FIC: Just A Blink In Life 4/4
Title: Just A Blink In Life (4/4)
Author: Holly Lyn
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Chris/Steve
Word Count: 26,486 (total)
Series/Sequel: Between You And Me #02 http://chrisandsteve.livejournal.com/330443.html
Category: romance, drama, angst, hurt/comfort
Summary: Sometimes things aren’t what they seem. When tempers fly in the aftermath can the damage be undone?
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone ... damn it! It's all fictional and just for fun!
Steve’s day hadn’t started badly at all. The nighttime medication had knocked him out almost immediately once Graham had gotten him back to their hotel and settled after the second show. He’d slept the entire night through and woke feeling refreshed and ready to go. He made sure to pack his daytime painkillers and plenty of bottled water in his duffle bag before Graham shepherded him to the car and whisked him off to the convention center.
As Graham took them on another scenic route past Buckingham Palace, Steve grabbed his phone and placed another call to Christian. “G’mornin’, baby. When you get this you should only be a day’s shooting schedule away from a relaxing weekend. Maybe we’ll have better luck connecting when we’re both not running around like a couple of idiots. Anyway, I’m on my way to the convention after a bit of a scare with my back last night. I’ve got Q and A, autograph, and photograph sessions scheduled into early afternoon but will get some down time in between those and another gig tonight. Take it easy today and I’ll try to connect with you later. I love you and miss you so much. Call me and let me know how you’re doing, okay? Bye.”
Steve breezed through the Q and A and autograph sessions. The convention organizers had been apprised of his injuries and comfortable chairs with supporting pillows had been provided for him to use at each event. Unfortunately, the photograph session required him to be on his feet for over an hour and by the end of that time he was feeling it in his spine and knees. Arrangements were made for him to have a private room to rest in once the session was done so he could recharge his batteries before his performance in the evening. He woke from his nap in pain but, surprisingly, this time the culprit wasn’t his back or legs but a low-grade nagging headache that began at the base of his head - the site where he’d been struck the night of the mugging - and slowly gained in intensity as the concert went on.
‘I will not throw up … I will not pass out … I will not throw up … I will not pass out’. Those two simple phrases became Steve’s silent mantra as the gig plodded on; the massive headache was threatening to blow his skull apart from the inside out.
He barely made it through the set and knew in his heart he had not given one of his better performances; he just hoped he’d get a chance to come back and make it up to the fans, especially the ones who had traveled so far to see him. He was pale, sweaty, and shaking as the final notes faded and he thanked the audience for coming. Spotting his two young saviors off to one side and up close he spoke into the microphone, “Rory, Jedd, can I ask you guys to help me out one more time?” he asked and hoped he didn’t sound as pathetic as he felt.
Steve could have sworn he only blinked but when his eyes opened back up, Jedd and Rory were flanking him and hovering like expectant fathers. Rory was holding his guitar and Jedd was keeping Steve from pitching head first off of the stage. “You got someplace you can lie down?” Jedd asked quietly.
Not trusting that he wouldn’t puke the minute he opened his mouth, Steve just nodded and pointed in the direction of stage left. His escorts let him make it to his feet at his own pace before they wrapped their arms around him and steered him away from the gaping fans and their flashing cameras.
The trio barely made it to the private room Steve had used before when his legs gave out and he sagged to his knees. That seemed to be the trigger for everything to hit him all at once. Steve’s face twisted in pain as he grabbed his head and his insides began to heave. He expelled the contents of his stomach and slumped to the floor unconscious.
“Oh shit!” Jedd’s brown eyes were enormous in a pasty pale face.
Rory was already on the move; he carefully put Steve in the recovery position on the floor and said, “Go find Mr. Levesque. Tell him what happened and that I’ve already got emergency services on the way.” Jedd bolted from the room and Rory kept working on Steve. He grabbed a pillow and blanket from the cot Steve had napped on earlier. Before covering him up, though, he loosened the collar, cuffs, and waistband of Steve’s shirt and jeans and removed his sneakers.
By the time Rory got off the phone with emergency services, they were fully aware of Steve’s prior injuries and Jedd was returning with Ian Levesque in tow.
“I never should have let him do all of this today,” Ian said in a shocked voice as he got his first look at Steve.
“I’m sure there was nothing you could have done to dissuade him, sir,” Rory responded. “He’s been adamant all along that he wanted to continue with the bookings you arranged.”
The paramedics finally arrived and in no time Steve was bundled up and ready for transport. The information Rory had passed along to the dispatcher enabled them to dive right in without asking a lot of unnecessary questions. “We’ll be taking him back to Mercy General,” one of them said. “Doctor Collins is already waiting for him.”
“Thank you,” Ian answered as Steve was wheeled away to the waiting ambulance. Levesque turned to Rory and Jedd, “You two can ride with me to the hospital and I’ll have Graham bring you home when we hear how Steve’s doing. I doubt they’ll be letting him go home tonight.”
Rory nodded. “Thank you, sir. We’d like that.” Jedd nodded in agreement as the three men filed out of the room.
“Well, hello again, gentlemen,” Dr. Collins smiled in greeting as he walked into the waiting room several hours later. “We’ve got Steve settled in the same room as last time. He’s awake and highly embarrassed. Let’s go see him and I’ll bring you all up to speed at the same time.”
Steve was fiddling with the plastic hospital bracelet and scowling down at the IV lines running out of his right hand when Dr. Collins showed his three friends into his hospital room. He looked up but dropped his eyes back to the blanket covering his legs and didn’t say a word.
“Let’s get to it, shall we?” Dr. Collins said quickly to smooth over the awkward moment. “Steve, the good news is that the tests and scans we ran didn’t reveal any new damage to the original injury sites. The headache and nausea you experienced this evening were probably brought on by you trying to do too much.” Steve shrugged and still refused to make eye contact with anyone else in the room. “The bad news is that you are showing signs of an infection in your kidneys from the hard blows you took to your back. We’ve got you started on a round of intravenous antibiotics and will add another oral prescription to the ones you already have before we’re ready to release you; we want to make sure you won’t have any adverse reactions to them.” There was still no response from the man in the bed and Collins was starting to worry. “Steve?” he prompted.
“I’m guessing I’m not getting out of here tonight?” he mumbled and picked at his blanket.
Collins sighed. “I’m afraid not, son. The earliest you’re going to get out of here is Sunday depending on how well your kidneys respond to the antibiotics. We’re also going to monitor that hard head of yours a little more closely so we don’t have a repeat of tonight’s little episode.” Steve went back to shrugging.
“How soon can he travel?” Ian asked the doctor.
“Travel as in …”
“Putting him on a plane back to the United States,” Ian said in a tone that brooked no argument. At that Steve’s head finally came up and he fixed pained eyes on Levesque. “Steve, I appreciate that you want very much to continue on but I won’t risk your health in order for you to do that. You’ve done some good work on this trip; everyone is excited about your catalogue of music and we will certainly have no problem inviting you back again to continue on your tour around Europe. In fact, I’m hoping we can connect once you’ve recuperated from the unfortunate events that have happened and try to set up something for later this year.”
“Okay,” Steve said and exhaled noisily. He brushed at his eyes with his unencumbered left hand and turned his head away.
Dr. Collins rejoined the conversation, “If we release him on Sunday, I see no reason why he can’t be on a flight home on Monday. Just make sure there is adequate cushioning for his back as his kidneys will be extra sensitive while he’s on the drugs and that’s a very long flight. I also don’t want him driving himself for at least a week to make sure there won’t be a repeat of him passing out. And someone else will need to carry any luggage for him.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Steve said softly. “The airline never found my stuff and I won’t be bringing any of what I bought here back with me.” His smile was faint and wry, “No offense but it’s just not my style. I’ll keep the duffle bag I bought and put what little I have left in that. Carry on all the way with the mostly empty duffle and my guitar.” He closed his eyes and bit his trembling lips.
“Well, now that’s settled, how about we let Steve get some rest,” Dr. Collins started herding the other men out of the room realizing that his patient was on the verge of losing control.
“Hold on, doc,” Steve called out. “Can I talk to Rory and Jedd alone for a few minutes?”
“I’ll be waiting outside with Graham to take you lads home when you’re done,” Ian said and left with the doctor.
