"I don't know..." Roger changed quickly, not wanting to hold Mark up. "I just get scared. It's been especially bad since I saw my mom, I guess." Like as soon as he left the house, it mutated. It stopped being the home he knew.

Mark nodded. "Make sure you mention that to David. He may be able to help you overcome the fear." Mark went to the adjoining bathroom to brush his teeth, but left the door open. "Rog, I'm trying to decide what to do about your tests. Some of them are quite… physical. Do you want me to do them or would you prefer someone else?"

Physical? Roger wondered what the meant. Was this like a running and testing your heart kind of physical test, or did he mean invasive? Either way... "You, please."

Mark nodded. "Alright. I'll make sure I'm in charge of all your tests." He checked his watch. "We should get going. I have a couple of appointments scheduled for the late morning, so I want to make sure we finish before they arrive."

Roger nodded and headed for the door. He wasn't eager for these tests. What if something was wrong? If he was sick? He didn't want to be sick. If he was, he didn't want to know, just let me live out the bliss of my ignorance, please and thank you.

Mark followed Roger out the door and then paused to lock it behind him. He didn't say much until they were on the road to the office. "Do you have any questions about what's going to happen today, Roger?"

He shook his head. "It's just... basic tests, right?" he asked. "Like any other doctor's appointment?"

Mark pursed his lips, not certain what to say. He felt that Roger may need to prepare himself for certain tests. He decided with telling the truth without sugar coating it too much. "Well, yes, but there are additional tests. I'm going to have to check you for any damage that Robert may have done."

"You mean psychologically?" Roger asked. The thought of being damaged there didn't occur to him.

"That too... I'm going to have to check your rectum for scarring or any other damage. Given the court case, they're going to need you to have an internal exam." He kept his eyes ahead on the road, not daring to look at Roger.

Roger felt sick. He hadn't thought about his body in those terms. He thought about having an ass and fucking. Nobody has a damaged ass. You can have a bruised ass, a sore ass, but rectums get hurt and damaged. Your rectum can have cancer. He shivered. "Oh," he said softly. Suddenly he could feel his rectum, aware of it in a way he hadn't been before.

Mark tried to reassure him. "I'll be gentle and go as quickly as I can and still be thorough," he promised.

Roger nodded. He tried to appreciate it, but all he could think about was his rectum and what was wrong with it. He needed that particular part of his body. Even if he never had sex again, he needed his rectum, but it was... broken.

Mark remained quiet for the remainder of the drive to the office. When they got there, Mark ushered Roger into his private office. They would have to wait for the X-ray technicians and nurses to arrive to do some of the tests, but Mark was in no hurry to get started. "Do you want anything to drink?" he asked in an attempt to delay the more personal questions.

Roger shook his head. "No, thank you." He didn't feel well enough to drink or eat anything. In fact he was having enough trouble keeping his breakfast down. "Should you start...?"

Mark nodded. It was better to get this over with. "I'm going to start by asking you some questions. I need you to answer truthfully. Some of them we've already covered at home, but I still need to ask you and write down your responses. Are you ready?"

Roger nodded. "Is it ok if I sit down?" he asked.

Mark smiled. "Of course." He gathered a pad of paper, pens and a typed sheet. He wanted to make sure he followed protocol to the letter. Any mistakes could mean implications at the trial. "I have a list of things I need to ask you, but first I want to give you a chance to talk to me. Is anything physical bothering you?"

Roger sat on the patient's side of Mark's desk. "My arm still hurts sometimes," he said, assuming Mark was asking to make sure he was thorough.

Mark made a note on the paper. "We'll check that later. I was wondering if it was. Anything else?"

Roger shook his head. "Nothing else."

Mark let out a sigh. Now it was time to ask the more uncomfortable questions. For a moment, he wished he could get someone else to do this, but Roger had wanted him. He tried to ground himself and use his "clinic" persona. "What kind of sexual activity were you engaged in?" Mark winced as the words came out. "Sorry. That's the phrasing on my list. I need to know where he penetrated you, and if he wore a condom."

