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fellowshippers2006-08-19 06:46 pm
flybynite29.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2006-08-19 06:46 pm
FIC: You Oughta Know: 1/??- Rated PG-13 this part
Title: You Oughta Know- 1/??
Author: flybynite29
Rating: Series PG-13 - NC17, this part PG-13 for language
Pairings: Billy Boyd/Dominic Monaghan, Billy/ofc, Orlando, Elijah, possible future pairings
Summary: Dom's come to a turning point in his life. So has Billy, but the path is taking him in the complete opposite direction.
Disclaimer: I do not own Billy Boyd, Dominic Monaghan, or any of the other real-life persons in this work; I'm just playing with them for a bit. No money is being made off of any of this, and I adore all of these people far too much to intend any disrespect.
Warnings: AUish; WIP; Angst; and, to quote Rainman, Serious Injury
Feedback: I live for it. : )
a/n: This part is fairly dripping with angst, sorry about that. Hopefully I'll be able to cheer things up, at least marginally, next time. : ) Title and lyrics belong to Alanis Morrisette.
Prologue
crossposted at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
monaboyd
Billy's car keys had left a permanent imprint on Dom's palm. He had been clutching them compulsively for thirteen hours straight, ever since Billy had been brought in through the emergency room doors. The keys were the last thing Billy had touched, and Dom could not bring himself to let them go. To relinquish them would be to relinquish Billy.
The plain, metal sleekness of the keyring was thrown off-kilter by a gaudy, grinning monkey, decked out in a spangled purple tuxedo and tophat. The choice was so polar opposite of Billy's understated, suave style that Dom had raised an immediate puzzled eyebrow the moment he had seen the primate swinging from Billy's ignition.
"So I can always carry you with me, Dommie.", Billy had smiled. "My wee, cheeky monkey."
They had made love that night on the beach, under the vast expanse of sky, tender and slow and intimate. And Billy had cried when he came.
"There'll never be an end to this, m' love.", he'd whispered, tears falling in Dom's hair. "This is eternity. Just you, me, and th' stars."
But everything that had a beginning had an end. Dom knew it, and Billy had known it also, even as he'd pledged himself to Dom for infinity. He had been brutalized by the endings of life too many times, they had etched their scars too deeply for him not to believe.
Was this to be their ending, then? Would this cold, sterile, impersonal room be the final resting place of Dom's heart?
The doctors and nurses had all assured and reassured him that things were most likely not as bad as they looked. The impact had shaken Billy up and given him quite a knock on the head, but there didn't appear to be any serious internal injuries, only a myriad of scratches and contusions, along with a broken wrist. The head injury could be iffy- those were always tricky, even under the best of circumstances, and they wouldn't know anything for sure until Billy regained consciousness- but all signs were looking good. No matter how many times he heard this spiel, Dom couldn't quite allow himself to believe it. If everything was so bloody cunting wonderful, then why in hell wouldn't Billy wake up?
Why wouldn't Billy answer him?
Dom had talked until he could talk no more, his voice reduced to a breathless, gravelly whisper. He had sung to Billy, argued with Billy, pleaded with Billy. Dom had confided to him the things in his most hidden of hearts, the few dark truths that he had held back over the years for fear of hurting Billy or frightening him with their blackness.
He even told Billy about the silver Celtic band sitting in its little blue velvet box on the top shelf of their closet, collecting dust because Dom- that non-stop, glib conversationalist- had somehow not been able to find the right words to tell Billy he was his everything.
If it had brought no other good, that bloody, murdering minivan had at least shocked Dom into finding his voice again. He had no trouble with the words now. The proposal had come spilling from him without a single hitch, more eloquently and heartfelt than it ever could have had Billy actually been awake and watching him. Dom could only pray that some part of Billy had heard anyway, because he highly doubted he'd be able to repeat the stellar performance.
Dom had given up his every secret, had laid his soul bare in sacrifice to the gods of fate. Now he could only wait for Billy to make the next move.
