Fic: Seeing the Light (1/?)
Apr. 4th, 2009 09:38 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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vigorliTitle: Seeing the Light
Author: Snow Days
Rating: PG 13 for language and general emotional trauma.
Pairing: OB/VM
Summary: When Orlando is diagnosed with an incurable, but treatable, disease, he loses all hope and love of life. Can Viggo help him see the path he strayed from? OB/VM
Feedback: Of course.
Disclaimer: Never happened. Not pretending it did. Don’t know anyone featured in this story, complete fiction, just for fun, etc. Also, I don’t have this disease, and any symptoms are researched, not experienced. I’m sorry if I hurt anybody with this material.
Orlando Bloom had never felt happier. There was nothing special about that particular moment; he was simply watching TV, alone, with a mug of herbal tea in his hand. But he had felt euphoric ever since he started working on Lord of the Rings, and today was no different. It was amazing, to be living one moment a struggling student worrying about how to pay the next energy bill, then to suddenly be halfway across the world, being paid for having a great time with some of the nicest people he had ever met.
Of course there were downsides, like the broken rib he’d only just recovered from. That had hurt. But it wasn’t so bad being waited on hand and foot by his friends. Until they got sick of it and left me, Orlando thought with another smile.
He loved everything about working here, but especially his friends. The Fellowship had become, in his make up artist Katie’s words, a little too tight. They spent all day working together, then spent nights partying together, or simply talking on the phone for hours on end…
Orlando finished his tea and stood up to put it on the bench. It was time he got to bed, after all, another five am wake up call tomorrow…
Much as he hated the early mornings, they were worth it, and he never complained, but simply went to sleep with a smile on his face, night after night…
********
Orlando woke up to the sound of the alarm, groaning. He remembered the night before and all the happy thoughts that had been flitting around his head and wondered how he could have ever thought such things. He felt absolutely awful.
Orlando stood up slowly. He was definitely coming down with something, the flu probably; he was dizzy and perhaps a little too hot. He took his time in the shower that morning, and paid for it by not eating breakfast. He needed to be in the make up trailer.
********
Viggo raised his eyebrows at the sight of Orlando plopping down in the chair next to him without so much as a hello. “What happened to my favourite elf who used to bounce into work every morning?” he asked dryly.
Orlando had his fingers on the bridge of his nose. He was definitely coming down with something. “I think I’m sick,” he muttered, trying to stop the strange empty feeling in his head.
Viggo’s expression immediately changed to concern. He still remembered the first time he had been introduced to Orli, still remembered the strange, long forgotten jolt that he had not felt since he and Exene split up. He loved Orlando, there was no doubting that fact, but he had no idea what Orlando felt for him, and wasn’t willing to disrupt their friendship. “What’s the matter?” he asked in his best caring voice.
“I think it’s the flu,” muttered Orlando, “but I don’t have any sort of cold symptoms… just this weird empty feeling in my head…”
“Don’t push yourself,” said Viggo, ignoring the loud, raucous laughter of Beanie and the make up girls who had just entered. “Pete would be more upset if you needed time off than if you just took things easy.”
“Today’s not big anyway,” said Orlando, sitting up straighter so Katie could get a good look at him. “Just the Saruman’s bird spy thingies thing…”
“Crebain,” said Viggo. “You should know that, it’s your line.”
“Right…” muttered Orlando, then said nothing more.
********
The next few hours were filled with shouting, running, and general confusion. Orlando knew he would never again forget what crebain were, he had shouted about them so many times that he was sure his voice would be hoarse by the morning. All the running and jumping on rocks had made his head worse, so instead of eating lunch, he found a secluded corner of the set and curled up to try and get some extra sleep.
He was shaken awake by Peter. “What were you doing last night?” the director remarked. “Come on, we need to do this again. You’re doing really well on the elfy leap thing, but try to make it just that much more flowy, all right?”
“You like adjectives,” muttered Orlando, though his voice didn’t contain any of the gentle, friendly teasing it usually did. He was annoyed at Peter for disturbing his rest, particularly when it was with news that he had to work again.
