The pounding grew in intensity, and he curled in on himself and tried to ignore it. It wouldn't go
away, and his eyes slitted open unwillingly. He frowned, confused by the ant's-eye view he was
presented with, and he shook his aching head to clear the sleep from his brain. And then - he
wished again for oblivion, for the memories came flooding back, surfing in on a wave of pain.
Elijah...
The agony broke him, all over again - the sense of loss a cruel fist around his heart. He moaned,
the sound shockingly loud in the quiet room. As if in response, the pounding resumed, and he sat
up, a wild hope in his eyes. He scrambled to his feet, clinging to the door for support, and
wrenched it open - and Orlando came barreling through, shouldering him roughly aside. He
caught a glimpse of Dom in the hallway, his mouth agape, before slim brown hands fisted into his
shirt and slammed him hard against the wall.
"Orli?" he gasped. "What -"
Orlando's face twisted with rage. "It was you, wasn't it Sean," he grated, shaking his captive for
emphasis. "Saving us wasn't a coincidence - you knew the fire was coming, didn't you! You
devious...fucking... you stole my death from me! Who gave you the right to play God, huh? What
gave you the right to meddle in my life?"
Sean didn't fight back, didn't defend himself. He hung in Orlando's angry grasp, his arms limp, his
eyes fixed on his friend's furious face. Orlando glared into them and his breath caught - there was
a world of regret in Sean's eyes, and anguish in every line of his face. Suddenly he looked far
older than his age.
"Why, Sean? Why?" Orlando's arms gave out and he sagged against Sean, his body shaking as
the anger drained out of him. "I loved him, Sean. You knew I chose to die with him, and you took
that choice away. You had no right...no fucking right..."
Trembling arms wrapped around him tentatively and Sean spoke, his voice rough and tight. "Yes,
I know that now. I'm sorry, Owen...Orli - god, you can't know how sorry I am. I made so many
mistakes, and that wasn't the least of them." He stopped and swallowed hard. "He loved you,
Orli. Lijah loved you, and I couldn't save him; but you - you were so young and I thought..." his
voice dropped to a whisper. "I thought you would find love again."
Orlando pushed himself away and really looked at Sean for the first time. He saw the sleep-
creased clothing, so unlike Sean, the swollen eyes and the tracks of tears, and realized what he
had heard. "You said 'Lijah', Sean - not 'Ned'," he whispered, his eyes widening. "You look...
there's something wrong, isn't there?" Sean shook his head and stared past him, resignation
warring with trepidation on his face.
Viggo met his eyes from where he leaned against the doorpost. They eyed each other warily, and
then Viggo straightened up and stepped into the room. Orlando welcomed him with a smile and
glanced back at Sean. "You were wrong about that, you know," he remarked. "The kind of love
Martyn and I shared comes only once in a lifetime. What made you think I would settle for less?"
He turned toward the door, Viggo's hand light on his shoulder.
"Orli...you lived, didn't you?" Sean's voice held a note of desperation that made Orlando stop and
look back. "You didn't..."
"...kill myself?" Orlando finished wryly.
His world was coming apart. He fought against the clutching hands, howling like a madman -
screaming Martyn's name. He had almost broken through, and then a crushing pain hit him and
he fell, spiraling down into lonely darkness.
And he never came back to the light again.
Orlando blinked - and then he reached up to touch Viggo's hand gently. "No," he said, "I didn't kill
myself." He regarded Sean somberly for a moment - then went back to him and hugged him hard.
"Sorry about that, mate," he whispered. "I overreacted. It wasn't your fault - you meant well."
Dom stood aside to let them pass, and his eyes locked with Orlando's in a questioning look. His
friend shook his head imperceptibly, and Dom nodded in agreement. He stood looking after them
speculatively, then shrugged and closed the door behind him.
Sean staggered to an armchair and sank into its shadow with a groan.
"You too?" he muttered. "It's 'bash Sean day', is it?"
Dom ignored his lame attempt at humor. "Bloody hell, Sean, when I quizzed you about how you
always knew where Lij was, I never in my craziest dreams imagined... this." He crossed his arms
and leaned against the window sash, staring at Sean moodily. "Does he know?"
Sean's head came up with a jerk. "No! And you're not telling him, either!"
"'Course I won't. D'you think I'm nuts? Does this sensitivity of yours work with everyone?"
"Only with Elijah." Sean admitted gloomily. "Just him, Dom."
"Damn," Dom marveled, his face betraying a trace of relief. "That's the most specific ESP I've
ever heard of. Uh - how does it work?"
Sean shrugged, "Don't know. I can just sense him sometimes - where he is, if he's nearby. Look -
I really don't want to talk about this now, okay?"
"All right. This won't take long." Dom stuffed his hands into his pockets awkwardly, for once
unsure of himself. "Lij isn't in his room - I thought he'd spent the night with - erm - you. I guess I
was wrong, huh?" Sean said nothing, but an undecipherable expression rippled across his face.
"There's something between the two of you though, isn't there?" Dom went on determinedly.
"Something…strong. We could all feel it – and see it, too. The two of you weren't exactly subtle,
you know?
"I fancy him too, but I'm sure you knew that." He hunched his shoulders defensively. "I could still
make him turn to me," he added with unconscious arrogance. "After all, you're married and all;
but...after what I've learned, it seems wrong. Somehow... profane. So. That's it then. I'll not
poach on your preserves, and whatever you decide to do, I hope you'll both be happy; God knows
you deserve it." He straightened up and made his way toward the door. "I'll see you later, yeah?"
"Things are different this time around, Dommie." Sean's voice stopped Dom in his tracks. There
was such naked pain in it that he felt like an unwitting voyeur. "I've got a wife and a family, like
you said - and Lij... No. It wouldn't work - but thanks, anyway." The buzzing of Sean's phone cut
through the ensuing silence and he groped in his pocket for it. He stared for a moment at the
read-out and then thumbed it on and raised it to his ear. "Ian?... He is? Is he okay?... No - no, I'm
fine... Yeah... thanks... and Ian? Make him rest that shoulder and please... take care of him for
me, will you?"
He turned the phone off and looked up at Dom. "Lijah's passed out on Ian's couch. Ian'll look
after him." Dom had been giving him the once-over while he was on the phone and now frowned
worriedly. "Orli's right. You look like hell, mate! Are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm fine!" Sean replied testily.
And in the back of his mind, a voice mocked him:
Liar, it whispered.
~~~~~
Sir Ian replaced the receiver and regarded the slight form sprawled among the cushions of the
couch. He hadn't been best pleased to find a woebegone hobbit on his doorstep at four in the
morning. He had thought that he was past surprise - he'd seen so much in his life; had drunk the
wine of excess, and thought himself jaded, old. Now Elijah's story opened up new possibilities,
amazing new worlds - so he suspended disbelief and made his friend welcome.
His uninvited guest refused all his offers of comfort food and curled up on the couch, dejected
and miserable. The shadows under his eyes and the smudge of tears did nothing to detract from
his beauty. Ian resisted the urge to offer more tangible comfort, settled himself into an armchair
and composed himself to listen.
"Predestination, Ian. Don't look so surprised. I was home-schooled, remember? I've always
hated that idea, you know? That you don't have any control over where life leads you. Control.
Never had any. Choices. Didn't have that either. Responsibility kinda takes that away, you see.
Thought that at least, over whom I wanted, over whom I loved, I'd have some say. Fuckitall. It
wasn't supposed to be this way.
