Mea Culpa 14/?

[imogen-lily.livejournal.com]

Title: Mea Culpa
Author: Imogen
Disclaimer: I don't know or 'own' these, it's all made up. Mark and Dr McCoy are mine though
Summary: Abuse ruins everyone's lives. Who picks up the pieces?
N.B. I've made some fanart tabloids for this chapter which I'll post in another entry in my LJ since I'm crap at lj-cuts and I'll mess up the entry. Please tell me what you think of this chapter! I live for feedback!!



He should know better, but that didn’t stop him devouring the text and pictures in front of him. He’d missed looking at that face for so long; he’d take seeing it in any form he could get.

Snorting as he sped past the predictable tagline ('Blooming Bizarre Triangle!') he scanned the article, trying to garner any information he could about the subsequent reactions to The Meeting. Not that he cared what brainless journalists thought, but the pictures beneath would tell a more than words could ever convey, the proverbial ‘worth a thousand words’ were never so true than with a picture of his beloved Orlando. He might mask his private emotions to prying eyes, but there was always the truth buried in those amazing eyes, they never lied. He needed to see Orlando’s reaction to yesterday, see if he would ever be able to prise Orlando away from his beloved champion.

After being out of the news for the past several months, he thought it was quite gratifying to see his erstwhile lover finally grace the front pages again, even if it was in these circumstances. The papers were getting ready for something sensational. Orlando had been away from the tabloids for several months. Unfortunately, Orlando had always been a favourite for tabloid fodder, as long as they could slap Orlando’s pretty face to a story it would sell. His absence in the media world had been greatly noticed and having their ‘golden boy’ back must’ve been a great relief to them and to come back with such a juicy story (didn’t get many boy love triangles did you? Nothing like a good threesome to spark up things, was there?)

He couldn’t stop himself wondering how the news was being received in the Mortensen household. Yep, Mortensen. There was no doubt in his mind that Orlando wouldn’t be staying with those wretched Midgets any longer, it wouldn’t be safe. He should’ve guessed this would happen; no one had been able to hold a matchstick to Mortensen as far as Orlando was concerned.

Even after Mr Perfect had shattered Orlando’s heart, he still pined for him. Not openly, perhaps not even consciously but it was always there. That little splinter in his heart, or perhaps a shard of ice…yes that sounded better. When he’d left Orlando, something had changed, he loved less freely, became more cautious, his heart slowly closed off, no doubt Orlando’s heart had lamented that he would never love again, but like all things in life, time proved an immortal tonic. Orlando had moved on, his heart had healed to the best of its abilities and he got on with life, with trying to love. First with Kate, then with Mark but that tiny, all important piece of Orlando’s heart was always denied him, locked and bared to all other suitors. That was solely for Mortensen and Mark realised probably always would be. He’d hated Orlando for that, for not giving him – them – a chance, for quitting before they ever really started. What was it about Mortensen that so captured Orlando?

When they first met Orlando had talked openly about his first boyfriend, how he had opened Orlando’s eyes to the possibility of different types of love, how he made Orlando appreciate life more than he ever had. It had been one of Orlando’s friends, Billy, he vaguely recalled, who’d given Mark a condensed version of the break-up about two months after they’d got together, which Bean had later confirmed. An unspoken warning was clear as they had relayed Orlando’s heartbreak to him. A trust had been put in Mark to protect Orlando, to not make the same mistakes as Viggo. At the time, Mark hadn’t been able to understand Mortensen’s actions. He and Orlando were a new couple, Mark was completely in love and Orlando was the pinnacle of perfection, he simply couldn’t understand why anyone would break up with Orlando. For a man like Mortensen to luck out with Orlando was a miracle in itself, and then to dump said miracle…it was beyond all comprehension but even more amazingly, the bastard had won Orlando back. The magazines might portray it as a ‘tug of love’, but there was no denying that Orlando would jump back into Mortensen’s arms at the merest hint of a reconciliation. It was clear Mortensen wanted Orlando back, and not just in a platonic way, it was a reclamation.

