Title: Star Struck.
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me.
Rating: R. (And I REALLY, REALLY mean it!)
Summary: When Jesse has a bad experience, it's left to Steve to pick up the pieces.
Notes: WARNING!!! Contains scenes of non-consensual sex. If you are uncomfortable or offended by this, DON'T READ THIS STORY!!! You have been warned.
Feedback: Yes please.
Email: helenlouiseg@aol.com
STAR STRUCK.
by
Guardian,
Lieutenant Steve Sloan walked into the Emergency Room of the Community General Hospital to scenes of absolute chaos. While he was used to the familiar bustle of the facility, on that particular day, the atmosphere seemed even more charged than usual. It was more crowded than usual and, even though the conversation was muted, Steve could almost feel the excitement in the air. Having just completed a long and boring shift, he'd hoped to take his dad out to dinner. That was now starting to look highly unlikely.
At least with his strapping six-foot frame he was able to see over the crowds and soon spotted the familiar white hair of his father, Doctor Mark Sloan. Steve pushed his way over to where Mark was talking to the hospital administrator, Norman Briggs, frowning as he caught snatches of various conversations. He gathered that there had been a road accident, but nothing gave him the slightest hint of why such an event would generate such excitement.
"Hey dad, Norman," he greeted the two men. "What's going on?"
Mark followed his gaze around the crowded room, seeing the little clutches of nurses, some of whom at least surely had duties elsewhere.
"It's crazy, isn't it?" the older Sloan answered. "You'd think that they'd never seen a movie star before."
"A movie star?"
"Yes, apparently Marcus Marriott was hit by a car and this was the nearest hospital."
"Marcus Marriott? The Marcus Marriott? As in the new James Bond, Marcus Marriott?!"
"Yes," this time it was Norman who answered him. "But I would like to know who is running this hospital while all of my staff are hanging around here like groupies."
Steve couldn't hide his smile at those words. Norman looked every bit as excited as any one of the nurses.
At that moment, the trauma room doors opened and Doctor Jesse Travis emerged. He was smiling as he stripped off his surgical gloves.
"He's going to be fine." Jesse looked as though he were about to say something more, but Norman jumped into the brief silence.
"Doctor Travis, I have half of the World's media camped out outside my office. I don't think that he's going to be fine constitutes a press release."
Steve's smile faded as Jesse's whole demeanour changed. He might be a brilliant doctor, but his friend was totally lacking in self-confidence. At Norman's admonition, his face flushed and his gaze dropped to the floor.
"Um... sorry," he muttered. "Mr. Marriott is resting comfortably. He was actually very lucky, no broken bones, just severe bruising to his left leg and some minor abrasions. He is in shock and has a slight concussion. I've recommended he stay in at least overnight. I'll review that situation in the morning."
"Thank you," Norman's tone was still brisk. "It's nice to see that we can still act like professionals here."
With that, he turned away, obviously going to face the press. He clapped his hands briskly as he went, sending the nurses scurrying back to work. Mark trailed along behind him.
"You shouldn't let him talk to you like that," Steve said, as he watched them go.
"That's just Norman's way," Jesse shrugged. "I don't let him get to me."
Steve didn't look convinced, but dropped the matter anyway.
"So what's he like?"
Jesse glanced back behind him, to the trauma room.
" Marcus Marriott? Steve, when I met him, he'd just been hit by a car. He wasn't exactly conversational."
Steve just continued to stare at him expectantly.
"Okay, okay. He did come round once, while I was treating him. He asked me what had happened." Jesse's eyes took on a faraway look. "He has got the most amazing voice. And his eyes... It's easy to see why women all over the world go crazy for him."
Steve didn't answer immediately. There had been something in Jesse's voice, something more than admiration for a movie star. If he hadn't known that his friend was perfectly straight, he might have thought that it was lust. Or maybe that was just his own wishful thinking. He'd been attracted to Jesse for as long as he'd known him, but had never dared to act on that attraction. Now he was starting to look for signs that quite simply weren't there.
"Sounds like you're more than a little star struck, Jess." He tried to cover the awkward silence with a tease.
It worked and Jesse blushed furiously, then hurriedly made the excuse that he had rounds. Steve allowed himself a fond smile as he watched him go, a thousand 'if onlys' running through his head.
*****
The next morning saw Steve back at the hospital. He'd given his dad a lift into work, then drifted down to the ER to see if Jesse was around. He had become very good at making up excuses to bump into his young friend and Jesse never seemed to see through them. The nurse on duty directed him back upstairs. Doctor Travis, she'd informed him with barely concealed envy, was checking up on Marcus Marriott.
It wasn't hard to find the movie star's room. It was the only one on that floor with a burly minder at the door.
