For escribo: All I Want to be is the Minute that You Hold Me in
Title: All I Want to be is the Minute that You Hold Me in
Recipient: escribo (Dani)
Author: ipso__facto
Pairing: Hannah/Elijah/Dom
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "You and me, Hannah," he had said as he curled around her that night. "We'll do it together, ok? Wherever it is, we go together."
Pre-reveal Notes: Warnings for incest, and underage sex (15 years old). For Dani: I hope it brings you joy this holiday season. Title from the Matt Nathanson song "Suspended".
Post-reveal Notes: More thanks than words can say to my betas empress_jae, airgiodslv, and cindyjade, all of whom went above and beyond to make this work. And to the wonderful mods for their hard work and patience.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
The first time Hannah had gone to see the therapist it had been two weeks after her sixteenth birthday. She'd taken a series of buses downtown on her own, even though her mother had wanted to drive. "Don't be silly, honey," she'd said as Hannah wrapped a scarf around her neck and pulled on her jeans jacket, her movements agitated. "I'll take you. It's too far and besides, I want to be there with you the first time you meet her! And you'll need someone to..." Hannah had just cocked her head and stared, unblinking, until her mother interrupted herself with a sigh and handed over the bus money.
She was too short, still, always too short, for the seats to be comfortable, but the shift of her muscles as her feet swung back and forth when the bus stopped was somehow satisfying. The middle-aged woman two seats up and one over smelled like rotten eggs, and there was a man sleeping across the back row who looked as if he hadn't moved in weeks. Next to her, a young man in eyeliner with artificially darkened hair and numerous facial piercings hummed 'Ode to Joy' quietly to himself. Outside the dingy windows, Hannah watched L.A. unfold around her, gritty and glittering all at once, and wondered what her life would have been like if they'd stayed in Cedar Rapids.
The shrink's office was pretty much just the way she'd imagined it - at least as far as she'd bothered to imagine a shrink's office. Fresh flowers on the side table, various magazines fanned out artfully around a pink glass vase that might have been vaguely reminiscent of modern art, or possibly something the drug store had on sale the week after Easter three years ago. The whitewashed waiting room was furnished with several faded armchairs that looked soft and fluffy, but were actually the kind that dug painfully into your ass after about five minutes and resulted in a pinch that you couldn't escape no matter how much you squirmed. She was thumbing through an old edition of Rolling Stone with her Chucks tucked underneath her on the seat when the inside door opened with a creak.
"Hannah?" called the slim, dark-haired woman peering out at her.
"Oui." Hannah looked up, unimpressed, waiting for the woman's face to harden or her eyes to roll.
"Je suis Genevieve," she had answered with a smile, opening the door wider. "Entrez je vous prie."
***
Two months later and the plane ride to New Zealand passed mostly in a blur. Hannah spent a good half of it drifting in and out of sleep, and the other half with her headphones glued to her ears, trying to ignore her mother's fluttering hands and nervous declarations while Michael Stipe sang about the end of the world as he knew it. She watched an in-flight movie, some boring romantic comedy, and picked the vegetables out of the three meals served along the way. Sometimes she got out of her seat and walked up and down the aisles, just to keep her blood flowing, just to feel like she wasn't standing still. Mostly, though, she spent it feeling like they would never reach New Zealand, like maybe they were just going to keep right on flying forever, out to where there was no time or sky or even a plane anymore. Out to where there was nothing. Secretly, Hannah thought that maybe it wouldn't be so bad if that happened, really, that it might be kind of neat to be ripped into shreds that resembled spaghetti and to feel the different parts of herself drifting aimlessly in the dark. Maybe part of her would even get sucked in to a black hole and could find its way back into the past and tell her other parts, the ones that were still together in L.A., what it was like to be totally separate from oneself.
"Elijah said he'd meet us at the airport," her mom spoke up suddenly. Hannah nodded slightly, hoping that her silence could keep her mother from any more inane, repetitive statements.
"He says they're filming a pretty important scene today, something with him and Sean, but that Pete agreed to let him go long enough to collect us. He uses all these Tolkien words. I never know what it means," her tone was a bit sad, and Hannah murmured something noncommittal and slumped in her seat, turning toward the window.
"He sounds so happy, Han. I think this was a good choice, you know? You should hear him go on and on about New Zealand and the other hobbit actors. I think he really feels like he fits there. I think this is good for him," she reached over and touched Hannah's shoulder gingerly, "for all of us." Hannah gave her mother a quick, tight smile and then reached down under her seat for her bag, digging for a book.
When she struggled up out of sleep for the last time, surreptitiously wiping the drool from her chin, they were about to touch down on the runway. As they swooped in towards the long strip of concrete, the whole plane suddenly tipped to the left and then quickly back again to the right, over and over, wobbling like a child's toy in the air, its wheels only inches above the ground. She tensed, and her mother gasped and grabbed at her hand on the armrest, smashing her fingers down on to the metal. Hannah closed her eyes and held her breath, not sure whether she was wishing for the plane to straighten out or for something else entirely. The next few seconds stretched on and on, until she thought that maybe they really had disappeared, and then she felt the bump as the landing gear connected and a moment after that another as the front wheel came down and they screeched to a halt. The whole plane exhaled at the same time, but her mother's hand kept clutching, clutching, squeezing the blood out of Hannah's fingers as they taxied to the gate.
***
"And what about your brother?" Genevieve asked, re-crossing her legs.
"Zach?" Hannah answered, deliberately misunderstanding.
"Sure, Zach," Genevieve sat back in her chair. "Are you two close? Do you spend much time together?"
She shrugged. "He's 25. I was nine when he left for college. After that, I saw him on his breaks when he wasn't out with his friends or visiting their houses for Christmas. We talk when he calls mom now, but there isn't much to say. He just sort of is." Genevieve nodded.
"And Elijah?"
"I don't know. What do you mean? He's Elijah Wood, right? He travels a lot. For filming. We used to go with him; mom would tutor us both."
"But now?" Genevieve prompted.
