(Untitled)

[one__song]

Roger winced as the sun hit his skin, hand immediately going to shield his eyes. He had to have been outside since he was admitted... Jesus, over a month ago, but right then, he didn't remember. The island smell grabbed hold of him, seized him by more than just the one sense and he tipped his head back, eyes closed, bathing himself in the

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[beentodamascus]

Some days, he even felt normal. That morning, he'd gone for a run, had breakfast with Coraline up at the homestead, done some reading. If not actually happy then he felt lighter, as though some of the weight had been transferred from his shoulders. Which meant, of course, Roger was the first person he saw when he came out of the compound, intending to go and round up Coraline.

Adam stopped, cold, and, for a moment, he couldn't think of anything at all to say.

[one__song]

The sound of the door opening and slamming shut made his head turn and he smiled.

"Adam!" He declared, getting to his feet, legs a bit more spider-like through all he'd wasted. "Haven't seen the likes of your household. I was actually thinking about going down, seeing Angela... OK, hassling her, but I'm entitled." He clasped Adam on the shoulder, and only then did he catch that look, the one that not only touched his face, but haunted it. "Adam? You cool?"

[beentodamascus]

Oh, Jesus, he doesn't know.

He didn't know because Adam should have been the one to tell him and he'd been quietly falling apart at the seams and keeping an eye on Coraline, and trying to keep breathing. He'd done this with Wes, and he'd promised that he wasn't going to do it again.

"I should've come and found you sooner," he said. "Roger, I'm sorry. How're you feeling, mate?"

[one__song]

Roger's smile flickered before it disappeared and was replaced with pressing concern. He tried to push it aside, tried to ignore that nagging something that insisted it knew what Adam was talking about.

"I'm... I'm fine. Sorry? Sorry for what?" The tone sat carefully between a shove toward an answer and the delicate compassion one felt for a close friend's significant other.

[traveltobelize]

"Look at you...." Belize said, leaning on a near-by wall. He took a deep inhale and smiled. "Congratulations Big Boy, you no longer reek like the undersides of a decaying coffin." Belize was surprised that the smile on his face was genuine.

[one__song]

"Exactly how would you know?" Roger asked, mouth curling into a small smile from a face that was too sickly thin and eyes that were too sick of being sick. Despite it all, though, he was out of the clinic, and had that certain 'holy fuck, I'm alive' glow.

Anyway, it wasn't as if Roger had expected to see Belize while he was hospitalized. The two of them hadn't gotten along when Prior and Roger were together, much less apart because of Roger's own douche-baggery.

[traveltobelize]

Belize cocked on eyebrow with enough sass embedded in the glare to frighten off a small child. "I am a nurse...I know the dank, dark smellls of the H-I-V. I'm a fuckin' expert at this point." Belize approached him and extended a hand; a well lotioned hand- smooth that wore his favorite jade ring.

"Welcome back to the world, tart. Planning on ruining any lives while you're back?" Belize flung back.

[one__song]

And in return, Roger cocked an eyebrow at the extended hand. He envisioned himself pissing on it, just for shock value, but that would have been more trouble than it was worth. Funny as fuck, though.

Instead, Roger took the hand and shook it, eyes radiating defiance, however playful. "Just yours, baby." Yeah, it had been a low fucking blow from Queen Baldie, but Roger refused to let it get to him, especially because he could imagine Prior emphasizing some scolding retort in French to Belize. Anyway, he and Prior had made their peace.

[turnthebadinme]

As Serena came back down the path toward the Compound, hair wet from a swim at the waterfall and a towel draped over her shoulders, she spotted Roger and broke into a trot. "Roger!" she squealed, plopping squarely down beside him and throwing her arms around him for a hug. "They finally let you free. Oh my god, how are you feeling?"

[one__song]

It didn't matter to Roger that Serena was still damp. Hell, maybe it would make his clothes shrink and make him look less like he doing the breast stroke in his own threads.

Heh. 'Breast Stroke.'

