Affirmation Chapter Sixteen
Title: Affirmation (Chapter Sixteen)
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 December 2003. There's a lot of angst in this, but there will eventually be a happy ending, I promise. We're getting close to done... only four more chapters.
~*~
Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen
Banner by araestel.
Orlando slunk through the halls of the hotel doing his best to stay out of sight. There were so many people - too many people - and he needed to hide and shut out everyone and everything until he absolutely had to make an appearance again. He only wanted to get to his room, where he would be safe, but it was proving to be more difficult than he'd anticipated. He hadn't dared take the elevators and he'd had to flee the stairs two floors below his own when he'd heard a group of people a few floors below him.
There was the possibility that they might have caught up, that they might have seen him.
He was trying to navigate the halls to another set of stairs, but it seemed luck was against him. As he rounded a corner he heard the elevator ding and several people talking in loud, cheerful voices disembarked. They rapidly approached the corner and Orlando began to panic, looking frantically for someplace - anyplace - he could hide. Even if he ran, the door to the stairs was too far away for him to reach in time and the only person Orlando knew whose room was on this floor was Viggo. Asking Viggo for help wasn't an option, even if Orlando had wanted to.
In front of the fans and the press, Viggo and Orlando interacted as they always had. Once the cameras were off and the public show over, however, they only said what was absolutely necessary to maintain the barest modicum of politeness. He couldn't run to Viggo and beg and plead to be sheltered from the very people they had come to entertain.
The voices came closer and panicked, Orlando dashed for the ice machine only a few meters away. He skidded to a halt in front of it just as the people rounded the corner, and he stood there, frowning at the machine and pushing the buttons, hoping the group wouldn't notice he didn't have a pail and they would just think him some other anonymous guest getting ice for his room. He fought to keep from trembling until they vanished into one of the rooms without giving him a second glance.
Orlando's hands were shaking as he started moving again, walking with a quick, purposeful stride towards the stairs at the far end of the hall. He was halfway to his goal and only two doors away from the room he knew to be Viggo's when a door opened and three people stepped out into the hall. Orlando took one look at them and felt his pulse, which had only just slowed, quicken and his palms begin to sweat.
There had been no flicker of recognition in their faces - they either didn't know or care who he was - but they were strangers and he was alone and vulnerable. He had to get away, had to get someplace safe. The group was between him and the west stairs, the east stairs had people on them, and the elevators were too risky and too populated. He just wanted to get up two more floors to his room where he could be safe and alone but he was trapped here in this hallway.
There was only one other thing he could do.
The keycard to Viggo's room was in Orlando's wallet where he'd slipped it after it had been handed to him by the chipper assistant who'd checked them all in. Viggo had a key to his room too, for everyone - including Orlando himself until the day they'd left - had assumed that they would be sharing a room and that the other was only for appearances sake. Dominic and Elijah had already made plans to use it as a party room and they'd been disappointed - not to mention shocked and worried - when Orlando had taken his things to one room and Viggo the other.
They'd kept the keycards, though, and now Orlando pulled it out and used it without thought as to whether Viggo was inside or not. He didn't look up until the door was closed and latched. When he saw the room was empty he sank to the floor, his knees giving out in relief at finding the long searched for solitude. He sat there for a moment and then found the strength to move to the bed where he wouldn't block the door.
Orlando only intended to stay long enough to gather the courage he needed to venture out again and make it to his own room. He considered flipping on the television, but he was tired and the bed was comfortable and smelled of Viggo. He was sure it wouldn't hurt to lie down for just a moment while he waited.
As he wrapped his arms around the pillows that smelled of paint and cleanser and Viggo's shampoo, Orlando sighed and his eyes closed. He was asleep before he even had time to think that he shouldn't let himself drift off.
~*~
Viggo was running late. He was supposed to have dinner with Sean Bean in twenty minutes, but he'd lost track of time while driving around, taking in the sights, reminiscing... and avoiding Orlando. He'd made good time coming back once he'd realized the hour, but by the time he'd parked and navigated the surprisingly crowded hotel lobby, he was left with barely enough time to shower and change.
He slipped into his room, dropped his flannel shirt into the chair, and started to pull his T-shirt over his head. He stopped with it covering his head like a hood, his arms above his head to tug and his chin squashed awkwardly by the collar.
The person sleeping in his unmade bed was a figment of his imagination, Viggo was sure of it. It had to be.
