A Little Whump

Preface to this blog: Roman Cates is a fictional character created by @itsleelove. This account is run by @itsleelove. Roman is a whumpee. Feel free to snatch him off the street if you're a whumper or perhaps join him for a smoke if you're a caretaker. He's seen some shit already. Posts on this blog will contain some story up to this point in his life as well as in character content.

Link to in character introduction here.

A little about Roman:

Roman is 22 years old and identifies as a man. He is asexual.

Roman was kidnapped and held captive from the ages of 20 to 22. He has just escaped from his previous captor/ whumper @legalname-avery-thomas. He doesn't know how to say no to people and will overcompensate for his trust issues by forcing himself to trust everyone.

Interests and squicks:

@itsleelove runs this blog and is very supportive of muzzles, electrocution, waterboarding, mouth/eye/hand whump, heavy gore, drugging, dubcon and most noncon.

@itsleelove does not enjoy/is squicked out by/triggered by medical whump, some noncon, eating disorders, scat/piss.

Family Matters

Roleplay scenarios:

Rescue Roman

Rp with @struggling-bloody-artist

Part 1, part 2, part 3

This post will update as this blog develops! Feel free to reach out! This account exists for roleplay!

Picrew for J under the cut

"Protect me? From what? He's my little brother. He doesn't have to protect me."

You certainly weren't protecting him, is the thought that Bryce barely stops himself from voicing. He takes a deep breath. Was he ever that naive? Not since he was a teenager, and probably not even then.

"Can we sit down, please? And then we can talk about what happened." He's trying and failing to project a calm he is so so far from feeling.

Archer seems to re-evaluate, looking at Roman, then Bryce, then Roman again. "Yeah, okay. Let's sit down."

Roman trails along and sets himself up at the table Archer chooses. Bryce lays his hands on the table, palms up. He searches Roman's face, unsure about what he's about to do. Roman's still pale. Still upset, and trying hard not to show it.

"Roman," and it still takes work to sound normal, not sick with worry when he says his adoptive brother's name, "Do you want to tell Archer what happened?"

Roman takes a breath. Bryce leans back, determined to give him his time. From the corner of his eye he notices Archer is also watching Roman, looking about how Bryce feels.

"Can we sit down, please? And then we can talk about what happened."

Oh god, what does Bryce mean by that? Does Roman want to tell Archer any of what happened? Would not telling him even make a difference when his brother is so clearly suspicious of what's going on? Roman knows him better than to think he's going to let it go or move on— there's no good way out of this mess— no easy way.

Archer looks from Bryce, to Roman, to Bryce, and back again as he seems to consider this proposition before agreeing. "Yeah, okay. Let's sit down."

Roman keeps his anxiety and vague panic clear from his face as they all move over to a table for a conversation he's sure he isn't ready to have. Bryce puts both hands open on the table, looking at Roman like he expects to find something in his face.

It's not fair how much of this seems to be on top of him. On him to explain, on him to convince his brother he's okay. It's on him to show Bryce what he's okay with being said, and he has to say something— do something to get out of here, out of this conversation and this situation as a whole. They can't just leave— if Roman thought that might fix the problem, he would just go. It won't fix anything, though. Archer isn't going to give up without an answer and leaving would probably just push him to go looking for one.

"Roman," Bryce starts, and he sounds worried. Roman doesn't know what to do to make that worry go away, but he feels like it's on him, too. "Do you want to tell Archer what happened?"

Roman takes a slow breath through his nose to try to make space for the anxiety buzzing in his chest. It does little to help.

Does he want to tell Archer what happened?

Yes. And no. He wants to tell Archer— he wants to talk to his brother again and tell him the truth instead of trying to come up with the right lie so he can disappear again. He doesn't want Archer to be involved in any way.

But... Archer is already involved now. He knows Roman is in the area. He knows Roman has been hurt and badly. He knows that Roman is trying to protect him from something, and Archer isn't the type to accept that and let Roman do what he feels needs to be done for Archer's own safety.

If Roman doesn't tell Archer something, then Archer is just going to go looking on his own. He can see it in his brother's eyes. Clearly, a lie isn't going to cut it, either. Roman didn't think that the explanation he gave was that bad, even if it was unsatisfactory. He doesn't understand why Archer didn't believe it for a second.

As much as he doesn't want Archer involved, he already is, really. And the best way to keep him out of it— to protect him— is to make him understand to some real degree why he needs to stay away.

And Roman's shaking now. Shit, Bryce shouldn't have handed over the conversation like that. Or at all.

Archer actually pauses at that. Bryce holds his breath, hoping he can calm the situation down.

