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fellowshippers2004-09-14 05:36 pm
glass-moment.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-09-14 05:36 pm
(no subject)
Dom/Billy
mild PG-13
stuff of note: angst, about 10 years into the future
Billy stared at the impersonal blue curtain that shielded the room from his view. He seemed suspended in time, caught in a foreign environment that neither knew nor cared about him. Muted voices and the clicking of wheels on tile echoed down the hallway, oblivious to his presence. From inside the room there was silence. He had to fight the sudden urge to turn and walk away, just forget he had ever come. It wouldn't make much of a difference. Why was he here, anyway? Because Viggo asked him, of course. Because Henry's wife had gone into labor and someone had to come because Viggo'd said he would. But why him? Out of everyone, why did it have to be him?
But he doesn't even talk to me anymore! he remembered protesting when he'd gotten the phone call.
And how much of an effort have you made to change that? Billy'd had no answer, so instead he'd accused Viggo of not wanting to mix life and death. It was unfair, if not untrue, but that was alright because they both knew he didn't mean it.
He knocked quietly on the open door. There was a pause, then a noise came from inside. It sounded more like a mumble than an actual word. Hesitantly, he pushed past the curtain and took a few steps before stopping at the sight of the man before him. The head turned, stopped, the eyes blinked slowly a few times.
"Billy."
He swallowed. "Dominic."
Dom. It was Dom, for sure. None of that melodramatic crap about it being someone else inhabiting his old friend's body. This was Dom, but he was different. This was not the Dom who had been his best mate, Dom he had loved, Dom who had hated him with such a desperate fury that he couldn't stand to remember it. This Dom was older, tireder. His pale skin was washed out by the vibrant standard-issue blankets that swathed him, dwarfed him. His eyes were bleary and only half-open, irises too dialated for the fluorescent light. Stubble grew unevenly over his jaw and cheeks. His face was longer, his stomach rounder than Billy remembered. A needle was taped to the back of his right hand, steadily dripping something blueish and unidentifiable into his body.
Billy stepped uncertainly up to the edge of the bed. Dom's wandering gaze settled on him and he swallowed again, half-planned words dying in his throat.
"How are you?" he asked softly, unsure of what else to say.
"I've....been better. Hurts." Dom's words were slow and thick, as if he was half in another universe. In fact, that wasn't out of the question. Probably on morphine, Billy thought.
"I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"
"You used to...have more hair. Didn't you?" Billy jolted slightly at the unexpected remark. He was fumbling for something to say when Dom continued.
"Been a...a long time."
There was another pause. Billy found that he had to tear his eyes away from the needle in Dom's hand repeatedly. Why couldn't he stop looking at it?
"How was the surgery? Did they get results yet?"
"Don't know. Said they're doing tests and stuff. To see if it spread. Hurts....a bitch, though." He was silent for a moment, then continued. "Funny. Always thought Elijah would be the one with cancer. With all.....the smoking. And all."
Billy just nodded, choosing not to remind Dom of Elijah's long battle with throat cancer. He wondered for a moment if he had never known, or if it was just the effect the drug was having on his mind.
Dom's eyes focused on him again. "Wait. You. You're...married. Ali. I remember."
I bet, thought Billy, it was the last time you spoke to me.
"And the...your daughter. How is she?"
"I have three children now, Dom."
He did some quick mental calculations. Dom had stopped talking to him at his wedding, but apparently had started ignoring his existence altogether after Maggie had been born. Seven years.
"Billy." It almost broke his heart to see Dom so fragile, so vulnerable after all this time.
"Yeah?"
"Can you...turn off the lights? It's too bright in here." Billy crossed the room and flicked the switch to off, but froze when the voice behind him continued. "You won't mind. You always liked the dark better. Didn't have to....have to believe what you couldn't see."
He turned, expecting the bitter hatred he had been met with so many times before, but it was just Dom, groggy and only half-lucid, stating the facts. It almost hurt more to know that what had transpired between them (what Billy had done, insisted part of his mind) was still so much a part of Dom that it came naturally to his thoughts, even in this state.
