Affirmation Chapter Seventeen
Title: Affirmation (Chapter Seventeen)
Author: Vanessa
Pairing: OB/VM
Rating: NC-17
Summary: When a tragic situation leaves Orlando broken and isolated will Viggo’s love and belief in him be strong enough to bring him back?
Feedback: Always appreciated
Warnings: Violence, Angst, and Character Death (Original Characters only).
Disclaimer: This is not true. I don’t know them, and I'm not making any claims about them in real life. It never happened.
Archive: Please don't.
Betas: The wonderful tamsu2002 & foxrafer
Author’s Notes: This is set in December 2003. There's a lot of angst in this, but there will eventually be a happy ending, I promise. We're getting close to done... only three more chapters.
~*~
Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen, Chapter Sixteen
Banner by araestel.
Orlando hadn't gone to his room for that was the first place that Billy, Dominic, and Elijah would look for him. He knew he would only be able to resist their knocking and concerned calls for so long before he gave in and answered, if for no other reason than just to make the noise stop. They would want to know why he'd fled, not even making it through the appetizers before it had all become too much and he'd just left, unable to stay and talk to them any longer. They would have every right to wonder, every right to expect an answer, and he wouldn't be able to give them one.
Avoiding them was the cowardly thing to do, but Orlando was all out of bravado.
Orlando's plan had been to walk around Wellington, calm down, collect his thoughts, and then go back to his room and sleep, but there had been too many people on the streets and the moment he had been recognized, he had panicked. His hand had trembled terribly as he'd signed autographs for two bubbly teenage girls and then he'd fled, hiding in the crowd that surrounded the hotel and ducking into a side entrance at the earliest opportunity.
By the time he'd reached Viggo's room, Orlando had been frantic and his only thought had been that no one would think to look for him there. He hadn't considered that Viggo might be inside or thought about what Viggo might think when he returned until he was already inside.
Fortunately the room was fortunately, and Orlando curled in a corner that couldn't be seen from the door with his knees pulled up to his chest. He was still shaking when the door opened.
~*~
Although Dominic had told him that they had pounded on the door to Orlando's hotel room until they'd gotten dirty looks from other guests, it was still the first place Viggo looked. He had a key after all, and Orlando could ignore people pounding on the door as easily as he could ignore people calling his phone. It was best to go inside and look.
When he found Orlando's room empty, Viggo's second choice was his own room. It was a long shot, but it would be stupid to discard the possibility, particularly since Orlando had a key and had been there earlier. Viggo didn't want to dismiss the idea and then later discover that was where Orlando had been all along.
He opened the door slowly and quietly and stepped into the room. "Orlando?" he called out in a gentle voice as he closed the door behind him. There was no answer, but the room wasn't completely silent and it didn't feel empty, so Viggo cautiously moved forward, speaking softly so he wouldn't surprise Orlando too badly if he was there.
He found Orlando sitting in a corner, trembling and peering out over his knees with wide eyes.
"Oh, Orlando." Viggo brushed his fingers over Orlando's hand and was both surprised and grateful when Orlando caught them and squeezed them tightly. He sat down with his legs crossed, and pulled his phone from his pocket with his free hand.
"Who are you calling?" Orlando asked in a soft voice.
"Beanie. I need to let him know I found you." He offered a small smile and stroked his thumb across the back of Orlando's hand. "Everyone is looking."
Orlando's eyes widened and he sucked in a deep breath. "They won't, um, they won't come-"
"No, no." Viggo cut Orlando off with soft words and a gentle shake of his head. "I'm just going to tell him you're all right and that they can stop looking. I won't let them come up."
Orlando nodded and relaxed a little, but the hand Viggo held was still trembling and Orlando's fingers twitched with every noise. Viggo kept the phone call short, only telling Sean that Orlando was safe and with him and that they would appreciate being left alone for the remainder of the evening, By the time he had disconnected and turned off the phone, Orlando looked worse than he had when Viggo had entered the room.
"I can't do this," Orlando whispered, surprising Viggo as he tried to think of something to say to offer the comfort he was certain Orlando needed.
"Can't do what?"
"Talk to the fans and the press. Face all these people." Orlando pulled his hand free from Viggo's and dropped his forehead to his drawn up knees. "Fight with you."
