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monaboyd Dec. 11th, 2005 05:21 am)
cheekyluv28.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Dec. 11th, 2005 05:21 am)Title: Lost- 3/?
Author: Jen
Pairings: Monaboyd (eventually), Billy/ofc, liberal sprinkling of Losties throughout. (Possible other future pairings there, since I tend to slash anything that moves. *rolls eyes*)
Rating: R at the moment, but knowing me, we'll get up to NC17 before too long. ; )
Summary: Dom and Griffin sleep, Billy gives in for a wee moment, and Bridget and Jorge realize some hard truths.
Warnings: WIP, mentions of het, angst
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The author does not know, and is in no way affiliated with the persons mentioned in this work. No disrespect is intended to the persons mentioned in this work. No money is being made from this in any way.
A/N: Here we go with the angst again...I can't seem to steer myself away from it. *wanders off muttering about plans for a happy ending*
It's not like you to say sorry
I was waiting on a different story
This time I'm mistaken
for handing you a heart worth breaking
And I've been wrong, I've been down,
been to the bottom of every bottle
These five words in my head
scream "are we having fun yet?"
~Nickelback
How You Remind Me
Billy and Bridget were walking on the beach, hand in hand. She was still chattering happily about wedding plans, although she knew Billy had given up all pretense of listening a good fifteen minutes before. She kept right on talking because hearing the sweet words come from her own mouth let her hold onto her hopes just a wee bit longer, fool herself for just a few moments more.
She was weaving a gossamer, phantom dream, while Billy was staring longingly off into the moon-lit surf, dreaming dreams of his own. It wasn't at all hard to imagine whose face was filling his mind.
"I want t' go home, Bridget. Let's leave in th' morning." Billy's soft voice suddenly broke into her monologue.
Bridget had been expecting this- was, in fact, surprised he hadn't tried it before now. "You've not done what y' came t' do, darling.", she said gently, squeezing his hand.
"I've said m' goodbyes.", he replied curtly, not meeting her eyes.
Billy was going into stubborn-mode, and when he got like this, Bridget knew from experience, nothing would budge him but resolute firmness. If she had to put on a show of anger to dissuade him, she would.
God knew she'd gotten very good at putting on shows lately.
She whirled around to face him, her long red hair whipping in the wind. "You've done no such thing, Billy Boyd! You've ignored Dom, looked right through him...treated him like utter shite, truth be told. Y' may as well have come here a stranger to him!" She calmed a bit then, softening her voice, not able to stand the wounded look that had risen in Billy's eyes. "Distancing yourself from him may make it easier on you, but 'tis not fair to him. Breaking his heart won't make yours hurt any less, love."
"I don't know what t' say t' him, Bridget. Th' words just won't come."
Now he only sounded lost, and Bridget ached for him. She stopped walking, touching his face tenderly, forcing him to look at her. "You've never needed words with him before. Just be what you've always been around him. Just be yourself."
He met her eyes for a brief moment, on the brink of relenting, then the stubborness crept back in. "Dommie'll be fine...he's not a sodding child, I don't need t' coddle him!"
Her temper flared up again, but this time there was no need for pretending. She'd been on the receiving end of enough heartache in her life; she could not stand idly by and watch it being dished out on someone else. "What you've not noticed as you've been walking 'round with blinders on is that you're destroying him, Billy! You can't leave things like this, leave him like this. He's losing his best friend in th' world and he hasn't a bloodydamn clue why!"
'Even worse, he's losing the person he loves more than life itself.', she almost added, but bit her tongue. Billy would have to make the discovery that Dom loved him, yes...but he would have to make it on his own. He would never believe it if he didn't find out for himself; her telling him would not have the same effect. How he had remained so utterly blind to the fact that Dom was head over heels in love with him, she'd never know. All it took was one brief glance at Dom to see it...that clownishly sweet face held no secrets. Love guided every action Dom took around Billy. Yet Billy honestly didn't know. Likewise, she was positive that Dom hadn't the slightest clue that Billy loved him right back, just as deeply. The two of them had been walking around for six years, bumping into each other aimlessly, love signals going off like bottle rockets between them. And neither had ever noticed. If it wasn't so bloody tragic, it'd be perfectly hilarious. She'd known most blokes were a bit dense when it came to these matters, but these two took the prize.
