~oOo~
Jim pulled the truck into the garage, the automatic door closing behind him. Simon's hand was on the car door, pulling it open before Jim had a chance to roll to a complete stop. "He okay?"
"He will be. How's Blair?"
"Tucked up snug and tight in bed. He hasn't woken."
Simon moved around the car and pulled open the passenger side door. Lucas's face was flushed and his eyes bleary. "The flu?" he asked, his question directed at Jim.
"That would be my guess."
"You're burning up, kid," Simon muttered, his hand now spread out on Lucas's forehead.
"Don't." Lucas knocked Simon's hand away. "Don't touch."
"Hey, Lucas, it's okay." Jim pushed past Simon. "Why don't you head inside and grab a shower before you hit the sack? It'll help cool you down a little."
Lucas's eyes remained fixed on Simon as he pulled himself from the cab and moved toward the door leading to the kitchen.
"What was that all about?" Simon asked. "Did I overstep the mark or something?"
"He's just a bit out of it Simon, and he's had a hell of a day. Today was Scott's birthday. He would have been thirteen."
"Christmas and birthdays, not always a reason to celebrate," Simon replied.
"Yeah, tell me about it." Jim slammed the truck door and made for the house. "You feel like staying for dinner? I've made enough beef stew to feed an army, and it doesn't look like anyone else will be eating it tonight."
Simon accepted Jim's invitation. He had the feeling that Jim's offer wasn't made out of politeness. Ellison was seeking company.
~oOo~
The sound of retching was unmistakable and, by its persistent tone, gave an impression that it intended to hang around for some time yet. Jim let his presence be known, knocking lightly on the door before entering the main bathroom. Dressed only in his jeans, Lucas was hunkered over the toilet bowl, the chicken soup he'd consumed a short hour ago making a valiant return. Jim ran a washcloth under some tepid water placed it on the back of Lucas's neck. There was nothing else he could do now but wait.
Finally when the spasms eased and Lucas no longer hugged the toilet like it was his new best friend, Jim guided him to his room. He pulled back the covers and pushed Lucas down onto the mattress. The kid's eyes were heavy and bloodshot, and his skin sticky as the fever took a major foothold. He wiped the sweat from Lucas's face with the same washcloth. "You think you can keep down a couple of Tylenol?"
Lucas shook his head, too sick to say 'no'.
"I think you need to try, kiddo," Jim encouraged, shaking out two tablets on the palm of his hand. "You're burning up, here, and we need to get your fever down."
Water, reluctantly followed by pills slid down Lucas's throat. He breathed heavily, blanching as the water hit his gut.
"Come on," Jim said. "You need to lay down."
"Can I do anything to help?" Simon's deep voice drowned out Jim's and Lucas opened his eyes with a start, his body immediately ridged and defensive.
"Lucas?" Jim questioned, concerned by the reaction.
"I can't. Please not tonight ... I can't."
"Hey, relax, it's just Simon." Jim wished he was wrong, but he was afraid his suspicion about Lucas's reaction was right on target.
"Simon?"
"Yeah kid, just Simon." Jim shook the blanket away from the sheet and lay the cool, cotton material over Lucas's body. The kid's jeans could wait - wait until Lucas knew that removing them was not associated with sex.
The bed dipped. The jaguar was back. All signs of agitation in the feline were gone and, without thinking, Jim reached out, for the first time feeling the softness of the cat's sleek fur. It purred, closed its eyes and butted its head against his hand. "Don't get used to this," he said, scratching the cat behind the ear. "This is only temporary. As soon as he's better, you're outta here."
The cat ignored him, curling itself into a ball at the end of the bed.
Satisfied that Lucas was being watched over, Jim moved to the door and guided Simon out of the room. "Hey, cat," he said, ignoring the look on Banks' face.
The jaguar lazily opened its eyes.
"Thanks."
~oOo~
"Lucas." Simon looked up from the magazine he was reading, not expecting to see Lucas out of bed. "Jim's just upstairs checking on Blair. Do you want me to get him for you?"
Lucas moved further into the room. "Did you pay him?"
"Did I pay who?" Simon asked, a little confused. He threw the magazine down on the coffee table, his eyes narrowing. The kid's face was flushed and if Simon were a betting man he would have put fifty down on Lucas being in the land of tangerine trees and marmalade skys.
