Mark tensed when the familiar beeping sent Roger off to get his medication. It was just habit. Because frankly, Mark didn't like the reminder of his friend's condition anymore than Roger did. But at least Roger actually took the meds and Mark breathed again a brief second later. There'd been times when Roger would forget, or simply blow it off, and it had scared Mark shitless. But if he tried that now? Mark would likely come undone. He'd already lost Angel, he wasn't ready to lose anyone else to that damned disease. Not yet. He knew one day he'd have to. Roger, or Collins, or Mimi if she got her act together to the point where Mark would get to call her a friend again. One day, sooner or later, he was going to lose them. But not now, dammit.
And not, he decided firmly, in 2011. If they were going to make all those medical advancements, and he got to skip the years where they didn't, Roger was damn well going to live.
He didn't relax fully again until Roger was seated and looking comfortable. He didn't acknowledge what had just passed other than a slight, approving nod. Roger had been taking care of himself for a while; he didn't need Mark playing nursemaid around every corner. Instead, he went back to the topic at hand. "I don't know about that," he replied with a shrug. "I'm pretty much destined to find the ones who are bad for me. My date for the junior prom left in the middle of the dance with some other guy just because he had a nicer car." Mark gave an affirmative nod, then broke into a grin. "The curse of being the nice guy, you know."