"Okay. That's the truth," Archer admits, and approaches Roman, lowering himself to meet Roman where he is. "Will you continue that and tell me what that means?"

"Why do you even care? God, you never let anything go! Maybe I just don't want to talk to you about it!"

Oh. Does Roman… How much does Roman think he can say? Shit, how much can he say?

"Roman, you're in a goddamn wheelchair!" Archer's calm evaporates. "Last time I saw you, you were fine! Look, I'm sorry that I had to leave you behind— I really am— but that doesn't mean that I don't care about you. Please, for the love of god, don't try to sell me that story about working on a farm. Who the hell is this guy and how do you know him? Did he do this to you? Does he know how this happened?"

Bryce wants to step in here, deny that he caused the injuries Archer is upset about. He can't, though. The worst injuries are his fault, even if he didn't directly cause them.

"No, he didn't do this to me! And of course he knows how it happened. I told you there was an accident!"

"Oh my god, stop it with the accident shit! Okay, he didn't do this to you, but you were fine when I left you. Someone caused… all of this. Tell me what really happened!"

Something snaps in Bryce's mind. Roman was damn well not fine when Archer left him. He didn't think so before, and after the discussion they had in the car, he's dead sure of it.

"Physically," he says in his heaviest voice, and both brothers turn to look at him. "Physically, he was fine." Bryce takes a quick breath. He doesn't need to needlessly antagonize someone Roman clearly loves. When he speaks again it's in a quieter voice filled with urgency and sincerity both. "Archer, Roman's trying to protect you."

"Physically," Bryce says, voice heavy. Both Roman and Archer turn to look at him. "Physically, he was fine."

Roman stops completely, anxiety poking into his chest like a needle. He knows that's half the route he was starting down, but he doesn't actually want to go there right now— or ever, if possible— and he certainly doesn't want Bryce to go there for him.

Archer gives an incredulous look, like he can't believe this stranger just said that to him.

Bryce takes a quick breath and, when he speaks again, his voice is gentler, but urgent and sincere. "Archer, Roman's trying to protect you."

Roman feels a little of the color drain out of his face. He is trying to protect Archer, but saying it outright feels like it's going to have the opposite effect.

Roman's eyes turn back to Archer as his brother speaks again, looking a bit taken aback. "Protect me? From what? He's my little brother. He doesn't have to protect me."

Well, yeah. Bryce has figured that out. He doesn't give Roman his I'm not an idiot look, mostly because Archer is watching him closely. Shit, this is going to be a problem. No matter what Roman wants, this is going to be a problem. He remembers, suddenly, Roman's uncharacteristically harsh "No" to Bryce's tentative mention of finding a way to contact Archer. Roman clearly didn't want to drag Archer into Bryce's dangerous orbit.

Well, he's here now. That's a problem for the future, at least five minutes from now.

Roman continues, "Archer this is Bryce. I— he—" Roman's voice shakes even when he gets a word out. Bryce's hand reaches out towards him, but he stops it. Pulls it back. "I'm living… with him right now."

That's what they're going with? It's a true statement, and Archer won't buy that Bryce is some kind of relative. It makes sense. There's no reason for Bryce to feel a pang at the impersonal relationship implied.

"Why? Who is he?"

Bryce braces himself. Co-worker, Roman might say, because they agreed he'd say he was working at the farm. A friend, if he's feeling generous. Just a roommate is likely.

"I'm working for him." Working for? Bryce feels his brows raise for an instant for he gets his face under control. Fine, he'll accept the demotion, but how would Roman be working for him? "On a farm." And Roman sounds in control of himself again. Bryce doesn't own a farm, and he's clearly not local— His accent is just off from the regional one that he's never tried to disguise it.

"Well— I mean obviously not really at the moment," Roman says with a look at the wheelchair he's in.

Archer is still suspicious, and, yes, Bryce would be too: "Alright, how'd you end up in a wheelchair and a cast?"

"There was an accident with some equipment not long after I started."

Bryce breathes, projecting calm, trying to copy the steadiness Roman seems to have regained.

"… Why are you lying to me?"

"What? I am not!" Roman's indignance sounds real. "There was an accident with the equipment when I started and I'm in recovery right now. Why would I lie about that?"

"I don't know," Archer's glance shoots between the two of them, Roman-to-Bryce-to-Roman. His voice is slow. "I don't know why you're lying about that and that's what scares me." He looks back at Bryce, and Bryce meets his gaze, holding it even through what sounds like an accusation. "How did you meet my brother?"

Well, shit.

