Work Text:
The Dug-Out" by Siegfried Sasson
Why do you lie with your legs ungainly huddled,
And one arm bent across your sullen, cold,
Exhausted face? It hurts my heart to watch you,
Deep-shadow¹d from the candle¹s guttering gold;
And you wonder why I shake you by the shoulder;
Drowsy, you mumble and sigh and turn your head...
You are too young to fall asleep for ever;
And when you sleep you remind me of the dead. ~ ~ ~
Billy had often been exasperated by Dom's self-consciousness about his appearance; he didn't consider himself beautiful, but Billy did. That's because, Billy often told himself, Dom's soul was beautiful. He would never say those words aloud; Dom would've laughed himself stupid and then teased Billy till the day he died. But nonetheless, Billy believed it. There was nobody like his Dom.
They'd hugged the first time they met, at a wardrobe fitting all those years ago, and had never stopped. Not even marriage had slowed them down; they belonged to each other in a way that Billy knew few people did. They clicked. They were in some weird Platonic way each other's other half, fitted together by luck and Peter Jackson's brilliant casting.
They went to bed together early on. It was inevitable, Billy thought at the time; why not get started? Dom was young but not inexperienced. He was quite the lad, in fact, so Billy took him to bed one Friday night early in the filming and they didn't leave until the car came too early Monday morning. Billy was proud of Dom: his energy, his quick wit, his pleasure in Billy's company. He couldn't take his off eyes Dom and rejoiced that Dom couldn't take his eyes off Billy.
Elijah and Sean were there, too, during most of the first year, before they split up. Sometimes Sean talked to Billy about his feelings for Elijah; sometimes Elijah talked to Billy about his feelings for Sean. He encouraged them, and he and Dom role-modeled for them. This is what friends could be, he told Sean. Sean cried, of course, the big wallie, worried about his wife and child, which Billy respected, of course he did, Sean was right to worry, but Elijah was right here, and how often did people like Elijah enter one's life? Fuckin' never, Billy told Sean. Just fuckin' never, so get on wi' it. It'll be over before ya know it.
Sean looked at him with wet brown eyes and trembling lips and Billy shook his head, took Sean in his arms, and kissed him, rubbing his back. S'okay, Seanie, he said again and again; it'll be okay. Ya know what ya need to do, so do it. Sean kissed him back and the next thing Billy knew, he was flat on his back, legs spread, watching Sean sweat and shake above him, and then Billy came all over both of them and they slept for a while and then they kissed some more and Sean said thanks, thank you, Billy, wow, just. Thank you.
Get on wi' ya, Billy said. So Sean did.
And so did Billy. He went to Dom's and sat him down and told him what happened, because by now he knew he loved Dom and that there could be no secrets between them, and certainly not about another hobbit. Billy realized again that Dom was young when Dom was shocked, so he kissed Dom into bed and reminded him that Billy loved him. Although, yeah, he loved Sean, too, but that was different. Dom was different.
Late in the night, when the sweat was cooling on their bodies and Billy was as tired as ever he'd been, Dom told him that he and Elijah had, uh, well, he really loved Elijah, too, a lot, like Billy loved Sean, only different. Billy calmly rolled Dom onto his stomach and smacked his arse four times, once for each hobbit, Billy's handprint red outlined with white, and then he rolled Dom onto his back and kissed him soundly. Sorry, Billy, Dom gasped, rubbing his bottom, but Billy shook his head. Never apologize for love, he said, staring into Dom's eyes. It happens too rarely and goes too fast.
Love you, Dom whispered, and Billy turned out the light.
I know, he said. He linked his fingers through Dom's and slept.
Billy remembered those times perfectly, like insects encased in amber, millions of years old but still present; sometimes he thought if he reached out he could still be able to touch Elijah's velvet skin, dewy-fresh as it had been all those years ago, or that he could burrow into Sean's side, smell his aftershave, feel the strength in his arms and his sudden, always surprising passion, or kiss Dom's stubbly face, as familiar as his own after decades of love. He'd masturbate to the memories, rolling his head back, his eyes shutting out this world so he could more clearly see that other, better, dearer world that still existed in his heart.
It had been ten years since he'd seen Elijah or Sean but only a week, three days, and fifteen hours since he'd seen Dom. Tomorrow he'd see Elijah and Sean and begin the count over, but he'd never see Dom again. The time since he'd last seen him would grow ever longer until Billy joined him in whatever rock-n-roll heaven he was now prowling, stealing tokes from other people's joints and cigarettes, groping the pretty girls, kissing the pretty boys, waiting around until Billy showed up to kick his arse at pool and take him to bed again. Surely there'd be beds in heaven, big ones, because with an eternity of Dom ahead of him, there couldn't not be beds. That wouldn't be heaven; that would be hell. Of course, he and Dom were more likely to end up in hell, but at least they'd be together.
Billy had to remind himself that others were hurting as well. Henry certainly was, all grown up yet in some ways still the rather shy, intellectually-precocious child of Dom's whom Billy loved so much he thought his heart might explode. Henry was still reeling at the loss of his father. Billy knew he'd have to be Dom for Henry now, a task he'd assumed before, but this was different, this was permanent, as permanent as anything in life. Henry would need him.
Elijah was there, too, still wide-eyed though no longer innocent, a stick-thin old man with big eyes and no hair. The only hobbit never to marry or have children. Billy worried about him, so far away. Sailed into the West, Billy and Dom used to joke, but it was a bitter joke and not a very funny one. Now he'd come home, and Billy would need to be Dom for him as well.
Sean was there, dear Sean, the sentimental, pompous, rather silly old Sean, whom Billy loved fiercely because, of all the hobbits, Sean needed the most protection, just plain needed the most. Needy Sean, who'd loved Dom's attention, who had been so grateful for it and surprised by it. And good in bed, Dom had told him, forgetting Billy already knew that. Sean would be needing comfort, and that was Billy's job.
The others, too: Sian Monaghan, Elijah's sister, Seanie's daughter, Viggo and Henry Mortensen, so many others, friends and family, joined by love and loss: all would be looking to Billy, he knew. He represented Dom; in a very real way, he was Dom, he was all that was left of Dom, more than Henry and Sian because they were too young, they hadn't the experience with Dom that Billy had, and they looked to him as a substitute father as much as they did to Henry Mortensen.
What a mess, he thought, waiting for Henry to exit the bathroom. He got up carefully; his bad knee was acting up after the long flight. "Get on wi' it," he called out, rapping on the bathroom door. "Yer sister's here, too."
