Title: Don’t Look Back

Pairing: Dom/Elijah

Disclaimer: Don’t know these people. No offence intended or money made

Very damaged Elijah, mentions of nasty things from his past.

Part One


Ian looked around the set, a slightly bemused smile on his face. He had been here less than a month, and although if anybody asked, he would say he was settling in, in fact he was still trying to find his feet in this strange world of Middle Earth, surrounded by elves and hobbits. He still hadn't got all the names straight in his mind, but this particular hobbit walking towards him now .. oh he knew this one, all right.

"Good morning, Elijah."

"Hey." Elijah smiled and held out the cup he was carrying. "Coffee, if you want it. You looked cold."

"Oh, thank you," Ian said gratefully, taking the cup. "It is a little chilly this morning, don't you think?"

"I live in California. Everything feels cold to me," Elijah laughed, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Mmm," Ian agreed, taking a cautious sip of the coffee, and finding it, as he had suspected, full of sugar. He put on a brave face and sipped again.

"I've gotta go work now," Elijah said after a moment's silence. "Go and hobbit, y'know?" He paused. "It's weird here, takes some getting used to, don't you think?"

"I'm sure we'll manage," Ian said. "Thank you for the coffee, Elijah. Very much appreciated."

"No problem. See you later, then."

Ian watched as Elijah walked off, hands still in his pockets. He had done this every morning, brought a cup of coffee, and talked idly for a minute before walking away, head down, apparently deep in thought. Ian was starting to understand that this was what Elijah did; he watched people, and tried to help them settle in to this strange new world. He was a good and thoughtful young man.

Which was why Ian was a little confused about a conversation he had overheard the previous day between two members of the crew. A conversation in which, although a name was never mentioned, they were very obviously talking about Elijah, calling him names that surprised Ian very much. Not shocked; Ian was past being shocked; but he would never have thought that the thoughtful, beautiful young man who hunted him out every morning and gave him an over-sweet cup of coffee, could possibly do the things that those two men had discussed. But unless there was another movie being made with a lead who was no more than a boy, and a gorgeous one at that, then there could be no doubt that it was Elijah.

Ian blinked himself back to the present as his name was called, and still clutching his coffee, got ready to start his day.

*

"So, you coming out tonight, Elijah?" Dominic kicked out idly to attract Elijah's attention, not seeing the slight tightening around his eyes.

"What we doing? Anything special or fantastic? Or are we just going to get drunk and throw up again?"

"Well, we'll get drunk. You'll be the one who throws up. Lightweight. Barely legal lightweight."

"Nah, I don't think so, Dom." Elijah wrinkled his nose, apparently thinking about it. "I've got about seventeen pages of dialogue to learn tonight, and it's really fucking hard. This dialogue is so - weird."

"Only 'cos you have to speak in a foreign accent," Dom replied. "It's no different to any other dialogue."

Elijah bit his tongue to stop himself making any cruel remarks about the amount of dialogue Dom had, and instead rummaged in his pockets for his cigarettes.

"You sure?" Dom asked again, just to make sure. He liked Elijah a lot, and found himself wanting to be around him far more than was probably healthy.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Elijah smiled. "I'll make it up to you at the weekend, all right? We'll all go out and get so slaughtered that it's not just me throwing up."

"Sounds like a plan," Dominic said, slapping Elijah on the back. "Well, I'd better go find Billy. He was half asleep when I left him, so anything could have happened. Orlando's probably drawn all over his face or something."

"Yes, I'm sure that's exactly what's happened," Elijah agreed, his eyes giving away exactly what he thought, and with a final laugh and wave, Dom walked away, going on a Billy-hunt.

Elijah watched until he had moved out of sight, and then walked in the opposite direction. He had his head down and had walked into the person coming towards him before he had even registered they were there.

"Sorry," he said automatically. "My mistake."

"Hiya." Whoever it was blocked his way, and eventually Elijah looked up.

"Hi," he said. "Can I get past?"

"Don't you even know who I am?"

Elijah looked closely at the other man, but nothing registered, and he shrugged, shaking his head. "Sorry."

"I fucked the brains out of you last night, in the alley behind that club you were at with all your fancy mates. I was going to ask if you wanted to go out for a drink tonight, maybe see a movie or something."

"Oh. Oh, okay." Elijah moved around the other man. "Well, I can't remember your face, sorry. Maybe if you fucked my brains out again, I might remember you." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Is that an offer?" Elijah could see the reaction in the other's eyes, the way his breathing altered almost immediately. "When?"

Elijah looked around. "What's wrong with now? Here?"

"What? We can't do it here. If we get caught … well, you'd be all right, but I'd be fired."

Elijah shrugged. "Oh well, sorry. It's the only chance you're going to get."

He walked away, and after a moment, he heard footsteps jogging slightly to catch up with him, and without looking, he turned off the walkway and into the shadows, knowing that he would be followed.

*

"It's absolutely pissing down," Billy said gloomily, gazing out of the window of the bar. "I'm not going anywhere until it's stopped."

"Well, by the looks of it you'll be here until about March," answered Orlando, slightly less gloomily, but more drunkenly. He turned away from the window and collapsed on the seat next to Dominic, who was gazing into his beer in a dramatically moody way.

"What's the matter with you, dickhead?" Orli asked brightly. "Mooning over Elijah?" He giggled and then put his hand over his mouth in shock at the sound he had just produced.

"Of course I'm not," said Dominic, sitting up and folding his arms. "Just a pity he's not here, y'know?"

"He was here last night, and you saw him all day," said Billy patiently. "And you'll see him tomorrow. A crush, my Dominic, is a dreadful thing." He had been dealing with Dom's crush since the first day all the hobbits had met, and was beginning to tire of it.

"Yesh … I mean, yes, it is," agreed Orlando, taking Dominic's drink away from him. "You're not planning to drink that are you? Good."

"But he's far too good for me," whined Dom. "He's gorgeous and talented and … gorgeous."

"And short," muttered Orli, but he was ignored.

"And he's got eyes, and hair … and y'know…" Dom trailed off.

"Have you actually told him what you think?" Billy asked. "Have you in fact done more than say hello, and giggle?"

"I told him he was gorgeous just last night," Dom protested.

"Yes, but he was on the dance floor and you were hiding under the table," answered Billy. "That's not what I mean, and you know it."

"I will tell him," promised Dom. "One day soon, I'll tell him."

"Well, you should," said Orli, almost seriously. "Before somebody else gets him."

*

"It's absolutely throwing it down," said Ian, smiling at Nick. "And I don't know about you, but I don't really care." He held up his hand. "I have an umbrella made for two."

"Man, you are so British. Carrying an umbrella around with you all the time." Nick took it off him and struggled with it for a second.

"I know," Ian agreed, tucking his hand into the crook of Nick's elbow. "I have a bowler hat somewhere as well. I could have played John Steed. Although, quite frankly, I think Mrs Peel had the better outfits." He glanced at Nick's blank expression, and laughed. "Before you were born, my darling."

"Come on," Nick said. "I know a couple of short cuts that should get us back to the car before we get washed away in the flood."

Ian let himself be led down a side street, and then another, each one a little dingier and darker than the last. He would never have dreamed of coming this way if he hadn't been with Nick, who seemed to know the city like the back of his hand. So he tucked his hand into Nick's arm a little more firmly, and changed his stride pattern so that they were walking at the same speed, comfortable in their little world, half his mind listening to the raindrops bouncing off the nylon of the umbrella, the other half anticipating a pleasurable end to an already pleasant evening.

He felt rather than heard the chuckle echoing through the body pressed against his.

"What?" he asked. "Did I miss something?"

"No, not really. This is such a sleazy part of town. I don't ever want you to come down here without me, all right?"

"All right," agreed Ian. "But why?"