Not knowing what else to do, Billy sat in the visitor chair on the other side of Dom's bed. Hesitantly, he took Dom's left hand in his own. It was cold and limp and slightly sweaty. Dom didn't look at him, just stared at the blank tv screen angled from the ceiling.
"Henry's wife went into labor quite a few hours ago," he said. "The child's probably born by now."
"Henry?" Asked Dom slowly.
"Viggo's son. Remember?" There was no reaction from Dom. Billy dragged his gaze away from Dom's other hand where it rested on top of the mound of blankets, the word "trees" distorted from the tube and needle. Dom's eyes were closed, his breathing steady, if shallow. Asleep.
Billy considered leaving. He could creep out of the room now without disturbing Dom, no harm done to either of them. He was about to gather his resolve and stand when Dom's eyes opened again and he exhaled in a strange, hitching sort of way, as if he wanted to cough but couldn't find the strength.
"Dom?" What was going on? Should he call a nurse?
"Tea, Billy. Over....there." Dom's hand quivered in Billy's, perhaps trying to point.
He found the tea on the table next to the bed. It was tepid at best, weak-looking tan liquid in a Styrofoam cup with a straw. Hesitantly, he lifted it to Dom's mouth and held it for him while he drank a little. After a minute, Dom turned his head away and spoke again.
"Billy. Promise."
"What?" He was immediately wary.
"Promise...you'll come to my funeral."
He'd thought he was shocked before, but this caught him completely off-guard. "But-"
"Billy."
"Okay. I promise."
"You can...you can bring Ali too. And your daughter. If....you want." Dom's head fell back against the cushions again, his eyes closing. Billy could tell he was speaking, but couldn't hear anything. He leaned closer, not sure if Dom was awake or not.
"...always have, always will," mumbled Dom.
And Billy fled the room, unable to spend another moment watching this man he had loved and broken.
mild PG-13
stuff of note: angst, about 10 years into the future
Billy stared at the impersonal blue curtain that shielded the room from his view. He seemed suspended in time, caught in a foreign environment that neither knew nor cared about him. Muted voices and the clicking of wheels on tile echoed down the hallway, oblivious to his presence. From inside the room there was silence. He had to fight the sudden urge to turn and walk away, just forget he had ever come. It wouldn't make much of a difference. Why was he here, anyway? Because Viggo asked him, of course. Because Henry's wife had gone into labor and someone had to come because Viggo'd said he would. But why him? Out of everyone, why did it have to be him?
But he doesn't even talk to me anymore! he remembered protesting when he'd gotten the phone call.
And how much of an effort have you made to change that? Billy'd had no answer, so instead he'd accused Viggo of not wanting to mix life and death. It was unfair, if not untrue, but that was alright because they both knew he didn't mean it.
He knocked quietly on the open door. There was a pause, then a noise came from inside. It sounded more like a mumble than an actual word. Hesitantly, he pushed past the curtain and took a few steps before stopping at the sight of the man before him. The head turned, stopped, the eyes blinked slowly a few times.
"Billy."
He swallowed. "Dominic."
Dom. It was Dom, for sure. None of that melodramatic crap about it being someone else inhabiting his old friend's body. This was Dom, but he was different. This was not the Dom who had been his best mate, Dom he had loved, Dom who had hated him with such a desperate fury that he couldn't stand to remember it. This Dom was older, tireder. His pale skin was washed out by the vibrant standard-issue blankets that swathed him, dwarfed him. His eyes were bleary and only half-open, irises too dialated for the fluorescent light. Stubble grew unevenly over his jaw and cheeks. His face was longer, his stomach rounder than Billy remembered. A needle was taped to the back of his right hand, steadily dripping something blueish and unidentifiable into his body.
Billy stepped uncertainly up to the edge of the bed. Dom's wandering gaze settled on him and he swallowed again, half-planned words dying in his throat.
"How are you?" he asked softly, unsure of what else to say.
