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monaboyd Dec. 22nd, 2005 06:57 pm)
light-the-sky76.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Dec. 22nd, 2005 06:57 pm)Title: Three Ghosts 4/5
Author: light_the_sky76
Pairing: Monaboyd
Rating: R for language
Summary: Billy looks ahead.
Disclaimer: Made up. A storystolen based on another story.
A/N: Betaed by indigo_blind. Thank you :)
Chapter one is here here
Chapter two is here
Chapter three is here
"Okay," he yelled, brushing sand out from between his toes, "where are you?"
Silence.
"I know you are here somewhere."
Silence.
Billy started to feel foolish for shouting at an empty room but then the clock chimed.
Bong. Bong.
"Aha!" He jabbed a finger accusingly at the centre of the room. "Now you're going to appear and drag me around showing me things that depress the crap out of me and show me what an arsehole I am, come on!" Billy Boyd was not one to sit back calmly and accept what ever arse-kickings fate handed out. He was going to put up a fight. Yes siree Bob! No more Mister Nice-Hauntee.
Silence.
"Or then again," Billy shrugged and looked around the room, listening hard, "maybe not."
He gratefully climbed back into bed. Maybe it was over. Maybe, with a bit of effort, he could forget all about the night's moonlit visits when the sun came up.
"You must learn some patience dear boy."
Of course. Billy considered moaning but couldn't muster the energy.
"I should have known it would be you."
Sir Ian stood beside the bed dressed smartly in a grey suit and tie; silver cufflinks caught the light and flashed. His hair was slicked back and he stood straight and tall - almost to attention. Clearly this was someone who was not to be ignored.
"What, no tutu?" Just because he couldn't ignore Ian, didn't mean that directing sarcasm towards him was out of the question.
"Not while I'm working."
"Don we now our gay apparel," Billy muttered. Resigned, he stood. He stepped in front of Ian and drew himself up to his full height. "So you're the Ghost of Christmas Future."
"The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come, if one goes by the original text, which I do. Dickens' words are not to be trifled with, wouldn't you say?"
"Indubitably."
Ian eyed him critically, "Quite. Are you ready, it's time we were off?"
"Ready?" There was no ready. But the sooner his little journey started, the sooner it finished and then maybe Billy could get some sleep. "Why not?"
"Marvellous; shall we?" Ian clicked his fingers.
"I've been here," they were in Sean and Christine's living room, "I was just here with Orlando."
Ian looked down and Billy and slowly shook his head. Billy decided he must use the same expression when he explained things to six year olds. "No Billy, you were here with Orlando in the present, this is the future, you may have been here, but you haven't been here now."
"Pardon?"
"Try not to dwell on it, you'll only upset yourself."
Billy walked slowly around looking for the reason for their visit. The room itself was identical. Same tree, same carols, same smells. But where before the atmosphere had been comfortable it was now sombre. Billy felt cold despite the warm air.
"Where is everyone? Nothing has happened to Sean, Christine or one of the girls has it?" That would explain the sadness that hung heavily in the air.
"No, Sean and his girls are upstairs building Elizabeth's doll house, and Christine is through here, following me."
Ian led the way though the kitchen and Billy followed, confused and nervous.
They left the house through the back door and went into the garden. Billy could smell the familiar scents of LA, humid air, traffic fumes, and there was another familiar smell in the air: clove cigarettes. Elijah was leaning against the doorway of the garage staring into its gloomy depths, a cigarette in his fingers burning out untouched. His shoulders were slouched and he looked thin and pale.
"Has something happened to Elijah?"
"Patience Billy, watch and learn."
The door creaked and Christine stepped out beside them.
"Elijah," she called, "you should come in now. It's not good for you to stay out here."
When Elijah didn't respond Christine stood behind him and wrapped her arms around him chest. "Come inside sweetheart."
