Reposting this. Same story, fresh start. It's too long to post all at once, so I'm breaking it up into a couple posts per day. Enjoy.

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I glanced at my watch for what must have been the third time in the span of a minute. Quarter past four. Shit. I just wanted to get this over with and go back to the office. Now there was a sentiment I hadn’t predicted. Was I really dreading this so much that I’d prefer sitting in the stifling air of the tenth floor, sifting through legal documents for the rest of the afternoon? I checked my watch again, and looked up as I heard the ‘ding’ of the elevator announcing itself.

Relief poured through me as my friend, Jackson, stepped out of the lift and walked quickly to the bench where I’d been sitting, less than patiently, for the last thirty minutes.

“Sorry beautiful, I couldn’t get here any quicker. Client called last minute and wanted to chat.” He gave me a brief hug and then held my shoulders as he looked at my face, and then down, taking in my outfit. “Did you wear this…on purpose? You look a little morbid.”

“I feel morbid,” I mumbled, moving out of his reach. “I don’t want to be here, I’m sure they won’t want to be here, and besides, I like black. It suits me.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my black pencil skirt and pulled down the sleeves of the black button down shirt accompanying it. At least my hair was up, so I couldn’t fiddle with it, a habit I had when I was nervous. Maybe I should have taken out the silver and diamond earrings I wore, I fiddled with those too, but they belonged to my grandmother, and I’d always worn them when I needed a little boost of confidence.

Jackson took my hand and squeezed it. “I promise, sweets, everything will be okay. Just let me do the talking, you can just sit there and look…oh my, pale. Fuck darlin’, couldn’t you have put some blush on? Seriously, you’re damn near glow in the dark. Are you sure you’re up to this?”

I laughed. He could always make me laugh, even when I didn’t want to. Especially when I didn’t want to. “I’m fine, just a little queasy, I guess it’s showing. Shouldn’t we get going? We’re due there at 4:30, I’d hate to keep them waiting.”

“Alright. Got all the papers? Course you do. Most organized lawyer at our firm, that’s you. Remember, let me handle the chit-chat and legal crap, you just relax and answer any questions that are directed at you. We’ll be fine. I promise.” He squeezed my hand a final time and headed for the stairs.

“Jackson…we’re meeting them on the seventh floor…we’re on the second. Um…hello, elevator?”

Without turning, he replied, “Gotta do something to get some color into your cheeks, otherwise they’ll think your as dead as your supposed father.”

I trailed behind him, muttering swear words at his back.

“What was that, darlin’?” I could practically hear him grinning.

“Just cursing you, your parents, your unborn children, and everyone you’ve ever met. That’s all.”

“Long as you can keep up, you can say anything you like. Race you up the next flight?” He turned, and dammit, he was grinning! Ohhhhh…this guy. I sped past him and took the stairs two at a time, hearing him panting behind me, and didn’t stop until I’d reached the seventh floor. I stopped, catching my breath, and heard Jackson doing the same.

“Ahem…Miss Tyler, I presume? If you’re ready, they’re waiting for you.”

Crap. A very stern looking older man wearing a very ugly suit was pointing at the room across the hall.

“Ready when you are, darlin’. Your cheeks are very nice and pink, by the way. You don’t look remotely cadaver-like.” Jackson strode across the hall and pushed open the door, holding it for me and smiling as I went in past him.

Inside the room was an enormous cherry-wood table, surrounded with ornate matching chairs. I knew the deal, it was supposed to be impressive for clients, and intimidating for defending counsel. We had similar rooms in the firm where I worked. Of course, the tables at my firm didn’t have the members of Metallica seated around them. Nor did they have six, no, make that seven, scary looking lawyers in gorgeous suits, talking seriously amongst themselves. Seven lawyers? I suddenly felt even more inadequate, with just Jackson and myself on my side of things.

The lawyers kept talking as I sat, and Jackson shut the door behind him. Loudly. All the talking stopped. I felt eleven pairs of eyes sizing me up. I knew seven pairs would be looking at me with detached interest, wondering if I were really who I was rumored to be, but not really caring, as long as I didn’t take up too much of their day. The other eyes would be staring at me, looking for red hair where there was blonde. Brown eyes where mine were green. Somebody tall, where I only stood 5’8 because of my three-inch heels. I knew they wouldn’t see any resemblance. I’d been examining myself in the mirror for the last three days, and I certainly couldn’t see it.

“Miss Tyler,” one of the lawyers stood up and addressed me. “We’re glad you could make it today. I’m Aaron Lutes, and these are my colleagues from Whittan and Garden, and I believe you’ll recognize the gentlemen at the end of the table.” All four band members raised a hand in greeting. “My clients are anxious to get this business behind them, as I’m sure you are. Were you able to locate all the necessary documents?”

I nodded and pushed the pile over to Jackson, who in turn passed them along to the lawyer, saying, “We’ll be wanting those back at the end of this meeting, gentlemen. You’re welcome to make copies but my client isn’t comfortable giving you the originals to take away.”

I felt some of the tension slide out of me. One of my closest friends since I’d moved to San Francisco to join McGlinchy, Mason and Hart the year before, Jackson would not only have my back, but he was also totally professional when the situation called for it.

“That’s fine, Mr…”

“Stanford. Jackson Stanford.”

“Jackson…I think I know your father. Fine man, brilliant lawyer. Retired to the Caymans last year, isn’t that right?”

Well, apparently not as worried about me taking up as much of the day as I’d thought. I tuned him out as he rambled on about islands in the sun and hardworking lawyers. At the far end of the table, Lars was drumming his fingers on the table, still wearing his sunglasses. Kirk and Rob were chatting quietly, and James was…oh shit. Staring right at me. I quickly looked down and started examining my hands as though they were the most fascinating things I’d ever seen. I could still feel those blue eyes trained on me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Jackson, waiting patiently for a reasonable place to interrupt the chatty lawyer.

I looked back over at the guys. Lars had his head in his hands, Kirk was patting his back, James was watching them both, looking slightly amused, and Rob was smiling.

“Miss Tyler, whenever you’re ready, we have a few questions.”

Oh, sure. Now chatty guy was all business. “I’m sorry, I’m ready. Please go ahead.”

“Could you state your full name and your date of birth for the record? Please.” He added the please as an afterthought.

“Charlotte Elizabeth Victoria Tyler. I was born on September 21st, 1979.”

“And you were adopted one month later, is that correct? By Victoria and Andrew Tyler?”

My stomach knotted up at the mention of my parents. Over three years since I’d lost them in a car accident, and the pain sometimes felt as fresh as if it’d been yesterday. “That’s correct. I was in foster care for a month, and then placed with them after that. In time for Thanksgiving,” I added, then felt slightly foolish. Thanksgiving had always been a huge holiday for us, not just because of the enormous meal and the football and the traditions, but because it was when we were first made a family. But the lawyers wouldn’t recognize that, nor would they care. I could feel my face grow hot.

“I bet they thought that was the best holiday ever. Even Christmas can’t beat a new baby in the house.”

I looked up at Lars’ voice, and smiled back at him. “That’s what my dad always said. The Cowboys beat the Redskins, and he got a daughter too.”

“Miss Tyler, could you please confirm for us, did you receive this letter only four days ago? I know that’s what you’d said over the phone, but the postmark is slightly older than that.”

I looked back at the lawyer addressing me, a different one this time, and nodded. “It was fed-exed to me, it had been sent to my old address in the UK. I received it on Thursday.”

Apparently the questions for me were done. There was a great deal of discussion within their closed rank of seven, and Jackson and I sat back and waited. And waited and waited and waited. I couldn’t help myself, I looked at the guys again. Lars was glaring at his watch, Kirk and Rob appeared to be playing hangman on a sheet of paper, and James was staring at me again. I stared back this time, until he looked away.

I could hear snippets of the conversations the other lawyers were having. There seemed to be a lot of talk about estates and wills and provisions, and…what the hell? I overheard a particularly loud lawyer say, “… she’s only out to get as much cash as she can, and we don’t even know if she’s really his daughter”. Screw that. If that was what they thought they could take their fancy table and chairs and shove them up their-

“Charlie!” Jackson hissed at me. I jumped and looked over to see him shaking his head. “Settle down.”

But I didn’t feel like settling. All the frustration and confusion and grief I’d felt over the past few days was boiling over. I stood up and slammed my hand down on the table. Everybody looked up.
“Gentlemen, thank you very much for inviting me here today. However, I believe this meeting has gone on long enough. You have all the paperwork that you requested. Please make the copies you need and have the originals sent over to Mr. Stanford. I’m afraid I have to be going.”

“Miss Tyler, if you could just…”

“No, I can’t. Whatever it is, just tell Jackson. I need to get back to work. And I believe your clients have other places to be as well. Or at least, I’m pretty sure Lars does. If you could let me know when you’d like me to have the blood test done, I assume we’ll be using a doctor chosen by your firm?” I pulled a business card out of my handbag and flicked it at chatty lawyer. “That’s MY firm. Feel free to call it when you’ve finally finished that charming conversation you were having. And for the record, I don’t want anything. I don’t want any old guitars, or Met paraphernalia, I don’t want to meet his parents as their long-lost granddaughter, I don’t want any part of his estate, and I certainly don’t want his money. I’m only here because you requested my presence, and I’d like to know the truth as much as you. Guys,” I turned to face the Met boys, who were looking rather amused at my rant, “it was nice…um, sort of meeting you. Take care.” And with that, I turned and walked out, and went straight into the ladies room where I promptly burst into tears.

Well done, Charlie, that was totally professional, you ass! I glared at myself in the mirror, tears streaming down my face. I was 25, for goodness sake. Far too old for silly outbursts like that.

I cried for what seemed like ages and was dabbing at my eyes with some horrid scented tissues when I heard the door open. “Christ, Jackson, can’t a girl get five minutes to bawl her eyes out? I’ll be out in a bit.”

“Jackson said he’d see you back at the office, but not until tomorrow. You’re to take the rest of the day off.”

I spun around to see Lars and Rob, who were looking slightly sheepish.

“Um…yeah. Okay. Right. Thanks. For, um, letting me know. Okay.” Good lord. I can work up a twenty-five minute closing argument for a case but one look from these guys and I turn into Rainman.

Lars walked over to me and brushed his fingertips over my tear-streaked face. “You okay? That was a nice little speech you gave in there. I think you scared the suits. I don’t have anywhere to be just yet, by the way, but thanks for getting me out of there. I hate meetings. Specially meetings with lawyers.”

“I’m a lawyer,” I sniffled.

“Well, okay. I’m sure a meeting with just you would be fun, but those guys bore me to tears. You too, apparently,” he chuckled, and I gave him a weak smile.

“Uh, Charlotte? Aaron wanted to be sure you got these back. Jackson said he’d fax over copies later.” Rob moved in beside Lars and handed me the stack of documents. “Seems like a good guy. Gave our boys a thorough talking to after you left.”

“Sorry if they upset you, hon. They only have our best interests at heart. It’s their job.” Lars had moved to my side by this point and was rubbing my back as I continued blotting tears with the tissues. Why was I still crying? I was in a bathroom with the drummer and bassist of Metallica, who, aside from being famous rock stars, were also turning out to be two of the sweetest men I’d ever met. Surreal situation, but still kind of nice. So why couldn’t I turn off the waterworks?

“I’m not…I don’t want anything. I really don’t.” I mumbled through my sniffles. “I have plenty of money, and I would never dream of trying to get anything from his family, I just wanted to know if it was true. Can’t I…isn’t that okay? Is this really gonna be a huge deal for you guys? Or his family? Because if it is, we don’t have to go through with it. You can get your lawyers to draw up a document, stating all the terms…” I trailed off as I saw Lars fold his arms and start shaking his head.

“Don’t say that. We know you’re not after anything. We want answers as much as you do. If it turns out you’re not who the letters say you are, then we can all move on, and maybe go out for drinks to toast your crazy birthmother who thought up this random tale. If it’s true, then…” this time Lars trailed off and Rob finished the sentence for him.

“Then we’ll all deal with that, when the time comes. In the meantime, why don’t you take a minute and get your stuff together, and meet us in the hall. We’ll walk you out, okay?” Those big brown eyes searched my face to see if I was going to cry again, but instead I found myself smiling, and nodding at Rob.

“Thanks guys. I’ll be out in a couple of minutes.” They both smiled at me and left the bathroom.

I turned to face myself in the mirror. A very pale, tired-looking girl stared back at me. “Woman,” I said to myself, “you need some sunlight. And maybe some caffeine. Ugh, and definitely some make-up.”

Ten minutes later I emerged from the Ladies room to find one bassist, no drummer. “Lars wound up having to take off after all. Custody issues with Skylar or something,” explained Rob as we waited for the elevator. “But he said to make sure you got out of here without anybody bugging you, and wanted me to give you this.” He handed me an envelope, the back of which had a scribbled phone number on it. “It’s his cell phone number. You are to use it,” he said in a mock stern voice, “if you need anything at all.” I thanked him and tucked my letter inside the envelope.

We reached the lobby and after declining a lift from Rob, as I’d brought my truck, we said our goodbyes and he gave me a quick hug. He turned to leave and then turned around again. “Charlotte…” he started.

