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Jan. 8th, 2009 04:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cocking_aboutTitle: You're A Map Of A Place Maybe Someday I'll Go Ch. 18/22
Author: Pip
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: this chapter PG-13
Disclaimer: Don't know 'em, never met 'em, this is all lies.
Feedback: Would be treasured beyond pearls.
Archive: Not without permission.
A/N: Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fitofpique and elmathelas for the brilliant betas, and to buckle_berry for the fabulous Britpick. This fic would not be the same without you three, and I thank you from the bottom of my squishy little heart.
Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17
First posted Aug, 2006
Billy led him up the cement steps, one hand sliding up the black-painted handrail. "Just up here," he explained, voice even but his breath slightly faster than usual.
Dom wondered if it was due to the stairs, or nervousness. "Okay. Will I have to figure out what I'm looking at, or will you tell me?"
"Both."
Dom's eyebrow arched even though he knew Billy couldn't see it. "Determined to be a mystery, are we?"
Billy's footsteps faltered for an instant, and his head bent, exposing the nape of his neck. "Sorry."
"Bills." Dom stopped, waited until Billy did the same and turned to look down at him. "Don't be daft," he said with a gentle smile. "I'm just taking the piss, yeah?"
Billy's eyes skittered away, and his cheeks turned slightly pink. "Yeah. Right. Ehm--sorry." He hurried up the remainder of the stairs.
Shaking his head, hoping he wasn't hurting Billy with this exploration of his past, of his strong connection to his birthplace, Dom slowly followed.
He found Billy about twenty feet away from the grassed-in top of the stairs, standing nearly in some shrubs, looking out over the cemetery surprisingly far below. He stood beside him, taking care not to trip on the roots of the stubborn cotoneaster, ducking under the branches of the firethorn Billy was leaning against. Dom followed his gaze, and tried to see what he saw.
Down below them, in a large field of green grass, were row upon row of grave markers, packed in tight together. The cemetery was huge, not surprising considering its central location in the city and its place of importance next to the cathedral. Beyond the neatly set-out headstones was a well-trimmed privet hedge, and large trees, and behind the hedge was tenement housing. Neat and tidy flats, from this distance anyway, and Dom thought it must be nice in a city this dense in population to have such quiet neighbours. Next to the tenement rows was some sort of industrial business, complete with what looked like gigantic turbines and storage tanks. And beyond it all was more city, spreading out to the hills beyond, containing Glasgow in its large river valley.
"Do you ever go to the other side of the cemetery?" Dom asked quietly. "Or is it always here?"
"No, I walk around. But this has always been my favourite view."
"And what do you see from the other side?"
Billy cocked his head, considering. "Just more city, really. The Royal Infirmary, spires in the distance. And the hills."
"All around?"
He nodded.
Dom thought about that. "That means something, doesn't it?"
Billy shrugged. "Probably."
"Mind if I theorise?"
"Please yourself."
Dom looked over at him, troubled by the hard look on his face. "Never mind. I'm sorry, Bills. Listen, we don't have to do this right now. Why don't we stop for today?"
Billy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he didn't meet Dom's gaze, but he did reach over to squeeze his hand briefly. "No, it's okay, Dom. It really is. I just--I'm afraid of what you'll say, that's all."
"Afraid?" Dom was astounded. "But--God, Billy, why?"
He shrugged again, ashamed. "Dunno. I suppose…I s'pose I'm afraid you'll be right and I won't like it. Or that maybe you'll be wrong and you still won't understand."
"Aw, Bills--" Dom said sadly, softly. "C'mere." He tugged Billy further into the bushes, until they were mostly hidden from sight from behind, and they were too high for anyone down below to get a clear view. Dom wrapped his arms around Billy and propped his chin on his shoulder. "I'm sorry this is so hard for you," he murmured. "I feel bad for putting you through all this."
Billy immediately shook his head. "It's not easy, but I don't quite understand this myself, and I want to. I want to be able to come and stay with you for three months--six months--hell, a year, and not need to come running home. I want to do this, Dom. It's just ... not easy."
"I know. I know." Dom turned his head to kiss Billy's ear. "Don't be afraid of the rubbish that comes out of my mouth, yeah? We'll figure this out together, Bills, no matter what. And if we manage that today, great. And if not, then we'll keep working at it. I'm determined not to let anything get in our way, I want to be with you more than anything."
Billy turned his face against Dom's neck, and they held on to each other in silence.
Dom gripped Billy's jacket in his fingers. Did he really not realize, Dom wondered, just how far Dom was willing to go to make them work? How could he not, he was ... "My love," Dom murmured, not realizing he'd said it out loud until Billy pulled back and searched his eyes.
"You just called me ..."
Dom flushed. Bloody hell, was he ever going to learn to hold his tongue? "Yeah. Anyway, how about we--"
Billy's mouth darted in to press a hard, swift kiss to Dom's lips, and then he leaned their foreheads together. "Call me that again," he whispered.
Dom's hands went to either side of Billy's head, fingers in his hair. "My love. You know I love you."
"It's different hearing you call me that."
"Do you like it?"
Billy smiled for the first time since they'd left the pub. "More than I can possibly explain."
Dom laid his head on Billy's shoulder, pressing his face into Billy's neck. "Explain anyway."
Billy chuckled quietly. "Wanker. All right, let me see ... I suppose ... I suppose 'taisgeal' makes you mine. And that makes me yours."
"See?" Dom said breathlessly. "You can so explain it. Jesus, Bills--" He wrapped himself even more tightly around Billy and kissed him with heat and passion and an open mouth and heart.
