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14 Years	By : lunavin Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Metallica Views: 2583 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Metallica. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Author's Note: I didn’t realize I took so long to write this. I’m sorry. I wrote in on Thursday and I edited the heck out of it. It kept going in different directions on me.

This Chapter: "I know he's homophobic. Let there be no question about that. I think homophobia is questioning your sexuality and not being comfortable with it." – Lars Ulrich about James Hetfield

James hailed a cab. He opened the door and let Jason go in first before he ducked in next to him. He told the driver his own hotel and wished it were a longer ride.

Jason was glad that James seemed to be as reluctant for the evening to end as he himself was. The cab ride would be fairly short. Jason’s heart ached.

At the very least there was music playing in the cab, Peter Gabriel, and that was better than nothing.

Ah please talk to me
Won't you please talk to me
We can unlock this misery
Come on, come talk to me

"How's Lars and Kirk?" Jason said.

"Same as ever," James responded. "How's your shoulder?"

"Better."

"You've never not been able to tour. When I heard that I knew it was serious."

"It hurt like a mother fucker. Both the injury and the missing a tour part."

"I wanted to call…" James started.

"Did you now?" Jason smirked.

"I wanted to, yeah." James said. "Obviously I didn't. But people around me kept me posted."

"You can call me, you know," Jason said.

"Would you really have picked up the phone?"

Jason thought a moment. "Probably not the first year. But I really don't want to think that those 14 years with Metallica amounts to nothing between all of us. That's a lot of fucking years."

"More than any other bass player we've ever had."

Shit lot of good that did me, Jason thought. But then he thought of his recording studio, his house, the fans, all the things he might not have had if it hadn't been for them. It had felt bittersweet for many years after he left. But now he focused on the good of his time with Metallica, and there was a lot of good.

James looked out the window. If he remembered New York correctly he had approximately five minutes before this cab ride was over. He looked over at Jason; the man was sitting back, arms crossed, and face forward.

James put a hand up tentatively to Jason's injured shoulder.

Jason slightly flinched at the unexpected contact. But James hovered his hand as if Jason was a wounded animal until Jason relaxed slightly. He looked at James, and James rubbed his hand over the shoulder.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not so much right now," Jason said. This night was full of surprises. First James jams with him, then he talks to him, now he touches him.

"I was worried about you," James said finally. "It sucked that I couldn't just call you up and ask how you were.”

"I understand." Jason said, and really felt he did. He had never expected any of them to call, and only Kirk did. He had always assumed that the anger they had felt when he quit the band would simply lull over into indifference.

James shook his head. "No, I don't really think you do." He took his hand off Jason's shoulder.

"You were worried on some level," Jason started. "While I wasn't expecting it I suppose it can't be too surprising considering how long we've known each other. Then thinking you couldn’t call me. I know you hate to think you can’t do something."

James shook his head again.

"No?" Jason said. "Then tell me."

"You remember Montreal when I stepped into the pyro?"

As if Jason could ever forget that night. If seeing the look on Lars’ and Kirk’s face wasn’t enough, seeing James’ injured body had literally made him dizzy. As soon as he heard James would be all right he had breathed again, and then quickly run to the bathroom to throw up.

"I could never forget that," Jason said. "I made myself sick worrying over you."

"I know you did," James said. "You stayed and took care of me. It didn’t matter to you that I was such an asshole. You helped me anyway."

James fell silent a moment. Jason thought he knew something of what James meant now.

MONTREAL AUGUST 1992

Everything hurt. No, to clarify it, everything on James’ left side ached with a dull pain that made him thank god in his head for modern medication. He'd been stuck at the hospital for a while. When he realized he definitely wasn't going to die then the next question was would he still be able to perform? When the answer was yes, James relaxed. The burns would heal with no serious damage; all he had to do was wait.

He was in a hotel room now, still in Montreal while waiting to heal enough to go back on tour.

James opened his eyes slowly and looked around. It was quiet and he wondered if he’d been left alone. It took him a moment to find Jason. He was sitting on a comfy looking chair reading a magazine with his feet propped up on the bed.

"Anything good in there?" James said. His voice cracked in disuse.

Jason jumped and took his feet off the bed.

"Did I wake you?"

"With your loud reading?" James said sarcastically. "Sure. How come you’re here?"

"We didn't want to leave you alone."

"Where's Lars and Kirk?"

"Lars is handling press and venue owners. Kirk is practicing with the roadie that's going to take over your guitar parts to finish the tour."

Jason was weary of the roadie while strangely drawn to him. James was hurt, not dead, and the roadie would only be on for a while. How often had Jason wondered during the Damage Tour if the guys would discard him just as easily after the tour was over.

James nodded. He was glad he wasn't alone even if it meant being alone with Jason. He was homophobic. There was no other word for it. The only thing that kept him tolerant of Kirk and Jason was that neither of them had ever made a pass at him. That and Lars’ nagging.

"What time is it?" James asked.

"Close to 9. Your nurse will be by soon to change the bandages and do whatever it is she needs to do to you. Do you want your meds now or after?"

James took stock of his body for a second. “Right now would be good.”

Jason got up and wandered over to the kitchen area. James could see him reading some prescription bottles before grabbing one, a soda from the fridge and walking back to the bed. He put them by the nightstand.

“Do you need help sitting up?” Jason asked.

“Fuck you,” James said in a normal voice. He made a good hard effort to get up, but the pain on the wounds was lacing through his entire body and he couldn’t hold back a grunt. Jason propped up the pillow and held James’ right side to help him lift up.