"What'll I do, Ian? I can't get him out of my head - out of my...heart. He's been in there from the
first, and he won't leave. I can't make him leave. I don't know if I want him to. He's so much a
part of me now. But he wants Ned, and I want him - or I think I do. How much of what I feel is
me? How can I know for sure? How can he prove different? Oh god! I'm so confused.
"Ian? I'm gay, aren't I?"
Ian regarded him sadly. "Does it matter so much, Elijah?"
"I guess not - and it's too late to change anyway. It's just," and his voice was rich with derision,
"I'm such a fucking romantic, you know? I went looking for love, and ended up with this...this...
mess."
"Be careful what you wish for - you might get it," Ian quoted acidly. "Young man, you don't look for
love; love finds you - often when it's most inconvenient. It comes in its own time, on its own
terms, in whatever shape or form it chooses, and whether you accept it or reject it is entirely up to
you."
Elijah fell silent for a time, and Ian realised that he had finally fallen asleep. He removed the
boy's shoes and drew a blanket over him, then bent close and dropped a kiss on the pale
forehead.
"Good luck, m' boy." he whispered.
~~~~~
He was pretty good at waiting, but this was the hardest waiting he had ever done. Elijah stared at
the round doorway of the Bag End set, his shoulders aching with tension, apprehension a leaden
meal in the pit of his belly. He should have talked to Sean, shouldn't have hidden away at Ian's
like a scared little boy. But after the finality, the pain of his rejecting Sean, he didn't know what,
if anything, he could say. Then there were the dreams. Different dreams, but no less terrifying.
Sam looking at him with hate in his eyes; Sam pushing him away as if he couldn't bear his touch.
Sam turning away from him - forsaking his promise - leaving him. He'd woken up on Ian's couch
drenched in sweat, a scream caught painfully in his throat. In the heat of emotion, he'd forgotten
about the movie - forgotten that Sean was also Sam - that Elijah was Frodo too - and he hoped to
god that the dreams were his alone.
Sean had been so silent during make-up, had spent his time staring out the window at the New
Zealand dawn. He had disappeared into his trailer right after they were done. They hadn't talked,
and Elijah didn't know what to expect - except the worst.
He heard voices outside the set. Bill's and Dom's, and...Sean's. Ian patted his shoulder
reassuringly and moved back to talk to Peter. Elijah stared at the empty doorway until his eyes
burned - and then Sean filled it, and Elijah felt his stomach lurch sickeningly. They looked at each
other for a long moment, and then Sean smiled and held out his arms.
"Frodo." he said, his smile open and genuine, completely in character.
"Sam," Elijah gulped, and moved gratefully into his embrace. The feel of the familiar arms around
him made his heart ache. The warmth was there, but the sense of safety that went with it was
missing. They had no choices - this was how it had to be. Behind him, he heard Ian sigh.
~~~~~
Sean stood at the kitchen window, gazing out at the quiet night. Around him, the house muttered,
its wooden complaint a creaking counterpoint to the beating of his heart. It had been a
frenetically busy six weeks, during which his family had arrived, and all the actors had finally
moved out of the hotel and into houses and apartments of their own. The filming had picked up
pace, and he sometimes felt that he had dragged his tired body all over the length and breadth of
New Zealand by his fingernails. Such a beautiful country, he mused, warming his hands on the
mug of hot milk he held.
Life in Middle-Earth went on, much the way it always had. The fellowship was now a reality -
friendships given a whole new dimension by the soul-bond some of them shared. That warming
glow spilled over - onto the rest of the cast, and through the crew. They were a family - and
Peter's vaunted luck was holding.
Some things were different. Orlando went about with an air of complete crogglement, and the
helpless grins he and Viggo exchanged when their eyes met afforded the junior hobbits much
amusement. Bill and Dom spent most of their time together now. There was an ease, a quiet
communication between them that hadn't been evident before. Dom's acerbic wit seemed gentler
now, kinder - tempered perhaps by the merry Scot, and he really was all the better for it.
The dreams hadn't returned, and Dr. Dowling had brushed off Sean's heartfelt thanks. "Think
nothing of it. I was very glad to help," he said smilingly. "It was an incredible experience for me,
you know. And Sean," he added, his eyes intent. "If you need to talk further, you know where to
find me." Thank you, doctor, he thought, but I'm managing very well, all right?
A couple of days after the hypnosis session, Ian had come up to him to inquire gently as to his
well-being. He didn't volunteer any information about his conversation with Elijah, and Sean
didn't ask, but he did ask another question, though - one that he had distracted himself with
during those painful days.
"Viggo and Dom have been there before you," Ian had replied. "And I am giving you the answer I
gave them: yes, I had the dream too, and no, I am not going to do anything about it."
"When?" Sean had countered. "And why not?"
"That night at my house, with all of you drugged to the eyebrows. As to why not - understand me,
Sean; I am old - and while I believe that you and the others did have a past-life experience, the
knowledge does not change anything for me." He had fallen silent for a moment, his eyes
introspective. "There was nothing terrifying in my dream, Sean," he had added gently. "Only a
sense of purpose, joy and a great fulfilment. I will leave it at that."
Sean leaned tiredly against the windowsill. He had to get some sleep, but the coiled tension in
his body and mind fought him. At last he gave in - the effort of not-thinking was too great to
support, and the repression made his head ache and kept him from his rest. His mind turned at
last to the memories he avoided.
Elijah.
Instinctively, his mind reached out for the familiar aura, but this time it met only emptiness. The
object of his search was no longer a few doors down a hall, but halfway across a city. Too far to
reach, too far to touch, and the intensity of the grief that gripped his chest alarmed him. It
brought him back to the day Elijah left - when his world had turned askew, and he had found
refuge in Sam Gamgee. Sam was free to love Frodo, and so he did. As for Sean - he had put his
sensitivity to good use - albeit in reverse. Now, where Elijah was, he took care not to be. Elijah
had accepted the necessity of it. He had been lost at first, had seemed somehow incomplete, but
the fellowship had rallied around him, around them both, and the awkwardness had eased. Elijah
seemed to be back to his old self now, surfing with Billy and Dom, shopping with Orli. And Sean,
well...
He washed his mug, put it away, and groped his way back to his bed. He slid under the covers,
taking good care not to disturb the precious little body beside him. On the other side of Ally,
Christine stirred in her sleep. His family, he thought. It would work, he told himself
determinedly. He was nothing if not strong-willed. He would find passion in his marriage again -
be a husband to Chris and a father to Ally.
If only he could sleep....
~~~~~
Sean stared at the words on the board desperately - as if his will alone could rearrange them into
something less than threatening.
The Two Towers: SHELOB'S LAIR.
A tiny seed of panic took root and grew, branching throughout his body, spreading a thin sheen of
sweat over his skin. The words stubbornly remained unchanged. He tore his eyes away, and they
met blue fire from across the room. Elijah held Sean's gaze defiantly and lifted his coffee cup in a
little salute; then he looked away, back into the depths of the mirror in front of him, and his teeth
closed over his lower lip painfully.
Most of the morning had been taken up with script meetings and a break for lunch, which now lay
uneasily in his stomach. He sat in his corner, the Book propped on his knee, waiting for the crew
to signal their readiness. His eyes moved half-heartedly over the page; suddenly he stiffened, and
his gaze sharpened:
'Then he charged. No onslaught more fierce was ever seen in the savage world of beasts, where
some desperate small creature armed with little teeth alone, will spring upon a tower of horn and
hide that stands above its... fallen...mate.'
