Pairing: Dominic Monaghan/Elijah Wood, Dominic Monaghan/? Elijah/Viggo Mortensen (implied)

Rating: This part is PG-13

Disclaimer: We do not know these men, therefore this is total fiction. We make no money from this at all.

Summary: Things are getting more suspicious on both sides.

Feedback: Greatly appreciated

Archive: A Shortcut to Trianne - anywhere else, once the series is completed, please ask

Notes: The story is Dom's POV. Elijah's POV is only expressed through his on-line journal (italics).

**~~**

Mom just left with a shopping list typed by Dominic. She actually thought it’d be easier to read than his handwriting. I probably should have said something. Given his typing, and the fact that he was less than sober when he typed it, she will probably be coming back here with god-knows-what. Could be a good thing though. He wants to make ‘kedgeree’, which is a fish and curry dish that BK taught him how to cook, I think. I didn't like it in NZ so why the fuck I’d want to eat it here is beyond me. But Mom seemed impressed. Impressed enough to go shopping for him when she hardly ever does the shopping. She seems impressed by everything about Dom right now.

Dom went visiting some mates from Manchester earlier this afternoon. They were passing through on their way to Australia. Backpackers. I didn’t tag along, so they could feel free talk soccer and hometown stuff. He did look kind of put out that I wasn't going, but I told him that I had to see my agent. He was okay with it then. He respects the work, the need to keep moving forward. When it comes to my career, Dom is ultra-supportive. His own career? Well *he* doesn't complain but sometimes people snipe about it. Dominic Monaghan is a fine actor, he has talent coming out of his ears -- and beautiful ears they are, too -- but finding a niche in this town is proving harder than he thought.

So while Dom was out somewhere in an authentic British pub complaining about the authentic British beer, I had lunch with Viggo. In a little place he chose. The kind of place you have to go down an alley to get to. A tiny courtyard with a fountain and no music, very private and discrete. The food was fantastic, of course. Romanian or Hungarian or something. Dom probably would've loved it. But I didn’t tell him about it.

Viggo and I talked about the premiere. He told me that he's cutting down on publicity. Would be in New York and L.A. and maybe Wellington, but would skip the others. I sympathised. Ian isn't doing them all, either. We talked about Sean and how we would miss him this time round. Viggo said he spoke with him recently and Sean's immersed in preparations for *Macbeth*. But for some reason he didn't seem to want to dwell on Bean that much.

And then he brought it up, as I thought he would. The ‘commitment thing’ as Dom likes to call it. The *thing*. And Viggo wanted to know if we realise what we’re letting ourselves in for? And how does Peter feel about it? I told him that he was making a big deal out of it, while he casually doodled on his napkin -- I couldn't see what it was, the fountain perhaps. I told him just like this: "Viggo, it's a low-key event, a private get-together for us and a few of our closest friends. We're not exchanging rings or anything. Why would Peter give a fuck?"

And then he brought it up. The past.

He has this ability to stare right at a person, to stare into them until all the reasons for saying "no" just cease to matter. The words hung over us for a moment or two, then he smiled and we both laughed. He really had me going for a while there! Like he really wanted to go back to what we had in New Zealand, pre-Dom. Like we ever could.

"Scrub that. That was wrong of me," he said, with that broad grin of his. Then he touched my arm very lightly and told me that Dom’s a lucky guy, adding. You both are."

I had to agree. We are. Then it was time to pay for the meal, and I was glad of the excuse to break the mood.

"You know where I am if you need me," he practically whispered to me just as we parted ways. And just for one second it seemed to be a perfect way out of this mess. I could have gone with Viggo. I could have let him fuck me. And to hell with Dom and New Zealand.

But of course, that was never going to happen. I made my choice a long time ago. And the choice was Dom.

Before we left the place, Viggo balled up his napkin and tossed his masterpiece neatly in the trash. Viggo’s always been good at that. Compartmentalizing.

Dom’s asleep on the couch now. Passed out just as soon as he printed out that list for my mom. Didn’t even care that his mates were still here! So they hung around for a while after he fell asleep. They said I’d ruined him, that he couldn't hold his beer like he used to. Then we all had a laugh at Dom’s snoring. We had some coffee and they looked round the house and told me stories about Dom that even Billy probably doesn’t know. Then I sent them off in a taxi for the airport -- hopefully they sobered up before their flight.

***~~***

"You did not!"

"Did."

Dominic sat up quickly, forgetting the cosiness of Elijah’s lap and the doting fingers that were moving through his hair. "You’re a bloody liar!"

"Hey! I can’t hear the television!"

Still groggy from his long nap, Dominic rolled himself off the couch and got to his feet. “You’re putting me on, Bill.” He mouthed a quick apology to Elijah before walking into the kitchen and towards the stove.

"A fella got it on film, Dommie boy. And it’s good enough to become stock footage for surf movies in the years to come."

Lifting the lid of the pot, Dominic took a sniff of the simmering spicy aroma, careful not to drop the phone into it. “Yeah, and I bet it’ll be conveniently lost by the time I get down there.” He didn’t think it could hurt to add a little more curry powder.

Billy gave a snort of laughter. “And that’s why I’ll be making a dozen copies later on today."

"I still don’t believe you.” After clumping the lid down and setting the spice back on the counter, Dominic moved the phone to his other ear. “I’ll need some prove, mate.” When he returned to the living room and saw the empty couch, he wondered if Elijah was escaping his role as a taste taster.

"What happened to the trust between us, Dom? Thought we were close? Where’s the love?"

"Yeah, I trust you to be a cheeky arse."

"Don’t expect me to be your best man if you’re going to be slinging insults."

