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Shotgun Wedding; James/OC. Justice era.
Topic Started: July 24, 2011, 3:30 pm (11,472 Views)
Auluna Raie
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Shark-Tastic!
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*grabs giant rubber hammer and whacks James over the head* It's here if anyone else wants to use it! *leaves hammer*
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disposable_hero
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Ashlynn's POV

James didn't return for two weeks. He called, but each time his words were slurred and he was babbling incoherently, much like his son, who began jabbering and forming what Laura referred to as a 'baby language.'

When James did return, I was home alone. Laura had taken the liberty of taking Adrian out for the day; she claimed it as her 'godmother-ly' duty. So now I was sitting in the kitchen, drinking a coffee and getting ready to go on a run. Over the past few months, I had taken to jogging; I even invested in a 'Baby Jogger' so I could take Adrian along for the ride. The weight I'd gained during my pregnancy was gone, along with a few more unwanted pounds. My muscles were tight and my stomach was flat. James, caught up in his drinking, hadn't noticed any change.

That was, until he was standing in my living room. I walked out of the kitchen in shorts that clung to my thighs and a sports bra. James was standing there, slacked jawed, staring at me. "You're back," I noted, sipping my coffee as I walked over to the closet. I could feel his lustful eyes follow me as I walked to the hall closet and plucked a light coat off of its hanger.

"Uh, yeah. I, um, I was just here to apologize." He was stammering, apparently overwhelmed at my new figure. Not like he was getting it anytime soon.

As I zipped my jacket, my eyes found his. I quirked an eyebrow. "Like always."

"I'm sorry, Ashlynn, okay?" He walked over to me and looped an arm around my waist. He leaned into me and kissed my neck. "I love you. I'm sorry." Another kiss. "It won't happen again."

This trick would have worked three weeks ago, but now I was over James and his antics. I pushed him away. "I don't wanna hear it. I'm going for a run, so I'll see you in about an hour. Then we'll talk."

He rolled his eyes, perhaps because his old ploy didn't work. Or maybe it was because I was being a bitch. Whatever it was, I didn't care. I made way for the door and he grabbed my wrist. "Talk to me now, please."

"Later. I've got things to do. You can stay here or go back to your place. I'll be back in an hour." Tearing my arm from his grip, I left the house and slammed the door behind me. Once I hit the sidewalk, I took off. I heard James call my name from the porch, but I kept running.

I needed a break.

- - -

An hour passed. I was in the house again, but James wasn't in the living room. I tossed my jacket onto the couch and made way for the kitchen. He was in there, paging through the newest copy of Rolling Stone. He didn't notice my presence until I turned on the sink, filling the glass I'd retrieved from the cabinet. As I gulped down the water, he pushed back his chair and approached me.

"I guess you want to talk now." He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Not particularly, but I suppose I have to, yeah?"

"Yeah, Ashlynn, I guess you do."

"Okay then, James. Talk."

James eyed me haughtily. "That was the last time I'll come here drunk. I promise. I'll drink at my place or at the bar. I'll go back to my apartment. I'll stop calling when I'm drunk. I'll stop, Ashlynn. Whatever makes you mad, I'll stop doing. I swear."

"Then stop drinking all together. You're a different person when you drink and I don't like it." I shook my head and took a seat on the counter.

"I'm no different than I am now!" He cried defensively, crossing his arms tighter over his chest.

I nodded. "Yeah, you are. You're angry and annoying. And the fact that you don't think you have a problem fucking aggravates me."

James pushed off of the counter and made for the living room. I followed. "And, do you wanna know the best part?"

"What, Ashlynn?! What is the fucking best part?" He turned around, facing me. He was red with anger. Or embarrassment.

"I've heard this speech of yours twenty times over and nothing ever changes." With the last three words, I poked him in the chest, digging my finger deeper each time.

He grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly. It hurt like a motherfucker, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was hurting me. "What do you want from me, Ashlynn?" He roared in my face, squeezing my hand until I could no longer feel it. "I'm trying! I'm trying so fucking hard to make you happy, but you don't appreciate anything! What the fuck do you want from me?!"

I snapped. I started screaming. "You aren't trying! The only thing you're doing is wasting your life and money on alcohol! Fuck you and your self-righteous attitude, James. I'm sick and fucking tired of you thinking you're doing something you're not! I'm done!"

James dropped my hand and raised his own to me, his chest heaving angrily. "Go ahead, hit me," I said. "You'll be just like Michael. And look where that got him: he's dead." Tears were running down my cheeks now, much to my disdain. I hated crying in front of James; I hated looking vulnerable.

"I'm asking you again, Ashlynn. What in the hell do you want from me?!" He didn't lower his hand, but it was trembling.

I let out a once repressed sob. "I want us! I want you! I want to be happy again."

"You mean to tell me you're not happy? I give you everything you want, Ashlynn!" His hand dropped to his side, though he was still breathing hotly.

"But not you!"

"What the hell are you talking about, Ashlynn? I'm right here! I've been here!"

I shook my head vigorously, tears splashing everywhere. "No, the James I want is gone. He's been gone for a while."

He took my shoulders in his hands and shook me softly. "I'm right here. I'm here."

"You're not," I said, shaking my head again.

"I am," he countered, kissing me softly. I attempted to pull away from him, but he only pulled me closer. The soft kisses amplified to rough ones and James pushed me against the wall. He hiked my legs up, wrapping them around his waist. I could feel him swell with want as he pressed his pelvis to mine.

