Pure Innocence (9 page)

“
Boy.” Damon echoed the
word, in the one that Oliver always seemed to respond to. “Boy,
you’re safe. I’m here.” Deeper, slower, and the thrashing slowed,
and the gasps became less harsh. Damon sat next to Oliver, never
moving his hand from his face, talking quietly. Oliver blinked a
few times.

“
That’s better, beautiful.
You’re here, safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“
D-Damon?” the words, so
scared, so hopeful, tugged at Damon.

“
I’m here, boy.” He reached
for the plastic glass with the screw top. It was clever, Oliver
wouldn’t have to sit up without worrying about spilling. This was
just one of the thoughtful things Adam had provided for
Oliver.

Oliver’s wet lips left the straw and he
relaxed back into Damon’s hand and Damon smiled. The gesture had
started in the hospital because Damon wanted to offer comfort and
he didn’t know where else to touch Oliver that wouldn’t hurt. It
seemed to work for both of them.

Without saying anymore
Damon reached over and got Oliver’s tablets. When the nurses came
this morning, he had every intention of seeing exactly what was
underneath those bandages on his left hand. He wanted to know when
therapy would start and what he could do to help. He also was going
to speak to Derek Jameson. The psychiatrist was back in Florida,
thank God. Oliver desperately needed some help—
Damon
needed some help, a little
voice nudged. He did, and his boy had suffered enough.
His
boy? No, Oliver
wasn’t his boy. Oliver would never be capable of anything other
than a strictly vanilla relationship. Still, would that be enough
for Damon?

“
Damon?” The shy voice
interrupted his thoughts, and Damon swung his head back from where
he had been gazing unseeing out the window. “I’m sorry I woke
you.”

“
Do you want to talk about
it?”

Panic etched lines on Oliver’s face. “No. I
uhh, can’t really remember.”

Damon winced at the obvious lie, but now
wasn’t really the time. He would call Derek as soon as it was a
decent hour. He glanced at his watch impatiently—five AM. “Do you
need to use the bathroom?”

Oliver nodded shyly and Damon helped him sit
up and scoot to the edge of the bed. “How are your hands?”

Oliver sighed. “Better now. I fell asleep,
didn’t I?”

Damon grinned. “All night.” Kissing
certainly wasn’t a relaxing technique they could have tried in the
hospital. “And your back, your chest?”

Oliver blushed. “Fine,” he mumbled and Damon
stopped smiling, frustrated because Oliver seemed to think Damon
wouldn’t want to know about all his hurts.

Damon left Oliver in the
bathroom again, after getting him to promise to shout when he was
done. He walked into the kitchen and plugged in the coffee machine,
opening his fridge to check the contents.
Mmm, plenty to make a decent omelet with.
Then he smiled as he saw the containers at the back of the
fridge. Miss Luisa had been busy. She always did far more than just
clean his apartment.

He walked back into the bedroom. Still no
sound. “Oliver? You okay?”

“
Y-yes.”

Damon considered what he’d heard. It hadn’t
sounded like he was okay. Oliver sounded like he was in pain. The
boy deserved privacy, but hell. Damon marched to the bathroom and
went in. Oliver was sitting and his face was screwed up in
pain.

“
Two choices. Well,
no—three actually.” Damon hunkered down in front of Oliver and
moved the brown hair from the young man’s pale face. “We can tell
the nurses when they get here to do your dressings and let them
sort this out. I can go to the store and buy some tablets, but I
have no idea how fast they will work. Or, I can sort this out here
and now.”

Oliver raised a scarlet face. “Y-you?
How?”

Damon sighed. “Oliver, I’m a Dom. Some of
the things I like to do with my subs involve them being very clean,
inside and out. I have everything, it won’t take long.”

****

Oliver was convinced that
after wishing it for so long, his death was finally going to happen
of acute embarrassment. Heat still bathed his face as he tried not
to relive the last half hour in his mind. Not that Damon hadn’t
been kind and
scarily efficient.
Oliver didn’t want to think about how many times
he might have done this before. Oliver rolled over carefully. He’d
been exhausted afterwards, and he’d been quite happy to just lay
here and nap at Damon’s suggestion. Damon had cleaned him
afterwards as well, but he longed to be able to get in the shower.
His hair felt greasy, and—
ugh
—disgusting.