"Oh, God.” Dominic fell onto a cushion, dimly aware of Elijah’s lingering warmth. “It is not a wedding! How many fucking times have I told you that?"

"Yeah, you’ve said that. Oh, and if he’s the groom... I really don’t look good in mauve."

Dominic groaned, hearing the peals of laughter fade as he took the phone from his ear. It was beginning to creep past irritation, and it hadn’t only been Billy.

Just about everyone had gotten in some kind of jab about the ‘commitment party’. Ian being the only exception. And the worst... that had to be Viggo. Because Viggo was the only one who hadn’t acknowledged it. To Dominic, at least.

Where was Elijah, anyway? He was supposed to be deciding on whether he wanted to go down to Mexico that weekend. And Dominic was going to have him talk to Billy if he’d need further convincing-- a sulking Scottish accent would undoubtedly do the trick.

Dominic brought the phone back to his ear, unable to hold back a soft smile as he caught the tail end of a heartfelt apology. “It’s all right, Bill. Hold on a second."

He put the phone down on the couch, taking a brief second to decide against checking the food again before heading to the bedroom. Dominic felt a bit guilty for the intentionally soft footsteps, but then he heard the clicking. He knew exactly what he’d see before peeking through the door.

Elijah was sitting on the bed, his back to the door, tapping away on his laptop. As usual. And as usual, he wasn't surfing on the internet, just... typing. Always fucking typing.

Dominic frowned and pushed the door open. It didn’t creak as loudly as he’d expected and he found himself standing in the doorway, with Elijah completely oblivious to him. He took a step into the bedroom, then decided it’d probably be best to make his presence known somehow. And that it’d probably be best to not scare the living daylights of the man either.

So he turned around and walked out of the room, hearing the typing pick up speed as he did. What the hell was he writing -- War and Peace: The Sequel? Dominic almost wished that he’d gotten close enough to read the screen, but he pushed the thought to one side.

Back in the living room, Dominic picked up his mobile. “Hey, I’m back. Want to talk to the novelist?”

“Huh?”

“Ignore that. Want to talk to Elwood?”

“Oh, sure! Is he coming down with you or not?”

“Well, that’s what you’re going to ask him.”

“Ah, okay.”

Back at the bedroom door, Dominic paused, somewhat relieved to notice that the typing had stopped. Then it started again. Keys being hit so hard that the sound made him wince. Was Elijah angry?

Taking a breath, he bounded into the room, fully aware that he was probably going to be hamming it up a bit. “Hey there! Billy’s dying to talk to you!” Only a bit. But if Dominic had been overacting, then Elijah was completely over the top.

The laptop was slammed shut, Elijah’s head turning, eyes flashing in what seemed like accusation.

“Uhm.” Dominic was more than convinced that he’d seen The Exorcist way too many times. “Billy’s on the phone.”

“Oh. Okay.” Elijah reached out and took the phone, his other hand still on the laptop, as if he were protecting it from marauding bandits.

Dominic sat down, and watched Elijah gear up to speak -- why? It was only Billy. He was aware of Elijah subtly moving his precious laptop to the other side of the bed. Away from him.

While Elijah shouted an animated, “Billy! What’s up?” into the phone, Dominic’s eyes strayed from the seemingly cheery smile, to the pale hand resting protectively on top of the sleek black case.

**~~**

So I read the preliminary report.

And apparently, the weather in Wellington is “convivial for this time of the year.”

What the fuck?

Am I paying this guy to tell me the weather? I spent what felt like a lifetime in New Zealand, and then some. I know about the fucking climate.

Burrows (appropriate name for a detective, isn’t it?) is staying in the Hotel De Wheels and has established contact with some “valuable sources.” In other words, fuckers who will tell anyone anything if the money is right.

He named one guy -- Matt. He arranged our travel and accommodations. I remember him. Nice guy, wife had a baby while we were filming. I signed the card. And now he's talking to my private dick about my boyfriend.

Diapers must be pricey in Welly.

Matt led Burrows to another guy, a technician. Nothing concrete yet. Just pursuing a line of enquiry, and there will be another e-mail in a couple of days time.

When Dom moved back in, I promised him that I forgave him. He refused to stay here until I did. And I did. I did. It's just that the forgiveness has worn off, I think. Like an inoculation you have as a kid. It protects you for a little while but then you need a booster. Well, for a while I was just so happy to be back with him, in bed with him, eating with him, laughing at his jokes… being with him. But then it wore off, slowly melted away and now I need the fucking booster. I need to know who it was, then I can be tanked up with forgiveness again and it'll last me a lifetime.

He won't tell me. Promised me anything in the world, tears in his eyes, anything but that. And every day since then, he's lived up to his promise. And the one thing I need is the one thing he won't give me.

And I’m repaying him by betraying him.

We should break up. Cancel the ‘thing’. Dom doesn't deserve this. But then I would be without him. And I can't be without him again. I can't.

**~~**

Had an interruption. Looks like I might be going to Mexico with Dom. But I might make an excuse. I don’t know.

I’ll have to finish this later. Have to try to be enthusiastic about curry and fish now.

**~~**

Dom made me a plate of kedgeree. So I logged off and we ate together like a normal couple.

It wasn't bad, even though the rice was the best part. I told him that BK knew a thing or two about curry. Wasn’t a lie. Dom could have fucked up the recipe for all I know.

Dom just laughed, chewing his smoked fish before saying, "He did! Curry and chess. But this recipe's actually one that Viggo taught me."

Viggo.

I wonder how long it’ll take Burrows to send another report.

Continued with Part Four of "Trust Lost"