"No visitors," the minder informed him curtly, even though he'd made no attempt to enter the room.
For a moment, Steve was tempted to take out his badge and muscle his way in, but he settled for just scowling at the man. He leaned against the window sill and peered in through the half closed blinds.
"I'm just waiting for my friend. The doctor. If that's okay with you."
The minder grunted, but made no further objection. Steve was happy enough just watching Jesse at work. A moment later, a frown creased his brow and he leaned closer, silently cursing the blinds that hampered his view.
Jesse was sitting on the edge of Marriott's bed and the two men were talking quietly. Then Marriott leaned closer and said something that made Jesse laugh. Blushing, the doctor dropped his gaze to the floor, then looked back up almost shyly. Marriott touched his knee in a familiar, almost intimate gesture and Steve, not quite believing what he was seeing, turned away.
He was flirting. Jesse Travis, straight as they come, girl-chasing Jesse Travis, was flirting with another man. All of his past regrets came coming back to Steve. Why had he never taken the time to talk to Jesse, to find out if he would at least be interested in a relationship? Now it was too late. Jesse was interested in men alright, but another man had got in there first.
No, he told himself, not just another man. It was Marcus Marriott. Who was he to compete against an international movie idol? If he'd ever had a chance with Jesse, it was long gone now. With a heavy heart, Steve wandered back down the corridor, no longer willing to wait for his friend, afraid of what he would give away if he spoke to him now.
Steve's thoughts chased themselves around his head as he disconsolately wandered the hospital corridors. Even though he should have been heading off to work, he had no destination in mind. Had he really even seen what he thought he'd just seen? A man touching another man's leg was hardly a declaration of homosexuality. And Marcus Marriott was a heart-throb to millions. He'd never heard any rumours of him being gay, not that he'd followed his career all that closely.
And Jesse himself, he was so enthusiastic and out-going and, more than likely, overwhelmed by being in such close proximity to such a famous man. He wouldn't have even known how cute he'd looked at that moment.
Steve began to move with more purpose. He left the hospital and headed for the precinct. At work, he had resources. He would find out everything that there was to know about Marcus Marriott.
*****
By the end of the day, Steve was utterly frustrated. For such a public figure, Marriott had been able to keep his private life exactly that. Private. The only hint of a scandal had been the previous year, when a former PA had threatened to go public about her time working for Marriott. There had been hints that the story would ruin his career, though it never mentioned how. Then the girl had just vanished, amid rumours that she had been handsomely paid off. Try as he might, Steve couldn't find any details about what she'd been going to say.
There was absolutely nothing to suggest that Marriott might be gay, though the papers might have had some different headlines if they had seen what he'd seen that morning.
When his shift was over, Steve headed wearily back to the hospital. He needed to talk to Jesse. Unfortunately, he'd missed his young friend by a matter of minutes. He headed down to the path lab instead, using the time to catch up with Amanda.
"Steve, hi," Amanda Bentley greeted him warmly, genuinely pleased to see him. "What brings you down here? If you're looking for your dad..."
"No, no. I'm just killing some time. I was hoping to speak to Jesse, but I just missed him."
"Yeah, he was supposed to be working a double shift. Although, from what I heard, he spent more time with Marcus Marriott, than actually working."
Steve's ears pricked up at the mention of the actor's name.
"I thought that he was being discharged this morning."
"He was, but then apparently he felt dizzy when he tried to get up, so Jesse kept him in another night. Not that Norman's complaining. He's loving the publicity."
"Still, it seems a bit odd," Steve continued, needing to voice his fears to someone. "From what I heard about his ego, I'm surprised he didn't bring in his own personal physician, much less let someone like Jesse get close to him."
"Well, that's Jesse. He has a way of endearing himself to people. And to think that yesterday he wasn't even a fan." She smiled as she remembered her friend's enthusiasm. "To hear him talk now, you'd think he was the founder member of his fan club."
"Got a bit carried away, has he?"
"Totally. You know Jesse, he never does anything by half. Still, it's only until tomorrow, then he'll have to find someone else to occupy him. Thankfully."
Steve looked at her curiously.
"Amanda, I think you're the only woman in this hospital who's not walking around all doe-eyed and swooning. I take it you're not a fan."
"Hardly. I'm not into action films at the best of times, but Marcus Marriott..."
"What about him?"
"He's just ... creepy. Oh sure, he's good looking and all, but there's something about him that just doesn't ring true. Call it woman's intuition, but there's something not very nice about him."
"But he's being discharged tomorrow, right?"
"Right. Then things might return to some semblance of normality."
