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monaboyd May. 19th, 2006 07:30 am)
dylan-dufresne.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd May. 19th, 2006 07:30 am)Title: Fatherhood, Football, and Other Contact Sports - 15/16
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dylan_dufresne
Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: PG-14, ish. I think.
Summary: At the Aberdeen football match, Dom’s luck finally runs out, and it’s all downhill from there.
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated as it’s my drug of choice. Many thanks tofrojane, for the faboo beta. Credit for the banner goes to the very talented loki_girl. Thank you so much.
Disclaimer: Not at all true in reality. This is my imagination at work.
A/N: I think the title says it all. *sniff* Pass the kleenex, will you?
Previous Parts: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14
Chapter 15 - All Good Things . . .
Shivering nervously, Billy gazes around the huge stadium, taking in the several thousands of people settling into their seats, waiting for the match to begin. Watching the opposing players run out onto the field, a knot begins to form in Billy’s belly, twisting and churning. It seems that everything he’s read about the other team is true. Suddenly, Billy starts to think that it’ll be a bloody miracle if Dom’s knee manages to survive playing against them today.
Making a decision, Billy marches down the concrete steps to the sidelines, coming up behind the short and stocky Coach Holm. He turns after Billy taps him firmly on the shoulder.
“Hey, you can’t be down here,” the coach growls. “No fans allows allowed on the bench.”
“I am not just some fan, Mr. Holm,” Billy says, his voice coated with icicles. “I’m a sports physician. Dr. Billy Boyd.”
“Good for you,” the older man grunts in return. “Now you better get out of here before I call security.”
“Hey, I know him.” An assistant coach suddenly makes the connection. “This is Monaghan’s doctor. The one from the clinic, with the kid who’s always at practice.”
Coach Holm’s eyes are beady little marbles as they rake over Billy’s face. “You’re kidding.”
Fighting down the anger created by his derisive tone, Billy pushes on. “I’m Dominic Monaghan’s physician,” he states firmly. “And since there is a distinct possibility of him being injured today, I’m staying here on the sidelines.”
“Yeah, well, we don’t allow boyfriends on the sidelines, either.” Scoffing, Coach Holm turns away. “And as for medical treatment, we’ve got team physio’s here.”
Grabbing the older man’s arm, Billy jerks him about to face him with a force that will amaze him later. “Physio’s who will shoot him full of xylocaine. On that field, with a numb leg, he’s bound to lose his footing and injure himself,” Billy retorts furiously.
“Monaghan’s a big boy. If he wants a shot, we’re not going to ring his Mum for permission. Or his boyfriend.”
Body tensing, Billy feels like punching the man in the face, but restrains himself, knowing that it’ll do no good. Hands on his hips, Billy looks Coach Holm directly in the eye.
“Look, I’m his doctor, and I’m staying,” Billy says firmly. “If you don’t like that, Coach Holm, then you’re going to have to have me arrested and hauled from this field, because that’s the only way I’m leaving.”
Green eyes flashing dangerously, Billy’s intense gaze bores like twin green lasers into Coach Holm’s face for several long, tense moments. Obviously deciding that he’s met his match, the coach shrugs carelessly. “Hey, if you want to give up a perfectly good seat, it’s your business.” Then he waves a hand in Billy’s face. “But if you say even one word to any of my players, I’ll take you up on that offer. Understand?”
Silently, Billy nods as the Rangers appear from the locker room and gather on the sidelines. Catching sight of Billy, Dom leaves David’s side and makes his way over to him.
“Hey,” Dom says softly. “Why aren’t you in your seat? Match is about to start.”
“I’m going to be right here, Dom, in case you need me for anything,” Billy says simply. “Anything at all.”
Drawing a deep breath into his lungs, Dom smiles, his eyes gentle and intimate. “Thank you.”
“Good luck.”
A long moment passes, the urge to slip closer and share a kiss strong in both men. Catching Billy’s fingers for a few seconds, Dom gives them a fast squeeze, and then he’s running out onto the field.
The match is a decidedly unfunny comedy of errors from the start. In the first twenty minutes, each team loses possession of the football numerous times, as player after player neglects to move the ball down the pitch.
“Watching these blokes is like going to the bloody dentist,” mumbles a television cameraman standing near Billy.
“It’s definitely not pretty out there,” Billy agrees, cringing as Dom darts to one side in an effort to avoid a collision, only to get accidentally clipped by another player and tumble to the ground.
“Hell, it’s downright ugly,” the cameraman protests, focusing on the action moving down pitch. “”This is not the way this game was meant to be played.”
Once again, the ball gets kicked loose and this time Aberdeen recovers it, the whistle blowing a moment later and a yellow flag flying through the air. Watching Dom carefully, Billy doesn’t miss the fact that Dom is now visibly limping. As the fumbles, near misses and collisions continue, the intensity on the field increases dramatically. Frustration is making tempers flare as sustained control the ball continues to remain elusive to both teams, and Billy has to cover his mouth with his hand as Dom tumbles to the ground again.
“If Aberdeen wins, they’re going to call this the match that killed Monaghan,” the cameraman comments, wincing as Dom pushes himself up on to his hands and knees and then slowly rises to his feet, gingerly testing his leg before taking a few cautious steps.
“This is the worst thing I’ve ever seen,” Billy objects. “Why doesn’t anybody do something?”
The man shrugs. “Hey, this is what Aberdeen’s been saying they were going to do all week. Their plan is to swarm all over Monaghan, whenever they can, make it harder for him. They know his knee can’t take the extra abuse. It’s no secret that he’s been having trouble with it all season, ever since the injury and coming back so soon after surgery.”
“They’re purposely trying to trip him up if they can and injure him?” Billy inquires incredulously, wondering who’d misnamed this sport a game. What is happening out on the pitch is definitely a war.
The cameraman gives Billy a strange look. “Sure. With all the attention aimed at Monaghan, he won’t be around by the end of the match. Morgan hasn’t had much playing time all season, so he’ll be cold. It’s called strategy.”
The second half of the match is worse than the first, Aberdeen more determined than ever to put pressure on Dom. As much as he wants to pull Dom away from the match and into the locker room, Billy knows there’s nothing he can say or do, except offer an ice pack or a short massage when Dom is off the pitch. The urge to beg Dom to stop is almost overwhelming, but Billy stays quiet, reading the intense concentration of Dom’s face and realizing this is definitely not the time to add to his burdens.
“Rangers have been pulling weird stuff out of their bag of tricks all season,” the cameraman mutters a short while later as he follows the play down the pitch. There is a roar from the crowd when there is yet another collision, Dom loses his footing, and goes down again. “Looks like they emptied their bag to get this far.”
“If you’re such an expert,” Billy snaps, tired of the man’s constant sarcasm, “Then why don’t you just put that camera down, go out there and try it for a few minutes?”
Stunned, the man stares, unblinking for a long moment. “Hey, don’t get pissed at me. I’m not the one doing it, and I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Failing to hear the apology, Billy’s attention is once again focused on Dom. Amazingly, he completes several short passes, moving the ball from just in front of the Rangers goal to midfield. For a moment, Billy thinks he catches sight of David Wenham, and then he’s gone again in a sea of shorts and studded boots. Rangers are pushing into Aberdeen’s half of the pitch when a whistle is blown, a substitution is called, and a player rises from the bench, moving over to the sidelines, where Coach Holm is waiting.
“Okay, tell Monaghan this is his chance to redeem himself,” the coach snaps out. “Tell him want him to get off his ass and hit Roberts for the goal.”
Billy hears the exchange and doesn’t miss the surprise in the player’s voice as his eyes widen in obvious surprise. “You want him to try to score? That’s what he’s been doing all along.”
“Enough of this dancing around and wasting time. Tell him either he scores, or he’s out,” the coach adds. “I’m tired of waiting.”
“But there’s plenty of time left,” the player argues. “Over twenty minutes.”
“Look, Johnson, if you don’t want to be sent back to the bench right now, carry out the instructions I’ve just given. Monaghan may be the bloke making the big bucks, but I’m the coach. Understand? Now get out there, and if nobody’s open, tell him to kick the damn ball into the sea.”
Shaking his head, Johnson meets Billy’s eyes for a fraction of a second and then he’s running out to join his teammates. When several heads, including Dom’s, turn to look incredulously at the sidelines, Billy realizes that the young player is not alone in thinking the instructions are risky. Not expecting it, Aberdeen isn’t prepared and a fellow Rangers player is able to receive Dom’s expertly directed pass, spinning and firing it towards the net.
When the official rules ‘no goal,’ the fans in the stadium go wild, the sound deafening, but Billy doesn’t notice. His attention is riveted on Dom, who’d gone down on a late collision. David is kneeling at his side, hand on Dom’s shoulder, and one of the team physio’s has run out onto the field.
“Well, looks like the miracle comeback just flat ran out of miracles,” the cameraman observes, directing his lens toward the action.
“Is he moving his leg?” Billy asks, wanting to hit the man for his heartless remark, but realizing he is able to see far more with his telephoto lens than Billy could ever hope to unaided.
“Nope,” the cameraman relates. “They just tried bending it, and he looked like he was going to pass out,” he relates. “Monaghan’s out for the day.”
“If it’s what I think it is, he’s out permanently,” Billy says quietly with a heavy sigh, fighting back the unprofessional waver in his voice.
Quickly following the stretcher out onto the field, Billy finds Dom still laying on his back but propped up on his elbows, staring at the scoreboard incredulously.
“What the hell? What do they mean, no goal?” he spits out, the pain he’s enduring making him shake violently.
As Dom attempts to struggle to his feet, David, Billy and the team physio all push him back down. David meets Billy’s gaze for a few seconds, keeping his hand on Dom’s chest to prevent him from attempting to get up again. The worry and fear is evident in his eyes.