The last words were spoken so softly that Viggo almost didn't hear them. "Then we won't," he said almost as softly, yet Orlando heard him well enough to move into his outstretched arms.
They sat together on the floor until Orlando stopped trembling completely and Viggo's knees began to ache. When he could stand it no longer, Viggo tugged Orlando to his feet. "Come on."
"What...? Where...?" Orlando's expression was still wary and his grip on Viggo's shirt tight, but he allowed Viggo to guide him to the couch where they sat, their legs pressed together and their fingers tightly laced.
Silence descended once more, and again it was Orlando who broke it.
"It's not that simple, you know," he said softly, picking at his jeans with his free hand. "We can't just decide to not be fighting."
Viggo nodded. "I know." Unfortunately, he did, though he was glad Orlando understood as well.
"Well, I mean, I guess we could," Orlando continued, his eyes focused on his hand, "but it wouldn't really resolve anything. We could, you know, just completely avoid the issue and talk about other things and pretend that everything's fine. We wouldn't be fighting, I suppose, but we wouldn't really be okay, either." He sighed, his whole body slumping forward a little. "Nothing else is okay, though, so maybe it doesn't matter."
Viggo was certain he wasn't intended to hear that last bit, but he had and so he addressed it first. He turned a little so he could better look at Orlando even though Orlando wasn't looking at him... yet. "Things are getting better, Orlando." Skeptical brown eyes met his and Viggo smiled gently. "They are," he insisted when Orlando's expression grew more doubtful.
"It doesn't feel that way.'"
"Sometimes it won't." That was something the doctors had told them repeatedly and Orlando obviously needed to hear it again. "That doesn't mean it's not true. I see it."
"How? I couldn't even handle a simple dinner, Viggo." Orlando shook his head and moved away a little. "We hadn't even gotten our entrées yet, and I couldn't handle it... so I just left! And then I couldn’t even handle walking around by myself! I had to hide! How is that at all okay?"
"It's better than it was four months ago, or two months ago, or even last month," Viggo said softly as he brushed his fingers over Orlando's cheek. "You're making progress."
Orlando pulled back further, turning his head away from Viggo's fingers and pulling his hand free from Viggo's. "Not enough. I'm not... I can't... I shouldn't have come here."
Orlando looked about ready to bolt and Viggo wanted badly to pull him back into his arms but he instinctively knew that wouldn't be the right thing to do. "Here?" he asked, indicating his hotel room, "or Wellington?"
"Both? Either?" Orlando shook his head. "I don't know. I'm not ready for any of this. I can't do what you or Peter or my friends or the press or the fans or anyone wants... no matter how badly I want to be able to." He stood, ran his hand through his hair, straightened his shirt, and jammed his hands in his pockets. "I should go. I shouldn't be here. I should go back to my room and-"
Viggo cut Orlando off. "What do you think I want?"
Orlando flinched as their gazes met. "Me," he whispered his voice barely audible over the shuffling of his feet on the carpet.
It was the look on Orlando's face that broke Viggo's resolve to stay on the couch, and he moved quickly to wrap Orlando in his arms and whisper reassuring words in Orlando's ear. "What I want," Viggo said when Orlando had relaxed enough that Viggo felt that he could pull back a little, "is for you to be comfortable with us again."
"I'm not even comfortable with myself sometimes," Orlando admitted softly, pulling back just enough that Viggo had to resist the urge to tighten his arms again. "How can I be comfortable with anyone else?"
Viggo led Orlando back to the couch and pulled him close. There was nothing he could say in response that wouldn't sound patronizing or as if he wanted something in return, so he just held Orlando and tried to silently convey love and support.
Orlando would talk when he was ready.
~*~
The warm body that Orlando was snuggled against moved, and he whimpered and reached out but only grabbed air. Then a hand caught his and tucked it back under the covers and soft lips surrounded by prickly hair pressed against his temple.
"Go back to sleep. I'll be right back."
It seemed as though no time at all had passed before the bed dipped and Orlando was once again wrapped in strong arms and held against a warm body. He sighed contentedly and drifted off once more, a small smile on his face.