He snapped the Book shut and buried his face in his hands. The thrill the words gave him scared
the fuck out of him. His mate…his Frodo. He took a deep breath, fighting for a semblance of
calm, and in the darkness behind his eyelids, a colour grew. It acquired a shifting golden center
and an aura of clear blue, fuzzy around the edges, and his breath caught in recognition.
“Sean?” Elijah’s voice had a worried edge to it. “Are you okay?”
Sean dropped his hands and looked up. “Yeah. Just a headache, Lij. Nothing to worry about.”
“They’re calling us. It’s time, Sean.”
~~~~~
His head swam dizzily, overcome by the venomous fumes. Frodo's face filled his vision...a face
ashen and silent. A flicker of movement caught his eye and he struggled to his feet, full of only
one purpose - to place himself between his beloved master and the unholy abomination that had
hurt him. The bowed legs tensed, poised to spring - and a voice seemed to speak to him in the
darkness of his mind. Sean! Galadriel's gift, Sean - use it! He fumbled in his shirt and his hand
closed around the Lady's glass - and he thrust it forward, screaming at the top of his voice.
Shelob shrieked as the elven light burned her, and reared up over them - and Sam brought Sting
up in a slashing arc and hewed with all the strength he possessed. The stroke sheared through a
ghastly leg, and She pulled back in pain, retreating, moving still with terrible speed. Sam pursued
her until at last he could go no further - then he whirled and ran swiftly back to his master.
The panting gaffer gaped after him and then looked up in amazement at the tip of the tall pole he
held. A tattered remnant of string fluttered forlornly from it. Shelob was gone. He looked to
Peter for instruction, but the director's eyes were fixed on the tableau in front of him.
Sam's heart twisted in despair. His master was so still...so pale. No breath passed the parted
lips, no heartbeat stirred the chest beneath his hand. He lifted Frodo into his arms and touched
the cold cheek ...
He lifted Ned into his arms as the fire...
He lifted Elijah into his arms...
For a brief moment his mind stuttered in confusion, then the veil lifted and reason rushed back in
a flood. A light dawned, clear and merciless. He had found his soul's mate, only to lose him.
Again. And he could not bear it.
~~~~~
Elijah felt familiar arms lift his head and shoulders off the ground, felt them tighten convulsively.
He waited for Sean to say his lines, but heard only silence. Instead, fingers touched his cheek in
a fleeting caress and a salty wetness fell on his face and ran into the corner of his mouth. It took
all of his self-control to remain limp; then he felt himself lowered gently to the ground and heard
Peter yell, "Cut! Sean - what the hell are you doing? Sean!"
His eyes shot open and he caught a glimpse of Sean's face before his friend turned and
disappeared into the maze of equipment surrounding them. "No!" Elijah yelled, as Peter made to
go after his errant actor. He clawed at ersatz cobwebs and scrambled to his feet, throwing a
warning at Peter over his shoulder as he ran for the door, "Let me! I'll find out what's wrong - "
The side door of the sound stage opened onto an empty lot between two buildings. Elijah burst
out the door and looked around frantically. Sean sagged against the wall a few yards away, his
hands clenched into fists. Elijah could see his body shudder, hear him gasp for breath.
Sean raised his head, and Elijah's voice died in his throat. Dark wells of pain stared into shocked
blue and after a long moment, Sean shut his eyes and turned his head away. Elijah's hand went
out towards him involuntarily, then he stopped, spun on his latex heel and ran back to the set.
"Sean's ill, " he told Peter, grabbing a bottle of water from a table. "I'm taking him home."
~~~~~
Elijah stared into his bathroom mirror as he towelled his hair dry. He'd tried to think his way
carefully through this fucking minefield. Sean's house was out of the question - even though
Chris and Ally had gone back to L.A. for a month or so. He needed this to be on his territory, to be
his responsibility. This was his decision, and he was fucked if he would allow Sean to shoulder all
the guilt, and all the blame. He was going to give Sean what he wanted - what they both needed -
and damn the consequences. He'd worry about that later. He turned off the light and ghosted
along the dim hallway to the bedroom.
Sean stood at the open window, a towel in his hand, looking out into the gathering dusk. "Lij," he
said quietly, unmoving, "Take me home. Please."
Elijah was startled. He'd thought he hadn't made a sound. "How'd you know I was here?" he
asked curiously, ignoring the plea.
Sean turned his head then, and there were shadows in his eyes. "I always know where you are,
Lij," he said simply, and the words had all the force of a punch in the belly for Elijah. He closed
his eyes for a moment as he absorbed them, and swallowed against a painful lump in his throat.
"Sean," he said haltingly. "Do you remember the book I gave you - all those lives ago? Philip
Sidney - remember him, Sean?
"'His heart in me keeps him and me in one
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides,'"
He moved closer until Sean was just an arm's length away.
"'He loves my heart for once it was his own
I cherish his because in me it bides...'"
"My true love hath my heart and I have his..." Sean finished slowly. "I remember."
"Do you remember too - how much we loved those verses? They were ours, weren't they? For all
the time we had."
"Why bring this up now, Lij?" Sean's voice turned rough and taut - hanging on to civility by a
thread. "Don't fucking play games with me - I can feel where you are, but I can't read your mind!"
He turned away from the window abruptly and moved jerkily toward the door, averting his eyes
from the rumpled bed. The expression on Elijah's face the night he left, the distaste, the rejection
- the fear... The scene replayed itself in his memory, and he checked himself for a moment,
screwing his eyes shut. Oh god, how it hurt. It was useless - all of it. Ashes on the wind.
"Sorry," he muttered. "That was uncalled-for. Forgive me."
"It's okay, Sean." Elijah moved to stand between him and the door. "I probably deserved that -
although - no, I wasn't playing games." He went silent for a moment, marshalling his thoughts.
"Do you know how fucking weird it felt when I realized that I was jealous of myself? 'Cause that's
what it came to, Sean. Ned was me, and I was Ned - the same, and different. And I thought - well,
it didn't matter which of us you loved, because we were all one anyway, weren't we? One soul."
Sean raised his eyes, and Elijah watched in fascination as they shifted color in the dim light - from
muddy brown to gold-flecked hazel and then to softest green. The tip of a pink tongue crept out
to wet dry lips, and he felt a blossom of heat flower low in his belly. Down, Lij. Go slow, he
cautioned himself. You hurt him badly. You've got one chance to fix this - don't mess up. Don't.
He took a trembling breath and mustered his courage. "Sean - if it's Ned you want, I can be him
for you." he whispered. From fading memories he plucked a moment, and he reached for Sean's
hand and brought it to his lips.
"I love thee, Sean. An you want me, I am thine."
The archaic words had the force of a geas. The weight of the past pressed down on them and they
struggled for breath. The very air seemed to thicken as the soft gleam of candlelight washed the
dimness of the room, then the eerie feeling faded and Sean bit back a strangled sob. "I loved
Ned," he whispered shakily. "But here and now, it's you I love. So much. Are you sure, Lijah?
You're so young..."
"I'm four hundred and thirty years old, Seanie. At least. I looked it up," Elijah said with the ghost
of a smile. "How much older do I have to be?"
