by Onley James
When Shep noted his smile, something changed. Elijah couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was like the surrounding energy seemed to morph electrifying the air in the room like Shep was magic. The thought made him feel shivery and a little silly. Why did Shep have this effect on him?
Shep reached behind him and grabbed something from the counter, eyes still glued to Elijah. He thrust it towards him. Elijah frowned. It was a half-empty coffee cup.
“Isn’t that yours?” Elijah asked, confused why Shep was offering his own coffee when there was a whole pot behind him.
“It’s yours now,” Shep said, that same almost primal expression on his face like Shep was a lion presenting Elijah with his kill and he expected thanks for his efforts. Elijah bit his lip until he tasted blood to keep from thinking too hard about all the ways he’d like to thank Jayne Shepherd.
Elijah hated black coffee, but he loved that Shep wanted him to have his coffee, so Elijah tipped the cup to his lips and drank it, humming his appreciation. “Thanks, Sam,” Elijah said, gazing up at him over the brim of his coffee cup.
Shep tilted his head in that way he did when something confused him, which only made Elijah’s reference funnier in his own mind.
“Sam?” Shep questioned, one brow hiking upward.
“Yeah, you know… from the old Merrie Melodies cartoons.” Shep frowned harder which only made Elijah giggle. “Bugs Bunny? Wile E. Coyote? Ralph Wolf? Wow. Nothing? Okay, so, Sam is a red-haired Sheep-dog. Get it… sheep… Shepherd? Red hair?”
His perplexed expression told Elijah he clearly didn’t understand. Maybe Shep really was a robot? No, a robot would have understood the reference. Shep had to be an alien. A smoking hot alien.
Elijah opened YouTube, calling up an episode of the old cartoon before crossing the five steps to enter Shep’s space. He could have stood beside him, but he turned so his back pressed to Shep’s chest, pretending he didn’t feel the man tense behind him. He held his phone away from his body so they could both view the screen together.
He pressed play. The moment the music started, a heaviness settled in his chest. “I used to watch this with my grandpa all the time,” he said, hating the sudden sorrow in his voice. “He knew Chuck Jones,” he continued, but his enthusiasm rang hollow even to his ears.
Shep didn’t speak but seemed to contract around Elijah like somehow he could use his body to shield him from the melancholy trying to take root.
The cartoon started, a dog sat in an old car, his hair covering his eyes. Elijah laughed, but it caught in his chest as Shep hooked his head over Elijah’s shoulder as if to get a better view of the screen, his large hands gripping Elijah’s waist, pulling him back against him.
They watched the seven-minute video in silence, Elijah’s heart lodged in his throat, his cock uncomfortably hard against his zipper. When the cartoon ended, Elijah lowered his arm but didn’t move. He couldn’t. Shep’s embrace was safe and warm, a balm for his frayed nerves. Shep didn’t move either. When he spoke, his breath puffed against Elijah’s cheek. “I remind you of that dog?” Shep asked.
Elijah turned to face him, forced to take a step back to look up. “Yeah. Sam is fantastic at his job. Ralph never gets a sheep when Sam’s on his watch. Plus, he’s really calm, but will also not hesitate to kick some ass to protect his sheep. Nevermind that he has red hair and is also a shepherd.” Shep’s inscrutable expression was back, making Elijah feel untethered, his voice losing confidence as he finished, “See, that’s why you’re Sam.”
“So, if I’m Sam… does that make you the sheep?” Shep asked.
It wasn’t said with any malice. There was no emotion at all. Elijah searched Shep’s face for any sign of the right answer, yearning to go back to a moment ago when Shep’s arms were around him but there were only brilliant gold eyes pinning him in place.
“Do you think I’m a sheep?” he asked, his mouth a desert.
Shep shook his head. “You’re a peacock who thinks he’s a rabbit, trying to hide in a town full of sheep.”
Elijah scoffed. “I think I’d rather be a sheep than a rabbit.”
“Sheep and rabbits are both prey. It’s safer to just be the peacock.”