Billy's voice cut into her musings, his tone no-nonsense and determined now, going on as if he'd heard not a word she'd said, rational thought crumbling before his well-honed art of self-delusion. "Aye- that's what we'll do, then...leave bright and early tomorrow morning! We'll fly back home, be married straight away, and settle into things right and proper." He was positively chipper now, linking his arm with hers, briskly walking her up along the beach.
Bridget didn't want to hurt him, but she also couldn't allow him to turn away from what must be done. She cared far too much for him for that. She tugged him to a stop, looked steadily at him, then fired the final weapon in her arsenal. "If y' leave here tomorrow, Billy, you'll be leaving alone. I'll not spend the rest of my life competing with a ghost. Y' have to put him to rest, if y' can." She paused a moment, then went on in a whisper. "And if y' can't, love...'tis something we both need t' find out, isn't it?"
She looked down at her engagement ring, diamond spitting fire in the moonlight, the sparks broken into prisms by her unshed tears.
Billy must find out, yes, but for her there was no need.
She already knew the answer.
***********************************************************************************************************
Jorge yawned widely, trying not to be too noisy about it.
He'd quietly gone about cleaning up the mess from his earlier tussle with the computer desk, then had simply settled cross-legged on the floor by the couch, watching Dom and thinking. He was still sitting in the same spot two hours later. Dom and the dog remained passed out on the sofa, cuddled cozily together.
Jorge had discovered two things over the course of the evening: Dom talked almost constantly in his sleep, and Griffin was prone to unbelievably rank dog-farts. The two might be dead to the world, but they were putting on a highly amusing show nonetheless. Every time the dog would lift his tail and vent, Dom would wrinkle his nose, swat lightly at him, and mutter things along the lines of "Christ, Bill! Put a sodding cork in it!" Griffin would wag once or twice in acknowledgement, snuggle up even closer to Dom, be still for a few moments, then lift his tail again, and the whole process would be repeated.
Jorge had kept on steadily drinking tequila throughout the evening, and between the alcohol and the overpowering gas fumes he'd nodded off several times, but had never let himself to go all the way under. He'd promised Dom he wouldn't leave him alone, and he wasn't about to go back on his word. He'd thought about relocating Dom to the bedroom, where he'd be more comfortable, but in the end hadn't wanted to take the risk of waking him. He looked so peaceful lying there, face relaxed in sleep. Besides, the relatively quiet domestic scene gave Jorge the opportunity to dream dreams he wouldn't allow himself under other circumstances. He knew his reveries would be shattered soon enough, but he might as well enjoy them while he could.
People said that dreaming was a dangerous game to play, but Jorge had learned long ago that dreams were pretty much harmless.
It was reality that truly hurt.
And a giant dose of that reality was getting ready to come through the front door that very moment.
Jorge heard Billy's muffled voice outside, then the sound of a key in the lock. He hurried to his feet, knowing that even if he felt like being friendly- which he didn't, much- he wasn't exactly in a presentable state for company.
His t-shirt and beach shorts were wrinkled and mussed from hours of wear, not to mention liberally spattered with wayward drops of tequila, and he'd been tugging at his hair , the way he often did when he was flustered or in deep thought, so his already-impressive mop had now grown large and bushy enough for a small family of squirrels to take up residence. So he did the only logical thing and made a run for it, dodging behind the kitchen entryway just as the front door was opened.
He hid and listened as Billy and Bridget exchanged a few whispered words, too low for him to decipher. But, after a minute, curiosity got the better of him, and he peeked back out, wanting to catch a glimpse of the colorblind, relationship-killing girlfriend. All he caught of her was a flash of mis-matched color as she set off down the hallway, but what he did see was Billy, standing seemingly frozen in place in the center of the living room. Billy was looking at a still-sleeping Dom with a strange expression; an odd mix of anger and gentleness. He would advance a couple of steps forward towards Dom, then hesitate, and freeze again. This bizarre show went on until Billy, in a series of jerky fits and starts, finally managed to make his way over to the side of the couch. Once there, all his resistance seemed to crumble; his face lost every trace of anger, tenderness and love taking its place. He reached out and softly traced Dom's features with a finger. Dom muttered something in his sleep, and Billy smiled, his eyes lighting up. Then he bent and brushed his lips against Dom's, just a ghost of a kiss, too light to cause Dom to awaken. The brief touch of lips seemed to snap Billy out of his happy trance, though, because he stood back upright quickly and hurried from the room, the detached hardness seeping back into his eyes as he went.
