Ta Da ... Walk on By - chapter XVII
WALK ON BY XVII
Author: Lottie Lenya
Type: RPS
Pairing: VM/OB
Rating: PG (R/NC-17 in later chapters)
Category: AU
Disclaimer: This is fiction, not based in reality - to the best of my knowledge Viggo Mortensen has never lived rough and Orlando Bloom was never part of the Constabulary.
Beta: Gattodoro and Molly, who between them added some polish to my little offering…
This chapter is for anyone who has been following this fic since the beginning. I am so sorry to have kept you waiting. Only a couple more to go and I intend to get them done quickly!
EDIT Here is the link to my memories where you will find the rest of the fic ...
http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=dalehead&keyword=Walk+on+By&filter=all
***
Early one morning, a few weeks later, when the alarm sounded Viggo had been up for hours. He'd woken in the early hours determined to develop the reel of film in his camera. The best time to turn the bathroom into a makeshift dark room was very early morning after Orlando's middle of the night piss. Viggo knew his lover would be dead to the world until the alarm went off. These days, Viggo was looking much better, having put a little weight on, he’d finally lost his street pallor. He was still jumpy but he cried less and was beginning to relax at last.
Most days, he took a few photos and in developing them he found he was slowly rediscovering the man he used to be. This was a journey Viggo had never expected to make, never thought he'd find himself living in the light after so many years in the dark. Somehow he’d earned himself a second chance. This time he was determined to make the best of his life and photography had once been the bedrock of his existence.
Orlando's intolerance of all things artistic was a drawback. He hated the smell of chemicals in the bathroom and moaned constantly though he never went as far as to ask Viggo not do his own developing. Slowly Vig realised that he never would, that moaning about the smell was just Orlando.
Sitting up, Orlando rubbed his eyes and reached for a cigarette, coughing harshly. In contrast to Viggo, he was looking rougher and rougher. Hating his job had taken its toll on him. He was still wearing jeans much to the team's displeasure, and not only that, he was bored with the mundane job. Bored and miserable, having no friends meant there was no one to have lunch or a sneaky fag with. It was all beginning to get him down. His hair was lank and he'd lost weight he didn't need to lose. He dragged his arse out of bed every morning and where once he'd bounced out of the door, now he slunk. As a result his personality was beginning to change and he knew he wasn't much fun to be with, let alone work with.
"You've been messing about with your etchings again haven't you?" Orlando commented en route to the shower. He looked at himself in the mirror. Old, that's how he looked. Once out of the shower, he lit a cigarette and coughed even more; he was smoking way too much, up to forty a day, and judging by the sidelong glances he got from Viggo, he guessed it wasn't approved of.
He was also well aware that Viggo always waited nervously for him in the kitchen, that he needed to gage Orlando's mood before he could relax. He needed to know whether Orlando, who was after all, /supposed/ to be his lover, was gonna be a bear with a sore head, or, even half way polite. He hated the way he was behaving but seemed unable to control himself.
Drinking a swift cup of tea, he looked at his … lover he supposed, noting how much better he was looking and managed a half smile as he lit another cigarette off the butt of the last one. He went over to Viggo, kissed him gently, touching his face. It looked for an instant as if he was going to say something, but, instead he glanced at the clock and sighed.
"Okay babe, I'll see you later, yeah…" he swiftly kissed Vig once more and left, slamming the door behind him.
The moment he was gone, Viggo stripped his tatty sweats off, hit the shower and breathing a sigh of relief, got ready to face his day. He really enjoyed his job, enjoyed talking to people, being treated as a human being, but, he never mentioned it to Orlando whose fuse was getting shorter and shorter with every passing week.
Dressed and ready to go Viggo collected his bike from the fire escape where it lived, and headed for Waterloo. He was whistling as he slammed the door shut, looking forward to his day.
Halfway to the office, it occurred to Orlando that the thought of going into work depressed him. No, it occurred to him that he was depressed. His depression had settled like a second skin over him and for once in his life he had no idea what to do. He'd lost the job that he'd always wanted; sacrificed everything he'd wanted for years on the altar of … what? If he didn't love Viggo then the whole exercise had been a complete waste of time.
