Sean was so fucking numb he wasn't sure he was actually still breathing. Wasn't sure he was still alive. He shouldn't be alive. He shouldn't be here. It should be him in that box, should be him being lowered into the ground, should be him everyone was mourning. This wasn't right. Sean should not be standing here. He dug nails into sharp pressure points on his palms, desperate for something, for some prick of emotion. Why couldn't he mourn like Elijah, on the other side of the coffin, weeping openly, brokenly in Billy's arms, blue eyes filled with an ocean of pain so pure it should be painted? Why couldn't he mourn like Billy, sharp, shocked, devastated, lanky body wrapped around Elijah, two Hobbits lost without their brother? Why couldn't he fucking feel anything? He should feel something. Something... Surreal. It was all too surreal. A bad dream, a bad cliché, a bad independent ending of a cheap Hollywood film. Not something concrete. Except it was. This was real, it was final, it was death. And it had come into Sean's life to steal from him the one thing he'd thought he'd have until he died himself. Always, he thought Dom's face would be the last thing he saw when he passed from this mortal coil. And he'd been denied that. As Dom had been denied the sight of Sean's face when he'd... Died. Say it, Sean. He's dead. Dominic is dead. Moisture on his cheeks...he was crying, this was good. Why couldn't he still feel anything? He was crying, he should feel something, shouldn't he? Viggo squeezed his hand, and the touch was comforting, but wrapped in too many layers of numb to really help. Sean looked to his left, to Dom's mother, sister. Both of them had silent tears streaming down their beloved faces, and he wanted to comfort them, he wanted to help, he wanted to tell them that Dom loved them always, loved them still...but he couldn't say a word. Nothing could force its way past the numb wrapped around him like a wool blanket. Thick, heavy, suffocating...it was sucking him down a never-ending abyss. Feel something, dammit. Cry, scream, rage, throw yourself on top of the coffin like a melodramatic heroine in a bad serial. Do something, feel something. He was your lover, your friend, your fucking other half. Feel something. Remember his smile, his laugh, the way he took his tea with no cream and two sugars, the way he was quick to blush, generous with his kisses. Remember his cinnamon taste; remember that he was always the last person you spoke to every night and the first person you thought of when you woke up every morning. Remember...feel. But he couldn't feel anything. Ian was holding a shell-shocked Orlando in strong arms. Shell-shocked...yes, it had been shocking. Still was. But, still, Orlando mourned, Sean could see it in the way he held himself; in the way he clutched Ian's hand so hard that Sean was surprised Ian didn't have broken bones. It was there in the lost gaze in big brown eyes, the way that lean body shook into a comforting embrace. Orlando mourned, Ian mourned. Why couldn't Sean mourn? Viggo squeezed his hand again, moved his body so he could wrap his arm around Sean. A comforting presence, a rock, a source of strength. Yes, Viggo would be there for him, would stand with him, help him. Viggo would mourn as well. Sean didn't need to turn to know that Viggo's ice blue eyes would be shimmering with tears, with emotion. Viggo always felt things so deeply, and the love he had for Dom was doubly felt because he also loved Sean. He'd loved Dom and Sean together, loved that his closest friends had found each other. Viggo's grief would be ocean deep...but he would grieve. Why couldn't Sean grieve? Bernard stood next to Astin and his pretty wife and their two bored children. No, children didn't understand death, wouldn't understand that Uncle Dommie wasn't coming around anymore with peppermints and piggyback rides. They would have to be reminded. And reminding them would break Astin's heart all over again. But Astin had a heart to break. And Bernard would mourn with the stoicism of one of his generation...would mourn silently, in private. He and Dom had grown very close during filming, as close as Merry and Theoden themselves. Sean was sure that Bernard was just as shocked that he was burying Dom as Sean was. Must be like burying one of your kids. Shouldn't outlive your children, to paraphrase one of Theoden's lines. The minister was saying something; words meant to comfort, words meant to ease. Empty platitudes, meaningless gestures, hollow ceremony. There weren't enough words in the dictionary to make Sean whole, to give him comfort. There weren't enough rituals in the word to make him forget that he was alone. Alone, when he'd never thought he'd be again. Sean looked across the sea of faces, Dom's friends, family, the Fellowship, Pete, Fran, Dallas, J.T....all of them here to pay respect, to say goodbye. Sean couldn't say goodbye. He couldn't say anything. He hadn't been able to say anything all day. A slight movement in the back of the crowd caught his eye, a splash of color in the sea of black before him. Blue-grey, the color of Dom's eyes. Sean squinted, tried to make out the figure. The person in front of the color shifted slightly and Sean could see... ...Karl. Karl had come. And suddenly Sean could feel again, could feel pinpricks up his legs, his arms, through his