When they were finally alone Steve looked up at the two young men who had been so good to him during all of the shit that had gone on during the trip. “Guys … I don’t … I don’t know what to say. You’ve been wonderful from day one and I can’t thank you enough for your help.” He grabbed a pad and pen off of the bedside table and scribbled down his phone numbers. “The top number is for the temporary phone I have now. The second one is my real number. I’ll try to have it replaced within a week or so of getting home. If you need anything you call me; if I can help you, you have my word that I will. And if you ever travel to the States, give me a call. If you’re coming my way I would love to offer you dinner and maybe a place to stay for at least one night of your trip.” His throat closed up on him and he felt moisture welling up in his eyes.
Rory moved in and pulled Steve in to a hug. “It was our pleasure to help you, Steve. You gave us three incredible nights of music that we will never forget and don’t be surprised if we do take you up on your generous offer. For now, you need to rest and we have to get home. Both of us have to work on Monday and it’s going to take us the weekend to readjust our sleeping schedules to get back to normal,” he chuckled and waved Jedd over to stand next to him. “Thank you. And keep in touch. Let us know how you’re doing once you get home?” he took the pad of paper and gave Steve their phone numbers.
Steve nodded and scrubbed his hands over his face. He received a final hug from both men and then they were gone leaving him alone with his thoughts and feelings of disappointment. It didn’t take long before the tears started to flow in earnest.
#####
Christian woke up hung over and grouchy late Friday morning. His mood took a turn for the worse when he realized he had nothing even remotely edible left in the house. He tossed down a couple of aspirin with a disgusting instant coffee chaser and headed to the shower so he could make himself presentable enough to go to the store.
After he’d dressed, Christian wandered back into the kitchen as he combed out his hair. He checked the cupboards, pantry, and fridge as he went, jotting down items on his list to make sure he wouldn’t forget anything. He glanced over to the end of the counter and spotted the nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels that was all that was left from his over-indulgence the night before. With a shrug he added it to the list. Steve wasn’t due back home for another two weeks and with the way things had been going so far, he might as well stock back up … just in case.
The shopping trip didn’t take long and Christian had everything put away in no time. By mid-afternoon he was ready to get back to the new music he had started working on the night before. No sooner had he gotten himself settled when his phone rang; it was the band’s manager. “Hey Eric. What’s up, man?”
“Um …” Eric’s uncharacteristic hesitation got Christian’s full attention. “I’m guessing you haven’t seen any photos of Steve’s show in London from tonight?” A cold chill swept through Christian at Eric’s grim tone but he couldn’t get his mouth to work. Eric’s sigh traveled noisily through the receiver. “Listen … after you see the pictures let me know if we have something we need to be worried about.”
Christian rubbed his tired eyes and pushed the guitar out of the way. “I don’t know what I’m gonna be able to tell ya, man. But I’ll get back to you.” Hanging up the phone, he wandered over to his makeshift work desk to power up his laptop and printer grabbing an unopened bottle of Jack along the way.
The pictures that had been posted online from the Friday night London gig rattled him beyond anything he had experienced in the past. With Steve looking like a drugged out crack addict as he was practically carried off the stage, it was easy to see why Eric was so concerned. After going straight through to Steve’s voicemail - again - Christian called Eric back and updated him with what he knew which - admittedly - wasn’t much. They decided to hold off on doing anything until one of them could speak directly to Steve.
#####
Christian couldn’t remember the last time he’d shown up for work as messed up as he was on Monday morning. He had gotten up an hour earlier than he needed to in order to shower off the alcohol tinged sweat he’d been covered in all night long. A stop at his favorite coffee shop was helping to quell the shaking in his hands. He reported immediately to hair and makeup as soon as he’d arrived at the studio and the girls were currently pampering him to their hearts content. What felt like a gallon of Visine managed to get rid of most of the redness in his eyes and cool packs on his face were easing the bags and other evidence left over from his foolish binge as he was treated to a luxurious shampoo and a soothing head massage.
After being primped to perfection, Christian finally escaped the clutches of the ladies with the full intention of locking himself in his trailer until he was needed. He knew he wasn’t fit company but his black mood could only enhance the ‘scary Eliot’ scenes that were set to film that day. Sights set on his destination, he started off across the mostly deserted studio lot.
“Christian! Hold up, man!” Aldis’ voice slowed him down but he didn’t stop walking. “Hey, man,” Aldis grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. “We need to talk …” the rest died on his lips as the younger man took in the thunderous expression staring back at him.
Christian stared at the hand on his arm until Aldis removed it on his own then he locked eyes with his friend and said, “No … we don’t need to talk. Not now.”
Aldis backed up a step … and then another. He held his hands up and said, “Okay. I hear you. But if you want to talk …” Christian snarled, turned on his heel and resumed his interrupted journey leaving a shaken Aldis standing there with his jaw hanging open. Aldis couldn’t wait to talk to Tim and get his take on the situation but for now he just needed to be someplace … else.
#####
Steve collapsed gratefully into the comfortable, spacious backseat of the town car Ian Levesque had waiting for him at the airport in Portland. As Adam, his driver, stashed the duffle bag and guitar with him, Steve leaned back and let exhaustion wash over him. Even with his pain medication and the pillows he’d been given when he checked out of the hospital for the second time, the twelve and a half hour flight had been brutal - even in first class. All he wanted to do was crash - hard - for at least a year or so.
The front door closing brought him back from his thoughts and Adam leaned over the front seat to ask, “Where are we headed?”
“Um …” Steve checked his watch. It was a little past three in the afternoon so Christian would still be at the studio. As much as Steve needed to be horizontal, he also needed to see his lover. Not having had any contact with Christian since the day of his mugging had him worried and Steve wanted to make sure he was all right. He gave Adam the address to the Leverage studio and said, “Is it okay if you wait there while I check on someone and then I’ll need one more ride after that.”
“You’re the boss,” Adam grinned with a flash of bright white teeth. “Just sit back and enjoy the ride. I’ll wake you up when we get there if you fall asleep.”
“Thanks, Adam,” Steve smiled tiredly. He reached for his cell phone and punched in an international number unsurprised when it went to voicemail as it was now very late in London. “Hello, Ian. It’s Steve Carlson. I wanted to let you know I made it safely to Portland. And thank you so much for everything you did to get me here; especially putting me in first class. I really, really appreciate it so much. I’ll stay in touch and let you know how I’m doing and I hope we can work something out for me to come back. Thanks again and bye for now.” He thought about trying to call Christian but he hadn’t even gotten a response to the message he’d left once he boarded the plane to tell Christian he was on his way home.
Putting the phone back in his pocket, Steve finally let himself relax and the smooth motion of the car lulled him into a light doze.
A gentle tug on his sleeve pulled Steve back to wakefulness. “We’re at the studio, Steve. I got us as close to the trailers as they’d let me but it’s still going to be a bit of a walk. The guy on the gate said that everyone’s on set but you can wait for Kane in his trailer.”
“Mmm … ‘kay,” Steve mumbled still half asleep and trying to get his fuzzy brain to catch up with everything Adam had said. “Um … you okay waiting here for a bit? I’ll try not to take too long.”
Adam pulled a book out of his backpack and waved it saying, “I’m good. Take your time. Oh! Don’t forget your meds; it should be about time for your next dose.”
“How …?” Steve started as he dug the bottles of pills out of his duffle.
“Mr. Levesque is very thorough,” Adam beamed and pushed his unruly blonde bangs out of his face.
“Thanks,” Steve snorted and levered himself out of the car. He had to wait a few moments until his legs decided they would hold him up and then he made his way unsteadily to Christian’s familiar home away from home.
Once inside, Steve grabbed a bottled water from the fridge and drained half of it taking the painkillers and his new antibiotics. Truth be told, he felt like shit. While the pain meds were mostly effective, the antibiotics made him nauseous. Doctor Collins had tried several different ones before they hit on one that would fight the infection in his kidneys but not have him barfing up his stomach lining as much as the first ones they had attempted; the nausea wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been but it was an ever present sensation in the pit of his belly.
Since he had no idea of when Christian might return, Steve made himself as comfortable as he could on the bench seat at the table. There was a folder sitting there; he let curiosity get the better of him and opened it. There were lots of photos inside of him from each of the London shows. He smiled at the early ones, especially the ones that had Rory and Jedd in them; those two had fast become good and loyal friends as they’d helped him through the crap that had rained down on him. When he saw the later photos he had no trouble understanding why Ian had called a halt to the tour. He really didn’t look good at all.
A wave of tiredness washed over him and Steve soon fell asleep with the pictures fanned out on the table in front of him.