"Now we don't go so much anymore, I guess. I don't know. He's busy. I mean, we're all busy, right? He's 18, he's an adult. Which he's not, but. Weird. Anyway, he's in New Zealand, doing this Lord of the Rings thing? It's pretty big, I guess." And we're still so small, she thought, always so small, eyes lingering on the photo of an ivy-covered stone stairwell on the wall. "Hey. Can I smoke in here?"
***
It wasn't Elijah waiting for them when they got off the plane, but a sandy-haired, slender young guy wearing a faded t-shirt and a wide crooked grin. He was holding up a handmade sign with 'WOOD' scrawled across it in heavy black ink, the word 'plural' added underneath like an afterthought, and all in a handwriting Hannah didn't recognize. When their eyes met, he gave a loud whoop and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her up and swinging her in a circle before setting her gently on her feet again. Her mouth gaped in surprise, and he gave her a wink and turned to enfold her mother in a tight hug. "I'm Dominic by the way - Dom," he said, still grinning like a mad man. "No way to miss you, Hannah, just as angelic as your brother. And this must be your winning and radiant sister Debbie." Something about his easy charm and the twinkle in his stormy eyes made it sound playful and sweet instead of awkward. She watched dazedly as this exuberant, completely lopsided, improbably lovely boy, all energy and good humor, took them handily under his wing and hurried them through to baggage claim. Hannah thought oddly that she probably liked him. Then her stomach sort of lurched sideways and she realized that Elijah probably did, too. ("You and me, Hannah," he had said as he curled around her that night. "We'll do it together, ok? Wherever it is, we go together.") She looked down, suddenly shy, and followed the pattern in the polished tiles as they walked.
Her mother tittered and dismissed him with a "Hush. Elijah said you were a charmer. He wasn't wrong!" Dominic - Dom - threw his head back and laughed. It echoed around them in the mostly empty hallway.
"Wanker," he exclaimed through his laughter. "He would say that. Probably warning you against me, hey, darlings? Didn't think to warn me about you beauties, though, did he?" The back of Hannah's neck prickled. Something told her that if she turned to him, he'd be looking right at her. She kept her head down and urged the hands on her watch to move faster. "It was Lijah asked me to meet you, yeah? He got stuck on set. Pete still doesn't have what he wants. They're running the same five lines over and over and over. Welcome to the film business, hurry up and wait! Of course, I'm sure you already know that. Elijah's so young, I always forget he's been doing this longer than most of us. Not Ian McKellan, though! My god! Sodding Ian McKellan! Can you believe it? I'm doing a film with fucking Ian McKellan , oh, excuse my language Ms. Elijah's mum." Hannah looked at him as he bobbed his head in a small gesture of apology. "Not that we've worked with him much, scale issues and the like, but I can't get over how strange it is to be in this place! And this country is bloody fantastic. I never want to leave! There's just something about the land, the culture, you know? It's all pulsing, it all has this beat." Suddenly he laughed again and shook his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Sorry. It just. I'm a bit of a girl sometimes," he tilted his head and flashed that crooked grin at Hannah. "Too sentimental for my own good, that's what Billy says. He's a smug Scottish bastard, yes, but he's usually right. Him and me and Elijah, we're inseparable, like. You'll meet him, too. You'll get to know all of us! Everyone's quite crazy about Elijah, and they're all looking forward to having you join the family. But listen to me going on! How was the flight?" As her mother launched into an agitated description of the landing, Hannah smiled back at him guardedly, and thought, wistful, that maybe the tiny thrill running up her spine as he placed his hand gently in the small of her back to guide her forward was something she and Elijah still shared.
***
"Were you and Elijah close growing up?" Hannah's fingers were twitching, she wanted a cigarette so bad, and her right foot tapped a stuttering rhythm on the plush carpet.
"Yeah. Yeah, we were. Are. I don't know. Really, could I please go outside for a smoke?"
"What don't you know, Hannah? You don't know if you and your brother are close? Were close? Tell me. What is your relationship like?"
"It's like us, alright? I don't know. We were... for so long we were so close we were like twins, or. Or whatever. But I guess you grow up, right? Things change. Sometimes you leave people behind." Sometimes you break promises like kisses and try not to notice the difference. "Look. Is there a bathroom I can use?"
***
A few nights later and Hannah found herself in a pub. Some noisy, worn, comfortable place with seats and tables covered in so many layers of lacquer that they shone in the dim light no matter what noxious substance was upended on their surface. It hadn't been hard for her brother to avoid being alone with her so far. She and her mother had their own hotel room, and everywhere else they went, they were surrounded by people constantly coming and going. Everyone was just as friendly as Dom had said they'd be, and they all took turns alternately coddling and doting on her. Somewhere along the line, the guys - Dom, Billy, Orlando, Viggo, and Sala, mostly - had made it into a playful competition to see who could best shift her perpetual worried frown into a smile. There was a points system and everything. Hannah wasn't really sure who was winning, or even what exactly a "Billy Special" was, let alone how it related in worth to three pints of bitters, but it made Orlando laugh until his sides hurt whenever it was doled out as a prize. She'd resisted at first, tried to stay detached while still being polite, but as the week wore on it got harder and harder to ignore their affections, to remember to keep that distance between herself and everything surrounding Elijah. But god knows he didn't seem to be interested in seeking her out for any reason, and well, waiting around for him was exactly what she was trying to avoid. So what if she went in for one kind of distraction or another? The beer made her feel fearless, stronger than all of them. Maybe another tonight, she thought, eyes scanning the room.
