unautremonde: (Default)
[personal profile] unautremonde
Title: Remember
Series: Souviens-toi de moi, 3/3
Genre: AU
Pairing: Dom/Elijah
Rating: NC-17
Summary: London, 1943. Dom has demons clinging to his skin and haunting him through his dreams.
Warning: this is a war time story, it's not "pretty". Things are a bit rough around the edges, from the sex to the mentions of Dominic's past. Be warned.
Disclaimer: Obviously all lies, and I'm certainly not trying to pretend I know anything about these actors' real personalities and sexual preferences. It's all fiction, people.
Author's note: additional disclaimer and visual aids to be found here.
Thanks: to [livejournal.com profile] rynalwyn and [livejournal.com profile] shaenie for incredible support and betas. This story wouldn't be what it is without you.


Dom’s bed is still unmade, the sheets rumpled and heavy with dreams and memories tangled within sweat and fabric. Elijah doesn’t notice, though, and Dom doesn’t stop to remember either. They left the shelter in silence, neither of them speaking but everything clear between them anyway. Dom led the way and Elijah followed, came to stand in the darkness of Dom’s room willingly.

Elijah’s waiting, now, straight and taut with tension, fear, arousal… Dom doesn’t want to wait and see, to watch if the boy will run away and flee, so he reaches out, leans forward and catches his prey, takes a first taste of his prize.

There’s no gentleness to that first kiss, but Elijah yields with a hiss, opening his mouth and letting Dom push his tongue inside, Dom’s teeth against the soft flesh of his lips. Elijah’s hands come up and clutch at Dom’s shoulders impatiently, pushing, pulling, as eager as Dom feels. It’s not a slow dance, no romantic twilight encounter and Dom bites down, doesn’t stop when he tastes blood on his tongue, doesn’t let up even under the sting of Elijah’s nails on his skin.

They’re fumbling and tumbling to the bed, fighting their clothes out of the way, mouths still sealed and breaths rasping into each other’s mouths, when Elijah’s hand closes around Dom’s gun. Dom doesn’t register the change in pace, doesn’t immediately realize that Elijah has stopped fighting with him but is now pushing back, fighting him off.

“Stop, please, stop!”

Dom freezes, goes very still at the hint of panic in Elijah’s voice. It’s more familiar than he’d like to acknowledge, bringing into sharp relief the memories of another voice, another pleading form still and beaten under him.

”Arrête, Dom, s’il-te-plaît, arrête...”

Dom doesn’t back up, doesn’t give in to the suddenly urgent pull he’s feeling in his guts, the overwhelming desire to throw Elijah out, to run away himself and forget, to bury his head in the sand and not think about what he’s done. Instead, he grabs the gun and gently pulls it out of Elijah’s grasp, all the while holding Elijah firmly under his own naked body. It’s only after he’s slid the gun back under the pillow, his movements followed closely by Elijah’s wide frightened eyes that they start kissing again.

Dom takes his time, soothes without words and tries to still Elijah’s fear, bring it back to what it was before: the thrill of doing something forbidden with someone who was playing a game. Dom knows that Elijah’s fear is much more real now that he understands the game is as dangerous and real as can be, but Dom still wants this, still wants the prize from the chase.

Elijah quivers and whimpers under him, arousal still fighting with panic. He’s not saying no, though, not pushing back, not fighting Dom off. Not anymore. Dom kisses him carefully, almost reverently because he won’t go as far in this as making Elijah believe he has no choice. Dom wants this, wants the bright-eyed boy under him to yield, but not at the price of more nightmares. There’s enough hate in his dreams.

When Elijah’s hand finally comes off of Dom’s skin to stretch back and grab the bed’s headboard, Dom knows he’s won again. He lifts his head and pushes himself up slightly, just enough to watch uncertainty flicker briefly one last time in Elijah’s eyes. Elijah is looking at him, gaze unwavering and eyes shining bright even in the darkness of the room. Dom looks on, fascinated, as Elijah lifts his other hand and stretches that arm back as well, linking his fingers around the headboard, spreading himself out completely, an offering.

