Date: Tue, 19 Mar 2013 23:50:39 +0000
From: Bobby Chester <thebobbyfish@gmail.com>
Subject: Jamie Lawrence, Chapter 26

Jamie Lawrence - Chapter Twenty Six

Disclaimer can be found on earlier chapters.

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Jamie Lawrence - Chapter Twenty Six

  "Well," said Gerry, glancing at his wrist watch. "As much as I would like
to stay and celebrate, I have to get back to work." He sighed heavily. "My
idiot of a client has refused to plead guilty, which of course means that I
need to convince a jury that he isn't a disgusting scumbag." He kissed his
wife's cheek and headed for the lifts.

  Jamie's phone buzzed in his pocket, frightening him as it always
did. "Excuse me," he said to those still assembled. He stepped away so that
he could speak privately. "Hello?"

  'Jamie?' It was Darren, and it sounded like he was crying. 'Is that you?'
He sniffed.

  "It's me. What's the matter?" asked Jamie, his voice betraying his
concern.

  'I need your Mum's mobile number,' he said, tears in his voice.

  "No need, she's here." Jamie stepped back over to the group and touched
his mother's arm gently. "Mum, Darren wants to talk to you."

  Looking bewildered, Beth took the phone from Jamie and tucked it under
her hair. "Darren?" Bewilderment quickly gave way to an alarmed
expression. "I'll be right down!" Beth shoved the phone unceremoniously
into Jamie's hands and took off in the direction of the stairs, her high
heels clicking loudly on the tiles as she ran.

  Jamie cast a quick look at Shane. "I have to stay with Mum," said Shane,
looking concerned. "You go."

  Without a moment's hesitation, Jamie took off after his mother. The lack
of information, coupled with the urgency of his mother's departure had
Jamie seriously worried for Darren. Was he on the verge of taking drugs
again? When Jamie realised they were on the path to the Accident and
Emergency department, Jamie's fears grew. "Mum," he said, out of breath and
a wedge of emotion in his throat. "Please tell me what's going on!"

  Beth didn't seem to be listening. She was running full tilt, her glorious
brown hair fanning out behind her like a cape. Finally she burst through a
door and both she and Jamie were faced with the serene interior of the A&E
waiting room. After hastening here so urgently, the tranquillity of the
room seemed somewhat anticlimactic.

  And then Jamie spotted Darren, hunched over near a wall, looking
despairingly at the doors that led into the ward. Both his hands and face
were covered in a layer of blood and he appeared to be shaking.

  Jamie and Beth took up positions on either side of him. He rocked back
and forth a little, hardly seeming to notice that they had
arrived. "Th-they w-won't tell me any-anything," he said. He was shaking
violently and he seemed unable to get enough air into his lungs to speak
properly.

  Beth's eyes flashed with fury. She walked over to the desk nurse. "Why
won't you tell this boy anything? Can't you see he's out of his mind with
worry? His boyfriend has been stabbed!" Jamie's head snapped round at
hearing that.

  "I'm sorry, ma'am, but he's not family. Confidentiality."

  "Well, I'm a Doctor at this hospital, so why don't you just hand me the
file for Mr Kyle Summers? Or should I just call Doctor Hegerty down?"

  While this was going on, Jamie took Darren's hands and pulled him onto
his feet. "Come on, sweetie. Let's get you cleaned up."

  Darren didn't put up any resistance, nor did he seem to be aware that he
was moving. Jamie guided him gently into the restroom and over to the sinks
where he proceeded to wash Darren's hands free of the blood. "Darren, is
any of this blood yours?" Darren seemed oblivious to the question. "DARREN!
Is this blood yours?"

  Darren looked down at his bloody hands, turning them over as if he had
never seen anything like them before.

  Jamie sighed. "Okay." He pushed back Darren's sleeves, lifted up his
shirt, and ran his fingers over his scalp to check for any damage. Finding
none, he returned to the washing of Darren's hands and face. Darren simply
stood there, silent tears pouring out of his eyes and an almost completely
vacant look in his eyes.

  Once Jamie had finished cleaning Darren up, he stood on his tiptoes and
wrapped his arms around Darren's enormous shoulders. After a few silent
moments, Jamie finally felt some movement. Darren's whole body shook with
grief and the pair collapsed to the floor as Darren let out a great wail.

