Disclaimer: They don't belong to me.

Rating: R

Notes: SORRY!!! When I wrote the first chapter, this was always going to be NC-17! It NEEDS to be NC-17! I knew exactly where it was going, but then the rules were changed and I don't know if I'd get away with what I wanted to write! I almost gave up on it, more than once. But here it is, the third part of Star Struck.

Warning: STEVE/JESSE SLASH!

STAR STRUCK

(PART THREE)

Unable to help himself, Jesse backed away as Ollie muscled his way into his apartment. This was a nightmare. He was still bruised from the beating the big man had inflicted on him after his aborted date with Marcus Marriott.

His eyes flicked towards the phone, but he knew that he'd never be able to reach it and dial out in time. He could only continue backing away until his progress was halted by the far wall.

"Hello, doc." Ollie marched straight over to where Jesse stood. "I just came to see if you'd seen the papers this morning."

Jesse was too terrified to answer. The thug towered over him and he tried to shrink away. If he could just duck past him, he might have a chance of reaching the door. Ollie closed one hand around his throat and forced his head back against the wall.

"Mr. Marriott is concerned." Ollie's voice was low and threatening. "You see, we know that you have a friend who's a cop. He came looking for you at the hospital. Mr. Marriott is concerned that you might have heard some news from last night and jumped to some rather dangerous conclusions."

Jesse tried to swallow past the pressure against his throat. His mouth was dry with fear.

"I don't..." he began.

Ollie very casually jerked him forward a few inches, then slammed him back against the wall. The back of Jesse's head exploded in pain.

"He sent me to tell you not to go blabbing about any of your suspicions to your cop friend." He rammed a fist into the young doctor's stomach. Jesse's instinct was to try and double over, but the grip on his throat was relentless. "And to make sure that you haven't forgotten your lesson from the other night."

The next blow was aimed at Jesse's face, but the doctor managed to jerk away and it only caught him a glancing blow on the side of his head. Ollie let him fall, then planted a vicious kick to his ribs. Jesse curled up as small as he could, trying to protect himself, but Ollie grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled him back upright.

Jesse found himself, once again, pinned to the wall.

"This is just a gentle warning." Ollie drew his fist back and this time Jesse knew that he wasn't going to be able to escape a broken nose. "You say anything to anybody and I will come back."

Jesse tensed and closed his eyes, anticipating the blow, but it never came. He heard a shout, then the hand was gone from his throat. He slid down the wall, into a crouch, his arms wrapped around his bruised body.

*****

Steve had barely touched his breakfast. He and his father had gone back to the beach house, where they could talk in private. Then Mark had told him everything. Steve just listened, absolutely appalled, as both of their meals went cold on the table before them.

"God, poor Jesse," he muttered, when Mark's narrative was finally over. "I have to talk to him."

"Be careful," Mark advised him needlessly. "You can imagine how fragile he's feeling right now."

Steve merely nodded, then headed out to his car. Thankfully, the traffic was light and he made good time in getting to Jesse's apartment.

Once there, he paused outside the door, considering whether he should knock, or use his key. The decision was made for him when he heard a crash from inside the apartment.

He swiftly let himself in and was shocked by what he found. There was a giant of a man, pinning his friend to the wall, one arm poised to hit him.

"Hey!"

Steve reacted instinctively, covering the distance between them in just a few strides. He grabbed the man's arm and, in the same movement, spun him around and landed a solid punch on his jaw.

Ollie was a big man, but he was also a bully and Jesse had been an easy target. Steve was another matter altogether. Still reeling from the punch to his jaw, Ollie swung wildly at the detective and missed. Steve followed up with two more swift blows, one to the thug's body, the other to his head. The second felled the big man like a tree.

After checking to make sure that Ollie really was unconscious, Steve moved quickly over to Jesse. The young man was still huddled in the corner, with his eyes closed. There was a smear of red on the wall above him and Steve gently put his hand to the back of his friend's head. It came away sticky with blood. Jesse winced at the touch and cracked his eyes open. He smiled weakly at Steve.

"Thanks," he murmured.

"Come on, let's get you onto the couch." Steve carefully helped him to his feet, mindful of bruises old and new. "Then, after I call this in, I'm calling my dad. No arguments, Jesse."

Jesse just nodded and closed his eyes. He really was hurting and, while he couldn't turn up at the hospital in his present state, he would gratefully succumb to some treatment from Mark.

