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Trust I Seek; Het, James/OFC, romance, comedy, SMUT!
Topic Started: August 18, 2012, 1:34 pm (7,026 Views)
NothingElseMatters
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Destination: Koolzville
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Hi girls :) So here's my first attempt at a fanfic...I'm a bit nervous :blush: I started writing this before I even joined the forum but haven't really had the courage to post it before now!

I've always had a huge thing for TBA era (can you tell?!?!?!). Not only was James at what I consider his peak hotness ( :splat: :splat: :splat: ) but the music of The Black Album literally changed the way I view life. It was the obvious inspiration for writing my fic so when reading, keep this in mind :biggrin :

Posted Image

:drool

Some parts of the story are based on fact, others are from my imagination (Francesca? Francesca who? :D ).

Feedback welcomed and encouraged! :)



CHAPTER 1


Tuesday 28 July, 1992
Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean



"Another drink, ma'am?"

I glanced up at the pretty American air hostess, forcing a smile to hide the fact that I hated being called ma'am.

"Yes. Please. White wine?" I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, my back already beginning to protest to the hard, cramped seat beneath me.

"Certainly, ma'am." The air hostess poured my drink, flashed me a plastic, inexpressive smile and promptly turned her attention to the passenger sitting across the aisle from me.

Bloody hell. Who would do this for a job? I shook my head. I'd certainly done a bit of travelling in my time but the distance from Australia to Canada was, quite frankly, ludicrous. I'd barely scraped the surface of the 26-hour journey ahead of me and already I was loathing it. I gulped down the sickly sweet wine, shut my eyes and prayed for an instant coma.

"You shouldn't drink all that in one hit, you know."

I cracked open an eyelid and peered warily at my boyfriend in the next seat. Travis stared back at me with one cocky eyebrow raised, his dark brown eyes piercing mine.

"Hhmmn..." I replied, not wanting to get into an argument. I closed my eyes again.

"Flying causes dehydration. Combine that with the pace you're drinking that wine and you're on your way to a serious hangover, missy," Travis continued to lecture.

Without opening my eyes, I reached over and patted him on the knee. "Don't worry. I'm fine. Read your book," and shut up, I added to myself.

"What if there's an emergency? What if we have to evacuate over water and you're too drunk to get yourself off the plane safely?"

Then I'll push you in front of me to break my fall, I thought meanly. I opened my eyes. "I'm fine, sweets. I've had three drinks. I'd hardly say I'm pissed. I just want to have a nap, ok?" I smiled, hoping he'd take the hint.

"Well, don't come crawling to me tomorrow when you're puking your guts up," Travis sniffed and turned back to his book.

My blood pressure started to rise and I opened my mouth to throw back my usual fire-fuelled barrage of insults. In a rare display of sensibility, my brain kicked in before my mouth and I quickly realised that before the entire economy class of American Airlines flight AA7293 was not the choice setting for such an event. Snapping my mouth shut, I pulled my cd walkman out of the backpack at my feet and popped on my headphones. I pressed 'play' and watched as the newest addition to my cd collection spun to life behind the tiny plastic window.

Say your prayers, little one, don't forget my son, to include everyone...

I felt an instant rush of adrenaline. For as long as I could remember, music had been my way of escaping reality. I loved sitting down at my piano and letting Beethoven or Strauss draw me into another world where haunting arrangements and tumbling melodies would wrap around me like a child's security blanket. However it also wasn't unusual to find me with a set of headphones perched on my head, headbanging my way through "Master of Puppets" or "...And Justice for All", particularly when I was angry or upset about something. Electrifying riffs, grunty bass lines, the vocals of a beast...together they created a force that could lift me from my darkest depths and enliven every nerve in my body.

I tuck you in, warm within, keep you free from sin, 'til the sandman he comes...

An elbow bumped roughly into my side, forcing me out of my musical reverie. Travis motioned for me to take off my headphones.

"Are you listening to Metallica again?" Travis squinted at me through his glasses.

"Yes..." I hesitated, unsure of the direction he was taking.

"You should broaden your tastes."

You should shut your face.


"Honey..." I began reproachfully, struggling to hide my aggravated sigh. "I can't understand why - "

Travis rudely cut me off. "It's bad enough that you're dragging me to that concert next week. You're starting to turn into a groupie. I thought this move was a chance to start things over, get a fresh start."

Despite the wave of fury bubbling in my stomach, I also felt an intense spike of excited adrenaline shoot through me at the mention of the concert. Metallica! Live! I'd been waiting almost 10 years for this, and finally, FINALLY, I was going to see them in concert. In a little over a week, I'd be watching them perform at Olympic Stadium, Montreal. I was almost delirious with anticipation.

I gathered my thoughts. "It IS a fresh start, honey. I don't see how going to a concert is going to change that."

"I thought maybe you'd start concentrating on your career instead of just lusting after those metal-head losers all the time," Travis continued. "You're not a kid anymore, Lucy. You need to stop acting like an obsessed teenager."

Breathe.

Don't bite back.


"Honey..." I blinked slowly to gather my thoughts. "We'll talk about it later, ok? You're still my number-one man." I smiled coquettishly at my boyfriend, knowing he loved being told how great he was. "I'll make it up to you later, ok?" I winked, hating myself for pandering to his sexual ego.

I saw a flicker of arousal in Travis' eyes. "Sure, gorgeous." He turned his attention back to his book, seemingly satisfied with my answer.

I put my headphones back on but continued staring at Travis long after he became engrossed in his novel. More and more I found myself analysing him, weighing up the pros and cons of our relationship. Something was missing. We'd been together for over 5 years now but I felt like our bond was weakening, not getting stronger. He was my first and only "real" boyfriend and I'd just turned 18 when he introduced me to the alluring world of adulthood, complete with sex, drugs and rock and roll. I was an innocent and naive teenager, swept up in the magic of it all by someone who a few years older than me and in my mind, completely grown up and sophisticated. But gradually we fell into a pattern. The partying became less frequent, the sex more predictable and the magic less...magical. Travis moved away from his partying lifestyle and had settled into a comfortable, balanced existence of hard work and quiet weekends at home. Without realising it I had become the boring live-in girlfriend who cooked his meals and cleaned his house, rubbing his feet after a long day at work and giving him my body whenever he wanted it, regardless of what I desired.

I sighed. I missed the old Travis. The Travis who would spend all night rocking out to his favourite band, a Jack Daniels in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The Travis who wasn't obsessed with work. The Travis who would sweep me off my feet and plant kisses all the way down my neck, just because he liked the way I looked, not because he was angling for a blow job.

About a year ago I'd taken a step back and had begun examining my life. I was bored. During the week I worked in a mind-numbing office job for minimal pay and on the weekends I looked after Travis' needs, cleaning the house, doing his washing, cooking his meals. On week nights Travis was usually too tired from work to do anything fun and would often fall asleep in front of the TV, his empty dinner plate sitting on the couch next to him, waiting for me to wash it. I remembered staring out the kitchen window, my hands yet again immersed in a sink of soapy dishwater, listening to Travis snoring in the next room and thinking to myself, "Is this it? Is this really all there is in life?" and coming to the conclusion that no, there had to be more to life than this...