Sunlight streaming through a small crack in the not-quite completely drawn curtains woke Orlando. Viggo was still asleep and the alarm wasn't set to go off yet, so he carefully disentangled himself and moved to the couch. He sat with his legs drawn up to his chest and his chin resting on his knees. He knew that he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep.
Viggo had wanted to talk and they had after ordering room and eating it in an uncomfortable silence after it arrived. They'd talked, called Orlando's therapist and talked to him, talked some more, and then Viggo had called Peter and he'd come up to talk as well. They'd talked until Orlando couldn't keep his eyes open any longer and had fallen asleep on Viggo's bed still dressed. In spite of all that, Orlando still felt as though little had been resolved.
When he'd awoken, Orlando had been under the covers, wrapped around Viggo and wearing just his pants and T-shirt. It had felt right and comfortable, and yet it had incited a feeling of panic that had been difficult to suppress. He wanted to feel loved, content, and cared for in Viggo's arms, and he mostly did. There was something in him, however, that held him back and rebelled when either his mind or body wanted more than a simple touch or caress.
He knew where it came from, knew exactly what it was, but he didn't know what to do about it, or even if there was anything he could do. How did one overcome made-up memories?
There wasn't a way, not that he could think of, anyway. His therapist had told him that those memories would fade in time and that everything would become easier as he became more accustomed to reality again. He didn't have time, however, and the pain that he remembered when he tried to get close to Viggo was all too real. Although the setting that had been created in his head, the beatings, pain, and other things that had caused him to retreat into that made up place had been very real.
Now, that pain would forever be associated with the pleasure he wanted to share with Viggo; Orlando was sure of it. He had tried and tried and tried to work past it, but even the thought was terrifying. The previous evening they had resolved their argument when Orlando had finally agreed to stop trying to be intimate until he truly felt ready.
The problem was that he didn't think he ever would feel truly ready for that again.
~*~
The room they were about to enter was absolutely packed with reporters and just peering into it made Orlando's throat constrict and his heart beat erratically. He leaned back against the wall, gasping for breath and trying hard to stay upright as everything seemed to tilt and swirl.
"Orlando?"
A hand brushed his cheek and he focused on that and the voice that was talking to him, repeating his name over and over again. Gradually, his eyes focused on Viggo's face hovering in front of him, concern painfully evident in the chiseled features and blue eyes. Groping blindly, Orlando confirmed that the face was indeed attached to a body and he gripped the arm he'd found with a desperate need for something to anchor him in place.
"Are you still with us?"
"Y-Yeah." Slowly, Orlando's vision cleared and the room came into focus behind Viggo. His other friends were hovering as well, but a few feet away, held back by Sean Bean's outstretched arm and Dominic's warning glare. Between them, they formed an invisible barrier that only Peter dared breach.
"Are you sure you want to go in there?" Peter stopped at Viggo's side, still staying back a bit. "You don't have to."
Orlando managed a small smile. "People know I'm here, yeah? I have to go out there. They'll wonder... and talk... if I don’t." He shrugged his shoulders, trying to feign a nonchalance he did not feel. "It's just about Return of the King, right? I can," he swallowed, "I can talk about that."
Peter patted his shoulder and Orlando did his best not to flinch away from the touch that he knew was meant to comfort. The hand dropped away a bit too quickly and Peter smiled sadly. "Just Return of the King. I made that clear earlier, just like we discussed last night."
"I'll be all right, then." His smile was faked, and Orlando knew Peter knew it. He also knew that Peter had felt his slight flinch, but he couldn't help it. He didn't have the strength to seek normalcy here and to make it through the conference he was about to face.
In the other room, conversations quieted and people settled into chairs. The atmosphere changed to one of expectance and Orlando could feel it, even as far away from the door as he was. It was time.
Orlando shuffled in between Liv and Elijah, his bright, trademark smile plastered on his face and every ounce of his energy channeled into pretending that he wanted to be there. Viggo was two people down from him when they sat, between Bernard and Ian. He was close, but not so close that it would be easy to turn to him or rely on him. It was what Orlando wanted, though part of him now desperately wanted to cling to Viggo's hand beneath the table.
If Orlando was going to do this, he needed to do it himself.