There’s a brief flash of something, another stab of pain spearing through his belly as he remembers more, remembers what it felt like to wrap his hands around tied wrists. He doesn’t linger on the memory, though, dipping his head forward instead, pushing his tongue slickly across Elijah’s belly. Things go faster from there, the urgency back and the need to do this right here right now overwhelming again. It doesn’t take long for Dom to suck Elijah to a whimpering climax, and he spreads his fingers through come and sweat and spit before urging Elijah to turn over.

“Here, come on, move…”

Dom doesn’t wait for Elijah to make himself comfortable but pushes his hand against Elijah’s ass and waits eagerly for an encouraging moan. Elijah doesn’t seem to mind being spread boneless under Dom’s weight so Dom pushes his hand against his ass again, letting his wet fingers slide down Elijah’s crack, reaching Elijah’s asshole and pushing against the puckered flesh. Elijah tenses slightly but Dom doesn’t stop, doesn’t take his fingers away and just pushes forward. One finger, two… Elijah is writhing against the bed, muffled moans urging Dominic on. When Dom replaces his fingers with his cock, the moans turn into whimpers and Elijah starts squirming, alternatively trying to get away and pushing back against Dom’s thighs, trying to get closer.

Dom grabs onto Elijah’s hips, pulls him back and up to his knees, bringing Elijah’s ass fully against his groin, thrusting deeper and faster, relishing the way Elijah is now fighting him push for pull. It’s only when Elijah’s whimpers grow into sharp cries of pain that Dom finally registers how rough it feels, how hard he’s been pushing, how much of Elijah’s gasps are really about the pain and no, Elijah isn’t telling him to stop but Dom knows, he knows he’s hurting him more than he’s pleasuring him.

Dom tries to stop, tries to pull back but Elijah’s hand reaches back, grasps Dom’s thigh and digs his fingers a little painfully into Dom’s leg.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop…”

“I’m hurting you, Elijah, please…”

“No, no, don’t… you’re not… you are but oh God…”

Dom can feel the little spasms of pain coursing through Elijah each time he drives forward; he can feel the way Elijah’s body is trying to close up, to push him out, and it’s overwhelming. He doesn’t want to take so much pleasure in Elijah’s pained whimpers but there’s the way Elijah shudders in pleasure as well and Dom feels himself coming apart. Elijah bites down on the bed sheets and pushes back one last time as Dom shakes and groans, his orgasm sending him sprawling against Elijah’s back, sweaty and a little ashamed. He tries to catch his breath, feeling Elijah quivering under him, and the familiar stab of pain starts to grow in his belly again, twisting deeper inside his chest. There’s no mistaking the wince of pain from Elijah when he withdraws and Dom breaks down, images suddenly flooding his mind, bloody and vivid, of Guillaume spread out on the floor.

It’s a waking nightmare and Dom can feel himself shaking apart. Elijah still lays sprawled next to him, hands back up and gripping the headboard again, reminding Dom of other times, other places, another man’s hands tied and spread open, begging for the pain to end. Dom remembers what it’s like to use and abuse and when Elijah arches, winces again at some small twitch of pain, Dom finds himself sobbing, his breath catching and his voice rough as his hands close on Elijah’s arms.

“I’m sorry, oh my God I’m so sorry!”

Elijah still looks a bit fearful, maybe more cautious than scared as some of the tension has been drained out through sex and bruises. He tries to shake Dom’s hold but Dom doesn’t let go, keeps repeating his apology over and over again, needs to get it out, says it again and again, barely even recognizing the broken twist of his own voice.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Dom… It’s ok, it’s fine, you didn’t hurt me, not really… Dom?”

Dom knows Elijah is trying to be soothing, trying to reassure him, to shoo away the guilt and shame that are building inside, but he can’t listen, can’t see anything other than Guillaume’s pain reflected in Elijah’s wide eyes. He’s holding a stranger in his arms, he knows, but it’s Guillaume he sees, bright and beautiful and fierce, and he isn’t going to hand Dom an absolution, Dom knows that.