Looking up he realised he was back on his old patch, surrounded by the spirits of the life he'd lost. He went to the café where he'd first met Viggo. For a moment he wished he hadn't stopped, wished that he had walked on by, leaving yet another piece of the detritus of human life to live out its allotted span with no interference from him, but because Orlando was basically a decent human being, he couldn't feel like that for very long.
He knew that somewhere deep inside of him, he loved Viggo. He must do, otherwise he wouldn't have broken every rule in the book. He was well aware his actions had probably cost Bicknall the case, that owing to his own impetuousness, a murderer would very probably walk. And here he was, sitting in front of a coffee he didn't want, drinking it though it made him feel sick, just to put off going into an office where he knew everyone disliked him.
"We must stop meeting like this…" with a start he looked up into Greg's laughing eyes. He was a bit taken aback. His ex looked so intensely alive, making him feel more than ever that he was walking about like some sort of ghost.
"Lan, babe, you look worse than when I last saw you …" Greg sounded genuinely worried and Orlando felt an urge to tell him the whole sorry story. Instead he looked at his watch. "Shit…" he was already late and he didn't want to talk here where he and Viggo started.
"Can I come and see you, Greg, I wanna talk to you…"
"Of course, since when have you ever needed to ask permission, you chump…." Greg touched Orlando's face, much as Orlando had touched Viggo's earlier that morning. And it occurred to him that whereas he and Greg took it in turns to be the strong partner, with Viggo he had never really let himself lean at all. He knew there was an imbalance in their relationship, but he just didn't know what to do about it.
"Hey, Lan, you're miles away, come out for a drink with me tomorrow, yes?"
Blinking, Orlando nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great, I'll meet you at the usual place 'bout 7?" he dragged himself up from, the table. "I really gotta run now, mate … see you tomorrow…"
Greg watched him go, a meditative look on his face, then with a sigh he went about his own business.
When Orlando arrived at the office, there was clearly something in the air. He recognised the air of fevered expectation and his heart sunk. There on his desk was a cardboard box filled with his few pitiful personal effects; he had a feeling of déjà vu.
"Guv'nor's at a meeting, Flower, she wanted to see you first thing but you weren't here so…."
"Yeah well, whatever…" Orlando was sick of it, he was out of there. He didn't bother to pick up his box, there was precious little in it. Instead he stalked to the door.
"I'll email my resignation in the morning," he turned on his heel and quietly left the building.
Half an hour later, he was sitting in a small square in central London. There were birds singing and one or two nannies were watching their charges energetically playing cricket. As he sat there, mulling over his situation, he realised he had to do something about this before it drove a permanent wedge between him and Viggo. He had just lit another cigarette when a ball landed at his feet. A young boy trotted over to him.
"You shouldn't smoke," he remarked. "It will give you cancer…" Orlando smiled at the earnestness of the comment. "It makes you smell bad and your hands go a funny colour," the small boy was starring pointedly at Orlando's nicotine stains. "And no lady will want to kiss you if you smell like an ashtray…" this time Orlando was hard put not to laugh.
"My name is Raphael and I'm a blessing," he looked up at Orlando solemnly. "And what's your name?"
"I'm Orlando…" he said. "After the cat," Raphael was about to say something else when his nanny called out to him. "Raphael…" she sounded stern. "Come along now, stop bothering the man, we're waiting for you to bowl…" obediently, the little boy started to move off, but, before he went he turned back. "And don't forget what I said about the smoking…."
Laughing quietly Orlando waited until the game had been resumed before he lit another cigarette. He sat there, thinking long and hard until the need for tea and a piss drove him in search of both. It was time well spent. Finally he decided that maybe he could see his way through the maze that he'd been lost in for so long.