*****
Work conspired to keep Steve away from the hospital the following day. He still felt a nagging sense of unease, mostly concerning Marcus Marriott and what he hadn't found out about him. Still, he told himself as he pulled up outside BBQ Bob's that evening, he'd been discharged from the hospital and was out of their lives.
Then he walked into the restaurant and found a very excited Jesse waiting for him.
"Steve, you are not going to believe what's happened."
Steve groaned inwardly. Jesse was bursting to tell him something and his unease returned with a vengeance. This was not going to be good news.
"Jesse," he snapped. "I've had a really long, really hard day. So let's save the guessing games, okay?"
He instantly regretted both his tone and his words as his young friend visibly deflated. The bright, eager gaze faltered and disappointment clouded his eyes.
"Oh... um... sorry..."
At that moment, Steve wanted nothing more than to take the young doctor in his arms, but he settled for just clapping him on the shoulder and forcing his mood to lighten.
"No, I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't go taking it out on you just because I've had a bad day. Now, what was it you wanted to tell me?"
Again that shy smile crept on to Jesse's face and Steve's stomach lurched. He had a very bad feeling about what he was going to say.
"Marcus Marriott is buying me dinner."
Steve felt his world come crashing down around him. Jesse, his Jesse, was going to dinner with another man. He felt sick with envy. Then, the part of him that made him such a good police officer kicked in. He didn't like Marcus Marriott and for reasons other than Jesse. Amanda had felt it too, there was something not quite right about the man. He didn't want Jesse going anywhere near him.
"Jess," he said, keeping his tone neutral. "Are you sure that's such a good idea? I mean, aren't there rules about that sort of thing?"
Jesse looked crushed and Steve frowned. What had the doctor wanted? His approval? That wasn't going to happen, but Steve's heart went out to him anyway. He glanced around the thankfully quiet restaurant, then led his friend into a vacant booth.
"You could get into a lot of trouble by going out with a patient..."
"Going out?" Jesse was blushing furiously. "I'm not going out, not like on a date! Steve, he offered to buy me dinner, as a kind of 'thank you'. He doesn't like hospitals. He said I put him at ease."
I bet he did, Steve thought sourly.
"Look, Jesse," he tried again. "The rules are there for a reason..."
"He was discharged today. He's not my patient any more. What's wrong, Steve? I thought you'd have been pleased. I mean, who'd have thought it, me having Marcus Marriott as a friend."
Steve leaned further over the table and lowered his voice.
"This is going to sound weird, but I just don't like that guy. There's something about him that's... I don't know, but I'd rather you stayed well away from him."
"That's crazy." Jesse laughed incredulously. "The guy is a famous movie star. He's not going to turn out to be some crazed psychopath!"
"That's not what I meant and you know it. It's just..." he trailed off, unable to put his fears into words.
"It's just what? What's going on, Steve? Are you jealous or something?"
Steve could only hope that his reaction didn't show on his face. Jesse had hit the nail on the head. Yeah, I'm jealous alright. Jealous as Hell. Because I'm in love with you Jesse, but you've never looked at me the way you looked at that damned actor.
"Jealous? What of?" Steve bluffed. "Jess, you're going out for a meal with the guy. It's hardly front page news."
"No," Jesse said quietly. "I don't suppose it is."
"Look, I'm sorry. I'm just asking you to think about this. Guys like Marcus Marriott just don't hang out with ER doctors."
"And what the Hell is that supposed to mean? I'm not good enough to have him as a friend? Thanks a lot, Steve."
"Jesse, I didn't mean it like that..."
Steve's protests came too late. Jesse stormed out of the booth and, pausing only to grab his jacket, out of the restaurant. Steve watched the door a long time after it had closed after him.
"I hope I'm wrong," he muttered to himself. "And I hope it's just your company he's interested in."
*****
Jesse was still angry when he got home that night. He couldn't believe that Steve Sloan, his supposed best friend, had reacted in the way that he had. Steve would never know just how much his words had hurt him, especially when he'd implied that he wasn't a worthy friend to have.
And Jesse could only be thankful that he hadn't gone along with his original plan to confess to Steve about his sexuality. He'd been bi-sexual since his college days, but that was something that he'd always kept to himself. Not even his parents knew about that. Not that he expected his friends to be homophobic, he just hadn't found the way to tell them.
In his wildest fantasies, he'd even dreamed of telling Steve exactly how he felt about him. He wouldn't dare to call it love, not even to himself. Love was something that could be reciprocated and Steve was as straight as they come. He was, however, infatuated with the older man. It was enough for him just to be near him, to drink in the sight of him, to revel in his friendship.
Now though, it seemed that even that had gone. Steve hadn't even liked the possibility that he might be going out with a man. That was why Jesse had so vehemently denied that it was anything even resembling a date. He hadn't figured Steve to be prejudiced but then, he realised, he didn't know his friend all that well after all.