"My dad. Did you give Dad the money?" Lucas's hand came to rest on the waistband of his boxers, anticipating Simon's answer. "It's fifty bucks if you just want me to suck you. A hundred if you want the lot."
Betting man or not, Simon couldn't quite believe what he was seeing as Lucas pushed his boxers down over his hips. "Jesus Christ, kid." He surged to his feet and in one, swift, fluid motion, yanked Lucas's boxers back into place.
Lucas became instantly agitated. "No, you've paid. You have to take me. Dad won't give you your money back. Please mister, please," Lucas begged. The kid, now standing in front of Simon sounded more like a frightened nine-year-old boy, not the confident, self-assured teenager that he'd come to know.
"Jim," Simon called out, edging out of the living room and towards the stairs. "You better get down here." He placed a foot on the bottom stair, not realising his mistake.
Lucas's reaction was instinctual. Nobody was allowed up the stairs. Nobody was allowed near his brother. Scotty would not be sold. Not like that. He swung Simon around and, before Simon could react, Lucas's fist connected with a crack, sending the him sprawling to the floor. "He's not for sale!" Lucas shouted, now blocking the stairs with his body.
Jim didn't need his sentinel abilities to hear the commotion downstairs. He left Blair's room, and the moment he appeared at the top of the stairs, Lucas had a new enemy. "You bastard!" he yelled. "Stay away from my brother!"
Despite the initial surprise, Simon recovered quickly and scrambled to his feet. He latched onto Lucas from behind and pulled him back while Jim closed the gap from above. Lucas's torso was slick with sweat, making it difficult for Simon to get a solid grip. Jim added his own touch, cupping Lucas's face. "Lucas, Scott is not upstairs. You're not with your dad anymore, kid. You live here with me. Me and Blair."
Lucas broke free of Simon's hold. The man in front of him, the one so tenderly cupping his cheek would be an easy target. Guys like him always were.
Jim anticipated Lucas's next move with exacting accuracy. He moved to the side, so the oncoming punch was weaker. All he needed to do was wrap his hand around Lucas's wrist, spin him around and in one, quick, precise move he had Lucas immobilised. He immediately tightened his hold, flexing his bicep to add strength to what he anticipated was to come. But what he wasn't expecting was to bear the load of Lucas's entire body weight as the kid collapsed in a heap, his head barely missing the base of the banister.
Without missing a beat, Simon's hand shot out, feeling for a pulse. "It's all over the place," he said, anxiously.
A flash of headlights illuminated the hallway; the arriving car stopped in the turning circle directly outside the front door.
"Thank God," Jim's hand was on Lucas's chest, monitoring his breathing. "It's Gillian."
A blast of cold air swirled in the entrance way as Simon ushered Dr. Gillian Francis into the house.
Cool, calm, not panicked, she moved to Lucas's side. Unclasping the lock on her medical bag, she removed the electronic thermometer, inserting it in Lucas's ear. The instrument buzzed and she checked the results. "Do you have a bathtub?" she asked, her voice remaining composed.
"Upstairs, in the main bathroom," Jim answered. "How high?" he asked.
"Too high for my liking. We need to get his temp down, now."
"I got his legs." Simon already had Lucas by the ankles. He shifted his weight, looked at Jim and began to lift.
"Which door?" Gillian asked, pushing ahead.
"Third on the right," Jim ground out, straining under the weight of heaving Lucas's entire upper body up the stairs.
Now in the bathroom, Gillian dropped to her knees, pushed the plug down, turned on the faucet and stripped off her coat. "Lower him gently," she said.
As Jim and Simon guided Lucas body over the bathtub rim, what Gillian was trying to avoid came to fruition. Lucas's body jerked, slowly at first, before increasing in intensity. "On the tiles, on his side," she ordered.
As soon as Lucas hit the floor, Simon let go of his ankles "I'll call an ambulance."
"No, I need you in here. As soon as the convulsion stops, we have to get him into the tub." Gillian stroked Lucas's hair. "That's it, honey, just ride it out. You'll be fine. I promise."
Lucas's body stopped jerking as suddenly as it started; the only movement left was the shallow rise and fall of his chest.
"Gillian?"
"It's okay, Jim. We just need to get his temperature down; once we've done that, I'll assess the situation."
Jim nodded and in silence, both he and Simon resumed their positions, lifting Lucas between them until he was up and over the rim and lowered into the bath.
