Mea Culpa

I'm so, so sorry for the massive delay! I've had a series of RL crisies that I've had to sort out (one including being without a computer) I never intended to leave it so long, especially on this clif-hanger. So please accept my sincerest apoligeses.

Hopefully the chapter will be worth the wait!


CHAPTER 8


So this was it. Ladies and gentlemen, Orlando Bloom had finally cracked. He shouldn’t be surprised; after all, it’d been a long time in coming. Yes he was definitely insane for there could be no other explanation. Either that or he was having the worst nightmare in years, and there were so many to choose from that took some beating…and he should know about that. He could have sworn that was Viggo standing right here, but that couldn’t be right. Viggo was somewhere else busy with things. Was this all some horrible joke, an attempt to make him feel even more worthless, reminding him what he’d lost?

This couldn’t be happening, Viggo wasn’t here, not standing right in front of him…was he a ghost? Was he going to get Viggo-Ghost give him a ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ experience, show him the error of his ways, how the world would be so dire had he not survived? Although this ‘Viggo’ looked pretty solid for a ghost, so real and so horribly near. Unable to take it any longer, Orlando squeezed his eyes shut. Perhaps Ghost-Viggo would be gone, would stop taunting him. Slowly opening his eyes again, Viggo was still there, looking decidedly not otherworldly in rumpled clothes and unshaven. Although the blood-shot eyes were a nice touch. They were a trademark of a ghost, weren’t they…oh, God, maybe he was losing his mind. Why was he being tormented? Wasn’t Mark bad enough, did he have to have every mistake rubbed in his face? Was it really necessary for his own mind to remind him of what he could never have, why….WHY would he want to torment himself further?

No, this just couldn’t be happening, that would mean Viggo was real, and was here.

…oh, God, he was coming forward…

He was dreaming, or hallucinating. He was sick, it was a dream…a nightmare…that was not Viggo, and this wasn’t real…perhaps he wasn’t even alive…just a dream, really. That’s all it could ever be with Viggo. Dreams and wishful thinking. Regrets and ‘what ifs’.

“O-Orlando?” His voice was still as soft as ever, almost like a caress. Was there a look of disbelief in Viggo’s eyes? That couldn’t be right…why would he be nervous…Viggo was always so confident, so self-assured. Why would dream-Viggo be nervous?

“Why are you here? Are you trying to torment me?” breathed Orlando, not quite able to meet Viggo’s eyes, his voice shaking.

“Torment? Orlando I…I’m here for you. I don’t want to hurt you.” Whatever Orlando had been expecting to hear, whatever reason- that definitely wasn’t it. Dream-Viggo would have wrapped him up in his arms and protected him. This Viggo was just standing there, with a rather gormless expression on his face. Gormless-Viggo didn’t really appear in his dreams. In fact, he didn’t exist period.

Viggo’s words still reverberated through his head. ‘I don’t want to hurt you’. The horrible irony was not lost on Orlando. ‘But you have. Ten times over’ Orlando wanted to scream. Viggo had hurt him more times than he could count, more than he could remember. Even when he was long gone from his life, the imprint of Viggo still lingered, tainting his life, his new life. Orlando wanted to be furious, to be righteously indigent with this ‘Viggo’, to let loose the years of venom sealed up within him, the aching loss of his life, his innocence, all because of Him, the ‘man’ standing in front of his bed right now. He wanted to laugh at Viggo’s confused expression, to show Viggo the true depths of misery, to show him exactly what ‘hopeless’ looked like. He had a lot of experience in that; he’d seen it in the mirror for years. He wanted to claw the innocent confusion off Viggo’s face, to make him see the pain he’d caused. Oh yes, he felt like laughing at Viggo’s words…

Oh, so now he didn’t want to hurt him? Shame he never considered that before, when it really mattered, when he could still feel the pain and aguish that Viggo had so cheerfully dumped upon him. Perhaps Viggo knew that Orlando couldn’t be hurt anymore? That he felt so dead that he was immune to it? Could Viggo see that in his eyes?

“You’re real, aren’t you?” Orlando asked, for the first time daring to look up, meeting the grey -blue eyes. He needed to know, just the eyes would tell him. A mute nod only confirmed what he knew…somehow Viggo was here, and very real. His eyes drifted back down to the blanket, he must have memorized the pattern by heart. This seemed so unreal it had an almost dream-like quality to it. Perhaps he was hallucinating, was this all a dream, some sick twisted fantasy his brain had come up with to torment him further? Surely Viggo would not bother himself with his ex. No doubt he was with someone else by now, someone he could be happy with, someone he wasn’t ashamed of. Over the years it had become increasingly obvious to Orlando that his lovers found him hard to deal with. Viggo had broken up with him for ‘appearances sake’, or had he? Maybe Orlando had read too far into a relationship that never was.