Roger looked away. He felt himself blushing. Suddenly the places that had been, as Mark said, penetrated, and the places Robert had touched, ached. He shook his head. "Not always." That was in reference to the condoms. "My mouth. And my... um..."

Mark blushed as well. This was so much more difficult with someone you cared about. "...your anus?" he asked.

Roger nodded. His blush was so hot it hurt, and he had to struggle not to cry. He'd thought he was okay, but this, he just couldn't take it.

Mark tried to compose himself as he continued the questioning. "Would you say he was forceful? Did you notice any pain or bleeding following penetration?"

"Yes... yes," Roger said, answering both questions.

Mark made note of these answers. "Following the event or events, did you experience any of the following symptoms: sore throat? Discharge around the penis? Difficulty urinating?

Those were easier, mostly because of the answer: "No." His jaw had been a little sore, but mostly from his mouth being open so long.

"Sores, rash or warts around the genital area?"

He shook his head. "No, nothing like that."

"Unusual infections, weight loss or unexplained fatigue?"

He shook his head. "I... I did lose weight, but..."

Mark made a note of that. "Do you know why you lost weight?" he asked.

"I wasn't eating," Roger explained.

"That does explain weight loss. And we only have a few more to go... did you experience any recent pain during intercourse or when excreting waste?"

"After a while..." Roger rubbed the desktop. "After a while it hurt all the time."

Mark blinked. "Does it still hurt?" he asked quietly.

Roger nodded. "Mostly, uh, in the bathroom," he said.

Mark continued to make notes. He had reached the end of his questions. "That's all the questions on my list. The blood work will tell us about STDs and HIV/AIDS, but I'm still going to need to do a physical examination." He reached into a closet and pulled out a gown. "Could you change into this, please? Opening in the back?"

He nodded again. Suddenly the idea of being alone wasn't so bad, but Roger wasn't ready to be naked in front of Mark. Suddenly Roger was ashamed of his body. He said nothing, though, just stripped and put on the gown.

It only took a few minutes for Mark to complete the exam, in spite of the tension that Roger was experiencing. Mark's actions were confident and gentle, and he soon had all the information he needed. He handed Roger a second gown. "I've done the worst part, but I'm still going to give you a more traditional physical. You can put your underwear back on now."

Roger nodded. He picked up his boxers and stepped into them, shaking. He hurt everywhere, and it took most of his self-control not to cry.

Mark guided Roger to the examination table and listened to his heart and lungs, tested his reflexes and weighed him. He made all of those notes in the chart as well then guided him back to the desk. "If you want to, you can put on your street clothes again. I can get the X-rays and blood tests while you're wearing those."

Once more he nodded and mutely dressed himself. Every exposed inch of skin made Roger ache with shame. He zipped up his sweater and jammed his hands in the pockets.

Mark disposed of his gloves and washed his hands, glancing over at Roger. He wondered how long Roger had been suffering in silence. He gestured for Roger to sit down.

Roger did, but he didn't like it. Sitting just drew more attention to his bottom. He blushed so hotly his face hurt. He knew Mark was just doing his job, but having someone's fingers there wasn't what he needed.

Mark sighed again. "You know, all things considered, you're in fairly good health. A little underweight, but not malnourished. I am worried about what I found internally, though. There's some minor scarring, but it shouldn't bother you too much. You do have a number of unhealed fissures though. That's what's giving you so much trouble in the bathroom." Mark looked down at his notes, and realized he had forgotten a question. "When was the last time you had sex?"

Roger thought for a moment. "I guess... the night I showed up at your place. Maybe the night before," he said. He wasn't sure what a fissure was, but he knew what "unhealed" meant. Mark's tone put him at ease about that, though. He didn't seem to consider it serious. "I'll get better, right?"

"Oh yes. We'll start with a round of antibiotics and topical creams. They should do the trick. If there's no improvement we can take further action."

