Anchor

[glorfinniel.livejournal.com]

Title: Anchor

Author: glorfinniel

Rating: PG-13 I think, to be on the safe side.

Pairing: Monaboyd, of course :)

Warnings: kind of dark, depressing.  Not particularly happy, especially when you reading ending 1.  2 alternative endings.  Ending 1 is in red, ending 2 in blue.

A/N: Written for the lotrpschallenge  60 minutes challenge.  I've just been accpeted and look forward to writing so many more challenge fics in the future!  *is excited* :)  Oh, and as usual (do I really need to say it again?) mistakes are my own.  Let me know if I've done anything really stupid.  Ta.

You’ve just hung up, cutting off the shouts of protest and demands to stay on the line.  You’ve given him the choice – it’s up to him now.

 

You are drunk, you realise, but you don’t care.  You take another sip from the bottle in your hand, vaguely aware that what you’d said to him is unfair and so bloody melodramatic it’s ridiculous.

 

Dramatic, yes. But completely true too.

 

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Bills.  I need to see you.”

 

*

 

He hung up on you.  And now you’re so scared you feel like breaking down.

 

But you can’t.  You know that you mustn’t.

 

Without another thought, you run out of your house, grabbing your keys on the way, and jump into your car.  The fact that you’ve been drinking doesn’t even cross your mind as you pull away, driving much too fast to be safe.

 

“I’m here, Dom.  You know that.  I’m always here for you.”

 

*

 

13 minutes have passed with you doing nothing more than alternately staring at the clock on the wall and then at the front door, waiting for it to burst open and for him to come running inside.

 

Of course, you know that he won’t do such a thing.  He won’t, if he comes at all, arrive until you’ve gone.  Left.  Walked away from this mess of a life.

 

He’s staying quite a while away; at least 80 minutes drive or so.  Not 60.

 

“But you’re not here.  You’re not close enough...so I’ve got a proposition.”

 

*

 

Despite driving dangerously fast, it seems that in the last quarter hour you’ve gotten hardly anywhere.  You and he both know that the journey is impossible in less than an hour but you’re going to try anyway.

 

They say that time flies when you’re having fun, don’t they?

 

You’ve just proved that saying wrong.  It flies when you need it the most.  It sprouts wings and takes off into the air, passing through your fingers like sand, when it’s most precious and necessary.

 

Like now.

 

“Alright, Dom, I’m listening.  I’m listening, Dom.  Say what you need to say.”

 

*

 

Half an hour or so goes by and you nearly lose your bottle.  They no longer look so tempting, all lined up and ready for you.

 

You nearly turn your back on them, tell them to ‘Bugger off and leave, thank you very much’ and forget about them completely.

 

Almost, but not quite.  You remember why you’re doing this and shame burns your cheeks.  You’re tired, and sick in so many different meanings of the word, and you know that you should be less selfish.

 

But you can’t.  It was thinking about someone else the whole time that got you into this state anyway.  The fanatical wishing, the dreaming, the need to touch them but being too frightened to see whether their lips really were as soft and gentle as they looked.

 

You’ve had enough of thinking about (obsessing over) someone you can’t have.

 

So what if you’re being selfish?  Isn’t it about time that you looked into your own needs?

 

Your needs are simply this: you want out.

 

“Love me.  Love me as I love you.  Show that you love me before the hour’s passed...please.  If you don’t come, that’s alright.  I’ll assume that means you don’t want to – I just need to make sure before I decide whether I want to go or not.”

 

*

 

When you next glance at your watch panic invades your mind.  Over 30 minutes have gone by and although you are slightly over halfway there, you still put your foot down and go even faster.

 

You know what he was implying when he called you.  You read between the lines and you know what he was suggesting.

 

The thing that’s most horrifying though is that his words were completely honest and true.  He meant every word and the defeat in his voice, before he’d whispered goodbye and left the line, was enough to make your heart ache.

 

It’s still aching now and threatens to tear at the seams any minute.  It’s going to break, you’re sure of that, and then all the pain and fear and agony will be spread to the rest of your body until you’ll no longer be able to move, breathe, live.

 

It’s at that moment, with 26 minutes left before he goes away, that you realise that you cannot live without him.

 

“Dom?  DOM!”

 

*

 

You gave up with watching the time quite a while ago.  You know that he won’t be here on time.  You should just go now, forget about waiting out the full hour.  You’re bored of waiting for something that isn’t going to happen and you’re pretty sure that if it wasn’t for all the alcohol in you that you’d most likely have called him, told him not to bother coming after all (if he is at all, that is) and then chuck those evil things away, one by one, watching intently as you drop them in the bin.