Pete did not hear the tone of his voice, and held out a hand to pull Orlando to his feet. “You might want to run by makeup, just get them to put some –“ But he stopped. Orlando, who had taken his hand and was pulling himself up, collapsed back to the ground with a cry, clasping his midsection and, even through the make up, turning suddenly very pale. “Orlando – you all right?”
Orlando cried out again as fresh pain started in his abdomen. It seemed to be spreading like fire from his lower stomach to his back, and his legs were beginning to feel the pain also. He was suddenly assaulted by a feeling of intense nausea and doubled over, retching.
Pete abruptly sat beside Orlando and held him up with one hand, using the other to hold the long hair of his wig back as he vomited. “Someone get a medic!”
The other people on the shoot suddenly realized what was happening in the least noticeable part of the location, and suddenly things were in uproar. People were thronging around Orlando and Pete, not letting any room for the medics to get through, but they were taking their own sweet time, anyway, Pete thought angrily. Orlando stopped vomiting, but did not appear to have the strength to move. Peter pulled him up to rest against his shoulder, checking to see if he was conscious. He was, and the look of intense pain in his eyes was disturbing. He was still desperately clutching his stomach. He had been fine five minutes ago…
“Okay, let me through.” Finally, someone with medical training, but obviously no training in arriving on time during an emergency. The blonde lady sidled through the crowd, ending up having to elbow Viggo to get him to move. She knelt down next to Orlando. “Can you hear me?” she asked. Orlando gave a tiny grunt in affirmation, his hands tightening around his stomach. “All right, tell me where it hurts.”
“I think it’s pretty fucking obvious where it hurts!” snapped Viggo. “He’s clutching his stomach and he just vomited! What do you think?”
The lady ignored him. “Do your legs hurt, Orlando?” Orlando gave a barely perceptible nod. “And your back?” Another nod, then Orlando’s eyes shot open and he pitched forward, retching again. The medic took out one of those small two way radios. “I think we’ll need to check blood pressure,” she said into it. “He’s too sick to move, bring the stuff here.”
She turned to the crowd surrounding her. “Somebody call an ambulance.”
Ambulance. The one word resonated through Viggo’s head, terrifying him. Orlando, the one he loved more than any other, needed an ambulance. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t normal.
And he hadn’t even told him he loved him.
TBC
Author: Snow Days
Rating: PG 13 for language and general emotional trauma.
Pairing: OB/VM
Summary: When Orlando is diagnosed with an incurable, but treatable, disease, he loses all hope and love of life. Can Viggo help him see the path he strayed from? OB/VM
Feedback: Of course.
Disclaimer: Never happened. Not pretending it did. Don’t know anyone featured in this story, complete fiction, just for fun, etc. Also, I don’t have this disease, and any symptoms are researched, not experienced. I’m sorry if I hurt anybody with this material.
Orlando Bloom had never felt happier. There was nothing special about that particular moment; he was simply watching TV, alone, with a mug of herbal tea in his hand. But he had felt euphoric ever since he started working on Lord of the Rings, and today was no different. It was amazing, to be living one moment a struggling student worrying about how to pay the next energy bill, then to suddenly be halfway across the world, being paid for having a great time with some of the nicest people he had ever met.
Of course there were downsides, like the broken rib he’d only just recovered from. That had hurt. But it wasn’t so bad being waited on hand and foot by his friends. Until they got sick of it and left me, Orlando thought with another smile.
He loved everything about working here, but especially his friends. The Fellowship had become, in his make up artist Katie’s words, a little too tight. They spent all day working together, then spent nights partying together, or simply talking on the phone for hours on end…
Orlando finished his tea and stood up to put it on the bench. It was time he got to bed, after all, another five am wake up call tomorrow…
Much as he hated the early mornings, they were worth it, and he never complained, but simply went to sleep with a smile on his face, night after night…
********
Orlando woke up to the sound of the alarm, groaning. He remembered the night before and all the happy thoughts that had been flitting around his head and wondered how he could have ever thought such things. He felt absolutely awful.
Orlando stood up slowly. He was definitely coming down with something, the flu probably; he was dizzy and perhaps a little too hot. He took his time in the shower that morning, and paid for it by not eating breakfast. He needed to be in the make up trailer.
