Rescue Me - part 4

Long Days, Hard Nights

Rated M for slash.

Thanks to my beta, mxpi1970.

All characters created and owned by Stephenie Meyer.

~xxXxx~

Emmett’s POV

Jasper had turned in early and I had gone for a walk. The air was electric, the smell of rain heavy around me in the cooling air. I walked long enough to clear my head, no longer; I couldn’t leave him for long. The first clap of thunder came as I made my way back to the motel, closely followed by another, lightning forking the sky. I hurried, eager to be inside before the rain started and I almost made it before a deluge had me soaked in seconds. Sighing, I made my way upstairs to dry off.

In the darkened room, Jas was still sleeping as I had left him, but clearly dreaming. An arm lashed out followed by a cry of pain. It was his tender ribs protesting that woke him at the same time as his panicked dream.

“Emmett! Help me!”

The words left him just before his eye opened, full of fear and pain. I was by his side immediately.

“I’m here, Jas.” I touched his hand, unsure of his reaction. “I’m here.” His gaze locked on to mine in panic.

“Hold me?”

His voice was small and lost. In that instant I forgot about everything that had happened, wanting nothing more than to be close to him again. Shedding my damp outer clothes and rubbing the raindrops from my hair, I gingerly climbed on to the bed. Not sure what to do, I lay on my side and let him shuffle over to press against my chest, his arm resting across me, unable to comfortably lift it any higher. I rubbed light circles on his shoulder as we lay in the darkening room. His head turned to look at me.

“Emmett?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. You’ve been so amazin’, comin’ here to help me and I’ve been so awful to you. I don’t deserve you - I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d left me to it.”

I closed my eyes, hearing the sadness in his voice.

“I couldn’t do that, Jas. I stayed because I wanted to, not out of some misplaced sense of duty.”

My hand found his hair, my nails scratching across his scalp, tugging at the strands. His whimpers of pleasure were erotic as hell, so much so that I felt my body respond to that most basic stimulus. Jasper was almost purring at my actions, his head against my chest to place warm kisses wherever he could reach.

I knew I should stop him. He wasn’t in any fit state to continue with this seduction, but a selfish part of me craved it, needing to be with him again after so long. I felt a warm hand deliberately brush my groin through my underwear and inhaled sharply, stunned by the urgency of my response. I covered his hand with mine.

“Jas, don’t. Let me make you feel good.”

When he looked at me I wondered if he would be angry. Instead I saw something else – a plea for understanding.

His voice was husky.

“I need more, Emmett. I need you. It’s been weeks and you’re right here - I can’t just lie here and not touch you, not taste you. Help me? Please?”

I leaned in and brushed his lips with a kiss that betrayed my need for him. His tongue met mine and I allowed the kiss to deepen, emotion and need radiating from us in palpable waves. Dragging my lips from his, I looked at him and nodded, helpless to refuse.

“Stay still and let me do the work. You have to tell me if I hurt you, Jas.”

“I will, I promise.”

I turned around, gingerly lifting my leg over his prone form to position my cock where his lips could reach it without effort or pain. With a contented groan, his lips claimed and caressed the tip whilst I tried not to thrust. The feel of his soft lips made me forget everything else; the world outside went away, only Jas and I existed now. Leaning down his body, I rested on my elbows and took his rosy flesh into my mouth as deeply as I could. All I wanted was to make Jasper happy, and judging by his guttural moans it seemed to be working just fine. Unable to suck me, he made full use of his tongue and lips, trying to draw more of my erection into his mouth. Sensing his frustration, I lowered my hips a fraction and was rewarded with the warmth of his mouth engulfing me. The only sounds in the room were our muffled gasps and moans of pleasure; Jasper’s deep groans vibrated deliciously around my eager, stiff flesh.

I had dreamed of Jasper on many an occasion since Christmas. Waking up in the night in an excited state after dreaming of him touching me, loving me, I had almost believed he was there with me. On more than one night I had reached for him in my sleepy haze to find only an untouched pillow beside me. To be so close to him these last weeks and to have so little contact was every bit as bad as not having him at all, and now my body was aching for him, craving his touch.

It took remarkably little effort to bring Jasper to the pinnacle of pleasure. After weeks denied of any sexual release, his body was wired tighter than his guitar strings. With my tongue, I played a melody on his straining flesh that his body could not resist. Hearing his breathing shorten, I lifted my hips, extricating myself from his mouth, and allowed him to simply feel. Within seconds, he was panting and crying out, splattering my neck and chest in warm streams, his breathing harsh. When I turned to make sure he was okay, I could tell right away that his chest was hurting from the exertion.

“Jas, I’m so sorry - I didn’t think how much strain that would put on your chest.”

I placed a warm hand on his injured ribs, allowing my heat to sink into his skin. Leaning in, I gently kissed him, enabling him to focus and regulate his laboured breathing, easing his discomfort a fraction.

His eye fluttered open, his voice somewhat raspy.

“That was amazing, just what I needed so don’t worry about me.  What about you though?”