As soon as the director called cut and print, Christian disappeared from the soundstage. He knew he wouldn’t be needed again for at least another hour and it was time to get back to his trailer before he wound up having to talk to someone. Aldis had apparently put up the ‘Kane Storm Warning’ flags after their early morning confrontation and he’d mostly been left alone any time he had been on set. The upside had been that he had nailed every scene he’d been in so far. There had been retakes for other mistakes and malfunctions but no one had any reason to complain about his performance so he had not gotten in trouble for showing up at the studio in the appalling condition he’d been in. His head was starting to throb again but that could easily be taken care of once he got back to his refuge and hit up the bottle of Excedrin he kept on hand at all times.
The interior of the trailer was cool and dim when he finally closed the door behind him so he didn’t see that he had a guest at first. He grabbed a cold bottle of water and shook two headache tablets into his mouth, dry swallowing them before chugging down the frosty cold contents of the water bottle. It wasn’t until he turned back around that he noticed the figure slumped on the bench seat at his table. He turned on the small light over the sink, snorted in disgust, and kicked at the foot that was now visible in the path back to the sleeping area. “What the fuck are you doin’ here?” he spat out as Steve began to drag himself out of a deep sleep. He scowled as he saw the two pill bottles still sitting on the table and then took in Steve’s hazy eyes. Not waiting for Steve to say anything, he kept right on going, “So … what? They get tired of your drunk, stoned, hung over ass over there in Europe and ship you home early? … Just what the fuck were you thinkin’, Carlson?” He picked up the photos and tossed them back down right in front of Steve. “Did you … did you conveniently forget that people would be takin’ pictures and posting them online? Or did you just not think I’d be interested in seein’ them since you couldn’t be bothered to call and leave me messages or anything; especially once you’d hooked up with those two pretty boys you were all over every night.”
Steve’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water but no words were forthcoming so Christian just plowed right on. “Oh and by the way? Eric called me Friday afternoon to let me know about the latest batch of pictures that went up after the show that night. He is Not Happy with you right now. Wanted to know if we had ‘an issue’ we needed to deal with. You know what I had to tell him?! I had to tell him I had no fuckin’ clue what was going on because I hadn’t heard from your sorry ass since Wednesday mornin’.”
“Wait … What?” Steve finally got his brain to produce words. “You didn’t get any of the messages I left for you?”
“I don’t know who the hell you thought you were drunk dialing but it sure as shit wasn’t me. All I kept getting’ were calls from a restricted number. God damned telemarketers. At least now that you’re back in this country I can change my fuckin’ number and lose ‘em.”
Steve’s eyes were wide and shocked in a face that was getting paler by the second. He was certain he’d been calling Christian; he knew he’d heard his lover’s voice on the other end of the line before he’d left those messages. So why … A light clicked on in his brain and he realized what had happened. “You … you didn’t bother to listen to any of the messages from the restricted numbers?” he asked softly.
“What? Why the fuck would I do that? I don’t need to be talkin’ to no telemarketers when I was waitin’ to hear from you!”
Before Steve could respond to Christian’s latest salvo, he felt the cell phone in his pocket vibrating. Thinking it might be Adam letting him know they had to go, he pulled the phone out and flipped it open. “Yeah, Carlson … Oh … Hello … You did? Really? When? … Uh, no. I’m not actually there any more. I came back to the States today … Where? … Uh, give me a minute? Thanks.” Steve looked over at Christian who was glaring daggers through him while he was on the phone. He knew what he wanted to do more than anything but there was a much bigger issue that needed to be dealt with and he just wasn’t up to it physically or emotionally. He made a snap decision and hoped that the shock of what he was about to do would smack some sense back into his lover’s stubborn head. “Um … listen, can you send the stuff here?” he gave the address to his parents’ house in Southern California. “Yeah, someone will be there to sign for it … Yeah … And thanks again.” He hung up and slumped back on the bench feeling completely drained; he was slightly bemused when he saw Christian gaping at the cell phone he was holding.
Christian grabbed the strange phone out of his lax fingers and looked it over. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s my temporary phone, Christian,” Steve didn’t even bother to open his eyes again until the silence stretched on for a few seconds. When he finally did he could have laughed at the perplexed expression on Christian’s face as he tried to work out the puzzle that had been laid out for him but the situation was far from funny. “Go ahead; check the number on that phone. I’ll bet you that it matches all but one of those ‘restricted’ calls you got.” He closed his eyes again and waited. His back was throbbing again even after taking the pain killers and now he really felt sick to his stomach. He felt his phone placed back into his hand and made an effort to sit up straight biting back a moan of pain.
“Why? … What? … I …”
Steve pushed himself up to his feet and stood there swaying. “Just tell me you didn’t delete all those messages,” he said evenly.
“No … I was goin’ to but I never got around to it.”
“You might want to listen to them then,” Steve said as he pocketed his meds and the cell phone and headed towards the door.
Christian grabbed him by the arm, much like Aldis had done to him that morning. “Where do you think you’re goin’, man? We’re not done here.”
Steve shook him off and this time he couldn’t suppress the pained groan that escaped his lips. “Christian, I feel like shit. I came here to see you and say hi before I found somewhere to lay down and die. All you’ve done since you walked in the door is bitch at me and you don’t even know the whole story because of your god damned pig-headed temper.” Christian opened his mouth to respond but shut it quickly as an uncharacteristic lethal glare from his lover cut him down. “I need to be gone right now before one of us says something we can’t take back.” He gestured to the photos strewn across the table. “You use those as ‘evidence’ against me for some ‘crime’ you perceived that I committed while I was away.” Opening the trailer door, Steve fired another shot, “The bottom line is, Christian, that you don’t trust me. You don’t trust me even knowing how much I love you. Have you forgotten so quickly what I was prepared to give up for you?” Steve’s eyes filled and he pressed his lips together to keep a sob from breaking free. As soon as he had a little control back he said, “Listen to those messages, Christian. I think you’ll find them enlightening.” With that, he exited and stumbled down the steps, nearly falling to his knees when he hit the ground.
He didn’t even remember walking across the back lot to where Adam was parked but he finally made it and nearly collapsed across the hood of the car. Adam was out quickly and hovering around trying to figure out what he could do to help. “Steve? What’s going on man?”
“Feel sick,” Steve gasped. Tears were streaming down his face and all he wanted was to be away from here - away from Christian.
Adam wrapped an arm around his shoulders and waved off the security guard he could see approaching. He had a feeling that the last thing his charge needed right now was a crowd watching him break down. He opened the rear door of the car and got Steve lying down across the wide seat before he reached to the dashboard and got the air conditioning running to cool down the interior. Next was grabbing a bottle of water from the ice chest he kept in the front passenger seat. “Here, sip on this. See if that helps.”
“Need to get away from here,” Steve sniffled and took several small swallows of the cool water. It seemed to do the trick and his stomach started to settle down.
“Okay,” Adam said. “Where are we going?”
Steve sagged back down on the seat; his mind was racing. He couldn’t stay, he knew that now but he was going to need help until he was reliably back on his feet. He chuckled softly as the obvious answer leapt into his brain. “I need to go back to the airport but I have one more stop to make first.”
“What? Are you sure you’re up to it?” Adam was concerned by Steve’s haggard appearance.
“Let me make a quick phone call first. But if Kane comes out of his trailer and starts heading towards the car, get us out of here and find somewhere else to park until I can finish making arrangements.”
“You got it,” Adam said. He was confused as hell but Ian Levesque had put this man in his care and he wasn’t about to do anything to upset him any further than he already was.
Steve fumbled his cell phone out and punched in a number that was as familiar as his own. When the call was picked up and he heard the much loved voice on the other end of the line, his control dissolved completely, “Mom …?” he whispered brokenly.
Christian was tempted to follow Steve immediately but he realized that the other man desperately needed some space and squashed the notion. Instead he picked up his own cell phone and retrieved all of the restricted messages he had blown off for nearly a week. He keyed in his password and picked up the earliest message …
“Chris? It’s me. I … I got mugged outside of the venue tonight. I’m - uh - in a local hospital overnight for observation but they should let me out tomorrow if the tests they did come out okay. They got my wallet and cell phone, Chris. I’m gonna try to get a temporary phone till I can get back to the States so I might not be calling much till I get home. Guess I’ll call Darren next. I need help getting my phone and credit cards shut off pretty quick. Don’t call me yet till I get the temporary phone; this one belongs to my driver. God, I miss you so much!”