*****

The next couple of hours passed in a flurry of activity. First, uniformed police officers filled Jesse's apartment, then carted the now stirring form of Ollie downtown. Mark arrived just as they were leaving. He spared the briefest glance to the big man, knowing from Jesse's earlier description who he was. Then he made his way into the apartment and sat down next to his patient.

"Jesse, I think you should come and stay at the beach house for a while," he said, as he began his examination.

He deliberately didn't look at Steve when he said it. He knew that his son's emotions would be clearly visible on his face at that moment and he wasn't entirely sure what those emotions would be.

Of course he would be shocked, Mark had not discussed this with him at all. But he also wasn't quite sure what else he would see there. Be it gratitude or anger, he didn't want to know. He'd made the offer for Jesse's benefit. It had nothing to do with Steve.

"I don't..." Jesse began, then gasped as Mark's questing fingers probed the back of his skull.

"Jesse, you're not safe here." He eased Jesse forward, so he could take a better look at the wound.

"But he's gone isn't he? I mean, you're not gonna let him back out are you?" The young doctor's tone was bordering on panic. "Steve, you saw what he..."

"That's not what I meant," Mark hurried to assure him. "Jess, I'm concerned about this head injury. I don't think you have a concussion, but I don't want you to be alone for a couple of days."

"I'll stay with him." Steve sank down into the armchair and Mark looked at him sharply. He couldn't ever remember Steve using so tender a tone before.

"And if you're called away to work?" He so wanted to see his son happy, that he had to force out those words. "What then?"

"I don't need a babysitter." It was Jesse's favourite grouse.

"By rights, you should be in hospital," Mark retorted. "Now, I'm not going to try and talk you into that, but I do think that someone should be keeping an eye on you. That someone is going to be me, so I can either move in here, or you can stay at the beach house. I know where I'd be more comfortable."

He spoke in a tone that broached no argument and was gratified to see his young friend nod reluctantly.

"Do you want me to help you shift your things over?" Steve asked.

"Maybe this afternoon." Jesse hated to show signs of weakness, but he really didn't have a choice. His head was killing him. "I think I need to lie down."

"Are you okay?" Steve was by his side in an instant, concern clearly evident on his features.

"It's to be expected." Mark smiled indulgently at his son's over-reaction. "Take a couple of aspirins, Jess. This afternoon's plenty soon enough."

He watched silently as Steve headed for the kitchen, to fetch Jesse some water and the required painkillers, then sat at his side and held the glass steady as he drank from it. Mark knew that Steve was not rushing off to work and would, given the events off the morning, more than likely take the day off. It was time for him to beat a tactful retreat.

"I have a few things to take care of at the hospital," he excused himself, lamely. "Steve, if you do get called away, make sure that you let me know."

"Sure, dad."

"And Jesse." The young man looked up at him drowsily. "I'll see you at the beach house, this afternoon. If you feel any worse..."

"Believe me, Mark." Jesse lifted a shaky hand to his head. "I'll let you know."

*****

Steve waited until his dad had left before, once again, helping Jesse to his feet. His young friend leant against him like a cripple, until Steve was virtually carrying him towards the bedroom.

"Come on, let's get you to bed."

Steve instantly regretted his choice of words, given what had so recently happened between them, but Jesse didn't appear to notice and continued to let himself be led.

Once at their destination, the young doctor sat down heavily, then lifted his hands and began fumbling at the buttons of his shirt.

Steve noticed his struggle and crouched down in front of him.

"Why don't you let me help you with that?"

Jesse's hands fell back to his sides and Steve deftly began to undo his shirt. Once that was accomplished, the detective gently eased the material from his shoulders. At any other time, it would have been an immensely erotic experience, but Steve deliberately shut out any such thoughts. He was helping his friend, nothing more.

If this had happened just a week ago, he could have comfortably undressed the object of his desire, his passion quelled by the thought that Jesse was nothing but straight. Now that he knew otherwise, he had a hard time not responding to the sight of that bare chest, albeit marred by bruises.

"Steve?"

The detective looked up at the mention of his name, only to find Jesse's face merely inches from his own.

"Thank you."

With those words, Jesse brushed a feather-light kiss against his lips and Steve almost lost control completely. He needed a distraction, something to stop his body from betraying him completely.

Jesse's hurt, he told himself. Get him comfortable, look after him, that's what dad said. And the thought of his father's wrath if he did anything further to hurt the young doctor seemed to do the trick.

"It's okay." He somehow managed a sympathetic smile. "Now, aren't you supposed to be resting?"