Trying to cheer himself up, Jesse turned his thoughts instead to Marcus Marriott. He'd been dumbfounded when the man, the idol of millions, had started to flirt with him. At first he'd thought that it was just in his imagination, but Marriott had soon convinced him otherwise. He'd focussed those penetrating ice-blue eyes on his and huskily suggested that they get to know each other better.
It was hard for Jesse not to get excited. Just the thought of those hands, that mouth, on his was immensely erotic. He'd seen some of Marriott's movies, but had never even suspected that the man might be gay. It must have been the best kept secret in show business. And Marriott had chosen him. He could have had anybody on the planet, but he had chosen Jesse Travis.
Just thinking about Marcus turned Jesse on. Idly, he stroked his growing erection through the fabric of his jeans. Sighing, he leaned his head back into the settee. This was the first time in a long time that his fantasies involved someone other than Steve. Then the detective's face filled his mind, his look of anger as he'd told Jesse what a bad person Marcus was.
Jesse sighed again. Should he have stormed from the restaurant? Could he have tried to talk things through? It didn't matter. He could only hope that somehow their friendship would survive through this. He couldn't stand the thought of Steve hating him.
All thoughts of erotic fantasy forgotten, Jesse headed towards the shower and then on to his lonely bed.
*****
Across town at the beach house, Steve couldn't sleep. He'd laid in bed for a long time, tossing and turning and bitterly regretting every word he'd said to Jesse that night. Now, he sat at the kitchen table, nursing a bottle of beer he'd opened an hour ago and wishing desperately that he could turn back the clock. He heard a soft footstep behind him.
"You know, it's anti-social to drink alone," his father said.
Steve smiled wearily and watched as Mark took a jug of orange juice from the fridge and helped himself to a glass. He sat at the table opposite Steve and regarded him gravely.
"You want to talk about it?"
Steve picked absently at a splinter on the table's surface.
"It's about Jesse," he said slowly.
"Ah."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that you've finally decided to tell him how you feel about him?"
If he hadn't have been feeling so wretched, Steve would have laughed. For once, Mark's deductive skills had let him down.
"No." Steve was unable to keep the sadness out of his voice. "Jesse's straight. I came to terms with that a long time ago."
"But he does seem rather taken with a certain movie star who's been resident at the hospital for the last couple of days," Mark pointed out.
"And therein lies the problem. Jesse's going out to dinner with the guy and he took great pains to assure me that it was as nothing more than friends."
"But?"
"But I don't like it, and not just because of how I feel about Jesse. He's got other friends, male friends and that doesn't bother me one bit. It's just this guy. Marcus Marriott."
"Have you tried talking to Jesse?"
"Of course I have." Steve took an angry swig of his beer. "And he wouldn't listen. Then I yelled at him and he stormed out."
Mark pinched the bridge of his nose. His son might be a brilliant detective, but he was clueless when it came to Jesse.
"You know what I think you should do?" He didn't even give his son the chance to answer. "Absolutely nothing."
As Steve looked at him askance, he continued resolutely.
"Marcus Marriott is a world famous movie star and he probably has an ego to match his bank balance. Let Jesse have dinner with him, he won't enjoy it. I mean, what are they going to talk about? Jesse's hardly going to discuss his workday over their meal, now is he?"
Encouraged by the slight smile that played about Steve's lips he ploughed on.
"Jesse's star struck. He's going to be rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous, but he's going to be way out of his depth. You and I both know that. You just have to give Jesse the chance to discover it for himself."
"I guess," Steve agreed reluctantly. "But what about Marriott? Why is he taking Jesse out to dinner? I don't for a minute believe this whole 'thank you' story."
"Yes," his father agreed. "That does seem rather strange. But you never know, you might have read Marriott all wrong. His intentions could be entirely honourable. In any case, there's no point in worrying about it, you're not going to change Jesse's mind. Let's just see what happens tomorrow night."
*****
Jesse was out of sorts at work throughout the following day. He had been prudent enough to only tell his closest friends about his dinner companion. He didn't want all sorts of gossip flying around the hospital, particularly where someone like Marcus Marriott was concerned. After all, the man did have a reputation to uphold and not everybody would be as easily fobbed off as Steve about it not being a date.
Still, he could barely contain his excitement and, eventually, Mark took pity on him and let him go home a little early.
"Have a good time," he said, stopping Jesse as he rushed towards the elevator.
"I will." Jesse's eyes were shining with enthusiasm. "And thanks, Mark. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow."
Mark watched his retreating figure thoughtfully. Steve's concerns had transferred themselves to him and he too wondered just what Marcus Marriott had in mind for that night. The man had once been dubbed 'sex on legs' by the tabloids. He couldn't afford to be seen out in the wrong company. More particularly, the wrong male company.
