vigorli

Four weeks. Four weeks of…nothing; no sign of Mark, minimal contact with Dom and Lij, no work done and worst of all, no contact with Orlando. Yes, he was here in the flat, only a wall between them, sometimes only a table, sometimes a hair’s breadth as they sat together in the evening, listening to music, or watching old films on TV; but no Orlando. Only a sullen, weary almost dissipated-looking shell; skin egg-shell thin and white, hair harsh and brittle as egg shells, eyes dull as though someone had drawn a veil across any true meaning there. Worst of all was the voice: toneless, scratchy as an old record, meaning crunched into nothingness as the voice echoed the sound of eggshells broken violently

He had known it wouldn’t be easy, but this was far beyond anything he had been prepared for. As the days and weeks drifted by and Orlando grew further into himself, Viggo wanted to alternately scream and cry. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen to Orlando; this churlish, uncommunicative stranger was not open to any affection, was not interested in any plans for the future and was totally indifferent to Viggo’s presence.

Viggo, remembering Dr McCoy’s advice, had tried to prepare himself for the inevitable anger or sorrow that was to come, but so far, as with everything else, there was nothing. Ever since Orlando had stepped into his house, it seemed that any anger, any spark of life had disappeared, that Orlando had truly given up. That worried Viggo more than anything else. Prior to his moving in, there had at least been flares of anger, showing that some spirit within Orlando still remained but now…he wondered if Orlando had completely given up, whether the defeat in his voice when he agreed to move was a signal of things to come. Had their concern only broken Orlando further?

God knows Viggo had tried everything he could to rouse Orlando from this ever sinking depression…morbidity...he didn’t even know how to describe Orlando’s current state of being, and as for his state of mind... Viggo was locked so far away from knowing Orlando’s thoughts that he partly saw that as a blessing; given the chance, he wasn’t sure he could handle Orlando’s thoughts right now.

He glanced at his watch…12:45. Orlando still hadn’t come downstairs, come to think of it, he wasn’t even sure if he was up. Over the past few weeks Viggo had felt increasingly awkward going into Orlando’s room; even though it was his house he felt Orlando needed privacy, a sanctuary of sorts, everything he had been denied when living with Mark. The last thing Viggo wanted to do was be accused of controlling Orlando’s life but this was becoming intolerable. He wanted to let Orlando know he was there for him without pushing anything; and Orlando certainly wasn’t encouraging or even receptive to any comfort Viggo was willing to give.

Furthermore, that didn’t even begin to cover what having Orlando around in his house once more, was doing to him.

It was the memories he brought back, every bittersweet, amazing, torturous, wonderful moment of their life together kept playing through his mind. He had still kept Orlando’s pottery wheel in a corner of his studio, there was even an unfinished sculpture hidden in the corner. The hobbits had probably forgotten it when they’d came to collect Orlando’s stuff, and Viggo had only found it months later and was unable to bin it as he had done so ruthlessly with most of their life, so it was left hidden. After the break-up, he’d been unable to throw the wheel away, or face Orlando to return it, so it stood unused and gathering dust, like most things in his life.

Viggo had tried dropping some subtle, and recently some not so subtle hints that Orlando should try using it again, but as with everything else, to no avail.

The littlest, stupidest objects would bring memories flooding back; a mug Orlando had accidentally broken that Viggo fixed, the studio where they worked together – Viggo painting, Orlando sculpting, and then later made love together, creating a new art…their…his bedroom - how he hated being reminded of that. Of course, then there were always the photos. And paintings. Most of the photos had been thrown away or burned but a few escaped, and the paintings stayed. There was something about them that Viggo couldn’t stand to look at. The colours so vibrant, so carefully crafted it almost made him ache. As with most things in his life, Orlando had been the sole subject. Many of them had been painting when Orlando was busy on various film sets and had been crafted from the memories Viggo had committed to memory….

The sudden padding of feet made Viggo quickly forget his thoughts and quickly flipped open the newspaper, studying it with a new intensity, as if secretly afraid that if Orlando saw his face he would be able to read his thoughts. “Hey Orlando, sleep OK? There’s coffee and stuff ready if you want it” he offered in an attempt at cheerfulness as he glanced up from the paper as if he actually cared what the print was saying about the world.

A barely vocalised half grunt was the response. Orlando didn’t look at him as he poured himself a cup of coffee pulling up his too-long sleeves slightly to aid his task. Not another word was spoken by the younger man as he carefully poured the milk into the dark liquid, sugar was methodically added and stirred, Orlando barely acknowledged his presence; it was enough to drive Viggo mad.

As with every other morning, offers of any food, breakfast or otherwise were rejected with a shrug or monosyllabic reply. Trying to be surreptitious, Viggo glanced up to look at Orlando more clearly and frowned. To Viggo’s unfathomed annoyance, Orlando still buried himself in swaths of funereal black clothes, and along with his pallid appearance, for the first time in his life, Viggo was truly finding it hard to look at the man who had so captured him.

As usual, Orlando didn’t seem to be in the mood for conversation, or indeed, company as he took the mug and began to wander off.

“Orlando?”

The younger man stopped at the door for a second but still didn’t face Viggo. “Orli, just sit down for a bit…please? You need to eat something, I haven’t seen you eat in a couple of days,”

“Nice to know you’re so concerned about my well being,” sneered Orlando, his posture suddenly rigid and definite, as if a teenager being resentful with a parent “but I’m fine, I’m actually capable of feeding myself when I want, hard as it is to believe,”

“Fine, why don’t you just sit down then, I could do with some company,” Viggo offered, struggling to keep the edge out of his voice. He didn’t know where this sullenness was coming from, but having dealt with Henry as a teenager Viggo was pretty sure he could handle sulking from a grown man. If Orlando wanted to play this game, he could give as good as he got.

“I’d rather be on my own,” came the stiff reply.