Elijah is still talking, and Dom recognizes it, can practically feel Elijah trying not to shout, and it's the way you talk to crazy people, making your voice as calm and as reasonable as you can so as to invite the same in return. Dom hears it, understands it, but it doesn't calm him. Precisely the opposite, in fact. It fills him with a kind of fierce, irrational rage, because it's not like this boy knows anything, it's not like there's any hope that he understands what it's like, and he's screaming that, screaming and throwing whatever his hands come across, shoes and books and clothes, because he doesn't want to hear, doesn't deserve, cannot accept Elijah's offers of forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, I’m fucking sorry, what more do you want? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do this, I didn’t mean it but fuck… Leave me the fuck alone!”

Dom can't stop shouting, can still feel the sobs tearing from his own chest, and he doesn't know where they're coming from, doesn't know how he's lived with them inside him for so long, but they aren't enough, and he can feel his hands bunching and twisting, tearing at the sheets on the bed, obviously scaring Elijah again and for good. There’s a moment when they’re both scrambling for something, for balance maybe or for the gun under Dom’s pillow, but when Dom flings it aside, throws the pillow out of the way and reveals his gun, dark and ominous against the lighter grey of the sheets in the dark of the room, silence falls, heavy and thick as their harsh breathing.

Elijah is standing beside the bed, back to the wall, one hand clutching his clothes to him and the other reaching out in a silent plea. Dom watches him, can barely make out enough of him to realize he’s managed to terrify the boy again. Guillaume’s face is fading, leaving the shadows of the room as he slowly comes back to himself. There’s one last flash, one last memory painting itself over Dom’s heart, one last goodbye from a boy who is no longer standing by his side. Then there will be nothing.

Dom is leaving tonight. He’s leaving because he’s not made for this, not made for the way his heart breaks when he looks at Guillaume, bloody and bruised and moaning on the floor of his cell. It’s not about him, though, not about a friend, a lover, but more about what Dom sees, what Dom knows he’ll remember after this. He kneels down by Guillaume’s side one last time, hand clutching a gun he’s become afraid to use.

Guillaume is surprisingly still conscious, lucid enough to see the intent in Dom’s eyes, it seems. He opens his mouth on a sigh, whispering last words that stick in Dom’s mind, words Dom will be carrying with him forever.

“Remember this, Dommie. Remember. That’s what we are, du sang, beaucoup de sang, trop. Souviens-toi, Dom, souviens-toi de moi.”

Dom hesitates briefly, stretches his hand out over the gun, almost picks it up, longing for the familiar weight of it. He remembers, though, remembers the blood on his hands and reaches further instead, touching his fingers to a stranger’s hand. Elijah gasps but doesn’t draw away and when Dom pulls, he follows like he did before, coming to rest against Dom’s chest like he belongs there.

Dom casts one last look around the room, checks the shadows for demons and ghosts, and breathes Elijah in deeply when he sees nothing. He closes his eyes and holds on tighter, letting words finally flow freely.

“I… I knew a man, once…”

Elijah holds him back and listens.


back to part one: Whisper -- back to part two: Chase


Translation of the French sentences as follows.

”Arrête, Dom, s’il-te-plaît, arrête...” = "Stop, Dom, please, stop..."

“That’s what we are, du sang, beaucoup de sang, trop. Souviens-toi, Dom, souviens-toi de moi.” = "That's what we are, blood, a lot of blood, too much. Remember, Dom, remember me."

As for the title, "Souviens-toi de moi", it means as you may have guessed, "Remember me". :-)


Date: 2004-07-19 09:38 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] anajana.livejournal.com

Re: freedom

Date: 2004-07-19 09:48 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] unautremonde.livejournal.com
Yes, I suppose it is what this is. :-) Though I was thinking more of it as confession leading to some sort of redemption.