Jorge remained in the entryway to the kitchen, breath stolen from him as he discovered that dreams could hurt, after all.
Across the room, standing in the hallway, Bridget was also watching the scene in the living room with a heavy heart. Though it was what she had expected, even partly hoped for, Billy was gazing down at Dom with such tenderness and love that she finally had to look away.
Her eye happened upon the kitchen doorway, and she saw a man half-hidden there in the shadows, also watching. He was not someone she was expecting to see, but someone she recognized easily all the same.
But instead of the sweet, jolly, carefree smile she was used to, he seemed sad and lost, his face wearing an expression Bridget all-too-easily recognized. It was the very same look she saw staring back at her every time she glanced in a mirror.
She closed her eyes in sadness as she realized there was one more broken heart to add to the list.
**********************************************************************************************************************************************
Bridget made her way down the dark hall, leaving her fiance to his dreams.
Even after what she had witnessed in the living room earlier, even after the last of her self-delusion had been dynamited away, she'd taken Billy to bed and had let him take her. After a little while he'd drifted off to sleep and had cuddled up to her, softly calling her by another name... just as he did every night. She'd grown so accepting of it, that if someone were to holler out 'Dominic!' in a crowd, she'd most likely answer without thinking twice. That undeniable fact was many things; ludicrous and darkly humorous, to be sure, but most of all, pathetic. She was so desperate to be loved that she'd given up her very sense of self, quite willingly.
And the truly pathetic thing was, that if she had it all to do over again, she'd feared she'd do nothing differently. What did a name matter when there were a pair of strong, warm arms holding you tight, keeping the loneliness at bay?
But, it did matter, made all the difference in the world. And Bridget was finally finding the strength to go on the search for herself again.
"Hello, Jorge."
She'd buttonhooked into the kitchen and had seen him sitting there at the table, morosely swigging from a bottle of tequila. His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes were in a deplorably wrinkly state, and his massive bush of hair looked like it had last been brushed sometime around 1983. But in spite of all that, just as happened everytime she saw him on the telly, she had an almost irresistable urge to reach out and snuggle him. She bit back a grin as he looked up at her, startled.
"Wha...you know me?", he asked blearily, voice slurred a bit with drink.
"Aye. Hurley's m' absolute favorite on the show.", she answered, smiling.
"I s'pose you wanna hug me.", he said glumly.
"The thought had crossed m' mind.", Bridget answered, amused.
"Everyone always wants to hug me.", he sighed wearily, taking another drink. Then he seemed to remember his manners and gestured vaguely towards the table. "Have a seat."
"Everyone wants to hug you because you're a huggable sort of bloke.", Bridget smiled, settling into the chair across from him. "Now then, what are you doing out here in Dominic's kitchen at half past two in th' morning, demolishing a bottle of Cuervo Gold?", she asked, then reconsidered. "Never mind...most likely the same thing I'm doing. May I have a swig, by th' way?"
Jorge looked back up, surprised, then handed over the bottle and started to rise from the table, weaving a bit. "Hang on...I'll round up a glass for ya, some ice...salt or somethin'..."
She waved him back down. "Not necessary, thanks. This'll do as is." She raised the bottle in a toast, then put it to her lips, guzzling down a fair amount, setting it back between them on the tabletop without a trace of a grimace.
"Impressive." For the first time since she'd come in the kitchen, Jorge cracked a smile. "You're...Bridget, right?", he asked, fumbling a moment before her name came to him. Then his grin got a little wider and he blurted, "Was your dress Dom had on when I got here."
She cocked an eyebrow, but her voice was even when she replied. "Is that why m' clothing was all askew, then? Was wondering about that." She paused a moment, then asked brightly, "Y' wouldn't happen to know what he did with m' red velvet heels, would you? They seem to've gone missing. Did he take a fancy t' them and hide them away?"
Jorge snorted laughter. "Nope...I think they're still out in the backyard."
Bridget laughed along with him, taking another drink. "Did he put on a fashion show for the neighbors? If so, I'm truly sorry I missed it."
"Naw...uh..."Jorge stuttered, realizing he'd already said far too much. "The, um...dog took off with those." That wasn't exactly a lie, just a minor skirting of the truth.