“Tough,” Viggo snapped, his already frayed nerves at breaking point. “You can’t keep running and hiding forever Orlando, people are going to give up if you keep up with this attitude; how much more do you think Dom and Lij can take of you pushing them away?” How much more can I take? Viggo wanted to say but restrained himself. Unable to let go of his frustration, Viggo waved a hand in front of Orlando, trying to get the younger man to truly see himself. “For God sake, just look at you, you’re a complete wreck, and Mark hasn’t been anywhere near you.” The tone was as harsh, but with the smallest hint of pleading.

Orlando looked up, almost shocked at the visible anger in the man’s voice and Viggo internally cursed himself. Not because of the anger for once, but for not doing this sooner. Babying and indulging Orlando’s moods wouldn’t help Orlando get better, he’d let Orlando hide in the false hope that it would draw him out, allow him the space and freedom he so desperately needed, teaching him to be able to trust again.

After the momentary shock, Orlando’s eyes narrowed, an almost scornful expression on his lips. “That’s a bit of a double standard isn’t it Vig? Last time I checked, I was a free agent, as you seem to love telling me; I was under the foolish impression that meant I could do what I wanted, or are you going to force me, against my will, to sit with you?” the voice was challenging, deliberately provoking, taunting. “Maybe you’re more like Mark than I gave you credit for,” Orlando snorted as he walked out of the kitchen.

Viggo felt something snap. Throwing down the paper, he stormed after Orlando, grabbing the man by the wrist in a crushing grip, knocking the mug from his arm. Orlando visibly flinched at hearing the mug shatter, as the hot liquid flicked over the edges of his bare feet, but Viggo didn’t seem to notice.

Grabbing his other wrist in an equally painful grasp, Orlando suddenly realised he was trapped and began to feel a familiar panic rising within him.

“Don’t you dare Orlando! Don’t you EVER compare me to that fucking monster!” the voice was snarling, so different to the soft voice he had become accustomed to. There was no gentleness left.

The crushing pain in his wrists suddenly felt so familiar, the harsh voice…the pounding of fear from inside his head, he was suddenly back there, he hadn’t escaped Mark after all…

*** Flashback ***

Orlando’s laugh was suddenly stopped short when he heard the door slam shut signalling Mark was home. Orlando was unable to hide the wince as he felt the force behind the slam reverberate through the house. Turning his back he pressed his ear closer to the phone, praying Mark wouldn’t notice him just yet.

“Hey Orli mate? You still there?” Orlando hated hearing the sudden concern seep through Eric’s voice. Rubbing his forehead, he noticed his fingers were trembling slightly. Forcing himself to take a deep breath he tried to gain control of his body’s impulsive actions.

“Yeah...I’m still here. I just spaced out for a second, I was just thinking, sorry you were saying?”

“Is this a bad time, I can always ring back if you’re busy, I don’t want to interrupt anything” the concern in Eric’s voice all too evident, it appeared the slamming door had been heard by him as well. Unconsciously tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear Orlando closed his eyes briefly, trying to let out a calming breath. This was ridiculous

“No…no, uh…Mark’s just come in, we’ve both been pretty knackered recently is all, I know his job is getting to him a bit, he says the actors on the current set are snotty as shit,”

Eric laughed at that, a full laugh that made Orlando ache all of a sudden. How long had it been since he’d seen Eric in person, or Billy, Liv or Johnny for that matter? God he missed them all so much, how had he managed so much time to slip by? Was he really that slack?

“Well we actors are a snotty breed, Mark should know that by now, as I recall he lives with one of the biggest Prima Donnas in Hollywood,”

“Hey! Not fair, I have needs,” Orlando pouted then burst into a grin. This is what he missed. The familiar jokes, the comforting presence that came with his friends, the solid grounding they gave him. Orlando wasn’t sure why but apart from Lij and Dom, who had apparently decided that Orlando’s flat was also their own home, he only ever seemed to see Mark’s friends now. He didn’t like them, couldn’t fathom how Mark could stand being around them. He didn’t even seem that close to the guys, the only time they ever seemed to meet was at the pub (for which Orlando was thankful; he didn’t like the idea of them in his flat). The way a couple of them looked at him every time he was out with Mark made his skin crawl. The could’ve sworn they looked as if they wanted to…no he didn’t even was to speculate on what they wanted to do.

“Seriously, he’s gotta just learn to role with the punches, not everyone’s as sweet as you are Orli. I think he got spoiled working with you, he can’t expect everyone to be as gorgeous and professional as you, doesn’t happen very often,” despite the teasing note, there was an underlying tone of seriousness in Eric’s voice.

Unable to see Eric’s face, Orlando missed the Australian’s frown. It seemed as if Mark had been getting pissed off quite a lot recently and it made Eric wonder if things were OK between the pair. He wasn’t overly fond of Mark, but he seemed to love Orlando so Eric allowed himself to tolerate the guy. But then as Becca had reasoned with him whilst knowingly grinning, (annoying woman), that was probably the closest he was ever going to get to friendship with the guy dating his ‘little brother’.

Apparently, his wife seemed to be under the impression he was a mite too overprotective of Orlando (which he wasn’t, he just didn’t want Orlando to get hurt, it was his responsibility to look out for Orlando). He often wondered what had drawn the two men together but as long as he treated Orlando right then Eric (reluctantly) kept his moaning to a minimum. Besides he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t too keen on Mark, Elijah certainly wasn’t and it didn’t seem that Johnny had much time for the man, which made Eric feel vindicated, at least until an unhelpful Liv had pointed out that they all shared the same over-protective father/brother vibe towards Orlando.

Anyway, it wasn’t that he disliked the man, he’d grudgingly agreed that Mark could be funny and he seemed to genuinely love Orlando, but he couldn’t help noticing Mark’s stony expression whenever he, or anyone else, hugged Orlando. Eric understood jealousy, it was a natural human emotion, he’d felt it when first together with Becca and other men had flirted with her, or when she spent time with her male friends, but he also trusted her, trusted her to love him, to not hurt him. It seemed Mark was struggling to learn that.