Christian felt his heart shatter at the sound of pain and longing in Steve’s voice. His lover had been going through a hellish nightmare on his own since he’d left this voicemail and all Christian managed to do once they were back in the same room was snarl and snap at him like some rabid junkyard dog. He wanted to listen to the rest of the messages but he was scared to death to hear what was in them. What had happened after the mugging to make Steve look as awful as he had in those photos? Not to mention that he looked even worse now. And where the hell was he going now that he’d walked out looking about as defeated as Christian had ever seen him? He prayed that the man had sense enough to head to his - their - house so that they could talk when he was done working.
He flung open the trailer door just in time to see an unfamiliar black town car starting to pull out of the lot. “No!” he yelled. “Steve! … Wait! …” He started running towards the car but it only moved faster until it was too far away for him to catch up to it.
“Wait … I’m … I’m sorry,” he said softly but no one was there to hear it.
He stood rooted to the spot for a good five minutes before turning around and nearly running into one of the assistants on the current shoot. “Christian?” the young woman said hesitantly. “They’re ready for you again on set.”
“Thanks, darlin’,” he whispered. “Can you tell them I’ll be there in five - maybe ten - minutes? I need to go clean up a little.”
“Sure thing,” she responded brightly and trotted off to deliver his message.
“What the hell have I done?” he asked the empty space in front of him as he walked back to his trailer.
“Steve? … Steve!” Christian was calling his lover’s name before he even shut the front door of the house later that night. There were no lights on inside but as tired and ill as Steve had looked it wouldn’t have surprised him if the other man had headed straight to bed and collapsed. His heart fell as he walked into the bedroom and still could find no signs of his lover. Then he started noticing other things. The bed looked rumpled as if something had been placed on it and then removed. “Oh god!” Christian whimpered and flung open the closet, staring at the empty hangers where a few of Steve’s things had migrated for when he visited and didn’t feel like packing a lot of extra clothes. The dresser drawers Steve used were also empty and the supplies he tended to leave in the bathroom were gone as well.
Christian slumped on the foot of the bed and heard a metallic jangle. He didn’t think his heart could hurt any worse but found that he was completely wrong when he turned to see Steve’s house keys sitting on the mattress where they’d slid off of his pillow. Still sitting on the pillow was ‘The Photograph’. The one that had jogged his memory back all those months ago when he’d been recovering from the accident on set that had given him temporary amnesia. Steve’s words from earlier came back and hit him like a sledgehammer …
“The bottom line is, Christian, that you don’t trust me. You don’t trust me even knowing how much I love you. Have you forgotten so quickly what I was prepared to give up for you?”
And the thing was, he had forgotten. As much as he had known it would kill him inside, Steve had been willing to let Christian go if he hadn’t remembered their fledgling relationship on his own and Christian had thrown that back in Steve’s face by suspecting him of cheating the first time they had been apart for any significant length of time.
The pain in his chest was so acute that Christian actually started to wonder if he was having a stress-induced heart attack. As much as he felt he needed a drink, he also knew he was going to need a clear head to get through the rest of the night - and the rest of the week. They had a heavy shooting schedule to make up for all of the lost time the prior week and, even if he found out where Steve had gone to ground, there was no way he could try to follow him until they were done filming some time on Friday. He stumbled back to the kitchen and turned on the light before he grabbed a bottle of water, a pad of paper and a pen. He also picked up his cell phone. He was going to listen to the rest of Steve’s voicemails and wanted to make sure he didn’t miss anything while he put together a timeline of what had been going on in London while he’d had his head up his own ass here in Portland.
#####
It took longer than Christian wanted for him to figure out where Steve had gone after he’d left Portland Monday afternoon. None of their friends knew where he was and the fact that Darren and Rosalee had no idea either unnerved him more than he wanted to admit. When he struck out with everyone he could think of, he made a call to Ian Levesque to find out what he could about Steve’s injuries to see if that would give him a clue. If he’d thought he was worried before, finding out the extent of what had been done to his lover sent his protective streak into overdrive and he realized that Steve would have needed to go somewhere that he could count on someone for help with almost everything until he was healed up enough to take care of himself. He wasn’t even allowed to drive yet according to what Levesque told him. That bit of information led him to the only logical place for Steve to go to ground.
He tried calling Steve’s new cell phone and even left another message at the old number just in case but so far the only thing he’d gotten back was a brief text message from Steve’s new number letting him know he arrived at his destination safely and would talk to him later when he was feeling up to it. Christian decided to hell with that and as soon as filming wrapped Friday evening he’d been on a plane to Los Angeles so fast that he hadn’t bothered to pack anything to take with him on the brief overnight trip.
And now here he was … Sitting in a rental car outside a house that he wasn’t even sure he’d be welcome in any longer. “C’mon, Kane,” he groused to himself. “You’ve never been a coward before and now’s not the time to start.” He stepped out of the car and made sure it was locked before he proceeded up the walk and on to the front porch. To his disgust, his hand was shaking as he reached out to ring the bell and for a wild moment he was glad he’d come from the studio because his hair was down and tidy instead of being bunched up into a messy ponytail and hidden under a wool cap. It made him feel better knowing he looked presentable even if he still had a gut feeling that he might be heading to a gallows of his own making.
The door finally opened and he was staring into the cool eyes of a woman he’d come to think of as a second mama. “Christian,” she said and her tone was just as glacial as her eyes.
“Sandy … uh … Ma’am,” he mumbled and dropped his gaze.
She sighed and crossed her arms. “I suppose you want to see him.”
“Only if it’s okay with you, ma’am,” he still couldn’t look her in the eye.
“At least have the decency to look at me when you’re talking to me,” Sandy commanded sharply.
Christian obeyed immediately and let all of his defenses down, allowing her to see his pain and the humiliation at what he had done to her son.
“Oh, my poor boy,” she said and reached out to pull him into a hug. “Stevie’s out on the back porch. I’ll take you through. But if he’s sleeping please don’t wake him. He’s been very ill all week long.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Christian responded and felt something cold inside him melt when she wrapped her arm around his shoulders to steer him through the house to the airy, enclosed porch that was the length of the entire back of the building.
Christian’s eyes were immediately drawn to the man who was lying face down on the futon sofa; his face was turned towards the back of the couch. Steve was wearing a pair white cotton gauze shorts and the visible bruising on his lightly tanned lower back and legs was stark in comparison to the light color of the skimpy garment. Christian gasped in alarm and felt his knees beginning to give way; if it hadn’t been for Sandy’s strong grip on his arm he’d have landed hard on his ass.
“Oops,” she said and turned him around to head to the kitchen. Sitting him down at the kitchen table she handed him a glass of iced tea. “Are you okay?”
“After seein’ him, I’m not sure. Even talkin’ to Ian Levesque and getting’ the details I didn’t have a clue how bad he was going to look,” Christian sipped at his tea.
“It’s not just the bruising,” Sandy said quietly. “He picked up an infection in his kidneys from the blows to his back and the antibiotics are making him sick. There’s blood every time he goes to the bathroom. And he still has headaches from the knock on his head although those are very infrequent now.” Christian nodded remembering his own experiences with headaches after his accident on the set. Sandy continued, “We took him to his own doctor and they’ve tried other antibiotics but the ones that don’t make him sick don’t fight the infection as well. So, for now, we’re in a holding pattern. He takes the meds, he gets sick, and he falls asleep.”
Christian sighed and twisted his fingers together. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that things went down between the two of us the way they did. I was stupid and stubborn and had my head so far up my ass when he showed up at the studio. You have to believe I would have never let him walk away if I had any idea how bad off he was.”
“I was so angry with you when he showed up on our doorstep Monday night,” she admitted back to him. “It took everything he had to get here. I nearly slapped him right back in the hospital when he came close to collapsing on the front porch until I realized that a lot of what was upsetting him was emotional as well as physical.”
Finishing up his tea, Christian placed the glass carefully on the table and stood up slowly. “You’ll tell him I came by to see him?”
“Of course I will. But you’re not staying?”
”I have some interviews and stuff I need to do for the series back in Portland tomorrow so I need to fly back in the morning. I just … I needed to see him. To make sure he was … okay,” his voice wavered on the last word and he nearly lost it then.
Sandy stood and embraced him one more time. “I will tell him you came to see him but it will be up to him whether or not he wants to contact you right away. He’ll be here at least another week before he’s cleared to drive so you can call the house phone if you want to know how he’s doing.”
“Thanks, Sandy. I appreciate that. And I understand and respect his need for space.” Christian moved away and took one more look at Steve’s still form lying on the futon. “I will make this right. I don’t know how but I will make this right.”
Christian leaned in to kiss Steve’s amazing mom on her sweet-smelling cheek and took his leave. As he drove away his brain was already spinning, trying to come up with something he could do that would bring Steve back to him.
