Realistic Chapter 7
Title: Realistic - Chapter Seven
Author: theartoffic
Type: LOTR RPS AU
Pairing: Orlando/Elijah
Rating: Adult
Summary: In the 21st century Artificial Intelligence is still in its infancy, some scientists toy with the idea of creating robots that look, and act, and think like human beings; in the future they are going to succeed. Realistics look real, feel real, and, at a glance, cannot be distinguished from the ones who made them. They are the result of hundreds of years of AI evolution, they are beautiful, perfect, and expensive, but to society at large they are not real. This is the story of one such Realistic.
A/N: Complete and will be posted as each chapter is beta'd. Previous chapters can be found by the tag :)
Beta: the absolutely glorious lisabellex, who should have been paid for all her hard work! *adores you*
The American Heritage Science Dictionary
artificial intelligence
The ability of a computer or other machine to perform actions thought to require intelligence. Among these actions are logical deduction and inference, creativity, the ability to make decisions based on past experience or insufficient or conflicting information, and the ability to understand spoken language.
.... or the ability to love.
Banner: the lovely aranel80
“Do I look all right?” Elijah asks, running his hands nervously down the front of his charcoal gray suit jacket, smoothing away non-existent wrinkles for the hundredth time since he put it on.
It’s not the first time he has ever dressed up so; there were other parties, but he never cared about making an impression at any of those. This time is different-- it doesn’t feel like he’s going as someone’s arm candy. This time he is going because he has been invited and he’s anxious to not look out of place, and even more concerned about pleasing Orlando.
“You look so…” Orlando’s voice trails away, and Elijah feels Orlando tug on the crimson tie, pulling him close, closer, until Orlando’s planting a searing kiss on his lips. “Does that answer your question?”
Elijah clings to Orlando, rubbing his thumbs against the soft fabric of Orlando’s jacket, and inhaling the scent of the cologne he wears. It’d be so easy to just slip his fingers under the lapel and push the garment off; he knows Orlando wouldn’t mind, but it’s already after six. “We’re going to be late.”
Orlando grins and leans in for a second kiss. “I’m always late.”
Elijah smiles as he extracts himself from Orlando’s embrace and distracting mouth. When he turns to face the mirror again he finds he has to adjust his tie as Orlando’s busy fingers have pulled it askew, nearly unknotting it.
“Tara said seven sharp.”
“Which probably means the party’s at eight. She knows how I am.”
Orlando’s fingers slide up his hips, beneath his jacket, and Elijah’s grateful his shirt is firmly tucked into his trousers. “The car is waiting.” He reminds.
Orlando sighs heavily and leans close enough to whisper in his ear, “I can’t wait until we get home and I get to take this off you. One. Piece. At a time.”
Elijah catches Orlando’s wolfish grin in the mirror, then Orlando’s eyes, and with a grin of his own asks, “Is it later yet?”
Orlando laughs and nuzzles his ear. “Yes. It’s always later.”
They hear the intercom buzz impatiently, and Orlando groans unhappily against his neck
“We’d better go.” Elijah says but doesn’t move. He’s waiting to see what Orlando really wants, even if that means arriving late.
“Yeah,” Orlando concedes at last and tows him by the hand to the front door where they pause just long enough to collect the engagement gift Orlando allowed him to select and which he so meticulously wrapped.
*
“We’re here,” Orlando tells him with a smile and gentle squeeze of his knee.
Elijah peers at the house, aglow even through the tinted window, and clutches the present against his chest.
It is just a little house-- barely a bungalow compared to Orlando’s home, or any of the other estates he has drifted in and out of over the years. There isn’t even a gate; there is nothing intimidating in its outward appearance and yet he can feel the apprehension stealing over him, making him clutch the box tighter.
There are people in there who will judge him, possibly even hate him for what he is; he should be resigned to it by now, but he’s not, because … because he is here with Orlando and it’s Tara, and he likes her.
The driver opens the door but Elijah doesn’t move, he almost wishes that he could just wait in the car.
“Are you all right?” Orlando asks softly.
Elijah nods quickly and forces himself to step out into the cool night air. Orlando is at his side a moment later, tugging on his sleeve to keep him from heading up the walk; it is unnecessary.
“It’s just a small party, Elijah, just a few friends and family, nothing to worry about.” He can make out Orlando’s reassuring smile in the dark.
“I know.”
“So what is it?” Orlando queries softly.
If he thought he could explain, he might try, but he can’t. It is a fear that took root decades before Orlando, in a past he should not remember. “Nothing.”
“Elijah, don’t lie to me.”
“What if they’re like Max? What if they don’t accept me?”
“Her family isn’t like that.”
“You know them? Her family? You’ve met them before?” He knows the power that family wields. They are often the harshest and most influential critics. He lived it firsthand with Daniel.
“No, but I know Tara; she wouldn’t have invited us if we wouldn’t be accepted. Don’t worry.”
But he can’t help it, he had been right there when Daniel’s father had spoken to his son in that sneering tone, fueled by too much scotch: ‘What’s wrong with you, boy? Are you such a looser that you’re reduced to dicking around with toys?’ He hadn’t expressly told Daniel to stop, but less than two days later the Company had sent two men to collect him.
Dan hadn’t been home at the time, he’d been out skiing. He had hoped it was just a mistake, was certain it was, but Daniel never came for him. A week and half later he was sold to Karl.
He feels Orlando’s thumb brush his cheek. “Do you want me to call the car back?”
“No,” he answers with a shake of his head. He could stand here all night picking the scabs off old memories, but he doesn’t care to ever again relive one of Karl’s ‘parties’. “What happens at engagement parties?”
Orlando hums thoughtfully and slings an arm around his shoulder. “I think just a few drinks and a little food, gifts, just that sort of thing.”
He fiddles nervously with the bow on the package as Orlando guides him up the path. “You’ve never been to one before either?”
Orlando shakes his head as they step onto the porch. “You ready?”
Elijah nods. He’s 99.9% sure he won’t have to fuck anyone here, unless maybe it’s Orlando and he would be perfectly fine with that.
“Good, there is nothing to be nervous about.” Orlando smiles at him as he thumbs the doorbell.
He knows Orlando couldn’t know any better, but he still wishes Orlando had chosen other words to comfort him. Karl used to say that very thing as he did lines of blow before the parties, all the while crooning, ‘Nothing to be nervous about, Elijah. We’re all just going to party. Get it on. You know you like it; you know I want you to like it, right?’
He hadn’t liked it, but he’d been helpless to stop it.
He plasters on a smile when the door opens and the sounds from the party spill out.
“My God!” Tara exclaims loudly, teasingly, as she looks at her watch. “Orli! You’re on time! Early, even. Look, honey,” she says to the tall, lanky fellow who comes to stand behind her, “it’s five of seven and Orli’s here.”
“Ha, ha,” Orlando deadpans. “Why do you let her pick on me so, Ron?”
Ron laughs easily. “Ah, don’t make it seem like I have any control over her, Orli.” Elijah watches as he extends his hand and shakes Orlando’s. ”It’s good to see you, man.”
“Hello, Tara,” Elijah says as he follows Orlando into the entryway. “This is for you two.” He smiles at Tara’s fiancé.
“Oh, and a gift too! Elijah, you’ve managed everything!” She places a kiss on his cheek and Elijah feels his cheeks heat.
“Hey!” Orlando cries acting wounded. “It wasn’t all him, you know.”
Tara’s brows lift and she shakes her head, amusement lighting her face. “You act as if I don’t know how you are, Orli. You never would have remembered a gift and you would’ve been late if it wasn’t for Elijah. Don’t waste your breath trying to fool me!”
“You’d just best be getting married. I can’t return your gift. It’s been personalized.”
“Do you even know what’s in the box?”
“Oh, geez, they can carry on like this for hours.” Ron smiles at him over Tara’s shoulder. “I’m Ron and you’re Elijah, it’s nice to meet you.”
Elijah takes Ron’s proffered hand and shakes it. “Likewise.” He returns Ron’s smile, immediately feeling at ease. This feels so normal and … nice. It is the first time he hasn’t been introduced as someone’s possession. ‘This is my Realistic … This is my Elijah.’
“Maybe they’d like a drink, honey?” Ron says in what Elijah can only see as an attempt to distract Tara.
“Oh, yes, drinks!” She snaps her fingers and motions them inside.
“Congrats, Ron. I didn’t get a chance to say so before now,” Orlando says with an open smile.
“Thanks. I’m a lucky guy,” Ron returns happily. “At least I will be once this wedding crap is over.”
Elijah watches Orlando laugh and quickly realizes that Ron is just making a joke.
Ron ushers them into the small living room, which is packed with people who all fail at trying not to stare. Mostly their eyes fix on Orlando, but Elijah feels their perusal by default; they’re all trying to size up who Orlando’s shown up with. Part of him just wants to slink into the shadows, but Tara won’t stand for hiding.