Dom scootched his chair a bit closer to the bedside, caressing Billy's fingers with his free hand... he would be in the bed, his lover cradled in his arms, if he could be sure it would not worsen Billy's injuries. Dom could barely fathom that the man lying before him now was the same man he had lain beside for eight years, the same bloke who turned to him in the mornings with a sleepy, impish smile that, more often than not, led to whispered touches and primal, erotic cries. The broken, still form in this bed didn't look at all like his Pippin, more resembled something out of Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum. His already-creamy skin was deathly pale now, tinged underneath by a horrid, sickly shade of grey. This was a shoddy imitation, a piss-poor replica of the bright, lively man Dom had fallen so in love with.
Tears pressed at the back of Dom's eyes, but he refused to give in to them, hadn't let a single one fall since the accident. If he allowed them to come, he would drown in them.
No one on the medical staff had been able to budge Dom even an inch from his bedside vigil. After a few go-rounds, they had stopped trying. They had recognized the look in Dom's eye. He might, by nature, be a gentle, non-violent man- but if anyone tried to pry him from his lover's side, he would tear that person apart without a thought. Civilized behavior and rationality had ceased to exist for Dom. There was only Billy and the relentless, deafening tick of the clock.
Dom had been six hours at the hospital before it finally occurred to him to ring their friends and loved ones. He had done so with all of the feeling and humanity of a robot. He had spoken in such an eerily calm, detached voice that he had frightened Orlando quite badly; badly enough to cause him to race for the airport and hop on the next flight out, pausing only long enough to gather up Elijah and bring him with. Margaret had been just as unnerved by Dom's lifeless tone, though her natural calm, no-nonsense demeanor had disguised the fact much better. His own mum had been the worst of all; as a nurse, she had recognized the voice for what it was- denial. He had rung off on her mid-diagnosis and had ignored all subsequent calls from her. He hadn't bothered to phone any of the Lost cast at all, though they were right here on the same island. Dom suspected that was the very reason he hadn't rung them- they were too close, would be here at the hospital within minutes trying to break down the protective, emotionless wall Dom had so painstakingly built around himself.
That wall was the only thing standing between him and madness.
Doctors and nurses came and went, checking monitors, changing IVs, taking pulses. Dom watched it all blandly, on the outside calm and serene, almost disinterested. But inside, he was a swirling, raging tempest of wishes, regrets, and visions.
Dom's imagination was his greatest gift, but at times like this it was also his greatest curse. He had no trouble whatsoever imagining the doctor's somber, yet clinical tone as he informed Dom that Billy had suffered irreversible brain damage that would leave him with the mental capacity of a five-year-old, or that the trauma to his body would cause him to remain in a vegetative state for the rest of his days, or that an inoperable blood clot had shown up on Billy's CAT scan and it was only a matter of time before it broke loose and cut a lethal swath through his brain.
He could all too easily hear the dirt raining down on the lid of Billy's coffin, could vividly picture himself decked out in the black of mourning, sinking to his knees by the headstone, his soul as cold and dead as the body lying beneath the earth.
He’d gone so far as to see himself drawing the unforgiving steel of a razor blade down his own wrists, had watched the blood well up and out, twin rivers of scarlet. If the worst should happen, this last image was a forgone conclusion.
Because life for Dom did not exist without Billy.
These thoughts and images were horrific, but Dom had never been any good at fooling himself, and deep down he knew even they were not what he was really hiding from. He was blocking himself off from Billy's last words, from the frightened, harsh sound of Billy's voice as he told Dom he wasn't sure they were an 'us' anymore. That he wasn't sure he wanted them to be.
Dom had not been blind to Billy's cool detachment over the past few months, had realized- even if he had not been ready to admit it- that there was some problem between them. He suspected that was what his childish performance at the toy store had really been about- he had been desperate for attention from Billy, attention of any kind, even negative. It had been the worst time possible to raise the subject of starting a family, no matter how close the topic was to Dom's heart. But still he had forced the issue, unable to stop himself even when he had felt Billy pulling away, even when he had seen Billy's eyes begging him for mercy.