“Dom, you can’t put any weight on that knee until I have a chance to examine it,” Billy protests, hand squeezing Dom’s until their eyes lock.
“But that was a goal, dammit!”
“That’s not the point right now,” Billy replies calmly, already having noticed the increased swelling in Dom’s injured knee.
Eyes blazing with fury, Dom unleashes all of his frustration at Billy. “The fuck it isn’t!”
Dom is still blustering about the injustice of it all as they wheel him into the A & E Department of a nearby Aberdeen hospital, and he continues until the painkiller that Billy prescribes finally, mercifully, knocks him out.
* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *
The sun is setting when Dom wakes up much later. Looking around the strange room in confusion, Dom tries to remember where he is, and then he stiffens as the memory of the football match comes rushing back.
“Bills?” he whispers, voice raspy with disuse.
Rising from the chair at Dom’s beside, Billy leans over to brush a tender kiss across Dom’s temple. “I’m right here, Dommie.”
“Did we lose?”
Christ, Billy muses to himself, wondering how Dom could care about the match right now? Slowly, he nods. “I’m afraid so. It was a ridiculous day for football. Rangers couldn’t help losing.”
“It was a ridiculous day for Aberdeen, too. And they won,” Dom reminds him as their eyes meet. “Well, I suppose that’s that. At least now all we have to is get me back on my feet for the League Cup. Then we’ve got the whole off-season to build my knee back up.”
Billy says nothing, all too aware that denial is the first response of anyone facing an unpleasant medical fact.
Head feeling like it’s surrounded by a dense fog, Dom licks his parched lips and reaches for the glass of water sitting on the table next to the bed. A moment later he’s thanking Billy with his eyes as Billy steadies the glass for him.
“I’m glad you came, Bills,” Dom murmurs after he’s swallowed the liquid down. “I wouldn’t have wanted to entrust my body to just any old bloke with a stethoscope.”
Surprising himself, Billy manages a smile. “I’m not wild about you entrusting this body to anyone other than me, Dom. I’ve got first dibs.”
Dom returns Billy’s smile with a weak one of his own. “What did you give me downstairs in the A & E Department, anyway? I feel like I’m floating somewhere out in space, not really in my body.”
“Close your eyes,” Billy instructs gently. “You won’t be so dizzy.”
Obeying, Dom’s eyelids flutter closed, and a moment later he smiles again. “Hey, this is kinda nice. If you’re into flying merry-go-rounds.”
Biting down on his lower lip for a moment, Billy leans over to kiss the drowsy man.
“Go back to sleep, Dommie,” Billy murmurs gently, smoothing back Dom’s tousled hair and cupping his cheek. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *
After calling Cameron and assuring him that Dom is going to be just fine, Shannon O’Malley gets on the line to say that Cameron is absolutely no trouble at all, and is welcome to stay for as long as he wishes. Billy’s next call is to the clinic.
“So is it what we feared?” Dr. McKellan asks, getting directly to the point.
“Yes,” Billy begins, his chest aching. “The damage to the tendons is extensive and the cartilage is just laying there in ruins.” Tears well up in his green eyes once again, as they had when Billy first received the results of all the tests. Sniffing inelegantly, Billy attempts to compose himself.
“Well, that’s that,” Dr. McKellan replies after a long, heavy silence.
“That’s that,” Billy agrees flatly. “I’m bringing Dom back to Glasgow sometime tomorrow afternoon.”
“Does he know?”
“I’m sure he must.” Leaning against the wall, Billy sighs heavily. “I haven’t said anything yet, but the man’s been an athlete long enough to be well acquainted with what his body can and cannot do. Besides, he’s always known the risks.”
“That he has,” the older man agrees. “Have a safe trip back, Dr. Boyd.”
“Thank you,” Billy murmurs before ending the call.
Returning to Radiology, Billy studies the x-rays of Dom’s knee closely, determined to give Dom as much encouragement about his prognosis as possible. It doesn’t look good at all, Billy decides, but it could’ve been much worse. That is what he’s going to have to make Dom understand when he wakes up.
Night has fallen when Billy looks up from studying Dom’s test results to notice someone familiar walking slowly down the quiet hallway towards Dom’s hospital room. Rising from his chair at Dom’s side, Billy lays the file folders down before leaning over Dom and brushing a tender kiss across his temple. Slipping out of the room, Billy meets the visitor a short distance down the hall.
“Hello David.”
“How is he?” David asks tentatively.
“Sleeping right now. Painkillers have knocked him out,” Billy tells him. “It’s to make him rest until morning.”
“That’s not what I meant,” David says, wincing as he shifts to look inside the room. “How’s his knee? Is he going to be alright? Be able to play?”
Swallowing hard, Billy averts his eyes, and that’s all the answer David needs. Cursing under his breath and turning stiffly, he sinks down into a nearby plastic, molded chair, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, head resting in his hands.
“It’s my fault,” David whispers, staring at the floor.
“No, it’s not. He knew the risks,” Billy says softly after taking a seat beside the Australian Defender. “It’s a miracle Dom made it this far in the season, considering what that bastard you two call a coach was putting him through.”
“That last set of instructions from him. We all knew it was the wrong thing to do, that Dom would be left wide open, but we did it anyways,” David says, almost rambling, his inner thoughts tumbling out in a rush. “I tried to protect him.”
“It’s not your fault,” Billy soothes, the guilt in David’s voice breaking his already wounded heart.
“I let him down.”
“No, you were a good friend,” Billy insists gently. “And you tried to help him the best you could. You have nothing to apologize for.”
The two men talk for nearly an hour, and then Billy sends David back to his hotel, knowing he’s exhausted, sore, and in need of rest. Moving back into Dom’s room, Billy carefully adjusts the light blue blanket and white sheet covering Dom, and then settles in the chair at his side. Reaching over, Billy laces his fingers with Dom’s, and then lets his eyes close. Tomorrow is going to be a very difficult day.
* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *
“Hey,” Dom says as Billy enters the room just before noon the next day. “You’re just in time for the news. Want to watch the report of yesterday’s match?”
Billy shakes his head, knowing that it won’t matter. “Not really, but I don’t suppose I have a choice.”
“Nope. I never did see that pass to score that they stole from me,” Dom replies, managing a smile. “I knew I was in trouble when I looked up and saw a wall of Aberdeen coming towards me, blocking out the light.”
They view what the sportscaster is calling highlights of the game, although Billy considers them badly labeled. Neither team had distinguished themselves, luck and fate proving to be much tougher opponents.
“Hell yes, I have to blame Monaghan.” Coach Holm appears on the screen, his face set in a scowl.
“It was a team loss,” the sportscaster delicately tries to point out. “Monaghan played quite well, considering the circumstances.
“Monaghan makes the most money; he’s paid well to perform.”
“Is it true that last hit has ended his playing days?”
Perched on the edge of Dom’s hospital bed, Billy feels Dom tense, though he remains silent.
“That’s what they say,” Coach Holm replies mildly.
“What does that mean for next year’s team?” the sportscaster asks.
“I don’t believe the myth about a needing a veteran Midfielder,” is the gruff and heartless reply.
Dom only grunts noncommittally as the interview is wrapped up, but focuses his attention back on the screen when the clinic comes into view.
“We’re here with Dr. Ian McKellan, administrator for the Glasgow Sports Medical Clinic, where Dominic Monaghan has been receiving daily therapy for an injury suffered last season,” the reporter announces. “Dr. McKellan, is it true that Dominic’s physician is in Aberdeen with him at the moment?”
“That’s right. Our chief of staff, Dr. Boyd, has examined Mr. Monaghan and will be returning to Glasgow with him later today.”
“Chief of staff?” Dom repeats, looking at Billy with surprise, his eyes wide. “When did that happen?”
“It’s a long story,” Billy murmurs, reaching for the remote before McKellan can continue. “And the announcement is premature, at best. I haven’t accepted it yet.”
Using his long arms to their full advantage, Dom hold the remote out of Billy’s reach. “But you’ve been offered the job.”
Reluctantly, Billy nods. “A few days ago. Let’s turn it off.”
“Wait a minute, they’re talking about you, Dr. Boyd,” Dom replies.
“And Dr. Boyd’s prognosis about his future?” the reporter asks.
“I’m afraid Dominic Monaghan’s playing days are over,” Dr McKellan replies.
Dom freezes, and Billy risks a tentative glance in his direction. “Dom,” he begins softly.
The television darkens as Dom points the remote in it’s direction. “Is that what you told him?”
Dom’s voice is rigid, under tight, ironclad control.
“Let me explain,” Billy says softly.
Flinging Billy’s hand off of his shoulder, Dom’s eyes are expressionless. “I asked you a question, Billy. Is that what you told him?”
“Yes,” Billy confirms, nodding his head.
It’s no louder than a whisper, but Dom has no trouble hearing it in the midst of the swirling silence in the room.
“I see,” Dom says finally. “That’s your best guess? Or are you positive?”
“Positive. You’ll be able to walk, Dom,” Billy rushes to add.
“Walk. But no football.”
Billy shakes his head sadly. “No, no football.”
“They told me that last year,” Dom reminds him.
“That was different. Dr. Phillips only said he wouldn’t recommend it. He didn’t say it was a total impossibility.” Billy takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm his nerves. “Believe me, there’s no way that your knee will be able to sustain any more hits. And it isn’t flexible enough to allow you the mobility you need out on the pitch.”
“That’s your opinion.”
“Yes, that’s my professional opinion,” Billy agrees.
“I’m requesting a consultation with another specialist,” Dom states firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.
Understanding Dom’s reasoning, Billy welcomes it, because he doesn’t want Dom to ever wonder if he lied, in order to get Dom to stop playing.
“I think that’s a very good idea,” Billy replies. “Anyone in particular you’d like me to call?”
“No,” Dom says as he shakes his head briefly. “I’ll let you choose, so long as you promise not to stack the deck against me.”
