Affirmation Chapter Six
Title: Affirmation (Chapter Six)
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.
Author’s Notes: This is set in early to mid 2003. I obviously played with actual filming schedules. There's a lot of angst in this, but there will eventually be a happy ending, I promise.
~*~
Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five
Banner by araestel.
Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap.
Viggo's fingers pounded against the arms of the chair, hitting in rapid succession, pausing, and hitting again. His hands moved in unison, amplifying the sound, sending it to all corners of the silent room, and eliminating the need for strained conversation just to fill the silence.
Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap.
The seconds passed with agonizing slowness. No one spoke or even moved beyond shifting in the hard, uncomfortable chairs. Viggo's fingers kept drumming the pattern for lack of anything else to do. He had to do something and there was nothing in the room - no books or magazines or anything beyond the hard chairs and his friends. They only had each other for distraction, and there was only one thing on all their minds - Orlando.
The hostages had been freed, Orlando among them, and Viggo had never felt so elated as when he got that call, but time had immediately slowed afterwards. All the hostages had to be checked by doctors and give statements to law enforcement before they could fly back to Los Angeles, and the wait was excruciating. Each second seemed to tick by slower and slower and slower until time barely seemed to be passing at all.
It had been almost a day since they received that wonderful phone call, and still they had not seen Orlando or been updated on his condition.
Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap-
A warm hand covered Viggo's, stilling his fingers. His other hand continued halfway through the pattern before his brain caught up. He stilled his free hand, looked up, and blinked at Ian.
"Try to relax, Viggo."
Relax? Ian was mad or perhaps just exhausted as he hadn't slept since he and Sean had arrived from England just before they'd gotten the good news. Either way, it was a crazy thing to suggest. There was no way Viggo could relax.
"I can't." He glanced at the clock. "They were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. What if something went wrong?"
"He's alive, Viggo, you know that much. Everything else is secondary. There is a myriad of reasons they could be delayed, most of them perfectly innocuous."
Viggo nodded. He knew Ian was right and there were plenty of reasons for what was in the grand scheme of things a short delay, but he couldn't keep his mind from whirling. He kept worrying about Orlando and thinking of things that could have gone wrong since they'd last been given news. Orlando was alive, yes, but there was little chance he had escaped completely unscathed, and Viggo knew it.
"I need to see him, Ian. I need to know how he is, need to see him for myself." He slumped forward and rested his forehead in his hands. Time was moving so slowly and he was only holding himself together by a tiny, fraying thread. He wouldn't last much longer.
Ian started gently rubbing his back and then someone sat on his other side and their hand joined Ian's. He looked up and managed to give both Sean and Ian a small but thankful smile before he returned his head to his hands. The soothing motion helped a little, but it was still an agonizingly long time before the door opened and a young woman carrying a clipboard stepped into the room.
~*~
Orlando shifted, punched at the tiny pillow he'd jammed between his head and the window, and sighed. No matter how he tried, he couldn't get comfortable. Viggo had fallen asleep almost as soon as the plane had left the gate, but Orlando had spent the past hour shifting and sighing as he tried to find a position that didn't make his back ache horribly.
There wasn't one.
The seat was too small, there was no leg room, and the supposedly ergonomic contours were designed to be equally uncomfortable for people of all heights and builds. It was beyond Orlando how Viggo slept. Even the painkillers he'd taken didn't make him drowsy enough to even doze.
He shifted again, pushed the pillow back some, and stared out the window. It was dark, so there wasn’t much to see, but occasionally there was a break in the clouds and he could see lights shining on the ground far below. It was peaceful, boring almost - exactly what he wanted - and slowly his eyes began to glaze over.
Shadowy shapes began to form in the glass, slowly resolving into human figures. Orlando blinked his eyes, rubbed at them, and the images vanished for the moment. He'd been seeing them ever since the day on the beach when they'd been so rudely interrupted. His memories of confronting the arseholes who'd disturbed them were strangely interspersed with memories of a room he'd never seen, people he thought he should know, and things he'd rather forget. He'd been there too, and that was the worst part.