Nick didn't answer, but Ian followed the tilt of his head, and just smothered a very British, "Oh, my!" Two men, leaning against the wall, the rain soaking them. They seemed impervious to the effects of the wet, too interested in each other's tonsils.

"They should get inside," he finally said. "They'll catch their death out here."

"Well, I would say that they're not really bothered about that, you know." Nick sped up slightly. "I wish people wouldn't, you know. It's so bloody sordid."

"Oh, my god, there's another couple down there, in the shadows," Ian said. "They must be freezing…" He tailed off, and slowed, finally stopping completely a dozen or so feet away from the couple he had just spotted.

"Don't stare, Ian." Nick urged him on. "It's not good to stand still for too long in this place."

"No, no … I suppose you're right…" Ian took a step, and then stopped again.

The one leaning against the wall was giving the other a handjob, that much was obvious. The one leaning against the wall had dark hair, and pale skin. And, obviously realising he was being watched, he opened eyes of a ridiculous size and colour.

Across the wet path and the gulf of growing embarrassment, Elijah and Ian stared at each other.








Part Two


The next morning, there was no coffee for Ian, and apart from one searing, angry glare, no contact at all from Elijah. He watched as the hobbits ganged up to play some stupid joke on Viggo, who took it in his usual laid-back fashion. He watched as Elijah, screaming with laughter, almost fell over his own feet as he tried to run away. He watched as a teenaged boy messed about with his friends, before going before the camera and weaving a magic that was almost too much to bear.

And all Ian could see was a dingy back street in the rain. He knew that he had to speak to Elijah before this became the kind of problem they couldn't get past. He knew that Elijah would be embarrassed, and when, finally, Ian saw him approaching, he put on his best 'understanding' face, settling back in his chair, and prepared to help the young man over his humiliation.

"Okay, old man, what will it take?"

Ian blinked. The tone, the words, the posture - this was an Elijah he had never seen before, hadn't even realised existed. He seemed to be angry, rather than embarrassed. This young man had many facets to his character, Ian was coming to realise.

"Elijah?" he said, making the name a question. Elijah, what's wrong? We're friends, don't let this concern you.

"I said, what will it take?" Elijah's voice was cold, different. Not the lighthearted tenor he had been listening to for the best part of a month. It was distant, calculating.

"What will what take?" Ian had been knocked onto the back foot, and although he knew that he should keep his own temper under control, the tone of voice, and the look he was getting, sparked something inside him. "And if you're going to speak to me, you could at least have the decency to use my name, or at the very least, not insult me."

Elijah huffed out a breath and glanced around. Still alone, or as alone as it was possible to get. He looked at Ian, but not into his eyes, instead glaring at the top of his head,not speaking.

"Don't try and bore holes in my skull." Ian stared calmly until Elijah unintentionally got caught in that gaze, and to his own surprise, dropped his gaze first.

"Last night," he finally began grudgingly. "You saw me, I know you did. So what will it take to make sure that you don't tell anybody?" He shrugged and forced his gaze up to meet Ian's. "You're a fag too, right? So you want me? You can fuck me if you want."

Ian's face creased in a frown of deepest - what? Disgust? Annoyance?

"Elijah," he said finally. "not for one second are you fooling me. And while I thank you for the offer of your undoubtedly delectable little body, I'm really not interested." He paused. "That surprised you, didn't it? You're so used to people using you, wanting you."

"People don't use me," Elijah snapped. "Listen, you must want something, and I'm offering you whatever that something is. You can't tell anybody what you saw."

"Why?" Ian sat back, letting his gaze drift from Elijah's face, seemingly indifferent. "Why is it so important that I don't tell anybody?"

"Because …" Elijah stopped. "You just can't," he said. "You want me to beg? I'm not good at begging, but I'll try." He dropped to his knees and put one hand on Ian's knee. "Please. Don't tell anyone what you saw."

"Elijah!" Ian knocked Elijah's hand away as if it was branding him. "Don't do that. Of course I won't tell anyone, you should realise that you don't even have to ask." He paused. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have spoken to you like this, but I wasn't ready for you to be so - defensive, and I have been on this earth longer than you. I will not be spoken to as if I were a child." He tried to capture Elijah's eyes again, but failed.

"I've heard stories about you," he continued. "But I didn't believe them, but now I'm beginning to wonder if there isn't just a grain of truth in them."

"What stories? What are you talking about?" For a second, Elijah's eyes flickered up, and then back down again. "Who's been talking to you?"

"I've heard stories," Ian repeated. "I don't repeat gossip and tattle."

"So what do you want?" Elijah sat back on his heels, his gaze a million miles away.

Ian looked down into Elijah's face. Took in the soft skin, the strong bones beginning to show what kind of man he would become, the perfect rosebud mouth, and the distant stare that screamed hurt and betrayal, and without thinking too clearly, he reached out, wanting to ease away some of the hurt. To his surprise, Elijah flinched hugely, then held himself still as Ian's fingers touched him.

"Take me out to dinner," Ian said softly. "Buy me a huge, unhealthy meal, and don't hide behind any of these masks of yours."

"Is that it?" Elijah asked, pulling away and standing up. He shrugged. "Okay. Tonight, then." He paused. "I guess that's when you get your payback."

He walked off, and Ian watched him go. What had just happened? Yesterday, Elijah had been a calm, professional young man. Today, he was an angry, hurting boy.

Did I really never see those eyes properly? Ian thought. Did I never see that hurt? Or has he always hidden it from me?

He stood up and briefly pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger, trying to stave off some of the tension he could feel building behind his eyes.

Don't get involved, you silly old queen.

*

Elijah walked away from Ian, his head spinning. He had been awake most of the night after his encounter with Ian. The man pressing him into the wall hadn't noticed anything, being too interested in what Elijah was doing to him to notice the sudden tension. Elijah had finished him off quickly, wiping his hand on the man's jacket. He had left him standing in the middle of the sleazy, wet street, dick hanging out, and made his way further into the maze of the city. He still didn't have his bearings, and he had ended up wandering for what seemed like hours, turning alternately hot and cold as he thought of what had happened.

By the time he had reached home, he had made his decision. Ian would want to be paid, just like they all wanted paying, so he just had to face it, and get it over with.

But it hadn't gone to plan, not at all, and now, as Elijah made his way toward the other hobbits, his mind was whirling. Just dinner? Doubtful, but Ian was an old man and it probably took him a while to get it up. It couldn't just be a quickie for him.

"You been talking to the wizard again?" Dominic bounded to meet him and they walked the last few steps to Sean and Billy together, their shoulders brushing.

"Kinda," Elijah said. He looked at Dominic, and his Elijah-mask was back in place, geeky and hyperactive. "Just made a dinner date with him, actually." He over-emphasised the last word, so it sounded like acktewally, because he knew that it made Dom laugh.

"Oooh, a date with a wizard!" Billy had overheard and now looked up, most impressed. "That practically makes you the teacher's pet. You'll be rolling over and asking him to pet your belly next."

And Elijah knew that it was a joke, and that it didn't mean anything, but just for a second, he had to fight to keep Elijah-mask in place.

And of course, someone noticed. But they left it until Billy and Dom had gone off somewhere before saying anything.

"Hey." Sean sat next to him, not touching, but still close. "Is everything okay?"

"Sure." Elijah looked at Sean and smiled.

"Okay." As simple as that. Sean didn't push - would never push - he would simply be there as he was needed.

Elijah thought that he loved Sean. He hadn't - didn't - love many people, but Sean was one of them. On the rare occasions when he needed to be hugged and held, he would go to Sean, because Sean was the only person he knew who didn't make him think that there would have to be a payback. He could, even if it was only for brief time, lose himself in strong arms and warm, undemanding flesh, and know that this was what it should be like. He wondered, sometimes, what it would be like to have something like this; gentle hands and lips, somebody giving and not just taking. But he always dismissed the idea; he would never know, so it was better not to think about it too much.