We kissed roughly and my hands traveled up James' back. He shivered. I pulled away from him and bit his neck. His hands, holding me up, squeezed my ass as he groaned, tilting his head back. "Can we go upstairs?" He readjusted his grip on me so I stopped sliding down the wall. "Please?" His eyes were pleading with mine, so I nodded.

He pushed me up the stairs and down the hallway, leaving hungry kisses on the back of my neck. When we reached the bedroom, James steered me to the bed. I let him lower me to the comforter and he swiftly pulled off my running shorts and underwear. The sports bra came off seconds later.

"Shit, Ashlynn," he growled, grinning mischievously. He stood above me and I watched as he practically tore off his own clothes. Naked, he climbed on top of me. There was no foreplay, no tender kisses to arouse either of us. We hadn't had each other in months and that's all we wanted.

Each other.

- - -

James' POV

I took Ashlynn's hands and pinned them over her head with one hand while the other held my dick. I rubbed the head over her clit and she whined softly. Smirking, I pushed myself halfway inside of her and slowly rocked myself back and forth, just teasing her.

"Fuck me," she said softly, her voice a harsh whisper. I leaned over her, locking my fingers between hers, before I pushed my length into her. She cried out and I groaned loudly, overwhelmed with a feeling I hadn't had in months: satisfaction. As I fucked her, I leaned down to kiss her, but she caught my lips between her teeth and yanked them. In retaliation, I pulled away and sunk my teeth into the skin under her ear; I sucked the skin roughly and she dug her nails into my back. It was like we were trying to hurt each other.

If that's what she wanted, I'd give it to her. I unlatched my hands from hers and buried my hands beneath her thighs. I clutched them as I started pounding her, the sound of our skin slapping together filling the room alongside our groans.

She writhed beneath me, letting out my name in small breaths. As I neared my orgasm I squeezed her thighs tightly, making her cry out. Ashlynn started rocking her body in sync with my hard thrusts and I let out a loud moan, rolling my head back. Her cries for more made me quicken my already rough thrusts. I watched her as she tossed her head back; she was on the verge of her orgasm, pushing herself towards me and bunching the sheets in her hands.

"James! Oh, fuck. Fuck me!" I pounded her harder than I ever had and she came, screaming my name. Tired, though cocky, I thrusted myself in and out of her until I came, howling her name, my voice going hoarse.

I collapsed to her side, my chest heaving. My hand fumbled around the bed until it found hers. I pulled her to my chest and held her there. After we recollected ourselves, I didn't let go, but she pushed me away.

"What'd I do?" I sat up, watching as she headed for the door.

"I still think we need a break," she said, her face placid.

I blinked stupidly. "After that? You can't be serious, baby."

"I'm going to get a shower. I need time to think, okay? I want you out before I'm finished." She left the room swiftly, the door swinging shut behind her.

Fed up, I flopped onto the bed. I stared up at the ceiling, trying to recall when Ashlynn started to act like a stubborn bitch.
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Lawrah Luvsmetallica
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This kinda reminded me a scene in the notebook lol
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disposable_hero
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Oh, yes. Another part. :cool

- - -

Ashlynn's POV

The 'break' consisted of three months of no talking. James would come to the house and visit with Adrian. Play with him. Talk to him. But we ignored each other. He let himself in and out. When we encountered each other, we sidestepped the other and went on our way. We coexisted without existing in each other's lives.

Three months in which Adrian, now nine months old, learned how to stand on his own, but tumbled down when he wasn't holding onto something; in which Adrian learned how to formulate simple words, like 'mama', 'dada', 'no', and 'bye'; in which Adrian learned how to play games, like peek-a-boo and patty cake. He was growing so quickly. His once thin, blonde hair had sprung into unruly waves, much like his father's, and his light blue eyes (again, like his father's) were still wide with curiosity.

I was glad James was around to see him grow, but I didn't like the strain on our relationship. It was my own fault, yes, but he still wasn't willing to admit he had a problem, so I wasn't willing to give him another chance. He made passes at me, but I ignored them. I didn't want to get attached to him, only to be let down. Again.

Laura, living a life so very parallel to my own, was happy for once. It was October of 1990 and, though Lars was busy with recording Metallica and hiding his affair from his wife, he was able to be there for Laura when she needed or wanted him. Their relationship had escalated from just casual sex: they were in love.

And I was fucking jealous.

I missed that period of naivety. The relentless love.

"He's divorcing her!" Laura barged into my room, frightening me. I yelped and dropped my book and Adrian, dozing in the crook of my neck, started fussing. I took him in my arms and began bouncing him slightly, hushing him, all the while glaring at Laura.

"What are you talking about?"

"Lars! Lars is divorcing his wife. For me."

"And you're...happy about this?"

Laura nodded, beaming. Though unsure, I returned her smile. Lars constantly complained about his wife Debbie and I guess it was fitting that they separated. Still, I couldn't help but think of my best friend as a homewrecker, of sorts. Good thing Debbie and Lars didn't have any children.

"Well, I'm glad. At least someone's happy." I smiled again and Laura's face fell. She looked like she was about to apologize. "Oh, God, Laura. Don't take it that way. I didn't mean to come off as a bitch."

"You didn't!" She sat down on the bed and held out her arms. I transferred Adrian from my arms to my cousin's and he snuggled into her chest, as he had mine. "I feel bad, though. I just came in here, all smiles and shit, and you're...unhappy, I assume."

"Not unhappy so much as jealous." I let out a melodramatic sigh and flopped onto my back. "I miss all that relationship bullshit. I want it back."

"Then take James back. He's always asking me if you're seeing anyone else or whatever. He always wants to talk about you. He misses you."