Whatever was between her brother and Dom hadn't made itself public yet. They didn't seem to have a tighter relationship than any of the others, didn't spend all of their time together huddled in private conversation, but if Hannah squinted the right way, she thought maybe she could see something hanging heavy and full between them like an overripe apple, ready to fall. Tonight Elijah sat off by himself in a dark corner, scowling. He was chain smoking, and swigging beer after beer; not so different from the last few times she'd seen him. Not so very different from that last night in L.A. and the broken strap of her dress, and the rigid line of his spine never turning, never looking back. Her stomach clenched again, and her face began to twist, but before she could even find the strength to chide herself for remembering, she felt a hand on her elbow, turning her. Soft lips pressed a small, sweet kiss to her cheek, and a low voice in her ear recited a joke about a Frenchman, an Englishman, and a monkey that had her blushing as pink as her skirt. Dominic's eyes twinkled and she collapsed into giggles in his arms, burying her face in his shoulder and wrapping her own arms around his neck.
"Oi, that's another Billy Special, Dom! You lucky bastard," Orlando called, cackling and waving his pint in the air, sloshing beer across the bar top. Pressed against him, Hannah felt Dom's chest, too, begin to shake with laughter. As she pulled back to give them both room to breathe, she felt his hands slide lower on her back and spread flat, pinning their hips together. Her body responded and she arched forward, meeting him pressure for pressure and grin for grin. She wondered if Elijah was watching, if he remembered how it felt - how they'd felt - together. The warmth like a security blanket wrapped around them both, flaring into lust where their skin touched. So many points of contact, so much heat. She and Dom were swaying now, moving in time with the ever-present music coming through the speakers, and she rose up a bit on her toes, leaning forward as he leaned down... and the world shattered around them like glass.
***
"Have you spoken to him since he left for New Zealand?"
"No." Hannah pulled herself up and crossed her legs underneath her on the chair, far past the point of politeness.
"No because you didn't want to? Or no because he hasn't called?"
No because he doesn't need me anymore. No because it was time for one of us to walk away. "Just no."
***
They broke apart quickly, shaking bits of bottle from their hair and beer from their skin. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Elijah? Jesus Christ, man, you could have seriously hurt us," shouted Dom, checking his clothing for splinters. Elijah ignored him, and Hannah saw eyes eerily like her own looking back, tearing into her, sharp with anger and behind that something darker.
"Lij," Hannah tried, reaching towards him with one trembling hand. A lock of damp blond hair swung forward to cling to her cheek.
"Lij," he mocked cruelly, hands curled into fists at his side, chest heaving. "You know what? Fuck you. Fuck all of this." His hands cut the air in an 'x' and he spun on his heel. Before she could do more than breathe, he was across the floor and past all of his new friends standing frozen in shock, then out through the door to the stockroom, leaving it swinging madly in his wake. But Dom was quick as lightning behind him, and Hannah herself right on Dom's heels - until Viggo's hand caught hers and held, his solid, immovable presence forcing her to a stop.
"No! I have to go after him. It's me! It's me, I'm supposed to follow, it was supposed to be the two of us, against the world, the two of us," she mumbled incoherently as Viggo folded her in to his arms and held her. The wool of his sweater scratched her face and she rubbed against it, grateful for a physical sensation to ground her.
"Shh," Viggo breathed, his big rough hand stroking her hair, slowing her shaking. "The quieter you become, the more you can hear, little one," he crooned. "Calm yourself. You two have a lot to say to one another. Be sure that you, at least, are ready to hear it." He began to breathe deeply, in and out, in and out, and she slowed her own breath to match, but it was all too much, the alcohol, the fight, Dom, and the hatred in her brother's eyes. Hannah choked on a sob, unable to ignore the months of silence clawing at her heart, waiting for release. Viggo simply held her tighter and continued to breathe, quietly and rhythmically. His stillness was infectious, and eventually her body found the right pace and she felt her heart slow. She swallowed, hard, and pushed away, looking up at Viggo, answering the question in his eyes with a nod. He nodded in return and let her go, and she turned, eyes focused on the storeroom door, too embarrassed to face any of the people watching her.
***
"What happened the night before he left, Hannah?"
Hannah turned, laughing, as they entered the guest house, the hem of her red dress flaring with the motion. The glass of champagne in her hand caught the twinkle of the fairy lights and she shone, radiant, a charming smile on her face. Elijah stepped closer, unable to resist, and slid his hands against the silk of her dress, around her waist, capturing her mouth in a kiss. His tongue licked at her bee-stung lips, and she opened them for him, slid her own tongue into his mouth, teased him with tiny bites and the scraping of her teeth. After a few moments she pulled back, and still laughing, raised the glass of champagne to his mouth, gave him all of it, and watched his throat as he swallowed. When he finished she placed the glass carefully on the coffee table and moved to arrange herself on the couch, stretching her arms across the back of it, arching her back to pull the dress tight against her chest, and allowing the skirt to settle high up on her leg, the whole while never breaking eye contact with her brother.
He swallowed again and his small, pink tongue poked out to wet his lips. She doubted he even remembered the glass he'd just emptied. Hannah laughed deeply, and threw her head back. When she felt him begin to lick and suck at the column of her throat, she sighed and brought one hand forward to bury in his hair, fingernails tracing the line of his spine down to the collar of his shirt. He knelt in front of her and moved lower, sliding the silk against her breasts as he mouthed them, hands sliding up her thighs, and she moaned, legs spreading as his fingers teased patterns at the line of her panties. Elijah stood, then, pulling his shirt from his pants and sliding the buttons free one by one before allowing the shirt to slither backwards off his shoulders. The shadows from the dim lights gave his chest the illusion of more muscle than he had, gave him planes and curves that Hannah knew would take him a few more years to grow, but she didn't care. He was hers, skinny and wiry or tough and muscular. Her hand moved to his crotch and she rubbed, hard, stroking him through the fabric before reaching to undo the fly, pulling boxers and trousers down all at once. His cock slid free and bounced up, hard and already leaking slightly. Keeping her eyes on his face as she leaned down, Hannah bent to lick at the droplets, swirling her tongue across the tip, placing small kisses along his length before sucking him in, once, then letting him slide out again, reaching her free hand around to stroke the cleft of his ass.