I winced at the name. “Please…can you call me Charlie? Only my boss calls me Charlotte. And my mom, um, did, when she was annoyed.”

“Heh…so that’s why she gave you the long name? Yeah, I know that trick,” he smirked at me, and I laughed, remembering his very long name. “Look, I know this can’t be easy. But our guys work fast. I’m sure the blood test will be arranged soon and then we’ll all know one way or the other. So between now and then, try not to stress about it. And if you do, call the little guy, he’ll sort you out. Or at least take you out and get you too drunk to remember why you were stressed in the first place. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay.” I waited until he’d gone through the main doors and then headed out behind him. Climbing into my truck, I dug in my bag for my cell phone, only to hear it start ringing.

“Hello?”

“Charlieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Where you been, babes? I’ve been calling your office all day!”

I grinned at the sound of Trish’s voice. “Meetings. Wanna get together for a drink? I need to swing by the house first, but could meet you in about an hour.”

”Sounds great. I met the hottest guy last night, have to fill you in on all the details. Sparky’s at seven, okay? Awesome, I’ll see you then. Gotta run. Bye!” And she hung up. That woman didn’t do anything slowly. Drove fast, talked fast, went through men quicker than anyone else I knew. But she was very entertaining, and always gave me good advice. Sparky’s at seven sounded perfect. Cheap cocktails and handsome bartenders, a winning combination. I started the truck and headed to my house.

Five minutes after seven, I pushed open the door to Sparky’s and was greeted by a very loud Trish, from across the bar. I made my way over to where she sat, giggling, in between two extremely attractive blonde men.

“Okay boys, my friend has arrived, you two can take off. Thanks for the company!” She waved coyly at them as they moved away from our table. “Hey sugar! You look like you could use a drink. Take one!” She gestured at the collection of cocktails that had accumulated on the table, as she lit a cigarette. “The boys were very generous.”

“God, girl, how long have you been here? And put that out, I’m not dying of second-hand smoke just because you have a gross habit.” I picked up what looked like a Cosmopolitan and sipped at it.

“Long day? Usually takes you at least half an hour before you start picking on my vices,” she teased.

“Crazy day. Wanna hear about it? Read this.” I pulled the envelope from my bag and passed it to her, then finished the rest of my Cosmo. I downed a second one, watched as she scanned the letter quickly, then as she read it again, and I picked up a different drink as she slowly put the letter down, her mouth hanging open.

“Dude…is this for real? Your father…Cliff Burton? Really? That’s…that’s crazy. Good crazy, but still…crazy. Wow. So is that where you’ve been all day? Sorting this out?”

“Yeah,” I sighed deeply into my drink. “And I told them about the Thanksgiving thing. Awkward. It was the ‘I carried a watermelon’ scene in Dirty Dancing all over again. But Lars was sweet about it. Anyway, Cliff’s family got a similar letter to mine, saying the executors of my birthmother’s will had contacted me, and then the band’s lawyers called me, and…this is delicious. Can we get more of these?”

Trish gave me a wicked look and waved the bartender over. “Hey sweetpea, we’re gonna need some more of the Rickshaws. I was also wondering if you could open the window behind us? We’d like a little fresh air in here before I pollute the place with my filthy, deadly habit,” she winked at me. The bartender kindly obliged and we had cool air behind us and four Rickshaws sitting in front of us in minutes. I happily tossed back two of them, filling Trish in on the details of the paternity test that was coming up, the meeting with Met and their flock of lawyers, and the little session with Rob and Lars in the bathroom afterwards.

“Aww…that’s so sweet! And they don’t even know you yet! I can’t believe you’ve got his phone number, you should sell it on eBay. You’d make a fortune!” She grinned at me, waving the envelope back and forth and lit a cigarette.

“Crazy lady. That’d be…that’d be mean. I need the ladies room. Where’sitat?” Wait…was that me slurring? I don’t slur. I am a brilliant drinker. I can totally hold my liquor. “Be right back. Don’t go anywhere. M’kay. Back in a sec.”

I stumbled across the bar and down the stairs, gripping the handrail all the way down. Reaching the bottom, I whirled around and looked for the sign that said Ladies. “Ladies…ladies…ladies….where are yooooouuuuu….” I called softly.

“Are you looking for actual women? Or the bathroom?” I turned, a bit too quickly, it seemed, and immediately felt dizzy. “Steady there, pretty girl. Why don’t you go over there,” a hand pointed at the door that I’d missed, “and then when you’re done I can give you a hand back up the stairs, okay?”

What was it about bathrooms and nice boys today? I staggered into the bathroom, and was washing my hands when I noticed my lip gloss was smeared. Stupid cocktails. Messing up my makeup. I pulled the gloss out of my pocket and reapplied. There. Gorgeous. Ready to go! I pulled on the door. It didn’t open. I pulled harder. Then I kicked at it. “Open!! DAMMIT!”

“Try pushing it…” I heard helpful guy’s voice on the other side. Ah yes. I pushed it with as much force as I could muster and went sprawling forward into his chest. He kindly escorted me back up the stairs and deposited me with Trish.

I reached for another Rickshaw, and it was quickly snatched away from me. “Not yet, okay? Give me a chance to catch up!” She patted my hand and moved the rest of the drinks to her side of the table.

“Hey! Not fair. M’fine. I can handle my booze! Bring it on!” I laughed and grabbed at a martini glass, which slipped out of my fingers and hit the floor.

Trish laughed with me and lit another cigarette. “Honey, you can’t even handle your glass. Just give it a few minutes, okay? Maybe have some water?”

“Water! I love water! Water’s great! Okay. Hang on.” I walked slowly over to the cutest bartender I could see, and sweetly asked for a bottle of still water. He looked slightly alarmed as I swayed back and forth, like he was afraid to turn his back on me to retrieve the water. He carefully reached behind him and opened one of the fridges with one hand, grabbed a water bottle and handed it to me, pushing away the change I offered to him.

“On the house. Just, um, give this to your friend, please?” he picked up a matchbook with the bar’s logo, wrote something on the inside, and then passed it to me. I palmed it and turned back to Trish. And…Lars? What?

“Um, I’m not sure how to tell you this,” I whispered loudly to him when I reached the table, “but stalking is illegal in all fifty states.” He smiled and pulled me down to sit beside him, catching me as I missed my chair and slid off the side of his instead.

“Hey kitten. Your buddy here called me and said you two might like some company this evening.” He pushed a strand of hair out of my eyes and took the water bottle from my hand, opening it for me. “Have some of this, and then we’ll talk, yeah?”

Yeah. Okay. Talk to Lars. That’s fine. Lars is here. I’m cool with that. I was cool in the bathroom, I can be cool in the bar. Cooler! Cause I’ve got my friends Rickshaw and Cosmopolitan with me. Yessssss…good plan. Well done, The Charlie. Heh. That’s me.

I noticed Trish was bent over laughing, and Lars was looking at me with a huge grin.

“The Charlie?” he said.

Crap.

“Ummm…didn’t mean to say all that out loud. Cosmopolitan?”

He just keep grinning and watched me chug from the water bottle. I grinned back and pushed a glass towards him.

“Thanks, but I’m not really one for, um, pink drinks. How about some champagne?”

“What are we celebrating? Charlie’s inability to stay upright?” Trish giggled again as she watched me slide towards the floor. Stupid slippery chairs.

“Hush, mean girl. Go get some champagne for the little drummer boy, oh, and talk to the cutie bartender, he asked me to give you his number,” I flicked the matchbook at her and she jumped up.

“Sweet! Thanks chick. I’ll be back in a bit. Or maybe not,” she winked at us and sauntered away.

I turned back to Lars to see him looking at me, mouth agape. “Little drummer boy? I haven’t even known you a full day and you’ve already given me a nickname? I’m shocked! Now I have to think of one for you! Other than She Who Cannot Handle Her Liquor,” he smiled and nudged the water bottle in my hand.

“Aw…you don’t like ‘little drummer boy’? I’m sorry. I’ll think of something else. So why’d you have to take off today? Something up with your kids?” I immediately regretted asking as I saw his face fall.

“Just custody issues again. Sorting out who gets the boys, and when. I hate that I don’t automatically get to see them everyday anymore. It’s not fair,” he said softly, looking down.

“I’m sorry, Lars. God, they’re such cuties, especially Myles with all those curls.” He looked up at me and I was rewarded for my comments with a sweet smile.

“Wanna see some pictures?” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a few snapshots of the boys, playing together, one of them laughing with Lars, and an adorable one of the two of them sitting at a picnic table with James’ son, Castor.

“Aww! I can see why you and Skylar might have some heated custody discussions. They’re so adorable, I’d wanna hang out with them all day long!”

“Yeah. We’ll work it out, but it’s not much fun at the moment. What about you, feeling any better now that you’ve got some drinks in you? Make the afternoon a little less horrible?” He patted my arm and put the pictures back in his wallet.

“I’m fine. It’s just been a craaaazy few days! And I feel like nothing will be normal until all this is sorted. Maybe not even then.”

“Everything will be okay. I promise,” he looked like he really believed it.

I smiled at him and reached for his hand, taking it in mine. “Lars, I know I’m hammered,” I sighed, and he squeezed my hand and gave me a look that said I should continue, “but I wanted to ask you something. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I just need to ask.”

“It’s your smile.” He replied in a quiet voice.

Wait. Did I actually ask the question? God I was drunk! “Huh?”

“You wanna know if you look like him, right? If we saw any resemblance this afternoon? Not at first. Not until you started talking about Thanksgiving, and your dad. You gave me this shy little smile, just about blew me away. It’s beautiful,” he said softly. “And it’s the same as his.”

I didn’t really know what to say to that. I sighed and leaned my head on his shoulder. And promptly slid off my seat.

He hauled me up by the elbow. “Damn woman. You sure know how to ruin a moment! Want me to take you home? Looks like your buddy might be taking off soon too,” he gestured to Trish who had moved behind the bar and was cuddled up with cutie bartender guy beside the racks of martini glasses. No stopping that girl.

“I don’t wanna go home yet. Can we go for a walk or something? Please?” I picked up my bag and jacket and waited for his response.

He seemed deep in thought. Maybe I should have just gone home? “Lars, it’s fine, nevermind.”

“No, you’re right. It’s still early. Tell you what, let’s go back to mine. I’ll make you some tea, we can chat some more, and if you do wind up passing out, I have a bunch of extra bedrooms, you can take your pick. That sound like a plan to you?”

“Are you sure? You don’t mind? I love tea!” I exclaimed happily and threw my arms around his neck. I could feel him laughing against my shoulder. “Just let me run to the little girl’s room, I’ll be right back.” I left my jacket with him and raced downstairs as quickly as I could manage, proud of myself for finding the right door on the first try. Reapplying my lip gloss again, I turned and pulled on the door. It wouldn’t budge. Oh no. I tried again, pulling as hard as I could. Sighing heavily, I reached in my bag for my cell phone and called Lars.

“Ulrich,” he answered.

“I can’t come to your house.” I said sadly.

“Who…Charlie? Where are you?”

“I’m stuck in the bathroom. I can’t get out. I’m sorry. You better just go without me. I can curl up and sleep by one of the toilets. I mean, it won’t be comfy but I just don’t wanna ask the bartender guy to break the door down. But maybe you can-”

I jumped back as the door opened and Lars appeared. “Drunk much?” He closed his cell phone and grabbed my hand. “Alright little one, let’s go.”

We managed to get back upstairs without further incident and waved to Trish, who winked and waved back, yelling, “Call me tomorrow, sweetie! Have a good night!”

I nodded and took a deep breath as the cool night air hit me with the opening of the door. Lars made a quick phone call, and a few minutes later a navy blue BMW pulled up alongside the curb. “After you, little one,” he gestured for me to get in the car, and then climbed in behind me.

“So that’s my nickname? ‘Little one’? That’s all you could come up with? Dude, that’s lame!”

“That’s the short version. The long version is ‘Drunk Little One Who Can’t Handle Her Liquor, Walk Properly, Sit on a Chair or Find Her Way out of a Bathroom.”

I giggled and leaned back in the leather seat, stretching out, feeling very drunk indeed, and very relaxed.

Several minutes, and a very bumpy ride later, we arrived at a beautiful three-storey house, with a little plot of woods behind it, and a view of most of the city – granted, from fairly far away – in front.

Lars stepped out of the car and held out his hand for me, helping me out. I kept holding it as I took in the view. “This is gorgeous. God, you could spend hours out here, just…just looking at everything.” I turned to face him. “I bet you don’t get time for that very often, hmm?”

“Not as often as I’d like. But if you want, we can sit over there,” he pointed to a stone patio with a huge double lawn chair, “and drink our tea. Earl Grey okay?”

“S’my favorite. Thank you.” The car pulled away, and I followed him into the house and watched as he tossed his jacket on the table and then moved around the kitchen, boiling water, getting tea bags out of a canister by the stove, pulling mugs out of the dishwasher. He unlocked the big door that led to the front yard, and I could immediately feel the breeze coming through the screened door that was behind it. Lars noticed it too.