Dom was trying to escape from the knowledge that he was the reason Billy was lying here in this bed, tubes giving him nourishment and oxygen, harsh, green spikes on a monitor the only thing to show he was still among the living. Dom may as well have reached out and shoved Billy into the path of that van- in the end, the results were the same.
One way or the other, he had put Billy here.
Dom clenched his fist and the keys dug a little more deeply into his skin.
**********************************************************
Two endless hours later, Dom felt a slight pressure on his fingers. It took him several tries to force his eyes down to his hand, afraid to let himself hope. But when he finally did, he saw Billy’s fingers closing around his, squeezing now in something close to a caress.
Dom looked up to the bed, his heart pounding. There was stillness for a long moment, then Billy's eyes fluttered a few times and opened.
"Dommie?"
Billy was looking at him, seeing him, talking to him, voice weak and edged with pain, but aware.
The keys jangled to the floor, and he was out of the chair like a shot, kissing Billy everywhere at once, crooning nonsensically against his skin, "Billy, Billy, Bills, BillyBoyd..."
It was only then Dom realized how very close he had come to insanity.
A few hot tears escaped but he quickly brushed them away and steeled himself. He would allow himself to cave in later, in private, but not where Billy could see and be upset by the outpouring of emotion. Dom had to keep the wall in place for just a bit longer, for both their sakes; he knew instinctively that if he let the tears start now he would be unable to stop them. And Billy needed him strong, not curled fetally on the floor in a blubbering heap.
He gently touched Billy's cheek, thrilled to see his skin seemed to be regaining a measure of color. The paleness was still there, but the terrible grey undertone had gone. "Are you hurting terribly, love?"
"Not so badly, actually. Just a bit stiff in th' joints." Billy moved his head a bit and grimaced. "What the feck happened, Dom?", he asked in a hoarse, dry whisper. "I remember walking out..."
Dom reached over and filled a cup with water, trying to ignore the trembling of his hand. He popped in a bendy straw and helped Billy take a few sips. Then he answered Billy's question, striving to keep his tone light. "You walked out, alright, Bills- smack into the grille of a Dodge Caravan." Even as he said it, the dull, final sound of Billy’s head striking the pavement echoed back at him. His mind had been replaying it on loop ever since the accident, and Dom believed he just might hear it forever.
The blubbering could wait, yes...but the apology could not. "Bill, sweetheart, god, I'm so fucking sor..."
Before Dom could get any further, a bevy of white coats strode into the room, gently but firmly shuffling him out of the way, poking and prodding at their patient.
"You're looking good for a fella who's been out cold for fifteen hours. Couple more tests and we'll know for sure, but I'd say you were one very lucky man- I don't think you have much more to worry about than a few aches and pains.", the doctor pronounced, giving Billy a smile. "Shoot him up, Marcie.", he ordered, leaving the room.
The nurse smiled also, then injected some morphine into Billy's IV line. "This should do the trick, sweetie." She winked at Billy.
Dom closed his eyes briefly, relieved by the doctor's encouraging words- though he knew he wouldn't fully allow himself to believe everything would be alright until the test results were back.
Billy relaxed visibly as the morphine began coursing through his system, the lines of pain on his face smoothing out. Dom started to move forward to the bedside again, wanting to hold him, touch him, make sure he was really there, but the nurse was blocking his path- fluffing Billy's pillow, fiddling with his pitcher of water, obviously taking her time. "Feeling better, are we?", she asked, grinning, flirting.
Billy always had this effect on women, and not a few men. It had never bothered Dom before this moment.
"Aye. Feck, yes.", Billy grinned back at her, flirting now himself. "Lovely drug, that."
She giggled and it went through Dom like shards of glass.
"I'm Marcie." She winked at Billy again. "You remember that, sweetie, and just buzz me if you need anything at all, okay? I'll be sure to come on the run."
"Ta, Marcie. I'll remember." Billy picked up the nurse's hand and kissed it giddily.