After a few minutes, Billy gently pushed him away, and Dom belatedly recalled they were out in a public place, even if mostly hidden. As he blushed, Billy smiled and leaned back against the firethorn again. "So, theorise."
Dom froze, trying to remember what exactly he was supposed to be theorising about. "Oh," he finally said weakly. "Right. Umm ... okay." He turned to look out over the cemetery, the housing, the factory, the city, getting his bearings again and ordering his thoughts. "Do you know what that is?" he asked absently, pointing at the industrial tanks and buildings.
"Yes."
When that was the only answer forthcoming Dom looked over at Billy, who looked calmly back. "And?"
Billy shook his head. "After you theorise."
Dom was silent for a moment. "How often do you come here?"
"I tend to spend some time here once every six months or so, at least."
Dom nodded, then took a deep breath. "All right. Here's my theory. You need to see the hills because they define the space you're at home in. From the hills to the river, and beyond for all I know, it's all familiar to you. You know the neighbourhoods, you know the shops, you know the people, you know the language. You know you can't have that elsewhere, I mean, L.A., New York, London? Not going to happen, they're too big, too spread out. And just knowing those hills are there, surrounding you, giving you this…this definition of where you come from--well, you're uncomfortable when you're anywhere else, and that definition is lacking."
Billy cocked his head, looking out over the city. "Interesting."
"And a load of bollocks?"
He considered that. "... Noooo," he said finally. "You're right to a degree, anyway--I know Glasgow, from one end to the other, nearly, and it's all home. I don't feel that anywhere else."
Dom had a sudden thought. "What was it like for you in New Zealand? You were there for a long time, and yet I don't remember you getting really homesick."
"Wellington was small, wasn't it," Billy pointed out. "And we, all of us, spent a lot of time exploring it. It only took a couple months until I knew it almost as well as I know Glasgow."
"So familiarity is a big part of it, then."
"I suppose so," he agreed slowly. "Do you think maybe ... "
Dom nodded, pretty sure he knew what was running through Billy's mind. "When you come to Hawaii to visit, we'll explore every corner of the island, every shop and restaurant and park and beach. We'll take the time to define it for you, to define you in it."
Billy turned to meet Dom's eyes, his own gaze curious, troubled, hopeful. "That's what we're doing today, isn't it? Defining my home for you, and you in it."
"Yeah. I think so."
"And?"
"And what?" Dom asked, uncertain.
"And is it working? Could you live here happily for an extended period of time? Could you ..." Billy swallowed hard. "Could you call this home?"
Dom stilled. "Permanently?"
"No, not necessarily permanently. Just ... for a good long stay. Like ... say, off-season?"
Dom stared at Billy, watched him bite his lip and fidget and flush. "Bill, are you--are you asking me to live with you?"
"No. I mean--not just yet. I mean ..." he stammered, then dropped his head in defeat. "Ah, fuck. I don't know what I'm saying, Dom. Right now you're heading back to Hawaii and you want me to visit, to stay, and I want to--God, I want to. But I don't know ..."
"There's no hard and fast rule for this, you know," Dom said as gently as he could around the tightness in his throat. "You could just come and stay as long as you can. You don't have to give me an exact departure date, we could see how the defining part goes."
"I want to give you something exact, Dom, don't you get that?" he suddenly said in a rush, his voice hard. "I don't want to waffle about and leave you unsure and unhappy, and after what it's taken ... it's just taken us so long to get here, I want things firm and level and sorted, you know?"
"I know," Dom nodded, reaching over to grip Billy's tense hand. "But that's not going to happen overnight. Yes I'm a bit unsure, but Bills, I'm so far from unhappy I can't even see it from here. We're okay, we can smooth everything out as we go."
"But I want--"
"Bill, stop." Dom gave his hand an extra firm squeeze. "I know you want this sorted. But don't be ... don't be afraid to let it develop, to let everything fall into place naturally. I--" He stopped, a bit embarrassed, but at the same time incredulous, almost disbelieving. How exactly had he got to this point, anyway? He, Dominic Monaghan, the funny-faced, big-eared cheeky monkey from Manchester, standing in a hilltop cemetery in Scotland and wanting to tell his very best mate they were going to grow old together.
"You what?" Billy asked, and something of Dom's mood must have transmitted itself, because his voice was suddenly much softer. "You what, Dom? Tell me."
Dom could feel the tips of his ears flare red. "I love you. I'll do almost anything to make you happy, and to be with you. Like you said, we have to go into this assuming it will last, and I do, you know, I'm quite convinced of it. I'm going to take the piss out of you when you're eighty for being bald and deaf and forgetting where you put your teeth; but fuck, will I ever love you, Bills."
"Jesus, Dom," Billy whispered roughly, and turned his face away, swallowing hard. After a moment, he cleared his throat and muttered, "If you make me cry, I'll bloody well slaughter you."
Dom chuckled unevenly, a little overwhelmed himself, and let go of Billy's hand.
Once he had himself under control again, Billy scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I love you, too, Dom. I do. And I'm going to figure this out if it fucking kills me, so we can be together as much as possible." He met Dom's eyes. "Because that's what I want. Okay?"
Dom nodded, and a pleased smile curved his mouth. "Okay, Bills."
Billy looked below them again. "That factory?"
"Yeah?"
"Tennent's Brewery. My dad worked there most of his adult life, until he was too ill to work anymore. A couple of months before he died."
"Ahh," Dom sighed with understanding. "Which is why you come to this spot."
"Yeah. The hills, the city, and the brewery."