Elijah’s mood soured. “Not when your mother hates birds.” He stepped away from Shep. “Thanks for the coffee. I’m going to brush my teeth before the car gets here.”
Shep didn’t respond, but even as Elijah retreated, he felt the comforting weight of the older man’s gaze. Shep was always watching.
Elijah went to shower the moment they returned home, scrubbing the day away before throwing on pajama pants and a threadbare t-shirt. The day had consisted of a meeting with the costume department and a table read for The Silencer to go over script changes. It was fun, but it had taken hours. When he padded barefoot to the kitchen, he found Shep had made them grilled cheese and tomato soup, which Shep ate leaning against the counter while Elijah sat cross-legged on top of the island. He scarfed down his sandwich in seconds, before drinking his soup by bringing the bowl to his lips, letting the warmth settle his frayed nerves.
Neither of them spoke, but Elijah didn’t find the silence uncomfortable. Just being in the same space with Shep calmed him. Elijah rarely felt safe, and he never felt settled, not because of any death threats or stupid Internet comments, but because feeling unsafe had been a part of him for so long, it felt indistinguishable from any other necessary function like breathing or swallowing. Receiving that card yesterday had only amplified a noise he’d grown accustomed to after all these years. Being with Shep was like somebody handing him headphones, the silence as soothing as it was unnerving.
With the dinner plates stacked in the sink for the housekeeper they both headed to bed. He was almost asleep when his phone vibrated signaling a call. A private number. Not unusual given his circle of celebrity friends. He swiped to accept the call. “Hello?”
There was a sound like static and popping. “Hello?” he said again. “Is somebody there?”
This time he heard the clear sound of a sigh and then panting. Elijah pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at the screen even though it told him nothing of who his breathy friend might be.
“Listen, buddy. Nobody makes obscene phone calls anymore. It’s 2019. Update your material.”
He disconnected without waiting for an answer. It was only after Elijah lay in the dark, sleep eluding him, that his thoughts raced. Was that a wrong number? Had somebody just gotten lucky and had no idea Elijah was on the other side of that call? Was it him wanting to see if Elijah had gotten his message? Fear crept over him, digging its talons deep enough to reopen old wounds. He reached for his phone.
“Sam?” he asked before Shep could even say hello.
There was a commotion on the other end of the line like Shep was moving. “What’s wrong, rabbit?”
I’m twenty-two years old and afraid of the dark? “What do you think happens to us when we die?” he asked, unwilling to tell Shep about the heavy breather who’d spooked him moments ago.
Shep didn’t answer straight away, there was more noise like Shep was getting comfortable. “That’s a big question to be tackling at two am,” he said, his voice gruff like he was trying to force his brain back online.
“Isn’t this when most people are pondering the big questions? When they can’t sleep 'cause their brains won’t shut off?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Shep sighed. “I don’t believe in God or heaven. I think when we die, we die.”
“Oh,” Elijah said, not sure what he’d hoped for. Had he really thought Shep was the kind of guy who believed in an afterlife? Or karma? Did Elijah even believe in those things?
“What do you think happens when we die, rabbit?”
“I’m not really religious or anything either, but I guess I hope there’s a place where we’ll get to see the people we love again and where people who were dicks get punished.”
“Somebody you’re missing, kid?”
“
My grandpa,” Elijah said, realizing it was true. Watching that cartoon with Shep had triggered a longing to see his grandfather that he hadn’t felt in months. Or maybe it was that stupid card stirring up his emotions.
“The other Elijah?”
Elijah smiled at that. “Yeah, the better one.”
There were more jostling sounds and then Shep said, “That’s not true.”
“You didn’t even know my grandpa.”
“I know you,” Shep said. “That’s all that matters.”
Elijah scoffed. “My grandfather was a real man. The kind of men other guys wanted to be. The kind who stood up for people when they couldn’t stand up for themselves. He was a lot like you.”
“You’re definitely a man… I’ve seen you naked.”