Oliver raised his head at the door opening.
Damon entered, followed by a guy he hadn’t seen before carrying a
bag. Was this the doctor? The guy smiled. “Hi Damon, I’m Jeremy,
your nurse. I’m here to change your dressings.” Damon gave him a
knowing smile and Oliver settled immediately. He could cope if
Damon was staying. Damon went around the other side of the bed and
sat quietly.

Oliver averted his eyes as the nurse
unwrapped the bandages. He moved restlessly, unsure of what he
wanted.

The nurse paused. “On a scale of one to ten,
what’s your pain level at?”

Oliver didn’t want to answer. It was
something else that would make it all real. Why couldn’t he just
zone out? Why did they need him to be involved? All the doctors
seemed to think Oliver wanted to be involved, but he didn’t. Every
time he had to acknowledge the damage to his hands, the memory of
how they had got that way threatened to surface.

“
Oliver. Jeremy’s just
trying to see if the tablets are working.”

Oliver dragged his gaze back to the nurse.
“Four, maybe five. Not so bad.” He caught the frown Damon made and
immediately wondered what he had said wrong. But Damon was frowning
at the nurse, not him.

“
It shouldn’t be that high,
surely?” Damon said.

Oliver sighed quietly and relaxed some more.
“It’s better when I relax,” he said. The words surprised him as
they left his mouth, but he was right, he’d felt a little pain
leave with the tension.

Jeremy grinned and looked at Damon. “That’s
important, Mr. Kerrick.” Jeremy seemed to be talking to himself,
and Oliver certainly wasn’t joining in. He was too busy keeping his
eyes averted.

“
There. Not too bad at
all.”

Oliver stared, shocked. While Jeremy had
successfully distracted him, he had unwrapped both hands. Oliver
stared at them. They weren’t as swollen as before, but they were
still fairly fat and bent oddly. The left…he could see the wrinkled
skin, red and scarred where the nails had been. He stared at them,
then hurriedly looked away. He couldn’t remember, and his mouth set
in a grim line. He wouldn’t ever let himself remember.

“
I’ve brought a brace for
protection for your hands at night, but I don’t think that’s
necessary during the day,” Jeremy said. “We are going to start some
simple exercises over the next few days, and then the occupational
therapist will take over fully.” The nurse gazed at Oliver. “You do
understand Oliver that nerves can relearn jobs? We are going to try
and train them again. You are going to see the doctor next week?”
Jeremy looked at Damon when he didn’t get a response from
Oliver.

“
Yes.”

“
Well, this is what you can
expect. Numbness, tingling, burning. Sometimes a stabbing pain. It
can be relieved with painkillers short term. If there is no
immediate improvement in the pain levels the doctor may decide to
put you on anti-seizure medication, but those may cause more
problems.”

Oliver was watching Damon’s face all the
while through Jeremy’s speech. Damon frowned at the mention of
every symptom and possible problem, and Oliver’s heartrate jacked
up, blackness crowding his mind. Damon was just beginning to
realize what a huge problem Oliver was going to be. He couldn’t
stay here. He couldn’t be a burden to this wonderful man.

Jeremy touched Oliver’s arm softly and
Oliver jumped. “Sorry. I just wanted to check if there was anything
else I could do for you.” He glanced respectfully at Damon.
“Perhaps I can help Oliver take a shower?”

Damon stood up. “That won’t be necessary,
but thank you.”

Damon walked Jeremy to the door. Oliver
could hear their hushed voices, especially when Jeremy said
something that caught his attention. “I’ll talk to the doctor about
Oliver’s mood tomorrow. He may need his anti-depressant dosage
reviewed.”

Great, now Damon knew he was a basket case
as well.

Oliver hadn’t realized he was crying when
Damon came back, until Damon wiped his face with his finger. He
gulped a breath. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“
What for now?”

“
I can leave. They’ve taken
the bandages off now. I’ll—”

Damon shook his head. “We need to go over
this again, boy, don’t we?”

Oliver raised his face. “You call me that,
but I’m not, am I?”

Damon tilted his head. “Do you want to
be?”

Oliver mumbled and glanced down again. Damon
held his chin. “Oliver, look at me please.” Oliver raised his eyes
to those warm grey ones. “Do you want to be my boy?”