"That… That's a long story." He glances at Roman, unsure what he's supposed to say. He'll tell the truth, if Roman wants him to. Except he clearly doesn't, not with the yarn he's been spinning. And he won't tell the truth in public, not in a store with surveillance, presumably including audio. He keeps his voice steady, not soft but non-threatening, projecting his 'just-a-guy' persona hard. "And it's not all mine to tell." He deliberately looks over at Roman, trying to catch his eye.

"How did you meet my brother?"

Roman turns a little in his chair to look at Bryce again. Shit. Shit, he has no idea what Bryce could possibly say to that. He has no idea what he would say to that!

"That… That's a long story." Bryce glances at Roman, like he thinks Roman might know what to say. His voice is calm and non-threatening. "And it's not all mine to tell." He deliberately looks over at Roman.

Again, Roman has to say something. Again, he doesn't know what that something is about to be. It's not like Roman can tell him the truth of everything that happened. Besides just plain not wanting to get Archer involved, he isn't even sure how much he would be allowed to tell.

"You left me behind!" Roman turns back to Archer as the thought comes into his head after a few moments and, god, there are tears in his eyes. He doesn't want that right now, but he also can't stop them. "You left me behind, so I had to figure things out for myself. Sorry if you don't like the way that ended up!"

Archer looks a little taken aback, something like hurt and upset in his expression before his jaw tightens a bit. "Okay. That's the truth." He takes a small step closer to Roman again, crouching down once more. "Will you continue that and tell me what that means?"

"Why do you even care? God, you never let anything go! Maybe I just don't want to talk to you about it!" Roman's shaking again. He does want to talk to Archer about everything and, at the same time, wishes Archer weren't here. He can't talk about any of it.

"Roman, you're in a goddamn wheelchair!" Archer throws his hands up in exasperation. "Last time I saw you, you were fine! Look, I'm sorry that I had to leave you behind— I really am— but that doesn't mean that I don't care about you. Please, for the love of god, don't try to sell me that story about working on a farm. Who the hell is this guy and how do you know him? Did he do this to you? Does he know how this happened?"

"No, he didn't do this to me!" Roman insists, and that part at least is true. "And of course he knows how it happened. I told you there was an accident!"

"Who the hell are you?"

Bryce stops and stares. The man is young, tall, fit (with the kind of muscles that come from deliberately working out, not from hard work) and something about his face rings in Bryce's head. The plastic name tag pinned to his shirt brings everything into sharp focus: Archer is etched in white on black and fuck.

He looks so much like Roman.

He should answer. He needs to know how Roman is taking this. He needs to know if Roman wants Bryce to step back, if he wants Bryce to take him away, if he wants Bryce to go away, if he even has any idea how he's feeling. If Roman is even here, right now, after everything today and then this—

Bryce holds up both hands in the universal gesture showing he's unarmed, coming in peace.

"I'm Bryce," he says, voice steadier than it was a moment ago. "I was worried." Come on, kid, give me a sign.

Bryce stops, putting his hands up. Does he know what's going on? "I'm Bryce," he says, voice much calmer than when he came in. "I was worried."

Oh god everything is happening too fast. Why is it even happening in the first place? Roman has to say something, even if he doesn't know what it's about to be.

"Bryce, this is... this is my brother, Archer." Roman says, forcing himself to just say anything. But... it seems Bryce already figured that out. Already knew it..? "Archer this is Bryce. I— he— I'm living... with him right now." His voice shakes a little bit as he tries to grapple his thoughts into cooperation.

How is he even supposed to begin to explain a situation that doesn't make Archer suspicious? More concerned than he already is?

Archer looks at Roman like he has two heads. "Why? Who is he?"

Well. No better lie than the one that already exists, right? Even if there is, Roman can't think of one right now.

"I'm working for him. On a farm," Roman says, voice stabilizing, finally. Now that he at least knows what lie he's using. "Well— I mean obviously not really at the moment." He glances at the wheelchair.

Archer's eyes narrow. "Alright, how'd you end up in a wheelchair and a cast?"

"There was an accident with some equipment not long after I started."

Roman's heart beats harder in his chest for some reason as Archer just stares at him for a minute.

"... Why are you lying to me?"

And Roman's heart falls into his stomach again. "What? I am not! There was an accident with the equipment when I started and I'm in recovery right now. Why would I lie about that?"

Well, yeah, Bryce went to see him last week. He'd prefer Mal didn't know that, but it's not really important. He watches Roman approach the counter as he responds.

"Not for a week. He didn't seem particularly interested in talking to me." He smiles, forces amusement into his voice. "You seem to have scared him enough for the both of us."

"Yeah," she sounds proud, "I have this new—" She cuts herself off, and her voice gets serious. "But you haven't done anything since?"