A week later I'd quit my job and had applied to the local University to begin studying a Bachelor of Nursing. I'd always been fascinated with the human body and figured I'd spent enough time tending to Travis' needs to be well and truly qualified to look after other people. Travis had been rapt - he figured I was finally "settling down" and becoming more career-minded, like him. I certainly felt happier work-wise but that didn't stop me from wanting to have a good time, either. It was at Uni that I met my best friend, Rachele, who had instilled some excitement back into my life by regularly persuading me to sneak away from Travis under the guise of "studying" and instead hitting up the University bar where we would listen to bands, shoot tequila, play pool and just generally have fun. It was Rach who convinced me that I needed to change my life. "Start acting like a normal 23 year old," she lectured me drunkenly on our way home from a particularly debauched evening at the bar. "Shake things up! Live for yourself! Tell Travis to shove his foot rubs up his ass!" She fell into the street, laughing hysterically, but I couldn't help but sober up at her words. She was right. I needed a change.

A month ago, during a particularly quiet night shift at work, I'd sat Rach down and told her the news.

"I'm moving to Canada," I revealed hesitantly, anticipating her reaction.

"YOU'RE FUCKEN WHAT?" she yelled, eyes wide, forgetting it was 2.00 am and that we were sitting in the middle of an aged-care ward.

"I applied for an internship in the Trauma Unit at Montreal General Hospital," I continued, not meeting her eyes. "They rang me last week and offered me a position."

Rach stared at me, dumbfounded. "Jesus Christ Lucy, I told you to shake things up a bit, not fucken move across the other side of the world."

"I know, hon...I just...well...I saw it advertised and thought it would be a great opportunity...I'll learn so much, and Travis can easily get work there...I thought it might help us if we moved to a new place, you know, help our...issues..." My eyes began welling up with tears as I stared into Rach's distraught face.

"I was personally hoping you'd dump Travis on his fat ass and move in with me," Rach grimaced. "I had it all planned. We'd be total sluts, partying 24/7, sleeping with any guy who looked our way, drinking until our livers exploded, constantly rocking out to Metallica..." Rach stopped short when she saw the first tear slide down my cheek. "I'm going to miss you so fucken much," she whispered, pulling me into her arms.

I sniffed, bringing myself back to the present. I missed her already. Still, I reasoned to myself, I'd be back in Australia for Christmas so it was only really a few months until we saw each other again. I readjusted my headphones and closed my eyes.

Take my hand, we're off to never-never land...



***

To be continued...
Edited by NothingElseMatters, September 16, 2012, 2:01 am.
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Shayniz21
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Poor Twisted Me
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I really like this please keep going!
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Verde Manzanita
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I have no feelings in my soul, where most have passion I got a hole
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I loved it! Being practically obsessed with the TBA sound so familiar to meh... :lol:
Really, keep going!
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lusy_orion
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To live is the most rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.
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This beginning is great just keep going :)
TBA James..... :lick:
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NothingElseMatters
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Destination: Koolzville
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Nawww, thanks ladies :blush:

Chapter 2 is below - I hope you enjoy it :) Once again, any feedback is definitely encouraged! Things are starting to heat up now...



CHAPTER 2


Monday 3 August, 1992
Montreal, Canada


"You look gorgeous," Travis ran his eyes up and down my body lustily. "You ready to go?"

I nodded. After 3 days of chaos we had finally started to find our feet in our new city. I still couldn't believe it - Montreal! We'd finally arrived on Thursday afternoon and after finding our pre-arranged rental accommodation and settling ourselves in, plus learning to adjust to the insane time difference, I'd managed to convince Travis that we needed a night out. I was amazed when he agreed. Even though it was a Monday, we were still keen to see what Montreal had to offer. From what I'd read in my travel books, this city barely slept, regardless of what day it was.

I smoothed my hands down my tight, black dress, glancing at my reflection in the hall mirror as we made our way out of the apartment. I wanted to make a bit of an effort tonight. A big part of the reason we were in Montreal was to give ourselves the space to rediscover each other and start enjoying our relationship again. I tugged the shiny material lower down my cleavage.

We wandered along the streets, hand in hand, drinking in the sights. The old-world charm mixed with a vibrant, modern energy intoxicated my senses and made me wish I'd brought my camera out with me. However I knew the sights would still be there tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. Tonight was about us.

We followed the funky beat of distant music and found ourselves outside a bar on Rue Saint Paul Est. I tugged Travis through the door, enchanted by the scene in front of me. The bar was small but obviously popular - we could barely move once we were inside. Tiny fairy lights twinkled inconspicuously in the darkness and I squinted through the thick layer of smoke to take in the modern artwork scattered around the walls. We picked our way through the jam-packed crowd while Freddy Mercury crooned in the background about caviar and cigarettes. Amazingly, we managed to find two spare seats in the corner of the room. "Stay here," I ordered Travis. "I'll go find us some drinks." I pushed my way through a throng of bodies, a fistful of Canadian dollars clutched firmly in my hand. I waited impatiently for service, my fingers tapping restlessly on the bar.

Oh, Travis. I watched him from afar, his eyes warily scanning the bar as he sat by himself, idly flipping a box of matches in his fingers. He seemed nervous, ill-at-ease. I sighed. What had changed? Why didn't we feel comfortable anymore? Maybe we were too comfortable, I mused. As I stood at the bar I again resolved to work at our relationship, to take the time to learn more about this man I supposedly knew everything about.

"Excuse me," a tall man with an American accent and long, wavy hair squeezed behind me, forcing me to press my breasts up against the tall wooden bar. "Sorry," he said, lightly touching me on the back. I glanced up, ready to wave off his apology, and found myself staring into the clearest, most beautiful blue eyes I'd ever had the good fortune of coming across. The man smiled at me, showing off a stunning set of straight white teeth framed by a sandy moustache and thick, masculine sideburns. I caught him briefly glancing down at my overly-accentuated cleavage before grinning at me again and quickly disappearing through a doorway cleverly hidden behind the bar.

I stared after the man, my heart beating wildly in my chest.

No. Fucking. Way.


Was that who I thought it was? The encounter had been too quick for me to really take a good look at him. I glanced around. Did anyone else see him? I mean, it looked like him, and sounded like him, but...

"Hey, did you just see that guy?" I asked the girl standing next to me.

"Huh? No, sorry. I must have missed him. Your boyfriend?" The girl's accent was a beautiful mix of French and Canadian.

"Uh...no..." I stammered. Holy shit. Did I just see James fucking Hetfield? I shook my head. Of course not. Travis was right - I was starting to become obsessed. It just some guy who looked like him. Metallica were due to play at Olympic Stadium with Guns n' Roses next weekend - it was the concert that Travis and I were going to - but surely they weren't in town already. Although... I quickly scanned my travel-weary brain. Today was 3 August. James' birthday. Celebratory drinks in between shows?

"'scuse me. Can I squeeze through here?" I felt another person press against me as they moved past. I spun around to see another man, this time with long, dark, curly hair, disappear behind the bar towards the mystery room where I'd just seen the first guy go. I caught a glimpse of his face just as he shut the door behind him and instantly recognised his smooth, sun-kissed skin and sweet, full lips. My stomach lurched wildly. It was Kirk Hammett!

"Fuck!" I breathed to myself quietly. Holy shit! Kirk Hammett! That meant that the blonde guy I'd seen was, indeed, James Hetfield. Jesus fucking Christ! Metallica were in the same fucking bar as me! For several minutes I stood staring door as if willing it to open with my mind.

"Whatcha doin', gorgeous?" I felt Travis' hand on my hip. He was standing next to me, his eyes full of questions.

"Uh?" I blinked rapidly, drawing myself back into my surroundings. "What? Oh, hey there," I stuttered a little, still trying to comprehend what - or rather, who - I had just seen.

"Did you get my drink?" Travis stared at me, trying to read my thoughts.