He nodded. "Okay. Am I finished, can I go home now?"

Mark shook his head. "We need to wait for the X-ray technicians to check your arm. Plus you still need the blood tests. Everyone should be here in a couple of minutes."

Roger went rigid. He shook his head. "No... no..." He couldn't have x-rays, he just couldn't. Even though he knew Robert wouldn't be there, it was all he could think of. Robert would see him. Robert would be angry.

Mark walked around the desk and put a hand on Roger's shoulder. "He's not going to be there, Roger. I really need to make sure your arm is alright, and I need X-rays to do that. I'll be there if you need me."

Roger's hand shot out. He was clutching Mark's arm before he could think. "Don't leave," he said softly. Mark would make everything all right.

"I'm right here." Just then, he heard the voices in the hallway. "It sounds like everyone else has arrived. Let's go down to X-ray now."

Roger nodded. He stood, shoulders hunched protectively, and followed Mark.

Mark guided him into the X-ray room and held his hand while the technicians arranged the injured arm on the film. It didn't take too long, and the films came out correctly on the first try. He held Roger's hand as a nurse drew blood for the other tests. When they were done, he led Roger back to his office while he looked over the X-rays.

The entire time, Roger burned. He didn't need his hand held, need to be led around like some child! ...right? He was going to let go of Mark's hand. He really was. Except that Roger's fingers would not relax. "Does it look ok?" he asked, as Mark looked at the x-rays.

Mark studied the X-ray and frowned a little. The bones seemed to be healing properly, but there was some irregularity in the areas where the tendons attached. "Hold your arm out straight for me, please."

Roger stretched his injured arm out from his side, holding it as straight as possible. It didn't occur to him to just do what was comfortable: he looked at his arm and told it to be straight.

Mark noted the tension on his face before looking at his arm. When Roger held it out as straight as he could go, he noticed that it twisted slightly. "Is it hurting you to do that now?" he asked, and Roger promised it wasn't.

Mark looked at him carefully. There was something about the way Roger set his jaw that told Mark he was lying. Mark decided not to call him on it. A lot of his patients didn't want to admit that something hurt. "I need to see your range of motion with it. First do arm circles with your arm straight, then bend and straighten your arm at the elbow, and finally make small circles with your wrists, ok?"

Roger nodded. He clenched his jaw. Bending at the elbow was easy enough, because he had been doing that often, but the circles burned. He didn't let it show. Ok, he was weak, he had been weak, but he wasn't going to be a pussy.

Mark noticed that Roger's face grew even more tense as he attempted the exercises, but tried not to concentrate on that. He watched as he made a large arm circle. It wasn't as flexible as he would have liked, but most disturbingly, the twist he noticed earlier became more pronounced when Roger moved the arm to the front. "Hold it out straight again, please."

Roger held his arm out straight once more. After the arm circles, this was very easy and comparably painless.

This time Mark ran his fingers along the muscles and tendons of the arm. The wrist felt fine, as did the forearm. However when he started feeling the ligaments near Roger's elbow, he had to stop. He felt a slight ridge where there shouldn't be one and the whole joint felt off to him. His studies had allowed him to recognize there was a problem, but he wasn't sure if he could treat it himself. "I feel something off near your elbow," was all he could say at the moment.

"It's ok," Roger assured him. "It works-- I can use it fine." He went easy on his left arm, the injured one, but that wasn't a problem... right? Plenty of people had a favored side.

"No, I don't think it is." Mark frowned a little. "It looks like some of the tendons are in the wrong position. You already have some minor range of motion problems and I'd hate for them to get worse. You could inadvertently do some major damage by moving the wrong way. Not to mention the fact you're still growing and the tendons may interfere with your bone growth if we leave them like this."

"It works fine," Roger insisted. "It doesn't hurt, it... I can use it..." He wasn't sick, wasn't malformed. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him! He just needed to deal.