Steve's hands moved before his brain could stop them. His own erotic fantasies had been successfully pushed to the back of his mind but, in doing so, he'd also forgotten about Jesse's all too fragile state.

It was done with perfect innocence. Steve was thinking only about making his friend more comfortable when his hands moved to undo Jesse's belt.

"NO!"

Steve was mortified by the cry and even more so when Jesse scuttled across the bed until his back was against the wall, as far away from him as possible. The young doctor's eyes were closed and he'd started to sweat profusely.

"Jess, I'm sorry," Steve tried to apologise, barely able to comprehend what had just happened.

But Jesse just shook his head and moaned softly, still keeping himself pressed firmly against the wall.

For a brief moment, Steve considered calling his dad, but then the stubbornness that made him such a good cop kicked in. He wasn't the sort of man to go running for help at the first sign of trouble.

"Jesse, I'm just gonna come and sit next to you, okay?"

Steve eased himself onto the bed. He moved with exaggerated caution, trying to find some way out of the situation he had just caused.

"You know it's Steve, right? You know I'm not gonna hurt you." He inched himself closer, his eyes not once leaving the young doctor's face.

"It's alright, Jess. I'm here. No-one's ever gonna hurt you again."

With a ferocity that surprised the older man, Jesse threw himself against Steve, burying his face into his chest and sobbing for all that he was worth.

*****

Jesse eventually cried himself to sleep, still leaning against Steve. The detective waited for as long as he could, before gently disengaging himself and carefully laying him down onto the bed. Leaving him still half-dressed, Steve pulled a cover up over him, then went to make a phone call.

His aim had been to call in and take the day off, but the information he was given soon changed those plans. He put in a quick call to his dad.

"You were right," he said, looking back at Jesse through the open bedroom door. "I've got to go in to work. Jesse's sleeping right now, but he's still not that great. Will you come over? I'll stay with him until you get here."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

Steve went back to where his friend lay and sat on the edge of the bed, just watching him sleep. The cruel bruises stood out on Jesse's face and he was frowning, as though once again troubled by nightmares. Steve reached out and gently stroked his hair. Jesse's frown faded and a slight smile played about his lips, so Steve continued with the soothing motion.

A few moments later, the young doctor's eyes opened and he blinked up at his friend. His headache was no better and his eyes still felt puffy, an instant reminder of his tears.

"I'm sorry," he murmured and it seemed to him that all he'd done for the past few days was apologise.

"No need to be," Steve smiled, still stroking his hair and wishing like Hell that he didn't have to leave.

"You have to go." It wasn't a question.

"Did you hear me?" Steve had thought he'd kept his voice low enough not to wake him while he'd been on the phone. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You didn't," Jesse smiled drowsily. "But you look guilty."

"My dad's on his way. He can help you move your things."

The younger man merely nodded and closed his eyes, then both of them lapsed into silence. Steve was just starting to think that his friend had drifted back to sleep, when those beautiful blue eyes opened again and stared at him intensely.

"Steve, we really need to talk."

"I know." He laid his palm against Jesse's cheek. "But not today. Let's wait until you're feeling better."

"I think that talking to you will make me feel better."

Steve smiled down at him, touched by those words. He leant forward and planted a soft kiss on Jesse's lips.

"Maybe this evening then."

"It's a date."

*****

Mark had arrived not long after and so Steve had headed off to work. As he drove, he deliberately kept his thoughts away from the young man he had just left behind and concentrated on work instead. When he'd phoned in, he had been told that Ollie, full name Oliver Tobias Nicholson, was refusing to answer any questions. He was insisting on speaking to Steve and only to Steve. That was why he'd had to go.

On his arrival at the station, he headed straight to the interview room. Ollie was sitting in a chair, his arms folded across his chest, staring stubbornly at his would-be interrogators. He looked up as Steve entered the room.

"I want to talk to you, alone and off the record," the big man said.

"That's not how we do things." Steve folded his own arms, prepared to be equally stubborn as Ollie.

"It's important," Ollie said, fixing him with an intense stare.

"No, I'll tell you what's important." Steve leaned forward on the table. "That guy you were trying to beat half to death this morning. That's important. He's got a lot of bruises and I'm going to pin every one of them on you. I hope you've got no previous, because this could send you down for a very long time."

Steve had already been briefed on Ollie's background and knew that he had been in a lot of trouble in the past, so his threat had the desired effect. The thug shifted slightly in his chair and a bead of sweat appeared on his forehead.

"And that man also told me a very interesting story, concerning your employer and a dead man." Steve pressed on, knowing that he had the advantage. "Do you want to take the fall for that too? Believe me, I can make that stick."