"Ah, I see.", she replied, not believing it for one moment, but willing to let it go in good grace. If Billy could have a secret fancy for wearing her silk undergarments, Dom could hardly be faulted for having a slight high-heel fetish. Must be some strange ritual they picked up in New Zealand, she mused to herself. Out loud, she said softly, without at all intending to, "Hurts, doesn't it, Jorge?"
He blinked at her, confused by the change in subject. "Huh?"
She knew she should drop it, but the tequila had loosened her tongue, and she felt a strange kinship with Jorge, though she'd only known him a few minutes. "To love and not be loved in return.", she answered gently, watching the surprise then instinctual denial rise in his eyes.
"Don't know what you mean...", he mumbled at the tabletop, then took another quick drink, avoiding looking at her.
"Don't try to lie, love.", she said kindly. "It's written all over your face." Jorge started in alarm, and she quickly clarified. "Don't worry, Dom hasn't a clue. Men never do.", she added with a sigh.
Jorge finally met her eyes, then began to speak, shocked at the words coming out of his own drunken mouth, but making no effort to stop them. "I put him to bed, earlier, ya know. Carried him in there, 'cause he was still passed out. Got him all tucked in, went to leave, then found myself laying down beside him instead. Just, ya know...watching him. Just... Shit..." Jorge broke off a moment, took another large drink, then went on. "I nodded off for awhile, then the next thing I know, he's burrowing up against me, puttin' his arms around me, sighing all happy-like and calling me 'Billy'." Jorge laughed a little, without any humor. "Dude musta been really messed up, if he mistook me for Billy.", he grinned wryly, then sobered, voice soft. "The totally fucked-up thing about it all is that I didn't even try to move away, ya know. I just let him keep right on holdin' me, 'cause I wanted to know what it was like, just once." Jorge stopped and looked down again, ashamed at his admission.
Bridget smiled sadly and reached out to touch his hand. "No more fucked-up than my letting Billy make love t' me and pretending not t' notice when he calls out Dom's name at th' end."
"But...you're marrying Billy, right?", Jorge blurted, confused as hell.
"I won't be marrying him. I've known it since long before he even asked me. There'll only ever be room enough for one in Billy's heart. Yet here I sit, wearing his ring.", she said softly, holding up her hand to show Jorge the diamond on her finger. "You and I both saw them together, earlier...yet here we both sit. Because we're helpless t' do anything else."
Jorge thought about it a moment, nodded, then raised the bottle to her in a toast. "Here's to the Two A.M. Loser's Club! Long may we sit...or something.", he laughed a little, then shook his bushy head.
"Aye...to th' Losers!" Bridget gave him a genuine smile, then took her own hearty drink.
"Wait...does Billy know that Dom's been in love with him, like....forever?", Jorge piped up after a moment of silence.
"No. He hasn't an inkling, amazingly enough.", she answered with a wee touch of humor. "Does Dom know that Billy's loved him just as long?"
"Shit, no- he's tearin' himself up over it.", Jorge replied. "Okay...something's a little bit wonky here. They're nuts over each other, yet neither one knows it." He raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I know why Dom hasn't said anything....he's too scared of losing Billy's friendship, what they have together. Is it the same with Billy?"
Bridget shook her head, her voice soft and sad. "He's not afraid of losing Dominic. He's afraid of dying on him."
tbc...
Author: Jen
Pairings: Monaboyd (eventually), Billy/ofc, liberal sprinkling of Losties throughout. (Possible other future pairings there, since I tend to slash anything that moves. *rolls eyes*)
Rating: R at the moment, but knowing me, we'll get up to NC17 before too long. ; )
Summary: Dom and Griffin sleep, Billy gives in for a wee moment, and Bridget and Jorge realize some hard truths.
Warnings: WIP, mentions of het, angst
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The author does not know, and is in no way affiliated with the persons mentioned in this work. No disrespect is intended to the persons mentioned in this work. No money is being made from this in any way.
A/N: Here we go with the angst again...I can't seem to steer myself away from it. *wanders off muttering about plans for a happy ending*
It's not like you to say sorry
I was waiting on a different story
This time I'm mistaken
for handing you a heart worth breaking
And I've been wrong, I've been down,
been to the bottom of every bottle
These five words in my head
scream "are we having fun yet?"