"Uh...no...sorry, I'm, uh...just getting it now," I felt flustered, still not really convinced that James Hetfield and Kirk Hammett were literally within a few feet of me in a bar in downtown Montreal. I shook my head. Bloody hell! I couldn't wait to call Rach, she would go insane with jealousy.

Much to my surprise, Travis spent the next few hours desperately vying for my attention, buying me drinks, commenting on how pretty I looked, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. It was a sudden, unexpected change and as much I loved this all this attention he was showering on me, I couldn't help feeling distracted. C'mon lads, I thought, as my eyes again surveyed the scene behind the bar. Open the fucking door!

"Lucy? Hello?" I jumped slightly as Travis' fingers snapped in front of my face. "What's going on? You've been distracted all night," Travis sulked, his bottom lip sticking out like a disgruntled school boy.

"I'm sorry, hon," I started to feel bad about how little attention I was paying him. I flashed him my best winning smile and rubbed his thigh seductively. "How about I get us one last drink and then we start thinking about heading home? I know it's early, but I thought maybe we could...well...you know," I gave him a sexy little grin and let my sentence trail off, allowing Travis to dream up whatever erotic conclusion he desired. I wandered towards the bar, knowing he was practically burning holes in my backside with his eyes. Tonight's about us, I reminded myself. Metallica or no Metallica - don't ruin this.

On route to the bar I quickly realised that I'd need to detour past the bathroom - my bladder was practically bursting with all the alcohol I'd consumed. Much to my dismay I discovered a long line of women hovering outside the bathroom door, some applying makeup in tiny mirrors, others chatting inanely with their friends, none of them particularly perturbed by the obvious wait for a toilet. Why did all bars insist on only having two female toilets? I glanced up the line as I shuffled impatiently from one foot to the other. No movement. "C'mon," I mumbled to myself, starting to feel a dull ache in my kidneys. "I'm fucking dying here."

I stared jealously at the steady flow of guys who passed through the door to the men's bathroom, each visitor only taking a few minutes to complete their business. After a moment or two I noticed a lull in the crowd and decided to take advantage of the situation, not caring about what people might think of me. I slipped through the door to the men's toilets, ignoring the comments of "what the fuck?" behind me. I slammed the door to the cubicle, my dress already halfway up my waist. I sighed with relief as I sat there, my body thanking me for my somewhat reckless decision. What if there had been someone in here? I decided not to think about it.

Suddenly, the bathroom door crashed open and loud voices echoed off the tiles as two men exploded into the room, taunting each other with insults.

"...I mean fock, man, I was only a few hours late. You acted like it was a focking drill march or something," came the first voice, slightly accented.

I froze, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. Don't move. Don't make a sound. Don't . Even. Breathe.

"You're always fucking late," the second voice growled. "You've been late for ten fucking years." The sound of zippers filled the air, followed by the distinctive tinkle of pee hitting the urinal wall.

Oh Jesus fucking Christ. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to stay quiet.

"I mean, for fuck's sake," the second voice continued. "How many fucking naps does one person need in a day?"

That voice. That sexy, throaty, unmistakable voice... I opened my eyes, frozen in shock. No freaking way...

I leant forward slightly, squinting one eye as I peered through the gap in the door. Two guys were facing away from me, heads down, their conversation halted as they focussed on the task at hand. I rested my hand on the tissue dispenser, balancing my weight as I precariously leant forward even further, my moves slow and deliberate so as to not make any sudden noise.

The shorter of the two, the guy with the long brown hair and jeans so tight they were practically sprayed onto his flesh, finished his business and turned towards the mirror where I could see his face. Green eyes, surrounded by criminally long lashes that any woman would give her right leg for, stared back at him as he frowned at his reflection. My eyes widened. BLOODY HELL! Lars Ulrich! And he just took a leak right in front of me! I almost giggled out loud at the insanity of the situation. No one would ever believe this. I could practically hear Rach roaring with laughter as I sat there with my lacy red knickers caught awkwardly around my knees, my balance resting rather unstably on the tissue dispenser, desperate to see what was going on outside the cubical door.

"Hurry up," Lars complained.

The guy with the long wavy hair turned his head slightly. "Are you fucking waiting for me? Get the fuck out of here, you asshole."

James, I breathed silently to myself. It IS you! James sex-on-legs Hetfield! Taking a wizz! In the same freaking bathroom as me! I shook my head. This was unbelievable. Shame I can't see this from the front, I mused. I eyed his backside lustily. Still, this view is pretty damn sweet...

A slight cracking noise to my left startled me from my thoughts. Before I could react I found myself slipping, my balance shattering as the tissue dispenser dislodged under my weight. My legs slapped loudly against the tiles as I toppled drunkenly to the floor, my shoulder creating a dull thud as I connected with the cubical wall.

SHIT.


"Hey, dude, are you alright?"

A pair of feet appeared under the door. Oh fuck fuck fuckety fuck. Don't talk to me now. Please. Please go away. I love you, but please go away. I swallowed, mortified.

"Um...yes..." I attempted to make my speech deeper than it really was and ended up failing miserably, my voice coming out squeaking like a pre-pubescent teenage boy.

I heard a snort of laughter. "You might want this back then," Lars' voice echoed around the bathroom as one of my black suede heels was thrust under the door.

I slipped on my shoe, my hands trembling. "Thanks," I muttered, pulling myself into standing position. So much for not getting noticed, I seethed. Just get the fuck out of here and don't look back. I straightened my dress, flushed the toilet and, keeping my eyes cast downwards, opened the cubical door.

I sensed James and Lars staring at me as I approached the sink. I glanced in the mirror briefly to see both of them standing behind me, their faces plastered with silly grins. I could feel the crimson heat of my embarrassment spreading over my cheeks and neck, my hands shaking as I quickly splashed them under the running water. Thoroughly humiliated, I dried my hands on a piece of paper towel and swung open the bathroom door to leave, my dignity well and truly shattered.

"Wait."

It was a command, not an invitation. James' voice shot through me like a charge of electricity and my breath caught in my chest, my heart hammering wildly. I hesitated slightly before turning around to gaze up into his clear blue eyes. My stomach clenched as he grinned at me.

"You've got toilet paper on your ass."

Lars collapsed into a fit of hysterical laughter as my hands flew to the back my dress, grabbing frantically at the rogue piece of toilet tissue clinging desperately to my curves. I spun myself around in circles until I finally grabbed the offending tissue and tossed it to the floor, my pride and dignity going right along with it. James continued grinning at me broadly, his shoulders shaking as he struggled to control his amusement. Lars fell about laughing, hooting uproariously, his hands clenched to his sides.

Horrified, I quickly escaped through the door, leaving their laughter to echo around the bathroom behind me. I flew back to Travis, my heart beating uncontrollably.

"What the fuck took so long?" Travis greeted me, his brow crinkled with annoyance.

"I just...I just went to the loo and I...the dispenser...James Hetfield -"

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Lucy." Travis snapped, rolling his eyes angrily. "Stop. Talking. About. Metallica." He shook his head, clearly pissed off.

"But I thought..." I stopped. Was there really any point in going into it? I'd just be humiliated all over again and judging by Travis' response, he certainly wasn't in the mood to hear about it either. And the last thing I needed was him being an arrogant prick about it all. "...I thought maybe we could have that nightcap at home," I smiled at Travis, hoping he wouldn't argue. I just really wanted to get the hell out of there before I ended up embarrassing myself even further.