It was a waking nightmare he could visit whenever he concentrated on it, and that he had to visit whenever he let his guard down. The voices and the figures never really went away, but he could push it to the back of his mind, will his other self to listen and comply, and ignore it for the most part.
It was only times like this, when there was nothing to distract him, that it was difficult to ignore.
If he could only sleep, and then it would stop for a time, or if they would land and he could be distracted and pretend that he was sane and that he wasn't hearing and seeing things that couldn't possibly exist.
Sleep, unfortunately, was elusive, and the plane wasn't scheduled to land for another two hours. It was going to be a long, long flight.
~*~
The young woman, barely more than a girl really, had initially only wanted Sonia and Samantha, but Sonia had insisted that everyone accompany her. The young woman hesitated for a moment, and then led the whole group to a conference room and left. They were joined a moment later by another woman, older than the first, carrying a folder and wearing a white lab coat.
She seemed surprised to see such a large group, but after only a moment's hesitation, she smiled and introduced herself as Marissa Arroyo, one of the doctors the studio kept on retainer.
"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," she said as she sat down. "I know this has to be difficult for you."
Sonia nodded and then asked the question that was on Viggo's mind as well, but that he was unable to make his lips form. "Where's Orlando?"
Dr. Arroyo opened her folder and pulled a pair of glasses out of her pocket. "He's still with the nurses. They're finishing up with him now. I wanted to talk to you before they bring him in. There's...some things you need to know."
The odd pause made Viggo glad that a response didn't seem to be required. Whatever she wanted to say couldn't be good, and he felt the panic he had just barely managed to banish creeping back. He'd known this wasn't over, but he was beginning to realize that it could be worse than he imagined.
"We are," she began, "reluctant to release Orlando to your care at this time."
"Was he injured that badly?"
"What happened to him?"
"Why not?"
"What do you mean?"
Viggo sat silent, listening and agreeing, but unable to find his voice. His throat constricted, his stomach knotted, and his heart started pounding so loudly that it was difficult to hear what people were saying. He concentrated hard, afraid to miss a word, yet almost more afraid of what he would hear.
Sonia gasped, grabbed Viggo's hand, and squeezed hard. He squeezed back and focused on the pressure and slight pain until his heart rate slowed, his breathing calmed, and he was able to focus on the doctor again. He didn't let go, and neither did Sonia.
"According to the other survivors, Orlando was ill when they were taken hostage. He hadn't been able to film that day, and he got worse while they were held. He was apparently beaten because he was unable to fully cooperate."
The absurd thought that he now knew what had made Orlando sound so strange in that last message flitted across Viggo's brain before it focused on the more recent and pressing information they had just been given. "How badly was he hurt?" It was barely a whisper, but everyone else was sitting in stunned silence, and Dr. Arroyo heard him just fine.
"He has three cracked ribs and severe bruising on his torso. We managed to bring his fever down some, and it should be gone completely within twenty-four to forty-eight hours."
"That doesn't sound life threatening or anything. Why can't we bring him home?"
Viggo's thoughts echoed Samantha's exactly. Orlando had broken ribs while filming Rings, and Viggo had helped take care of him then. There was no reason he couldn't do it now.
"It isn't his physical injuries that concern me. If it were just that, we could send him home with prescriptions, instructions on how to keep his ribs wrapped, and orders to see his personal physician as soon as possible."
If it wasn't physical injuries, then... "What else is wrong?" There would be emotional trauma, of course, but it would be better for Orlando to be with his friends and family while he dealt with that, wouldn't it? What else could there be?
Dr. Arroyo shuffled the papers in front of her several times and took a deep breath. "What Orlando went through was a very traumatic experience," she began slowly. "He was drugged and beaten. He witnessed the violent deaths of people he knew, people he was close to. He had to have thought that he might die as well. He was given little water and less food, and we think that what he was given was drugged."
