FIC: The Cure (2/3) ~ Abject

[vensre.livejournal.com]

Title: The Cure (2/3) ~ Abject
Author: Vensre
Rating: PG
Pairing: Monaboyd
Summary: Dom has taken an injury, and doesn't have a clue how to fix it.
Disclaimer: The way that I can imagine is not the true Way.
Notes: Phone beta by the exalted puddle_took. Warning for depressive-kine angst.
Feedback: Will save my soul.


[ The Cure || I. Know | II. Abject | III. Surety ]


He is waiting for something. Not sure what. Time is stretching, unbearably.

It is a cold morning. Dom watches the light grow, not looking out the window. Predawn is supposed to be purposeful, hurried and having a destination. If he is awake, he should be expecting something to happen.

Nothing will happen. He could go back to bed, if he wanted.

More pills, not less, since then. Three now for anxiety. He no longer gets short of breath at awkward times. Two now for depression. He gets up every day and does what he is supposed to do.

It is true that the world doesn't shine like it used to.

Dom has taken an injury, and doesn't have a clue how to fix it. His usual cure is out of reach, painfully far. Almost as far as can be. Billy in Glasgow, now, with Ali. Happy, Dom hopes. Elijah in New York. Orli, oh, god only knows where. Viggo? Sean? Somewhere. He can't feel their directions like he used to be able to.

He crinkles his nose, letting out a huff of stifled laughter in the silent room. So pointless, isn't it, to compare everything to before?

Sliding out of his chair to lay on the floor seems like a fair enough idea. Oh, yeah. That's not bad - the tile is fairly clean, cool and smooth and solid against his palms and cheek. Against the ground is a good place to be, he decides. Can't get any lower from here.

Can't fall from here.



Some sort of banging noise intrudes on his sleep, but he is confused, and doesn't fully wake. He can hear a phone ringing, distantly, punctuated by a sound like an explosion, rough-edged. Still around it all is a fog of collected stillness, dense enough to soak up the light of day, feeding long-absent voices into his ears.

"Fecking hell." Ah, Billy. It would be nice to see him, muses Dom.

"I'll check the bedroom..." Viggo? He has trailed off, but not from distance.

"Oh god. Oh, oh god, Dom!" And someone touches him, not gently, but manhandling him into a sitting position, gripping tightly. Dom manages to open his eyes partway, and it's interesting, Billy doesn't quite match Dom's mental picture of him anymore.

"Billy," Dom rasps, voice clotted with the heavy unconsciousness that had draped itself over him.

"Dominic. Ye look terrible."

Dom can laugh. He attempts to prove it. "But you should see the other guy."

"What happened?" Viggo is actually here, too. How-- Eh.

Dom shrugs, and sits forward, taking his weight off Billy. "Life. Just, it's been a bit."

"Has it." Well, yes. Dom's eyes close again of their own accord. So fucking tired.

"Bills, are you tired?"

"What? Dom..."

"Let's sleep. C'mon. Let's, let's just. I have to. Stay with me."

Viggo scoops Dom up, pulling him and Billy both to their feet. "We're all tired, sounds like," he says, and hugs Dom in a strangely (not strange, he corrects himself, just unexpectedly) tender way. "Let's have a nap, then you can tell us all about it. I'll be on the couch." He kisses Dom's hair and turns him over to Billy, as though he can't stand on his own.

Billy's arms are around him now. And Dom doesn't feel like proving anything at the moment. He snuggles in. "Missed you."

"Come on, then." Billy starts pulling him towards the bedroom, talking into his ear all the while. "I missed you, too, ye great idiot. Y' haven't been taking care of yourself. Have ye."

"Well enough, I thought."

"And you were passed out on your kitchen floor for kicks, then."

"More or less. Why did you come, Billy?"

No answer. They reach the edge of Dom's bed, and Billy goes to extricate himself, but Dom locks his arms around Billy and tips them both into the pile of blankets.

"Dom..."

"Stay with me. Just for now."

Billy lies still and quiet in the circle of Dom's arms, and Billy smells good, like all the life that's gone out of this house in the long months, and Dom wants to shake him, to get him to see and understand. Because he has to understand. There isn't any Plan B.

"Ah, Billy..." And tears slide slowly out the corners of Dom's eyes. Drip from the bridge of his nose, sluggish and cold.

At last his Bills comes to life, and puts his arm around the back of Dom's neck, locking their necks together when he presses close. "Dom," he whispers, tight and sad. "Dommie, ye have t' understand. Please."

Dom shuts his eyes and goes limp. (He doesn't want to be living in this universe, but it's the only one he's got access to at the moment.) "As long as you do, too. Just understand."

"I don't--" Billy's voice wavers. "I don't quite know..."

"But you came back."

Billy shakes out of Dom's arms, now. Sits, somehow leaving the bed frigid. Stands. "Not to stay. I can't cure ye, Dom."

"But you--"

Billy shakes his head. Backs away. And wasn't it daytime? Because everything is so very dark.



When awareness seeps back into his skull, Viggo is sitting on the end of his bed. And Billy is gone.



[ The Cure || I. Know | II. Abject | III. Surety ]