Affirmation Chapter Eight
Title: Affirmation (Chapter Eight)
Author: Vanessa
Pairing: OB/VM
Rating: NC-17
Summary: When a tragic situation leaves Orlando broken and isolated will Viggo’s love and belief in him be strong enough to bring him back?
Feedback: Always appreciated
Warnings: Violence, Angst, and Character Death (Original Characters only).
Disclaimer: This is not true. I don’t know them, and I'm not making any claims about them in real life. It never happened.
Archive: Please don't.
Betas: The wonderful tamsu2002 & foxrafer
Author’s Notes: This is set in early to mid 2003. I obviously played with actual filming schedules. There's a lot of angst in this, but there will eventually be a happy ending, I promise.
Well, I'm finally ahead on this again and ready to start posting. I hope I'll be able to keep going this time. *grins*
~*~
Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven
Banner by araestel.
Viggo turned on the coffee maker, watched it for a moment to make sure it was dripping properly, and returned to the bedroom. Sean had told him that he made things unnecessarily hard by interrupting his morning routine like this, and Viggo supposed he was right, but he didn’t mind. He hated to leave Orlando lying awake in the bed, though he supposed Orlando wouldn’t notice or care if he did. He hated even more to wake him.
From the time he got up until the time Orlando woke, Viggo could pretend that everything was normal. He could pretend that this time when Orlando opened his eyes, he would really be and that everything would be back to the way it used to be.
Viggo didn’t really believe it. He’d stopped really believing it almost two months ago after Orlando had been home for only a few days, but he had to cling to that last shred of hope. It was possible, the doctors all said so; it just wasn’t probable, which is what they stressed.
It was probable that Orlando would remain like this for the rest of his life. It was probable that he would become less and less responsive until there would be no other choice but to institutionalize him. It was probable that Viggo’s hopes were foolish and would only leave him disappointed.
Viggo didn’t want to think about what was probable. He wanted to know what was possible and what they needed to do to give possible the best chance they could.
There wasn’t much of a chance, and possible was becoming less and less likely every day, but Viggo couldn’t just give up and give in. This was far too important.
Orlando was still asleep, his chest rising and falling under the covers and his eyelashes dark against his too-pale cheeks. He looked peaceful, almost normal, without the blank look that he wore when awake.
Viggo brushed the backs of his fingers lightly against Orlando’s cheek and took note of the rough stubble that was growing there. He’d have to shave Orlando again today. “I wish I knew what you needed,” he whispered.
Orlando didn’t awaken and Viggo was relieved.
“I wish,” he continued softly, “that I knew what I’m doing right and what I’m not. The doctors keep telling me that I should put you in a hospital somewhere. Last week even Dr. Kanecki told me that if you hadn’t come out of it by now, you weren’t going to, ever. They say a hospital would be best for both of us, but I know you’d hate it if I did that. I’d hate it.”
He smiled sadly, brushed his fingers over Orlando’s cheek again, and returned to the kitchen to get his coffee and make breakfast. He would have to wake Orlando soon - they had an appointment with Orlando's doctor that afternoon and it would take time to get Orlando ready to leave the house - but he needed to compose himself first. He couldn’t let those thoughts continue if he was going to make it through the day.
~*~
Orlando tossed the video game controller down on the couch and shuffled into the kitchen. Nothing in the refrigerator looked appetizing; ditto for the cabinets and the pantry. They were all moderately full of food but he didn't want to eat any of it, and he probably shouldn't anyway. He wasn't hungry, just bored.
Since returning from vacation a month ago, he hadn't done anything really. His one scheduled photo shoot had been cancelled at the last minute, and nothing else had come up. He had asked to be not quite so busy between movies, but this was ridiculous.
And speaking of movies, there was nothing on that front either. Sure, a couple scripts had come in but they were hardly worth looking at, nothing like he had previously been getting. Before he went on vacation, Orlando had been a rising star. When he came back, he was a crazy has-been whose own agent didn't have time for him and whose boyfriend didn't bother to call when his trip got extended a few days.
Viggo never would have just sent a text message before, but that was what Orlando had received last night when he was anticipating Viggo's last phone call from New York. Have to stay thru Thurs. Will call later. Vig.