Before she knew it, though, she found herself on her back, Elijah on top of her, straddling her and kissing her hard, shoving roughly underneath her dress. His fingers scrabbled at her skin, feeling for her panties. Finally he gained some purchase and pulled them off, slower now, watching her writhe as he stroked small, feather-light touches at her inner thighs, at the join of her leg and hip. Hannah's hands went to her own breasts, holding them full and pinching her nipples, rolling them between her fingers, but Elijah's eyes hardened, and he grabbed her wrists and pulled her to a sitting position, drawing the dress up over her head and off. One of the straps caught somehow, and the stitches popped, ripping it loose. She leaned forward, then, and kissed him again, splaying her hands across his skin, trying to feel every inch of him. He moaned against her mouth and pitched forward, sliding his cock up and down her cunt, cupping her breast and teasing her nipple with his thumb.
"Lij. Now," she urged, breaking the kiss and lying back, tugging at his waist so that he followed her down as his fingers began their search for her clit. He rubbed it, clumsily, and she cried out, pressing against his hand, eager for more. Suddenly, he stopped, and reached down over the edge of the couch, rummaging for something before quickly emerging with a foil-wrapped pocket. With the ease of practice, he slid the condom on, her hands covering his lightly, tracing the motions, and again, they kissed as he settled forward, hands braced on either side of her. He flicked at her nipples with his tongue, first one and then the other, and she gently guided his cock inside of her, sighing as he slid home before wrapping her arms around his back, scratching lightly up and down. For a moment, Elijah held still, impossibly still, and then with a low growl he began to move fast, thrusting in to her again and again, shoving her further and further against the armrest. Hannah cried out and tried her best to match him, reveling in the scrape of fabric against her back, the hard press of his cock in her cunt, the feeling of completion, of being one person instead of two. He tilted his pelvis forward still more, and slammed in to her, this time at an angle that blissfully rubbed against her clit , and she felt her climax building. She screamed a little in time with his thrusts and her fingernails turned to claws on his back, leaving large red welts where they scraped across his sweat-slick skin, and then suddenly she was coming, hard, and she bucked and writhed beneath Elijah, driving him wild. His rhythm began to stutter and then went completely as he reached his own peak and held himself tense and still, then jerked once, twice, before falling on top of her, panting. Hannah frowned and stroked the marks she'd left on his back as she held him close. Wherever it was, they'd go together. Hannah was suddenly learning that sometimes together didn't mean very much at all.
After a few seconds, she began to move, wriggling her way out from underneath him, searching the floor for her dress.
"Han," Elijah murmured sleepily, cheek pressed against the couch cushion, limbs splayed bonelessly in all directions. She ignored him and pulled it on, adjusting the fabric over her hips and reaching up to pin her hair back in to its previous style. The strap that had broken dangled uselessly over her right breast, swaying as she moved.
"Hannah!" Elijah was awake now, confused at her lack of response and angry that she hadn't even acknowledged him.
"Elijah," she answered slowly, beginning to reclaim the lose pieces of his clothing and piling them on the coffee table in a heap. "I think you should go. Back to the party. Your friends want to wish you luck."
Elijah stood and moved towards her, one wrist holding the other high over his head, stretching every muscle as he walked. Just as before, the low light made him seem tall, so much taller than Hannah herself, so much bigger than anything she could ever be. He slid his arms around her back and pulled her close, leaning in for a kiss. Hannah turned her cheek and put her hands flat on his chest, held him away.
"I mean it, Lij. They're waiting for you. Go." She ducked through the circle of his arms and turned, watching their reflection in the glass of the porch door, watching his body tense with anger as understanding dawned on his face. He reached for his clothes and tugged them on hastily, fingers shoving and pulling at buttons and zippers, every movement sharp. His eyes met hers, once, pleading, and she shifted her gaze, looked past their ghosts to the fairy lights strung outside. Against her back, she felt a whisper of breeze, and he was gone.
"Neither one of us is very good at goodbyes."
***
Hannah pulled the door close behind her to keep the hinges from any more trauma, and willed the others not to follow as she stepped gently down the stairs to the cellar. She found them by sound before her eyes were fully adjusted, listening as Viggo had said, her keen ears picking out the rustle of shifting clothing in the quiet air. She turned the corner past two large barrels stacked one on top of the other, and stopped, stunned, in her tracks. Elijah was there, pressed against the wall, his head thrown back, exposing the pale length of his throat to the moonlight flooding in the small high window, his breathing coming in harsh pants, hands opening and closing on the air. His jeans were a puddle at his feet, the hem of his t-shirt swinging loose just above his ass which had rubbed hard on the rough wood. In front of him, on his knees, was Dom, shirtless and muscled, lips slick with saliva as his mouth moved up and down over Elijah's cock, twisting and sucking. He stopped to tongue the slit, one hand squeezing at the base and Hannah saw the dark tip, skin stretched tight, and the rushing vein she could trace in her sleep, could remember pulsing against her tongue. Then Dom plunged back down, shoved back in, and Elijah gasped and writhed, and Dom raised a tanned hand to splay against Elijah's glowing hip, holding them both steady.
Hannah's breath hitched, her nipples hard against the cotton of her shirt, and she felt a tightening between her thighs, a slow building warmth. Elijah must have heard something because he turned his head and looked over, looked at her instead of through her, and insanely, smiled and beckoned her closer. "Hannah," he breathed, "naked. You. Hannah," then moaned and reached out to clutch at Dom's hair. She obeyed as if in a dream, the cool air caressing every inch of her skin, raising the color in her cheeks. And she stood there paralyzed, too scared to join them, too hopeful to walk away. Then Dom found his rhythm and Elijah was coming in his mouth, shaking hard and holding Dom's head gently between his hands, stroking Dom's cheekbones with his thumbs. A moment later, Dom sat back on his heels, and then jumped to his bare feet, the wild grin back on his face as he turned to her, peeling off his trousers. Hannah swallowed as she watched his lithe muscles ripple, and held her ground. Over Dom's shoulder, her eyes met Elijah's, now darkened with pleasure, and they stepped forward at the same time, folding Dom's golden body between their own. Lips, hands, hair, skin all became interchangeable, all flowed into a glorious whole, and together they moved as one.