To be honest, I was trying to ignore my throbbing erection. I hadn’t expected to get off from this encounter and I had no intention of slipping away to the bathroom to beat off in silence. I couldn’t hurt his feelings like that. No – I was willing to try and sleep and hope that it subsided enough to prevent me dry humping the sheets during my predicable, colourful dreams. When I lay down beside him once again, he turned to me.

“Emm - do one more thing for me?”

Anything at all.

“Sure. What can I do?”

 “Can I watch you? I’d really like to – if you’ll let me.”

I swallowed. I’d never done that before in front of anyone. But then, Jasper wasn’t just anyone. He was...

I cut off that thought.

“I, ah... I guess so. Don’t think it will take long, your tongue felt incredible.”

I looked at him, fighting back my embarrassment, feeling like a schoolboy fearing his momma was going to walk in on him. Jasper’s gaze flicked from my face to my groin and back again, waiting. My hand found my cock and took a firm grip; I didn’t feel the need to tease myself. I needed release from those past weeks of abstinence and so my hand jerked my length forcefully and with purpose. Gasping, I felt warm fingers cup my balls, delivering a gentle squeeze. Jasper’s gaze was fixed on my cock and I could see how badly he wanted to be the one to stroke me. Soon. The heat coiling deep in my groin was undeniable and, with a couple more pulls, I covered my stomach in white splashes, my cock jerking and spilling for far longer than usual.

“Fuck, Emm - that was hot.”

Jasper pressed kisses to my shoulder. Turning my head, I kissed him again, my breathing harsh and noisy. He grinned at me.

“You’re a mess.”

I nodded, feeling sleepy now. Forcing myself to get out of bed, I cleaned myself off in the bathroom, squinting at the brief flash of bright light that hurt my eyes.

“Come back to bed?”

His deep voice floated across the darkened room, and I made my way back to his bed where I belonged.

With his warm breath against my skin as he drifted off to sleep, I slept soundly for the first time since I arrived.

~xxXxx~

After a couple of weeks, the swelling on his eye and cheek began to recede, the laceration healing well.  His poor face was turning all the colours of the rainbow, but when the morning came that he woke and discovered he could see out of both eyes, we both wept tears of joy.

Finally able to have a rational conversation with him, I asked about his family. He told me about them, his love for them so clear. It was only when he mentioned his hometown that I realised how close we were. I knew he wouldn’t agree to fly at the moment, but we could hire a car. All I had to do was persuade him to ring them and let me take him home.

As always with Jas, it wasn’t that straightforward. He was ashamed of the attack, and unwilling to have to explain it to his mother, fearing he looked weak in his family’s eyes. With time I convinced him that a family that loved him so much would never apportion blame where there was none. As an added sweetener, I reminded him that his mom and sister had asked for a picture of me – why not let them meet me? Where was the harm?

His face had blanched at that suggestion. When I calmly asked him why the idea scared him, he finally said that he didn’t want them to become attached. I was stunned. He saw my face and backtracked a little, saying that the chances were that he’d be away a lot with the band which meant we’d only see each other now and then. Clearly whatever we had meant more to me than it did to him.

My feelings for him were growing ever stronger, despite recent events, and I wanted nothing more than to become more than an occasional sex partner. I wanted to be with him as much as possible, even if that meant staying home while he went round the world on tour. During the long nights in that motel, lying awake in my bed next to his, I had reasoned that I could get a webcam and we could Skype whilst we were apart.

I had to try and make him see that I wasn’t going anywhere, that I wanted to be wherever he was, side by side. He had to know that I was his - that I would wait for him.

I needed to be with him, no matter what.

Of course, he needed to want that too.

First up was the phone call. I left him to it and went to make some lunch. When I returned with our plates, he was smiling and talking to his sister, sounding so happy that I had strong hopes that my plan would work. In the end it had to be his idea or else it simply wouldn’t happen. I wondered if he had told them what had happened; showing up without warning, his face a myriad of colours, would freak the hell out of any parent.

When he finally agreed to go home and see his family, I knew it was the right move. We told Paul what was going on and said we’d be in touch with the boys as soon as Jasper was ready to get back on the road. Next up was a trip to the hospital for a check up. He grumbled but I was dead set - no matter what, he was getting checked over before we left.

The hospital checkups confirmed that he had no eye damage and that his cheek was healing well. His ribs were going to take a little longer to fully mend, but he was able to both walk without pain and wash without needing my help, although he still managed to lure me into the shower with hopeful eyes and a dirty grin that I couldn’t refuse.

When we checked out of the motel a couple of days later, I took the time to thank the staff, especially Darla, for their leniency in letting me use their facilities. I had already taken the time to clean the room and bundle up the laundry before we left, and I think this had endeared me to them in a way that other patrons never accomplished.

Jasper wore his Stetson pulled low, dark glasses hiding the worst of his bruising. I carried the cases, not willing to aggravate his healing ribs, and we made our way out to my rental car, a rather small compact that felt claustrophobic compared to my truck. I was relieved that the drive would only take a couple of days.