She takes his arm, pausing to make introductions as they wind their way through the living room into the kitchen. These are friends mostly, her sisters and cousins. Elijah collects names, faces, and any information she offers about them, filing it away as is his habit. David loved this about him as David could never seem to remember names; he doesn’t know if Orlando will ever need that kind of help, but there’s no harm in being prepared.
It takes forever to make it to the kitchen because Orlando’s very accommodating. If he’s asked for an autograph, or requested to have his picture taken with another guest, he complies graciously, despite Tara’s protests that he doesn’t have to. Elijah notices how Orlando makes a point of keeping the conversation focused on Tara and Ron, how happy he is for them and what a pleasure it is to be here, in an attempt to not steal their thunder.
Later, after Tara has fixed them with drinks, and they have circulated through the rest of the guests, Orlando manages to guide them stealthily into a dim corner of the living room. Elijah sits in the only vacant seat, an overstuffed armchair that makes him feel queerly small, while Orlando perches on the arm beside him, trying his best to keep the spider plant out of his face; a battle that Elijah finds a little amusing. There is more than enough room for both of them on the seat, provided they squeezed in a bit, but Orlando declines; the fact that Orlando should want to keep his distance really doesn’t surprise Elijah.
He wonders what they think he is to Orlando, as he sips his mock-tequila sunrise-- no alcohol but plenty of orange juice-- he loves the orange juice. Do they just assume he’s Orlando’s assistant, or do they suspect he’s a date? Orlando introduced him, but just as Elijah; giving no indication of his status, one way or the other. Perhaps they’re not wondering at all; he’d rather that.
He looks up when he feels Orlando’s hand on his shoulder. Orlando’s eyes are sparkling. “How you doing?”
“Good.” He laughs as Orlando blows a wayward frond out of his face. “Do you want to switch? I’m shorter; I don’t think the plant would attack me.”
“It’s fine. We’ll --” Orlando’s voice trails away; Elijah turns to see what Orlando’s smiling at and finds Tara taking a careful seat on the end of the coffee table, careful because it’s easy to see by the glint in her eye and the flush on her cheeks, that she’s tipsy.
“You have got to try these,” she says as she thrusts a small tray of hors d’oeuvres toward them. Elijah reaches out quickly, barely managing to save the delicacies and the carpet, as the tray tilts wildly.
“They’re really good. I made them.” To Elijah’s amusement, she barely seems to realize she almost dumped the whole thing; intoxicated people are funny.
Elijah watches, barely able to hide his amusement, as Tara snags one of the spread-topped crackers and shoves it in Orlando’s mouth, patting Orlando’s lips with a satisfied little smile.
“‘s good, right?” she asks eagerly. Her face lights up as Orlando nods and begins to chew the snack.
She turns on him next, practically poking him in the chest with the tray. “Now you. I know you can now.” She smiles at him, waggling the tray; he reaches out once more and steadies it, but again she doesn’t seem to notice. “Orli said it was good, and he eats like a bird.”
Elijah doesn’t see Orlando diving in for more, but he takes one, knowing he won’t get away without trying it, and preferring to not have her feel the need to force feed it to him; besides it’s polite. He takes a small bite and the flavors explode across his tongue. He has no idea what it is but he likes it.
“Ron said they were salty, do you think so? He never puts salt on anything so I think it’s just him.” She rests her chin in her hand and smiles at him.
Elijah looks over at Orlando, but there’s only a grin and wink - nothing there indicating how he should answer. “I … I’m not sure.” He has no idea what ‘too salty means’, not in context anyway.
“But it’s good?” she presses.
Elijah nods, but she’s not looking at him, she’s turned to scan the table behind her, looking for something.
“I need my drink,” she says at last. “I just don’t remember where the hell I put it.”
“I’ll get you another,” Orlando offers. “And let me just take this back to the table before they end up on the floor. I’d hate for us to be monopolizing them.”
Elijah chews on his lower lip to keep the grin that threatens from spreading across his face as Orlando deftly relieves her of the threatened hors d’oeuvres and moves off toward the kitchen.
Tara rises, and Elijah expects that she might move off into the crowd, but surprises him by squishing into the seat next to him. She gives his knee a friendly little pat and rests her cheek on his shoulder; an intimate gesture he did not expect.
“I’m so glad you guys came.” Her voice is thick and syrupy and she’s moved on to petting his arm.
Elijah cradles the cracker, confused by her statement and the way she’s touching him. It makes him feel slightly uncomfortable, the result of the nasty memory of too many other ‘parties’. He reminds himself that Tara’s a touchy-feely person; she’s touched him before and never asked for anything in return.
“Of course we’d come. Why wouldn’t we?
He can feel her sigh as much as hear it. “Oh, because … It’s hard for him now. You know? He usually can’t get out, but I told everyone who was coming that he wasn’t. Seems to have worked.” She lifts her head and looks around. “He’s been coming out less and less. I thought … I was afraid he was starting to pull away. I started calling him ‘Hermit’.”
Elijah smiles at the sound of her laughter - it’s such a sweet sound.
“Do you like it?” she asks.
He looks at the remains of the cracker in his hand. “Yes, it’s very good, Tara. Thank you.”
She smiles and squeezes his arm. “I meant the party.”
“Oh.” He can feel the flush creep up his cheeks. “Yes. That too.” And he waits. Just waits to see where she’s going with this, and part of him is ashamed that he could even think the worst of her; she is Orlando’s friend after all, but then... they’d all been ‘friends’ of Karl’s too.
“I’m really sorry if I seemed… weird toward you at first.” Her hesitant confession is the last thing he expects.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. I just … I just really want Orlando to be happy.” She smiles apologetically at him. “Like I said, he’d been pulling away, retreating and I was just worried that he was making the wrong choice, not for his career or anything,” she adds hastily, “it’s just that I’m not too familiar with- with-“
“What I am?” Elijah supplies gently.
Tara nods and he can tell by the way she looks away that she’s embarrassed. He offers her a smile; it comes as no surprise to him, but at least she admits it.
“I’m really sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I’m just really protective of him. He’s such a sweet guy, and I love him like a brother, you know?”
“You’ve been friends for a long time?”
“Yeah,” she nods, smiling fondly, “six years, if you can believe it.”
“H- how did you meet? If you don’t mind me asking?” He’s not sure if he should inquire but Orlando has never said that he couldn’t, and Elijah can’t help his curiosity, Orlando rarely ever talks about himself or his past.
“No. I don’t mind.” She gives him a big grin. “Let’s see … I’d just moved out here, traveled all the way across country by myself. I grew up in Newport, Vermont, which is this little, shitty, middle-of-nowhere - and I mean nowhere - dot on the map; I had such big dreams.” She shakes her head slowly, her grin changing, reflecting something else -regret perhaps, he can’t be certain.
“I was just a dumb kid... thought I had real talent, you know? Big fish in this little, tiny pond,” she pushes her thumb and forefinger together to show a paper-thin gap, “you see. So when they said I could sing I believed it. When they said I should move out here and become a star I believed that too. At least I did until I moved out here and then I realized I was just a little fish in an ocean full of sharks.”
She pauses, sighs heavily and gives his arm a playful swat. “Aww, you don’t want to hear all this crap.”
“No, that’s not true. I’m sorry if I’m giving you that impression,” he protests worriedly.
He really does want to know. “Orli doesn’t tell me much.”
“Yeah. He’s kind of tight-lipped isn’t he?”
Elijah nods in silent agreement.
“He’s always been that way - never talked much about his past or his family; so it’s not you - in case you were wondering.” She bumps his shoulder with hers in a friendly gesture. He can’t help but feel a little relieved-- he had wondered.
“So you came out here, and then?” Elijah prompts, trying to steer her back on track. He knows that people who are drinking tend to easily loose focus and he’d really like to hear more. “Will you tell me how you met?”
“Oh, yeah,” she laughs. “Okay, so, I’d just moved out here. I’d sold everything I had to finance it, spent half of that on the flight and some new outfits, because, you know, that was the priority at the time.” She snorts softly, laughing again. “Then I arrived. I thought they were going to roll out a red carpet for me.”
Elijah watches her laugh and roll her eyes.
“God, I was dumb. There was no red carpet, no one wanted to hear me sing, because I was stupid and didn’t realize you had to submit demos, so I didn’t have any money for that. Everything cost about five times as much as I’d thought and, man, it was just awful. I ended up with three jobs, plus I was still trying - open mike nights and stuff, still hoping to get my name in lights so I wouldn’t have to go back home with my tail between my legs. I was so close to having to turn tricks on the street corner to make rent.” She scrubs absently at her cheek
“It was so bad I was at the point where I was trying to phone home, but my mom wasn’t taking my calls - not that it was a surprise or anything- she never really did care much what happened to me, and my sisters didn’t have any money to send me. I was stuck. Stuck so bad. Scared worse.”