Thankfully, Travis was more than agreeable. We quickly found ourselves a taxi and headed in the direction of our apartment. I tried to enjoy Travis' hand gently caressing my knee as we sat in the back of the car but found myself staring out the window, replaying the evening over and over in my mind. What the hell just happened? Did I REALLY just make a complete and utter ass out of myself in front of JAMES HETFIELD AND LARS ULRICH? I groaned softly. Travis' hand crept further up my thigh, mistaking the noise for a moan of pleasure. But it's likely I'll never see them again, and even if by some miracle I DO ever come face to face with them a second time, they probably won't recognise me, I reasoned to myself. They'll probably just have a bit of a laugh and then forget all about it. I blushed, imagining how ridiculous I must have looked trying to grab that piece of toilet paper off my butt. Oh, but Mr Hetfield... I gave a little sigh of desire. Even at the height of embarrassment I still felt the girly tickle of butterflies in my stomach as his face flashed before me, his blue eyes sparkling. Grrrrr.

"What are you smiling at?" Travis returned my grin, his fingers tracing gentle circles on the inside of my thigh.

"Ummmmmm...just...uh...just marvelling at how lucky I am to have you," I improvised quickly, my face flushing as I pictured James' ass before me, his delicious, muscular curves swathed in tight black denim.

We quickly reached our apartment, Travis hastily throwing a handful of dollar notes over the driver's seat as we pulled up to the curb. "Keep the change," he said over his shoulder, pushing me out of the car. I unlocked the apartment door and made my way inside, Travis' hands caressing my ass. I'd barely put my keys down when he pressed me up against the wall, his mouth running kisses down my neck. He rubbed up against me, his erection bulging against the tight denim of his jeans.

"Wait, honey," I whispered. "We don't need to rush it." I gently removed Travis' hands from my breasts and went to step away. He frowned and pinned my arms hard against the wall, his mouth pressing desperately against mine.

"Honey," I murmured against Travis' mouth. "Sweets, I need to pee. Wait a minute." I wrestled myself from his grip and tottered into the bathroom. I've spent far too much of my evening in bloody bathrooms, I thought, shaking my head. Too lazy to shut the door, I quickly used the toilet and began washing my hands, smiling at Travis and he leaned drunkenly against the door frame. I watched in the mirror as sidled up behind me, his eyes hazy with alcohol. I turned around and raised my face to his expectantly.

Travis pressed his lips against mine, hard. He forced my mouth open with his tongue and kissed me sloppily, a small dribble of his saliva running down my chin.

"Jesus, Travis..." I turned my face away, trying to get some space between us. "Sweetheart, you're hurting me..."

Travis pulled away from me and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were unfocussed, his breath reeking heavily of bourbon. "C'mon gorgeous..." he slurred. "Suck my cock..."

How can I refuse an offer like that? I thought sarcastically.

Travis began pulling roughly at the zip on my dress. "Take it off," he grunted. I sighed. So much for tonight being about both of us. Some things never change.

I unzipped my dress and stepped out of it, kicking my heels off at the same time. Travis had already discarded his jeans and shirt and stood staring at me drunkenly as I undressed.

Travis pulled me violently against him, burying his face in my hair as he fumbled behind me to unhook my bra. He finally succeeded and my breasts tumbled free from their restraint. He instantly placed his mouth on my nipple, biting down hard.

"OW!" I cried, pulling away. "Gentle!"

He relaxed his bite and began sliding his hands inside my knickers. His breath was hot and lecherous on my skin and it was then I realised how pissed he really was. I hadn't seen him this drunk in years.

Travis started fingering me roughly. "Take 'em off," he breathed. "I want to feel you." I slid my knickers down to the floor and kicked the lacy material aside. Travis greedily played with my pussy, his finger sliding in and out of me, his thumb toying with my clit. With one hand on my shoulder, Travis forced me downwards until I was kneeling in front of him, my knees objecting to the cold, hard tiles beneath me. With his other hand he grabbed his cock and pushed it urgently into my mouth. I choked a little, surprised at his force.

"Suck me, gorgeous." Travis leant back, his eyes closed.

I did as I was told. With one hand wrapped around the base, I gently slid my lips up and down his shaft, my tongue periodically flicking the head. "That's so good," Travis moaned. I continued my licking and sucking, his cock tasting salty in my mouth. Travis groaned again and began thrusting his hips forward, his hands grabbing my hair and pushing me harder onto his dick. "Yeah...that's it..."

Suddenly Travis pulled me upright and spun me around, roughly jolting me up against the sink. "Bend over," he grunted, pushing hard on my back. I silently obliged, knowing full well there wasn't any point in resisting. I rested my arms on the sink to brace myself. Travis drove his cock into me forcefully, a deep groan escaping his lips. I closed my eyes and did what I always did: tuned out and let music take over my mind.

Doesn't matter what you see, or into it what you read...


Travis was grunting away behind me, oblivious to everything except his own thrusts.

You can do it your own way, if it's done just how I say...

How ironic, I thought. Travis continued his inebriated pumping, each stab accentuated with an "erghhh" from deep in his throat.

I began thinking again about my run-in with the boys in the hotel bathroom. Upon reflection I could see the funny side of the situation - a random girl in the men's toilets, a bit too pissed for her own good, falls over and makes an ass of herself as she spins in circles like a maniacal puppy chasing its tail. I could tell they'd certainly enjoyed a few beverages throughout the night too - it was likely they had a good chuckle over it all and then promptly forgotten the whole thing. Fingers crossed, anyway.

The whole evening was still completely unbelievable. James Hetfield! Kirk Hammett! Lars Ulrich! James was so incredibly hot - far hotter in person than in the countless pictures I'd collected of him over the years. His hair, his eyes, his grin...oh, good God in heaven, that smile was amazing. I felt a tingle in my crotch just thinking about it.

"Yeah, that's it gorgeous...you're relaxing now..." Travis drove deeper inside me and reached his hands around to grab my breasts. "Yeah...that's it...I can feel you getting wetter...eergghhh...that's so good..."

I hid a smile. If only he knew that I was turned on because I was thinking about James Hetfield! I closed my eyes and instantly James' face swam before me. I started thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. To touch his skin. To run my tongue down his chest. To feel him touch my body. To experience him inside of me...

"Eerggghhh...fuck, gorgeous...your pussy is so wet..."Travis panted, increasing the pace of his thrusting.

I rested my head against my arms, my eyes still closed. I could see James, his chest glistening with sweat as he gently caressed my naked body, his mouth running delicate kisses down my back. I imagined him gently easing his cock into my wet, waiting pussy. I gasped.

"You like that, gorgeous? Errgghh..." Travis squeezed my breasts, hard.

Oh...James...that feels so good, I thought to myself. I could feel his breath hot on my neck. Oh James...James, baby...ohhh...oh God...James, honey, that feels amazing...

I pictured him standing behind me, his eyes closed, his hands gently cupping my breasts as he slid in and out of me...in and out ...in and out...slowly driving us both into a hot, passionate frenzy.

I started moaning softly. In my mind I saw James open his eyes and smile at me in the mirror. He ran his tongue over his lips and continued thrusting, gently yet passionately, my body screaming for more.

"Fuck..." I whispered. "Oh, Jesus Christ..."

James began fucking me harder, our eyes locked in the mirror as his naked thighs rocked fervently against mine. He tilted his head back, his eyes fluttering closed as we both drew closer to orgasm.

James...oh, God, yes, James, yes...oh God...OH, GOD...James...Jaaaaayyyymmmmmzzzzzz...

James bit his lip, his eyes clenched shut in ecstacy.