To pass the time we sang to the radio, we talked, Jasper slept a little, and more than once when we pulled over for gas, we kissed when I got back in the car. It felt right, it felt good; I just prayed I wasn’t building this up to be more than it was. Looking over at him as he slept, I knew that I had more invested in this fledgling relationship than I cared to admit; I could only hope that Jasper would realise it too.

Four hours later, give or take, I pulled over to the side of the empty road to take a leak and took a moment to enjoy the tranquillity of the wide open space. The heat haze shimmered on the asphalt and I was thankful for the functional air con in the rental. Hearing the door open, a sharp intake of breath announced that Jasper was awake. I turned to help, but found him already on his feet, fumbling with his fly with some urgency before hearing his groan of relief as water pattered against the dirt.

“Sorry, I should have woken you, but you looked so peaceful.”

Glancing at me with a wry smile, he tucked himself back in.

“Yeah, you should’ve. My bladder almost ruptured there – all that gas station coffee.”

I grinned. “Yeah; my bad.”

He looked around. “We’re makin’ good time. We’ll be half way there by the time we stop for the night.”

I searched his face for any sign of discomfort, of nerves, but saw none. Now we were actually on the way he seemed excited about seeing his folks, despite the explanations that awaited him on our arrival. I hoped that my presence would distract the attention from him just enough to allow him to settle in before the inquisition began; Jasper had told me how close knit they were and no doubt fiercely protective. It was the best place for him to recuperate.

I didn’t know how I felt about all this. I was doing right by Jasper, but sacrificing the one thing I wanted in return. I guessed I would fly home and carry on with my small little life, living in my empty house and wondering every day how he was and what he was doing.

But, by doing the right thing for him it meant my own pain had to be hidden away; I would not guilt him into being with me. If this was all we were meant to be then I would be grateful for this time together and leave with my head held high.

I could shed my tears when I was back at home, missing him so much it hurt to breathe.

The next few miles were quiet, mostly my fault. Each mile we travelled effectively took me further away from him in my head and I found myself lapsing into thoughts that weren’t helping. Feeling Jasper’s hand warm on mine, I turned over my palm and linked our fingers, loving the rightness of it. A sideways glance told me he was relaxed and comfortable, his eyes drifting closed, soothed by the gentle motion of the car on the unwinding roads. I didn’t want to wake him; his sleep had been sporadic and haunted by nightmares in the motel. Now, free of his self-imposed imprisonment, he was able to sleep soundly. I turned the radio on low, tapping my finger on the wheel as I drove.

This time he slept for two hours. When he woke again, we were travelling through New Mexico and I was starting to feel the tiredness of constant driving. Regular coffee stops were a necessity. It was a 13 hour drive in total, and I had to do it all.  It wouldn’t be too much longer before I needed to stop for a power nap at the very least if we wanted to continue much further – I couldn’t drive tired and my reflexes were starting to slow. Jasper looked over at me and saw I was struggling.

“Emm, let me drive a little. I’m rested and I’ll take it real careful. If I can’t manage very far then I’ll pull over, but one way or another, you need to get some rest.”

I wanted to argue but knew I would lose. Letting him out of his door and into the driver’s seat, I looked over worriedly.

“Take it slow and promise you’ll wake me in half an hour – no longer.”

His slow smile reassured me somewhat, but I still felt guilty allowing him to drive when his ribs hurt like they did. The one good thing was that the road was pretty quiet and he could go slower.

By the time he had eased out of the gas station and back onto the highway, I was out cold.

 ~xxXxx~

I woke to find we had made good progress. Jas looked okay, but I could tell he was starting to flag. Checking my watch, I saw that he had let me sleep for well over an hour; I rubbed my face.

“Oh, man, that’s better. Do you want to pull over at the next gas station? I could use a stop pretty urgently and then I’ll take over driving duty.” I turned to smile at him. “This thing isn’t as much fun to drive as your truck, I bet.”

His lips quirked into a grin.

“Far too reliable!” His lazy wink sent happy shivers running through me.

We pulled in at small motel a few miles down the road and grabbed ourselves a room. 

Managing to do little more than splash water on my face and knock back a cold drink, I collapsed onto the bed. Jas joined me and we fell asleep, our clothes in a muddle on the floor where they fell.

The next day followed the same pattern. We drove, Jas slept, we stopped for gas. What differed was that Jasper told me all about the boys in the Confederates, along with a few stories of his childhood, growing up in Texas.

Many hours later, with the sun low in the sky, we passed the small sign announcing our arrival in Dickinson, Texas. Jas directed me to some homes on the edge of town whilst pointing out the places where he used to hang out. Pulling up outside the last house on the block, I killed the engine and turned to face him.

“Do you want me to wait?”

He reached for my hand before he met my eyes.

“I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re here. I need you with me. This is goin’ to be tough on momma – she’s goin’ to be mad I haven’t told her about this before now.”