“I’m sorry,” he says softly when she pauses. He knows what it’s like to have no one to turn to, no way out.
“Not your fault I was stupid.” She gives his hand a little squeeze. “Besides, if it hadn’t gotten that bad I might not have been bawling at the counter of the coffee place where I was working. Orli was the only one who asked me what was wrong. He was just some random hottie standing in line for coffee, but he seemed so sweet and I just broke down right there. I’m talking a complete mess.” She laughs but he notices the way she wipes the trace of wetness from her eyes. Some memories stay fresh with humans too.
“Anyway, my manager sent me on my break and Orli bought me a coffee, took me outside, sat me down and I just … spilled my guts to him. When I was done crying on his shoulder, he told me that he was going out for this big movie role. He said if he got the part he’d hire me on as his personal assistant. At the time I thought ‘yeah right’-- I mean, everyone wants to be a star. I thought he was just like me, full of hopes that wouldn’t amount to shit. I was sure I’d never see him again.”
“But you did,” Elijah grins.
“Yeah,” she agrees with a winsome smile, “a week later he was in my line again. He asked if I remembered him, like I could forget.” She rolls her eyes, still grinning. “He told me that he’d gotten the role and asked when I could start. Can you believe that? I thought he was just pulling my chain. I don’t think I really believed it was true until I cashed my first paycheck and it cleared.”
“You must have trusted part of him if you gave up your jobs and went to work for him.”
“Oh, no. I mean, yes.” She exhales loudly and shakes her head, but he’s sure it’s in amusement, nothing else. “I couldn’t not trust that smile, but I didn’t give up all my jobs. I called in sick to the ones I supposed to be at while figuring out how to be a personal assistant, and worked the others. I’m telling you, I was in dire straights at the time. But … it all worked out. Orli turned out to be the greatest thing that ever happened to me, well, next to Ron of course.” She scans the room, not stopping until she catches sight of her fiancé.
“I’m glad he was there for you.” And maybe me too, he thinks. He’s grateful to her for giving him this window into Orlando’s nature, it only seems to confirm what he’s hoped all along - that Orlando is a good as he seems, that he’s not just putting on a mask for the world.
“Me too. Now you know why I’m so protective of him. I think he’s one for collecting broken things - I think he feels sorry for us, and tries to help.”
Broken things. She said ‘us’, she means him too, that he’s a broken thing. Pity. She’s only nice to him because she pities him; it’s what he thought all along.
“Oh shit, I shouldn’t have said that, Elijah.” The flush has left her cheeks and she looks horrified. “I’m sorry. I should just … go find that drink.”
“Wait!” He holds out his hand to stop her from standing up. “Why did you? I mean, what makes you think that?”
“I can’t, Elijah. It was just … something he told me on the shuttle.”
That does little to settle his curiosity and he presses her despite her reluctance, “What did he say?”
She pauses for a moment, biting on her bottom lip.
“Please?” he begs.
“He just … made some things clear; he said that he felt a connection with you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have made it sound like it was pity or anything.”
“What things?” he asks, but Orlando is returning, her drink in hand, and even though she’s smiling she gives him a warning look with her eyes.
“What took you so long?” She turns away to harass Orlando.
“There are a lot of people between here and the kitchen. Don’t know if you noticed or not. Your tray is empty now, just thought you’d want to know.” Orlando waggles his brows at her. “Now I know if this acting gig ever craps out I can always get a job as a waiter.”
“I don’t think you’ll ever have to worry about that,” she laughs.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Ron says apologetically as he leans over the coffee table and puts a hand on Tara’s shoulder, “but, honey, your friend Mel is asking all kinds of questions about the flowers, and where, and who, and what-all about the wedding plans.”
Tara cranes her neck back, looking up at Ron, her easy smile widening. It’s so easy to see the love between them and, although Elijah finds that he is smiling too, he has to look away.
“You’d think this wedding was happening in six days not six months,” she sighs, but it’s a happy sound. “Say, Elijah, you wouldn’t want to help me out with things, would you?”
He looks up in time to catch Ron making a strangled sound, mouthing the word ‘run’ behind her back and shaking his head. Tara scowls, and without even having seen Ron’s expression, gives him a playful swat.
“Me? I …”
“Don’t let Ron scare you off; he’s just being an ass. You know, it’s funny how he has managed to schedule so many out of town meetings during all of the planning.” Tara gives Ron a dry, knowing smile. Ron shrugs and puts his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Mmm,” she muses, eyeing Ron for a moment longer.
“Heeey,” Ron teases playfully in his own defense, “I told you all I wanted to do was put on the tux and show up at the appointed place at the appointed time. Whatever choices I make are the wrong choices, and- ouf.” Tara lands another blow, this one precariously close to his crotch.
“See why I told you to run? She’s all feisty!” Ron takes an anticipatory step back, keeping her at arm’s length with one hand still on her shoulder. She gives Ron a warning look but eventually remembers her focus.
“Anyway, I was thinking that I could really use the help and,” she glances at Orlando quickly, “since Orli’s going to be off filming, I thought you might like some company?”
Elijah tilts his head, very aware that they are all staring at him. “I thought that you’d be going with Orli?”
“Oh, I’ll be back and forth. More here than there, though, because of the wedding.”
Elijah looks at Orlando, but Orlando gives no indication that he prefers it one way or the other, indicating by silence that it’s up to him. “I will, if I stay.”
“Oh,” Tara sounds completely surprised. “I thought it was really hard to get off world creds for -” Her mouth snaps shut and her eyes widen. “You didn’t say anything,” she says to Orlando.
“I didn’t mention it because you’re right. It is hard to get credentials,” Orlando replies quietly. “I don’t know if they’ll come in time.”
Elijah can’t bear the apologetic look in Orlando’s eyes. It’s not as if Orlando hasn’t tried. “It’s okay,” Elijah reassures.
“Honey, you really need to go fill Mel in, okay?” Ron reminds her.
She nods and reaches for Ron’s hand. “Gotta go be a hostess with the mostess.” She wobbles a little as she gets on her feet and laughs. “Maybe I don’t need this,” she grins, indicating the glass in her hand.
“After all the trouble I went to get it for you?” Orlando teases.
She leans over and gives Orlando a kiss on the cheek. “Such hard work, eh?”
“Think about it, Elijah.” She presses a kiss against his cheek, too. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, though.”
Elijah smiles at her. He’s never had so many choices in all his life. “Okay,” he agrees.
She winks at them as Ron leads her away, leaving them once more to their quiet little corner.
“It’s late,” Orlando murmurs softly, leaning over to nuzzle his neck. “Do you want to go?”
“It’s up to you.” There is no hour which he considers late. What he’s more interested in is why Orlando hadn’t told Tara about taking him to Halo.
Orlando’s fingers curl around his tie. “Well, I do think you’ve been in these clothes far too long.”
Elijah rises under Orlando’s gentle tug and files his concerns away for now. They can wait, Orlando cannot.
*
Two weeks never mattered much to Elijah. In the grand scheme of his existence it is only a matter of days, and they matter little in the face of centuries.
In the past he hadn’t even bothered to mark it - other than peripherally- just so that he knows what day of the week it is, but now … now it has suddenly become too little time wrapped in Orlando’s arms; too little time to have Orlando and then graciously want to give him up.
The credentials haven’t come. Despite another round of phone calls, no one was able to even give Orlando an answer as to their status.
“I could come later, after the credentials arrive, couldn’t I?” Elijah asks as he sits on the bed and watches Orlando pack.
When Orlando doesn’t answer, just continues to frown at the suitcase - probably trying to work out a way to cram in the pair of black shoes he’s holding in his left hand - Elijah tries again.
“If everyone thinks I’m your personal assistant, won’t they wonder where I am?”
Orlando glances up at him, a dismayed look on his face, and Elijah apologizes for pestering.
“Look, you are my personal assistant, and you’re assisting me. You will be, even from here. You’re … watching over my house, tending to things here. Besides, Tara is excited that you’ll be able to help.”
Elijah gets up, shuffles the contents of Orlando’s suitcase and makes room for the shoes. “But I-“ he begins, knowing he should stop - it’s not Orlando’s fault.
“I can’t, Elijah,” Orlando snaps, his voice full of exasperation. “You don’t have creds and … even if we did …“
Elijah ducks his head, afraid of what Orlando is reluctant to say.
“I can’t have you there and follow through with Tara’s Big Plan.” Orlando pokes at the neat stacks of clothes irritably. Elijah can’t tell if Orlando is angry with him or the situation. “I wouldn’t even be able to look at Veronica.”