Leaning down, Billy kisses Dom with all the love in his heart. “I promise, Dommie,” he pledges.
* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *
True to word, Billy arranges for an extensive examination just two days after they return to Glasgow, wanting Dom to accept the full extent of his injury as soon as possible. The sooner that happens, the sooner Dom can focus on moving on with his life.
“Well, I guess that’s that,” Dom comments flatly, alone with Billy in an exam room after the well respected sports physician Billy brought in from London has confirmed his diagnosis.
“I’m afraid so,” Billy agrees softly. “Dom, I’m truly sorry.”
“Not as sorry as I am.” Dom laughs, but the sound is hollow and devoid of mirth. “I should’ve known that this would never work.”
“You managed to play more than half the season,” Billy points out. “Against incredible odds.”
“Believe it or not, I wasn’t talking about football, Billy. I was talking about us.”
“Us?” Billy repeats in confusion.
Dom nods. “Yeah. The chief of staff and the washed-up footballer.”
The finality in his low, defeated tone frightens Billy and rattles him all the way to the core of his being.
“What do you mean?” Billy demands. “Why should this change anything between us?”
“You’re the one who didn’t want complications,” Dom says simply.
“So I’ve changed my mind, Dom.” Swallowing hard, Billy decides to take a chance, risk his heart. “And I think you have, too.”
Silently, Dom’s gaze sweeps over Billy as he stands before him. In dark, crisply pressed trousers, starched white lab coat and perfectly knotted tie, Billy looks every inch the successful professional. His shoes are polished, and the watch at his wrist is simply fashioned in gold, but not inexpensive. This is a man on track with his life. Yes, he has faced odds that equal Dom’s own right now, and Billy has succeeded. Admirably.
More importantly, Billy has done it on his own. The one thing that Billy Boyd doesn’t need is to be saddled with his problems, Dom thinks to himself. For a time, their lives ran a parallel course, but now Billy’s is rocketing skyward, while his is fizzling and hurtling towards earth. About to crash and burn.
“Look, Billy, you’ve got the world in the palm of your hand right now. Chief of staff-”
“I haven’t accepted that,” Billy interrupts.
“You will,” Dom states, overriding Billy firmly. “Your career is booming, and now that Michael and Abby have changed their mind about sharing their home with that amazing little boy, you don’t have any more worries about Cam.”
“Dom-”
“You’re intelligent, sexy as hell, and quite honestly, the most lovable as well as loving man I’ve ever met,” Dom interrupts. “You’re going to have the blokes lining up outside your door in droves, Bills. The last thing you need is a battered old has-been,” Dom finishes, his gaze falling to the floor.
“Don’t you dare talk that way about the man I love,” Billy protests heatedly.
It’s the first time the words have been spoken aloud, and their importance reverberate around the room as Billy and Dom wordlessly observe each other for a full minute. It’s Dom who finally breaks the heavy silence.
“You don’t love me.” Groaning unconsciously as he slowly slides off the examination table, Dom accepts the crutches that Billy offers to him with a grim expression. “You’re just confusing love with pity, Doctor. You’re going to need to learn to maintain a more professional attitude and distance.”
“Dom . . .” Reaching out, Billy catches hold of his arm, only to watch Dom shake free of his small hand.
“Let it go, Billy,” Dom pleads.” I’m just not any good for anyone right now. Don’t you see? I’m not in any position to be making any decisions.”
“Don’t you understand?” A single tear runs unchecked down Billy’s face as he remains aware of the fact that he’s shaking, on the verge of falling apart. “I fell in love with you in spite of the fact that you played football, Dom. Not because you did.”
“It’s who I am,” Dom objects firmly. “All my life, I’ve thought of myself as a football player. My entire life. I can’t separate the two, Billy, and I’ve never wanted to.”
“But-”
Drawing in a painful breath, Dom shifts before continuing. “I’m intelligent enough to realize that there’s no way in Hell that I’m ever going to play football again, so obviously, I can’t offer you anything.”
“Dommie, please. Don’t say that.”
Reaching out with his free hand, Dom slips his fingers though Billy’s short, ginger hair before cupping his cheek in a heart breakingly familiar gesture.
“Billy, do me a favor,” Dom says hoarsely.
“Anything.”
“Don’t love me,” Dom whispers. “I really can’t handle that right now, and it’s definitely not fair to you.”
Suddenly angry and desperate, Billy can see their life together slipping away, like grains of sand through open fingers. “Don’t tell me what’s fair and not fair, Dominic Monaghan. And you have no right to tell me who I can and cannot love.”
As Billy lifts his tear streaked face to his, Dom’s long fingers move over Billy’s delicate features, as if the memory of the Scotsman is to last him a lifetime.
“Be good to yourself, Bills,” Dom says hoarsely, his own eyes suspiciously, unnaturally moist.
Leaning forward on his crutches and ducking his head, Dom starts to brush a feathery kiss over Billy’s cheek, but before he realizes what is happening, Billy is turning his head and bringing their mouths together. Lips parting automatically, Dom allows himself one last taste of his lover as Billy’s tongue tangles with his, and Billy clings to him, almost desperately. Deepening the kiss, Billy slides a hand around the nape of Dom’s neck, silently pleading with Dom, hoping that he’ll reconsider. Resolve hanging on by a ragged thread, Dom suddenly tears his mouth away, his breath uneven and chest heaving.
“Dommie,” Billy whispers, reaching out and trying to cup Dom’s cheek. “Please-”
“Goodbye.”
Turning on his crutches, Dom quickly leaves the room, Billy staring after him in shock.
Billy can’t make himself believe that Dom is actually going to go, until he watches from the window as the black Porsche pulls out of the car park and disappears around the corner. The words keep echoing in Billy’s mind. Dom’s gone. He’s gone. Just like that, he’s driven out of Billy’s clinic and out of his life.
Knees buckling, Billy slides slowly down the wall, crumpling into a heap on the floor in the exam room. Hugging his knees to his chest, Billy rocks back and forth, breath ragged as his whole body trembles violently and uncontrollably. It’s happened again. He finally let someone into his life and allowed himself to fall in love, only to be left again. After swearing that he’d never place himself in that position again, here Billy is, heartbroken, left to pick up the pieces alone.
When a hand gently touches Billy’s shoulder, he looks up quickly, fervently hoping that Dom has changed his mind and come back. Meeting brown eyes instead of blue-grey, Billy can’t hold back the soft cry of despair that pushes past his cherubic lips. Looking away, Billy tries desperately to pull himself together, brushing at his damp eyes and clearing his throat.
Ignoring Billy’s attempts to conceal his pain, Orlando sinks down to sit on the floor at Billy’s slide, sliding an arm across the Scotsman’s shoulders and drawing him in close for a hug. It’s long minutes later when Billy finally surrenders and sinks into Orlando’s comforting embrace. Rocking Billy gently in his arms and rubbing his tense, trembling back, Orlando remains silent, knowing that there is absolutely nothing he can say to make Billy feel better.
* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *
Following the sound of the television, David walks into Dom’s living room after letting himself in and closing the front door behind him, his arms laden with a large brown bag of takeaway. Pausing in the doorway, he takes a moment to observe Dom, stretched out on the couch, his right leg elevated on several pillows as he stares aimlessly at the large screen. It’s obvious to David that Dom isn’t seeing the images before him, his mind clearly somewhere else.
“Hey,” David says, finally entering the room and taking a seat on the nearby recliner. “You weren’t answering your phone so I decided to drop by.”
“Hey Daisy,” Dom replies flatly, not looking away from the television.
“Brought you some Thai,” David continues, his brow furrowing. “Your favorite.”
“Thanks.” Reaching over to the nearby coffee table, Dom picks up a half empty bottle of beer and takes a long pull. “Beer’s in the fridge. Help yourself. Bring me one if you’re already going that way.”
Eyeing the bottle of prescription pain killers sitting on the coffee table as well, David rethinks his idea of getting a beer, and opens the bag of Thai food instead.
“I’ve got all your favorites,” David says brightly. “Moo Dang, Gang Gai, Nua Kem, and Pad Thai. What do you want to start with?”
“Maybe later,” Dom replies distantly. “Not hungry right now.”
Sighing, David sets the bag of takeaway on the floor between his feet and rests his elbows on his knees, fingers lacing together.
“Where’s Billy?”
“Dunno.”
“When’s he coming over?” David presses, unable to read Dom’s expression.
“He’s not.”
“So, you’re going over there? On your crutches?”
“Nope.”
“Dom?” David says softly, utterly confused. “What’s going on?”
“It’s over.”
“What’s over?”
“Me and Billy.”
“What?” David cries out in shock.
“We broke up,” Dom says flatly, glancing over and briefly meeting David’s stunned gaze.
“When? How? Why?” David stutters out, his mind racing.
“It’s just over,” Dom repeats listlessly, looking back at the television. “And I don’t want to talk about it, so just drop it, yeah?”
While David stares in shock, Dom reaches over to grab his beer again, only to have David lunge forward and yank it from his grip.
“Hey!” Dom cries out in protest, trying to grab the bottle back and failing.
“Drowning yourself in a bottle isn’t going to help matters any,” David says dryly. “And mixing booze with pills is just plain stupid.”
“You’re not my Mum,” Dom retorts icily. “Or my keeper.”
“No, I’m your best mate,” David fires back heatedly as he ducks into the kitchen with the half-empty beer, returning a moment later with two bottles of water. “And I love you, even when you’re being a royal wanker.”
“You can leave,” Dom adds, though his eyes and tone clearly asks David to do just the opposite. “I’m not stopping you.”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Dom,” David answers with a small smile as he hands Dom the chilled bottle of water. “I only have one question for you.”
“What?” Dom asks suspiciously.
“Comedy or action?” David replies as he picks up the remote control and settles on the floor in front of the couch.
