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fellowshippers2004-08-07 03:04 pm
green-queen.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-08-07 03:04 pm
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Title: Time Waste Me (4/8)
Pairing: Dom/Elijah
Rating: R
Summary: Elijah is kidnapped. In this part, Orlando arrives and ransom is requested.
Archive: Once You Pop (You Can't Stop)
Author's Notes: My beta is still the wonderful![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
di0nne.
Elijah stared at his tears mingling with the dust on his fist, allowing the pale white skin beneath to show through the dirt to which he had become accustomed. His ass was numb from sitting on the cold concrete floor, his hair flat where he'd been leaning against the wall all night. He couldn't remember ever craving a cigarette more in his life--his hands twitched at the mere thought of it. He pushed his hands back up his thigh from the knee, forcing the ropes that bound them together to slide up his arms painfully so he could inspect the burns that marked his wrists. He winced as he noticed the amount of dirt collecting in the angry wounds, hoping they wouldn’t become infected. Though surviving with infected wrists, he considered, was preferable to dying with his pristine skin intact. His mind wandered across the possibilities of death this place held for him. Al's already apparent propensity for mindless, often senseless violence, would probably kill him before they even asked for any money. If he listened hard enough, he could hear them all arguing a few rooms down over how much to ask for, whether it was workable. Putting a price on his life. His breath caught in his throat remembering Al's careless murder of his carjacker, his head spinning as he felt the ghost of the bruise that Carl's falling body had created on his side. He searched desperately for something to think about other than the sound and smell of death, something to ground him.
He started to trace Dom's hands in his mind, to remember every detail--the lines, the rings, the leather bands. He recited the colours and shapes of all Dom's wristbands under his breath, then started to draw in the dirt in front of him. Slowly, painfully, an impression of Dom's face started to grace the wall, sketchy and cartoonish with exaggerated ears and a wide and crooked smile. Elijah felt himself becoming more relaxed as he drew, the faintest shadow of a smile playing across his own lips. It was a shame when the talking stops and footsteps approached the room, and he was forced to rub the wall clear.
________________________________________________________________________________
Dom opened the front door to find himself face-to-face with a picture on the front cover of a newspaper. Well, a gossip rag anyway, with a colour photo of Orlando Bloom looking what was probably the closest they could get to angry, at the Return of the King extended DVD release party. It bore the gaudy headline "Orlando Bloom Storms Off Set: Panicked Director Searches for New Star." The angry image of Orlando was quickly replaced by the real, sombre visage of his friend."They can sue me if they like," Orlando said, looking Dom straight in the eye. "The worst I'll get is a bad reputation as a dickhead star." He took Dom's face in his hands and kissed him right on the mouth, then rested their foreheads together. Instinctively, Dom felt his hand reach up to cup the back of Orlando's neck. "I had something more important to take care of," Orlando said quietly. His big brown eyes, though welling up with tears, stayed trained on Dom's. "I had to come back and protect my hobbits," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. It was filled with such sincerity that Dom fell for his words, fell for the idea that their elf could see them safe.
When he realised the improbability of what he was thinking he pulled back, stepping out of the way so Orlando could enter the house. Orlando watched Dom shut himself off and, unsatisfied, pulled them both over to the couch. When they were both sitting he grabbed the back of Dom's head, forcing Dom to look him in the eye. "I swear to you, Dominic Monaghan, I will do my best to take care of you and bring Elijah back," he said forcefully, searching Dom's eyes for a sign that he was listening. Dom nodded wordlessly, but in his mind an image was slowly forming of a happy and healthy Elijah being reunited with all of them at the police station, with Orlando standing behind them, patting Detective Holder on the back and grinning heartily. It lasted almost a full minute before the scared and hurt Elijah returned, and he in turn was replaced, if only for a second, by a pale, cold Elijah with lifeless eyes unblinking.
Orlando felt Dom shudder under his hand and pulled him forward, stroking Dom's back as he grabbed Orlando's shirt into his fists.
"Come on, Dom, just let it out," he begged, but Dom shook his head and yanked himself out of Orlando's grip.
"Every minute lost, he's getting further away from us," he said, forcing the words past the growing lump in his throat. He turned to walk away. Orlando shook his head fiercely and grasped Dom's hand, preventing him from leaving the room.
"Every minute brings him closer to coming back to us," he said, and in that moment allowed himself to believe it.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Dom knew that staring at the clock would not make time go any faster. He'd once thought that, on the contrary, it made the hands move slower--a watched pot never boils, after all--but recently time crawled by no matter where he was looking or what he was trying to do. He remembered how he would keep looking at the clock in their house whenever Elijah was late. A wave of nausea hit him as he recalled the night that Elijah was taken, his impatience sitting at home waiting for him to come to dinner. Was it only a day and a half ago? It felt so much longer, and he realised how arbitrary time really was. The nights he'd spent with Elijah, eating food and watching telly, making out and making love, yelling and fighting. They all seemed so ridiculously short now, when each hour felt like a year.