#####
The End
http://hollylyn1217.livejournal.com/122899.html
Author: Holly Lyn
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Chris/Steve
Word Count: 26,486 (total)
Series/Sequel: Between You And Me #02 http://chrisandsteve.livejournal.com/330443.html
Category: romance, drama, angst, hurt/comfort
Summary: Sometimes things aren’t what they seem. When tempers fly in the aftermath can the damage be undone?
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone ... damn it! It's all fictional and just for fun!
Steve’s day hadn’t started badly at all. The nighttime medication had knocked him out almost immediately once Graham had gotten him back to their hotel and settled after the second show. He’d slept the entire night through and woke feeling refreshed and ready to go. He made sure to pack his daytime painkillers and plenty of bottled water in his duffle bag before Graham shepherded him to the car and whisked him off to the convention center.
As Graham took them on another scenic route past Buckingham Palace, Steve grabbed his phone and placed another call to Christian. “G’mornin’, baby. When you get this you should only be a day’s shooting schedule away from a relaxing weekend. Maybe we’ll have better luck connecting when we’re both not running around like a couple of idiots. Anyway, I’m on my way to the convention after a bit of a scare with my back last night. I’ve got Q and A, autograph, and photograph sessions scheduled into early afternoon but will get some down time in between those and another gig tonight. Take it easy today and I’ll try to connect with you later. I love you and miss you so much. Call me and let me know how you’re doing, okay? Bye.”
Steve breezed through the Q and A and autograph sessions. The convention organizers had been apprised of his injuries and comfortable chairs with supporting pillows had been provided for him to use at each event. Unfortunately, the photograph session required him to be on his feet for over an hour and by the end of that time he was feeling it in his spine and knees. Arrangements were made for him to have a private room to rest in once the session was done so he could recharge his batteries before his performance in the evening. He woke from his nap in pain but, surprisingly, this time the culprit wasn’t his back or legs but a low-grade nagging headache that began at the base of his head - the site where he’d been struck the night of the mugging - and slowly gained in intensity as the concert went on.
‘I will not throw up … I will not pass out … I will not throw up … I will not pass out’. Those two simple phrases became Steve’s silent mantra as the gig plodded on; the massive headache was threatening to blow his skull apart from the inside out.
He barely made it through the set and knew in his heart he had not given one of his better performances; he just hoped he’d get a chance to come back and make it up to the fans, especially the ones who had traveled so far to see him. He was pale, sweaty, and shaking as the final notes faded and he thanked the audience for coming. Spotting his two young saviors off to one side and up close he spoke into the microphone, “Rory, Jedd, can I ask you guys to help me out one more time?” he asked and hoped he didn’t sound as pathetic as he felt.
Steve could have sworn he only blinked but when his eyes opened back up, Jedd and Rory were flanking him and hovering like expectant fathers. Rory was holding his guitar and Jedd was keeping Steve from pitching head first off of the stage. “You got someplace you can lie down?” Jedd asked quietly.
Not trusting that he wouldn’t puke the minute he opened his mouth, Steve just nodded and pointed in the direction of stage left. His escorts let him make it to his feet at his own pace before they wrapped their arms around him and steered him away from the gaping fans and their flashing cameras.
The trio barely made it to the private room Steve had used before when his legs gave out and he sagged to his knees. That seemed to be the trigger for everything to hit him all at once. Steve’s face twisted in pain as he grabbed his head and his insides began to heave. He expelled the contents of his stomach and slumped to the floor unconscious.
“Oh shit!” Jedd’s brown eyes were enormous in a pasty pale face.
Rory was already on the move; he carefully put Steve in the recovery position on the floor and said, “Go find Mr. Levesque. Tell him what happened and that I’ve already got emergency services on the way.” Jedd bolted from the room and Rory kept working on Steve. He grabbed a pillow and blanket from the cot Steve had napped on earlier. Before covering him up, though, he loosened the collar, cuffs, and waistband of Steve’s shirt and jeans and removed his sneakers.
By the time Rory got off the phone with emergency services, they were fully aware of Steve’s prior injuries and Jedd was returning with Ian Levesque in tow.
“I never should have let him do all of this today,” Ian said in a shocked voice as he got his first look at Steve.
“I’m sure there was nothing you could have done to dissuade him, sir,” Rory responded. “He’s been adamant all along that he wanted to continue with the bookings you arranged.”
The paramedics finally arrived and in no time Steve was bundled up and ready for transport. The information Rory had passed along to the dispatcher enabled them to dive right in without asking a lot of unnecessary questions. “We’ll be taking him back to Mercy General,” one of them said. “Doctor Collins is already waiting for him.”
“Thank you,” Ian answered as Steve was wheeled away to the waiting ambulance. Levesque turned to Rory and Jedd, “You two can ride with me to the hospital and I’ll have Graham bring you home when we hear how Steve’s doing. I doubt they’ll be letting him go home tonight.”
Rory nodded. “Thank you, sir. We’d like that.” Jedd nodded in agreement as the three men filed out of the room.
“Well, hello again, gentlemen,” Dr. Collins smiled in greeting as he walked into the waiting room several hours later. “We’ve got Steve settled in the same room as last time. He’s awake and highly embarrassed. Let’s go see him and I’ll bring you all up to speed at the same time.”
Steve was fiddling with the plastic hospital bracelet and scowling down at the IV lines running out of his right hand when Dr. Collins showed his three friends into his hospital room. He looked up but dropped his eyes back to the blanket covering his legs and didn’t say a word.
“Let’s get to it, shall we?” Dr. Collins said quickly to smooth over the awkward moment. “Steve, the good news is that the tests and scans we ran didn’t reveal any new damage to the original injury sites. The headache and nausea you experienced this evening were probably brought on by you trying to do too much.” Steve shrugged and still refused to make eye contact with anyone else in the room. “The bad news is that you are showing signs of an infection in your kidneys from the hard blows you took to your back. We’ve got you started on a round of intravenous antibiotics and will add another oral prescription to the ones you already have before we’re ready to release you; we want to make sure you won’t have any adverse reactions to them.” There was still no response from the man in the bed and Collins was starting to worry. “Steve?” he prompted.
“I’m guessing I’m not getting out of here tonight?” he mumbled and picked at his blanket.
Collins sighed. “I’m afraid not, son. The earliest you’re going to get out of here is Sunday depending on how well your kidneys respond to the antibiotics. We’re also going to monitor that hard head of yours a little more closely so we don’t have a repeat of tonight’s little episode.” Steve went back to shrugging.
“How soon can he travel?” Ian asked the doctor.
“Travel as in …”
“Putting him on a plane back to the United States,” Ian said in a tone that brooked no argument. At that Steve’s head finally came up and he fixed pained eyes on Levesque. “Steve, I appreciate that you want very much to continue on but I won’t risk your health in order for you to do that. You’ve done some good work on this trip; everyone is excited about your catalogue of music and we will certainly have no problem inviting you back again to continue on your tour around Europe. In fact, I’m hoping we can connect once you’ve recuperated from the unfortunate events that have happened and try to set up something for later this year.”
“Okay,” Steve said and exhaled noisily. He brushed at his eyes with his unencumbered left hand and turned his head away.
Dr. Collins rejoined the conversation, “If we release him on Sunday, I see no reason why he can’t be on a flight home on Monday. Just make sure there is adequate cushioning for his back as his kidneys will be extra sensitive while he’s on the drugs and that’s a very long flight. I also don’t want him driving himself for at least a week to make sure there won’t be a repeat of him passing out. And someone else will need to carry any luggage for him.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Steve said softly. “The airline never found my stuff and I won’t be bringing any of what I bought here back with me.” His smile was faint and wry, “No offense but it’s just not my style. I’ll keep the duffle bag I bought and put what little I have left in that. Carry on all the way with the mostly empty duffle and my guitar.” He closed his eyes and bit his trembling lips.
“Well, now that’s settled, how about we let Steve get some rest,” Dr. Collins started herding the other men out of the room realizing that his patient was on the verge of losing control.
“Hold on, doc,” Steve called out. “Can I talk to Rory and Jedd alone for a few minutes?”
“I’ll be waiting outside with Graham to take you lads home when you’re done,” Ian said and left with the doctor.