“Action,” Dom decides blandly. “I’m not in the mood to laugh.”
Nodding, David quickly finds something suitable to watch and then digs into the takeaway. Several minutes later, when David catches Dom eyeing the small container he’s holding, he smiles and reaches into the bag for another set of utensils. Silently accepting the Pad Thai, Dom manages to eat a fair number of bites under David’s watchful eye. The next hour is spent in silence, wordlessly passing containers of Thai food back and forth as they watch a movie that neither of them is particularly interested in. A short while later, the painkiller Dom took with dinner takes effect and he drops off to sleep, head lolling to one side.
Turning off the television, David carefully drapes a blanket over Dom’s sleeping form before turning down the lights and slipping into the kitchen. Once all the alcohol David can find is poured down the drain, he leaves quietly, closing and locking the front door behind him. He’s at the curb, sliding into the front seat of his car when a familiar blue and white Mini pulls into the driveway next door.
Resisting the urge to call out a hello as Billy steps out of the vehicle, instead David watches Billy walk into the house, his head down and shoulders slumped. It’s clear to David that neither man is happy about the termination of their relationship, but the reason for it still remains unknown, and before he slides the key into the ignition, David decides that he’s going to do everything he can to find out.
* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *
Leaning against the counter at the receptionist’s desk at the Glasgow Sports Medicine Clinic, David smiles cordially as the petite blonde finishes a phone call to schedule an appointment for a patient.
“Good morning, sir. How may I help you?” she says after hanging up the phone.
“I’d like to see Dr. Boyd,” David replies. “Is that at all possible, even though I don’t have an appointment?”
Quickly scanning the schedule pad in front of her, the receptionist smiles. “I can get you into see him in about ten minutes. Would you like a private room?”
“Yes, please,” David requests. “Thank you very much.”
Keeping her promise, the receptionist has David settled in an exam room just a few minutes later, waiting for Billy to arrive. For a moment, he wonders if he’s sticking his nose in where it doesn’t belong, and then the door is opening and Billy enters, clad in a crisp, white lab coat, scanning the patient form in his small hands.
“What can I do for you, Mr. -” Billy stops short as his gaze meets the Australian Defender’s. “David.”
“Hi Billy.”
Eyes storming with turbulent emotions for a long moment, Billy clears his throat and then takes a seat on a small stool in front of the examination table.
“What seems to be the trouble?” Billy asks crisply, in his most professional tone.
“You and Dom seem to be nursing the same wound,” David replies, getting directly to the point. “He told me you two broke up.”
“Yes,” Billy manages to reply, though he can’t maintain eye contact. “It’s over.”
“Do you mind telling me why?” David asks quietly.
Endless seconds pass, the clock on the wall ticking loudly as David waits for Billy’s response.
“Well?” he prompts.
“It’s complicated,” Billy finally says, in a low, unsteady voice.
“Is it because he can’t play anymore?” David inquires, looking for confirmation of his theory. “Since he’ll no longer be the star of Rangers?”
“What?” Billy cries out as he looks up. “I’m not the one who-”
Ending his outburst as quickly as it began, Billy averts his eyes and drags in several harsh breaths as he struggles to regain control of his emotions.
“He broke it off, didn’t he?” David asks, his voice softer now.
“Yes,” Billy chokes out, his eyes filling with traitorous tears.
“Stupid bastard.”
Brow furrowing, Billy starts to roll back on the stool, only to have David reach out and grab his arm.
“Him, not you,” David adds. “I’m sorry, Billy. Really, I am.”
Sitting up straighter, Billy swallows hard.
“Did you have a medical problem, or were you just on a fishing expedition?” Billy asks, taking refuge in in his profession. “I have other patients I need to see.”
“I just wanted you to know that I’m checking in on him, doing what I can to look after him,” David replies, gently squeezing Billy’s bicep, attempting to offer some comfort. “Since he won’t let you be there.”
“Thank you.”
“While I’m here, would you mind taking a look at my back?” David asks, mercifully changing the subject. “I’ve been having some disc trouble for the last six months or so.”
“Sure, but why don’t you go to your regular doctor?” Billy inquires.
“I saw what you did for Dom. I want the best, and you’re it,” David says simply.
“I don’t know about that,” Billy replies softly. “Look at where Dom is now. I did a great job there, didn’t I?”
“Billy, Dom spent the last four months on the football pitch, when I wondered if he’d make it back at all after his knee surgery,” David explains. “You knew how much it meant to him, how much he loved to play, and you did all you could to help him, more than any other doctor would’ve done. He made it this far because of you. I know that.”
Stunned by David’s words, Billy takes a moment, and then nods this thanks.
“Take off your shirt and lay down on your stomach then,” Billy instructs. “And tell me, when did you first notice the discomfort? Was it a sudden onset, during a practice or match, or was it gradual?”
* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *
Twenty minutes and an extensive examination later, David steps out of the private exam room with several sheets of paper clutched in his hand. Offering his thanks, David promises to give the exercises and stretches Billy has recommended a try. Shoulders heavy, his eyes agonizingly sad, Billy nods and then turns away, towards his office. Sighing under his breath, David watches until Billy closes the door behind him and then turns around, noticing that he wasn’t the only one observing Billy.
Stepping out from the doorway of the doctor’s lounge, Orlando walks over to where David is standing.
“He’s miserable,” David says, shaking his head. “They both are.”
“He’s better today than he was yesterday, but I think that he’s just learning to hide it better,” Orlando replies, the concern obvious in his tone. “He can’t talk about it.”
“It happened here?” David asks, trying to fill in the details.
Slowly, Orlando nods. “I found him on the floor in an exam room. He looked like someone had just reached in, ripped out his heart and threw it on the floor.”
“Dammit.”
“They were so happy, so in love-”
Pressing his lips together, Orlando shakes his head as his long arms cross over his chest. “I don’t know if he’ll ever get over it.”
“Lets hope they don’t have to,” David replies. “It’s only been a couple of days. One of them might decide that it’s not over just yet.”
“An optimist, are you?” Orlando comments, a tiny smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.
“Closet romantic,” David corrects. “I’m David, by the way. Wenham.”
“Orlando Bloom, but my friends call me Orli.”
Fingers wrapping around Orlando’s slender, extended hand, David meets and then sinks into the depths of warm chocolate eyes, and suddenly has the urge to draw his fingers through the dark jumble of silky curls.
“So do you really think they can get back together?” Orlando asks, quietly unnerved by the way David is staring at him, but also liking it.
“People don’t fall in love every day,” David replies, not even aware that his thumb is absently stroking the back of Orlando’s hand. “Let’s just hope they figure that out.”
Looking over his shoulder at the closed door to Billy’s office, Orlando nods in agreement before meeting David’s gaze again. “Let’s hope.”
* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *
Chapter 16
Author:
dylan_dufresne Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: PG-14, ish. I think.
Summary: At the Aberdeen football match, Dom’s luck finally runs out, and it’s all downhill from there.
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated as it’s my drug of choice. Many thanks to
frojane, for the faboo beta. Credit for the banner goes to the very talented loki_girl. Thank you so much.Disclaimer: Not at all true in reality. This is my imagination at work.
A/N: I think the title says it all. *sniff* Pass the kleenex, will you?
Previous Parts: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14
Chapter 15 - All Good Things . . .
Shivering nervously, Billy gazes around the huge stadium, taking in the several thousands of people settling into their seats, waiting for the match to begin. Watching the opposing players run out onto the field, a knot begins to form in Billy’s belly, twisting and churning. It seems that everything he’s read about the other team is true. Suddenly, Billy starts to think that it’ll be a bloody miracle if Dom’s knee manages to survive playing against them today.
Making a decision, Billy marches down the concrete steps to the sidelines, coming up behind the short and stocky Coach Holm. He turns after Billy taps him firmly on the shoulder.
“Hey, you can’t be down here,” the coach growls. “No fans allows allowed on the bench.”
“I am not just some fan, Mr. Holm,” Billy says, his voice coated with icicles. “I’m a sports physician. Dr. Billy Boyd.”
“Good for you,” the older man grunts in return. “Now you better get out of here before I call security.”
“Hey, I know him.” An assistant coach suddenly makes the connection. “This is Monaghan’s doctor. The one from the clinic, with the kid who’s always at practice.”
Coach Holm’s eyes are beady little marbles as they rake over Billy’s face. “You’re kidding.”
Fighting down the anger created by his derisive tone, Billy pushes on. “I’m Dominic Monaghan’s physician,” he states firmly. “And since there is a distinct possibility of him being injured today, I’m staying here on the sidelines.”
“Yeah, well, we don’t allow boyfriends on the sidelines, either.” Scoffing, Coach Holm turns away. “And as for medical treatment, we’ve got team physio’s here.”
Grabbing the older man’s arm, Billy jerks him about to face him with a force that will amaze him later. “Physio’s who will shoot him full of xylocaine. On that field, with a numb leg, he’s bound to lose his footing and injure himself,” Billy retorts furiously.
“Monaghan’s a big boy. If he wants a shot, we’re not going to ring his Mum for permission. Or his boyfriend.”
Body tensing, Billy feels like punching the man in the face, but restrains himself, knowing that it’ll do no good. Hands on his hips, Billy looks Coach Holm directly in the eye.
“Look, I’m his doctor, and I’m staying,” Billy says firmly. “If you don’t like that, Coach Holm, then you’re going to have to have me arrested and hauled from this field, because that’s the only way I’m leaving.”
Green eyes flashing dangerously, Billy’s intense gaze bores like twin green lasers into Coach Holm’s face for several long, tense moments. Obviously deciding that he’s met his match, the coach shrugs carelessly. “Hey, if you want to give up a perfectly good seat, it’s your business.” Then he waves a hand in Billy’s face. “But if you say even one word to any of my players, I’ll take you up on that offer. Understand?”
