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dylan-dufresne.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Aug. 13th, 2007 07:00 am)Title: With A Little Help From My Friends - 39/47
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dylan_dufresne
Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: PG-14, I think.
Summary: Billy’s worst nightmare comes to life.
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated as it’s my drug of choice. Many thanks to my beta,frojane.
Special Thanks: Toloki_girl for the exquisite banner that she has created, and to tarnishedhalo for loaning me her inspirational manip for the centerpiece. I am so thankful and appreciative of you both, and your generosity.
Disclaimer: Not at all true in reality. This is my imagination at work.
A/N: Kleenex warning! You know I’m I’m serious.
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38
Chapter 39
Rushing to Dom’s side and dropping to his knees, Billy focuses all his attention on his lover, praying that the worst hasn’t happened. Part of him hopes this is a horrible nightmare that he’ll wake up from any moment, with Dom at his side, soothing him and telling him this was all just a really bad dream. Billy is relieved when he’s able to roll Dom onto his back and sees the younger man’s eyelids fluttering.
“Dommie?” he says, cupping Dom’s face with his good hand while his eyes scan the younger man’s body for injury.
For a moment, Billy starts to relax, because there’s no sign of blood, and then he spots the small hole in the front of Dom’s down coat, just above his waist.
“Bills?” Dom replies breathlessly. “Are you okay?”
“Me? I’m fine, you daftie,” Billy tells him, a shaky smile flashing across his face as he awkwardly fumbles with the zipper of Dom’s coat, trying to open it in order to see the damage beneath. “You’re the one-”
Finally, after a muttered curse, the metal tab gives way, and Billy’s voice is stolen by the sight of a rapidly growing red stain on Dom’s abdomen, the sharp smell of copper filling his nostrils.
“Oh feck,” he gasps. “Dommie-”
Instinctively, Billy’s hand covers the wound, and he presses down firmly in an attempt to slow the blood loss, and he curses himself for not bringing his mobile. Billy knows he has no way of getting help, and Dom is definitely not in a position to be walking anywhere. Clearly in pain, Dom winces at the pressure of Billy’s hand, but doesn’t fight Billy, knowing that they’re in trouble. The Scotsman is wracking his brain for a way to summon aid when a pair of dark shoes enters his line of vision. Looking up, the breath Billy’s been trying to pull into his lungs gets caught in his throat as he stares at the barrel of the gun being pointed at him.
Unable to speak, Billy swallows hard and then looks down at Dom, whose eyes are wide with fear and pain, his long fingers covering Billy’s small hand on his belly.
“Go,” Dom pleads hoarsely, ineffectually trying to dislodge Billy’s hand and push him away. “Run-”
Upon hearing the request, Billy merely shakes his head, flatly refusing to leave his side.
“I love you,” Billy whispers, biting down on his lower lip, keeping his eyes locked with Dom’s and waiting for shot that will end his life. “Always.”
“Bills, no-”
When the shot rings out, Billy flinches; waiting for the pain, for the darkness that accompanies death, but to his shock and amazement, it never comes. Instead, the man who was looming above him just moments ago crumples to the ground, the gun clattering on the pavement, having fallen from his limp hand. At first, Billy is confused, and then a hand touches his shoulder, causing him to flinch for a second time.
“I heard the shot.”
“David,” Billy breathes at the sight of the Australian detective who kneels on the other side of Dom, relief stealing what's left of the reserve of his strength.
As he surveys the situation, David reaches over and presses the tips of two fingers to the inside of the wrist of the man he just shot. He waits a few moments, and then nods.
“He won’t be a problem anymore.” Glancing down, David pulls his mobile out of his pocket with one hand while the other replaces Billy’s over Dom’s wound, applying more firm pressure. He doesn’t mention the fact that blood is now pooling on the ground, or how they both could’ve been killed. “This is Detective David Wenham,” he says into his phone.
David’s voice is only a rumble of sound in the back of Billy’s mind as he shifts on the ground, lacing his fingers with Dom’s and gazing deeply into his wide eyes.
“Bills-”
“Shhh,” Billy soothes. “Save your strength.”
“I’m sorry,” Dom continues quietly, his breathing labored. “I never meant-”
“I know, love.” Billy tries to smile reassuringly as he presses a kiss to the back of Dom’s hand. “Just hold on, yeah? I’m right here with you.”
“Fuck, Bills,” Dom muses aloud, the disbelief clear in his tone. “I got shot.”
“I know,” Billy replies, his belly twisting into painful knots, fear threatening to overwhelm him. “David’s ringing for an ambulance.”
“It’s on the way,” David adds as he slips off his thick coat, one hand at a time so he can keep pressure on Dom’s wound, and then covers the injured man to help conserve body heat. “You just hold on.”
“How did you find me?” Dom asks, looking back and forth between them.
“Drew told me,” Billy explains. “After David called and told me about Aaron.”
A ragged sob bubbles up in Dom’s throat. “I’m sorry, Bills. I-”
Suddenly, a wave of dizziness washes over Dom, and he closes his eyes, hoping that it’ll pass.
“Dommie? Talk to me,” Billy begs. “Stay with me.”
“I love-”
Dom hears Billy’s panicked voice, and even though he tries, he can’t force his mouth to work, and his arms feel like they have lead weights attached to them. When the darkness begins to surround him, Dom is utterly helpless to fight it, and is quickly forced to surrender.
“Dommie?” Billy repeats, squeezing Dom’s hand even tighter, frantic at how he’s gone limp and eerily still. “Oh God,” he gasps, fearing the worst. “No. Dommie, please-”
David fights past his own rising anxiety, and sends up a silent prayer as he checks for a pulse in Dom’s slender neck, exhaling a ragged breath of relief when he finds one.
“He’s just unconscious, Billy,” he tells the Scotsman, attempting to soothe. “He’s still breathing.”
The distant whine of an emergency vehicle fills the chilly December air, and as it grows closer, Billy tries to regain some control over his turbulent emotions. He keeps his eyes on Dom’s face, telling himself it’s better that Dom isn’t awake because he’d be in tremendous pain, and Billy anxiously awaits the arrival of the ambulance that will take them to the hospital. It can’t get here soon enough to suit him.
So focused on Dom’s oddly peaceful face, despite the disturbing violence surrounding them, Billy is unprepared when David tries to draw him back, so the paramedics can work.
“Billy,” David says gently. “It’s okay. Let him go.”
Vehemently, Billy shakes his head. “No, I can’t-”
“They’re here to help Dom,” David adds, relieved when he spots additional officers arrive to secure the crime scene. “It’s okay. I’ll take you to the hospital.”
“Can’t I stay with him?” Billy asks, pleading as one of the paramedics makes eye contact with David and surreptitiously shakes his head in a negative response. “Please?”
“We’ll be right behind them,” David promises. “C’mon. Up you go.”
On unsteady feet, Billy follows the narrow gurney that Dom has been strapped to over to the back of the ambulance, his eyes wide at the sea of blood that Dom’s clothes have been soaked in. Dom has grown frightfully pale, reminding Billy of the night he tended to Dom’s massacred back, and it terrifies him, knowing that this is so much worse. This will not be taken care of with some gauze, a few days rest and some gentle care. Dom’s survival is uncertain at the moment, his life and their future together hanging in the balance.
“C’mon, Billy,” David says quietly, a strong hand gripping his belt to keep a firm hold on the smaller man in case he collapses. “My car’s just over there.”
David isn’t surprised when Billy curls up into a ball once settled in the passenger seat, and after a very brief conversation with the other officers, he climbs into the car as well. Billy’s so lost in his thoughts and overwhelming fear that he doesn’t notice when David hastily dials a number on his mobile, requesting a message to be passed along as he begins the journey to the hospital. All Billy can do is cling to the hope that Dom will be okay, and that they’ll be together again very soon.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
“Yes, I’ll be on my way in a few minutes,” Viggo promises, smiling at suggestion in Orlando’s voice, slightly tinny through the phone line. “I’ve got a couple of charts to finish up, and then I’m all done.”
“Good,” Orlando tells him. “I’ve got big plans for you tonight.”
“Oh really?” Viggo teases. “Do I get a hint?”
“Well, since you asked so-”
Orlando’s response is cut off by the vibration and ringing of the pager clipped to the waistband of Viggo’s scrub pants, eliciting a groan of dismay from both men.
"Hold that thought?" Viggo requests. "I'll call you back."
“Hurry.”