"Got dinner with Gandalf," he said finally. "D'you think I should go dressed as a hobbit?"

Sean snorted a laugh, and shook his head. "No, I don't think that's a good idea. I think you should go as - you. That way, Gandalf gets the perfect dinner companion."

Don't forget, Sean. I'm going to have to let him fuck me as well. Need to wear easy-access clothing.

"Okay. I'll go as myself." He put a hand on Sean's arm, and Sean turned to look at him.

"You okay?" He covered Elijah's hand with one of his own, big and comforting.

"Yeah. Just a bit, you know …. " he shook his head. "'Mind the Ring, Frodo! Big eyes, Frodo! Angst, Frodo'!" He paused. "Think I'd ever make a director?"

"The best," Sean assured him. "Clear, and to the point. Very good." He squeezed Elijah's hand. "Now, come on. Big eyes, Frodo!"

Elijah opened his eyes as wide as they would go, and Sean blinked. "That's actually quite scary."

"Thank you," Elijah said modestly, mask firmly back in place.

Part Three


Ian sat in the car for some time before finally climbing out and heading for Elijah's door. He had told Nick where he was going, and apart from a rather eloquently raised eyebrow, nothing had been said, which, oddly, left Ian feeling more guilty than if he actually had an ulterior motive.

Truth was, he had no idea what his motive really was. Part of him was screaming to just turn around and get back in the car; this boy was mixed up and bitter; why get involved? And another part - the greater part - was telling him that he should get involved for exactly the same reasons. He wanted to know what was wrong; what had caused this.

He pushed the buzzer, embarrassed when his slightly sweaty finger slipped off the button, and so pushed it again, more firmly.

"I heard you the first time," Elijah opened the door, looking amused and bright-eyed - very Elijah-like, and Ian felt a rush of dizziness. This boy was too confusing for any person to cope with.

"Come on," Elijah turned and led the way down the hall, into a room that was obviously the lounge. "What do you think of the place?"

"Very - lived-in," said Ian, struggling vainly for words that didn't include 'pigsty' and 'bomb site'.

"Sit down. Won't be a minute."

Just managing to avoid saying, 'Do I have to?', Ian did as he was told. Elijah bustled for a second, putting on music that was surprisingly mellow.

"Miles Davis," he said. "Thought you might like it."

"Thank you," Ian said, sitting on the couch. He didn't know what game Elijah was playing, but he had learned patience. He could certainly out-patient a teenager.

"What time do we have to be there?" he asked, realising that Elijah was still dressed in sweats and a t-shirt that was distressingly - distressed. "Shouldn't you be getting changed?" He indicated his own suit.

"We're not going out. I thought we'd eat in." Elijah shrugged. "Don't feel like going out. Got food coming in from that restaurant you like so much. Viggo told me about it. That okay with you?"

Ian felt the skin between his shoulders tingle, but he nodded silently and watched as Elijah vanished into what Ian assumed to be the bedroom.

He wasn't surprised, not really, when a few minutes later, Elijah re-emerged, completely naked. Full of confidence in his own body, and the effect it had on others, he walked across the lounge until his bare toes were almost brushing Ian's shoes.

"Don't do this," Ian said. "There's nothing you could offer me that I haven't already had, already done." He could feel the heat coming from Elijah's body and he wanted to shift in his seat, but refused to do so. Instead, he spoke again. "I told you already, Elijah. I don't need you to try and persuade me not to talk."

"Then what are you doing here? Are you really telling me that you want to have dinner with me? Sure you wouldn't rather just use me as the main course?" He shifted forward another inch. "I make a great dessert as well."

"I don't think of you like that. Elijah, your body holds no interest for me, why don't you understand that?"

"Everybody has a price," Elijah said softly, dropping suddenly to his knees in an echo of their previous meeting. He pushed Ian's legs apart and shifted until he was between them. "What do you want me to do?" He dug his fingers into Ian's thighs. "I give fantastic head. Want me to blow you? You can fuck me if you want, that'd be fine. Tell me what you want."

"I want you to get dressed and either order the food, or come out with me," said Ian, still not moving. "What I don't want you to do is make a fool of yourself."

For the first time since Ian had met Elijah, he saw a new expression in that boundlessly damaged gaze. Uncertainty. It was a brief glimpse, quickly buried, until, with immense and surprising dignity, Elijah stood up.

"I won't offer you this again," he said. "This is a one time chance. I'll bend over for you right now, if that's what you want." He paused and seemed to be considering his next words. "Why don't you want me?"

"You're a beautiful child, Elijah, and maybe I'm just heading for my dotage faster than I realised, but I would rather learn about you. I'm more interested in your mind than your body." He paused. "Go and get dressed, and then when you're ready, we'll eat, and we'll talk. I think you would like to talk to someone."

Elijah shook his head and backed away, going back into his room and closing the door, his face beginning to burn with embarrassment.

'Why is it so important?' Ian had asked. Elijah slumped down on the bed. Because even here, thousands of miles away, he couldn't escape what was in his mind. He had let himself slip back into his old habits, trying to drown out the pain in his mind by giving his body over to pain of a different kind, but now … he could see the shock and disappointment in Ian's face, and it had hit him somewhere deep in his gut, somewhere he hadn't known existed.

If he stayed in here long enough, Ian would leave, and … and what? He curled up on the bed, and pushed the heels of his hands hard against his closed eyes until all he could see were flashing lights. But lying still was never a good idea. He only ended up thinking about things, hearing things…

"Come on, Lijah! Come and play…"

"Elijah?" The tapping at the door was polite, the voice faintly worried. "Come along. I've taken the liberty of ordering food, so now I need somebody who knows their way around that disgusting hovel that you no doubt call a kitchen."

For a second, Elijah considered not responding, but knew that wasn't the answer, not really. Instead, he rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "God help me," he whispered.

"Elijah?"

"Okay. I'll be out in a second." Feeling as if he had aged a hundred years, he rolled off the bed and dressed himself in the same old sweats and t-shirt, and opened the door.

*

"Ah, at last," Ian looked up as Elijah appeared in the kitchen doorway. "This is a shameful way to live, Elijah."

"I know." Elijah didn't know if Ian meant the state of the kitchen, but one thing was for sure; he certainly didn't.

"So, young man. Since we are going to have dinner, then we need some dinner conversation." Ian turned and rested against the kitchen counter. "We shall discuss the film, of course, because it is important to us. And then we shall talk about you."

"Why?" Elijah still hovered in the doorway. "Why me?"

"Because you fascinate me. You seemed to be such a simple young man initially - full of love and life and happiness. And now …" Ian shrugged slightly. "I think there is a lot more to you than that. Layer upon layer, and as I said before, I think you would like to talk to someone."

"You must never tell, Elijah! Never tell anybody…"

"I can't… don't want to talk about me."

Ian heard the word, but didn't react. There was a hammering on the door which signalled the arrival of the food, and Ian pushed himself away from the counter.

"I'll go and get that." He approached Elijah, who slid around the door frame until he was standing in the hallway. "We are going to talk about you," Ian added. "Consider this to be my payment."

Elijah dug his fingers into the palms of his hands, wishing that he didn't bite his nails.

After a muttered conversation, Ian closed the door and turned to Elijah, his arms full of enticingly-shaped packages, and Elijah realised, to his surprise, that he was hungry, and the rumble of his belly was embarrassingly loud.

"As I thought," said Ian, nodding. "Haven't been eating, have you?"

"Why are you doing this?" Elijah blurted. "I don't want to talk to you, I just want you to fuck me, or let me blow you. Or just a hand, if that's all you want."