"No," Bryce admits, "Was I supposed to?" The whole Dirk fiasco is a clusterfuck on several levels, most of them hers, but if she's going to berate him for not doing a job she damn well never communicated to him, he's willing to read her the riot act right here in this empty parking lot.

"He contacted me. He's being followed, Bryce, and I didn't order it, and if you didn't take initiative and—"

Inside, the barista springs over the counter and grapples Roman.

"I have to go," he interrupts her, and he knows he'll pay for that later, but fuck, what is going on inside? He hangs up and barges through the door. "Roman, are you—"

Roman hears the door open again, and then Bryce. "Roman, are you—"

Archer let's go, standing up fully again. "Who the hell are you?"

He pulls open the door and stands back, holding it open to let Roman through first, when his phone rings, a discordant tone that brings a scowl to his face.

"It's Mal," he tells Roman, who is already in the doorway. "You want to go ahead?" He dips into his pants pocket, grabbing the two twenties he keeps there for easy access and flips them over to the hand holding the door, so Roman can easily take them. Right hand free again, he grabs his phone.

Roman takes the money and goes inside. Bryce closes the door behind him before he answers the phone and takes a step back, still facing the windows. Roman heads toward the back of the shop, with its service counter and the barista behind it. Bryce keeps one eye on them as he answers the phone.

"Situation?" He growls out, more to remind Mal that he shouldn't be bothered lightly than out of any expectation that something is actually wrong.

"Bryce! Have you heard from Dirk recently?"

The coffee shop they pull up to is pretty. The walls are glass from floor to ceiling, and the tables inside each have a little flower arrangement in the middle. Bryce opens the door for Roman, but then his phone starts going off.

Roman looks up as Bryce scowls. "It's Mal," he says. "You want to go ahead?" He pulls two twenties out of his pocket and hands them to Roman.

"Yeah, okay." Roman doesn't particularly want to go in alone, but he definitely doesn't want to hear what Mal has to say, either. Besides, he's already halfway through the door. He folds the twenties in his hand and heads inside.

As he approaches the counter, the barista is leaning sideways against it, looking at his phone. Something about the man seems extremely familiar... Roman can't place it right away as he searches his memory for someone matching the dark auburn hair and tan skin... He's seen relatively few people since Avery— truly met even fewer. This young man doesn't match any of them. And why would any of them be working at a coffee shop anyway?

Roman gets close to the counter and the man puts his phone down, looking over at Roman.

Roman's heart drops into his stomach as he recognizes the man.

"What can I—" the man starts.

"Archer?" Roman claps a hand over his mouth like it might do something to erase the realization— to change the fact of who it is. At the very least, maybe it will conceal some of Roman's very immediate fear.

The scripted question is replaced halfway through by a look of genuine shock, confusion, and, a moment later, deep concern, as Archer comes to his own realization. "Holy shit, Roman?"

Roman's thoughts clash together, making little more than discordant noise in his head. He misses Archer. Archer isn't supposed to be here. He didn't think he would possibly ever see his brother again and he's so, so glad that he is. Is Archer in danger now because of Roman's situation? Because of the simple fact that he knows who Roman really is and doesn't let things go easily? This is not a good thing in any way. This is something he's waited for and hoped to happen for years.

"Roman, oh my god, what happened to you??" Archer swings over the counter with practiced ease and is in front of Roman half a second later, wrapping him up in a hug.

Roman moves his arms and puts them around Archer, the motion feeling unnaturally numb. "I— ah— Why are you here—?"

"I… don't know, just…"

Bryce raises his hand to the top of Roman's head and begins another downward stroke. Once. Twice, and then Roman continues, "Thanks for always… being willing to listen? I think that's all you can really do to help… And… I don't really want to talk about this anymore right now…"

"Okay," Bryce agrees. Time for a subject change, right. Roman didn't really get breakfast this morning. "Are you feeling hungry at all?"

It must have been the right approach, because Roman relaxes even more. He thinks for a moment before he answers.

"Yeah, I am actually."

Bryce nods, and waits til he reaches the end of Roman's hair before pulling his hand away to use the clutch.

"I could go for breakfast food again," he offers as he starts the truck. "Or a burger?"

"Okay, are you feeling hungry at all?"

Roman thinks for a moment, glad for the change of subject. He didn't really eat this morning. Now that they're done with the X-rays, his anxiety doesn't feel like it's going to make him throw up if he tries to eat something. "Yeah, I am actually."

"I could go for breakfast food again," Bryce offers as he starts the truck. "Or a burger?"

"Let's do some kind of breakfast food. I'm feeling a lot better than I was this morning, but there's... still a little lingering anxiety if I'm honest. I think lunch type food might upset my stomach..."

"I guess… nobody should have to do that."