I shook my head. "Not until he gets his shit together."

"But he has! Whenever I go out with Lars and the guys, he only has three or four beers and then he stops. He drives us all home and goes home."

"And I bet when he gets home he cracks open a bottle of Jack and ten more beers."

Laura scoffed. "You're so dramatic. Just talk to him, okay? The tension when you two are in the same room is ridiculous. If you don't get him back, someone'll snatch him up." She was getting annoyed. Her accent was shining through. I grinned. "And y'all need to be together for the sake of this little thing in my arms. It's better that way, okay?"

When I didn't answer her, she prodded me with her toe. I inched away from her, grimacing. "I'll talk to him, but I'm not promising anything."

- - -

James' POV

Without Ashlynn pestering me so often, I drank more. Whenever I was sober, I was either laying down tracks for the new album or visiting Adrian. When I was drunk, however, I was fucking around with other chicks. Groupies, mostly.

They came and went, just like they had before I met Ashlynn. But I'm pretty sure we were over now. The only thing keeping us in contact was Adrian. I thanked God for him, bringing me to Ashlynn every now and then, and the moments when I was at Ashlynn's house and she brushed past me, touching my hand or arm. Her touch, no matter how small, send shivers through my body.

The thought of her upset me, so I called the bartender over for another drink. With the drink came a girl. She was young, compared to my twenty-seven, maybe eighteen or nineteen. But that didn't take away from the fact that she was hot. She wasn't particularly gorgeous, like Ashlynn with her flowing brown hair and bright green eyes, but her body was long and slender and her tits were huge, so I wasn't complaining.

"Hi," she said, sliding onto the barstool next to mine. She spun slightly and giggled as she straightened herself. Her heavily kohled eyes found mine and she smiled. "You're James Hetfield."

I nodded, staring down the neck of my beer bottle. "I am."

"I'm Theresa." Her voice was a forced purr and I was annoyed with her already.

"And?" I looked up at her, quirking an eyebrow, as if that made her significant in some way, shape, or form.

"And I want you to buy me a drink."

"You're not twenty-one, sweetheart."

She scoffed. "That didn't stop you from buying my friend, who was my age, a drink two years ago."

I chuckled and took a swig from the bottle in my hand. "I don't remember who I buy drinks for."

"You had sex with her," the girl pointed out, smiling.

"I don't remember who I fuck." She gaped at my bluntness and I shrugged, waving the bartender over for another beer.

"Maybe you'll remember me?" She leaned over, stroking my arm. Her body heat, though unwanted, radiated to my body and I grinned.

"It's worth a shot," I said, leaving the barstool and steadying myself on the ground. We left in my truck and went back to my apartment.

I don't remember anything after that.

- - -

James' POV

There was a head on my chest. I stirred at the pressure and looked down. Blonde hair was splayed across my bare chest and my arm was going numb underneath the blonde's body. I tore my arm out from beneath her and she rolled on her side, snoring softly. I sat up and brought my hand to my forehead, trying to recall the previous night's events, but I couldn't. I didn't even remember this chick's name.

"Fuck," I cursed under my breath, climbing out of the bed and throwing the covers to the girl. She took them in her sleep, cuddling into them. I scowled. I headed for the bathroom, where I showered quickly.

As the fog dissipated, I brushed my teeth. I retrieved two aspirin from the medicine cabinet and swallowed them dry. When I closed the medicine cabinet, I got a good look at myself in the mirror: I looked terrible. I was red and blotchy and my facial hair was unkempt, as was my hair. As I stared at myself with my bloodshot eyes, I got it. I finally understood that this life was getting me nowhere. Not only did I look terrible, but I was acting like shit, too. I was an asshole to everyone, especially when I was drunk.

I clutched the sides of the porcelain sink, breathing deeply. Okay, so now I realized I was wrong, but what could I do? I’d already lost Ashlynn and my life was going down the drain. The only good things I had were Adrian and Metallica. I squeezed my eyes shut, suddenly craving a drink. As I fought my craving, there was a knock on the door.

"James?" The girl from my bed called, giggling. I groaned audibly, but opened the door. She stood before me in one of my old T-shirts that I discarded on my bedroom floor ages ago. I seethed on the inside, but steered her back into the bedroom.

"You need to leave. I have uh...an appointment." I found her clothes and shoved the bundle into her hands. She gasped, offended that I was rushing her. I turned my back as she stripped.

When she finished, I turned back around. "You're not even gonna kiss me goodbye?" She questioned, sauntering towards me.

I pushed her away. "Nope, you gotta go. I'm gonna be late."

"Bye, James," she said, walking from my room with an exaggerated sway of her hips. I realized then that she still had my Mr. Bubble T-shirt.

"Hey, leave that shirt on the couch!" I walked into the living room and she cast a dark look over her shoulder, then tossed the white shirt onto my couch. She left, slamming the door behind her. She just wanted the shirt to prove she fucked me. Stupid bitch.

Just as I turned to walk back to my bedroom, someone opened the door. I spun around, expecting the blonde chick, but instead found Ashlynn. "So," she said, "Who was that?"

I held up my hands defensively. "Before you freak out, let me put some clothes on." She opened her mouth to speak, but I hurried to my bedroom, clutching the towel to my waist. I slipped into a pair of baggy black basketball shorts and a long-sleeved Danzig T-shirt.

"Okay, now you can freak out." I found my way into the kitchen which was, much to Ashlynn's horror, a pigsty. There were empty pizza boxes and Chinese takeout containers littering the table and the counters and the sink was overflowing with dishes. I silently praised myself for taking out the garbage yesterday, so the kitchen didn't smell all the bad.