  "Oh, God! Jamie, what if he's d-"

  "Darren! He's going to be fine," said Jamie soothingly. He knew Darren
didn't believe him, and he was fairly certain he didn't believe
himself. Jamie led Darren back out to the waiting room and found Beth still
poring over Kyle's chart.

  Jamie sat Darren down in his original seat and Beth came over to stand in
front of them. "There's almost no information here. He's not been in long
enough for there to be any details."

  "Surely you can tell us something?" asked Jamie.

  "They've taken him into surgery. By the looks of it, they are just trying
to assess the extent of the damage. Darren, have you called his family?"

  Darren, still somewhat despondent, shook his head minutely.

  "I'll do it," said Jamie, fumbling through Darren's pockets for his
phone, hoping that their number was in there.

  "Right," said Beth. "I'm going down to the OR to see if I can find out
anything. I'll come straight back if there's anything to tell." She spun on
her heel and headed through the double doors.

  Jamie scrolled through Darren's contacts and found one labelled 'K's
Dad'. He hit call and it rang twice.

  'Ey up, Darren!' said a jovial sounding man.

  "Mr Summers?"

  'Aye, that's me, who's this?'

  "My name's Jamie; I'm a friend of Darren's. Listen, there's been an
incident. Your son is in North Manchester General. He's," Jamie
hesitated. "He's been stabbed."

  Jamie heard Mr Summers catch his breath. 'Was it that bastard,
John-Paul?' he asked flatly.

  "I really don't know sir. Kyle's in surgery now, but they might need you
for consent."

  'Right y'are. We're on our way.'

  The line went dead without anybody uttering a farewell. Jamie pulled out
his own phone and fired off a quick text telling Shane where they were. And
then there was nothing to do but wait.

               -----------------------------------------------

  Darren had been dozing for a while, but when he finally came back to
himself, he was dimly aware that he was lying on his side. He was fairly
certain he wasn't in bed as, if that was the case, Kyle would be in his
arms. He could feel somebody's fingers running through his hair and he
realised that he had his head in that person's lap.

  All of this was very confusing. He felt completely dazed, like he had
been dreaming for a week and was struggling to recall which part was
reality. He sat up slowly, feeling twinges in every muscle group, and
realised that he was in the waiting room of Accident and Emergency.

  "Hey, honey. You okay?" asked Jamie. It was his lap Darren had been lying
in, and it had been his fingers in Darren's hair.

  Darren tried to speak but his throat was dry. Jamie handed him a warm can
of Coke and he drank half of it in one go. "I'm just waiting for this
nightmare to be over."

  "It shouldn't be too long now. My Mum said the surgery is nearly
over. Why don't you put your head back down, you look exhausted." Jamie was
lightly holding Darren's hand and looking at him with a distinctly motherly
expression. Because of his diminutive size, Darren habitually thought that
Jamie was the one who would need protecting, but he suddenly realised that
Jamie offered a different kind of protection; perhaps one even more
important than physical.

  Darren smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You don't look much
better."

  Jamie smiled the same warm smile Beth always offered Darren. "Shane's
gone to get us all some dinner."

  "How long was I out?"

  "A couple of hours. D'you know you talk in your sleep?"

  Darren smiled. "Yeah. Kyle hates it; says I waffle all night. Where are
Keith and Klarissa?"

  "You mean Kyle's parents? They're watching the surgery with my Mum."

  "Does this place have a chapel?" asked Darren.

  Jamie glanced around. "I don't think so. Why?"

  Darren sighed. "I just wanted to go and tell God how much of a twat he
is."

  At that moment, Beth came bursting through the double-doors with a
doctorly look on her face. "He's out of surgery."

  Darren ran and embraced Beth, lifting her off her feet for a moment. "Can
I see him?"

  "He won't be awake for a long time yet." Beth patted his arm. "But I'll
go and ask his parents if it's okay for you to sit with him."

               -----------------------------------------------

  "Mr and Mrs Summers?" asked Doctor Hegerty, walking towards the pair in
his blood stained Blues.

  The pair broke their embrace and looked up at the doctor. They weren't
crying, though the worry was etched into every line of their faces. "That's
us."

  "I'm Doctor Hegerty. I'm your son's surgeon." He was using the tone of
voice that years of surgery had battered into him; calm and
reassuring. "We've finished the surgery. There was a little damage to the
small intestine around the wound, but I've managed to fix it all up. There
was some bleeding, but once the laceration was closed, that stopped. Your
son is being transferred to recovery now, and in a little while, he'll be
put into his own room."

