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monaboyd Jan. 6th, 2007 01:12 am)
flybynite29.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Jan. 6th, 2007 01:12 am)Title: Imitation of Life: Pt. 5/??
Author: flybynite29
Rating: Series R-NC17, this part R for graphic description of murder, language, medical squick, serious injury.
Pairings: Billy Boyd/Dominic Monaghan (a bit later in the story), brief mentions of Billy/omc, the cast of Lost popping up in various places and positions.
Summary: Billy Boyd's a hard-working, straight-laced, small town detective with a secret. When the course of The Job takes him directly into the path of his daydreams, he has no choice but to follow. Billy's fantasy has become someone else's obsession... and the results could be deadly.
Disclaimer: I do not own Billy Boyd, Dominic Monaghan, or any of the other real-life persons in this work; I'm just playing with them for a bit. I do own Detectives Bailey Connor and Shelley Ahana, however, for better or worse. No money is being made off of any of this, and I adore all of these people far too much to intend any disrespect.
Warnings: AU, Work in Progress, Graphic descriptions of serial murder, gore, general squick, angst galore, characters being in mortal peril, possible Lost spoilers, serious het-vibes.
Feedback: I live for it. : )
a/n 1: At last, the meeting. : ) Among other - not so nice - things. Amping up the mortal peril part here, folks, as well as the angst.
Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
a/n 2: I've taken great liberties with location and timing -amongst other things- for the purpose of this story. I haven't pulled any punches with the gore in this fic, so if you are squeamish about that type of thing, please beware. Although parts are definitely meant to be humorous, this will get quite dark in places because I'm dealing with a very disturbed mind (apart from my own ; )). The filming of Rings took place just as in real-life: with the sole exception of Billy not being cast in the role of Pippin. The details of Lost are all as is.
a/n 3: I've made the whole of the Hawaiian police force look like bumbling idiots, and I heartily apologize for that. I'm sure it's far from the truth in real life; but in fiction, it's nowhere near as much fun if everyone's doing their job properly- things go too smoothly and there's no story to be had. ; ) I realize, of course, that in reality, the homes of the Lost cast are not lined up neatly in a convenient little row on one single stretch of otherwise deserted beach, but for the purposes of my story (and due to a great deal of inherent laziness on my part) I've decided to pretend. Also, I've pretty much eliminated any signs of real-life significant others in the name of fiction, except in a couple of cases.
Don't fall away
and leave me to myself
Don't fall away
and leave love bleeding
in my hands
in my hands again...
~Fuel
Dom's eyes widened almost comically as he swiveled in his seat and stared at the door to the meeting room. Jorge had not been mistaken ... it was most definitely Dom's blonde bloke himself coming in through the entryway. Dom watched him walk up the aisle, pass the chairs where the cast sat without even a glance, and make his way up to the front of the room, where Damon and Carlton stood.
As Dom watched him move, he realized that his attraction to this perfect stranger was still there, stronger than ever ... but now Dom found it being surpassed by an urge to just take the guy into his arms and rock him to sleep. The cop's casual clothes were not the only change in his appearance - he seemed as if he had aged twenty years between when the videos were shot and now. He looked horrible, on the verge of collapse. The lines of weariness on his face had spread and deepened, the dark circles under his eyes had become chasms.
Dom wondered if the man had anyone waiting at home for him; someone who would take care of him, see that he was properly fed and rested, maybe soothe away some of those worry lines. Dom wondered these things, then promptly wondered why in bloody hell he was having such ridiculously girly thoughts.
Being attracted to someone and wanting to take him home and shag him senseless was nothing new to Dom. Being attracted to someone and wanting to take him home and play mum to him, however, was.
Dom shook his head at himself, then glanced over at Jorge, expecting another smart-ass remark. But Jorge was no longer paying Dom the slightest bit of mind. All of his attention was riveted on the petit brunette-bird who had come in with Dom's blonde-bloke. Jorge's eyes had gone far-off and dreamy. He was slightly slack-jawed and looked as if a mild breeze might topple him from his seat. Dom did not need a U.N. translator to tell him what Jorge's whispered, nearly breathless "Duuuude" meant.
Dom grinned crookedly, then turned back in his chair to await developments. This little meeting just might prove far more entertaining than he had imagined at the first.
***************************************************************************************************
Billy was immensely proud of himself. He had managed to walk in right past Dom (or, where he imagined Dom must be, since he hadn't actually had the nerve to look and make sure) without tripping, drooling, fainting, or otherwise making an utter arse of himself.
Of course, he had only been in the building for twenty seconds - there was still plenty of time for cataclysm to strike.
For long moments, Billy studiously looked everywhere in the room besides the one place he most wanted to look. He gazed up at the ceiling tiles with the critical eye of an structural engineer; mapped out the placement of highlights in Ahana's braided hair; memorized the ingredients of Juicy Fruit gum; picked assiduously at a wee hangnail on the pinky finger of his left hand; and spent so long staring at the light reflecting off of Damon Lindelof's bald spot he nearly went blind. After a while, though, he knew he had to bite the bullet and get it over with. He could not look away forever.
He turned his head and scanned the cast members, searching out ocean-kissed blue/grey eyes. When he finally found them, his breath caught in his throat and his heart stuttered to a stop.
He had been wrong ... Dominic was not beautiful at all.
He was absolutely stunning.
In that first moment, Billy ran nearly the whole gamut of human emotion: love; lust; tenderness; terror; worry; serenity; chaos; contentment; frenzy; excitement; despair; bliss ... They all went racing through him at once, in a swirling, dizzying maelstrom of sensation. For a heartbeat, he thought he would go mad with feeling.
He could not go on like this. To save his sanity, he must train his mind to see Dominic in a different way.
He would never be able to look at Dom and see anyone but Dom, as Ahana had suggested back in the parking lot. But perhaps he could pretend it was his Dom sitting there before him, the Dom of his dreams, his heart's Dom. Billy could make up a wee scenario in his head: He and Dominic were together, a couple, happy, madly in love. They were just waiting till the meeting ended before going off home, maybe cuddling together on the sofa for a bit, listening to the stereo, talking and laughing softly, before retiring to the bedroom to shag their brains out. Billy might find himself having to strategically hide an impressive erection if he indulged in this kind of fantasizing, but at least he would not be curled into a fetal, blubbering ball on the meeting room floor. It could be done, yes- but he knew it would also prove too distracting, keep him from focusing on his job. And, worse- it would be cowardly. Billy could not stomach the thought of being a coward, even in the privacy of his own mind.
Billy knew he was very likely in love with Dom- or, at least, his idea of Dom. But that didn't matter in the slightest. The only thing in the world that mattered now was keeping Dom safe. Billy would not fail him. It was almost surely the only way he could ever love Dom openly - by protecting him - and he would do it with all of his soul.
Coming to this decision, Billy felt a measure of peace steal over him. He could live with this, could have casual contact with Dom without inducing disaster. There well might be moments of embarrassment, moments of overpowering desire, moments where he was sure his heart would break ... but he would temper them by being what he was born to be: a good cop. It was the one thing in his life he had never questioned and never regretted.
Calmness settled over Billy, and he actually smiled.
***********************************************************************************************************
Shelley saw the strange, nearly beatific smile cross Boyd's face and raised an eyebrow, praying he wasn't about to pitch some kind of fit or suffer - Christ, please no - another swooning spell. He hadn't said a single word since they walked in the room, had remained quiet, looking around vacantly as she talked to Lindelof and Cuse. She watched warily as his eyes fell on Dom and the smile widened. If something was going to happen, it would be now. But no ... Boyd looked back away after a moment, serene and unruffled, and Shelley let out a small sigh of relief. He had obviously found a way to deal with his Monaghan-Madness. Either that, or he was putting on one hell of a game face.
As for herself, she was thrilled to find that her own fear had all but abated. The nerves were still there, but not a bad kind of nerves, just more the exciting, tiny flutter in the pit of your stomach kind. She found it far easier to look at Jorge than she would have believed. She had not embarrassed herself by any wild displays of fangirling, though she had checked him out thoroughly, deciding that purple was actually a surprisingly good color for him. And toucans had never looked so fucking sexy.
Lindelof was talking to her again, asking her if she was ready to speak to the group. She nodded but then held up a finger as she thought of something. She turned to Billy- there was one thing more she needed to tell him before they got started ... and it was a doozy.