Regardless of what Orlando said, or indeed thought, there was no doubt in Mark’s mind exactly what type of ‘relationship’ they were in. He’d lay bets that the old man had fucked him within the first week of his release from St Mary’s. Mortensen didn’t look like the type who liked to be kept waiting. When looking at the man, Mark saw an Alpha Male, maybe not the most obvious choice of one it had to be said. After all, there was no snarling lip, or bulging mussel. As with so many things, it was smaller things that determined the measure of a man like Mortensen. It was in the posture, the innate confidence he radiated, the relaxed stance of a man at peace with his position in the world but most of all, it was in the eyes. That steely glare that spoke of great suffering should anyone seek to take what was his, or harm it in any way. Orlando came under that sphere of protection, of possessiveness.

At the park, that brush of Orlando’s cheek, the wiping of the tears, that had been a claiming, a warning to Mark to back off. Subtle, as would be expected from a poet yet none the less true. He knew he held the upper hand where Orlando was concerned. That man was a hidden predator, and therefore one of the most dangerous.

Of course, then there was always the reality of the situation. Taking into account Orlando’s obviously…fragile mental health Mark could imagine how the news had been greeted by the two Midgets; he couldn’t help grinning as images of the two men, shrunken to dwarf size ran around like headless chickens squawking about protecting their precious Orli…

“Dommie!! Whatever will we do?! This will send poor Orlikins over the edge! We must do something…whatever can we do?!?” Elijah wailed, doing a jig on the spot.

“B-but the damage has been done…Orli will be forever scarred by our unprotective foolishness!!” Dom shook his head, a look of utter despair on his face while he nibbled on a pastry.

“But there must be something…we must make amends!” he clung to Dom’s hand in a strictly platonic gesture. “Oh God…why didn’t we see this coming…we’re his bestest of his best friends…it is our responsibility, nay DUTY to protect him. We have FAILED!!” Dom beat his chest, a loud keening sound coming from him.

“How can we ever forgive ourselves??” Elijah’s whimpered, his eyes looking watery and abnormally large, before turning to his other bestest friend and his eyes suddenly shrunk to the slits of a snake. “And I must be honest my dearest Dommie, I hold you partially responsible for this!” Dommie, arrested in mid-chew looked confused at this accusation. “I mean let’s be honest, is was you who brought Viggo here and encouraged him to be Orlando’s White Knight, and look what a mess he’s made and we can’t even get a refund, what a waste! Orli’s supposed to be the Mansel in Distress and Viggo’s ruined it! Careless bastard! And now I…uh…I mean we must pick up the pieces of Orli’s shattered heart...yet again, and we haven’t even got a shag out of it!”

“But Viggo is the best available option Lijjy, you know that! His CV is unsurpassed and he has stolen our Orlando’s heart, how can we fight destiny? The two are destined soul mates, who are we to stand in the way of such great passion?” Dom finished chewing and then took another thoughtful bite, Elijah declined food, far too agitated by the recent events and too busy to stop hopping around; although he too was worried sick, Dominic forced himself to consume another chocolate doughnut as he glared at the tabloids scattered over their table, Elijah’s helpful addition of horns and tail to Mark’s features did nothing to rouse his spirits.

“Oh Heavens! Our poor baby, we must save him from this abominable filth! You know how overly sensitive he is!’ Elijah moaned, clutching his chest as if suffering a mortal injury. “I curse the day Mark was born. Vile Creature!! We will avenge Orlando. I will flay the malevolent bastard, after all he has done to the beautiful Orlando!!!” fire crackled around Elijah’s eyes as he hopped from one foot to the other, looking as if he was performing some ancient ‘rain dance’. “If only we could ease our beloved Orli’s suffering…”

“If only we could disembowel Mark with our eyes…”

“Oh Dommie….what are we to do?!?”

“We’ll think of something my dearest friend…eventually. Until then we can only sit and hope and pray that Viggo is protecting Orlando...”

“You mean wearing condoms?!” Elijah’s eyes bulged wilder than ever. “I knew he couldn’t be trusted! He will seduce our innocent flower! We should’ve brought him back here away from prying paws! Curse Viggo! Curse Mark! Now we have to protect Orlando from two bastards!”

“No, calm yourself my friend you must not jump to rash conclusions! I am sure Sir Viggo the Pure is too noble and wise to stoop to such base needs, remember he is an artist. Viggo knows just his mere presence alone can soothe Orlando’s sufferings.”

“Oh I cannot bare it Dommie…”

“We must be strong Lijjy. We are Orlando’s only hope!” …..