Had Viggo just wanted a young bed-warmer and Orlando had just assumed it included a relationship? How stupid and idealistically naïve he had been. Certainly he didn’t seem to have meant much more to Mark,- well, not any more. Perhaps Mark had loved him once, he’d told him that often enough. But then Viggo had also pledged his love to Orlando, and that had all been a big lie, hadn’t it? Why should Viggo be here, he had no reason, no obligation to be here. It didn’t make any sense. Why would Viggo still care about him? Still, even now, Orlando couldn’t believe that Viggo would come to taunt him, it was simply not in the man’s nature, but equally, it was unlike him to just pop in. So why was he here? Viggo never did anything without thinking it through carefully, weighing pros and cons, evaluating each action carefully, considering each possible re-action. No, Viggo never did things ‘half cocked’. He was a planner, a strategist, something Orlando had never been.

“Dominic rang me, when you were brought in.” Viggo explained, when it became obvious that Orlando wasn’t going to speak further. "He just said you'd...that I had to come here. I couldn't not come, Orlando, I wanted to help if I could. I couldn't not come" he repeated as if he was trying to reassure Orlando, or possibly even himself. Did Orlando really think that poorly of him, that he’d deliberately and maliciously set out to hurt him, to ‘rub his nose’ in it? Viggo wanted to be angry and appalled at Orlando’s rash judgement but he couldn’t find it in him. Frankly Viggo had nothing in his life which was worthy of boasting, besides his son oursourse. His love-life had been virtually non existent since his break-up with Orlando. On the outset of the break-up he’d savagely cut off all ties of communication with Orlando, setting up impenetrable walls. He’d refused to meet Orlando, refused to answer his messages and left his friends to deal with the fallout, to comfort Orlando. Looking back, he was amazed they’d been as tolerate as they were, even though Beanie had seriously threatened to break his nose after visiting Orlando. Despite being Viggo’s friend Sean had been there for Orlando too, leaving Viggo feeling even more wretched. Of all people Sean was the most well-versed in relationship break-ups. He had so many one night stands, been so desperate to forget Orlando, of how perfect he’d felt in Orlando’s embrace, of how they’d moulded together as one, but nothing had helped, with Orlando he had reached perfection and now, everything else simply paled in comparison. The stream of men and women had blurred into nameless faces. Of the few that had made it to his bed, he couldn’t remember their name or whether they’d been good looking or funny or nice. Why would he try to boast over that, what would be the point?

“You…you’ve been here the whole time…oh God…” Orlando whispered, shaking his head, a look of horror-filled realisation dawning upon him. If Viggo had been here all this time, that meant he would have seen...everything, he’d seen him asleep...he’d know. How much had Dom and Elijah told him…or Dr. McCoy? It was bad enough having to confront his friends, but this…Viggo was the one person, besides Mark, that he never wanted to see again, why Viggo?!

Of everyone that had to see him like this, why did it have to be the one person who could make Orlando cry and laugh at the same time, who was his personal hell and heaven rolled into one. Why was Viggo here? To see his ex, see the depths he’d plummeted to, how the Mighty Orlando Bloom had fallen, was no longer the perfect angelic creature that Viggo had portrayed him as. Was that his purpose, to prove that yes, their love had forever burned itself inside Orlando? He must have lost every ounce of respect or love in Viggo’s eyes, for him to be able to witness him in this weak state, broken and destroyed.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew he was hardly Mr Macho; he never had been and for a long time, he had been alright with that. He’d shrugged off the effeminate comments, the androgynous jokes, laughter on the set. Especially during Troy it had been common place. He could take that, he really didn’t mind it. Hell, he’d laughed along with everyone else…Prissy Elf, Pretty Paris. That was fine, it wasn’t a problem. He wasn’t a man’s man…well, yes he was a man but not in the old sense… but this was different.

While he’d never had any problems displaying his emotions – to either gender, allowing someone to see him looking this vulnerable, so hurt and exposed was bad enough, even among his closest friends. But for his ex to see this…that was just unbearable. To be allowed to see him unconscious, unable to hide or defend himself against prying eyes, that was intolerable, and it was unfair. Why should Viggo witness him vulnerable, he’d never seen Viggo unguarded, or weak, but perhaps it just wasn’t in his nature. He’d seen women weep, Sam, Liv, Diane, even his mum, that was all OK. They were women, they were allowed to cry and scream and show emotion. No one censored them for that…and, yes, even Dom and Lccasccasionally cried but not like he had, not in rasping torrents of despair, displaying hurt so deep that he wondered if he would ever be able to feel whole again. Men didn’t cry.

Not men like Eric or Johnny, and especially not Viggo - real men didn’t cry and wail and hide. Viggo never hid, was never afraid. He faced problems straight on, except when he was faced with Orlando, poor delicate Orli who couldn’t face the truth. At least Mark told him the truth, how unlovable he was, how weak. But Viggo was too soft, he’d pitied Orlando, been indulgent with him. He cared for Orlando then. He often envied Viggo’s composure, always so cool and collected; wise all-knowing Viggo. He’d have probably made a much better Elf. At times Orlando found it hard to believe he’d been the aloof Legolas or the fiery Will Turner, even the seducing Paris. How had he managed to convince anyone when he couldn’t even convince himself to look at people, to face his own self.