  "Is he going to be okay then?" asked Mrs Summers.

  "With knife wounds, there is always the risk of infection, but that can
be fixed with antibiotics. As long as he doesn't do too much too fast,
he'll be as good as new in a few weeks."

  Mr Summers extended his hand to the Doctor. "Thank you, Doctor."

  "You can go and see him now, if you like."

  Both nodded vehemently and Doctor Hegerty led them off into recovery.

               -----------------------------------------------

  Having spoken to the police and reliving the whole trying ordeal for
their benefit, Darren was finally allowed to return to Kyle's bedside. He
felt completely useless just waiting for Kyle to wake up, but he was not
about to be anywhere else.

  At about one o'clock in the morning, Keith came in to see him. "Ey up,
lad."

  "Oh, hey Keith." Darren wiped his face hurriedly and cleared his throat.

  "You look knackered, son."

  "I'm fine," said Darren, not taking his eyes away from Kyle face. He had
been holding Kyle's hand for more than two hours; he didn't mind at all.

  "You should go home and get some rest."

  "I'm fine here." He paused. "Shit. Nobody's home for Kiki."

  "That's alright. Give us the keys and I'll pick her up on my way home."

  "Oh, cheers, Keith. I just really don't want to leave Kyle alone." Darren
fished in his pocket for the key to Kyle's flat and chucked them across the
room to Keith.

  "He's going to be okay, you know," said Keith.

  "I hope so," mumbled Darren. "Without him, I..." He couldn't finish his
thought. The truth was that without Kyle, Darren would be lost.

  Keith took a step back to the door and stopped. "Kyle's lucky to have
you."

  Tears rolled out of Darren's eyes, and he was grateful that he had his
back to Keith. "No. I'm the lucky one."

               -----------------------------------------------

  Darren was hovering on the edge of consciousness. He knew this because he
could hear both the beeping of the heart-rate monitor, and the bleating of
the sheep that he and Kyle had sat listening to when they went to Wales
with Jamie and Shane.

  Only one of those sounds could be genuine, and he fervently hoped it was
the latter. Sitting under the inky black sky, his Angel resting against his
chest while they chatted idly about how many kids they were going to adopt
and what their wedding would be like; that was the closest to heaven Darren
had ever come.

  Still, the beeping was just as heavenly a sound, as it meant his Angel's
heart was still beating. Kyle's hand was warm in Darren's, their fingers
interlaced.

  When those fingers disengaged from his, he feebly tried to object,
grappling against the weight of the sleep holding his head down. His
objections dried up, however, when the fingers rested lightly against his
face, caressing his cheek. Comforted by a touch that could only be Kyle's,
Darren allowed the abyss to swallow him up once more.

  It was a while before Darren's brain was able to process what was
happening. When he finally understood the implications of Kyle's hand
stroking his face, he sat bolt upright, almost tipping himself out of his
chair. Kyle was smiling, albeit a little weakly, at the bemused expression
on Darren's face.

  "Morning, babz," he said to his dishevelled looking boyfriend. "You
okay?"

  "Me?" asked Darren, his voice voice almost cracking with emotion. He
gripped Kyle's right hand in both of his own. "You came back to me; I'm
wonderful!" He kissed each of Kyle's knuckles and felt tears of joy spill
from his eyes. He laughed and stroked Kyle's arm, crying all the while.

  "Dazzle, baby, stop crying." Kyle smiled weakly again. "Give me a kiss
instead."

  Still laughing, Darren leaned fully over Kyle's body, careful not to
touch him or any of the wires connected to him, and planted sloppy kiss on
Kyle's lips.

  When Darren sat back down, his heart still bursting with elation, Kyle
sighed. "Sorry my lips don't taste of anything. Plus, I must look a mess!"

  Darren kissed Kyle's hand again. "They taste perfect and you look
beautiful."

  Kyle studied Darren. "You look awful."

  Darren looked down at himself and had to concur. He was still wearing his
bloodstained clothes, his hair was all over the place having been slept on,
and he dared not put his nose to his underarms.

  "Still," continued Kyle. "You're the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

  Darren pulled his eyebrows down in mock confusion. "Have you never seen a
mirror then?"

  Kyle smacked his forehead with the palm of his free hand. "Okay, second
sexiest."

