Pure Innocence (12 page)

Derek shook his head. “No, he needs a
friend, and Adam is an excellent choice. They have similar
backgrounds.” Derek hesitated, and Damon wondered if the guy
thought he had said too much.

“
I understand
doctor-patient confidentiality, you won’t have any trouble from me
on that.”

Derek smiled. “I know, but I am also aware
that you probably know more of the boy’s background than you would
ever admit to.”

Damon grinned. It was his job. He suddenly
stilled, and tilted his head. Had Oliver shouted for him?

Derek shook Damon’s hand quickly. “I’ll see
you both tomorrow.”

Damon barely acknowledged Derek, filled with
an urgency to get back to Oliver. He shut the door and strode to
the bedroom, hearing a muffled sob as he continued to the bathroom.
He stopped as he set one foot in the door. Oliver was crying, red
faced, angry.

Damon glanced at the tell-tale wet patch on
his sweats and the floor. He bit his lip, and bent down.
“Oliver?”

“
Go away.” The fury
expelled with the words left Damon stunned. What had he done? Was
Oliver mad because he hadn’t been quick enough?

Damon reached out to try and comfort Oliver.
He had to get him off the floor. “Nooo.” Oliver wailed. “It’s
dirty, disgusting.”

Damon suddenly got it. Oliver wasn’t angry
at him, he was too busy crucifying himself with his own twisted
sense of failure. He put a hand on Oliver’s chin and raised his
head. “I’m sorry.”

Oliver opened his mouth but Damon’s apology
seemed to have silenced him.

“
I put you in a position
where you felt you couldn’t ask for help.” He drew a reluctant
Oliver nearer. “That’s on me. This is my fault, and it won’t happen
again.”

Damon stood and reached over to the shower
to start the water. “Do you still need to piss?”

Oliver shook his head and closed his
eyes.

Damon stripped quickly, bent over, and
lifted Oliver up. “Stand, that’s it.” He quickly pulled down the
wet sweats and threw them onto the floor to soak the pee up. He
pulled Oliver gently into the shower and turned him around so he
was laying back against Damon’s chest, then started soaping him
up.

Oliver brushed an ineffectual arm against
Damon’s. “No.”

Damon stopped immediately. Oliver needed
help, he needed to be clean, but at that moment it was more
important that he knew his “no” was heard.

Damon settled him back a little. “I won’t
touch you if you don’t want me to. This is only to get you clean
and comfortable, nothing else.”

Oliver’s breath caught. “I—I’m so dirty.” He
almost wailed the last word, and Damon’s heart broke at the
sound.

“
You’re not dirty. No one
was here to help. I wasn’t—”

“
No.” Oliver interrupted,
his voice suddenly stronger. “This wasn’t your fault. You’ve been
amazing. I—”

“
Then maybe,” Damon did his
own interrupting, “we can agree it was nobody’s fault and let it
go.”

Oliver sighed heavily. “I can’t believe…do
you think there’s something wrong with me?”

Damon understood Oliver’s confusion.

“
Had you wanted to use the
bathroom all the time we were talking?”

Oliver shook his head. “It was really
sudden. It…burns a little.”

“
Did it burn at the
hospital?” Damon picked up a clean washcloth from the
shelf.

“
I.” Oliver paused,
thinking. “Yes, more when they’d taken the catheter out. I should
have said…”

Damon understood. “But you didn’t want to
give them another excuse to keep you in.”

Oliver sank back into Damon and relaxed. He
nodded.

“
I’m no doctor, but there’s
a chance you may have an infection.” Harold had worn a catheter in
the last few months. Damon remembered Harold trying to pull it out
in his confusion. The doctor had said he had a urine infection, and
that was why. He’d been better—well, more settled—after a day on
the antibiotics.

“
Can I help you get
washed?” Damon asked. He waited until he’d got a nod before making
short work of the clean-up job. He steadied Oliver, wrapped him in
a huge, warm towel, and sat him on the bathroom stool while he
dried himself. Ignoring the floor, and the wet sweats, where
Oliver’s gaze kept going, he pulled on his own clothes quickly
before helping Oliver back into the bedroom. He settled Oliver in
the chair after helping him into some shorts and a soft
t-shirt.