How did Viggo stand it, witnessing what Orlando had become? How low had he sunk in Viggo’s eyes! He’d once claimed to admire Orlando, why, he was never quite sure, but now he was faced with what a true coward Orlando was, how was he ever supposed to face Viggo again, face anyone?

He couldn’t hide anymore. Viggo must know, he could see the bruises, his arm. It was bad enough having Dominic and Elijah here. While they knew about the abuse, they didn’t know about…the rest; Orlando had managed to hide that from them. But to have Viggo here…why… why would he bother coming? Was he happy now? Happy to know that he’d failed every relationship after Viggo, that Mark didn’t love him, that Orlando had been wrong?

Maybe the rest of the Fellowship was here, was that why Viggo had turned up? He shuddered to think just how long Viggo had been able to observe him, see his injuries, make judgements.

“Orlando, I don’t-“

“No! Just stop it, don't...please just don't…" the voice was barely a whisper but Viggo heard. He heard the pain and despair in Orlando’s voice. He heard the utter defeat as he spoke the words and for the first time in days Viggo felt something other than self-pity, or failure. True the failure lay with him but he wasn’t the only guilty party here. Mark was as responsible as he was and his crimes paled in the sheer magnitude of what Mark had done. He felt a welcome anger and indignation rise within him. How dare Mark make Orlando feel this worthless, this unloved?! How dare Mark try to hide Orlando away, destroy what Orlando was. He would NOT stand by and watch Orlando slowly fade into nothingness. He was better than that. He deserved much, much better.

"Orlando... please listen to me. It's NOT your fault, NO-ONE blames you"

"Stop it!! It IS my fault, why can't you see that, why can’t Dominic and Elijah? It’s my fault, Mark was my boyfriend, my responsibility. Mark wouldn’t have become like that for no reason, people don’t just turn violent for no reason…I made Mark what he is and I have to face up to that! People should hate me, I’ve ruined so many people’s lives; Mark, Lij, Dom…if Mark hurts someone else it will be my fault, on my conscience.”

“Orlando that’s crazy! You can’t make someone, you can’t mould people into things, it doesn’t work that way. You can’t dictate people’s actions or thoughts, you can’t control someone, look what happened when Mark tried to do it-“ he trailed off and bit his tongue as he watched Orlando’s expression pale slightly. He shouldn’t have brought that up, it was too early to remind him of such things but strangely Orlando didn’t censure him for his thoughtlessness. Instead his face had took on deep concentration as if he sought to unravel the mysteries of the universe, deep ridges appearing on his forehead which Viggo had to severely restrain himself from kissing. He loved those ridges, they always looked so adorable on him, and for a brief second he could pretend nothing had changed, that he could walk up and pull Orlando, his Orlando into a tight hug and brush away the deep thoughts, but reality decided to make it’s presence know in Orlando’s next murmured sentence;

“You hate me, why shouldn't Mark...I couldn't love him, not the way I should, I just couldn’t give everything to him, I wanted to, but I…there was a small part of me, I just…couldn’t... I tried, I really did, I deserved it, so don't tell me I didn't" the voice was quiet, almost aching in its admission. Viggo was stunned at such pain and loathing in a voice did not seem possible. Was this his doing, what he had accomplished?

He had simply wanted to make Orlando find someone more ‘worthy’ to love him. So he stopped contact completely, not returning his phone calls… and it had hurt, feeling as if his own heart had been ripped out. But seeing this broken angel before him, it suddenly hit him what exactly he’d done. Even seeing Orlando unconscious hadn’t been this bad. He hadn’t been subjected to Orlando’s self loathing, to hear the twisted logic of Viggo’s hate…what he had caused and what he had to fix.

"H-hate you? I've never hated you, Orlando. I couldn’t … Why…why would you think such a crazy thing...I care about you, truly, more than care…I always have…that’ll never stop, never I promise…Oh God, Orlando, I never wanted you to think that or to be hurt…I just…. I...I don't hate you I swear. I don’t think it’s possible to hate you, you’re the most wonderful man…Oh, Orlando…why...why would you think that, Orlando? I...just please tell me why?!" Viggo pleaded, trying desperately to wrap his head round the insane logic, a sort of horror filled him as tears filled his eyes. Did Orlando really despise himself that much? What twisted beliefs…Of course he should expect such, what with the Monster who’d fed Orlando those lies. Bastard. Yet would Orlando ever believe Viggo again, ever trust him?…How the hell had he managed to so thoroughly destroy such a perfect being…one so full of love and trust. Viggo felt as if he’d somehow helped destroy an angel…a sacred being of light and love, and left a huge weight on his heart. But he also knew he had a shot at redemption, he would help Orlando, do whatever it took, however long. He would make Orlando feel loved again, remind him of the joys of living. If it took the rest of his life he would show Orlando just how amazing and worthy of love he was…

"You left me Viggo remember?” All at once a surge of anger flowed through Orlando, a feeling so alien that it almost shocked him. It’s been so long since he felt…anything, he almost cried, but for now he simply revelled in the blistering anger towards one target he could lash out against. Viggo almost cringed at the all-too true accusation. He could not defend his actions, nor would he try to. He heard the brief fire in Orlando’s voice and had almost cried with relief. If Orlando hated him and cursed him to the heavens so be it, it would mean Orlando would be on the road to recovery. He needed the spark, something to kick start him into life, to reawaken the stagnant emotions within him.