Viggo had arranged his day so that he'd have minimal contact with Orlando. Now Orlando was in the one place Viggo had been certain he would not have to worry about an accidental encounter.
He didn't have time to deal with this. He didn't even have time to stand there and stare, dumbfounded, hoping that it was just a figment of his overtired imagination. He was on a schedule and he'd already wasted five minutes staring with his shirt caught on his head and his mouth agape, looking like a complete fool.
There wasn't time to wake Orlando and determine what he wanted. Viggo ignored the voice in the back of his head that said he could call Sean and reschedule. Orlando obviously needed the sleep anyway and so Viggo blinked, pulled the shirt over his head, and headed to the shower.
Orlando was still asleep when Viggo emerged ten minutes later, rubbing his hair with one towel and another wrapped around his waist. He again contemplated waking Orlando, and again he decided against it in favor of dressing and meeting Sean as planned. He just wasn't ready for whatever Orlando wanted.
This wasn't the time for another quarrel and there was too much riding on the fragile balance they were holding in public to really risk any sort of confrontation. Nonetheless, if Orlando asked for anything at all, Viggo didn't think he would be able to say no. The dark circles under Orlando's eyes showed that he hadn't been sleeping any better than Viggo had and the urge to stroke Orlando's cheek and run his fingers through Orlando's dark curls was near irresistible.
Viggo couldn't just leave, but he couldn't stay either.
He dressed quickly and then agonized over a note that looked scribbled and hurried because his hand shook as he wrote each word. He slid it carefully under Orlando's outstretched hand and slipped from the room just as Sean was about to pound on the door.
~*~
Orlando had tossed the note onto the table when he'd returned to his room. Every time he looked in that direction he could see the pristine white of the crinkled paper standing out against the mahogany wood. It lay there, drawing attention to itself, assuring that Orlando couldn't fail to think about what it said. He'd been surprised to find it and even more surprised when he'd read it, but he didn't want to think about that at the moment. He wasn't ready.
He wasn't ready for conflict, or to put himself on the line and make himself even more vulnerable - not even for Viggo. There was so much coming up that he wasn't prepared for that he couldn’t even think about adding one more thing to the list without feeling like he was going to get sick. And yet... if he could talk to Viggo, lean on him, and hold his hand maybe, just maybe, things would be easier.
He couldn’t do that though. He'd fucked that up before they'd left home and there wasn't time to work on everything they needed to work on to resolve that issue.
It would have to wait until they were home again... and, as a result, Orlando was going to have to get through the junkets and premieres without Viggo.
Orlando flopped on the bed and stared at the ceiling, then his book, and finally turned on the television. Despite his efforts, his eyes kept wandering back to the note and he couldn't concentrate on anything - not the dots on the ceiling, or the words on the page or the actors on the screen. Orlando could only think about the note and what it said and what it might mean. Although, he needed to decide what to do and how to respond, he was terrified. Nevertheless, he couldn't stop thinking about it... especially not with it out in the open, mocking him like that.
The television was annoying, so Orlando flicked it off, gave into the inevitable, and walked over to the table and stared at the slip of paper. He jammed his hands into his pockets so he wouldn't be tempted to touch it and reread it three times.
As he stared at the note, a part of him hoped that the words would morph into something else or that he'd read it wrong or... something. Anything, really. It didn't change, however, and Orlando didn't really want it to.
A sudden knock on the door made Orlando jump and he flipped the note over and pushed it across the table to where he hoped it would attract less attention. White paper next to the standard hotel informational pamphlets, cards, and books didn't stand out as much as white paper by itself on a mahogany surface.
Elijah pushed through the door as soon as it was opened and closed it behind him. He looked Orlando up and down and then wrapped him in a hug that made Orlando catch his breath. He concentrated on staying relaxed, all the while, wanting to bolt.
When Elijah pulled back, he was grinning. "Let's go."
"Go?" All pretense of relaxation fled as Orlando thought about going back out where there were fans and press and, well, people. He backed away from the door towards the far corner of the room, thinking only that he couldn't leave. "Go where?"
"Dinner." Elijah moved around the room, picking up Orlando's shoes, phone, and wallet. He didn't seem to notice that Orlando was backing away or that Orlando looked less than thrilled with the idea. "Dom and Billy are waiting downstairs."