He could see the path that would lead to a happier place, a place for both him and Viggo. It wouldn't be easy, but anything would be better than this. By the time he got home, there was a spring in his step and for the first time in days he was really looking forward to getting home to Viggo…
TBC
Author: Lottie Lenya
Type: RPS
Pairing: VM/OB
Rating: PG (R/NC-17 in later chapters)
Category: AU
Disclaimer: This is fiction, not based in reality - to the best of my knowledge Viggo Mortensen has never lived rough and Orlando Bloom was never part of the Constabulary.
Beta: Gattodoro and Molly, who between them added some polish to my little offering…
This chapter is for anyone who has been following this fic since the beginning. I am so sorry to have kept you waiting. Only a couple more to go and I intend to get them done quickly!
EDIT Here is the link to my memories where you will find the rest of the fic ...
http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=dalehead&keyword=Walk+on+By&filter=all
***
Early one morning, a few weeks later, when the alarm sounded Viggo had been up for hours. He'd woken in the early hours determined to develop the reel of film in his camera. The best time to turn the bathroom into a makeshift dark room was very early morning after Orlando's middle of the night piss. Viggo knew his lover would be dead to the world until the alarm went off. These days, Viggo was looking much better, having put a little weight on, he’d finally lost his street pallor. He was still jumpy but he cried less and was beginning to relax at last.
Most days, he took a few photos and in developing them he found he was slowly rediscovering the man he used to be. This was a journey Viggo had never expected to make, never thought he'd find himself living in the light after so many years in the dark. Somehow he’d earned himself a second chance. This time he was determined to make the best of his life and photography had once been the bedrock of his existence.
Orlando's intolerance of all things artistic was a drawback. He hated the smell of chemicals in the bathroom and moaned constantly though he never went as far as to ask Viggo not do his own developing. Slowly Vig realised that he never would, that moaning about the smell was just Orlando.
Sitting up, Orlando rubbed his eyes and reached for a cigarette, coughing harshly. In contrast to Viggo, he was looking rougher and rougher. Hating his job had taken its toll on him. He was still wearing jeans much to the team's displeasure, and not only that, he was bored with the mundane job. Bored and miserable, having no friends meant there was no one to have lunch or a sneaky fag with. It was all beginning to get him down. His hair was lank and he'd lost weight he didn't need to lose. He dragged his arse out of bed every morning and where once he'd bounced out of the door, now he slunk. As a result his personality was beginning to change and he knew he wasn't much fun to be with, let alone work with.
"You've been messing about with your etchings again haven't you?" Orlando commented en route to the shower. He looked at himself in the mirror. Old, that's how he looked. Once out of the shower, he lit a cigarette and coughed even more; he was smoking way too much, up to forty a day, and judging by the sidelong glances he got from Viggo, he guessed it wasn't approved of.
He was also well aware that Viggo always waited nervously for him in the kitchen, that he needed to gage Orlando's mood before he could relax. He needed to know whether Orlando, who was after all, /supposed/ to be his lover, was gonna be a bear with a sore head, or, even half way polite. He hated the way he was behaving but seemed unable to control himself.
Drinking a swift cup of tea, he looked at his … lover he supposed, noting how much better he was looking and managed a half smile as he lit another cigarette off the butt of the last one. He went over to Viggo, kissed him gently, touching his face. It looked for an instant as if he was going to say something, but, instead he glanced at the clock and sighed.
"Okay babe, I'll see you later, yeah…" he swiftly kissed Vig once more and left, slamming the door behind him.
The moment he was gone, Viggo stripped his tatty sweats off, hit the shower and breathing a sigh of relief, got ready to face his day. He really enjoyed his job, enjoyed talking to people, being treated as a human being, but, he never mentioned it to Orlando whose fuse was getting shorter and shorter with every passing week.
Dressed and ready to go Viggo collected his bike from the fire escape where it lived, and headed for Waterloo. He was whistling as he slammed the door shut, looking forward to his day.
Halfway to the office, it occurred to Orlando that the thought of going into work depressed him. No, it occurred to him that he was depressed. His depression had settled like a second skin over him and for once in his life he had no idea what to do. He'd lost the job that he'd always wanted; sacrificed everything he'd wanted for years on the altar of … what? If he didn't love Viggo then the whole exercise had been a complete waste of time.