Henry opened the door. His eyes were red and swollen and he was blowing his nose. "How is Sian?" he asked, dropping the used tissue into a wicker wastebasket. "She was a bit angry with me when I left."
"Ach, yer sister's always angry. She's got the Irish in her, that one."
Henry looked puzzled. "And I don't?"
"Oh, my boy. I think you've more of me in you than yer old dad." Henry laughed, his brows still pulled together in bafflement, and he hugged Billy. "Here now. Don't be knockin' me over just yet. Takes a few tots before the bones soften."
"Uncle Billy," Henry started, and then sighed. He bent down and kissed Billy's cheek. "Thank you for coming. I'm so glad to see you."
"Dear boy," Billy said, and fussed with his jacket, sighing. "Mustn't keep Sian waitin' too long, ya know."
Henry nodded, ran his fingers through his hair, and opened the door for Billy. Billy studied him for a moment. Despite his red eyes, he looked good; better, Billy thought, than he had in London. LA suited him.
Henry took Billy's arm and helped him down the hallway, toward the babble of voices in the lounge. Billy hated needing help getting around, but he tamped down his irritation at Henry's gesture and focused on the moment. More people had arrived, that was obvious, and he wondered who was here, and why.
"Henry!" someone cried, and a young woman rushed to them.
"Blessing," Henry said, smiling ridiculously. He glanced at Billy, releasing his arm, and embraced the young woman.
Blessing. So this was Sean's granddaughter. Taller than Henry, she took after her father in size and coloring, but she had Sean's brown eyes and sweet smile. She and Henry kissed and Billy realized why Henry was looking so well. He turned to nudge Dom in the ribs and the shock of the loss was so great that he stumbled. Henry and Blessing caught him and led him to a sofa. "You okay?" Blessing asked him, kneeling before him. Billy sighed. Having a strapping girl kneeling before him, Billy again felt the need to crack a joke with Dom, but no matter how often or hard he looked, Dom was gone.
"'m fine," he said. Henry pressed a bottle of water in his hand, twisting off the cap for him, and Billy's irritation grew. Everything was wrong, he thought, drinking deeply. "Need beer," he told Henry, who smiled ruefully but rose and turned. Off to find some, Billy hoped.
"Yeh're Lizzie's girl, eh?" he asked.
She smiled at him and he saw Sean's likeness again. "Yes, and you're Billy. I've heard about you my whole life. It's wonderful finally to meet you."
"Yeh're Henry's girl, too, I'm thinking?"
She blushed and her smile grew even larger. "I'm also thinking yes," she said. "He's a wonderful man."
"He is that." They looked up at Henry, navigating through the crowd toward them, a bottle of Guinness in his hands. Behind him were Henry Mortensen and his wife Pernilla. Billy prepared himself for a long day.
As that long day progressed, Billy noticed that Henry and Blessing took care of him. They seemed to be rotating the responsibility, one or the other sitting with him, keeping him in drink but making sure he ate something along with the booze. Blessing was with him when Sian finally sat down next to him.
"Give yer old uncle a kiss, love," he told her, and she obliged. She didn't look as sulky as usual. "Have ya met Blessing?"
The two women shook hands, reaching across Billy to do so. "So good to met you," Blessing said, her voice rich with sincerity and reminding Billy yet again of Sean. Sian nodded and glanced at Billy.
Sian resembled Dom more closely than her brother did, Billy thought. She had the same face shape, the same lips, though both brother and sister had inherited Dom's grey eyes thickly fringed with lashes. What in Henry was handsome, though, was in Sian rather fierce, but Billy knew she also possessed Dom's tender heart, hidden just as his had been behind her flip words. He waited patiently, wondering what she would say to Blessing.
After a long pause, Sian said in a voice strained with emotion, "Good to meet you, too." Billy found himself relaxing. He put his hand on Sian's knee, squeezing it gently; she rested her hand on his age-spotted one. He saw that she wore some of her father's rings; too large for her fingers, they decorated both her thumbs, silver glints to his darkened eyes.
"Blessing," Henry Mortensen said, bending from his great height to kiss Billy in greeting. "Would you come with me?" He smiled at Sian and touched her cheek lightly. Blessing stood and followed him, turning to smile over her shoulder and Billy and Sian.
Billy squeezed Sian's knee again. "Well, girly. What've you been up to?" Sian began to cry; he put an arm around her and pulled her to him. It was the first time he'd seen Sian cry since she was fourteen years old. "There, lovey. I know, I know." He kissed her spiky brown hair, so reminiscent of Dom's in color and texture. "Yeh're missin' yer dad." She nodded, sniffling. "Me, too, child. Here," he passed her one of the several boxes of tissues Lizzie had scattered around. "Blow yer nose." Sian glared at him but obeyed.
"Sian?" They looked up; her brother hovered nervously in front of them. He sat down next to Billy, leaning forward to study Sian. "I saw you talking to Blessing. We, er. Well, I'm going back to Chicago with her, before I come home to London. She will probably come home with me."
Billy smiled enormously; so he was right. Then he looked at Sian.
She looked a bit shocky to him, pale and red-eyed. "She seems okay," she said hoarsely. Billy shook her gently. "She seems fine," Sian admitted. "Tall, though."
"She doesn't have to be very tall to be taller than we are," Henry said, but he took Sian's hand in his and kissed the rings on her thumbs. "Dad's. They look nice. You should have them re-sized."
"I might." Sian looked from the rings on her hands to Henry's face. "Give one to Blessing, Henry. Here," she pulled them off, dropping them into Billy's cupped hands. "I think this is the nicest. But this is, too."
Billy knew he was an old fool when tears filled his eyes. He swallowed and cleared his throat. "Just that, Henry," he said. "T'is a good idea, Sian." He kissed her cheek, tasting the salt of her tears. "A fine and generous idea indeed."
Henry nodded, and Billy watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard. "Thank you, Sian," he whispered. He picked up the first ring she'd offered; it was silver, of course, not too thick for a woman's hand, and decorated with tiny leaves impressed into the metal. "I always liked this one."
"I remember that," Billy said, surprising himself. He did, too. "It was made here, in the States. Arizona, I think." He thought a bit, remembering the many road trips he and Dom had taken across this country. "Someplace hot, anyway. I remember."