"Jim, start sponging his face and neck." Picking up a jug perched at the end of the tub, Gillian started pouring cold water over Lucas's chest, waiting until the rising water was high enough to do the job for her. "Do you have any liquid Tylenol?" she asked
"In the medicine cabinet. Above the sink. It's at the back."
Simon flipped open the child safety lock and rummaged through the cabinet, finding both the bottle and a medicine glass.
Gillian looked at the medicine glass. "Do you have a dropper?"
"I think so. Simon, there should be a dropper in there somewhere."
"Got it," Simon said, tossing it over to Jim.
"Okay, sit him up some more, Jim."
"Come on big guy," Jim murmured, weaving his arm around Lucas's back and pulling him up. "That enough?" he asked.
"That's good." Gillian filled the dropped, squirting small amounts into Lucas's mouth.
Jim ran his free hand down Lucas's face. "I don't think the water's doing the job. He's still too hot. Maybe we should call an ambulance?"
"Patience Jim. Just give his body some time to react. I've just come from the hospital and it's barely coping with the influx of influenza cases as it is. He's young and he's strong, so let's just wait this out for a little longer."
No sooner had had spoken, Lucas's eyelids fluttered open. Confused and disorientated, he flailed weakly, pushing Jim's hand from his chest. "Hey, kiddo, relax. It's just me. You're safe, okay. You're home."
Lucas knew the voice and while this voice hadn't always given him a reason to rejoice, it wasn't the voice of his father, or Robert. This voice had given him enough hope to believe in trust.
... Jim?"
"Yeah, kiddo." Jim moved his hand back to rest against Lucas's chest. "It's me."
"Where am I?" he whispered. He head was hot, ready to explode, but his body was cold, sending shivers up his spine.
"You're in the tub. Your temperature spiked and you collapsed. We needed to cool you down."
"Tub?"
All it took was one, single word to have Lucas's hand shoot down, past his stomach and towards his groin. It was an action that left no room for misinterpretation and an action that had Jim once again despising the hidden meaning of a bath.
"You're still covered, Lucas. You're safe." Jim chanced a glance at Simon. A cop giving into to revenge was not in the rule book, but one look at Simon, and Jim knew exactly what Banks was thinking – and God help the Wilder brothers if they ever crossed paths with either him or Simon.
"Did you make him leave?" Lucas asked, fingering the wet material of his boxers.
Jim's attention was back where it should have been. "Make who leave?" he asked.
"The man downstairs. He wanted Scott."
"Gillian?" he asked again.
"Keep talking to him," she reassured. "He'll become more coherent as his temperature goes down."
"Jim, I think he went upstairs. You gotta keep him away from Scotty ... away from Blair." Lucas struggled, trying to push himself into a sitting position.
Jim's hand was still on Lucas's chest and he spread his fingers wide, applying enough pressure to push Lucas back. "Lucas, Blair's fine. He's sound asleep in his bed. Nobody is in his room and nobody is going to touch him."
Making another attempt to pull himself from the tub, Lucas's movements stilled suddenly, his eyes coming to rest on Simon.
Simon stood, glued to the spot as Lucas pinned him with an unforgettable look. It was a look that told him Lucas still thought he was there to buy sex; there to steal the innocence and destroy the lives of two young boys. Simon averted his eyes and turned to leave the room He now knew what it felt like to be an innocent man sentenced to life.
"Simon." Lucas slumped back. Back into the bath and back against Jim's arm. "Stay with Blair. He didn't get what he paid for and he'll be back and when he does you have to tell him I'm in here. Tell him to stay away from Blair."
His message was delivered, and Lucas had no more to give. "Please," was all he had left to say.
Simon felt numb. He felt as if someone had taken a needle and plunged it into his heart, anaesthetising his emotions. He turned around and was once again pinned with an unforgettable look – a look that this time transformed him from perpetrator to saviour. "You have my word," he said, quietly. "You have my word that I'll keep Blair safe."
Heading out of the room and leaving Jim to deal with the boy's demons, Simon found himself by Blair's bedside. He stood, like a sentinel on a watch of his own. Little fingers twitched sporadically, clasping and unclasping around the beak of the yellow bird that Blair so lovingly cherished. Eyes moved beneath closed lids, trying to catch up with the dream being conjured by an overactive imagination – and then a murmur, a smile, and a sound to lighten even the heaviest of hearts. Simon remained still, content to stand and watch and, most importantly, to fulfil his promise to Lucas.
~oOo~