Thanks to Geri and Elaine for their help.

Underage relationship. James is in high school.

This story is a sequel to: Work of Desire, Chapter 10

"Where in the world did I put my catcher's mitt?" Stevie dropped to his knees and peered underneath his bed. "Ah ha! There you are!" Straightening out on his stomach, he shimmied back and forth until half his body had squeezed itself underneath the frame of his twin bed. "Come here, you stinking glove. I wanna play ball with James."

Steve had barely gotten his hand on his catcher's mitt when he was grabbed by the waistband of his jeans and jerked out from under the bed. "Hey! What's going on?"

"You little bastard!"

James flipped his younger brother over and, grabbing the front of his shirt, lifted him off the floor. "You fucking little bastard!" The teenager couldn't believe Stevie had blackmailed Simon with the threat of exposing their love to his father.

With his feet dangling off the floor, Stevie fought to loosen his brother's grip. "Have you gone nuts? Let go!"

James ignored Stevie's plea and lifted him higher in the air. "I should rip you to pieces. How dare you stick your snotty nose in my business?"

Stevie aimed a kick at James' midriff. "Put me down!" He tried again to kick his brother. "I'm gonna tell Dad!"

Those last words lit the fire of his anger and James saw red. He tossed the ten year old on the bed and, scrambling after him, straddled Stevie's lower body, holding him down by his shoulders, pushing him into the mattress. "You tell Dad anything and that'll be the last time you open your fucking mouth."

James shook the younger boy several times. "Leave Simon and me alone," he hissed. With Simon, James had finally found the love and acceptance he had hungered after for years. And now that he knew Simon wasn't kicking him out of his life, he wasn't about to let Stevie or his dad keep the two of them apart.

Stevie stuck his chin out in a show of bravado. "What if I don't? What if I tell Dad you're letting that old man fuck you?"

James raised his fist, his escalating anger at Stevie and his concern for Simon disintegrating his control. "I should just go ahead and beat the shit of you right now."

"Jimmie!"

William Ellison strode into the room and grabbed James by the arm, jerking him off the bed. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He stood over the fallen teenager, fury flashing in his eyes. "Don't you dare hit your brother."

"Why not?" James shot back. "I'd only be doing to him what you've done to me."

Speechless, William simply stared at his oldest son, his fists clenching and unclenching at his side. "Young man, you just earned yourself a two week grounding. No car, no...."

James scrambled to his feet, his anger replaced with worry. No car meant no way of getting to Simon. "You cannot take away my car!"

"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do." William took hold of James' arm. "Those keys better be in my hand in the next ten seconds or you'll know the real meaning of discipline."

The grip on his arm tightened painfully and James gritted his teeth to keep from making a sound. He would go to his grave before letting his father know how much he was hurting him. Ignoring the triumphant look on Stevie's face, he reluctantly dug in his pocket and pulled out the keys to his jeep, flinging them angrily at his father. Ripping his arm free, James glared at his brother and snarled, "This ain't over between us."

"It most certainly is over," William corrected. "You take your sorry ass back to your room and stay there. I don't want to see your face for the rest of this evening." He gave his son a shove toward the door. "And don't think I won't be checking on you while I'm gone to London. I'll be calling Sally every day to remind her you're grounded." Sitting down on the bed, he gathered Stevie close. "Keep acting like Mr. Tough Stuff and you'll be grounded for life," he yelled after his retreating son.

Silently cursing his father, James slammed shut the door to his room and threw himself on his bed. Grabbing his phone, he hit speed dial and waited impatiently for his buddy, Rafe, to answer the phone. "Hey, it's me. I need a favor," he said as soon as he heard Rafe's voice. "I need a lift into town. The old man just grounded me and took away my keys."