She leaned close, speaking lowly into his ear, nearly whispering. "You need to know something, Boyd, before we get going. I meant to say this in the car, but I forgot. We're pretty much on our own here- I don't want you to have any illusions about that. Most of the guys around the station are good ol' boys, nice as you could want. But they'd much rather sit around and play Five Card Stud than do any real police work. I work with 'em, hang out at the bar with 'em ... but I don't partner with them, and never will. There's not one of them I'd actually trust with my life. Let alone anyone else's.", she added, looking pointedly out towards the cast members. "Here on out, as far as police protection goes, it's just you and me, baby."
Billy gazed at her a long moment, then nodded his understanding. She nodded back then turned to the cast, cleared her throat, and began speaking.
"Hi. I'm Detective Shelley Ahana, Honolulu PD. This is Detective Billy Boyd, from Florida. He's the one who caught the case originally. I probably should pretend otherwise, but there's no need for you all to introduce yourselves ... both Boyd and I are big fans of the show." She elicited a few smiles from her audience and grinned a bit herself. "In fact, we're rather rabid fans ... but we'll try to behave ourselves, promise."
Her smile died then, and she sobered. "By now, I'm sure you guys have caught the gist of what's going on, probably all too well. I want you to know, Boyd and I are going to do everything in our power to stop this animal. We're taking it more personally than we probably should, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. It means we'll give this one our all, people. You're in good hands. The best."
Shelley listened to herself speaking and winced a little - she hated when she talked like a cop, but it got in the blood once you'd been at it long enough. She personally thought she sounded like a pompous windbag, but everyone else seemed reassured by her no-nonsense, take-charge tone, so she could live with it. But the asinine lecture-hall positioning - that she intended to do something about, and immediately.
She was standing at the front of the room, behind a tall stack of boxes that she was using as a makeshift podium, gesturing expansively and booming out, as if she were addressing an auditorium full of college students or a gathering of the 700 Club instead of a handful of bewildered and frightened actors. She'd already established her and Boyd's authority - there was no need to rub it in or to make herself look like an idiot.
She stepped forward and pulled out chairs for herself and Billy, sat in one, gestured him down into the other, then motioned for everyone else to bring their seats around in a semi-circle. Lindelof and Cuse sat down too, to listen. While Carlton tried to interest folks in his dwindling box of donuts, Shelley gathered her thoughts. She was getting to the iffy part of her lecture ... but she still believed she had made the right decision, and was almost positive Boyd would back her on it. Proper police procedure dictated that they not divulge any unnecessary information, keep the civilians happy with vague - and usually false - reassurances, hold most of their cards close to the vest.
Shelley, however, had ditched proper procedure at the door.
Because they had received duplicates with their tapes, the cast knew about the majority of the notes anyway- the contents of which would normally be held back for suspect identification purposes. There was no need for such secrecy now. And she wasn't going to treat these people like helpless children. This was an intelligent, mature group. They might be scared - and with good reason - but they could handle the truth. And she believed they deserved it- it was, after all, their lives that were on the line here. She didn't intend to hide behind politics in this case, and she told them as much now.
"Boyd and I are breaking all the rules on this one. We're not gonna keep you in the dark, like we're supposed to. No bureaucratic bullshit. We'll be upfront with you, which I believe will allow you to better protect yourselves. If you ask a question, we'll answer it honestly. I think we'll all get through this more smoothly if we work together, as a team."
She glanced at Boyd, who smiled and nodded agreement, as she had thought he would. She continued talking. "Now to what's on everyone's mind. The killer. This guy is dangerous - he's proved that conclusively. And he's damned tricky ... snuck in and got one of the vics right in front of the CIA. That means, besides having a set of balls the size of New Mexico, he knows how to blend in ... he could be anybody. A delivery-person, the dude who carries your groceries to the car, a set decorator. Or a cop.", she added quietly.
It wasn't something she liked to consider, but it had happened before. And it made a perverted sort of sense. Who would have greater access to evidence and better know how to stage a murder than one of their own?
She paused and looked at the worried, apprehensive faces before her. Next to Emilie, Jorge seemed most afraid, and Shelley's heart wrenched- she had finally met him only to terrify him. Her voice softened and held a new note of gentleness. "Listen ... we don't want to scare you shitless here, don't want to disrupt your lives, or your work. We just want to be careful, keep you safe. Now I'll let Detective Boyd talk for little bit, tell you what he's been up to."
Billy gave a quick rundown of the deaths in Florida, not giving any specifics, basically just reiterating the need to be cautious. He agreed wholeheartedly with Ahana's decision to be open with the cast, but there was no need to horrify them with all the gory details. They had seen enough gore on the videos to last them a lifetime.
He passed the reins back to Shelley again after a few minutes. She quickly and efficiently, with grace and quiet humor, switched the mood in the room from one of fear and trepidation to one of lightheartedness and quasi-acceptance. Billy admired her style. He had no doubt she'd be fantastic in emergencies. Jorge, in particular, was staring at her raptly throughout her soliloquy, and Billy had to grin. Maybe Ahana's wee lap-dancing fantasy wasn't that far-fetched after all.
As for Dom; he tried to appear as if he was paying attention as the meeting progressed, and had been at the beginning, but found himself zoning out as Ahana talked, thinking more about his blonde bloke- whom he now had a name for.
'Billy Boyd'. Dom repeated it over and over in his mind, liking the sound of it more with each new repetition. It was a nice, ordinary name, but strong, too. It fit the detective perfectly. And it was gloriously Scottish ... just like his gorgeous accent. Fuck, that voice was made for the bedroom. Dom could just hear it, low and sultry, breathless and pleading ... 'Mmmm...Billy Boyd....'
Jorge suddenly elbowed him hard in the side, staring at him, and Dom realized Detective Ahana had gone silent in the middle of a sentence and Billy - the real Billy - was speaking to him in a puzzled voice.
"Aye? Y' said m' name .... d' you have a question, Mr. Monaghan?"
Oh Christ ... he'd done it again. Dom groaned inwardly. "Oh! No, I just...." He thought frantically. "Bit like that old song, innit?" Dom's voice rose in pitch and he desperately crooned out, "Did she bake for you a cake, Billy Boy, Billy Boy? Did she bake for you a cake, Charming Billy? ... Except that's 'boy' and not 'Boyd', of course, but ...... it's close."
Jorge looked at Billy apologetically. "Ignore him, man. He's mental."
Shelley watched, amused, as Boyd turned an amazing shade of pink at his impromptu serenade. She let him suffer for a few more moments before rescuing him. "Does anyone else have a song to share?" She pretended to look around for raised hands amongst the cast. Seeing none, she went on. "Great! I'll hurry and finish up here, then, so we can roll out our mats and have naptime."
She had to wait another minute for Jorge's mad cackling to die down, but then continued on as if the interruption had never happened. "As I was saying, I think the best course of action would be for you guys to get some private watchdogs. I'm available myself - my vacation starts today. I'm cheap and I'm good. I'd be more than happy to play bodyguard to one of you."
Only Billy understood the faint blush that tinged Shelley's cheeks at the statement. A soft snort escaped him before he could contain himself.
She paused a beat to glare at him before adding, sweetly, "And I'm quite sure Detective Boyd here is just as eager to offer his services. Besides, he's homeless- could use a place to crash."
Billy smiled sweetly right back at her, then leaned close and whispered in her ear, "Just hope y' thought t' pack your boobie-tassels."
"Payback's a bitch, Boyd. Remember that.", she muttered before addressing her audience once again. "I have a few friends, good ones, that'll be willing to help out. They've done protection work before, and ...."
Another sudden interruption came as Josh angrily pushed back his chair, rose, and stormed from the room without a word of explanation.
Terry stood to go after him, but Evie reached out and took hold of his hand. "Let him go.", she said softly. Josh would spill whatever it was when he was ready. Evie would talk to him herself, tonight, try to get him to confide in her. But going after him now would only make it worse, make him angrier. She glanced over to Shelley and gave her a wan half-smile. "Go ahead with what you were saying, Detective. It's okay."
Shelley was fairly sure it wasn't okay, that Holloway had some seriously heavy issues - he had been glowering sullenly throughout the entire meeting - but she let it go. Evangeline was right- it was not the time or place to tackle them. "I guess I'm pretty much finished, anyway. Now... does anybody have questions?"
****************************************************************************************************************
Josh tore out of the building, shoving his way into the fast-approaching night. He barreled down the walk, cursing under his breath, bootheels clicking on the pavement, eyes enraged and dangerous. The anger ebbed away after a few moments, however, and he was left standing by himself on the sand, ashamed and a little afraid.