And, unlike Steve, Mark wasn't at all sure about Jesse's own sexuality. In truth, he thought that Jesse himself was confused about it. He'd seen the way he'd looked at Steve, much in the same way he'd once looked at Susan Hilliard, but he'd never once seen any other evidence to support his theory. So he'd kept his thoughts to himself, not even sharing them with Steve. If he was wrong, their friendship could be irreparably damaged.
Amanda came up besides him as he stood, lost in his musings.
"So," she said, startling him slightly. "Tonight's the night, huh?"
"It is indeed."
"You're worried about him." It wasn't a question.
"It's probably nothing, just Steve's paranoia rubbing off on me." He tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. "I just hope Jesse knows what he's doing."
*****
As it got closer to eight o'clock, Jesse got more and more nervous. He'd spent an age trying to decide what to wear, changing four times before eventually settling on a rather formal shirt and tie. He had no idea where Marcus was taking him, but he thought he looked smart without being too over-dressed. Then it had taken him another hour to get his hair just right. Marcus had said that he liked his hair. And his eyes.
Jesse glanced towards the phone, hoping it would ring. None of his friends had called that evening and he was just a little bit hurt. True, he had seen Mark and Amanda at the hospital that afternoon and they'd both wished him luck, but he'd thought that Steve might have called. He didn't like the way that their argument the previous night still hung over them.
And the longer they went without speaking, the harder it would be to make up. Jesse put his hand over the phone. He could think up a dozen reasons to call Steve, just to make sure that everything was okay between them. Then a car horn tooted outside and Steve Sloan was forgotten.
There was an enormous black stretch limousine parked outside his apartment. A big man, who Jesse vaguely recognised from the hospital, stood by the back door and opened it as he approached, greeting him only with a curt nod.
Jesse got in, then all of his nerves returned full force. Marcus Marriott lounged on the back seat, his white shirt open at the collar, his black pants obscenely tight. He looked beautiful and Jesse could only wonder, again, what he was doing there. It was like a dream.
The limo itself was incredible. It was a car designed for maximum comfort. There was the long back seat, upholstered in white leather, at one end and a complete home entertainment system at the other. Jesse noticed, with a wry smile, that most of the videos in the rack starred Marcus Marriott. About a metre of plush, white carpet separated them.
"Jesse, sweetheart," Marriott said. "It's so good to see you again. Come and sit down. I'll get you a drink."
He patted the seat next to him and reached into a well-stocked mini-bar. He poured them both a glass of champagne, then looked at Jesse and raised his glass.
"To us," he toasted simply, as they clinked their glasses together.
Jesse took a sip of his champagne, realising that he still hadn't said a word, not even 'hello'. He began to feel a little bit foolish. How did you make small-talk with one of the most famous people on the planet?
Marriott's arm slipped around his shoulder and pulled him closer. Jesse looked up into the actor's handsome face, then suddenly found himself engulfed in a kiss of such passion and ferocity it took his breath away. For a brief moment Jesse tried to pull away, but Marriott tightened his grip around his shoulders. There was a gentle thud as the actor's champagne glass was dropped onto the carpet and Jesse melted into the kiss.
He dropped his own glass and ran his free hand through Marriott's dark hair. The kiss was suddenly and shockingly ended. Jesse felt his wrist caught in an iron grip and he opened his eyes to see Marriott glaring at him.
"Nobody touches my hair," he hissed.
There was such venom in his voice that Jesse could only stammer an apology. Then, as swiftly as it had arisen, the anger was gone and Marriott was smiling again. Taking advantage of the grip he had on Jesse's arm, he manoeuvred the young doctor until he was lying across the back seat. Marriott leant over him with a predatory gleam in his eye.
"So formal, Jesse," he whispered, his hands moving to Jesse's collar. "Let me take that off for you."
The tie was soon gone, but Marriott didn't stop there. He deftly unbuttoned Jesse's shirt and pulled it open. He began kissing the doctor's neck, then he moved lower, his mouth caressing his chest, his teeth teasing at the nipples.
And Jesse lay there with his eyes closed, making all the right noises, but wondering just how far he was going to let Marriott go.
It wasn't that Jesse wasn't aroused, it was impossible for him not to be under Marriott's skilful ministrations. He just wasn't the type of man who went in for one-night-stands. Especially not ones that involved making out in the back of a car, famous actor or not.
Marriott worked his way back up Jesse's body, then he began to work on Jesse's neck, kissing, nipping and sucking and marking the young doctor as his. Jesse moaned with genuine pleasure and almost forgot his inhibitions. He could feel Marriott's erection pressing into his stomach and he arched up into it.