Billy wasn't sure Elijah was even aware she was there until he spoke to her, he sounded desolate, "I keep thinking that if only I'd insisted, if I'd tried harder…if only…"
Something must have happened to Elijah. There must have been an accident. Billy loved Elijah like a brother, he couldn't stand the idea of him being hurt. But, he reasoned, it was fine, if he found out what happened he could stop it. It would be fine.
"It wasn't your fault." Christine said softly. "Even if you were out there right next to him there would have been nothing you could do." She tightened her hold on him, pulling him closer to her.
"I know that, but I can't help thinking that if only I'd been with him I could have saved him, he was isolating himself and I knew it wasn't good for him to be spending so much time alone since the break up, when I spoke to him that morning I should have insisted that I went with him to keep him company but I didn't because I didn't want to intrude. I should have listened to my instincts, I should have been stronger"
With one quick push at his shoulders Christine turned Elijah round to face her and took his face gently but firmly in her hands. "Honey, you were a wonderful friend to him, you have nothing to feel guilty about. And if you were out there with him we probably would have lost you too."
Elijah ducked his head but she lifted his face to make him meet her eyes then leaned forwards to kiss him on the forehead the way she would kiss Ali or Elizabeth as she tucked up them in bed, "Come inside; please?"
He let out a long breath and nodded, and Christine pulled him gently indoors, passing right by Billy and Ian but never noticing them.
Billy watched them go feeling confused once more. "But if Elijah wasn't hurt, what did happen?"
"Maybe you should go and see what he was looking at." Ian's voice was impassive.
Billy hesitated briefly then walked over to the garage and peered inside in the direction Elijah had been staring. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the low light and as it did a shape propped against a wall began to take a recognizable form. A long thin shape, rounded at the top and bottom, a little taller than himself, with a thick stripe along the centre; he'd seen it many times, resting in the sand, gliding across swelling waves, strapped to the roof of Dom's car…
"It's Dom's surf board."
But if the abandoned surfboard was what Elijah had been guilty staring at, if it was what Christine had pulled him away from; the accident Christine had spoken about, the lost friend, it had to be…
"Oh god," Billy found himself stumbling weak kneed to lean against the garage wall for support, "Oh God Dom." He spun around to face Ian who had been watching silently a few steps behind him, "This is just a possible future isn't it? It can be changed – I can change it? If I always go surfing with Dom, or if I burn his surfboard I can stop this from happening. Tell me I can!" He grabbed at Ian's jacket with both hands in his desperation and held on until his knuckles turned white.
"Tell me!" Billy's eyes burned and his chest burned. He'd never felt so afraid. For Dom to be gone, for him to be taken away seemed impossible. Impossible and unthinkable. Without a wonky grin and painted nails and a lightening quick mind in it the world would be empty and grey.
Ian's looked down at Billy with sympathy in the blue-grey of his eyes.
"This is the future that will be if events carry on just as they are now. I can tell you no more than that."
That wasn't enough. Billy wanted reassurance. He needed to hear a promise that Dom wouldn't be taken away from him. "Please Ian."
I'm sorry Billy," Ian held his hand up to interrupt, "but I can say no more. It's time we left. There is more you must see and time is marching on."
"We can't go yet!" Billy wasn't ready to go; maybe if he stayed a little longer he could learn what happened to Dom so he would know how to save him.
Ian snapped his fingers.
"No! Wait!" It was too late; they were stood in middle of a snow covered street. "I wasn't ready to leave!"
"Ready or not, it was time." Ian replied loftily.
"Do you have to be so dramatic?"
Ian arched an eyebrow.
Bloody Shakespearean actors – they're never off duty. "So where are we now?"
"Scotland, in the winter of our discontent."
Oh sweet Lord…"We're here to see me?"
"Yes; and no. Follow my lead my boy, or better yet - follow her." He raised one long arm and pointed across the street. Margaret was walking briskly along the snowy path bathed in wool to keep out the chill; she was holding a small bouquet of holly and ivy in a gloved hand.
"I don't live around here," Billy said as he glanced up and down the street.