Ashlynn sniffed uneasily. "I don't care about whoever that was. I'm just here to talk. But this place is a fucking mess."

I was leaning into the fridge to grab a beer when I reconsidered, given the present company. Instead, I took the only other thing in the fridge: a Gatorade. I probably looked like an idiot, ready to play basketball or something, with my shorts and now a fucking Gatorade. Regardless, I uncapped it when I straightened up and sipped at it. "Then go into the living room."

Ashlynn gave me a dirty look, but left the kitchen anyway. I followed her into the living room and plopped onto the couch. She opted for the recliner. "Alright," I said. "What do you wanna...talk about?"

"Uh, us." She made it sound as if the topic of conversation was painfully obvious.

I snorted. "There's still an 'us'?"

"I don't know, James. That's why I'm here." She rolled her eyes, already annoyed with me.

"Okay then, Ashlynn. Talk, if you want to so badly."

Ashlynn sighed and it was my turn to roll my eyes. As I rested the Gatorade on the cluttered coffee table, I couldn't help but wonder when we became so immature; we were acting like teenagers. "I'm not here to try and get you to pick between me and Adrian and y'know, alcohol. I just want to let you know that as long as you're drinking, we can't be together. You've changed so much in the past year; I don't know what happened to that guy I fell in love with."

I tried to argue, but she held up a dismissive hand and kept talking. "You still have a key to my house. You're free to come and go, to see Adrian and whatever, but I'm done. I can't do this anymore."

I rose from the couch and walked over to the chair, my asshole exterior melting away. I knelt in front of the chair, holding Ashlynn's legs; I was at eye level with her. "Don't do that. Don't say that." I was begging, something I never did. "I'll do whatever you want, Ashlynn. Just don't leave me. I'll stop drinking. I know I said it before, but I'll really stop this time. I promise."

Ashlynn shook her head. "No, James. I can't do this anymore. I love you, but I want to worry about myself and Adrian from now on. You make me want to rip my hair out some days. I can't risk another year of my sanity worrying about you, James. I'm sorry."

I squeezed her legs, hugging them tightly. I rested my head on her thighs, breathing her in. She placed her hand on my head, then brushed some hair away from my ear.

"I gotta go," she said softly, removing her hand from my head. I looked up at her, frowning. "Let go."

"Please don't do this, Ashlynn," I said, releasing her and rising from the floor. I followed her to the door. When she didn't turn around, I caught her bicep and spun her around. Tears glittered in her green eyes, breaking my heart. I pulled her toward me and rested my forehead against hers. For the first time in years, I was almost in tears. "Please."

She kissed me softly and, just as I was growing hopeful, she pulled away. In one swift motion, she parted from me, opened the door, and hurried out. Just like that, she was gone.

I considered going after her, but realized it was no use. She wasn't coming back to me. Realizing this, I sent my fist into the wall next to the door. And then again. And again. I did it until my knuckles were raw and bloody.

Delirious, I staggered to the kitchen. I banged around, gathering up all my alcohol. I swiped all the trash on the kitchen table to the floor and placed all my alcohol bottles there. Beer. Vodka. Whiskey. Rum. Even two bottles of wine, which I'd had for years, but never drank.

"I'll show you, Ashlynn," I mumbled under my breath. I took a bottle of whiskey in my hand and threw it against the wall. It shattered, glass and liquids flying everywhere. I kept at it and in about a half hour, my kitchen was full of glass and liquor. I slid across to the living room, my feet crushing glass. I bled across the living room.

In the bathroom, I stared in the mirror. "YOU'RE DONE," I shouted, pounding the sink. Disgusted with myself, I turned away, but that wasn't enough. I could still see myself. I punched the mirror. It shattered and my knuckles bled some more. My knees gave way and I sunk to the floor, joining my bloodied footprints.

I would show Ashlynn. I would stop drinking.
Edited by disposable_hero, September 7, 2011, 6:55 pm.
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ilovejaymz
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Wow, that was raw.. i really hope he gets his shit together now
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disposable_hero
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Naja Hetfield <3
September 7, 2011, 8:33 pm
Wow, that was raw.. i really hope he gets his shit together now
Ugh, yeah. It was hard to write, actually.

But thanks for reading. :heart:
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Lawrah Luvsmetallica
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now james u relized that took u a while


GET UR SHIT TOGEATHER NOOOOWWWWW!!!!!
:angry :rolleyes:

btw moar :heart:
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disposable_hero
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James' POV

I was laying in bed, shaking. Sweating with fever. I couldn't walk. When I slept, I saw the dead: my mom and Cliff. When I was awake, I howled Ashlynn's name, but she never came. She was gone. I hadn't eaten in days. My phone rang off the hook, but I couldn't move. Withdrawal sucked, I concluded when I had a moment of coherence. It'd been three days.

On the evening of the third day, I stumbled out of bed. Crawled to the phone. I picked it up, blindly punching in numbers. The phone rang a few times before someone answered.

"Hello?" It was the voice of an angel. Ashlynn.

"Ashlynn," I croaked, my throat dry from days of dehydration.

"James, is it you? Where've you been?"

I repeated her name, then dropped the phone. Groaning loudly, I crawled back into bed. The tremors were coming back and a new sweat broke out of my forehead, pouring down my face. I crawled under the blankets, shivering despite my fever, and waited.

I needed help.

- - -

Ashlynn's POV

I burst into Laura's room, where she was with Lars. They were both partially naked, Lars in his boxers and Laura in her bra and underwear. Lars rolled to Laura's side, mumbling something about locking the door and Laura lifted her eyebrows at me, as if to say, Nice going. I didn't care, though.