***
Recipient: escribo (Dani)
Author: ipso__facto
Pairing: Hannah/Elijah/Dom
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "You and me, Hannah," he had said as he curled around her that night. "We'll do it together, ok? Wherever it is, we go together."
Pre-reveal Notes: Warnings for incest, and underage sex (15 years old). For Dani: I hope it brings you joy this holiday season. Title from the Matt Nathanson song "Suspended".
Post-reveal Notes: More thanks than words can say to my betas empress_jae, airgiodslv, and cindyjade, all of whom went above and beyond to make this work. And to the wonderful mods for their hard work and patience.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
The first time Hannah had gone to see the therapist it had been two weeks after her sixteenth birthday. She'd taken a series of buses downtown on her own, even though her mother had wanted to drive. "Don't be silly, honey," she'd said as Hannah wrapped a scarf around her neck and pulled on her jeans jacket, her movements agitated. "I'll take you. It's too far and besides, I want to be there with you the first time you meet her! And you'll need someone to..." Hannah had just cocked her head and stared, unblinking, until her mother interrupted herself with a sigh and handed over the bus money.
She was too short, still, always too short, for the seats to be comfortable, but the shift of her muscles as her feet swung back and forth when the bus stopped was somehow satisfying. The middle-aged woman two seats up and one over smelled like rotten eggs, and there was a man sleeping across the back row who looked as if he hadn't moved in weeks. Next to her, a young man in eyeliner with artificially darkened hair and numerous facial piercings hummed 'Ode to Joy' quietly to himself. Outside the dingy windows, Hannah watched L.A. unfold around her, gritty and glittering all at once, and wondered what her life would have been like if they'd stayed in Cedar Rapids.
The shrink's office was pretty much just the way she'd imagined it - at least as far as she'd bothered to imagine a shrink's office. Fresh flowers on the side table, various magazines fanned out artfully around a pink glass vase that might have been vaguely reminiscent of modern art, or possibly something the drug store had on sale the week after Easter three years ago. The whitewashed waiting room was furnished with several faded armchairs that looked soft and fluffy, but were actually the kind that dug painfully into your ass after about five minutes and resulted in a pinch that you couldn't escape no matter how much you squirmed. She was thumbing through an old edition of Rolling Stone with her Chucks tucked underneath her on the seat when the inside door opened with a creak.
"Hannah?" called the slim, dark-haired woman peering out at her.
"Oui." Hannah looked up, unimpressed, waiting for the woman's face to harden or her eyes to roll.
"Je suis Genevieve," she had answered with a smile, opening the door wider. "Entrez je vous prie."
***
Two months later and the plane ride to New Zealand passed mostly in a blur. Hannah spent a good half of it drifting in and out of sleep, and the other half with her headphones glued to her ears, trying to ignore her mother's fluttering hands and nervous declarations while Michael Stipe sang about the end of the world as he knew it. She watched an in-flight movie, some boring romantic comedy, and picked the vegetables out of the three meals served along the way. Sometimes she got out of her seat and walked up and down the aisles, just to keep her blood flowing, just to feel like she wasn't standing still. Mostly, though, she spent it feeling like they would never reach New Zealand, like maybe they were just going to keep right on flying forever, out to where there was no time or sky or even a plane anymore. Out to where there was nothing. Secretly, Hannah thought that maybe it wouldn't be so bad if that happened, really, that it might be kind of neat to be ripped into shreds that resembled spaghetti and to feel the different parts of herself drifting aimlessly in the dark. Maybe part of her would even get sucked in to a black hole and could find its way back into the past and tell her other parts, the ones that were still together in L.A., what it was like to be totally separate from oneself.
"Elijah said he'd meet us at the airport," her mom spoke up suddenly. Hannah nodded slightly, hoping that her silence could keep her mother from any more inane, repetitive statements.
"He says they're filming a pretty important scene today, something with him and Sean, but that Pete agreed to let him go long enough to collect us. He uses all these Tolkien words. I never know what it means," her tone was a bit sad, and Hannah murmured something noncommittal and slumped in her seat, turning toward the window.
"He sounds so happy, Han. I think this was a good choice, you know? You should hear him go on and on about New Zealand and the other hobbit actors. I think he really feels like he fits there. I think this is good for him," she reached over and touched Hannah's shoulder gingerly, "for all of us." Hannah gave her mother a quick, tight smile and then reached down under her seat for her bag, digging for a book.
When she struggled up out of sleep for the last time, surreptitiously wiping the drool from her chin, they were about to touch down on the runway. As they swooped in towards the long strip of concrete, the whole plane suddenly tipped to the left and then quickly back again to the right, over and over, wobbling like a child's toy in the air, its wheels only inches above the ground. She tensed, and her mother gasped and grabbed at her hand on the armrest, smashing her fingers down on to the metal. Hannah closed her eyes and held her breath, not sure whether she was wishing for the plane to straighten out or for something else entirely. The next few seconds stretched on and on, until she thought that maybe they really had disappeared, and then she felt the bump as the landing gear connected and a moment after that another as the front wheel came down and they screeched to a halt. The whole plane exhaled at the same time, but her mother's hand kept clutching, clutching, squeezing the blood out of Hannah's fingers as they taxied to the gate.
***
"And what about your brother?" Genevieve asked, re-crossing her legs.
"Zach?" Hannah answered, deliberately misunderstanding.
"Sure, Zach," Genevieve sat back in her chair. "Are you two close? Do you spend much time together?"
She shrugged. "He's 25. I was nine when he left for college. After that, I saw him on his breaks when he wasn't out with his friends or visiting their houses for Christmas. We talk when he calls mom now, but there isn't much to say. He just sort of is." Genevieve nodded.
"And Elijah?"
"I don't know. What do you mean? He's Elijah Wood, right? He travels a lot. For filming. We used to go with him; mom would tutor us both."
"But now?" Genevieve prompted.