Personally Eric didn’t think twice about Orlando’s enthusiastic greeting, he rather liked it that Orlando was able to be so open in his emotions and greetings…he knew too many people who were restrained or hidden.

Speaking of which, when was the last time he’d seen Orli? He felt a sudden ache in his heart for his exuberant little brother, it must’ve been months since he’d seen Orli; sure they called each other regularly but it wasn’t the same. He needed to see if Orlando was happy, being looked after, not just hear his voice. It seemed his family also missed his almost -brother. Even Sophie and Klaus had kept asking (demanding) to see their ‘Unka Orli’, and he secretly thought even Rebecca was missing the opportunity to mother him. She did that a lot to people.

“Orlando? You in?” Mark’s voice reverberated around the house and Orlando tried to push down the worry clouding his mind, Mark was undeniably pissed off. He seemed to get like that a lot recently. Popping his head around into the hall he flashed a smile at Mark who smiled tightly back. Orlando felt his heart sink and his chest tighten. He silently prayed someone hadn’t upset him at work today, or that Mark wouldn’t be mad at him for being on the phone.

Why the hell should you care if he’s mad at you, you have the right to talk to your friends! A voice bit back. Orlando ignored it; an angry internal voice was easier to deal with than an angry Mark.

“Hi Mark, umm…Eric’s on the phone. He just um rang me up, just now. I’ll be done a second,” Orlando unconsciously fiddled with Eric’s crystal pendent, biting his upper lip, trying to gauge Mark’s reaction. He was so unpredictable these days he was never quite sure what would make Mark angry. He was sure Mark didn’t mean to get so angry, but if he was honest with himself, more often than not, he found himself trying to avoid Mark.

Mark didn’t seem best pleased with his information. What was it with Orlando and that stupid phone? He seemed to live vicariously through it, someone was always ringing him up. He could always hear Orlando’s voice laughing over some new joke or old set story. He’d watched since he came in, seen Orlando’s rapid hand movements as he excitedly relayed to Eric one of his latest on set disasters, his eyes narrowed as Orlando’s eyes crinkled up in laughter. Just what made Eric ‘he’s like a brother to me’ Bana so hilarious? Mark’s eyes narrowed as he watched Orlando toy with a pendant, it was one Eric had given him he remembered. He could still picture Orlando as he unwrapped the gift, how his face instantly lit up and threw his arms around Eric, laughing and hugging, the bigger man reciprocating the hug wholeheartedly. Mark had been all but forgotten in the room.

Orlando seemed to slink further away from him as he continued talking to Eric, not paying attention to Mark. Was Orlando trying to avoid him? Mark knew that wasn’t a good sign. Couples were supposed to share things, be open. What possible reason could Orlando have to hide from him. Making sure he was out of Orlando’s line of vision, he silently followed his boyfriend, whose ear was still glued to the phone:

“Oh fuck off Eric!” the voice held no malice as Orlando could barely get the words out between bouts of laughter. Why, if their conversation, their relationship was so innocent, did Orlando look so startled...so guilty when he came in? It would be so easy for Orlando to betray him, with that body, those eyes...one flutter of the eyelashes and he could ensnare anyone. He’d seen it happen before with Orlando’s co-stars.

He saw how they gushed about Orlando’s sweet nature, his physical beauty, how he had captured them...impressed them...seduced them. Mark shook his head, trying to clear the images dancing round his head. Orlando claimed they were friends: Dominic... Elijah... Eric... Johnny... Beanie...all friends just friends, all handsome, clever and talented…friends. He could trust Orlando couldn’t he, after all, not every actor cheated on their partner; a few, a select few had long lasting, happy marriages or relationships. It was possible, even in Hollywood, he just couldn’t believe that they would be one of those couples.

He remembered how his friends teased him, whispering if he’d changed teams. After all, Orlando was too pretty to be a guy, all those curls, doe eyes and pendants. He’d looked so pretty in Troy, all skirts, jewels and bare chests...a walking fantasy for anyone to take.

What was taking Orlando so long?? Didn’t it occur to his lover that he had needs as well? Mark found himself wondering if Orlando actually cared, why was Orlando with him. People said they found Mark attractive, men and women came up to him, flirted with him but not like they did with Orlando. Orlando was in a category of his own; free and indefinable - that was the only way to describe him.

If Orlando was with him, why did he always seem so free, if he loved Mark he should belong to him, be with him but Mark was no fool. The more he thought about it...it made sense. Orlando was simply biding his time, all these phone calls, the non stop laughing and flirting. Orlando wanted to leave him, maybe not right away, he had to maintain his 'sweet and sensitive' image after all, he could hardly just dump Mark, no Orlando would take his time, slowly drift away from Mark, forget dates and not come home then it would be:

‘Sorry Mark, we’ve grown apart...I need some space...you understand, right?… it’s not you it’s me...we can still be friends can’t we?...'

It was nothing Mark hadn’t heard before. His heart would be broken and twisted as Orlando smiled and flittered among the bright lights, casting his spell, luring people, entrancing them with that winning smile whilst simultaneously capturing and breaking hearts in his wake.

Did Orlando even realise what he was doing, the effect he had on people, how he was driving Mark slowly mad? He could remember how things had been so perfect at first. How Orlando would only laugh for him, allow Mark to wrap his arms around, let him be the one to protect him; he had needed Mark then, allowed him to be needed, but now, everything was different, Orlando was different. He saw how Orlando was pulling away from him, the nervous glances he cast in Mark’s direction how he ducked and hid while talking to his friends. Why did Orlando do that if not trying to hide something…someone.

It made him so scared, the thought of losing Orlando in any sense that Mark often wondered how he would cope if Orlando was gone. He knew, quite simply that he wouldn’t, he couldn’t. Orlando had a habit of crawling under your skin, he was like a drug. He felt so good until he was gone, and you suddenly realised just how addicted you were. Mark didn’t like drugs, he didn’t like anything that took away his control of a situation. He needed his focus to be absolute and he knew when he lost that control people got hurt, Orlando got hurt. He couldn’t let Orlando know how much he needed him, it would be dangerous for them both.

