Hee! Hi again. As if you didn't know it by now, this is part three of "Remembering Petticoat Lane." I have been overwhelmed by the response this story has gotten, and I would like to think each and every person who is taking their time to read it. I would especially like to think those of you who have written to me about it. In particular, I have to think my best writing-checker buddy, Em. She's my star :o). I also would like to think another fan, Cele, who helped me make a decision about this part. You rock, Cele.
Once again, I don't know the guys, or what they do. I also don't know Lou Perlman or what he does. That might be a good thing. This story shouldn't be read by homophobes, youngsters, or people who think it's wrong to write fiction about two people who really exist. The title for this part comes from Our Lady Peace's "One Man Army" off of the "Happiness... is not a fish that you can catch" CD. The band rocks, the cd is awesome, and I am an obsessive fan (as if you couldn't tell by the e-mail address).
Remembering Petticoat Lane Part 3: "I don't want to remember falling for their lies"
It may have been the unconscious need to protect his love that led Josh to keep watch over Lance, but it proved to be a wise decision. It had barely been an hour after the other three had gone off to their own rooms when JC noticed that Lance became restless. It started small, just little back-and-forth motions in his head, and small repositioning movements, but that passive, easy movement didn't stick. In just a few minutes, Josh found himself with a lapful of mumbling, panicky James.
"No, no, please, Lou, I don't wanna'."
Somehow, the gentle Southern drawl became more pronounced in Lance's horror. He started to literally toss around, seeking asylum from a nonexistent attacker. JC started to gently bounce Lance, trying to wake him before it got too bad.
"James? Come on, James, wake up. It's okay, you're safe now."
"No. No! Please, Lou, don't hit me. I didn't mean to, I didn't know."
Hitting? Just exactly how bad had things gotten for Lance? JC's concern was growing with every sentence. Should he wake Lance, or leave him be and get a total picture of what had happened?
In the end, it was the sad, whimpering that his friend was making that decided for him. He shook Lance hard, twice, and was rewarded when the pale green eyes flashed open. He was relieved, despite the fact that they held a wild, edgy look to them. Lance sat up quickly, and regarded Josh with the almost blank, unrecognizing stare.
"Lance? James? It's okay. You're okay, you're safe."
"Josh?"
Small, tiny smile as recognition and warmth flooded Lance's gaze. "Yeah, Lance, it's me."
"What happened?"
"You fell asleep on my lap after Chris's impromptu therapy session. I woke you up 'cause you looked like you were having a pretty rough dream. Wanna talk about it?"
That was completely like Josh. Always giving everything of himself when one of the guys needed him. Completely dedicated, completely caring. Lance was suddenly filled with an incredible need to share, a need to give back to Josh, even if he could only give back by allowing him to hear.
"It was about one of the...rougher times."
"Did Lou hurt you a lot, Scoop?"
"He..." Nerves were flooding Lance's actions now, he was almost fidgeting as he related the tale to JC. "He liked pain sometimes, and sometimes he was in such a rush he didn't have time to fool around."
"What kind of things did he do to you?"
"Knives, he liked bondage and control games. I think he would have been into more if he didn't have to worry about leaving marks. I have... scars in a lot of nondescript locations. Small of my back, the inside of my upper thigh. In fact...." James's voice trailed off as he took JC's hand and moved it up underneath his right shirt sleeve, to his right shoulder. "Feel that."
JC ran his hand over Lance's shoulder, and his brow wrinkled as he came across a series of tiny lined ridges, set closely together. "What on earth are those?"
"Razor cuts. He liked the precision of the lines, even if they didn't bleed as much as he would have hoped."
"God, Lance...how often did he do stuff like this to you?"
There was a small, almost ironic chuckle before Lance answered, "Let's just say that it's probably a good thing I didn't become the heartthrob of the group. He didn't leave a lot of obvious marks, but.. he was fond of bruises, and biting. I would never have been able to take my shirt off, let alone do some of the stuff they make Justin and you do."
JC stroked the scars one last time before his hand dropped down, and he quietly asked, "Can I see?"
Nerves flared, but the answer made it obvious that Lance held a lot of trust in JC. "Umm ... sure, I guess. There's not a whole lot..." Lance didn't finish the sentence, he just nodded, and slipped his shirt off, pivoting so that Josh could get a better view of his back. He wasn't lying when he said there wasn't a lot to see. There were a few thin, pale scars running down his spine at his lower back, but nothing that really stood out. Nothing, that is, except for one vivid, corner-shaped scar that ran across Lance's right shoulderblade. Josh softly reached out to stroke it, and noticed when Lance shivered in response.
"What's this one for?"
"From one of the few times I resisted him. In the bathroom of a hotel room in Ft. Lauderdale. He ended up slamming me into a mirror, and the corner of it bit into my shoulder. And he still..." James' words ended with a soft shudder.
"Was that the time when you didn't join us for dinner? You begged it off, and wouldn't come to the door..." Lance just nodded, and JC clenched up for a second in anger, before grinding out the words. "Lou told us that you were probably just homesick and wanted a night away. I wanted to come check on you, but he stopped me..."
"I know, I heard him stop you. It's okay, JC."
Josh exhaled, a ragged angry breath, before he slowly, carefully leaned down to kiss the scar. Lance took a quick breath, but didn't stiffen at the touch. "I'm sorry, James." JC moved his leg up into the space behind Lance on the couch, and he put his arms around Lance, hugging him in a loose embrace. He was surprised when James leaned back into the hug instead of pulling away.
"It wasn't your fault, Josh." JC didn't answer, he just leaned back onto the couch, pulling Lance down with him so that Lance ended up mostly lying on top of him. Lance rested his head on JC's chest, and softly intoned, "What are we doing, Josh?"
"Nothing yet. Nothing until you're okay, James."
Lance seemed to accept the answer, he turn in JC's arms so that he could rest his cheek on Josh's shoulder. He moved his hand to rest on JC's chest, and relaxed into his body. "The guys are gonna talk when they find us like this."
"Let them talk. They'll get over it." JC moved one hand up to stroke Lance's head. Lance's hair was surprisingly soft to the touch, especially after all the gel had given up holding the spikes. The hand wandered down to stroke across Lance's cheek, and was intercepted by another hand -- this one belonging to Lance. Lance kissed the hand softly in the center, then at each of the fingers. JC moved his hand to softly hold Lance's, and Lance responded by taking JC's hand in his, and turning it over to kiss the back as a finishing gesture. JC softly kissed the top of Lance's head, before yawning loudly. Lance snickered.
"You should go to sleep. You've been awake ever since I told you guys, haven't you."
The response was just slightly sheepish. "Well, yeah. But it wasn't that long ago, and besides ... look who's talking. When's the last time you slept a full night, James?" No answer. "S'what I thought. You've had a hard day, too, baby. Go to sleep."
James kissed the enfolded hands one last time. He liked the petname. Then, he allowed himself to slip into sleep, and this time JC followed him.