~Nickelback
How You Remind Me
Billy and Bridget were walking on the beach, hand in hand. She was still chattering happily about wedding plans, although she knew Billy had given up all pretense of listening a good fifteen minutes before. She kept right on talking because hearing the sweet words come from her own mouth let her hold onto her hopes just a wee bit longer, fool herself for just a few moments more.
She was weaving a gossamer, phantom dream, while Billy was staring longingly off into the moon-lit surf, dreaming dreams of his own. It wasn't at all hard to imagine whose face was filling his mind.
"I want t' go home, Bridget. Let's leave in th' morning." Billy's soft voice suddenly broke into her monologue.
Bridget had been expecting this- was, in fact, surprised he hadn't tried it before now. "You've not done what y' came t' do, darling.", she said gently, squeezing his hand.
"I've said m' goodbyes.", he replied curtly, not meeting her eyes.
Billy was going into stubborn-mode, and when he got like this, Bridget knew from experience, nothing would budge him but resolute firmness. If she had to put on a show of anger to dissuade him, she would.
God knew she'd gotten very good at putting on shows lately.
She whirled around to face him, her long red hair whipping in the wind. "You've done no such thing, Billy Boyd! You've ignored Dom, looked right through him...treated him like utter shite, truth be told. Y' may as well have come here a stranger to him!" She calmed a bit then, softening her voice, not able to stand the wounded look that had risen in Billy's eyes. "Distancing yourself from him may make it easier on you, but 'tis not fair to him. Breaking his heart won't make yours hurt any less, love."
"I don't know what t' say t' him, Bridget. Th' words just won't come."
Now he only sounded lost, and Bridget ached for him. She stopped walking, touching his face tenderly, forcing him to look at her. "You've never needed words with him before. Just be what you've always been around him. Just be yourself."
He met her eyes for a brief moment, on the brink of relenting, then the stubborness crept back in. "Dommie'll be fine...he's not a sodding child, I don't need t' coddle him!"
Her temper flared up again, but this time there was no need for pretending. She'd been on the receiving end of enough heartache in her life; she could not stand idly by and watch it being dished out on someone else. "What you've not noticed as you've been walking 'round with blinders on is that you're destroying him, Billy! You can't leave things like this, leave him like this. He's losing his best friend in th' world and he hasn't a bloodydamn clue why!"
'Even worse, he's losing the person he loves more than life itself.', she almost added, but bit her tongue. Billy would have to make the discovery that Dom loved him, yes...but he would have to make it on his own. He would never believe it if he didn't find out for himself; her telling him would not have the same effect. How he had remained so utterly blind to the fact that Dom was head over heels in love with him, she'd never know. All it took was one brief glance at Dom to see it...that clownishly sweet face held no secrets. Love guided every action Dom took around Billy. Yet Billy honestly didn't know. Likewise, she was positive that Dom hadn't the slightest clue that Billy loved him right back, just as deeply. The two of them had been walking around for six years, bumping into each other aimlessly, love signals going off like bottle rockets between them. And neither had ever noticed. If it wasn't so bloody tragic, it'd be perfectly hilarious. She'd known most blokes were a bit dense when it came to these matters, but these two took the prize.
Billy's voice cut into her musings, his tone no-nonsense and determined now, going on as if he'd heard not a word she'd said, rational thought crumbling before his well-honed art of self-delusion. "Aye- that's what we'll do, then...leave bright and early tomorrow morning! We'll fly back home, be married straight away, and settle into things right and proper." He was positively chipper now, linking his arm with hers, briskly walking her up along the beach.
Bridget didn't want to hurt him, but she also couldn't allow him to turn away from what must be done. She cared far too much for him for that. She tugged him to a stop, looked steadily at him, then fired the final weapon in her arsenal. "If y' leave here tomorrow, Billy, you'll be leaving alone. I'll not spend the rest of my life competing with a ghost. Y' have to put him to rest, if y' can." She paused a moment, then went on in a whisper. "And if y' can't, love...'tis something we both need t' find out, isn't it?"
She looked down at her engagement ring, diamond spitting fire in the moonlight, the sparks broken into prisms by her unshed tears.
Billy must find out, yes, but for her there was no need.
She already knew the answer.
***********************************************************************************************************
Jorge yawned widely, trying not to be too noisy about it.