"Oh God...oh, God, yes...yes, oh God..." I groaned loudly, lost in the sensations flooding my body. I felt him begin to shudder inside of me. "OH, GOD, JAMES! YES! YES! YES!" We came together, our bodies cascading with pleasure. "Ohhhhhhhhhh...my God..." My orgasm tumbled over and over again, my body shuddering with euphoria. I moaned softly into my arms, my chest heaving. "James..." My breath trembled with satisfaction.

Bliss. Pure, animal, gratifying bliss.

"What did you just call me?"

I snapped my head up, my brain still foggy with sexual fulfilment. I stared at Travis in the mirror, dumbfounded.

"What the FUCK did you just call me." Travis repeated his question as more of a statement, his eyes burning angrily. "Did you just fucking call me JAMES? As in, James HETFIELD?"

Oh, shit. Oh Jesus fucking Christ. Oh shit, shit, shit, shit...had that been out loud?

Before I knew what was happening, Travis had spun me around and grabbed me hard by the arms, shaking me. "Answer me! What the fuck, woman?"

"I...um...I don't know...I..." I stuttered, shocked by Travis' anger. "I...I don't know...I just..."

Travis' hand smashed across my face, delivering a sharp, stinging blow. My head whipped to the side, my eyes smarting with pain.

"I don't ever, EVER, want to hear you say that name again, you hear me? Ever!" Travis yelled, his final word punctuated with another slap, this one harder than the last. I stumbled backwards, my head reeling.

Travis glared at me. "You stupid fucking slut," he snarled. "He wouldn't fuck you if you were the last bitch on Earth." He pushed me violently, causing me to lose balance. I crashed hard against the tiled floor, my head banging the towel rail on the way down. The tears were now flowing freely down my face. Travis grabbed a towel off the rail and wiped the cum off his cock, then threw the dirty towel at my face. "Clean yourself up," he sneered nastily, slamming the door behind him.


***

To be continued...
Edited by NothingElseMatters, September 16, 2012, 3:48 am.
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Verde Manzanita
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I have no feelings in my soul, where most have passion I got a hole
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If I was James I would enter that bathroom and punch that Travis fucker to death. Christ, how I hate men that hit women...

You know I liked it so, more!
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lusy_orion
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Wow this was great!
Lucy's little adventure with Lars and James...haha...I would probably act the same way :blush:
But then Travis...... :bat :bat that was so humiliating for her....bastard :angry :angry
Well, don't know what else to say...oh I know... :rolleyes: MORE PLEASE :D :D
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Shayniz21
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HELL TO THE NO! Someone needs to beat Travis ass, James can do it
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HannahBanana
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This is awesome :D
Travis is a complete dick! I hope she leaves him as soon as possible, but on another note, the bathroom scene was hilarious :lol:
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NothingElseMatters
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Thank you so much, girls, it's comments like these that make me want to keep going! :huggie:

I've had a bit of writer's block - the chapter after this one is already finished, I just couldn't think of a good "bridging" chapter. I ended up sitting down in front of the tv tonight and found a music video special - the best music videos from 1991-1994. Needless to say, Enter Sandman came on. A bit of TBA 'Tallica was all I needed to get back into the writing groove :biggrin

I hope you enjoy it!


CHAPTER 3


I sat on the bathroom floor, my breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. I swiped angrily at my tears, wincing as my fingers brushed against my rapidly swelling cheekbone.

He hit me.

The fucking prick HIT ME.


I grasped the edge of the sink and shakily pulled myself to my feet, mentally assessing my body for any tell-tale signs of injury. Amazingly, apart from the dull throbbing across my cheek and a lingering ache in my shoulder, I seemed to be in one piece. I lifted my eyes to the mirror to survey the damage on my face. My eye had already swollen shut and I could still see the outline of Travis' hand on my cheek but on the whole, I was relatively unharmed.

I opened the bathroom door hesitantly, my ears straining for any sound of Travis. Despite my aching body I was unwilling to leave the safety of the bathroom in case he was still out there, waiting to unleash a second bout of hell on my already fragile body. Silence greeted me. I slipped quietly out of the door and headed for our bedroom, muttering a quick prayer of thanks when I discovered he wasn't there. My ears pricked as a faint snore erupted from the other end of the apartment. I breathed a sigh of relief - he was asleep on the couch, probably comatose from all the bourbon he'd consumed at the bar. Your first wise move all day, asshole. I quickly pulled on some pyjamas and made a bee-line for the kitchen. My face needed ice, pronto.

What the hell had possessed him to hit me like that? He'd never raised a hand to me before. I certainly couldn't blame him for being angry - I mean, shit, I'd screamed out another man's name at an all too crucial moment. I'd be pretty pissed off too. But hitting me? I didn't understand it. And Christ, it was only a fantasy. It's not like I actually slept with the guy.

As I made my way to the refrigerator my eyes landed on the two concert tickets held in place on the door by a tiny magnetic "M", its shape taking the form of the first letter from Metallica's logo. I grinned despite my melancholy mood, the sight of the tickets lifting my spirits in joyful anticipation. Four days to go! I raised my arms to salute the dim, deserted kitchen with a double set of devil horns, beaming insanely to myself in the darkness. Ow. My shoulder protested harshly, a dull, throbbing ache making its way down my arm and reminding me of why I was here in the first place - ice.

Travis, you asshole. A flood of emotions ran through me. Anger. Embarrassment. Sadness. Confusion.

...Guilt.


I rummaged around in the freezer, locating a rogue packet of peas at the back which I gratefully pressed against my face. If I was honest with myself, I could see that Travis and I hadn't really been happy in quite a while - I barely knew him anymore. It seemed as if we had just...grown apart. In the early days we were practically inseparable, spending every waking moment together. We'd go bars, listen to bands, take long walks in the bush, spend hours planning our next holiday. Now it was all just about Travis' work. He didn't have time to do those things anymore. He was happiest at the office, and when he was at home he could usually be found buried in the business section of the newspaper. It was what drove me to embrace music on a deeper level - when Travis wasn't around, I would use music to fill the void.

We just didn't like the same things anymore. He loved his work, I loved...Metallica.

Did I cause this? Maybe I HAD been overdoing it a bit lately with the Metallica obsession. I knew that when Travis started on about politics or business I'd be bored senseless within a mere couple of minutes. Was that what it was like for him? My music had never upset Travis in the past. But since I'd bought those concert tickets...

I shook my head. That's ridiculous. There's got to be more to it.

I sighed. This wasn't something I was going to solve in hurry. Suddenly overcome with fatigue, I trudged off towards the bedroom, my packet of peas pressed tenderly against my cheek.

Curling under the covers, my eyes landed on a photo frame on my bedside table, partially illuminated by a sliver of moonlight peeking through the curtains. The picture showed Travis and I, clearly in love, our arms wrapped around each other as we posed playfully in front of a waterfall. We used to be so happy...I stared at the photo while hot tears rolled down my cheeks, blurring our joyful faces.

What was I supposed to do now? Leave? Stay? Of course I can't leave, I chastised myself. I love him.

Don't I?

Feeling more alone than I ever had before, I sobbed quietly into my pillow until I eventually fell into a restless, harrowed sleep.


***

I woke early, watching as the sun rose through the gap in the curtains. I heard Travis pottering around in the kitchen but I wasn't ready to face him yet. It was still too raw. I turned over in bed, exhausted.

"Lucy." Travis' muffled voice came through the door.

I hesitated. I really didn't feel like talking. "What?"