It seemed no one wanted to talk to Orlando, and he knew why. Somehow, someone had found out about the voices and they all knew. Viggo, his agent, his publicist, his friends, everyone. No one wanted to talk to a crazy person, no one wanted to be or associated with him, associated with him. Everyone close to him was slowly and subtly breaking away - avoiding Orlando as best they could, so when he had that public breakdown they were all dreading, it wouldn't reflect on them.
Oh, they would deny it. Viggo had just been swamped last night and he'd call tonight and be all loving. Orlando's friends would be back in town and call to suggest getting together, and his publicist and agent might find a good photo op and script for him. They wouldn't break things off completely, not yet. He was Orlando Bloom after all. They couldn't just walk away without creating undue speculation in the press.
No, they would do it slowly, pulling back little by little until the public forgot about Orlando Bloom he hardly remembered who his friends were and the only associations between them were long in the past. It would be easy then to lock him in a mental hospital without causing any scandal. His supposed friends and loved ones would let him drive himself mad by leaving him alone with nothing but television and video games to drive away the voices that were louder and louder and the figures that he saw more and more often.
The only reprieve was in sleep, but he couldn't sleep yet. He never could sleep when he wanted anymore. His other self chose when he slept and his other self didn't show any indication of wanting to sleep. He was stuck, alone in the house with no one to talk to and nothing to do.
This sucked.
The voices and figures got louder and harder to ignore just as Orlando was settling back on the couch with a bottle of water in one hand and the television remote in the other. He had the vague idea in his mind that if anything were going to convince his other self that a nap was a good idea, it would be daytime television. Talk shows and soap operas had always bored him silly, and if his other self was at all aware of what he was doing, they'd both be asleep within ten minutes.
Orlando's thumb was hovering over the power button when Viggo's voice caught his attention. Viggo's voice always caught his attention - it was the hardest for him to ignore, especially when the real Viggo was gone and Orlando was craving his attention. At the moment, he almost welcomed the shadow Viggo's voice. Any attention from Viggo, even this other phantom Viggo, was better than none at all.
"Please Orlando."
Please what? Viggo sounded so lost, so desperate, but Orlando didn't know what he needed, and he didn't know how to find out. He was afraid to concentrate more on the voice, afraid that even if he tried he wouldn't quite catch the whole conversation. It was often like that. He would catch bits and pieces, but never everything that was said. It was like listening to a radio or watching a television with bad reception - he would hear most of what was said, but a few words and phrases were always missing.
If he concentrated hard, harder than he ever had before, then maybe - just maybe - Orlando could catch those missing words and phrases and figure out what that other Viggo wanted. He could focus on...but he couldn't. That would mean taking a step closer to where he did not want to go, and he couldn't do that. Only...
"I wish..."
There it was again, Viggo's voice - the other Viggo - sounding desperate. Orlando's heart clenched and his mouth dried. He dropped the remote, fumbled with the cap of the water bottle, and downed half the water in one swallow. It didn't help. He could still hear Viggo, could see the desperation in Viggo's shadowy form...he had to know, he had to do something.
All thoughts of naps and daytime television were gone from his mind. Orlando set the water on the coffee table, settled back on the couch, took a deep breath, and concentrated. His eyes drifted slowly shut as he became hyper-aware - first of the soft, smooth fabric of the couch cushions and the breeze that ruffled his hair as it blew through the open window, and then the shadowy figures that slowly took a more solid form and pushed awareness of all else from his mind.
~*~
Viggo finished dressing Orlando then sat down on the bed with a tired sigh. "I wish, Orlando..." but he couldn't finish. He couldn't bring himself to say the words. It wouldn't matter anyway. No matter how often or how hard Viggo wished for it, Orlando wasn't going to respond. At least not the way Viggo wanted. It wouldn't do to dwell.
Instead, Viggo forced himself to talk as he got ready, carrying on his part of a conversation like they had before Orlando left for filming. There were still a few moments of silence where Viggo habitually paused to wait for Orlando to respond, but he'd gotten better at jumping from one thing to the next and covering them. It made things less awkward, less painful. If he could hear his own voice, he wasn't missing Orlando's so badly.