He'd quietly gone about cleaning up the mess from his earlier tussle with the computer desk, then had simply settled cross-legged on the floor by the couch, watching Dom and thinking. He was still sitting in the same spot two hours later. Dom and the dog remained passed out on the sofa, cuddled cozily together.
Jorge had discovered two things over the course of the evening: Dom talked almost constantly in his sleep, and Griffin was prone to unbelievably rank dog-farts. The two might be dead to the world, but they were putting on a highly amusing show nonetheless. Every time the dog would lift his tail and vent, Dom would wrinkle his nose, swat lightly at him, and mutter things along the lines of "Christ, Bill! Put a sodding cork in it!" Griffin would wag once or twice in acknowledgement, snuggle up even closer to Dom, be still for a few moments, then lift his tail again, and the whole process would be repeated.
Jorge had kept on steadily drinking tequila throughout the evening, and between the alcohol and the overpowering gas fumes he'd nodded off several times, but had never let himself to go all the way under. He'd promised Dom he wouldn't leave him alone, and he wasn't about to go back on his word. He'd thought about relocating Dom to the bedroom, where he'd be more comfortable, but in the end hadn't wanted to take the risk of waking him. He looked so peaceful lying there, face relaxed in sleep. Besides, the relatively quiet domestic scene gave Jorge the opportunity to dream dreams he wouldn't allow himself under other circumstances. He knew his reveries would be shattered soon enough, but he might as well enjoy them while he could.
People said that dreaming was a dangerous game to play, but Jorge had learned long ago that dreams were pretty much harmless.
It was reality that truly hurt.
And a giant dose of that reality was getting ready to come through the front door that very moment.
Jorge heard Billy's muffled voice outside, then the sound of a key in the lock. He hurried to his feet, knowing that even if he felt like being friendly- which he didn't, much- he wasn't exactly in a presentable state for company.
His t-shirt and beach shorts were wrinkled and mussed from hours of wear, not to mention liberally spattered with wayward drops of tequila, and he'd been tugging at his hair , the way he often did when he was flustered or in deep thought, so his already-impressive mop had now grown large and bushy enough for a small family of squirrels to take up residence. So he did the only logical thing and made a run for it, dodging behind the kitchen entryway just as the front door was opened.
He hid and listened as Billy and Bridget exchanged a few whispered words, too low for him to decipher. But, after a minute, curiosity got the better of him, and he peeked back out, wanting to catch a glimpse of the colorblind, relationship-killing girlfriend. All he caught of her was a flash of mis-matched color as she set off down the hallway, but what he did see was Billy, standing seemingly frozen in place in the center of the living room. Billy was looking at a still-sleeping Dom with a strange expression; an odd mix of anger and gentleness. He would advance a couple of steps forward towards Dom, then hesitate, and freeze again. This bizarre show went on until Billy, in a series of jerky fits and starts, finally managed to make his way over to the side of the couch. Once there, all his resistance seemed to crumble; his face lost every trace of anger, tenderness and love taking its place. He reached out and softly traced Dom's features with a finger. Dom muttered something in his sleep, and Billy smiled, his eyes lighting up. Then he bent and brushed his lips against Dom's, just a ghost of a kiss, too light to cause Dom to awaken. The brief touch of lips seemed to snap Billy out of his happy trance, though, because he stood back upright quickly and hurried from the room, the detached hardness seeping back into his eyes as he went.
Jorge remained in the entryway to the kitchen, breath stolen from him as he discovered that dreams could hurt, after all.
Across the room, standing in the hallway, Bridget was also watching the scene in the living room with a heavy heart. Though it was what she had expected, even partly hoped for, Billy was gazing down at Dom with such tenderness and love that she finally had to look away.
Her eye happened upon the kitchen doorway, and she saw a man half-hidden there in the shadows, also watching. He was not someone she was expecting to see, but someone she recognized easily all the same.
But instead of the sweet, jolly, carefree smile she was used to, he seemed sad and lost, his face wearing an expression Bridget all-too-easily recognized. It was the very same look she saw staring back at her every time she glanced in a mirror.
She closed her eyes in sadness as she realized there was one more broken heart to add to the list.
**********************************************************************************************************************************************
Bridget made her way down the dark hall, leaving her fiance to his dreams.