Had anybody else said that to him, Elijah would have thought they were teasing him, but Shep... he didn’t say things he didn’t mean, not to Elijah.
Elijah gave a watery laugh. “My grandpa would have liked you.”
“Probably. Most people do.”
It was a definitive statement said with no pride or smugness. It made Elijah believe it to be true even though he’d never seen it firsthand. This time Elijah’s laugh had teeth. “You really are so weird. I swear inside your head is a little computer chip with the settings just slightly off.”
“Does that bother you?” Shep asked, his voice once again curious like he was testing Elijah somehow.
“No. I like your weirdness.” It was true.
There was a long silence before Shep said, “Good.”
They lay there for a long while, before Elijah said, “I hope there really is a place where bad people are punished for their crimes.”
“Wouldn’t you prefer to know they received their punishment before they died?”
“Nobody pays for the things they’ve done in this world, no matter how bad it is, especially here in LA. The cops here are just as bad as the criminals,” Elijah said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“That’s the thing about justice, it rarely comes from within. Corruption breeds corruption. Sometimes it takes an outsider.”
“You’re an outsider…” Elijah mumbled, not entirely sure what he was implying.
“You have somebody you need me to take care of, rabbit? Is somebody hurting you?”
It was a ridiculous question. There was clearly nobody hurting him. Shep was with Elijah every minute of every day, and though Elijah didn’t know much about Jayne Shepherd, he knew he’d never let a wolf come anywhere near his sheep… or, in Elijah’s case, his rabbit. “No. Not anymore,” he said, his voice hollow.
“But somebody hurt you in the past?” Shep asked, his voice a low snarl.
“It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter,” Elijah assured him, hoping it was true.
“It matters to me.”
There was a tension beneath Shep’s words, a quiver of barely contained rage that warmed Elijah inside. When was the last time anybody cared enough about him to be angry on his behalf? Just his grandfather and he was long gone.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. I think I can go to sleep now. Night, Sam.”
Once more, that hesitation. “Night, rabbit.”
Sleep eluded Shep after their conversation, but the security cameras showed Elijah fast asleep, curled up in a ball in the center of the bed, only the side of his face visible. His confession nagged at Shep. Somebody had hurt the boy. Somebody had hurt him bad enough for it to still plague him, for it to haunt his dreams and to keep him from sleeping at night and, according to him, the police had done nothing.
Shep wandered into the kitchen, not bothering with a shirt. He brewed a pot of coffee, taking his cup to the island and sliding onto a stool. He propped his phone against the rarely used sugar bowl giving one last glance to the boy’s sleeping figure before opening his laptop so he could dig through Elijah’s past.
After just thirty minutes, it became clear to Shep that if he wanted any information Elijah as a child, Google had it all, from the moment of his birth all the way to his twelfth birthday party. With almost no effort, Shep could create a snapshot of Elijah’s life, where he lived, where his films recorded, where his family vacationed, his favorite color, favorite animal, favorite foods, his grandfather’s horse ranch… anybody with even a small knowledge of the Internet could have found a million ways to enter Elijah’s life and hurt him.
Then it all stopped. From the ages of thirteen to eighteen, Elijah was a ghost. There were no photos, no social media posts, only a couple articles from the tabloids speculating on why he’d walked away when it seemed he couldn’t lose. It was a total media blackout. That couldn’t be an accident.
Five years after his disappearance, Elijah began to bleed back into the limelight. Articles about an indie film he starred in, social media accounts reactivated, pictures of him smiling on set with the random cast and crew members. It was all useless for Shep’s purposes. All except a single post on a subreddit called r/truecrimla. There were thousands of posts about the many crooks and con men preying on people in Los Angeles, but only one mentioned Elijah’s name. A single line that made the hair stand up on Shep’s arms.
Hollywood’s filled with predators… ask Elijah Dunne.