Silently, Billy nods as the Rangers appear from the locker room and gather on the sidelines. Catching sight of Billy, Dom leaves David’s side and makes his way over to him.
“Hey,” Dom says softly. “Why aren’t you in your seat? Match is about to start.”
“I’m going to be right here, Dom, in case you need me for anything,” Billy says simply. “Anything at all.”
Drawing a deep breath into his lungs, Dom smiles, his eyes gentle and intimate. “Thank you.”
“Good luck.”
A long moment passes, the urge to slip closer and share a kiss strong in both men. Catching Billy’s fingers for a few seconds, Dom gives them a fast squeeze, and then he’s running out onto the field.
The match is a decidedly unfunny comedy of errors from the start. In the first twenty minutes, each team loses possession of the football numerous times, as player after player neglects to move the ball down the pitch.
“Watching these blokes is like going to the bloody dentist,” mumbles a television cameraman standing near Billy.
“It’s definitely not pretty out there,” Billy agrees, cringing as Dom darts to one side in an effort to avoid a collision, only to get accidentally clipped by another player and tumble to the ground.
“Hell, it’s downright ugly,” the cameraman protests, focusing on the action moving down pitch. “”This is not the way this game was meant to be played.”
Once again, the ball gets kicked loose and this time Aberdeen recovers it, the whistle blowing a moment later and a yellow flag flying through the air. Watching Dom carefully, Billy doesn’t miss the fact that Dom is now visibly limping. As the fumbles, near misses and collisions continue, the intensity on the field increases dramatically. Frustration is making tempers flare as sustained control the ball continues to remain elusive to both teams, and Billy has to cover his mouth with his hand as Dom tumbles to the ground again.
“If Aberdeen wins, they’re going to call this the match that killed Monaghan,” the cameraman comments, wincing as Dom pushes himself up on to his hands and knees and then slowly rises to his feet, gingerly testing his leg before taking a few cautious steps.
“This is the worst thing I’ve ever seen,” Billy objects. “Why doesn’t anybody do something?”
The man shrugs. “Hey, this is what Aberdeen’s been saying they were going to do all week. Their plan is to swarm all over Monaghan, whenever they can, make it harder for him. They know his knee can’t take the extra abuse. It’s no secret that he’s been having trouble with it all season, ever since the injury and coming back so soon after surgery.”
“They’re purposely trying to trip him up if they can and injure him?” Billy inquires incredulously, wondering who’d misnamed this sport a game. What is happening out on the pitch is definitely a war.
The cameraman gives Billy a strange look. “Sure. With all the attention aimed at Monaghan, he won’t be around by the end of the match. Morgan hasn’t had much playing time all season, so he’ll be cold. It’s called strategy.”
The second half of the match is worse than the first, Aberdeen more determined than ever to put pressure on Dom. As much as he wants to pull Dom away from the match and into the locker room, Billy knows there’s nothing he can say or do, except offer an ice pack or a short massage when Dom is off the pitch. The urge to beg Dom to stop is almost overwhelming, but Billy stays quiet, reading the intense concentration of Dom’s face and realizing this is definitely not the time to add to his burdens.
“Rangers have been pulling weird stuff out of their bag of tricks all season,” the cameraman mutters a short while later as he follows the play down the pitch. There is a roar from the crowd when there is yet another collision, Dom loses his footing, and goes down again. “Looks like they emptied their bag to get this far.”
“If you’re such an expert,” Billy snaps, tired of the man’s constant sarcasm, “Then why don’t you just put that camera down, go out there and try it for a few minutes?”
Stunned, the man stares, unblinking for a long moment. “Hey, don’t get pissed at me. I’m not the one doing it, and I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Failing to hear the apology, Billy’s attention is once again focused on Dom. Amazingly, he completes several short passes, moving the ball from just in front of the Rangers goal to midfield. For a moment, Billy thinks he catches sight of David Wenham, and then he’s gone again in a sea of shorts and studded boots. Rangers are pushing into Aberdeen’s half of the pitch when a whistle is blown, a substitution is called, and a player rises from the bench, moving over to the sidelines, where Coach Holm is waiting.
“Okay, tell Monaghan this is his chance to redeem himself,” the coach snaps out. “Tell him want him to get off his ass and hit Roberts for the goal.”
Billy hears the exchange and doesn’t miss the surprise in the player’s voice as his eyes widen in obvious surprise. “You want him to try to score? That’s what he’s been doing all along.”
“Enough of this dancing around and wasting time. Tell him either he scores, or he’s out,” the coach adds. “I’m tired of waiting.”
“But there’s plenty of time left,” the player argues. “Over twenty minutes.”
“Look, Johnson, if you don’t want to be sent back to the bench right now, carry out the instructions I’ve just given. Monaghan may be the bloke making the big bucks, but I’m the coach. Understand? Now get out there, and if nobody’s open, tell him to kick the damn ball into the sea.”
Shaking his head, Johnson meets Billy’s eyes for a fraction of a second and then he’s running out to join his teammates. When several heads, including Dom’s, turn to look incredulously at the sidelines, Billy realizes that the young player is not alone in thinking the instructions are risky. Not expecting it, Aberdeen isn’t prepared and a fellow Rangers player is able to receive Dom’s expertly directed pass, spinning and firing it towards the net.
When the official rules ‘no goal,’ the fans in the stadium go wild, the sound deafening, but Billy doesn’t notice. His attention is riveted on Dom, who’d gone down on a late collision. David is kneeling at his side, hand on Dom’s shoulder, and one of the team physio’s has run out onto the field.
“Well, looks like the miracle comeback just flat ran out of miracles,” the cameraman observes, directing his lens toward the action.
“Is he moving his leg?” Billy asks, wanting to hit the man for his heartless remark, but realizing he is able to see far more with his telephoto lens than Billy could ever hope to unaided.
“Nope,” the cameraman relates. “They just tried bending it, and he looked like he was going to pass out,” he relates. “Monaghan’s out for the day.”
“If it’s what I think it is, he’s out permanently,” Billy says quietly with a heavy sigh, fighting back the unprofessional waver in his voice.
Quickly following the stretcher out onto the field, Billy finds Dom still laying on his back but propped up on his elbows, staring at the scoreboard incredulously.
“What the hell? What do they mean, no goal?” he spits out, the pain he’s enduring making him shake violently.
As Dom attempts to struggle to his feet, David, Billy and the team physio all push him back down. David meets Billy’s gaze for a few seconds, keeping his hand on Dom’s chest to prevent him from attempting to get up again. The worry and fear is evident in his eyes.
“Dom, you can’t put any weight on that knee until I have a chance to examine it,” Billy protests, hand squeezing Dom’s until their eyes lock.
“But that was a goal, dammit!”
“That’s not the point right now,” Billy replies calmly, already having noticed the increased swelling in Dom’s injured knee.
Eyes blazing with fury, Dom unleashes all of his frustration at Billy. “The fuck it isn’t!”
Dom is still blustering about the injustice of it all as they wheel him into the A & E Department of a nearby Aberdeen hospital, and he continues until the painkiller that Billy prescribes finally, mercifully, knocks him out.
The sun is setting when Dom wakes up much later. Looking around the strange room in confusion, Dom tries to remember where he is, and then he stiffens as the memory of the football match comes rushing back.
“Bills?” he whispers, voice raspy with disuse.
Rising from the chair at Dom’s beside, Billy leans over to brush a tender kiss across Dom’s temple. “I’m right here, Dommie.”
“Did we lose?”
Christ, Billy muses to himself, wondering how Dom could care about the match right now? Slowly, he nods. “I’m afraid so. It was a ridiculous day for football. Rangers couldn’t help losing.”
“It was a ridiculous day for Aberdeen, too. And they won,” Dom reminds him as their eyes meet. “Well, I suppose that’s that. At least now all we have to is get me back on my feet for the League Cup. Then we’ve got the whole off-season to build my knee back up.”
Billy says nothing, all too aware that denial is the first response of anyone facing an unpleasant medical fact.
Head feeling like it’s surrounded by a dense fog, Dom licks his parched lips and reaches for the glass of water sitting on the table next to the bed. A moment later he’s thanking Billy with his eyes as Billy steadies the glass for him.
“I’m glad you came, Bills,” Dom murmurs after he’s swallowed the liquid down. “I wouldn’t have wanted to entrust my body to just any old bloke with a stethoscope.”
Surprising himself, Billy manages a smile. “I’m not wild about you entrusting this body to anyone other than me, Dom. I’ve got first dibs.”
Dom returns Billy’s smile with a weak one of his own. “What did you give me downstairs in the A & E Department, anyway? I feel like I’m floating somewhere out in space, not really in my body.”
“Close your eyes,” Billy instructs gently. “You won’t be so dizzy.”
Obeying, Dom’s eyelids flutter closed, and a moment later he smiles again. “Hey, this is kinda nice. If you’re into flying merry-go-rounds.”
Biting down on his lower lip for a moment, Billy leans over to kiss the drowsy man.
“Go back to sleep, Dommie,” Billy murmurs gently, smoothing back Dom’s tousled hair and cupping his cheek. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
After calling Cameron and assuring him that Dom is going to be just fine, Shannon O’Malley gets on the line to say that Cameron is absolutely no trouble at all, and is welcome to stay for as long as he wishes. Billy’s next call is to the clinic.
“So is it what we feared?” Dr. McKellan asks, getting directly to the point.
“Yes,” Billy begins, his chest aching. “The damage to the tendons is extensive and the cartilage is just laying there in ruins.” Tears well up in his green eyes once again, as they had when Billy first received the results of all the tests. Sniffing inelegantly, Billy attempts to compose himself.
“Well, that’s that,” Dr. McKellan replies after a long, heavy silence.