Even after what she had witnessed in the living room earlier, even after the last of her self-delusion had been dynamited away, she'd taken Billy to bed and had let him take her. After a little while he'd drifted off to sleep and had cuddled up to her, softly calling her by another name... just as he did every night. She'd grown so accepting of it, that if someone were to holler out 'Dominic!' in a crowd, she'd most likely answer without thinking twice. That undeniable fact was many things; ludicrous and darkly humorous, to be sure, but most of all, pathetic. She was so desperate to be loved that she'd given up her very sense of self, quite willingly.
And the truly pathetic thing was, that if she had it all to do over again, she'd feared she'd do nothing differently. What did a name matter when there were a pair of strong, warm arms holding you tight, keeping the loneliness at bay?
But, it did matter, made all the difference in the world. And Bridget was finally finding the strength to go on the search for herself again.
"Hello, Jorge."
She'd buttonhooked into the kitchen and had seen him sitting there at the table, morosely swigging from a bottle of tequila. His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes were in a deplorably wrinkly state, and his massive bush of hair looked like it had last been brushed sometime around 1983. But in spite of all that, just as happened everytime she saw him on the telly, she had an almost irresistable urge to reach out and snuggle him. She bit back a grin as he looked up at her, startled.
"Wha...you know me?", he asked blearily, voice slurred a bit with drink.
"Aye. Hurley's m' absolute favorite on the show.", she answered, smiling.
"I s'pose you wanna hug me.", he said glumly.
"The thought had crossed m' mind.", Bridget answered, amused.
"Everyone always wants to hug me.", he sighed wearily, taking another drink. Then he seemed to remember his manners and gestured vaguely towards the table. "Have a seat."
"Everyone wants to hug you because you're a huggable sort of bloke.", Bridget smiled, settling into the chair across from him. "Now then, what are you doing out here in Dominic's kitchen at half past two in th' morning, demolishing a bottle of Cuervo Gold?", she asked, then reconsidered. "Never mind...most likely the same thing I'm doing. May I have a swig, by th' way?"
Jorge looked back up, surprised, then handed over the bottle and started to rise from the table, weaving a bit. "Hang on...I'll round up a glass for ya, some ice...salt or somethin'..."
She waved him back down. "Not necessary, thanks. This'll do as is." She raised the bottle in a toast, then put it to her lips, guzzling down a fair amount, setting it back between them on the tabletop without a trace of a grimace.
"Impressive." For the first time since she'd come in the kitchen, Jorge cracked a smile. "You're...Bridget, right?", he asked, fumbling a moment before her name came to him. Then his grin got a little wider and he blurted, "Was your dress Dom had on when I got here."
She cocked an eyebrow, but her voice was even when she replied. "Is that why m' clothing was all askew, then? Was wondering about that." She paused a moment, then asked brightly, "Y' wouldn't happen to know what he did with m' red velvet heels, would you? They seem to've gone missing. Did he take a fancy t' them and hide them away?"
Jorge snorted laughter. "Nope...I think they're still out in the backyard."
Bridget laughed along with him, taking another drink. "Did he put on a fashion show for the neighbors? If so, I'm truly sorry I missed it."
"Naw...uh..."Jorge stuttered, realizing he'd already said far too much. "The, um...dog took off with those." That wasn't exactly a lie, just a minor skirting of the truth.
"Ah, I see.", she replied, not believing it for one moment, but willing to let it go in good grace. If Billy could have a secret fancy for wearing her silk undergarments, Dom could hardly be faulted for having a slight high-heel fetish. Must be some strange ritual they picked up in New Zealand, she mused to herself. Out loud, she said softly, without at all intending to, "Hurts, doesn't it, Jorge?"
He blinked at her, confused by the change in subject. "Huh?"
She knew she should drop it, but the tequila had loosened her tongue, and she felt a strange kinship with Jorge, though she'd only known him a few minutes. "To love and not be loved in return.", she answered gently, watching the surprise then instinctual denial rise in his eyes.
"Don't know what you mean...", he mumbled at the tabletop, then took another quick drink, avoiding looking at her.
"Don't try to lie, love.", she said kindly. "It's written all over your face." Jorge started in alarm, and she quickly clarified. "Don't worry, Dom hasn't a clue. Men never do.", she added with a sigh.
