Seeing the Light (7/?)
May. 2nd, 2009 10:04 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.
*************
“Yeah… Yes, that’s exactly what I mean… You noticed too, did you?” Peter held up a hand at the man standing in the doorway to the trailer he used as his office, signaling Viggo to wait until he had finished his phone call. “Yes, it is getting out of hand; I’ll have to have a word with him... So you can do that? Great! I’m sorry about the extra work… Yes… Yes, goodbye.” He hung up. “Viggo, what can I do for you?”
“Did I interrupt something?” Viggo asked, taking the seat offered.
“No, I was just finishing. What’s up?”
Viggo rested his sword against the director’s desk and pushed the wet strands of his wig absent-mindedly behind his ears. “It’s about Orli.”
Peter grimaced. That was exactly what his phone call had been about. “Yes…”
“Of course, he doesn’t complain,” said Viggo, “but frankly, this battle’s been indescribably hard on me, both physically and mentally, and I don’t think he’s coping…”
“Not coping”, understatement of the century. It was only the end of Week Two of the grueling shoot, and Orlando was getting sicker and sicker. Like Viggo said, he never complained, but the fact that he was constantly clutching either his stomach or his back, and the fact that Peter had heard from wardrobe that they had had to take Orli’s costume in two sizes said a lot. He had just been on the phone to the special effects team, asking them to make Orlando look less gaunt, and he had spoken to make up earlier in the week, getting them to try and bring out what fullness there was left in his cheeks…
“You know he’s stopped eating lunch?” Viggo said, interrupting Peter’s thoughts.
“What?”
“Yeah. All he does is sleep during lunch breaks now. I asked him about it yesterday, told him he needed to take care of himself, and he told me he honestly tried to eat, but didn’t think his stomach could handle it.”
“Well, do you have any ideas?” Peter asked, a little desperate. “He likes you, he’ll talk to you.”
“No, he won’t,” said Viggo. “He’ll talk about anything but this. Remember when he fell of his horse and broke a rib? Remember how he was whining for weeks? He never does that anymore. I think… I think it’s something like he only wants to exaggerate something small; if he whined about this he’d hold up filming, and he doesn’t want to do that. And that’s what’s worrying, this is something serious. Can you tell him, make him see a doctor? God knows I have, and what a lot of good that did…”
“I’m going to have to,” Peter said. “I don’t want another crebain from Dunland fiasco… I’ll talk to him now.”
Viggo nodded and stood up to leave, taking his sword from the desk. “Thanks, Pete.”
“No problem.”
*************
Peter was now thoroughly regretting his “talk” with Orlando. The young man had not gotten angry with him, exactly, but had remained cold and distant throughout the one-sided conversation, and Peter knew that, as he had no legal right in forcing Orli to see a doctor, Orlando never would.
He had one final, quick conversation with Philippa about a couple of lines of the script – they were still considering rewriting the fight between Aragorn and Legolas slightly – called for his actors to get back on set.
He groaned and felt like kicking himself when the only one not in position within two minutes was Orlando. Fuck! Had he really upset the young man that much? “Where’s Orlando?” he asked, hoping he had simply gone for a last minute coffee, much as Peter doubted he would with his stomach the way it was.
“He was right behind me,” said Viggo, moving out from behind a couple of extras to where Peter was standing with John – to where Orlando should be standing. “I’ll go check it out,” he muttered and moved off. John sighed audibly.
Viggo began walking back the way he had come – back towards the corner Orli slept in during lunch breaks, the corner where he had just gone to wake him in time to get him back on set, which he had been doing for the past couple of weeks. He turned round a corner into the part of the fortress Orli slept in and stopped dead.
Orlando was lying face down on the ground, very still. Viggo dashed over and rolled him over, desperately feeling for a pulse on the too-thin neck. He detected one, but also detected the fact that Orli was very cold.
“C’mon, Orlando,” he muttered, pulling the younger man into a hug, hoping to share his warmth. “Wake up, come on – Can I get some help here?” He yelled the last phrase and then went back to trying to rouse Orlando.
He heard a soft groan at the same time as he heard feet pounding, and Orli moved slightly against him. Unnaturally blue eyes opened slowly, blinking owlishly for a moment before focusing and fixing on Viggo’s face.
Orlando opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again when he felt someone take his arm and push the sleeve of his tunic up before wrapping a blood pressure cuff around it. “What?” he muttered.
Viggo grimaced slightly. “You fainted.”
Orlando scowled. “No, I didn’t.”
“Er… yes, you did,” said Viggo. “I walked over here, looking for you, and I found you unconscious in the middle of the floor.”
“Well, I’m fine,” said Orlando grumpily. The blood pressure cuff was removed from his arm and he went to stand up. He made it about half way when his knees buckled and the medic who had been taking his blood pressure caught him, lowering him to the ground.