~*~
It seemed as though every other question was directed at Viggo and he could feel the scrutiny of thousands of eyes focused on his every little move. The room was relatively small, but the cameras were rolling - some broadcasting, some recording - and he knew that in the future every thing he did would be analyzed by gossip-hungry paparazzi and fans desperate for the tiniest bit of information.
Did his gaze hover too long on one particular co-star? Did he talk too much about one person or thing? Was he deliberately avoiding an issue?
They were all questions others would ask and so Viggo had to continuously ask them of himself, especially right now when he wanted his gaze to linger and knew that if he wasn't careful, it would. One look too many and the attention would focus on Orlando.
Viggo would much rather it stayed on him.
He could handle it. Orlando probably couldn't and Viggo wasn't willing to risk that.
It wasn't something that merited too much thinking about, however, except in an effort to avoid it. It was too late to do anything else. Orlando had insisted on coming and there was nothing Viggo could do to protect him except keep as much of the reporters' attention as he could.
Elijah launched into a long story, waving his arms dramatically to emphasize points and even rising from his seat a little. The cameras and eyes all focused on him and Viggo took the opportunity to sneak a glance at Orlando while he pretended to be engrossed in Elijah's tale. He'd heard the story before and would certainly hear it again, but his smile was genuine for Orlando was smiling too, and seemed to be doing all right despite the cameras and people.
The smile on Orlando's face even looked genuine and Viggo relaxed a little upon seeing it.
That proved to be a mistake.
The questions continued, asking for anecdotes and opinions, and briefly touching on other things the cast had been working on in the ensuing years. They told stories of mishaps and adventures and laughed and joked and then...
A reporter stood and focused his attention on Orlando. "Mr. Bloom," he started, his serious expression at odds with the light atmosphere of the room, "could you tell us what you've been doing lately? We haven't heard anything from you after the tragic end of your last project."
"And with good reason!" John shouted just before the room erupted into chaos. People on both sides of the table sprang from their chairs and a heated discussion erupted in one corner as to whether the question was an appropriate one or not.
Viggo noticed little of it. He was focused solely on Orlando, who sat completely still, his hands clenching the table and his eyes wide with shock.
Chapter Eighteen
Author: Vanessa
Pairing: OB/VM
Rating: NC-17
Summary: When a tragic situation leaves Orlando broken and isolated will Viggo’s love and belief in him be strong enough to bring him back?
Feedback: Always appreciated
Warnings: Violence, Angst, and Character Death (Original Characters only).
Disclaimer: This is not true. I don’t know them, and I'm not making any claims about them in real life. It never happened.
Archive: Please don't.
Betas: The wonderful tamsu2002 & foxrafer
Author’s Notes: This is set in December 2003. There's a lot of angst in this, but there will eventually be a happy ending, I promise. We're getting close to done... only three more chapters.
~*~
Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen, Chapter Sixteen
Banner by araestel.
Orlando hadn't gone to his room for that was the first place that Billy, Dominic, and Elijah would look for him. He knew he would only be able to resist their knocking and concerned calls for so long before he gave in and answered, if for no other reason than just to make the noise stop. They would want to know why he'd fled, not even making it through the appetizers before it had all become too much and he'd just left, unable to stay and talk to them any longer. They would have every right to wonder, every right to expect an answer, and he wouldn't be able to give them one.
Avoiding them was the cowardly thing to do, but Orlando was all out of bravado.
Orlando's plan had been to walk around Wellington, calm down, collect his thoughts, and then go back to his room and sleep, but there had been too many people on the streets and the moment he had been recognized, he had panicked. His hand had trembled terribly as he'd signed autographs for two bubbly teenage girls and then he'd fled, hiding in the crowd that surrounded the hotel and ducking into a side entrance at the earliest opportunity.
By the time he'd reached Viggo's room, Orlando had been frantic and his only thought had been that no one would think to look for him there. He hadn't considered that Viggo might be inside or thought about what Viggo might think when he returned until he was already inside.
Fortunately the room was fortunately, and Orlando curled in a corner that couldn't be seen from the door with his knees pulled up to his chest. He was still shaking when the door opened.