"Your mother called again," he said, just to fill the space. "She wanted to know what the doctors were saying, but you've...been there." Viggo swallowed around the lump in his throat. It was harder this morning, the routine was wearing on him. "I wish I had something new to tell her."
Orlando sat there silent and unmoving, his glazed eyes staring straight ahead and his blank face giving no indication he'd heard a single word Viggo had said all morning. Viggo had talked for a good half-hour about anything and nothing. He had spent days on end talking about everything that came to mind until he couldn't think of a single thing to say and his head ached with the desperate need for silence. All it meant nothing, for Orlando didn't even know he was talking. The words did nothing but fill the silence.
Or did they? He had to know.
Forced silence was as uncomfortable and unnatural as forced monologue, but Viggo made himself finish getting ready without saying a word. He glanced at Orlando every few moments, hoping that maybe there would be some response to the absence of stimuli, but there was no response. Orlando sat just as he had before, seemingly unaware, and another piece of Viggo's heart broke.
Viggo crouched in front of Orlando and took his hand. "You didn't even notice that I stopped talking, did you? I'd hoped...but I shouldn't have. I know that." He took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and rested his head on their joined hands as he struggled to get his breathing and his emotions under control. He couldn't give in to this, not now, not while Orlando needed him. He had to be strong, had to stay in control, had to keep holding on.
"All the doctors say it's a foolish hope, but I can't give up on you, Orlando. Please don’t let me down. I know you're stronger than this." He looked up, straight into Orlando's cloudy eyes. "I need you to come back to me."
As Viggo watched, something changed so subtly that he almost thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. The fog in Orlando's eyes lifted just a little and the corners of his mouth bent into the tiniest hint of a puzzled and concerned frown.
Viggo's heart skipped a beat.
Was he imagining this? But no, he could hear the change in Orlando's breathing, could see the difference in Orlando's eyes and face. The fog was definitely lifting. Dare he hope?
"Orlando?" Viggo brushed shaking fingers across Orlando's cheek, held his breath as Orlando's body stiffened just slightly. "Orli?"
Chapter Nine
Author: Vanessa
Pairing: OB/VM
Rating: NC-17
Summary: When a tragic situation leaves Orlando broken and isolated will Viggo’s love and belief in him be strong enough to bring him back?
Feedback: Always appreciated
Warnings: Violence, Angst, and Character Death (Original Characters only).
Disclaimer: This is not true. I don’t know them, and I'm not making any claims about them in real life. It never happened.
Archive: Please don't.
Betas: The wonderful tamsu2002 & foxrafer
Author’s Notes: This is set in early to mid 2003. I obviously played with actual filming schedules. There's a lot of angst in this, but there will eventually be a happy ending, I promise.
Well, I'm finally ahead on this again and ready to start posting. I hope I'll be able to keep going this time. *grins*
~*~
Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven
Banner by araestel.
Viggo turned on the coffee maker, watched it for a moment to make sure it was dripping properly, and returned to the bedroom. Sean had told him that he made things unnecessarily hard by interrupting his morning routine like this, and Viggo supposed he was right, but he didn’t mind. He hated to leave Orlando lying awake in the bed, though he supposed Orlando wouldn’t notice or care if he did. He hated even more to wake him.
From the time he got up until the time Orlando woke, Viggo could pretend that everything was normal. He could pretend that this time when Orlando opened his eyes, he would really be and that everything would be back to the way it used to be.
Viggo didn’t really believe it. He’d stopped really believing it almost two months ago after Orlando had been home for only a few days, but he had to cling to that last shred of hope. It was possible, the doctors all said so; it just wasn’t probable, which is what they stressed.
It was probable that Orlando would remain like this for the rest of his life. It was probable that he would become less and less responsive until there would be no other choice but to institutionalize him. It was probable that Viggo’s hopes were foolish and would only leave him disappointed.
Viggo didn’t want to think about what was probable. He wanted to know what was possible and what they needed to do to give possible the best chance they could.
There wasn’t much of a chance, and possible was becoming less and less likely every day, but Viggo couldn’t just give up and give in. This was far too important.