“You broke up with me, cut off all contact, what was I supposed to think? I tried everything and you just ignored me, what else am I supposed to think – that you adore me so much you’re ignoring me. Mark never ignored me, not like you. He needed me, you never did. You were always far away, too aloof, too smart too creative too – Viggo. I wanted to be with you, I loved you so much, I don’t know how I got through those months after you left… I thought I'd done something wrong, that I'd pissed you off, embarrassed you somehow. I know I kept pushing you. I thought everyone would be okay with us...outside. I just didn't think you weren’t...I never think, always go in ‘guns a blazin’ ‘ I didn’t want to hurt you Viggo Then the party, you...you just looked so uncomfortable. You were so desperate to get . I . I just thought..." Orlando’s voice lost any edge it once held. He couldn't finish his sentence, the memories and hurt proving too strong. He didn't want to break down in front of Viggo. He wanted to disappear into a black hole. After all, that was the only thing he must be fit for now.

“God, I must’ve humiliated myself so much, clinging like a stupid puppy…” Orlando whispered. Viggo must be cringing by now. Why did the ground never swallow him up...a heated pitch forked hell was preferable to this. “Maybe I should’ve died, saved everyone the trouble of dealing with me” The voice was less than a whisper, but Viggo heard it and his heart stopped.

“Orlando…please…please don’t say that. Elijah and Dom would never forgive themselves if anything happened to you…they love you so much. I would never forgive myself…I want you safe and happy” he added whi whisper. How had four years with one man reduced Orlando to this? How could someone so full of love and joy become so despondent, so self despising? “Orlando…if you give up, Mark wins, he’ll destroy you. You can’t let that happen. You deserve better!!” he exclaimed, his voice rising slightly. Orlando turned to face him, his face devoid of all emotion; a hollow shell of the man he loved…was in love with. He longed for Mark to walk through the door, just so he could beat the man to a bloody pulp, and make him witness the utter devastation he’d caused to this amazing man, to truly make Mark suffer like no other living creature.

“Why do I deserve better, Viggo? You didn’t seem to think so; I was an embarrassment, wasn’t I? To your life, your feelings? At least Mark didn’t have that, I didn’t have to hide…not in the ways we did. Is that what I deserve, to be hidden away…you tried to, Mark did. Aren’t I fit to be seen with?” Orlando’s voice was quiet, almost dream-like as if he was remembering some long forgotten memories.
“Oh God Orlando. Anyone with half a brain would be proud to be seen with you. You’re amazing, no matter what you think right now Orli. I never forgave myself for leaving you…for giving you to Mark I wish to God I hadn’t done it. I just got so scared of my feelings, I’ve never loved anyone like I love you Orli, not even with Exene.”
“Don’t call me that please. I’m not Orli, I can’t be, not anymore”
“You’re wrong. You are Orli. You’re Orli, you’re Orlando your Orlando Bloom – they’re all the same person no matter what happened, Mark can’t take that away from you, you belong to yourself. Don’t ever doubt that Orlando”
“Dom said the same thing. He said I was still the same”
“Then why don’t you believe us?”

“Because I’m not the same. Your Orli never would have been here, never would have let Mark…he wouldn’t have given up, hidden and run away. He was a fighter. I’m not a fighter, I’m. Not. Him, Viggo. I can’t be ever again.”

It made Viggo shudder. Had he truly lost Orlando, not just Orlando’s love, but Orlando’s…essence? This lost, hollow man wasn’t Orlando Bloom…it couldn’t be. Maybe he hadn’t known Orlando as well as he'd thought. Had he always been this insecure and sensitive? Part of him didn’t want to know. For once Viggo couldn’t think of a thing to say. How the hell could Viggo comfort Orlando, try to make amends for all the damage he’d caused? Even as the thoughts formed he realised they were purely self-indulgent. This wasn’t about him. It never had been. That was how all the problems had started. It had always been about him. His feelings, his worries, his stubbornness. He’d never once picked up the phone to ring Orlando, to check if he was alright or asked if Orlando wanted to break up. He’d ended it, left him because ‘it was good for Orlando’, yes it was a lot of bull, but it’d been convincing at the time. After all this time Viggo began to realise that he didn’t know the first thing about what was ‘good’ for Orlando. The worst had been during the filming of Troy. The publicity was endless. Everywhere were pictures of Orlando in his Trojan costume displaying his beautiful physique, looking even more desirable than Viggo remembered. It had been a very uncomfortable few months, in more than one way.