"Did you ever used to come here when you were a kid?"
Billy smiled. "Yeah, sometimes. If I was in the city anyway with my mates, instead of paying for the bus home, I'd come up here and wait for shift change. Then I'd go tearing down and around to the front, and cadge a ride home with Dad. And if Mum had the car that day, I'd take the bus home with him and half the time he paid for it. I wasn't supposed to be in here by myself, but I don't think my parents ever knew I disobeyed them about that."
"Why weren't you supposed to be here by yourself?" Dom asked curiously.
"Well, I was only ten or eleven at the time," Billy pointed out with a chuckle. "Besides, gangs of older kids used to hang around in here, and if they took a notion to kick you in, then kick you in they would. They never caught me, though."
"Lucky."
Billy nodded. "Probably." He looked down at the brewery for another long moment, and then sighed. "Come on." He led Dom back down the stairs, and out to the car.
Dom's forehead wrinkled as he looked out the window. "Are we going back the way we just came?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Are you showing me something else?"
"Yes."
Dom looked over at Billy. His face was shuttered, still, and only his eyes betrayed him as his gaze flittered here, there, and everywhere as he drove. Dom turned his head away and quietly asked, "Is this the one you've been dreading all day?"
"Yes."
Dom left him to drive in silence and simply watched the scenery, such as it was, slide by. Traffic and housing and the odd tower block, and finally the water tower that Dom recognized from earlier, and he knew they were back in Billy's old neighbourhood.
Billy exited the motorway, and wound through numerous streets until Dom had lost all sense of direction, before parking the car in front of a cemetery. He slowly shut the car off and pulled the key from the ignition, and then sat staring down at his hands.
Dom stayed silent, but when one minute stretched into three, he couldn't keep quiet any longer, and he softly said, "If it upsets you this much, Bill, let's just go home. There's no need to do this to yourself."
Billy snorted derisively. "I'm not upset."
Dom smiled and reached over to scritch the back of Billy's head, but he withdrew his hand when Billy twitched his head away. "Could've fooled me there, Bills."
"I'm not upset," Billy snapped. "I'm just ... vexed with myself, all right?"
"All right." Dom undid his seatbelt and shifted around so he could study Billy. "Why are you vexed?"
"Because I'm a fuckwit, that's why."
Dom waited, but when Billy chose not to elaborate, he prompted him. "Just in general, or is there a reason for your fuckwittery?"
Billy glowered at him.
"C'mon, Bill. Let me in on what's going on with you, won't you? I'm fairly sure you're not actually a fuckwit." Dom reached over again, and this time twined his fingers with Billy's.
"I just--I shouldn't have left this until last, that's all," he muttered, looking down at Dom's hand on his thigh.
"Why not?"
"Because it ... " He stopped, scrubbed his free hand through his hair, and began again. "Because it put more importance on this place than it deserves."
Dom frowned, surprised. "What do you mean?"
Billy looked out the window at the gated entrance to the cemetery. "There's nothing in there that ties me here."
"But I thought--"
"Yes, my parents are buried in there," he snapped. "And yes, I just said I'm not tied here. End of fucking story."
"No, it's not," Dom said. "Why were you dreading this all day, then?"
"Because I knew you wouldn't fucking understand!"
"You haven't even given me a chance to try," Dom said pointedly. "I'm not sodding judging you here, Bill. Talk to me, dammit."
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Billy growled, then threw open his car door. "Fine. Come on."
Dom followed, and as Billy strode determinedly through the gate and along the paved walkway, he uncertainly asked, "Are you angry with me, or just pissed off in general?"
"I'm just pissed off," Billy muttered. "Mostly with myself for turning this into a big thing."
"It doesn't have to be a big thing. We're going for a walk, we're going to see where your family is buried, and then we're going to talk. Just try and relax, yeah?" Dom gave Billy a gentle shove with his shoulder.
"Daft wanker," Billy said, but the heat was gone from his voice, leaving worried resignation in its wake. He left the path, headed toward the chain link fence that bounded the cemetery, and led Dom unerringly to a single modest headstone.
Dom looked down at the surname etched into the grey granite, almost as familiar as his own, surprised by a sudden pang of sadness. His eyes traced the precise lettering of the names and dates. "Your mum was young," he murmured.
"Aye." Billy knelt on one knee and pulled out two weeds growing at the corner of the stone. He tossed them aside, then rose, brushing his hands together. He stood still, eyes on his mother's name.
Dom waited; quiet and thoughtful, he wondered if it refreshed Billy's grief to be standing there.
"I don't really feel anything here, you see," Billy said suddenly, making Dom wonder if some sort of telepathy had just occurred--although who read who's mind he couldn't have said. Billy went on. "Maybe a little vague sadness at seeing their names carved in cold stone. It represents them, you know what I mean? But they're not here, Dom."
"Then where are they?" Dom asked, knowing whatever Billy meant, it couldn't possibly be as odd as that had sounded.
"You're such an utter pillock," Billy snorted, a reluctant smile fleeting across his features. "What do you think I am, some nutter who had a vision of God clasping their mortal bodies to his bosom?"
Dom couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, you have to admit it sounded a bit body-snatcherish. What do you mean, then?"
Billy looked away, his smile gone, and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. "What do I mean? I suppose I mean ... Fuck. Sometimes I wonder if I'm a heartless bastard, you know?" He all at once sounded ferocious, wounded, bewildered. "Margaret comes here and cries her eyes out. I come here, and ... nothing. It's my parents' grave, I should feel something, I should hurt, I should weep, I should miss them with every inch of my heart, and I fucking don't, Dom, not here. I feel such a prick for admitting that, which is why I was dreading coming here. I knew you'd be expecting me to be upset, to be fucking prostrate with grief or something, but I'm not. And I've never told anyone this before because it makes me sound the most horrid, ungrateful fucking monster who ever bloody lived."