He had been unforgivably rude at the meeting. He had never acted that way in his entire goddamned life ... he was not Sawyer, had never acted like Sawyer, except, of course, when he was being Sawyer. The people back in that room were his friends. No, more than that- they were his fucking family. In the span of three years, they had become the closest family he had ever known. If anything, he should be leaning on them right now, taking strength from them, not pushing them away. But, push he had. He only hoped he had not done irreparable damage because, deep down, he knew he needed them. Desperately.
He would apologize, to each and every one of them, profusely and sincerely. But only after he had gone through a fifth of Jack Daniels and discovered either enlightenment or welcome blackness at the bottom of the bottle.
Running a hand through his long hair, hating the way the ocean breeze was blowing it straight forward into his eyes, he started back off down the darkened beach.
Alright... he had to admit that at least a small percentage of his assholery had been the pure, inbred stubbornness of the Southern male. Good ol' boys from Georgia did not take kindly to the notion that there were things they could not handle on their own. But, for the most part, he couldn't even use his Southerness as an excuse. It all boiled down to the fact that he had always despised helplessness. And, just lately, it seemed like helpless had become a way of life.
In one day, he had become the recipient of a murdering kook's affections, had found out his soon-to-be-ex-wife was cheerfully fucking not one, but two other guys, and had gotten some potentially life-altering news from his doctor.
As far as days went, this was as bad as they got.
Then Josh heard movement behind him, saw a fractured shadow appear on the moonlit sand, and things suddenly got a whole hell of a lot worse.
*********************************************************************************************************
The meeting had for the most part broken up, everyone still in the room but milling around now, stretching, getting coffee, munching on pastries. Shelley had just bitten into a glazed donut when Naveen spoke quietly from beside her.
“Do you have any suspects, Detective Ahana, any idea who’s doing this thing?”
She leaned back against the counter, swallowed, then looked at him and sighed. “We don’t have jack shit, to be perfectly honest. Not at the moment. But we'll get it.”, she added with a confidence she wished she really felt. “Boyd and I are good cops. We know what we're doing, we've both worked serials before. This asshole's a challenge, but he's getable. Definitely."
Shelley had vowed to be truthful with the actors, and she would ... with one exception. She said nothing about the killer's focus on Billy ... nor Billy's focus on Dom. Not because of any stupid rules, but because she wasn't about to let that slip until if and when he was ready. The decision to air that was Boyd's alone.
Terry came up to them, dumping creamer in his coffee. "The others, the ones not here ....Matthew, Yunjin, Daniel ... has anyone gotten a hold of them?", he asked in his quiet way.
Damon broke in to answer. "We're taking care of it right now- we've reached almost everybody. Present and past castmembers."
"You think they could be in danger, too?", Emilie asked, wide-eyed, walking over with Jorge close in tow. She seemed to need the reassurance of touch - since the meeting began she had almost constantly had hold of one of the men's arms.
Shelley nodded to her. "There was a 'Shannon' crime scene, so yeah, we're not taking any chances, Ms. de Ravin. We have no way of knowing what's going through this sicko's mind - it's hard to understand insanity - but we'd rather overdo the protection and not need it than the other way around."
Jorge raised his free hand politely and then said, "So we're, like .... what? Just gonna go about things normally ... except with bodyguards tailing us?"
Shelley met Jorge's eyes and smiled at him. He smiled back, then for some reason blushed wildly. Shelley's heart pounded, but her voice was even when she answered. "Something like that." Then she suddenly realized the significance of the next day, and her smile widened. "I'm sure you have something planned for your birthday, Jorge - I don't see any reason to cancel any of that. We'll party down .... but we'll do it safely.", she winked.
He nodded, pleased, then there was a long pause and he said, puzzled, "You know when my birthday is?"
Whoopsie. Shelley tried to cover her slip-up with a disarming grin, though she was fairly certain she was blushing herself now. "Like I said ... rabid fans and all that.", she explained lamely.
To get over the awkward moment she turned to Damon and Carlton. "We have absolutely no indication that the perp is interested in anyone but cast, but if I were you guys, I might rather be on the safe side. It wouldn't hurt to find some security yourselves, just in case. Better an ounce of prevention."
Damon nodded in agreement then started to speak, hesitated, opened his mouth a second time, then furiously stirred at his coffee with a swizzle stick, obviously wanting to say something but debating the wisdom of doing so.
"Go ahead.", Shelley prompted softly. "I promised to be open with you guys, and I meant it. Say whatever you like."
"Okay ... I don't want to sound like a prick, but... we haven't exactly been getting, uh, what you'd call stellar attention from your department. In fact, the guy you sent out last night fell asleep." He met Shelley's eyes. "How much help are we really going to get here, Detective?"
Shelley took a second to formulate her reply. Lindelof was right to ask the question, and he deserved an honest answer. But she was walking a thin line here. She had shot straight with Billy, but she was not about to slam her fellow officers ruthlessly in front of everyone else. She was still a cop, first and foremost, and felt loyalty to her brothers in blue ... whether they deserved it or not. "I'm sure the Department will work things from the perimeter.", she finally answered vaguely, then went on in a firmer tone. "Boyd and I will work from the inside, and, I assure you, you can count on us. Never doubt that for a second."
She watched as Damon nodded then gave her a small smile. She fought her own inner debate momentarily, then forged ahead. "Okay ... now it's my turn to ask a question, Mr. Lindelof. And I know I'm going to sound like a prick, but I have to know." She looked hard at Damon. "How much shit am I going to get from Abrams? Will he cooperate if things start going wonky and I have to take charge? I know if I were in his place, I wouldn't want a bossy, brassy, sometimes frightfully bitchy chick coming in and telling me how to do my job, giving orders, messing everything around. I understand that completely- the show's important, his time is important. But this is more important. These are people's lives." She gazed around at the actors meaningfully then looked back to Damon. "I don't want to be a hard-ass, but I will if I have to. When I sign on to protect somebody, I do it with everything in me. And I don't let anything - or anyone - get in my way."
Damon thought a long moment. "J.J. may throw a tiny hissy fit, especially if you start screwing with his shooting schedule -but in the end ... he'll cooperate. He's a pretty reasonable guy and I know he'd die a little himself if anyone really got hurt. Plus, we've caught a break here- two more days of hiatus, then the weekend, when we don't film anyway. So we've got till Monday - four full days - before we even have to worry about it. By then it could be over. Right?" He looked at Shelley expectantly.
She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, but deep down, she wasn't so sure. She was afraid nothing about this one was going to prove easy. It was just a feeling ... but she had learned to trust her feelings. And they were telling her things were going to get a whole lot worse before they got better.
Evie caught Shelley's attention and smiled. "Not really a question, but. .. I'd like to hire you, Detective, if you don't mind. For the security stuff."
Shelley looked over at her. "I'd be happy to... Wait...do you like dogs?"
"Adore them.", Evie grinned.
"In that case,", Shelley grinned back, "Starsky and Hutch and I would be more than happy to stick with you, Ms. Lilly."
"It's Evie, please.", she laughed. "And I can't wait to meet Starsky and Hutch. What breeds are they?"
Shelley pulled out her wallet and handed it to Evie with a proud mother's smile. "They just turned one.", she announced, pointing to the picture of the pups festooned in miniature Santa outfits.
"Oh my God, I'm in love!", Evie burbled, passing the wallet to Jorge, who also oohed and awwed expansively.
"Can you think of anyone for me, Detective Ahana?", Emilie asked quietly, interrupting the cooing. "You said you knew some people in the protection trade. I'm completely freaked here. The closest thing you have to Rambo would be good."
Shelley smiled and said without hesitation, "Jimmy Akao. He was Delta Force in Vietnam and Afghanistan, front-line combat, more secret missions than I can count. When Saigon fell, he personally got forty three orphans out of the country, led them through war-ravaged backcountry on foot for two weeks, didn't lose one of them. He's fifty-seven, but he looks forty and has the body and stamina of a twenty-year-old. Jimmy's got Rambo beat by a country mile."
"I'll take him!" Emilie's worried, frightened face suddenly lit up in a sunny smile. "He sounds bloody perfect."
"I'll see you back to your house myself, make sure everything's okay, then call him. I'm sure he'll come tonight, only lives a few minutes away. And he never could resist a pretty face.", she winked at Emilie.
"Got anybody else? For me?", Jorge piped up. "I kinda suck in the pretty face department, but ... I play a mean hand of Uno. And I've got plenty of free booze around the place."
