Posted: March 2004
Title: Billy's Dreams
Author: Helena Snow-Renn
Type: RPS
Characters: Billy Boyd, Billy Boyd/David Wenham/Sean Bean implied
Rating: PG-13
WARNING: slash, slightly AU.
Beta: none
Disclaimer: As always, is fiction. It never happened, at least not the dreams and slashy parts.
A/N: I'd throw myself on a pyre for the man, too. Go Billy! It seems like I take to one or two scenes from each movie, the first time through. FOTR: Fellowship walking in the Hollin, music swelling in background; Boromir: "They have a cave troll." TTT: The leap of Beren. Needless to say, I fell HARD! %@# Elves! ROTK… here you have it. It's so ungodly beautiful, I feel almost dirty for this being spawned.
Summary: It finally dawns on him…

*****

Home is behind
the world ahead
and there are many paths to tread
through shadow
to the edge of night
until the stars are all alight
mist and shadow
cloud and shade
all shall fade
all shall fade

--Pippin/singing
Lyrics by JRRT, Melody by Billy Boyd

That night, he dreamed.

Billy couldn't decide who it was about, when he awoke in the bright sunlight. Yellow luminescence compounded by yellow curtains. Deja vu. There'd been yellow sun shining, golden sand on a fine-grained beach in the dream. Or maybe it had been night, and a pier, under the moon. Not golden. Silver.

Immediately, Billy had been convinced it was Orlando. What or who else could render such an impression in contrasting coloring, intensity and bone-shaking, teeth-gritting lust? This he already knew. But after, the other recollections filtered in. Had the eyes been blue, rather than brown? Green, like his? Was there any chance the hair could have been blond? Reddish? Could the lips have been full with a little "V" indentation dead center rather than thin and pink? Slowly it faded away, into the mists where good dreams go, just a pleasant warm subconscious mnemonic.

When it was all but gone, one night, he dreamed.

…Of the man he'd never gotten near, not till very end the end. A redhead, something which Billy had never been attracted to before. But this one… So quiet. So vulnerable. He looked so like the other, or was it actually him? The younger or the older? Both? The night was golden, copper, swirling aqua. They would have been so perfect together, it was hard to separate them, but Billy was sure it had been only one. Which one? Billy didn't know, not yet.

They parted; one died, one went on with his life. As did Billy. Some small remembrance of this episode lingered, gently tugging at times, to belie the nocturnal amnesia. There were some days the familiars were very strong. A certain look, expression, cant of the head would set it off. And then he'd dream again.

His part never wavered. Whichever specimen was under him, his place remained. Above; back arched, face to the sun. Moon. Parting himself, impaling himself. Throbbing heat into his own throbbing heat. One thought, one touch, lasted one second; and yet hours and days and millennia. Kisses--withheld, myriad, soaking into his skin. Hands that never touched him touched every inch of his skin. The burst was held off indefinitely, till yesterday it had happened, and its aeons were never-ending.

‘I am not being followed.' This thought began to occupy him. Not physically, tangibly, some presence dogged him day and night. It was not his doing, he was sure. Something outside himself was circling ever closer. Billy gave no stock in psychic connection; ‘psychotic,' he told himself. And yet, all of a sudden there was that one he just could not look in the eyes.

He never let on; why bother--it was just a little wisp of nothingness. Only it wasn't. Billy realized one day, his day, that he'd been somnolently feasting on eros for months, one night and one dream at a time. The pieces rushed back in. Waves of sensation came crashing on the beach of his id; they were all too real. So he fulfilled his role and his part and he sang. And he wept as he sang. Though he didn't see it complete for along time afterward, the vision was just as it had been in his mind's eye when the cameras had been turned on him, and even earlier, the mike in front of him. If only he could say…

And then, it was over. Billy had other commitments calling, a new movie to film. He and his partner in crime, Dominic, had gotten it in their heads to write their own. His heart would be burdened with unfinished business. That could not be. But aye, it was, till the end of the age.

*****

THE END

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