“I will,” Viggo promises, and waits until the line clicks off before closing his mobile and moving over to the hospital phone located on the wall. As he wedges the receiver between his shoulder and his ear, Viggo punches in the number given on his pager, and when he hears a woman answer, he speaks.
“This is Dr. Mortensen,” he says crisply. “I was paged.”
A moment later, the color drains from his face, and his belly twists into a tight, painful knot. He fights to control the wave of panic rising up in his body, and he has to force his mouth to work when the woman finishes.
“I’m on my way,” he replies, and barely manages to hang up the phone before he bolts from the room, running at full speed, hoping that he’s not too late.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
The car has barely pulled to a stop when Billy shoves open the passenger door with his shoulder and nearly sprints over to the ambulance, where the paramedics are unloading the gurney. Dom’s down coat is gone, his t-shirt has been cut away, an IV inserted into each arm, and a thick layer of gauze is now covering his belly, the blood soaking through at an alarming rate. So caught up with Dom as he’s rushed inside with an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth, Billy fails to notice the innumerable gauze pads that are lying on the floor of the ambulance, all soaked through. Additionally, Billy doesn’t realize that he himself has blood on him, streaked across his chest, where Dom’s hand had been held close, and the knees of his trousers saturated as he’d knelt beside Dom on the ground in the alley.
With David right behind him, Billy moves with the gurney as far as he’s allowed, and is then forced to wait behind a heavy, windowed door as the doctors and nurses move in to work. In a blur, he watches as Dom’s blue jeans are cut away, a tube is placed in his mouth, and blood soaked gauze is replaced with fresh white pads. He’s trying to see around the bodies surrounding Dom when a familiar voice seeps into his mind.
“Bill?” Viggo asks breathlessly, having just arrived and is alarmed by the blood covering the Scotsman. “What the fu-”
“He’s okay,” David interjects, causing the doctor to look over at him. “He’s in shock, I’m guessing.”
“Bill, look at me,” Viggo requests, gently squeezing the other man’s shoulder in an attempt to get his attention.
Almost in a daze, Billy finally tears his eyes away from the flurry of activity on the other side of the glass, meets Viggo’s concerned gaze, and then briefly looks down at himself.
“Bill-”
“It’s not my blood,” he says quietly before resuming his previous activity of watching the doctors work. “It’s his.”
“What happened?”
“Dom was shot,” David explains, moving a wee bit closer to give some details. “He-”
“He jumped in front of me,” Billy interrupts, still staring through the glass and tipping his head to one side in an attempt to catch a glimpse of Dom’s face. “I saw the gun, and heard the noise. Then he was on the ground. It all happened so fast.”
Before Viggo can respond, he and Billy are force to move out of the way as the medical team begins rolling Dom’s gurney back into the hall, the machines monitoring his vital signs being carried along. Without even asking, David steps forward to keep close to Billy while Viggo confers with the doctor in charge. David considers it a blessing that he can barely understand the conversation, because it means that Billy probably doesn’t either. When the gurney starts to move down the hall towards the bank of lifts, Billy leaps forward, trying to follow.
“Wait-”
“Bill,” Viggo says, sliding an arm around Billy’s shoulders to hold him. “We can’t go with them. There’s not enough room.”
“But-”
“They’re taking him to surgery right now. An operating room is all ready for him upstairs,” Viggo adds. “They’re waiting for him.”
“Is he-” Billy trails off, unable to say the horrible word, his eyes overwhelmed with fear and pain. “Please-”
“They’re going to do everything they can,” Viggo says in what he hopes is a soothing voice. “I promise you.”
Numbly, Billy nods, swaying unsteadily and looking so very lost.
“Let’s get you checked out,” Viggo says gently. “I don’t want Dom to be mad at me because I didn’t take care of you.”
“I’m fine,” Billy replies absently. “I-”
“Bill, you just got out of the hospital,” Viggo interrupts, more insistent this time. “C’mon. It won’t take very long, and then we can go upstairs to wait.”
“I have to call Aureen- Oh God, what am I going to say?”
“I’ll call Orli and have him take care of that,” the doctor promises. “Maggie, too, if you want.”
“But-”
“Bill,” Viggo interjects. “Wouldn’t Dom want to make sure that you’re okay?”
Slowly, Billy nods. “Aye.”
“As soon as a doctor clears you, we’ll go upstairs and I’ll check on how Dom’s surgery is going,” Viggo promises. “It’ll just be a few minutes.”
“Okay,” Billy finally agrees. “Let’s go.”
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Honoring his word, while Billy is looked over, Viggo finds a somewhat quiet corner to call home while anxiety continues to build as he wonders what is happening upstairs. Dom’s condition was by no means stable when he was taken to surgery, despite the cool and calm façade he’s presented to the rest of the group.
“Hey you,” Orlando says warmly after answering the phone. “On your way?”
“Or, I- I don’t know how to-”
Hearing the strain in his lover’s voice, Orlando frowns with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Dom got shot.”
“He what?”
“Bill is okay, but they took Dom into surgery right away,” Viggo continues. “I don’t- I just-”
“I’m on my way,” Orlando interrupts. “Just hold on, yeah?”
“Okay.”
“I love you, Vig,” Orlando says gently. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Thank you.”
As Viggo hangs up his mobile, Mark arrives with Drew and Matt in tow, having been informed as to what happened to Dom by a phone call to the book shop from David. Eager to help, Mark offers to take care of the list of people to contact since he knows them, and uses Billy’s mobile to make the necessary calls to Dom’s parents and Maggie. Grateful, Viggo nods in agreement and then focuses his attention on Billy, who is sitting on a gurney, being checked over by another doctor.
Not surprisingly, Billy flatly refuses to be admitted back into the hospital, despite being diagnosed with a case of shock, knowing that could interfere with him seeing Dom at the earliest opportunity. Viggo quickly explains to the doctor what has happened, that Billy will be within the walls of the hospital, and then Billy is allowed to leave to go upstairs. Viggo ushers the group to a quiet waiting room on the third floor, gently requesting that Billy rest as much as possible, and asks the others to keep an eye on him.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he tells Billy, giving his good shoulder a soft squeeze.
It breaks his heart to see that fear has Billy firmly in its vicious grip, and it takes all of Viggo’s strength not to let anyone see how terrified he is as to what he’ll find in the operating room. Viggo slips out of the room and starts to walk briskly down the hall, only to stop when he hears someone call out his name.
“Vig!”
Spinning on his heel, the doctor barely has time to open his arms, and then they are wrapping around a slender body, his nose being tickled by dark, silky curls.
“Or,” he breathes, relief overwhelming him.
“I got here as fast I could,” Orlando replies, pressing a kiss to Viggo’s cheek before pulling back.
“They’re all in there,” Viggo explains, nodding at the door to the waiting room. “I have to go check on Dom.”
Eyes filled with sympathy, Orlando slides a hand up and down the length of Viggo’s spine. “What can I do?”
“Bill’s clothes-” Viggo replies hesitantly. “They’re soaked.”
“In what?”
“Dom’s blood. He shouldn’t-”
“Okay,” Orlando interjects, finally understanding. “I’ll find some scrubs or something. See what I can do to get him cleaned up.”
“It’s bad, Or. Really bad.”
Exhaling raggedly, Viggo allows himself to be drawn closer again, sagging in his lover’s arms as he’s comforted. After a moment he tries to pull back, but Orlando tightens his hold to keep their bodies close.
“Stay for a minute,” he requests. “Please.”
“What if-”
“Don’t-” Orlando cautions. “Don’t go there unless we have to. Right now he’s alive. That’s what we need to hold onto.”
“But it’s not some patient. A name in a chart,” Viggo whispers. “It’s Dom, and if he-”
“I know,” Orlando croons gently. “You’re worried about Billy.”
Pulling back so their eyes meet, Viggo bites down on his lower lip. “I keep seeing his face after I tell him that Dom is gone. I don’t think he can survive that. I mean, if I lost you, I-”
Viggo’s arms tighten around Orlando until he gasps for breath, and they cling to one another, gently swaying back and forth.
“Shhh. You’re not going to lose me,” Orlando murmurs as he strokes Viggo’s hair. “And we have to believe that Dom is going to get through this. He’s a fighter, and he has a lot to live for. There are so many people who love him.”
“Right.” Nodding decisively almost as though he can will it to be true, Viggo straightens up and pushes his shoulders back. “We’re all here, pulling for him.”