  "Oh!" said Darren. "I should call your 'rents."

  "Not so fast." Kyle scooted over in his bed. "I want a cuddle," he said,
putting his arms out like a baby wishing to be picked up.

  "I don't know," said Darren uncertainly. "I don't want to pull your
stitches." That set Kyle to pouting, his bottom lip jutting out and his
sparkling blue eyes burning with supplication. Darren smiled and rolled his
eyes. "Not fair. You know I can't resist that look."

  Kyle smiled. "Why do you think I use it on you?"

               -----------------------------------------------

  "Oh, thank you!" said Darren happily as Jamie handed him a bag of
toiletries. "I've been dying to brush my teeth." They hugged quickly and
moved into the hospital's restroom.

  "Haven't you been home?" asked Jamie.

  Darren shook his head as he pawed around in the bag to find the
toothpaste. "I wanted to stay with Kyle."

  "How is he?"

  Darren smiled wide. He stuffed the toothbrush into his mouth and worked
it furiously. "He's doing great. He's been asking for lip-gloss all
morning," he said, spraying the mirror with flecks of minty spittle.

  "That's wonderful," said Jamie, frowning at the mess on the mirror. "The
'doing great' part, not the 'lip-gloss' part."

  Darren quickly washed his face with soapy water and removed his
t-shirt. He saw Jamie's eyes go wide for a moment as he eyed Darren's
muscular chest. He recovered quickly, but Darren smiled and winked. "Like
what you see?"

  Jamie giggled. "You caught me." His eyebrows pulled down. "How often do
you work out?"

  "Every day for at least an hour." He patted his left pec with his right
hand. "Kyle likes the muscles, so I've got to keep 'em big."

  Jamie patted his stomach. "I need to start working out. Now that I don't
have to do P.E, I'm putting on the pudge."

  Darren rolled his eyes as he started to slap soapy water under his
arms. "You're not fat. Has Shane said you are?"

  "He'd never say anything like that. I could be thirty stone and he would
still keep his mouth shut."

  Darren put on some deodorant and pulled on the fresh t-shirt Jamie had
brought him. "That's better," he said, a grin etched on his face. "Thanks
for this."

  "No problem, sweetie." Jamie gave Darren a hug, standing on his tiptoes
and straining as he did.

  Darren chuckled. "I don't know how you and Shane do it. You're such a
short-arse!"

  Jamie turned his back to Darren. "Fine. If you don't want my hug," he
said indignantly.

  Chuckling, Darren spun Jamie around to face him again and picked him up
around the waist, lifting him two feet off the ground. "This is how you hug
someone!" he exclaimed, squeezing Jamie.

  Jamie giggled as his feet waved around in the air. "Put me down you
nutter! Christ, if this is you in a good mood, I'd hate to see you when
you're ecstatic."

  Chuckling happily, Darren deposited Jamie back on the ground and
sighed. "Ecstatic will be when I get to take Kyle home again."

               -----------------------------------------------

  Gerry was ecstatic. It was Friday afternoon at long last; the last Friday
he would ever sacrifice to the defence of scumbags. He checked his watch
for the thousandth time and sighed. He was desperate for his last case to
come to an end, but the jury were taking their sweet time.

  The trial had barely lasted a week. The evidence was overwhelming and
there was not one strategy Gerry could devise that would have convinced a
jury that Anthony Walker had acted in self-defence, temporary insanity, or
anything else that would have pardoned him. The fool had even spat on
Niall, leaving his DNA behind.

  Gerry had done as he had intended. He had tried as hard as he could to
secure Walker's release, and had never been happier when he saw the angry
looks on the faces on the jurors. They hadn't liked Walker any more than
Gerry did.

  After what seemed like an eternity, The Right Honourable John George
called for the attention of the room. He was a balding man of middle years,
but he was as dependable a man as any. Gerry had known him for many years,
both as prosecutor and defender and he had great respect for him.

  "Members of the jury, have you reached a verdict?" he asked.

  The foreman rose and cast a momentary glare at Walker. "We have Your
Honour." Gerry thought he could see a smile on his face. "We find the
defendant, Anthony Walker, guilty of aggravated assault occasioning actual
bodily harm."

  Out of the corner of his eye, Gerry saw Walker's head drop. He turned to
look at him and, for the first time since he had met him, Gerry saw a
genuine human being. Not some hate-filled, bigoted wretch.