~*~
Although Dominic had told him that they had pounded on the door to Orlando's hotel room until they'd gotten dirty looks from other guests, it was still the first place Viggo looked. He had a key after all, and Orlando could ignore people pounding on the door as easily as he could ignore people calling his phone. It was best to go inside and look.
When he found Orlando's room empty, Viggo's second choice was his own room. It was a long shot, but it would be stupid to discard the possibility, particularly since Orlando had a key and had been there earlier. Viggo didn't want to dismiss the idea and then later discover that was where Orlando had been all along.
He opened the door slowly and quietly and stepped into the room. "Orlando?" he called out in a gentle voice as he closed the door behind him. There was no answer, but the room wasn't completely silent and it didn't feel empty, so Viggo cautiously moved forward, speaking softly so he wouldn't surprise Orlando too badly if he was there.
He found Orlando sitting in a corner, trembling and peering out over his knees with wide eyes.
"Oh, Orlando." Viggo brushed his fingers over Orlando's hand and was both surprised and grateful when Orlando caught them and squeezed them tightly. He sat down with his legs crossed, and pulled his phone from his pocket with his free hand.
"Who are you calling?" Orlando asked in a soft voice.
"Beanie. I need to let him know I found you." He offered a small smile and stroked his thumb across the back of Orlando's hand. "Everyone is looking."
Orlando's eyes widened and he sucked in a deep breath. "They won't, um, they won't come-"
"No, no." Viggo cut Orlando off with soft words and a gentle shake of his head. "I'm just going to tell him you're all right and that they can stop looking. I won't let them come up."
Orlando nodded and relaxed a little, but the hand Viggo held was still trembling and Orlando's fingers twitched with every noise. Viggo kept the phone call short, only telling Sean that Orlando was safe and with him and that they would appreciate being left alone for the remainder of the evening, By the time he had disconnected and turned off the phone, Orlando looked worse than he had when Viggo had entered the room.
"I can't do this," Orlando whispered, surprising Viggo as he tried to think of something to say to offer the comfort he was certain Orlando needed.
"Can't do what?"
"Talk to the fans and the press. Face all these people." Orlando pulled his hand free from Viggo's and dropped his forehead to his drawn up knees. "Fight with you."
The last words were spoken so softly that Viggo almost didn't hear them. "Then we won't," he said almost as softly, yet Orlando heard him well enough to move into his outstretched arms.
They sat together on the floor until Orlando stopped trembling completely and Viggo's knees began to ache. When he could stand it no longer, Viggo tugged Orlando to his feet. "Come on."
"What...? Where...?" Orlando's expression was still wary and his grip on Viggo's shirt tight, but he allowed Viggo to guide him to the couch where they sat, their legs pressed together and their fingers tightly laced.
Silence descended once more, and again it was Orlando who broke it.
"It's not that simple, you know," he said softly, picking at his jeans with his free hand. "We can't just decide to not be fighting."
Viggo nodded. "I know." Unfortunately, he did, though he was glad Orlando understood as well.
"Well, I mean, I guess we could," Orlando continued, his eyes focused on his hand, "but it wouldn't really resolve anything. We could, you know, just completely avoid the issue and talk about other things and pretend that everything's fine. We wouldn't be fighting, I suppose, but we wouldn't really be okay, either." He sighed, his whole body slumping forward a little. "Nothing else is okay, though, so maybe it doesn't matter."
Viggo was certain he wasn't intended to hear that last bit, but he had and so he addressed it first. He turned a little so he could better look at Orlando even though Orlando wasn't looking at him... yet. "Things are getting better, Orlando." Skeptical brown eyes met his and Viggo smiled gently. "They are," he insisted when Orlando's expression grew more doubtful.
"It doesn't feel that way.'"
"Sometimes it won't." That was something the doctors had told them repeatedly and Orlando obviously needed to hear it again. "That doesn't mean it's not true. I see it."
"How? I couldn't even handle a simple dinner, Viggo." Orlando shook his head and moved away a little. "We hadn't even gotten our entrées yet, and I couldn't handle it... so I just left! And then I couldn’t even handle walking around by myself! I had to hide! How is that at all okay?"
"It's better than it was four months ago, or two months ago, or even last month," Viggo said softly as he brushed his fingers over Orlando's cheek. "You're making progress."