"James called. He's sick or something."

Lars popped up, tilting his head. "What do you mean? What'd he say?"

"He wasn't really talking. He was just groaning, like he was in pain."

"What'd he say?" Lars persisted as he hopped into his jeans.

"My name. And then the line went dead." I was trembling, holding myself. I was scared. What if he was really hurt? Was I being too slow?

Lars said something in Danish, his voice harsh. After pulling on his shirt, he kissed Laura quickly, whispering something to her, and ushered me out of the room. James had once referred to Lars as the 'business' of the band, but I'd never seen that side of him until now. He was stoic, guiding me down the stairs and out of the house. He was silent as we sped to James' in his car.

I was still shaking in the elevator to the fifth floor, where James' apartment was. I leaned against the wall of the elevator for support. When the elevator dinged, signifying reaching the fifth floor, Lars hurried ahead of me to open James' door.

When I got into the apartment, Lars was calling James' name. I joined him. We found the guitarist in his bedroom, shivering under his blankets. I dropped to my knees at the side of his bed and Lars stood at the foot of the bed, dumbfounded.

"What the fock, man? What'd you do?" Lars brought a hand to his forehead and stared at his friend, huddled under his blankets like a small child.

"James?" I pushed his hair, wet with sweat, from his forehead; he was burning.

His eyes cracked open. They were bloodshot and glazed over, like he hadn't slept for days. "Water," he groaned, shivering some more.

"Lars, can you..." I turned to the door, but Lars was already gone. He returned a few seconds later with a glass of water and a wet rag. I gestured for him to put them on the nightstand and sit James up. He did so and James groaned loudly. He flinched when I pressed the cold rag to his head, but calmed when I placed my hand on the back of his neck and rubbed it.

Lars, suddenly shaken, left to get another glass of water for James, who was busy gulping down the first. After the second glass, he was conscious enough to tell me what was wrong.

"I stopped."

"Stopped what?"

"Drinking."

I shook my head, biting my lip to fend off the threatening tears pooling in my eyes. "You shouldn't have done that. You needed real help."

"Don't want it. I want you." He lifted a hand to my cheek, but it fell, for he didn't have the strength to hold it up.

"C'mon, you have to get a shower." I let his words go in one ear and out the other. If I acknowledged them, I would give him sort sort of false hope. I heaved him from the bed and he trembled as he placed his feet on the ground. "It's alright, just walk. One step at a time, okay?"

He nodded, looking down at his feet like a small child, learning to walk. We made our way, slowly, to the bathroom. Once there, I coaxed James out of his shorts and boxers, the same ones he wore the day I visited him.

"I can't stand," James said, his voice low. The look on his face told me that he didn't like being so helpless.

"It's fine." I turned on the shower and opened the shower curtain, all while he was leaning on my shoulder. I stepped in with him and, though I was getting soaked, I commenced washing the days worth of sweat and grime off of his body. I made him sit on the edge of the tub while I washed his hair. As I lathered the shampoo into his hair, he leaned his head against my stomach.

"Sorry." His voice was strained. I could tell that he was uncomfortable with my washing him. I turned him toward the shower head, telling him to shut up. As I rinsed his hair out, he eyed me sadly. I looked to his hair.

When I was positive James was squeaky fucking clean, I rose from the tub, bringing him with me. I wrapped a towel around his bare waist and he held it up while his other hand was thrown around my shoulder. Just as we were about to leave the bathroom, James rushed away from me and fell to his knees at the toilet, heaving up the water he gulped down and blood.

"Fuck. This wasn't a good idea." He retched again, bringing up more blood.

When he finished, I knelt next to him, rubbing his back. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and looked up at me. "I shouldn't have called you, but I wasn't exactly coherent."

"No, it's fine. I'd rather be here than worrying about you."

James quirked an eyebrow, back to himself all of a sudden. "I thought you said you didn't wanna worry about me anymore."

"Well, Lars was worrying, too. Are you done?" I gestured to the toilet and he nodded. I lifted him from the floor and we toddled back into his room. I rummaged through his drawers and pulled out a pair of boxers, a plain black T-shirt, and gray sweatpants.

I went to remove the towel around his waist and he pulled away. "I can dress myself, I think."

Frowning, I shook my head. The color that temporarily returned to his face had gone down the toilet with his vomit; he was as white as a ghost and getting more so by the second. "You can't even walk." With that, I removed the towel and he turned his head away, embarrassed. "Don't be such a pussy. It's not like I haven't seen you naked before."

"You've never dressed me, though," James mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. Shrugging, I got him into his boxers and sweatpants, and he pulled the T-shirt over his head with ease.

I called Lars into the room and directed him to prop James up on his shoulder while I gathered some things for him. Clothes, mostly, but then I remembered the notebook under his bed that he liked to write in. I retrieved it, stuffing it in the duffle bag that was already filled with James' clothes.

"Where am I going?" James questioned as he and Lars hobbled out of the apartment. I locked the door behind me. Lars cast me a questioning glance, also unaware of my plan.

I answered them when we got into the elevator. "The hospital."

"Fuck, no!" James struggled against his friend, but Lars held onto him to keep him from falling.

"James, you're sick. You're extremely dehydrated and you're going through extreme withdrawal symptoms, okay? You're going to get even worse if you don't go."

"Says who? You're not a doctor."

I gave him a cold stare. "My dad's a drunk. He tried to quit cold turkey when I was fourteen; he almost died from dehydration. Would you like that, James? Do you wanna die?"