He lifted his face in open invitation and closed his eyes, waiting. Sean's fingers tightened in his
grip and he felt moist air bathe his eyelids. Warm lips touched his mouth, feather-light nibbles,
exploring the curve of his upper lip and moving down to tease the lower into tender fullness. No
tongue then, not yet - and he didn't mind at all. Sean kissed him slowly, his lips moving gently,
cocooning him in a haze of sensation; everything he felt was centered on his mouth and the
warmth that spread from there to there. And there responded eagerly. His knees went weak and
he swayed forward. His arousal brushed the distended cloth of Sean's jeans and he whimpered
deep in his throat at the jolt of pure pleasure that shot through his groin. He arched his pelvis,
frantically seeking more, and he felt a trembling hand stroke the small of his back under his shirt,
gentling him, and another splayed hot against his stomach, keeping him still.
He pushed upward into the touch, and Sean's lips left his - to trail wet kisses along the tense line
of his jaw and down the tendons of his neck. Fingers slipped below the waistband of his sweats
to graze the sensitive tip of his swollen cock and gather the wetness there, and Elijah opened his
eyes wide at the tumult of sensation the touch let loose. Never in his most erotic dreams had he
ever imagined Sean to be this sensual, this... carnal.
"Sean... oh god.... Sean!"
"Hush, baby... hush..." and Sean raised his finger to his lips and licked delicately at the bead of
come that crowned it.
That did it for Elijah. He buried his fingers in damp, curly hair and crushed his mouth against
Sean's teasing lips. The salty/bitter taste of his own semen heightened the burn of his arousal
and he thrust his tongue rudely into Sean's mouth, courtesy thrown to the four winds, gentleness
be damned. The intrusion was returned with interest, and he felt hands push his pants down and
knead the bare flesh of his ass, grinding his tender prick against rough denim. He jerked back
from the rasp of pleasure/pain, and fumbled at the buttons of Sean's jeans, cursing foully.
"Fuck... that hurt. Clothes... please... " Sean complied eagerly, and they clung to each other as
they rid themselves of the encumbering clothing - their hands roaming everywhere, more
hindrance than help.
"Bed... "
"Yes...oh fuck... yes..."
Elijah sprawled on his back on the unmade bed and held his breath as he watched Sean undo the
last button, allowing his shirt to fall free. His eyes widened as they wandered down the muscled
arms, the broad chest, and focused on the proud cock, thick and hard. The little eye winked at
him, light glancing off milky wetness, and his eyelids shivered shut at the wash of pure lust that
eddied through his body. He felt Sean settle atop him, warm and heavy, his hot hardness snug in
the crease between Elijah's thighs - and Elijah parted them to receive him, and closed them again,
tight and slick around Sean, trapping him.
"Lij.... oh jesus..." and Sean bucked forward reflexively, his cock sliding under Elijah's balls and
nudging the sensitive flesh behind them, hard. Elijah felt the prickling heat begin, somewhere in
his toes, rushing up to his groin with terrifying speed - and he tensed, his fingers digging into
Sean's shoulders, willing the wave to subside.
"Nononono...not yet! Sean - Sean... fuck me, Sean! Fuck me now!
"Lijaaah..."
"Yes! Damn it! You remember how it goes - do it!" He reached blindly for the night table and his
trembling fingers closed on a small bottle. He thrust it at Sean, drawing a sobbing breath as
another paroxysm threatened. "Use this - massage oil for my shoulder. Please, Sean!"
Sean took the bottle and rolled off to the side. Elijah turned with him as if magnetized, throwing
a leg over his hips and pressing closer. Sean curved his hand around the pale neck, pressing
lightly, "Lij - I remember, yes; I remember how much I hurt you, that first time." He paused,
shuddering, "We'll do this right - or not at all. Trust me, okay?"
A deep, open-mouthed kiss was all the answer he received. He savoured it for a sweet moment,
then drew back to dribble oil into his palm and slick himself, groaning his pleasure into Elijah's
mouth. Then he insinuated a finger into him, softening the tight muscle, opening him up gently.
Elijah watched him, his teeth clamped hard on his lower lip. "Now, Seanie?" he asked eagerly,
sounding for all the world like a little boy, and Sean faltered as he bent the limber legs back and
positioned himself. He shut his eyes for a moment, pushing back the guilt, and then opened them
again and smiled into the heavy-lidded blue eyes.
"Yes, Lij.... now," and he pushed in slowly, slowly, watching the face on the pillow tighten in pain.
Elijah's head went back, his hands twisting the sheets, and he moaned, long and slow. Sean
couldn't believe the tightness, the heat of him clenched around his aching cock, and his groan
merged with Elijah's voice in a silken skein of sound. He watched the blue eyes roll up under
trembling lids and then close in an expression of utter bliss. Oh lord - I love him so, he thought.
A brief stab was all the pain Elijah felt as his body accepted Sean. Their bodies knew each other,
fit so well, and as Sean moved inside him, filling him with fire, he felt the ripples of orgasm begin
again. And he welcomed it. Wanted it with every atom of his being.
"Sean... oh - oh SHIT..."
"Together, Lij... "
As the waves of pleasure crashed through him, Elijah sensed Sean for the first time, a green-gold
presence in his mind, warm and loving; and his soul sang in recognition as they crested the wave,
deeply in rapport - always together, always one.
~~~~~
Elijah lay quietly, his eyes closed, listening to the blood pound in his ears. Trying to hold on to the
fading traces of the most perfect moment of joy that he had ever felt. Trying not to think of how
long they had, and how far they'd gone. Loving the exquisite heat of Sean's body, molded
perfectly to his own.
"I'm sorry, Lijah!" His eyes shot open at the sound of Sean's voice. He hadn't thought of how his
silence could be taken, how new all this was - how frightening it must be for Sean.
"Are you, Sean? Are you sorry?" Elijah whispered.
Silence. Sean splayed his hand against Elijah's belly and stared at it, a perfect composition of
warm brown against skin the hue of ivory.
"No." His voice was rough. "No - not sorry - not a bit. It was wonderful, you were wonderful, and I
want to do it again. And again and again, with nobody but you. Forever. I love you, Elijah."
Elijah's eyes widened in shock. "Sean - that sounds almost like a proposal!" he blurted and then
brought his hand up to his mouth in dismay.
Sean looked at him and smiled, a suspicious brightness in his eyes. "No, my Elijah, not a proposal
- a promise."
"And Samwise always keeps his promises." The facile rejoinder slipped out and Elijah cursed his
ready tongue viciously. His agile mind had already leaped ahead - heard the subtle mockery in
the innocent phrase. This relationship thing was hard to get a handle on - when emotions were
raw and careless words could drive a shaft of pain through a lover's heart.
Sean's face froze and he sat up abruptly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Elijah lunged
after him, clinging to his broad back, his body pressed tight against the warmth of Sean's skin.
"No! Seanie - I'm sorry! I didn't mean it that way! Oh God...Sean..."
"Elijah, Samwise Gamgee is the most excellent of hobbits," Sean's lips had a bitter twist to them.
"But I'm not him, Lij - just a poor, pale imitation. I do break promises, and the biggest of them all
is the one I made to Chris. She'll have to know - I can't live a lie, you see." He hooked an arm
around Elijah's waist and swung him across his lap, burying his face in the warmth of his neck.
Elijah closed his eyes, his chest aching with the shared pain, and he slipped his arms around Sean
and stroked his back, trying to soothe the agony away.
Sean raised his head and looked deep into bottomless pools of blue. "Lij, there are promises I
will keep. To take care of my family for as long as they need me - and if you'll trust me, to be
yours for as long as you want me. Will you? Trust me, I mean."
Elijah smiled and drew his head down for a lingering kiss. "Only if you'll let me promise the same
to you, Sean. Maybe a promise shared is easier to keep - we'll find out, won't we?"