"Things change." Ian set off after Margaret.
The streets were empty except for the occasional car ferrying passengers to or from friends and neighbours house's. The snow was thick on the ground and was untouched apart from Margaret's footsteps; Billy noticed that he and Ian left no trace behind.
They passed through several roads and terraces but Billy still didn't recognise where they were. Margaret turned a corner and passed through two large metal gates that stood guarding the entrance to something that looked like a meadow.
"I live here?"
Ian didn't answer, just resolutely marched onwards. As he followed Billy looked around for any kind of building, but there were none, only trees and bushes heavy with snow.
"Where is she?" He didn't expect an answer from Ian, but the profound silence of the meadow was uncomfortable and he spoke just to break it. Ian pointed and Billy saw Margaret kneeling and brushing the snow from a drift that had caught on a grey shape standing up from the ground.
The silence descended again, heavy and restrictive, and the words Billy tried to utter stalled and trailed away. "I don't…" Never taking his eyes from his sister he moved forwards, wanting desperately to turn and run the other way but drawn onwards nevertheless.
Margaret had stopped brushing away the snow and was still, with one hand resting against the stone staring into it with affection and sorrow in her eyes. She laid the sprigs in her hand down on the ground then stood. "Happy Christmas, Billy." She kissed the tips of her fingers and pressed them to the top of the stone, then turned and walked away.
Still moving forwards despite the urge to crumble and fall, Billy reached the spot where his sister had just been and read the words that had been revealed on the gravestone.
William Boyd.
Born: August 28th 1968
Beloved brother and friend.
Billy laughed. The laugh was bitter and held no mirth; the sound was so strange that Billy could scarcely believe it belonged to him.
"This is what you brought me here to show me?" Billy gestured fiercely at the snow covered gravestone and the flowers beside it, "That if I don't get eat mince pies and hang tinsel on everything that doesn't move I'm going to end up here?" The shock and the lunacy of it were overwhelming. This was his density? A snowbound grave in a Glasgow cemetery all because he didn't blithely embrace the season of goodwill?
"The trappings and the trimmings aren't what's important. You could wreath yourself in fairy lights and it wouldn't cure what ails you. It's your attitude that counts William, your approach to the world, how you accept and embrace joy and light and silliness."
"I can be silly!" Insulted, Billy snapped his reply. "And joyful and light and…stuff."
"Indeed. And you need to nurture that."
Billy felt another wave of hysteria bubble up inside him. So as long as he kept a smile on his face and wore his hat at a jaunty angle he wouldn't die young. It was worth a sleepless night to learn that.
"Keep it fresh and green inside you. Keep it safe. Don't let it slip away from you." Ian persisted. "Angels fly because they take themselves lightly, don't let yourself become dragged down."
"I'm leaving." He strode past Ian and headed for the tall metal gates. If anyone had ever had a more disturbing or ridiculous night he would love to hear about it. Travelling into the past to see kisses stolen under the mistletoe; tutu clad ghosts that quote Wizard; surf boards dusty and abandoned in dark corners; cold empty churchyards and the look in his sister's eyes as she left his grave.
"You can't avoid it by fleeing." Ian called to Billy. "No matter where you go, there you are."
"Yes I know." Billy yelled as he grew closer to the gate. "Do unto others as you would have done unto you, more haste less speed, always look on the bright side of life, use the force Luke. Thanks for the advice I'll take it under advisement."
Billy was going home, he was going back to bed and he would wake up in the morning and have a cup of coffee and a hot shower. His attitude was just fine. His life was just fine. He didn't need to listen to platitudes spouted by a pantomime dame.
Too angry to look where he was going he stepped out into the road and into the path of a car.
Author: light_the_sky76
Pairing: Monaboyd
Rating: R for language
Summary: Billy looks ahead.
Disclaimer: Made up. A story
A/N: Betaed by indigo_blind. Thank you :)
Chapter one is here here
Chapter two is here
Chapter three is here
"Okay," he yelled, brushing sand out from between his toes, "where are you?"