Viggo listened with morbid fascination, his eyes growing wider and his stomach knotting further with each item the doctor mentioned. He wanted to tell her to stop and just tell him what was wrong with Orlando, but he found he couldn't interrupt her. He didn't want to hear this, and yet part of him did. He was helpless to do anything but listen.
"As I said," she continued, "Orlando's illness appears to have worsened while he was held. This may have been the natural progression of the disease or it may have been a reaction to the drug he was given or the other trauma he experienced. We don't know. We do know he was very traumatized and probably disoriented and confused, more so than the other hostages."
"What are you saying?" Dominic found the words Viggo couldn't. "We know it was traumatic, but that doesn't tell us why you don't think he should come home."
To Viggo's surprise, the doctor nodded her agreement. "I'm giving you the background you need to understand. Orlando went through a lot in a short period of time and it is unsurprising he found it difficult to cope. There is nothing physically wrong with him beyond the fever, bruising, and broken ribs I've already described, but for reasons we cannot conclusively determine, he has stopped responding."
Stopped responding? "What the hell does that mean?" It came out louder than Viggo intended, but he didn't care. He just wanted answers and to see Orlando.
"Pretty much what it sounds like, sir."
Her tone was defensive, and in the back of his mind Viggo realized that he deserved it, but it only served to raise his hackles. He clenched his free hand into a fist under the table, but let her continue uninterrupted.
"Orlando will follow simple, direct commands, but he doesn't take any initiative. He hasn't spoken or responded to any questions, only commands. He doesn't appear to be aware of anyone or anything around him." She leaned forward, looking directly at Sonia and Viggo. "He needs to be somewhere that can provide round-the-clock care and that has professionals qualified to help him."
Sonia's grip tightened around Viggo's hand as she turned a worried and confused gaze to Dr. Arroyo. "But why? How? If he's not injured..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "I don't understand."
"It's probably due to stress and shock. It's a defense mechanism."
"But he doesn't need to protect himself like that any more," Elijah interrupted, sitting up straighter and looking around the table. "He's safe, and he'll be with us soon - with people he knows. Won't he come out of it then?"
"He may come out of it soon, once he realizes he's safe, but he may not. I don't want to speculate. I'm not qualified to speculate. I cannot tell you with any certainty what may or may not happen."
"But you can give us names, right?" Samantha leaned forward and looked earnestly at the doctor. "You can refer us to people who are qualified and they could tell us what to expect, yeah? Then we can take him home."
"Anyone I refer you to will also recommend institutionalization."
Viggo winced at the word. He'd known that was what she meant by around-the-clock care, but actually hearing it drove it home, made it harder to take, made him realize how hard it would be to do. He wasn't sure it was the right thing either. If Orlando was put in a hospital and surrounded by strangers, he would not feel safe. "If we don't do that can you give us recommendations for outpatient or in home care?"
"I can give you names, yes, but if you take him home, it will be against medical advice."
That may be so, but she didn't know Orlando like Viggo did. If Orlando needed to feel safe, it would be counter-productive to put him in a hospital, regardless of what her medical advice was. "I understand."
A beeping noise filled the room, and Dr. Arroyo looked down at her pager with a frown. "I have to take this call." She gathered her papers. "Someone will be in shortly with Orlando and I'll bring back the information you requested." Halfway out of the room, she paused and looked back at them. "I strongly urge you to consider what I've said. This is not something you can handle on your own."
With that, she left, leaving them alone to stare at each other and wonder.
Chapter Seven
I am still looking for another beta reader. I have one, and she's wonderful, but I'm paranoid, and I hate hate hate posting things without having at least two other people look over them first. This is probably the last chapter that I'll post until I get someone else to beta for me, so if you're interested, please let me know. You'll get to see the chapters I have written but not posted yet...and stuff as I write it... *puppy dog eyes*
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.