Together...
~~~~~
away, and his eyes slitted open unwillingly. He frowned, confused by the ant's-eye view he was
presented with, and he shook his aching head to clear the sleep from his brain. And then - he
wished again for oblivion, for the memories came flooding back, surfing in on a wave of pain.
Elijah...
The agony broke him, all over again - the sense of loss a cruel fist around his heart. He moaned,
the sound shockingly loud in the quiet room. As if in response, the pounding resumed, and he sat
up, a wild hope in his eyes. He scrambled to his feet, clinging to the door for support, and
wrenched it open - and Orlando came barreling through, shouldering him roughly aside. He
caught a glimpse of Dom in the hallway, his mouth agape, before slim brown hands fisted into his
shirt and slammed him hard against the wall.
"Orli?" he gasped. "What -"
Orlando's face twisted with rage. "It was you, wasn't it Sean," he grated, shaking his captive for
emphasis. "Saving us wasn't a coincidence - you knew the fire was coming, didn't you! You
devious...fucking... you stole my death from me! Who gave you the right to play God, huh? What
gave you the right to meddle in my life?"
Sean didn't fight back, didn't defend himself. He hung in Orlando's angry grasp, his arms limp, his
eyes fixed on his friend's furious face. Orlando glared into them and his breath caught - there was
a world of regret in Sean's eyes, and anguish in every line of his face. Suddenly he looked far
older than his age.
"Why, Sean? Why?" Orlando's arms gave out and he sagged against Sean, his body shaking as
the anger drained out of him. "I loved him, Sean. You knew I chose to die with him, and you took
that choice away. You had no right...no fucking right..."
Trembling arms wrapped around him tentatively and Sean spoke, his voice rough and tight. "Yes,
I know that now. I'm sorry, Owen...Orli - god, you can't know how sorry I am. I made so many
mistakes, and that wasn't the least of them." He stopped and swallowed hard. "He loved you,
Orli. Lijah loved you, and I couldn't save him; but you - you were so young and I thought..." his
voice dropped to a whisper. "I thought you would find love again."
Orlando pushed himself away and really looked at Sean for the first time. He saw the sleep-
creased clothing, so unlike Sean, the swollen eyes and the tracks of tears, and realized what he
had heard. "You said 'Lijah', Sean - not 'Ned'," he whispered, his eyes widening. "You look...
there's something wrong, isn't there?" Sean shook his head and stared past him, resignation
warring with trepidation on his face.
Viggo met his eyes from where he leaned against the doorpost. They eyed each other warily, and
then Viggo straightened up and stepped into the room. Orlando welcomed him with a smile and
glanced back at Sean. "You were wrong about that, you know," he remarked. "The kind of love
Martyn and I shared comes only once in a lifetime. What made you think I would settle for less?"
He turned toward the door, Viggo's hand light on his shoulder.
"Orli...you lived, didn't you?" Sean's voice held a note of desperation that made Orlando stop and
look back. "You didn't..."
"...kill myself?" Orlando finished wryly.
His world was coming apart. He fought against the clutching hands, howling like a madman -
screaming Martyn's name. He had almost broken through, and then a crushing pain hit him and
he fell, spiraling down into lonely darkness.
And he never came back to the light again.
Orlando blinked - and then he reached up to touch Viggo's hand gently. "No," he said, "I didn't kill
myself." He regarded Sean somberly for a moment - then went back to him and hugged him hard.
"Sorry about that, mate," he whispered. "I overreacted. It wasn't your fault - you meant well."
Dom stood aside to let them pass, and his eyes locked with Orlando's in a questioning look. His
friend shook his head imperceptibly, and Dom nodded in agreement. He stood looking after them
speculatively, then shrugged and closed the door behind him.
Sean staggered to an armchair and sank into its shadow with a groan.
"You too?" he muttered. "It's 'bash Sean day', is it?"
Dom ignored his lame attempt at humor. "Bloody hell, Sean, when I quizzed you about how you
always knew where Lij was, I never in my craziest dreams imagined... this." He crossed his arms
and leaned against the window sash, staring at Sean moodily. "Does he know?"
Sean's head came up with a jerk. "No! And you're not telling him, either!"
"'Course I won't. D'you think I'm nuts? Does this sensitivity of yours work with everyone?"
"Only with Elijah." Sean admitted gloomily. "Just him, Dom."
"Damn," Dom marveled, his face betraying a trace of relief. "That's the most specific ESP I've
ever heard of. Uh - how does it work?"
Sean shrugged, "Don't know. I can just sense him sometimes - where he is, if he's nearby. Look -
I really don't want to talk about this now, okay?"
"All right. This won't take long." Dom stuffed his hands into his pockets awkwardly, for once
unsure of himself. "Lij isn't in his room - I thought he'd spent the night with - erm - you. I guess I
was wrong, huh?" Sean said nothing, but an undecipherable expression rippled across his face.
"There's something between the two of you though, isn't there?" Dom went on determinedly.
"Something…strong. We could all feel it – and see it, too. The two of you weren't exactly subtle,
you know?
"I fancy him too, but I'm sure you knew that." He hunched his shoulders defensively. "I could still
make him turn to me," he added with unconscious arrogance. "After all, you're married and all;
but...after what I've learned, it seems wrong. Somehow... profane. So. That's it then. I'll not
poach on your preserves, and whatever you decide to do, I hope you'll both be happy; God knows
you deserve it." He straightened up and made his way toward the door. "I'll see you later, yeah?"
"Things are different this time around, Dommie." Sean's voice stopped Dom in his tracks. There
was such naked pain in it that he felt like an unwitting voyeur. "I've got a wife and a family, like
you said - and Lij... No. It wouldn't work - but thanks, anyway." The buzzing of Sean's phone cut
through the ensuing silence and he groped in his pocket for it. He stared for a moment at the
read-out and then thumbed it on and raised it to his ear. "Ian?... He is? Is he okay?... No - no, I'm
fine... Yeah... thanks... and Ian? Make him rest that shoulder and please... take care of him for
me, will you?"
He turned the phone off and looked up at Dom. "Lijah's passed out on Ian's couch. Ian'll look
after him." Dom had been giving him the once-over while he was on the phone and now frowned
worriedly. "Orli's right. You look like hell, mate! Are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm fine!" Sean replied testily.
And in the back of his mind, a voice mocked him:
Liar, it whispered.
~~~~~
Sir Ian replaced the receiver and regarded the slight form sprawled among the cushions of the
couch. He hadn't been best pleased to find a woebegone hobbit on his doorstep at four in the
morning. He had thought that he was past surprise - he'd seen so much in his life; had drunk the
wine of excess, and thought himself jaded, old. Now Elijah's story opened up new possibilities,
amazing new worlds - so he suspended disbelief and made his friend welcome.
His uninvited guest refused all his offers of comfort food and curled up on the couch, dejected
and miserable. The shadows under his eyes and the smudge of tears did nothing to detract from
his beauty. Ian resisted the urge to offer more tangible comfort, settled himself into an armchair
and composed himself to listen.
"Predestination, Ian. Don't look so surprised. I was home-schooled, remember? I've always
hated that idea, you know? That you don't have any control over where life leads you. Control.
Never had any. Choices. Didn't have that either. Responsibility kinda takes that away, you see.
Thought that at least, over whom I wanted, over whom I loved, I'd have some say. Fuckitall. It
wasn't supposed to be this way.