“Right, you’re going home,” said Viggo.
“No!” Orli cried, one hand over his eyes in an attempt to rein back the dizziness that had attacked him when he attempted to stand. “I’ll do it.”
“Like hell you will!” Viggo yelled. “I’m sick to death of you killing yourself intentionally! You can’t even stand!”
Orlando scowled and looked at the paramedic. “Just give me one of those injections and I’ll be fine for shooting, won’t I?”
The medic looked slightly flustered. Orlando looked angry and slightly desperate, while Viggo looked worried, worry that was very thinly disguised with anger. He decided to tell the truth. “You should be all right after you’ve had the injection.”
Orlando let his eyes bore into Viggo’s, the expression clearly saying “I told you so”. Viggo glared at him back, and Orli knew he was being serious about how scared he was. He felt a moment of remorse, but that vanished as a needle pricked his elbow and he felt a cool rush in his arm as the medicine was injected.
“Just stay down there for another fifteen minutes,” said the medic, pulling out the needle and leaving in rather a hurry.
Orlando pulled his sleeve back down and looked up at the faces still looking down on him. “You don’t have to stare at me; I’m fine,” he muttered.
Most of the crowd dispersed, the majority going to collect more coffee. Viggo remained with Orli, but was silently seething with anger.
A clearing throat next to them interrupted both actors’ musings. “I’ve just had the rewrites for your fight written,” Philippa said, handing them each a stapled set of pages. “It’s fairly different, especially the Elvish, so work hard. We’re still shooting next week.”
Viggo and Orlando took the scripts and thumbed through them quickly, as always when they received a rewrite, looking for things they had a major problem with. Viggo finished his quickly and turned to Philippa. “Looks much better,” he said. “More in character, I reckon.”
Orlando was staring at his, fear suddenly filling him. He saw the marks, but the letters seemed to jump out at him in confusing patterns that did not make sense. He saw letters, he saw lines, but he couldn’t see the words they formed.
A stab of dread filled him. He’d definitely get fired now. He couldn’t read.
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.
*************
“Yeah… Yes, that’s exactly what I mean… You noticed too, did you?” Peter held up a hand at the man standing in the doorway to the trailer he used as his office, signaling Viggo to wait until he had finished his phone call. “Yes, it is getting out of hand; I’ll have to have a word with him... So you can do that? Great! I’m sorry about the extra work… Yes… Yes, goodbye.” He hung up. “Viggo, what can I do for you?”
“Did I interrupt something?” Viggo asked, taking the seat offered.
“No, I was just finishing. What’s up?”
Viggo rested his sword against the director’s desk and pushed the wet strands of his wig absent-mindedly behind his ears. “It’s about Orli.”
Peter grimaced. That was exactly what his phone call had been about. “Yes…”
“Of course, he doesn’t complain,” said Viggo, “but frankly, this battle’s been indescribably hard on me, both physically and mentally, and I don’t think he’s coping…”
“Not coping”, understatement of the century. It was only the end of Week Two of the grueling shoot, and Orlando was getting sicker and sicker. Like Viggo said, he never complained, but the fact that he was constantly clutching either his stomach or his back, and the fact that Peter had heard from wardrobe that they had had to take Orli’s costume in two sizes said a lot. He had just been on the phone to the special effects team, asking them to make Orlando look less gaunt, and he had spoken to make up earlier in the week, getting them to try and bring out what fullness there was left in his cheeks…
“You know he’s stopped eating lunch?” Viggo said, interrupting Peter’s thoughts.
“What?”
“Yeah. All he does is sleep during lunch breaks now. I asked him about it yesterday, told him he needed to take care of himself, and he told me he honestly tried to eat, but didn’t think his stomach could handle it.”
“Well, do you have any ideas?” Peter asked, a little desperate. “He likes you, he’ll talk to you.”
“No, he won’t,” said Viggo. “He’ll talk about anything but this. Remember when he fell of his horse and broke a rib? Remember how he was whining for weeks? He never does that anymore. I think… I think it’s something like he only wants to exaggerate something small; if he whined about this he’d hold up filming, and he doesn’t want to do that. And that’s what’s worrying, this is something serious. Can you tell him, make him see a doctor? God knows I have, and what a lot of good that did…”
“I’m going to have to,” Peter said. “I don’t want another crebain from Dunland fiasco… I’ll talk to him now.”
Viggo nodded and stood up to leave, taking his sword from the desk. “Thanks, Pete.”
“No problem.”
*************
Peter was now thoroughly regretting his “talk” with Orlando. The young man had not gotten angry with him, exactly, but had remained cold and distant throughout the one-sided conversation, and Peter knew that, as he had no legal right in forcing Orli to see a doctor, Orlando never would.