When they were finally alone Steve looked up at the two young men who had been so good to him during all of the shit that had gone on during the trip. “Guys … I don’t … I don’t know what to say. You’ve been wonderful from day one and I can’t thank you enough for your help.” He grabbed a pad and pen off of the bedside table and scribbled down his phone numbers. “The top number is for the temporary phone I have now. The second one is my real number. I’ll try to have it replaced within a week or so of getting home. If you need anything you call me; if I can help you, you have my word that I will. And if you ever travel to the States, give me a call. If you’re coming my way I would love to offer you dinner and maybe a place to stay for at least one night of your trip.” His throat closed up on him and he felt moisture welling up in his eyes.
Rory moved in and pulled Steve in to a hug. “It was our pleasure to help you, Steve. You gave us three incredible nights of music that we will never forget and don’t be surprised if we do take you up on your generous offer. For now, you need to rest and we have to get home. Both of us have to work on Monday and it’s going to take us the weekend to readjust our sleeping schedules to get back to normal,” he chuckled and waved Jedd over to stand next to him. “Thank you. And keep in touch. Let us know how you’re doing once you get home?” he took the pad of paper and gave Steve their phone numbers.
Steve nodded and scrubbed his hands over his face. He received a final hug from both men and then they were gone leaving him alone with his thoughts and feelings of disappointment. It didn’t take long before the tears started to flow in earnest.
#####
Christian woke up hung over and grouchy late Friday morning. His mood took a turn for the worse when he realized he had nothing even remotely edible left in the house. He tossed down a couple of aspirin with a disgusting instant coffee chaser and headed to the shower so he could make himself presentable enough to go to the store.
After he’d dressed, Christian wandered back into the kitchen as he combed out his hair. He checked the cupboards, pantry, and fridge as he went, jotting down items on his list to make sure he wouldn’t forget anything. He glanced over to the end of the counter and spotted the nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels that was all that was left from his over-indulgence the night before. With a shrug he added it to the list. Steve wasn’t due back home for another two weeks and with the way things had been going so far, he might as well stock back up … just in case.
The shopping trip didn’t take long and Christian had everything put away in no time. By mid-afternoon he was ready to get back to the new music he had started working on the night before. No sooner had he gotten himself settled when his phone rang; it was the band’s manager. “Hey Eric. What’s up, man?”
“Um …” Eric’s uncharacteristic hesitation got Christian’s full attention. “I’m guessing you haven’t seen any photos of Steve’s show in London from tonight?” A cold chill swept through Christian at Eric’s grim tone but he couldn’t get his mouth to work. Eric’s sigh traveled noisily through the receiver. “Listen … after you see the pictures let me know if we have something we need to be worried about.”
Christian rubbed his tired eyes and pushed the guitar out of the way. “I don’t know what I’m gonna be able to tell ya, man. But I’ll get back to you.” Hanging up the phone, he wandered over to his makeshift work desk to power up his laptop and printer grabbing an unopened bottle of Jack along the way.
The pictures that had been posted online from the Friday night London gig rattled him beyond anything he had experienced in the past. With Steve looking like a drugged out crack addict as he was practically carried off the stage, it was easy to see why Eric was so concerned. After going straight through to Steve’s voicemail - again - Christian called Eric back and updated him with what he knew which - admittedly - wasn’t much. They decided to hold off on doing anything until one of them could speak directly to Steve.
#####
Christian couldn’t remember the last time he’d shown up for work as messed up as he was on Monday morning. He had gotten up an hour earlier than he needed to in order to shower off the alcohol tinged sweat he’d been covered in all night long. A stop at his favorite coffee shop was helping to quell the shaking in his hands. He reported immediately to hair and makeup as soon as he’d arrived at the studio and the girls were currently pampering him to their hearts content. What felt like a gallon of Visine managed to get rid of most of the redness in his eyes and cool packs on his face were easing the bags and other evidence left over from his foolish binge as he was treated to a luxurious shampoo and a soothing head massage.
After being primped to perfection, Christian finally escaped the clutches of the ladies with the full intention of locking himself in his trailer until he was needed. He knew he wasn’t fit company but his black mood could only enhance the ‘scary Eliot’ scenes that were set to film that day. Sights set on his destination, he started off across the mostly deserted studio lot.
“Christian! Hold up, man!” Aldis’ voice slowed him down but he didn’t stop walking. “Hey, man,” Aldis grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. “We need to talk …” the rest died on his lips as the younger man took in the thunderous expression staring back at him.
Christian stared at the hand on his arm until Aldis removed it on his own then he locked eyes with his friend and said, “No … we don’t need to talk. Not now.”
Aldis backed up a step … and then another. He held his hands up and said, “Okay. I hear you. But if you want to talk …” Christian snarled, turned on his heel and resumed his interrupted journey leaving a shaken Aldis standing there with his jaw hanging open. Aldis couldn’t wait to talk to Tim and get his take on the situation but for now he just needed to be someplace … else.
#####
Steve collapsed gratefully into the comfortable, spacious backseat of the town car Ian Levesque had waiting for him at the airport in Portland. As Adam, his driver, stashed the duffle bag and guitar with him, Steve leaned back and let exhaustion wash over him. Even with his pain medication and the pillows he’d been given when he checked out of the hospital for the second time, the twelve and a half hour flight had been brutal - even in first class. All he wanted to do was crash - hard - for at least a year or so.
The front door closing brought him back from his thoughts and Adam leaned over the front seat to ask, “Where are we headed?”
“Um …” Steve checked his watch. It was a little past three in the afternoon so Christian would still be at the studio. As much as Steve needed to be horizontal, he also needed to see his lover. Not having had any contact with Christian since the day of his mugging had him worried and Steve wanted to make sure he was all right. He gave Adam the address to the Leverage studio and said, “Is it okay if you wait there while I check on someone and then I’ll need one more ride after that.”
“You’re the boss,” Adam grinned with a flash of bright white teeth. “Just sit back and enjoy the ride. I’ll wake you up when we get there if you fall asleep.”
“Thanks, Adam,” Steve smiled tiredly. He reached for his cell phone and punched in an international number unsurprised when it went to voicemail as it was now very late in London. “Hello, Ian. It’s Steve Carlson. I wanted to let you know I made it safely to Portland. And thank you so much for everything you did to get me here; especially putting me in first class. I really, really appreciate it so much. I’ll stay in touch and let you know how I’m doing and I hope we can work something out for me to come back. Thanks again and bye for now.” He thought about trying to call Christian but he hadn’t even gotten a response to the message he’d left once he boarded the plane to tell Christian he was on his way home.
Putting the phone back in his pocket, Steve finally let himself relax and the smooth motion of the car lulled him into a light doze.
A gentle tug on his sleeve pulled Steve back to wakefulness. “We’re at the studio, Steve. I got us as close to the trailers as they’d let me but it’s still going to be a bit of a walk. The guy on the gate said that everyone’s on set but you can wait for Kane in his trailer.”
“Mmm … ‘kay,” Steve mumbled still half asleep and trying to get his fuzzy brain to catch up with everything Adam had said. “Um … you okay waiting here for a bit? I’ll try not to take too long.”
Adam pulled a book out of his backpack and waved it saying, “I’m good. Take your time. Oh! Don’t forget your meds; it should be about time for your next dose.”
“How …?” Steve started as he dug the bottles of pills out of his duffle.
“Mr. Levesque is very thorough,” Adam beamed and pushed his unruly blonde bangs out of his face.
“Thanks,” Steve snorted and levered himself out of the car. He had to wait a few moments until his legs decided they would hold him up and then he made his way unsteadily to Christian’s familiar home away from home.
Once inside, Steve grabbed a bottled water from the fridge and drained half of it taking the painkillers and his new antibiotics. Truth be told, he felt like shit. While the pain meds were mostly effective, the antibiotics made him nauseous. Doctor Collins had tried several different ones before they hit on one that would fight the infection in his kidneys but not have him barfing up his stomach lining as much as the first ones they had attempted; the nausea wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been but it was an ever present sensation in the pit of his belly.
Since he had no idea of when Christian might return, Steve made himself as comfortable as he could on the bench seat at the table. There was a folder sitting there; he let curiosity get the better of him and opened it. There were lots of photos inside of him from each of the London shows. He smiled at the early ones, especially the ones that had Rory and Jedd in them; those two had fast become good and loyal friends as they’d helped him through the crap that had rained down on him. When he saw the later photos he had no trouble understanding why Ian had called a halt to the tour. He really didn’t look good at all.
A wave of tiredness washed over him and Steve soon fell asleep with the pictures fanned out on the table in front of him.