“That’s that,” Billy agrees flatly. “I’m bringing Dom back to Glasgow sometime tomorrow afternoon.”
“Does he know?”
“I’m sure he must.” Leaning against the wall, Billy sighs heavily. “I haven’t said anything yet, but the man’s been an athlete long enough to be well acquainted with what his body can and cannot do. Besides, he’s always known the risks.”
“That he has,” the older man agrees. “Have a safe trip back, Dr. Boyd.”
“Thank you,” Billy murmurs before ending the call.
Returning to Radiology, Billy studies the x-rays of Dom’s knee closely, determined to give Dom as much encouragement about his prognosis as possible. It doesn’t look good at all, Billy decides, but it could’ve been much worse. That is what he’s going to have to make Dom understand when he wakes up.
Night has fallen when Billy looks up from studying Dom’s test results to notice someone familiar walking slowly down the quiet hallway towards Dom’s hospital room. Rising from his chair at Dom’s side, Billy lays the file folders down before leaning over Dom and brushing a tender kiss across his temple. Slipping out of the room, Billy meets the visitor a short distance down the hall.
“Hello David.”
“How is he?” David asks tentatively.
“Sleeping right now. Painkillers have knocked him out,” Billy tells him. “It’s to make him rest until morning.”
“That’s not what I meant,” David says, wincing as he shifts to look inside the room. “How’s his knee? Is he going to be alright? Be able to play?”
Swallowing hard, Billy averts his eyes, and that’s all the answer David needs. Cursing under his breath and turning stiffly, he sinks down into a nearby plastic, molded chair, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, head resting in his hands.
“It’s my fault,” David whispers, staring at the floor.
“No, it’s not. He knew the risks,” Billy says softly after taking a seat beside the Australian Defender. “It’s a miracle Dom made it this far in the season, considering what that bastard you two call a coach was putting him through.”
“That last set of instructions from him. We all knew it was the wrong thing to do, that Dom would be left wide open, but we did it anyways,” David says, almost rambling, his inner thoughts tumbling out in a rush. “I tried to protect him.”
“It’s not your fault,” Billy soothes, the guilt in David’s voice breaking his already wounded heart.
“I let him down.”
“No, you were a good friend,” Billy insists gently. “And you tried to help him the best you could. You have nothing to apologize for.”
The two men talk for nearly an hour, and then Billy sends David back to his hotel, knowing he’s exhausted, sore, and in need of rest. Moving back into Dom’s room, Billy carefully adjusts the light blue blanket and white sheet covering Dom, and then settles in the chair at his side. Reaching over, Billy laces his fingers with Dom’s, and then lets his eyes close. Tomorrow is going to be a very difficult day.
“Hey,” Dom says as Billy enters the room just before noon the next day. “You’re just in time for the news. Want to watch the report of yesterday’s match?”
Billy shakes his head, knowing that it won’t matter. “Not really, but I don’t suppose I have a choice.”
“Nope. I never did see that pass to score that they stole from me,” Dom replies, managing a smile. “I knew I was in trouble when I looked up and saw a wall of Aberdeen coming towards me, blocking out the light.”
They view what the sportscaster is calling highlights of the game, although Billy considers them badly labeled. Neither team had distinguished themselves, luck and fate proving to be much tougher opponents.
“Hell yes, I have to blame Monaghan.” Coach Holm appears on the screen, his face set in a scowl.
“It was a team loss,” the sportscaster delicately tries to point out. “Monaghan played quite well, considering the circumstances.
“Monaghan makes the most money; he’s paid well to perform.”
“Is it true that last hit has ended his playing days?”
Perched on the edge of Dom’s hospital bed, Billy feels Dom tense, though he remains silent.
“That’s what they say,” Coach Holm replies mildly.
“What does that mean for next year’s team?” the sportscaster asks.
“I don’t believe the myth about a needing a veteran Midfielder,” is the gruff and heartless reply.
Dom only grunts noncommittally as the interview is wrapped up, but focuses his attention back on the screen when the clinic comes into view.
“We’re here with Dr. Ian McKellan, administrator for the Glasgow Sports Medical Clinic, where Dominic Monaghan has been receiving daily therapy for an injury suffered last season,” the reporter announces. “Dr. McKellan, is it true that Dominic’s physician is in Aberdeen with him at the moment?”
“That’s right. Our chief of staff, Dr. Boyd, has examined Mr. Monaghan and will be returning to Glasgow with him later today.”
“Chief of staff?” Dom repeats, looking at Billy with surprise, his eyes wide. “When did that happen?”
“It’s a long story,” Billy murmurs, reaching for the remote before McKellan can continue. “And the announcement is premature, at best. I haven’t accepted it yet.”
Using his long arms to their full advantage, Dom hold the remote out of Billy’s reach. “But you’ve been offered the job.”
Reluctantly, Billy nods. “A few days ago. Let’s turn it off.”
“Wait a minute, they’re talking about you, Dr. Boyd,” Dom replies.
“And Dr. Boyd’s prognosis about his future?” the reporter asks.
“I’m afraid Dominic Monaghan’s playing days are over,” Dr McKellan replies.
Dom freezes, and Billy risks a tentative glance in his direction. “Dom,” he begins softly.
The television darkens as Dom points the remote in it’s direction. “Is that what you told him?”
Dom’s voice is rigid, under tight, ironclad control.
“Let me explain,” Billy says softly.
Flinging Billy’s hand off of his shoulder, Dom’s eyes are expressionless. “I asked you a question, Billy. Is that what you told him?”
“Yes,” Billy confirms, nodding his head.
It’s no louder than a whisper, but Dom has no trouble hearing it in the midst of the swirling silence in the room.
“I see,” Dom says finally. “That’s your best guess? Or are you positive?”
“Positive. You’ll be able to walk, Dom,” Billy rushes to add.
“Walk. But no football.”
Billy shakes his head sadly. “No, no football.”
“They told me that last year,” Dom reminds him.
“That was different. Dr. Phillips only said he wouldn’t recommend it. He didn’t say it was a total impossibility.” Billy takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm his nerves. “Believe me, there’s no way that your knee will be able to sustain any more hits. And it isn’t flexible enough to allow you the mobility you need out on the pitch.”
“That’s your opinion.”
“Yes, that’s my professional opinion,” Billy agrees.
“I’m requesting a consultation with another specialist,” Dom states firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.
Understanding Dom’s reasoning, Billy welcomes it, because he doesn’t want Dom to ever wonder if he lied, in order to get Dom to stop playing.
“I think that’s a very good idea,” Billy replies. “Anyone in particular you’d like me to call?”
“No,” Dom says as he shakes his head briefly. “I’ll let you choose, so long as you promise not to stack the deck against me.”
Leaning down, Billy kisses Dom with all the love in his heart. “I promise, Dommie,” he pledges.
True to word, Billy arranges for an extensive examination just two days after they return to Glasgow, wanting Dom to accept the full extent of his injury as soon as possible. The sooner that happens, the sooner Dom can focus on moving on with his life.
“Well, I guess that’s that,” Dom comments flatly, alone with Billy in an exam room after the well respected sports physician Billy brought in from London has confirmed his diagnosis.
“I’m afraid so,” Billy agrees softly. “Dom, I’m truly sorry.”
“Not as sorry as I am.” Dom laughs, but the sound is hollow and devoid of mirth. “I should’ve known that this would never work.”
“You managed to play more than half the season,” Billy points out. “Against incredible odds.”
“Believe it or not, I wasn’t talking about football, Billy. I was talking about us.”
“Us?” Billy repeats in confusion.
Dom nods. “Yeah. The chief of staff and the washed-up footballer.”
The finality in his low, defeated tone frightens Billy and rattles him all the way to the core of his being.
“What do you mean?” Billy demands. “Why should this change anything between us?”
“You’re the one who didn’t want complications,” Dom says simply.
“So I’ve changed my mind, Dom.” Swallowing hard, Billy decides to take a chance, risk his heart. “And I think you have, too.”
Silently, Dom’s gaze sweeps over Billy as he stands before him. In dark, crisply pressed trousers, starched white lab coat and perfectly knotted tie, Billy looks every inch the successful professional. His shoes are polished, and the watch at his wrist is simply fashioned in gold, but not inexpensive. This is a man on track with his life. Yes, he has faced odds that equal Dom’s own right now, and Billy has succeeded. Admirably.
More importantly, Billy has done it on his own. The one thing that Billy Boyd doesn’t need is to be saddled with his problems, Dom thinks to himself. For a time, their lives ran a parallel course, but now Billy’s is rocketing skyward, while his is fizzling and hurtling towards earth. About to crash and burn.
“Look, Billy, you’ve got the world in the palm of your hand right now. Chief of staff-”
“I haven’t accepted that,” Billy interrupts.
“You will,” Dom states, overriding Billy firmly. “Your career is booming, and now that Michael and Abby have changed their mind about sharing their home with that amazing little boy, you don’t have any more worries about Cam.”
“Dom-”
“You’re intelligent, sexy as hell, and quite honestly, the most lovable as well as loving man I’ve ever met,” Dom interrupts. “You’re going to have the blokes lining up outside your door in droves, Bills. The last thing you need is a battered old has-been,” Dom finishes, his gaze falling to the floor.
“Don’t you dare talk that way about the man I love,” Billy protests heatedly.
It’s the first time the words have been spoken aloud, and their importance reverberate around the room as Billy and Dom wordlessly observe each other for a full minute. It’s Dom who finally breaks the heavy silence.
“You don’t love me.” Groaning unconsciously as he slowly slides off the examination table, Dom accepts the crutches that Billy offers to him with a grim expression. “You’re just confusing love with pity, Doctor. You’re going to need to learn to maintain a more professional attitude and distance.”
“Dom . . .” Reaching out, Billy catches hold of his arm, only to watch Dom shake free of his small hand.