  "The defendant will please rise."  The judge cleared his throat before
proceeding, "Anthony Walker you have been found guilty by a jury of your
peers and you are remanded in custody for sentencing in three weeks
time. Dismissed."

  The room exploded into action as everybody started to file out. Gerry
packed up his files and turned to head for the door but a hand grabbed his
arm, hard.

  "You said you was gonna get me off."

  Gerry looked with revulsion at the hand gripping his incredibly expensive
suit. "I never said that. I said I would try, and try I did. Now please
take your hand off me."

  "So what now?"

  Gerry raised his eyebrows incredulously. "You actually want to appeal
this? Remarkable! Listen, there is no jury in the land that would ever
acquit you of this."

  "What are you talkin' about?"

  After having held up the façade of professionalism around this cretin
for so many weeks, Gerry had finally had enough. "What I'm talking about is
the fact that you are a pathetic excuse for a human being and just being
near you makes my skin crawl." Walker's eyes went wide for a moment. Gerry
knew that what he was saying was massively improper, but he couldn't stop
himself. "In fact, if it wouldn't have threatened my career, I would have
done everything in my power to ensure you were imprisoned for life. As it
stands, you'll probably only get around ten years, and less for good
behaviour, and I think that's the worst part of it all."

  "You can't talk to me like that! You're my lawyer!"

  "Actually," said Gerry, glancing at his watch. "As of five minutes ago, I
am no longer employed by Links, Stein and Golder. A new lawyer will take
care of your sentencing." Gerry yanked his arm violently from Walker's
grasp and made for the door. He cringed inwardly when a second hand landed
on his shoulder and spun him quickly around.

  "So my son has to go to prison for that faggot?"

  Of course Gerry's last day as prosecutor wouldn't be complete without a
pointless conversation with the family of the defendant. "No, Mr
Walker. Your son has to go to prison for what he did to that-" Gerry caught
himself. "That boy."

  "That faggot got what was coming to him. Trying it on with my boy!"

  Gerry smiled wryly. "It's good to know where Anthony learned to hate
based on no facts whatsoever." The same look of incomprehension that Gerry
had seen on Anthony's face many times flickered across his father's
face. "You, sir, are just as bogited as your son and frankly, it pains me
that YOU'RE allowed to raise a child, when my son will have to go to
extraordinary lengths just to be able to adopt."

  "Your son?"

  "Oh, yes." Gerry thought back to his first meeting at the Victoria Avenue
Community centre and decided to emulate it. "My name is Gerry, and I have a
gay son. He is a wonderful young man and gives me hope for the fate of
humanity. Actually, let me restate that. He restores the faith I lose
whenever I talk to people like you. Good day."

  Gerry hurried off, desperate to get home and see his loving wife and son
and tell them the good news. One less homophobe was prowling the streets of
Manchester. He just made it out the door when a third person accosted
him. He groaned, turned to see who it was, and was surprised to see Mrs
Roberts standing before him in a grey cardigan and conservative black
trousers. She smiled warmly at him.

  "Hello, Mr Carter."

  "Mrs Roberts. A pleasure. How is Niall?"

  She smiled in that way a mother does when she's proud of her
child. "Better every day. He's fighting his way back."

  "I'm happy to hear it."

  "I was happy to hear what you said to Mr Walker's father in there. About
your son?"

  Gerry nodded. "I only find out recently. I didn't take it well."

  "Not many people do. It's a hard thing to hear at first. Then a little
time passes and we remember that we love them for them, not for who they
love."

  "True enough. I just wish that I had had that insight three years ago. I
lost my brother to the same pig-headed bigotry that we just witnessed in
there." Gerry looked away from Mrs Roberts for a moment. "I didn't realise
it until Shane came out to me, but I miss my brother terribly."

  "Then perhaps it's time to beg forgiveness." Mrs Roberts put her hand on
Gerry's arm and smiled. "You're a good man. I'm sure your brother
knows. Just show him that you know he is too."

  Gerry nodded, his mind whirring. Was it possible that Tommy could forgive
him? Was Gerry even brave enough to find out?

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I hope you enjoyed this. Any comments, questions, or even suggestions are
welcome. Please feel free to email me at thebobbyfish@gmail.com. Your
emails are all very welcome, and I will try to answer ever single one of
them!

Keep an eye out for Chapter Twenty Seven!