Shelley laughed. If she wasn't going to be with him herself, there was only one other person she wanted with Jorge. "Tiny Jackson.", she stated firmly.
Jorge's eyebrows shot up. "Uh ... Tiny?? No offense, but is he, like ... a circus midget?"
Shelley laughed even harder. She had to set her coffee down, afraid she'd spill it. "Not hardly. Don't let the name fool you. He's the best there is. A Sherman tank couldn't get past Tiny. And he's an Uno maven."
Billy had started off to find a restroom, but paused to observe the scene with a small smile, watching the shy blushes going back and forth between Shelley and Jorge. There was definite attraction there, and they really were cute together. Shelley caught his eye and Billy tossed her a wave as he took off down the hallway, silently wishing her the best of luck.
As for himself- when he returned, he'd offer his services to either Naveen or Terry. They were the only ones left without protection- except for Dom, of course ... but that didn't even bear considering. Although Billy knew he wouldn't have a moment's peace with anyone else looking out for Dom, he realized it was for the best.
Billy might be able to handle casual contact with Dominic, seeing him once and awhile around set, but living with him, in the same house, around the clock .... Billy was strong-willed and highly self-controlled ... but even he had his bloody limits.
He located a restroom, used the facilities, and was washing at the sink when a hand fell on his shoulder, making him jump. He looked down and his heart flipped in his chest as he saw silver rings and chipped black nail varnish.
"So ... you're available, then?", a voice purred right next to his ear.
"Available?", Billy blurted, voice strangled, raising his head.
Dom's eyes sparkled with amusement as they met Billy's in the mirror. "For bodyguard duty."
"Oh...aye.", he stammered. "But I think y' c'n do a lot better than me. I ... 'm not exactly in, uh...top form at th' moment, Mr. Monaghan."
The hand on Billy's shoulder squeezed softly and the face in the mirror smiled. "Mr. Monaghan's my dad. I'm Dom. And I'll take my chances, Detective."
*****************************************************************************************************
Damon and Carlton had gone off in Carlton's car, but the rest of the group had decided to go down the beach en masse, with Boyd and Ahana seeing everyone safely to their respective homes until they could get in contact with their own protection. Emilie had asked to bunk with Evie and Shelley until that time, and Jorge had opted for Dom's house. Naveen and Terry had decided they could handle themselves until their reinforcements arrived.
Billy was outwardly smiling at a stakeout story Shelley was recounting for everyone, but inside he was in an ecstasy of terror as they walked along the moon-drenched sand. He still could not quite grasp how things had spun out of control so fucking fast.
"I'm moving in with Dominic Monaghan. I'm moving in with Dominic Monaghan." The words echoed again and again through Billy's mind, and he found himself freshly astounded by them with each repetition.
Back in the loo he had opened his mouth to tell Dom no, so sorry, can't possibly do it - and had been horrified to hear himself agreeing instead. And was therefore now in the biggest jam of his life.
He looked back to Ahana, hoping to distract himself with her amusing tale, and was startled when her eyes suddenly widened and she broke off mid-story, ripped her gun out of her jeans, and took off up the beach at a tear. A second later, Billy spotted what had prompted her reaction, and quickly drew his own Colt, chasing her down the beach.
Evie saw at the same time, and she let out a shrill, undulating wail of anguish and began running. Dom moaned in chorus with her and sprinted forward, but Billy reached out and snagged his shirtsleeve as he passed, yanking him back, keeping him close as they trotted towards the body.
Evie quickly outdistanced the others and fell to her knees in the sand beside Josh, keening a low, constant chant of "No. No. No. No.". Josh's hands were tied above him, the rope winding around the trunk of a small tree, leaving him slumped forward in a semi-seated position, head hanging down, hair in his face. There was blood everywhere, it seemed, even soaking into the sand around him; as Evie watched in horror, a fresh rivulet streamed from a head wound and trailed down his neck. She was teetering on the edge of black, all-consuming grief when a sudden realization shocked her back: blood did not continue to flow without a heartbeat. She frantically stared at his chest, hardly daring to hope, and saw a bit of movement. "Oh Jesus, Oh God, thank You God, Sweet Jesus, he's breathing!!" She was babbling in her relief, tears streaming unchecked down her face, but she couldn't care less. Josh was alive.
"Let me in!", Shelley demanded, pushing through the crowd and kneeling on Josh's other side, immediately going into medic mode. She simultaneously checked for a pulse and radioed for backup and an ambulance.
She glanced up at the terrified faces crowded around. "This looks a lot worse than it is ... I think he's just been knocked out. He should be alright, pulse is decent." She pulled a hand towel from her bag and held it to the back of his head, where blood was coursing down his neck. She kept the towel in place while she made another quick call on her cell phone, then freed a folding knife from her pocket and flicked it open, going to work on the rope binding his hands. "I don't wanna lay him down till he's got a neck brace - there could be injuries we don't know about - but we can't leave him like this, either."
Evie immediately saw what Ahana was getting at and straddled Josh, sitting on his thighs, propping his forward-slumped body up with her own, so when he was free of the rope he would still have something holding him in the same basic position. The stance was ludicrous, but Evie didn't give a shit what she looked like, as long as Josh was being tended to. She took over for Shelley, pressing the cloth to the back of his neck, and let his head rest gently on her shoulder. She kept up a patter of softly murmured encouragements, just in case he could hear her.
Shelley finished cutting Josh free, left him in Evangeline's care, then stood up and faced Billy. They looked at each other wordlessly for a moment, the same question running through both their minds: Why had the killer let Holloway live?
"This is weird, Boyd ...", Shelley muttered.
"Aye. Very weird.", Billy agreed, clutching his gun a little tighter.
"Doesn't make any fucking sense at all.", Shelley breathed. Just then another thought struck her, and the hair stood up on the back of her neck: Where was the killer now?
The air seemed to grow thick and cloying around her and all of her nerves went tight, suddenly, setting her heart racing. She knew the feeling intimately and had learned not to question it. It was the well-honed instinct of a cop. Something was about to go very, very wrong.
"Jesus, Boyd- the rocks!", she barked. "Get 'em behind the rocks!"
But Billy was already moving, spurred on by the same sensation that had hit Ahana. He had just grabbed hold of Dom and was pushing him towards the safety of the shore when a volley of gunfire shattered the night.
tbc.....
Author: flybynite29
Rating: Series R-NC17, this part R for graphic description of murder, language, medical squick, serious injury.
Pairings: Billy Boyd/Dominic Monaghan (a bit later in the story), brief mentions of Billy/omc, the cast of Lost popping up in various places and positions.
Summary: Billy Boyd's a hard-working, straight-laced, small town detective with a secret. When the course of The Job takes him directly into the path of his daydreams, he has no choice but to follow. Billy's fantasy has become someone else's obsession... and the results could be deadly.
Disclaimer: I do not own Billy Boyd, Dominic Monaghan, or any of the other real-life persons in this work; I'm just playing with them for a bit. I do own Detectives Bailey Connor and Shelley Ahana, however, for better or worse. No money is being made off of any of this, and I adore all of these people far too much to intend any disrespect.
Warnings: AU, Work in Progress, Graphic descriptions of serial murder, gore, general squick, angst galore, characters being in mortal peril, possible Lost spoilers, serious het-vibes.
Feedback: I live for it. : )
a/n 1: At last, the meeting. : ) Among other - not so nice - things. Amping up the mortal peril part here, folks, as well as the angst.
Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
a/n 2: I've taken great liberties with location and timing -amongst other things- for the purpose of this story. I haven't pulled any punches with the gore in this fic, so if you are squeamish about that type of thing, please beware. Although parts are definitely meant to be humorous, this will get quite dark in places because I'm dealing with a very disturbed mind (apart from my own ; )). The filming of Rings took place just as in real-life: with the sole exception of Billy not being cast in the role of Pippin. The details of Lost are all as is.
a/n 3: I've made the whole of the Hawaiian police force look like bumbling idiots, and I heartily apologize for that. I'm sure it's far from the truth in real life; but in fiction, it's nowhere near as much fun if everyone's doing their job properly- things go too smoothly and there's no story to be had. ; ) I realize, of course, that in reality, the homes of the Lost cast are not lined up neatly in a convenient little row on one single stretch of otherwise deserted beach, but for the purposes of my story (and due to a great deal of inherent laziness on my part) I've decided to pretend. Also, I've pretty much eliminated any signs of real-life significant others in the name of fiction, except in a couple of cases.