Silence.
"I know you are here somewhere."
Silence.
Billy started to feel foolish for shouting at an empty room but then the clock chimed.
Bong. Bong.
"Aha!" He jabbed a finger accusingly at the centre of the room. "Now you're going to appear and drag me around showing me things that depress the crap out of me and show me what an arsehole I am, come on!" Billy Boyd was not one to sit back calmly and accept what ever arse-kickings fate handed out. He was going to put up a fight. Yes siree Bob! No more Mister Nice-Hauntee.
Silence.
"Or then again," Billy shrugged and looked around the room, listening hard, "maybe not."
He gratefully climbed back into bed. Maybe it was over. Maybe, with a bit of effort, he could forget all about the night's moonlit visits when the sun came up.
"You must learn some patience dear boy."
Of course. Billy considered moaning but couldn't muster the energy.
"I should have known it would be you."
Sir Ian stood beside the bed dressed smartly in a grey suit and tie; silver cufflinks caught the light and flashed. His hair was slicked back and he stood straight and tall - almost to attention. Clearly this was someone who was not to be ignored.
"What, no tutu?" Just because he couldn't ignore Ian, didn't mean that directing sarcasm towards him was out of the question.
"Not while I'm working."
"Don we now our gay apparel," Billy muttered. Resigned, he stood. He stepped in front of Ian and drew himself up to his full height. "So you're the Ghost of Christmas Future."
"The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come, if one goes by the original text, which I do. Dickens' words are not to be trifled with, wouldn't you say?"
"Indubitably."
Ian eyed him critically, "Quite. Are you ready, it's time we were off?"
"Ready?" There was no ready. But the sooner his little journey started, the sooner it finished and then maybe Billy could get some sleep. "Why not?"
"Marvellous; shall we?" Ian clicked his fingers.
"I've been here," they were in Sean and Christine's living room, "I was just here with Orlando."
Ian looked down and Billy and slowly shook his head. Billy decided he must use the same expression when he explained things to six year olds. "No Billy, you were here with Orlando in the present, this is the future, you may have been here, but you haven't been here now."
"Pardon?"
"Try not to dwell on it, you'll only upset yourself."
Billy walked slowly around looking for the reason for their visit. The room itself was identical. Same tree, same carols, same smells. But where before the atmosphere had been comfortable it was now sombre. Billy felt cold despite the warm air.
"Where is everyone? Nothing has happened to Sean, Christine or one of the girls has it?" That would explain the sadness that hung heavily in the air.
"No, Sean and his girls are upstairs building Elizabeth's doll house, and Christine is through here, following me."
Ian led the way though the kitchen and Billy followed, confused and nervous.
They left the house through the back door and went into the garden. Billy could smell the familiar scents of LA, humid air, traffic fumes, and there was another familiar smell in the air: clove cigarettes. Elijah was leaning against the doorway of the garage staring into its gloomy depths, a cigarette in his fingers burning out untouched. His shoulders were slouched and he looked thin and pale.
"Has something happened to Elijah?"
"Patience Billy, watch and learn."
The door creaked and Christine stepped out beside them.
"Elijah," she called, "you should come in now. It's not good for you to stay out here."
When Elijah didn't respond Christine stood behind him and wrapped her arms around him chest. "Come inside sweetheart."
Billy wasn't sure Elijah was even aware she was there until he spoke to her, he sounded desolate, "I keep thinking that if only I'd insisted, if I'd tried harder…if only…"
Something must have happened to Elijah. There must have been an accident. Billy loved Elijah like a brother, he couldn't stand the idea of him being hurt. But, he reasoned, it was fine, if he found out what happened he could stop it. It would be fine.
"It wasn't your fault." Christine said softly. "Even if you were out there right next to him there would have been nothing you could do." She tightened her hold on him, pulling him closer to her.