"No it doesn't, Bill." Dom put an arm around his shoulders, knowing a gesture of comfort and support would not be out of place in a cemetery, even should anyone see them.
But Billy pulled away. "Yes it does. And I hate coming here because I always feel so fucking guilty."
Dom looked at him thoughtfully, and then it all began to slip into place. "I see," he murmured, nodding. "Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I think I see now."
"What are you on about?" Billy growled, tension in every line of his body. "See what?"
Dom bit his lip, knowing this wasn't going to be particularly easy for either of them. At least they were highly unlikely to come to blows, no matter how angry Billy got with him. "Look, can we go and sit down somewhere, talk this over?" he suggested.
"You want to sit down? Go right ahead. See what?"
"Really?" Dom asked and, wanting to be sure, gestured to the grass at his feet. The grass in front of the headstone.
Billy nodded shortly, but sat himself to show he'd truly meant it. He sat with his legs pulled up, arms around his knees. "What exactly do you think you see?" he bit out.
"Promise you'll listen?" Dom asked with a frown. "I mean it, Bill, don't go mental at me, yeah?"
"Yeah. Now fucking get on with it."
Dom took a deep breath and began to try to explain. "I don't know exactly what's in your head, but I do have the advantage of hearing what comes out of your mouth. And do you know what you've said half a dozen times in the past twenty minutes? Here."
To his credit, Billy tried to see the point Dom was attempting to make, but he finally muttered, "Here what? You make no sense, Dom."
"You feel guilty here. You don't miss your parents here. You don't feel grief or sadness here. There's nothing tying you here."
Billy snorted in frustration. "I believe that was exactly my point, thanks for paying attention. I should--"
"Why?" Dom cut him off, leaned forward to gaze at him intently. "Why should you feel much of anything here? You said it yourself, this stone only represents them. It's just a marker of the years they lived, not how they lived, or who they shared those years with. Bill, the clearest image you've ever given me of your Dad in all the years I've known you was up in the Necropolis today, do you realise that? And it's because in some way he was with you there, your memories of him tie you to that place. And those little ties are scattered all over the city, not here, where you only buried him." Dom suddenly flushed as he realised how that sounded. "Shit. Not only--I didn't mean--"
Billy waved off his apology. "I know." But he continued to frown, shoulders hunched, staring at the grass.
"I'm sorry, Bill."
Billy briefly met Dom's eyes then. "It's okay." His gaze skittered away again, but not before Dom caught a glimpse of a sharp, branching pain long and well suppressed.
"Billy," he breathed, aching for his lover, his mate.
Billy closed his eyes and gave a ragged laugh. "I forgot, I have to wear my sunglasses around you, don't I?"
Dom inched closer. "Tell me," he urged. "Tell me what's foremost right now." He held his breath, hoping he was doing more good than harm, praying Billy would let him in to this locked, darkened place. He felt a little guilty himself, for never once seeing in all the time he'd known Billy that this, this mausoleum, even existed inside him.
"I just--I can't help thinking--" Billy began, struggling, "What is it that's missing in me? Why does Marg feel such grief here, and all I can think is that they need to paint the gates again? What--"
"Bills, listen to me," Dom said, his voice low but firm. "Nothing is missing in you. Nothing is wrong with you. Do you hear me? Nothing. Of course you're going to grieve differently from your sister, you're wired differently. You've said it before, you've said sometimes you're so unlike each other that you used to joke your parents bought her in a jumble sale for 20p, remember? I don't know why she feels it so strongly here; maybe coming to this cemetery reminds her that she lost them and she misses them and she gets it all out while she's here. Who knows? But that's not you, Bill, that's never been you." Dom couldn't even tell if Billy was truly listening to him, but he kept talking anyway, just in case. "You've always seemed to associate memory with a tangible proof. You're a sodding packrat, and maybe that's one reason why--you can't throw anything out that brings back a memory you savour. Maybe places work the same way for you, I don't know. Maybe--maybe your grief is spread in a thinner layer, but spread all over the city, all those places that have those little ties to you--" Dom broke off when Billy abruptly lurched to his feet, and he impetuously grabbed for Billy's hand. "I'm sorry--please--"
Billy used that hand to haul Dom to his feet. "C'mon," he said tightly. "We're leaving."
"But--"
"I have to go home, Dom," he muttered, and dropping Dom's hand, began to stride away.
Dom jogged to catch up to him, hurried just to keep pace. "Why--"
"Because I ... I need to go home, all right?"
"Are you--"
"Would you just stop talking for five minutes?" Billy snapped. "Could you do that for me, please?"
Hurt despite himself, knowing Billy had not meant it to wound but unable to prevent the sting, Dom murmured, "Of course. Sorry." He held his tongue as they arrived at the car, maintained the silence for the long rush hour drive back to Billy's flat. By the time they arrived, he'd nursed his wounded pride enough that the sting was a tiny little pinprick, soothed to nothingness by Billy's mumbled apology as they climbed the stairs.
"Didn't mean it. Just ... too much, there, for a minute."
"It's okay, Billy," Dom said softly, and he meant it. The moment the door was closed behind them, he shed his jacket, divested Billy of his, and pulled him into a long wordless hug, one hand rubbing repetitively up and down Billy's spine.