Orlando pulled back further, turning his head away from Viggo's fingers and pulling his hand free from Viggo's. "Not enough. I'm not... I can't... I shouldn't have come here."
Orlando looked about ready to bolt and Viggo wanted badly to pull him back into his arms but he instinctively knew that wouldn't be the right thing to do. "Here?" he asked, indicating his hotel room, "or Wellington?"
"Both? Either?" Orlando shook his head. "I don't know. I'm not ready for any of this. I can't do what you or Peter or my friends or the press or the fans or anyone wants... no matter how badly I want to be able to." He stood, ran his hand through his hair, straightened his shirt, and jammed his hands in his pockets. "I should go. I shouldn't be here. I should go back to my room and-"
Viggo cut Orlando off. "What do you think I want?"
Orlando flinched as their gazes met. "Me," he whispered his voice barely audible over the shuffling of his feet on the carpet.
It was the look on Orlando's face that broke Viggo's resolve to stay on the couch, and he moved quickly to wrap Orlando in his arms and whisper reassuring words in Orlando's ear. "What I want," Viggo said when Orlando had relaxed enough that Viggo felt that he could pull back a little, "is for you to be comfortable with us again."
"I'm not even comfortable with myself sometimes," Orlando admitted softly, pulling back just enough that Viggo had to resist the urge to tighten his arms again. "How can I be comfortable with anyone else?"
Viggo led Orlando back to the couch and pulled him close. There was nothing he could say in response that wouldn't sound patronizing or as if he wanted something in return, so he just held Orlando and tried to silently convey love and support.
Orlando would talk when he was ready.
~*~
The warm body that Orlando was snuggled against moved, and he whimpered and reached out but only grabbed air. Then a hand caught his and tucked it back under the covers and soft lips surrounded by prickly hair pressed against his temple.
"Go back to sleep. I'll be right back."
It seemed as though no time at all had passed before the bed dipped and Orlando was once again wrapped in strong arms and held against a warm body. He sighed contentedly and drifted off once more, a small smile on his face.
Sunlight streaming through a small crack in the not-quite completely drawn curtains woke Orlando. Viggo was still asleep and the alarm wasn't set to go off yet, so he carefully disentangled himself and moved to the couch. He sat with his legs drawn up to his chest and his chin resting on his knees. He knew that he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep.
Viggo had wanted to talk and they had after ordering room and eating it in an uncomfortable silence after it arrived. They'd talked, called Orlando's therapist and talked to him, talked some more, and then Viggo had called Peter and he'd come up to talk as well. They'd talked until Orlando couldn't keep his eyes open any longer and had fallen asleep on Viggo's bed still dressed. In spite of all that, Orlando still felt as though little had been resolved.
When he'd awoken, Orlando had been under the covers, wrapped around Viggo and wearing just his pants and T-shirt. It had felt right and comfortable, and yet it had incited a feeling of panic that had been difficult to suppress. He wanted to feel loved, content, and cared for in Viggo's arms, and he mostly did. There was something in him, however, that held him back and rebelled when either his mind or body wanted more than a simple touch or caress.
He knew where it came from, knew exactly what it was, but he didn't know what to do about it, or even if there was anything he could do. How did one overcome made-up memories?
There wasn't a way, not that he could think of, anyway. His therapist had told him that those memories would fade in time and that everything would become easier as he became more accustomed to reality again. He didn't have time, however, and the pain that he remembered when he tried to get close to Viggo was all too real. Although the setting that had been created in his head, the beatings, pain, and other things that had caused him to retreat into that made up place had been very real.
Now, that pain would forever be associated with the pleasure he wanted to share with Viggo; Orlando was sure of it. He had tried and tried and tried to work past it, but even the thought was terrifying. The previous evening they had resolved their argument when Orlando had finally agreed to stop trying to be intimate until he truly felt ready.
The problem was that he didn't think he ever would feel truly ready for that again.
~*~
The room they were about to enter was absolutely packed with reporters and just peering into it made Orlando's throat constrict and his heart beat erratically. He leaned back against the wall, gasping for breath and trying hard to stay upright as everything seemed to tilt and swirl.
"Orlando?"