And he did; he remembered more than he would tell the children. How Dom would pull off the road under the impossible sky, grinning widely at Billy before thrusting his hand down Billy's trousers, and right there on an empty interstate they would shag like young kids, even though they were getting on a bit by then, and Billy was married. They'd found it irresistible, though, the complete freedom the road offered them. More than once, Billy had found himself bent over the front seat, Dom banging his head on the roof of the car while he went at it, Billy bracing himself with a hand on the backseat, laughing and sweating and moaning, bruising elbows and knees, risking arrest and exposure, all part of the pleasure, the delight of being with Dom.
"I remember that," he said again more softly. Henry hugged him and rested his head on Billy's shoulder, then Sian did the same. He put his arms around them, Dom's beloved children, all grown up now, beautiful, smart, off on their own adventures. Maybe Henry and Blessing would drive back to Chicago. Billy smiled to himself; Dom would approve, he knew. His heart felt too big for his chest and he laughed.
Dom would laugh, too, he thought, if he could see us all. God bless you, Dommie, he called out in his heart. If it's reincarnation that's next, you best wait till I catch up with you so we can do it all over again.
~ ~ ~
Elijah took Sean to his brother's in Malibu for the memorial service. That was his task; he'd told Lizzie that he would take care of it all, and he had, renting a van with a lift for Sean's chair, making sure he knew the directions and all Sean's special needs, which fortunately were few.
He'd spent his first night back in the States with Sean. Sean had trouble sleeping lying down, so he took the recliner while Elijah took his bed. But his circadian cycle was all wrong and he couldn't sleep, so he sat in the other recliner and watched Sean doze. Each time Sean woke, he lifted his trembling head to smile at Elijah. Finally, Elijah crawled into the chair with Sean; he'd grown fatter, but Elijah had grown thinner, so they fit snugly together. "Two peas in a pod," Sean had mumbled sleepily, and Elijah agreed.
In the morning, while helping Sean to the bathroom, he'd caught Sean staring at him in the mirror. "You going to leave me again?" he asked.
Elijah shook his head. "I'm through running away," he reassured Sean, kissing him. "I'll stay as long as you want."
"Not much longer," Sean whispered. Elijah scolded him, but privately thought he was right. Sean would be the next to join Dom. Then they could argue music and politics for the rest of eternity, till all the dead rose and reclothed themselves in flesh, and still they'd have something to argue about.
The day of the memorial service was foggy on the coast and a bit cool, so they dressed in sports jackets, laughing at the unfamiliar formality. Sean shook his head. "I don't think Dom would approve," he said, but Elijah thought Dom would prefer them all in tuxedos. "Or formal gowns," he added, and they laughed, high-fiving each other.
Sean dozing, Elijah called Lizzie on his cell phone once they were on the road; she was already at Mack's, and busy supervising the caterers. Elijah found Lizzie startlingly like Sean on the phone -- a bit bossy and far too concerned with safety issues. "Drive carefully," she told him three separate times. "You've been driving on the wrong side of the road for a decade. I should have hired a driver for you."
"I can drive just fine," Elijah told her again, but the last time Sean took the phone from him.
"Leave him be, princess. We'll be fine. Just make sure the champagne is chilled."
He held the phone away from his ear. "Wow," he said. "I think the dogs in New Zealand could have heard that." He pressed "end" and handed the cell back to Elijah.
"You're awake," Elijah said, flicking cigarette ash out the window as they crawled north on the 405.
"The fresh air, I think. And Lizzie." They grinned at each other.
"Remind you of anyone?"
"Shut it, Elwood," Sean said placidly. "And give me a drag."
"You're not supposed to -- oh, shit, here. Just don't let Lizzie know."
Sean inhaled deeply, coughed, and inhaled again. "Christ, you're a bad influence."
"That's why you love me."
Sean nodded, handing the cigarette back. "It is indeed. Why I love all you guys."
"Here's our agenda," Elijah said, changing the subject abruptly and knowing he was doing so. Sean glanced at him. "First to Mack's place, to say hello, how are you, and all that. Then to St. Anne's for the mass, and then back to Mack's for the party."
They drove in silence, sharing the cigarette. Elijah remembered other trips they'd made to the coast, to go surfing or out to dinner or just to escape for a few hours and be with each other. The fog was still thick, but overhead it had begun to burn off, and he knew it would be a beautiful day. Maybe a good day to surf, though they were all too old now, but at least a good day to remember surfing.
"Remember that time the seal surfed with us? And we thought it was a shark?"
Elijah laughed. "Yeah. I was just thinking about surfing. Brilliant time we had, as Dom would say. Fuckin' brilliant."
"Feckin' brilliant," Sean corrected him, smiling fondly. "Shit, I miss him." His voice broke, and he rubbed his nose fiercely. "I miss him," he repeated more softly.
Elijah nodded. He missed him, too. He'd missed him for years, and now he'd never see him again. "Yeah," was all he said, though. He stared ahead; the road was crowded with traffic and slick from the fog. He needed to pay close attention; he didn't have time for Dom right now. That would be later, at the service. But not now.
Mack's home faced west, just north of Zuma Beach, the house up on stilts above the water. Elijah knew better than to mention erosion or Mack would go into a lecture about the new technologies that permitted him to live in such a precariously perched home, and he'd heard that lecture ten years ago. The technology had probably only improved since then which meant that the lecture would be longer. Still, he silently admired the location and view -- like living on a surfboard, he thought. A perfect place to farewell Dom.
It was a bit of an ordeal to unload Sean from the van, but Lizzie, both Henries, and Billy were there to help. "Fuckin' hell," Billy said, wrapping his arms around Elijah while Sean was rolled into the house. "Yeh're still just a wee thing, are ya not."
"Fuck off," Elijah told him, and then kissed him soundly, because he'd missed Billy. "You haven't changed in fifty years, have you, Bill." Billy kissed him back, a more lingering, sweeter kiss, and Elijah sighed with pleasure. "I was sure you'd be mad at me."
"I am," Billy said. "But it's too late for all that now. You're here. That's what matters. You came back."
"To stay."
They stared at each other. The sun was warm and Elijah felt sweat droplets trickle down his forehead. At last Billy nodded. "For Sean."
"Yeah. But Dom brought me back. Brought me home."
"Bit late for Dom."
Elijah bit his lip and looked beyond Billy, at the beach where the waves rolled tidily up and back out, leaving clean smooth sand behind. There was no past on the beach, no reminders, just a smooth expanse of creamy blank pages. He nodded. "Bit late for us all, actually."