 

But of course, you are drinking, and you’ve no sense left.

 

And then there’s that nagging in the back of your mind that’s telling you to wait.  To hold on.

 

Just a little longer.

 

“Dom, turn this bloody thing on.  Why the hell have you disconnected your main phone?  I’m speeding, I’m not meant to be using this whilst driving but if you don’t pick up now I’ll...well, I don’t know what I’ll do.  Hang on, Dom.  I’m coming.”

 

*

 

He’d called it a proposition but you see it more as some kind of deal.  You just hope that he’ll keep his side of the bargain and wait until the hour’s up.

 

He always was impatient.  He’d get fidgety and irritable if something wasn’t completed as soon as was possible.  Would he be like that with this too?

 

There are 14 minutes to go when you finally begin to truly recognise where you are.  Unconsciously, you take all the correct turnings, knowing exactly where to go.

 

You’d never forget a thing like where your closest and most special friend lives would you?

 

Your stomach feels like it’s in knots and the closer you get, the tighter it’s being pulled.  You know that you should be relieved and grateful that you’ve had such a quick and easy journey (and that the police have been wonderfully scarce) but you still dread what you’ll find on your arrival.

 

You should try ringing again, just one last time.

 

“Dom, I hope you can hear this.  I’m nearly there, hold on...for me.  Please don’t do anything stupid – I promise I’ll be there soon.”

 

Ending 1:

 

There are 4 minutes to go when a madness takes you.  The desperation to end it all is now so strong and without thinking, your hand reaches down and picks up one of the little tablets. 

 

There’s four of them, one for each minute you’ve got left.  How appropriate, you think bitterly.

 

Like four hobbits. 

 

The first one you take, that’s Sam.  It’s the gentle one; the one that won’t hurt you.  Not intentionally anyway.

 

The next, when a minute’s passed, that’s Frodo.  It has to be.  This one makes you feel sleepy, and that’s how Frodo felt wasn’t it?  When he was on his way to Mordor all he wanted to do was rest.  That’s what you want to do too.

 

Merry’s next.  Merry’s a strong character.  Stubborn and determined but with a nasty bite if need be.  He works hard and will destroy his enemy if the chance is given to him.

 

And then there’s Pippin.  Your hands shake as you lift the last one to your mouth, but you swallow it anyway, taking a gulp from you bottle in order to make sure it goes down.  Pippin hurts you the most.  No, Billy hurts you the most.  That’s why you saved it till last. 

 

Billy was your Pippin, and you’d do anything to make sure he’d be safe.  He was innocent but wise and so incredibly beautiful that just looking at him made you want to cry. 

 

Suddenly, the line ‘are you going to leave me?’ springs to mind and you smile slightly, remembering when you filmed that scene. 

 

You feel so tired now and close your eyes, waiting for the inevitable.  As the alarm on your watch goes off, indicating that the hour is finally over, you remember what the correct line should have been.  How Peter had changed it for the film. 

 

‘Are you going to bury me?’ 

 

And yes, it seems that Billy is.

 

 

Ending 2:

 

You jump with fright when you hear someone pound on the door.  There’s 2 minutes to go according to the clock.

 

‘Dom!  Open the fucking door!’ 

 

You need no more persuasion and pull yourself to your feet, swaying wildly and staggering uncontrollably to the door.  The tablets, once balanced precariously on your knees, are now forgotten and fall to the floor, scattering in all directions.

 

‘You selfish bastard!’ Billy screams once inside, grabbing hold of your shoulders and shaking you like a doll.  ‘You inconsiderate, selfish, stupid bloke!’

 

‘’m sorry,’ is all you can whisper and before you can stop yourself, you’re sinking to the floor, Billy’s grip loosening as you fall.

 

He stares at you for a moment, watching as you begin to silently cry, arms wrapped defensively around your body, and then joins you, his energy utterly spent. 

 

‘You came, Bills,’ you manage to say, surprised to hear disbelief in your voice.

 

‘Well of course I did,’ Billy snaps but his eyes soften when he looks at you.  ‘Even if I didn’t love you, I’d still come and get you.’

 

As your eyes close and warmth envelopes you, you are dimly aware of his words and their full meaning.  The room, previously dark and grey, all at once seems so much brighter, the light hurting your eyes even behind your closed lids.

 

The alarm on your watch goes off, indicating that an hour has finally passed.  You listen to it, feel it echo in your ears, and sigh in relief when lips touch yours.