"I know that, but I can't help thinking that if only I'd been with him I could have saved him, he was isolating himself and I knew it wasn't good for him to be spending so much time alone since the break up, when I spoke to him that morning I should have insisted that I went with him to keep him company but I didn't because I didn't want to intrude. I should have listened to my instincts, I should have been stronger"
With one quick push at his shoulders Christine turned Elijah round to face her and took his face gently but firmly in her hands. "Honey, you were a wonderful friend to him, you have nothing to feel guilty about. And if you were out there with him we probably would have lost you too."
Elijah ducked his head but she lifted his face to make him meet her eyes then leaned forwards to kiss him on the forehead the way she would kiss Ali or Elizabeth as she tucked up them in bed, "Come inside; please?"
He let out a long breath and nodded, and Christine pulled him gently indoors, passing right by Billy and Ian but never noticing them.
Billy watched them go feeling confused once more. "But if Elijah wasn't hurt, what did happen?"
"Maybe you should go and see what he was looking at." Ian's voice was impassive.
Billy hesitated briefly then walked over to the garage and peered inside in the direction Elijah had been staring. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the low light and as it did a shape propped against a wall began to take a recognizable form. A long thin shape, rounded at the top and bottom, a little taller than himself, with a thick stripe along the centre; he'd seen it many times, resting in the sand, gliding across swelling waves, strapped to the roof of Dom's car…
"It's Dom's surf board."
But if the abandoned surfboard was what Elijah had been guilty staring at, if it was what Christine had pulled him away from; the accident Christine had spoken about, the lost friend, it had to be…
"Oh god," Billy found himself stumbling weak kneed to lean against the garage wall for support, "Oh God Dom." He spun around to face Ian who had been watching silently a few steps behind him, "This is just a possible future isn't it? It can be changed – I can change it? If I always go surfing with Dom, or if I burn his surfboard I can stop this from happening. Tell me I can!" He grabbed at Ian's jacket with both hands in his desperation and held on until his knuckles turned white.
"Tell me!" Billy's eyes burned and his chest burned. He'd never felt so afraid. For Dom to be gone, for him to be taken away seemed impossible. Impossible and unthinkable. Without a wonky grin and painted nails and a lightening quick mind in it the world would be empty and grey.
Ian's looked down at Billy with sympathy in the blue-grey of his eyes.
"This is the future that will be if events carry on just as they are now. I can tell you no more than that."
That wasn't enough. Billy wanted reassurance. He needed to hear a promise that Dom wouldn't be taken away from him. "Please Ian."
I'm sorry Billy," Ian held his hand up to interrupt, "but I can say no more. It's time we left. There is more you must see and time is marching on."
"We can't go yet!" Billy wasn't ready to go; maybe if he stayed a little longer he could learn what happened to Dom so he would know how to save him.
Ian snapped his fingers.
"No! Wait!" It was too late; they were stood in middle of a snow covered street. "I wasn't ready to leave!"
"Ready or not, it was time." Ian replied loftily.
"Do you have to be so dramatic?"
Ian arched an eyebrow.
Bloody Shakespearean actors – they're never off duty. "So where are we now?"
"Scotland, in the winter of our discontent."
Oh sweet Lord…"We're here to see me?"
"Yes; and no. Follow my lead my boy, or better yet - follow her." He raised one long arm and pointed across the street. Margaret was walking briskly along the snowy path bathed in wool to keep out the chill; she was holding a small bouquet of holly and ivy in a gloved hand.
"I don't live around here," Billy said as he glanced up and down the street.
"Things change." Ian set off after Margaret.
The streets were empty except for the occasional car ferrying passengers to or from friends and neighbours house's. The snow was thick on the ground and was untouched apart from Margaret's footsteps; Billy noticed that he and Ian left no trace behind.
They passed through several roads and terraces but Billy still didn't recognise where they were. Margaret turned a corner and passed through two large metal gates that stood guarding the entrance to something that looked like a meadow.
"I live here?"