"Now we don't go so much anymore, I guess. I don't know. He's busy. I mean, we're all busy, right? He's 18, he's an adult. Which he's not, but. Weird. Anyway, he's in New Zealand, doing this Lord of the Rings thing? It's pretty big, I guess." And we're still so small, she thought, always so small, eyes lingering on the photo of an ivy-covered stone stairwell on the wall. "Hey. Can I smoke in here?"
***
It wasn't Elijah waiting for them when they got off the plane, but a sandy-haired, slender young guy wearing a faded t-shirt and a wide crooked grin. He was holding up a handmade sign with 'WOOD' scrawled across it in heavy black ink, the word 'plural' added underneath like an afterthought, and all in a handwriting Hannah didn't recognize. When their eyes met, he gave a loud whoop and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her up and swinging her in a circle before setting her gently on her feet again. Her mouth gaped in surprise, and he gave her a wink and turned to enfold her mother in a tight hug. "I'm Dominic by the way - Dom," he said, still grinning like a mad man. "No way to miss you, Hannah, just as angelic as your brother. And this must be your winning and radiant sister Debbie." Something about his easy charm and the twinkle in his stormy eyes made it sound playful and sweet instead of awkward. She watched dazedly as this exuberant, completely lopsided, improbably lovely boy, all energy and good humor, took them handily under his wing and hurried them through to baggage claim. Hannah thought oddly that she probably liked him. Then her stomach sort of lurched sideways and she realized that Elijah probably did, too. ("You and me, Hannah," he had said as he curled around her that night. "We'll do it together, ok? Wherever it is, we go together.") She looked down, suddenly shy, and followed the pattern in the polished tiles as they walked.
Her mother tittered and dismissed him with a "Hush. Elijah said you were a charmer. He wasn't wrong!" Dominic - Dom - threw his head back and laughed. It echoed around them in the mostly empty hallway.
"Wanker," he exclaimed through his laughter. "He would say that. Probably warning you against me, hey, darlings? Didn't think to warn me about you beauties, though, did he?" The back of Hannah's neck prickled. Something told her that if she turned to him, he'd be looking right at her. She kept her head down and urged the hands on her watch to move faster. "It was Lijah asked me to meet you, yeah? He got stuck on set. Pete still doesn't have what he wants. They're running the same five lines over and over and over. Welcome to the film business, hurry up and wait! Of course, I'm sure you already know that. Elijah's so young, I always forget he's been doing this longer than most of us. Not Ian McKellan, though! My god! Sodding Ian McKellan! Can you believe it? I'm doing a film with fucking Ian McKellan , oh, excuse my language Ms. Elijah's mum." Hannah looked at him as he bobbed his head in a small gesture of apology. "Not that we've worked with him much, scale issues and the like, but I can't get over how strange it is to be in this place! And this country is bloody fantastic. I never want to leave! There's just something about the land, the culture, you know? It's all pulsing, it all has this beat." Suddenly he laughed again and shook his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Sorry. It just. I'm a bit of a girl sometimes," he tilted his head and flashed that crooked grin at Hannah. "Too sentimental for my own good, that's what Billy says. He's a smug Scottish bastard, yes, but he's usually right. Him and me and Elijah, we're inseparable, like. You'll meet him, too. You'll get to know all of us! Everyone's quite crazy about Elijah, and they're all looking forward to having you join the family. But listen to me going on! How was the flight?" As her mother launched into an agitated description of the landing, Hannah smiled back at him guardedly, and thought, wistful, that maybe the tiny thrill running up her spine as he placed his hand gently in the small of her back to guide her forward was something she and Elijah still shared.
***
"Were you and Elijah close growing up?" Hannah's fingers were twitching, she wanted a cigarette so bad, and her right foot tapped a stuttering rhythm on the plush carpet.
"Yeah. Yeah, we were. Are. I don't know. Really, could I please go outside for a smoke?"
"What don't you know, Hannah? You don't know if you and your brother are close? Were close? Tell me. What is your relationship like?"
"It's like us, alright? I don't know. We were... for so long we were so close we were like twins, or. Or whatever. But I guess you grow up, right? Things change. Sometimes you leave people behind." Sometimes you break promises like kisses and try not to notice the difference. "Look. Is there a bathroom I can use?"
***
A few nights later and Hannah found herself in a pub. Some noisy, worn, comfortable place with seats and tables covered in so many layers of lacquer that they shone in the dim light no matter what noxious substance was upended on their surface. It hadn't been hard for her brother to avoid being alone with her so far. She and her mother had their own hotel room, and everywhere else they went, they were surrounded by people constantly coming and going. Everyone was just as friendly as Dom had said they'd be, and they all took turns alternately coddling and doting on her. Somewhere along the line, the guys - Dom, Billy, Orlando, Viggo, and Sala, mostly - had made it into a playful competition to see who could best shift her perpetual worried frown into a smile. There was a points system and everything. Hannah wasn't really sure who was winning, or even what exactly a "Billy Special" was, let alone how it related in worth to three pints of bitters, but it made Orlando laugh until his sides hurt whenever it was doled out as a prize. She'd resisted at first, tried to stay detached while still being polite, but as the week wore on it got harder and harder to ignore their affections, to remember to keep that distance between herself and everything surrounding Elijah. But god knows he didn't seem to be interested in seeking her out for any reason, and well, waiting around for him was exactly what she was trying to avoid. So what if she went in for one kind of distraction or another? The beer made her feel fearless, stronger than all of them. Maybe another tonight, she thought, eyes scanning the room.
Whatever was between her brother and Dom hadn't made itself public yet. They didn't seem to have a tighter relationship than any of the others, didn't spend all of their time together huddled in private conversation, but if Hannah squinted the right way, she thought maybe she could see something hanging heavy and full between them like an overripe apple, ready to fall. Tonight Elijah sat off by himself in a dark corner, scowling. He was chain smoking, and swigging beer after beer; not so different from the last few times she'd seen him. Not so very different from that last night in L.A. and the broken strap of her dress, and the rigid line of his spine never turning, never looking back. Her stomach clenched again, and her face began to twist, but before she could even find the strength to chide herself for remembering, she felt a hand on her elbow, turning her. Soft lips pressed a small, sweet kiss to her cheek, and a low voice in her ear recited a joke about a Frenchman, an Englishman, and a monkey that had her blushing as pink as her skirt. Dominic's eyes twinkled and she collapsed into giggles in his arms, burying her face in his shoulder and wrapping her own arms around his neck.