Do… what, exactly? Roman's thoughts are, as they often are, a complete mystery to Bryce. Bryce waits, unsure what Roman means but sure that Roman doesn't want him to interrupt.

Roman turns back towards Bryce, wiping his cheeks. "It's just… I don't know." His voice is fading a little, and the tiny shrug he gives doesn't give Bryce much hope either. "You know my home life growing up wasn't great."

Bryce has felt out of his depth before with Roman. A lot, actually. But this… Bryce has no idea how to help. He knows Roman doesn't want pity, he's made that clear, but Bryce can't relate to the experience at all. He leaves his hand midway between the two of them, unsure.

"I did it because… I didn't want to be alone? Staying there felt safer than being removed and separated from my brother. But… I guess we were separated in the end anyway…"

"I—" No pity. Right. His hand reaches out to Roman's hair of its own accord. He takes a breath and tries again. "How can I— What do you need right now?"

"I—" Bryce stops, takes a breath, and tries again. "How can I— What do you need right now?"

Previous

"He's gone."

Roman flinched as the door to his room slammed open. He hadn't gotten much sleep, but he had been trying. A quick glance at the clock told him his mother had only just gotten up. Six in the morning... He sat up. "Who?"

"You stupid obstinate child!"

Roman ducked as his mother threw something that hit the wall with a hard thump.

"Where did he go? When did he leave?"

"Mom, please, I don't know what you're talking about—" Roman pleaded, keeping his voice small in vain hope that she too might stop shouting.

"Don't act like you don't know exactly what's going on you fucking liar!" She shouted, voice shrill. "Where did your brother go??"

Roman stepped back expression falling in shock. "Archer's... gone..?" He didn't have to fake the tears that began to well up a moment later. Archer was gone. And nothing was going to change that...

At this, his mother's expression crumbled as well. Her fists unclenched and she fell to her knees in exaggerated sobs.

Roman sniffled.

"Please..." she blubbered, hiding her face in her hands. Roman wondered vaguely how fake her expression looked behind it... or if even an ounce of the devastation she was showing was real... "Please... don't lie to me anymore... I know you know where he went— he tells you everything..."

Well that was about as far from the truth as a person could get...

"Please... I just need to know where my son is— if he's okay— if he's safe—!"

Like Archer was the only son she ever had...

"Mom..." Roman crossed the room with some hesitation to kneel down next to her and place a hand on her back. "Mom, I really don't know where he went. He's... he's really gone..?"

His mother didn't answer beyond another pathetic-sounding sob.

Oh. Bryce should have realized. Quicker than he did, anyway. He should have kept his mouth shut.

"I… Roman, I'm not going to pry if you don't want to talk about it." He pulls his other hand back, slowly. "But I'm so glad you're—" well, okay is not the right word, is it? "I'm relieved. And you handled that really well. I couldn't have done that at your age." He could— and did— do other things, far worse things, but calmly confronting people was a skill he picked up years later.

"I… Roman, I'm not going to pry if you don't want to talk about it."

I'm not going to push when you clearly don't want to talk to me.

That's almost word-for-word what that social worker had just said to him. Bryce couldn't know that, but the similarity still stings a little. Roman knows Bryce doesn't mean it to be, but it feels too much like the patronizing words and actions that always seem to surround this subject in his life.

No one really means for those conversations to be patronizing... They still feel that way, though...

"But I'm so glad you're— I'm relieved. And you handled that really well. I couldn't have done that at your age."

Roman continues to stare out the window for a moment, trying to put his thoughts in order and do damage control on the emotions threatening to well up and overflow. He doesn't want to cry more right now, but if he acknowledges how much those words affect him— how much that was something he probably needed to hear— he's afraid he will.

He's not upset with Bryce for being there for him, he knows. That would be stupid... He is upset at something, though. Himself? For not feeling like he can talk about it despite the fact that he knows Bryce would care and listen? The situation itself for happening to him in the first place?

Roman takes a deep breath, blinking a few times to get rid of the tears that were starting to gather again. "I guess... nobody should have to do that."

"What they… usually ask?" And shit, he shouldn't have said that out loud, but… What they usually ask?

"What they… usually ask?"

Ah... Roman realizes he probably shouldn't have said that— didn't need to have said that. Too late to take it back, now, though.

"That… wasn't as bad as I thought it would be…"

Bryce isn't sure what to make of that statement. Is he talking about the whole experience? The X-Rays? Just the part at the end, where they took him away?

"Are you— They were just worried?" He doesn't bother to hide how relieved he is.

"Are you— They were just worried?" He does sound relieved. Roman can't help but wonder if Bryce was worried that he would accidentally say something incriminating.