Dom felt a stab of jealousy course through him. No; jealousy wasn't even the right word- it was hurt, pure and simple. The flirting wasn't really what was bothering him; Billy was most likely stoned silly and it was too wonderful to hear him laugh to be anything but relieved at the sound. The thing was, Billy didn't even seem to remember Dom was in the room. Not very long ago, he would've clung to Dom the second he opened his eyes and would not have let go for anything- not for an invasion of Martians, let alone a giggling twit of a nurse- would have leaned his forehead against Dom's, pulled him close, giving and taking comfort in equal measures.
"Bills..." Dom detoured around Marcie, fighting the urge to simply hip-check her out of the way, and went to the other side of the bed, leaning down and kissing Billy softly on his brow. "Can I get you anything, love?" He brushed his fingers through Billy's hair, smiling gently.
Billy smiled back at Dom for one brief, glorious heartbeat, then dismissed him and turned his attention back to the nurse. "No...Marcie here's taking care of everything beautifully."
Dom stiffened and pulled away- he simply couldn't help it. Marcie hadn't been sitting here frozen for three-fourths of a day, going out off her mind with worry and guilt. Marcie wasn't quivering so badly on the inside that she felt as if she might pass out or vomit or both at any moment. Marcie hadn't stared unblinkingly at the rise and fall of her lover's chest for hours on end, unable to look away, fearing the last breath he took would be the last.
Dom had never felt so shut out, so discarded - so fucking invisible- in his life. He closed his eyes and fought to get himself under control. He was jumping at shadows, reading too much into things. He was half sick with exhaustion, his nerves on a hair-trigger. Billy was simply being his usual sweet, kind self, only showing his appreciation to the nurse. The rest was Dom's imagination.
If he could only get the bloody chance to apologize- he knew that would go a long way towards easing his mind. He needed to tell Billy he was sorry; not only for Billy's sake, but for his own sanity. What if the doctor was mistaken, what if something happened and this was the last chance Dom had to tell Billy how wrong he had been, how very deeply he loved him?
Marcie gave one final flirty wave and, to Dom's immense relief, left the room. He leaned back down over Billy, caressing his cheek with his fingertips, looking deeply into his eyes. “Baby, I need to tell you...”
The moment Dom opened his mouth, a technician strode in to whisk Billy off for his testing.
"Christ...can't you give us even a fucking minute?...", Dom snapped, his voice cracking.
"Got a schedule to keep, my man." He adjusted Billy's bed, then began to move it towards the door.
Dom followed alongside, but the tech shook his head and waved him off.
"Can't go down to X-ray with him, bro. Radiation threat."
Dom didn't give a shite if he got lit up like bloody Chernobyl- he didn't want to leave Billy's side, not for a single minute. Not ever again. He started to protest, but Billy patted his hand.
"'m fine, Dommie, honestly. I'm more worried about you...y' look like hell." But Billy's voice did not sound particularly worried- it sounded almost exasperated. "Go grab yourself a cup of tea, yeah?"
Dom's stomach rolled over alarmingly at the thought, and he had to fight off a sudden wave of vertigo. How could he possibly go do something as mundane as have a spot of tea while his Billy was lying there, injured and in pain, and quite possibly worse off than any of them knew? "I'll just be right here then, love, waiting for you.", he finally reluctantly relented, settling back into the chair.
Billy sighed heavily. "Please, Dom. Go take care of yourself, at least get some air. By th' time you get back, I'll be tucked back in bed. Quit worrying so."
Dom nodded, trying to tell himself that Billy’s last words had been an expression of concern and not the curt dismissal they had sounded like.
"We'll be a half hour, forty-five minutes.", the technician added as he wheeled Billy out the door. "You've got plenty of time to get somethin' to eat if you want. Cafeteria's on One."
Dom wanted nothing to do with tea, and he couldn't even think about food, but he was suddenly perilously close to breaking down and knew he had to get away from that room.
His thoughts were spinning as he made his way down the hallway. Billy had just been through a severe trauma, had been knocked on the head....of course he was going to be a bit cross and out of sorts. That was only to be expected on a day like this. But, oh... it wasn't just today, was it, if Dom were to be honest about it? He had heard that dismissive, irritated tone before, quite often over the last few months. He had heard it, then had pretended it right away.