“Could you grab a couple of blankets from the closet in the hall? Might need ‘em outside. Third door down, hon.”

I took a left into the hallway, passing numerous pictures hung on the wall. Lars with the band, Lars with other bands, Lars with his two boys, Lars and Cliff… I stopped in front of that one and drank in every detail. They were shirtless and sweaty, obviously just after a show, both with beers in their hands, and arms looped around each other’s necks, a shit-eating grin on each of their faces. All long hair and skinny limbs, they looked so happy.

“Were you able to find…are you crying again?” I felt Lars’ fingertips wipe away the wetness beneath my eyes. “You’re gonna dehydrate yourself at this rate, little one,” he smiled and stroked my cheek.

“Sorry. I’m being silly. I mean, we don’t even know for sure, I haven’t even had the DNA test…” I looked at him, and stopped. He looked so serious.

“I don’t need a test to see what’s staring me in the face,” his voice was almost a whisper. “You’re his.” Cupping my face in his hands he leaned in and gently kissed my forehead. Stepping past me, he pulled two blankets out of the closet and took my hand, leading me back to the kitchen.

“Pink mug is yours. Black one’s mine.” He bumped the screen door open with his hip, the blankets in his right hand, and a plate of brownies which seemed to have magically appeared in his left. I picked up the mugs and followed him out, the door making a soft ‘thwack’ behind me as it banged shut. He waited until I’d curled up on the cushions of the chair, then proceeded to tuck one of the blankets all around me, and handed me my tea. He sat next to me and closed his eyes, sighing contentedly.

“Um…this is all very nice and cozy, and thank you for my tea, but you’re totally hogging the brownies!” I pointed at the plate, which he had conveniently placed beside him.

“What’s that? You want a brownie?” He opened one eye.

“Yes please.”

“You definitely want a brownie?” Both eyes open, looking sideways at me.

“Uh huh.”

“Are you sure you don’t want…a Danish?” He winked and stuck his tongue out at me. It took me a second to catch on and then I swatted his arm, laughing.

“No, you dork, I want the big, fat, chocolate, gooey…wait, are there nuts?”

“What, on the Danish?” He gave me that same shit-eating grin I’d seen in the picture.

I couldn’t stop laughing. “You freak! You’re a Dane! Not a Danish! Now hand over the chocolate before I beat you to death with your own mug.”

Still chuckling, he passed the plate to me, and I gleefully took a huge bite of brownie. Ohhhh, and there was even icing! Happiness!

“Fank oooh,” I mumbled as I finished the whole thing in two more bites.

“Welcome. I am SO a Danish. Or rather, I AM Danish.”

“Fine,” I licked my lips. “Danish it is. You make a damn fine brownie, Danish. Lovely tea too. Thanks for this.” I placed the pink mug on the ground beside the chair.

He put his mug down too, set the plate beside it and changed position, pulling me towards him so I was resting against his chest, his arms wrapped around me.

“This okay? You comfy?” He murmured against my hair.

“Mmmm, very nice. Hey, Danish?” I turned so I could see his face.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

“Is this…weird? I mean, it doesn’t feel weird, at all, to me, but…it seems like it should. I barely know you. Like, I’ve been a ‘tallica fan for most of my life, and I’ve read countless interviews, and watched all the videos and dvds, seen tons of pictures, listened to the music more times than I could possibly count, but that doesn’t mean I know you. And you, well you only met me this afternoon, and here I am just making myself at home, but we’re not in my home, we’re in your home, and am I being rude, by making myself so comfortable here? Cause I am, you know. Comfortable. This is nice. Are there more brownies?”

He burst out laughing. “Sorry I asked! That was a LOT of stuff you had on your mind, little one. And they say I ramble. Wow. Um, let’s see. No, this isn’t weird. I’m glad you feel so comfortable. You had a bit of a rough afternoon, you deserve to relax, ” he brushed away the hair that had fallen into my face. “It’s nice to know you’re a fan,” he smiled down at me, “and you’re right, watching and reading and listening doesn’t mean that you necessarily know me, or anyone in the band. But we did spend the last several hours together, so you’re not a total stranger. And you’re definitely not rude. You’re great. And there are many more brownies in the kitchen, if you want them. Whew. That cover everything?”

“I think so.” I leaned back against him and closed my eyes. “We can’t fall asleep out here, okay? We could die of hypothermia, or get eaten by bears, or other wild animals.”

“Yeah, I’m not too worried about that. They’ll go for you first, anyway, cause you’re the one who’s got brownie all over her face,” he said matter-of-factly, squeezing his arms around me tighter.

“You’re the one who’s nicknamed after a damn pastry. They’ll totally go for you.” I squirmed a little, my butt was starting to fall asleep.

“It’s a nationality. Not a pastry. Drunk girl.” He shifted slightly as well.

“Is your ass, like, completely numb? Cause mine is.” I squirmed again.

“Maybe you’re allergic to the brownie. Maybe you’re having a reaction there cause it went straight to your hips…”

Oh no. No he did not. I bolted off the chair and whirled around, only to see him doubled over with laughter.

“Kidding, sweetheart, I was kidding! But you should see the look on your face.” He stood up and grabbed the plate and mugs from the ground. “Shall we get you settled into one of the spare rooms?”

I nodded and picked up the blankets, and held open the door for him. “You better go first. Not sure you AND my hips will fit through the door at once,” I sneered at him, doing my best not to smile as he grinned at me.

He put the dishes in the sink and took my hand again, leading me upstairs. “You can sleep in the room next to mine. That way, if you need anything during the night, I’m right next door. Now, I’m guessing you don’t want to sleep in your clothes,” he gestured to my hip hugger jeans and flimsy top. “Go on in there and I’ll see if I can find you a t-shirt or something, okay?”

I stood there for a moment, in the doorway of his room. Here was this man, who I’d only known a few hours, and he’d made me tea, fed me chocolate, cuddled with me under the stars, and now he was offering me a room in his house and pacing around his room attempting to find me something to sleep in. There had only been one man in the last few years to make me feel so comfortable and cared for, and I hadn’t seen him in months. Lars caught me staring and stood up abruptly from where he’d been bent over his dresser.

“No! Absolutely not. I forbid it! I know that look, it means you’re gonna cry. Don’t do it, Charlie, you’ll start wilting! For heaven’s sake, woman, please don’t cry!” He threw his arms around me and started frantically rubbing my back. I started shaking, but it was with laughter, not tears.

“Sorry buddy.” I pulled back and looked at him sheepishly. “I’ve got in under control now. I was just thinking about how sweet you’re being. It’s been a long time since I’ve met anyone like you. I’m just…wanting to remember how this feels. In case things don’t quite turn out the way you think they will, and we don’t get to have another tea and brownie date.”

”Hey…don’t talk like that, little one. No matter what the outcome of all this is, we’re always gonna be friends. I can tell. And there will always, always be tea and brownies for you, anytime.” He was still rubbing my back. “Know what else there will be?”

“What?” I asked.

“Sleep. Lots and lots of sleep. Maybe we can get rid of these, hmm?” He gently touched the shadows under my eyes that had appeared in the last week.

“Sleep sounds great. Is that for me?” I pointed to the enormous Raiders jersey he was holding.

“Yup. Christmas gift from James last year. Will you be comfortable in this?”

“Well, I’m a Packers fan, but I guess I could wear that for one night. Long as you don’t tell anybody.” I pulled the jersey out of his hand.

“Atta girl. Now,” he walked into the room next to his. “This is your room for the evening!” He held his arms open in a grand gesture, and the two of us surveyed the room. The walls were bare, as was the floor, except for a double bed, and a rocking chair by the window.

“I, um, only moved in a couple of months ago.”

“Uh huh.”

”You wanna stay in my room instead?”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay, but if you snore, I’m tossing your butt out to the bears. That’s if I can actually lift your butt,” he muttered, grinning as he jumped away from me before I could smack him. If I wasn’t so sure that my size six butt was far from huge, I would have chased him around the house to make him apologise.

I slipped into his room’s en suite bathroom to change, and gasped. It was almost as big as his bedroom. A huge raised Jacuzzi bathtub took up at least a third of the room. The window by it had the same view as the patio. Two sinks, an enormous shower, good lord. The whole band could fit in here, quite happily. Hee… Maybe they did? I leaned against the sinks, laughing out loud as I pictured them all in the Jacuzzi, pushing each other and complaining that Lars or James was hogging the jets. Oh my. No more Cosmopolitans, ever. They did very bad things to the imagination.

Lars poked his head in. “Everything okay?”

I kept laughing and nodded.

“Yeah, your new nickname? Is Mood Swing. Do you like the bathroom? Man…I’m thinking, you and I have spent a lot of time in bathrooms today.” I nodded in agreement.

“This is gorgeous Lars. You could fit the entire, um, Raiders team in that tub.” I wasn’t about to tell him what I’d been laughing about.

“Isn’t it awesome? You should see it when it’s filled to the brim, it’s like the damn Pacific. But warmer,” he smirked. Looking thoughtful, he sat on the side of the bath. “You’re welcome to have a bubble bath if you want, Charlie. I actually have to make a couple calls and send some faxes, so I’ll be a little while. Might help you sleep better. Up to you, kiddo.”

I thought about it. For about three seconds. “Sounds great. I’ll yell if I need anything.” I ushered him out the door, kissed him on the cheek, and closed the door behind him.

Now then. If I were a bottle of bubble bath, where would I be…

Twenty minutes later, I was up to my neck in bubbles, lots of them, thanks to the jets and the Blue’s Clues bubble bath I’d found tucked under one of the sinks. It smelled a little bit like candy, but hey, bubbles! Lars had slid his iPod under the door and I was humming along merrily to Oasis. I heard a knock on the door and called out for him to come in, since I was just one big bubble, no skin to be seen aside from my face.

“Wow. You’re just like Layne. He’s crazy about the bubbles. He’s so little, but he always wants to fill the whole tub and he pours about half a bottle of the stuff in.” He rumpled my hair and sat on the edge of the tub. “You feeling relaxed?”

“Oh yeah. And pretty sober. So, while I remember, can I just say thanks? For everything? I’ve had the best night, Lars. Really.”

“Hey, you’re welcome. So, what was the high point? The delicious tea? The amazing brownie? The continuing saga of CryFest 2005?” I flicked a spray of water at him for that one.

“No, I think the best part’s still to come. The bit where I take over that ginormous bed of yours, and you have to curl up in a tiny ball in the corner cause I’ve got all the room. And all the blankets.” I winked at him as he scowled at me. “I’m kidding. You can have one blanket.”

He got up and threw a towel at me. “Are you working tomorrow? I should probably set an alarm or something.”

“Yep, I’m working. But don’t worry about the alarm, I’m not going in until the afternoon.”

“Hey, see? We can have tea and brownies again – for breakfast!” He chuckled and left the bathroom, leaving the door slightly open.

I stepped out of the tub and wrapped the fluffy towel around me. “Ahh, that was lovely. We’ll have to do this again sometime,” I said to the Jacuzzi, as I drained it.

“Talking to my appliances? Weirdo. Maybe you’re actually related to Kirk,” Lars called from the bedroom. I threw the Raiders jersey on and hung up the towel.

“Can it, Danish. Which side of the…good lord, this bed really is enormous! I could snore louder than a chopper and you wouldn’t be able to hear me on the other side of the bed!”

He turned off the overhead lights so the room was lit only by a little reading lamp next to the bed. “C’mere.” He motioned for me to join him on the bed. I did so, curling my feet under me. “It just hit me that me offering you a bubble bath, asking you if you wanted to share my bed…that might seem like something it isn’t. I don’t want you to think I’m hitting on you, or that I’m gonna try anything in the middle of the night.” He was speaking so softly I had to lean in to hear him. “I just feel this connection to you, like I’ve known you for years, instead of hours. I don’t know if it’s real, or if I’m just feeling it because I know there’s this connection to Cliff with you…”

“You think there’s a connection, Lars. You don’t know for sure.” Whoa. Hello, serious face.

“Trust me, Charlie.” He reached up and pulled out my ponytail, letting my hair fall around my shoulders. “Yup. That’s the look.”

“What look?”

“The ‘I’m exhausted, we’ve just played a wicked show, drunk eighteen beers, shagged three chicks each and I just smoked a big one, can we go to sleep now’ look.”

“I look like I’ve gotten laid by three chicks? Wow…I’m not sure how to take that.”

He laughed quietly. “No, it’s just the same kind of sleepy look that he’d exhibit right before we’d hit the sack. Happy, satisfied, but really looking forward to a long rest. He’d have this sleepy grin on his face, wild hair everywhere, and his eyes would sort of glaze over, and get really dark, like yours are now-”

“They’re reflecting the shirt,” I interrupted. I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with all these comparisons, when nothing had been proven yet.

“Charlie, I wouldn’t lie to you. I know what I’m seeing. Anyway, I’m sorry. It’s late to be putting all this on you. I just wanted to make it clear that you’re safe, okay? I won’t try anything, I’ll stay on my side of the bed. The bed itself might try to jump you though. It’s been a while since it’s had a beautiful woman on it.” He winked at me, and any hint of tension between us was gone. He turned off the little lamp and rolled over on his side, facing me. “Night, little one. Pleasant dreams.”