"Um." Orlando didn't remember any dinner on the schedule. He didn't remember anything on the schedule for that evening, and he'd relished it. He needed the peace and quiet to relax, regroup, and recharge for the hoopla that was to start the next day. "What dinner?"
"The one we decided to take you to." Elijah handed Orlando his things. "You keep disappearing and we thought it'd be nice to catch up." He turned his near-infamous pleading gaze on Orlando. "It's just that quiet restaurant around the corner we used to like. It'll be practically empty."
No restaurant would be practically empty given all the people who had descended on Wellington, but arguing with Elijah when he was using that look was futile. Orlando sat on the bed to pull on his shoes, but his fingers fumbled with the laces and he dropped both his phone and wallet when he tried to slip them into his pockets.
Elijah crouched down and picked up the dropped items. "Would you rather I called Dom and Billy to come up here? We could order room service or get a pizza or something." He shrugged. "We thought it would be nice to visit some of our favorite spots while we're here, but if you don't want to go out we don't have to."
Orlando itched to say yes; he even contemplated suggesting that they move to a different room so he could leave when it got to be too much and so he wouldn't be stuck with people in his room all night long. He didn't want to ruin Elijah's plans, however, and he definitely didn't want to be coddled. It was just dinner and there was no reason he couldn't go out and enjoy himself with his friends.
At least, there shouldn't be any reason he couldn't go out and enjoy himself with his friends.
"We can go." His hands trembled, but he managed to get both phone and wallet into the proper pockets and he even managed what felt like a halfway convincing smile as he stood. "I'll be all right."
"If you're sure."
"Yeah." Orlando wasn't, but he wouldn't tell Elijah that. He would just make the best of it and hope he was able to maintain the charade for a few hours.
~*~
Attentive waiters were both a blessing and a curse. Sean got everything he wanted almost as soon as he asked for it and had several of his needs anticipated, but the waiter was back and forth so often with drinks, plates, napkins, and questions that there wasn't time to start a real conversation. They talked about their children, the flight over, Sean's upcoming projects, and Viggo's art. They touched on the premieres and how nice it was to see everyone again and how amazing this whole thing was certain to be. Neither of them broached the subjects Sean most wanted to discuss - how Orlando was doing, how Viggo thought Orlando would handle the hoopla that was about to start... and why Viggo and Orlando were actually using the separate rooms that had been booked for appearances sake only.
Sean came close to asking several times, but he couldn't think of how to frame the question. Every time he was about to ask, the waiter would stop by with something they'd requested or to clear the dishes or just to make sure that everything was still as all right as it had been ten minutes earlier. Sean would open his mouth and shut it again or change his words to something innocuous - anything to avoid bringing up the sensitive subject in front of anyone who didn't have their complete trust.
There was only one solution. The moment the bill was presented, Sean instructed the waiter to charge it to his room, grabbed Viggo by the forearm, and led the way to the elevator and then to his room. The mini bar was fully stocked, the Do Not Disturb sign was on the door, and they had all evening to really talk. Sean pulled two bottles from the fridge, poured them into glasses, and sat down after handing one to Viggo.
Viggo downed it all in one go and helped himself to another.
"Care to tell me why you're drinking my ridiculously expensive alcohol so quickly?"
"No."
Sean leaned over and plucked the cup from Viggo's fingers. "Care to tell me why you and Orlando are sleeping in separate rooms?"
Viggo reached for the cup. When he missed, he grabbed a bottle and drank straight from it. "No," he said wearily as he set down the empty bottle and collapsed back into his chair.
"That bad?"
"Not bad, just... I don't know." Viggo sighed and slumped forward.
Sean handed him back the glass of scotch and wondered what the most effective way to obtain more alcohol was - preferably in larger bottles that wouldn't drain his wallet as quickly. He was about to dial room service when both his and Viggo's mobile phones began to vibrate. They both looked at their phones. Elijah's number was showing on Sean's screen.
"Yeah?" he answered, moving across the room so he could hear Elijah over Viggo's conversation.
"Is Orlando with you? Have you seen him?"
Sean's brow furrowed as he tried to figure out why Elijah sounded so frantic. "No. I haven't seen him since this afternoon. Why?"
"We were eating and he just... he left. We don't know where he went. He's not answering his phone or his door and we were hoping that you or Viggo might have an idea."
Sean didn't, but he promised to meet Elijah and the others to help look and turned to Viggo. The expression on Viggo's face told Sean that he didn't have to pass the news along. Viggo already knew and was close to frantic.