"The same hand that you used on that stranger last night?" Ian put the packages down on the relatively clear table before looking up. "No, Elijah."

*

The meal was lovely, Elijah suspected, although everything he ate tasted of cardboard. He could hardly swallow past the blockage in his throat - he almost thought it was tears of anger and frustration.

He had kept his head down while Ian talked about the film, hardly responding, and Ian seemed to finally give up. As the silence lengthened, Elijah risked a glance up, hoping that he was wearing Ian down with his silence, and that he would leave soon. It was a mistake as his gaze was caught and held.

"So why did you do it?" Ian asked bluntly. "Are the stories about you true?"

Elijah managed to shrug, not speaking, and Ian sighed, leaning forwards.

"This is my payment, remember? You owe me this. Tell me."

"Why? Why do you want to know?"

"You are a gifted young man. You have a career of such glory ahead of you," Ian said quietly. "And you are risking it all with this behaviour."

"So? Why should you care what I do with my career or my life?" Elijah shifted under the stern blue gaze. "Listen to me, Sir Ian. The camera loves me, loves what I look like and loves what I can give it. As long as that keeps going, I'll be all right. I know how to charm the media so that they think I'm just a perfect example of the All-American boy."

"Yes, and what if stories leak out about the way you behave? The way that you whore your way around the crew, giving yourself to anybody who so much as looks at you?"

As Ian watched, Elijah gave a small smile, and in front of his eyes, transformed into a wide-eyed, innocent boy, his expression so open that even Ian, who knew better, almost fell for it.

"Me?" Elijah said, one hand on his chest. "Oh, man, come on. I've never even had a girl stay the night with me, so why would I behave like that?"

Ian leaned back in his seat and clapped twice, slowly. "Very good, Elijah. Innocence personified. And I for one believe you. I'm sure that you've never taken a girl home. Boys, on the other hand …"

Elijah shrugged. "If people don't ask the right questions, then that's hardly my fault, is it?"

"Somebody will ask the right questions one day, and then how will you answer?"

"I'll giggle and be adorable." The mask fell away again, and the hurt reappeared. "I've made a living out of this, all right? I know what's needed and I know what I can do. It's very nice of you to be so concerned, but I don't need it, okay? I've paid you, I've talked to you, now go."

"You haven't answered my question. Why do you do it?"

"Maybe because there isn't an answer!" snapped Elijah. "I am what I am, end of story."

Ian stood up very slowly and approached Elijah, reaching out. Elijah, wide-eyed, watched as the hand slowly approached him, ducking away at the last second, and standing up as well.

"Please just go," he said. "It's late, and I'm tired."

"I am not going to give up," Ian said. "Understand me right now. I am going to stop you whoring your career away."

"Why?" Elijah tried one last time. "Why do you care?"

"Because I've seen too many talented people do this. I'm not going to sit back and watch you go the same way."




Part Four

Ian once again let his gaze wander over the set, shivering slightly in the cold. Hard to remember the time when he would be given a cup of coffee every morning which at least warmed him, even if it had been so sweet he had risked diabetes just holding the cup.

Six weeks now. Six weeks since he had been to dinner and Elijah had offered himself. They had hardly spoken since. Elijah made a point of always being somewhere else when Ian was there, and if they had to play a scene together, why, they boy was professional to an almost painful degree, and he would giggle and seem to enjoy himself, but when he looked at Ian between shots, the Elijah-mask slipped, and Ian could see the pain was still there.

He had seen Elijah twice with other men. Once, it had obviously all just finished, and Elijah was walking away - Ian didn't think he had even noticed anybody else. As he watched, Elijah had wiped his hands on his jeans, and then, ducking his head, had wrapped his arms around himself, looking so small and lost that Ian's heart went out to him.

"Elijah…" he had said, before even realising he was going to speak, and he watched as Elijah's head came back up and he slowly stopped walking, not turning, just standing on the street ahead of him.

"Spying again?" he had asked. "You were offered it once, you know." Then he had turned, his hands resting now on the waistband of his jeans. "I know that I still owe you … I'm not stupid enough to think that a conversation is all you want from me."

"No," Ian had replied, catching up with Elijah, "that's not it. I'm worried for you, that's all."

Elijah had laughed, and the sound had cut through Ian. No high-pitched, teeth-grating giggle this time; just a bitter laugh dredged up from somewhere deep inside. He had tilted his head to one side, and shrugged. Then he had turned and walked away, leaving Ian standing alone.

The second time had been infinitely worse. On the set, in the dingy areas behind the trailers. He had been looking for Elijah, he didn't deny it, which is perhaps why he had gone in that direction. And he had found him, bent over what looked to be a rain barrel, his small body cruelly pressed against the sharp edge of it by the weight of the man who was pounding into him, grunting obscenely.

Elijah's eyes were wide open, completely expressionless, and this time when he had locked gazes with Ian, there had been no embarrassment, just a vast indifference, then he had turned away in a dismissal that was almost worse.

Ian sighed, and shook his head. Hard to believe that somebody could be so damaged, so young. He glanced over to where he knew Elijah was, sitting quietly, curled against Sean's side. He was just getting over a nasty ear infection that had left him dizzy and nauseous, and at the moment, much quieter than normal. Sean, as Safety Hobbit and all-round father figure had happily taken on the responsibility of looking after him.

As Ian watched, Sean shifted and put his arm around Elijah's shoulder, pulling him in closer. Ian held his breath, waiting for the tension to appear, the pulling away, but to his surprise there was nothing of the kind, just a movement that was almost a melting as Elijah moved closer.

"Cute as a button," said a voice next to him, and Ian glanced at Viggo, nodding his agreement. "That was some nasty infection he's been through."

"He's young," Ian said. "He'll be fine."

"And at least it ensures that he's in bed early," Viggo agreed, his eyes fixed on the hobbit tableau. "Keeps him off the streets."

Startled, Ian looked at Viggo, but the other man's profile was as calm as ever. Whatever he knew -if he knew anything - he was keeping to himself.

*

"You feel really hot, Lij," said Sean, his face a mask of concern. "Are you sure you should be working?"

"I'll be fine," Elijah assured him, still soaking up the security he felt when he was in Sean's arms. "I'm just a bit tired." He didn't want to stay in bed, stay at home. Too many memories had tried to creep into his fevered mind, which had resulted in nightmares so bad that he had woken up, shaking and sweating, groping for the light switch before he was more than half-conscious.

"You going to be ready for the party tomorrow?" Dom sat down next to him and reached out an arm to hug Elijah, who had been expecting it, and didn't flinch.

"What party?" Sean asked.

"Becky's. She's leaving at the end of the week, and we're all going out tomorrow to make sure she's so drunk that she'll forget to go. You think you'll be okay?"

"Course," Elijah said. "It's a short day today, so I'll be a good boy and get some sleep tonight. I'll be fine."

I'd sleep better in Sean's arms. Nobody would be able to touch me then.

"I'll take you home when you're ready," Dom said hesitantly. "If you want."

"Won't be ready for hours," Elijah muttered. "And if I'm told to look scared one more time, I'm going to puke." He raised his head enough to smile at Dom. "Thanks, man. Really."

With a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet, wobbling slightly as his ears protested, but then steadying himself. Sean and Dom exchanged a look, but knew better than to help. Elijah didn't always take offers of help very graciously, especially not when he was ill.

"He shouldn't really be here," Dom said when he was convinced Elijah was out of hearing range. "He looks terrible."

"He wanted to be here," Sean replied. "He doesn't like letting people down, you know that." He paused, and grinned. "And are you going to be the one to tell him that?"

"Christ, no!" Dom laughed. "I want to hang onto my balls." He paused, and cleared his throat, embarrassed. "I was hoping he'd be all right by tomorrow. I want to - talk to him, you know?"