James was silent and Lars laughed a bit, unsure of what to do with himself. The elevator reached the ground floor and I stomped out, heaving James' bag over my shoulder. I was mad at James for his ignorance, his thinking that he could do this all on his own. He was being stubborn, even in his sickness.

I made the drive to the hospital quickly and as Lars and I stumbled into the ER with James, who had passed out in the car, nurses were quick to aid us. A man named Tyler relieved us of James and put him in a wheelchair flanked by two more nurses to hold him up. Lars and I, loyal dogs, followed the wheelchair entourage to a room. We were pushed out when one of the nurses prepping James, putting him in hospital garb and hooking him up to machines and IVs, noticed us. We were old to wait for a while, so we found a waiting room.

Lars went to find a phone to call Laura and the band. "I'll ask Laura about Adrian," he'd said, awkwardly patting my shoulder. Now, as I slumped in my chair, I prayed. I knew James was going to be fine and I hadn't been to church in years, but it was praying for the sake of praying.

Uh, hey, God, I though, wondering in the back of my head what the fuck I was doing. Just, um...praying for James and whatever. He's sick. He's so fucking sick. Just help him. Please. I don't know what to do anymore.

I didn't know what else to do, what else to ask for, so I stopped. I looked up from my hands, folded in my lap, and saw that a doctor was approaching me. He cleared his throat and I wiped away my quiet tears as I rose to greet him.

"Mrs. Hetfield?" He questioned, looking at his clipboard.

I choked back laughter and shook my head. "Murray. Ashlynn Murray. We're not married."

"My mistake." The doctor, from his name tag, was called Dr. Montgomery. He was in his early thirties, it looked, and he was tall with tanned skin, brown eyes, and dark hair, cropped closely to the sides of his head. In a different situation, I might've found him attractive. I would've approached him, maybe, but not in the current predicament. I wouldn't think of it.

"How is he?"

The doctor flipped a few pages, scanning them as he went. "He's stable now, but he's completely drained. Another day and he would've shut down from dehydration..."

I almost gasped, but the noise caught in my throat and the sound that did come out of my mouth sounded like someone had kicked a small dog. I clapped a hand over my mouth and the doctor suppressed a grin. "He's fine, though," he reassured me. "A guy, Lars, gave me Mr. Hetfield's insurance and information and the like. I just need someone to verify."

He handed me the chart and I took it, carefully reading and re-reading things. I signed and initialed where needed and handed the chart back. "Can I see him?"

Dr. Montgomery nodded. "By all means. Room 117."

I thanked him and hurried off. On the way, I found Lars at a pay phone, chattering away to someone on the other line in Danish. I tapped him on the shoulder. Cupping his hand on the mouthpiece, he turned and explained that he was telling his father about James.

"Okay. I'm going to see him. He's in 117." I left Lars to speak with his dad. When I entered James' room, he was sleeping soundly and, though he'd only been on fluids for an hour or so, the color had returned to his face. There was an armchair next to his bed so I sat in it, taking off my shoes and tucking my legs under my body after I sat down.

As I shifted about, getting comfortable, James woke. "Ash?"

"I'm right here."

He held out his hand to me and I took it. As he weaved his fingers through mine, he spoke, "I'm sorry."

I studied his face as he looked at me, waiting for a response. He genuinely looked sorry. "I would say it's okay, but it's really not. You should've gone through detox, baby. You could've killed yourself..."

James sighed loudly. "I know. I get it, okay? I just...I didn't know what else to do. You wanted me to stop drinking and...and I didn't know what else to do, I guess. I don't want to lose you, Ashlynn."

"If you're really going to do this, if you're really going to quit drinking, you've got me. I won't leave you." At that, James smiled. "But you have to promise me you'll try your hardest, James. You're going to kill yourself if you keep drinking to excess like you used to, alright? I don't need you dead."

James chuckled and pressed my palm to his cheek. "Can we not talk about my impending death, please?"

I smiled, bringing my face to his and kissing him softly. We parted and he placed his head on his pillow, watching me. "Go back to sleep, I'll be here," I told him, combing my fingers through his hair. His eyelids fluttered and he nodded, content, before drifting off.
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Burnout
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Poor Twisted Me
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Awww, poor Jamie! :unsure: I'm glad Ashlynn found him and I'm glad they're happy now! (so far, at least) He obviusly loves her a lot and she loves him! This was written beautifully! :heart:
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disposable_hero
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September 10, 2011, 7:02 am
Awww, poor Jamie! :unsure: I'm glad Ashlynn found him and I'm glad they're happy now! (so far, at least) He obviusly loves her a lot and she loves him! This was written beautifully! :heart:
Thank you very much!!
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Lawrah Luvsmetallica
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AWWWSSSSSSSSSS thats sweet :heart:
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ilovejaymz
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Poor Twisted Me
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September 10, 2011, 7:02 am
Awww, poor Jamie! :unsure: I'm glad Ashlynn found him and I'm glad they're happy now! (so far, at least) He obviusly loves her a lot and she loves him! This was written beautifully! :heart:
I second that :heart:
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ElisabethOrion
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:dance I like this so far. :biggrin

Continue? :)
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disposable_hero
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Gracias, ladies.

I'll post the next part tomorrow or Tuesday. :D
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disposable_hero
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As promised.

- - -

Ashlynn's POV

"Ma! Ma!" Adrian yelled, reaching up to me. "Up!" He was a year and four months now, which meant James had been sober for six months. Half a year. The thought made me smile.