Mark put on his best "clinic face" again. "Fine is a relative term. You may be used to a certain level of discomfort and therefore feel 'Fine' but really are in a small amount of pain. I'm also concern that if you don't get further treatment, you may be limited in what you can do with that arm. And there's the possibility that it can get worse and then be too difficult to fix later on."

Roger sighed. He knew Mark had the stronger case, facts and tests. He only had a flimsy lie. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

Mark gave a half smile. "No, you don't. I'll set up a referral to a real orthopaedist. This is a bit beyond my expertise. In the mean time, I want you using the brace again."

"And... and that's it?" Roger asked. "Wear the brace for a few weeks, then I'm ok?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure. I can give you a few exercises to try to see if they help, but you may be looking at surgery to relax the tendons. Don't quote me on that. I'm not current on the latest orthopaedic treatments. There may be something new the specialist could try."

He nodded. "What about... um..." Roger lowered his eyes. "The, uh, fissures?" he asked.

"Although painful, they shouldn't bother you too much longer. I'm writing you a prescription for a topical cream that you can apply once a day, and I'm starting you on antibiotics since I suspect you may have a mild infection. For the time being, I recommend taking a warm bath at night and getting more fibre in your diet to help ease the discomfort. You shouldn't be penetrated for a few weeks since that tends to aggravate them further."

That, at least, sounded painless. Baths and vegetables... Roger could handle that. "H-how did it happen?" he asked.

"Do you know what a fissure is?" asked Mark. When Roger shook his head he explained. "It's a tiny little breach or tear in the rectum. Most likely it's from forceful sex, but it could be other things as well, such as a foreign body or a really hard and sharp bowel movement or other trauma. They're actually fairly common."

That at least Roger understood, but it was still uncomfortable to consider. The idea of multiple buttholes made him uncomfortable, it just did. He shifted. "So I'll be all right," he surmised. "It's not a big deal?"

Mark smiled reassuringly. "No, it's not a big deal. The biggest risk is infection right now, but that's what the antibiotics are for. I'm sure you'll be feeling better within the week and be back to normal down there a month at the latest."

"Okay. Thank you." He was relieved. Maybe if he could shift Mark's focus, he would forget all about Roger's arm. "So no one is going to... stick their fingers in my butt again?"

Mark shook his head. "I shouldn't have to, barring any complications, but that's not likely." Mark paced around the office for a minute or two. "My colleague, David, should be here soon to talk to you. If I leave you to check on some patients in the treatment rooms would you be alright with talking to him for a while?"

Roger nodded. "I guess that would be ok," he said, as subtly as possible looking around the room. He needed something with which to defend himself, should it come to that.

"Feel free to talk to him openly and honestly. I realize your mother is a child psychologist, too, but David won't repeat anything to her. He's pretty adamant about doctor-patient confidentiality."

Roger nodded. He understood. He didn't even know the names of his mother's patients; he wasn't too concerned. It wasn't that he worried about.

Mark glanced at his watch and then shuffled some papers on the desk, making stacks and grabbing files. David would arrive any minute. He felt that Roger really needed a chance to speak to someone about his experiences and his fears. Mark wasn't sure what to do to help Roger heal emotionally. It was beyond his expertise and like he had done with Roger's arm, he deferred to someone more knowledgeable.

Roger shifted on the chair. He sat on the edge of the seat. There had to be something here he could use just to keep himself safe, just in case. There were tissues and cotton swabs... the swabs were in a glass jar, he supposed in a pinch he could use that.

Just as Mark looked at his watch to check the time there was a knock on his door. He opened it and invited the newcomer into his office. "Roger, this is my colleague, David Solomon. I'm going to go check on some other patients while you two talk." He gathered his files and pens and left the room, closing the door behind him.

When Mark turned to open the door, Roger grabbed a tongue depressor off his desk. It wasn't much (he wished for a scalpel), but it would do. He slipped it up his sleeve, past the ribbed cuff, where it would be safe until he needed it.

to be continued!

Reviews would be very much appreciated... please? Reviews are my life (reviews and, you know, classes... homework...)