Orlando was still asleep, his chest rising and falling under the covers and his eyelashes dark against his too-pale cheeks. He looked peaceful, almost normal, without the blank look that he wore when awake.
Viggo brushed the backs of his fingers lightly against Orlando’s cheek and took note of the rough stubble that was growing there. He’d have to shave Orlando again today. “I wish I knew what you needed,” he whispered.
Orlando didn’t awaken and Viggo was relieved.
“I wish,” he continued softly, “that I knew what I’m doing right and what I’m not. The doctors keep telling me that I should put you in a hospital somewhere. Last week even Dr. Kanecki told me that if you hadn’t come out of it by now, you weren’t going to, ever. They say a hospital would be best for both of us, but I know you’d hate it if I did that. I’d hate it.”
He smiled sadly, brushed his fingers over Orlando’s cheek again, and returned to the kitchen to get his coffee and make breakfast. He would have to wake Orlando soon - they had an appointment with Orlando's doctor that afternoon and it would take time to get Orlando ready to leave the house - but he needed to compose himself first. He couldn’t let those thoughts continue if he was going to make it through the day.
~*~
Orlando tossed the video game controller down on the couch and shuffled into the kitchen. Nothing in the refrigerator looked appetizing; ditto for the cabinets and the pantry. They were all moderately full of food but he didn't want to eat any of it, and he probably shouldn't anyway. He wasn't hungry, just bored.
Since returning from vacation a month ago, he hadn't done anything really. His one scheduled photo shoot had been cancelled at the last minute, and nothing else had come up. He had asked to be not quite so busy between movies, but this was ridiculous.
And speaking of movies, there was nothing on that front either. Sure, a couple scripts had come in but they were hardly worth looking at, nothing like he had previously been getting. Before he went on vacation, Orlando had been a rising star. When he came back, he was a crazy has-been whose own agent didn't have time for him and whose boyfriend didn't bother to call when his trip got extended a few days.
Viggo never would have just sent a text message before, but that was what Orlando had received last night when he was anticipating Viggo's last phone call from New York. Have to stay thru Thurs. Will call later. Vig.
It seemed no one wanted to talk to Orlando, and he knew why. Somehow, someone had found out about the voices and they all knew. Viggo, his agent, his publicist, his friends, everyone. No one wanted to talk to a crazy person, no one wanted to be or associated with him, associated with him. Everyone close to him was slowly and subtly breaking away - avoiding Orlando as best they could, so when he had that public breakdown they were all dreading, it wouldn't reflect on them.
Oh, they would deny it. Viggo had just been swamped last night and he'd call tonight and be all loving. Orlando's friends would be back in town and call to suggest getting together, and his publicist and agent might find a good photo op and script for him. They wouldn't break things off completely, not yet. He was Orlando Bloom after all. They couldn't just walk away without creating undue speculation in the press.
No, they would do it slowly, pulling back little by little until the public forgot about Orlando Bloom he hardly remembered who his friends were and the only associations between them were long in the past. It would be easy then to lock him in a mental hospital without causing any scandal. His supposed friends and loved ones would let him drive himself mad by leaving him alone with nothing but television and video games to drive away the voices that were louder and louder and the figures that he saw more and more often.
The only reprieve was in sleep, but he couldn't sleep yet. He never could sleep when he wanted anymore. His other self chose when he slept and his other self didn't show any indication of wanting to sleep. He was stuck, alone in the house with no one to talk to and nothing to do.
This sucked.
The voices and figures got louder and harder to ignore just as Orlando was settling back on the couch with a bottle of water in one hand and the television remote in the other. He had the vague idea in his mind that if anything were going to convince his other self that a nap was a good idea, it would be daytime television. Talk shows and soap operas had always bored him silly, and if his other self was at all aware of what he was doing, they'd both be asleep within ten minutes.
Orlando's thumb was hovering over the power button when Viggo's voice caught his attention. Viggo's voice always caught his attention - it was the hardest for him to ignore, especially when the real Viggo was gone and Orlando was craving his attention. At the moment, he almost welcomed the shadow Viggo's voice. Any attention from Viggo, even this other phantom Viggo, was better than none at all.
"Please Orlando."