Should he have stopped them? If Roman doesn't come back out… But even if the nurse is genuinely concerned, even if it's really just a check, how upset will Roman be? Would it have been worth the cost if Bryce kept him calm? Or would that cross the line, be protective? Controlling. And even if Roman would have welcomed it, would it have done more harm in the long run? Or would denying him the compromise he made for himself, and Bryce is still so proud of him for that, for recognizing and side-stepping a breakdown by offering them what they wanted in a way that wouldn't break him— not that Bryce has any right to feel proud, of course not…

The doors open and Bryce lets himself look up, but it's just a different nurse, calling the one other person in the waiting room. Bryce swallows and looks back at his phone.

As soon as they get home he's going to outfit the wheelchair with trackers. And one in every pair of Roman's pants, not that it would have helped today, Roman still being in his pajamas. Or, wait, he should ask Roman. Share major decisions, and isn't this a major decision? Is it? Or maybe it's just a basic safety precaution, one he damn well knows better than push off. It should have happened already, just like getting Roman a phone should have happened. Should he try to put his foot down on the phone? Why doesn't Roman want one, anyway? He said it was because it might get Bryce in trouble, and because Bryce is the only person he talks to. The first was a good reason, even if it felt like an excuse to Bryce. It might not be a good reason anymore, though, not if he can talk to Boss again and push the acceptance of Roman through first, before he deals with Mal. He has to do that anyway— if he dies trying to complete her task, he needs Roman to be okay. But… He promised Roman he wouldn't die.

He shakes his head. He needs to get Roman's opinion on all of this, and he has no idea how. Certainly he can't bring up anything major today, not after he let the nurse isolate Roman.

Where are they, anyway? His eyes flit to the top of the screen. It's been two minutes.

He can't stew in this. He can't.

Mal. He can think about Mal, and her … and James. And where she got him. And what she's doing to the next ones.

That lasts all of a minute. Thinking of James just brings Roman back to his mind, and how Roman froze when Bryce admitted that he scared James to find Roman the last time Bryce was careless enough to let him get nabbed. What was Roman picturing? Was it better or worse than what Bryce actually did? And he hasn't brought it up again, not that Bryce wants to, but…

Bryce takes a deep breath. He focuses on the room around him, trying to see it with fresh eyes, trying to distract himself. How many of Rose's people have been through here? How much actual human trafficking have they seen? Is that what they're suspicious of with Roman?

Finally, finally the doors open and Roman wheels himself through. He looks somewhat upset, but not as upset as Bryce anticipated. Maybe he's putting on show of keeping it together. Bryce shoves his phone into his pocket and leaves his arm wide, ready for the body that doesn't quite slam into him. He folds both arms around the younger man, careful as usual of his scarred and wounded back. Up close, he can tell Roman is trembling, just a little. Or maybe he only started once he was touching Bryce.

"You ready to get out of here?" His voice is quiet, though not as quiet as he'd like it to be. He has to be loud enough that it's clear what he's saying.

"Yes, please," Roman replies, and Bryce gives him a gentle squeeze before he lets go with one arm and stands up.

The truck is close by, no matter how long the walk feels. Bryce hooks a foot around the wheels of the chair before he helps Roman into the passenger seat. The chair secured, he looks Roman over and finally lets out a sigh of relief. He reaches hesitantly for Roman's face and cups his cheeks.

He's here. He's okay.

"You ready to get out of here?" Bryce asks gently, wrapping Roman in a careful hug.

"Yes, please." Roman wraps his arms around Bryce for a quick moment, too, before they both make themselves let go. The suspicions of the staff may be unproven, but Roman knows they're still watching. Unproven doesn't mean gone.

On the way out to the truck, Roman struggles to maintain the same level of calm that he managed in the hospital now that there are less eyes on him.

Bryce seems almost... stunned? That's not the right word... and why, anyway? That they're actually leaving now? That Roman answered their questions fine, and so they didn't try to keep him from leaving?

Once they're both in the truck, doors closed, Bryce gives a sigh of relief. As he cups Roman's cheeks, Roman lets himself finally relax as well, the tension dropping out of his shoulders and the anxiety he had been holding back coming through in a few tears as he shuts his eyes and breathes.

"Reagan," the nurse says voice a little too sweetly gentle, "We'd like to speak with you alone, now."

And there goes any relief he felt about this being done. Roman seems to pause under his hand. Shit, is Bryce going to have to step in? How can Bryce step in without making things worse? Or should he just accept the consequences? Hope that Boss's influence on the law-abiding citizens of this area will stretch to cover this problem as well?

Should he just tap, ask Roman in their subtle language that only covers yes/no if he is truly okay with this?