“You don’t have to do it.”
“I know!” Orlando explodes in a way that he hasn’t seen since Max. “But you’ve seen the news and heard all of the shit.”
Yes, he’s well aware of how nasty things have gotten. It seems that it is quite fine for dour old men to own and use Realistics but not hot young movie stars. The hypocrisy is staggering.
“I just want it to go away so I can live my life,” Orlando admits in a whisper.
“So you’re going to go through with it?”
“I don’t know.” Orlando isn’t quite yelling, but his voice is raised.
Elijah stares at Orlando in the silence that follows, everything clicking into place. Orlando had already made up his mind not to take him along, that’s why Tara didn’t know. ”You weren’t planning on getting those creds, were you?”
“What?”
“The night of Tara’s engagement party. She didn’t know you had plans to bring me, because you never told her, because you never planned on getting those creds. You don’t want me to go.”
”Elijah,” Orlando sounds put upon now, stressed out. “I tried. I really did. I sent a good deal of money down the application line with them but the Company and the Government are picky; if they’re both not in synch it takes longer. But, believe me, I did try.”
Elijah folds his arms across his chest, his eyes sliding to Orlando’s suitcase. He shouldn’t have said anything; he knows that he’s just frustrated, knowing that he’s going to be left alone again soon.
“If you think this is easy for me, think again,” Orlando says quietly, no trace of anger left in his tone. “I’ll be gone a month. That’s all. Six weeks, if filming runs over.”
Elijah nods. There’s nothing he can do about it. All he can do is run the data and calculate the possible outcomes and the probabilities of each. He knows the odds. He is going to be left here all alone - out of sight, out of mind - and Orlando will put The Plan in motion, and Elijah knows that Tara’s plan could work, work so well that Orlando forgets it was a feint and actually falls in love.
And why wouldn’t he? Veronica is real, something he can never be.
“What’s wrong, Elijah?” Orlando asks, as he secures the lock on his suitcase.
“A month is a long time.” The weight of time is a curious thing for him. Something alien. And six weeks? He doesn’t want to think about it.
“It can be,” Orlando agrees.
Elijah looks up and musters a wan smile.
“I don’t want to leave you.” The honest misery on Orlando’s face makes him sorry for being so selfish, but he can’t help it; what Orlando feels in the here-and-now is bound to change in the then-and-there.
“I’ve never been alone for a month before.” Four weeks’ worth of empty hours.
“I know. I know, Elijah.” Orlando touches his cheeks so gently. “It’s just that the creds haven’t come and doing this thing with Veronica might get the movie companies off my back, and I just need to do this movie. Just this one and I’ll be set-- we’ll be set. You’ll see.”
Elijah feels Orlando’s forehead against his own and the gentle kneading of fingers against his nape, so tender and reassuring.
“Someday I will make this up to you, you’ll see.”
Elijah nods and smiles. Orlando owes him no promises, no excuses; doesn’t even have to tolerate his petulant behavior, yet he does.
“I have something for you,” Orlando says at last.
Elijah takes the small plastic card Orlando holds out to him. It has his name on it. “What’s this?”
“I know you’ve seen one of these before,” Orlando chides with a smile. “It’s your own currency card. I know it’s not as much fun as a big wad of cash, but it’s the same idea. I want you to use it, have some fun.”
“But,” Elijah turns the card between his fingers, “what do I buy with it?”
Orlando laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Whatever you want, Lij. Anything that strikes your fancy. Some new clothes might be a start.”
“But I don’t know what you like.”
“Not for me, Elijah, for you.” Orlando picks up his bag and heads into the hall.
“I know...” Elijah trails after him, “but how do I know what you want me to wear?”
Orlando stops, spinning around so fast that Elijah bumps into him. Orlando reaches out and steadies him, a hand on each shoulder.
“This isn’t about what I want. This is all you...whatever you like...whatever you want. You choose for yourself.”
Elijah looks down at the card again. He has no idea what he’d like, none at all. Everything was always chosen for him. He might get to select what to put on at the start of a day, but the clothes were always chosen for him.
“But, you don’t have a computer. How will I order anything?”
Orlando laughs again and strokes his cheek again...soft, at first, then he feels Orlando’s fingers curl around the nape of his neck and drag him forward until Orlando is kissing him fiercely, leaving the imprint of his thumbs on his skin.
“I really wish I didn’t have to go,” Orlando says breathlessly. Elijah tries not to make it worse by saying 'me too'.
“There are stores, Elijah. Like Vine street where we found Tara’s gift, remember all those different shops?”
Elijah nods. He’d liked them-- they were full of things he could touch and feel, thrumming with music and … life. He could have looked around that gift shop for hours, examining everything, but Orlando had been attracting a crowd and the clerk seemed to be irritated by his desire to touch everything.
“Just make sure you stay in the Hills, okay? Don’t tell anyone what you are.”
“What if someone asks?”
“Ignore them. It’s too dangerous for anyone to know about you while you’re out on your own. There’s a black market …”
“I know.” Those who can’t always come by a Realistic legitimately won’t stand for being denied.
“So take it as a … an order, if anyone should suspect, or even outright ask, you lie. Understood?”
Dutifully he nods. At least he has something to fill a few of the hours, but even the promise of getting something for himself isn’t enough to make this easy.
“What it is, Lij?” Orlando’s query is patient, his touch kind.
“What if you fall in love with her?”
“With who?” Orlando asks.
“Veronica James.”
The amused grin that spreads across Orlando’s face is almost comforting. “That is not going to happen, Elijah. Don’t even worry about it.”
When Orlando moves in to kiss him, he pulls back, just a little. He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t help it. Orlando is so flip about the whole thing, like it’s not a remote possibility that he could go away and fall in love with someone real; like he could never fall victim to Veronica James’ charms when entire worlds seem to be in love with her. Elijah knows it can happen. He has seen it happen.
“Elijah,” Orlando groans. Elijah feels Orlando’s thumb running along crease lines that furrow his brow. “What’s this for?”
“I th-" being honest is hard, “I think you’re lying to me,” he finally admits.
“Why do you think I’d lie to you about this?”
“Because the others…” Elijah snaps his mouth shut. Others. There should not be any others.
Orlando cocks his head, eyes narrowing into curious slits. “Others?”
Elijah scrambles for another response, something that will cover his blunder. “Other p-people, they do this all the t-time. Lie. Right?” The words are coming hard and his fingertips are starting to tingle, but he hasn’t lied outright. It’s not a lie.
“Other people do what all the time?” Orlando presses.
“Other p-people make p-promises and then b-break them.” The numbness is creeping into his lips, making him stammer.
“Where … is this coming from?”
Elijah stands there silently. He cannot lie, but he does not want to admit the truth. Telling Orlando the truth means exposing everything. “My mouth.”
Orlando laughs, but not before Elijah catches a glimpse of something else, regret perhaps?
“Your mouth,” Orlando sighs as his laughter fades. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”
If you don’t ask me anymore questions, Elijah thinks. He nods instead.
“If you need to be seen by a technician -“
“Nuh- no,” he protests, wishing he could figure out how to override the Company’s programming. He doesn’t want to go back to The Company. “I’m fine. Really.” He just needs to trust what Orlando tells him and stop Orlando from asking any more questions. “You’re going to be late.”
“Damn, yeah.” Orlando glances at his watch. “I’m coming back. As soon as I can. I promise. And it’s not like Tara’s plan is carved in stone. I mean, things could change, Lij; it might not even happen. After all, it depends on things that are beyond my control.” He pushes a hand into his curls, tugging at them in aggravation.
“It’s all right,” Elijah soothes. “I’m sorry I-“
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I don’t really care about this anymore, Elijah. I don’t care what the movie companies think, or Max, or even my fans. I just … I’d like to be happy too, you know.” Orlando takes a deep breath and scrubs at his face.
“You do care,” Elijah states calmly, that much is obvious. It is easier for him once the focus shifts and he can concentrate on Orlando’s needs and issues.
“I care about you.”
The heat that spreads through Elijah sweeps away the numbness that lingers.
“Do you believe that?” Orlando’s voice is husky and low, and this time when he draws near Elijah doesn’t flinch.
“Yes.” How can he not?
“Good.” Orlando leans in for another kiss, but the loud buzz of the intercom interrupts them and is followed by Tara’s harassed voice warning him that he’s going to be late.
“Story of my life,” Orlando sighs, giving him a cheeky grin and a long slow kiss. He doesn’t pull away until the buzzer begins to sound in a rapid S.O.S fashion. “That was worth being late for.”
Elijah smiles and takes a reluctant step back, watching as Orlando picks up his bag.
“I’ll be back before you know it, I promise.”
He nods for Orlando’s benefit, but he knows how brittle promises are; after all, promises are only made of words.