Impulsively, I scooted over and hugged him. “I trust you Lars. You didn’t have to say what you did, I already felt safe. And the connection is real, I feel it too. Now, I’m going over to my side of the bed. If you need me, send me a letter. I should get it in about three days.” He laughed and kissed my cheek before I rolled across the bed – twice – and snuggled up with the pillows. They smelled like his cologne, and I breathed in the scent deeply.

“Fock!! Are you snoring already?”

I giggled and rolled over. “Shut it, Danish. Don’t make me come over there, it’ll take all night!” I heard him laughing and closed my eyes, feeling more relaxed than I had in days.

I used to be addicted to this fic, you know? Like being late to meet my friends to read updates. :lol:

It's always a nice read, thanks for re-posting it. :)

Hey, this is pretty good, I like it all ready :) Wow, Cliff had a daughter? :o In my story Black Friday Rule, Cliff was married and had a daughter, he was alive when she was born, she wasnt' adopted. This sounds like it's going to be a very interesting story, keep it up. :)

This is great. I'm so glad you reposted so I got the chance to read it. Very well written. I can't wait to read more.

Glad to see I was wrong. :) This is definitely my all time favorite Metallica fic. :) Can't wait to reread the later chapters, though... :}

Dude. You're totally kickass writer and this story rocks. It reads just like a book and is sooooo well written. It's amazing really. I can see why people demanded that you post it. :)

I love the balance of drama and humor in here. It's perfectly executed and even though I read all your updates at once, it was a quick read. A page turner, and much better than most books I've read.

I loved this part

“So that’s my nickname? ‘Little one’? That’s all you could come up with? Dude, that’s lame!”

“That’s the short version. The long version is ‘Drunk Little One Who Can’t Handle Her Liquor, Walk Properly, Sit on a Chair or Find Her Way out of a Bathroom.”


Very much the epitome of awesomeness. The dialogue between Lars and Charlie was suprub. It couldn't be any better.

I also love how real Charlie seems. I love her talk about thanksgiving and football. I'm a football fan myself and watching the Detroit Lions on Thanksgiving was a big deal in my house. My dad and I used to be obsessed with the Detroit Lions, to the point where as a kid, I wrote fanfics about them just for him.
So anyway, not that you needed to know that, but it does illustrate how real your writing is, because I could totally pick up on what Charlie was saying.


I also loved this line

“I look like I’ve gotten laid by three chicks? Wow…I’m not sure how to take that.”


And the Cosmos part was brilliant. Fuck dude. I haven't had a Cosmo in years, but I used to love them, and I always felt so stylish whenever I drank one.
Maybe I'll have one for Charlie this weekend. :)


You must post more soon. Please??? :) I woke up in a rather foul-ass mood but this made my day.

This story is AWESOME!

I'm already hooked!

I can't wait to read more :)

Thanks for the lovely feedback, girls! Makes me all kinds of happy.

************************************************************

I woke up a few hours later, moonlight streaming through the windows. I could feel Lars pressed against my back, his arm flung around my waist. Not what I’d expected, but not at all unpleasant. He must have sensed me waking, and launched into a very sleepy, half-awake explanation.

“Had a blanket war. You won. Just doing this to keep warm. Don’t get any ideas,” he mumbled into my neck. I could hear his breathing evening out again, and knew he was sleeping. I rolled over as gently as I could without moving him, so we were face to face and admired his sleeping form. He looked so peaceful, like a little boy. “Stop staring at me.” Eeep! Okay, not asleep after all.

“Sorry! You just looked so sweet and innocent. Go back to sleep.” I ran my fingertips from his forehead down his nose to his chin, and placed a quick kiss on his nose. Rolling back over, I laid my arm over his and settled into his chest, feeling his arm tighten around me.

“Charlie?” More mumbling against my neck.

“Yeah, Danish?”

“I forgot to say thank you. I had a really good night too. See you in the morning, okay?”

”Okay sweets. Night.”

I woke up to the heavenly smells of coffee brewing and bacon frying. I stretched out in the bed, a huge smile on my face. I didn’t even feel hung-over. Turning back over I saw a little note on the table beside the bed.

“Charlie,
You lazy, lazy girl. Get your sorry ass out of bed and come help me make breakfast. No, we’re not having brownies. Wait…don’t cry! HaHa.
Lars, xx”

I pushed the covers back and pulled on my jeans. I could hear music and voices coming from downstairs. Lars for sure, and I thought I could make out Kirk’s quiet voice as well. I glanced in the hall mirror and grimaced at my bedhead, pulling my hair into a loose knot as I headed down the stairs.

“Hey! Look who’s up! How was the rest of your sleep?” Lars immediately hugged me while Kirk got up and poured me some coffee.

“Amazing. I feel so rested. Morning, Kirk,” I took the mug and smiled at him.

“Morning, Charlie. Did this guy behave himself during the night? He has quite a rep for wandering hands. I remember when we used to have to share beds in these skeezy hotel rooms…” Lars cut him off with a look and Kirk giggled.

“He was a perfect gentleman. I think I was less than gracious though, I took all the covers, and most of the bed. This coffee is awesome, Lars. And did I hear you mention that you were gonna drive us to McDonald’s to pick up some hash browns?” I winked at him.

“What? After the night I had? No covers, freakin’ chick kicking me and throwing her limbs all over the place, it was crazy. You don’t deserve McDonald’s.”

I gave a huge mock-sigh and cocked my head at him. “I know you’re talking, Lars, but all I hear is blah blah blah Sausage McMuffin…” I ducked as he threw an oven mitt at my head.

Kirk laughed. “Raiders jersey, messy blond hair and she’s making fun of you already, Lars. Are we sure she’s not related to James?”

I saw the clock on the oven read 8:40. “Am I interrupting a breakfast meeting or something, guys? Or do you regularly drop by for, um, coffee I guess, since you’re not so much with the bacon?”

Kirk smiled again and pulled out the chair next to him for me. “Actually, I came by cause I knew you were here. Lars called last night and mentioned you were gonna stay over, and I have some news from the lawyers.”

Suddenly I didn’t feel so relaxed. I sat down and gestured for him to continue. He sensed my unease and patted my hand.

“Nothing bad, Charlie, I promise. They just wanted you to know they’ve arranged for a DNA test to be done this week, today if you’re available. But if you can’t make it today, they’ll arrange it for when you’re free. I thought either Lars or I could go with you, if you didn’t wanna go alone. I figured most of your friends would be working. Is that cool?”

Letting out a breath, I nodded. “That would be great. But you guys don’t need to come, I can go alone. Really, it’s fine.” They looked at each other and I clued in. “Ah. I see. Lawyers insisted, hmm?”

“I’ll go with you. We can leave after breakfast.” Lars poured himself more coffee and took it out to the patio as his cell phone rang.

Kirk studied me with those gorgeous dark eyes of his. “I’d like to come too, if that’s okay. Give me a chance to start getting to know you. Besides, if Lars drives, you probably won’t make it to the clinic in one piece.”

I glanced at him over my mug. “He’s that bad?”

“Awful. We once took all our cars to a racetrack for James’ birthday…Lars missed the first turn and flipped the car. We all kinda decided not to drive with him again after that if we could help it. Ever.”

”Shut up, Hamlet. I’m a great driver. At least it doesn’t take me seventeen hours to go three miles.” Lars smirked and stood behind me, rubbing my neck. “You’re tensing up, little one. Relax. Everything’s gonna be fine. Why don’t you go grab a shower and I’ll find you a sweater to borrow. It’s a bit chilly out for that little blue top you were sporting last night.”

“Thanks. Um, would it be possible for me to use your fax machine before we go? I just need to send a quick note to the office.” He nodded and showed me to his office, then returned to the kitchen. I could hear him laughing with Kirk as I searched for a pen and paper, and scrawled a note to Jackson. I sent the fax and folded up the paper, putting it in my back pocket.

Hopping out of the shower ten minutes later, I found Lars had left a black hoodie on top of my jeans. He came in the room as I pulled it over my head and gave me a serious look. “Wanna tell me what this is about?” He held up the folded paper. “Fell out of your jeans when I moved them.”

I ran my hands through my hair, unsure of how to explain. “Lars, I needed to make it clear…I just need to make sure everybody, including your lawyers – especially your lawyers, actually – knows that I’m not out to get anything other than the truth about my father.” He kept staring at me, not angry, just waiting patiently for me to continue. “I just wanted to get this out of the way, I figured having Jackson draw up a contract stipulating that anything of Cliff’s will remain exactly where it is, would be the easiest way to deal with this. That way your guys can relax, and I don’t have to worry about you all thinking I’m gonna prove my heritage and take off with his family’s money, or take you to court over this.” I was staring at my feet by this time. He was being so damn quiet. “I’m sorry. I should have told you, but I didn’t want to bother you with it. That’s all. I’m sorry,” I repeated.

He read the scribbled note aloud.

“Jackson, can you please draw up a contract for the Met lawyers immediately. Just the basics – nothing is mine, regardless of the test results, etc. I’ll come by later and sign it and we can have it delivered to them later today. I want this done before the results come back.”

He stopped, and I kept staring at my feet, wishing he’d tell me what he was thinking. Wishing he’d get mad, start yelling, anything, just stop being so quiet.

“Quit that.”

“Quit what?” I continued looking down.

“Quit not looking at me. I’m not angry Charlie, so why do you look like you’re afraid of me? I just wanted to know why you felt the need to do this. I thought you’d understand by now.” He hooked his finger under my chin and lifted it so I was forced to look at him. “Do you really think I’d invite you back here, ask you to stay over and feed you my trademark brownies if I didn’t think you were really his? If you were just anybody?”

I muttered under my breath and he laughed, asking me to repeat myself.

“I said you’re nice. And I was drunk. You took care of me and you’d take care of anybody if they needed you, Lars. That just seems like something you’d do.”

“Flattered you think so highly of me, kitten, but that’s not quite it. I told you last night, there’s something there, a connection. I feel it, Kirk feels it, and James would if he’d spend some time with you. Hell, even Tru told me he feels a bond with you, and he didn’t even know Cliff. The test today is only gonna confirm what we already know. So relax. Draw up whatever contracts you like, but there’s no need. We trust you.”

“You barely know me.”

He smiled and pulled me into a hug. “I know. Guess you better stick around so we can change that, huh?” I returned the hug and laid my head on his shoulder.

“Guys! Let’s go! I got stuff to do today!” Kirk hollered from downstairs.

“Like what, ride a horse and eat some vegetables?” Lars muttered. “God. He is so not driving.” Pulling away he cupped my cheek. “Okay babes? We’re cool?” I nodded and followed him down the stairs.

The visit to the clinic was uneventful. Kirk and Lars both insisted on accompanying me into the doctor’s office, and each held one of my hands while the blood was drawn, and a mouth swab was done. I was slightly worried when Lars began drumming on Kirk’s leg with two tongue depressors, but the doctor just laughed and asked for an autograph. He promised to have results within a few days. We thanked him and walked out to the parking lot.

“I’ve gotta jet, guys. I’m due at the office in an hour. Thanks for coming with me, though.” I pulled out my cell phone to call a cab.

“Sure we can’t drive you there, Charlie? I don’t mind. I gotta drive this guy home anyway,” Kirk threw an arm around Lars’ neck.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve held you guys up enough.”

“Alright. Have a good day! See ya later,” he hugged me and headed over to his car.

Lars stepped up and took my hand, smiling. “You working late tonight? You could always come by and have a brownie after…”

I laughed. “So tempting, but if I eat too many of those you’ll be able to make fun of my butt with good reason! I’m not working late but I did promise to go out with some workmates tonight. One of the girls is turning 30. Thanks for the offer though. I had so much fun with you last night. Listen, why don’t you come by for dinner later this week?” I ripped a page out of my day planner and wrote my address on it. “Call me tomorrow and let me know when you’re free. I’ll make your favorite.”

“My favorite is a two hundred year old recipe handed down my mother’s side of the family for nine generations and no one outside the family knows the secret ingredient.” He smirked at me.

“Ass. Then I’ll make MY favorite recipe.” I pinched his cheek and kissed his forehead. “Thanks again for everything.”

“Anytime sweetheart. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He leaned in and his eyes stayed with mine as he kissed me softly on the mouth. I immediately backed away and he did the same, clapping his hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. God, Charlie, I’m so sorry. Fuck.”

”Lars, it’s fine. Lots of friends kiss each other goodbye. I gotta scoot. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” I turned and walked away quickly. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I was such an idiot. What was I thinking? Yeah, Charlie, guys frequently ask women they don’t know to stay over in their beds and expect nothing from them. Fuck! I called a cab and ducked around the corner to wait for it.

Eleven pm found me standing outside Lars’ door. Again. I had called to let him know I was coming, but didn’t say why. I rang the bell and then started hammering on the door. He opened it and stepped back as I flew in past him.