Don't fall away
and leave me to myself
Don't fall away
and leave love bleeding
in my hands
in my hands again...
~Fuel
Dom's eyes widened almost comically as he swiveled in his seat and stared at the door to the meeting room. Jorge had not been mistaken ... it was most definitely Dom's blonde bloke himself coming in through the entryway. Dom watched him walk up the aisle, pass the chairs where the cast sat without even a glance, and make his way up to the front of the room, where Damon and Carlton stood.
As Dom watched him move, he realized that his attraction to this perfect stranger was still there, stronger than ever ... but now Dom found it being surpassed by an urge to just take the guy into his arms and rock him to sleep. The cop's casual clothes were not the only change in his appearance - he seemed as if he had aged twenty years between when the videos were shot and now. He looked horrible, on the verge of collapse. The lines of weariness on his face had spread and deepened, the dark circles under his eyes had become chasms.
Dom wondered if the man had anyone waiting at home for him; someone who would take care of him, see that he was properly fed and rested, maybe soothe away some of those worry lines. Dom wondered these things, then promptly wondered why in bloody hell he was having such ridiculously girly thoughts.
Being attracted to someone and wanting to take him home and shag him senseless was nothing new to Dom. Being attracted to someone and wanting to take him home and play mum to him, however, was.
Dom shook his head at himself, then glanced over at Jorge, expecting another smart-ass remark. But Jorge was no longer paying Dom the slightest bit of mind. All of his attention was riveted on the petit brunette-bird who had come in with Dom's blonde-bloke. Jorge's eyes had gone far-off and dreamy. He was slightly slack-jawed and looked as if a mild breeze might topple him from his seat. Dom did not need a U.N. translator to tell him what Jorge's whispered, nearly breathless "Duuuude" meant.
Dom grinned crookedly, then turned back in his chair to await developments. This little meeting just might prove far more entertaining than he had imagined at the first.
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Billy was immensely proud of himself. He had managed to walk in right past Dom (or, where he imagined Dom must be, since he hadn't actually had the nerve to look and make sure) without tripping, drooling, fainting, or otherwise making an utter arse of himself.
Of course, he had only been in the building for twenty seconds - there was still plenty of time for cataclysm to strike.
For long moments, Billy studiously looked everywhere in the room besides the one place he most wanted to look. He gazed up at the ceiling tiles with the critical eye of an structural engineer; mapped out the placement of highlights in Ahana's braided hair; memorized the ingredients of Juicy Fruit gum; picked assiduously at a wee hangnail on the pinky finger of his left hand; and spent so long staring at the light reflecting off of Damon Lindelof's bald spot he nearly went blind. After a while, though, he knew he had to bite the bullet and get it over with. He could not look away forever.
He turned his head and scanned the cast members, searching out ocean-kissed blue/grey eyes. When he finally found them, his breath caught in his throat and his heart stuttered to a stop.
He had been wrong ... Dominic was not beautiful at all.
He was absolutely stunning.
In that first moment, Billy ran nearly the whole gamut of human emotion: love; lust; tenderness; terror; worry; serenity; chaos; contentment; frenzy; excitement; despair; bliss ... They all went racing through him at once, in a swirling, dizzying maelstrom of sensation. For a heartbeat, he thought he would go mad with feeling.
He could not go on like this. To save his sanity, he must train his mind to see Dominic in a different way.
He would never be able to look at Dom and see anyone but Dom, as Ahana had suggested back in the parking lot. But perhaps he could pretend it was his Dom sitting there before him, the Dom of his dreams, his heart's Dom. Billy could make up a wee scenario in his head: He and Dominic were together, a couple, happy, madly in love. They were just waiting till the meeting ended before going off home, maybe cuddling together on the sofa for a bit, listening to the stereo, talking and laughing softly, before retiring to the bedroom to shag their brains out. Billy might find himself having to strategically hide an impressive erection if he indulged in this kind of fantasizing, but at least he would not be curled into a fetal, blubbering ball on the meeting room floor. It could be done, yes- but he knew it would also prove too distracting, keep him from focusing on his job. And, worse- it would be cowardly. Billy could not stomach the thought of being a coward, even in the privacy of his own mind.
Billy knew he was very likely in love with Dom- or, at least, his idea of Dom. But that didn't matter in the slightest. The only thing in the world that mattered now was keeping Dom safe. Billy would not fail him. It was almost surely the only way he could ever love Dom openly - by protecting him - and he would do it with all of his soul.
Coming to this decision, Billy felt a measure of peace steal over him. He could live with this, could have casual contact with Dom without inducing disaster. There well might be moments of embarrassment, moments of overpowering desire, moments where he was sure his heart would break ... but he would temper them by being what he was born to be: a good cop. It was the one thing in his life he had never questioned and never regretted.
Calmness settled over Billy, and he actually smiled.
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Shelley saw the strange, nearly beatific smile cross Boyd's face and raised an eyebrow, praying he wasn't about to pitch some kind of fit or suffer - Christ, please no - another swooning spell. He hadn't said a single word since they walked in the room, had remained quiet, looking around vacantly as she talked to Lindelof and Cuse. She watched warily as his eyes fell on Dom and the smile widened. If something was going to happen, it would be now. But no ... Boyd looked back away after a moment, serene and unruffled, and Shelley let out a small sigh of relief. He had obviously found a way to deal with his Monaghan-Madness. Either that, or he was putting on one hell of a game face.
As for herself, she was thrilled to find that her own fear had all but abated. The nerves were still there, but not a bad kind of nerves, just more the exciting, tiny flutter in the pit of your stomach kind. She found it far easier to look at Jorge than she would have believed. She had not embarrassed herself by any wild displays of fangirling, though she had checked him out thoroughly, deciding that purple was actually a surprisingly good color for him. And toucans had never looked so fucking sexy.
Lindelof was talking to her again, asking her if she was ready to speak to the group. She nodded but then held up a finger as she thought of something. She turned to Billy- there was one thing more she needed to tell him before they got started ... and it was a doozy.
She leaned close, speaking lowly into his ear, nearly whispering. "You need to know something, Boyd, before we get going. I meant to say this in the car, but I forgot. We're pretty much on our own here- I don't want you to have any illusions about that. Most of the guys around the station are good ol' boys, nice as you could want. But they'd much rather sit around and play Five Card Stud than do any real police work. I work with 'em, hang out at the bar with 'em ... but I don't partner with them, and never will. There's not one of them I'd actually trust with my life. Let alone anyone else's.", she added, looking pointedly out towards the cast members. "Here on out, as far as police protection goes, it's just you and me, baby."
Billy gazed at her a long moment, then nodded his understanding. She nodded back then turned to the cast, cleared her throat, and began speaking.
"Hi. I'm Detective Shelley Ahana, Honolulu PD. This is Detective Billy Boyd, from Florida. He's the one who caught the case originally. I probably should pretend otherwise, but there's no need for you all to introduce yourselves ... both Boyd and I are big fans of the show." She elicited a few smiles from her audience and grinned a bit herself. "In fact, we're rather rabid fans ... but we'll try to behave ourselves, promise."
Her smile died then, and she sobered. "By now, I'm sure you guys have caught the gist of what's going on, probably all too well. I want you to know, Boyd and I are going to do everything in our power to stop this animal. We're taking it more personally than we probably should, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. It means we'll give this one our all, people. You're in good hands. The best."
Shelley listened to herself speaking and winced a little - she hated when she talked like a cop, but it got in the blood once you'd been at it long enough. She personally thought she sounded like a pompous windbag, but everyone else seemed reassured by her no-nonsense, take-charge tone, so she could live with it. But the asinine lecture-hall positioning - that she intended to do something about, and immediately.
She was standing at the front of the room, behind a tall stack of boxes that she was using as a makeshift podium, gesturing expansively and booming out, as if she were addressing an auditorium full of college students or a gathering of the 700 Club instead of a handful of bewildered and frightened actors. She'd already established her and Boyd's authority - there was no need to rub it in or to make herself look like an idiot.
She stepped forward and pulled out chairs for herself and Billy, sat in one, gestured him down into the other, then motioned for everyone else to bring their seats around in a semi-circle. Lindelof and Cuse sat down too, to listen. While Carlton tried to interest folks in his dwindling box of donuts, Shelley gathered her thoughts. She was getting to the iffy part of her lecture ... but she still believed she had made the right decision, and was almost positive Boyd would back her on it. Proper police procedure dictated that they not divulge any unnecessary information, keep the civilians happy with vague - and usually false - reassurances, hold most of their cards close to the vest.