"Coffee?"

"Uh..." What? "Uhhh...yeah, sure...thanks," I stuttered. Travis opened the door and gently placed my favourite mug on the table beside me, the rich, intoxicating aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans gently caressing my senses.

"Thanks," I repeated, still stunned. Travis stood awkwardly next to the bed for a moment, not meeting my eyes. I waited.

"You alright?" Travis continued staring downwards, his brow creased into a tense frown.

"Not really," I answered, determined to keep my answers short.

Travis' eyes finally rose to meet mine. He seemed impassive, detached from it all.

"Do you need to go to hospital?"

"No. It'll go away soon. It's swollen, and sore, but I doubt there's any permanent damage."

Travis breathed an audible sigh of relief. Part of me wished that I'd made it out to be far worse than it was, just to make him feel bad.

"So you'll be alright?" Travis continued to frown at me, his expression unreadable.

I sighed. "Yes. Physically, I'll be fine."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think I mean, Travis? I'm hurt. Emotionally. This is all just...fucked," I felt my temper beginning to rise. Swinging my legs out of bed, I grabbed my cigarettes and headed towards the front door, my coffee forgotten. Travis hesitated a moment before following me, his footsteps slow and deliberate behind my fast, angry, stomping ones. I threw open the door, the crispness of the Montreal summer morning greeting me as I inhaled deeply on my freshly lit cigarette.

"You need to calm down." Travis was behind me, his voice taking on a condescending tone.

"DON'T FUCKING TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!" I yelled, the emotions of last night finally bubbling over. I hated it when he spoke to me like that. I spun around to face him. "Fucking look at me! Look what you did to me!" I pointed to my cheek, my hand shaking with rage.

"Stop yelling. The neighbours will hear." If it was one thing Travis hated, it was a scene. Well, fuck him.

"I'M NOT YELLING!" I yelled. "AND I DON'T GIVE A FUCK, ANYWAY!" I sat down in the stairwell, puffing angrily on my cigarette.

"Lucy." Travis' voice resonated with fury. "Stop it." He glared down at me with piercing eyes, his mouth set in a hard, straight line. "If you're going to yell at me, do it inside." He pointed his finger towards our apartment.

FUCK, YOU ARE SO FUCKING INFURIATING!!
My head screamed at him. I took a deep, shaky breath. "Fine," I conceded, my tone still terse. "I won't yell." Compromise. Meet him halfway.

Travis stood with his arms crossed, his face a mix of anger and uncertainty. He stared at me, hard. I tried to read what was going on in his mind but ended up failing miserably. I had no idea. It reinforced, once again, that I barely knew this guy anymore. How did this happen?

Travis took a deep breath. "I was pretty drunk last night."

THAT'S your excuse?
I remained silent, seething.

"In fact, I was completely written off. I didn't really think about what I was doing."

I raised an eyebrow. Was this Travis' attempt at apologising?

"I just...well, you need to stop this Metallica bullshit. It's pretty sick."

OH, GET FUCKED.I turned to Travis angrily.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Travis! I like their music! And I think the lead singer's a bit hot! So what? It's not like you're perfect, I catch you checking out other chicks all the time!" It was true, Travis had always had a wandering eye and didn't hesitate to tell me how good some girl's legs were, or that she had a fantastic set of tits.

"This is different, Lucy. You're fucking obsessed. You said his fucking name!"

He had a point. I sighed, defeated. "I know. And I'm sorry about that, really, I am. I guess I just got...distracted. It didn't mean anything."

"Distracted? Was I not good enough?"

I groaned. Oh no, not this again. Travis measuring up his sexual worth.

"You were fine. I came, didn't I?" I stubbed out my cigarette, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Yeah, but only because you were wishing that it was James Hetfield ploughing you," Travis spat. "Otherwise you would have just leant there like a dead fish."

"Well maybe if you took a bit of interest in what I liked and what got me off, then I wouldn't have to be so fish-like, would I?" My voice started getting louder again.

Travis glared at me. "This is bullshit, Lucy. If it wasn't for your fucking teeny-bopper fixation with those dicks, we wouldn't even be having this conversation." He licked his lips, hesitating. "So I'm putting my foot down. You're not going to that concert."

I snorted. Who did he think he was? "Actually, I am," I said, standing up. "Try and fucking stop me."

Travis and I met eye to eye, his glasses reflecting the morning glare. "Really." He said it like it was a challenge. Turning slowly, I watched as he wandered back inside, our argument seemingly over. Moments later, he was back, his hands clenched by his sides.

Frozen in horror, I watched Travis lifted his right hand, a cigarette lighter clutched firmly in his fingers. In the other hand he held the two Metallica tickets. He looked at me expectantly.

"You wouldn't fucking dare..." I breathed, unable to move.

Travis flicked the lighter deftly, the flame instantly bursting to life. He gently brought the tickets down into the fire, the thin cardboard igniting almost instantly. Within seconds, both of the tickets were devoured. Travis quickly dropped the smouldering ashes to the ground before they scalded his skin.

"Now you're fucked." He smiled at me arrogantly.

I stared down at the ashes, tears pricking my eyelids. I have been waiting MY ENTIRE LIFE for those tickets...I kicked at the ground, unable to speak. I can't believe he just did that...


To be continued...
Edited by NothingElseMatters, September 2, 2012, 11:55 pm.
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Verde Manzanita
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I have no feelings in my soul, where most have passion I got a hole
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If my boyfriend do that to me I'd smack his face and then leave him. That Travis fucker is no one to rule Lucy's life and she has to leave him, for sure... Christ, that kind of men make me sick, really.

Go on, we want more! :heart:
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Shayniz21
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Poor Twisted Me
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Omg, I cant believe he did that! If I was in her place I never would have stayed after he hit me. I would have packed my shit and the Metallica tickets and bounced. Travis is an asshole.
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-DJ-
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Blackened
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Shayniz21
August 25, 2012, 4:33 pm
Omg, I cant believe he did that! If I was in her place I never would have stayed after he hit me. I would have packed my shit and the Metallica tickets and bounced. Travis is an asshole.
+1! :tu: this fic is awesome! more! :heart:
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HannahBanana
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I swear if I were her I would've kicked his ass all over the place :angry
I can relate to Lucy to a certain extent because I'm crazy about James and Metallica and my boyfriend will just have to learn to accept that I will always be attracted to James
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NothingElseMatters
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Thanks so much girls! I'm so appreciative of your comments, and to everyone who's been reading. You have no idea how much it means to me! :huggie: Love you all! :heart:

Hahaha, I'm actually pretty lucky with my husband - he knows how obsessed I am with both James and Metallica in general and he just accepts it. Occasionally he'll just roll his eyes or tease me about it but he never gets angry or jealous. I've got tickets to a Metallica show early next year (well, actually 2 Metallica shows, one in my hometown and one interstate where my brother is living...I'm a bit excited) and my husband has decided to stay at home and leave me to go crazy with my friends without worrying about him :biggrin Rest assured, he's nothing like Travis and my tickets (and me) will be safe and sound!! I'm a very lucky girl, my husband is a wonderful man. :heart:

I had fun writing this next chapter. It combines two of my favourite things - my job as a nurse and my devotion to James :drool

I hope you enjoy it! As usual, feedback is always welcome. Feel free to tell me what you want to happen to Lucy and James next...I'm open to suggestions :)



CHAPTER 4


Saturday 8 August, 1992
Montreal General Hospital



I stared up at the massive redbrick building in front of me, my heart slamming against my ribs. I tossed the butt of what seemed like my eight hundredth cigarette for the day onto the asphalt, my sensible flat shoe extinguishing the last of its dying ember. I wiped my sweaty hands down my skirt and took a nervous, shaky breath.