Billy nodded, and rested his forehead against Elijah's, shutting out his view of the beach. "I missed you," he whispered.
Elijah shut his eyes against all the memories. "I had to go, Billy. I had to. I was always in their way; you know that."
"Don't know nothin' of the sort." He stood straight and glared at Elijah; this was what Elijah had expected. "Pissin' off like that. That was bullshit."
"It wasn't. Bill, you're not remembering how it was. Everybody was hurting; I was hurting them. I had to go."
"Ya ran away, ya little pissant. Left the scene of the crime."
Elijah sighed and shook his head, but he was resigned to this. He'd expected recriminations from Billy. "What do you want me to say? I'm sorry? I'm sorry, Bill. I'm more fucking sorry than anyone'll ever know, even you. But it doesn't change a thing. I left because I had to. And I'm back because I had to come home."
"Yeh're as full o' shit now as ya were back then." Elijah rolled his eyes. "But I still love ya, ya little wanker."
"Arsehole."
They grinned at each other. "Uncle Elijah!" Behind Billy, Lizzie ran up to him. "Oh, Elijah." He released Billy and hugged Lizzie. "Thank you for coming back. Thank you so much. Daddy's so happy to see you." She wiped her eyes. "I missed you, too."
He kissed her fondly. "It's wonderful to see you, Liz. And what's this about your daughter and Dom's son?"
"Isn't it amazing? They seem to have really hit it off. And Sian's here, too, and so many people are coming."
"Sean must be in heaven, to be at the center of so much attention," Billy said, and Elijah smacked his arm. "What? He is, isn't he, Lizzie?"
"Thank you for letting him do this, Billy," she said diplomatically. Elijah smiled to himself; Lizzie had a lot of her mother as well as her father in her.
"Come in," she told them, as bossy as Sean, and slid her arms through theirs, tugging them toward the house. "Uncle Mack's with Daddy, but he'll want to see you both. And Daddy wants to see you privately, Billy. I hope that's okay."
"'Course it is, love. Let's get this started."
"Wait." They stopped, watching Elijah. "Um. I'm going to walk on the beach for a minute. Just a minute." Billy looked about to object, but Lizzie put her hand on his shoulder.
"Come talk to Daddy. Please. He won't settle down until he's talked to you, Billy."
Billy gave Elijah a look, the one he used to give Dom when he was a bit too twitchy, but nodded and walked into the house with Lizzie. Elijah watched them, and then made his way down the slope and onto the sand. He kicked off his shoes, peeled off his socks, and walked barefoot onto the chilly beach.
At the water's edge he paused, letting the cold water wash over his feet. He stared west, wondering how many miles to his little house in New Zealand, now locked up. He'd made a good life there. A bit lonely, but he'd found a certain pleasure in his loneliness. Peter and Fran's children made sure he visited them during the holidays, and they always sent him presents on his birthday, so he wasn't entirely isolated. But still, he was alone, unlike the others.
Why had he gone? Neither Sean nor Billy had really understood, but he was confident Dom had. He had been banished from Paradise because he wanted too much: Dom, and Sean, and even Billy. He wanted what he'd had as a young man in New Zealand. But no one can ever recapture the past, and Elijah's attempts had hurt them all.
Or so he had judged. By Sean's and Billy's responses to him, he wondered what had really happened. He thought he'd been leaving to save them, but maybe Billy was right. Maybe he fled the tumultuous passions of those days.
He shook his head, shoving his hands into his pockets. The water felt the same here as it did in New Zealand, as it had in Mexico and Hawaii and Scotland: sticky with salt, frothy around his toes. Beautiful and powerful and dangerous. Just like love.
He turned a bit, just enough to see the house behind and above him. More people were arriving; they were too far away for him to identify, but he knew they'd all be old friends. Grey hair and bald scalps, bags under the eyes, bellies bulging out their clothes -- all humans came to this in time. He never recognized himself when he looked in the mirror anymore, a bald, skinny guy with big blue eyes. When had he changed? All those skin cells shed, revealing the skeleton beneath his skin, yet inside, invisible to the mirror, he was the same boy from Iowa who'd stepped onto New Zealand and fallen in love with Dom, and Sean, and Billy, even with Viggo and Ian. And here he was, still in love, still foolish.
"I'm sorry, Dom," he said, kicking at the waves. "If I hurt you, I'm sorry."
He turned and trudged back up the beach, to the welcoming noise of the party.
~ ~ ~
Henry glanced across the vestry at Blessing, who instantly caught his eye and smiled. He felt his face bloom into an enormous smile and knew he looked like an idiot, but Blessing didn't seem to care. She smiled even more and gave him a small wave before turning her attention back to her grandfather, trying to maneuver his wheelchair through the crowded room.
Henry watched as Elijah took the chair's handles from her and skillfully navigated Sean out the door and down the ramp. Henry pushed his way after them, apologizing as he squeezed past Fon and Billy Jackson and Hannah Wood and others he couldn't yet identify. Blessing and her mother had been wonderful about seeing that he met everyone, but it was an overwhelming occasion and his memory was rubbish. Too many people, too much wine, too much excitement.
The fog had completely lifted when he stepped outside and a light breeze had picked up, ruffling his hair. He found Blessing and Elijah struggling to get Sean's chair onto the lift and jogged toward them. "Let me help," he gasped, and they successfully wrestled the chair back into the van.
"Thanks, Henry," Elijah said from where he fussed over Sean, locking the chair into place. Blessing slid her arm around Henry's waist and together they watched. This was the first time Henry had seen Elijah in nearly ten years, so he studied him carefully. An important man in his father's and Billy's lives; he wanted to be sure he remembered Elijah always.
Small, thin but not frail, completely bald with a beaky nose and brilliant blue eyes, Elijah was still a striking man at seventy. His dad had been only five years older but hadn't aged nearly as well. Henry had his suspicions why, but would never share them with anyone. His dad was gone; he'd lived his life according to his own lights, and if he lived hard, he also enjoyed himself.
Elijah looked up suddenly, and Henry saw how tired he looked; one eyelid seemed to be drooping more than the other. "Let me drive you back," he offered, but Lizzie said, "No, let me. You've never driven in America, Hank. Let's all four go back to the house and start the party. Would you like that, Grandpa?"