“Why? Why the HELL did you kiss me? You promised! You said you weren’t hitting on me, you said you wouldn’t try anything, and then you go and fucking kiss me! Why can’t we just be friends? I need you to be my friend, Lars. I don’t need a fuckbuddy, I don’t need a boyfriend, and I don’t need a goddamn one night stand. But I need you. As my friend. Say something!”

He stood in front of me with his mouth hanging open. “Are you drunk?”

“Oh my God! You’re changing the subject? Don’t do that!” I slapped his arm and he grabbed my hand. He was right, I’d been drinking steadily since six, but I didn’t feel drunk. I just felt angry.

“Charlie, stop. Just stop. Come and sit down.” He kept hold of my hand and I trailed behind him into the living room. We sat down on a plush leather couch, and Lars turned so we were facing. “Sweetie, I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I didn’t think, I just acted. I told you, I feel this connection with you, I went too far with it. It won’t happen again,” he looked so ashamed that I started to regret my verbal attack. “I’m glad you’re here though. I tried calling your phone earlier, but there was no answer.”

“I was screening. I didn’t know what to say, so I figured it was easier to ignore your calls.” It was a shitty thing to do, and I knew it. He looked even more sad, if that was possible. “Lars, there are things you don’t know, reasons why you kissing me freaked me out. I don’t…I’m not comfortable talking about it right now, but,” I reached up and touched his cheek, “I’m sorry I avoided your calls. That was mean, especially after you’ve been so kind to me. I overreacted. Please forgive me?” I hadn’t planned on me being the one to say sorry, but he looked so upset.

“You don’t need to apologise, babes. I’m the one who messed up. I feel horrible about it.” He looked at me and took a deep breath. “I sort of, um, got you something, to make up for it. Well, maybe ‘did something’ is a better way of describing it. You wanna see?”

“You baked twenty pans of brownies? Please let it be that…” I grinned at him.

He smiled and got up from the couch, and as he walked through the kitchen and into the hall, called to me, “It’s not brownies, freakshow, get your ass up here.”

Climbing to the top of the stairs, I saw him standing in the doorway of the room next to his, the one that had been so white and bare the night before. It had been completely transformed. The hardwood floor had a huge, soft blue rug in the middle of it. The four-poster bed had crisp sheets, white with tiny yellow flowers, and a puffy duvet covered in the same material. Beside the bed was an ornate, carved table with a sweet little antique lamp and a selection of magazines. Vogue’s June issue was laid out on top of the latest edition of Metal Hammer. An overstuffed dark blue loveseat was positioned in front of the bay window, and a small writing table and accompanying chair were to the left of that. A huge vase of lilies sat atop it. There were paintings on each wall, all water scenes, done by artists I liked and collected. The last thing I noted was the bookcase, floor to ceiling, and half-filled with dozens of novels. On the shelves that weren’t full of books, there was a small stereo, clusters of fat, white candles, and framed pictures of Met. I was stunned.

“You did all this…for me?” I stared in awe at Lars, who was leaning against the door frame with his hands crammed in his pockets, looking slightly bashful.

“I just wanted you to have a place to stay if you needed to crash here again. I was hoping you’d be able to forgive me for today, and I figured you might feel more comfortable if you had your own space here. I know you have a place in the city, but this is for when you come visit me. For tea and brownie dates.” He hesitated a moment. “Do you like it?”

“You did all this…today?” I asked, still incredulous. He grinned at me. “Lars, it’s amazing. It’s absolutely beautiful and it’s totally my taste. How did you know?”

“I called Jackson. Asked him to tell me what your house is like, what you enjoy reading, how high you like your thread count, stuff like that.” He had gone from bashful to downright smug and pleased with himself. I couldn’t blame him one bit. “And then I paid him a grand to come over here and help me set it all up.” I burst out laughing. Jackson had begged off coming out tonight, saying he’d promised to help a friend move. Guess he wasn’t really lying.

“Thank you,” I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “I can still do that, right? Just cause I freaked about earlier doesn’t mean I have to relinquish all affectionate gestures, does it?”

“Tease,” he laughed and hugged me in return. “So, where were you tonight? The distillery?” He waved a hand in front of his face.

“Bar Salsa. And then some random dive, where, ohhhhhh no.” I sat on the bed and put my head in my hands.

“Babe?” He sat beside me and rubbed my back.

“No, nothing, it’s fine. Just recalling the events of the evening. Usually I don’t do this until the following day. This is new to me.”

“Anything interesting?”

Hmmm…depends on what he calls interesting.

“Kinda.”

He chuckled and got up. “I’ll put the kettle on. Pajamas are in the closet. Shower in my room, your adjoining bathroom isn’t quite done. Come down when you smell pretty again.” He winked and I heard his bare feet padding down the stairs. I looked around the room again. Getting up, I opened the closet, found it was almost as big as Lars’ bathroom, and saw a lot more than just pajamas. Black skirt suits, flirty little sundresses, blue jeans and hoodies, vintage t-shirts, and then, on one of the shelves, about ten pairs of pajamas, in various styles and fabrics. I grabbed the ones off the top of the pile, blue flannel with white sheep. As I turned to close the door, a white wicker basket on a lower shelf caught my eye. Bending down, I saw it was full of lingerie, with an envelope sitting on top. I picked it up and recognized Trish’s handwriting. Opening it, I quickly scanned the note and smiled again at how generous Lars had been.

“Hi girlie. Guess you had a good night, since your buddy called me this afternoon and told me to come pick up a credit card and take it to La Perla for a little spree. I had a ball, too bad you were busy! Hope you like the goodies! Big hugs, Trish.”

La Perla. Jesus. I pawed through the basket and sighed in happiness. Trish had excellent taste, and knew all my sizes. Sneaky chick hadn’t said anything to me about this when I’d called her earlier in the day to ask how she’d got on with the foxy bartender. I told her everything about my night, and what had happened at the clinic, and she’d assured me that things with Lars would work themselves out. Cheeky little monkey had probably been in the store when I called.

I showered quickly, using the pink basket of toiletries that was also in the closet. Between what Lars and Jackson had come up with, and apparently with a little help from Trish, everything I could possibly need was either in the room or in the closet.

I came downstairs to find Lars watching the news. He looked over his shoulder at me and I could see the corners of his mouth twitch as he struggled not to laugh.

“You, um, you look nice.”

”I look about ten, but I’m very comfy, so you just hush. And I didn’t see a La Perla label on these, so you must have picked them out!”

He giggled. “Yeah. Jackson and I had fun shopping. He’s a cool guy. Will the rest of the clothes fit? We did check with Trish but she wasn’t sure about the suits. I thought if you stayed over during the week you might need something for work.”

”Everything is wonderful. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, Lars, ‘cause it feels like Christmas and my birthday all at once, but you know you didn’t have to do this. However, since you did do this, thank you!” I sat on the couch and leaned over to give him a hug. I moved to let go but he kept holding me.

“You’re all soft and snuggly! Ahhh, and you smell better. Well done.” He released me and leaned back. “Tea’s brewing. Feel awake enough to watch a movie? I was just gonna put one in when you showed up.”

“Whatcha got? I could probably last another couple of hours.” I moved down to the floor to flip through his vast collection encased below the tv.

“Nothing too sad, and nothing too long.” He said over his shoulder as he went into the kitchen.

“How many times have you seen The Incredibles?” I called to him.

“Actually, I haven’t seen it yet. Apparently Skylar took Myles and Layne to see it on the big screen, but I just bought the dvd last week.”

“Excellent. Let’s watch that.” I smiled up at him as he came back into the room, a mug in each hand.

“I wrapped up three brownies for you to take with you tomorrow, but I thought the sugar might keep you up if you had them tonight. The tea is decaf,” he added. “Now, before we start the movie, tell me more about your interesting night.”

Bugger. I was hoping he’d forgotten. “Um…yeah. Well, we started off at the salsa club, drinks and dancing and all that good stuff. But that got kind of dull, so a few of us went to Harley’s, which is basically…”

“This horrible hole in the wall with live bands every night,” he finished for me. “Oh dear.” He laughed.

“Exactly. But the guy at the door wouldn’t let us in, even though we said we were due on stage at nine. He said we were too drunk. So, I sort of, um, took a running start from the road and straight-armed him and he went down, and we got in, and immediately jumped on stage with some boy-band’s equipment all set up, and launched into a mini set of Metallica and Sabbath covers.” I laughed, recalling the look on the actual band’s faces as they watched us tear up the stage with their gear.

“You can play?” Lars was staring at me, his head tilted to one side. “I never thought to ask. What instrument?”

“Uh, most of them, really. Except drums, which is what I attempted to play tonight. God, I was awful! ‘Battery’ is hard!”

He threw his head back and howled with laughter. “Oh man, I wish I’d been there! That’s hilarious. How many songs did you manage to butcher before they threw you off the stage?”

“Let’s see…almost three. Most of ‘Battery’, all of ‘Frantic’, and we were part way through ‘Paranoid’ when the manager and the bouncer I’d hit came up. Then we ran.”

Lars was practically in hysterics at this point. “You couldn’t get ‘Battery’ but you decided to play ‘Frantic’? What the hell? Where’s the logic in that?”

“Hey! It’s my favorite off St. Anger. I figured if you could do it, couldn’t be that hard,” I teased him.

He turned the overhead lights off, and we curled up on the couch, and he repeated the tucking in ritual he’d done the night before. I kicked my bare feet out from under the blanket when he’d finished and he raised his eyebrows at me.

“Dude, I’m covered in flannel and I’m drinking hot tea. If I don’t let some part of me cool down I’m gonna be one giant puddle of sweat by the end of the movie, and I’ll wreck your leather furniture!”

“That is a lovely visual, thank you.”

“Don’t wanna kiss me ever again, do ya,” I sent him a sideways glance and grinned.

“Not even a little bit. Shhh, it’s starting!” He hissed at me.

I think I made it through about half the movie before I fell asleep. I woke up as Lars was trying to pull back the duvet with me in his arms at the same time.

“Mmmphf. You carried me up here?” I whispered groggily.

“Yeah. You’re not as heavy as you look,” he whispered back, and I could see him smiling in the darkness. He set me down and held up the covers for me to crawl under, and I did so, pulling him down with me.

“Can you stay? Just til I fall asleep?”

“You sure? You’re not afraid I’ll try to sneak another kiss while you’re dozing off?”

“Trust you. Too sleepy to fend you off though, so you better behave,” I mumbled and he lay down beside me. “Anyway, it was a nice kiss. Just bad timing is all.” I flipped over and threw my arm across his chest. He wrapped his arm around me and stroked my hair. “Danish?” I heard him chuckle before responding.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay with this? The platonic cuddling, the hugs and stuff? Cause if you’re not, I can stop. I’d understand.” I was so exhausted and wasn’t up for a long conversation about this, but I figured I owed it to him to ask, in case he wasn’t cool with it.

“Of course I am. Ask the guys, I’m the snuggler in the band. I need it as much as you do. It’s fine, we don’t have to do anything else, understand? This is great. I’ll just keep going to that hooker to get the other physical stuff.” I giggled at that, and snuggled closer.

“Danish?”

”Yes…”

“If I were ready for more? More than just the cuddles and the falling asleep together?” I lifted my head to look at him. “I can’t think of anybody else I’d rather be with.” He pressed his lips to my forehead and I sighed, laying my head on his chest. “Night Danish.”

“Night little one.”

Charlie and Lars are a cute couple :D But what's going on with her past, and why does she push him away when they kiss? This is very intriguing, I'd love to read more, I'm hooked :P

I'm a ball of stress right now, but one thing that made me feel shitloads better was that description of the room that Lars prepared for Charlie. Holy shit. It was amazing. It was like therapy to read it. I read that paragraph like 3 times because it made me feel good.

The hardwood floor had a huge, soft blue rug in the middle of it. The four-poster bed had crisp sheets, white with tiny yellow flowers, and a puffy duvet covered in the same material. Beside the bed was an ornate, carved table with a sweet little antique lamp and a selection of magazines. Vogue’s June issue was laid out on top of the latest edition of Metal Hammer. An overstuffed dark blue loveseat was positioned in front of the bay window, and a small writing table and accompanying chair were to the left of that. A huge vase of lilies sat atop it. There were paintings on each wall, all water scenes, done by artists I liked and collected.

Awesomeness! :dance :dance I want a room like that. I liked the combo of Vogue and Metal Hammer. It gave me a giggle.

I also loved the comment about the twenty pans of brownies. That was funny. Actually, this whole story makes me want brownies, and I haven't had a brownie in ages.

I liked this part too

“Oh my God! You’re changing the subject? Don’t do that!” I slapped his arm and he grabbed my hand. He was right, I’d been drinking steadily since six, but I didn’t feel drunk. I just felt angry

If I were Charlie I'd be off at the bar getting sloshed steadily too. The poor girl has a lot on her plate at the moment.
I like her integrity and how she wants everyone to know that she's not after money. I admire her for that.

This story is packed with sheer awesomeness.

Ownage!!!! :horns:

Dude, stop it, you're killin' me. You're making me want to post more of the story JUST so I can get more feedback. *sigh* I'm a whore for feedback.

A little more before I head to work...

****************************************************************

I’m sure Lars started rethinking his decision to give me my own room in his house when I woke up screaming at four a.m., tears streaming down my face. He rushed in from his room, clad only in boxers, and a terrified look on his face.