Okay. You can do this.

Forcing my legs forward, I feigned confidence as I walked through the hospital's main foyer, my head held deceptively high. As I muddled my way through an infinite number of winding corridors I caught sight of my passing reflection in a set of highly polished glass doors. An anxious pair of eyes peered back at me, one eyelid still partially encircled with tight, swollen tissue. I gently touched my cheek, testing for pain. Not too bad. I'd managed to plaster a thick coating of makeup over the mottled spread of blues, greens and yellows that shrouded one side of my face and had continued to spend most of the last few days with an icepack pressed tenderly against my cheekbone. The results were surprisingly encouraging. The majority of my injury had faded to but a memory, its only lingering effect being a slightly swollen eye and a battered sense of self-worth. I could put it down to allergies, if necessary.

Fucker, I fumed silently as Travis' face flashed into my mind. He'd not spoken a word to me since our argument on Tuesday. Which had suited me fine. I certainly wasn't about to strike up a conversation with him - what would we talk about? The weather? The local sporting team? How about the massive fucking bruise on my face? I seethed quietly as I marched through the hospital corridors. Oh, wait, wait, I've got it - the fact that you set my Metallica tickets on fire. Got anything to say about that, fuckface?

I asked myself again the same question I'd been asking myself a million times a day since Tuesday - stay? Or leave? The fact was I had nowhere to go. I didn't know anyone. Apart from the night at the bar, I'd barely left the apartment the entire week and a half we'd been in Montreal. As it turned out, I was alone most of the time there anyway - Travis had started work at his new company and was putting in some major hours to not only impress his new bosses but also, I suspected, to avoid any contact with me. He'd wisely continued to sleep on the couch and from what I could tell was only using the apartment to sleep and shower. We'd barely crossed paths all week.

The morning after our argument, I'd called the hospital, begging to start work as soon as possible. I had originally agreed to start the following week in order to give myself more time to settle in to my new city but I was now determined to throw myself into my work and forget about what was happening at home - I could deal with that later. When the hospital said I could come in on Saturday night, I quickly agreed. Saturdays were always busy in trauma and besides, I had a free night - my dream of going to see Metallica play live had been destroyed by the asswipe I called my boyfriend.

I turned down yet another identical hospital corridor to find myself standing outside the intimidating, windowless double doors of my new workplace, a simple yet sobering sign on the front stating the words: Trauma Unit. I swallowed nervously and pushed the door open, my eyes blinking furiously to adapt to the harsh fluorescent lighting.

"Hi. You're Lucy?" A sweet-looking young man smiled up at me as I approached the nurse's station. I nodded. "Hi. Welcome. I'm Mark." He stretched out his hand towards me. I felt myself relax slightly and couldn't help but grin back - he had a lovely smile. So warm and friendly.

I met his hand with mine, grasping it softly. "Hi. Nice to meet you," I murmured, suddenly feeling shy.

"I'll show you where to put your bag," Mark continued. "Follow me." I watched as he stood up, his long legs uncurling from the desk chair beneath him. He was taller than I realised and I found myself staring up at him as he made his way around to my side of the desk. He ran a hand through his short, dark, wavy hair and grinned at me again. I shivered slightly. His smile was devine.

I trailed behind Mark as he showed me around the ward, my anxiety slowly easing as the familiar sights greeted me. It was just like any other hospital - it was just on the other side of the world. I felt a small pang of homesickness and glanced at my watch, mentally calculating the time in Australia. I wondered what Rach was up to. My heart ached at the thought of my beautiful, sweet, vibrant, bubbly, amazing best friend. I needed her so much right now yet at the same time I was holding off on calling her...was it because I knew how she'd react when I told her what had happened? I had no doubt that if I did call her she'd be on the next plane to Canada to firstly kick Travis in the balls and then secondly to drag me home to Melbourne on the first available flight. As much as I didn't want to be with Travis, I certainly didn't want to leave Montreal. But I also missed Rach terribly, and needed her friendship. I sighed, racked with indecision.

We returned to the nurses' station, my tour of the ward complete. I peered over at Mark, curious to learn more about my new workmate. "So how long have you been nursing for?" I took in his features as he busied himself with paperwork, frowning as he made notes in several different files. He stopped writing and met my eyes, a flicker of amusement hinting at his lips.

"I'm actually a doctor," Mark replied, almost shyly. "I finished my internship last summer."

"Oh, shit, really?" I laughed, embarrassed. "Surely you have better things to do than show around the new nurse then?"

Mark flashed me another of his sweet, homely smiles. I melted a little.

"I've actually just finished for the day, but wanted to meet you before I headed off," Mark explained. "We don't get many Australians around here."

Oh...that was sweet of him.

Mark finished his notes and breathed a long sigh of relief. "Right. I'm out of here. I'll hand you over to Tina, the Unit Manager. She'll get you sorted out for your shift." He flashed his kiss-me-now smile at a heavy-set woman of about forty who I assumed to be Tina. Tina swooned, smiling back at him before turning to me, all evidence of her smile lost as she stared at me down the bridge of her nose.

"Lucy. Hello. You're on frontline tonight. Saturdays are usually quite busy but it's been relatively quiet here tonight. If you're looking for something to do, you can read the procedures manual." Tina dumped an impossibly heavy folder into my arms and bustled away, her attention already focussed on something else.

I watched as Mark headed for the exit, an endless number of female staff stopping to talk to him or waving him goodbye. Dr Popularity, are we? I grinned to myself. There was one in every hospital - the hot, charming doctor who had every nurse in a 50-mile radius panting with desire every time he walked past. The only problem with those kinds of doctors was that they were usually pigs, exploiting their status and good looks to become notorious skirt-chasers. Mark just didn't seem like the type.

I looked down at the folder in my hands. Montreal General Hospital - Trauma Unit: Policies and Procedures Manual, 1992. I groaned inwardly. I had a long night ahead of me.


***


"...If the surgeon/interventionist deems the surgery/procedure urgent he/she must document their action and rationale in the patient's medical record. In addition, the surgeon/interventionist must notify the relevant Clinical Nurse Manager and the Medical Director and relevant hospital/health service administrators..."

I slammed the procedures manual shut, bored beyond belief. I glanced up at the clock. 10.00 pm. SERIOUSLY? I'd barely been there an hour and already I was looking for things to do.

I tapped my feet impatiently as I surveyed the near-empty ward. I should be at a fucking Metallica concert right now, not sitting around reading hospital procedures manuals. My feet began tapping harder, taking on a rhythm of their own. My fingers soon joined in, banging away loudly against the edge of the desk. Before I knew it, I was kicking out the double bass tempo from "One", my head banging violently as I rocked out in my own private concert.

Darkness! Imprisoning me
All that I see, absolute horror
I cannot live, I cannot die
Trapped in myself, body my holding celllllllllllllllllllllll...


I tipped my head back, closing my eyes as I furiously air-drummed my way through the song.

Landmine! Has taken my sight
Taken my sp -


"Incoming adult male, extensive second and third degree burns, semi-conscious," The voice of the triage nurse jolted me from my daydream as she hurriedly bustled past me.

FINALLY! Jumping up, I quickly made my way over to the ambulance bay and immediately reached for a pair of latex gloves, my adrenaline spiking as I listened to the wail of the siren outside the emergency room doors. I started prepping the IV this poor man would no doubt be needing in the very near future, my ears tuning into the organised chaos behind me as the paramedics began their handover.