"Finally!" Sean raised his eyes to heaven. "You're going to tell him how you feel?"

"Yeah," Dom looked at the ground. "But I don't know if it's too late. He seems pretty smitten with you."

"Smitten?" Sean hid a smile behind his hand. "No, he's not smitten with me. I'm his comfort blanket, that's all. I'm not the one for him, not like that."

"D'you think I could be?" Dom asked, and then blushed furiously. "Christ, don't answer that. That's such a girly thing to ask." He stood up as well. "I'll just be a man about it, and go and, er, simper." He stood up. "I'll just go and stalk him for a while, if you'll excuse me."

"Dimwit," Sean said fondly.

*

By 4pm, Elijah was done for. He could no more have turned back into Frodo than he could have touched the moon. Dominic, who was fit and well and therefore, as far as PJ was concerned, perfectly able to work for another five hours, was strictly forbidden to leave the set, so Elijah dragged himself over to wardrobe and then waited for his driver to turn up.

"How are you?" Elijah sighed at the sound of Ian's voice, looking towards the door.

"I'm okay, thanks," he said. "Just going home for a bit of a rest, y'know? Got to keep my strength up?"

"Are you going to be able to get to Becky's party tomorrow?"

"Sure." He paused. "Was there anything else?"

Ian moved further into the room. "Yes. Why are you avoiding me? Why are you frightened of me?"

"I'm not. Either," Elijah snapped. "Why should I be? Either."

"Because I think you're ashamed of what you do, and I think you're frightened because I hold this knowledge, and you haven't been able to buy me off." Ian sat down next to Elijah. "I have seen you, and you know I have. Watched as strangers - used you. And you hate it, that's whhat I don't understand. You hate what they do to you."

"This isn't the best time to talk to me," Elijah said. "I feel like crap, and am liable to say something I won't regret even a little bit."

"It's the perfect time," Ian argued mildly. "You don't have the energy to fight me. Sean's good for you."

"What?"

"Sean. He's good for you. You're fond of him."

"What if I am? What's it to do with you?"

"Have you slept with him?"

"No!" Elijah tensed as if he wanted to stand up, but his legs really didn't want him to, and he sagged back again. "No," he said, more quietly.

"Good. Sean is a lovely man, but he isn't the answer."

"Depends on what the question is."

"Tell me. Have you ever slept with anybody out of love? Or even just because you want to? Ever woken up with anybody, wrapped safe and close? Have you realised that love doesn't mean sex? Do you love Sean?"

Elijah put his hands against his forehead.

"Not fair," he said softly. "You've been waiting for this, haven't you?"

"Answer me, Elijah, and I'll walk out of here satisfied."

"No!" Elijah snapped, looking up so quickly he made himself dizzy. "No, I've never slept with anybody because I want to. And yes, I love him, but I won't do anything about it. I'm not going to break up another family!" His hands slipped over his mouth.

"Thank you," Ian said quietly, standing up. "I'm very sorry you're ill, Elijah, and I sincerely hope that you'll be well enough to come to Becky's party tomorrow." With an odd little bow, he turned and left the trailer. If he had looked back, he would have seen Elijah's head drop into his hands, his shoulders slumping in something very like defeat.

Part Five


"Your boyfriend looks like crap," Billy said, pitching his voice over the music. "He shouldn't even be here."

Dominic scowled, but looked over at Elijah anyway, who was sitting very still, head down, running his hands through his hair.

"He's not his boyfriend," Orlando chimed in, having drunk just enough to be annoying. "He's his … boyfriend in waiting. His quasi-boyfriend. That's not the right word. Bollocks."

"Shut up, you drunken … ninny," said Billy, embarrassingly lost for an appropriate insult. "Dominic is sensitive and - stuff. And, Dom? I really, really think the wannabe boyfriend's gonna throw up."

"Shit. Better go and - which is to say, somebody had better go and look after him, and it may as well be me." With as much dignity as he could muster, Dominic made his way across the room.

*

All he could smell was whiskey. It filled his whole mind, and he couldn't find a way out.

"Come on, Elijah, let's see you perform!" He closed his eyes more tightly, his fingers digging into his scalp. Why didn't somebody take that glass away? He hated whiskey, he just hated it…

"Lij?" Dom's voice sounded through the haze in his brain. "You okay, there? You look a bit odd - odder than usual."

He couldn't speak. If he spoke, he would start screaming, and didn't know if he would be able to stop. Somebody take the whiskey away.

"Not much of a man, are you? Do you think those balls of yours will ever drop? My god, maybe you're a eunuch! Is that right, Elijah? Is that what you are?"

And whiskey breath on his face, and hands touching him, and then nothing but white pain and scorn, and the voices always close telling him that he was no good, was never going to be a man, was never going to be able to fight…

"Elijah!" Ian's voice was there, and Elijah found himself hanging onto the stern tones, reaching out blindly to the one person who tried to help him, no matter how often he was pushed away, wanted to try and make things better …

"It's all right, Dominic, thank you. I suspect our young Elijah has rather overdone it. After all, he's still far from well, and has no doubt been drinking. He is no doubt paying for it with the start of a massive hangover. You carry on cavorting, and I'll make sure he gets home safely."

"You sure?" Dom's voice had the ring of doubt about it. "Lij? You gonna be okay, man?"

Nod. Just make yourself nod, and he'll leave you alone. Just agree with whatever they say and they'll leave her alone…

The sound of the music around him changed, and he knew that Ian had come to stand in front of him, so he hardly flinched when he felt the hand still tangled in his hair being slowly freed.

"It's all right," Ian said again. "I'll take you home."

"Could you … could you move the glass?" Elijah whispered, eyes still closed. He could feel his body desperate to curl in on itself, to become as tiny and insignificant as possible, but he refused to let it happen, some spark of pride keeping him where he was.

"The glass? Very well. There, it's moved. Are you ready now?"

"Yeah." Cracking his eyes open to the merest slits, Elijah pulled his hands away from Ian's and stood up. He could see the bottle now as well now, smell it in the air…

"Come on Elijah, come and play…"

Feeling the nausea beginning to build, Elijah pushed past Ian and headed for the exit. Once outside, he stood for a moment taking huge breaths, trying to clear his head. The door opened and closed behind him, and once more, Ian's unthreatening presence was there.

"Elijah?" There was real concern in Ian's voice. "Do you want me to get a doctor?"

"Look at all the blood, Elijah! Should we take you to a doctor? Then you'd have to tell him what had happened, wouldn't you? Tell him what you let people do to you…"

"No, I don't need a doctor. Could you drive me home, do you think?"

"Of course. Come along."

*

Ian, practicality itself, drove Elijah home and, ignoring the mess, quickly set about making Elijah a hot drink.

"I don't want it," Elijah said, a shade of his old belligerent tone showing in the back of his voice. "I don't want anything."

"Drink it," demanded Ian softly. "I think you need it."

"I know what you need, Elijah. Come here, and let me show you…"

Elijah pushed the voice away. Not here! Not in his own home, his only sanctuary. Without thinking, he took a mouthful of what turned out to be hot chocolate. He didn't even know that he had any hot chocolate in the cupboards. But then, he was sitting opposite a wizard. He sighed inwardly. Thanks would be called for soon enough, and he would have to force his weary body to obey whatever demands were placed on it.

Ian sat quietly for a moment, studying the figure opposite him, taking in the slumped shoulders, the drooping head, the fingers clasped tensely around the mug of hot chocolate, seemingly trying to absorb the warmth it offered. Elijah was a consummate actor; presenting many faces to many people. But this tired, worn creature - this was something new.

"Why did you want me to move the glass?" he asked eventually, his voice soft, not wanting to startle the tense young man opposite him. "What was it about the glass?"