"Oi, that's another Billy Special, Dom! You lucky bastard," Orlando called, cackling and waving his pint in the air, sloshing beer across the bar top. Pressed against him, Hannah felt Dom's chest, too, begin to shake with laughter. As she pulled back to give them both room to breathe, she felt his hands slide lower on her back and spread flat, pinning their hips together. Her body responded and she arched forward, meeting him pressure for pressure and grin for grin. She wondered if Elijah was watching, if he remembered how it felt - how they'd felt - together. The warmth like a security blanket wrapped around them both, flaring into lust where their skin touched. So many points of contact, so much heat. She and Dom were swaying now, moving in time with the ever-present music coming through the speakers, and she rose up a bit on her toes, leaning forward as he leaned down... and the world shattered around them like glass.
***
"Have you spoken to him since he left for New Zealand?"
"No." Hannah pulled herself up and crossed her legs underneath her on the chair, far past the point of politeness.
"No because you didn't want to? Or no because he hasn't called?"
No because he doesn't need me anymore. No because it was time for one of us to walk away. "Just no."
***
They broke apart quickly, shaking bits of bottle from their hair and beer from their skin. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Elijah? Jesus Christ, man, you could have seriously hurt us," shouted Dom, checking his clothing for splinters. Elijah ignored him, and Hannah saw eyes eerily like her own looking back, tearing into her, sharp with anger and behind that something darker.
"Lij," Hannah tried, reaching towards him with one trembling hand. A lock of damp blond hair swung forward to cling to her cheek.
"Lij," he mocked cruelly, hands curled into fists at his side, chest heaving. "You know what? Fuck you. Fuck all of this." His hands cut the air in an 'x' and he spun on his heel. Before she could do more than breathe, he was across the floor and past all of his new friends standing frozen in shock, then out through the door to the stockroom, leaving it swinging madly in his wake. But Dom was quick as lightning behind him, and Hannah herself right on Dom's heels - until Viggo's hand caught hers and held, his solid, immovable presence forcing her to a stop.
"No! I have to go after him. It's me! It's me, I'm supposed to follow, it was supposed to be the two of us, against the world, the two of us," she mumbled incoherently as Viggo folded her in to his arms and held her. The wool of his sweater scratched her face and she rubbed against it, grateful for a physical sensation to ground her.
"Shh," Viggo breathed, his big rough hand stroking her hair, slowing her shaking. "The quieter you become, the more you can hear, little one," he crooned. "Calm yourself. You two have a lot to say to one another. Be sure that you, at least, are ready to hear it." He began to breathe deeply, in and out, in and out, and she slowed her own breath to match, but it was all too much, the alcohol, the fight, Dom, and the hatred in her brother's eyes. Hannah choked on a sob, unable to ignore the months of silence clawing at her heart, waiting for release. Viggo simply held her tighter and continued to breathe, quietly and rhythmically. His stillness was infectious, and eventually her body found the right pace and she felt her heart slow. She swallowed, hard, and pushed away, looking up at Viggo, answering the question in his eyes with a nod. He nodded in return and let her go, and she turned, eyes focused on the storeroom door, too embarrassed to face any of the people watching her.
***
"What happened the night before he left, Hannah?"
Hannah turned, laughing, as they entered the guest house, the hem of her red dress flaring with the motion. The glass of champagne in her hand caught the twinkle of the fairy lights and she shone, radiant, a charming smile on her face. Elijah stepped closer, unable to resist, and slid his hands against the silk of her dress, around her waist, capturing her mouth in a kiss. His tongue licked at her bee-stung lips, and she opened them for him, slid her own tongue into his mouth, teased him with tiny bites and the scraping of her teeth. After a few moments she pulled back, and still laughing, raised the glass of champagne to his mouth, gave him all of it, and watched his throat as he swallowed. When he finished she placed the glass carefully on the coffee table and moved to arrange herself on the couch, stretching her arms across the back of it, arching her back to pull the dress tight against her chest, and allowing the skirt to settle high up on her leg, the whole while never breaking eye contact with her brother.
He swallowed again and his small, pink tongue poked out to wet his lips. She doubted he even remembered the glass he'd just emptied. Hannah laughed deeply, and threw her head back. When she felt him begin to lick and suck at the column of her throat, she sighed and brought one hand forward to bury in his hair, fingernails tracing the line of his spine down to the collar of his shirt. He knelt in front of her and moved lower, sliding the silk against her breasts as he mouthed them, hands sliding up her thighs, and she moaned, legs spreading as his fingers teased patterns at the line of her panties. Elijah stood, then, pulling his shirt from his pants and sliding the buttons free one by one before allowing the shirt to slither backwards off his shoulders. The shadows from the dim lights gave his chest the illusion of more muscle than he had, gave him planes and curves that Hannah knew would take him a few more years to grow, but she didn't care. He was hers, skinny and wiry or tough and muscular. Her hand moved to his crotch and she rubbed, hard, stroking him through the fabric before reaching to undo the fly, pulling boxers and trousers down all at once. His cock slid free and bounced up, hard and already leaking slightly. Keeping her eyes on his face as she leaned down, Hannah bent to lick at the droplets, swirling her tongue across the tip, placing small kisses along his length before sucking him in, once, then letting him slide out again, reaching her free hand around to stroke the cleft of his ass.