Re: freedom

Date: 2004-07-19 10:14 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] anajana.livejournal.com
To be able to tell...without telling I have no hope of redemption. For me, redemption gives me the freedom to draw breath that is not tainted with regret and shame, and to exhale something better than self-hate and grief. I found this story moving and redemptive in the reading. Thank you for it.

Re: freedom

Date: 2004-07-19 10:41 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] unautremonde.livejournal.com
No, thank you for reading it. It came from somewhere deep inside and it makes me happier to know I haven't just written it blind. Your words are the best compliment I have ever gotten, thank you.

Date: 2004-07-19 11:28 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] silme711.livejournal.com
I um feel stupid to ask but...who is Guillaume? And could you translate the french parts? I just want to understand everything right...

Date: 2004-07-19 11:34 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] unautremonde.livejournal.com
No, no, it's not stupid at all! But... you haven't read the full disclaimers now have you? Because if you'd followed this link, you would know who Guillaume is. ;-)

As for the French, I meant to post the translation at the end, there... wonder where it went to. Shall edit ASAP, but here:

”Arrête, Dom, s’il-te-plaît, arrête...” = "Stop, Dom, please, stop..."

“Remember this, Dommie. Remember. That’s what we are, du sang, beaucoup de sang, trop. Souviens-toi, Dom, souviens-toi de moi.” = "Remember this, Dommie. Remember. That's what we are, blood, a lot of blood, too much. Remember, Dom, remember me."

As for the title, "Souviens-toi de moi", it means as you may have guessed, "Remember me".


Date: 2004-07-19 12:28 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] silme711.livejournal.com
Oh. Ohhhh...*facepalm*..Ok obviously I didn't read the full disclaimer. I read it again with the backgroundinfo now. I don't wanted to give feedback without it, you know?
It's so intense. Dom is so intense. I love the build-up of his character. The mood in Chase is stunning. I once saw a WW2 ducumentation on TV about people locked in bunkers and Elijah's reactions are so real. I love the atmosphere you've created in all three parts. This really left me thinking and I love it when a story does this to me.

Date: 2004-07-19 06:19 pm (UTC)
crazybutsound: (guillaume)
From: [personal profile] crazybutsound
Thank you, luv. I'm glad you could make sense of it. :-) And that part about Elijah's reactions feeling real... thank you. That was the one chapter I intially wrote within the RPG, with my friend [livejournal.com profile] aelane, so I think it benefitted a lot from our interactions even though I took out everything she wrote and rewrote Elijah's part in this entirely. It's still influenced by what she'd initially written, you know? I did however change the focus of that part (as the whole story is told from Dom's pov) and it was a bit hard to flesh out Elijah without getting out of character. So it means a lot that you thought it worked. :-)

Thanks again for reading and replying, darling! *smooch*

Date: 2004-07-19 11:28 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] elouisa.livejournal.com
Oh my... this one has left a lump in my throat. So different, so moving. I haven't read a fic like it for a long time. I know that I will be thinking of this for days, I'll be on the phone at work tomorrow and an image from it will appear in my mind's eye and I'll have to stop a second... it's just one of those stories. Thank you so much for sharing this with us,

Date: 2004-07-19 11:43 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] unautremonde.livejournal.com
No, thank you so much for reading it and letting me know that you liked it. The thought that I may have written something that might stick with you is... You have made my day. :-) Thank you.

Date: 2004-07-19 03:43 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] geneli4.livejournal.com
not my usual fare, or my usual boys, but, oh! dark and complicated and so, so good!

Date: 2004-07-19 06:21 pm (UTC)
crazybutsound: (guillaume)
From: [personal profile] crazybutsound
Heeee! Thank you! You stopped by even though it's not your usual fare? That is the best and biggest compliment you could have given me. Thank you. :-) And to be honest, not my usual fare either, lol. I'm more into comedy and Dom and Billy than into angst and Dom and Elijah, so... Glad you thought it was good. :-)

Date: 2004-07-19 06:50 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lucky-sometimes.livejournal.com

See, your agonies gave birth to something good!