Telling him to stay put, I extricated myself from the front seat and went around to his side, holding the heavy door open. When I extended my hand to help, he gripped my wrist for support, pulling himself up and out of the car. Leaning back against the door frame, he looked at me with a tight expression.

“Perhaps I should have called ahead...”

I looked at him sharply. This was news to me.

“What? Are you telling me you didn’t...?” I shook my head, somehow not entirely surprised at this admission. “Never mind that now – it’s too late to do anything about it. Ready?”

He nodded and walked up to the front porch. I followed and watched him knock. Expecting him to open the door, call out, and go on in, I was surprised that he waited for the knock to be answered. When the door opened, he stepped back a little.

Of course; they’ll rush to hug him, happy to have him home. He can’t risk the pain in his ribs.

From where I stood I saw how his momma’s face lit up when she saw him standing there... and how it fell when he stepped backward out of reach. So slowly, head down, Jasper removed his sunglasses before looking up at her, standing on the steps. I heard her gasp of shock and recalled how he had looked when I first arrived.

Believe me, Mrs Whitlock, this is an improvement.

After what sounded like several ‘oh my Lord’ exclamations and chastisements, he turned and looked back at me, loitering a few steps behind him. I saw her face, kind and warm, the light of realisation washing over her when she realised who I was.

“Emmett? It’s Emmett, isn’t it! Come here, honey – don’t stand on ceremony! I’ve heard all about you from Jasper; come give me a hug, don’t be shy!”

I stepped forward and was immediately engulfed in a tight hug that belied the size and stature of the woman.

“I brought him home, Mrs Whitlock. He needs his momma, whether he’ll admit it or not.”

She kissed my cheek fondly and I smiled, feeling a childish blush threaten to heat my cheeks. 

She smiled.

“You’re a good boy, Emmett. And you call me Lucille, you hear?”

We were ushered inside into a warm and welcoming kitchen. Mrs Whitlock hovered around Jasper, clearly desperate to know what was going on. Jasper sat carefully and nodded to a chair for me. I hesitated.

“Jas, do you and your momma want to talk properly? I can get the bags from the car...” I was half way to the door when I heard him call me back.

“Emm, no - stay, please?”

I sat down without another word and took the hand offered to me across the tabletop. He turned to his momma.

“The reason I didn’t tell you was that I was ashamed. I thought that if I could get better and sign that record deal then you never had to find out. You wouldn’t see the downside of this life. I wanted to make you proud, not disappointed.”

I could feel how hard this was for him. Mrs Whitlock’s face was full of confusion and hurt. He had tried so hard to do the right thing, but it had backfired.

She took a breath.

“How bad, Jasper? How badly are you hurt?”

I saw my beautiful man crumple before my eyes, unable to find the words. I squeezed his hand and spoke up.

“He has broken ribs and a fractured cheekbone, Mrs Whit- Lucille. The swelling over his eye has gone down a lot and the hospital checkups showed how well he’s healing. He has a lot of bruising and pain in his chest area, but he assures me that it’s improving day to day.”

I felt my hand squeezed in return. Checking the clock, I remembered.

“Jas – I’ll go get your meds from the car. You must be feeling it now.”

His face was pale under the bruising, and I knew the pain in his ribs was making itself heard. He nodded and I stepped outside. Barely a couple of steps down the path brought me face to face with a pretty, dark-haired girl. Her eyes widened, checking me over.

“Hi!” Her bright voice matched her smile.

“Hi. Umm, yeah – I’m just getting Jas’ bags from the car.”

She squealed.

“He’s home? I didn’t know he was coming home!”

I smiled at her enthusiasm.

“You have to be Alice.” Lifting the bags from the trunk, I flashed her a grin that made her blush.

“Well, sir, it appears you have the advantage here.”

I held out my hand.

“My name’s Emmett.”

Her eyes grew round. “The Emmett? Jas’s boyfriend?”

Not sure how to answer that, I made non committal noises, but needn’t have worried. A second later, Alice launched herself at me, hugging me every bit as tightly as her momma had.

“Oh my goodness - we’ve heard all about you! Jas is so happy when he talks about you. You have to tell us how you two met – I need details! Oh, this is so wonderful!”

Stunned to the core, I hefted the bags and followed her back inside to where Jas sat talking to his momma. Luckily he heard Alice approaching in time to avert the imminent hug. Just like her mother, she too gasped when she saw his colourful face, her hands flying to her mouth in distress. Her voice wobbled.

“Jas? What happened?”

Her eyes welled with tears, and in that moment I felt like an intruder in their family home. That was until Jasper turned in an awkward fashion and reached for me, needing my strength to keep himself together. I sat down in the empty chair by his side, my fingers meshing with his, offering comfort the best way I could.

He turned to Alice.

“Sit down, sugar; I’ll explain everythin’.”

~xxXxx~

Rescue Me - part 3

Long Days, Hard Nights

Rated M for slash.

All characters created and owned by Stephenie Meyer.