Lost in his passion, Jesse's hands strayed to the back of Marriott's head. The other man bit down. Hard. Jesse gasped, his hands dropping back to his sides. Marriott didn't seem phased though, his own hands strayed to Jesse's belt.
Jesse gently put his hands on Marriott's shoulders and gave him the slightest push.
"Don't," he whispered.
Marriott ignored him, his mouth still sucking Jesse's neck. The belt came loose and Marriott undid the top button of his pants. Jesse pushed harder, squirming out from underneath the actor, until he was half sitting up.
"I said don't."
Marriott sat back, his face flushed and his eyes dark with arousal. He reached out and touched Jesse's leg.
"Come on, Jess," he purred, beginning to stroke his thigh. "You know you want to."
"No." Jesse pulled away. "Not here. Not like this. You said you wanted to get to know me better."
"And I am." Marriott's eyes raked up and down his body, lingering on his bare chest. "I'm getting to know every inch of you."
"What about dinner?"
With lightning speed, Marriott caught hold of Jesse's hand and pressed it to his crotch and his swollen erection.
"I got something for you to eat right here."
Jesse, now starting to feel afraid, tried to pull free, but Marriott was too strong. The man had been hit by a car just a few days ago, but his injuries didn't seem to have weakened him at all. He rubbed himself against Jesse's hand, then leaned back over him, using his body weight to keep the doctor pinned to his seat.
"How about it, Jess?" He began trying to kiss him again.
Jesse turned his face away, panicking now.
"Let go of me!"
The blow came without warning. One minute Jesse was trapped in his seat, the next he was lying on the floor of the limo, his head ringing. There was blood on the carpet. Marriott wore a huge sovereign ring and he guessed that was what had cut him.
"You little fucking, teasing, piece of shit!" Marriott screamed at him, then kicked out, catching Jesse just below the rib cage.
Jesse rolled onto his back, just in time to see Marriott launch himself at him, fists flying. And that was when his nightmare truly began.
*****
After another sleepless night, wondering and worrying about Jesse, Steve was in a foul mood at work the next day. He was itching to call his friend and find out what had happened, but his own stupid pride wouldn't let him. He'd tried to warn Jesse away from Marcus Marriott, the last thing he wanted was to hear how wonderful everything had been.
He knew that Jesse was on the afternoon shift that day, so he let the morning drag by, then phoned his dad.
"So, were you right?" he asked him after they'd exchanged pleasantries. "Was last night a complete wash-out? Is Jesse back to what passes for normal?"
He heard his dad chuckle on the other end of the phone, but when Mark spoke again, his tone was grave.
"I wish I could tell you, Steve, but Jesse hasn't come in today. He called in sick."
"That's not like Jesse."
"No, no it isn't. I was thinking of going round to see him, but we're snowed under. I could be a couple of hours yet."
Steve felt fear churning in his gut. It was unheard of for Jesse to miss a shift. Something had to be seriously wrong.
"It's alright, dad," he said. "I'll go. I've almost finished here."
"Okay, thanks Steve. Let me know how he is, won't you?"
"Sure thing."
If Steve had thought that the morning had dragged, then the last half hour of his shift seemed to take an age. He left the precinct the minute he possibly could, then ran down to his car. He had to resist the urge to put the bubble light on top and race around to Jesse's with sirens screaming. As it was, he drove there at a more sedate pace, cursing every red light against him. He could do nothing about the thoughts that raced around his head. Why hadn't he tried harder to stop Jesse from going out with Marcus Marriott? What had gone so terribly wrong? Steve came up with a dozen possible scenarios, each one worse than the last.
When he pulled up outside Jesse's apartment, he was dreading what he might find. His fears were only compounded when he knocked on his friend's door and only silence greeted him.
*****
Jesse had known that this moment would come and he'd dreaded its arrival. He sat slouched on the couch, dressed in sweat pants and a T-shirt. The clothes he'd worn the night before were in the trash. He'd done that the minute he'd got home. Then he'd taken a very long shower. He still didn't feel clean.
Sleep had been impossible and he'd spent the night sitting in silence, staring at nothing and trying to figure out how everything had gone so horribly wrong. He'd caught one glimpse of himself in the mirror and hadn't dared look any closer. The bruises were just starting to colour and he knew there was no way he could possibly face his colleagues. He decided to just hide away for a couple of days. At the very least it would give him time to think up an excuse.
Then came the knock at the door. He knew it would be Mark, Steve or Amanda, but he didn't move to answer it. He didn't want to talk to any of them. He sighed and closed his eyes, willing whoever it was to go away.
That was never going to happen. The knocking came again, louder and more insistent.
"Jesse? Jesse, open up!"