It was April of '91 and James wasn't due to tour for another four months. Four months, I'm sure, that would be amazing, seeing as we'd started living together not too long ago.

"Ma!" Adrian yelled again, ripping me from my happy thoughts. I looked down at him and smiled. It was a cliché scene: me wiping my hands, covered in flour from baking, on my apron and bending down to pick up my son.

James walked into the kitchen just then, adding to the commonplaceness of the situation, and kissed me. He kissed Adrian's forehead as well. "Whatcha doooooin'?" He sang, plucking one of the raw cookies off of the tray on the counter.

I slapped his hand away, but he popped the ball of cookie dough into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously. "I'm bored, so I'm baking."

"Bored? We have a house now! Three floors of glorious fun! There's a game room! A pool!"

I lifted my eyebrow and handed Adrian, who was reaching for James, to his father. "That sounds like a sales pitch."

James took Adrian and pressed him to his chest. "Who're you kidding? I love it here."

"I'm kidding," I said, smiling.

"I know, smart ass."

"Hey! Adrian can talk now. If he says ass, I'm going to kill you!" I shook my head, smiling still as I turned back to the oven. Now with James present, I didn't feel like baking anymore. As I wrapped up the unbaked cookies and deposited them in the fridge, I listened to James playing with Adrian.

When I turned around, Adrian was shrieking with laughter as James tossed him into the air and caught him, cradling the child in his arms. It was getting late and I didn't want Adrian all riled up. James saw me eyeing him and he stopped, grinning stupidly.

"Put him to bed, yeah?" I suggested, receiving a nod to go along with the stupid grin.

"Come with me." I untied my apron, nodding, and tossed it onto the table. It fell to the kitchen floor, but I didn't backtrack, figuring I would get it later.

By the time I was upstairs, James had Adrian in his crib. Adrian was standing in the crib, gripping the rails and looking intently at James, who was singing. We discovered, when Adrian was first born, that the only way to get him into a real deep sleep was singing and thankfully, James and I were both decent singers; him more so than I.

I leaned against the doorjamb, listening and watching. James was singing an old lullaby, something I forgot the name of. This was where James and I were different in raising Adrian, pretty much the only way: where I liked to sing any song with a soft melody to Adrian, James liked to sing traditional lullabies to him.

"He's out," James said, beckoning me over. Adrian was spread out in his crib, almost spread eagle, taking up whatever space he had.

"He sleeps like you," I pointed out, just noticing it then.

"I do not sleep like that."

I nodded, stifling a laugh. "You so do."

James brushed a lock of Adrian's blonde hair out of his face, then forced me out of the room, grinning widely as we went. "I don't sleep like that." He pressed me against the opposite wall, looking down at me through heavy-lidded eyes.

"Yeah, you do."

"Prove it." He placed his hands on the wall above my head and buried his face in my neck. I arched my back, pressing my body to his, as he raked his teeth across my collarbone.

"I'll take a picture of you when you fall asleep."

"Yeah, after we fuck." His lips pressed to my jawbone as I laughed softly. James caught me off guard as I laughed, kissing me hard and delving his tongue into my open mouth. He ran his tongue over the roof of my mouth and I shivered. We kissed roughly and he guided me backwards, toward our room.

- - -

Ashlynn's POV

I woke the next morning and James was snoring next to me, taking up any part of the bed that I wasn't on. Except for his left arm, which was stretched across my bare stomach. Smirking, I got on all fours and hovered above his face, the ends of my hair dangling. "You don't take up the whole bed, huh?"

He snored loudly and fidgeted, then opened his eyes. "I'm dreaming. Why is there a gorgeous, naked chick on top of me?"

"I'm not on top of you," I said, lifting an eyebrow.

James gave me a tired grin as he guided me, by my hips, into his lap. "Now you are."

"And?"

"And, if I'm dreaming, I can do whatever I want."

"Such as?"

He didn't answer as he pushed his hips upward. I hadn't realized he was hard when I woke him up, but gasped loudly when he entered me, pushing his full length into me. I immediately started riding him, rocking my hips against his.

"You should be on top more often," James mumbled. His hands moved to down my back to my ass; he squeezed it tightly when I began rocking my body faster. I gripped his hips to keep from falling.

"Roll over." My arms were buckling about ten minutes later; I was breathless. James grunted, scowling as he looped an arm around my waist and rolled over, still inside me. His thrusts were quick and hard. He came in minutes flat, burying his face in my hair to stifle his cries.

He was about to return the favor, his fingers trailing down my stomach, when the baby monitor next to the bed crackled with Adrian's whines. He was awake, calling out for someone to let him out of his crib. James cursed, resting his head on my stomach. "I'll get him, if you want."

I sighed. "Yeah, I need a shower." James nodded and crawled on top of me, kissing me softly. He deepened the kiss and I pinched his sides, causing him to hop off the bed, rubbing them. I watched as he dawdled, retrieving clothes from his dresser.

"I'm going, I'm going," he said, grinning and finally dressed, as I shooed him away.

Once James was gone, I stretched my arms over my head, flexing my fingers and yawning loudly. The baby monitor went off again: James was speaking softly to Adrian. Adrian laughed with delight as, I assumed, James lifted him out of the crib.

Yawning again, I rolled out of bed and retrieved my robe from its hook on the door, bringing it around my body as I walked across the room. I left the room and headed for the bathroom, passing James in the hallway. Adrian reached for me and I leaned down, kissing his forehead.

"Ma?" He asked, staring at me, then averting his gaze towards the stairs.

"No, baby. Just daddy." I pushed the curls from his face and he frowned. I looked up at James. "I'm thinking he needs a haircut."