Before she knew it, though, she found herself on her back, Elijah on top of her, straddling her and kissing her hard, shoving roughly underneath her dress. His fingers scrabbled at her skin, feeling for her panties. Finally he gained some purchase and pulled them off, slower now, watching her writhe as he stroked small, feather-light touches at her inner thighs, at the join of her leg and hip. Hannah's hands went to her own breasts, holding them full and pinching her nipples, rolling them between her fingers, but Elijah's eyes hardened, and he grabbed her wrists and pulled her to a sitting position, drawing the dress up over her head and off. One of the straps caught somehow, and the stitches popped, ripping it loose. She leaned forward, then, and kissed him again, splaying her hands across his skin, trying to feel every inch of him. He moaned against her mouth and pitched forward, sliding his cock up and down her cunt, cupping her breast and teasing her nipple with his thumb.
"Lij. Now," she urged, breaking the kiss and lying back, tugging at his waist so that he followed her down as his fingers began their search for her clit. He rubbed it, clumsily, and she cried out, pressing against his hand, eager for more. Suddenly, he stopped, and reached down over the edge of the couch, rummaging for something before quickly emerging with a foil-wrapped pocket. With the ease of practice, he slid the condom on, her hands covering his lightly, tracing the motions, and again, they kissed as he settled forward, hands braced on either side of her. He flicked at her nipples with his tongue, first one and then the other, and she gently guided his cock inside of her, sighing as he slid home before wrapping her arms around his back, scratching lightly up and down. For a moment, Elijah held still, impossibly still, and then with a low growl he began to move fast, thrusting in to her again and again, shoving her further and further against the armrest. Hannah cried out and tried her best to match him, reveling in the scrape of fabric against her back, the hard press of his cock in her cunt, the feeling of completion, of being one person instead of two. He tilted his pelvis forward still more, and slammed in to her, this time at an angle that blissfully rubbed against her clit , and she felt her climax building. She screamed a little in time with his thrusts and her fingernails turned to claws on his back, leaving large red welts where they scraped across his sweat-slick skin, and then suddenly she was coming, hard, and she bucked and writhed beneath Elijah, driving him wild. His rhythm began to stutter and then went completely as he reached his own peak and held himself tense and still, then jerked once, twice, before falling on top of her, panting. Hannah frowned and stroked the marks she'd left on his back as she held him close. Wherever it was, they'd go together. Hannah was suddenly learning that sometimes together didn't mean very much at all.
After a few seconds, she began to move, wriggling her way out from underneath him, searching the floor for her dress.
"Han," Elijah murmured sleepily, cheek pressed against the couch cushion, limbs splayed bonelessly in all directions. She ignored him and pulled it on, adjusting the fabric over her hips and reaching up to pin her hair back in to its previous style. The strap that had broken dangled uselessly over her right breast, swaying as she moved.
"Hannah!" Elijah was awake now, confused at her lack of response and angry that she hadn't even acknowledged him.
"Elijah," she answered slowly, beginning to reclaim the lose pieces of his clothing and piling them on the coffee table in a heap. "I think you should go. Back to the party. Your friends want to wish you luck."
Elijah stood and moved towards her, one wrist holding the other high over his head, stretching every muscle as he walked. Just as before, the low light made him seem tall, so much taller than Hannah herself, so much bigger than anything she could ever be. He slid his arms around her back and pulled her close, leaning in for a kiss. Hannah turned her cheek and put her hands flat on his chest, held him away.
"I mean it, Lij. They're waiting for you. Go." She ducked through the circle of his arms and turned, watching their reflection in the glass of the porch door, watching his body tense with anger as understanding dawned on his face. He reached for his clothes and tugged them on hastily, fingers shoving and pulling at buttons and zippers, every movement sharp. His eyes met hers, once, pleading, and she shifted her gaze, looked past their ghosts to the fairy lights strung outside. Against her back, she felt a whisper of breeze, and he was gone.
"Neither one of us is very good at goodbyes."
***
Hannah pulled the door close behind her to keep the hinges from any more trauma, and willed the others not to follow as she stepped gently down the stairs to the cellar. She found them by sound before her eyes were fully adjusted, listening as Viggo had said, her keen ears picking out the rustle of shifting clothing in the quiet air. She turned the corner past two large barrels stacked one on top of the other, and stopped, stunned, in her tracks. Elijah was there, pressed against the wall, his head thrown back, exposing the pale length of his throat to the moonlight flooding in the small high window, his breathing coming in harsh pants, hands opening and closing on the air. His jeans were a puddle at his feet, the hem of his t-shirt swinging loose just above his ass which had rubbed hard on the rough wood. In front of him, on his knees, was Dom, shirtless and muscled, lips slick with saliva as his mouth moved up and down over Elijah's cock, twisting and sucking. He stopped to tongue the slit, one hand squeezing at the base and Hannah saw the dark tip, skin stretched tight, and the rushing vein she could trace in her sleep, could remember pulsing against her tongue. Then Dom plunged back down, shoved back in, and Elijah gasped and writhed, and Dom raised a tanned hand to splay against Elijah's glowing hip, holding them both steady.
Hannah's breath hitched, her nipples hard against the cotton of her shirt, and she felt a tightening between her thighs, a slow building warmth. Elijah must have heard something because he turned his head and looked over, looked at her instead of through her, and insanely, smiled and beckoned her closer. "Hannah," he breathed, "naked. You. Hannah," then moaned and reached out to clutch at Dom's hair. She obeyed as if in a dream, the cool air caressing every inch of her skin, raising the color in her cheeks. And she stood there paralyzed, too scared to join them, too hopeful to walk away. Then Dom found his rhythm and Elijah was coming in his mouth, shaking hard and holding Dom's head gently between his hands, stroking Dom's cheekbones with his thumbs. A moment later, Dom sat back on his heels, and then jumped to his bare feet, the wild grin back on his face as he turned to her, peeling off his trousers. Hannah swallowed as she watched his lithe muscles ripple, and held her ground. Over Dom's shoulder, her eyes met Elijah's, now darkened with pleasure, and they stepped forward at the same time, folding Dom's golden body between their own. Lips, hands, hair, skin all became interchangeable, all flowed into a glorious whole, and together they moved as one.
***