Chapter Seventeen
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 December 2003. There's a lot of angst in this, but there will eventually be a happy ending, I promise. We're getting close to done... only four more chapters.
~*~
Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen
Banner by araestel.
Orlando slunk through the halls of the hotel doing his best to stay out of sight. There were so many people - too many people - and he needed to hide and shut out everyone and everything until he absolutely had to make an appearance again. He only wanted to get to his room, where he would be safe, but it was proving to be more difficult than he'd anticipated. He hadn't dared take the elevators and he'd had to flee the stairs two floors below his own when he'd heard a group of people a few floors below him.
There was the possibility that they might have caught up, that they might have seen him.
He was trying to navigate the halls to another set of stairs, but it seemed luck was against him. As he rounded a corner he heard the elevator ding and several people talking in loud, cheerful voices disembarked. They rapidly approached the corner and Orlando began to panic, looking frantically for someplace - anyplace - he could hide. Even if he ran, the door to the stairs was too far away for him to reach in time and the only person Orlando knew whose room was on this floor was Viggo. Asking Viggo for help wasn't an option, even if Orlando had wanted to.
In front of the fans and the press, Viggo and Orlando interacted as they always had. Once the cameras were off and the public show over, however, they only said what was absolutely necessary to maintain the barest modicum of politeness. He couldn't run to Viggo and beg and plead to be sheltered from the very people they had come to entertain.
The voices came closer and panicked, Orlando dashed for the ice machine only a few meters away. He skidded to a halt in front of it just as the people rounded the corner, and he stood there, frowning at the machine and pushing the buttons, hoping the group wouldn't notice he didn't have a pail and they would just think him some other anonymous guest getting ice for his room. He fought to keep from trembling until they vanished into one of the rooms without giving him a second glance.
Orlando's hands were shaking as he started moving again, walking with a quick, purposeful stride towards the stairs at the far end of the hall. He was halfway to his goal and only two doors away from the room he knew to be Viggo's when a door opened and three people stepped out into the hall. Orlando took one look at them and felt his pulse, which had only just slowed, quicken and his palms begin to sweat.
There had been no flicker of recognition in their faces - they either didn't know or care who he was - but they were strangers and he was alone and vulnerable. He had to get away, had to get someplace safe. The group was between him and the west stairs, the east stairs had people on them, and the elevators were too risky and too populated. He just wanted to get up two more floors to his room where he could be safe and alone but he was trapped here in this hallway.
There was only one other thing he could do.
The keycard to Viggo's room was in Orlando's wallet where he'd slipped it after it had been handed to him by the chipper assistant who'd checked them all in. Viggo had a key to his room too, for everyone - including Orlando himself until the day they'd left - had assumed that they would be sharing a room and that the other was only for appearances sake. Dominic and Elijah had already made plans to use it as a party room and they'd been disappointed - not to mention shocked and worried - when Orlando had taken his things to one room and Viggo the other.
They'd kept the keycards, though, and now Orlando pulled it out and used it without thought as to whether Viggo was inside or not. He didn't look up until the door was closed and latched. When he saw the room was empty he sank to the floor, his knees giving out in relief at finding the long searched for solitude. He sat there for a moment and then found the strength to move to the bed where he wouldn't block the door.
Orlando only intended to stay long enough to gather the courage he needed to venture out again and make it to his own room. He considered flipping on the television, but he was tired and the bed was comfortable and smelled of Viggo. He was sure it wouldn't hurt to lie down for just a moment while he waited.
As he wrapped his arms around the pillows that smelled of paint and cleanser and Viggo's shampoo, Orlando sighed and his eyes closed. He was asleep before he even had time to think that he shouldn't let himself drift off.
~*~
Viggo was running late. He was supposed to have dinner with Sean Bean in twenty minutes, but he'd lost track of time while driving around, taking in the sights, reminiscing... and avoiding Orlando. He'd made good time coming back once he'd realized the hour, but by the time he'd parked and navigated the surprisingly crowded hotel lobby, he was left with barely enough time to shower and change.
He slipped into his room, dropped his flannel shirt into the chair, and started to pull his T-shirt over his head. He stopped with it covering his head like a hood, his arms above his head to tug and his chin squashed awkwardly by the collar.
The person sleeping in his unmade bed was a figment of his imagination, Viggo was sure of it. It had to be.