He’d been sick with envy towards Orlando’s co-stars who could be so close to Orlando, being able to hug and kiss him freely. He’d been enraptured by pre premiere photos. It’d been all he could do not to ring up Sean and ask…no demand him to tell him every last detail of Orlando’s life, his relationships. but he hadn’t. He’d tried to broach the subject very casually to Sean, who in no uncertain terms told him stealth was not one of his qualities with an underlying message to get over Orlando and live his life. It appeared that Sean, quite rightly so, had just about run out of sympathy for Viggo when dealing with the whole ‘Orlando Scandal’ as it’d been dubbed, much to Viggo’s chagrin. It also hadn’t helped when some annoying anonymous e-mailer had somehow signed Viggo up to a Orlando site which followed his movements in such ridiculous detail it made Viggo feel positively normal about his obsession for ‘all things Orlando.’ Privately, Viggo blamed Liv as the most likely culprit, and wouldn’t have been at all surprised if she’d tried to badger Sean to become a go-between to try and reunite them. It hadn’t worked.

It was all Orlando could do to stop himself from rocking back and forth like a madman, although he doubted it would make much difference to his fractured mental state. He wished nothing more than to demand that Viggo leave, or else fling himself into Viggo’s arms and beg to be comforted. But he refused to do either. He refused to let Viggo see how desperately he wanted him, how he had crawled into Orlando’s skin. He cursed the love he still held for Viggo, which more than anything had been the cause of Mark’s anger, of destroying his life. Why couldn’t Viggo just leave, it would be a lot less painful then when Viggo buggered off two months later after giving him some false hope. Hopeless he could deal with right now, but false hope; that might just truly destroy him, especially where Viggo was concerned. Despite Orlando never mentioning Viggo’s name to Mark, it had always lingered, unspoken, a blasphemous word that had destroyed their relationship. Viggo was the cause of all ill in Mark’s world, Viggo was the Devil who’d lead naïve Orlando astray, and Mark couldn’t save him. .

He knew he should be grateful to Viggo for coming, for showing that he still retained some modicum of feeling, but he also felt a great amount of anger, towards himself and Viggo. Was Viggo at least partly responsible, or was that just another addled part of his mind giving further proof of his impending insanity? Viggo had branded himself on Orlando, on his mind, his heart, even his skin. Orlando had been forced to realise that not only would he never have Viggo’s love again, but all of his future relationships would pale in comparison. He’d tried to make it work with Kate, tried to ignore all the rumours of him and Viggo in a secret relationship. He still didn’t use the ‘net, but he knew.

Dom and Elijah had read the rumours, the gossip. Lij, being the little net fiend he was, had given him a very enlightening explanation of what ‘slash’ fiction was, Orlando had still be flushed with embarrassment two hours later. Fortunately even Elijah had the good s to to stop talking about it after the break-up. It hadn’t been easy to know that people assumed they were together; it had been the last thing he needed. The rumors didn’t stop, not with Kate and not with Mark. Once, Mark had received an e-mail inviting him to join a “Viggo-Orli Yahoo” group. After that Orlando had had to put ice on the bruise for several hours to stop the swelling. He’d also removed Mark’s address from the group resisting the urge to kick the computer for his pain.

Mark had become increasingly convinced that Orlando had been planning to leave him, that any form of communication with Beanie, or Liv, even Ian, was all an elaborate set-up to dump Mark and return to White-Knight Viggo. So he took it upon himself to frequently ‘remind’ Orlando how much Mark needed him, that he couldn’t leave, and should that not prick Orlando’s conscience, then more drastic measures would have to be taken to ensure Orlando’s fidelity. Mark seemed to forget they were his friends, and that Viggo rarely, if ever came into a conversation, almost as if they realised how much pain it would cause Orlando.

At Mark’s cajoling and later insistence, he’d gradually stopped talking to them. It had hurt, he’d missed them all, he didn’t want to lose contact with them. It wasn’t easy for them, they cared for Viggo too. He hadn’t wanted to create such a gulf between his friends… but Mark had developed a habit of reading most of Orlando’s mail for any passing reference to Him; mail, postcards even the occasional e-mail he received (ironically it had been Mark who insisted he get an e-mail address, which he still hated using), nothing was safe from Mark’s eyes or above his suspicion. Elijah had once commented it was like Nazi Germany. Orlando hadn’t said anything, just shifted uncomfortably. What could he say in Mark’s defence?. Mark didn’t like to have Viggo’s name mentioned, ever, not even when it was others mentioning it. As far as Mark was concerned, Viggo was like Satan, a name you simply did not mention. That was one of the first rules Orlando had discovered. He’d quickly learnt that Viggo was off limits in any way, shape or form; his name was not to be mentioned, by anyone. His films, music and art were banned as were interviews, a passing mention of his name… He’d often felt like he was in a bizarre Nazi-like Harry Potter world with Viggo staring as the evil Lord Voldermort, Lord Mortensen – You-Know-Who – He That Can Not Be Named. Forbidden to mention a mere name seemed as ridiculous as it was to fear Mark, but then the fear had seemed very real. The injuries had certainly felt very real.