“Comfortable?” Jason asked as James settled into the pillow.

“I fucking hate this shit,” James cursed. “Yeah, I’m comfortable. Thanks.”

Jason popped open the prescription bottle and took out two pills and handed them to James. The injured singer popped them into his mouth while Jason opened up a can of soda and handed it to him.

“Those are for the pain,” Jason said as James sipped his soda. “In four hours I gotta give you the antibiotic to fight possible infection.”

“Are you my nurse then? Shouldn’t you be wearing a little white dress and a cap?” James asked. He couldn’t help but bring up a mental image of Jason in a naughty nurse uniform. His heart raced a little, and he would have slapped himself for it if Jason weren’t in the room to witness it.

After catching him with Kirk, James had never been able to let the image go. The sweat on Jason's back, the look on his face, all came back to him almost every night they played on stage together. Jason seemed to fuck with the same love and energy that he played. But why did it matter to James? He hated the implication.

“I can call her if you prefer,” Jason offered. He didn’t sound offended. He just shrugged.

“No. It’s fine. Thank you,” James said.

“I’ll even wear a little white dress if it’ll lighten your mood.”

“Why the fuck would I want you in a little white dress?” James bit out.

“It’d be funny,” Jason said. He looked at James as if his lead singer had gone crazy.

“Yeah, I guess it would,” James said in a normal tone.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I died, went to hell, and then came back."

"You look better."

"At least I was never that pretty to begin with."

"You’re a great looking guy. The scars will heal if you take care of them."

James stayed quiet. Jason thought he was a great looking guy? Did Jason have any sexual fantasies about him? The thought was appealing, and that made James angry. He didn't want Jason to want him. But the real problem was that he did.

"You don’t have to stay here and baby sit me, you know. “ James said. “Just hand me the remote, I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t mind.” Jason looked over James’ bandages. He had to cross his arms to keep himself from reaching out to him, to physically acknowledge that James was alive and would be well.

“Well, maybe I do.”

“Well, tough shit,” Jason, replied. “Lars told me to stay put. You want me gone, take it up with Lars.”

James frowned. “Fine, you can stay.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Hetfield,” was the bass players sarcastic reply.

James laughed.

Jason went over and grabbed the remote from on top of the television and handed it over to James. He sat back down in the chair and picked up the magazine.

“You can put your feet up if you want,” James offered.

Jason looked up at James over the magazine and put his feet up on the bed.

“So, tell me, is the nurse that’s coming hot?”

Jason laughed.

PRESENT

The cab was a block away from James' hotel, waiting at a red light.

Jason thought back on that morning. They'd had an incredibly pleasant conversation. It was one of his favorite memories with James.

“Until you got your shoulder hurt I hadn't realized that I still wanted to talk to you because for a long time I didn't," James said. “But when I heard about your shoulder it didn’t matter that I thought you’d been an asshole to leave. I still cared about you and wanted to know you were okay.”

If it weren’t for the cab driver and his own knowledge of James’ personality, Jason would have jumped on James and hugged him right then.

Jason remembered feeling so helpless looking at James' injuries in Montreal. Even after all the shit James' put him through, Jason was more than happy to play nurse. That's when he realized he loved James. In fact he loved all of them.

"I was being an ass. I couldn’t shake the memory of you with Kirk. And you got a lot of shit started in my head that night in Montreal.” James looked at the back of the cab driver’s head. The guy seemed oblivious but James whispered anyway, leaning slightly into Jason. “Had you ever thought about me… were you ever attracted to me before Montreal?"

Jason shook his head. "At that point no. I had you on too high a pedestal.”

James looked away. His hotel was on the next block. He turned to look at the cab driver again, but the man hadn’t even flinched.

“You’d been thinking about me,” Jason whispered the question into James’ ear, “before Montreal?”

“Yeah,” James said out loud. “And I hated you for it.”

Jason made a non-committal noise and leaned back into the cab seat.

The light turned green and it was a few short seconds before the cab pulled up in front of the hotel and stopped. A doorman came up to the cab and pulled the door open. James got his wallet out.

"I’ll pay for the cab when I get to my hotel," Jason said.

James paused a moment, weighed everything out in his head. Peter Gabriel seemed to mock him on the radio.

I can imagine the moment
Breaking out through the silence
All the things that we both might say

"Maybe you want to come upstairs and say hello to Lars," James said.

"You think Lars is still awake at this hour?"

"Probably not."

"Then I'd just have to come back down and..."

Jason shut up. It was hard to talk with James' tongue in his mouth. He was fast; Jason would give him that. There was a hand at the back of his neck holding him in place. The kiss was desperate, and Jason could barely keep up.

James pulled away, but stayed close.

"Just come upstairs. To talk, to sleep, whatever. Just don't go yet."

"You just kissed me in front a cab driver."

"Publicity stunt, whatever Lars wants to call it if this goes public I don't care. Just don't go."

It killed Jason to hear it, because he'd waited so long to hear it from James’ mouth with so much sincerity.

"But," Jason started.

"It won't be like last time," James promised. "Jason."

Jason didn’t answer. There was so much James could mean by that.

I said please talk to me
If you'd just talk to me
Unblock this misery
If you'd only talk to me

Jason pulled back slowly; James' hand fell from the back of his neck. He opened the cab door and got out not looking at James. He walked around the cab and stood at the front of James' hotel waiting for his former band mate to pay the cab. He wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that he had really contemplated turning down James.
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14 Years