Jorge finally met her eyes, then began to speak, shocked at the words coming out of his own drunken mouth, but making no effort to stop them. "I put him to bed, earlier, ya know. Carried him in there, 'cause he was still passed out. Got him all tucked in, went to leave, then found myself laying down beside him instead. Just, ya know...watching him. Just... Shit..." Jorge broke off a moment, took another large drink, then went on. "I nodded off for awhile, then the next thing I know, he's burrowing up against me, puttin' his arms around me, sighing all happy-like and calling me 'Billy'." Jorge laughed a little, without any humor. "Dude musta been really messed up, if he mistook me for Billy.", he grinned wryly, then sobered, voice soft. "The totally fucked-up thing about it all is that I didn't even try to move away, ya know. I just let him keep right on holdin' me, 'cause I wanted to know what it was like, just once." Jorge stopped and looked down again, ashamed at his admission.
Bridget smiled sadly and reached out to touch his hand. "No more fucked-up than my letting Billy make love t' me and pretending not t' notice when he calls out Dom's name at th' end."
"But...you're marrying Billy, right?", Jorge blurted, confused as hell.
"I won't be marrying him. I've known it since long before he even asked me. There'll only ever be room enough for one in Billy's heart. Yet here I sit, wearing his ring.", she said softly, holding up her hand to show Jorge the diamond on her finger. "You and I both saw them together, earlier...yet here we both sit. Because we're helpless t' do anything else."
Jorge thought about it a moment, nodded, then raised the bottle to her in a toast. "Here's to the Two A.M. Loser's Club! Long may we sit...or something.", he laughed a little, then shook his bushy head.
"Aye...to th' Losers!" Bridget gave him a genuine smile, then took her own hearty drink.
"Wait...does Billy know that Dom's been in love with him, like....forever?", Jorge piped up after a moment of silence.
"No. He hasn't an inkling, amazingly enough.", she answered with a wee touch of humor. "Does Dom know that Billy's loved him just as long?"
"Shit, no- he's tearin' himself up over it.", Jorge replied. "Okay...something's a little bit wonky here. They're nuts over each other, yet neither one knows it." He raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I know why Dom hasn't said anything....he's too scared of losing Billy's friendship, what they have together. Is it the same with Billy?"
Bridget shook her head, her voice soft and sad. "He's not afraid of losing Dominic. He's afraid of dying on him."
tbc...
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I think I feel really sorry for Bridget and Jorge.
But Billy & Dom... awww. *__*
And that sentence took my breath aways... so sad and lovely and...everything. );
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From: (Anonymous)
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This was lovely... the farting dog (*snort!* of course, if it's Billy's)... the lovesick Jorge with his squirrel's nest of hair... damn stubborn Billy (oh, no... is that what the "saying goodbye" was really all about?)... and thank heaven Bridget knows what's coming, as does Jorge - you made their feelings and actions very believable. And the sweet scene with Billy and Dom as Dom sleeps...
Some particularly good bits:
"All it took was one brief glance at Dom to see it...that clownishly sweet face held no secrets. Love guided every action Dom took around Billy."
The whole bit with Dom and the dog... *L*!
"It was reality that truly hurt.
And a giant dose of that reality was getting ready to come through the front door that very moment."
"What did a name matter when there were a pair of strong, warm arms holding you tight, keeping the loneliness at bay?"
*sigh* Beautiful.
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WHAT???? *sputters and whimpers* Noooooooooooooooooooo!!!! I mean... I mean... unless maybe it's because he's older? Or... because he thinks he's fated to die young like his parents?!?! *pouts*
It's because of those things, yes, but mainly because of the heart trouble he had a few months prior- I think it scared the bejeesus out of him. : ( And yes, that's why he's 'saying goodbye', in a sense. The man needs to have some sense knocked into him- hopefully, I'll get around to it sooner or later. Lol
Thank you tons, again, for these comments, and for your earlier feedback. It's much appreciated. : )
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The last line killed me. But I'm such a sucker for the angst.
I agree with some others above that the emotions are believable. And the scenes with the dog are spot-on.
Fantastic job. I can't wait for more.
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I'm finding myself to be somewhat of a sucker for the angst lately, too, which is kinda odd since I never used to like it much. Lol But, alas, I'm hoping to have another chapter up soon...undoubtedly filled with more angst. *grins*
Thanks again, for reading. So glad you enjoyed. : )
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