Maybe he was good at fooling himself, after all.
tbc...
Author: flybynite29
Rating: Series PG-13 - NC17, this part PG-13 for language
Pairings: Billy Boyd/Dominic Monaghan, Billy/ofc, Orlando, Elijah, possible future pairings
Summary: Dom's come to a turning point in his life. So has Billy, but the path is taking him in the complete opposite direction.
Disclaimer: I do not own Billy Boyd, Dominic Monaghan, or any of the other real-life persons in this work; I'm just playing with them for a bit. No money is being made off of any of this, and I adore all of these people far too much to intend any disrespect.
Warnings: AUish; WIP; Angst; and, to quote Rainman, Serious Injury
Feedback: I live for it. : )
a/n: This part is fairly dripping with angst, sorry about that. Hopefully I'll be able to cheer things up, at least marginally, next time. : ) Title and lyrics belong to Alanis Morrisette.
Prologue
crossposted at
monaboydBilly's car keys had left a permanent imprint on Dom's palm. He had been clutching them compulsively for thirteen hours straight, ever since Billy had been brought in through the emergency room doors. The keys were the last thing Billy had touched, and Dom could not bring himself to let them go. To relinquish them would be to relinquish Billy.
The plain, metal sleekness of the keyring was thrown off-kilter by a gaudy, grinning monkey, decked out in a spangled purple tuxedo and tophat. The choice was so polar opposite of Billy's understated, suave style that Dom had raised an immediate puzzled eyebrow the moment he had seen the primate swinging from Billy's ignition.
"So I can always carry you with me, Dommie.", Billy had smiled. "My wee, cheeky monkey."
They had made love that night on the beach, under the vast expanse of sky, tender and slow and intimate. And Billy had cried when he came.
"There'll never be an end to this, m' love.", he'd whispered, tears falling in Dom's hair. "This is eternity. Just you, me, and th' stars."
But everything that had a beginning had an end. Dom knew it, and Billy had known it also, even as he'd pledged himself to Dom for infinity. He had been brutalized by the endings of life too many times, they had etched their scars too deeply for him not to believe.
Was this to be their ending, then? Would this cold, sterile, impersonal room be the final resting place of Dom's heart?
The doctors and nurses had all assured and reassured him that things were most likely not as bad as they looked. The impact had shaken Billy up and given him quite a knock on the head, but there didn't appear to be any serious internal injuries, only a myriad of scratches and contusions, along with a broken wrist. The head injury could be iffy- those were always tricky, even under the best of circumstances, and they wouldn't know anything for sure until Billy regained consciousness- but all signs were looking good. No matter how many times he heard this spiel, Dom couldn't quite allow himself to believe it. If everything was so bloody cunting wonderful, then why in hell wouldn't Billy wake up?
Why wouldn't Billy answer him?
Dom had talked until he could talk no more, his voice reduced to a breathless, gravelly whisper. He had sung to Billy, argued with Billy, pleaded with Billy. Dom had confided to him the things in his most hidden of hearts, the few dark truths that he had held back over the years for fear of hurting Billy or frightening him with their blackness.
He even told Billy about the silver Celtic band sitting in its little blue velvet box on the top shelf of their closet, collecting dust because Dom- that non-stop, glib conversationalist- had somehow not been able to find the right words to tell Billy he was his everything.
If it had brought no other good, that bloody, murdering minivan had at least shocked Dom into finding his voice again. He had no trouble with the words now. The proposal had come spilling from him without a single hitch, more eloquently and heartfelt than it ever could have had Billy actually been awake and watching him. Dom could only pray that some part of Billy had heard anyway, because he highly doubted he'd be able to repeat the stellar performance.
Dom had given up his every secret, had laid his soul bare in sacrifice to the gods of fate. Now he could only wait for Billy to make the next move.