"What'll I do, Ian? I can't get him out of my head - out of my...heart. He's been in there from the
first, and he won't leave. I can't make him leave. I don't know if I want him to. He's so much a
part of me now. But he wants Ned, and I want him - or I think I do. How much of what I feel is
me? How can I know for sure? How can he prove different? Oh god! I'm so confused.
"Ian? I'm gay, aren't I?"
Ian regarded him sadly. "Does it matter so much, Elijah?"
"I guess not - and it's too late to change anyway. It's just," and his voice was rich with derision,
"I'm such a fucking romantic, you know? I went looking for love, and ended up with this...this...
mess."
"Be careful what you wish for - you might get it," Ian quoted acidly. "Young man, you don't look for
love; love finds you - often when it's most inconvenient. It comes in its own time, on its own
terms, in whatever shape or form it chooses, and whether you accept it or reject it is entirely up to
you."
Elijah fell silent for a time, and Ian realised that he had finally fallen asleep. He removed the
boy's shoes and drew a blanket over him, then bent close and dropped a kiss on the pale
forehead.
"Good luck, m' boy." he whispered.
~~~~~
He was pretty good at waiting, but this was the hardest waiting he had ever done. Elijah stared at
the round doorway of the Bag End set, his shoulders aching with tension, apprehension a leaden
meal in the pit of his belly. He should have talked to Sean, shouldn't have hidden away at Ian's
like a scared little boy. But after the finality, the pain of his rejecting Sean, he didn't know what,
if anything, he could say. Then there were the dreams. Different dreams, but no less terrifying.
Sam looking at him with hate in his eyes; Sam pushing him away as if he couldn't bear his touch.
Sam turning away from him - forsaking his promise - leaving him. He'd woken up on Ian's couch
drenched in sweat, a scream caught painfully in his throat. In the heat of emotion, he'd forgotten
about the movie - forgotten that Sean was also Sam - that Elijah was Frodo too - and he hoped to
god that the dreams were his alone.
Sean had been so silent during make-up, had spent his time staring out the window at the New
Zealand dawn. He had disappeared into his trailer right after they were done. They hadn't talked,
and Elijah didn't know what to expect - except the worst.
He heard voices outside the set. Bill's and Dom's, and...Sean's. Ian patted his shoulder
reassuringly and moved back to talk to Peter. Elijah stared at the empty doorway until his eyes
burned - and then Sean filled it, and Elijah felt his stomach lurch sickeningly. They looked at each
other for a long moment, and then Sean smiled and held out his arms.
"Frodo." he said, his smile open and genuine, completely in character.
"Sam," Elijah gulped, and moved gratefully into his embrace. The feel of the familiar arms around
him made his heart ache. The warmth was there, but the sense of safety that went with it was
missing. They had no choices - this was how it had to be. Behind him, he heard Ian sigh.
~~~~~
Sean stood at the kitchen window, gazing out at the quiet night. Around him, the house muttered,
its wooden complaint a creaking counterpoint to the beating of his heart. It had been a
frenetically busy six weeks, during which his family had arrived, and all the actors had finally
moved out of the hotel and into houses and apartments of their own. The filming had picked up
pace, and he sometimes felt that he had dragged his tired body all over the length and breadth of
New Zealand by his fingernails. Such a beautiful country, he mused, warming his hands on the
mug of hot milk he held.
Life in Middle-Earth went on, much the way it always had. The fellowship was now a reality -
friendships given a whole new dimension by the soul-bond some of them shared. That warming
glow spilled over - onto the rest of the cast, and through the crew. They were a family - and
Peter's vaunted luck was holding.
Some things were different. Orlando went about with an air of complete crogglement, and the
helpless grins he and Viggo exchanged when their eyes met afforded the junior hobbits much
amusement. Bill and Dom spent most of their time together now. There was an ease, a quiet
communication between them that hadn't been evident before. Dom's acerbic wit seemed gentler
now, kinder - tempered perhaps by the merry Scot, and he really was all the better for it.
The dreams hadn't returned, and Dr. Dowling had brushed off Sean's heartfelt thanks. "Think
nothing of it. I was very glad to help," he said smilingly. "It was an incredible experience for me,
you know. And Sean," he added, his eyes intent. "If you need to talk further, you know where to
find me." Thank you, doctor, he thought, but I'm managing very well, all right?
A couple of days after the hypnosis session, Ian had come up to him to inquire gently as to his
well-being. He didn't volunteer any information about his conversation with Elijah, and Sean
didn't ask, but he did ask another question, though - one that he had distracted himself with
during those painful days.
"Viggo and Dom have been there before you," Ian had replied. "And I am giving you the answer I
gave them: yes, I had the dream too, and no, I am not going to do anything about it."
"When?" Sean had countered. "And why not?"
"That night at my house, with all of you drugged to the eyebrows. As to why not - understand me,
Sean; I am old - and while I believe that you and the others did have a past-life experience, the
knowledge does not change anything for me." He had fallen silent for a moment, his eyes
introspective. "There was nothing terrifying in my dream, Sean," he had added gently. "Only a
sense of purpose, joy and a great fulfilment. I will leave it at that."
Sean leaned tiredly against the windowsill. He had to get some sleep, but the coiled tension in
his body and mind fought him. At last he gave in - the effort of not-thinking was too great to
support, and the repression made his head ache and kept him from his rest. His mind turned at
last to the memories he avoided.
Elijah.
Instinctively, his mind reached out for the familiar aura, but this time it met only emptiness. The
object of his search was no longer a few doors down a hall, but halfway across a city. Too far to
reach, too far to touch, and the intensity of the grief that gripped his chest alarmed him. It
brought him back to the day Elijah left - when his world had turned askew, and he had found
refuge in Sam Gamgee. Sam was free to love Frodo, and so he did. As for Sean - he had put his
sensitivity to good use - albeit in reverse. Now, where Elijah was, he took care not to be. Elijah
had accepted the necessity of it. He had been lost at first, had seemed somehow incomplete, but
the fellowship had rallied around him, around them both, and the awkwardness had eased. Elijah
seemed to be back to his old self now, surfing with Billy and Dom, shopping with Orli. And Sean,
well...
He washed his mug, put it away, and groped his way back to his bed. He slid under the covers,
taking good care not to disturb the precious little body beside him. On the other side of Ally,
Christine stirred in her sleep. His family, he thought. It would work, he told himself
determinedly. He was nothing if not strong-willed. He would find passion in his marriage again -
be a husband to Chris and a father to Ally.
If only he could sleep....
~~~~~
Sean stared at the words on the board desperately - as if his will alone could rearrange them into
something less than threatening.
The Two Towers: SHELOB'S LAIR.
A tiny seed of panic took root and grew, branching throughout his body, spreading a thin sheen of
sweat over his skin. The words stubbornly remained unchanged. He tore his eyes away, and they
met blue fire from across the room. Elijah held Sean's gaze defiantly and lifted his coffee cup in a
little salute; then he looked away, back into the depths of the mirror in front of him, and his teeth
closed over his lower lip painfully.
Most of the morning had been taken up with script meetings and a break for lunch, which now lay
uneasily in his stomach. He sat in his corner, the Book propped on his knee, waiting for the crew
to signal their readiness. His eyes moved half-heartedly over the page; suddenly he stiffened, and
his gaze sharpened:
'Then he charged. No onslaught more fierce was ever seen in the savage world of beasts, where
some desperate small creature armed with little teeth alone, will spring upon a tower of horn and
hide that stands above its... fallen...mate.'