"No reason." Elijah shrugged, keeping his head down. "Just - like you said - headache. And I don't feel too good."

"Is that why you were trying to dig your brain out with your fingers? Or at least that's what it looked like." Ian sat forward and put his hand on Elijah's wrist, once again feeling the flinch, quickly stilled. "Why does that happen? If you're not ready to be touched, you flinch. Oh, you control it quickly enough, and you hide it well, but you don't like it."

"Crap!" Elijah looked up briefly, then back down into his mug. "You can touch me if you want. I guess that's what all this has been building up to, right? Everything you've said about wanting to help me, or be my friend, it's all crap, right?" His shoulders slumped a little further, and then he pushed himself upright, meeting Ian's gaze. "Not in my house, though." He stood up. "Come on, you can drive us to your place, we'll do it there."

"It's all right, Elijah. I just want to be your friend… I would never hurt you."

"Sit down, Elijah." Ian spoke so forcefully that Elijah, surprising himself, sat.

"Right, now listen to me." Ian pushed the mug of hot chocolate back towards Elijah, and reaching out, slowly and deliberately, wrapped the small, perpetually-cold hands around it, and then let his own linger, imparting as much warmth as he could.

"I do not want to sleep with you. I do not want to have sex with you. Somebody in your past has made you think that is what everybody wants from you, that it all comes down to sex. Not for me. I have a partner, Elijah. A young, handsome man whom I love very much. And I do not sleep around." His voice grew soft. "Have you ever told anybody?"

Almost of its own accord, Elijah's head shook slowly, but he didn't raise his eyes.

"Our secret, Elijah. You mustn't ever tell anybody about this, you do understand that, don't you? It wouldn't be nice for you. Not nice at all."

"It's so much more common than you think, Elijah. Whatever happened couldn't have been your fault. Is that why you hate yourself so much?"

"I … I have a sister…" Elijah began, his voice scratchy. "Hannah."

"Yes, you've mentioned her in the past. You love her, don't you?"

"She's my sister," Elijah said, as if that explained everything there was to know about his feelings. He pulled his hands away from Ian's, and put them flat against the table. "She's my kid sister. I have to protect her."

Ian nodded. "I know. Is that what you were doing? Protecting her?"

"She's just a kid. She doesn't know that the world sucks, not yet." He stood up again, and smiled at Ian, a half-smile that hardly moved his lips. "And she never will, not if I have my way." He paused, as if surprised to find himself on his feet. "But thanks for bringing me home, y'know? I appreciate it, but if it's okay, I'm just going to bed. Mind if I kick you out?"

"Elijah…"

"Really, thanks. But I'm tired, and I'll bet you are too." Elijah went and hovered by the kitchen door, and Ian had no choice but to obey the silent command. As Elijah opened the front door, Ian turned and put his hands on the young man's shoulders. The flinch was well controlled this time, almost unnoticeable.

"We're not finished, you do realise that?"

"We're not finished, Elijah. Not yet…"

"I didn't think we would be," Elijah said. "But I'm not lying here, I'm tired."

"Let me say something before I go." Ian squeezed Elijah's shoulders gently before releasing them. "There is nothing wrong with loving Sean, and you have never, I am sure, broken up a family, no matter what you may think."

"I'm not going to argue, because I'm too fucking tired," Elijah answered, his voice lacking its usual snap. I know what I am. You only think you know. I'm grateful for what you did tonight, bringing me home, y'know? But you don't know me."

"But I'm learning."

As soon as Ian had cleared the doorway, Elijah shut the door, slamming the locks into place. Then he made his slow way to his bedroom, knowing that sleep would be hard won. He didn't turn off any of the lights.

*

He came awake some two hours later, his head throbbing, heart pounding, the voice fading into the night.

Better you than her, is that what you think?

He could feel the weight of another body on his, tormenting him, opening him and hurting him, and he bit his lip hard.

Yes. Better me than her.

Squinting at the clock, he sighed, then curled onto his side, pulling a pillow to him so that he could curl around its softness. He closed his eyes against his headache, and was dozing gently when the soft ring of the phone startled him.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me." Sean's voice was soft as spring rain. "Were you asleep?"

"Nah, not really."

"I didn't think so. I can't sleep either. Want to talk to me?"

Elijah's eyes closed in gratitude. Sean slept like the dead, and they both knew that, but equally, they both pretended that wasn't the case.

"Yes," he said. "I'd like that."







Part Six

Ian didn't sleep much that night, either. He spent most of it on the telephone to an old friend in England.

"He's been abused, of that I'm sure," Ian said. "He as much as admitted it to me, and it's somehow tied in with having to protect his sister."

"So, was it a relation?" Tom, an experienced psychologist, knew what his role in this conversation was. To ask simple questions, and let Ian work it out for himself.

"That would be my first thought, but I believe his father left the family home when Elijah was quite young. I don't know about that, I'll have to check up on it." Ian sighed. "Dear, dear Tom; you must think I've picked up another waif!" He paused, but Tom didn't reply. "He's not a waif though, not this one. He's so strong, but so terribly damaged."

"Don't get involved, Ian," Tom warned. "We've been through this before; it doesn't take much to say the wrong thing, and you don't know what you're doing."

"But he reminds me so much of Alan," Ian sighed. "I see the same hurt, and I can't bear the thought of him going the same way. He has talent to burn, and charm that could turn night into day. It's not fair that he's hurting so much."

"Alan was a long time ago," soothed Tom. "Things have changed now. Abuse is recognised, and accepted, and he can be helped. He won't have to do this alone."

"First, he has to be persuaded to tell somebody. There's a huge place in his mind that he can't get past. He sort of admitted it, but then he closed up again. It's only because he's ill that I got that much out of him." Ian paused to take a drink of tea. "There is one thing he does that Alan never did."

"What's that?"

"When he lets men … use him, he does it in public. He does it in places where he could be caught."

Across the miles, he heard Tom huff out a laugh. "Then you've got a chance with him. That's a classic cry for help. He wants to be found, and you're the one who found him. Whether he realises it or not, or indeed whether you realise it or not, you're the one he's turning to for help."

"And I want to help him. But I don't know how."

"Don't let him drive you away, no matter how hard he tries."

Ian was silent, his eyes flicking around the room before seeing what he wanted. An old photograph - 40 plus years old - of a young Ian with his arm around another man, both of them laughing into the camera.

"Were we ever that young?" he said softly. "I wish we could have helped him. I did love him so much."

"I know you did," replied Tom soothingly. "But you can't save the world, Ian, or even every damaged, unhappy young man you see."

"Perhaps not," agreed Ian. "But I'm going to save this one."

*

Ian was in his usual place the next day, surveying Middle Earth, when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned and was more than surprised to see Elijah walking towards him, a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Hi," he said, holding out the drink. "Thought you might like this. It's cold today."

"Thank you, Elijah. How are you feeling today?"

Elijah shrugged. "Okay. Better. Talked some to Sean last night after you'd gone. He can talk me to sleep, you know?" He laughed. "I didn't mean that. I mean the sound of his voice relaxes me."

"Good. That's good." The two men stood in silence for a second, before Ian asked the question that was on the tip of his tongue. "Does he know?"

"No. He knows there's something, but he doesn't push. He lets me tell him things in my own time." Elijah stuffed his hands deep in his pockets. "Don't tell him."

Ian sighed. "Elijah, I didn't sleep last night. I was thinking about you." He looked around. "This really isn't the place to talk, but I would very much like to see you later. I don't want anything from you - or at least, not physically. But I would like you to listen to me." He saw Elijah's expression darken, but before he could speak, said, "You owe me, remember? I want you to pay me back now."

"Do I have a choice?" Elijah scowled, but, although Ian realised he could be fooling himself, he thought he saw a light in those eyes.