A hand brushed his cheek and he focused on that and the voice that was talking to him, repeating his name over and over again. Gradually, his eyes focused on Viggo's face hovering in front of him, concern painfully evident in the chiseled features and blue eyes. Groping blindly, Orlando confirmed that the face was indeed attached to a body and he gripped the arm he'd found with a desperate need for something to anchor him in place.
"Are you still with us?"
"Y-Yeah." Slowly, Orlando's vision cleared and the room came into focus behind Viggo. His other friends were hovering as well, but a few feet away, held back by Sean Bean's outstretched arm and Dominic's warning glare. Between them, they formed an invisible barrier that only Peter dared breach.
"Are you sure you want to go in there?" Peter stopped at Viggo's side, still staying back a bit. "You don't have to."
Orlando managed a small smile. "People know I'm here, yeah? I have to go out there. They'll wonder... and talk... if I don’t." He shrugged his shoulders, trying to feign a nonchalance he did not feel. "It's just about Return of the King, right? I can," he swallowed, "I can talk about that."
Peter patted his shoulder and Orlando did his best not to flinch away from the touch that he knew was meant to comfort. The hand dropped away a bit too quickly and Peter smiled sadly. "Just Return of the King. I made that clear earlier, just like we discussed last night."
"I'll be all right, then." His smile was faked, and Orlando knew Peter knew it. He also knew that Peter had felt his slight flinch, but he couldn't help it. He didn't have the strength to seek normalcy here and to make it through the conference he was about to face.
In the other room, conversations quieted and people settled into chairs. The atmosphere changed to one of expectance and Orlando could feel it, even as far away from the door as he was. It was time.
Orlando shuffled in between Liv and Elijah, his bright, trademark smile plastered on his face and every ounce of his energy channeled into pretending that he wanted to be there. Viggo was two people down from him when they sat, between Bernard and Ian. He was close, but not so close that it would be easy to turn to him or rely on him. It was what Orlando wanted, though part of him now desperately wanted to cling to Viggo's hand beneath the table.
If Orlando was going to do this, he needed to do it himself.
~*~
It seemed as though every other question was directed at Viggo and he could feel the scrutiny of thousands of eyes focused on his every little move. The room was relatively small, but the cameras were rolling - some broadcasting, some recording - and he knew that in the future every thing he did would be analyzed by gossip-hungry paparazzi and fans desperate for the tiniest bit of information.
Did his gaze hover too long on one particular co-star? Did he talk too much about one person or thing? Was he deliberately avoiding an issue?
They were all questions others would ask and so Viggo had to continuously ask them of himself, especially right now when he wanted his gaze to linger and knew that if he wasn't careful, it would. One look too many and the attention would focus on Orlando.
Viggo would much rather it stayed on him.
He could handle it. Orlando probably couldn't and Viggo wasn't willing to risk that.
It wasn't something that merited too much thinking about, however, except in an effort to avoid it. It was too late to do anything else. Orlando had insisted on coming and there was nothing Viggo could do to protect him except keep as much of the reporters' attention as he could.
Elijah launched into a long story, waving his arms dramatically to emphasize points and even rising from his seat a little. The cameras and eyes all focused on him and Viggo took the opportunity to sneak a glance at Orlando while he pretended to be engrossed in Elijah's tale. He'd heard the story before and would certainly hear it again, but his smile was genuine for Orlando was smiling too, and seemed to be doing all right despite the cameras and people.
The smile on Orlando's face even looked genuine and Viggo relaxed a little upon seeing it.
That proved to be a mistake.
The questions continued, asking for anecdotes and opinions, and briefly touching on other things the cast had been working on in the ensuing years. They told stories of mishaps and adventures and laughed and joked and then...
A reporter stood and focused his attention on Orlando. "Mr. Bloom," he started, his serious expression at odds with the light atmosphere of the room, "could you tell us what you've been doing lately? We haven't heard anything from you after the tragic end of your last project."
"And with good reason!" John shouted just before the room erupted into chaos. People on both sides of the table sprang from their chairs and a heated discussion erupted in one corner as to whether the question was an appropriate one or not.
Viggo noticed little of it. He was focused solely on Orlando, who sat completely still, his hands clenching the table and his eyes wide with shock.
Chapter Eighteen