Indeed Mark, as well as all mail – both e-mail and hand-written, (even his bills and junk mail was screened, didn’t want Orlando to get any ideas in his head about leaving for ‘holidays’ did he?), had begun to search for any other potential sign of infidelity: his clothes (anything too ‘suggestive’ had to go), his scripts (no romantic scenes, even kissing scenes lead to…other things) his friends (no relaying information to Viggo) even his dog, Sidi, which had been a gift from Viggo and such was Orlando’s worry he’d sent his precious dog to his mother for safekeeping under the guise of globe-trotting. That had been one of the hardest blows and Orlando had almost hated Mark for that. Almost. Everything in his life had been dissected and examined before considered worthy of keeping. It had started slowly, like everything else. It had been occasional, then frequent, then every day. Even the perfunctory loving greetings and sign-offs had come under scrutiny. Mark had demanded to know why Beanie had sent ‘his love’ to Orlando. Had they gotten together during Troy…or had he, Eric and Brad had a threesome? After all, he and Eric had seemed incredibly friendly at the premiere, hugging and kissing all the time, add to that he was more than complimentary about working with Eric and Brad…so obviously he was having affairs with two straight, happily married men.

Perhaps he’d even gotten with one of the older guys. After all, Orlando had become nothing more than a cheap on-set whore, willing to ‘loan’ out his body to anyone he saw fit, whether he had a faithful boyfriend or not. Perhaps it wasn’t Orlando’s fault, after all he couldn’t help the way he looked, but his hair, and the clothing he wore…maybe it was intentional. Mark could never be sure either way, he could have almost sworn Orlando was truly unaware of the attention he was getting, but then he was an actor... Mark had screened his mail; he had to, Orlando had left him no choice in the matter. He hated doing it, but he claimed he was protecting Orlando from himself, from the world. He was a danger, he’d end up hurting himself and other people, he was a tease, a flirt, and it was Mark’s job to ensure that Orlando was never put in temptation’s way. He was helping Orlando.

The Hobbits had only been safe from Mark’s suspicions because Elijah had been so horribly vocal about ‘Viggo the Scumbag’. And even Dom, Sean A and Billy hadn’t been too kind when they referred to Viggo. In the end though their devotion to their precious beloved Orli had still lead them to Mark’s wrath. Orlando had tried to distance himself from his friends in a last ditch attempt to protect them. He’d become dangerous to familiarize with, anyone who wanted Orlando’s friendship risked incurring Mark’s wrath. Fortunately Mark had never attacked an his his friends, although he had come close once or twice, and for that at least Orlando was grateful, if there was to be violence it should be him to take it. What Orlando couldn’t fathom was Mark hadn’t always been cold and unfeeling, not to begin with. He had loved him, Orlando was sure of it. He’d been kind and considerate, been gentle and funny, outgoing, completely open with his feelings, the exact opposite of Viggo. Mark had never hurt him, or scared him. He’d felt safe around Mark, he had trusted him, for Mark had never given him cause not to, so what changed so drastically?

It was somehow easier to imagine Viggo with a dark side, not someone like Mark, who had been so open. Had he driven Mark to become like this…was he responsible? The thought chilled him. Because of him, he’d destroyed a man’s life. That he was suffering for it did nothing to ease Orlando’s conscience. Even at first after Mark had hit him, he had said he was sorry, constantly apologising and begging for forgiveness. He’d said his love was so strong it was almost painful.

Each time he begged Orlando not to leave him, pleaded and cajoled him. Orlando could feel Mark's guilt and sorrow swelling around him. How could he leave, give up on him? But after a time it seemed no amount of reassurance, or even ‘proof’ was enough fork. rk. He’d truly believed Orlando would leave him one day. It had hurt Orlando, almost as much as the violence, knowing that Mark would believe that. Orlando had never wanted to leave him. He had loved Mark. Loved him as a person, as his partner. No, he wasn’t Viggo, and Orlando had accepted that, been ready to welcome Mark into his life. While Viggo would always have a small part of his heart, as his first true love, he had to move on. He’d never meant to hurt Mark, truly he hadn’t. Viggo had broken his heart and he would never wish that pain on anyone, lest he ended up shattering Mark’s heart, Mark’s sanity, as badly as his had been. Did that make him as bad as Mark?

It was after the Reunion that everything had started, after he’d run into Viggo. In that evening he’d managed to lose two men that he loved, repulsing Viggo and making Mark distrustful. All it had taken was a laugh and a shoulder squeeze from an ex-lover, so innocuous many would agree, but not to Mark. What had Mark seen in Viggo’s touch? Orlando had seen pity, a friendly final farewell to their old life together, to their friendship, had Mark read it differently? Perhaps some small part of Orlando had wished it differently, but he had loved Mark then, he’d been happy and he couldn’t understand why Mark had doubted that. Was he unconsciously flirty, like Mark told him?