Dom scootched his chair a bit closer to the bedside, caressing Billy's fingers with his free hand... he would be in the bed, his lover cradled in his arms, if he could be sure it would not worsen Billy's injuries. Dom could barely fathom that the man lying before him now was the same man he had lain beside for eight years, the same bloke who turned to him in the mornings with a sleepy, impish smile that, more often than not, led to whispered touches and primal, erotic cries. The broken, still form in this bed didn't look at all like his Pippin, more resembled something out of Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum. His already-creamy skin was deathly pale now, tinged underneath by a horrid, sickly shade of grey. This was a shoddy imitation, a piss-poor replica of the bright, lively man Dom had fallen so in love with.
Tears pressed at the back of Dom's eyes, but he refused to give in to them, hadn't let a single one fall since the accident. If he allowed them to come, he would drown in them.
No one on the medical staff had been able to budge Dom even an inch from his bedside vigil. After a few go-rounds, they had stopped trying. They had recognized the look in Dom's eye. He might, by nature, be a gentle, non-violent man- but if anyone tried to pry him from his lover's side, he would tear that person apart without a thought. Civilized behavior and rationality had ceased to exist for Dom. There was only Billy and the relentless, deafening tick of the clock.
Dom had been six hours at the hospital before it finally occurred to him to ring their friends and loved ones. He had done so with all of the feeling and humanity of a robot. He had spoken in such an eerily calm, detached voice that he had frightened Orlando quite badly; badly enough to cause him to race for the airport and hop on the next flight out, pausing only long enough to gather up Elijah and bring him with. Margaret had been just as unnerved by Dom's lifeless tone, though her natural calm, no-nonsense demeanor had disguised the fact much better. His own mum had been the worst of all; as a nurse, she had recognized the voice for what it was- denial. He had rung off on her mid-diagnosis and had ignored all subsequent calls from her. He hadn't bothered to phone any of the Lost cast at all, though they were right here on the same island. Dom suspected that was the very reason he hadn't rung them- they were too close, would be here at the hospital within minutes trying to break down the protective, emotionless wall Dom had so painstakingly built around himself.
That wall was the only thing standing between him and madness.
Doctors and nurses came and went, checking monitors, changing IVs, taking pulses. Dom watched it all blandly, on the outside calm and serene, almost disinterested. But inside, he was a swirling, raging tempest of wishes, regrets, and visions.
Dom's imagination was his greatest gift, but at times like this it was also his greatest curse. He had no trouble whatsoever imagining the doctor's somber, yet clinical tone as he informed Dom that Billy had suffered irreversible brain damage that would leave him with the mental capacity of a five-year-old, or that the trauma to his body would cause him to remain in a vegetative state for the rest of his days, or that an inoperable blood clot had shown up on Billy's CAT scan and it was only a matter of time before it broke loose and cut a lethal swath through his brain.
He could all too easily hear the dirt raining down on the lid of Billy's coffin, could vividly picture himself decked out in the black of mourning, sinking to his knees by the headstone, his soul as cold and dead as the body lying beneath the earth.
He’d gone so far as to see himself drawing the unforgiving steel of a razor blade down his own wrists, had watched the blood well up and out, twin rivers of scarlet. If the worst should happen, this last image was a forgone conclusion.
Because life for Dom did not exist without Billy.
These thoughts and images were horrific, but Dom had never been any good at fooling himself, and deep down he knew even they were not what he was really hiding from. He was blocking himself off from Billy's last words, from the frightened, harsh sound of Billy's voice as he told Dom he wasn't sure they were an 'us' anymore. That he wasn't sure he wanted them to be.
Dom had not been blind to Billy's cool detachment over the past few months, had realized- even if he had not been ready to admit it- that there was some problem between them. He suspected that was what his childish performance at the toy store had really been about- he had been desperate for attention from Billy, attention of any kind, even negative. It had been the worst time possible to raise the subject of starting a family, no matter how close the topic was to Dom's heart. But still he had forced the issue, unable to stop himself even when he had felt Billy pulling away, even when he had seen Billy's eyes begging him for mercy.
Dom was trying to escape from the knowledge that he was the reason Billy was lying here in this bed, tubes giving him nourishment and oxygen, harsh, green spikes on a monitor the only thing to show he was still among the living. Dom may as well have reached out and shoved Billy into the path of that van- in the end, the results were the same.