“Let it go, Billy,” Dom pleads.” I’m just not any good for anyone right now. Don’t you see? I’m not in any position to be making any decisions.”
“Don’t you understand?” A single tear runs unchecked down Billy’s face as he remains aware of the fact that he’s shaking, on the verge of falling apart. “I fell in love with you in spite of the fact that you played football, Dom. Not because you did.”
“It’s who I am,” Dom objects firmly. “All my life, I’ve thought of myself as a football player. My entire life. I can’t separate the two, Billy, and I’ve never wanted to.”
“But-”
Drawing in a painful breath, Dom shifts before continuing. “I’m intelligent enough to realize that there’s no way in Hell that I’m ever going to play football again, so obviously, I can’t offer you anything.”
“Dommie, please. Don’t say that.”
Reaching out with his free hand, Dom slips his fingers though Billy’s short, ginger hair before cupping his cheek in a heart breakingly familiar gesture.
“Billy, do me a favor,” Dom says hoarsely.
“Anything.”
“Don’t love me,” Dom whispers. “I really can’t handle that right now, and it’s definitely not fair to you.”
Suddenly angry and desperate, Billy can see their life together slipping away, like grains of sand through open fingers. “Don’t tell me what’s fair and not fair, Dominic Monaghan. And you have no right to tell me who I can and cannot love.”
As Billy lifts his tear streaked face to his, Dom’s long fingers move over Billy’s delicate features, as if the memory of the Scotsman is to last him a lifetime.
“Be good to yourself, Bills,” Dom says hoarsely, his own eyes suspiciously, unnaturally moist.
Leaning forward on his crutches and ducking his head, Dom starts to brush a feathery kiss over Billy’s cheek, but before he realizes what is happening, Billy is turning his head and bringing their mouths together. Lips parting automatically, Dom allows himself one last taste of his lover as Billy’s tongue tangles with his, and Billy clings to him, almost desperately. Deepening the kiss, Billy slides a hand around the nape of Dom’s neck, silently pleading with Dom, hoping that he’ll reconsider. Resolve hanging on by a ragged thread, Dom suddenly tears his mouth away, his breath uneven and chest heaving.
“Dommie,” Billy whispers, reaching out and trying to cup Dom’s cheek. “Please-”
“Goodbye.”
Turning on his crutches, Dom quickly leaves the room, Billy staring after him in shock.
Billy can’t make himself believe that Dom is actually going to go, until he watches from the window as the black Porsche pulls out of the car park and disappears around the corner. The words keep echoing in Billy’s mind. Dom’s gone. He’s gone. Just like that, he’s driven out of Billy’s clinic and out of his life.
Knees buckling, Billy slides slowly down the wall, crumpling into a heap on the floor in the exam room. Hugging his knees to his chest, Billy rocks back and forth, breath ragged as his whole body trembles violently and uncontrollably. It’s happened again. He finally let someone into his life and allowed himself to fall in love, only to be left again. After swearing that he’d never place himself in that position again, here Billy is, heartbroken, left to pick up the pieces alone.
When a hand gently touches Billy’s shoulder, he looks up quickly, fervently hoping that Dom has changed his mind and come back. Meeting brown eyes instead of blue-grey, Billy can’t hold back the soft cry of despair that pushes past his cherubic lips. Looking away, Billy tries desperately to pull himself together, brushing at his damp eyes and clearing his throat.
Ignoring Billy’s attempts to conceal his pain, Orlando sinks down to sit on the floor at Billy’s slide, sliding an arm across the Scotsman’s shoulders and drawing him in close for a hug. It’s long minutes later when Billy finally surrenders and sinks into Orlando’s comforting embrace. Rocking Billy gently in his arms and rubbing his tense, trembling back, Orlando remains silent, knowing that there is absolutely nothing he can say to make Billy feel better.
Following the sound of the television, David walks into Dom’s living room after letting himself in and closing the front door behind him, his arms laden with a large brown bag of takeaway. Pausing in the doorway, he takes a moment to observe Dom, stretched out on the couch, his right leg elevated on several pillows as he stares aimlessly at the large screen. It’s obvious to David that Dom isn’t seeing the images before him, his mind clearly somewhere else.
“Hey,” David says, finally entering the room and taking a seat on the nearby recliner. “You weren’t answering your phone so I decided to drop by.”
“Hey Daisy,” Dom replies flatly, not looking away from the television.
“Brought you some Thai,” David continues, his brow furrowing. “Your favorite.”
“Thanks.” Reaching over to the nearby coffee table, Dom picks up a half empty bottle of beer and takes a long pull. “Beer’s in the fridge. Help yourself. Bring me one if you’re already going that way.”
Eyeing the bottle of prescription pain killers sitting on the coffee table as well, David rethinks his idea of getting a beer, and opens the bag of Thai food instead.
“I’ve got all your favorites,” David says brightly. “Moo Dang, Gang Gai, Nua Kem, and Pad Thai. What do you want to start with?”
“Maybe later,” Dom replies distantly. “Not hungry right now.”
Sighing, David sets the bag of takeaway on the floor between his feet and rests his elbows on his knees, fingers lacing together.
“Where’s Billy?”
“Dunno.”
“When’s he coming over?” David presses, unable to read Dom’s expression.
“He’s not.”
“So, you’re going over there? On your crutches?”
“Nope.”
“Dom?” David says softly, utterly confused. “What’s going on?”
“It’s over.”
“What’s over?”
“Me and Billy.”
“What?” David cries out in shock.
“We broke up,” Dom says flatly, glancing over and briefly meeting David’s stunned gaze.
“When? How? Why?” David stutters out, his mind racing.
“It’s just over,” Dom repeats listlessly, looking back at the television. “And I don’t want to talk about it, so just drop it, yeah?”
While David stares in shock, Dom reaches over to grab his beer again, only to have David lunge forward and yank it from his grip.
“Hey!” Dom cries out in protest, trying to grab the bottle back and failing.
“Drowning yourself in a bottle isn’t going to help matters any,” David says dryly. “And mixing booze with pills is just plain stupid.”
“You’re not my Mum,” Dom retorts icily. “Or my keeper.”
“No, I’m your best mate,” David fires back heatedly as he ducks into the kitchen with the half-empty beer, returning a moment later with two bottles of water. “And I love you, even when you’re being a royal wanker.”
“You can leave,” Dom adds, though his eyes and tone clearly asks David to do just the opposite. “I’m not stopping you.”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Dom,” David answers with a small smile as he hands Dom the chilled bottle of water. “I only have one question for you.”
“What?” Dom asks suspiciously.
“Comedy or action?” David replies as he picks up the remote control and settles on the floor in front of the couch.
“Action,” Dom decides blandly. “I’m not in the mood to laugh.”
Nodding, David quickly finds something suitable to watch and then digs into the takeaway. Several minutes later, when David catches Dom eyeing the small container he’s holding, he smiles and reaches into the bag for another set of utensils. Silently accepting the Pad Thai, Dom manages to eat a fair number of bites under David’s watchful eye. The next hour is spent in silence, wordlessly passing containers of Thai food back and forth as they watch a movie that neither of them is particularly interested in. A short while later, the painkiller Dom took with dinner takes effect and he drops off to sleep, head lolling to one side.
Turning off the television, David carefully drapes a blanket over Dom’s sleeping form before turning down the lights and slipping into the kitchen. Once all the alcohol David can find is poured down the drain, he leaves quietly, closing and locking the front door behind him. He’s at the curb, sliding into the front seat of his car when a familiar blue and white Mini pulls into the driveway next door.
Resisting the urge to call out a hello as Billy steps out of the vehicle, instead David watches Billy walk into the house, his head down and shoulders slumped. It’s clear to David that neither man is happy about the termination of their relationship, but the reason for it still remains unknown, and before he slides the key into the ignition, David decides that he’s going to do everything he can to find out.
Leaning against the counter at the receptionist’s desk at the Glasgow Sports Medicine Clinic, David smiles cordially as the petite blonde finishes a phone call to schedule an appointment for a patient.
“Good morning, sir. How may I help you?” she says after hanging up the phone.
“I’d like to see Dr. Boyd,” David replies. “Is that at all possible, even though I don’t have an appointment?”
Quickly scanning the schedule pad in front of her, the receptionist smiles. “I can get you into see him in about ten minutes. Would you like a private room?”
“Yes, please,” David requests. “Thank you very much.”
Keeping her promise, the receptionist has David settled in an exam room just a few minutes later, waiting for Billy to arrive. For a moment, he wonders if he’s sticking his nose in where it doesn’t belong, and then the door is opening and Billy enters, clad in a crisp, white lab coat, scanning the patient form in his small hands.
“What can I do for you, Mr. -” Billy stops short as his gaze meets the Australian Defender’s. “David.”
“Hi Billy.”
Eyes storming with turbulent emotions for a long moment, Billy clears his throat and then takes a seat on a small stool in front of the examination table.
“What seems to be the trouble?” Billy asks crisply, in his most professional tone.
“You and Dom seem to be nursing the same wound,” David replies, getting directly to the point. “He told me you two broke up.”
“Yes,” Billy manages to reply, though he can’t maintain eye contact. “It’s over.”
“Do you mind telling me why?” David asks quietly.
Endless seconds pass, the clock on the wall ticking loudly as David waits for Billy’s response.
“Well?” he prompts.
“It’s complicated,” Billy finally says, in a low, unsteady voice.
“Is it because he can’t play anymore?” David inquires, looking for confirmation of his theory. “Since he’ll no longer be the star of Rangers?”
“What?” Billy cries out as he looks up. “I’m not the one who-”
Ending his outburst as quickly as it began, Billy averts his eyes and drags in several harsh breaths as he struggles to regain control of his emotions.
“He broke it off, didn’t he?” David asks, his voice softer now.
“Yes,” Billy chokes out, his eyes filling with traitorous tears.