Jesse groaned inwardly. It was Steve, the very last person he wanted to see, knocking loud enough to raise the dead.
"Come on, Jess."
He couldn't just sit in silence any more. Steve obviously knew that he was home. When he knocked again, the door rattled in its frame.
"Let me in, Jesse!"
"Go away," the doctor called back, hoping that rudeness would be a deterrent. No such luck.
"Not a chance, pal. Not until I've talked to you. Now open the damned door."
"Leave me alone." Jesse could hear the desolation in his own voice, but could do nothing about it. "Just say it, then get out of here."
"Say it?" Steve was still shouting through the door, but mercifully had stopped knocking. "Say what?"
"Just say I told you so, then leave me the Hell alone."
"I told you so? Jesse? Jesse!" Steve began banging on the door again. "Let me in, Dammit. What happened?"
Jesse shook his head, oblivious to the fact that Steve couldn't see him. Fresh tears filled his eyes.
"Jesse!" Steve shouted again. "Open this God-damned door before I break it down!"
Steve banged on the door with the flat of his hand, fully intending to carry out his threat, if that proved to be necessary. He was just about to yell again when he heard movement from inside the apartment. There was the sound of a bolt being drawn, then the lock clicked.
Steve breathed a sigh of relief, then waited for Jesse to let him in, but the door remained steadfastly shut.
*****
When it became apparent that Jesse wasn't going to admit him, Steve let himself in. The blinds were closed in the apartment, but enough of the afternoon sunshine filtered through for him to be able to see Jesse sitting on the couch, with his back to him. He sat in the armchair opposite and looked at his friend.
"Jesus Christ, Jess! What did he do to you?"
Jesse didn't need Steve to spell out the reason for his anger. Marriott's sovereign ring had cut him more than once. His and his driver's fists had done the rest. His body and arms were equally sore, but he still tried to hide from Steve just how much he was hurting.
The detective reacted without thinking. He saw the bloody bruises on his friend's face and pulled out his phone. Jesse grabbed his arm.
"What are you doing?" he asked, a hint of panic in his voice.
"I'm calling it in. Jesse, he assaulted you."
"No, don't." Jesse's voice dropped to a whisper. "I... It wasn't like that."
"Wasn't like that?" Steve was exasperated. "Look at the state of you. Are you telling me that Marcus Marriott didn't do that?"
Jesse flinched at the mention of the actor's name and his eyes dropped to the carpet.
"No..."
"No? Jesse, you've been assaulted. You can't let him get away with this."
"It was..." Jesse looked anywhere but at Steve. "It was an accident."
"An accident?" Steve could hardly believe what he was hearing. "What, you gonna try to tell me you walked into a door?"
"Something like that."
Steve was getting angrier by the minute. Angry that his best friend had been so badly hurt, angry that he could then so blatantly lie to him. And angry with himself for not having prevented it. As Jesse stood up and turned away from him, Steve grabbed at his arm.
The doctor was unable to prevent the cry of pain that escaped his lips. Steve jerked his hand back as though he'd been burned, his anger turning swiftly into compassion.
"Jesse, I just want to help you."
"I don't want any help!" Jesse whirled on him, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "I didn't ask for your help. I didn't even ask you to come here. Just leave me alone."
"I can't do that," Steve told him quietly. "You're my best friend. I can't leave you like this."
Jesse's emotions threatened to overwhelm him at the absolute sincerity in his friend's voice. Two tears trickled down his cheeks. His shoulders shook as he tried to repress his sobs.
"Jesse, please. At the very least let me call my dad."
Jesse just shook his head, not willing to trust his voice.
"You're hurt. I won't ask you to go to the hospital, but you really should get some medical attention."
"No," the doctor's voice was raw with emotion. "No doctors, no police. I'm okay. I can handle this."
"You don't look like you're handling it too well."
Jesse covered his face with his hands and collapsed back onto the couch. Steve sat down next to him and touched his shoulder gently.
"I'm here for you, Jesse."
The young doctor looked up at him. Even though one eye was swollen half-shut, there was still sincerity in his gaze.
"Steve, please. I'm asking you, as my friend. Please don't do this. You don't..." His breath hitched in a sob. "You don't know..."
Steve looked at Jesse, at the tears that filled his eyes, at the anguish on his face and wondered how he could make Jesse open up to him. He'd dealt with hundreds of assault victims in his time, but this was different. This was Jesse.
"No, I don't know," he said slowly. "That's why I need you to tell me."
Once again, Jesse found that he couldn't meet the other man's eyes. He bit his lip, fighting back the tears.
"Please, Jess." Steve reached out and took the younger man's hand. "What is it? What's wrong? Don't you trust me?"