Of course it didn’t matter to Orlando, he didn’t feel this overpowering need. Orlando didn’t feel anything anymore, certainly not for Mark. Not since that Reunion party. Mark had had six months of Orlando’s undivided love and attention, then Mortensen touched Orlando’s shoulder and –bam- Orlando, his Orlando was gone. It wasn’t fair. Mortensen had had years of Orlando’s love and then tossed him aside without a second thought, but Mark, who loved Orlando more than he could ever articulate was seen as a reserve…a spare. Second best place.

Viggo...how Mark loathed that man. He was the one who’d made it impossible for Orlando to love, people always thought it must be so wonderful to have Orlando as his boyfriend, to have someone so desired who loved them. Mark almost snorted at that idea.

He remembered hearing teenage girls cooing over his and Orlando’s relationship. Sighing and moaning how could he be gay, wasn’t it soooo cute they were together, how lucky Mark was. If they only knew the truth, that Mark was counting down the days until Orlando left him for the next beautiful person that crossed his path, or would he scamper back to Mortensen? From what he gathered about the man (and Mark used the term loosely), he had been Orlando’s world, the sun had risen and set with Viggo Mortensen. He often wondered if the man had shattered Orlando’s heart, permanently crippling Orlando’s ability to truly love. He doubted Mortensen had spared Orlando more than a second thought after leaving him, he’d got what he’d wanted out of the boy and casually moved on to his next victim.

He had had enough. He’d watched Orlando flirt with his friends, seen how Orlando draped himself around Eric, how he freely kissed Dominic, hugged Elijah. It was stopping, here and now. No man should have to watch his boyfriend behave in such a deplorable way. It was disgusting. He’d warned Orlando about it before, told him to be more careful, more reserved but it hadn’t worked. Before, Mark had thought he’d been too hard on Orlando, hating how tears had fallen down the beautiful face, bruises slowly appearing on the flawless flesh but now Mark knew he couldn’t let feelings of pity or regret overrule him. He’d let his heart rule his head and look what had happened. It was time he reminded Orlando who he belonged to.

Teeth gritted, Mark stormed into the room where Orlando was still talking, his back to Mark as he absentmindedly twisted a lock of hair around his finger. It appeared Mark hadn’t been as quiet as he thought as Orlando seemed to stiffen when he entered the room.

“Hey, Eric I, uh, better get going now mate,” Mark frowned at Orlando’s sudden change in demeanour; gone was the bubbling laugher, the relaxed stance. He didn’t like the idea that Orlando froze up around him.

“You sure you’re OK, you were just so knackered last time I saw you, and you don’t sound much better now, you sound like complete shit,” Eric offered, a frown coming over his face. Orlando wasn’t the type to end a conversation so abruptly.

“Gee thanks Eric,” a familiar wry tone was back that placated Eric slightly. “It’s good to know I can always rely on you to be brutally honest,”

“Always. Besides it’s what brothers do, hey someone has to look out for you, we all know how helpless you are on your own,” Orlando couldn’t help grinning at the snigger in Eric’s voice.

“Oi! That was just the coffee that one time, it was a stupid new model anyway with bad packaging,” he huffed and Eric felt himself relax at Orlando’s mock sulking, perhaps it was just exhaustion, like Orlando said.

“Whatever you say Orlikins. Just as long as Mark’s looking after you properly. I’d hate to have to hurt him for not looking after my little brother properly,”

“He’s fine! He takes good care of me,” Orlando blurted out hastily. Eric raised an unseen eyebrow at Orlando’s rather hasty reassurance, surely Orlando knew he wasn’t serious about the threat didn’t he…well mostly. He wanted to quiz Orlando more about it but in truth Eric didn’t want to push Orli right now, he’d seen how washed out the younger man looked and wasn’t sure even well intentioned nagging was the thing he needed right now.

“Just checking mate, good to know someone’s got their eye on you; now I’m pacified, I’ll leave you and your sweetheart in peace. Having said that, I do expect to be able to actually visit you this time, bugger the studios ‘kay?”

“I’m sure they’d love that,” he sniggered and Eric burst out laughing at the unintentional innuendo. “I better go now, Mark looks like he needs some TLC. Give my love to Becca and the kids…I love you too big Brother. See you,”

The clicking of the phone signalled the end of the phone call, Orlando turned around, smile on his face but Mark wasn’t fooled, Orlando was scared of him, for some reason that made Mark’s blood boil even further. Orlando wouldn’t be scared of Dominic or Elijah, or his precious Viggo.

“How was work?” the question seemed civil, concerned, but Mark saw the underlying nervousness, how Orlando bit his lip, tugged at his pendants, shuffled his feet; every little tick, every nervous gesture Mark saw and recorded. No matter what anyone thought, Mark did know Orlando better than anyone, even possibly himself. Orlando didn’t want to be around him, he wanted to be far away. That pissed Mark off. Why was he so desperate to get away from Mark, if he loved him, why did he freeze when Mark touched him. Mark knew and felt his anger rise.

“Had a good talk with Eric?” Mark retorted, ignoring Orlando’s question, a flicker of menace in his eyes. Orlando shuffled nervously.

“He…he rang me just before you got in, he wanted to tell me some important news,” Orlando hated how timid he sounded. The rational part of his brain was yelling at him to stand up for himself, he wasn’t Mark’s property, he had a life outside his lover; but that voice seemed so small when faced with Mark’s steely gaze and the hands curled into fists; a sense of danger flooded through him.

Unconsciously Orlando took a step back, not allowing himself to meet Mark’s gaze. He silently prayed it wasn’t building up to what he thought, how could Mark be so suspicious? He hadn’t cheated on Mark, he never would, had never felt the desire to do so, so where did Mark get these ideas from?

“What did you say to Eric huh? You look awfully scared…Orli. Do I frighten you, is that why you keep hiding from me?”

