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fellowshippers2004-03-31 07:55 pm
perfect-oasis.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-03-31 07:55 pm
One, Part 4/5
Title: One, Part 4/5
Author: The Phantom Writer![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
silentnumbsmoke
Pairing: BB/DM
Pairing: PG-13
Feedback: I would love to receive feedback. *puppy dog eyes* Please?
Disclaimer: This isn't real. Nope, not so much.
Notes: Okers... I'm posting this part tonight, then... I might have Part V up tomorrow (depends on my beta --red_moon_rising -- and if I have tons of things to edit in Part V or not... But, if it's not posted tomorrow, then I, unfortunately, won't have it up until... Sunday night or Monday. I'm going down to Ashland for the weekend with my French teacher and some other students... Ashland is a big theatre town, so we'll be seeing three productions and... yesh. It shall be fun. Though, I kinda wish I weren't going... not right after getting back from England. I'm just so damn knackered!
Thankred_moon_rising for making me write a fifth part. Originally, the story ended after this part. But Cai convinced me to write more. *nods* Smart beta.
All right, you should read the other parts first (1, 2 and 3).
It’s been one year since Dominic was taken from me. One year. 365 days. 8,760 hours. 525,600 minutes. One year, and the case of missing person: Dominic Monaghan, is idle. The dust is gathering on the lampshades and on the random bits of paper and pens Dom left behind, just like it's blanketing the case file at the police station. Even I am hesitant to sweep around with a feather duster, for fear that I’ll learn that there truly is no hope. I talk to the police chief once a month, and each time the expectancy in my voice grows a little dimmer, and I’m sure the chief loathes my monthly calls as much as I dread the repetitive answers he give me. Today I called, and he told me there were many new, recent missing persons reports, and that, "frankly, we have to funnel our limited resources into solving the cases we actually have evidence for, the ones that are most likely to be solved."
I hung up on him, but only after letting out a curse that would’ve turned Nan’s ears a bright red.
I’ve been sitting here, holding the phone in my hand for an hour now, and I’m at a loss. Everyone else has given up. I suppose that, unless a body (I gulp – please don’t let there be reason for a body!) is found, I will never give up on Dom’s return. He will be back, I’m… I’m sure of it. Aren’t I?
Closing my eyes in pain, I set down the phone. I know what I need to do; what the first step is.
I open my eyes and stand, walking over to our (my) answering machine. I stare down at it for a solid minute before pressing a few buttons. Instantly, my voice floats through the air.
“Hello! This is the Boyd residence –”
“Nuh-uh! The Monaghan residence!”
“It’s my house, Dom.”
“I live here as well!”
“But the fact that it’s my house still lies.”
“But…” His voice takes on a slightly whiny tone. “Can’t you change the name? For me?”
“What, pray tell, do you want me to change my surname to, Dominic?”
Hushed whispers, then I hear myself sigh. “Fine, Dommie… Have it your way. Off you go, now.”
“Can’t I stay for the rest of the message-recording?”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“You distract me. Besides, no one’ll ever want to leave a message if they hear what kind of cuckoos live here, now will they?”
“…”
“Fine. Just… No peeps.”
“Peep.”
A groan. “Anyway… This is the…” A grumble. “Ow! No poking, Dom!”
“Say it!”
“Fine! This is the Monaboyd residence. Neither Dom nor I are here right now, so please leave a message, and we’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
“Unless we’re shagging.”
“DOM!!!”
That’s the end. Letting out a shaky breath, I press another button, and I hear a female, recorded voice. “Message deleted.”
A tear makes its way down my cheek, finally falling onto the shaky hand that’s reaching out to press another button. “Hi,” I speak, no humor in my voice this time. “You’ve reached the home of…” I gulp and close my eyes. “Of Billy Boyd. I’m not home right now. Please leave your name and number, and I’ll try to get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks.”
Author: The Phantom Writer
silentnumbsmoke Pairing: BB/DM
Pairing: PG-13
Feedback: I would love to receive feedback. *puppy dog eyes* Please?
Disclaimer: This isn't real. Nope, not so much.
Notes: Okers... I'm posting this part tonight, then... I might have Part V up tomorrow (depends on my beta --
red_moon_rising -- and if I have tons of things to edit in Part V or not... But, if it's not posted tomorrow, then I, unfortunately, won't have it up until... Sunday night or Monday. I'm going down to Ashland for the weekend with my French teacher and some other students... Ashland is a big theatre town, so we'll be seeing three productions and... yesh. It shall be fun. Though, I kinda wish I weren't going... not right after getting back from England. I'm just so damn knackered!Thank
red_moon_rising for making me write a fifth part. Originally, the story ended after this part. But Cai convinced me to write more. *nods* Smart beta. All right, you should read the other parts first (1, 2 and 3).
It’s been one year since Dominic was taken from me. One year. 365 days. 8,760 hours. 525,600 minutes. One year, and the case of missing person: Dominic Monaghan, is idle. The dust is gathering on the lampshades and on the random bits of paper and pens Dom left behind, just like it's blanketing the case file at the police station. Even I am hesitant to sweep around with a feather duster, for fear that I’ll learn that there truly is no hope. I talk to the police chief once a month, and each time the expectancy in my voice grows a little dimmer, and I’m sure the chief loathes my monthly calls as much as I dread the repetitive answers he give me. Today I called, and he told me there were many new, recent missing persons reports, and that, "frankly, we have to funnel our limited resources into solving the cases we actually have evidence for, the ones that are most likely to be solved."
I hung up on him, but only after letting out a curse that would’ve turned Nan’s ears a bright red.
I’ve been sitting here, holding the phone in my hand for an hour now, and I’m at a loss. Everyone else has given up. I suppose that, unless a body (I gulp – please don’t let there be reason for a body!) is found, I will never give up on Dom’s return. He will be back, I’m… I’m sure of it. Aren’t I?
Closing my eyes in pain, I set down the phone. I know what I need to do; what the first step is.
I open my eyes and stand, walking over to our (my) answering machine. I stare down at it for a solid minute before pressing a few buttons. Instantly, my voice floats through the air.
“Hello! This is the Boyd residence –”
“Nuh-uh! The Monaghan residence!”
“It’s my house, Dom.”
“I live here as well!”
“But the fact that it’s my house still lies.”
“But…” His voice takes on a slightly whiny tone. “Can’t you change the name? For me?”
“What, pray tell, do you want me to change my surname to, Dominic?”
Hushed whispers, then I hear myself sigh. “Fine, Dommie… Have it your way. Off you go, now.”
“Can’t I stay for the rest of the message-recording?”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“You distract me. Besides, no one’ll ever want to leave a message if they hear what kind of cuckoos live here, now will they?”
“…”
“Fine. Just… No peeps.”
“Peep.”
A groan. “Anyway… This is the…” A grumble. “Ow! No poking, Dom!”
“Say it!”
“Fine! This is the Monaboyd residence. Neither Dom nor I are here right now, so please leave a message, and we’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
“Unless we’re shagging.”
“DOM!!!”
That’s the end. Letting out a shaky breath, I press another button, and I hear a female, recorded voice. “Message deleted.”
A tear makes its way down my cheek, finally falling onto the shaky hand that’s reaching out to press another button. “Hi,” I speak, no humor in my voice this time. “You’ve reached the home of…” I gulp and close my eyes. “Of Billy Boyd. I’m not home right now. Please leave your name and number, and I’ll try to get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks.”