“
These are Lee’s
clothes.”

Oliver looked up, considering. “That’s kind
of him.” Oliver bit his lip a little, and Damon waited for the
obvious question. “He was here earlier, wasn’t he? With Adam.”

Damon nodded agreement.

“
Maybe...” Oliver traced
the seam of the shorts with an unsteady finger. “Maybe they’ll come
back?”

Damon smiled. His boy was trying.

Damon turned the TV on for Oliver. “Are you
hungry?” Oliver shook his head. “Then I’m going to get you some
fresh water.” Damon heard the doorbell ring as he headed out, and
turned to Oliver to reassure him. “That’ll be the nurse.”

Damon opened the door, and stood, shocked.
It wasn’t often things surprised him, but the young man who stood
at the door managed to.

He watched the man’s blue eyes dip
respectfully as Alec Matterson put out a hand. “Sir, I’m your
therapist.”

Damon automatically shook
Alec’s hand.
Shit
.

“
What happened to Jeremy?”
Damon managed to force the words out. Alec rose his face a little
to speak, still avoiding eye contact.

“
Do you mean Jeremy Smith,
Sir? He’s a nurse. I’m the therapist. I’m not sure if Jeremy will
be here today. I can find out though.”

Damon forced his face to remain impassive,
and stepped back. His brain was working furiously through the
change in circumstances. He’d known Alec was a therapist of sorts,
and carefully studied the ID and letter from the hospital
indicating Alec would now be working with Oliver.

What Oliver didn’t know was
that Alec was a masochist, a pain slut that even Damon had given up
on when they’d played together in Orlando. Alec had issues, and
Damon had tried, but Alec had wanted more humiliation than Damon
was prepared to give, and it had ended badly. He hadn’t realized
Alec was in Tampa. When Damon had expected Jeremy he’d made an
appointment with his accountant that he couldn’t get out of. He’d
been putting him off for three weeks and the man needed Damon’s
signature on some tax documents.
Shit.
The last thing he wanted was
to leave Oliver alone with him.

He walked into Oliver’s bedroom with Alec
trailing behind him and introduced the two of them. He stepped back
and watched Alec. Professional, friendly, seeming to put Oliver at
his ease.

Damon stepped out and called his accountant.
Of course there was no answer. The guy was probably already driving
to their appointment.

He stepped back in to hear Oliver chuckling
quietly. That was good. Alec was showing him some pegs to push into
boards, and they were both joking about toddler activities. He was
probably worrying for nothing.

He cleared his throat. Oliver grinned and
looked up, while Alec looked down. “I have to go out,” Damon said.
“I won’t be long. No more than forty minutes.”

Alec murmured. “No problem, Sir. My next
patient isn’t for over an hour.” Damon nodded, and headed for the
door, swiping his car keys up. The faster he went, the faster he
would be back. He shook off the uncomfortable feeling. Oliver would
be fine, Alec was a professional.

****

Oliver jumped slightly as he heard the
apartment door slam a little forcefully, and he wondered what had
made Damon seem so…strained. He shook it off and frowned in
concentration as he tried to grip the small cylinder and push it in
the hole. He huffed as he dropped it for the third time; his
fingers throbbed.

“
I think I need a break.”
Oliver leant back in the chair and brushed the hair out of his eyes
with his arm.

Alec frowned. “Are you sure?”

Oliver glanced up, surprised at the
question. Alec had told him before they started he could take a
break as soon as he needed one.

He watched, startled, as Alec sighed and sat
on the bed.

Alec fingered the sheet. “I suppose a two
minute break won’t hurt. So, how come you’re living with Master
Damon?

Oliver’s breath caught. He hadn’t missed
Alec calling him by his first name.

“
Are you his new
boy?”

“
I-I...” Oliver stammered.
His words caught. He wasn’t expecting the question, and their
relationship was private, complicated. He didn’t know what to say.
He clearly didn’t need to though, because Alec carried on as if
Oliver’s response was unimportant.

“
I’m glad Sir got someone
new after I left Tampa.”

Oliver was stunned. An abstract part of him
acknowledged Damon would have had relationships—of course he
would—he just wasn’t expecting to come face to face with any of
them.