He felt the couch dip beside him and knew without looking that Sean was sitting there. He didn't feel any need to acknowledge him; Sean would let him know if he wanted anything. The phone hadn't rung recently and Holder had gone to the station at around midday without returning, so there couldn't be any pressing news about Elijah. He tried to force himself to stop thinking of Elijah in various states of loneliness and pain, fruitlessly attempting to focus on the moment he got him back. He shut his eyes. No more taking Elijah for granted, he vowed. Every single second--"It's not your fault," Sean said. It was a line, Dom could tell--Sean, Orlando and Billy had probably been discussing Dom in the next room, and Sean had drawn the short straw to come talk to him.
"How could it be?" responded Dom, another line more empty than the first
"But you blame yourself?" Sean moved in as he spoke, slid a hand across Dom's shoulders, clearly worried Dom might pull away. He didn't. Taking this as a good sign, Sean spoke again. "I did, you know."
"Blame yourself?" Dom asked.
Sean nodded. "And you." Dom did pull away at this, looking at Sean with mingled surprise and hurt.
Sean rubbed Dom's shoulder and smiled apologetically. "I didn't know exactly had had happened, and--well, I knew it wasn't your fault. Not really. But I was--in those first few hours, I was desperate. I scrambled for--for something solid, someone real I could blame, not some faceless--I mean, I was so angry. I yelled at Chris, and I blamed myself, and, well, I blamed you. For not taking better care of him and--"
"I'm sorry," Dom whispered, not able to hear any more for fear that he'd break. The dull and constant ache that had been weighing down his insides became sharper, more acute, and he stood up to pace. He got about two steps before Sean's arms were around him, hugging him fiercely.
"Don't you understand, Dommie? It was stupid, I was stupid. As soon as I was on my way over here I knew. I love Elijah, we all do, we want him to be safe, to protect him. But I love you, too. And it is -not- your fault." Dom kept his arms by his sides as Sean held him, but he listened, beginning to take the words in. They broke apart a few minutes later as Debbie, ashen faced and crying with the phone hanging loosely in her hand, burst into the room.
"Fifty thousand," she said before falling to the floor.
Green Queen
Pairing: Dom/Elijah
Rating: R
Summary: Elijah is kidnapped. In this part, Orlando arrives and ransom is requested.
Archive: Once You Pop (You Can't Stop)
Author's Notes: My beta is still the wonderful
di0nne.Elijah stared at his tears mingling with the dust on his fist, allowing the pale white skin beneath to show through the dirt to which he had become accustomed. His ass was numb from sitting on the cold concrete floor, his hair flat where he'd been leaning against the wall all night. He couldn't remember ever craving a cigarette more in his life--his hands twitched at the mere thought of it. He pushed his hands back up his thigh from the knee, forcing the ropes that bound them together to slide up his arms painfully so he could inspect the burns that marked his wrists. He winced as he noticed the amount of dirt collecting in the angry wounds, hoping they wouldn’t become infected. Though surviving with infected wrists, he considered, was preferable to dying with his pristine skin intact. His mind wandered across the possibilities of death this place held for him. Al's already apparent propensity for mindless, often senseless violence, would probably kill him before they even asked for any money. If he listened hard enough, he could hear them all arguing a few rooms down over how much to ask for, whether it was workable. Putting a price on his life. His breath caught in his throat remembering Al's careless murder of his carjacker, his head spinning as he felt the ghost of the bruise that Carl's falling body had created on his side. He searched desperately for something to think about other than the sound and smell of death, something to ground him.
He started to trace Dom's hands in his mind, to remember every detail--the lines, the rings, the leather bands. He recited the colours and shapes of all Dom's wristbands under his breath, then started to draw in the dirt in front of him. Slowly, painfully, an impression of Dom's face started to grace the wall, sketchy and cartoonish with exaggerated ears and a wide and crooked smile. Elijah felt himself becoming more relaxed as he drew, the faintest shadow of a smile playing across his own lips. It was a shame when the talking stops and footsteps approached the room, and he was forced to rub the wall clear.