Please what? Viggo sounded so lost, so desperate, but Orlando didn't know what he needed, and he didn't know how to find out. He was afraid to concentrate more on the voice, afraid that even if he tried he wouldn't quite catch the whole conversation. It was often like that. He would catch bits and pieces, but never everything that was said. It was like listening to a radio or watching a television with bad reception - he would hear most of what was said, but a few words and phrases were always missing.
If he concentrated hard, harder than he ever had before, then maybe - just maybe - Orlando could catch those missing words and phrases and figure out what that other Viggo wanted. He could focus on...but he couldn't. That would mean taking a step closer to where he did not want to go, and he couldn't do that. Only...
"I wish..."
There it was again, Viggo's voice - the other Viggo - sounding desperate. Orlando's heart clenched and his mouth dried. He dropped the remote, fumbled with the cap of the water bottle, and downed half the water in one swallow. It didn't help. He could still hear Viggo, could see the desperation in Viggo's shadowy form...he had to know, he had to do something.
All thoughts of naps and daytime television were gone from his mind. Orlando set the water on the coffee table, settled back on the couch, took a deep breath, and concentrated. His eyes drifted slowly shut as he became hyper-aware - first of the soft, smooth fabric of the couch cushions and the breeze that ruffled his hair as it blew through the open window, and then the shadowy figures that slowly took a more solid form and pushed awareness of all else from his mind.
~*~
Viggo finished dressing Orlando then sat down on the bed with a tired sigh. "I wish, Orlando..." but he couldn't finish. He couldn't bring himself to say the words. It wouldn't matter anyway. No matter how often or how hard Viggo wished for it, Orlando wasn't going to respond. At least not the way Viggo wanted. It wouldn't do to dwell.
Instead, Viggo forced himself to talk as he got ready, carrying on his part of a conversation like they had before Orlando left for filming. There were still a few moments of silence where Viggo habitually paused to wait for Orlando to respond, but he'd gotten better at jumping from one thing to the next and covering them. It made things less awkward, less painful. If he could hear his own voice, he wasn't missing Orlando's so badly.
"Your mother called again," he said, just to fill the space. "She wanted to know what the doctors were saying, but you've...been there." Viggo swallowed around the lump in his throat. It was harder this morning, the routine was wearing on him. "I wish I had something new to tell her."
Orlando sat there silent and unmoving, his glazed eyes staring straight ahead and his blank face giving no indication he'd heard a single word Viggo had said all morning. Viggo had talked for a good half-hour about anything and nothing. He had spent days on end talking about everything that came to mind until he couldn't think of a single thing to say and his head ached with the desperate need for silence. All it meant nothing, for Orlando didn't even know he was talking. The words did nothing but fill the silence.
Or did they? He had to know.
Forced silence was as uncomfortable and unnatural as forced monologue, but Viggo made himself finish getting ready without saying a word. He glanced at Orlando every few moments, hoping that maybe there would be some response to the absence of stimuli, but there was no response. Orlando sat just as he had before, seemingly unaware, and another piece of Viggo's heart broke.
Viggo crouched in front of Orlando and took his hand. "You didn't even notice that I stopped talking, did you? I'd hoped...but I shouldn't have. I know that." He took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and rested his head on their joined hands as he struggled to get his breathing and his emotions under control. He couldn't give in to this, not now, not while Orlando needed him. He had to be strong, had to stay in control, had to keep holding on.
"All the doctors say it's a foolish hope, but I can't give up on you, Orlando. Please don’t let me down. I know you're stronger than this." He looked up, straight into Orlando's cloudy eyes. "I need you to come back to me."
As Viggo watched, something changed so subtly that he almost thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. The fog in Orlando's eyes lifted just a little and the corners of his mouth bent into the tiniest hint of a puzzled and concerned frown.
Viggo's heart skipped a beat.
Was he imagining this? But no, he could hear the change in Orlando's breathing, could see the difference in Orlando's eyes and face. The fog was definitely lifting. Dare he hope?
"Orlando?" Viggo brushed shaking fingers across Orlando's cheek, held his breath as Orlando's body stiffened just slightly. "Orli?"
Chapter Nine