“I wasn’t hiding,” Orlando whispered, wishing he didn’t sound so pitiful.

“You sure about that Orlando, you look pretty shaken right now. Thinking about someone, hmm? Wishing you were somewhere else, is that it Orli? Do you think about someone else when I’m fucking you, huh? Do you?!”

“Mark…what? Where is this coming from, I was just talking to Eric, that’s all. I love you OK? I’m not leaving you, I promise,”

“So you’re staying with me out of pity, or is it fear. C’mon Orlando, you can be honest with me, am I a charity case to you, or is that you’re worried that you’ll never do any better, that you don’t deserve any better?” the question ended in a snarl. Mark could feel the anger rising within him. It was a familiar feeling, in more brief moment of lucidity, Mark wondered why it was Orlando who roused such anger in him but this wasn’t one of those times. Orlando had hurt Mark, whether he knew it or not. He wanted Orlando to hurt as much as he did on the inside. Orlando had no idea how much it killed him to watch Orlando belong to everyone to be left wondering how far ‘friends’ went.

This was all Orlando’s fault - he was so angry; if Orlando could just learn to control himself, to behave more like his boyfriend then this wouldn’t be an issue. Mark’s requests weren’t unreasonable, no matter what crap Orlando’s friends told him. They were to protect Orlando, to stop him from being taken advantage of, to protect Mark’s heart, to prove Orlando’s love for Mark. If he truly loved Mark he would obey without question.

Orlando began to panic; he recognised that look in Mark’s eyes, as if a part of him was almost shutting down. It wasn’t like he was being possessed, no Mark was still there, but…not. It was the part of Mark that he loved, that was gone. The part that never would have hurt Orlando, never would have spat such unfeeling accusations at him but it was the part of Mark he saw less and less. He couldn’t understand what had happened, why things had all gone so desperately wrong?

“No, it isn’t that I swear!” the voice was panicked.

Orlando knew where this conversation led, the same place as always. He couldn’t face it, not tonight. He still hurt from yesterday night. Mark had wanted some ‘attention’, and Orlando hadn’t been in the mood. Not that that mattered to Mark. Orlando was his boyfriend and he would service him, or did he want Mark to find someone who was prepared to be a real boyfriend. Did he want to be abandoned yet again, like he had been by everyone else who’d professed to love him. Shannon. Viggo. Kate. They’d all left him, all betrayed him. Mark wouldn’t do that. He promised to stay with Orlando, all he asked in return was Orlando’s exclusive love. Why wouldn’t Orlando fulfil his side of the bargain? Maybe he deserved Mark’s fury, he was betraying Mark’s trust wasn’t he?

“I’m not cheating on you Mark, I promise! Eric’s just a friend, we just talked that’s all. He’s got a wife and kids remember? He loves Becca, not me. I don’t want Eric, I want you.”

“Don’t be so naïve! Everyone wants you Orlando. Look at you, the way your dress, your hair, all those stupid pendants, the way you hang off people – you do more than enough, no wonder people can’t keep their hands off you. You enjoy it don’t you, you like having that power over people, making them do anything for you, stringing them along. You’re like a prize whore! No wonder no one wants to stay with you,”

“I’m sorry,” Orlando whimpered, desperately trying to keep his trembling under control.

If Mark noticed the touch of desperation in Orlando’s voice he didn’t give any sign he’d heard. After all Orlando was an actor, a good one. He could pretend to be anything he wanted and Mark wasn’t going to be lured down that path. Once a upon a time, Orlando would’ve been outraged by such an accusation. He would’ve yelled and stormed out, not speaking to the offender until he was given an grovelling apology. But he wasn’t that Orlando any more.

He was so scared of upsetting Mark, of what the consequences would be that all his brain could do was try to convince Mark he hadn’t betrayed him, that he wasn’t going to. After years of listening to Mark’s venomous attacks, Orlando was beginning to wonder if Mark was right. He had lost a lot of his friends, every previous lover had left him, they hadn’t wanted him. Only Elijah and Dominic stuck with him, why he wasn’t sure. All his friends, those he thought he could trust, rely on. They didn’t want him around. They rarely called him anymore, Orlando had tried to stay in contact, as much as possible without upsetting Mark but it was impossible. Maybe they didn’t want him around anymore, Elijah and Dominic had told him that was rubbish but they’d looked upset, defeated, while trying to reassure Orlando.

“You know, I don’t think you are sorry,” Mark began, almost conversationally. “I think you enjoy teasing, pretending to be so innocent, but everyone knows what you really are Orlando, I know. The papers have seen it, they think you’re a flirt. You should see the pictures, every party, every premiere you’re hanging off some new guy, some co-star. They never seem to get pictures of you with me anymore, isn’t that funny?” the voice had dropped to a low purr. Orlando wanted nothing more than to bolt. He knew that voice all too well.

“Who is it Orlando? Is it just one man you’re whoring yourself to,”

“Mark…I’m…I’m n-not…”

“Shh, don’t lie to me Orlando. I don’t like liars.” The voice was so soft, so deceptively kind Orlando was trying desperately not to cry. Why couldn’t he stand up to his boyfriend, defend himself against such wild accusations.

“You know my friends want you, they try to hide it but I can see it, it practically drips off them. If you think I’m not enough for you, I’ll share you with them, they’d love having you and there’s lots of them to keep you busy, I can loan you out like the whore you are. Would you like that Orli? I can call them now if you like, they’ll be right round, then you can have your wish fulfilled” he made a motion to reach for the phone, almost enjoying Orlando’s growing horror.

The thought of being passed around Mark’s friends terrorised Orlando more than anything. He had no doubt, if pushed, Mark would do just that. Mark’s friends scared him more than Mark, they were cruel. He’d heard the taunts they made about him, they enjoyed inflicting pain. Orlando knew whatever Mark dished out, it would be a million times worse if he was forced to ‘service’ Mark’s friends. The terror welling within him was too much and Orlando began to sob.