Shelley, however, had ditched proper procedure at the door.
Because they had received duplicates with their tapes, the cast knew about the majority of the notes anyway- the contents of which would normally be held back for suspect identification purposes. There was no need for such secrecy now. And she wasn't going to treat these people like helpless children. This was an intelligent, mature group. They might be scared - and with good reason - but they could handle the truth. And she believed they deserved it- it was, after all, their lives that were on the line here. She didn't intend to hide behind politics in this case, and she told them as much now.
"Boyd and I are breaking all the rules on this one. We're not gonna keep you in the dark, like we're supposed to. No bureaucratic bullshit. We'll be upfront with you, which I believe will allow you to better protect yourselves. If you ask a question, we'll answer it honestly. I think we'll all get through this more smoothly if we work together, as a team."
She glanced at Boyd, who smiled and nodded agreement, as she had thought he would. She continued talking. "Now to what's on everyone's mind. The killer. This guy is dangerous - he's proved that conclusively. And he's damned tricky ... snuck in and got one of the vics right in front of the CIA. That means, besides having a set of balls the size of New Mexico, he knows how to blend in ... he could be anybody. A delivery-person, the dude who carries your groceries to the car, a set decorator. Or a cop.", she added quietly.
It wasn't something she liked to consider, but it had happened before. And it made a perverted sort of sense. Who would have greater access to evidence and better know how to stage a murder than one of their own?
She paused and looked at the worried, apprehensive faces before her. Next to Emilie, Jorge seemed most afraid, and Shelley's heart wrenched- she had finally met him only to terrify him. Her voice softened and held a new note of gentleness. "Listen ... we don't want to scare you shitless here, don't want to disrupt your lives, or your work. We just want to be careful, keep you safe. Now I'll let Detective Boyd talk for little bit, tell you what he's been up to."
Billy gave a quick rundown of the deaths in Florida, not giving any specifics, basically just reiterating the need to be cautious. He agreed wholeheartedly with Ahana's decision to be open with the cast, but there was no need to horrify them with all the gory details. They had seen enough gore on the videos to last them a lifetime.
He passed the reins back to Shelley again after a few minutes. She quickly and efficiently, with grace and quiet humor, switched the mood in the room from one of fear and trepidation to one of lightheartedness and quasi-acceptance. Billy admired her style. He had no doubt she'd be fantastic in emergencies. Jorge, in particular, was staring at her raptly throughout her soliloquy, and Billy had to grin. Maybe Ahana's wee lap-dancing fantasy wasn't that far-fetched after all.
As for Dom; he tried to appear as if he was paying attention as the meeting progressed, and had been at the beginning, but found himself zoning out as Ahana talked, thinking more about his blonde bloke- whom he now had a name for.
'Billy Boyd'. Dom repeated it over and over in his mind, liking the sound of it more with each new repetition. It was a nice, ordinary name, but strong, too. It fit the detective perfectly. And it was gloriously Scottish ... just like his gorgeous accent. Fuck, that voice was made for the bedroom. Dom could just hear it, low and sultry, breathless and pleading ... 'Mmmm...Billy Boyd....'
Jorge suddenly elbowed him hard in the side, staring at him, and Dom realized Detective Ahana had gone silent in the middle of a sentence and Billy - the real Billy - was speaking to him in a puzzled voice.
"Aye? Y' said m' name .... d' you have a question, Mr. Monaghan?"
Oh Christ ... he'd done it again. Dom groaned inwardly. "Oh! No, I just...." He thought frantically. "Bit like that old song, innit?" Dom's voice rose in pitch and he desperately crooned out, "Did she bake for you a cake, Billy Boy, Billy Boy? Did she bake for you a cake, Charming Billy? ... Except that's 'boy' and not 'Boyd', of course, but ...... it's close."
Jorge looked at Billy apologetically. "Ignore him, man. He's mental."
Shelley watched, amused, as Boyd turned an amazing shade of pink at his impromptu serenade. She let him suffer for a few more moments before rescuing him. "Does anyone else have a song to share?" She pretended to look around for raised hands amongst the cast. Seeing none, she went on. "Great! I'll hurry and finish up here, then, so we can roll out our mats and have naptime."
She had to wait another minute for Jorge's mad cackling to die down, but then continued on as if the interruption had never happened. "As I was saying, I think the best course of action would be for you guys to get some private watchdogs. I'm available myself - my vacation starts today. I'm cheap and I'm good. I'd be more than happy to play bodyguard to one of you."
Only Billy understood the faint blush that tinged Shelley's cheeks at the statement. A soft snort escaped him before he could contain himself.
She paused a beat to glare at him before adding, sweetly, "And I'm quite sure Detective Boyd here is just as eager to offer his services. Besides, he's homeless- could use a place to crash."
Billy smiled sweetly right back at her, then leaned close and whispered in her ear, "Just hope y' thought t' pack your boobie-tassels."
"Payback's a bitch, Boyd. Remember that.", she muttered before addressing her audience once again. "I have a few friends, good ones, that'll be willing to help out. They've done protection work before, and ...."
Another sudden interruption came as Josh angrily pushed back his chair, rose, and stormed from the room without a word of explanation.
Terry stood to go after him, but Evie reached out and took hold of his hand. "Let him go.", she said softly. Josh would spill whatever it was when he was ready. Evie would talk to him herself, tonight, try to get him to confide in her. But going after him now would only make it worse, make him angrier. She glanced over to Shelley and gave her a wan half-smile. "Go ahead with what you were saying, Detective. It's okay."
Shelley was fairly sure it wasn't okay, that Holloway had some seriously heavy issues - he had been glowering sullenly throughout the entire meeting - but she let it go. Evangeline was right- it was not the time or place to tackle them. "I guess I'm pretty much finished, anyway. Now... does anybody have questions?"
****************************************************************************************************************
Josh tore out of the building, shoving his way into the fast-approaching night. He barreled down the walk, cursing under his breath, bootheels clicking on the pavement, eyes enraged and dangerous. The anger ebbed away after a few moments, however, and he was left standing by himself on the sand, ashamed and a little afraid.
He had been unforgivably rude at the meeting. He had never acted that way in his entire goddamned life ... he was not Sawyer, had never acted like Sawyer, except, of course, when he was being Sawyer. The people back in that room were his friends. No, more than that- they were his fucking family. In the span of three years, they had become the closest family he had ever known. If anything, he should be leaning on them right now, taking strength from them, not pushing them away. But, push he had. He only hoped he had not done irreparable damage because, deep down, he knew he needed them. Desperately.
He would apologize, to each and every one of them, profusely and sincerely. But only after he had gone through a fifth of Jack Daniels and discovered either enlightenment or welcome blackness at the bottom of the bottle.
Running a hand through his long hair, hating the way the ocean breeze was blowing it straight forward into his eyes, he started back off down the darkened beach.
Alright... he had to admit that at least a small percentage of his assholery had been the pure, inbred stubbornness of the Southern male. Good ol' boys from Georgia did not take kindly to the notion that there were things they could not handle on their own. But, for the most part, he couldn't even use his Southerness as an excuse. It all boiled down to the fact that he had always despised helplessness. And, just lately, it seemed like helpless had become a way of life.
In one day, he had become the recipient of a murdering kook's affections, had found out his soon-to-be-ex-wife was cheerfully fucking not one, but two other guys, and had gotten some potentially life-altering news from his doctor.
As far as days went, this was as bad as they got.
Then Josh heard movement behind him, saw a fractured shadow appear on the moonlit sand, and things suddenly got a whole hell of a lot worse.
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The meeting had for the most part broken up, everyone still in the room but milling around now, stretching, getting coffee, munching on pastries. Shelley had just bitten into a glazed donut when Naveen spoke quietly from beside her.
“Do you have any suspects, Detective Ahana, any idea who’s doing this thing?”
She leaned back against the counter, swallowed, then looked at him and sighed. “We don’t have jack shit, to be perfectly honest. Not at the moment. But we'll get it.”, she added with a confidence she wished she really felt. “Boyd and I are good cops. We know what we're doing, we've both worked serials before. This asshole's a challenge, but he's getable. Definitely."
Shelley had vowed to be truthful with the actors, and she would ... with one exception. She said nothing about the killer's focus on Billy ... nor Billy's focus on Dom. Not because of any stupid rules, but because she wasn't about to let that slip until if and when he was ready. The decision to air that was Boyd's alone.
