My nerves were like a fucking pinball machine. I sat in the trauma center waiting room, tired and longing for answers. Chris was next to me, not saying a word as he typed away at his phone. He was probably talking to his lawyer and making sure his ass was covered. Our contracts do state that he's not responsible for injuries sustained on the job, but he has to make sure. That's just the way Chris is.

He'll give Ricky some time off and extra money, I'm sure. It'll be shut up money, but I doubt Ricky will complain. I say this all under the assumption that he's alright. He should be, because it was just a fight. I'm sure he's had worse punishments during his days as a slave. Ricky's a fighter, like me. I know he's going to pull out of this.

"Family of Richard Olson?" A nurse called from the doorway.

My head popped up. I looked over at Chris, seeing he had barely made a movement. "Go head. I'm going to call Angelo and make sure he got home okay." He said.

I nodded and stood up. As I approached the nurse I told her, "I'm his roommate. He... doesn't really have any family."

She was taken back by my words. "That's alright. I've had patiences like that before. Richard sustained a concussion, a few broken ribs, and some minor bruises and bleeding."

"Was there... I don't know the best way to ask this." I sighed, then lowered my voice. "Was there any signs of... rape?"

"No Sir. At least, not that we saw. He may have some short term memory loss from the concussion, but it shouldn't be anything permanent. Just make sure he doesn't do any excessive exercise for a few weeks while his ribs are healing. He's down in room 103. You can check him out whenever he's ready." She explained to me.

I thanked her and walked back to the row of rooms. I fucking hate hospitals. They're stale and lifeless. Death constantly hovers here and you can feel it. I'm glad Ricky is okay, but the bit about memory loss scared me. We haven't known each other that long. What if he forgot about who I was? Or at least forgot our few good memories? We haven't had many, as our work schedules keep us from having time together, but the few we do have are amazing. I don't want him to forget them.

The door to his room was half open. I slipped inside, pushing it closed a little more so it was still cracked. Ricky looked straight at me with fear in his beautiful eyes. A line of stitches ran down the side of his face. He had a split lip and swollen face. Two black eyes were obvious amongst many bruises all over his body. I'm going to kill whoever did this... And with Craig being at the club tonight, I have a good idea of who it was.

I ran my had down the side of the bed as I softly smiled at him. "Remember me?" I asked gently.

Ricky flinched a bit at those words. He blinked a few times and looked up at me. I could tell the height difference was making him uncomfortable, so I took a seat on the edge of the bed. By instinct I put my hand on his leg to try to relax him. I'm not sure how much it helped, but he did get the courage to speak.

"Y-yeah. Kind of. Everything is blurry right now." He told me, making my heart beat quicken.

"Tell me the last thing you remember." I said.

He took a moment to think, then replied, "I have little... fragments of memories. I can remember some kind of club, and seeing you there a lot. The last solid memory I have is... bad." Ricky muttered the last part as he pulled his legs up to his chest.

"What do you-" I began to ask, then stopped myself when I saw his somewhat steady state fracture.

His eyes shook rapidly as he looked behind me. I glanced back as Chris walked into the room. Ricky backed up on the bed, looking smaller and smaller. Was he scared of... Chris? There was no one else in the room to be terrifying him this much. Chris was about to speak, but his words fell short when he saw how upset Ricky was.

"Sweetheart, it's okay." I tried to comfort him. "It's just Chris. Do you not remember him?"

He shook his head. "N-no, I remember him." Ricky looked at Chris and muttered, "I remember you. I remember what you did to me."

Chris sighed as anger crept into his expression. "I see in losing some memories, you found others."

I was beginning to get frustrated with the lack of clarity. What the fuck did Chris do to Ricky? It obviously was fucking bad! Bad enough, the poor thing is shaking in his skin. Any confidence Ricky had learned was gone now. He forgot the will he had gained since being freed from slavery. His voice was small and his eyes constantly flooded with fear.

I glared at Chris, waiting on an answer. "Chris? Care to explain?"

He gave me a dirty look to try to intimidate me. It didn't work and I continued to shoot daggers with my eyes. "Later." He replied.

Turing my attention back to Ricky, I told him, "Honey, we're going to go talk in the hall for a minute. Get dressed and come get us when you're ready, so we can sign you out and get you laying down in your own bed. Okay?"

"Okay." He nodded as I stood up. Then Ricky grabbed my hand and whispered, "I-I'm sorry, but I can't remember your name."

That, of course, broke my heart. "It's Devin." I told him. Then I leaned over, pushed some stray hairs out of his face, and kissed his forehead. "Don't worry, Ricky. It'll all start to come back. Give it time."

He didn't look too hopeful. I, myself, was honestly fighting to keep the faith. Ricky was just one of those people that never did anything wrong, but got the short end of the stick constantly. Life just chose to bully him. He was always nice to people and they abused that. When I get fucked over, at least I deserve it because I'm an asshole and a fuck up. Ricky though, he's never done anything to deserve the pain he's dealt.

I ushered Chris into the hallway, shutting the door behind me to give Ricky some privacy. After the many times he's had to give himself up sexually, I'm sure undressing in front of me wouldn't be a problem. It's all the scars that he's ashamed of. Plus I needed to buy myself time to get answers out of Chris. I backed him against the wall as we occupied the empty hallway.

"It's later. Give me answers." I sneered.

"Devin, it's none of your business." He replied.

"Oh, yes it is." I hissed. "You hurt one of my only friends, and you're going to tell me what you did. I don't care if I lose my job over this, or you send me to work the whorehouse, or whatever you could do. You're going to tell me what you did to Ricky, even if I have to beat it out of you."

He gave me a death stare and sighed when I didn't budge. "Fine..."