hands, his feet, across his skin, warming cold flesh. Karl had come. So, finally, could the tears. *** Dom would appreciate the irony that it had taken his death to get John to finally make a Fellowship reunion. Black humor...but it worked. And John was here, when he hadn't been here in forever, not since the last premiere and that was, God, what, three years ago now? He'd always made lovely excuses, always sent a bottle or three of rare wine or expensive port, and the rest of them had filled John's glass when making toasts. Sean wondered if they would be doing that now with Dom. A glass forever filled but never sipped, a chair forever empty. The Fellowship had irrevocably broken. It should have been Sean. He was the only one of the Fellowship to die onscreen, he was 15 years older, he smoked, he drank frequently, he did many of his own stunts in his films, he drove recklessly, played hard, lived hard. And his angel, his light, his sun...an accident, a bad twist of fate, a second of bad timing, and none of it mattered. Dom was still gone. Sean was still here. It wasn't right. Sean stood in the corner of the living room. His living room, their living room, furniture they'd picked out together scattered on the floor, things they'd bought each other on the walls, in curio cabinets, and it all looked so foreign, so unfamiliar. Bad dream, surreal nightmare, pick your phrase, didn't make it any less true. It was like all of this was happening to someone else, like filming, except there was no camera, no lighting, no clapper to mark time. Viggo stood just a bit apart, watching over him, a guardian angel, a silent companion. Sean hoped Vig knew just how much he appreciated his mere presence. People came up to him, offering condolences in whispered voices, saying platitudes meant to ease, to offer some respite. Sean accepted the hugs, accepted the tears, and accepted the love and the words. Held a still sobbing Elijah in his arms as he shuddered under the force of his grief. Wished he had words, any words at all. So he just held Elijah tighter, just rocked him like he would a child. And it seemed to be enough. Billy hadn't been able to say anything either, and it was just as well. Sean was sure if either one of them had opened their mouths, they would have snapped. Poor Billy...Dom's best friend, his soulmate, his partner in crime. Sean could do nothing more than gaze into green eyes and remember every prank Billy and Dom had ever pulled, every time Billy had woken up on their sofa after a long night of carousing, every bickering argument he and Dom had ever had that had been forgotten moments later. Sean loved their friendship, loved the mischief they were always into. Loved Billy. Loved Dom. Past tense. There was no Dom to love anymore. Sean closed his eyes, leaned back against the wall, twisted the plain gold band around his finger. He remembered the simple ceremony, remembered exchanging vows here in this room, remembered pushing the matching band on Dom's hand, promising forever. Remembered laughter and champagne kisses, remembered Viggo and Karl serenading them with bad limericks, remembered Billy and Dom trying to out drink each other, remembered Orlando and Elijah baking and the results were so hideous they ended up having take out Chinese. Remembered claiming kisses in a darkened bedroom and soft sighs, remembered whispered words of love spoken in that sweet voice, remembered sinking into flesh he thought he'd have a lifetime to cherish. He'd wanted longer than this. People continued to come up and brush his arm with soft hands, continued to whisper words of condolence in his ear, helpless but needing to do something. How he wished they could. He'd trade everything in his possession, trade his soul, anything, everything, for five more minutes with Dom. Just five minutes. Just to say goodbye. Just to hear that bright laughter again. Just to see pure grey eyes light up when he walked into the room. Tears pricked behind his eyes and he opened them slowly, blinking them out. Hazel eyes in a face so beautiful it should be a sculpture stared back at him, into him. Karl. The tears now came in earnest, just waiting for Karl's presence to finally be released. And now it was Karl holding him, Karl stroking his back with strong, gentle hands, not saying anything, just holding him. Karl...the one person in this house, this world, who might possibly be able to understand the infinite depth of Sean's loss. Karl, who had been there from the beginning, who'd been one of Dom's best friends. Karl, who had been Dom's lover during the entire "Rings" shoot, who had been the first person Sean and Dom had told when they'd started dating after Dom had moved back to England. Karl continued to hold him, and it was almost like Dom was holding him; it was almost Dom's embrace. Sean breathed in Karl's scent, and it was almost cinnamon, so close to being right that the slight difference didn't matter. And Sean was able to close his eyes and imagine, just for a split second, that Dom was there. And just for a split second, he really was. Sean finally raised his head, tears still coursing in thick rivulets down his cheeks, but it was good. He needed this. He needed to be cleansed, if only for a brief moment. He just needed Karl, for whatever reason. "I want him back." Finally, words. He could speak, even if