But it was probably his imagination.

"Thank you for the coffee," Ian said. "And I'm truly glad that you're feeling better, but please don't - do anything too energetic today."

This time, there was definitely a light in Elijah's eyes, albeit a rather unholy one. But even that was an improvement, Ian thought. Better than the horrible blankness.

"If I tried to do anything like that, I think I would fall over," he said. "Okay, I'll see you later. Just find me when you want me." He shrugged. "Most people do."

He walked away before he saw the expression on Ian's face.

*


It was late in the afternoon when Ian, back aching with tiredness, turned the corner that would lead eventually towards the trailer. He stopped in complete shock as a movement caught his eye.

"No!" he roared, the full weight of training behind his voice, making the figures in the shadows jump. He strode towards them, grabbing hold of Elijah's arm and pulling him away from the man who had him pressed against the wall. "Enough!" he said, still stentorian, still so completely fearsome that Elijah didn't fight, just let himself be dragged along to whatever fate Ian had in mind.

"Hey!"

Ian stopped in his tracks, and turned around, gazing coldly at the other man who was now standing in the centre of the path, obviously unsure of what to do. Ian vaguely recognised him, but couldn't name him.

"Don't 'hey' me," he said coldly. "Get away from here, and keep away from him!" Ian shook Elijah, but gently. "He is too good for the likes of you!"

"He's a slut!" came the aggrieved reply. "If you tell him the time, he'll thank you with a fuck."

Ian felt Elijah's body tense, so rather than getting into a shouting match, he turned his back and led Elijah straight past the trailers and towards the cars.

"Hey," Elijah finally spoke. "You can't leave the set dressed like that."

"Watch me," Ian said grimly. He pushed Elijah towards the car. "Get in."

"I don't have to," Elijah snapped. "You don't own me."

"No, you don't have to," Ian agreed. "I'm sorry, I haven't given you a choice, have I? Elijah, please get in the car. I would very much like to speak to you. I believe this is what you Americans refer to as payback."

Like a sulky child, Elijah climbed into the car and sat in the corner, arms folded. "You finally giving in, old man?" he said, not looking at Ian. "Can't resist me after all?"

Ian slammed the door shut, and turned to him, and, realising that he was crossing some kind of boundary, reached out and gripped Elijah's face, turning it to face him.

"I have been patient with you," he said, still stern and unapproachable. "For I don't know how long now, I have watched you, and mourned for you. I want to help you. I thought we had made some kind of breakthrough, but now I find you, once again, letting some nameless stranger use you like so much meat."

Elijah tried to pull away, but Ian's grip was firm, although not painful, and he subsided.

"Tell me something," Ian said, more gently. "Tell me something, little hobbit."

"What?"

"Look at the way I'm dressed," Ian said. "I'm a wizard, not Ian. I want the hobbit to talk to me."

"Okay," said Elijah doubtfully, his face very clearly giving away that he thought he was in the company of a madman.

"There's a boy," began Ian, letting Elijah go. "A boy who is so terribly hurt, but he fights it, because he thinks something terrible will happen if he talks about it."

Elijah didn't respond.

"The strange thing about this boy is that he has a capacity for love which is huge. And people respond to that, and love him and want to help him. There is another boy who loves him very much, and someone else, who is not a boy, but a mature and loving man, who wants to take care of him. What would you do, hobbit? What do you think would help him?"

"Maybe he doesn't need help," said Elijah slowly. "Maybe he thinks that he can't be helped. Maybe he escapes into his own world when he needs to."

"He lets strangers touch him, use him. How can he like that?"

"Maybe - maybe the pain helps him forget," Elijah whispered.

"He has a sister he loves. Maybe he's frightened something will happen to her if he tells anybody."

Elijah didn't answer, just shook his head.

"Then if his sister is safe, then why doesn't he get help? Is the man who hurt him a relation? Is that what it is?"

"No!" Elijah's head whipped round. "It wasn't anybody like that! It was just - a guy." He stopped, eyes wide as he realised what he had said.

"Oh, Elijah." Ian's eyes were so full of compassion that Elijah had to look away. He felt gentle hands on his shoulders, but wouldn't look at Ian.

"I'm still sick," he muttered. "I'm saying stuff that I don't mean."

"Well, while you're still sick, tell me something else. Why do you let Sean - sorry, why does this boy let Sean hold him? With everybody else, he flinches, pulls away."

"Because there's no threat with Sean. He'll never want me - this boy -to pay him back. He doesn't want a reward. Just making the boy relaxed and happy is enough for him."

"If I held you, would you feel that you owed me something?"

"I owe you so much already," Elijah whispered, his lips quirking. "I'm in some serious debt here." He looked at Ian quickly, before looking away again. "Why do you want to hold me?"

"Because you are so hurt, Elijah, and so unhappy, and I don't know how to make you better, but at least I can touch you, show you that it's not only Sean who can give you no-strings affection."

"Can I get out of here if I say no?"

"I don't think you can, no."

Elijah's lips twitched again, and he slid tentatively across the space between them, and rested his head on Ian's shoulder. Carefully, Ian put first one arm and then the other around Elijah's back and held him lightly, resting his cheek against the mop of dark hair. He could feel the tension in Elijah's shoulders, and began to move his hand slowly, trying to gentle him.

"It's all right," he said softly. "Everything will be all right."

To his own surprise, Elijah felt himself start to relax. It wasn't as immediate or as wonderful as being with Sean, but it was strong and safe. Ian couldn't keep the voices away, not like Sean could, but he could perhaps act as a barrier. He shifted a little closer, his fingers tangling in the wizard's robes. The old man was being kind of, well, dumb, if he thought everything would be all right, but just now, right at this second, things weren't so bad.

After a few minutes, he pulled away, not without reluctance.

"We done now?" he asked.

"I think so," Ian answered, and watched as Elijah opened the car door. "But…"

"What?" Elijah turned back.

"Please, stop doing what you're doing. Please talk to someone. Remember that people love you."

Elijah wrinkled his nose, but didn't answer, and Ian watched as he walked away.

Part Seven

Ian was asleep when the phone rang, and after a very imaginative curse, he fumbled the receiver off the hook.

"Hey." Elijah's voice was soft, and for a second Ian felt a ridiculous surge of gratitude that he wasn't 'out there' with some faceless person.

"Hello," he said.

"You know what you said last week, when I was sick? Well, it's Dom, isn't it?" Elijah's voice was still soft. "The person who isn't Sean. It's Dominic."

"It's not for me to say," Ian answered. "What makes you think that?"

"Because … it's the logical one. He's always around, he talks to me, and touches me. He's different with me than he is with the others." Elijah paused. "It is, isn't it?"

"Why don't you ask him?" Ian smiled as Elijah snorted.

"How do I do that?"

"Just ask him, Elijah."

There was a pause. "There's no point. He wouldn't be interested, not if he knew."

"You don't know, do you? Elijah, I don't know what to tell you. The choice has to be yours." He paused. "Do you want to talk to someone?"

"Do you think I should?"

"I do, yes." Ian sat up, propping himself up with cushions. "You're not out there now, and that is wonderful. Do you want me to find somebody?"

There was a pause. "Why are you doing this? Why should you care?"

"Why do you think?"

Another pause. "It was nice, that time, in the car."

"Yes, it was."

"I'd like to do that again sometime. Could we?"

"Of course. No strings."

"I'm going now, okay? Want to talk to Sean."

"Goodnight, Elijah."

"Night."

Ian gazed at the phone for a second before putting it back on the stand, and then he suddenly reached for it again. It was time to have another chat with Tom.

*

Sean, with the experience of a father, came awake immediately the phone rang, picking it up before it rang a second time.

"It's me."

"Hi, Elijah. What's wrong?" Sean, unknowingly mirroring Ian, sat up and propped himself up with pillows.