But Roman suggested it in the first place.

Oddly, Bryce realizes he has no concerns at all about what Roman might say. He's not even worried about what Roman might inadvertently reveal. He's just protective, paranoid, and, yes, clingy.

"Alright," Roman says after a long moment.

Bryce helps him to the chair, and then forces himself to let go.

"I'll be in the waiting room when you're done," he tells Roman, projecting a calm he's quite sure doesn't fool Roman.

Bryce helps Roman get back into his wheelchair and Roman resents the loss of reassurance as Bryce has to let go.

"I'll be in the waiting room when you're done," he says, and Roman can tell the calm is false.

Part of him wonders how much of the underlying concern is because Roman is going to be alone, and how much of it is concern that Roman might say something wrong.

"See you soon," Roman replies, fighting back his own anxiety and trying to sound calm as well. Bryce steps out and Roman's shaking comes back more than he'd like to admit.

"Let's step out into an exam room, okay?" And the nurse puts a hand on his chair like she's going to push him.

"Don't. I can move myself." There's more bite in his voice than Roman intended, but... oh well. The nurse backs off, at least.

"Sorry. Follow me." She steps into the hall, holding the door for Roman and then taking him into an exam room.

As the door to the room closes, Roman wonders how much he should say to them... Probably nothing, right? Not really, anyway. That's what he's always done about these questions. Answer with one word. It's easy to know all the right answers that won't get you removed from the home you're in.

"Wait here for just a moment, please. I'll be right back." The nurse steps out, and Roman is alone.

Alone isn't good— Roman honestly kind of hates it— but being with a nurse isn't really any better. He would rather be with Bryce than anything else...

With the nurse out of the room, Roman's thoughts wander. His situation is different now than it was last time he was in a situation like this. When was he last in a situation like this..? Had to have been the last yearly checkup he went to as a kid, right? Seventeen?

Every time he went to one of those stupid checkups since he was old enough to remember, they always did something like this. Sent his mom or dad out of the room. Asked him if he felt safe at home. The real answer was always no, but when you don't want to be ripped away from everything you've ever known, that turns a 'no' into a 'yes' real fast.

Roman had some early memory of Archer coaching him on what to say and what might happen if the doctors thought they weren't safe at home. Neither of them wanted to be separated.

Roman didn't want them to be separated...

After Archer left, why did Roman keep telling everyone things were fine at home..? If he's honest with himself, probably for the same reason he stayed with his parents even after he turned 18.

He couldn't make himself go.

It wasn't just because he didn't have the means to leave— he could have if he really tried. He was... too scared of the unknown... of what came next.

He supposes he was right to be scared of that. After all, just look what happened when he finally did go...

The nurse comes back after a few minutes, and there's a man with her now. The man's badge has the letters 'LCSW'. It's a social worker.

"Hello, Reagan, isn't it?" The man extends his hand as if for a handshake. "My name is Paul."

Roman ignores the hand, trying to use his irritation at his treatment to block out his anxiety and the resurfacing of bad memories. "Can you just ask your questions. I would like to go home."

"I know this may not be a conversation you're interested in having, but some of what we've seen since you've come in has raised a couple of concerns. You can answer my questions with as much or as little as you're comfortable with, alright?" The man doesn't look offended as he puts his hand down, and that, too, irritates Roman a bit for some reason.

"Fine." Roman responds flatly.

"Reagan, can I ask you how you know the man you came in with today?"

"He's my uncle. I'm living with him right now." Out of the corner of his eye, Roman can see the woman typing up what he assumes to be notes on the room's computer. He tries to ignore it.

"Do you feel safe living with him?"

"Yes." Safer than being alone. Safer than the other options. Far, far safer than before he was living with him.

"Reagan, how did you receive all of these injuries? It's quite a lot for one person, I think."

"We're on a farm. There was an accident with some equipment when I started." And he can only hope that they don't question or notice the varying states of healing on some of his injuries...

"What about that cut on your lip? It looks like it's been healed for a while, but I'm sure it must've been bad when you got it."

Subconsciously, Roman touches the scar with his tongue. It's not new. Not particularly old, though, either. He got it from Avery. "Dog bite when I was still living with my parents. Got too close too fast and startled her."

"Has anyone where your living now ever made you feel threatened or uncomfortable, even if it wasn't on purpose?"

"No." Yeah, all the time. Bryce at the beginning and, now, anyone who isn't Bryce.

"Has anyone ever kept you from contacting your friends or family when you wanted to?"

"Yeah," Roman replies, eyes a little narrowed. "You. Right now."