“P-please Mark, d-don’t. I don’t w-want to be with them. I won’t be bad again, I promise, p-please don’t r-ring them.” Just what he was apologising for Orlando couldn’t remember but it didn’t matter, the sheer terror he felt eclipsed any sense of anger or self-justification he might have felt. All he wanted was to placate Mark. Slowly Mark turned around, eyebrows raised as his hand moved away from the phone.

“I thought you liked being with other guys,” he mocked.

“I just want to be with you, I promise! I won’t see Eric again, pl-please don’t ring them,” Orlando begged, abandoning all his pride. This seemed to placate Mark, as he moved away from the phone. He wasn’t entirely convinced by Orlando’s pleading, but he did know that Orlando was genuinely terrified enough to keep the promise now given. Eric would no longer be a problem, of that Mark was certain. He felt some of the anger slowly ebb away.

“Hmmm…alright, I won’t call them, this time. I think I quite like having you to myself, you’re mine Orlando, you’re too special to share,” he whispered, moving close to Orlando, placing a kiss on the trembling lips.

Mark still wasn’t happy he’d had to use such drastic measures to gain a simple promise, but there had been no other route. Orlando would never admit to doing anything wrong or being unfaithful, he was a celebrity, after all. He couldn’t. He was Hollywood’s Golden Boy after all, everyone loved him. That was the problem. As for doubt…how could Mark help it, no one could resist those eyes, that smile; that boy would have the most convinced man doubting. How had Kate and Mortensen stood it, the constant suspicion, the gnawing jealousy, the sly jabs from friends, the teasing…he couldn’t handle it.

Wincing, Orlando felt a hand close around his wrist in an iron grip. The pressure tightened as he heard his name whispered in his ear; Mark took possession of his other wrist and Orlando knew he was trapped. Mark leant in for a kiss but when Orlando didn’t immediately respond, Mark bit his lip, making Orlando sob. The fury welled up again, as Mark shoved Orlando into the bedroom. It was time to remind Orlando of the rules. Again.

“I’m not going to share you Orlando, you’re mine and I’m going to make sure you always remember that,” His voice flowed like poison into Orlando’s ear, as he whispered threats and promises that made Orlando tremble. Unable to stop himself he felt tears snake down his face…

*** End flashback ***

Suddenly back in the present, Orlando found himself trapped in Viggo’s grasp, it wasn’t Mark holding him, it was Viggo…Viggo wouldn’t hurt him, not like Mark had…he felt the tears on his cheek and suddenly felt horribly exposed. What was Viggo thinking seeing him fall apart like this, did he have to constantly remind Viggo of how weak he was?

“Let me go,” he whispered, all previous bravado gone from his voice and he attempted to struggle out of Viggo’s grip. It was tight, despite his not overly muscular frame; Viggo was strong but his grip didn’t carry the same pain as Mark’s. That didn’t, however, lend Orlando much comfort in this situation.

“Please,” he begged, all pride gone, his voice sounding hatefully small. The tears wouldn’t stop running and Orlando was about to pull harder from Viggo’s grasp when the pressure was suddenly gone, a gentle hand pressing along his back, trying to ease the uncontrollable trembling, as he would a frightened animal.

“Orlando?” the voice was now quiet, gentle and coaxing. A part of Viggo felt hateful for grabbing Orlando so roughly, he hated the fact that he had frightened him like that, but Orlando’s hurtful words had terrified him. The mere idea that he could turn into Mark, could have a beast lurking within him waiting to destroy what he loved the most, Viggo couldn’t face that; the idea that if pushed hard enough he could inflict pain without remorse simply terrified him. He never wanted to go down that path.

He got a choked sob in response. “Please Orlando…just talk to me OK? No one’s going to hurt you, I promise…Orlando?” he could feel Orlando still trembling next to him. Just what had he done to scare Orlando so? “Please sweetheart, tell me what’s wrong,”

“M-Mark…h-he d-d-did t-that,” Orlando stuttered out, wishing the trembling would stop, feeling hateful towards himself. Understanding suddenly dawned on Viggo’s face, an immeasurable sorrow etched there. Viggo pushed down the feelings of guilt threatening to swallow him up. He couldn’t allow him be eaten up by his own emotions. Slowly Viggo rubbed circles on Orlando’s back trying to get his breathing to a normal speed.

It seemed to be slowly taking effect as Orlando’s shaking gradually stopped, his breathing becoming less ragged and choked. “He used to g-grab me a lot. I couldn’t get away…I tried Viggo, I re-really did try I swear. I didn’t want him to hurt m-me, you have to belive me, I d-didn't want it.” Though the rigidness and the terror was slowly beginning to dissipate, the trembling was as palpable as ever. He didn’t seem to object when Viggo slowly steered him to the lounge, getting Orlando to sit out the coach. Slowly, the tears had were beginning to taper off, odd trembles still shivered through Orlando’s already too-frail looking body. Viggo bit his lip hard to stop himself crying, he thought he tasted blood but he ignored it.

Unconsciously Orlando wrapped his arms around his legs, burying his head on his lap, it made him seem so childlike to Viggo and every urge, platonic, parental and lover’s rose to the surface. He would protect Orlando, protect him from Mark, even from himself if need be. Viggo didn’t speak a word, gathering that Orlando wanted to tell him something. Viggo wasn’t sure he could handle it. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be pretty. But pushing down the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him, Viggo steadfastly refused to leave. This was something Orlando needed to say, to do. This was about Orlando, not him.

“He just used to…loose his temper, it was like he was…gone...or something, I don’t think he knew what he was doing, it's like he wasn't there when he hurt me, he wasn't possessed or anything, but just...gone. He used to cry afterwards Viggo, he would cry he hated hurting me, you have to understand that, he never started out wanting to hurt me.” Viggo, not trusting his voice where Mark was concerned, stayed silent.