Terry came up to them, dumping creamer in his coffee. "The others, the ones not here ....Matthew, Yunjin, Daniel ... has anyone gotten a hold of them?", he asked in his quiet way.
Damon broke in to answer. "We're taking care of it right now- we've reached almost everybody. Present and past castmembers."
"You think they could be in danger, too?", Emilie asked, wide-eyed, walking over with Jorge close in tow. She seemed to need the reassurance of touch - since the meeting began she had almost constantly had hold of one of the men's arms.
Shelley nodded to her. "There was a 'Shannon' crime scene, so yeah, we're not taking any chances, Ms. de Ravin. We have no way of knowing what's going through this sicko's mind - it's hard to understand insanity - but we'd rather overdo the protection and not need it than the other way around."
Jorge raised his free hand politely and then said, "So we're, like .... what? Just gonna go about things normally ... except with bodyguards tailing us?"
Shelley met Jorge's eyes and smiled at him. He smiled back, then for some reason blushed wildly. Shelley's heart pounded, but her voice was even when she answered. "Something like that." Then she suddenly realized the significance of the next day, and her smile widened. "I'm sure you have something planned for your birthday, Jorge - I don't see any reason to cancel any of that. We'll party down .... but we'll do it safely.", she winked.
He nodded, pleased, then there was a long pause and he said, puzzled, "You know when my birthday is?"
Whoopsie. Shelley tried to cover her slip-up with a disarming grin, though she was fairly certain she was blushing herself now. "Like I said ... rabid fans and all that.", she explained lamely.
To get over the awkward moment she turned to Damon and Carlton. "We have absolutely no indication that the perp is interested in anyone but cast, but if I were you guys, I might rather be on the safe side. It wouldn't hurt to find some security yourselves, just in case. Better an ounce of prevention."
Damon nodded in agreement then started to speak, hesitated, opened his mouth a second time, then furiously stirred at his coffee with a swizzle stick, obviously wanting to say something but debating the wisdom of doing so.
"Go ahead.", Shelley prompted softly. "I promised to be open with you guys, and I meant it. Say whatever you like."
"Okay ... I don't want to sound like a prick, but... we haven't exactly been getting, uh, what you'd call stellar attention from your department. In fact, the guy you sent out last night fell asleep." He met Shelley's eyes. "How much help are we really going to get here, Detective?"
Shelley took a second to formulate her reply. Lindelof was right to ask the question, and he deserved an honest answer. But she was walking a thin line here. She had shot straight with Billy, but she was not about to slam her fellow officers ruthlessly in front of everyone else. She was still a cop, first and foremost, and felt loyalty to her brothers in blue ... whether they deserved it or not. "I'm sure the Department will work things from the perimeter.", she finally answered vaguely, then went on in a firmer tone. "Boyd and I will work from the inside, and, I assure you, you can count on us. Never doubt that for a second."
She watched as Damon nodded then gave her a small smile. She fought her own inner debate momentarily, then forged ahead. "Okay ... now it's my turn to ask a question, Mr. Lindelof. And I know I'm going to sound like a prick, but I have to know." She looked hard at Damon. "How much shit am I going to get from Abrams? Will he cooperate if things start going wonky and I have to take charge? I know if I were in his place, I wouldn't want a bossy, brassy, sometimes frightfully bitchy chick coming in and telling me how to do my job, giving orders, messing everything around. I understand that completely- the show's important, his time is important. But this is more important. These are people's lives." She gazed around at the actors meaningfully then looked back to Damon. "I don't want to be a hard-ass, but I will if I have to. When I sign on to protect somebody, I do it with everything in me. And I don't let anything - or anyone - get in my way."
Damon thought a long moment. "J.J. may throw a tiny hissy fit, especially if you start screwing with his shooting schedule -but in the end ... he'll cooperate. He's a pretty reasonable guy and I know he'd die a little himself if anyone really got hurt. Plus, we've caught a break here- two more days of hiatus, then the weekend, when we don't film anyway. So we've got till Monday - four full days - before we even have to worry about it. By then it could be over. Right?" He looked at Shelley expectantly.
She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, but deep down, she wasn't so sure. She was afraid nothing about this one was going to prove easy. It was just a feeling ... but she had learned to trust her feelings. And they were telling her things were going to get a whole lot worse before they got better.
Evie caught Shelley's attention and smiled. "Not really a question, but. .. I'd like to hire you, Detective, if you don't mind. For the security stuff."
Shelley looked over at her. "I'd be happy to... Wait...do you like dogs?"
"Adore them.", Evie grinned.
"In that case,", Shelley grinned back, "Starsky and Hutch and I would be more than happy to stick with you, Ms. Lilly."
"It's Evie, please.", she laughed. "And I can't wait to meet Starsky and Hutch. What breeds are they?"
Shelley pulled out her wallet and handed it to Evie with a proud mother's smile. "They just turned one.", she announced, pointing to the picture of the pups festooned in miniature Santa outfits.
"Oh my God, I'm in love!", Evie burbled, passing the wallet to Jorge, who also oohed and awwed expansively.
"Can you think of anyone for me, Detective Ahana?", Emilie asked quietly, interrupting the cooing. "You said you knew some people in the protection trade. I'm completely freaked here. The closest thing you have to Rambo would be good."
Shelley smiled and said without hesitation, "Jimmy Akao. He was Delta Force in Vietnam and Afghanistan, front-line combat, more secret missions than I can count. When Saigon fell, he personally got forty three orphans out of the country, led them through war-ravaged backcountry on foot for two weeks, didn't lose one of them. He's fifty-seven, but he looks forty and has the body and stamina of a twenty-year-old. Jimmy's got Rambo beat by a country mile."
"I'll take him!" Emilie's worried, frightened face suddenly lit up in a sunny smile. "He sounds bloody perfect."
"I'll see you back to your house myself, make sure everything's okay, then call him. I'm sure he'll come tonight, only lives a few minutes away. And he never could resist a pretty face.", she winked at Emilie.
"Got anybody else? For me?", Jorge piped up. "I kinda suck in the pretty face department, but ... I play a mean hand of Uno. And I've got plenty of free booze around the place."
Shelley laughed. If she wasn't going to be with him herself, there was only one other person she wanted with Jorge. "Tiny Jackson.", she stated firmly.
Jorge's eyebrows shot up. "Uh ... Tiny?? No offense, but is he, like ... a circus midget?"
Shelley laughed even harder. She had to set her coffee down, afraid she'd spill it. "Not hardly. Don't let the name fool you. He's the best there is. A Sherman tank couldn't get past Tiny. And he's an Uno maven."
Billy had started off to find a restroom, but paused to observe the scene with a small smile, watching the shy blushes going back and forth between Shelley and Jorge. There was definite attraction there, and they really were cute together. Shelley caught his eye and Billy tossed her a wave as he took off down the hallway, silently wishing her the best of luck.
As for himself- when he returned, he'd offer his services to either Naveen or Terry. They were the only ones left without protection- except for Dom, of course ... but that didn't even bear considering. Although Billy knew he wouldn't have a moment's peace with anyone else looking out for Dom, he realized it was for the best.
Billy might be able to handle casual contact with Dominic, seeing him once and awhile around set, but living with him, in the same house, around the clock .... Billy was strong-willed and highly self-controlled ... but even he had his bloody limits.
He located a restroom, used the facilities, and was washing at the sink when a hand fell on his shoulder, making him jump. He looked down and his heart flipped in his chest as he saw silver rings and chipped black nail varnish.
"So ... you're available, then?", a voice purred right next to his ear.
"Available?", Billy blurted, voice strangled, raising his head.
Dom's eyes sparkled with amusement as they met Billy's in the mirror. "For bodyguard duty."
"Oh...aye.", he stammered. "But I think y' c'n do a lot better than me. I ... 'm not exactly in, uh...top form at th' moment, Mr. Monaghan."
The hand on Billy's shoulder squeezed softly and the face in the mirror smiled. "Mr. Monaghan's my dad. I'm Dom. And I'll take my chances, Detective."
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Damon and Carlton had gone off in Carlton's car, but the rest of the group had decided to go down the beach en masse, with Boyd and Ahana seeing everyone safely to their respective homes until they could get in contact with their own protection. Emilie had asked to bunk with Evie and Shelley until that time, and Jorge had opted for Dom's house. Naveen and Terry had decided they could handle themselves until their reinforcements arrived.
Billy was outwardly smiling at a stakeout story Shelley was recounting for everyone, but inside he was in an ecstasy of terror as they walked along the moon-drenched sand. He still could not quite grasp how things had spun out of control so fucking fast.