Sean lifted his head and smiled at her. His eyes were red and swollen. All three of the remaining hobbits and Viggo had cried a great deal during the mass, Henry had noticed, marveling yet again that their friendship had proved so long-lasting. As he had so many times in his life, he envied them their experiences in New Zealand; though he'd never wanted to be an actor, he thought working for Peter Jackson on Rings must've been a religious-like experience. Certainly it had been transformative. Fifty years later, his dad had continued to say that it had changed his life, and for the better.
Henry believed it. And now, all these years later, it was changing his life, too, bringing Blessing to him. He watched her as she started the van and then twisted around, waiting for him and Elijah to buckle themselves in before pulling out of the parking lot and heading to her great-uncle's home.
When she got on the road, she handed Henry her mobile. "Call my mom," she told him. "Speed dial one. Tell her that we've left and ask if there's anything we should do once we get back."
But Lizzie didn't answer. "Too busy," Sean guessed, and Henry thought he was right. Shepherding all those people, so many of them elderly, was quite a chore. Maybe he should have stayed and helped Lizzie.
He smiled to himself; he had wanted to be with Blessing and left Billy and Sian behind at the church. Of course he'd forgotten Lizzie. All he could see was Blessing.
"That was a nice service," Sean said. Elijah took his hand and linked their fingers together. "Dom would have loved all the incense and chanting."
"And the prayers for his soul," Elijah added; they smiled at each other in shared memory of something. Henry remembered Sean admitting to him that he'd slept not only with Elijah but with Henry's father. He wondered why Elijah had left, when Sean so clearly adored him. Their heads were close together, murmuring beneath the motor and rush of the wind outside.
Henry had read how Sean and Elijah had met, all those years ago; a rush across a room right into each other's arms. And apparently they'd never left. Since he'd come to America, he'd done a bit of research on the internet, and found archived newspaper articles about them: rumors of their affection for each other, speculation about their real relationship, gossip about them dancing together at the Oscar party for Rings. Henry would never know what was true now; he only knew what he saw in front of him. He knew that they loved each other.
As he watched, Sean relaxed against Elijah's shoulder and fell asleep. Elijah held him tightly, not letting him be jerked around by the movement of the van. Elijah closed his own eyes, kissing Sean's temple. Henry watched them all the way back.
They wrangled the chair out again and back into Mack's house. Viggo was already there, a glass of wine in his hand as he stood on the patio overlooking the ocean. He watched them get a still-sleeping Sean onto the patio, and then kissed Elijah hello. "You stayed away too long," he rumbled at Elijah, who bent his head. At his gesture, Henry remembered that his dad used to call Viggo their king. Viggo put his hand on the back of Elijah's neck, perhaps in benediction, and then gently shook it.
"Wine for you, I think," Viggo said.
"I'll get it," Henry volunteered. He grabbed Blessing's hand and they went into the kitchen to hunt out where the caterers had stored the wine. The air seemed dark blue after the brilliant sunshine outdoors and he had to stand blinking for a moment. Surely the contrast in light was never so extreme in England; nothing in England was as extreme, he didn't think. Nothing in his life at least.
By the time they'd found the wine and poured a glass for Elijah and then for themselves, the others were beginning to arrive.
"Here, sir," Henry said, handing Elijah his glass.
"Oh no, please. Elijah, or better yet Uncle Elijah. I would like that very much."
Henry smiled and nodded as Blessing squeezed his hand. "A toast to my new Uncle Elijah," he said, raising his glass. All four clinked glasses and drank. Blessing revealed the bottle hidden behind her back.
"You're a good woman," Viggo told her as she poured more wine. Henry studied him. Viggo was over ninety, he knew, but looked not much older than his dad. Tall and rangy, he'd kept a bit of his hair, a reddish-blond fringe around the back of his head, and wore a deep grey beard. From his godfather, Henry knew that Viggo suffered terribly from arthritis, due to the work he'd done as an actor. A horse had fallen and rolled on his legs, smashing them. He'd never fully recovered, but he masked his discomfort, although Henry had noticed that Viggo tended to park himself in a corner and observe.
The deck began to fill with chattering guests. Henry kept tight hold of Blessing's hand; she didn't seem inclined to let him get away, either. They stood close to each other, observing the crush of Dom's friends and family.
Henry watched Viggo and Elijah for a while, Viggo talking intently while Elijah silently nodded and sipped his wine. Then Billy approached them, he and Viggo kissing before Viggo began speaking again. Like Elijah, Billy bowed his head, and Henry flashed back to the movie, when the hobbits had bowed to the new High King Aragorn.
The movie. That's how he thought of it, because that's how his dad spoke it. Probably in caps: The Movie. As if it were the only movie ever made, despite considerable evidence to the contrary. The pivotal moment of Dom's life and thus of Henry's, and here apparently being re-enacted for him. He remembered Merry's surprised pleasure at being knelt to by all of Gondor; he felt the same way at that moment, watching his father's friends and lovers interact.
His father's lovers. He turned to find Sean, who was being fussed over by Lizzie. "We should rescue him," Blessing murmured, and Henry smiled and nodded.
"He'll want to see Viggo, I'm sure," Henry said, and they wound their way through the crowd, greeting people Blessing knew, until they reached Sean's side. "Uncle Sean, Viggo's here."
"Princess, now don't fuss," Sean said to Lizze. "If I get tired, I'll just fall asleep."
"Daddy," she started, but Henry put a hand on her arm.
"Blessing and I will watch him," he promised her. She frowned but finally let them wheel her father away. Henry could feel her watching and knew she was fearing Sean's mortality. As well she should; Dom had been five years younger than Sean, but he was already gone.
"Thank you, Henry," Sean said, trying to twist his head back to see them.
Blessing leaned over and kissed the top of his head. "This is your day, Grandpa. Whatever you want, Hank or I will get it for you."
Then Viggo saw Sean and beamed. He took two canes from behind him and began a slow, painful progress toward them. "Help me up, help me up," Sean said urgently. Henry locked the chair and put his arm around Sean, Blessing on the other side. Slowly, they got him standing.
The people around them backed up a bit to give them room and, Henry thought cynically, to see better. Viggo's sticks clattered with each step, and Elijah and Billy hovered on either side of him. At last he and Sean stood face to face. As the others had done, Sean lowered his head, but then raised it. He and Viggo carefully stepped nearer, so their chests were pressing together, and then put their faces together and breathed.
Henry felt tears come to his eyes. He knew what this was: a Maori tradition the fellowship had brought back with them. He'd seen his father and Viggo perform it many times. The other guests appeared to realize its significance as well, and a silence fell over the deck until only the ocean and the breeze could be heard.