**This chapter continues on from the end of the Christmas outtake**

~xxXxx~

Emmett’s POV

Walking into the small motel, I made enquiries at the desk before heading up the stairs to the 2^nd floor. As I stepped out of the stairwell into the hallway, I saw a tall guy standing by a door. 

On closer inspection, it was the door I needed.

As I approached, he held out his hand to stop me before I could reach it.

“Wrong floor, man.”

I looked at him, confused.

“I’m looking for Jasper Whitlock. I’m-“

“Listen to me, buddy - no Press allowed on this floor. Please leave before I’m forced to throw you out.”

I stared at him and tried again.

“You don’t understand, dude. He sent for me. Jasper sent for me. I have passes... see?” I fished the backstage passes out of my flight bag and showed them to him.

He stiffened. “Who are you?”

“Emmett McCarty.”

I watched his whole demeanour change as he relaxed and handed back the passes.

“Sorry, man. Jasper gave me that envelope to post to you. Go on in. Just... go easy on him.”

I thought that was an odd thing to say, but I just wanted to see Jasper. I opened the door into a small, rather dark and stale smelling room. It was strewn with newspapers and empty food cartons and I stepped inside gingerly, seeing him lying on the bed.

He didn’t acknowledge my entrance.

“Jas?”

“Emmett?” The voice in the gloom registered disbelief, as if he didn’t truly believe it was me.

“Yeah, Jas, it’s me. What’s going on? Why is there a guy guarding this floor? Are you fighting off groupies now?”

His laugh was brittle.

I crossed the room to him, stepping over the debris strewn across the worn, dingy carpet, needing to see him after our time apart.

“I got on the first plane I could, Jas. When I got your note I was so happy...”

Kneeling down by the bed, I went to stroke his hair and see his beautiful face once again. I almost recoiled when I finally got my first look at him.

His face was swollen and purple, the cheekbone obviously broken. His nose was taped up to reset, his left eye puffed shut. I swallowed hard, my hand hovering, wanting to touch him so badly but scared of causing him more pain.

“What-“

He held up his hand before painfully pushing himself up to a sitting position; clearly he had more injuries that I couldn’t see.

“Shouldn’t you still be in hospital?” My voice was little more than a croak.

“I discharged myself. I’m holed up here until the papers stop callin’. The rest of the tour is cancelled; I don’t even know if there’ll even be a band to go back to after this.”

“What? Why? Why did this happen to you? Was it a...” I took a breath, “homophobic attack?”

He shook his head, wincing at the slight movement.

“No one knows I’m gay, not even the band, although they’ve noticed I don’t take my share of the available talent offered to me.” He sighed, a hand flying to his ribs, face twisting into a grimace. 

He paused for a second until the shadow of pain left his face.

“It was a husband who took exception to the way I smiled at his wife on stage. You’ve seen me, I play to the crowd. Turned out he didn’t like it, so he slipped outside with a couple of friends and waited for me. This...” his hands motioned to his face and torso, “this is the result. So no, I don’t think he knew I was gay, do you?”

I raked my hand through my hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that. I just don’t know what to make of all this; it’s a hell of a shock to find you all busted up. How bad is it? Be honest.”

“My ribs are cracked from the kickin’ – they’ll be the slowest to heal. The docs don’t know yet if my eye is damaged due to all the swellin’ from my broken cheekbone. This sucks all the more because we got spotted by a talent scout at our last gig, and there’s talk of a recordin’ contract in the offin’.” He voice held a tremor. “Who’s goin’ to want to sign us up now? The guys will need a new singer if they want to carry on without me.”

“They won’t wait?” I was incredulous that his band mates would go on without him. Technically it was his band; he had brought them all together. He sipped from a bottle of water beside the bed.

“They say they will. Paul on the door there is very loyal. He went and got the tickets and stuff I sent you. Didn’t even ask why I was sendin’ them. He’s a good guy.” He drifted off into silence again, his gaze downcast until finally he raised his one good eye to meet mine. The look he gave me made me want to kiss life back into that broken body of his.

His voice was husky and thick.

“Thanks for comin’, Emmett. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you hadn’t.”

It wouldn’t do to tell him just how fast I had packed and enquired about the next available flight out. Or neither how I had drummed my fingers during the flight, anxious and eager to be with him again; nor would it do any good to admit just how much I’d missed him.

This... this was a shock. I could feel unfamiliar anger rise within me, my bubbling fury aimed at the assholes that had read an innocent scene so wrongly and let it result in this atrocity.  He watched the emotion ripple through me, waiting for my response and the reassurance that I wouldn’t get right back on the next plane home.

I reached out a shaky hand to cup his uninjured cheek, sensing his vulnerability. Leaning into him, I brought my face level with his.

“Of course I came, Jas. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again – we made no promises to each other at Christmas, but I hoped...”

I heard the catch in his throat, his voice an urgent whisper.