Tbc …
Author: theartoffic
Type: LOTR RPS AU
Pairing: Orlando/Elijah
Rating: Adult
Summary: In the 21st century Artificial Intelligence is still in its infancy, some scientists toy with the idea of creating robots that look, and act, and think like human beings; in the future they are going to succeed. Realistics look real, feel real, and, at a glance, cannot be distinguished from the ones who made them. They are the result of hundreds of years of AI evolution, they are beautiful, perfect, and expensive, but to society at large they are not real. This is the story of one such Realistic.
A/N: Complete and will be posted as each chapter is beta'd. Previous chapters can be found by the tag :)
Beta: the absolutely glorious lisabellex, who should have been paid for all her hard work! *adores you*
The American Heritage Science Dictionary
artificial intelligence
The ability of a computer or other machine to perform actions thought to require intelligence. Among these actions are logical deduction and inference, creativity, the ability to make decisions based on past experience or insufficient or conflicting information, and the ability to understand spoken language.
.... or the ability to love.
Banner: the lovely aranel80
“Do I look all right?” Elijah asks, running his hands nervously down the front of his charcoal gray suit jacket, smoothing away non-existent wrinkles for the hundredth time since he put it on.
It’s not the first time he has ever dressed up so; there were other parties, but he never cared about making an impression at any of those. This time is different-- it doesn’t feel like he’s going as someone’s arm candy. This time he is going because he has been invited and he’s anxious to not look out of place, and even more concerned about pleasing Orlando.
“You look so…” Orlando’s voice trails away, and Elijah feels Orlando tug on the crimson tie, pulling him close, closer, until Orlando’s planting a searing kiss on his lips. “Does that answer your question?”
Elijah clings to Orlando, rubbing his thumbs against the soft fabric of Orlando’s jacket, and inhaling the scent of the cologne he wears. It’d be so easy to just slip his fingers under the lapel and push the garment off; he knows Orlando wouldn’t mind, but it’s already after six. “We’re going to be late.”
Orlando grins and leans in for a second kiss. “I’m always late.”
Elijah smiles as he extracts himself from Orlando’s embrace and distracting mouth. When he turns to face the mirror again he finds he has to adjust his tie as Orlando’s busy fingers have pulled it askew, nearly unknotting it.
“Tara said seven sharp.”
“Which probably means the party’s at eight. She knows how I am.”
Orlando’s fingers slide up his hips, beneath his jacket, and Elijah’s grateful his shirt is firmly tucked into his trousers. “The car is waiting.” He reminds.
Orlando sighs heavily and leans close enough to whisper in his ear, “I can’t wait until we get home and I get to take this off you. One. Piece. At a time.”
Elijah catches Orlando’s wolfish grin in the mirror, then Orlando’s eyes, and with a grin of his own asks, “Is it later yet?”
Orlando laughs and nuzzles his ear. “Yes. It’s always later.”
They hear the intercom buzz impatiently, and Orlando groans unhappily against his neck
“We’d better go.” Elijah says but doesn’t move. He’s waiting to see what Orlando really wants, even if that means arriving late.
“Yeah,” Orlando concedes at last and tows him by the hand to the front door where they pause just long enough to collect the engagement gift Orlando allowed him to select and which he so meticulously wrapped.
*
“We’re here,” Orlando tells him with a smile and gentle squeeze of his knee.
Elijah peers at the house, aglow even through the tinted window, and clutches the present against his chest.
It is just a little house-- barely a bungalow compared to Orlando’s home, or any of the other estates he has drifted in and out of over the years. There isn’t even a gate; there is nothing intimidating in its outward appearance and yet he can feel the apprehension stealing over him, making him clutch the box tighter.
There are people in there who will judge him, possibly even hate him for what he is; he should be resigned to it by now, but he’s not, because … because he is here with Orlando and it’s Tara, and he likes her.
The driver opens the door but Elijah doesn’t move, he almost wishes that he could just wait in the car.
“Are you all right?” Orlando asks softly.
Elijah nods quickly and forces himself to step out into the cool night air. Orlando is at his side a moment later, tugging on his sleeve to keep him from heading up the walk; it is unnecessary.
“It’s just a small party, Elijah, just a few friends and family, nothing to worry about.” He can make out Orlando’s reassuring smile in the dark.
“I know.”
“So what is it?” Orlando queries softly.
If he thought he could explain, he might try, but he can’t. It is a fear that took root decades before Orlando, in a past he should not remember. “Nothing.”
“Elijah, don’t lie to me.”
“What if they’re like Max? What if they don’t accept me?”
“Her family isn’t like that.”
“You know them? Her family? You’ve met them before?” He knows the power that family wields. They are often the harshest and most influential critics. He lived it firsthand with Daniel.
“No, but I know Tara; she wouldn’t have invited us if we wouldn’t be accepted. Don’t worry.”
But he can’t help it, he had been right there when Daniel’s father had spoken to his son in that sneering tone, fueled by too much scotch: ‘What’s wrong with you, boy? Are you such a looser that you’re reduced to dicking around with toys?’ He hadn’t expressly told Daniel to stop, but less than two days later the Company had sent two men to collect him.
Dan hadn’t been home at the time, he’d been out skiing. He had hoped it was just a mistake, was certain it was, but Daniel never came for him. A week and half later he was sold to Karl.
He feels Orlando’s thumb brush his cheek. “Do you want me to call the car back?”
“No,” he answers with a shake of his head. He could stand here all night picking the scabs off old memories, but he doesn’t care to ever again relive one of Karl’s ‘parties’. “What happens at engagement parties?”
Orlando hums thoughtfully and slings an arm around his shoulder. “I think just a few drinks and a little food, gifts, just that sort of thing.”
He fiddles nervously with the bow on the package as Orlando guides him up the path. “You’ve never been to one before either?”
Orlando shakes his head as they step onto the porch. “You ready?”
Elijah nods. He’s 99.9% sure he won’t have to fuck anyone here, unless maybe it’s Orlando and he would be perfectly fine with that.
“Good, there is nothing to be nervous about.” Orlando smiles at him as he thumbs the doorbell.
He knows Orlando couldn’t know any better, but he still wishes Orlando had chosen other words to comfort him. Karl used to say that very thing as he did lines of blow before the parties, all the while crooning, ‘Nothing to be nervous about, Elijah. We’re all just going to party. Get it on. You know you like it; you know I want you to like it, right?’
He hadn’t liked it, but he’d been helpless to stop it.
He plasters on a smile when the door opens and the sounds from the party spill out.
“My God!” Tara exclaims loudly, teasingly, as she looks at her watch. “Orli! You’re on time! Early, even. Look, honey,” she says to the tall, lanky fellow who comes to stand behind her, “it’s five of seven and Orli’s here.”
“Ha, ha,” Orlando deadpans. “Why do you let her pick on me so, Ron?”
Ron laughs easily. “Ah, don’t make it seem like I have any control over her, Orli.” Elijah watches as he extends his hand and shakes Orlando’s. ”It’s good to see you, man.”
“Hello, Tara,” Elijah says as he follows Orlando into the entryway. “This is for you two.” He smiles at Tara’s fiancé.
“Oh, and a gift too! Elijah, you’ve managed everything!” She places a kiss on his cheek and Elijah feels his cheeks heat.
“Hey!” Orlando cries acting wounded. “It wasn’t all him, you know.”
Tara’s brows lift and she shakes her head, amusement lighting her face. “You act as if I don’t know how you are, Orli. You never would have remembered a gift and you would’ve been late if it wasn’t for Elijah. Don’t waste your breath trying to fool me!”
“You’d just best be getting married. I can’t return your gift. It’s been personalized.”
“Do you even know what’s in the box?”
“Oh, geez, they can carry on like this for hours.” Ron smiles at him over Tara’s shoulder. “I’m Ron and you’re Elijah, it’s nice to meet you.”
Elijah takes Ron’s proffered hand and shakes it. “Likewise.” He returns Ron’s smile, immediately feeling at ease. This feels so normal and … nice. It is the first time he hasn’t been introduced as someone’s possession. ‘This is my Realistic … This is my Elijah.’
“Maybe they’d like a drink, honey?” Ron says in what Elijah can only see as an attempt to distract Tara.
“Oh, yes, drinks!” She snaps her fingers and motions them inside.
“Congrats, Ron. I didn’t get a chance to say so before now,” Orlando says with an open smile.
“Thanks. I’m a lucky guy,” Ron returns happily. “At least I will be once this wedding crap is over.”
Elijah watches Orlando laugh and quickly realizes that Ron is just making a joke.
Ron ushers them into the small living room, which is packed with people who all fail at trying not to stare. Mostly their eyes fix on Orlando, but Elijah feels their perusal by default; they’re all trying to size up who Orlando’s shown up with. Part of him just wants to slink into the shadows, but Tara won’t stand for hiding.