Author’s Notes: This is set in early to mid 2003. I obviously played with actual filming schedules. There's a lot of angst in this, but there will eventually be a happy ending, I promise.
~*~
Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five
Banner by araestel.
Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap.
Viggo's fingers pounded against the arms of the chair, hitting in rapid succession, pausing, and hitting again. His hands moved in unison, amplifying the sound, sending it to all corners of the silent room, and eliminating the need for strained conversation just to fill the silence.
Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap.
The seconds passed with agonizing slowness. No one spoke or even moved beyond shifting in the hard, uncomfortable chairs. Viggo's fingers kept drumming the pattern for lack of anything else to do. He had to do something and there was nothing in the room - no books or magazines or anything beyond the hard chairs and his friends. They only had each other for distraction, and there was only one thing on all their minds - Orlando.
The hostages had been freed, Orlando among them, and Viggo had never felt so elated as when he got that call, but time had immediately slowed afterwards. All the hostages had to be checked by doctors and give statements to law enforcement before they could fly back to Los Angeles, and the wait was excruciating. Each second seemed to tick by slower and slower and slower until time barely seemed to be passing at all.
It had been almost a day since they received that wonderful phone call, and still they had not seen Orlando or been updated on his condition.
Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap-
A warm hand covered Viggo's, stilling his fingers. His other hand continued halfway through the pattern before his brain caught up. He stilled his free hand, looked up, and blinked at Ian.
"Try to relax, Viggo."
Relax? Ian was mad or perhaps just exhausted as he hadn't slept since he and Sean had arrived from England just before they'd gotten the good news. Either way, it was a crazy thing to suggest. There was no way Viggo could relax.
"I can't." He glanced at the clock. "They were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. What if something went wrong?"
"He's alive, Viggo, you know that much. Everything else is secondary. There is a myriad of reasons they could be delayed, most of them perfectly innocuous."
Viggo nodded. He knew Ian was right and there were plenty of reasons for what was in the grand scheme of things a short delay, but he couldn't keep his mind from whirling. He kept worrying about Orlando and thinking of things that could have gone wrong since they'd last been given news. Orlando was alive, yes, but there was little chance he had escaped completely unscathed, and Viggo knew it.
"I need to see him, Ian. I need to know how he is, need to see him for myself." He slumped forward and rested his forehead in his hands. Time was moving so slowly and he was only holding himself together by a tiny, fraying thread. He wouldn't last much longer.
Ian started gently rubbing his back and then someone sat on his other side and their hand joined Ian's. He looked up and managed to give both Sean and Ian a small but thankful smile before he returned his head to his hands. The soothing motion helped a little, but it was still an agonizingly long time before the door opened and a young woman carrying a clipboard stepped into the room.
~*~
Orlando shifted, punched at the tiny pillow he'd jammed between his head and the window, and sighed. No matter how he tried, he couldn't get comfortable. Viggo had fallen asleep almost as soon as the plane had left the gate, but Orlando had spent the past hour shifting and sighing as he tried to find a position that didn't make his back ache horribly.
There wasn't one.
The seat was too small, there was no leg room, and the supposedly ergonomic contours were designed to be equally uncomfortable for people of all heights and builds. It was beyond Orlando how Viggo slept. Even the painkillers he'd taken didn't make him drowsy enough to even doze.
He shifted again, pushed the pillow back some, and stared out the window. It was dark, so there wasn’t much to see, but occasionally there was a break in the clouds and he could see lights shining on the ground far below. It was peaceful, boring almost - exactly what he wanted - and slowly his eyes began to glaze over.
Shadowy shapes began to form in the glass, slowly resolving into human figures. Orlando blinked his eyes, rubbed at them, and the images vanished for the moment. He'd been seeing them ever since the day on the beach when they'd been so rudely interrupted. His memories of confronting the arseholes who'd disturbed them were strangely interspersed with memories of a room he'd never seen, people he thought he should know, and things he'd rather forget. He'd been there too, and that was the worst part.