“I can’t show the guys how hard this is. I have to try and keep goin’, stay upbeat, but it’s so hard. The local papers reported the incident which is why I’m holed up here for a while. We’re not a big name yet and I don’t want pictures of my injuries plastered across the local rag. That’s not the kind of publicity the Confederates need. We’re about to sign a recordin’ contract! I just need someone...” His voice cracked. “I need support behind closed doors when I can just be myself.”

“If you spend all your time locked away with me, won’t the guys guess about you? Unless...”

He stared at me then. “What?”

“Unless you want me to help you pretend to be straight. I get that, I mean you are the front man, there to look hot and seduce the crowd.”

“Not so hot now.” He choked out a painful laugh. “You want me to come clean with the guys? Tell them about us?”

I inhaled sharply.

“Us? What are we, Jas?” He swallowed with a dry click as I continued. “I help you with all this and then what? You get better and go sign your megabucks deal, become a huge star, and I go back to my little life, dreaming of the time when Jas Whitlock of the Confederates only had eyes for me?”

“You’re angry. I get that.” His voice was toneless. I felt surprisingly calm.

“No, but be honest with me, Jas. If this,” I gesticulated to his distorted face and busted ribs, “hadn’t happened, would you ever have called me again? You know where I live, yet I know virtually nothing about you apart from the truck you drive.”

“I missed you.” The words were uttered so low as to be almost inaudible, and I almost didn’t catch them.  “Leavin’ you at Christmas was much harder than I thought it would be. I wanted to talk to you so often. When I finally got to see Mom and Alice, I told them I’d met someone. They were so excited and really disappointed I didn’t have a picture of you to show them.”

I gaped at him.

“You told your folks about me?”

He grinned, the best he could, still beautiful despite it all.

“Yeah; told them I planned to come find you again once the tour was done, if you’d have me. I kicked myself for not takin’ your number when I had the chance. I thought about you a lot.” His gaze dropped, seemingly through embarrassment, but it was difficult to tell under the bruising. 

“So, uhm, are you seein’ anyone?”

I placed a finger lightly beneath his chin and raised his face to mine.

“You tell me.”

His eye held a hopeful expression.

“I might be permanently scarred, the doctors say. The cheek wound is deep. Would you want me if I were damaged goods?”

I smiled in absolute certainty.

“I just want you in my life, Jas, no matter what.”

Pushing myself up, I walked to the window.

“It’s so dark in here; we’re on the second floor so there’s no chance of being seen.” I threw open the curtains, letting in some sunlight, before sitting back down on the bed. His head was turned away from me.

“Jas? It’s going to be okay.”

His breath left him in a strangled gasp, his body sagging forward into mine, head resting on my shoulder. All I did was stroke his dirty, unkempt hair, unable to tame its unruly disarray. All I could see of his face was a mask of red and purple; his feelings of shame at his appearance emanated from him. He mumbled into my shirt.

 “Don’t look at me, Emm. I’m hideous.” I wasn’t having any of it.

“Hey - look at me. Please.” Against his will he complied slowly, lifting his head from my shoulder and tilting it up a fraction. “We need to get you up, showered, and fed. So come with me.”

I stood up and held out my hands, coaxing him to his feet. Raiding my suitcase for my wash bag, I led him through to the small bathroom and closed the door. Raising my hands to his shirt, I pulled it away from his body to unfasten the buttons with extreme care, handling him like porcelain. Once opened, it slid down his arms and fell to the floor. I forced myself not to react at the sight of the welts on his chest and stomach; shades of red, purple and black daubed across his skin, marring the once perfect canvas.

He awkwardly crossed his arms to hide them but it caused him pain, and with a low hiss he lowered them to his sides again.

Running my finger down his shoulder, I wanted to tell him that his beauty would re-emerge, that it would, in time, overcome this horror, but I couldn’t. The truth was, no matter how badly hurt he was now, no matter how bruised and battered the exterior, Jasper was still beautiful to me; his inner light shone too bright for anyone to ever extinguish it.  

No one had the right to even try.

He made no move to carry on undressing, so I unbuckled his belt before loosening his jeans. Sliding them down, I disentangled his feet from the bunched up denim. He didn’t resist, and by the time I bent to remove his socks I realised that he had totally surrendered to me. He wobbled precariously on one foot, his hand holding my arm for balance as lastly, I slid down his underwear, letting him step out of them and kick them away.

Running a comfortably hot shower, I urged him in to stand beneath the spitting jets from the old chrome shower head. The water soaked his hair, darkening it further; he made no move to wash himself. Swiftly shedding my own clothes, I stepped in behind him, clicking open the shampoo bottle and pouring a generous amount into my palm. I massaged it through his curls, rubbing comforting circles with my thumbs as I did so. When my nails lightly scratched his scalp he moaned, his brain sending relaxation messages to his exhausted body.  My fingers continued to play with the wet strands, tugging gently, until I was sure his hair was squeaky clean. The hot water rained down, rinsing away the shampoo suds, and I set to work with a soft sponge and a musky shower gel. I took my time, washing him all over with delicate strokes, squeezing soapy water all over his chest and back, letting it cleanse his discoloured, abused body. It was when I tried to wash under his arms that I realised the extent of his injuries – his hands could reach no higher than my waist and so I lifted each arm to finish the job.  While I washed his calves and feet, he leant on me for support; I finished up by washing between his legs.