He didn't like the long silence that followed, or the way that Jesse was avoiding looking at him. Jesse pulled free and ran his hands through his hair. As he did, the sleeve of his T-shirt slipped and Steve could see more bruises on his arm. He's been held down, he thought. Don't let him have been raped. Please, God, don't let him have been raped.
"That's just the problem," Jesse answered eventually, his voice still soft. "I don't know if I do trust you."
And, out of everything that Jesse told him that day, those words shocked and hurt him the most.
"Why, Jess? What have I done?"
"Don't you see?" Jesse stood up and began pacing. "You knew that this was going to happen. You even tried to warn me. Well, guess what? Steve's right and Jesse's wrong. Again. It's hardly front page news, right?"
Steve winced as his own harsh words were thrown back in his face.
"Isn't this what you wanted?" Jesse gestured vaguely at his battered face. "To be proved right? To see him hurt me, to... humiliate me?"
"Oh God, no."
Steve was on his feet in a moment and he enveloped the smaller man in a tight embrace. He felt Jesse stiffen at the contact and mistook his gasp of pain for something else. Steve backed off, but kept his hands on Jesse's shoulders. He looked at him gravely.
"The last thing I ever want is for you to get hurt," he told him. "I have never in my life wanted to be wrong so badly. I'm sorry Jesse, I really am."
He steered his friend back towards the couch, then sat down next to him. He took Jesse's hands in his.
"Tell me what happened. Please. I just want to help."
"You wouldn't understand."
"Why? What is there not to understand? I've seen this before, Jess, a date gone sour. You don't have to be ashamed. You're the victim here."
Steve paused, realising what he'd just said, waiting for Jesse's angry denial that he'd been on a date with another man. None was forthcoming. Instead, Jesse sighed and wiped a stray tear from his cheek, seeming to come to a decision.
"You don't approve of same-sex relationships, do you?" he asked quietly.
Steve took a deep breath, feeling his heart begin to beat faster. Here was Jesse, confessing that he was bi-sexual. In another situation it would have been a dream come true. As it was, Jesse was emotionally fragile and needed to be handled with kid gloves.
"You've known me long enough to know that I won't judge somebody because of their sexuality any more than I would a person's race." He kept his tone gentle. "What made you say that?"
"When we were at Bob's and I told you about... Marcus." Jesse stumbled over his tormentor's name. "You were angry..."
"Yes, yes I was, but not because you were going out with a man. It was just that particular man. Jesse, I'm not trying to say 'I told you so'. I just didn't like him. And besides, you were right."
"About what?"
"I was jealous." Steve looked straight at him, prepared to take the plunge. "Jess, I'm not prejudiced against same-sex relationships because I've had them myself. I've been bi-sexual since my army days."
*****
For Jesse, time seemed to stand still. He stared at his hands, hands that Steve still held, unable to believe what he had just heard. Steve was bi-sexual. It was everything he'd ever dreamed of but, instead of being elated, he just felt numb. He remembered Marriott's leering face, his rough hands and his cruel mouth. How could he let another man touch him in such a way?
Steve, for his part, looked at his friend's bowed head and silently cursed his stupidity. What had he expected? Jesse was bi-sexual but that didn't automatically mean that he would be attracted to Steve. He had just been through a terrible experience, one that Steve should have been trying to get to the bottom of, instead of trying to seduce his young friend.. But he had expected some sort of a reaction. The silence was lasting way too long.
Then Jesse shuddered and found that he could no longer keep his tears in check.
"Jesse, I'm sorry." Steve leaned in closer to him and put his arms around him. "I didn't mean to make things worse."
Jesse just shook his head, still not looking at Steve. He fought against his tears, trying to regain some semblance of control. It was a few moments before he was able to speak again.
"You... you haven't... you couldn't make it worse..." he stammered. "It's just that... I... he..."
"Sshh, it's okay,"
Steve's strong hands were rubbing his back soothingly and Jesse dared to look up at him. Their faces were very close together. Blue eyes, holding a hint of desire, stared back at him. Jesse pulled away with an anguished cry.
"I'm sorry!"
Jesse began to sob, burying his face in his hands. This time, Steve was more cautious. He laid one hand on Jesse's arm, stroking it gently and murmuring soothing words while he gave him the time to recover.
At last Jesse stopped crying and rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. He mumbled another apology, but Steve waved it away.
"You've nothing to be sorry for," he told him sincerely. "But you have to talk to someone. I can't bear to see you like this. Let me help you."
Jesse nodded slowly.
"Marc... Marcus Marriott likes guys," he began shakily. "But he can't be seen to like guys, you know?"
Suddenly, and with the worst possible timing, there was a loud knocking at the front door.
TO BE CONTINUED...