It was a waking nightmare he could visit whenever he concentrated on it, and that he had to visit whenever he let his guard down. The voices and the figures never really went away, but he could push it to the back of his mind, will his other self to listen and comply, and ignore it for the most part.
It was only times like this, when there was nothing to distract him, that it was difficult to ignore.
If he could only sleep, and then it would stop for a time, or if they would land and he could be distracted and pretend that he was sane and that he wasn't hearing and seeing things that couldn't possibly exist.
Sleep, unfortunately, was elusive, and the plane wasn't scheduled to land for another two hours. It was going to be a long, long flight.
~*~
The young woman, barely more than a girl really, had initially only wanted Sonia and Samantha, but Sonia had insisted that everyone accompany her. The young woman hesitated for a moment, and then led the whole group to a conference room and left. They were joined a moment later by another woman, older than the first, carrying a folder and wearing a white lab coat.
She seemed surprised to see such a large group, but after only a moment's hesitation, she smiled and introduced herself as Marissa Arroyo, one of the doctors the studio kept on retainer.
"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," she said as she sat down. "I know this has to be difficult for you."
Sonia nodded and then asked the question that was on Viggo's mind as well, but that he was unable to make his lips form. "Where's Orlando?"
Dr. Arroyo opened her folder and pulled a pair of glasses out of her pocket. "He's still with the nurses. They're finishing up with him now. I wanted to talk to you before they bring him in. There's...some things you need to know."
The odd pause made Viggo glad that a response didn't seem to be required. Whatever she wanted to say couldn't be good, and he felt the panic he had just barely managed to banish creeping back. He'd known this wasn't over, but he was beginning to realize that it could be worse than he imagined.
"We are," she began, "reluctant to release Orlando to your care at this time."
"Was he injured that badly?"
"What happened to him?"
"Why not?"
"What do you mean?"
Viggo sat silent, listening and agreeing, but unable to find his voice. His throat constricted, his stomach knotted, and his heart started pounding so loudly that it was difficult to hear what people were saying. He concentrated hard, afraid to miss a word, yet almost more afraid of what he would hear.
Sonia gasped, grabbed Viggo's hand, and squeezed hard. He squeezed back and focused on the pressure and slight pain until his heart rate slowed, his breathing calmed, and he was able to focus on the doctor again. He didn't let go, and neither did Sonia.
"According to the other survivors, Orlando was ill when they were taken hostage. He hadn't been able to film that day, and he got worse while they were held. He was apparently beaten because he was unable to fully cooperate."
The absurd thought that he now knew what had made Orlando sound so strange in that last message flitted across Viggo's brain before it focused on the more recent and pressing information they had just been given. "How badly was he hurt?" It was barely a whisper, but everyone else was sitting in stunned silence, and Dr. Arroyo heard him just fine.
"He has three cracked ribs and severe bruising on his torso. We managed to bring his fever down some, and it should be gone completely within twenty-four to forty-eight hours."
"That doesn't sound life threatening or anything. Why can't we bring him home?"
Viggo's thoughts echoed Samantha's exactly. Orlando had broken ribs while filming Rings, and Viggo had helped take care of him then. There was no reason he couldn't do it now.
"It isn't his physical injuries that concern me. If it were just that, we could send him home with prescriptions, instructions on how to keep his ribs wrapped, and orders to see his personal physician as soon as possible."
If it wasn't physical injuries, then... "What else is wrong?" There would be emotional trauma, of course, but it would be better for Orlando to be with his friends and family while he dealt with that, wouldn't it? What else could there be?
Dr. Arroyo shuffled the papers in front of her several times and took a deep breath. "What Orlando went through was a very traumatic experience," she began slowly. "He was drugged and beaten. He witnessed the violent deaths of people he knew, people he was close to. He had to have thought that he might die as well. He was given little water and less food, and we think that what he was given was drugged."