Looking up he realised he was back on his old patch, surrounded by the spirits of the life he'd lost. He went to the café where he'd first met Viggo. For a moment he wished he hadn't stopped, wished that he had walked on by, leaving yet another piece of the detritus of human life to live out its allotted span with no interference from him, but because Orlando was basically a decent human being, he couldn't feel like that for very long.
He knew that somewhere deep inside of him, he loved Viggo. He must do, otherwise he wouldn't have broken every rule in the book. He was well aware his actions had probably cost Bicknall the case, that owing to his own impetuousness, a murderer would very probably walk. And here he was, sitting in front of a coffee he didn't want, drinking it though it made him feel sick, just to put off going into an office where he knew everyone disliked him.
"We must stop meeting like this…" with a start he looked up into Greg's laughing eyes. He was a bit taken aback. His ex looked so intensely alive, making him feel more than ever that he was walking about like some sort of ghost.
"Lan, babe, you look worse than when I last saw you …" Greg sounded genuinely worried and Orlando felt an urge to tell him the whole sorry story. Instead he looked at his watch. "Shit…" he was already late and he didn't want to talk here where he and Viggo started.
"Can I come and see you, Greg, I wanna talk to you…"
"Of course, since when have you ever needed to ask permission, you chump…." Greg touched Orlando's face, much as Orlando had touched Viggo's earlier that morning. And it occurred to him that whereas he and Greg took it in turns to be the strong partner, with Viggo he had never really let himself lean at all. He knew there was an imbalance in their relationship, but he just didn't know what to do about it.
"Hey, Lan, you're miles away, come out for a drink with me tomorrow, yes?"
Blinking, Orlando nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great, I'll meet you at the usual place 'bout 7?" he dragged himself up from, the table. "I really gotta run now, mate … see you tomorrow…"
Greg watched him go, a meditative look on his face, then with a sigh he went about his own business.
When Orlando arrived at the office, there was clearly something in the air. He recognised the air of fevered expectation and his heart sunk. There on his desk was a cardboard box filled with his few pitiful personal effects; he had a feeling of déjà vu.
"Guv'nor's at a meeting, Flower, she wanted to see you first thing but you weren't here so…."
"Yeah well, whatever…" Orlando was sick of it, he was out of there. He didn't bother to pick up his box, there was precious little in it. Instead he stalked to the door.
"I'll email my resignation in the morning," he turned on his heel and quietly left the building.
Half an hour later, he was sitting in a small square in central London. There were birds singing and one or two nannies were watching their charges energetically playing cricket. As he sat there, mulling over his situation, he realised he had to do something about this before it drove a permanent wedge between him and Viggo. He had just lit another cigarette when a ball landed at his feet. A young boy trotted over to him.
"You shouldn't smoke," he remarked. "It will give you cancer…" Orlando smiled at the earnestness of the comment. "It makes you smell bad and your hands go a funny colour," the small boy was starring pointedly at Orlando's nicotine stains. "And no lady will want to kiss you if you smell like an ashtray…" this time Orlando was hard put not to laugh.
"My name is Raphael and I'm a blessing," he looked up at Orlando solemnly. "And what's your name?"
"I'm Orlando…" he said. "After the cat," Raphael was about to say something else when his nanny called out to him. "Raphael…" she sounded stern. "Come along now, stop bothering the man, we're waiting for you to bowl…" obediently, the little boy started to move off, but, before he went he turned back. "And don't forget what I said about the smoking…."
Laughing quietly Orlando waited until the game had been resumed before he lit another cigarette. He sat there, thinking long and hard until the need for tea and a piss drove him in search of both. It was time well spent. Finally he decided that maybe he could see his way through the maze that he'd been lost in for so long.
He could see the path that would lead to a happier place, a place for both him and Viggo. It wouldn't be easy, but anything would be better than this. By the time he got home, there was a spring in his step and for the first time in days he was really looking forward to getting home to Viggo…
TBC