"The doctor won't testify," Ollie muttered, but not sounding completely sure of himself.

"He won't have to. All I've got to do is place you at the scene. And a guy like you, well, you're not exactly Mr. Average, are you? What do you think, Oliver?" Steve saw the other man flinch at the use of his full name and filed it away as another weak spot. "Do you think Marcus Marriott is going to come rushing to your defence?"

One of the other cops in the room gasped at the mention of the famous actor's name, but a glare from Steve stopped him from commenting.

"Do you think he's going to provide you with that oh so precious alibi?" Steve continued, returning his full attention to the prisoner. "Well let me tell you, he won't. I know what he did and he's not going to want the police anywhere near him. He'll leave you to take the blame. Are you prepared to do that, Oliver? To face a murder charge for him?"

The big man licked his lips and his eyes darted around nervously. He seemed temporarily lost for words.

"Now." Steve leaned forward again. "What was it you had to say to me that was so important?"

*****

The day dragged on for Steve. While he was delighted with the way things had turned out, every minute he spent bogged down by the resultant paperwork, was more time away from Jesse.

It was dark by the time he'd scrawled his name at the bottom of the final form and headed back to the beach house. When he arrived, he saw that the lights were still on and silently prayed that it was Jesse who'd waited up for him and not his father.

Steve let himself in quietly and smiled at the sight of Jesse's tousled hair, just visible over the back of the couch.

"Hey, Jess, sorry I'm late, but you wouldn't believe what happened..." He trailed off at his friend's complete lack of response to his voice.

Treading softly, Steve moved around to look at him and, as he'd suspected, the young doctor was fast asleep. As keen as he was to talk to him, Steve recognised the other man's need for sleep. Smiling fondly, he pulled the throw from the back of the couch and used it to cover the slumbering form.

The other man stirred at his touch and blue eyes cracked open.

"I'm sorry," Steve murmured. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't asleep." At Steve's sardonically raised eyebrow, Jesse amended: "Well, maybe dozing a little. I was waiting for you."

"I got tied up at work. Sorry."

Jesse struggled to sit up, wincing as his bruised ribs protested at the movement. He rubbed at his still tired eyes.

"It was good news," Steve continued, wanting to help his friend, but unsure how he'd react to being touched. "Ollie Nicholson completely folded under questioning. He nailed Marriott for the murder of that male prostitute."

Jesse just looked at him disbelievingly.

"It's over, Jess. Marriott's going to jail and your name won't even be mentioned." Steve looked on in concern as tears filled the younger man's eyes. "Jesse, it's okay. It's over."

"Is it?" The bright blue gaze dropped to the floor. "Will it ever be over? The nightmares? The fear... the fear of being touched?"

"Jesse..."

"I said we had to talk," Jesse went on, a tremor in his voice. "And I do want to talk, but I don't know where to start. I'm crazy about you, Steve. I always have been. But earlier, at my apartment, when you..."

He squeezed his eyes shut, obviously fighting back the tears. Steve perched on the edge of the couch and placed a calming hand on his arm.

"What if it's always like that? What if I'm going to freak out every time..."

"It's okay, Jess." Steve rubbed his arm gently. "It's bound to take time, I understand that."

"Yeah, but what if..?"

"No what ifs. I'll always be here, Jesse. I love you and I'll wait forever if I have to."

"You... love me?" The young man's voice was filled with self-doubt.

"Yeah." Steve leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Jesse's lips. "And I'm gonna be here to help you every step of the way."

Steve kissed him again, intending it only to be another chaste peck, but Jesse's mouth opened at the contact and his tongue began to probe gently. Closing his eyes, Steve allowed himself to become lost in the kiss. His body was responding and his hands moved to tangle in Jesse's already unruly hair.

After a long moment of complete and absolute bliss, Steve forced himself to pull away. He looked at Jesse, sincerely.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked.

"No." Jesse smiled a sweet, simple smile that was tinged with sadness. "I'm not sure at all. I can't be sure. But I do want this. I want you."

Steve smiled back at him, then gathered him into a strong embrace.

"You've got me," he murmured, holding him close. "For always. We've got forever, Jesse. There's no need to rush. We'll just take it one step at a time."

THE END.

Author's notes: Well I finally made it to the end. I do love Steve and Jesse as a couple and, you never know, if I can find a way to keep the rating down, there might be another one on the way. For now, though, thanks for everyone's support. The reviews were greatly appreciated. Best wishes, Guardian.