One way or the other, he had put Billy here.
Dom clenched his fist and the keys dug a little more deeply into his skin.
**********************************************************
Two endless hours later, Dom felt a slight pressure on his fingers. It took him several tries to force his eyes down to his hand, afraid to let himself hope. But when he finally did, he saw Billy’s fingers closing around his, squeezing now in something close to a caress.
Dom looked up to the bed, his heart pounding. There was stillness for a long moment, then Billy's eyes fluttered a few times and opened.
"Dommie?"
Billy was looking at him, seeing him, talking to him, voice weak and edged with pain, but aware.
The keys jangled to the floor, and he was out of the chair like a shot, kissing Billy everywhere at once, crooning nonsensically against his skin, "Billy, Billy, Bills, BillyBoyd..."
It was only then Dom realized how very close he had come to insanity.
A few hot tears escaped but he quickly brushed them away and steeled himself. He would allow himself to cave in later, in private, but not where Billy could see and be upset by the outpouring of emotion. Dom had to keep the wall in place for just a bit longer, for both their sakes; he knew instinctively that if he let the tears start now he would be unable to stop them. And Billy needed him strong, not curled fetally on the floor in a blubbering heap.
He gently touched Billy's cheek, thrilled to see his skin seemed to be regaining a measure of color. The paleness was still there, but the terrible grey undertone had gone. "Are you hurting terribly, love?"
"Not so badly, actually. Just a bit stiff in th' joints." Billy moved his head a bit and grimaced. "What the feck happened, Dom?", he asked in a hoarse, dry whisper. "I remember walking out..."
Dom reached over and filled a cup with water, trying to ignore the trembling of his hand. He popped in a bendy straw and helped Billy take a few sips. Then he answered Billy's question, striving to keep his tone light. "You walked out, alright, Bills- smack into the grille of a Dodge Caravan." Even as he said it, the dull, final sound of Billy’s head striking the pavement echoed back at him. His mind had been replaying it on loop ever since the accident, and Dom believed he just might hear it forever.
The blubbering could wait, yes...but the apology could not. "Bill, sweetheart, god, I'm so fucking sor..."
Before Dom could get any further, a bevy of white coats strode into the room, gently but firmly shuffling him out of the way, poking and prodding at their patient.
"You're looking good for a fella who's been out cold for fifteen hours. Couple more tests and we'll know for sure, but I'd say you were one very lucky man- I don't think you have much more to worry about than a few aches and pains.", the doctor pronounced, giving Billy a smile. "Shoot him up, Marcie.", he ordered, leaving the room.
The nurse smiled also, then injected some morphine into Billy's IV line. "This should do the trick, sweetie." She winked at Billy.
Dom closed his eyes briefly, relieved by the doctor's encouraging words- though he knew he wouldn't fully allow himself to believe everything would be alright until the test results were back.
Billy relaxed visibly as the morphine began coursing through his system, the lines of pain on his face smoothing out. Dom started to move forward to the bedside again, wanting to hold him, touch him, make sure he was really there, but the nurse was blocking his path- fluffing Billy's pillow, fiddling with his pitcher of water, obviously taking her time. "Feeling better, are we?", she asked, grinning, flirting.
Billy always had this effect on women, and not a few men. It had never bothered Dom before this moment.
"Aye. Feck, yes.", Billy grinned back at her, flirting now himself. "Lovely drug, that."
She giggled and it went through Dom like shards of glass.
"I'm Marcie." She winked at Billy again. "You remember that, sweetie, and just buzz me if you need anything at all, okay? I'll be sure to come on the run."
"Ta, Marcie. I'll remember." Billy picked up the nurse's hand and kissed it giddily.
Dom felt a stab of jealousy course through him. No; jealousy wasn't even the right word- it was hurt, pure and simple. The flirting wasn't really what was bothering him; Billy was most likely stoned silly and it was too wonderful to hear him laugh to be anything but relieved at the sound. The thing was, Billy didn't even seem to remember Dom was in the room. Not very long ago, he would've clung to Dom the second he opened his eyes and would not have let go for anything- not for an invasion of Martians, let alone a giggling twit of a nurse- would have leaned his forehead against Dom's, pulled him close, giving and taking comfort in equal measures.