As soon as the director called cut and print, Christian disappeared from the soundstage. He knew he wouldn’t be needed again for at least another hour and it was time to get back to his trailer before he wound up having to talk to someone. Aldis had apparently put up the ‘Kane Storm Warning’ flags after their early morning confrontation and he’d mostly been left alone any time he had been on set. The upside had been that he had nailed every scene he’d been in so far. There had been retakes for other mistakes and malfunctions but no one had any reason to complain about his performance so he had not gotten in trouble for showing up at the studio in the appalling condition he’d been in. His head was starting to throb again but that could easily be taken care of once he got back to his refuge and hit up the bottle of Excedrin he kept on hand at all times.
The interior of the trailer was cool and dim when he finally closed the door behind him so he didn’t see that he had a guest at first. He grabbed a cold bottle of water and shook two headache tablets into his mouth, dry swallowing them before chugging down the frosty cold contents of the water bottle. It wasn’t until he turned back around that he noticed the figure slumped on the bench seat at his table. He turned on the small light over the sink, snorted in disgust, and kicked at the foot that was now visible in the path back to the sleeping area. “What the fuck are you doin’ here?” he spat out as Steve began to drag himself out of a deep sleep. He scowled as he saw the two pill bottles still sitting on the table and then took in Steve’s hazy eyes. Not waiting for Steve to say anything, he kept right on going, “So … what? They get tired of your drunk, stoned, hung over ass over there in Europe and ship you home early? … Just what the fuck were you thinkin’, Carlson?” He picked up the photos and tossed them back down right in front of Steve. “Did you … did you conveniently forget that people would be takin’ pictures and posting them online? Or did you just not think I’d be interested in seein’ them since you couldn’t be bothered to call and leave me messages or anything; especially once you’d hooked up with those two pretty boys you were all over every night.”
Steve’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water but no words were forthcoming so Christian just plowed right on. “Oh and by the way? Eric called me Friday afternoon to let me know about the latest batch of pictures that went up after the show that night. He is Not Happy with you right now. Wanted to know if we had ‘an issue’ we needed to deal with. You know what I had to tell him?! I had to tell him I had no fuckin’ clue what was going on because I hadn’t heard from your sorry ass since Wednesday mornin’.”
“Wait … What?” Steve finally got his brain to produce words. “You didn’t get any of the messages I left for you?”
“I don’t know who the hell you thought you were drunk dialing but it sure as shit wasn’t me. All I kept getting’ were calls from a restricted number. God damned telemarketers. At least now that you’re back in this country I can change my fuckin’ number and lose ‘em.”
Steve’s eyes were wide and shocked in a face that was getting paler by the second. He was certain he’d been calling Christian; he knew he’d heard his lover’s voice on the other end of the line before he’d left those messages. So why … A light clicked on in his brain and he realized what had happened. “You … you didn’t bother to listen to any of the messages from the restricted numbers?” he asked softly.
“What? Why the fuck would I do that? I don’t need to be talkin’ to no telemarketers when I was waitin’ to hear from you!”
Before Steve could respond to Christian’s latest salvo, he felt the cell phone in his pocket vibrating. Thinking it might be Adam letting him know they had to go, he pulled the phone out and flipped it open. “Yeah, Carlson … Oh … Hello … You did? Really? When? … Uh, no. I’m not actually there any more. I came back to the States today … Where? … Uh, give me a minute? Thanks.” Steve looked over at Christian who was glaring daggers through him while he was on the phone. He knew what he wanted to do more than anything but there was a much bigger issue that needed to be dealt with and he just wasn’t up to it physically or emotionally. He made a snap decision and hoped that the shock of what he was about to do would smack some sense back into his lover’s stubborn head. “Um … listen, can you send the stuff here?” he gave the address to his parents’ house in Southern California. “Yeah, someone will be there to sign for it … Yeah … And thanks again.” He hung up and slumped back on the bench feeling completely drained; he was slightly bemused when he saw Christian gaping at the cell phone he was holding.
Christian grabbed the strange phone out of his lax fingers and looked it over. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s my temporary phone, Christian,” Steve didn’t even bother to open his eyes again until the silence stretched on for a few seconds. When he finally did he could have laughed at the perplexed expression on Christian’s face as he tried to work out the puzzle that had been laid out for him but the situation was far from funny. “Go ahead; check the number on that phone. I’ll bet you that it matches all but one of those ‘restricted’ calls you got.” He closed his eyes again and waited. His back was throbbing again even after taking the pain killers and now he really felt sick to his stomach. He felt his phone placed back into his hand and made an effort to sit up straight biting back a moan of pain.
“Why? … What? … I …”
Steve pushed himself up to his feet and stood there swaying. “Just tell me you didn’t delete all those messages,” he said evenly.
“No … I was goin’ to but I never got around to it.”
“You might want to listen to them then,” Steve said as he pocketed his meds and the cell phone and headed towards the door.
Christian grabbed him by the arm, much like Aldis had done to him that morning. “Where do you think you’re goin’, man? We’re not done here.”
Steve shook him off and this time he couldn’t suppress the pained groan that escaped his lips. “Christian, I feel like shit. I came here to see you and say hi before I found somewhere to lay down and die. All you’ve done since you walked in the door is bitch at me and you don’t even know the whole story because of your god damned pig-headed temper.” Christian opened his mouth to respond but shut it quickly as an uncharacteristic lethal glare from his lover cut him down. “I need to be gone right now before one of us says something we can’t take back.” He gestured to the photos strewn across the table. “You use those as ‘evidence’ against me for some ‘crime’ you perceived that I committed while I was away.” Opening the trailer door, Steve fired another shot, “The bottom line is, Christian, that you don’t trust me. You don’t trust me even knowing how much I love you. Have you forgotten so quickly what I was prepared to give up for you?” Steve’s eyes filled and he pressed his lips together to keep a sob from breaking free. As soon as he had a little control back he said, “Listen to those messages, Christian. I think you’ll find them enlightening.” With that, he exited and stumbled down the steps, nearly falling to his knees when he hit the ground.
He didn’t even remember walking across the back lot to where Adam was parked but he finally made it and nearly collapsed across the hood of the car. Adam was out quickly and hovering around trying to figure out what he could do to help. “Steve? What’s going on man?”
“Feel sick,” Steve gasped. Tears were streaming down his face and all he wanted was to be away from here - away from Christian.
Adam wrapped an arm around his shoulders and waved off the security guard he could see approaching. He had a feeling that the last thing his charge needed right now was a crowd watching him break down. He opened the rear door of the car and got Steve lying down across the wide seat before he reached to the dashboard and got the air conditioning running to cool down the interior. Next was grabbing a bottle of water from the ice chest he kept in the front passenger seat. “Here, sip on this. See if that helps.”
“Need to get away from here,” Steve sniffled and took several small swallows of the cool water. It seemed to do the trick and his stomach started to settle down.
“Okay,” Adam said. “Where are we going?”
Steve sagged back down on the seat; his mind was racing. He couldn’t stay, he knew that now but he was going to need help until he was reliably back on his feet. He chuckled softly as the obvious answer leapt into his brain. “I need to go back to the airport but I have one more stop to make first.”
“What? Are you sure you’re up to it?” Adam was concerned by Steve’s haggard appearance.
“Let me make a quick phone call first. But if Kane comes out of his trailer and starts heading towards the car, get us out of here and find somewhere else to park until I can finish making arrangements.”
“You got it,” Adam said. He was confused as hell but Ian Levesque had put this man in his care and he wasn’t about to do anything to upset him any further than he already was.
Steve fumbled his cell phone out and punched in a number that was as familiar as his own. When the call was picked up and he heard the much loved voice on the other end of the line, his control dissolved completely, “Mom …?” he whispered brokenly.
Christian was tempted to follow Steve immediately but he realized that the other man desperately needed some space and squashed the notion. Instead he picked up his own cell phone and retrieved all of the restricted messages he had blown off for nearly a week. He keyed in his password and picked up the earliest message …
“Chris? It’s me. I … I got mugged outside of the venue tonight. I’m - uh - in a local hospital overnight for observation but they should let me out tomorrow if the tests they did come out okay. They got my wallet and cell phone, Chris. I’m gonna try to get a temporary phone till I can get back to the States so I might not be calling much till I get home. Guess I’ll call Darren next. I need help getting my phone and credit cards shut off pretty quick. Don’t call me yet till I get the temporary phone; this one belongs to my driver. God, I miss you so much!”
Christian felt his heart shatter at the sound of pain and longing in Steve’s voice. His lover had been going through a hellish nightmare on his own since he’d left this voicemail and all Christian managed to do once they were back in the same room was snarl and snap at him like some rabid junkyard dog. He wanted to listen to the rest of the messages but he was scared to death to hear what was in them. What had happened after the mugging to make Steve look as awful as he had in those photos? Not to mention that he looked even worse now. And where the hell was he going now that he’d walked out looking about as defeated as Christian had ever seen him? He prayed that the man had sense enough to head to his - their - house so that they could talk when he was done working.