 It was when I put down the sponge and moved to switch off the water that I saw tears mixed in with the water dripping from his hair. Wishing I could do more, I held him as close as I dared, rocking him in my arms, and together we stood under the hissing water as he finally let go, utterly and inexplicably ashamed to admit the sheer amount of pain he had hidden from everyone since the attack. His sobs made my heart ache and I smoothed and kissed his wet hair, silently vowing that no one would ever touch him again and live to tell the tale.

Unable to deny the pull I felt a moment longer, I supported his head tenderly and brushed my lips against his, feeling him respond as best he could.

No matter the circumstances that had brought us together, no matter the ugly reality of what he had faced, the mere touch of his lips made my breathing catch and my heart pound with happiness.

When his shaking eased, I helped him out of the tub and switched off the water. The old pipes groaned in protest but eased to a gradual slow drip as the water shut off. Reaching for a towel, I patted him dry, careful as a first time mother with her newborn. Squeezing the excess water from his hair, I dabbed his face before briskly towelling myself dry. There was no way he was putting those clothes back on again – a trip to the laundromat was called for. I made a mental note to take his sour, sweat-soaked bed linen too and ask the motel staff for more; I suspected, judging by the state of the room, that he hadn’t let anyone in since he arrived.

Once he was dressed in some slightly fresher clothing, I decided on the next stage of my master plan.

“What exactly have you been eating?” I looked around at the takeout cartons scattered all over floor, some still part full. He looked sheepish.

“Just food from the local takeout; noodles and soft stuff I don’t need to chew.”

“How about some soup or an omelette - soft food, but a little better for you? There must be somewhere around here that does that.”

“Paul’s been getting me the basics. He’s a good guy. Ask him; he’ll know what’s in the area.”

I turned round, checking the room. “No cooking facilities here, that’s for sure. I’ll go out and see what I can find, okay?”

He nodded, catching my hand as I made for the door.

“Thanks, Emm.” His words were rough; I just nodded, determined to be strong for him.

“I should go downstairs and check in – get myself a room or else I’m sleeping in this hallway tonight.”

He shifted, not looking at me.

“You won’t stay with me.” He sounded defeated, and I hated it. I didn’t ever want him to feel like that.

“Jas, this is a single room and there’s no way we can both fit in that bed. Let me ask if they have a double; I can move your stuff in with me, yeah?”

“As long as you’re there.” I heard the relief in those few words as he sank back against the flat, ineffectual pillow.

Paul was where I had left him and I drew him away from the door.

“I want to get him something decent to eat. Is there anywhere that does takeout besides the Peking Palace?”

“There’s not much around here. There’s a store a couple of blocks away but that’s about it.” He looked uncomfortable. “How is he, Emmett? He won’t say anything – it’s like they stole my friend when they kicked the stuffing out of him. I can’t lie to you, I’m worried.”

“You and me both; okay, I need to check in and get us a bigger room.”

He looked at me shrewdly.

“You’re sticking around?”

I looked him square in the eye.

“He needs me – I’m not going anywhere.”

Paul just nodded, slapping me on the shoulder as I headed for the stairs.

Returning to the front desk, I asked the girl there if there were any twin rooms available on the second floor, explaining that I was here to look after my injured friend. She gave me the key to a room a few doors down from Jas’ current one and I handed over my details to pay. I was about to walk away when I had a thought.

“Is there anywhere I can cook a proper meal? My friend needs some good food, but he can’t go out at the moment for reasons I can’t go into here.”

She took me aside and showed me a small kitchen in the back where the staff could make a snack on their breaks.

“No one will say anything. If they do, tell ‘em Darla said it was okay.” She smiled, revealing teeth that hinted at a coffee and nicotine addiction. 

“Thanks, that’s really decent of you, Darla. Look, I’ll clean up the room once I move my friend into the other one. Have you got some trash bags? It’s the least I can do.”

She seemed surprised at my question, but fetched me a couple without comment. I guessed that most patrons left the place in differing states of disarray without any trace of guilt. Well, that wasn’t me. My momma had brought me up better than that.

As I walked back toward the stairs, I heard her call out.

“Your friend’s a lucky guy.”

I threw her a smile and headed up to my new room.

Unlocking the door, I poked my head in and took a quick look around. Satisfied, I headed back to find Jas where I had left him, sleeping. Looking at him, I saw him wince in his sleep as he tried to turn over, the pain waking him. Looking panicked, his face flooded with relief when he saw me, and I had to wonder if his dreams had been of waking up alone once again. Leaning in, I helped him gently to his feet, walking him to the new room and settling him onto one of the beds.