Smoothing Viggo’s hair, Orlando smiles ever so slightly. “Exactly.”
“Thank you,” Viggo says quietly, and then brushes a kiss across Orlando’s cheek. “You always know what to say to me.”
“I try.”
“I better go scrub up, see how Dom’s doing,” Viggo adds, reluctantly releasing Orlando from his embrace.
“All right.”
“Love you,” Viggo whispers, lacing his fingers with Orlando’s for a brief, yet firm squeeze.
“Always,” he replies, and then Orlando watches Viggo walk away until he disappears from sight, fervently hoping that he’s right, because the alternative is simply unthinkable.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
It takes Viggo ten minutes to scrub his hands and arms down with surgical soap and then be gowned appropriately to enter the sterile field of the operating room. During those endless moments, Viggo replays Orlando’s words in his mind over and over again, trying to visualize Dom leaving the hospital, healthy and happy with Billy at his side. The image in his mind lingers until he backs into the room, and is greeted by wailing monitors and a flurry of frantic activity.
“You!”
At the word, Viggo scans the room from behind his mask, searching for the source.
“Get over here,” the surgeon barks at him, lifting his head in a swift jerking motion.
“I know him-” Viggo tries to explain, trying to take in the information surrounding him.
The heart monitor is the source of the sound, he realizes, the waves registering showing clear signs of distress, which is confirmed by the blood soaked gauze being piled up on a stainless steel tray. Somewhere beneath all the surgical tools and medical equipment is Dom, his body struggling, barely clinging to life.
“I don’t bloody care. Get your arse over here and help, or get out.”
Instinct takes over, and within seconds, Viggo is gloved up, pressed against the edge of the operating table, and praying that his trained hands will be enough to save Dom’s life, which in turn will save Billy from a life of despair.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
With a wee bit of cajoling on Orlando’s part, Billy changes into a pair of blue scrubs that are given to him, his other clothes tucked into an evidence bag and handed over to David for safekeeping. Billy doesn’t protest when Orlando uses a damp face flannel to wipe his hands, the sight of the now dried blood not even registering to him. He doesn’t notice when Orlando surreptitiously takes his pulse, or that he’s trembling, even though he’s not cold. Every couple of minutes Billy shakes his head, as though trying to waken from a nightmare, and each time he is denied, because no matter how much he wishes it were, this isn’t a bad dream.
Billy wearily sinks into the somewhat worn navy cushions of the waiting room couch, thankful for the person rubbing his shoulder in a slow, soothing rhythm, though he has no idea who it is. He shifts his position slightly so he has a better view of the clock on the wall, and then obsessively watches the thin wire sweep around the circle of numbers, marking the seconds and the minutes, and then the hours. Time taunts him, and he can’t decide if it’s better that Viggo isn’t back right away. Time could mean that the doctors are having some success, fixing the damage caused by the bullet. If Viggo had come back right away, that would likely mean that little could be done, and Dom-
Despite the efforts of the other people in the room to distract him, Billy finds his anxiety growing, until finally, he can’t bear to sit any longer. The loose thread from the waist tie of his borrowed scrub pants is completely frayed, the blue fibers getting caught under his fingernails, and it only serves to irritate him. Despite the passage of time, there has been not so much as a word from Viggo. The waiting room is as quiet a tomb, and it dawns on Billy that it reminds him of the last time he attended a funeral.
Without warning, he lurches unsteadily to his feet and begins pacing the length of the room, heart pounding erratically against the wall of his chest, fear lodging in his throat, making it difficult to breathe.
“Billy,” Orlando says gently. “You shouldn’t-”
“What’s taking so long?” Billy asks, spinning around to face the younger man. “Why haven’t we heard anything?”
“I don’t know,” Orlando replies sympathetically, laying a hand on Billy’s shoulder. “I’m sure Vig-”
“He must know something,” Billy blurts out in a rush, and then pulls free of Orlando’s loose grasp, walking over to the window and staring out into the night. “It’s been hours. What are they doing?”
Everyone is staring at the floor in hushed silence, not knowing what to say or do, and then the quiet is broken by the sound of the door to the waiting room opening. In unison, the group all look up, taking in a collective breath when they see who the visitor is.
“Bill,” Viggo says softly, trying not to startle him.
Whirling around at the sound of his name, Billy openly stares, taking in the sweat darkening the front of Viggo’s scrub shirt, the utter exhaustion in his posture, and then he finally focuses on the doctor’s face. Hope rises up in Billy like a tidal wave, but when he can’t read Viggo’s expression, his heart plummets. If it was good news, Viggo would be smiling, wouldn’t he? Billy struggles to form words, and then a glint of metal dangling from Viggo’s hand catches his eye. It only takes a second to recognize the necklace that Dom was wearing and notice that there are now two wedding rings on the delicate silver chain.
“Oh God,” Billy whispers, tears flooding his eyes. “No-”
Without warning, Billy’s knees give way, his body folding in on itself, and he loses consciousness as he crumples silently to the floor. Distantly, he hears the cries of surprise and people calling his name, but Billy doesn’t fight the blackness enveloping him, and instead embraces it. He’ll do anything to avoid the horrific truth that his beloved Dommie is gone.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Taking a fortifying breath, Billy slips inside a quiet room, closing the door behind him, hearing the lock snick into place before turning around. The noise in the hallway fades away, the lack of sound heavy on the air.
“Hello my love,” he says softly, not needing to speak any louder as there is no noise in the room to compete with. It’s so quiet he can hear himself breathe. “It’s me.”
Gnawing on his bottom lip, Billy slowly crosses the room, stopping when his fingers touch the crisp white sheet draped over Dom, covering his slender body up to his shoulders. Billy gazes at Dom’s peaceful face and finds himself reaching out to touch the younger man, repeatedly drawing his small fingers through silky blonde strands ever so slowly.
“You need a haircut, Dommie,” he murmurs, smoothing back his lover’s mussed hair. “It doesn’t seem that long ago that you let me cut it for you for the first time. Do you remember that morning in the kitchen?” he asks, knowing that he won’t get an answer.
Leaning down, Billy presses a tender kiss to Dom’s forehead.
“You were so brave,” he whispers against Dom’s hair, breathing in his scent, desperately trying to hold onto it. “Did so much to help other people. You changed their lives, because you believed in them. Fought for them.”
Standing up straight again, Billy’s hand moves lower, first ghosting over Dom’s slack lips, tracing the sensuous bow and then coming to rest on Dom’s chest, directly over his heart.
“I lost count the number of times you fell asleep with your cheek against my chest,” he continues. “It didn’t feel right when you weren’t curled up with me, using me as your human pillow.”
Billy finds himself smiling for a second, and then a harsh sob pushes past his bow shaped lips.
“You’re still warm,” he whispers brokenly. “It’s like you’re sleeping, and I keep waiting for you to open your eyes and tell me that you love me.”
Billy’s small fingers splay out wide, searching for the heartbeat beneath, knowing that it’s futile.
“What I wouldn’t give, just to see you look at me one more time,” he adds, chest rising and falling in ragged, unsteady breaths. “I wish you would open your eyes, love. Tell me that this isn’t happening.”
Unable to stop himself, Billy tugs back the sheet, just far enough to expose Dom’s left arm, and then he’s stroking the long, elegant fingers, remembering how they felt against his skin as Dom held him close when they made love. He can see Dom in the kitchen, preparing a feast for them, and recalls how many a meal was served in bed, after their lustful appetites had been sated.
With his knees trembling violently, Billy clings to Dom’s limp hand, and laces their fingers together before rubbing his cheek against the soft skin.
“Dommie, please,” he begs, unable to tear his eyes away from Dom’s face, hoping for a sign of life. “Tell me it’s not too late.”
As the pain steals the last of his strength, Billy collapses to the floor, clutching Dom’s hand to his chest, his heart shattering, knowing that it’ll never be whole again. Gut wrenching sobs fill the air as Billy mourns the loss of his love, the grief so overwhelming that part of him longs to join Dom, so at least they’d be together. He can’t even imagine the idea of going on alone.
Billy’s tormented eyes fall closed, tears streaming down his cheeks, and he rocks back and forth, clinging on to the last shreds of hope that are lingering. He squeezes his lover’s hand, trying to imagine Dom’s sweet voice inside his head, but the words he longs to hear, the ones that will comfort him, fail to materialize. Hope is lost and Billy starts to let go of Dom’s fingers, only to find that he can’t pull free. The limp hand he’d been holding is now gripping his with surprisingly strength.