"Nah, let him grow it out. We'll be twins."

"Yeah, right after he grows a mustache." At my comment, James snorted with laughter and pushed me down the hallway, toward the bathroom. Adrian waved at me over his father's shoulder and I waved back.

I showered quickly and dressed in a pair of shorts and a white V-neck. When I entered the kitchen, hair dripping, James was on the phone and Adrian was in his highchair, picking dry cereal out of a bowl and popping it into his mouth.

"Who's that?" I mouthed to James. He waved me off, taking the phone into the living room. I shrugged, concluding that it was band stuff I could care less about.

"Ma!" Adrian shrieked, waving wildly at me. I laughed and cross the kitchen, lifting him out of his chair; he nuzzled into my neck, then pulled back and pressed a hand to my face, squishing my nose. He giggled at the sight.

James returned to the kitchen, hanging up the phone. Adrian called to him, but James stomped to the coffee machine, wrenched the coffee pot from its home, and poured himself a cup. He was banging around, taking his anger out on my kitchen counter.

"What's wrong with you?" I placed Adrian in his chair again. When James didn't answer me, I sidled up behind him, rubbing the small of his back. The tension in his body dispersed almost immediately and I leaned forward, resting my forehead on his back. "Hm?"

"It's Lars. He's so organized, right? But he doesn't tell me anything. I have an interview with some foreign magazine I've never heard of in an hour and he neglected to tell me until now." He gulped down some coffee: black as the day was long, just how he liked it. I grimaced.

"That's fine. You'll be back, then we can chill. We can just lay around all day, okay?"

"I can't. We have to plan out our setlist for the tour and a bunch of other bullshit. I'll be gone all day." He turned around and faced me. "I'm stressed as hell. I'm always fucking tired. I need a break."

I rested my hand on his chest after smoothing out a wrinkle on his shirt. "Stay home, then. I'll see if Laura can keep Adrian for the day and we can go out. Or stay in. Whatever you want."

He shook his head. "No, like...I want to take a break in a bar. I want a drink. I've been for a few days. The cravings are killing me, Ashlynn. I don't know what to do."

"When's the last time you went to a meeting?"

James downed the last of his coffee, poured himself another, then sat at the table. "AA is a crock of bullshit, baby. 'Let go and let God'. Yeah, okay. I've tried that and my mom died." I slid into a chair, frowning. James looked over at me and shrugged. He sipped his coffee, staring across the table at me. "Say something."

"I don't know what to say, James. That really scares me."

"Scares you?"

"Yeah. If you fall off the wagon..."

"Who said I would?!"

"No one! I'm just saying."

James huffed and abruptly rose from the table. He threw, literally threw, his mug into the sink and it shattered. Breathing heavily, he stomped out of the kitchen, clenching his fists as he went. Even in his sobriety, he was still so angry.

Adrian, thinking it was a game, pushed his cereal bowl off of his highchair's tray. When it landed on the ground, sending cereal cascading across the kitchen floor, he shrieked with laughter. He looked at me, smiling, but I put my head in my hands.

I couldn't do this.

- - -

James' POV

I was angry through the entire interview, the poor Eastern European guy on the phone stuttering his questions, overwhelmed at my short answers. When I was finished, I hurried to Lars', avoiding Ashlynn like the plague. She didn't deserve getting the bulk of my anger. I needed a different outlet.

My mind immediately went to drinking. Drinking, at some extent, quelled my anger. Maybe if I controlled myself when I drank, I would be less aggressive when I was drunk. I rolled my eyes at the thought, focusing on the road before me. If I started drinking again, Ashlynn would leave me. She would take Adrian and leave. She swore she would.

I shivered at the thought of being alone, without them. I wouldn't be able to function. As I parked my truck in front of Lars' apartment complex, I pushed the idea of drinking again away. I wouldn't drink again. I couldn't.

"He's here!" Lars called impatiently from his living room, where he, Kirk, and Jason sat around a coffee table covered with papers. There was an ashtray near Kirk, who was grinding a cigarette into it. Everyone but Lars looked tired and annoyed.

Except for Lars, the guys greeted me. Once I got myself settled, Lars went off, chattering on and on about the tour. I stared at his hands, in constant motion as he spoke, and went into some sort of daze, wondering how I was going to apologize to Ashlynn this time.

- - -

James' POV

I didn't get back home until ten o'clock-ish. The house was dark. I crept up the stairs, passing Adrian's room quietly. I opened the door to the bedroom I shared with Ashlynn. It creaked loudly and Ashlynn, who I'd assumed was sleeping, glared at me.

She was sitting up in bed, reading as usual. Shooting me another glare, she dog-eared the page she was on and turned off the lamp on her nightstand. She rolled to her side, pulling the covers around her.

"Ashlynn." I crawled into bed, nuzzling my face into her hair. She stiffened. "I'm sorry about this morning, okay?" She didn't respond. She was acting like I wasn't here, like my arms weren't wrapped around her waist and I wasn't talking against the back of her neck. "Please talk to me. I need you to help me, Ashlynn. Those meetings don't help. I just need you, that's all."

A few more minutes of my begging and she relented, sighing heavily. "I don't think I'm enough to keep you sober, James. You need professional help."

"No," I countered, bringing her closer to my chest. "Just you. You and Adrian. Knowing I have something so brilliant will keep me in line. I don't want to lose that."

She rolled over and looked up at me. "Okay, James." She rested her head on my chest, whispering, "Okay."

Even in the dark, I could see the doubt in her eyes. She didn't believe me.
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