Returning to the room, I filled a garbage sack with cartons and wrappers and set it down outside the door for collection. Next, I stripped the linen from the bed and left it ready for collection. Lastly, I went around the room, picking up his bits and pieces, packing them into his bags. When I was sure I had everything, I took both his bags and my own case to the new room before heading out to the store.

~xxXxx~

“This is awesome, Emm.” He slowly chewed the Spanish omelette, washing it down with some bottled water.

“It’s not much, but homemade is better for you than takeout.”

I had told him about my getting the use of the motel kitchen for the duration of our stay and his mouth had dropped open.

“Obviously I need to clean up straightaway so the other workers don’t find my dirty pans around the place, but Darla seemed to think it’d be okay for me to use it so long as I don’t take anything of theirs from the fridge.”

Jas was sitting up on the bed, his plate on a lap tray as I lifted each forkful to his mouth. I asked him the question I had been holding back.

“How long since the attack, Jas?”

“A week.” He chewed the next bite and swallowed. “I wrote to you when I left the hospital.”

“So how have you been managing?”

I had already guessed he hadn’t been showering; most likely he’d used the tiny sink to wash wherever he could reach.

“Paul has helped me with food. He’s been brilliant. He gave me some pillows to prop up my arms so I could eat easier. I don’t think he fancied feedin’ me.” He grinned and I saw a flash of my Jas, his damp hair flopping sexily over his face.

Then he went quiet for the longest moment.

“Emm, I want you to know I didn’t call you to have you come nurse me. I called you because I feel so... isolated. I can’t go out yet in case I’m seen and it harms our chances of the band gettin’ that contract. I just want to get better and not have mom find out and worry about all this.” 

He fell silent, his twisting hands on the bedcovers revealing his discomfort at this disclosure. His voice was quiet now. “After it happened, all I could think about was you and how I wished you were here with me.”

He risked a look at me under his hair, clearly nervous at how this admission would be received.

“So – what are we going to do to pass the hours? Play checkers with your meds? You do have meds don’t you?”

I hadn’t seen any bottles.

I heard a chuckle.

“Yeah; Paul usually dishes them out to stop me taking them too often. They wear off so fast that I’d probably take far more than I should.”

“So it’s been just you and him here? Where are the rest of the guys?”

“Gone home for a while; there’s no point them hangin’ around when there’s nothin’ they can do here. Everythin’s on hold right now.”

“I guess.”

I fed him the last couple of mouthfuls before taking the plate and heading off downstairs to clean up.

That night, lying in my bed, I heard his gasps of pain each time he moved in his sleep. I longed to hold him, to reassure him that I was close by, but I knew there was no way we could share a bed until his injuries improved. Once, I did climb out and walk over to him, stroking his forehead like my momma use to do to me when I couldn’t sleep. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before his breathing evened, and I returned to bed to lie awake in case he needed me.

~xxXxx~

Jas’ days were a mix of eating, meds and sleep. When his meds kicked in he was able to nap for a time. When he woke he was refreshed and we could then play card games and swap stories.

The trouble was, he still wouldn’t go outside, and after a few days I was starting to notice a little cabin fever setting in. My first clue came when the hand of cards I dealt him flew across the room in a fit of temper. His wrist flick sent them clattering against the wall; I said nothing as I went to retrieve them, gathering them up, the game over.

“What are you doin’?” His voice was sharp. “We were playin’.”

I looked at him steadily.

“I guess I thought the game was over.”

“What? I had a crap hand. You can’t take a joke? Come on, deal again.”

I hesitated, and he reacted angrily.

“What? What? You won’t deal? What is your problem, Emmett? Am I too much hassle for you? Not what you signed up for? Well fuck off then – fuck off. I don’t need you, I can manage. I should never have called you.”

Not wanting to show how his words stung and add fuel to the fire, I stood and took a deep breath.

“I’m going to the store for supplies. Put on some shades and come with me. No one will recognise you in your regular clothes – they won’t be expecting to see you. Please, Jas...”

His voice bordered on a snarl.

“Stop pushin’! I’m not ready!”

I sighed and made for the door.

“Okay; I’ll be back in a while.”

The pack of cards hit the wall by my head, the action making him cry out.

I didn’t look back.

I forced myself to walk calmly around the block, stopping for some groceries as I had promised. I knew he was going crazy in that room and I wanted him to come outside, but he staunchly refused. While I understood, it was time he overcame his reticence. 

He was sleeping when I returned and for once I was glad. Spread out on the fresh linen he slept comfortably whereas I was on edge, awakening at each groan. He might not have been grateful at times, but I would never have left him.

A week passed and he grew more cantankerous with each passing day. No distractions worked anymore; he simply ate, slept and snarled the days away. Now that his ribs were healing he was able to do more for himself; I pulled back, allowing him to feed and shower himself. It was a slow process for him, but I refused to offer help, knowing he would throw it back in my face.

Those days were lonely for me, so close to the man I desired, but unable to reach out to him. 

But all that changed a couple of nights later.

~xxXxx~