“Dommie,” he gasps as his eyes fly open, and then he freezes, confused by his surroundings.
The room he’d been in to see Dom has been replaced by the waiting room, everyone crowded around the couch where Billy is now stretched out, his head cushioned on a small pillow.
“Hey Bill,” Viggo says gently, gently rubbing the back of Billy’s hand, surprised at how tightly Billy is holding onto him. “You gave us quite a scare.”
Trying to make sense of things, Billy glances around and asks, “What happened?”
“You fainted.”
Billy’s heart leaps. “Dom-”
“They were moving him into ICU just as I came to get you,” Viggo explains. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t get away to-”
“He’s alive,” Billy breathes as his eyes fall shut for a moment, thankful that he’s lying down, or surely he’d be on his knees once again.
“Yes, he is,” Viggo confirms with a nod. “I brought your rings. I though you’d want to wear them, since Dom can’t right now.”
“Aye.”
Billy tips his head forward to allow Viggo to slip the chain over his head, looking down as the rings come to rest on his chest. Wordlessly, he uses his good hand to slip them inside his shirt so they’re against his heart, just where Dom was carrying his ring earlier.
Abruptly, Billy starts to sit up, wincing at the throbbing of his protesting ribs, only to be stopped by Viggo’s hands on his shoulders.
“Slow down, Bill.”
“I need to see him,” Billy says urgently, pleading with Viggo with his eyes, frantic and desperate. “Please. I-”
“I know,” Viggo interjects. “Just wait-”
“I’ve been waiting,” Billy fires back. “For hours. I want to see him. Now.”
Giving in, Viggo nods. “Okay.”
He’s not surprised when Billy leaps to his feet, only to sway unsteadily, not protesting when the doctor wraps an arm around his waist.
“Whoa.”
“I’ve got you,” Viggo says quietly.
After a moment, Billy regains his bearings and looks up at Viggo, silently begging with his eyes, and with a nod, they start to move across the room.
“Or, can I talk to you for a minute?” Viggo requests quietly, and then the three men slip out into the hall.
Orlando trails a few feet behind as Viggo leads the way to the Intensive Care Unit, keeping a firm grip around Billy.
“The rules say you’re allowed to sit with him for a maximum of twenty minutes each hour,” Viggo explains, looking down when Billy sucks in a gasp of air, clearly distressed at the proposed lack of contact. “But-”
Hopeful, Billy looks up at him, holding his breath.
“If you’re quiet and don’t get in the way, the nurses will probably let you stay longer,” Viggo adds. “However, if they need to do something, you have to stay out of the way.”
“Okay,” Billy agrees quickly.
“You need to prepare yourself,” Viggo continues, keeping his voice low and soothing, trying to give the news as gently as possible. “There will be a lot of machines in the room, monitoring Dom. There’s a tube in his throat, attached to a ventilator, to help him breathe. The doctors are watching a lot of different things, keeping a close eye on him.”
“What are they watching?” Billy asks, his brow furrowing.
“Dom’s heart and his kidneys,” Viggo replies as he pushes open the door to the ICU and guides Billy through. “His blood pressure.”
“They stopped the bleeding, yeah?”
“Yes, they did, but Dom’s been through a lot, and they just want to make sure he stabilizes.”
“Okay.”
While Orlando waits at the nurses’ station, Viggo leads Billy over to a room with large panes of glass where the walls would normally be. Inside, Dom looks small and frightfully pale in the wide hospital bed, now wearing a light blue gown. Tubes and wires snake across the white blanket that covers him to the waist and Billy is struck by how eerily still his lover is. There is a soft hissing noise from the machine that is giving oxygen to Dom, made evident by the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest. Other machines beep with regularity, but Billy welcomes them, is grateful for them, because those sounds mean that Dom is alive.
Overcome with relief, Billy sinks into the chair beside the bed, gently taking Dom’s left hand in his and kissing the long, elegant fingers, since an IV has been inserted into the back of his hand, the skin covered with clear medical tape.
“I’m here, love,” he whispers tenderly, gazing at Dom with shining eyes. “You made it.”
Exhaling quietly, Viggo slips silently out of the room to give Billy some privacy, turning and then walking straight into Orlando’s waiting arms.
“Hey,” Orlando whispers against Viggo’s hair, arms wrapping around his lover’s frame tightly. “You had me worried.”
“Sorry,” Viggo replies, his voice muffled against Orlando’s neck.
“C’mere,” Orlando requests gently, turning them and walking a short distance over to a bench just outside of ICU. “Sit.”
Without protest, Viggo sinks down, forearms resting on his thighs, his head down.
“It was bad in there, wasn’t it?”
Viggo nods, drawing in an unsteady breath, the sensation of Orlando’s hand resting on his back a welcome comfort. “When his heart stopped for the third time, I thought it was over.”
“Third time?” Orlando repeats, eyes wide with shock.
“The bullet fragmented on impact,” Viggo explains, pushing himself up and then leaning back against the wall behind him when Orlando’s hand slides lower. “There was damage to the liver, the stomach, the spleen, one of his kidneys-”
“Jesus,” Orlando whispers.
“By the time it was over I think we replaced his entire blood volume twice.”
“And now?”
“He’s listed as Critical,” Viggo reports. “Provided he makes it through the night with no problems, he could be upgraded to Critical, but Stable. They’ll run more tests tomorrow, to see how things look. Figure out what the next step is. More surgery is a possibility.”
Orlando sighs and begins rubbing the small of Viggo’s back in slow, soothing circles. “Any idea when he might wake up?”
“They’re going to keep Dom under for a couple of days, try to let things start to heal before he starts moving around,” Viggo replies. “While he’s unconscious, they can control everything. Maximize his chances for a smooth recovery.”
“You do realize there’s no way Billy is going to leave that room,” Orlando muses aloud. “Not willingly, anyways.”
“Yeah, I know,” Viggo says with a sigh, nodding in agreement. “I don’t blame him.”
“C’mere you,” Orlando murmurs tenderly, drawing the older man into the circle of his arms and guiding Viggo’s head down to rest on his shoulder. “Before you topple over.”
“Or-”
“Shhh,” Orlando soothes. “I know. I love you, too.”
Utterly exhausted and emotionally drained, Viggo sinks into his partner’s embrace, the adrenaline that’s been sustaining him for several days now finally running out. One moment he’s listening to Orlando’s comforting voice, warm breath caressing his cheek and then he’s fast asleep.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Chapter 40
Author:
dylan_dufresne Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: PG-14, I think.
Summary: Billy’s worst nightmare comes to life.
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated as it’s my drug of choice. Many thanks to my beta,
frojane.Special Thanks: To
loki_girl for the exquisite banner that she has created, and to tarnishedhalo for loaning me her inspirational manip for the centerpiece. I am so thankful and appreciative of you both, and your generosity. Disclaimer: Not at all true in reality. This is my imagination at work.
A/N: Kleenex warning! You know I’m I’m serious.
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38
Chapter 39
Rushing to Dom’s side and dropping to his knees, Billy focuses all his attention on his lover, praying that the worst hasn’t happened. Part of him hopes this is a horrible nightmare that he’ll wake up from any moment, with Dom at his side, soothing him and telling him this was all just a really bad dream. Billy is relieved when he’s able to roll Dom onto his back and sees the younger man’s eyelids fluttering.
“Dommie?” he says, cupping Dom’s face with his good hand while his eyes scan the younger man’s body for injury.
For a moment, Billy starts to relax, because there’s no sign of blood, and then he spots the small hole in the front of Dom’s down coat, just above his waist.
“Bills?” Dom replies breathlessly. “Are you okay?”
“Me? I’m fine, you daftie,” Billy tells him, a shaky smile flashing across his face as he awkwardly fumbles with the zipper of Dom’s coat, trying to open it in order to see the damage beneath. “You’re the one-”
Finally, after a muttered curse, the metal tab gives way, and Billy’s voice is stolen by the sight of a rapidly growing red stain on Dom’s abdomen, the sharp smell of copper filling his nostrils.
“Oh feck,” he gasps. “Dommie-”
Instinctively, Billy’s hand covers the wound, and he presses down firmly in an attempt to slow the blood loss, and he curses himself for not bringing his mobile. Billy knows he has no way of getting help, and Dom is definitely not in a position to be walking anywhere. Clearly in pain, Dom winces at the pressure of Billy’s hand, but doesn’t fight Billy, knowing that they’re in trouble. The Scotsman is wracking his brain for a way to summon aid when a pair of dark shoes enters his line of vision. Looking up, the breath Billy’s been trying to pull into his lungs gets caught in his throat as he stares at the barrel of the gun being pointed at him.