Shep seethed as he tried to find more on the person who’d made the post but found nothing. He wasn’t a computer genius by any means, but he had a basic understanding of the deep web. He opened the Tor browser and tried diving deeper. Again, he found nothing. No police reports. No lawsuits. No articles. Nothing. What the fuck had happened to Elijah and why was there no record of it? Elijah had said the police were just as corrupt as the criminals. Had a police officer hurt him? He needed more information.
He considered texting Linc, but it seemed… unwise. This wasn’t a present-day threat to Elijah’s safety. It was about finding the coward who had dared to touch something that belonged to Shep and showing him there were consequences for those actions, even if it happened years ago. Shep would lay waste to all of Elijah’s demons if it meant the boy slept easy.
He snagged his phone and pulled up Webster’s number.
Shepherd: It’s Shepherd. I need a favor.
Webster: I’m assuming it’s a matter of life and death, considering it’s four-thirty in the morning and we’re not friends.
Shep ignored the question.
Shepherd: I need your help to find something, but I need you to keep this between us.
Webster: You want me to keep something from Linc and Jackson because you, a virtual stranger, asked me to?
Shep didn’t have time for this.
Shepherd: Yes. I need you to do whatever it is you do and find out what made Elijah Dunne leave Hollywood ten years ago. Can you do it or not?
Webster: Yeah, piece of cake, brother. I’ll try to have something for you before the end of the day.
Shepherd: Thanks.
He finished his conversation and switched back to Elijah, replacing the phone against the bowl and toggling back to the subreddit. Hollywood’s filled with predators. Elijah had said almost the same thing just hours before. But what kind of predators? The other posts were all over the place from conspiracies about old Hollywood murders to people warning of phony photographers and unsavory casting agents, but nothing that gave any clue who had harmed Elijah. Did it have anything to do with his reaction to the card from this morning? What did ‘the camera loves you’ mean to Elijah?
“Is that my room?”
Shep turned at the sound of Elijah’s sleep-soaked voice, glancing back at his phone’s screen, examining the security feed to see the boy’s blankets still piled in the center of his bed, clearly without him in them. Shep had been so entranced in his search, he hadn’t noticed him get up.
“Yes.”
Elijah drifted closer, silent as a ghost with his bare feet. Shep could smell him, the rosemary scent of his shampoo, the clean sharp scent of his soap. He longed to touch Elijah, to bury himself in that scent. The pull was unlike anyt
hing he’d ever experienced before.
Somebody had hurt Elijah because Shep hadn’t been there to protect him, and it didn’t matter that they hadn’t even known each other when it happened, it didn’t matter that it was years ago. To Shep, it was fresh, and it was like he’d let Elijah down, had left him vulnerable. It was insane, but he couldn’t shake the thought.
The boy was his… just his, and the world needed to know. They needed to understand Elijah was under Shep’s protection. He wanted to mark him, scent him, brand him even. Anything to let the monsters of the world know Elijah had a monster of his own.
“So you just… watch me? All night?” Elijah asked, hesitant like he didn’t believe him.
“Yes.”
“Even when I’m changing my clothes… even when I’ve just gotten out of the shower?” Now his voice sounded raw, breathy.
“Yes.”
The boy’s voice caught on a sharp inhalation. “Oh.”
Shep said nothing more, waiting to see what Elijah did next. The weight of the boy’s upper body pressed against Shep’s back as he reached past him for something. For a moment, Shep thought he was reaching for the phone, perhaps to turn off the feed, but that wasn’t it. Shep would have let him. He didn’t think he’d refuse Elijah anything.
What did somebody do to let another person know they’d been claimed? Dates? Flowers? Dinner? He forced himself not to grimace. None of those seemed enough for Elijah. No, Shep needed Elijah to know he’d taken him. That he would protect him. The boy was his now, and that felt like it needed a gesture with weight. A ritual. A sacrifice. Elijah deserved that. He deserved the justice he’d spoken of earlier and Shep would give it to him. Hell, he’d hunt down the man who hurt Elijah and carve out his still-beating heart if that’s what Elijah needed to feel safe at night.