Viggo listened with morbid fascination, his eyes growing wider and his stomach knotting further with each item the doctor mentioned. He wanted to tell her to stop and just tell him what was wrong with Orlando, but he found he couldn't interrupt her. He didn't want to hear this, and yet part of him did. He was helpless to do anything but listen.
"As I said," she continued, "Orlando's illness appears to have worsened while he was held. This may have been the natural progression of the disease or it may have been a reaction to the drug he was given or the other trauma he experienced. We don't know. We do know he was very traumatized and probably disoriented and confused, more so than the other hostages."
"What are you saying?" Dominic found the words Viggo couldn't. "We know it was traumatic, but that doesn't tell us why you don't think he should come home."
To Viggo's surprise, the doctor nodded her agreement. "I'm giving you the background you need to understand. Orlando went through a lot in a short period of time and it is unsurprising he found it difficult to cope. There is nothing physically wrong with him beyond the fever, bruising, and broken ribs I've already described, but for reasons we cannot conclusively determine, he has stopped responding."
Stopped responding? "What the hell does that mean?" It came out louder than Viggo intended, but he didn't care. He just wanted answers and to see Orlando.
"Pretty much what it sounds like, sir."
Her tone was defensive, and in the back of his mind Viggo realized that he deserved it, but it only served to raise his hackles. He clenched his free hand into a fist under the table, but let her continue uninterrupted.
"Orlando will follow simple, direct commands, but he doesn't take any initiative. He hasn't spoken or responded to any questions, only commands. He doesn't appear to be aware of anyone or anything around him." She leaned forward, looking directly at Sonia and Viggo. "He needs to be somewhere that can provide round-the-clock care and that has professionals qualified to help him."
Sonia's grip tightened around Viggo's hand as she turned a worried and confused gaze to Dr. Arroyo. "But why? How? If he's not injured..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "I don't understand."
"It's probably due to stress and shock. It's a defense mechanism."
"But he doesn't need to protect himself like that any more," Elijah interrupted, sitting up straighter and looking around the table. "He's safe, and he'll be with us soon - with people he knows. Won't he come out of it then?"
"He may come out of it soon, once he realizes he's safe, but he may not. I don't want to speculate. I'm not qualified to speculate. I cannot tell you with any certainty what may or may not happen."
"But you can give us names, right?" Samantha leaned forward and looked earnestly at the doctor. "You can refer us to people who are qualified and they could tell us what to expect, yeah? Then we can take him home."
"Anyone I refer you to will also recommend institutionalization."
Viggo winced at the word. He'd known that was what she meant by around-the-clock care, but actually hearing it drove it home, made it harder to take, made him realize how hard it would be to do. He wasn't sure it was the right thing either. If Orlando was put in a hospital and surrounded by strangers, he would not feel safe. "If we don't do that can you give us recommendations for outpatient or in home care?"
"I can give you names, yes, but if you take him home, it will be against medical advice."
That may be so, but she didn't know Orlando like Viggo did. If Orlando needed to feel safe, it would be counter-productive to put him in a hospital, regardless of what her medical advice was. "I understand."
A beeping noise filled the room, and Dr. Arroyo looked down at her pager with a frown. "I have to take this call." She gathered her papers. "Someone will be in shortly with Orlando and I'll bring back the information you requested." Halfway out of the room, she paused and looked back at them. "I strongly urge you to consider what I've said. This is not something you can handle on your own."
With that, she left, leaving them alone to stare at each other and wonder.
Chapter Seven
I am still looking for another beta reader. I have one, and she's wonderful, but I'm paranoid, and I hate hate hate posting things without having at least two other people look over them first. This is probably the last chapter that I'll post until I get someone else to beta for me, so if you're interested, please let me know. You'll get to see the chapters I have written but not posted yet...and stuff as I write it... *puppy dog eyes*