Unable to speak, Billy swallows hard and then looks down at Dom, whose eyes are wide with fear and pain, his long fingers covering Billy’s small hand on his belly.
“Go,” Dom pleads hoarsely, ineffectually trying to dislodge Billy’s hand and push him away. “Run-”
Upon hearing the request, Billy merely shakes his head, flatly refusing to leave his side.
“I love you,” Billy whispers, biting down on his lower lip, keeping his eyes locked with Dom’s and waiting for shot that will end his life. “Always.”
“Bills, no-”
When the shot rings out, Billy flinches; waiting for the pain, for the darkness that accompanies death, but to his shock and amazement, it never comes. Instead, the man who was looming above him just moments ago crumples to the ground, the gun clattering on the pavement, having fallen from his limp hand. At first, Billy is confused, and then a hand touches his shoulder, causing him to flinch for a second time.
“I heard the shot.”
“David,” Billy breathes at the sight of the Australian detective who kneels on the other side of Dom, relief stealing what's left of the reserve of his strength.
As he surveys the situation, David reaches over and presses the tips of two fingers to the inside of the wrist of the man he just shot. He waits a few moments, and then nods.
“He won’t be a problem anymore.” Glancing down, David pulls his mobile out of his pocket with one hand while the other replaces Billy’s over Dom’s wound, applying more firm pressure. He doesn’t mention the fact that blood is now pooling on the ground, or how they both could’ve been killed. “This is Detective David Wenham,” he says into his phone.
David’s voice is only a rumble of sound in the back of Billy’s mind as he shifts on the ground, lacing his fingers with Dom’s and gazing deeply into his wide eyes.
“Bills-”
“Shhh,” Billy soothes. “Save your strength.”
“I’m sorry,” Dom continues quietly, his breathing labored. “I never meant-”
“I know, love.” Billy tries to smile reassuringly as he presses a kiss to the back of Dom’s hand. “Just hold on, yeah? I’m right here with you.”
“Fuck, Bills,” Dom muses aloud, the disbelief clear in his tone. “I got shot.”
“I know,” Billy replies, his belly twisting into painful knots, fear threatening to overwhelm him. “David’s ringing for an ambulance.”
“It’s on the way,” David adds as he slips off his thick coat, one hand at a time so he can keep pressure on Dom’s wound, and then covers the injured man to help conserve body heat. “You just hold on.”
“How did you find me?” Dom asks, looking back and forth between them.
“Drew told me,” Billy explains. “After David called and told me about Aaron.”
A ragged sob bubbles up in Dom’s throat. “I’m sorry, Bills. I-”
Suddenly, a wave of dizziness washes over Dom, and he closes his eyes, hoping that it’ll pass.
“Dommie? Talk to me,” Billy begs. “Stay with me.”
“I love-”
Dom hears Billy’s panicked voice, and even though he tries, he can’t force his mouth to work, and his arms feel like they have lead weights attached to them. When the darkness begins to surround him, Dom is utterly helpless to fight it, and is quickly forced to surrender.
“Dommie?” Billy repeats, squeezing Dom’s hand even tighter, frantic at how he’s gone limp and eerily still. “Oh God,” he gasps, fearing the worst. “No. Dommie, please-”
David fights past his own rising anxiety, and sends up a silent prayer as he checks for a pulse in Dom’s slender neck, exhaling a ragged breath of relief when he finds one.
“He’s just unconscious, Billy,” he tells the Scotsman, attempting to soothe. “He’s still breathing.”
The distant whine of an emergency vehicle fills the chilly December air, and as it grows closer, Billy tries to regain some control over his turbulent emotions. He keeps his eyes on Dom’s face, telling himself it’s better that Dom isn’t awake because he’d be in tremendous pain, and Billy anxiously awaits the arrival of the ambulance that will take them to the hospital. It can’t get here soon enough to suit him.
So focused on Dom’s oddly peaceful face, despite the disturbing violence surrounding them, Billy is unprepared when David tries to draw him back, so the paramedics can work.
“Billy,” David says gently. “It’s okay. Let him go.”
Vehemently, Billy shakes his head. “No, I can’t-”
“They’re here to help Dom,” David adds, relieved when he spots additional officers arrive to secure the crime scene. “It’s okay. I’ll take you to the hospital.”
“Can’t I stay with him?” Billy asks, pleading as one of the paramedics makes eye contact with David and surreptitiously shakes his head in a negative response. “Please?”
“We’ll be right behind them,” David promises. “C’mon. Up you go.”
On unsteady feet, Billy follows the narrow gurney that Dom has been strapped to over to the back of the ambulance, his eyes wide at the sea of blood that Dom’s clothes have been soaked in. Dom has grown frightfully pale, reminding Billy of the night he tended to Dom’s massacred back, and it terrifies him, knowing that this is so much worse. This will not be taken care of with some gauze, a few days rest and some gentle care. Dom’s survival is uncertain at the moment, his life and their future together hanging in the balance.
“C’mon, Billy,” David says quietly, a strong hand gripping his belt to keep a firm hold on the smaller man in case he collapses. “My car’s just over there.”
David isn’t surprised when Billy curls up into a ball once settled in the passenger seat, and after a very brief conversation with the other officers, he climbs into the car as well. Billy’s so lost in his thoughts and overwhelming fear that he doesn’t notice when David hastily dials a number on his mobile, requesting a message to be passed along as he begins the journey to the hospital. All Billy can do is cling to the hope that Dom will be okay, and that they’ll be together again very soon.
“Yes, I’ll be on my way in a few minutes,” Viggo promises, smiling at suggestion in Orlando’s voice, slightly tinny through the phone line. “I’ve got a couple of charts to finish up, and then I’m all done.”
“Good,” Orlando tells him. “I’ve got big plans for you tonight.”
“Oh really?” Viggo teases. “Do I get a hint?”
“Well, since you asked so-”
Orlando’s response is cut off by the vibration and ringing of the pager clipped to the waistband of Viggo’s scrub pants, eliciting a groan of dismay from both men.
"Hold that thought?" Viggo requests. "I'll call you back."
“Hurry.”
“I will,” Viggo promises, and waits until the line clicks off before closing his mobile and moving over to the hospital phone located on the wall. As he wedges the receiver between his shoulder and his ear, Viggo punches in the number given on his pager, and when he hears a woman answer, he speaks.
“This is Dr. Mortensen,” he says crisply. “I was paged.”
A moment later, the color drains from his face, and his belly twists into a tight, painful knot. He fights to control the wave of panic rising up in his body, and he has to force his mouth to work when the woman finishes.
“I’m on my way,” he replies, and barely manages to hang up the phone before he bolts from the room, running at full speed, hoping that he’s not too late.
The car has barely pulled to a stop when Billy shoves open the passenger door with his shoulder and nearly sprints over to the ambulance, where the paramedics are unloading the gurney. Dom’s down coat is gone, his t-shirt has been cut away, an IV inserted into each arm, and a thick layer of gauze is now covering his belly, the blood soaking through at an alarming rate. So caught up with Dom as he’s rushed inside with an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth, Billy fails to notice the innumerable gauze pads that are lying on the floor of the ambulance, all soaked through. Additionally, Billy doesn’t realize that he himself has blood on him, streaked across his chest, where Dom’s hand had been held close, and the knees of his trousers saturated as he’d knelt beside Dom on the ground in the alley.
With David right behind him, Billy moves with the gurney as far as he’s allowed, and is then forced to wait behind a heavy, windowed door as the doctors and nurses move in to work. In a blur, he watches as Dom’s blue jeans are cut away, a tube is placed in his mouth, and blood soaked gauze is replaced with fresh white pads. He’s trying to see around the bodies surrounding Dom when a familiar voice seeps into his mind.
“Bill?” Viggo asks breathlessly, having just arrived and is alarmed by the blood covering the Scotsman. “What the fu-”
“He’s okay,” David interjects, causing the doctor to look over at him. “He’s in shock, I’m guessing.”
“Bill, look at me,” Viggo requests, gently squeezing the other man’s shoulder in an attempt to get his attention.
Almost in a daze, Billy finally tears his eyes away from the flurry of activity on the other side of the glass, meets Viggo’s concerned gaze, and then briefly looks down at himself.