********
Viggo raised his eyebrows at the sight of Orlando plopping down in the chair next to him without so much as a hello. “What happened to my favourite elf who used to bounce into work every morning?” he asked dryly.
Orlando had his fingers on the bridge of his nose. He was definitely coming down with something. “I think I’m sick,” he muttered, trying to stop the strange empty feeling in his head.
Viggo’s expression immediately changed to concern. He still remembered the first time he had been introduced to Orli, still remembered the strange, long forgotten jolt that he had not felt since he and Exene split up. He loved Orlando, there was no doubting that fact, but he had no idea what Orlando felt for him, and wasn’t willing to disrupt their friendship. “What’s the matter?” he asked in his best caring voice.
“I think it’s the flu,” muttered Orlando, “but I don’t have any sort of cold symptoms… just this weird empty feeling in my head…”
“Don’t push yourself,” said Viggo, ignoring the loud, raucous laughter of Beanie and the make up girls who had just entered. “Pete would be more upset if you needed time off than if you just took things easy.”
“Today’s not big anyway,” said Orlando, sitting up straighter so Katie could get a good look at him. “Just the Saruman’s bird spy thingies thing…”
“Crebain,” said Viggo. “You should know that, it’s your line.”
“Right…” muttered Orlando, then said nothing more.
********
The next few hours were filled with shouting, running, and general confusion. Orlando knew he would never again forget what crebain were, he had shouted about them so many times that he was sure his voice would be hoarse by the morning. All the running and jumping on rocks had made his head worse, so instead of eating lunch, he found a secluded corner of the set and curled up to try and get some extra sleep.
He was shaken awake by Peter. “What were you doing last night?” the director remarked. “Come on, we need to do this again. You’re doing really well on the elfy leap thing, but try to make it just that much more flowy, all right?”
“You like adjectives,” muttered Orlando, though his voice didn’t contain any of the gentle, friendly teasing it usually did. He was annoyed at Peter for disturbing his rest, particularly when it was with news that he had to work again.
Pete did not hear the tone of his voice, and held out a hand to pull Orlando to his feet. “You might want to run by makeup, just get them to put some –“ But he stopped. Orlando, who had taken his hand and was pulling himself up, collapsed back to the ground with a cry, clasping his midsection and, even through the make up, turning suddenly very pale. “Orlando – you all right?”
Orlando cried out again as fresh pain started in his abdomen. It seemed to be spreading like fire from his lower stomach to his back, and his legs were beginning to feel the pain also. He was suddenly assaulted by a feeling of intense nausea and doubled over, retching.
Pete abruptly sat beside Orlando and held him up with one hand, using the other to hold the long hair of his wig back as he vomited. “Someone get a medic!”
The other people on the shoot suddenly realized what was happening in the least noticeable part of the location, and suddenly things were in uproar. People were thronging around Orlando and Pete, not letting any room for the medics to get through, but they were taking their own sweet time, anyway, Pete thought angrily. Orlando stopped vomiting, but did not appear to have the strength to move. Peter pulled him up to rest against his shoulder, checking to see if he was conscious. He was, and the look of intense pain in his eyes was disturbing. He was still desperately clutching his stomach. He had been fine five minutes ago…
“Okay, let me through.” Finally, someone with medical training, but obviously no training in arriving on time during an emergency. The blonde lady sidled through the crowd, ending up having to elbow Viggo to get him to move. She knelt down next to Orlando. “Can you hear me?” she asked. Orlando gave a tiny grunt in affirmation, his hands tightening around his stomach. “All right, tell me where it hurts.”
“I think it’s pretty fucking obvious where it hurts!” snapped Viggo. “He’s clutching his stomach and he just vomited! What do you think?”
The lady ignored him. “Do your legs hurt, Orlando?” Orlando gave a barely perceptible nod. “And your back?” Another nod, then Orlando’s eyes shot open and he pitched forward, retching again. The medic took out one of those small two way radios. “I think we’ll need to check blood pressure,” she said into it. “He’s too sick to move, bring the stuff here.”
She turned to the crowd surrounding her. “Somebody call an ambulance.”
Ambulance. The one word resonated through Viggo’s head, terrifying him. Orlando, the one he loved more than any other, needed an ambulance. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t normal.
And he hadn’t even told him he loved him.
TBC
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