The teen dug under his mattress and pulled out a wrinkled copy of the magazine, American Artist. Flipping it open, he stared at a photograph of Simon, the man's wide smile reminding James of the moment Simon had confessed his love for him. "Come on, Rafe. You owe me." James rolled over on his back, clutching the magazine to his chest. "Stuff your cock back in your pants and tell Megan to take a breather." A whiney excuse filtered over the telephone line and James yelled, "Fuck you! Next time you need someone to cover your ass, don't come looking for me!" He clicked off the phone and threw it across the room, taking a small measure of delight when, upon hitting the wall, it broke into several pieces.

"Shit! I gotta get to Simon." James glanced out the window and watched as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky. "Maybe I can hitchhike to town." Flying off the bed, he rushed to lock his door before flipping on his CD player, making sure the volume wasn't too loud. He sure as hell didn't want his father coming upstairs because the music was blaring.

Opening his closet, he grabbed an extra pillow and bent to the task of creating a stuffed version of himself underneath the bedcovers. With a wry grin on his face, he patted his feather-filled twin. "I doubt even Simon would be fooled by this but...." At the mention of his lover's name, James took one last look around his room before opening and climbing out his window. "Hang on, Simon. I'm on my way!"

+++++++

Dawn followed the nurse into her boss' room, asking, "How is he doing?"

The short-haired brunette did a quick assessment of her patient before answering. "He's still pretty groggy due to the fact they had to heavily sedate him in Recovery Room. Seems he was quite agitated... kept calling out the name James while trying to get out of the bed."

Dawn kept her lips locked tight as she listened to the nurse.

"My name is Amy and I'll be taking care of Mr. Banks for the rest of the evening." She pointed to the cord attached to the bed's siderail. "That's the nurse call bell. I'll be in and out, checking on him several times during my shift, but if you should need anything in between those times, just buzz me."

Throwing her purse on the nearby couch, Dawn braced herself against the siderail and stroked the back of her hand across Simon's cheek, noting the coolness of his skin. "Do you think he'll be able to go home tomorrow?"

Smiling, Amy nodded her head. "If he remains without a temperature and has no problems with the wound on his hand, I see no reason why Dr. Jeffers shouldn't discharge Mr. Banks tomorrow morning when he makes rounds." She pointed again to the call bell. "Don't forget... if you need anything, just buzz me."

Dawn was so focused on Simon, she completely missed the nurse leaving the room. "I told you James was going to be trouble," she whispered as she lightly traced the dressing that covered the blind man's right hand. "He's broken your heart and put your career on hold indefinitely. I knew I should have shut the door in his face when he showed up that first day."

Pulling a chair next to the hospital bed, Dawn laid her hand on Simon's chest and watched as he wrestled against the affects of the anesthesia, twisting his head back and forth.

"James," Simon moaned softly, his voice hoarse, his words tinged with anguish. "Come... come back."

Dawn sank back in her chair and closed her eyes tight against the tears that threatened. "How many times, Simon? How many more times will you be able to survive a broken heart?"

+++++++

Emotionally exhausted, Dawn had just drifted to sleep when the door to Simon's room flew open. Sharrie stumbled inside, clutching the handle with one hand and frantically motioning to Dawn with the other.

"Down... downstairs. Emergency room."

Dawn rushed to her lady's side and assisted her to the nearest chair. Dropping to her knees, she wrapped her arms around Sharrie, holding her close, offering support. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

The older woman struggled to catch her breath as she collected Dawn's hands in a crushing grip. "Accident. Hit and run. I tried to...."

Her eyes going wide with fear, Dawn felt her heart skid to a halt. "Are you hurt? Where's Chloe? Is Chloe hurt? Is she down in the ER?" Dawn tugged on Sharrie's hands, forcing her to her feet. "Come on! We need to be with her."

Sharrie threw her arms around Dawn, preventing her from moving away. "Chloe's...." She took a deep, shuddering breath.

"It's James. He got hit by a garbage truck right outside the hospital."

End Work of Desire, Chapter 11 by Angelise: ldcldc@earthlink.net

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