"Bills..." Dom detoured around Marcie, fighting the urge to simply hip-check her out of the way, and went to the other side of the bed, leaning down and kissing Billy softly on his brow. "Can I get you anything, love?" He brushed his fingers through Billy's hair, smiling gently.
Billy smiled back at Dom for one brief, glorious heartbeat, then dismissed him and turned his attention back to the nurse. "No...Marcie here's taking care of everything beautifully."
Dom stiffened and pulled away- he simply couldn't help it. Marcie hadn't been sitting here frozen for three-fourths of a day, going out off her mind with worry and guilt. Marcie wasn't quivering so badly on the inside that she felt as if she might pass out or vomit or both at any moment. Marcie hadn't stared unblinkingly at the rise and fall of her lover's chest for hours on end, unable to look away, fearing the last breath he took would be the last.
Dom had never felt so shut out, so discarded - so fucking invisible- in his life. He closed his eyes and fought to get himself under control. He was jumping at shadows, reading too much into things. He was half sick with exhaustion, his nerves on a hair-trigger. Billy was simply being his usual sweet, kind self, only showing his appreciation to the nurse. The rest was Dom's imagination.
If he could only get the bloody chance to apologize- he knew that would go a long way towards easing his mind. He needed to tell Billy he was sorry; not only for Billy's sake, but for his own sanity. What if the doctor was mistaken, what if something happened and this was the last chance Dom had to tell Billy how wrong he had been, how very deeply he loved him?
Marcie gave one final flirty wave and, to Dom's immense relief, left the room. He leaned back down over Billy, caressing his cheek with his fingertips, looking deeply into his eyes. “Baby, I need to tell you...”
The moment Dom opened his mouth, a technician strode in to whisk Billy off for his testing.
"Christ...can't you give us even a fucking minute?...", Dom snapped, his voice cracking.
"Got a schedule to keep, my man." He adjusted Billy's bed, then began to move it towards the door.
Dom followed alongside, but the tech shook his head and waved him off.
"Can't go down to X-ray with him, bro. Radiation threat."
Dom didn't give a shite if he got lit up like bloody Chernobyl- he didn't want to leave Billy's side, not for a single minute. Not ever again. He started to protest, but Billy patted his hand.
"'m fine, Dommie, honestly. I'm more worried about you...y' look like hell." But Billy's voice did not sound particularly worried- it sounded almost exasperated. "Go grab yourself a cup of tea, yeah?"
Dom's stomach rolled over alarmingly at the thought, and he had to fight off a sudden wave of vertigo. How could he possibly go do something as mundane as have a spot of tea while his Billy was lying there, injured and in pain, and quite possibly worse off than any of them knew? "I'll just be right here then, love, waiting for you.", he finally reluctantly relented, settling back into the chair.
Billy sighed heavily. "Please, Dom. Go take care of yourself, at least get some air. By th' time you get back, I'll be tucked back in bed. Quit worrying so."
Dom nodded, trying to tell himself that Billy’s last words had been an expression of concern and not the curt dismissal they had sounded like.
"We'll be a half hour, forty-five minutes.", the technician added as he wheeled Billy out the door. "You've got plenty of time to get somethin' to eat if you want. Cafeteria's on One."
Dom wanted nothing to do with tea, and he couldn't even think about food, but he was suddenly perilously close to breaking down and knew he had to get away from that room.
His thoughts were spinning as he made his way down the hallway. Billy had just been through a severe trauma, had been knocked on the head....of course he was going to be a bit cross and out of sorts. That was only to be expected on a day like this. But, oh... it wasn't just today, was it, if Dom were to be honest about it? He had heard that dismissive, irritated tone before, quite often over the last few months. He had heard it, then had pretended it right away.
Maybe he was good at fooling himself, after all.
tbc...
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This IS going to be OK, isn't it??????????
Look forward to the next chapter!