She takes his arm, pausing to make introductions as they wind their way through the living room into the kitchen. These are friends mostly, her sisters and cousins. Elijah collects names, faces, and any information she offers about them, filing it away as is his habit. David loved this about him as David could never seem to remember names; he doesn’t know if Orlando will ever need that kind of help, but there’s no harm in being prepared.
It takes forever to make it to the kitchen because Orlando’s very accommodating. If he’s asked for an autograph, or requested to have his picture taken with another guest, he complies graciously, despite Tara’s protests that he doesn’t have to. Elijah notices how Orlando makes a point of keeping the conversation focused on Tara and Ron, how happy he is for them and what a pleasure it is to be here, in an attempt to not steal their thunder.
Later, after Tara has fixed them with drinks, and they have circulated through the rest of the guests, Orlando manages to guide them stealthily into a dim corner of the living room. Elijah sits in the only vacant seat, an overstuffed armchair that makes him feel queerly small, while Orlando perches on the arm beside him, trying his best to keep the spider plant out of his face; a battle that Elijah finds a little amusing. There is more than enough room for both of them on the seat, provided they squeezed in a bit, but Orlando declines; the fact that Orlando should want to keep his distance really doesn’t surprise Elijah.
He wonders what they think he is to Orlando, as he sips his mock-tequila sunrise-- no alcohol but plenty of orange juice-- he loves the orange juice. Do they just assume he’s Orlando’s assistant, or do they suspect he’s a date? Orlando introduced him, but just as Elijah; giving no indication of his status, one way or the other. Perhaps they’re not wondering at all; he’d rather that.
He looks up when he feels Orlando’s hand on his shoulder. Orlando’s eyes are sparkling. “How you doing?”
“Good.” He laughs as Orlando blows a wayward frond out of his face. “Do you want to switch? I’m shorter; I don’t think the plant would attack me.”
“It’s fine. We’ll --” Orlando’s voice trails away; Elijah turns to see what Orlando’s smiling at and finds Tara taking a careful seat on the end of the coffee table, careful because it’s easy to see by the glint in her eye and the flush on her cheeks, that she’s tipsy.
“You have got to try these,” she says as she thrusts a small tray of hors d’oeuvres toward them. Elijah reaches out quickly, barely managing to save the delicacies and the carpet, as the tray tilts wildly.
“They’re really good. I made them.” To Elijah’s amusement, she barely seems to realize she almost dumped the whole thing; intoxicated people are funny.
Elijah watches, barely able to hide his amusement, as Tara snags one of the spread-topped crackers and shoves it in Orlando’s mouth, patting Orlando’s lips with a satisfied little smile.
“‘s good, right?” she asks eagerly. Her face lights up as Orlando nods and begins to chew the snack.
She turns on him next, practically poking him in the chest with the tray. “Now you. I know you can now.” She smiles at him, waggling the tray; he reaches out once more and steadies it, but again she doesn’t seem to notice. “Orli said it was good, and he eats like a bird.”
Elijah doesn’t see Orlando diving in for more, but he takes one, knowing he won’t get away without trying it, and preferring to not have her feel the need to force feed it to him; besides it’s polite. He takes a small bite and the flavors explode across his tongue. He has no idea what it is but he likes it.
“Ron said they were salty, do you think so? He never puts salt on anything so I think it’s just him.” She rests her chin in her hand and smiles at him.
Elijah looks over at Orlando, but there’s only a grin and wink - nothing there indicating how he should answer. “I … I’m not sure.” He has no idea what ‘too salty means’, not in context anyway.
“But it’s good?” she presses.
Elijah nods, but she’s not looking at him, she’s turned to scan the table behind her, looking for something.
“I need my drink,” she says at last. “I just don’t remember where the hell I put it.”
“I’ll get you another,” Orlando offers. “And let me just take this back to the table before they end up on the floor. I’d hate for us to be monopolizing them.”
Elijah chews on his lower lip to keep the grin that threatens from spreading across his face as Orlando deftly relieves her of the threatened hors d’oeuvres and moves off toward the kitchen.
Tara rises, and Elijah expects that she might move off into the crowd, but surprises him by squishing into the seat next to him. She gives his knee a friendly little pat and rests her cheek on his shoulder; an intimate gesture he did not expect.
“I’m so glad you guys came.” Her voice is thick and syrupy and she’s moved on to petting his arm.
Elijah cradles the cracker, confused by her statement and the way she’s touching him. It makes him feel slightly uncomfortable, the result of the nasty memory of too many other ‘parties’. He reminds himself that Tara’s a touchy-feely person; she’s touched him before and never asked for anything in return.
“Of course we’d come. Why wouldn’t we?
He can feel her sigh as much as hear it. “Oh, because … It’s hard for him now. You know? He usually can’t get out, but I told everyone who was coming that he wasn’t. Seems to have worked.” She lifts her head and looks around. “He’s been coming out less and less. I thought … I was afraid he was starting to pull away. I started calling him ‘Hermit’.”
Elijah smiles at the sound of her laughter - it’s such a sweet sound.
“Do you like it?” she asks.
He looks at the remains of the cracker in his hand. “Yes, it’s very good, Tara. Thank you.”
She smiles and squeezes his arm. “I meant the party.”
“Oh.” He can feel the flush creep up his cheeks. “Yes. That too.” And he waits. Just waits to see where she’s going with this, and part of him is ashamed that he could even think the worst of her; she is Orlando’s friend after all, but then... they’d all been ‘friends’ of Karl’s too.
“I’m really sorry if I seemed… weird toward you at first.” Her hesitant confession is the last thing he expects.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. I just … I just really want Orlando to be happy.” She smiles apologetically at him. “Like I said, he’d been pulling away, retreating and I was just worried that he was making the wrong choice, not for his career or anything,” she adds hastily, “it’s just that I’m not too familiar with- with-“
“What I am?” Elijah supplies gently.
Tara nods and he can tell by the way she looks away that she’s embarrassed. He offers her a smile; it comes as no surprise to him, but at least she admits it.
“I’m really sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I’m just really protective of him. He’s such a sweet guy, and I love him like a brother, you know?”
“You’ve been friends for a long time?”
“Yeah,” she nods, smiling fondly, “six years, if you can believe it.”
“H- how did you meet? If you don’t mind me asking?” He’s not sure if he should inquire but Orlando has never said that he couldn’t, and Elijah can’t help his curiosity, Orlando rarely ever talks about himself or his past.
“No. I don’t mind.” She gives him a big grin. “Let’s see … I’d just moved out here, traveled all the way across country by myself. I grew up in Newport, Vermont, which is this little, shitty, middle-of-nowhere - and I mean nowhere - dot on the map; I had such big dreams.” She shakes her head slowly, her grin changing, reflecting something else -regret perhaps, he can’t be certain.
“I was just a dumb kid... thought I had real talent, you know? Big fish in this little, tiny pond,” she pushes her thumb and forefinger together to show a paper-thin gap, “you see. So when they said I could sing I believed it. When they said I should move out here and become a star I believed that too. At least I did until I moved out here and then I realized I was just a little fish in an ocean full of sharks.”
She pauses, sighs heavily and gives his arm a playful swat. “Aww, you don’t want to hear all this crap.”
“No, that’s not true. I’m sorry if I’m giving you that impression,” he protests worriedly.
He really does want to know. “Orli doesn’t tell me much.”
“Yeah. He’s kind of tight-lipped isn’t he?”
Elijah nods in silent agreement.
“He’s always been that way - never talked much about his past or his family; so it’s not you - in case you were wondering.” She bumps his shoulder with hers in a friendly gesture. He can’t help but feel a little relieved-- he had wondered.
“So you came out here, and then?” Elijah prompts, trying to steer her back on track. He knows that people who are drinking tend to easily loose focus and he’d really like to hear more. “Will you tell me how you met?”
“Oh, yeah,” she laughs. “Okay, so, I’d just moved out here. I’d sold everything I had to finance it, spent half of that on the flight and some new outfits, because, you know, that was the priority at the time.” She snorts softly, laughing again. “Then I arrived. I thought they were going to roll out a red carpet for me.”
Elijah watches her laugh and roll her eyes.
“God, I was dumb. There was no red carpet, no one wanted to hear me sing, because I was stupid and didn’t realize you had to submit demos, so I didn’t have any money for that. Everything cost about five times as much as I’d thought and, man, it was just awful. I ended up with three jobs, plus I was still trying - open mike nights and stuff, still hoping to get my name in lights so I wouldn’t have to go back home with my tail between my legs. I was so close to having to turn tricks on the street corner to make rent.” She scrubs absently at her cheek
“It was so bad I was at the point where I was trying to phone home, but my mom wasn’t taking my calls - not that it was a surprise or anything- she never really did care much what happened to me, and my sisters didn’t have any money to send me. I was stuck. Stuck so bad. Scared worse.”