Dad, Dad, Henry thought sadly; why did you have to die for this to happen? And if you had to die, why didn't I bring you here first, so you could have died with your friends? Why didn't you let us tell them; why didn't we know how important they were to you, and how important you were to them?
But his father would never answer now, any more than he would have answered in life. As he so often had been in life, Dom remained inscrutable in death. And Billy would abet him in anything; Henry knew that, so there was no use in questioning Billy. If Dom had wanted the moon, Billy would have somehow obtained it for him. All he had wanted, though, was silence, and Billy had willingly given him that.
Then Blessing hugged Henry tighter, and he kissed her sun-flushed face right there in front of their families, a real kiss, a telling kiss, he thought, and she kissed him back, reaching up to touch his cheek lightly.
When they separated, Sean and Viggo were watching them. "Let's get you back in that chair," Blessing said, and the moment was broken.
Someone tapped Henry's shoulder and he turned to find his godfather and godmother behind him. "Uncle Henry," he said in relief. "Aunt Pernilla. Are you as overwhelmed as I am?"
"Perhaps more," Pernilla said. The only evidence of her Danish accent was her crisp pronunciation of English. "Nonetheless, I wish to meet Sean's granddaughter."
"Oh, yes, of course. Blessing, this is my godmother, Pernilla Mortensen. Aunt Pernilla, this is Blessing Astin-Divoff."
"Let's check on my dad," his Uncle Henry said after their greetings, and Henry obediently followed him, leaving the two women behind. "Don't be nervous," Henry added, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Pernilla and Blessing both love you."
"Blessing --"
"Blessing loves you, Henry. I can tell." Henry looked up at his godfather, trying not to look a complete fool. But he believed. Like Viggo, Henry often knew things he shouldn't. He said he was just more observant then most people, and he probably was, but he occasionally startled Henry with his insights. Without conscious volition, Henry turned to study Blessing as she talked with Pernilla.
She was nearly as tall as his godfather, and taller than Pernilla; she would tower over his sister Sian. Her blonde hair glowed in the sunshine, and her face was pink with sun and laughter. She'd put on some lipstick, but other than that, she wore no makeup that Henry could detect. Sian and his mum spent a fair amount of their time together discussing makeup, so it was a topic that Henry knew better than he wanted to; their interminable discussions left him bored with both the subject of makeup and its results, so he found Blessing beautiful and beautifully healthy.
His godfather tapped him on the shoulder again. "Dad?" he reminded Henry, who led the way to the corner of the deck where he'd left Viggo, Billy, and Elijah.
~ ~ ~
Sian watched Henry. He seemed so at home here, after only a few days. He was standing next to Lizzie, refilling her wine glass yet again, both of them laughing. Sian's heart seemed to jerk in her chest; with envy, she admitted to herself. She'd pulled away from Henry years ago and had never missed him, but this afternon. she envied Lizzie's relationship with Henry. Now, this afternoon, she missed him. She had to fly eight thousand miles to discover that she missed him.
He looked up at that moment and caught Sian's eye. He was still smiling, the laughter caught in his face, and she reflexively smiled back. He said something to Lizzie, who kissed his cheek, and then he walked to Sian, bringing the wine bottle with him.
"There's a drop left," he told her, settling on the couch next to her. She raised her hands; no glass, so he filled his and handed it to her. "Cheers," he said, and drank from the bottle.
Sian stared at him in disbelief; this was an aspect of her brother she'd been unaware of. "Cheers," she said faintly, and drank. She couldn't fault Lizzie's choice in wine, or caterers. Or anything really.
Henry took her hand. "It's wonderful to see so many people here celebrating Dad's life, isn't it."
"Is that what they're doing? I thought it was just another excuse to get drunk and blow coke."
"Sian." The laughter left his face and he returned to the brother she knew. The brother, she realized, that she had created.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, and leaned against him. He felt solid and warm from the afternoon sun, and his arms had already started to tan from the few days he'd been in California. "I'm sorry, Henry. You're right. It's wonderful to see, to know that Dad will be missed."
He nodded. "Shanny, I know what happened, what you saw. Uncle Sean told me." She felt herself blush, but nodded. "Quite the, er, Oedipal moment, I suppose."
"Rather." She looked at him. "I knew our parents were sexual creatures; how not? But to see Dad and Sean like that was a bit distressing."
"A bit?"
"Embarrassing, too. Did you know Douglas was with me? D'you remember him? Dad was supposed to be Glasgow with Billy, but there he was. In all his glory," she added dryly.
Henry started to laugh. At first, Sian was offended, but surrounded by the brilliant sunshine, the smell of wine, her laughing big brother, and all these people, most of whom had known her since she'd been born -- she realized none of them minded. None of them cared; probably most of them had been with Dad at one time or another.
Sian shook her head at the thought, gazing around at her father's friends. What a life he had created for himself, and how utterly he had flung himself into it. He had been brilliant at life, and now he was gone.
Looking out at the ocean her father loved, she sighed. Henry took her hand. "I didn't speak to him for months," she admitted to him. "I felt humiliated, and so angry. But now, I don't understand why." She turned to her brother, tears blurring her vision. "Why, Henry? Why is my first impulse to Dad always anger?"
He hugged her tightly and she clung to him. "I don't know, Shanny. But can you forgive Dad now? Can you forgive Uncle Sean?"
Sian pulled away from Henry to wipe her eyes, and looked around the room. From where they sat, she could see the back of Sean's head. He was in his chair next to Elijah, who had his hand curled around Sean's neck, gently rubbing it. Behind them and to one side stood Billy, tapping his hand on the back of Sean's wheelchair. Bending over to speak to them was Blessing, her blonde hair swinging forward with her movement. "She's wonderful, Henry," Sian said. "Blessing's wonderful. I hope things work out for you with her."
"Thank you, Sian." He smiled tenderly at her. "Tell Mum, would you?"
She nodded, and rose, brushing her skirt. "I will. And I'm going to talk to Sean now. Uncle Sean." Henry caught her hand and she turned to look back at him. Before he could say anything, she said, "You've never looked better." She couldn't help herself; she grinned and added, "Hank."
Then she walked to Sean and Elijah and Billy, the most important people in her father's life, more important in some ways than she and Henry had been. She knelt before Sean and took his hand. "Remember me?" she asked him. "I was named after you." Sean beamed.