Viggo had arranged his day so that he'd have minimal contact with Orlando. Now Orlando was in the one place Viggo had been certain he would not have to worry about an accidental encounter.
He didn't have time to deal with this. He didn't even have time to stand there and stare, dumbfounded, hoping that it was just a figment of his overtired imagination. He was on a schedule and he'd already wasted five minutes staring with his shirt caught on his head and his mouth agape, looking like a complete fool.
There wasn't time to wake Orlando and determine what he wanted. Viggo ignored the voice in the back of his head that said he could call Sean and reschedule. Orlando obviously needed the sleep anyway and so Viggo blinked, pulled the shirt over his head, and headed to the shower.
Orlando was still asleep when Viggo emerged ten minutes later, rubbing his hair with one towel and another wrapped around his waist. He again contemplated waking Orlando, and again he decided against it in favor of dressing and meeting Sean as planned. He just wasn't ready for whatever Orlando wanted.
This wasn't the time for another quarrel and there was too much riding on the fragile balance they were holding in public to really risk any sort of confrontation. Nonetheless, if Orlando asked for anything at all, Viggo didn't think he would be able to say no. The dark circles under Orlando's eyes showed that he hadn't been sleeping any better than Viggo had and the urge to stroke Orlando's cheek and run his fingers through Orlando's dark curls was near irresistible.
Viggo couldn't just leave, but he couldn't stay either.
He dressed quickly and then agonized over a note that looked scribbled and hurried because his hand shook as he wrote each word. He slid it carefully under Orlando's outstretched hand and slipped from the room just as Sean was about to pound on the door.
~*~
Orlando had tossed the note onto the table when he'd returned to his room. Every time he looked in that direction he could see the pristine white of the crinkled paper standing out against the mahogany wood. It lay there, drawing attention to itself, assuring that Orlando couldn't fail to think about what it said. He'd been surprised to find it and even more surprised when he'd read it, but he didn't want to think about that at the moment. He wasn't ready.
He wasn't ready for conflict, or to put himself on the line and make himself even more vulnerable - not even for Viggo. There was so much coming up that he wasn't prepared for that he couldn’t even think about adding one more thing to the list without feeling like he was going to get sick. And yet... if he could talk to Viggo, lean on him, and hold his hand maybe, just maybe, things would be easier.
He couldn’t do that though. He'd fucked that up before they'd left home and there wasn't time to work on everything they needed to work on to resolve that issue.
It would have to wait until they were home again... and, as a result, Orlando was going to have to get through the junkets and premieres without Viggo.
Orlando flopped on the bed and stared at the ceiling, then his book, and finally turned on the television. Despite his efforts, his eyes kept wandering back to the note and he couldn't concentrate on anything - not the dots on the ceiling, or the words on the page or the actors on the screen. Orlando could only think about the note and what it said and what it might mean. Although, he needed to decide what to do and how to respond, he was terrified. Nevertheless, he couldn't stop thinking about it... especially not with it out in the open, mocking him like that.
The television was annoying, so Orlando flicked it off, gave into the inevitable, and walked over to the table and stared at the slip of paper. He jammed his hands into his pockets so he wouldn't be tempted to touch it and reread it three times.
As he stared at the note, a part of him hoped that the words would morph into something else or that he'd read it wrong or... something. Anything, really. It didn't change, however, and Orlando didn't really want it to.
A sudden knock on the door made Orlando jump and he flipped the note over and pushed it across the table to where he hoped it would attract less attention. White paper next to the standard hotel informational pamphlets, cards, and books didn't stand out as much as white paper by itself on a mahogany surface.
Elijah pushed through the door as soon as it was opened and closed it behind him. He looked Orlando up and down and then wrapped him in a hug that made Orlando catch his breath. He concentrated on staying relaxed, all the while, wanting to bolt.
When Elijah pulled back, he was grinning. "Let's go."
"Go?" All pretense of relaxation fled as Orlando thought about going back out where there were fans and press and, well, people. He backed away from the door towards the far corner of the room, thinking only that he couldn't leave. "Go where?"
"Dinner." Elijah moved around the room, picking up Orlando's shoes, phone, and wallet. He didn't seem to notice that Orlando was backing away or that Orlando looked less than thrilled with the idea. "Dom and Billy are waiting downstairs."
"Um." Orlando didn't remember any dinner on the schedule. He didn't remember anything on the schedule for that evening, and he'd relished it. He needed the peace and quiet to relax, regroup, and recharge for the hoopla that was to start the next day. "What dinner?"