“Bill-”
“It’s not my blood,” he says quietly before resuming his previous activity of watching the doctors work. “It’s his.”
“What happened?”
“Dom was shot,” David explains, moving a wee bit closer to give some details. “He-”
“He jumped in front of me,” Billy interrupts, still staring through the glass and tipping his head to one side in an attempt to catch a glimpse of Dom’s face. “I saw the gun, and heard the noise. Then he was on the ground. It all happened so fast.”
Before Viggo can respond, he and Billy are force to move out of the way as the medical team begins rolling Dom’s gurney back into the hall, the machines monitoring his vital signs being carried along. Without even asking, David steps forward to keep close to Billy while Viggo confers with the doctor in charge. David considers it a blessing that he can barely understand the conversation, because it means that Billy probably doesn’t either. When the gurney starts to move down the hall towards the bank of lifts, Billy leaps forward, trying to follow.
“Wait-”
“Bill,” Viggo says, sliding an arm around Billy’s shoulders to hold him. “We can’t go with them. There’s not enough room.”
“But-”
“They’re taking him to surgery right now. An operating room is all ready for him upstairs,” Viggo adds. “They’re waiting for him.”
“Is he-” Billy trails off, unable to say the horrible word, his eyes overwhelmed with fear and pain. “Please-”
“They’re going to do everything they can,” Viggo says in what he hopes is a soothing voice. “I promise you.”
Numbly, Billy nods, swaying unsteadily and looking so very lost.
“Let’s get you checked out,” Viggo says gently. “I don’t want Dom to be mad at me because I didn’t take care of you.”
“I’m fine,” Billy replies absently. “I-”
“Bill, you just got out of the hospital,” Viggo interrupts, more insistent this time. “C’mon. It won’t take very long, and then we can go upstairs to wait.”
“I have to call Aureen- Oh God, what am I going to say?”
“I’ll call Orli and have him take care of that,” the doctor promises. “Maggie, too, if you want.”
“But-”
“Bill,” Viggo interjects. “Wouldn’t Dom want to make sure that you’re okay?”
Slowly, Billy nods. “Aye.”
“As soon as a doctor clears you, we’ll go upstairs and I’ll check on how Dom’s surgery is going,” Viggo promises. “It’ll just be a few minutes.”
“Okay,” Billy finally agrees. “Let’s go.”
Honoring his word, while Billy is looked over, Viggo finds a somewhat quiet corner to call home while anxiety continues to build as he wonders what is happening upstairs. Dom’s condition was by no means stable when he was taken to surgery, despite the cool and calm façade he’s presented to the rest of the group.
“Hey you,” Orlando says warmly after answering the phone. “On your way?”
“Or, I- I don’t know how to-”
Hearing the strain in his lover’s voice, Orlando frowns with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Dom got shot.”
“He what?”
“Bill is okay, but they took Dom into surgery right away,” Viggo continues. “I don’t- I just-”
“I’m on my way,” Orlando interrupts. “Just hold on, yeah?”
“Okay.”
“I love you, Vig,” Orlando says gently. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Thank you.”
As Viggo hangs up his mobile, Mark arrives with Drew and Matt in tow, having been informed as to what happened to Dom by a phone call to the book shop from David. Eager to help, Mark offers to take care of the list of people to contact since he knows them, and uses Billy’s mobile to make the necessary calls to Dom’s parents and Maggie. Grateful, Viggo nods in agreement and then focuses his attention on Billy, who is sitting on a gurney, being checked over by another doctor.
Not surprisingly, Billy flatly refuses to be admitted back into the hospital, despite being diagnosed with a case of shock, knowing that could interfere with him seeing Dom at the earliest opportunity. Viggo quickly explains to the doctor what has happened, that Billy will be within the walls of the hospital, and then Billy is allowed to leave to go upstairs. Viggo ushers the group to a quiet waiting room on the third floor, gently requesting that Billy rest as much as possible, and asks the others to keep an eye on him.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he tells Billy, giving his good shoulder a soft squeeze.
It breaks his heart to see that fear has Billy firmly in its vicious grip, and it takes all of Viggo’s strength not to let anyone see how terrified he is as to what he’ll find in the operating room. Viggo slips out of the room and starts to walk briskly down the hall, only to stop when he hears someone call out his name.
“Vig!”
Spinning on his heel, the doctor barely has time to open his arms, and then they are wrapping around a slender body, his nose being tickled by dark, silky curls.
“Or,” he breathes, relief overwhelming him.
“I got here as fast I could,” Orlando replies, pressing a kiss to Viggo’s cheek before pulling back.
“They’re all in there,” Viggo explains, nodding at the door to the waiting room. “I have to go check on Dom.”
Eyes filled with sympathy, Orlando slides a hand up and down the length of Viggo’s spine. “What can I do?”
“Bill’s clothes-” Viggo replies hesitantly. “They’re soaked.”
“In what?”
“Dom’s blood. He shouldn’t-”
“Okay,” Orlando interjects, finally understanding. “I’ll find some scrubs or something. See what I can do to get him cleaned up.”
“It’s bad, Or. Really bad.”
Exhaling raggedly, Viggo allows himself to be drawn closer again, sagging in his lover’s arms as he’s comforted. After a moment he tries to pull back, but Orlando tightens his hold to keep their bodies close.
“Stay for a minute,” he requests. “Please.”
“What if-”
“Don’t-” Orlando cautions. “Don’t go there unless we have to. Right now he’s alive. That’s what we need to hold onto.”
“But it’s not some patient. A name in a chart,” Viggo whispers. “It’s Dom, and if he-”
“I know,” Orlando croons gently. “You’re worried about Billy.”
Pulling back so their eyes meet, Viggo bites down on his lower lip. “I keep seeing his face after I tell him that Dom is gone. I don’t think he can survive that. I mean, if I lost you, I-”
Viggo’s arms tighten around Orlando until he gasps for breath, and they cling to one another, gently swaying back and forth.
“Shhh. You’re not going to lose me,” Orlando murmurs as he strokes Viggo’s hair. “And we have to believe that Dom is going to get through this. He’s a fighter, and he has a lot to live for. There are so many people who love him.”
“Right.” Nodding decisively almost as though he can will it to be true, Viggo straightens up and pushes his shoulders back. “We’re all here, pulling for him.”
Smoothing Viggo’s hair, Orlando smiles ever so slightly. “Exactly.”
“Thank you,” Viggo says quietly, and then brushes a kiss across Orlando’s cheek. “You always know what to say to me.”
“I try.”
“I better go scrub up, see how Dom’s doing,” Viggo adds, reluctantly releasing Orlando from his embrace.
“All right.”
“Love you,” Viggo whispers, lacing his fingers with Orlando’s for a brief, yet firm squeeze.
“Always,” he replies, and then Orlando watches Viggo walk away until he disappears from sight, fervently hoping that he’s right, because the alternative is simply unthinkable.
It takes Viggo ten minutes to scrub his hands and arms down with surgical soap and then be gowned appropriately to enter the sterile field of the operating room. During those endless moments, Viggo replays Orlando’s words in his mind over and over again, trying to visualize Dom leaving the hospital, healthy and happy with Billy at his side. The image in his mind lingers until he backs into the room, and is greeted by wailing monitors and a flurry of frantic activity.
“You!”
At the word, Viggo scans the room from behind his mask, searching for the source.
“Get over here,” the surgeon barks at him, lifting his head in a swift jerking motion.
“I know him-” Viggo tries to explain, trying to take in the information surrounding him.
The heart monitor is the source of the sound, he realizes, the waves registering showing clear signs of distress, which is confirmed by the blood soaked gauze being piled up on a stainless steel tray. Somewhere beneath all the surgical tools and medical equipment is Dom, his body struggling, barely clinging to life.
“I don’t bloody care. Get your arse over here and help, or get out.”
Instinct takes over, and within seconds, Viggo is gloved up, pressed against the edge of the operating table, and praying that his trained hands will be enough to save Dom’s life, which in turn will save Billy from a life of despair.
With a wee bit of cajoling on Orlando’s part, Billy changes into a pair of blue scrubs that are given to him, his other clothes tucked into an evidence bag and handed over to David for safekeeping. Billy doesn’t protest when Orlando uses a damp face flannel to wipe his hands, the sight of the now dried blood not even registering to him. He doesn’t notice when Orlando surreptitiously takes his pulse, or that he’s trembling, even though he’s not cold. Every couple of minutes Billy shakes his head, as though trying to waken from a nightmare, and each time he is denied, because no matter how much he wishes it were, this isn’t a bad dream.