“Baby? Charlie? What’s wrong! Are you hurt? Sick? What?” He climbed onto the bed and took me in his arms, rocking me back and forth as I sobbed. I squirmed out of his embrace and scuttled across the bed, shaking with fear. Fucking nightmares. I hadn’t had them in months and all of a sudden they were back in full force.

“D-d-don’t touch me. Puh-please. Not right now. Sorry, Danish,” I gasped between hiccupping sobs.

He looked so scared and worried, and that only made me cry more.

“I’m fine. Really. Just a bad dream. I’m suh-sorry I woke you,” I mumbled through my tears.

He shimmied over to where I was huddled against the headboard, and slowly reached for my hand. “It’s okay, sweetie, it’s just me. Nobody’s gonna hurt you, okay? It’s only me. Everything’s okay,” he said in a low, quiet voice. “Wanna talk about it?”

I shuddered and shook my head. Hell no. “I can’t. I’m sorry. It’s too awful.”

“Okay, that’s okay, little one. That’s just fine,” he said, trying to sooth me. He sighed. “Poor baby girl.”

I looked at him, startled. “What? What’d you call me?”

“Baby girl.” He saw my face and instantly looked apologetic. “I’ll stick to calling you little one, hmm? I gather the other is somebody else’s name for you?”

“Something like that,” I whispered, this time not flinching when he reached out for me.

Gathering me in his arms he pulled me onto his lap and rocked me, holding my head against his chest. “Must be some pretty scary stuff to get you this worked up. You sure you don’t wanna talk about it?” His hand was tracing little circles on my back and I started to relax against him.

“I don’t think I can, Lars. Not right now. But thanks for asking. I’m so sorry I woke you up.”

“Shhh, don’t worry about that. Does this happen often? Did I sleep through it last night? Although I can’t imagine that’s possible, I mean, neighborhood dogs are howling at my windows now. You were loud!” I let out a little giggle and he squeezed me tighter. “There, see? If you can laugh a bit, it can’t be all that bad. You’re okay, sweetie.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “This hasn’t happened in months. I’ve no idea what triggered it. Lack of brownies maybe?”

“Awww, and she’s making jokes! I knew you’d recover quickly. Here, just sit there for a second, I’ll be right back.” He jogged back into his room and I heard running water. He came back in with a wet facecloth and wiped gently at my face. “My mom always did this for me when I cried as a kid. I can’t believe I missed the seventeen opportunities to do this for you yesterday,” he grinned at me.

”Swear to God, Danish, I rarely cry. I haven’t the foggiest idea why I’m all weepy girl lately. This is crazy!”

He gave me a look of disbelief. “You expect me to believe you don’t burst into tears at the news? Hallmark ads? Posters of cute little kittens stuck in trees?” He continued to run the cloth over my tear-streaked face.

“Seriously! I’m a movies and music girl! Those are the only things I cry at. Sad movies or music that really moves me.”

“Nothing to do with, um, being a girl?” He said, pointedly looking down. I blushed and grabbed the washcloth to hit him with it.

“No. I’m moody and bitchy all month,” I grinned as I got him in the face with the cloth. He yanked it back from me and wiped at my face again. “Ahh, Danish, that feels so nice. You could work in a spa, if the whole rock star thing doesn’t work out for you,” I closed my eyes and smiled. He chuckled and took my face in his hands.

“Only for you, little one. Only for you.” He threw the damp cloth on the floor and stretched out on the bed. “I’ll stay in here, alright? I can keep the nightmares away.”

I leaned back against the headboard. “I’m not sure anybody can do that, buddy. But thanks anyway. I’d like you to stay.” Laying down beside him, I pulled the blankets over us.

“How’re those new pajamas workin’ out for you?”

“I love them. I saw the silky ones in there too, but I think these might become my favorite pair. They have sheep!”

He laughed. “Yes, I noticed. I can count them if I have trouble falling asleep. C’mere, you,” and he tugged on my top until I was up against him. The horrors of the nightmare subsided, and I fell asleep to Lars’ soft voice, counting flannel sheep.

I woke up to the same softly accented voice, and a hand running through my hair. “C’mon, little one, wake up. It’s a beautiful, sunny day. No nightmares in sight.” I opened one eye and saw Lars lying with his head propped up on his elbow.

“Mmm, good morning. What time is it?” I rolled over and stretched my arms above my head.

“Almost nine. I wasn’t sure if you’re doing the office thing today, but I need to be in the studio in about an hour. I thought maybe I could buy you a lovely, healthy, nutritious breakfast at McDonald’s before work if you like.”

“Ooooooh! That would be great. But I’ll buy, okay? Least I can do after you’ve gone to all this trouble with the room and everything. So, whaddya say? Total home makeover, brownies and movies, and gorgeous clothes for me, two Egg Mcmuffins for you, and we’ll call it even?” I saw the pillow coming at me but was too slow to roll out of its path and got nailed in the head. “So that’s a no?” I grinned as I threw the pillow back at him.

“Course it’s a no, motherfucker! You still owe me dinner! Don’t think I’m gonna forget about that. Thursday night works for me. Now then,” he said, strolling over to open the closet. “What will you be wearing today? Want me to help you pick out something from this?” He pulled out the wicker basket and wiggled his eyebrows at me.

“No, perv, I can manage. And today’s actually gonna be a jeans and hoodie day. My last day before summer vacation, I’m just tying up loose ends.”

He flopped down on the loveseat and threw me a quizzical look. “You’re going away on vacation? Without me? I wasn’t consulted about this!”

I got up and started making the bed. “Not going anywhere, Danish. Just taking a little break. As a condition of joining the firm, I had them write into the contract that I’d always take June through August off. I get a quarter less salary as a result, but it’s gonna be worth it.” I finished the bed and went to sit beside him, lifting his legs and setting them in my lap.

“Wow. And they don’t mind? You just take off for three months and come back in September?”

“If there’s an emergency, they can call me and I’ll come in, but they probably won’t need to. Most of my caseload’s been wrapped up, and the remaining ones are being passed over to co-counsel, most of whom are more experienced than me anyway, so the clients aren’t complaining.”

“Sweet. So what, you’re just gonna kick back, lay on the beach, and every once in a while get drunk and come over to yell at me and have some tea?” He nudged my arm playfully with his feet.

“Yeah, pretty much. Except for the days when I’m hanging out in my friend’s garage, and the nights when I’m tending another friend’s bar.”

“Wait, wait. Hold the phone,” he looked serious. “You have other friends?” He grinned suddenly and ran out of the room before I could find anything to whack him with.

After a delicious and truly unhealthy breakfast with Lars, I spent a few hours in my office making phone calls and ensuring everything on my to-do list got crossed off. Jackson poked his head in briefly to ask if I liked the room, and reminded me he’d be coming on Saturday to the barbecue I was having. Summer seemed to have arrived in San Fran in full force, and I felt it was only right to celebrate it with copious amounts of beer, red meat and loud music.

Three of the partners stopped by to wish me a pleasant summer, and a fourth came in to ask for use of my office while I was away. Then about six more dropped by with various papers for me to sign and questions about a few of the cases I’d handed over. I was busy packing up the stash of extra work clothes I’d kept in my desk when I heard another knock at my door. “You may enter only if you haven’t come bearing legal documents,” I muttered over my shoulder.

“I come bearing nothing at all. That okay?” I spun around at the sound of Kirk’s voice.

”Hey! What’s up? Nice to see you again,” I stepped over the pile of clothes and was pulled into a friendly hug. Ahhh, he smelled so nice. “Been surfing today? You smell like sun and sea.”

He nodded and I gestured for him to take a seat while I continued packing.

“This is cool. I don’t know many lawyers, but I know for damn sure that ours don’t keep acoustic guitars in their place of work.” He picked up the battered instrument and started strumming lazily.

”Yeah, a bunch of us decided last fall that if we were gonna be pulling all nighters on a regular basis, we’d better have some toys to keep us going, so we looted the petty cash fund and hit a used music store. Three of us have guitars, one guy’s got a little keyboard, and my buddy Matt had a drumkit in his office for a while, but that eventually had to be returned. Little too loud.”

“So you stay up late, working on shit and playing riffs? That sounds shockingly similar to my job!” He looked up from his playing and grinned at me.

“Yup. Brilliant masterpieces come out of the three-day no-sleep sessions especially. Um, lemme see, I think my favorite was ‘This Bastard is So Guilty It Hurts’. Very bluesy. Also high on the request list is the ever popular ‘I’ve Been Wearing the Same Shirt for Four Days and Even My Hair Smells Like Ass’.”

“Don’t forget the instrumental version of ‘We Can’t Win This Case, So Let’s Give Up’, which is basically you, me and Derek sitting around, plucking miserably at the guitars and crying,” Jackson joked from the doorway.

“Hey, man, how you doin’?” Kirk stood up to shake Jackson’s hand.

“I’m cool. Just dropped by to see if the lady wanted me to bring any of my fantastic music collection to her little get-together this weekend.”

“You know, sweetie, I think we can do without Kool and the Gang and Britney this once. But thank you all the same. Kirk, you should come. Barbecue at my place on Saturday. I was about to fax a note to HQ, but maybe I can just tell you the details and you’ll pass the word along?”

“Sounds good. Lars has your address, yeah?”

“Yup. Anytime after 2 p.m. Bring anyone, or anything, you like. And Jackson, don’t think I don’t see you trying to sneak that huge stack of papers past me. I’m not touching that, so take it off my desk!”

“Eyes in the back of your freaking head!” He cursed my name on his way out, taking the papers with him and Kirk giggled.

“So, is this a news-from-the-lawyers visit again?” I glanced at Kirk, who had resumed strumming.

“Actually, no. I came to see if you wanted to grab a late lunch with me. I feel it’s important that you have exposure to Metallica other than Lars. Not all of us are Charlie-kissing, room-decorating, clothes-buying drummers.” He looked at me and winked.

“Thank God. The world doesn’t need any more drummers,” I laughed. “Let’s jet.” I threw the last of my belongings into another box and locked the door behind us.

We dined at a sweet little Thai restaurant where Kirk knew the owner. It was past the regular lunch hour, and we had the place to ourselves except for a group of Japanese businessmen. Kirk ordered veggie pad thai for himself and a pumpkin curry for me, suggesting that we could share both.

“So, let me get this straight. For three months, Lars has been living pretty much in his bedroom and the kitchen, ignoring most other rooms in the house, except for the living room, which can hardly be described as ‘furnished’ with the tv and one couch. And then you show up, and all of a sudden the bedroom next to his looks like it fell out of House and Garden?” He stabbed at a bean sprout with his chopsticks. “That’s so typical. When he started dating Skylar he had the whole backyard of his house transformed into a tropical paradise, complete with waterfalls, just cause she said she liked them.” He saw the look of surprise on my face and started backpedaling. “Not that you’re like Skylar, or that he has, um, designs on you like he did with her. Shit. I just meant…”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s nice to know that he’s always been this generous. He seems like the kind of person who would do anything to make a friend happy. Guess I’m pretty lucky that he considers me a friend.”

“He’s lucky too. He would never say anything, as much as it seems he loves to complain, but he’s not having an easy time of it lately. And while we’re all trying to be there for him, I think he feels he’s worn us out as shoulders to cry on.”

”But he’s not crying on my shoulder, Kirk. I’m the only one who’s been shedding tears lately. Granted, I’ve been doing it enough for the both of us, but still…”

“Maybe so, but the few times I’ve spoken with him the past couple of days, he seems happier. I know it’s hard to believe right now, but I think he sees a lot of Cliff in you,” he squeezed my hand as he said it, “and he also just finds you fun to hang out with. Oh, and I’m supposed to ask you about the gig at Harley’s? What’s that about?”

I laughed and launched into the story, adding in other parts I’d been reminded of by colleagues that morning.

“You straight-armed him? That’s a football move, isn’t it? Aww, James would be so proud!”

“It is, indeed. Also a rugby move, which is where I learned it. I think being drunk gives it extra power, cause that guy was huge! My shoulder isn’t too happy about it today though.” I laughed and leaned back in my chair, feeling full and happy.

We ordered coffee for me and a tea for Kirk and continued chatting, Kirk filling me in a little on how things were going at the studio. Everybody was very excited that Rob would be contributing to the album for the first time, and things were going smoothly so far. “I think it’s gonna be the best one yet,” Kirk confided.

An hour later, I was back at the office, with Jackson and Matt helping me cart boxes to my truck. “Dude, are we gonna have to carry all this stuff back in there in three months?” Matt leaned against the Chevy, breathing heavily.

I squeezed his shoulder and laughed when he winced. “Sorry, buddy. I’ll get somebody else to help me bring it back. I’ll see you guys Saturday.”

Ahhh, it was nice to be home. I hadn’t had dinner at my house on a weeknight in about a month. There were always client meetings or meals out with the partners or just late nights at the office. Or drinks that took the place of dinner. I’d stopped at the grocery store on my way home and was still putting away the food when my cell rang. I looked at the number and laughed. “Hello, yet again, Mr. Ulrich. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”

“Well, hello, Miss Tyler. I hadn’t realized we were going to be so formal! Kirk mentioned you were having a little party this weekend, and I’m wondering if it would be okay to bring the boys. I’ve got them from Friday to Tuesday, but I don’t wanna miss your barbecue. I can always take them home when the strippers arrive, or if you break out a keg.”