"The one we decided to take you to." Elijah handed Orlando his things. "You keep disappearing and we thought it'd be nice to catch up." He turned his near-infamous pleading gaze on Orlando. "It's just that quiet restaurant around the corner we used to like. It'll be practically empty."
No restaurant would be practically empty given all the people who had descended on Wellington, but arguing with Elijah when he was using that look was futile. Orlando sat on the bed to pull on his shoes, but his fingers fumbled with the laces and he dropped both his phone and wallet when he tried to slip them into his pockets.
Elijah crouched down and picked up the dropped items. "Would you rather I called Dom and Billy to come up here? We could order room service or get a pizza or something." He shrugged. "We thought it would be nice to visit some of our favorite spots while we're here, but if you don't want to go out we don't have to."
Orlando itched to say yes; he even contemplated suggesting that they move to a different room so he could leave when it got to be too much and so he wouldn't be stuck with people in his room all night long. He didn't want to ruin Elijah's plans, however, and he definitely didn't want to be coddled. It was just dinner and there was no reason he couldn't go out and enjoy himself with his friends.
At least, there shouldn't be any reason he couldn't go out and enjoy himself with his friends.
"We can go." His hands trembled, but he managed to get both phone and wallet into the proper pockets and he even managed what felt like a halfway convincing smile as he stood. "I'll be all right."
"If you're sure."
"Yeah." Orlando wasn't, but he wouldn't tell Elijah that. He would just make the best of it and hope he was able to maintain the charade for a few hours.
~*~
Attentive waiters were both a blessing and a curse. Sean got everything he wanted almost as soon as he asked for it and had several of his needs anticipated, but the waiter was back and forth so often with drinks, plates, napkins, and questions that there wasn't time to start a real conversation. They talked about their children, the flight over, Sean's upcoming projects, and Viggo's art. They touched on the premieres and how nice it was to see everyone again and how amazing this whole thing was certain to be. Neither of them broached the subjects Sean most wanted to discuss - how Orlando was doing, how Viggo thought Orlando would handle the hoopla that was about to start... and why Viggo and Orlando were actually using the separate rooms that had been booked for appearances sake only.
Sean came close to asking several times, but he couldn't think of how to frame the question. Every time he was about to ask, the waiter would stop by with something they'd requested or to clear the dishes or just to make sure that everything was still as all right as it had been ten minutes earlier. Sean would open his mouth and shut it again or change his words to something innocuous - anything to avoid bringing up the sensitive subject in front of anyone who didn't have their complete trust.
There was only one solution. The moment the bill was presented, Sean instructed the waiter to charge it to his room, grabbed Viggo by the forearm, and led the way to the elevator and then to his room. The mini bar was fully stocked, the Do Not Disturb sign was on the door, and they had all evening to really talk. Sean pulled two bottles from the fridge, poured them into glasses, and sat down after handing one to Viggo.
Viggo downed it all in one go and helped himself to another.
"Care to tell me why you're drinking my ridiculously expensive alcohol so quickly?"
"No."
Sean leaned over and plucked the cup from Viggo's fingers. "Care to tell me why you and Orlando are sleeping in separate rooms?"
Viggo reached for the cup. When he missed, he grabbed a bottle and drank straight from it. "No," he said wearily as he set down the empty bottle and collapsed back into his chair.
"That bad?"
"Not bad, just... I don't know." Viggo sighed and slumped forward.
Sean handed him back the glass of scotch and wondered what the most effective way to obtain more alcohol was - preferably in larger bottles that wouldn't drain his wallet as quickly. He was about to dial room service when both his and Viggo's mobile phones began to vibrate. They both looked at their phones. Elijah's number was showing on Sean's screen.
"Yeah?" he answered, moving across the room so he could hear Elijah over Viggo's conversation.
"Is Orlando with you? Have you seen him?"
Sean's brow furrowed as he tried to figure out why Elijah sounded so frantic. "No. I haven't seen him since this afternoon. Why?"
"We were eating and he just... he left. We don't know where he went. He's not answering his phone or his door and we were hoping that you or Viggo might have an idea."
Sean didn't, but he promised to meet Elijah and the others to help look and turned to Viggo. The expression on Viggo's face told Sean that he didn't have to pass the news along. Viggo already knew and was close to frantic.
Chapter Seventeen