Ian didn't answer, just resolutely marched onwards. As he followed Billy looked around for any kind of building, but there were none, only trees and bushes heavy with snow.
"Where is she?" He didn't expect an answer from Ian, but the profound silence of the meadow was uncomfortable and he spoke just to break it. Ian pointed and Billy saw Margaret kneeling and brushing the snow from a drift that had caught on a grey shape standing up from the ground.
The silence descended again, heavy and restrictive, and the words Billy tried to utter stalled and trailed away. "I don't…" Never taking his eyes from his sister he moved forwards, wanting desperately to turn and run the other way but drawn onwards nevertheless.
Margaret had stopped brushing away the snow and was still, with one hand resting against the stone staring into it with affection and sorrow in her eyes. She laid the sprigs in her hand down on the ground then stood. "Happy Christmas, Billy." She kissed the tips of her fingers and pressed them to the top of the stone, then turned and walked away.
Still moving forwards despite the urge to crumble and fall, Billy reached the spot where his sister had just been and read the words that had been revealed on the gravestone.
William Boyd.
Born: August 28th 1968
Beloved brother and friend.
Billy laughed. The laugh was bitter and held no mirth; the sound was so strange that Billy could scarcely believe it belonged to him.
"This is what you brought me here to show me?" Billy gestured fiercely at the snow covered gravestone and the flowers beside it, "That if I don't get eat mince pies and hang tinsel on everything that doesn't move I'm going to end up here?" The shock and the lunacy of it were overwhelming. This was his density? A snowbound grave in a Glasgow cemetery all because he didn't blithely embrace the season of goodwill?
"The trappings and the trimmings aren't what's important. You could wreath yourself in fairy lights and it wouldn't cure what ails you. It's your attitude that counts William, your approach to the world, how you accept and embrace joy and light and silliness."
"I can be silly!" Insulted, Billy snapped his reply. "And joyful and light and…stuff."
"Indeed. And you need to nurture that."
Billy felt another wave of hysteria bubble up inside him. So as long as he kept a smile on his face and wore his hat at a jaunty angle he wouldn't die young. It was worth a sleepless night to learn that.
"Keep it fresh and green inside you. Keep it safe. Don't let it slip away from you." Ian persisted. "Angels fly because they take themselves lightly, don't let yourself become dragged down."
"I'm leaving." He strode past Ian and headed for the tall metal gates. If anyone had ever had a more disturbing or ridiculous night he would love to hear about it. Travelling into the past to see kisses stolen under the mistletoe; tutu clad ghosts that quote Wizard; surf boards dusty and abandoned in dark corners; cold empty churchyards and the look in his sister's eyes as she left his grave.
"You can't avoid it by fleeing." Ian called to Billy. "No matter where you go, there you are."
"Yes I know." Billy yelled as he grew closer to the gate. "Do unto others as you would have done unto you, more haste less speed, always look on the bright side of life, use the force Luke. Thanks for the advice I'll take it under advisement."
Billy was going home, he was going back to bed and he would wake up in the morning and have a cup of coffee and a hot shower. His attitude was just fine. His life was just fine. He didn't need to listen to platitudes spouted by a pantomime dame.
Too angry to look where he was going he stepped out into the road and into the path of a car.
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"Do unto others as you would have done unto you, more haste less speed, always look on the bright side of life, use the force Luke. Thanks for the advice I'll take it under advisement."
love this whole thing, these little bits of sillyness added good humor to the dramaticness of it all. keep it up! ♥
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Please have the next part up soon, otherwise I might just have to come after you with a pitchfork.
(No, really :-P)
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i personally liked 'use the force luke.' that actually made me chuckle. i also just finished reading a post about ian being at elton john's wedding and was quite pleased. now i get to read fic with ian being all shakespearian. *is giddier*
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Thanks
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(how's your Christmas fic?)
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Thanks
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Um....it's kind of dead unfortunately :(
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Good work. It's angsty and I can't wait to see what will happen next. Please post soon *givespuppydogeyes*
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