He snapped the Book shut and buried his face in his hands. The thrill the words gave him scared
the fuck out of him. His mate…his Frodo. He took a deep breath, fighting for a semblance of
calm, and in the darkness behind his eyelids, a colour grew. It acquired a shifting golden center
and an aura of clear blue, fuzzy around the edges, and his breath caught in recognition.
“Sean?” Elijah’s voice had a worried edge to it. “Are you okay?”
Sean dropped his hands and looked up. “Yeah. Just a headache, Lij. Nothing to worry about.”
“They’re calling us. It’s time, Sean.”
~~~~~
His head swam dizzily, overcome by the venomous fumes. Frodo's face filled his vision...a face
ashen and silent. A flicker of movement caught his eye and he struggled to his feet, full of only
one purpose - to place himself between his beloved master and the unholy abomination that had
hurt him. The bowed legs tensed, poised to spring - and a voice seemed to speak to him in the
darkness of his mind. Sean! Galadriel's gift, Sean - use it! He fumbled in his shirt and his hand
closed around the Lady's glass - and he thrust it forward, screaming at the top of his voice.
Shelob shrieked as the elven light burned her, and reared up over them - and Sam brought Sting
up in a slashing arc and hewed with all the strength he possessed. The stroke sheared through a
ghastly leg, and She pulled back in pain, retreating, moving still with terrible speed. Sam pursued
her until at last he could go no further - then he whirled and ran swiftly back to his master.
The panting gaffer gaped after him and then looked up in amazement at the tip of the tall pole he
held. A tattered remnant of string fluttered forlornly from it. Shelob was gone. He looked to
Peter for instruction, but the director's eyes were fixed on the tableau in front of him.
Sam's heart twisted in despair. His master was so still...so pale. No breath passed the parted
lips, no heartbeat stirred the chest beneath his hand. He lifted Frodo into his arms and touched
the cold cheek ...
He lifted Ned into his arms as the fire...
He lifted Elijah into his arms...
For a brief moment his mind stuttered in confusion, then the veil lifted and reason rushed back in
a flood. A light dawned, clear and merciless. He had found his soul's mate, only to lose him.
Again. And he could not bear it.
~~~~~
Elijah felt familiar arms lift his head and shoulders off the ground, felt them tighten convulsively.
He waited for Sean to say his lines, but heard only silence. Instead, fingers touched his cheek in
a fleeting caress and a salty wetness fell on his face and ran into the corner of his mouth. It took
all of his self-control to remain limp; then he felt himself lowered gently to the ground and heard
Peter yell, "Cut! Sean - what the hell are you doing? Sean!"
His eyes shot open and he caught a glimpse of Sean's face before his friend turned and
disappeared into the maze of equipment surrounding them. "No!" Elijah yelled, as Peter made to
go after his errant actor. He clawed at ersatz cobwebs and scrambled to his feet, throwing a
warning at Peter over his shoulder as he ran for the door, "Let me! I'll find out what's wrong - "
The side door of the sound stage opened onto an empty lot between two buildings. Elijah burst
out the door and looked around frantically. Sean sagged against the wall a few yards away, his
hands clenched into fists. Elijah could see his body shudder, hear him gasp for breath.
Sean raised his head, and Elijah's voice died in his throat. Dark wells of pain stared into shocked
blue and after a long moment, Sean shut his eyes and turned his head away. Elijah's hand went
out towards him involuntarily, then he stopped, spun on his latex heel and ran back to the set.
"Sean's ill, " he told Peter, grabbing a bottle of water from a table. "I'm taking him home."
~~~~~
Elijah stared into his bathroom mirror as he towelled his hair dry. He'd tried to think his way
carefully through this fucking minefield. Sean's house was out of the question - even though
Chris and Ally had gone back to L.A. for a month or so. He needed this to be on his territory, to be
his responsibility. This was his decision, and he was fucked if he would allow Sean to shoulder all
the guilt, and all the blame. He was going to give Sean what he wanted - what they both needed -
and damn the consequences. He'd worry about that later. He turned off the light and ghosted
along the dim hallway to the bedroom.
Sean stood at the open window, a towel in his hand, looking out into the gathering dusk. "Lij," he
said quietly, unmoving, "Take me home. Please."
Elijah was startled. He'd thought he hadn't made a sound. "How'd you know I was here?" he
asked curiously, ignoring the plea.
Sean turned his head then, and there were shadows in his eyes. "I always know where you are,
Lij," he said simply, and the words had all the force of a punch in the belly for Elijah. He closed
his eyes for a moment as he absorbed them, and swallowed against a painful lump in his throat.
"Sean," he said haltingly. "Do you remember the book I gave you - all those lives ago? Philip
Sidney - remember him, Sean?
"'His heart in me keeps him and me in one
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides,'"
He moved closer until Sean was just an arm's length away.
"'He loves my heart for once it was his own
I cherish his because in me it bides...'"
"My true love hath my heart and I have his..." Sean finished slowly. "I remember."
"Do you remember too - how much we loved those verses? They were ours, weren't they? For all
the time we had."
"Why bring this up now, Lij?" Sean's voice turned rough and taut - hanging on to civility by a
thread. "Don't fucking play games with me - I can feel where you are, but I can't read your mind!"
He turned away from the window abruptly and moved jerkily toward the door, averting his eyes
from the rumpled bed. The expression on Elijah's face the night he left, the distaste, the rejection
- the fear... The scene replayed itself in his memory, and he checked himself for a moment,
screwing his eyes shut. Oh god, how it hurt. It was useless - all of it. Ashes on the wind.
"Sorry," he muttered. "That was uncalled-for. Forgive me."
"It's okay, Sean." Elijah moved to stand between him and the door. "I probably deserved that -
although - no, I wasn't playing games." He went silent for a moment, marshalling his thoughts.
"Do you know how fucking weird it felt when I realized that I was jealous of myself? 'Cause that's
what it came to, Sean. Ned was me, and I was Ned - the same, and different. And I thought - well,
it didn't matter which of us you loved, because we were all one anyway, weren't we? One soul."
Sean raised his eyes, and Elijah watched in fascination as they shifted color in the dim light - from
muddy brown to gold-flecked hazel and then to softest green. The tip of a pink tongue crept out
to wet dry lips, and he felt a blossom of heat flower low in his belly. Down, Lij. Go slow, he
cautioned himself. You hurt him badly. You've got one chance to fix this - don't mess up. Don't.
He took a trembling breath and mustered his courage. "Sean - if it's Ned you want, I can be him
for you." he whispered. From fading memories he plucked a moment, and he reached for Sean's
hand and brought it to his lips.
"I love thee, Sean. An you want me, I am thine."
The archaic words had the force of a geas. The weight of the past pressed down on them and they
struggled for breath. The very air seemed to thicken as the soft gleam of candlelight washed the
dimness of the room, then the eerie feeling faded and Sean bit back a strangled sob. "I loved
Ned," he whispered shakily. "But here and now, it's you I love. So much. Are you sure, Lijah?
You're so young..."
"I'm four hundred and thirty years old, Seanie. At least. I looked it up," Elijah said with the ghost
of a smile. "How much older do I have to be?"