She looked back at Henry, who smiled approvingly and followed her. She shook Sean's hand, and then stood next to Henry and Blessing. "I'm glad you bullied me into coming out," she said told her brother, and Blessing giggled.
"He can bully?" she asked.
"Dear god," Sian said po-faced. "We should talk so you'll know the kind of man he is."
"Sian --" Henry protested, but Blessing's big laugh rang out over his words.
"I'd like that, Sian. Maybe tomorrow we can have lunch. I've already met Pernilla and heard a bit about Henry's childhood."
The two women smiled at each other at Henry's obvious discomfort. Sean said, "Now, girls. Be kind. And I expect you both to report back to me every word."
"Sean," Elijah said reprovingly. "You're still a gossip."
"I prefer to think of myself as a political scientist," Sean said with dignity, but he smiled at Elijah with such love that Sian remembered why they were here, what they were celebrating. Elijah leaned across and noisily kissed Sean's cheek.
"You're a lucky man, Grandpa," Blessing said, and Sean nodded, never taking his eyes off Elijah.
Sian pursed her lips, remembering her father. He would be taking the piss right now, making a joke out of all the emotions, but Sian couldn't imagine what he'd say. "Be merry," she murmured, and Henry looked at her sharply, then nodded.
"The merry gentlemen," he agreed sotto voce.
The merry gentlemen, indeed, she thought. She suddenly longed for her father, a painful ache in her breast as she remembered their last words. Unkind on her part, as always; she had inherited her father's sharp tongue and her mother's willingness to use it.
I'm sorry, she thought, tilting her head back to hide her tears from Henry and the others. I'm so sorry. Shutting her eyes, she saw again her father and Sean in bed; the surprise on their faces, of course, and Sean's instant blush, but also their bodies. Old, battered, flabby, but beautiful in a way. They'd been embracing and even in their surprise had not released each other. She'd turned instantly, but too late; the image remained with her. Sean's hands on her father's body, tender, excited, alive.
For the first time, she could picture them without shame and anger and disappointment coloring her memories. For the first time, she saw them as lovers, making careful, gentle love in the early afternoon, just as she'd hoped to do with Douglas. She'd spoiled that for them, and then been horrid to both of them for years afterwards.
She leaned forward and put one hand on Elijah's shoulder, the other on Sean's. They looked at her in surprise. "My father loved you both so much," she told them, speaking slowly and clearly because she wanted them to hear her above all the conversations in the room. "And I love you, too."
Sean's red-rimmed eyes filled with tears, and he trembled in her grasp. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you, Sian."
Elijah slowly stood, keeping one hand on Sean's shoulder, and then kissed her. "You have so much of Dom in you," he said. "I'm glad I came back, if only to see you again and be reminded how much I loved him."
She turned her head slightly, and saw Henry and Blessing watching them. Their arms were around each other and they were smiling, both with tears in their eyes. Henry nodded at her, and Sian slipped away, leaving her family behind.
Her father was gone. But at least she had Henry, and at least she'd seen Sean and Elijah again. Now she needed to speak to Billy. She owed him an apology, too.
~ ~ ~
Henry and his godfather stood at the railing and looked around them, but they could not find Viggo, Billy, Sean, or Elijah. The four old men had remained there ever since Sian had spoken to them, reminiscing perhaps; Henry wasn't sure, and he'd left them alone for much of the afternoon. But now that Uncle Henry wanted to speak to his father, they couldn't find any of them. Then Uncle Henry pointed and Henry saw they were slowly and carefully making their way to the beach.
Neither Sean nor Viggo could walk very well, so Elijah was between them, an arm around their waists. Viggo used his sticks, while Sean leaned heavily on Elijah. Their progress was painfully slow, and Henry shivered at the thought of one of them falling and injuring himself. But Uncle Henry kept a firm grip around his wrist. "Let them go," he murmured.
So they watched instead, Henry sweating from sun and nerves. He loved all three men, and didn't want any more tragedies right now. He wondered what they were talking about as they cautiously made their way to the water's edge.
Uncle Henry pointed again, this time at Billy joining them; Henry could hear Billy's clear voice calling out. The other three stopped and waited for him, Sean stumbling against Elijah. Henry said, "I can't watch. I'm going out there."
"No, wait." Henry obeyed his godfather, clenching his fists, tense at watching his father's friends, so fragile now, as they waited for Billy. "They need to do this, Henry."
Nothing would happen, Henry thought fiercely. They would be all right. They would totter to the edge of the water, on the very shores of the world, and gaze westward. They might speak of his father, or they might remain silent. Dom's presence would hover over them, a sardonic angel, the glue, Henry knew, that had helped hold them together all these years, insisting as he had on reunions, shared vacations, joint ventures, and most of all, on their love.
Blessing appeared at his side, also watching them, Henry saw, her intelligent somber face lit by the sun's movement into the west. He longed to steal her away, to go walking on the beach with her, barefoot, holding hands, speaking of their shared future. He longed to escape death and the fears beating at him as he watched the elderly men make their wobbly way, clutching at each other. Even at this distance, he could hear their laughter. Laughing at themselves, he supposed; laughing at their age and infirmity, perhaps remembering when they raced into the waves, flopping onto their surfboards, blacking Viggo's eye and trying to impress each other.
Then Sian returned from wherever she'd gone. Her face was pink from the sun and her eyes red from crying. She slid into their Uncle Henry's arms and rested her head against his shoulder.
Their father was gone. Back in London, it had seemed to Henry as though only he and Sian were left. Billy had returned to Glasgow, furious and silent; their mother was as the same as always. But here, in LA, with all these people who remembered their father affectionately, who had spent the afternoon telling stories about him, not all of them flattering but all told with pleasure, Henry felt connected to a larger world. The world his father had chosen and rejoiced in.
Sian gasped as Sean stumbled again, but Billy and Elijah caught him and pulled him upright. They were right in the water now; Henry watched as the white foam curled around their feet, darkening their trousers. Viggo splashed the water with one of his canes, sending it shooting over the others, who cursed him. Billy's high-pitched laugh carried easily to Henry, and he was sure he heard the word "Dom."
"They're beautiful," Sian murmured; Henry glanced at her in surprise, and then back at the old men. She was right, he thought. They were. Bent and crippled and spotted by age, they glowed against the Pacific. His angels, who'd delighted in his birth, mourned his father's passing, and now exulted in their existence. They stood supporting each other, laughing, shining. Old but not defeated, never defeated; they would depart this world one by one, perhaps Viggo next, since he was the oldest, or Sean, since he was the frailest, or maybe Billy, the angriest and most hurt by Dom's death.