Billy turned his face into Dom's neck and let himself be comforted.
Chapter 19
Author: Pip
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: this chapter PG-13
Disclaimer: Don't know 'em, never met 'em, this is all lies.
Feedback: Would be treasured beyond pearls.
Archive: Not without permission.
A/N: Thanks to
fitofpique and elmathelas for the brilliant betas, and to buckle_berry for the fabulous Britpick. This fic would not be the same without you three, and I thank you from the bottom of my squishy little heart. Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17
First posted Aug, 2006
Billy led him up the cement steps, one hand sliding up the black-painted handrail. "Just up here," he explained, voice even but his breath slightly faster than usual.
Dom wondered if it was due to the stairs, or nervousness. "Okay. Will I have to figure out what I'm looking at, or will you tell me?"
"Both."
Dom's eyebrow arched even though he knew Billy couldn't see it. "Determined to be a mystery, are we?"
Billy's footsteps faltered for an instant, and his head bent, exposing the nape of his neck. "Sorry."
"Bills." Dom stopped, waited until Billy did the same and turned to look down at him. "Don't be daft," he said with a gentle smile. "I'm just taking the piss, yeah?"
Billy's eyes skittered away, and his cheeks turned slightly pink. "Yeah. Right. Ehm--sorry." He hurried up the remainder of the stairs.
Shaking his head, hoping he wasn't hurting Billy with this exploration of his past, of his strong connection to his birthplace, Dom slowly followed.
He found Billy about twenty feet away from the grassed-in top of the stairs, standing nearly in some shrubs, looking out over the cemetery surprisingly far below. He stood beside him, taking care not to trip on the roots of the stubborn cotoneaster, ducking under the branches of the firethorn Billy was leaning against. Dom followed his gaze, and tried to see what he saw.
Down below them, in a large field of green grass, were row upon row of grave markers, packed in tight together. The cemetery was huge, not surprising considering its central location in the city and its place of importance next to the cathedral. Beyond the neatly set-out headstones was a well-trimmed privet hedge, and large trees, and behind the hedge was tenement housing. Neat and tidy flats, from this distance anyway, and Dom thought it must be nice in a city this dense in population to have such quiet neighbours. Next to the tenement rows was some sort of industrial business, complete with what looked like gigantic turbines and storage tanks. And beyond it all was more city, spreading out to the hills beyond, containing Glasgow in its large river valley.
"Do you ever go to the other side of the cemetery?" Dom asked quietly. "Or is it always here?"
"No, I walk around. But this has always been my favourite view."
"And what do you see from the other side?"
Billy cocked his head, considering. "Just more city, really. The Royal Infirmary, spires in the distance. And the hills."
"All around?"
He nodded.
Dom thought about that. "That means something, doesn't it?"
Billy shrugged. "Probably."
"Mind if I theorise?"
"Please yourself."
Dom looked over at him, troubled by the hard look on his face. "Never mind. I'm sorry, Bills. Listen, we don't have to do this right now. Why don't we stop for today?"
Billy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he didn't meet Dom's gaze, but he did reach over to squeeze his hand briefly. "No, it's okay, Dom. It really is. I just--I'm afraid of what you'll say, that's all."
"Afraid?" Dom was astounded. "But--God, Billy, why?"
He shrugged again, ashamed. "Dunno. I suppose…I s'pose I'm afraid you'll be right and I won't like it. Or that maybe you'll be wrong and you still won't understand."
"Aw, Bills--" Dom said sadly, softly. "C'mere." He tugged Billy further into the bushes, until they were mostly hidden from sight from behind, and they were too high for anyone down below to get a clear view. Dom wrapped his arms around Billy and propped his chin on his shoulder. "I'm sorry this is so hard for you," he murmured. "I feel bad for putting you through all this."
Billy immediately shook his head. "It's not easy, but I don't quite understand this myself, and I want to. I want to be able to come and stay with you for three months--six months--hell, a year, and not need to come running home. I want to do this, Dom. It's just ... not easy."
"I know. I know." Dom turned his head to kiss Billy's ear. "Don't be afraid of the rubbish that comes out of my mouth, yeah? We'll figure this out together, Bills, no matter what. And if we manage that today, great. And if not, then we'll keep working at it. I'm determined not to let anything get in our way, I want to be with you more than anything."
Billy turned his face against Dom's neck, and they held on to each other in silence.
Dom gripped Billy's jacket in his fingers. Did he really not realize, Dom wondered, just how far Dom was willing to go to make them work? How could he not, he was ... "My love," Dom murmured, not realizing he'd said it out loud until Billy pulled back and searched his eyes.
"You just called me ..."
Dom flushed. Bloody hell, was he ever going to learn to hold his tongue? "Yeah. Anyway, how about we--"
Billy's mouth darted in to press a hard, swift kiss to Dom's lips, and then he leaned their foreheads together. "Call me that again," he whispered.
Dom's hands went to either side of Billy's head, fingers in his hair. "My love. You know I love you."
"It's different hearing you call me that."
"Do you like it?"
Billy smiled for the first time since they'd left the pub. "More than I can possibly explain."
Dom laid his head on Billy's shoulder, pressing his face into Billy's neck. "Explain anyway."
Billy chuckled quietly. "Wanker. All right, let me see ... I suppose ... I suppose 'taisgeal' makes you mine. And that makes me yours."
"See?" Dom said breathlessly. "You can so explain it. Jesus, Bills--" He wrapped himself even more tightly around Billy and kissed him with heat and passion and an open mouth and heart.