He had one final, quick conversation with Philippa about a couple of lines of the script – they were still considering rewriting the fight between Aragorn and Legolas slightly – called for his actors to get back on set.
He groaned and felt like kicking himself when the only one not in position within two minutes was Orlando. Fuck! Had he really upset the young man that much? “Where’s Orlando?” he asked, hoping he had simply gone for a last minute coffee, much as Peter doubted he would with his stomach the way it was.
“He was right behind me,” said Viggo, moving out from behind a couple of extras to where Peter was standing with John – to where Orlando should be standing. “I’ll go check it out,” he muttered and moved off. John sighed audibly.
Viggo began walking back the way he had come – back towards the corner Orli slept in during lunch breaks, the corner where he had just gone to wake him in time to get him back on set, which he had been doing for the past couple of weeks. He turned round a corner into the part of the fortress Orli slept in and stopped dead.
Orlando was lying face down on the ground, very still. Viggo dashed over and rolled him over, desperately feeling for a pulse on the too-thin neck. He detected one, but also detected the fact that Orli was very cold.
“C’mon, Orlando,” he muttered, pulling the younger man into a hug, hoping to share his warmth. “Wake up, come on – Can I get some help here?” He yelled the last phrase and then went back to trying to rouse Orlando.
He heard a soft groan at the same time as he heard feet pounding, and Orli moved slightly against him. Unnaturally blue eyes opened slowly, blinking owlishly for a moment before focusing and fixing on Viggo’s face.
Orlando opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again when he felt someone take his arm and push the sleeve of his tunic up before wrapping a blood pressure cuff around it. “What?” he muttered.
Viggo grimaced slightly. “You fainted.”
Orlando scowled. “No, I didn’t.”
“Er… yes, you did,” said Viggo. “I walked over here, looking for you, and I found you unconscious in the middle of the floor.”
“Well, I’m fine,” said Orlando grumpily. The blood pressure cuff was removed from his arm and he went to stand up. He made it about half way when his knees buckled and the medic who had been taking his blood pressure caught him, lowering him to the ground.
“Right, you’re going home,” said Viggo.
“No!” Orli cried, one hand over his eyes in an attempt to rein back the dizziness that had attacked him when he attempted to stand. “I’ll do it.”
“Like hell you will!” Viggo yelled. “I’m sick to death of you killing yourself intentionally! You can’t even stand!”
Orlando scowled and looked at the paramedic. “Just give me one of those injections and I’ll be fine for shooting, won’t I?”
The medic looked slightly flustered. Orlando looked angry and slightly desperate, while Viggo looked worried, worry that was very thinly disguised with anger. He decided to tell the truth. “You should be all right after you’ve had the injection.”
Orlando let his eyes bore into Viggo’s, the expression clearly saying “I told you so”. Viggo glared at him back, and Orli knew he was being serious about how scared he was. He felt a moment of remorse, but that vanished as a needle pricked his elbow and he felt a cool rush in his arm as the medicine was injected.
“Just stay down there for another fifteen minutes,” said the medic, pulling out the needle and leaving in rather a hurry.
Orlando pulled his sleeve back down and looked up at the faces still looking down on him. “You don’t have to stare at me; I’m fine,” he muttered.
Most of the crowd dispersed, the majority going to collect more coffee. Viggo remained with Orli, but was silently seething with anger.
A clearing throat next to them interrupted both actors’ musings. “I’ve just had the rewrites for your fight written,” Philippa said, handing them each a stapled set of pages. “It’s fairly different, especially the Elvish, so work hard. We’re still shooting next week.”
Viggo and Orlando took the scripts and thumbed through them quickly, as always when they received a rewrite, looking for things they had a major problem with. Viggo finished his quickly and turned to Philippa. “Looks much better,” he said. “More in character, I reckon.”
Orlando was staring at his, fear suddenly filling him. He saw the marks, but the letters seemed to jump out at him in confusing patterns that did not make sense. He saw letters, he saw lines, but he couldn’t see the words they formed.
A stab of dread filled him. He’d definitely get fired now. He couldn’t read.
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no subject
Date: 2009-05-02 09:26 pm (UTC)Winderful chapter! Can't wait to read more!
no subject
Date: 2009-05-03 04:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-02 10:25 pm (UTC)Still loving this... :D
no subject
Date: 2009-05-03 04:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-03 03:33 pm (UTC)How much patience with this guy.
Maybe Viggo should give him a good spanking because it behaves like a child.
Or perhaps, the disease is more serious than it seems ....
Please update soon ....
no subject
Date: 2009-05-09 01:27 pm (UTC)I'm really glad you liked it. Unfortunately my computer commited suicide when I was half way through a chapter and I only have this one for like ten min utes so no update for a bit!! Should be up in about a week though if I'm lucky...