Once Sadie was out of the way of the damaging water, Roger wrapped both arms around the slight frame of his friend and pulled her so, so close, kissing her hair.

"I'm OK," he said, voice rounded out with a warm chuckle. He finally let her go and smoothed her hair where he had mussed it. "Cough's lingering but I really feel fine." He scratched a hand through his own hair, shirt creeping up to reveal too many angles and the bold outline of his ribs. "How 'bout you?"

[turnthebadinme]

He sounded better, at least, and looked better, if not by much. The weeks in the clinic had him thinner, though, as worrying now as he'd been indoors It was still good to see him outside in the sunshine.

Easing back to sit, she crossed her legs and smiled. "Good," she said. "Glad to see you doing better. What were you playing?" It seemed sometimes like he'd been in the clinic for months now, one more person she missed even though they were right in front of her. This was better. This felt more like things were going to be alright.

[one__song]

Once Sadie was comfortably and safely back in his lap, Roger replaced his fingers into a G chord, but more out of neutral habit than anything else. His other arm slung over the body of the guitar as his left hand relaxed into his lap.

"Oh. Nothin'." Truth was, Roger had been playing something of his own, something he'd just thought up. He didn't know why, but he felt like writing. Not so much that he wanted to be alone, mind, but enough that one chord had turned into two and before he'd been interrupted at all, he'd been a full 5 or 6 bars into the thing. It wasn't much, but the excitement of it still stirred in his chest and kicked up some kind of dust and excitement.

"So. Catch me up, S. What's the hap?"

[loaded_wolf]

The question was on the tip of Angua's tongue, are you supposed to be out of bed? but Roger looked far too at peace for her to pester him about his health.

Instead she invited herself to sit down next to him. "You look good," she said. And he did, he looked happy.

[one__song]

The invitation would have come shortly thereafter even if Angua hadn't assumed it, so Roger considered this very much not an imposition, and he continued to play for a bar or two before stopping.

"Thanks, Angua," Roger said, trying not to think that the last time he'd seen her, she'd been regular-sized and Roger had been naught but a child looking up her considerably not-there skirt. There might have been chocolate and hugs, but that was something he was never going to tell, much less relive. "So do you." Some things never changed.

[loaded_wolf]

Angua rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

"Thanks. I don't suppose I could talk you into playing me a song?" she asked, peeking over to get a better look at his instrument. She hadn't known many musicians in life, and personally only knew how to play the piano, so all of it was rather impressive to her.

[one__song]

"You don't have to sweet-talk a musician into playing music," Roger happily informed Angua in such a way that suggested he should have a stalk of straw sticking purposefully out from between his teeth. "What do you want to hear?" Plus he kinda felt like he owed her, always being so nice to him when clearly she was too good to even be looking at the likes of him, at least all skinny and gaunt the way he was.

[weary_head]

Dean turned the corner during one of those stretching spells and was immediately glad he'd brought another sandwich.

"Out and about, huh, Twiggy?" he asked, pushing the sandwich against Roger's chest by way of greeting.

[one__song]

the vague smile that touched Roger's face was keyed up to a full-grown grin and he caught the sandwich against his chest, looking at it, and then Dean.

"Roger that, Prison Bitch," Roger confirmed, inspecting the sandwich on both hands for a type before taking the most pig-headed, disgusting bite anyone had ever attempted. Fuck, he'd missed regular food so fucking much. "'Ah wannen i' t'be a furprife." This was his meager attempt at speach around his monster-sized bite, and it sounded like something about it being a surprise, but it also could have been something about fur.

[weary_head]

"Dude, did you just say something about furpie?" Dean asked, seating himself next to Roger's guitar. "How is it that we only just met?"

[one__song]

Roger tried to laugh and swallow at the same time, and this was an epically bad idea. He wound up choking for a second or two, pounding his hand on his chest until his eyes were watering and he was just laughing.

"I said I wanted it to be a surprise!" he choked out, swallowing a few times to make sure he remembered how. "Dick." He took another bite of the sandwich and waited until he was done consuming before speaking again.

"How do you mean?"