After a few minutes, Billy gently pushed him away, and Dom belatedly recalled they were out in a public place, even if mostly hidden. As he blushed, Billy smiled and leaned back against the firethorn again. "So, theorise."
Dom froze, trying to remember what exactly he was supposed to be theorising about. "Oh," he finally said weakly. "Right. Umm ... okay." He turned to look out over the cemetery, the housing, the factory, the city, getting his bearings again and ordering his thoughts. "Do you know what that is?" he asked absently, pointing at the industrial tanks and buildings.
"Yes."
When that was the only answer forthcoming Dom looked over at Billy, who looked calmly back. "And?"
Billy shook his head. "After you theorise."
Dom was silent for a moment. "How often do you come here?"
"I tend to spend some time here once every six months or so, at least."
Dom nodded, then took a deep breath. "All right. Here's my theory. You need to see the hills because they define the space you're at home in. From the hills to the river, and beyond for all I know, it's all familiar to you. You know the neighbourhoods, you know the shops, you know the people, you know the language. You know you can't have that elsewhere, I mean, L.A., New York, London? Not going to happen, they're too big, too spread out. And just knowing those hills are there, surrounding you, giving you this…this definition of where you come from--well, you're uncomfortable when you're anywhere else, and that definition is lacking."
Billy cocked his head, looking out over the city. "Interesting."
"And a load of bollocks?"
He considered that. "... Noooo," he said finally. "You're right to a degree, anyway--I know Glasgow, from one end to the other, nearly, and it's all home. I don't feel that anywhere else."
Dom had a sudden thought. "What was it like for you in New Zealand? You were there for a long time, and yet I don't remember you getting really homesick."
"Wellington was small, wasn't it," Billy pointed out. "And we, all of us, spent a lot of time exploring it. It only took a couple months until I knew it almost as well as I know Glasgow."
"So familiarity is a big part of it, then."
"I suppose so," he agreed slowly. "Do you think maybe ... "
Dom nodded, pretty sure he knew what was running through Billy's mind. "When you come to Hawaii to visit, we'll explore every corner of the island, every shop and restaurant and park and beach. We'll take the time to define it for you, to define you in it."
Billy turned to meet Dom's eyes, his own gaze curious, troubled, hopeful. "That's what we're doing today, isn't it? Defining my home for you, and you in it."
"Yeah. I think so."
"And?"
"And what?" Dom asked, uncertain.
"And is it working? Could you live here happily for an extended period of time? Could you ..." Billy swallowed hard. "Could you call this home?"
Dom stilled. "Permanently?"
"No, not necessarily permanently. Just ... for a good long stay. Like ... say, off-season?"
Dom stared at Billy, watched him bite his lip and fidget and flush. "Bill, are you--are you asking me to live with you?"
"No. I mean--not just yet. I mean ..." he stammered, then dropped his head in defeat. "Ah, fuck. I don't know what I'm saying, Dom. Right now you're heading back to Hawaii and you want me to visit, to stay, and I want to--God, I want to. But I don't know ..."
"There's no hard and fast rule for this, you know," Dom said as gently as he could around the tightness in his throat. "You could just come and stay as long as you can. You don't have to give me an exact departure date, we could see how the defining part goes."
"I want to give you something exact, Dom, don't you get that?" he suddenly said in a rush, his voice hard. "I don't want to waffle about and leave you unsure and unhappy, and after what it's taken ... it's just taken us so long to get here, I want things firm and level and sorted, you know?"
"I know," Dom nodded, reaching over to grip Billy's tense hand. "But that's not going to happen overnight. Yes I'm a bit unsure, but Bills, I'm so far from unhappy I can't even see it from here. We're okay, we can smooth everything out as we go."
"But I want--"
"Bill, stop." Dom gave his hand an extra firm squeeze. "I know you want this sorted. But don't be ... don't be afraid to let it develop, to let everything fall into place naturally. I--" He stopped, a bit embarrassed, but at the same time incredulous, almost disbelieving. How exactly had he got to this point, anyway? He, Dominic Monaghan, the funny-faced, big-eared cheeky monkey from Manchester, standing in a hilltop cemetery in Scotland and wanting to tell his very best mate they were going to grow old together.
"You what?" Billy asked, and something of Dom's mood must have transmitted itself, because his voice was suddenly much softer. "You what, Dom? Tell me."
Dom could feel the tips of his ears flare red. "I love you. I'll do almost anything to make you happy, and to be with you. Like you said, we have to go into this assuming it will last, and I do, you know, I'm quite convinced of it. I'm going to take the piss out of you when you're eighty for being bald and deaf and forgetting where you put your teeth; but fuck, will I ever love you, Bills."
"Jesus, Dom," Billy whispered roughly, and turned his face away, swallowing hard. After a moment, he cleared his throat and muttered, "If you make me cry, I'll bloody well slaughter you."
Dom chuckled unevenly, a little overwhelmed himself, and let go of Billy's hand.
Once he had himself under control again, Billy scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I love you, too, Dom. I do. And I'm going to figure this out if it fucking kills me, so we can be together as much as possible." He met Dom's eyes. "Because that's what I want. Okay?"
Dom nodded, and a pleased smile curved his mouth. "Okay, Bills."
Billy looked below them again. "That factory?"
"Yeah?"
"Tennent's Brewery. My dad worked there most of his adult life, until he was too ill to work anymore. A couple of months before he died."
"Ahh," Dom sighed with understanding. "Which is why you come to this spot."
"Yeah. The hills, the city, and the brewery."
"Did you ever used to come here when you were a kid?"