"I'm moving in with Dominic Monaghan. I'm moving in with Dominic Monaghan." The words echoed again and again through Billy's mind, and he found himself freshly astounded by them with each repetition.
Back in the loo he had opened his mouth to tell Dom no, so sorry, can't possibly do it - and had been horrified to hear himself agreeing instead. And was therefore now in the biggest jam of his life.
He looked back to Ahana, hoping to distract himself with her amusing tale, and was startled when her eyes suddenly widened and she broke off mid-story, ripped her gun out of her jeans, and took off up the beach at a tear. A second later, Billy spotted what had prompted her reaction, and quickly drew his own Colt, chasing her down the beach.
Evie saw at the same time, and she let out a shrill, undulating wail of anguish and began running. Dom moaned in chorus with her and sprinted forward, but Billy reached out and snagged his shirtsleeve as he passed, yanking him back, keeping him close as they trotted towards the body.
Evie quickly outdistanced the others and fell to her knees in the sand beside Josh, keening a low, constant chant of "No. No. No. No.". Josh's hands were tied above him, the rope winding around the trunk of a small tree, leaving him slumped forward in a semi-seated position, head hanging down, hair in his face. There was blood everywhere, it seemed, even soaking into the sand around him; as Evie watched in horror, a fresh rivulet streamed from a head wound and trailed down his neck. She was teetering on the edge of black, all-consuming grief when a sudden realization shocked her back: blood did not continue to flow without a heartbeat. She frantically stared at his chest, hardly daring to hope, and saw a bit of movement. "Oh Jesus, Oh God, thank You God, Sweet Jesus, he's breathing!!" She was babbling in her relief, tears streaming unchecked down her face, but she couldn't care less. Josh was alive.
"Let me in!", Shelley demanded, pushing through the crowd and kneeling on Josh's other side, immediately going into medic mode. She simultaneously checked for a pulse and radioed for backup and an ambulance.
She glanced up at the terrified faces crowded around. "This looks a lot worse than it is ... I think he's just been knocked out. He should be alright, pulse is decent." She pulled a hand towel from her bag and held it to the back of his head, where blood was coursing down his neck. She kept the towel in place while she made another quick call on her cell phone, then freed a folding knife from her pocket and flicked it open, going to work on the rope binding his hands. "I don't wanna lay him down till he's got a neck brace - there could be injuries we don't know about - but we can't leave him like this, either."
Evie immediately saw what Ahana was getting at and straddled Josh, sitting on his thighs, propping his forward-slumped body up with her own, so when he was free of the rope he would still have something holding him in the same basic position. The stance was ludicrous, but Evie didn't give a shit what she looked like, as long as Josh was being tended to. She took over for Shelley, pressing the cloth to the back of his neck, and let his head rest gently on her shoulder. She kept up a patter of softly murmured encouragements, just in case he could hear her.
Shelley finished cutting Josh free, left him in Evangeline's care, then stood up and faced Billy. They looked at each other wordlessly for a moment, the same question running through both their minds: Why had the killer let Holloway live?
"This is weird, Boyd ...", Shelley muttered.
"Aye. Very weird.", Billy agreed, clutching his gun a little tighter.
"Doesn't make any fucking sense at all.", Shelley breathed. Just then another thought struck her, and the hair stood up on the back of her neck: Where was the killer now?
The air seemed to grow thick and cloying around her and all of her nerves went tight, suddenly, setting her heart racing. She knew the feeling intimately and had learned not to question it. It was the well-honed instinct of a cop. Something was about to go very, very wrong.
"Jesus, Boyd- the rocks!", she barked. "Get 'em behind the rocks!"
But Billy was already moving, spurred on by the same sensation that had hit Ahana. He had just grabbed hold of Dom and was pushing him towards the safety of the shore when a volley of gunfire shattered the night.
tbc.....
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this:
Oh Christ ... he'd done it again. Dom groaned inwardly. "Oh! No, I just...." He thought frantically. "Bit like that old song, innit?" Dom's voice rose in pitch and he desperately crooned out, "Did she bake for you a cake, Billy Boy, Billy Boy? Did she bake for you a cake, Charming Billy? ... Except that's 'boy' and not 'Boyd', of course, but ...... it's close."
Jorge looked at Billy apologetically. "Ignore him, man. He's mental."
and this:
"So ... you're available, then?", a voice purred right next to his ear.
"Available?", Billy blurted, voice strangled, raising his head.
Dom's eyes sparkled with amusement as they met Billy's in the mirror. "For bodyguard duty."
"Oh...aye.", he stammered. "But I think y' c'n do a lot better than me. I ... 'm not exactly in, uh...top form at th' moment, Mr. Monaghan."
The hand on Billy's shoulder squeezed softly and the face in the mirror smiled. "Mr. Monaghan's my dad. I'm Dom. And I'll take my chances, Detective."
were my favorite parts. Dom is so adorable. lol!
Also, OMG BULLETS FLYING!!!!
Can't wait for the next chapter!!!
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Sorry I didn't reply sooner, but my computer decided to be mean again. : ( I'm going to get to work on the next chappy straight away- hopefully won't be too long till it's up.
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Reading my comment again, I realize how absolutely crazy I sounded. LOL I'm not usually that crazy... *giggles*
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And you didn't sound a bit crazy. *hugs* Just .... enthusiastic! Yeah, that's it! *grins* Seriously, I live for those kind of comments, so s'all good. : )
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This is so AWESOME! You really know how to write a cliff-hanger, huh?
*tips hat to you*
Can't wait til the next installment. :D
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The cliffhanger kinda surprised me, actually- didn't know it was coming, really, till I wrote it. lol I'm hoping the next installment will be up before too long ... if I can get my computer to behave. *gives it a good slap* Thanks for sticking with me, though. : )
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I hope the next installment is up before too long too. ;) No problems sticking with you...I'm dying to find out what happens next. Hee.
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I hope it's up before too long, also: right now, besides the computer from hell, lol, I'm fighting off Billy whispering "You're my hat, Dom." into my ear (really, probably better if you don't ask about that one ; ) ), Dom having absurd cinnamon cravings (that one, you should definitely not ask about! *clutches head*), and an insane urge to write a fic based on the lyrics of Cher's 'Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves', which, if you know the lyrics, is a horrifying thing to be thinking about in connection to MonaBoyd. lmao! None of which at all fits into the 'Imitation' story. *shakes head* If I can manage to dodge those bullets, lol, the next installment should not be too long in coming. : )
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Are you on drugs? XD
Hmmmmm...sounds like you have some very interesting plot bunnies running a muck in your head! *takes you by the hand and leads you to ill-behaved computer, instructs you to kick it once and then write crack!fic based on crack!ideas* :D :D
Seriously though, sorry your computer is acting up! Sometimes my wireless acts up and won't let me on for brief stints. I think our router has a mind of its own. *scratches head*
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Uhh ... can I plead the 5th on that one? *grins*
Hmmmmm...sounds like you have some very interesting plot bunnies running a muck in your head! *takes you by the hand and leads you to ill-behaved computer, instructs you to kick it once and then write crack!fic based on crack!ideas* :D :D
Interesting is one word for them. lol Insane might be a far better one, however. ; ) As for the crack!fic, I'm afraid I've already finished one and started on two more. Heaven help us all. *snorts*
Seriously though, sorry your computer is acting up! Sometimes my wireless acts up and won't let me on for brief stints. I think our router has a mind of its own. *scratches head*
Computers are evil, no other word for it ... especially with poor technologically incompetent folks like me, who can't properly fight back. Lol
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Yes. We'll call them interesting for now. *raises eyebrow*
Well, I don't worry about anything you have going on in terms of story lines...so far, this story is stunning, A+, to the right of the bell-curve. :D
Computers ARE evil. I swear, my computer is tight, but I can't get it to work for me half the time. It does as it pleases. *arms self with circut breaker and threatening snarl*
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i like ahana even more with every chapter.
and dom's just great. laughed my ass off ;D
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This was a great chapter. I liked Dom's little song *smirk*. Can't wait for the next part.
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And if I can get my computer to behave, the next part shouldn't be too long in coming. *crosses fingers* : )
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Poor Billy. He is in serious trouble living with Dom, but the best kind of trouble.
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Thanks so much for the comments, so glad you're still enjoying! : )
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Of course, he had only been in the building for twenty seconds - there was still plenty of time for cataclysm to strike. Wonderful line.
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