He flung open the trailer door just in time to see an unfamiliar black town car starting to pull out of the lot. “No!” he yelled. “Steve! … Wait! …” He started running towards the car but it only moved faster until it was too far away for him to catch up to it.
“Wait … I’m … I’m sorry,” he said softly but no one was there to hear it.
He stood rooted to the spot for a good five minutes before turning around and nearly running into one of the assistants on the current shoot. “Christian?” the young woman said hesitantly. “They’re ready for you again on set.”
“Thanks, darlin’,” he whispered. “Can you tell them I’ll be there in five - maybe ten - minutes? I need to go clean up a little.”
“Sure thing,” she responded brightly and trotted off to deliver his message.
“What the hell have I done?” he asked the empty space in front of him as he walked back to his trailer.
“Steve? … Steve!” Christian was calling his lover’s name before he even shut the front door of the house later that night. There were no lights on inside but as tired and ill as Steve had looked it wouldn’t have surprised him if the other man had headed straight to bed and collapsed. His heart fell as he walked into the bedroom and still could find no signs of his lover. Then he started noticing other things. The bed looked rumpled as if something had been placed on it and then removed. “Oh god!” Christian whimpered and flung open the closet, staring at the empty hangers where a few of Steve’s things had migrated for when he visited and didn’t feel like packing a lot of extra clothes. The dresser drawers Steve used were also empty and the supplies he tended to leave in the bathroom were gone as well.
Christian slumped on the foot of the bed and heard a metallic jangle. He didn’t think his heart could hurt any worse but found that he was completely wrong when he turned to see Steve’s house keys sitting on the mattress where they’d slid off of his pillow. Still sitting on the pillow was ‘The Photograph’. The one that had jogged his memory back all those months ago when he’d been recovering from the accident on set that had given him temporary amnesia. Steve’s words from earlier came back and hit him like a sledgehammer …
“The bottom line is, Christian, that you don’t trust me. You don’t trust me even knowing how much I love you. Have you forgotten so quickly what I was prepared to give up for you?”
And the thing was, he had forgotten. As much as he had known it would kill him inside, Steve had been willing to let Christian go if he hadn’t remembered their fledgling relationship on his own and Christian had thrown that back in Steve’s face by suspecting him of cheating the first time they had been apart for any significant length of time.
The pain in his chest was so acute that Christian actually started to wonder if he was having a stress-induced heart attack. As much as he felt he needed a drink, he also knew he was going to need a clear head to get through the rest of the night - and the rest of the week. They had a heavy shooting schedule to make up for all of the lost time the prior week and, even if he found out where Steve had gone to ground, there was no way he could try to follow him until they were done filming some time on Friday. He stumbled back to the kitchen and turned on the light before he grabbed a bottle of water, a pad of paper and a pen. He also picked up his cell phone. He was going to listen to the rest of Steve’s voicemails and wanted to make sure he didn’t miss anything while he put together a timeline of what had been going on in London while he’d had his head up his own ass here in Portland.
#####
It took longer than Christian wanted for him to figure out where Steve had gone after he’d left Portland Monday afternoon. None of their friends knew where he was and the fact that Darren and Rosalee had no idea either unnerved him more than he wanted to admit. When he struck out with everyone he could think of, he made a call to Ian Levesque to find out what he could about Steve’s injuries to see if that would give him a clue. If he’d thought he was worried before, finding out the extent of what had been done to his lover sent his protective streak into overdrive and he realized that Steve would have needed to go somewhere that he could count on someone for help with almost everything until he was healed up enough to take care of himself. He wasn’t even allowed to drive yet according to what Levesque told him. That bit of information led him to the only logical place for Steve to go to ground.
He tried calling Steve’s new cell phone and even left another message at the old number just in case but so far the only thing he’d gotten back was a brief text message from Steve’s new number letting him know he arrived at his destination safely and would talk to him later when he was feeling up to it. Christian decided to hell with that and as soon as filming wrapped Friday evening he’d been on a plane to Los Angeles so fast that he hadn’t bothered to pack anything to take with him on the brief overnight trip.
And now here he was … Sitting in a rental car outside a house that he wasn’t even sure he’d be welcome in any longer. “C’mon, Kane,” he groused to himself. “You’ve never been a coward before and now’s not the time to start.” He stepped out of the car and made sure it was locked before he proceeded up the walk and on to the front porch. To his disgust, his hand was shaking as he reached out to ring the bell and for a wild moment he was glad he’d come from the studio because his hair was down and tidy instead of being bunched up into a messy ponytail and hidden under a wool cap. It made him feel better knowing he looked presentable even if he still had a gut feeling that he might be heading to a gallows of his own making.
The door finally opened and he was staring into the cool eyes of a woman he’d come to think of as a second mama. “Christian,” she said and her tone was just as glacial as her eyes.
“Sandy … uh … Ma’am,” he mumbled and dropped his gaze.
She sighed and crossed her arms. “I suppose you want to see him.”
“Only if it’s okay with you, ma’am,” he still couldn’t look her in the eye.
“At least have the decency to look at me when you’re talking to me,” Sandy commanded sharply.
Christian obeyed immediately and let all of his defenses down, allowing her to see his pain and the humiliation at what he had done to her son.
“Oh, my poor boy,” she said and reached out to pull him into a hug. “Stevie’s out on the back porch. I’ll take you through. But if he’s sleeping please don’t wake him. He’s been very ill all week long.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Christian responded and felt something cold inside him melt when she wrapped her arm around his shoulders to steer him through the house to the airy, enclosed porch that was the length of the entire back of the building.
Christian’s eyes were immediately drawn to the man who was lying face down on the futon sofa; his face was turned towards the back of the couch. Steve was wearing a pair white cotton gauze shorts and the visible bruising on his lightly tanned lower back and legs was stark in comparison to the light color of the skimpy garment. Christian gasped in alarm and felt his knees beginning to give way; if it hadn’t been for Sandy’s strong grip on his arm he’d have landed hard on his ass.
“Oops,” she said and turned him around to head to the kitchen. Sitting him down at the kitchen table she handed him a glass of iced tea. “Are you okay?”
“After seein’ him, I’m not sure. Even talkin’ to Ian Levesque and getting’ the details I didn’t have a clue how bad he was going to look,” Christian sipped at his tea.
“It’s not just the bruising,” Sandy said quietly. “He picked up an infection in his kidneys from the blows to his back and the antibiotics are making him sick. There’s blood every time he goes to the bathroom. And he still has headaches from the knock on his head although those are very infrequent now.” Christian nodded remembering his own experiences with headaches after his accident on the set. Sandy continued, “We took him to his own doctor and they’ve tried other antibiotics but the ones that don’t make him sick don’t fight the infection as well. So, for now, we’re in a holding pattern. He takes the meds, he gets sick, and he falls asleep.”
Christian sighed and twisted his fingers together. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that things went down between the two of us the way they did. I was stupid and stubborn and had my head so far up my ass when he showed up at the studio. You have to believe I would have never let him walk away if I had any idea how bad off he was.”
“I was so angry with you when he showed up on our doorstep Monday night,” she admitted back to him. “It took everything he had to get here. I nearly slapped him right back in the hospital when he came close to collapsing on the front porch until I realized that a lot of what was upsetting him was emotional as well as physical.”
Finishing up his tea, Christian placed the glass carefully on the table and stood up slowly. “You’ll tell him I came by to see him?”
“Of course I will. But you’re not staying?”
”I have some interviews and stuff I need to do for the series back in Portland tomorrow so I need to fly back in the morning. I just … I needed to see him. To make sure he was … okay,” his voice wavered on the last word and he nearly lost it then.
Sandy stood and embraced him one more time. “I will tell him you came to see him but it will be up to him whether or not he wants to contact you right away. He’ll be here at least another week before he’s cleared to drive so you can call the house phone if you want to know how he’s doing.”
“Thanks, Sandy. I appreciate that. And I understand and respect his need for space.” Christian moved away and took one more look at Steve’s still form lying on the futon. “I will make this right. I don’t know how but I will make this right.”
Christian leaned in to kiss Steve’s amazing mom on her sweet-smelling cheek and took his leave. As he drove away his brain was already spinning, trying to come up with something he could do that would bring Steve back to him.
#####
The End
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