Billy smiled. "Yeah, sometimes. If I was in the city anyway with my mates, instead of paying for the bus home, I'd come up here and wait for shift change. Then I'd go tearing down and around to the front, and cadge a ride home with Dad. And if Mum had the car that day, I'd take the bus home with him and half the time he paid for it. I wasn't supposed to be in here by myself, but I don't think my parents ever knew I disobeyed them about that."
"Why weren't you supposed to be here by yourself?" Dom asked curiously.
"Well, I was only ten or eleven at the time," Billy pointed out with a chuckle. "Besides, gangs of older kids used to hang around in here, and if they took a notion to kick you in, then kick you in they would. They never caught me, though."
"Lucky."
Billy nodded. "Probably." He looked down at the brewery for another long moment, and then sighed. "Come on." He led Dom back down the stairs, and out to the car.
Dom's forehead wrinkled as he looked out the window. "Are we going back the way we just came?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Are you showing me something else?"
"Yes."
Dom looked over at Billy. His face was shuttered, still, and only his eyes betrayed him as his gaze flittered here, there, and everywhere as he drove. Dom turned his head away and quietly asked, "Is this the one you've been dreading all day?"
"Yes."
Dom left him to drive in silence and simply watched the scenery, such as it was, slide by. Traffic and housing and the odd tower block, and finally the water tower that Dom recognized from earlier, and he knew they were back in Billy's old neighbourhood.
Billy exited the motorway, and wound through numerous streets until Dom had lost all sense of direction, before parking the car in front of a cemetery. He slowly shut the car off and pulled the key from the ignition, and then sat staring down at his hands.
Dom stayed silent, but when one minute stretched into three, he couldn't keep quiet any longer, and he softly said, "If it upsets you this much, Bill, let's just go home. There's no need to do this to yourself."
Billy snorted derisively. "I'm not upset."
Dom smiled and reached over to scritch the back of Billy's head, but he withdrew his hand when Billy twitched his head away. "Could've fooled me there, Bills."
"I'm not upset," Billy snapped. "I'm just ... vexed with myself, all right?"
"All right." Dom undid his seatbelt and shifted around so he could study Billy. "Why are you vexed?"
"Because I'm a fuckwit, that's why."
Dom waited, but when Billy chose not to elaborate, he prompted him. "Just in general, or is there a reason for your fuckwittery?"
Billy glowered at him.
"C'mon, Bill. Let me in on what's going on with you, won't you? I'm fairly sure you're not actually a fuckwit." Dom reached over again, and this time twined his fingers with Billy's.
"I just--I shouldn't have left this until last, that's all," he muttered, looking down at Dom's hand on his thigh.
"Why not?"
"Because it ... " He stopped, scrubbed his free hand through his hair, and began again. "Because it put more importance on this place than it deserves."
Dom frowned, surprised. "What do you mean?"
Billy looked out the window at the gated entrance to the cemetery. "There's nothing in there that ties me here."
"But I thought--"
"Yes, my parents are buried in there," he snapped. "And yes, I just said I'm not tied here. End of fucking story."
"No, it's not," Dom said. "Why were you dreading this all day, then?"
"Because I knew you wouldn't fucking understand!"
"You haven't even given me a chance to try," Dom said pointedly. "I'm not sodding judging you here, Bill. Talk to me, dammit."
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Billy growled, then threw open his car door. "Fine. Come on."
Dom followed, and as Billy strode determinedly through the gate and along the paved walkway, he uncertainly asked, "Are you angry with me, or just pissed off in general?"
"I'm just pissed off," Billy muttered. "Mostly with myself for turning this into a big thing."
"It doesn't have to be a big thing. We're going for a walk, we're going to see where your family is buried, and then we're going to talk. Just try and relax, yeah?" Dom gave Billy a gentle shove with his shoulder.
"Daft wanker," Billy said, but the heat was gone from his voice, leaving worried resignation in its wake. He left the path, headed toward the chain link fence that bounded the cemetery, and led Dom unerringly to a single modest headstone.
Dom looked down at the surname etched into the grey granite, almost as familiar as his own, surprised by a sudden pang of sadness. His eyes traced the precise lettering of the names and dates. "Your mum was young," he murmured.
"Aye." Billy knelt on one knee and pulled out two weeds growing at the corner of the stone. He tossed them aside, then rose, brushing his hands together. He stood still, eyes on his mother's name.
Dom waited; quiet and thoughtful, he wondered if it refreshed Billy's grief to be standing there.
"I don't really feel anything here, you see," Billy said suddenly, making Dom wonder if some sort of telepathy had just occurred--although who read who's mind he couldn't have said. Billy went on. "Maybe a little vague sadness at seeing their names carved in cold stone. It represents them, you know what I mean? But they're not here, Dom."
"Then where are they?" Dom asked, knowing whatever Billy meant, it couldn't possibly be as odd as that had sounded.
"You're such an utter pillock," Billy snorted, a reluctant smile fleeting across his features. "What do you think I am, some nutter who had a vision of God clasping their mortal bodies to his bosom?"
Dom couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, you have to admit it sounded a bit body-snatcherish. What do you mean, then?"
Billy looked away, his smile gone, and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. "What do I mean? I suppose I mean ... Fuck. Sometimes I wonder if I'm a heartless bastard, you know?" He all at once sounded ferocious, wounded, bewildered. "Margaret comes here and cries her eyes out. I come here, and ... nothing. It's my parents' grave, I should feel something, I should hurt, I should weep, I should miss them with every inch of my heart, and I fucking don't, Dom, not here. I feel such a prick for admitting that, which is why I was dreading coming here. I knew you'd be expecting me to be upset, to be fucking prostrate with grief or something, but I'm not. And I've never told anyone this before because it makes me sound the most horrid, ungrateful fucking monster who ever bloody lived."