I giggled. “That would be awesome. The boys, I mean. Not strippers. I’d love to meet them, and some of my friends are bringing their kids too, so there’ll be other little people around. Other than you, obviously.”

“What? Hey, motherfucker, I’ll have you know that I’m taller than you. ‘Little people’. Jesus.” He sounded mad but I knew he was grinning on the other end of the phone. “So I should tell James to bring Castor along too? I think Fran has the girls at her parents’ place this weekend.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Um, I actually was gonna ask you about that. I’m not planning on drinking much on Saturday, but a few of my buddies will definitely be, um, hammered. How’s James doing with that, these days? I’d hate for him to feel uncomfortable.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, little one. He can handle it. Long as nobody’s pushing the booze on him, cause that only pisses him off. Gio usually takes care of those guys though.”

“Cool. I doubt he’ll need to, but he’s welcome to bring Gio if he wants. Hell, bring anybody you like, the more the merrier.”

“Excellent. I gotta run, I’ll see you tomorrow. Dinner! Don’t forget!”

“Bye, sugar.”

Ah yes. Dinner. What the hell was I gonna make? I scanned the contents of my now full fridge and decided to flip through some recipe books after I’d gone for a run. Slipping out the back door I was greeted by the dogs, who, after a full day of hanging out in the backyard, were ready for some serious exercise. I let them into the house and they waited patiently at the bottom of the stairs while I got changed, and then we took the truck out to the hills where I could get a decent workout and they could run without having to wear leashes.

We ran for about an hour, and the weather was cooling off as we headed back to the house. I was surprised to see a black truck with purple flames along the sides of it in my driveway when I returned. I put the dogs on their leads to keep them from jumping on James when we reached him. He was sitting on my porch swing, looking very cool in his shades, and rather intimidating. The dogs apparently didn’t think so, though, as they both flopped down in front of him and rolled over to have their bellies scratched.

“James…you’re here. At my house. Hi.”

“Hi. Hey fellas,” he leaned down and held his hands out for the dogs to sniff. They did so for roughly two seconds and flopped down again. “Looks like you wore ‘em out.” He looked back up at me and my heart did a little flip-flop. I couldn’t tell if it was nerves or the fact that he looked so damned attractive in his faded jeans and black sweater.

“Yeah, they had a lot of pent up energy they needed to expend. So did I.” I dug in my pocket for my keys and ushered the dogs, and James, inside.

“Um, if you don’t mind, I’m just gonna shower really quickly and then we can discuss…whatever you’re here to discuss. I’ll be five minutes.”

He nodded and took his boots off and carried them, wandering slowly into the lounge. “Take your time,” he smiled and my heart somersaulted again. “That way I can snoop around your house while you’re not looking.” I gave a little laugh, but I wasn’t sure he was joking.

I came back downstairs and the house was eerily quiet. I peered out the window and saw his truck was still there. So where was he? Walking into the kitchen I saw him on the back deck, wrestling with the dogs. I grabbed a couple of glasses and a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and opened the sliding door. He glanced over his shoulder as I nudged the door shut with my toe.

“You’re gonna be cold in about three minutes,” he warned, taking in my appearance. I still felt hot from the run so I’d only worn board shorts and a white tank top. I put the lemonade down on the railing and opened up one of the bench seats on the deck, pulling out an old West Coast Choppers hoodie that I kept there especially for cool evenings like this. “Hey, I have that one. They’re comfy, eh?” He smiled approvingly at me.

“They’re my favorite. Thirsty?” I filled one of the glasses and handed it to him, and then watched as he drained it in one gulp. “Wow. Guess so.” I refilled the glass and then poured another for myself. I laughed as the dogs sat eagerly at his feet, staring up at him with their sweet brown eyes. “Master of puppies, aren’t ya?” He laughed.

“How old are these guys?”

“Well, Duke’s almost two years old, and usually acts like it, and Fire’s a bit of a mystery. The shelter I adopted him from wasn’t sure of his age when they got him.” James made a choking sound. “You named your dog Fire?” He started laughing.

I grinned. “Hey, I like inciting panic. Although I try not to call him much when we’re in a public place.”

“Smart girl. This is a really nice place.” I followed his gaze over the yard. It was indeed, very nice. I’d worked hard to make it that way.

“Thank you. Took me a couple of months to decide on the house, and then this whole area needed a lot of work. It was mostly long grass and a few trees when I moved in.”

“Seriously? Did you design the layout?” He looked slightly surprised that I might be capable of that.

“Sort of. I knew how I wanted it to look, and the landscape architects I hired were pretty good at deciphering my little sketches.”

He got up put his boots back on and stepped down to the lawn. “You’ve got a pool, a little basketball court, a gorgeous deck, something that looks like a bonfire pit, and a whole lotta garden. I’d say they were more than good.” Tilting his head towards the small paved area, he asked, “Got a ball handy?”

I hopped off the deck and picked up the ball from where it had rolled behind a bush a few days ago. “Horse?”

“You’re on.”

We did a best of five, with James winning. I’d shed my sweatshirt after we finished and he did the same with his sweater, revealing an old Harley Davidson t-shirt. And all those tattoos. “Any new ones?” I pointed at his arms.

“Nah, sorta runnin outta space. What about you? I saw that little black one on the inside of your wrist. Got any others?” I turned and moved my hair aside so he could see the small celtic design between my shoulder blades, then turned again and lowered my shorts slightly to show him the lily I had just above my hipbone, turned again and hitched my top up so he could see the tribal flames one running across my lower back, and spun around once more and stuck out my ankle. “De profundis,” he read aloud from the delicate writing on the inside of my foot. “I recognize that. It’s Latin, from a prayer. How come…” He glanced up and stopped talking. “Sorry. Not any of my business, is it.”

“No worries. Let’s go inside.” I grabbed the pitcher and glasses and he slid the door open for me.

We sat at the kitchen table and I looked at him, hoping he’d tell me why he was here.

He pulled an envelope out of his back pocket. “We got these late this afternoon. I asked to be the one to tell you. Results came back.”

Oh holy fuck. Already? Those must have been some speedy lab guys- wait, he made me play five games of Horse before telling me this?

As if reading my mind, he ducked his head and said, “Shoulda told you first, I know. But Kirk and Lars got to spend time with you, and I wasn’t sure if you’d kick me out after we opened this,” he waved the envelope at me and I took it from him.

“First of all, James, I would never kick you out. Anybody who’s sweet to my dogs and then kicks my ass at basketball without rubbing it in my face is welcome here anytime. Second of all, um, would you mind opening this? I’m not sure my eyes can focus right now.”

He took the envelope back and tore it open. Unfolding the letter, he scanned the contents. His face didn’t change at all as he read it. He finally put it down on the table and I kept my eyes trained on him, waiting to see what he’d say. He rubbed his hands over his face and then looked at me. “Well, now that whole musical fiasco at Harley’s I heard about makes sense.” He lowered his eyes and then raised them again to meet mine. “Cliff was always horrible on drums too.”

“You mean…it came back a match? It’s true?” I was whispering.

“Yep.” He whispered back.

“Really?” Still whispering. He laughed.

“Yes, really.” He got up and bent over me, gently kissing my cheek. “Welcome to the Met family, kiddo.”

And I promptly burst into tears. He laughed again and pulled me into his arms, resting his head on my chin. I struggled slightly and he glanced down, giving me a curious look.

“I’ll get,” sniffle, “snot and stuff all over,” sniffle, “your shirt.”

“It’s an old one, it can take it,” he murmured softly. I felt one of his arms move and he pulled out his cell phone. “Wanna call Lars and tell him?”

“Do you think you could do it?” I looked up at him. “He’ll just tease me for crying again.”

He smiled and dialed the number with one hand as the other kept rubbing my back. “Hey, buddy. You were right, test was a match. What? No, she’s not crying,” he lied. “She’s totally calm…yes she is. No I’m not lying. No- hey! My pants are NOT on fire.” He sighed heavily and passed me the phone. “Yeah, he knows.”

“Hey Danish,” I said, trying to breathe normally and not sniff.

“Hey! Is he wiping your face with a damp cloth? I don’t know if he knows that trick. See babes? Told you it would all work out. This is awesome! I’m bringing champagne to dinner tomorrow, we can celebrate. Put James back on.” I handed the phone back over and wriggled out of his arms to search for some tissues.

“Yeah, how about you be in charge of that, you still talk to them a couple times a year, don’t you? I don’t even have their phone number,” I heard James saying quietly. I gave up on the kleenex hunt and went into the bathroom to wash my face. Bending over the sink I glimpsed James in the mirror and shrieked.

“God, James! Don’t do that! Wear a bell or something! Whew,” I fanned myself dramatically and sat down on the toilet seat. He grinned and took the face cloth from me, wetting it with cold water.

“Lars says I’m to do this,” he ran it gently over my face, “until you feel better.”

I smiled and another tear escaped and rolled down my face. James looked shocked.

“No, no, no, no, no! He said it would help! You’re not supposed to start crying again!”

“Sorry,” I stood up and took the cloth from him, rubbing my face vigorously.

“I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to do it,” he said slowly and I laughed, walking out of the bathroom ahead of him.

“You’re right, my technique is awful. I just feel a little shell-shocked right now. I mean, I know it doesn’t really change anything, but it’s a lot to take in, all the same. I’m just overreacting, I know.” I felt tears threatening yet again, and I got pulled backwards until I was against him with his arms around me.

“Breathe, Charlie.”

I gulped, trying not to panic. “What?”

“Take a couple of breaths. Not too deep, it’ll just set you off again. Just breathe for me. Try to relax.” He loosened his hold around me a little and I did as he said, feeling instantly calmer for it. “There, see? Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Been a busy week, hmm? Lots of stuff happening. Lars tells me you’re taking the next few months off from the lawyer thing to chill out a bit. You must have had to work your ass off recently to make sure you were organized for that.”

I nodded, “Yeah, it’s been a bit hectic.”

“And then you get this letter out of the blue from your birth mom, only to find out she’s actually passed away,” he continued, quietly.

“Yeah, that was kind of surprising,” I said slowly, wondering where he was going with this.

“And then you find out that your father was supposedly this famous guy, and you have to go to a meeting with a bunch of mean lawyers and these crazy rock stars, so that’s gotta be kind of stressful.”

“You’re not crazy, you’ve all been lovely to me,” I protested and squirmed against him, only to be held tighter.

“And then the drummer of the band, the guy who’s supposed to be all supportive and kind and who promised to take care of you, tries to molest you in a parking lot,” he chuckled and I couldn’t help but giggle too.

“And then,” he continued, “you find out that you are indeed, Cliff Burton’s daughter, which is cool, cause you now know who you parents were, but it sucks too, cause you’ll never get to meet them.” He sighed and I could feel his breath on my ear. “I wouldn’t say you’re overreacting, sweetie, I’d say you’re right on target as far as crying jags go.” He turned me around to face him and smiled. “Now, am I gonna have to take you out for some food or can we fix something here? All this drama made me hungry.”

I put James in charge of making the hamburgers while I sliced potatoes to make french fries, and threw together a salad. He was humming happily over the barbecue when I came out with coffee. “Thought you might like some of this,” I handed the mug to him.

“Thanks. I’m standing over an open flame, it’s really cold,” he deadpanned and I laughed. Moving past him I threw some kindling on the fire pit and struck a match. “No fair,” he called. “Your open flame is bigger than mine!”

I walked back to stand beside him. “The Yankees are playing tonight, figured I’d sit out by the fire and listen to the later innings on the radio after dinner. Wanna stay?”

“Okay,” he put an arm around me and flipped the burgers. “But only if I get to play with the fire.”

I leaned against him and rubbed my cheek against his soft sweater. “You’re overcooking the burgers, Hetfield.”

“The meat has barely stopped bleeding, Tyler,” he growled. “You wanna get food poisoning? Now be a good little girl and go get me some of that lemonade I had earlier. That stuff was awesome.” He laughed as my eyes widened. “Good little woman? Is that better?” I grabbed the flipper out of his hand and whacked his butt with it before jogging back into the house.

I came back out with a glass and he accepted it, still grinning. “Arsenic in this?”

“Bleach,” I replied.

“Yummy,” he gasped after finishing it. “Got a plate for the burgers?”

I handed it to him and we took the food to the kitchen and sat down to eat.

“So, seriously, Charlie,” James started after we’d done the dishes and moved the deck chairs by the fire. “You must be a damn fine lawyer to be able to have a house in this neighborhood. I have a couple of buddies who live about ten minutes away, and I know what they paid for their house. You pretty good at your job then?”

“Yeah, I guess so, but I actually bought the house with inheritance money, after my folks died.”

He stared at me. “What?”

“My parents…you didn’t know?”

“No,” he said softly. “Damn, Charlie, I’m sorry. When did they, um, pass away?”