The social worker— Paul— sighs. "Okay, Reagan, I'm not going to push when you clearly don't want to talk to me, but just know that, if anything in your situation changes— if you ever decide you need help later— you can tell me. You can tell a nurse. You can tell a doctor, alright? You don't have to handle things alone." Paul moves over to the countertop and pulls a pamphlet from it's holder, handing it to Roman. "There are resources here, if you want help and you don't feel comfortable saying so right now."

It's a pamphlet for domestic violence. Roman glances at it before folding it once and tucking it into the pocket of his pants. "Thanks," he says, voice flat again. "Can I go, now?"

"Nancy will walk you out."

The nurse leads the way back to the imaging room. Bryce holds Roman's hand the whole time, which helps, but doesn't erase the rising anxiety as they actually enter the imaging room. He finds himself trying to just focus on his breathing and keep himself from shaking as the nurse helps him to move over to the imaging table.

He doesn't consciously notice how tense Bryce is as well. It's all he can do to listen to the nurse and stay calm as she gives both him and Bryce led vests and tells him how they're going to move his leg for the X-rays.

When she helps move his leg to the right position, Roman squeezes his eyes shut with a wince and a heavy shaking breath, squeezing Bryce's hand. He makes himself open his eyes again, not wanting to see, but too afraid to not look at what's happening.

Roman takes another deep breath, a little calmer this time as Bryce leans a little bit closer, his other hand resting on Roman's shoulder now.

The nurse directs him to "hold as still as you can," steps behind the imaging screen and returns a moment later. She repositions his legs once and then twice for two more images, and then tells him they're done.

That wasn't too terrible, all things considered. Roman's leg is particularly sore, now, but he's been through much worse than this. It's fine. Everything is fine.

Or... it would be fine.

"Reagan," the nurse says, voice gentle in a way he hates— like she's talking to a kid, almost. "We'd like to speak with you alone, now."

We..? Who's we? Her and... a doctor? God... a psychiatrist?

He doesn't want to talk to them. He also can't look to Bryce to get him out of it, though, because that would just look even worse.

Shit, Roman sounds like he's already starting to panic. Bryce pauses, standing right behind him, unsure how to handle this without stirring up more suspicion. But then the nurse responds, her words clearly not telling the whole story, and Bryce is suddenly very sure he should have worried more about that earlier. Now, it's too late.

It takes Roman a moment to catch on, Bryce can tell by his words, but only a moment.

"Look, if you want to ask me questions without him there, I'd rather you not, but you can — after or before the x-rays."

Well… That will probably be fine. As long as the concern is real, and not a front for something darker. Suddenly, staying calm, appearing not to be concerned about the hidden meaning behind the actual words, takes all of his attention. He manages it, of course, he's had more than enough practice, but it shouldn't feel so all-consuming.

His thoughts race by, chasing one another like racehorses, one overtaking another and then falling behind:

Roman is still wearing his pajamas. No tracker hidden in his pocket. And the new wheelchair doesn't have one in it, despite Bryce's best intentions. He meant to attach one, but… If they try to take Roman, they'll be able to get him out of the hospital and drive him wherever they want, and Bryce will have no clue. Of course, if they were smart they'd switch wheelchairs, and there's no shortage of those around in the building. Hopefully Mal is still not hiring the best… He really doesn't want to try to pull a location from Mal, for so many reasons, even with the new orders he's gotten. And leaving Roman in someone's clutches long enough to try… That's not an option.

Calm. He has to seem calm.

"I hate hospitals, though, and you're going to have to deal with a panic attack and probably me backing out if he's not able to come with me."

Preferably after. Bryce needs a moment to think, not just panic. Not that the time in the X-Ray room with Roman will leave much time for thought. He won't have the brain power if he's keeping Roman going. Still, it would help.

But then Roman turns around, and Bryce's attention snaps back to him.

"You… don't have to come with me if you're concerned about radiation, though. I-I… If you are, I'll… try… to do it… a-alone."

What? No.

Bryce lets the surprise show on his face. He crouches down a little as he speaks, wanting his head level with Roman's to meet his eyes. He extends a hand as he does.

"I…" The next words are said very gently, even without any instructions from his brain. "Whatever you need."

"I…" Bryce looks a little surprised. "Whatever you need."

Well that's good, because, as much as Roman was trying to put on a brave face, there's no way he'd be able to let strangers take him back to an imaging room and then be able to cooperate with x-rays. This isn't a CT scan and there's no contrast dye this time— no needles— but that doesn't mean Roman trusts these people or isn't scared.

He takes Bryce's hand, with a relieved, "thanks..." and nothing else, a little worried that the nurse's worry about his safety may turn to worry about his dependence on Bryce. Do medical people worry about that kind of thing..?