"I've....been better. Hurts." Dom's words were slow and thick, as if he was half in another universe. In fact, that wasn't out of the question. Probably on morphine, Billy thought.
"I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"
"You used to...have more hair. Didn't you?" Billy jolted slightly at the unexpected remark. He was fumbling for something to say when Dom continued.
"Been a...a long time."
There was another pause. Billy found that he had to tear his eyes away from the needle in Dom's hand repeatedly. Why couldn't he stop looking at it?
"How was the surgery? Did they get results yet?"
"Don't know. Said they're doing tests and stuff. To see if it spread. Hurts....a bitch, though." He was silent for a moment, then continued. "Funny. Always thought Elijah would be the one with cancer. With all.....the smoking. And all."
Billy just nodded, choosing not to remind Dom of Elijah's long battle with throat cancer. He wondered for a moment if he had never known, or if it was just the effect the drug was having on his mind.
Dom's eyes focused on him again. "Wait. You. You're...married. Ali. I remember."
I bet, thought Billy, it was the last time you spoke to me.
"And the...your daughter. How is she?"
"I have three children now, Dom."
He did some quick mental calculations. Dom had stopped talking to him at his wedding, but apparently had started ignoring his existence altogether after Maggie had been born. Seven years.
"Billy." It almost broke his heart to see Dom so fragile, so vulnerable after all this time.
"Yeah?"
"Can you...turn off the lights? It's too bright in here." Billy crossed the room and flicked the switch to off, but froze when the voice behind him continued. "You won't mind. You always liked the dark better. Didn't have to....have to believe what you couldn't see."
He turned, expecting the bitter hatred he had been met with so many times before, but it was just Dom, groggy and only half-lucid, stating the facts. It almost hurt more to know that what had transpired between them (what Billy had done, insisted part of his mind) was still so much a part of Dom that it came naturally to his thoughts, even in this state.
Not knowing what else to do, Billy sat in the visitor chair on the other side of Dom's bed. Hesitantly, he took Dom's left hand in his own. It was cold and limp and slightly sweaty. Dom didn't look at him, just stared at the blank tv screen angled from the ceiling.
"Henry's wife went into labor quite a few hours ago," he said. "The child's probably born by now."
"Henry?" Asked Dom slowly.
"Viggo's son. Remember?" There was no reaction from Dom. Billy dragged his gaze away from Dom's other hand where it rested on top of the mound of blankets, the word "trees" distorted from the tube and needle. Dom's eyes were closed, his breathing steady, if shallow. Asleep.
Billy considered leaving. He could creep out of the room now without disturbing Dom, no harm done to either of them. He was about to gather his resolve and stand when Dom's eyes opened again and he exhaled in a strange, hitching sort of way, as if he wanted to cough but couldn't find the strength.
"Dom?" What was going on? Should he call a nurse?
"Tea, Billy. Over....there." Dom's hand quivered in Billy's, perhaps trying to point.
He found the tea on the table next to the bed. It was tepid at best, weak-looking tan liquid in a Styrofoam cup with a straw. Hesitantly, he lifted it to Dom's mouth and held it for him while he drank a little. After a minute, Dom turned his head away and spoke again.
"Billy. Promise."
"What?" He was immediately wary.
"Promise...you'll come to my funeral."
He'd thought he was shocked before, but this caught him completely off-guard. "But-"
"Billy."
"Okay. I promise."
"You can...you can bring Ali too. And your daughter. If....you want." Dom's head fell back against the cushions again, his eyes closing. Billy could tell he was speaking, but couldn't hear anything. He leaned closer, not sure if Dom was awake or not.
"...always have, always will," mumbled Dom.
And Billy fled the room, unable to spend another moment watching this man he had loved and broken.
ow ow ow
all of it.
Re: ow ow ow
no subject
Sorry, I'm slowly losing my mind to the wonder of your Dom/Billy fics. I think it's got to be your aim to make be sob, this came very close.
The distance between them is well done and so painful at the same time.