his voice was rusty, aching, so choked with tears that Sean was surprised Karl could understand him. "I know." And that lovely, deep accent washed over him, held him just as surely as Karl's arms did. "I just want to see him again." "I know." "Just to hold him, tell him how much I love him." Sean's voice cracked on the last two words. Too much, it was too much, he felt too much. Karl pushed Sean's bangs out of his face and Karl's eyes understood, were empathetic, bright with unshed tears. "I know." "My heart isn't breaking. It hasn't shattered. It's just not there anymore." "I know." Of course Karl knew. Karl understood. Karl probably wanted the same thing, felt the same thing, and the thought brought fresh tears. And Karl just continued rocking him, continued to hold him in strong arms. It was enough for the moment. *** Tired. Sean was so tired. Bone deep weary, so tired his blood ached. Viggo led him down the hall, stopped at the master bedroom. "No." Just the one word. Sean didn't have the strength to explain. But he would not sleep in that bed. Would not. It wasn't his bed, it was their bed and Dom wasn't in it. He was never sleeping in it again. Viggo nodded. Sean hoped he understood, was sure he did. Viggo was so attuned to emotions, to feelings. It made him exceptional at his profession and exceptional with his friends. They went into one of the spare bedrooms, and Viggo stopped Sean beside the bed. Started undressing him with methodical precision, took off his suit jacket, tie, shirt, shoes, socks, pants. Black falling off of him, fluttering to the carpet. If only Sean could get rid of the black in his soul so easily. "Into the bed." Viggo turned down the covers, all put poured Sean under them. "I'll be here if you need me." Viggo turned to leave. Sean caught his hand. "Stay. Please." Sean didn't think he could bear to be alone. Not just yet. He had his entire life to contemplate alone, but, at this moment, he wanted Viggo with him. Viggo nodded, disentangled his hand from Sean's for just a second to turn off the light. Darkness surrounded them as Viggo settled on the floor beside the bed, stroking Sean's hair with loving movements. "Sleep. I'm not going anywhere." "Sing to me." There were some who weren't fond of Viggo's voice, but Sean had always loved it, loved the honesty in it, loved the way words flowed off Viggo's tongue. Dom had always joked about cats needing their tails back whenever he'd heard Viggo sing, but Sean had never minded. "What do you want to hear?" "You know." It was barely a whisper. Sean wasn't sure if he really said the words or just thought them. He wanted Dom's song. His favorite song in the entire world. Sean heard Viggo sigh and thought maybe he was asking too much. After all, he wasn't the only one who suffered. But then Viggo started softly crooning, still stroking Sean's hair, and Sean allowed silent tears and a soft voice to lull him into almost sleep. "'When I find myself in times of trouble...Mother Mary comes to me...Speaking words of wisdom...Let it be...'" Viggo sang the words slowly, voice catching a little on some of the words, but that was okay. It was an emotional song. It was almost like having Dom in the room with him, almost like he was playing it full blast from the stereo in one of his rare melancholy moods, almost like grey eyes were shining with emotion, and sinewy body bristling with passion as he explained to Sean what this song, his favorite song, meant to him. For a few brief moments, Sean could see Dom in the room. And it was enough. *** Sean drifted awake; slowly swimming to consciousness, aware of soft kisses being placed on his back. "Dom?" he whispered, sleepily. So good, felt so good...Dom...no, it wasn't Dom. Dom was dead. He stiffened slightly, heard rustling as the body behind him shifted. "Relax, let me help you." Karl...it was Karl behind him, stroking his shoulders, kissing his neck. "Let me help you forget, just for a little while." No, he shouldn't do this, they shouldn't be doing this. It wasn't Dom, this wasn't right. "Karl, I..." Soft lips near his ear stopped him. "No, not Karl. Not right now. Let me be him for you." Be him, be Dom...it was impossible, it was insane. But Karl had loved Dom as well, knew Dom almost as well as Sean did, so it might be like having Dom...if only for a little while. "Tell me what you need," Karl whispered. A gift. Karl was giving him, maybe giving them both, a gift. And Sean was suddenly too tired to argue, too drained to think...he just wanted to feel again. Needed to feel something. And nobody else was able to make him feel. Just Karl. Because Karl understood. And maybe Karl needed this as well, needed the feel of Sean, needed to be close to Dom himself. "Gentle," Sean breathed, already losing himself in slow sweeps of hands on his back. It was almost Dom's touch, almost his whisper stroke that never failed to make Sean crazy with want. Karl rolled him over and kissed him, and it was almost Dom's kiss...gentle, unhurried, bright, yielding. So soft it brought tears to Sean's eyes, so loving, so full of warmth that Sean could almost imagine it was Dom above him, Dom kissing him, Dom making him shift restlessly on the sheets, needing more. Kiss flowed into kiss into caress after caress...drifting, light, gentle to the point of pain. Hands stroked over Sean, on his