“Three and a half years ago. Car accident. They were on their way home from a party just before Christmas, and an eighteen wheeler slammed into them. The driver was about a zillion points over the legal limit.” I exhaled slowly. “That’s weird, that your lawyers didn’t tell you. It’s in all the paperwork.”

James was still staring at me. “They don’t let us see the paperwork. Does Lars know? He didn’t mention anything…”

“Guess not. I didn’t bring it up with him, I just figured he knew and wasn’t saying anything to avoid another round of sobbing.” I smiled at James. “It’s okay, Het, I dealt with it at the time. I still miss them every day, but I’ve moved on from the point where I couldn’t even get out of bed. Don’t look so sad.” I patted his hand and he placed his other one over top of mine.

“I’m sorry. It’s so hard, losing your folks. And you were, what, 22 at the time? God, that’s young. You got any brothers or sisters?”

“No, but I have a lot of very kind aunts and uncles, and cousins and friends. I had a lot of support. I was living in England at the time, finishing law school and working for a firm in London. I moved back after the accident so I could help sort out the estate and spend more time with my relatives for a while.”

“And after that?”

“After that I did some pro bono stuff for a firm where my dad’s best friend works. Took some time off from that to travel a little bit, and wound up here about fourteen months ago. Turns out my dad’s friend is also friends with the managing partner of the firm where I work now. He put in a good word for me, and that was that.”

“You seem pretty well adjusted about this,” he said quietly. “Therapy?”

“Hell yeah. Hours and hours, for months on end.”

“I know the feeling,” he gave me a shy smile.

“You seem pretty well adjusted, yourself, Papa Het.”

“Yeah, well, one day at a time, and all that. I had a lot of great support too.”

We fell silent for a few minutes. I got up to stoke the fire, immediately tripping over Duke, and I felt strong arms grabbing my waist. “Easy, sugar.” James eased me down to his lap. “Wouldn’t want you to fall into the fire.”

“Fire bad,” I said solemnly and he chuckled. I pushed his sleeve up and traced the scars from the Montreal fire with my fingertips. The tattoos did a decent job of covering them. “ I was there when this happened,” I told him. “My uncle drove my cousin and I up to the concert. We left right after you were taken to the hospital. Good thing too, after the shit that Axl pulled later.” I looked at him, saw his eyes were closed. “I’m glad you’re okay now.”

He shifted his legs and I made a move to get up, but he drew me against him again. “Stay put, I’m just getting comfy.” He reached down and picked up the portable radio I’d brought out, and tuned it to the local sports station. The game had reached the bottom of the seventh inning and the Yankees were ahead by two. “The tattoo…on your ankle…” I looked up. His eyes were still shut.

“I got it a couple months after they died. I guess I needed a reminder that I wasn’t alone.”

“What’s it mean, again?”

“Out of the depths. From the beginning of the prayer with the same title.”

“Out of the depths I have cried to Thee, oh Lord,” he murmured. “Yeah, I know that one. You’re religious then?”

“I dunno if I’d call it that. I grew up going to church on Sundays, but it was always more of a social thing for me. It didn’t have too much to do with God until I had a reason to pray.” I lay my head against his shoulder and his arm came up to stroke my hair. Man, these Met boys were good at the comforting thing.

“Were you angry at God when it happened?” I could tell he already knew the answer.

“Furious. It all seemed so reckless and unfair. The day after it happened, I borrowed the keys to the church from our minister and stormed in like God was waiting and I was gonna kick his ass.” I sighed. “Lots of screaming, lots of crying, lots of hurling abuse at the ceiling, hoping I’d get struck down by lightening for swearing in a church, and then I could die and stop feeling like someone was tearing my heart out through my throat.” James tightened his hold on me. “After a couple of hours I sort of exhausted myself and curled up in a ball in the front pew. That’s when the minister came in and sat beside me, and went through the skateboard analogy.”

He opened his eyes and smiled. “The skateboard analogy? This I gotta hear.”

I laughed softly. “She said that God is like a parent. And the free will that he gave to us is like a parent giving a child a skateboard. You wouldn’t forbid them from using it, and you wouldn’t run along beside them, holding their hand every time they wanted to ride it. You’d give them a helmet and kneepads – tools to help guide us, she likened them to the ten commandments – and hope for the best. And if they crashed and hurt themselves, you’d be there to comfort them and help stop the bleeding.”

“Makes sense. I like it.”

“Yeah, took me a while to accept it. I’m still not sure if I’m on board with the traditional beliefs and all that old testament ‘eye for an eye’ stuff, but I believe in something.” I stopped speaking in time to hear the announcers go wild over a homer by Jeter. “I definitely believe in the Yankees.”

“Hmmm…bandwagon much?” he joked. “Those guys buy the best players so they can win. It’s ridiculous.”

I sat up. “Oh my. Speaking of liking popular teams who can afford to buy talent, how did the Raiders do this year, James?”

His eyes narrowed and I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “I will excuse that comment because you have had a stressful week,” he snarled at me.

“Okay,” I squeaked.

We listened to the rest of the game in silence, except for quiet cheers from me when my boys scored. I looked at his watch when the game ended, and saw that it was almost eleven.

“Isn’t Fran gonna be wondering where you are?” I looked up at him.

He stared back at me and said, “No,” in such a sad voice that I wondered if my crying was contagious and he might start.

“Everything okay there? Wanna talk about it?”

“No, and kinda. But can we go inside? My back’s a little sore.” I nodded and followed him into the house.

I motioned for him to take a seat in the lounge. It was sort of part of the kitchen, just down a few steps, and I could still hear and see him from where I was tidying up. I watched him lie down on the floor and stretch his arms out above him, I assumed in an attempt to work the kinks out of his back. Deciding I could finish cleaning later, I went in and sat beside him. “Get on the couch, on your stomach,” I instructed. He did so, sending me a sideways glance that said he wasn’t sure that was a good idea. “Your lower back?”

“Yup. Feels like it’s burning.” He lay with his forehead on his hands.

I pulled up his sweater and t-shirt slightly and started making small circles on his back with my fingers.

“Do you…know what you’re doing? I mean, it feels good…”

“Don’t worry. I was one of the physio crew for the football team at my university. It was my minor, sort of.”

“And your, ohhhhhhh, that’s nice, your major was what, exactly?”

“Double major in political science and military history.” I laughed as he turned his head and raised an eyebrow. “I like reading! And I like arguing. It was a good base for law school.”

I finished working on his back and pulled him up so he was standing. Placing him against the wall, I put him through a couple of pilates exercises, explaining that he could stop grumbling, they weren’t girlie ballerina exercises, lots of tough guys did them too.

“Feel a little better?”

“Yeah, thanks for that. I’ll have to remember the wall thing.”

“Did you still wanna talk?” I didn’t want to push, but he still looked sad.

“Actually, I do. But I need to use your bathroom first. I’ll be right back.”

I got up and turned off a few of the lights, until the room was lit mostly from the hallway and the light over the oven. He came back and laughed. “We having a séance as well?”

I blushed. “I always find it easier to talk about tricky stuff when it’s dark. That sounds kinda weird, I’m sure…”

“No, it doesn’t. You spilled your guts pretty nicely outside there, and I remember more than a few heavy conversations with Lars that we only had cause we couldn’t afford to pay the electricity bill and were sitting in darkness. It’s fine, Charlie.” He sat beside me on the couch and rubbed as his face with his hands, a gesture he seemed to do when he was stressed.

“Hey, maybe you could start by showing me some pics of your kids. Lars showed me a couple of Myles and Layne the other night, and Castor’s in one of them. He looks so grown up!”

Ahh, there was the smile. He pulled out his wallet and I leaned over to see the photos. Cali in an adorable ballet costume, Cali and Cella dressed up like princesses, and Castor and James flexing and baring their teeth in front of James’ truck. I leaned back against the couch. “They’re gorgeous, James. Castor’s the spitting image of you.”

“They’re awesome,” he said quietly. “I’m really lucky.” His hand went to his eyes and I saw him wipe at them quickly.

“Het, it’s okay. You’re allowed to be upset.”

He shook his head and leaned back against the cushions. “I’m just so fucking frustrated and angry. Sorry ‘bout this.”

“Don’t be.” I brushed his hair back and stroked his cheek.

“It’s just…fuck, Charlie, she told me she wants a divorce. She’s taking the girls with her to her parents’ house for the next two weeks while the papers are sorted out. She’s been seeing somebody else, and I was willing to go to therapy to discuss it, and maybe work on things, get past this, but she doesn’t wanna talk about it, she’s just shutting me out.” A few tears escaped from his eyes. “I can’t begin to fathom how she’s justifying this. After all the shit we’ve been through, all the work we put into this, and she’s just gonna throw it away.”

“God, I’m sorry, James. When are they going to her parents’ place?”

He stared at his hands. “They left this morning. Castor’s staying at a friend’s house tonight, I just couldn’t…I was afraid I might do this in front of him.” He looked up at me and every word of Behind Blue Eyes went flashing through my head. “I haven’t told anyone other than Lars yet. I don’t know why I’m telling you,” he whispered.

“Hey, blame it on the dark, right?” I smiled and pulled him close to me. We stayed like that for a few minutes, until I realized we were undoing all the good we’d done to his back earlier. “James…you gotta sit up or lie all the way down, or else we’re gonna have to do more girlie ballerina stuff.” He sat up and wiped at his eyes.

“I should go,” he said quietly.

“Or you could stay,” I countered. “There are two spare rooms, both of which have fresh linen on the beds. I’m not sure you should drive if you’re this upset.” He looked so grateful at my suggestion I feared he might up with the tears again. I took his hand and led him upstairs to the room across from mine. Leaving him for a moment I went into the bathroom and came back with a wet facecloth. That got a small chuckle from him. He sat still while I wiped his cheeks, and kissed him on the forehead. I grabbed a couple of towels and a new toothbrush from the hall closet, came back into the room and found him lying in just his jeans, lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Pushing away all thoughts of how hot he looked lying there in just denim and all that bare skin, I sat down beside him. “Feeling okay?”

“Just wishing things were less complicated. And wishing I weren’t a damn alcoholic. I really want a drink right now.” His voice was shaky and I wanted to touch him, to comfort him, but wasn’t entirely sure how I could do that without it looking like I was copping a feel. He looked over at me. “Seems we’re playing musical houses. You staying at Lars’ place, me crashing here…”

I smiled. “And tomorrow maybe Kirk will stay with Rob, and then on Friday we can all have a sleepover at Bob Rock’s house!” He smiled back at me. “You gonna sleep in your jeans? I probably have a pair of board shorts that would fit you.”

“Seriously?” he eyed me curiously.

“Hey, I’m a girl. Our weight tends to fluctuate! Besides, I like ‘em baggy, and you’re not exactly fat, Het.” I popped into my room and dug through the chest of clothes I kept in my closet. Pulling out a pair of shorts I thought might fit him, I walked back in and saw he’d moved from the bed to the window, and turned the lights off. I came up behind him and put my hand on his back. “It’ll all work out, James. I promise.” He snorted.

“You promise? How the hell can you promise anything. You don’t know.”

I moved back and dropped the shorts on the bed. This didn’t seem like it was headed anywhere pleasant. “If you need anything else, I’m across the hall. Night.”

I went into my room and shut the door. Poor man’s emotions were all over the place and all I’d done all evening was ramble on about me. Oops.

I undressed and was pulling the covers over me when I heard a soft knock at my door.

“Come on in, Papa Het.”

The door opened and I could see him outlined in the darkness. “I’m sorry,” he said, in a voice so low I almost didn’t catch it. “You’re being so sweet and I’m being a jerk.”

I sat up, keeping the covers pulled up, and made a space for him to sit on the bed. He’d put on the shorts and I noticed they were hanging off him a little. The waist on them was a 32. “More burgers are needed,” I thought aloud. He looked startled.

“What?”

“Nothing, sorry. Look, you’re not being a jerk. Sounds like you’re having a hard week too. I understand. Or at least, I understand the stressful week thing. I’m not really experienced with the marriage thing, but you’re a strong person, James. You’ve already survived so much. You’ll get through this, too. You might come out the other side with some more battle scars, but you might also get through it unscathed. I’m here anytime you wanna talk, or just hang out. And I know Lars and Kirk and Rob would walk through fire for you. That’s how I can promise that everything will work out. You just gotta give it time.”

He was quiet for a moment before speaking. “You must be an awesome lawyer. I find myself believing everything you’re saying. I’m sorry I was rude. And cried. And beat you at basketball,” he added, and I laughed.

“Thank you. Never do that again! Throw the game next time, pal, always let the lady win.” The covers slipped slightly and I grabbed at them. A slow smile came over James’ face.

“You naked under there?” he grinned.

“Little bit.” I replied.

“Little bit? How can you be a little bit naked? You either are or you aren’t.”

“Shut up, Hetfield.”

”Hmmm, make me, Tyler.” I wasn’t sure if I preferred the crying or the feral smile he was giving me. As if sensing my unease, he backed off. “I’m kidding sweets.” He leaned forward and dropped a kiss on my bare shoulder. “Sweet dreams,” and he closed the door behind him.