It would be a poorer world without them, Henry thought, holding onto Blessing. A day would come when he would help his godfather bury Viggo, and another day when he would comfort Lizzie in her grief, but this afternoon he would ignore the inevitable and rejoice in their continued existence. Because through them, more than through anyone else, his dad lived on. Laughing, fighting, fucking, taking the piss, but most of all loving each other, Dom lived on through their actions and words.
Henry put a hand in his pocket and felt the ring Sian had given him for Blessing. One of his dad's rings. He closed his fingers around it and smiled. His dad would live on in other ways, too. Henry would make sure of that.
"What the hell are they doing?" Sian asked suddenly. Henry looked back out at them. Billy had a small box in his hand; Henry was reminded of the box of salt that Sam had carried to Mordor. As they watched, Billy opened it. He held it in one hand while all four men bent over it. Then he made a sudden jerking motion.
"They're sprinkling Dad's ashes," Henry realized. Sian gasped, or perhaps sobbed, he wasn't sure, and Blessing tightened her arm around his waist. "Goodbye," Henry whispered. "Bye, Daddy."
~ ~ ~
"For Christ's sake, don't let it blow back on us," Sean said, sounding more alert than Billy had heard him since he'd arrived.
"'m not a fool, y'know," he retorted, but he had to admit to himself it was good advice. He sprinkled a bit more into the water and watched the fine grains settle on the surface, darken, clump together, and bob in the waves. "Bye, Dommie," he said.
Viggo leaned more securely against Elijah, looping the handle of one of his sticks through the top of his trousers. Billy began to put the top on the box, but Viggo said, "Wait." He watched as Viggo carefully reached toward him and put a finger into the ashes, withdrew it, and stared at it thoughtfully. Then he put it in his mouth.
"Fuck, Vig," Elijah said, his face puckered in concern.
"He's part of me now. He won't hurt me."
Elijah stared at the box, and Billy slowly offered it to him. After a long moment of hesitation, he put one finger into the contents, withdrew it. Sean murmured something to him and Billy watched as Elijah held out his hand to Sean, who bent his head to lick the ashes. Elijah licked, too. Both men closed their eyes.
Billy brought the box back to his face, peering into it. He had studied the contents before, many times in fact. He knew there was ash but also chunks of bones. He'd found one piece that he thought might be the melted remnants of one of Dom's rings, but he wasn't sure.
This box, however, contained only ashes. He had pictured himself tossing it dramatically off a cliff, but this was better, standing arm in arm with his friends, feet actually in the water he and Dom had surfed so many times.
He looked at the others, and saw that Sean and Elijah were watching him now, as well as Viggo. He, too, dipped a finger into the ashes, closed his eyes, and tasted all that remained of Dom.
His dearest friend, his partner, his lover, his other half, who knew secrets about Billy that not even Billy remembered. Dom tasted as salty as life, as bitter as death, and as sweet as love. "You noisy, twitchy, fucked-up bastard," Billy murmured.
"Stay with us," Elijah said abruptly. Billy nearly dropped the box in his surprise, but Viggo put his big hand around it.
"Ta, got it," Billy said, shutting the lid on it and sliding the box back into his pocket. "Stay where, love?"
"Here, in LA, with us," Elijah said impatiently.
"I'm the one who tells the unpleasant truths," Sean said, looking sleepy again. He rested heavily against Elijah. "I'm not going to last much longer, Billy. Stay with us. Lij is staying. You stay, too."
He glanced up at Viggo, who nodded. "Stay, little hobbit."
Billy sighed and looked west again. The sun was nearly touching the water now, bringing morning to New Zealand. The rays were warm on his face, as warm as the friendship being offered him.
He nodded once. He couldn't speak, though. Viggo put an arm around him, and kissed the top of his head. He sighed again, cleared his throat, and finally said, "I think I'm ready for another adventure."
Viggo smacked his shoulder, but he was smiling, as were Sean and Elijah. Looking at their faces, familiar yet hidden beneath the wrinkles and age, he remembered all their long years together. Drinking and singing and talking philosophy with Viggo. Kissing Elijah impulsively one freezing night outside a club in Berlin, so cold he thought his knackers would crawl inside him until Elijah stuck his hand down Billy's pants and warmed them up. Comforting Sean the best way he could, by making gentle love to him and then making him laugh till he cried it all out.
And he remembered Dom. Their ridiculous half-drunken banter that ended only when one fell on the floor laughing so hard the other feared he'd suffocate. The rare rows that flared up and vanished just as quickly. Fucking in the most ridiculous places, courting danger and discovery and then laughing and bragging about it afterwards, just to watch Sean and Elijah roll their eyes and shake their heads. He remembered the time Dom walked in on him humping a pillow; after he'd recovered from his embarrassment, it had turned into one of their most erotic encounters, a terrific fantasy to help things along with other, less successful lovers, or when he was alone and dead bored and missing Dom's vibrant presence.
Fuck, he missed Dom. He tightened his fingers around the box in his pocket and ground his teeth, tasting again the grainy ashes. Dom really was part of him now. Well, he had been for years, if you counted all of Dom's spunk that Billy had swallowed, but really, truly, Billy felt that he was Dom now. That his role was to continue Dom's presence in all their lives.
"I'll bide a while," he finally said, swallowing hard, forcing the ash down. "An' if I should die here, make sure my ashes are mixed with Dom's, eh?"
Elijah nodded. "I'll take care of it, Billy," he promised, and Billy knew he would.
The sun grazed the surface of the sea now, gilding the fringes of the waves as they splashed toward them. The sun was setting, the tide was coming in; it was time to return. Billy gazed west as the sun sank below the horizon, wishing that he could see Dom catching the final wave of the day before tumbling into the shallows, laughing, shivering, ready for an evening of partying. But no. All that was over; it existed only in his memories, and the memories of their friends.
Viggo re-positioned his sticks and swung around, working his way through the sand. Elijah helped Sean; such an odd, ungainly couple they were, and so tender with each other. Billy smiled at them, touched the box again for luck, and followed them up the beach, away from the water where pieces of Dom still drifted. Where would they end up? In Mexico? Chile? Antarctica? It didn't really matter, he decided, taking Sean's arm to help him. Dom was still here; Dom belonged to the world now.
Posted May 31, 2007