“I did love him Viggo, really I did! He never started out wanting to hurt me, he didn’t at first but he…he just kept getting mad when I was with friends… he...he didn’t like them, said I flirted too much, that I couldn’t be trusted…

It was taking all his energy not to become a hysterical wreck again, so many memories were flooding back so much hurt, vivid memories of searing pain, spiteful words and sobbing pleas. Orlando wished he could block them out but for the first time, he felt an overwhelming need to tell someone what happened, what Mark did, not just see the marks that appeared afterwards.

“Orlando, you don’t have to-“ Viggo began, he wasn’t sure that Orlando was ready for this; over the weeks Viggo had seen snatches of the lingering abuse, caught Orlando with a sleeve rolled up who then hastily pulled it down again, embarrassed to have the evidence seen by another.

“Yes I do! I have to, I need to do this" a sudden desperation in Orlando's tone caught Viggo, the look of desperate longing to share something hidden for too long. Silently he nodded. Orlando took a deep breath before he continued.

"I…I remember one time, I’d been out for the night with Johnny, he was so furious with me, that I hadn’t rung him before. Johnny had driven me home and hugged me before he left, and Mark saw...he just exploded. He said that I was trying to seduce him or I was going to run off with Johnny…he wouldn’t stop yelling…he …kept kicking me saying if I couldn’t walk I couldn’t leave him, that he wasn’t going to lose me… I hurt so much after that. I guess he got his wish….I couldn’t leave the house for three days, it hurt so much to move...” By this time, Orlando’s voice had become softly monotonous in its tone.

Viggo kept his mouth tightly shut, choking down each desire to scream, yell, rage and cry as Orlando slowly, painfully whispered story after story of Mark’s abuse on every level. Most of the marks had slowly faded over time, but some still remained: a scar on his shoulder, a boot imprint on his foot, a bruise near his spine, Viggo had almost cringed at that one. Of course those were the injuries Orlando had allowed him to see …but most telling of all were the invisible ones, the scars on Orlando’s heart, the abusive poison Mark had fed Orlando’s mind. He noticed how, even though describing how Mark had hurt him, the macabre ‘punishments’ Mark had given him for minor or imaginary infractions, Orlando still managed to excuse and defend his behaviour to Viggo’s disbelieving ear:

“He always got so mad, he thought I was going to leave him, said he couldn’t cope if I left, he threatened to kill himself, h-he meant it, I couldn’t let him hurt himself Viggo, he was in so much pain, he couldn’t cope with it,”

It took a supreme effort on Viggo’s part not to cover his ears at Orlando’s words, he didn’t want to hear this, to hear Orlando defending Mark, couldn’t bear to listen to such a pained acceptance coming from his ex-lover. Why did Orlando still make excuses for Mark, even now? He didn’t even pretend to understand how Orlando could dismiss Mark’s treatment of him, no it wasn’t just that - he didn’t want to understand. He couldn’t accept that someone who hit a person they professed to love deserved any sympathy; Viggo had always been absolute on that point: violence was unacceptable, in any form. But he realised it was no good showing his frustration to Orlando, it would only make him retreat more. The last thing Viggo wanted to do was frighten him, but the next thing Orlando said almost toppled Viggo over the edge:

“H-he said once he was going to…to... give me to his friends, because I acted like a whore so he was going to treat me like one.” Orlando paused again. "That scared me so much, more than anything he did"

Unable to control himself, Viggo jumped up, and began savagely pacing the room, desperately wanting to break something or punch the wall, he wanted to scream at the world, demand to know why Orlando had to suffer like this, he itched to destroy everything in his sight. The only thing stopping him from doing so at that precise moment, was that Orlando was still in the room, and Viggo feared any display of violence, no matter how provoked would be immediately viewed as Viggo’s displeasure with Orlando. He would realise his anger later, when Orlando was asleep. If Orlando had been ‘loaned’ to these ‘friends’ of Mark’s…God knows what had happened. Suddenly a thought struck him. When Dr McCoy had told him about Orlando being repeatedly raped…what if it was…them, not Mark – or at least not every time was Mark? What if one of these bastards had given something to Orlando… he doubted condoms had been a priority for any of them and God knows what they'd made Orlando do...no he couldn't even think about it. All he knew was that if Mark had caused Orlando to get an STD or, God help him, AIDS, Viggo knew that no force on the entire universe would protect the man.

If Mark had done this, he had effectively given Orlando a death sentence. He could loose Orlando,all because of his fucking jealousy. Viggo couldn’t cope with the idea of losing Orlando, not like that, just when there was the possibility of them helping him. But it wasn’t just Mark Viggo wanted to hurt now. He would find out these ‘friends’ of Mark’s as well, they would pay too. To think that they could use someone like that, that they could willingly hurt and defile – it was beyond his comprehension, it was sickening. He’d find out who each was and see to it that they never hurt another living soul.

Moving closer to Orlando, Viggo lifted his chin slightly, allowing Orlando to look into his eyes for the first time. “Orlando…did Mark make you do…did he go through with his…threat,” Viggo choked out; he tried to keep his voice gentle, not allowing any disgust or censure to come through.

There was a deafening silence for a moment and Viggo waited with ever mounting horror. Orlando wouldn't look at him, it seemed as if time itself had frozen, waiting for Orlando to speak.

“No,” came the whispered response. “Mark always threatened but he never…went through with it. He was too possessive, he hated anyone touching me…once one of his friends tried to…to...but Mark saw it and got so angry he just punched him really hard, told him I was off limits…I just...I was so scared he would though. I think he would've done it eventually, he wanted to teach me a lesson...”

Viggo felt himself sag, and was unable to stop the tears gathering in his eyes. Orlando had been through so much already...this would've been too much.

”So…he didn’t carry that threat out,” Viggo reiterated, trying to wrap his head around it, needing to completely dispell it threat. Orlando barely nodded. Overriding every layer of restraint he’d built up over the last years and weeks, Viggo pulled Orlando into a crushing embrace, rocking him gently.