"I need…. I need to talk to you. D'you think you could come over?"

"Sure, you know it. Lij, are you okay?"

"Fine. But I just need to tell you something."

"I'll be there in twenty."

*

Elijah closed his eyes and listened to the dialling tone. Part of him wanted to get dressed now, and run. Find some faceless stranger who would fuck him past pain, forget all this. But Ian was determined to help him, it seemed, and he had felt so comfortable being held. He should at least try. If it didn't work, well, his gravestone could read, 'he tried.'

True to his word, Sean arrived twenty minutes later, and Elijah led him into the lounge.

"What's wrong?" Sean asked. "You look - wild."

"Sit down." Elijah nodded to the couch, and Sean did as he was told. For a second, Elijah considered kneeling down, but then he realised what that would look like, and he shifted his balance until he was perched on the edge of the couch.

"We're friends, right?" he said.

"Of course."

"The thing is, y'see, I've never really had a friend before. Jeez, that sounds pathetic, doesn't it? But you know how it is - we shared the same kind of upbringing. I want to tell you something about me, because we're friends, and because - I've had a weird couple of months. I think Ian's trying to adopt me."

"Does this have anything to do with the dinner you had a few weeks ago?" Sean asked, putting his hand on Elijah's arm.

"Er, sort of. He's been …" Elijah sighed. "When I was a kid, something happened, and it screwed me up. You're my friend, and you deserve to know."

*

When it was over, Elijah sat in silence, chewing his lower lip. Sean was pacing the length of the lounge, kicking CDs and clothes out of his way as he went.

"You…" he said finally, and Elijah flinched, the sudden sound making him jump.

"I know," he said softly. "I'm an asshole, and I deserve everything I got. It's been fun, being with you, Sean, but it's okay. You don't want somebody like me around you and your family."

"No, that's not what I was going to say." Sean moved to the sofa and dropped down next to Elijah. He reached out and put his arm around Elijah's shoulders. "What I was going to say was, you are so stupid. Why did you hide this for so long? Christ, Lij, the damage you've done to yourself." He dragged Elijah close, and Elijah went willingly, burying his face in Sean's shoulder. "You're not alone now, okay? Not anymore. I'll help you, but you must promise me something."

He forced Elijah away and cupped the pale face in his hands. "Don't ever, ever go with strangers again. Don't put yourself at risk like that. Christ, when I think what could have happened to you…" He pulled Elijah close again. "I can't lose you, Lij. You're my baby brother, and I've only just found you."

They sat in silence again, but an easier silence.

"Will you get help?" Sean asked finally. "Get rid of the voices that scare you so much?"

Elijah nodded.

"Promise me, Lij." Sean heaved him even closer. "Promise me."

"I promise," Elijah said, and to his own surprise he could feel the backs of his eyes burning. "I promise."

Could it really be so easy? He thought.

"Lijah?"

He pressed himself still closer to Sean.




Part Eight

Another sleepless night, and another late night phone call.

"So, how's it going?" Tom asked, shifting to make himself more comfortable.

"Not so bad," Ian said. "We've found him some help, and he's going to regular sessions. He's sleeping more easily."

"And how is he feeling?"

"Not good, I don't think. Perhaps the best way of describing it would be 'less worthless'. He says that he doesn't go out any more, pick up men, and I've certainly not seen him, and bearing in mind that he was flaunting it so much before, I believe him." Ian sighed. "He still hates himself, that much is obvious, but I think he's trying. He doesn't have to work so hard to put on the Elijah-mask, as he calls it. He is a naturally kind and loving boy."

"But he needs nurturing," Tom said.

"Yes, and he needs support and love, and that's what he's getting."

"From Sean?"

"Sean is wonderful. He treats him like fine china, you should see him!"

"Will he be all right, do you think?"

"If Sean and I have our way, yes he will. Thank you, Tom, for everything. For giving me the chance to heal a little, as well, I think."

"We all loved Alan."

"Yes," Ian agreed, fighting to keep the sadness out of his voice. "I hope this helps him rest a little better, knowing that we still think of him."

"He will," Tom assured him.

*

"Come on, Lijah! Time to play!"

"No," Elijah groaned, rolling over until his face was buried in the pillow. "No playing, not anymore. I don't fucking need you."

"It's me. Don't try and fight me, Lijah, you know you could never do that. You're a weakling. Always were."

"It's all right," said a soft voice, and Elijah turned toward it automatically, burying himself in Sean's arms. The voices faded.

"Thanks for staying," he said finally, disgusted at the weakness in his own voice.

"I'm here until you don't need me," Sean replied softly. "You're shaking. Are you cold?"

"No. Just … no."

Sean pulled the blankets over them anyway, and held Elijah close until the trembling stopped, and sleep took them both.

And, at least for that night, there were no more voices.

Part Nine

The music was so loud that Dominic thought he could actually see the air bouncing. It was a bizarre experience.

"Will you stop with the nodding?" Billy shrieked in his ear. "You look like one of those things in the back of a car."

"What, a box of tissues?"

Billy didn't bother answering, simply punched Dominic hard in the side, and went back to drinking his beer, lazily surveying the crowd.

Another end-of-something party. Or a birthday party. Or something.

"Look at Orlando!" Dominic nodded his head towards the centre of the room, and Billy laughed so hard that beer actually came down his nose, which was both novel and disgusting at the same time. Orlando was either drunk, stoned or both, and had apparently decided that the hardcore house music currently making the walls vibrate was in fact psychedelic in its origin, and was - wafting. There was no other word. Hee seemed to have taken root, and his upper body was swaying from side to side, eyes tightly closed.

"He is so off his head," Dominic said. "Have you brought your camera?"

"No, but I'll go and find one. This is way too good to miss. Look at the way the light is bouncing off his skull. He's like a glitter ball, except not."

Dominic grinned and watched as Billy pushed his way through the crowd. He let his eyes drift over the rest of the dance floor, although his eyes kept coming back to Orlando - it was impossible not to stare. And laugh.

Somebody leaned against the wall next to him, and he turned to see who it was, his stomach giving that familiar, hopeless little lurch as Elijah turned to smile at him.

"Orli's really embarrassing himself, isn't he?" Elijah shouted in a nicely-modulated bellow. "Have we got a camera?"

"Bill's gone to find one. Let's hope he doesn't sober up before he gets back."

"Billy?"

"Orli."

"Right." They stood in silence, the effort of shouting being too much of an effort. Dominic could feel the heat pouring off Elijah's body, and he couldn't resist another glance, then wished he hadn't. Elijah was laughing, and he looked - perfect, and it hurt Dominic more than he wanted to admit.

He knew he should turn away, but wasn't quite fast enough, and Elijah caught his glance, raising his eyebrows by way of question.

"Nothing," Dominic muttered, knowing he couldn't be heard over the music. "It's just that ifuckingloveyou."

He missed Elijah looking away to the other side, and nodding at somebody who was standing well back. Even if he had seen it, it wouldn't have meant anything - Sean and Elijah had a weird personal way of communicating anyway. He felt himself being dragged away and glanced down at Elijah's hand wrapped in his jacket.

"What about Bill?" he yelled, and Elijah shrugged.

"Bill will be at the bar now, and will have totally forgotten what he was supposed to be doing."

Finding a relatively quiet corner, Elijah looked at Dom, and then away again.

"Things have been a bit weird recently," he said. "But they're straightening out now, and I was wondering …" he swallowed and then gulped another mouthful of beer.

"What?" Dom asked, genuinely nonplussed.

"Would you like to come out to dinner with me sometime?"

Dominic's grin lit up the world, and from his place in the shadows, Sean smiled in complete relief. A hell of a long way to go yet, but just maybe they had reached the end of the beginning.


The End

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