He hadn’t intended to fall in love with Mark when he met him. Mark had been a friend, just someone to talk with. Mark, rather ironically, helped bolster his confidence after two failed relationships. Mark made him feel sexy again, told him it was possible to find love again, that people did find him attractive. Mark had been flirty, whispering comments in his ear, making him laugh and blush. Mark didn’t needed any encouragement to start making moves on Orlando, nor did he hide the fact he found Orlando attractive, and Orlando would have been lying if he had denied an attraction towards Mark. At first everything had been wonderful, Mark had practically worshiped him and Orlando should have read the warning signs. People always made him out to be some god, a divine creature, but he was as fallible as the next and Mark, when he’d discovered Orlando’s mortality, it had hit him hard. The blazing desire had cooled, the love lingered but then that too eventually died out, taking Orlando’s soul with it, leaving a burnt and damaged husk. Orlando tried to blink back the tears as unbidden memories flooded back; he hoped he wasn’t trembling.

“…Orlando?” Viggo whispered uncertainly, gazing at Orlando’s white face, tears clearly shimmering in his eyes. He’d seen Orlando almost go into a trance-like state and suddenly feared that Orlando was going to lose consciousness again. But his eyes had remained open, taking on a slightly glazed look, signalling Orlando’s thoughts were far away. It was all too obvious that Orlando’s mind had not been in a pleasant place, and it didn’t take a genius to work out that the thoughts were undoubtedly connected to a memory of Mark in some way, but Viggo was loath to discover the exact nature of Orli’s sudden withdrawal. Formulating images of what that monster had put Orlando through, the poisonous lies he’d been fed…

Viggo knew ifhearheard from Orlando’s own lips, just one instance of Mark’s abuse, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. The itching need to make Mark suffer, to give Orlando retribution, was always burning obsessively in his veins. But it wasn’t his place and that grieved him. He couldn’t kill Mark, exact his revenge, and worse, he couldn’t stop Orlando’s hurt. He couldn’t take away the nightmares or the distrust that now weighed heavily in those eyes. He should be Orlando’s protector, as ridiculous and primitive as that sounded, but it was none the less true. He’d been a friend, and later a lover to Orlando - protector fell into both categories. Gazing at Orlando he saw that he’d quickly retreated within himself again, looking remarkably similar to how Elijah had described him, as if he was trying to make himself disappear.

Taking a moment to try and compose himself, Orlando tried desperately to blink away the tears that were perilously close to falling. He couldn’t – would not - allow them to fall in front of Viggo Mortensen. He’d cried too many tears over this man and refused to shed any more. Gathering up all of his remaining courage, he looked at Viggo. The worry was clearly evident in the older man’s face, yet there was also a flicker of hope, that danced bright in his eyes. At that moment Orlando felt he could drown in Viggo’s eyes, longed more than ever to be taken into the elder’s embrace and be whispered lies. Lies promising safety and warmth. That Viggo would never let him go again, that he still loved him, and always would. They would all be lies, but Orlando still longed to hear them, needed to.

“I…I’m not really…I don’t think I can see people a lot…I mean, yet, Viggo” he whispered, struggling to keep looking at Viggo. It was so much safer to gaze at his blanket, but he knew in order for Viggo to agree he’d have to look at the man, something which Orlando was finding increasingly difficult. “Do you think, I mean, can I be on my own for a bit?” he whispered, hating how faint his voice sounded.

Viggo nodded “Of course, you need to rest Orli. I didn’t mean to stay so long…I just…forget the time when I’m around you” he admitted. “Orlando…I want to stay here, to be here for you, if you want me” he added, not quite daring to hope. What if Orlando rejected his offer? Perhaps on this occasion he should listen to Elijah, make Orlando see it was necessary. If Dom and Lij truly thought it would help to have him around then he’d stay regardless of Orlando’s current choice, just perhaps stay out the way more than he’d otherwise do. It wasn’t that he believed Orlando to be incompetent at making his own choices, far from it. In all honesty it shows the sheer strength of will he possessed to have come through all of this. He’d only given up when stretched beyond all mortal endurance. No Orlando Bloom was no quitter, not ever. If he hateggo ggo that was fine, he could deal with that but he would NOT give up on Orlando as he had done before. Elijah was right, he was a coward. He’d become far too scared of opinions and was disgusted with himself. Now it was time to do what Orlando needed, not ‘what was best for him’ or maybe even what Orlando currently wanted, but what would help him in the long run, what would make him want to live again. “I want to stay around Orlando. I want to….I will help you” ignoring ever present warning in his head, Viggo bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to Orlando’s forehead, brushing an unruly lock of hair from his eyes.