"No it doesn't, Bill." Dom put an arm around his shoulders, knowing a gesture of comfort and support would not be out of place in a cemetery, even should anyone see them.
But Billy pulled away. "Yes it does. And I hate coming here because I always feel so fucking guilty."
Dom looked at him thoughtfully, and then it all began to slip into place. "I see," he murmured, nodding. "Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I think I see now."
"What are you on about?" Billy growled, tension in every line of his body. "See what?"
Dom bit his lip, knowing this wasn't going to be particularly easy for either of them. At least they were highly unlikely to come to blows, no matter how angry Billy got with him. "Look, can we go and sit down somewhere, talk this over?" he suggested.
"You want to sit down? Go right ahead. See what?"
"Really?" Dom asked and, wanting to be sure, gestured to the grass at his feet. The grass in front of the headstone.
Billy nodded shortly, but sat himself to show he'd truly meant it. He sat with his legs pulled up, arms around his knees. "What exactly do you think you see?" he bit out.
"Promise you'll listen?" Dom asked with a frown. "I mean it, Bill, don't go mental at me, yeah?"
"Yeah. Now fucking get on with it."
Dom took a deep breath and began to try to explain. "I don't know exactly what's in your head, but I do have the advantage of hearing what comes out of your mouth. And do you know what you've said half a dozen times in the past twenty minutes? Here."
To his credit, Billy tried to see the point Dom was attempting to make, but he finally muttered, "Here what? You make no sense, Dom."
"You feel guilty here. You don't miss your parents here. You don't feel grief or sadness here. There's nothing tying you here."
Billy snorted in frustration. "I believe that was exactly my point, thanks for paying attention. I should--"
"Why?" Dom cut him off, leaned forward to gaze at him intently. "Why should you feel much of anything here? You said it yourself, this stone only represents them. It's just a marker of the years they lived, not how they lived, or who they shared those years with. Bill, the clearest image you've ever given me of your Dad in all the years I've known you was up in the Necropolis today, do you realise that? And it's because in some way he was with you there, your memories of him tie you to that place. And those little ties are scattered all over the city, not here, where you only buried him." Dom suddenly flushed as he realised how that sounded. "Shit. Not only--I didn't mean--"
Billy waved off his apology. "I know." But he continued to frown, shoulders hunched, staring at the grass.
"I'm sorry, Bill."
Billy briefly met Dom's eyes then. "It's okay." His gaze skittered away again, but not before Dom caught a glimpse of a sharp, branching pain long and well suppressed.
"Billy," he breathed, aching for his lover, his mate.
Billy closed his eyes and gave a ragged laugh. "I forgot, I have to wear my sunglasses around you, don't I?"
Dom inched closer. "Tell me," he urged. "Tell me what's foremost right now." He held his breath, hoping he was doing more good than harm, praying Billy would let him in to this locked, darkened place. He felt a little guilty himself, for never once seeing in all the time he'd known Billy that this, this mausoleum, even existed inside him.
"I just--I can't help thinking--" Billy began, struggling, "What is it that's missing in me? Why does Marg feel such grief here, and all I can think is that they need to paint the gates again? What--"
"Bills, listen to me," Dom said, his voice low but firm. "Nothing is missing in you. Nothing is wrong with you. Do you hear me? Nothing. Of course you're going to grieve differently from your sister, you're wired differently. You've said it before, you've said sometimes you're so unlike each other that you used to joke your parents bought her in a jumble sale for 20p, remember? I don't know why she feels it so strongly here; maybe coming to this cemetery reminds her that she lost them and she misses them and she gets it all out while she's here. Who knows? But that's not you, Bill, that's never been you." Dom couldn't even tell if Billy was truly listening to him, but he kept talking anyway, just in case. "You've always seemed to associate memory with a tangible proof. You're a sodding packrat, and maybe that's one reason why--you can't throw anything out that brings back a memory you savour. Maybe places work the same way for you, I don't know. Maybe--maybe your grief is spread in a thinner layer, but spread all over the city, all those places that have those little ties to you--" Dom broke off when Billy abruptly lurched to his feet, and he impetuously grabbed for Billy's hand. "I'm sorry--please--"
Billy used that hand to haul Dom to his feet. "C'mon," he said tightly. "We're leaving."
"But--"
"I have to go home, Dom," he muttered, and dropping Dom's hand, began to stride away.
Dom jogged to catch up to him, hurried just to keep pace. "Why--"
"Because I ... I need to go home, all right?"
"Are you--"
"Would you just stop talking for five minutes?" Billy snapped. "Could you do that for me, please?"
Hurt despite himself, knowing Billy had not meant it to wound but unable to prevent the sting, Dom murmured, "Of course. Sorry." He held his tongue as they arrived at the car, maintained the silence for the long rush hour drive back to Billy's flat. By the time they arrived, he'd nursed his wounded pride enough that the sting was a tiny little pinprick, soothed to nothingness by Billy's mumbled apology as they climbed the stairs.
"Didn't mean it. Just ... too much, there, for a minute."
"It's okay, Billy," Dom said softly, and he meant it. The moment the door was closed behind them, he shed his jacket, divested Billy of his, and pulled him into a long wordless hug, one hand rubbing repetitively up and down Billy's spine.
Billy turned his face into Dom's neck and let himself be comforted.
Chapter 19