"This is James, 29, victim of a pyrotechnics accident, third degree burns to the left arm and left side of the torso and partial second degree burns to the face and scalp, left side. Breathing and circulation normal, temperature 97, BP 112 over 70. Normal saline administered." I turned around just as the young female paramedic was preparing to leave the ambulance bay. "HOT!" she mouthed at me, fanning herself with her hand, a silly grin plastered on her face. Huh? I didn't quite catch her drift. Distracted, I began examining the patient, assessing his vital signs. The young man was lying on his right side, his long blonde hair covering his face as his body writhed with shudders of pain.

"James?" I leant towards the man, listening as his breath came hard and fast, a low moan escaping his lips. "James? Can you hear me? My name's Lucy, I'm a nurse in the trauma unit at Montreal General Hospital. You've been in an accident." The man groaned again. Well, he's conscious, I thought, hanging the bag of IV drugs to the gurney. Pyrotechnics? That's a new one. What on earth was he doing with pyrotechnics?

"James?" I tried again. "James, can you tell me what happened tonight?" I reached over and gently brushed back the man's long, wavy hair, damp with what I could only assume was sweat. His eyelids fluttered and for a brief moment, our eyes locked. His deep blue irises were clouded with agony, silently pleading with me to relieve his pain.

My stomach lurched violently. Those eyes...

OH.

MY.

GOD.


"Morphine sulphate 0.05, lactated Ringer's solution, saline irrigation for debriding," the attending doctor barked at me, making me jump.

James...

I started to feel sick.

...Hetfield.

I stared down at James, my feet concreted to the floor. His eyes were clenched shut again, his lips slightly parted as another deep groan resonated in his chest. My hand was still resting gently on his head where I'd brushed the hair out of his eyes.

Oh God...pyrotechnics... the concert...what the hell happened?

Forcing myself to move, I quickly connected the morphine to James' IV, making the necessary adjustments before turning my attention to the instruments and dressings we would need to treat James' wounds.

James' wounds. It just sounded so wrong.

"James?" I leant over the bed to try to get his attention. "James, we've just started you on morphine and some fluids. You'll start feeling a bit better soon. We're going to have a look at your burns now." James kept his eyes shut, groaning softly.

I worked quickly, gently washing the burns before applying various creams and dressings to James' tender skin. Standing so close to him, being able to touch his skin and smell his delicious, musky scent was almost sending me over the edge with delirium. I was swinging dangerously between professional healthcare worker and devoted, lust-filled fan, however I somehow managed to continue working, methodically starting at his fingers and slowly making my way up to his arm and shoulder. While I worked I noticed that James had stopped groaning. I glanced up and found him staring at me, his stunning blue eyes searching my face quizzically.

"Hi," I smiled, struggling to keep my tone light. The two sides of my personality were fighting to gain control - do I remain aloof and professional or do I giggle and swoon like the fan girl I really was? Miss Giggle and Swoon was doing everything in her power to win me over but I was managing to keep her restrained - for the time being at least. The last time I'd been this close to James Hetfield I'd not only made a complete and utter ass of myself but I'd also gone home to fantasize about him doing all manner of filthy things to me... Miss Giggle and Swoon bubbled her way to my surface and I found myself staring back at James lasciviously through my lashes.

Oh stop it, Lucy, I scolded myself. You're a fucking nurse! Your patient is seriously injured - now is NOT the time to start thinking about sex. Especially sex with him. Oh, Jesus Christ, sex with James...I blinked rapidly, struggling to ignore my restless libido.

"How are you feeling?" I murmured, forcing my attention back to his charred, bubbled flesh. God, he must be in so much pain...

"Fucking awful." James muttered, his eyes now closed again.

"Right. That shirt needs to come off." The cranky doctor was back, handing me a pair of scissors as he quickly checked James' notes.

Fucking WHAT?! If it wasn't for the gravity of the situation I would have burst out laughing.

"Sorry, James," I grinned a little as I gently drew the scissors up through the hem of his t-shirt. "Hope you're not too attached to this." I deftly began snipping away at the material, gradually revealing his navel...six pack...chest...Oh, sweet mother of all that's holy...

"Ahhh...shit," James frowned as the soft black cotton began falling around him on the gurney. "I kinda liked that one."

I continued cutting away James' t-shirt until all that was left was the charred, blackened remains of the material that had melted to the skin under his arm. He seemed oblivious and continued to stare at me as I gently bathed the material to help ease it away from his skin.

"I'm so sorry," I murmured, frowning. "I must really be hurting you." My heart went out to him - these burns were nasty. It was likely he'd be in pain for weeks, if not months.

"It's ok." His voice, normally so deep and powerful, had taken on an innocent, almost child-like quality. I glanced up to notice that his eyes were closed, his breathing slow and measured. The morphine was working. I quickly finished up with James' dressings, relieved to not have him staring at me any more - it made it a lot easier to get my job done. It also gave me a chance to get a good look at HIM.

Despite all that had happened, he still looked amazing. My eyes travelled leisurely over his features, drinking him in. His long, sandy eyelashes. His beautifully formed eyebrows. His cute, perfectly shaped nose. His thick, masculine facial hair. His sweet, luscious, kissable lips...I found myself staring at his mouth, wondering what it would feel like to have those gorgeously soft lips pressing gently against mine. I absentmindedly touched my fingers to my mouth, mesmerised by his image.

James' eyes flickered open. My heart gave a sudden, hard thump in response. No matter how many times I looked into his eyes, I was still blown away. BREATHTAKING.

"Uh...hey there," I stuttered, embarrassed at being caught ogling.

James gazed up at me, his eyes unreadable. I felt every organ in my body clench tightly as we stared at each other, his eyes taking in every inch of my face. I couldn't look away and it seemed that he couldn't either.

"Thank you." His words were soft and slow, but I could tell they were genuine. He continued to gaze at me intently. Overcome with unfamiliar emotions, I dropped my eyes shyly, my heart beating hard and fast in my chest. I could barely breathe - why was he having such an enormous effect on me? I'd never felt anything like it in my whole entire life.

"You're welcome," I murmured, still unable to think properly. I forced myself to raise my eyes to meet his again, a flood of hormones storming through my body as we stared at each other, his deep blue eyes piercing my hazel ones. I could have sworn I felt a charge of electricity in the air. His lips curled into a sweet, gentle smile.

"No, really. Thank you, Lucy."

I almost passed out. He remembered my name! I smiled back, desperately trying to hide my overwhelming joy.

"I'll check on you a bit later, ok? Try and get some rest. Press the buzzer if you need anything." I handed him the call bell. You can ring my bell anytime, Mr Hetfield, I snickered to myself silently as I turned to leave.

A soft, hesitant hand touched my arm. I gasped softly, his touch spending sparks of desire flying wildly through my body. I turned back to face him.

"You're here all night?" James raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Yep. You've got me until 6.00 am. Make the most of me until then." I smiled, flirting with him cautiously, unsure of the direction our conversation would take.

"Hmmm. I'll keep that in mind. Thanks," James flashed me his trademark panty-dropping grin, his eyes crinkling mischievously.

Holy fuck, Hetfield. I licked my lips, my yearning for him suddenly skyrocketing.

I quietly drew the curtain around James' bed, allowing him some privacy. It took all my strength to finally walk away, my head spinning with a myriad of emotions.


To be continued...
Edited by NothingElseMatters, September 2, 2012, 11:59 pm.
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