Billy wearily sinks into the somewhat worn navy cushions of the waiting room couch, thankful for the person rubbing his shoulder in a slow, soothing rhythm, though he has no idea who it is. He shifts his position slightly so he has a better view of the clock on the wall, and then obsessively watches the thin wire sweep around the circle of numbers, marking the seconds and the minutes, and then the hours. Time taunts him, and he can’t decide if it’s better that Viggo isn’t back right away. Time could mean that the doctors are having some success, fixing the damage caused by the bullet. If Viggo had come back right away, that would likely mean that little could be done, and Dom-
Despite the efforts of the other people in the room to distract him, Billy finds his anxiety growing, until finally, he can’t bear to sit any longer. The loose thread from the waist tie of his borrowed scrub pants is completely frayed, the blue fibers getting caught under his fingernails, and it only serves to irritate him. Despite the passage of time, there has been not so much as a word from Viggo. The waiting room is as quiet a tomb, and it dawns on Billy that it reminds him of the last time he attended a funeral.
Without warning, he lurches unsteadily to his feet and begins pacing the length of the room, heart pounding erratically against the wall of his chest, fear lodging in his throat, making it difficult to breathe.
“Billy,” Orlando says gently. “You shouldn’t-”
“What’s taking so long?” Billy asks, spinning around to face the younger man. “Why haven’t we heard anything?”
“I don’t know,” Orlando replies sympathetically, laying a hand on Billy’s shoulder. “I’m sure Vig-”
“He must know something,” Billy blurts out in a rush, and then pulls free of Orlando’s loose grasp, walking over to the window and staring out into the night. “It’s been hours. What are they doing?”
Everyone is staring at the floor in hushed silence, not knowing what to say or do, and then the quiet is broken by the sound of the door to the waiting room opening. In unison, the group all look up, taking in a collective breath when they see who the visitor is.
“Bill,” Viggo says softly, trying not to startle him.
Whirling around at the sound of his name, Billy openly stares, taking in the sweat darkening the front of Viggo’s scrub shirt, the utter exhaustion in his posture, and then he finally focuses on the doctor’s face. Hope rises up in Billy like a tidal wave, but when he can’t read Viggo’s expression, his heart plummets. If it was good news, Viggo would be smiling, wouldn’t he? Billy struggles to form words, and then a glint of metal dangling from Viggo’s hand catches his eye. It only takes a second to recognize the necklace that Dom was wearing and notice that there are now two wedding rings on the delicate silver chain.
“Oh God,” Billy whispers, tears flooding his eyes. “No-”
Without warning, Billy’s knees give way, his body folding in on itself, and he loses consciousness as he crumples silently to the floor. Distantly, he hears the cries of surprise and people calling his name, but Billy doesn’t fight the blackness enveloping him, and instead embraces it. He’ll do anything to avoid the horrific truth that his beloved Dommie is gone.
Taking a fortifying breath, Billy slips inside a quiet room, closing the door behind him, hearing the lock snick into place before turning around. The noise in the hallway fades away, the lack of sound heavy on the air.
“Hello my love,” he says softly, not needing to speak any louder as there is no noise in the room to compete with. It’s so quiet he can hear himself breathe. “It’s me.”
Gnawing on his bottom lip, Billy slowly crosses the room, stopping when his fingers touch the crisp white sheet draped over Dom, covering his slender body up to his shoulders. Billy gazes at Dom’s peaceful face and finds himself reaching out to touch the younger man, repeatedly drawing his small fingers through silky blonde strands ever so slowly.
“You need a haircut, Dommie,” he murmurs, smoothing back his lover’s mussed hair. “It doesn’t seem that long ago that you let me cut it for you for the first time. Do you remember that morning in the kitchen?” he asks, knowing that he won’t get an answer.
Leaning down, Billy presses a tender kiss to Dom’s forehead.
“You were so brave,” he whispers against Dom’s hair, breathing in his scent, desperately trying to hold onto it. “Did so much to help other people. You changed their lives, because you believed in them. Fought for them.”
Standing up straight again, Billy’s hand moves lower, first ghosting over Dom’s slack lips, tracing the sensuous bow and then coming to rest on Dom’s chest, directly over his heart.
“I lost count the number of times you fell asleep with your cheek against my chest,” he continues. “It didn’t feel right when you weren’t curled up with me, using me as your human pillow.”
Billy finds himself smiling for a second, and then a harsh sob pushes past his bow shaped lips.
“You’re still warm,” he whispers brokenly. “It’s like you’re sleeping, and I keep waiting for you to open your eyes and tell me that you love me.”
Billy’s small fingers splay out wide, searching for the heartbeat beneath, knowing that it’s futile.
“What I wouldn’t give, just to see you look at me one more time,” he adds, chest rising and falling in ragged, unsteady breaths. “I wish you would open your eyes, love. Tell me that this isn’t happening.”
Unable to stop himself, Billy tugs back the sheet, just far enough to expose Dom’s left arm, and then he’s stroking the long, elegant fingers, remembering how they felt against his skin as Dom held him close when they made love. He can see Dom in the kitchen, preparing a feast for them, and recalls how many a meal was served in bed, after their lustful appetites had been sated.
With his knees trembling violently, Billy clings to Dom’s limp hand, and laces their fingers together before rubbing his cheek against the soft skin.
“Dommie, please,” he begs, unable to tear his eyes away from Dom’s face, hoping for a sign of life. “Tell me it’s not too late.”
As the pain steals the last of his strength, Billy collapses to the floor, clutching Dom’s hand to his chest, his heart shattering, knowing that it’ll never be whole again. Gut wrenching sobs fill the air as Billy mourns the loss of his love, the grief so overwhelming that part of him longs to join Dom, so at least they’d be together. He can’t even imagine the idea of going on alone.
Billy’s tormented eyes fall closed, tears streaming down his cheeks, and he rocks back and forth, clinging on to the last shreds of hope that are lingering. He squeezes his lover’s hand, trying to imagine Dom’s sweet voice inside his head, but the words he longs to hear, the ones that will comfort him, fail to materialize. Hope is lost and Billy starts to let go of Dom’s fingers, only to find that he can’t pull free. The limp hand he’d been holding is now gripping his with surprisingly strength.
“Dommie,” he gasps as his eyes fly open, and then he freezes, confused by his surroundings.
The room he’d been in to see Dom has been replaced by the waiting room, everyone crowded around the couch where Billy is now stretched out, his head cushioned on a small pillow.
“Hey Bill,” Viggo says gently, gently rubbing the back of Billy’s hand, surprised at how tightly Billy is holding onto him. “You gave us quite a scare.”
Trying to make sense of things, Billy glances around and asks, “What happened?”
“You fainted.”
Billy’s heart leaps. “Dom-”
“They were moving him into ICU just as I came to get you,” Viggo explains. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t get away to-”
“He’s alive,” Billy breathes as his eyes fall shut for a moment, thankful that he’s lying down, or surely he’d be on his knees once again.
“Yes, he is,” Viggo confirms with a nod. “I brought your rings. I though you’d want to wear them, since Dom can’t right now.”
“Aye.”
Billy tips his head forward to allow Viggo to slip the chain over his head, looking down as the rings come to rest on his chest. Wordlessly, he uses his good hand to slip them inside his shirt so they’re against his heart, just where Dom was carrying his ring earlier.
Abruptly, Billy starts to sit up, wincing at the throbbing of his protesting ribs, only to be stopped by Viggo’s hands on his shoulders.
“Slow down, Bill.”
“I need to see him,” Billy says urgently, pleading with Viggo with his eyes, frantic and desperate. “Please. I-”
“I know,” Viggo interjects. “Just wait-”
“I’ve been waiting,” Billy fires back. “For hours. I want to see him. Now.”
Giving in, Viggo nods. “Okay.”
He’s not surprised when Billy leaps to his feet, only to sway unsteadily, not protesting when the doctor wraps an arm around his waist.
“Whoa.”
“I’ve got you,” Viggo says quietly.
After a moment, Billy regains his bearings and looks up at Viggo, silently begging with his eyes, and with a nod, they start to move across the room.
“Or, can I talk to you for a minute?” Viggo requests quietly, and then the three men slip out into the hall.