“I’m sorry,” he says softly when she pauses. He knows what it’s like to have no one to turn to, no way out.
“Not your fault I was stupid.” She gives his hand a little squeeze. “Besides, if it hadn’t gotten that bad I might not have been bawling at the counter of the coffee place where I was working. Orli was the only one who asked me what was wrong. He was just some random hottie standing in line for coffee, but he seemed so sweet and I just broke down right there. I’m talking a complete mess.” She laughs but he notices the way she wipes the trace of wetness from her eyes. Some memories stay fresh with humans too.
“Anyway, my manager sent me on my break and Orli bought me a coffee, took me outside, sat me down and I just … spilled my guts to him. When I was done crying on his shoulder, he told me that he was going out for this big movie role. He said if he got the part he’d hire me on as his personal assistant. At the time I thought ‘yeah right’-- I mean, everyone wants to be a star. I thought he was just like me, full of hopes that wouldn’t amount to shit. I was sure I’d never see him again.”
“But you did,” Elijah grins.
“Yeah,” she agrees with a winsome smile, “a week later he was in my line again. He asked if I remembered him, like I could forget.” She rolls her eyes, still grinning. “He told me that he’d gotten the role and asked when I could start. Can you believe that? I thought he was just pulling my chain. I don’t think I really believed it was true until I cashed my first paycheck and it cleared.”
“You must have trusted part of him if you gave up your jobs and went to work for him.”
“Oh, no. I mean, yes.” She exhales loudly and shakes her head, but he’s sure it’s in amusement, nothing else. “I couldn’t not trust that smile, but I didn’t give up all my jobs. I called in sick to the ones I supposed to be at while figuring out how to be a personal assistant, and worked the others. I’m telling you, I was in dire straights at the time. But … it all worked out. Orli turned out to be the greatest thing that ever happened to me, well, next to Ron of course.” She scans the room, not stopping until she catches sight of her fiancé.
“I’m glad he was there for you.” And maybe me too, he thinks. He’s grateful to her for giving him this window into Orlando’s nature, it only seems to confirm what he’s hoped all along - that Orlando is a good as he seems, that he’s not just putting on a mask for the world.
“Me too. Now you know why I’m so protective of him. I think he’s one for collecting broken things - I think he feels sorry for us, and tries to help.”
Broken things. She said ‘us’, she means him too, that he’s a broken thing. Pity. She’s only nice to him because she pities him; it’s what he thought all along.
“Oh shit, I shouldn’t have said that, Elijah.” The flush has left her cheeks and she looks horrified. “I’m sorry. I should just … go find that drink.”
“Wait!” He holds out his hand to stop her from standing up. “Why did you? I mean, what makes you think that?”
“I can’t, Elijah. It was just … something he told me on the shuttle.”
That does little to settle his curiosity and he presses her despite her reluctance, “What did he say?”
She pauses for a moment, biting on her bottom lip.
“Please?” he begs.
“He just … made some things clear; he said that he felt a connection with you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have made it sound like it was pity or anything.”
“What things?” he asks, but Orlando is returning, her drink in hand, and even though she’s smiling she gives him a warning look with her eyes.
“What took you so long?” She turns away to harass Orlando.
“There are a lot of people between here and the kitchen. Don’t know if you noticed or not. Your tray is empty now, just thought you’d want to know.” Orlando waggles his brows at her. “Now I know if this acting gig ever craps out I can always get a job as a waiter.”
“I don’t think you’ll ever have to worry about that,” she laughs.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Ron says apologetically as he leans over the coffee table and puts a hand on Tara’s shoulder, “but, honey, your friend Mel is asking all kinds of questions about the flowers, and where, and who, and what-all about the wedding plans.”
Tara cranes her neck back, looking up at Ron, her easy smile widening. It’s so easy to see the love between them and, although Elijah finds that he is smiling too, he has to look away.
“You’d think this wedding was happening in six days not six months,” she sighs, but it’s a happy sound. “Say, Elijah, you wouldn’t want to help me out with things, would you?”
He looks up in time to catch Ron making a strangled sound, mouthing the word ‘run’ behind her back and shaking his head. Tara scowls, and without even having seen Ron’s expression, gives him a playful swat.
“Me? I …”
“Don’t let Ron scare you off; he’s just being an ass. You know, it’s funny how he has managed to schedule so many out of town meetings during all of the planning.” Tara gives Ron a dry, knowing smile. Ron shrugs and puts his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Mmm,” she muses, eyeing Ron for a moment longer.
“Heeey,” Ron teases playfully in his own defense, “I told you all I wanted to do was put on the tux and show up at the appointed place at the appointed time. Whatever choices I make are the wrong choices, and- ouf.” Tara lands another blow, this one precariously close to his crotch.
“See why I told you to run? She’s all feisty!” Ron takes an anticipatory step back, keeping her at arm’s length with one hand still on her shoulder. She gives Ron a warning look but eventually remembers her focus.
“Anyway, I was thinking that I could really use the help and,” she glances at Orlando quickly, “since Orli’s going to be off filming, I thought you might like some company?”
Elijah tilts his head, very aware that they are all staring at him. “I thought that you’d be going with Orli?”
“Oh, I’ll be back and forth. More here than there, though, because of the wedding.”
Elijah looks at Orlando, but Orlando gives no indication that he prefers it one way or the other, indicating by silence that it’s up to him. “I will, if I stay.”
“Oh,” Tara sounds completely surprised. “I thought it was really hard to get off world creds for -” Her mouth snaps shut and her eyes widen. “You didn’t say anything,” she says to Orlando.
“I didn’t mention it because you’re right. It is hard to get credentials,” Orlando replies quietly. “I don’t know if they’ll come in time.”
Elijah can’t bear the apologetic look in Orlando’s eyes. It’s not as if Orlando hasn’t tried. “It’s okay,” Elijah reassures.
“Honey, you really need to go fill Mel in, okay?” Ron reminds her.
She nods and reaches for Ron’s hand. “Gotta go be a hostess with the mostess.” She wobbles a little as she gets on her feet and laughs. “Maybe I don’t need this,” she grins, indicating the glass in her hand.
“After all the trouble I went to get it for you?” Orlando teases.
She leans over and gives Orlando a kiss on the cheek. “Such hard work, eh?”
“Think about it, Elijah.” She presses a kiss against his cheek, too. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, though.”
Elijah smiles at her. He’s never had so many choices in all his life. “Okay,” he agrees.
She winks at them as Ron leads her away, leaving them once more to their quiet little corner.
“It’s late,” Orlando murmurs softly, leaning over to nuzzle his neck. “Do you want to go?”
“It’s up to you.” There is no hour which he considers late. What he’s more interested in is why Orlando hadn’t told Tara about taking him to Halo.
Orlando’s fingers curl around his tie. “Well, I do think you’ve been in these clothes far too long.”
Elijah rises under Orlando’s gentle tug and files his concerns away for now. They can wait, Orlando cannot.
*
Two weeks never mattered much to Elijah. In the grand scheme of his existence it is only a matter of days, and they matter little in the face of centuries.
In the past he hadn’t even bothered to mark it - other than peripherally- just so that he knows what day of the week it is, but now … now it has suddenly become too little time wrapped in Orlando’s arms; too little time to have Orlando and then graciously want to give him up.
The credentials haven’t come. Despite another round of phone calls, no one was able to even give Orlando an answer as to their status.
“I could come later, after the credentials arrive, couldn’t I?” Elijah asks as he sits on the bed and watches Orlando pack.
When Orlando doesn’t answer, just continues to frown at the suitcase - probably trying to work out a way to cram in the pair of black shoes he’s holding in his left hand - Elijah tries again.
“If everyone thinks I’m your personal assistant, won’t they wonder where I am?”
Orlando glances up at him, a dismayed look on his face, and Elijah apologizes for pestering.
“Look, you are my personal assistant, and you’re assisting me. You will be, even from here. You’re … watching over my house, tending to things here. Besides, Tara is excited that you’ll be able to help.”
Elijah gets up, shuffles the contents of Orlando’s suitcase and makes room for the shoes. “But I-“ he begins, knowing he should stop - it’s not Orlando’s fault.
“I can’t, Elijah,” Orlando snaps, his voice full of exasperation. “You don’t have creds and … even if we did …“
Elijah ducks his head, afraid of what Orlando is reluctant to say.
“I can’t have you there and follow through with Tara’s Big Plan.” Orlando pokes at the neat stacks of clothes irritably. Elijah can’t tell if Orlando is angry with him or the situation. “I wouldn’t even be able to look at Veronica.”