The sudden chilling implications were finally catching up with Viggo; he realised how easily he could’ve lost Orlando. Either to the suicide attempt, or simply to one of Mark’s rages, he could’ve killed Orlando and Viggo would never have known, wouldn’t have been there to stop it, or let Orlando know that he still loved him. Or worse, Orlando could have been dying of AIDS or some insidious other disease if Mark had followed through with that threat, he doubted those bastards would have cared as long as they fucked Orlando. He, Dominic and Elijah hadn’t known…no one had, Orlando could have been dying and he wouldn’t have known. He felt a chill run up his spine.

It was not pleasant to be reminded of the frailty of humanity, or how lucky he was to have Orlando alive and breathing by his side. For the first time in years, ever since he’d broken up with Orlando, Viggo sent out a prayer of thanks. Thanks that he had a second chance; he wouldn’t be a fool, he wouldn’t squander this chance.

Looking at the clock he was surprised to find it so late in the afternoon and realised they hadn’t eaten, as his stomach rumbled. “I’m going to get some food OK? I’m not sure I can face cooking tonight, do you want to come with me to choose?”

“…No. I’ll just stay here. I’m feeling tired,” the voice held a slight quiver, as if Orlando feared he would be ordered out the house, regardless of his feelings. He supposed Mark hadn’t really given him a choice over many things. He was apprehensive about leaving Orlando alone, no matter the length of time. He’d stayed with Orlando almost exclusively since his return, and was worried about leaving Orlando right now. He knew, rationally, that Mark couldn’t find them. He had no idea where Viggo lived, or that Viggo had been with him in the hospital, but still he worried. Rationally, people didn’t worry about dealing with abusive relationships or attempted suicides, they didn’t worry about such things happening to them. That was another thing Viggo feared when leaving Orlando. He took care never to leave knives, razors or any sort of tablets lying around. Even the paracetamol was tucked away, perhaps he was being over-the-top but he’d rather not take the risk.

He wasn’t really surprised at Orlando’s wish to stay at home. Orlando had been out a handful of times, maximum since his release from hospital, one of which included his move to Viggo’s. Normally Viggo might have tried to persuade Orlando to come but right now, Orlando just needed to feel secure, and right now that meant being here.

“OK, I’ll be back in half an hour or so…you’ll be OK?”

“Sure. I’ll be fine” Orlando whispered. Viggo wasn’t convinced but didn’t say anything. He wasn't sure what he could say at that moment.

***

In all honesty, Viggo was surprised to find Orlando still there when he returned, he’d been half convinced Orlando would seize the opportunity and leave with all his stuff, but Orlando had barely left the couch. His legs were drawn up as he tugged with a loose string on his jumper. Viggo didn’t know whether to sigh in relief or disappointment. He was relieved Orlando was still here, that was a given. No matter what Orlando thought, he was still unable to deal with the outside world yet. He could barely deal with Viggo or Dom and Lij, so what chance did anyone else stand? But disappointment also flowed through him, disappointment that Orlando wasn’t fighting for himself. That he still in his mind, lived under Mark’s dictatorship. They had all known this would be a hard slog but perhaps they were out of their depth with suffering of this degree. Viggo had been so sure that after the confession Orlando would change, that he wouldn’t remain this frozen statue.

“Orli…Orlando?” he immediately corrected, holding up the bags of food. Half startled, Orlando looked up and to Viggo’s amazement, smiled at him. “Hey Vig, what’ve you got?” he asked, eying the bags with a hint of apprehension. Viggo was a known experimenter when it came to food, either cooking or buying.

“It’s from the deli, nothing weird, I promise. Are you OK, you seemed a little…lost,” Viggo offered tentatively. Orlando shook his head slightly. Maybe he was being overly paranoid about Orlando’s healing, a few talks were hardly going to cure Orlando of everything he’d gone through with Mark. He was expecting too much, too soon.

“I was just…thinking, I kind of drifted off. Sorry,”

“Don’t apologise Orlando, don’t ever think you have to apologise to me, for anything” Viggo whispered, trying to keep the choke out of his voice. Biting the bullet Viggo took a breath “I was just worried that you’d leave when I was out…I was just a little scared that… I’d lose you” he finished lamely as he cursed himself.

“I thought about it, part of me wanted to leave, and it would’ve been easy just to grab my stuff, I almost did,” Orlando confessed, swallowing nervously. “I didn’t want to be a burden to you, you’ve got your life and Henry and the paintings…but when I tried it, I just couldn’t leave.” The voice wasn't that of a romantic decloration, Orlando didn't fling himself at Viggo, kissing him passion like the movies would have people believe. It was quiet, riddled with pain and defeat. Viggo felt no elation hearing those words.

Suddenly, as if realising what he was saying, Orlando made to move off the coach, hideously embarrassed by the whole situation but Viggo stopped him, but this time, there was no grabbing wrist, no hard squeeze of the shoulder or harsh words. Gently Viggo sat down next to him, and slowly pulled Orlando to him, wrapping his arms around the younger man, unconsciously stroking Orlando’s hair. This time Orlando didn’t cry.

“What stopped you?” Viggo felt guilty for pushing Orlando, this was obviously difficult for him, but Viggo felt a sudden desperate need to know.

“I feel safe here” came the whispered reply. “You make me feel safe. I didn’t want to lose that.”

“You never will. This is your home, for as long as you want.”

Seemingly satisfied by this promise, however false it might seem in the shifting, kaleidoscopic world that he had inhabited for the last four years, Orlando allowed himself to be comforted by Viggo’s words and embrace. For now at least he could pretend that they were safe, that nothing would harm them again.

Viggo continued to stroke Orlando’s hair as he gazed at the fire, his mind whirring. The bag of food he’d brought sat by the couch, unnoticed. The food could wait for a bit, Orlando couldn’t.

He knew Orlando doubted not the sincerity, but the strength of his promise of safety, but Viggo had meant every word. Yet again he sent a silent vow to the powers that be to help him keep Orlando safe. He didn’t sense any response, but as he gazed at the flames crackling, seemingly hypnotised by them, for the first time, Viggo felt this was a promise he could fulfil.

TBC