________________________________________________________________________________
Dom opened the front door to find himself face-to-face with a picture on the front cover of a newspaper. Well, a gossip rag anyway, with a colour photo of Orlando Bloom looking what was probably the closest they could get to angry, at the Return of the King extended DVD release party. It bore the gaudy headline "Orlando Bloom Storms Off Set: Panicked Director Searches for New Star." The angry image of Orlando was quickly replaced by the real, sombre visage of his friend."They can sue me if they like," Orlando said, looking Dom straight in the eye. "The worst I'll get is a bad reputation as a dickhead star." He took Dom's face in his hands and kissed him right on the mouth, then rested their foreheads together. Instinctively, Dom felt his hand reach up to cup the back of Orlando's neck. "I had something more important to take care of," Orlando said quietly. His big brown eyes, though welling up with tears, stayed trained on Dom's. "I had to come back and protect my hobbits," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. It was filled with such sincerity that Dom fell for his words, fell for the idea that their elf could see them safe.
When he realised the improbability of what he was thinking he pulled back, stepping out of the way so Orlando could enter the house. Orlando watched Dom shut himself off and, unsatisfied, pulled them both over to the couch. When they were both sitting he grabbed the back of Dom's head, forcing Dom to look him in the eye. "I swear to you, Dominic Monaghan, I will do my best to take care of you and bring Elijah back," he said forcefully, searching Dom's eyes for a sign that he was listening. Dom nodded wordlessly, but in his mind an image was slowly forming of a happy and healthy Elijah being reunited with all of them at the police station, with Orlando standing behind them, patting Detective Holder on the back and grinning heartily. It lasted almost a full minute before the scared and hurt Elijah returned, and he in turn was replaced, if only for a second, by a pale, cold Elijah with lifeless eyes unblinking.
Orlando felt Dom shudder under his hand and pulled him forward, stroking Dom's back as he grabbed Orlando's shirt into his fists.
"Come on, Dom, just let it out," he begged, but Dom shook his head and yanked himself out of Orlando's grip.
"Every minute lost, he's getting further away from us," he said, forcing the words past the growing lump in his throat. He turned to walk away. Orlando shook his head fiercely and grasped Dom's hand, preventing him from leaving the room.
"Every minute brings him closer to coming back to us," he said, and in that moment allowed himself to believe it.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Dom knew that staring at the clock would not make time go any faster. He'd once thought that, on the contrary, it made the hands move slower--a watched pot never boils, after all--but recently time crawled by no matter where he was looking or what he was trying to do. He remembered how he would keep looking at the clock in their house whenever Elijah was late. A wave of nausea hit him as he recalled the night that Elijah was taken, his impatience sitting at home waiting for him to come to dinner. Was it only a day and a half ago? It felt so much longer, and he realised how arbitrary time really was. The nights he'd spent with Elijah, eating food and watching telly, making out and making love, yelling and fighting. They all seemed so ridiculously short now, when each hour felt like a year.
He felt the couch dip beside him and knew without looking that Sean was sitting there. He didn't feel any need to acknowledge him; Sean would let him know if he wanted anything. The phone hadn't rung recently and Holder had gone to the station at around midday without returning, so there couldn't be any pressing news about Elijah. He tried to force himself to stop thinking of Elijah in various states of loneliness and pain, fruitlessly attempting to focus on the moment he got him back. He shut his eyes. No more taking Elijah for granted, he vowed. Every single second--"It's not your fault," Sean said. It was a line, Dom could tell--Sean, Orlando and Billy had probably been discussing Dom in the next room, and Sean had drawn the short straw to come talk to him.
"How could it be?" responded Dom, another line more empty than the first
"But you blame yourself?" Sean moved in as he spoke, slid a hand across Dom's shoulders, clearly worried Dom might pull away. He didn't. Taking this as a good sign, Sean spoke again. "I did, you know."
"Blame yourself?" Dom asked.
Sean nodded. "And you." Dom did pull away at this, looking at Sean with mingled surprise and hurt.
Sean rubbed Dom's shoulder and smiled apologetically. "I didn't know exactly had had happened, and--well, I knew it wasn't your fault. Not really. But I was--in those first few hours, I was desperate. I scrambled for--for something solid, someone real I could blame, not some faceless--I mean, I was so angry. I yelled at Chris, and I blamed myself, and, well, I blamed you. For not taking better care of him and--"
"I'm sorry," Dom whispered, not able to hear any more for fear that he'd break. The dull and constant ache that had been weighing down his insides became sharper, more acute, and he stood up to pace. He got about two steps before Sean's arms were around him, hugging him fiercely.
"Don't you understand, Dommie? It was stupid, I was stupid. As soon as I was on my way over here I knew. I love Elijah, we all do, we want him to be safe, to protect him. But I love you, too. And it is -not- your fault." Dom kept his arms by his sides as Sean held him, but he listened, beginning to take the words in. They broke apart a few minutes later as Debbie, ashen faced and crying with the phone hanging loosely in her hand, burst into the room.
"Fifty thousand," she said before falling to the floor.
Green Queen