body, waking sleeping senses into awareness, into need. Fingers sought, found...it could have been Dom stroking him, Dom loving him...the touch was so familiar, so right, so tinged with all the right feel, the right pressure. And the kisses never let up, never stopped. Sean simply felt, let it all go, gave himself to this moment, this brush of fingers on him, this kiss on his lips. There were tears when he came sighing Dom's name, Karl's name, both of them tumbling out of his mouth and his heart in gratitude, love. And for awhile, as Karl caressed him back into sleep, Sean could hear Dom's voice in his ear, telling Sean he loved him, was there beside him, a part of him. *** When Sean woke again, it was daylight. Sun streamed in through the windows, turning the room into something golden. He could hear sounds just outside the door, but he was alone in the room. Alone. Time to start getting used to it. He would never get used to it. The idea of never leaving the bed held considerable appeal, but he forced himself to swing legs to the floor, to stand, to walk to the bathroom, brush his teeth, wash his face. Forced himself to dress in faded t-shirt and worn jeans. Forced himself out of the room, down the hall, to the kitchen. One step at a time. Baby steps. His brain couldn't process anything else. Viggo and Karl were seated at the table, conversing softly over coffee and what looked to be omelettes. Eating held about as much appeal to Sean as a root canal, but the idea of coffee sounded nice. Two dark heads swiveled in his direction as he walked into the kitchen, grabbed a mug from the cabinet. And looked down at it. Dom's mug. The stupid mug he'd gotten when he and Elijah went to Vegas to celebrate Elijah's 21st birthday party a few years ago. Sean just stared at it, stared at the ceramic smoothness, at the words proclaiming Las Vegas was an Experience. And saw Dom's hands on it, Dom drinking tea out of it while gesturing wildly, almost spilling the contents in his passion. This wasn't right. He couldn't do this. Hands moved him into a chair as his legs gave out from under him. He continued to clutch the mug, continued to stare into it as memories tumbled forth, faster and faster. Dom sleeping in their bed, so angelic, so peaceful. Dom in anger, so stiff, so British. The look on Dom's face as he came in Sean's arms, so beautiful, so open. A thousand images flashed across Sean's brain in an instant. It was too much. He couldn't feel this. He wanted to go back to yesterday, back to the numbness. Two sets of arms snaked around him and held him as he sobbed brokenly, holding the mug against his chest, his heart. Just held him. And it wasn't enough dammit, they were the wrong arms. They weren't Dom's arms. "I can't do this," Sean said. He was still so tired. He just wanted to go back to sleep. "Sean, look at me." Karl's voice. Sean didn't want to look up...Karl made him feel. He didn't want to feel anymore. But Karl had given him a gift and Karl was his friend and Karl loved Dom, so Sean lifted his head. Hazel eyes framed in wire-rimmed glasses stared back at him. Sean lifted his hand and caught a tear that snaked from the glasses down Karl's perfect cheek. "You shouldn't cry," Sean said. "He wouldn't want you to." Karl smiled, slow, sad, accepting. "I know. He wouldn't want you to, either." "But he would understand." Viggo, still with his arms around Sean, keeping him safe, holding him close. "We need to mourn." "I don't want to mourn him." Sean's voice was low, but he enunciated every word. "I just want him back." "Sean." Karl lifted his chin, forced him to look back into those understanding eyes. "We all want him back." "You most of all, I guess?" Sean asked. "I know you both loved each other in your fashion. Dom talked about it often enough..." Past tense. He'd never talk about it again. "It was never anything serious," Karl told him. "We were friends more than anything else. Being lovers was just a part of that." "It was just how Dom loved someone. With everything in him." Sean took a shuddering breath, felt Viggo's arms tighten around him. It gave him courage, strength. "And I loved him back just like that. With everything in me. There's nothing left." "No, not right now," Karl agreed, lovely accent so soothing, music to Sean's ears. "And maybe not for a long time. But life is long. And you will need to live it for the both of you now." Sean looked at Karl, so still, so quiet. And thought about last night, about soft Dom-like kisses and that gentle, gliding orgasm. And he thought that, perhaps, if Karl was here, if Karl stayed, then he might be okay, things might not be so bad. But Karl wasn't staying, Karl had a life back in New Zealand, and Sean couldn't find the words to ask him not to go. He just nodded, heard the words, understood them even. But it wasn't something he wanted to think about right now. Right now, he just wanted Karl's arms around him again, wanted that Dom-like embrace. Thankfully, Karl seemed to read his mind and pulled Sean to him, out of Viggo's arms, off of his chair, into Karl's arms. And Karl's almost cinnamon scent washed over him, and Karl's strong arms wrapped around him. And it was almost like having Dom in the room, almost like he was part of the embrace. And, for the moment, it was enough. Onto Later
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