Orlando trails a few feet behind as Viggo leads the way to the Intensive Care Unit, keeping a firm grip around Billy.
“The rules say you’re allowed to sit with him for a maximum of twenty minutes each hour,” Viggo explains, looking down when Billy sucks in a gasp of air, clearly distressed at the proposed lack of contact. “But-”
Hopeful, Billy looks up at him, holding his breath.
“If you’re quiet and don’t get in the way, the nurses will probably let you stay longer,” Viggo adds. “However, if they need to do something, you have to stay out of the way.”
“Okay,” Billy agrees quickly.
“You need to prepare yourself,” Viggo continues, keeping his voice low and soothing, trying to give the news as gently as possible. “There will be a lot of machines in the room, monitoring Dom. There’s a tube in his throat, attached to a ventilator, to help him breathe. The doctors are watching a lot of different things, keeping a close eye on him.”
“What are they watching?” Billy asks, his brow furrowing.
“Dom’s heart and his kidneys,” Viggo replies as he pushes open the door to the ICU and guides Billy through. “His blood pressure.”
“They stopped the bleeding, yeah?”
“Yes, they did, but Dom’s been through a lot, and they just want to make sure he stabilizes.”
“Okay.”
While Orlando waits at the nurses’ station, Viggo leads Billy over to a room with large panes of glass where the walls would normally be. Inside, Dom looks small and frightfully pale in the wide hospital bed, now wearing a light blue gown. Tubes and wires snake across the white blanket that covers him to the waist and Billy is struck by how eerily still his lover is. There is a soft hissing noise from the machine that is giving oxygen to Dom, made evident by the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest. Other machines beep with regularity, but Billy welcomes them, is grateful for them, because those sounds mean that Dom is alive.
Overcome with relief, Billy sinks into the chair beside the bed, gently taking Dom’s left hand in his and kissing the long, elegant fingers, since an IV has been inserted into the back of his hand, the skin covered with clear medical tape.
“I’m here, love,” he whispers tenderly, gazing at Dom with shining eyes. “You made it.”
Exhaling quietly, Viggo slips silently out of the room to give Billy some privacy, turning and then walking straight into Orlando’s waiting arms.
“Hey,” Orlando whispers against Viggo’s hair, arms wrapping around his lover’s frame tightly. “You had me worried.”
“Sorry,” Viggo replies, his voice muffled against Orlando’s neck.
“C’mere,” Orlando requests gently, turning them and walking a short distance over to a bench just outside of ICU. “Sit.”
Without protest, Viggo sinks down, forearms resting on his thighs, his head down.
“It was bad in there, wasn’t it?”
Viggo nods, drawing in an unsteady breath, the sensation of Orlando’s hand resting on his back a welcome comfort. “When his heart stopped for the third time, I thought it was over.”
“Third time?” Orlando repeats, eyes wide with shock.
“The bullet fragmented on impact,” Viggo explains, pushing himself up and then leaning back against the wall behind him when Orlando’s hand slides lower. “There was damage to the liver, the stomach, the spleen, one of his kidneys-”
“Jesus,” Orlando whispers.
“By the time it was over I think we replaced his entire blood volume twice.”
“And now?”
“He’s listed as Critical,” Viggo reports. “Provided he makes it through the night with no problems, he could be upgraded to Critical, but Stable. They’ll run more tests tomorrow, to see how things look. Figure out what the next step is. More surgery is a possibility.”
Orlando sighs and begins rubbing the small of Viggo’s back in slow, soothing circles. “Any idea when he might wake up?”
“They’re going to keep Dom under for a couple of days, try to let things start to heal before he starts moving around,” Viggo replies. “While he’s unconscious, they can control everything. Maximize his chances for a smooth recovery.”
“You do realize there’s no way Billy is going to leave that room,” Orlando muses aloud. “Not willingly, anyways.”
“Yeah, I know,” Viggo says with a sigh, nodding in agreement. “I don’t blame him.”
“C’mere you,” Orlando murmurs tenderly, drawing the older man into the circle of his arms and guiding Viggo’s head down to rest on his shoulder. “Before you topple over.”
“Or-”
“Shhh,” Orlando soothes. “I know. I love you, too.”
Utterly exhausted and emotionally drained, Viggo sinks into his partner’s embrace, the adrenaline that’s been sustaining him for several days now finally running out. One moment he’s listening to Orlando’s comforting voice, warm breath caressing his cheek and then he’s fast asleep.
Chapter 40
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From:
no subject
Good to know David got there in time to plug the man who shot Dom - that's one problem no one will have to worry about ever again.
It wouldn't surprise me to see Aureen and Austin show up on the hospital doorstep before long. There's no way they're staying away when their son has been injured.
From:
no subject
Thank you.
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no subject
Holy crap.
You are not gentle on my poor heart.
Thought I should speak up and let you know I've been following and very much enjoying this story.
From:
no subject
Thank you very much. It's always nice to know who's reading.
From:
no subject
Oh God, I so thought Dom was dead, the way you wrote it. But then it turns out Billy fainted...so it wasn't real. What a relief.
And Dom was so close to dying in the operating room...many times....
Yeah, you had me bawling again, ta very much :(
From:
no subject
Yes, Billy did wake up. Things may be rough right now, but they could be so much worse. He has no idea how close it came to his nightmare.
Sorry about the tears. Thank you.
From:
no subject
glad david got there when he did.
oh and the whole fake dead this? dude. your muse is a fucking evil bastard. was this just because in the forgive me series i said that a fic where they were torn apart forever but still living was worse than a death fic? he decided to have you torment me with tormenty stuff like this?
i don't think my heart can take this.
umm... janeanne? dom's going to be out of work for a bit longer than he initially though.
p.s. i am very glad that david killed that fucker.
p.p.s. tell the muse that the plastic surgery won't work. i will find him.
From:
no subject
Awww. :::cuddles you heart::: Yes, Dom won't be going back to work for a while, that's for sure.
p.s. Muse is afraid of you.
Thank you, hon.
From:
no subject
I'm glad David showed up when he did, and that the shooter is now gone forever. I hope hell had a special place for him.
The scene where Dom was dead had my freaking out, but you would do that with out a warning, but still my poor heart....
From:
no subject
The shooter is gone, and can't hurt anyone, ever again. He's rotting in Hell.
Uh, yeah. That scene with Dom was hard, as I didn't even like imagining him not being there, with Billy. Sorry about your heart. :(
Thank you.
From:
no subject
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Thank you.
From:
no subject
Okay - you made me laugh, and thank the Lord for that because this chapter kicked my butt. Have these two guys been through the wringer, or what? And by the way, I really like Detective Wenham :D You are incredibly awesome, but I need a short emotional break. See you on Monday!
Shelley
From:
no subject
I'm glad you like David as the Detective. I couldn't think of anyone else more fitting for the role. Thank you very much for your kind words. I can understand needing a break - especially after this chapter.
See you Monday. Thank you.
From:
no subject
ok. fuck. i can't even type coherently right now. Dom telling billy to go, billy waiting to be shot. The shot. The ratbastard being the one shot... omg. :tears: :fuck, still wiping my eyes: :goes back to re-read that part again.:
“I love you,” Billy whispers, biting down on his lower lip, keeping his eyes locked with Dom’s and waiting for shot that will end his life. “Always.”
“Bills, no-”
yep. my typing is still a shaky mess and it made me cry on the re-read.
Dom's got a gut wound? this is sooo not good.
Viggo and Orli, so normal and sweet on the phone.
fervently hoping that he’s right, because the alternative is simply unthinkable.
damn skippy it's unthinkable.
there are now two wedding rings on the delicate silver chain.
very good way to use a visual aid to make a statement, without having to say words. I hate your muse's fucking guts, but that's still a really good description.
Trying to make sense of things, Billy glances around and asks, “What happened?”
you and me both, babe. the fuck? :not telling you about the sack of ruined tissues littering the floor right now. i'm not i'm not i'm not:
:woosh: that's the breath being sucked back into my body. I thought, for reals, that you went where no fangirl should go.
“When his heart stopped for the third time, I thought it was over.”
oh, sweet jesus.
kerry =)
From:
no subject
I could see their wedding rings on the chain in my head long before I wrote this chapter. They fought so hard to get to that place, and then in that moment, Billy thought it was over. You'll be glad to learn that the Muse and I had a long, hard fight as to the outcome of Billy's nightmare. Fortunately, I won, and Dom lived.
:::hugs you::: I think you're very brave, honey.