Oliver nodded, then shook his head. “I’m
broken. I could never be anyone’s boy. And I can’t be hurt.” Oliver
lifted his chin as he spoke those bald, bare words. He stripped
them of every emotion. Damon had to understand. If he was going to
throw him away, it was better sooner than later. “Ever. I can’t be
hurt ever again.”

Damon stood up and took two strides to the
window. He turned his back and Oliver shrank. It was coming, he’d
finally tipped him over the edge. His heart, so fragile for so
long, was going to finally break in two. Oliver looked wildly
around the room. He had to get out of here.

“
Apart from being too slow
to catch the bastard that did this, what did I ever do wrong to
you?” Damon sounded so hurt.

Oliver’s mouth dropped as his mind crowded
with Damon’s words. Bewildered, he shook his head. “You didn’t do
anything to me.”

Damon turned. “Then why would you just
insult me by thinking for one second I would imagine you to be in
any head space where you would think either I would hurt you, or
that you would find it pleasurable? Or worse, that I would?”
Damon’s grey eyes flashed in anger. “I have repeatedly told you why
you are here, boy. I do not lie, unless it’s a cover story I have
to make up for my job. I haven’t lied to you since I untied you
from that cross. Either you decide, right now, you can trust me, or
I will arrange for the doctors to transfer you to a private nursing
home. You will receive excellent professional care and it won’t
cost you a penny. You will still be visited by the same people you
would have been visited by before.” Damon’s mouth twisted on the
last words. “I am sorry, Oliver. I have failed you again. I don’t
know any other way of making you feel safe.”

Before Oliver could even think of a reply,
in four strides, Damon was out of the bedroom and had closed the
door behind him.

Oliver was stunned. He’d registered the
frustration on Damon’s face, and then the pain...and he had put it
there. This wonderful man had been nothing but kind and generous
with him for a week, and he had just thrown it all back in his
face. And the worse thing, the very worse, wasn’t that he was
frightened Damon was going to hurt him, but that he didn’t have the
ability or the stamina to be good enough for him.

I should have trusted him.

The acknowledgement came with panic. He
didn’t want to go to some nursing home, he wanted to stay right
here. Oliver blinked over sad eyes as he thought about what Damon
needed. He had been too busy wrapped in his own misery to consider
how Damon might have suffered. He told him part of his motivation
for helping Oliver was guilt over not being able to save the other
boys. Surely, if Oliver could do one thing, it would be to help him
with that. He thought about what Damon had tried to explain about a
power exchange, and now—now, he finally got it, because he’d just
taken it away from Damon, the very thing he was capable of giving.
He didn’t need his hands or his stupid body to work properly. Damon
wanted something else. Trust. How had he not seen that?

Oliver listened intently. He couldn’t hear
anything, had Damon gone out? He mentally kicked himself as he sat
up and shuffled to the edge of the bed. He was doing it again,
doubting Damon, there was no way the man would have left him on his
own. Oliver wobbled slightly as he slid his legs to the floor. The
bed was huge and quite high up, so he nearly had to slide off it.
He got his balance, and walked to the door. He stopped in
frustration. How the hell was he going to turn the handle?
Determined, Oliver bent and used his elbows. The door snicked
softly and Oliver stepped back to let it swing inwards.

He took a step out of the room and zeroed in
on Damon slumped against the wall of glass. Oliver paused—Damon
looked so defeated.

He turned around at the noise of the door
opening. “Oliver? You should have shouted. I’m sorry, I didn’t
think, stupid of me to close the door.” Damon shook his head,
annoyed with himself, and Oliver smiled. That was going to stop
right now. Oliver continued to walk until Damon met him.

“
I’m sorry.” He gazed up at
those calm gray eyes. “Trust…it’s so hard.” Damon nodded, and
Oliver stepped right up to him. He turned his head and rested it on
Damon’s chest. “I-I’m such a mess. I still can’t believe you want
me here.” Oliver blinked the tears away that were wetting Damon’s
shirt. “I don’t really understand what is happening between us.” He
raised his head as Damon lifted his chin with his finger, and
looked into Damon’s eyes. “I just know I don’t want to be anywhere
else.”