“Stupid bastard.”
Brow furrowing, Billy starts to roll back on the stool, only to have David reach out and grab his arm.
“Him, not you,” David adds. “I’m sorry, Billy. Really, I am.”
Sitting up straighter, Billy swallows hard.
“Did you have a medical problem, or were you just on a fishing expedition?” Billy asks, taking refuge in in his profession. “I have other patients I need to see.”
“I just wanted you to know that I’m checking in on him, doing what I can to look after him,” David replies, gently squeezing Billy’s bicep, attempting to offer some comfort. “Since he won’t let you be there.”
“Thank you.”
“While I’m here, would you mind taking a look at my back?” David asks, mercifully changing the subject. “I’ve been having some disc trouble for the last six months or so.”
“Sure, but why don’t you go to your regular doctor?” Billy inquires.
“I saw what you did for Dom. I want the best, and you’re it,” David says simply.
“I don’t know about that,” Billy replies softly. “Look at where Dom is now. I did a great job there, didn’t I?”
“Billy, Dom spent the last four months on the football pitch, when I wondered if he’d make it back at all after his knee surgery,” David explains. “You knew how much it meant to him, how much he loved to play, and you did all you could to help him, more than any other doctor would’ve done. He made it this far because of you. I know that.”
Stunned by David’s words, Billy takes a moment, and then nods this thanks.
“Take off your shirt and lay down on your stomach then,” Billy instructs. “And tell me, when did you first notice the discomfort? Was it a sudden onset, during a practice or match, or was it gradual?”
Twenty minutes and an extensive examination later, David steps out of the private exam room with several sheets of paper clutched in his hand. Offering his thanks, David promises to give the exercises and stretches Billy has recommended a try. Shoulders heavy, his eyes agonizingly sad, Billy nods and then turns away, towards his office. Sighing under his breath, David watches until Billy closes the door behind him and then turns around, noticing that he wasn’t the only one observing Billy.
Stepping out from the doorway of the doctor’s lounge, Orlando walks over to where David is standing.
“He’s miserable,” David says, shaking his head. “They both are.”
“He’s better today than he was yesterday, but I think that he’s just learning to hide it better,” Orlando replies, the concern obvious in his tone. “He can’t talk about it.”
“It happened here?” David asks, trying to fill in the details.
Slowly, Orlando nods. “I found him on the floor in an exam room. He looked like someone had just reached in, ripped out his heart and threw it on the floor.”
“Dammit.”
“They were so happy, so in love-”
Pressing his lips together, Orlando shakes his head as his long arms cross over his chest. “I don’t know if he’ll ever get over it.”
“Lets hope they don’t have to,” David replies. “It’s only been a couple of days. One of them might decide that it’s not over just yet.”
“An optimist, are you?” Orlando comments, a tiny smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.
“Closet romantic,” David corrects. “I’m David, by the way. Wenham.”
“Orlando Bloom, but my friends call me Orli.”
Fingers wrapping around Orlando’s slender, extended hand, David meets and then sinks into the depths of warm chocolate eyes, and suddenly has the urge to draw his fingers through the dark jumble of silky curls.
“So do you really think they can get back together?” Orlando asks, quietly unnerved by the way David is staring at him, but also liking it.
“People don’t fall in love every day,” David replies, not even aware that his thumb is absently stroking the back of Orlando’s hand. “Let’s just hope they figure that out.”
Looking over his shoulder at the closed door to Billy’s office, Orlando nods in agreement before meeting David’s gaze again. “Let’s hope.”
Chapter 16
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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I had a kleenex warning. It broke my heart to write this chapter, but it needed to be done. I've been in Dom's shoes, where you find out that everything you've worked for for years is just gone. It really sucks.
I'm sure you can survive until Monday. Perhaps try re-reading the earlier chapters? Thank you!
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Secondly, OMG YOU BROKE THEM UP NO WAI!!!
I...Just...No! Ng....OMG, no.
Please fix them, for my sake?
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*sniff* Yes, I had to do it, even though I didn't want to. Dom is a stubborn bastard, you know . . .
Monday. I'll be here.
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OMG NO NO NO! I had the feeling it would happen but still... It does not-so happy things to my heart
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I find that chocolate helps with the pain of angst.
Thank you. More on Monday.
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Poor Dom. I knew it was coming, but still. Nice of Orli to be there for Billy.
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Poor Dom, indeed. And, ow. I had to have Orli there to help Billy. :(
Thank you.
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I'm going to find this weekend so hard not knowing if it gets sorted out!
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I'll be back on Monday. Thank you.
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Thank you.
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I love how your story has me all twisted up in knots, but I don't know how I'm going to be able to wait till Monday to know what happens next.
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Dom is in pain, physically and emotionally, and he's not making the best decisions. Stubborn wanker.
Thank you. I'll be back on Monday.
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In the great words of Billy Boyd: "Dom's an idiot"
And he certainly is here! Let's hope there's a turnaround in the final chapter - for both their sakes!
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In the great words of Billy Boyd: "Dom's an idiot."
No. Shite.
Thank you very much!
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So sad.
But I'm still hoping for a happy ending...
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Thank you.
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Oh and Orli and David dating is a great idea, just saying. :)
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I ♥ OrDaisy. Happy to know that I'm not alone.
Thank you!
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They need to make up.. now... because if they don't, we wont get hot steamy make up sex. And... I am pretty convinced that we need hot steamy make up sex.
Is it Monday yet?
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I'm thinking that Monday cannot get here soon enough . . .
Thank you very much.
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:D :D :D
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Who wouldn't be drawn in by those eyes and that hair. *sigh*
Thank you so much.
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I'm so sad to see this story end soon, I've loved it so much!
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I'll be sad to say goodbye to this fic. I've grown quite attached to it.
Thank you!
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Poor Billy.
And poor Dom for being sad when he doesn't have to (at least not because of Billy).
Please let them get back together.
And thanks for the silver-lining made of Orli and David.
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Dom is a stubborn bastard. He needs Billy.
Yay for OrDaisy! I adore them. Thank you very much.
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I love Bloom/Wenham almost as much as I love Monaghan/Boyd.
Love the attraction between them.
I was crying through the whole break-up scene
And beyond.
*sobs*
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I'm sorry you cried. *passes kleenex*
Thank you. More on Monday. I promise.
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Orli and Daisy are so cute!
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So pleased that you enjoyed the OrDaisy. I adore them.
Thank you.
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Thnak you very much. I'm very flattered that you're enjoying.
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I just wanted to tell you that I love this so far! I've only read through five chapters, but I have them all saved up to 15 and am planning on reading more today. This is especially cool to me with living in Glasgow and I'm enjoying it so much! And Billy as a daddy is beyond awesome. Keep up the good work!
♥
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Thanks again. :)
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And big kudos to you for finishing before you started posting it. It is such a pleasure to get emotionally involved in a story and know for sure that there is going to be resolution, and that it will be soon, and not months from now (if at all.)
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I, too, have been burned by series fic in the past that never got finished, so that's why I write and post the way I do. I know it's not intentional for other writer's not to finish their work, but I feel a sense of resonsibilty to tell the whole story that I've brought to the reader's attention. Also, getting a daily hit of feedback certainly doesn't suck. :)
Thank you again. I'll be posting again on Monday!
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Oh wow. I stayed up until 3 am last night catching up on this, and it was worth every second. I am absolutely and incurably in love with every single character (except Coach Holm, Abby and Michael, for obvious reasons >:[) in this fic, and I'll be sad to see it end.
Much love,
Mel
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Thank you very much, Mel. More on Monday!
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Good news: There's less than twenty-four hours for you to wait now . . .
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but you know i love this, anyway, right? though i am pissed at dommie at this point. he should know better. billy doesn't love just because he plays football. he loves him despite that he plays football.
but i know you'll fix them, which is only part of why i love you. :D
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I was pissed at Dom, too, but I could see how he justified to himself. He got hurt before, better to leave first, than be left again. Silly Dommie. Billy wuvs you.
Thanks, sweetie. :)
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hot dayum!... um, do i love me some hot angry!Billy...
“If it’s what I think it is, he’s out permanently,” Billy says quietly with a heavy sigh, fighting back the unprofessional waver in his voice.
man, do i want to kill Coach Holm now. bastard. i'm glad Billy's there at the game.
Knees buckling, Billy slides slowly down the wall, crumpling into a heap on the floor in the exam room. Hugging his knees to his chest, Billy rocks back and forth, breath ragged as his whole body trembles violently and uncontrollably. It’s happened again. He finally let someone into his life and allowed himself to fall in love, only to be left again. After swearing that he’d never place himself in that position again, here Billy is, heartbroken, left to pick up the pieces alone.
so good. painful, but well done. Poor Billy...
ah, David. He's such a good guy.
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Coach Holm will rot in a special level of Hell. Bastard.
Breaking up Dom and Billy hurt so much, but it had to be done. I knew Dom would pull back, trying to protect himself, not trusting that Billy would stand by his side. At the same time, I couldn't leave him all alone, and I knew Dom would allow David to be around him.
Thanks, sweetie.
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Just good to know that Daisy's looking after Dom. And he's keeping Billy up to date. One must love him for that.
“People don’t fall in love every day. Let’s just hope they figure that out.” Yes, there's hope. And for more than just the friends of these two.
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At least Daisy is able to try to contain some of the damage and doing his best to help them both.
Hope. That's a good thing, especailly when things look bleak.
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Damn woman, you know how to write. ;) Thanks for this. I kind of needed a good cry. I just can't believe that this fic still gets to me this much.
Also, Dom needs to be kicked in the head. STUPID man!
The Orli/David factor always makes me smile. Two such wonderful guys just deserve each other. Nice people. Goodness.
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It was during the writing of this fic that I discovered my ♥ of Ordaisy. I'm happy to share.