He lifted his face in open invitation and closed his eyes, waiting. Sean's fingers tightened in his
grip and he felt moist air bathe his eyelids. Warm lips touched his mouth, feather-light nibbles,
exploring the curve of his upper lip and moving down to tease the lower into tender fullness. No
tongue then, not yet - and he didn't mind at all. Sean kissed him slowly, his lips moving gently,
cocooning him in a haze of sensation; everything he felt was centered on his mouth and the
warmth that spread from there to there. And there responded eagerly. His knees went weak and
he swayed forward. His arousal brushed the distended cloth of Sean's jeans and he whimpered
deep in his throat at the jolt of pure pleasure that shot through his groin. He arched his pelvis,
frantically seeking more, and he felt a trembling hand stroke the small of his back under his shirt,
gentling him, and another splayed hot against his stomach, keeping him still.
He pushed upward into the touch, and Sean's lips left his - to trail wet kisses along the tense line
of his jaw and down the tendons of his neck. Fingers slipped below the waistband of his sweats
to graze the sensitive tip of his swollen cock and gather the wetness there, and Elijah opened his
eyes wide at the tumult of sensation the touch let loose. Never in his most erotic dreams had he
ever imagined Sean to be this sensual, this... carnal.
"Sean... oh god.... Sean!"
"Hush, baby... hush..." and Sean raised his finger to his lips and licked delicately at the bead of
come that crowned it.
That did it for Elijah. He buried his fingers in damp, curly hair and crushed his mouth against
Sean's teasing lips. The salty/bitter taste of his own semen heightened the burn of his arousal
and he thrust his tongue rudely into Sean's mouth, courtesy thrown to the four winds, gentleness
be damned. The intrusion was returned with interest, and he felt hands push his pants down and
knead the bare flesh of his ass, grinding his tender prick against rough denim. He jerked back
from the rasp of pleasure/pain, and fumbled at the buttons of Sean's jeans, cursing foully.
"Fuck... that hurt. Clothes... please... " Sean complied eagerly, and they clung to each other as
they rid themselves of the encumbering clothing - their hands roaming everywhere, more
hindrance than help.
"Bed... "
"Yes...oh fuck... yes..."
Elijah sprawled on his back on the unmade bed and held his breath as he watched Sean undo the
last button, allowing his shirt to fall free. His eyes widened as they wandered down the muscled
arms, the broad chest, and focused on the proud cock, thick and hard. The little eye winked at
him, light glancing off milky wetness, and his eyelids shivered shut at the wash of pure lust that
eddied through his body. He felt Sean settle atop him, warm and heavy, his hot hardness snug in
the crease between Elijah's thighs - and Elijah parted them to receive him, and closed them again,
tight and slick around Sean, trapping him.
"Lij.... oh jesus..." and Sean bucked forward reflexively, his cock sliding under Elijah's balls and
nudging the sensitive flesh behind them, hard. Elijah felt the prickling heat begin, somewhere in
his toes, rushing up to his groin with terrifying speed - and he tensed, his fingers digging into
Sean's shoulders, willing the wave to subside.
"Nononono...not yet! Sean - Sean... fuck me, Sean! Fuck me now!
"Lijaaah..."
"Yes! Damn it! You remember how it goes - do it!" He reached blindly for the night table and his
trembling fingers closed on a small bottle. He thrust it at Sean, drawing a sobbing breath as
another paroxysm threatened. "Use this - massage oil for my shoulder. Please, Sean!"
Sean took the bottle and rolled off to the side. Elijah turned with him as if magnetized, throwing
a leg over his hips and pressing closer. Sean curved his hand around the pale neck, pressing
lightly, "Lij - I remember, yes; I remember how much I hurt you, that first time." He paused,
shuddering, "We'll do this right - or not at all. Trust me, okay?"
A deep, open-mouthed kiss was all the answer he received. He savoured it for a sweet moment,
then drew back to dribble oil into his palm and slick himself, groaning his pleasure into Elijah's
mouth. Then he insinuated a finger into him, softening the tight muscle, opening him up gently.
Elijah watched him, his teeth clamped hard on his lower lip. "Now, Seanie?" he asked eagerly,
sounding for all the world like a little boy, and Sean faltered as he bent the limber legs back and
positioned himself. He shut his eyes for a moment, pushing back the guilt, and then opened them
again and smiled into the heavy-lidded blue eyes.
"Yes, Lij.... now," and he pushed in slowly, slowly, watching the face on the pillow tighten in pain.
Elijah's head went back, his hands twisting the sheets, and he moaned, long and slow. Sean
couldn't believe the tightness, the heat of him clenched around his aching cock, and his groan
merged with Elijah's voice in a silken skein of sound. He watched the blue eyes roll up under
trembling lids and then close in an expression of utter bliss. Oh lord - I love him so, he thought.
A brief stab was all the pain Elijah felt as his body accepted Sean. Their bodies knew each other,
fit so well, and as Sean moved inside him, filling him with fire, he felt the ripples of orgasm begin
again. And he welcomed it. Wanted it with every atom of his being.
"Sean... oh - oh SHIT..."
"Together, Lij... "
As the waves of pleasure crashed through him, Elijah sensed Sean for the first time, a green-gold
presence in his mind, warm and loving; and his soul sang in recognition as they crested the wave,
deeply in rapport - always together, always one.
~~~~~
Elijah lay quietly, his eyes closed, listening to the blood pound in his ears. Trying to hold on to the
fading traces of the most perfect moment of joy that he had ever felt. Trying not to think of how
long they had, and how far they'd gone. Loving the exquisite heat of Sean's body, molded
perfectly to his own.
"I'm sorry, Lijah!" His eyes shot open at the sound of Sean's voice. He hadn't thought of how his
silence could be taken, how new all this was - how frightening it must be for Sean.
"Are you, Sean? Are you sorry?" Elijah whispered.
Silence. Sean splayed his hand against Elijah's belly and stared at it, a perfect composition of
warm brown against skin the hue of ivory.
"No." His voice was rough. "No - not sorry - not a bit. It was wonderful, you were wonderful, and I
want to do it again. And again and again, with nobody but you. Forever. I love you, Elijah."
Elijah's eyes widened in shock. "Sean - that sounds almost like a proposal!" he blurted and then
brought his hand up to his mouth in dismay.
Sean looked at him and smiled, a suspicious brightness in his eyes. "No, my Elijah, not a proposal
- a promise."
"And Samwise always keeps his promises." The facile rejoinder slipped out and Elijah cursed his
ready tongue viciously. His agile mind had already leaped ahead - heard the subtle mockery in
the innocent phrase. This relationship thing was hard to get a handle on - when emotions were
raw and careless words could drive a shaft of pain through a lover's heart.
Sean's face froze and he sat up abruptly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Elijah lunged
after him, clinging to his broad back, his body pressed tight against the warmth of Sean's skin.
"No! Seanie - I'm sorry! I didn't mean it that way! Oh God...Sean..."
"Elijah, Samwise Gamgee is the most excellent of hobbits," Sean's lips had a bitter twist to them.
"But I'm not him, Lij - just a poor, pale imitation. I do break promises, and the biggest of them all
is the one I made to Chris. She'll have to know - I can't live a lie, you see." He hooked an arm
around Elijah's waist and swung him across his lap, burying his face in the warmth of his neck.
Elijah closed his eyes, his chest aching with the shared pain, and he slipped his arms around Sean
and stroked his back, trying to soothe the agony away.
Sean raised his head and looked deep into bottomless pools of blue. "Lij, there are promises I
will keep. To take care of my family for as long as they need me - and if you'll trust me, to be
yours for as long as you want me. Will you? Trust me, I mean."
Elijah smiled and drew his head down for a lingering kiss. "Only if you'll let me promise the same
to you, Sean. Maybe a promise shared is easier to keep - we'll find out, won't we?"
Together...
~~~~~