Date: 2004-07-20 04:46 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] unautremonde.livejournal.com
Well, I don't know if it's good... As usual, once the thrill and joy of writing have gone down a bit, I find myself thinking it stinks, lol. But hey, at least now I can read your story and those HP ones Ryn gave me links to.

Date: 2004-07-19 07:52 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] c1tylov3.livejournal.com
wonderful job. :) everything is vivid enough to appear in my mind.
you're doing a good job. ;) keep up the good work.

Date: 2004-07-20 04:47 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] unautremonde.livejournal.com
Thank you. :-) I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Date: 2004-07-20 09:02 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] indriyani.livejournal.com
My God, what a way to get back into a fandom. I'm critical when it comes to AU's, they have to be done just right and in a believable fashion (I suppose that's why I never attempted one).

This was good, this was really good. And not to sound like Christopher Lee or anything, but good, like nice, is an awful word to use. But this just kind of stunned me. I knew you were adept because of London Calling, but this? This is a Domlijah I doubt I will forget. It's so distinctive, the way they meet and come together and the way they end up. The last time I was in the fandom, even AU's were becoming predictable, bland and insipid. Your style is refreshing, and please never again doubt your ability with the sex, woman. O.o


Date: 2004-07-20 06:43 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] unautremonde.livejournal.com
Aaaah, finally. *kicks lj* That stupid thing wouldn't let me have my comments, and then it wouldn't let me reply. *pouts*

Thank you, darling, I am so happy you enjoyed it. Especially since you're getting back into fandom and I would have hated to make you feel like it wasn't worth the effort. I understand what you mean about AUs, and I know I always found them more challenging than "normal stories", but up to London Calling, I hadn't felt like I could tackle one, you know? I am however rather happy with this one and it makes my day to know that you didn't think it was boring or bland. :-) And heee, I'm glad you think the sex was good, too, because did I ever agonize over it, lol.

Thank you so much for reading and replying, darling. *hugs*

Date: 2004-07-20 05:34 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] thepsychicclam.livejournal.com
honey, just wow. it was different, and painful, and hella well written. and it hurt, but the end just gave a little hope that left you not as sad.

i can see why you were so proud of it. <333

Date: 2004-07-20 06:44 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] unautremonde.livejournal.com
<3333 Thank you! I know I've been a bit obnoxious about this one, lol, but thank you ever so much for taking the time to read it. I am so glad you liked it, too. *smooch* Thank you! <333

Date: 2004-07-21 01:48 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] krystalshay.livejournal.com
Because I didn't actually read who you had based Guillaume on, I actually pictured Billy in my head, since I thought Guillaume was French for William. I'm not sure whether that made this story somehow even more chilling for me, or not. Either way, it was a very dark, well-written story. You didn't over-dramatise everything, nor did you feel the need to resort to explanation. Rather, you allowed the story of Dom and Guillaume to come out naturally, in a similar fashion to Dom's dreams and recollections.

Thank you for sharing what I regard as a brave piece of fic. Not every author would be willing to show a darker side to a favoured character, nor would many be able to do it so well.

Date: 2004-07-21 02:18 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] unautremonde.livejournal.com
Thank you ever so much for reading and taking the time to say all this. That story was a lot of fun to write, in the sense that I enjoyed the processus, which is something that hadn't happened in a long time. But on the other hand, it was a dark story to write and that made it hard to navigate. I don't do angst much because I'm always scared of over-dramatising. Not to mention that I didn't want to go too deep into Dom's history, that wasn't this story's purpose, and I didn't know whether that would still work or not. So thank you so much for this reply, it really made my day. :-)

Date: 2004-07-25 06:06 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] fly-meaway.livejournal.com
I liked this a lot. It's very different from the other stories. And I like reading dark and angsty stories. This was one of them. It's a great read and I've love how you've written the story and how you described Dom's feelings.

Date: 2004-08-11 12:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] unautremonde.livejournal.com
Heee! Thank you! I'm really happy you liked it, and thanks for stopping by and taking the time to reply. :-)

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