Alec chattered on. “I suppose you met in the
club. Such a shame this has happened though.” Alec waved vaguely at
Oliver’s hands. “Sir must be so disappointed he won’t be able to
restrain you properly. Have you talked about it?” He tilted his
head and looked enquiringly at Oliver. “You’re so lucky he’s
willing to give up such an essential part of himself. I wish I had
someone that would alter his way of life for me.”

Alec stood up, still clearly not needing a
response. He picked up the block and the colored pegs and started
packing them away.

Oliver’s mind
whirled.
He’s willing to give up such an
essential part of himself.

He looked up at Alec, still not sure what to
say. “Do you want me to do some more pegs?” His fingers throbbed
like the devil. “I can do some more.”

Alec smiled and sat down again. “Has your
prognosis been explained? The…likelihood you will get full use of
your hands back?”

Oliver shook his head slowly. He’d zoned out
every time people tried to tell him. He hadn’t missed the small
hesitation in Alec’s voice. Was it really unlikely he would get
full use of his hands back? His heart started thumping, loud in his
ears.

“
Well, there’s no point in
worrying about anything now. This is going to be a long, hard slog.
The important thing is seeing if we can get any use in your left
hand.”

Oliver glanced down in
panic.
Any use?
He knew it was going to take a long time but he hadn’t
thought there was a chance he’d never get it back. Oliver’s
breathing sped up, along with his heart. He could hardly hear what
Alec was saying, his heart was thumping so wildly, drumming in his
ears.

He blinked stupidly as he felt the black
cloud settle around him. Alec’s voice became very distant, and
Oliver’s breathing got harder. He was forcing air into his lungs,
as blackness crowded into his mind’s edges. Someone was shouting,
shaking him, pulling on his fingers, and he shrank back. He had to
get away. What was he thinking? Being here…Damon wouldn’t want him,
no one wanted him. He should be dead. He should never have been
born.

Chapter Ten

Damon let himself into the apartment.
Silence. He shut the door and immediately heard Alec. “Oliver.
Oliver.”

Six giant strides and he was in the bedroom.
He immediately took in the scene. The block with the colored pegs
they had been working on was on the floor, colored pegs strewn
across the carpet. Alec didn’t seem to notice Damon coming in. He
was trying to speak softly to Oliver and looked like he was
guarding his arm.

“
What happened?” Damon
demanded.

Alec started and turned. “Sir? It wasn’t
Oliver’s fault. He got impatient, totally understandably.” He
nodded to the wrist that Alec was cradling.

Damon zeroed in on his boy. Oliver’s face
was completely blank, tears dribbling down it, but he didn’t seem
to notice. Damon wasn’t convinced he was even aware of his
surroundings.

“
Do you want me to call a
doctor, Sir?” Alec tried valiantly to pick up the blocks while
protecting his wrist.

Damon shook his head, and looked at Alec.
“Did you drive here?” If his wrist was hurt, he might not be able
to drive back. Damon crouched next to Oliver and put a careful arm
around him.

Alec stood. “I’ll just leave these things
here. I don’t need them again today. I can manage to get to my next
appointment. I’ll be okay.”

Damon drew a frustrated hand through his
hair. Alec was being decent. “Thanks.”

Alec smiled shyly, suddenly calmer. “No
problem, Sir, I’ll see you next week.”

Damon pulled the table away from where
Oliver sat motionless. “Hey, I leave you for one minute.” He
tutted, trying for humor, but Oliver didn’t seem to have even heard
him, and for the first time since he untied Oliver in that
God-awful warehouse, he suddenly questioned whether he was enough
for him, whether the horrors that had ripped through Oliver had
left too many holes for Damon to repair. Had he done the right
thing? Did Oliver need more professional round-the-clock care than
he could give?

Oliver made a small keening sound in the
back of his throat, almost a sob, and Damon bent down to him,
talking quietly, making sure he knew it was him. Ever so gently he
lifted him out of the chair and carried him to the bed. Oliver was
shaking, and not listening. Damon had stripped his own shirt off
before he’d picked him up, and he quickly unbuttoned Oliver’s,
knowing the skin to skin soothed his boy, but no matter how gentle
he was and how much he tried to soothe, nothing was working.