Orlando didn’t wto cto cry, not anymore. He was sick of crying, of falling apart like some weak…creature. He was sick of feeling like his heart was being split in two, he was so tired of everything… feeling so lonely and afraid, always looking over his shoulder waiting for Mark, of trembling with fear. He was sick of running away. It didn’t work, it never had. His suicide attempt hadn’t worked, his hiding hadn’t worked. The only other choice now was…direct. It made him numb with fear, he’d hidden and lied for so long now there was a comfort in it. To begin healing would make him admit what had happen. That he had been abused. Mark had abused him. Hit him and raped him, scared him. It was difficult enough to admit it to himself, it felt as if a whole new wound was being torn open while old ones re-opened, that someone who he loved could do that to him. Is that what healing involved, to have to even admit to yourself such horrors? One thing was for certain he couldn’t carry on like this, not in this limbo, this purgatory. Something had to change. He either had to truly give up; ending it all and making sure no one stopped him, or fight. Fight to survive, to reject Mark’s beliefs. Dom and Elijah thought he was worth saving, maybe Viggo did, and Dr. McCoy seemed to think so, were they right? Deep down he knew Mark was sick, but it didn’t make Mark’s words easy to reject, he’d loved the man for four years, lived with him, shared his life… even when Mark hit him he loved him. Mark’s words had lovingly been whispered into his ear at night, both praise and criticism, words of love and possession, Orlando wanted to be loved, to be needed, especially after Viggo’s abandonment; it had made it easier for Mark. His words and promises made sense, and gradually became true. He’d learnt to accept Mark’s beliefs, that he deserved Mark’s punishments, that somehow it cleansed him, but now…he couldn’t do that anymore, he couldn’t pretend it was good for him, nothing should hurt this much, should it? Some small part of him accepted he c nev never help Mark, not really, and that grieved him. He loved Mark. It would be so easy to hate him, but right now he despised himself too much.

He knew the self-hate wouldn’t stop, not right away. Mark’s teachings were too intergraded? for that, yet to acknowledge it seems such a relief, such a huge leap that he felt that perhaps he had hope, that for the first time he felt he might actually be able to overcome this. To be Orlando – to be Orli again. That would feel nice. So he let the tears fall, even though the voices shrouded him, whispering malicious words, he carried on, his whole body shaking in as much relief as sorrow. The sobs muffled by the blankets, he drew his knees up to his chest and rocked himself slightly back and forth.

Viggo slowly moved closer towards the bed, not wanting to scare Orlando before taking a silent breath and sitting on the bed, slowly inching closer towards him and gently laying a hand on Orlando’s arm. The comforting gesture caused Orlando looked up. He wanted to back away, tell Viggo he didn’t want to be touched or comforted, that he couldn’t stand it, but he found he couldn’t, his tongue wouldn’t form the words. Instead, “Please don’t leave me Viggo. I need you” came tumbling out uncensored before he could stop them. Expelling a breath he didn’t realise he was holding Viggo nodded silently, accepting Orlando’s plea and the unspoken words that went with it.

“I won’t go anywhere…unless you want me to” he whispered, catching Orlando square in the eyes, allowing him to finally see all the emotions which lay there, unchecked. Without another word, Viggo moved closer and gently pulled Orlando into his arms, careful not to crush him. He waited for Orlando to pull away but he simply felt his shirt grow damp as Orlando’s muffled sobs continued against his chest and he found himself stroking Orlando’s hair as tears ran down his own cheeks.

***
Elijah stood just behind the window watching as Viggo gently pulled Orlando to him, rocking their friend gently. To both men’s amazement Orlando didn’t pull away but inclined his head inwards and continued to sob, tears streaking down Viggo face as well. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but in this case words were not needed. The scene was overwhelmingly heart-breaking and Elijah was beginning to feel almost like a voyeur intruding on a very personal moment, when he felt a frown spread across his face as someone tugged on his shirt.

“C’mon, this isn’t our jurisdiction” offered Dom his eyes equally glued to the scene in front of him.
“You still think it was a good idea to bring Viggo?” offered Elijah as Dom began to pull him away. When finally away from the disturbing yet riveting scene he turned to face Dom, awaiting an answer. Dom nodded, “It’ll take some time but I stand by my decision” Dom offered, smiling softly
“You sound like a politician” Elijah groaned rolling his eyes “ever with the diplomatic answers”
“Just as well Mr ‘Ants in his Pants’ Wood. Sometimes discretion is the best course of valour” he offered in his ‘prim Brit’ voice.
“Whatever. You could have just said ‘I told so you’. God you Brits are so smug” muttered Elijah, a mock scowl coming across his face.
“Ah but where is the fun in that? Anyway enough talk, I’m feeling hungry. Do you want a burger?” Dom offered, feeling more relaxed for thrst rst time in days…no, years. Elijah cocked his head to the side, seemingly considering. “Hmmm delightful hospital crap or a huge juicy burger. Tough one.” He grinned before it wavered slightly “he’s going to be alright. Right?”
“He’s got Viggo, and us.” Dom offered and that seemed to reassure the ring bearer enough. The Elf was in good hobbit and Ranger) hands.

TBC in chapter 9… please send Feedback!!!