“You don’t have to do it.”
“I know!” Orlando explodes in a way that he hasn’t seen since Max. “But you’ve seen the news and heard all of the shit.”
Yes, he’s well aware of how nasty things have gotten. It seems that it is quite fine for dour old men to own and use Realistics but not hot young movie stars. The hypocrisy is staggering.
“I just want it to go away so I can live my life,” Orlando admits in a whisper.
“So you’re going to go through with it?”
“I don’t know.” Orlando isn’t quite yelling, but his voice is raised.
Elijah stares at Orlando in the silence that follows, everything clicking into place. Orlando had already made up his mind not to take him along, that’s why Tara didn’t know. ”You weren’t planning on getting those creds, were you?”
“What?”
“The night of Tara’s engagement party. She didn’t know you had plans to bring me, because you never told her, because you never planned on getting those creds. You don’t want me to go.”
”Elijah,” Orlando sounds put upon now, stressed out. “I tried. I really did. I sent a good deal of money down the application line with them but the Company and the Government are picky; if they’re both not in synch it takes longer. But, believe me, I did try.”
Elijah folds his arms across his chest, his eyes sliding to Orlando’s suitcase. He shouldn’t have said anything; he knows that he’s just frustrated, knowing that he’s going to be left alone again soon.
“If you think this is easy for me, think again,” Orlando says quietly, no trace of anger left in his tone. “I’ll be gone a month. That’s all. Six weeks, if filming runs over.”
Elijah nods. There’s nothing he can do about it. All he can do is run the data and calculate the possible outcomes and the probabilities of each. He knows the odds. He is going to be left here all alone - out of sight, out of mind - and Orlando will put The Plan in motion, and Elijah knows that Tara’s plan could work, work so well that Orlando forgets it was a feint and actually falls in love.
And why wouldn’t he? Veronica is real, something he can never be.
“What’s wrong, Elijah?” Orlando asks, as he secures the lock on his suitcase.
“A month is a long time.” The weight of time is a curious thing for him. Something alien. And six weeks? He doesn’t want to think about it.
“It can be,” Orlando agrees.
Elijah looks up and musters a wan smile.
“I don’t want to leave you.” The honest misery on Orlando’s face makes him sorry for being so selfish, but he can’t help it; what Orlando feels in the here-and-now is bound to change in the then-and-there.
“I’ve never been alone for a month before.” Four weeks’ worth of empty hours.
“I know. I know, Elijah.” Orlando touches his cheeks so gently. “It’s just that the creds haven’t come and doing this thing with Veronica might get the movie companies off my back, and I just need to do this movie. Just this one and I’ll be set-- we’ll be set. You’ll see.”
Elijah feels Orlando’s forehead against his own and the gentle kneading of fingers against his nape, so tender and reassuring.
“Someday I will make this up to you, you’ll see.”
Elijah nods and smiles. Orlando owes him no promises, no excuses; doesn’t even have to tolerate his petulant behavior, yet he does.
“I have something for you,” Orlando says at last.
Elijah takes the small plastic card Orlando holds out to him. It has his name on it. “What’s this?”
“I know you’ve seen one of these before,” Orlando chides with a smile. “It’s your own currency card. I know it’s not as much fun as a big wad of cash, but it’s the same idea. I want you to use it, have some fun.”
“But,” Elijah turns the card between his fingers, “what do I buy with it?”
Orlando laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Whatever you want, Lij. Anything that strikes your fancy. Some new clothes might be a start.”
“But I don’t know what you like.”
“Not for me, Elijah, for you.” Orlando picks up his bag and heads into the hall.
“I know...” Elijah trails after him, “but how do I know what you want me to wear?”
Orlando stops, spinning around so fast that Elijah bumps into him. Orlando reaches out and steadies him, a hand on each shoulder.
“This isn’t about what I want. This is all you...whatever you like...whatever you want. You choose for yourself.”
Elijah looks down at the card again. He has no idea what he’d like, none at all. Everything was always chosen for him. He might get to select what to put on at the start of a day, but the clothes were always chosen for him.
“But, you don’t have a computer. How will I order anything?”
Orlando laughs again and strokes his cheek again...soft, at first, then he feels Orlando’s fingers curl around the nape of his neck and drag him forward until Orlando is kissing him fiercely, leaving the imprint of his thumbs on his skin.
“I really wish I didn’t have to go,” Orlando says breathlessly. Elijah tries not to make it worse by saying 'me too'.
“There are stores, Elijah. Like Vine street where we found Tara’s gift, remember all those different shops?”
Elijah nods. He’d liked them-- they were full of things he could touch and feel, thrumming with music and … life. He could have looked around that gift shop for hours, examining everything, but Orlando had been attracting a crowd and the clerk seemed to be irritated by his desire to touch everything.
“Just make sure you stay in the Hills, okay? Don’t tell anyone what you are.”
“What if someone asks?”
“Ignore them. It’s too dangerous for anyone to know about you while you’re out on your own. There’s a black market …”
“I know.” Those who can’t always come by a Realistic legitimately won’t stand for being denied.
“So take it as a … an order, if anyone should suspect, or even outright ask, you lie. Understood?”
Dutifully he nods. At least he has something to fill a few of the hours, but even the promise of getting something for himself isn’t enough to make this easy.
“What it is, Lij?” Orlando’s query is patient, his touch kind.
“What if you fall in love with her?”
“With who?” Orlando asks.
“Veronica James.”
The amused grin that spreads across Orlando’s face is almost comforting. “That is not going to happen, Elijah. Don’t even worry about it.”
When Orlando moves in to kiss him, he pulls back, just a little. He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t help it. Orlando is so flip about the whole thing, like it’s not a remote possibility that he could go away and fall in love with someone real; like he could never fall victim to Veronica James’ charms when entire worlds seem to be in love with her. Elijah knows it can happen. He has seen it happen.
“Elijah,” Orlando groans. Elijah feels Orlando’s thumb running along crease lines that furrow his brow. “What’s this for?”
“I th-" being honest is hard, “I think you’re lying to me,” he finally admits.
“Why do you think I’d lie to you about this?”
“Because the others…” Elijah snaps his mouth shut. Others. There should not be any others.
Orlando cocks his head, eyes narrowing into curious slits. “Others?”
Elijah scrambles for another response, something that will cover his blunder. “Other p-people, they do this all the t-time. Lie. Right?” The words are coming hard and his fingertips are starting to tingle, but he hasn’t lied outright. It’s not a lie.
“Other people do what all the time?” Orlando presses.
“Other p-people make p-promises and then b-break them.” The numbness is creeping into his lips, making him stammer.
“Where … is this coming from?”
Elijah stands there silently. He cannot lie, but he does not want to admit the truth. Telling Orlando the truth means exposing everything. “My mouth.”
Orlando laughs, but not before Elijah catches a glimpse of something else, regret perhaps?
“Your mouth,” Orlando sighs as his laughter fades. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”
If you don’t ask me anymore questions, Elijah thinks. He nods instead.
“If you need to be seen by a technician -“
“Nuh- no,” he protests, wishing he could figure out how to override the Company’s programming. He doesn’t want to go back to The Company. “I’m fine. Really.” He just needs to trust what Orlando tells him and stop Orlando from asking any more questions. “You’re going to be late.”
“Damn, yeah.” Orlando glances at his watch. “I’m coming back. As soon as I can. I promise. And it’s not like Tara’s plan is carved in stone. I mean, things could change, Lij; it might not even happen. After all, it depends on things that are beyond my control.” He pushes a hand into his curls, tugging at them in aggravation.
“It’s all right,” Elijah soothes. “I’m sorry I-“
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I don’t really care about this anymore, Elijah. I don’t care what the movie companies think, or Max, or even my fans. I just … I’d like to be happy too, you know.” Orlando takes a deep breath and scrubs at his face.
“You do care,” Elijah states calmly, that much is obvious. It is easier for him once the focus shifts and he can concentrate on Orlando’s needs and issues.
“I care about you.”
The heat that spreads through Elijah sweeps away the numbness that lingers.
“Do you believe that?” Orlando’s voice is husky and low, and this time when he draws near Elijah doesn’t flinch.
“Yes.” How can he not?
“Good.” Orlando leans in for another kiss, but the loud buzz of the intercom interrupts them and is followed by Tara’s harassed voice warning him that he’s going to be late.
“Story of my life,” Orlando sighs, giving him a cheeky grin and a long slow kiss. He doesn’t pull away until the buzzer begins to sound in a rapid S.O.S fashion. “That was worth being late for.”
Elijah smiles and takes a reluctant step back, watching as Orlando picks up his bag.
“I’ll be back before you know it, I promise.”
He nods for Orlando’s benefit, but he knows how brittle promises are; after all, promises are only made of words.
Tbc …