The imagined scene amused Mark for a while, though as far as he was concerned they could jump of a cliff, like the pair of lemmings they were. Orlando and Mortensen’s reactions on the other hand would not be so trite. The only true barrier to Orlando would be Mortensen. He would be the one to sway Orlando from his side, not those two idiots. He hungered for Orlando with the same raw desire that Mark did, only Mortensen hid it beneath a poet’s soul, portraying his feelings in whirls of paint and ink; but beneath the civilised veneer there was violent desire always lurking, waiting to claim its prize.

Mark had seen how Mortensen’s hand had itched in the park, he’d wanted to pulverise Mark. He’d seen the look of fury mingled with desperation as Orlando left to talk with him; perhaps if pushed, Mortensen would’ve revealed the beast in him that afternoon, not that Mortensen would ever admit that to himself. Oh no, he was gentle, caring and sensitive. The perfect lover, a devoted humanitarian, Viggo Mortensen could not possibly have a darker side. To Mark’s mind, Mortensen was a coward of the highest order. Not just because of his denial but because he gave up. He’d had what most men would’ve killed for, a truly devoted lover and he’d tossed him aside; he never once realised the value of the gift he’d been given in Orlando and most likely never would. He would never know what is was like to long for Orlando's love for afar, to be granted Orlando's body but not his heart, his soul, he didn't see him. No one really saw Orlando, not like Mark did. They saw a beautiful face, an enticing body, skills, talents, money, friendship…but that is not what made Orlando. He wasn’t a special package to be unwrapped and admired rarely, which what Mortensen and the Midgets sought to do, they didn’t appreciate Orlando. Mortensen had been given all of this so unquestioningly by Orlando and never seen it.

Undoubtedly Mortensen be busy consoling his distraught Orlando, with Mortensen swearing on his very soul that he would protect Orlando from Mark, the harbinger of all doom, wrapping Orlando in a strong embrace while entertaining fantasies of extracting gruesome vengeance on Mark, then becoming fearful in his own mind as to what that could mean, that the poet was becoming a monster. That he was becoming like…Mark, or would he be berating Orlando on his foolishness for almost succumbing to Mark’s poisonous words, all lies of course. It wasn’t possible to Mortensen’s mind that Mark might have genuinely meant those desperate words. No that wouldn’t be possible for such a depraved sadist that he was, after all, someone like Mark didn’t have feelings, he just sought to destroy that which he held most dear, a man like Mortensen could never seek to understand Mark, because he had no desire to try, as with all great heroes, he lacked empathy towards the less than pure. He could not put himself in Mark’s position, had no desire to examine those ‘baser emotions’ too scared that they could reflect some hidden part of him. He didn’t understand Orlando’s loyalty and forgiveness to such a monster, his constant guilt, or the complexities of their love, regardless of all else, Mark understood that, because he shared it. That was something no one else could hope to understand, and in the end, that would be Mortensen’s undoing.

He wanted Orlando back, that hadn’t been a lie and hard as it had been to believe he had meant those whispered apologies. At that moment, standing in front of Orlando, Mark would’ve done anything Orlando to get his love back. These last few weeks had been like every vision of hell personified. You didn’t need fire or demons to creature torture, people did it all by themselves.

It was only when he had lost Orlando, not just for a night but unending weeks that Mark had been forced to face the reality his actions. His initial reaction had been one of disbelief then swiftly followed by rage. He had come very close to destroying everything within sight, his rage had been so all encompassing. Then, slowly, very slowly, that rage had ebbed. Orlando hadn’t returned, and he hadn’t been able to find his erstwhile lover. For the first time Mark had been forced to function without Orlando, without a target for his rage or a salve to his bitter tears. There had been no forgiveness or comfort that was always present even amidst his lover’s tears. There was no warm body to bury himself against, or trembling form to rage at, and bitterly regret later… it was all gone. Orlando was gone and he wasn’t coming back.

At times when he hadn’t felt the all consuming rage burning within, the constant jealousy churn within him calmed, he found himself wondering why. Why did he seek to destroy Orlando, to destroy them, although, if he was honest there hadn’t been a ‘them’ for a long time, forgiveness only covered so many sins regardless of what people said, only so many excuses could be made in his defence and Orlando had used them all. He knew Orlando had stayed with him out of fear, a sense of guilt, possibly even duty but was that all, was there even the smallest part of Orlando that stayed for love, a desperate attempt to salvage what they had long lost? He didn’t know, but that afternoon at the park…

As much as Orlando tried to hide it, even in the beginning, before he had first taken his hand to Orlando, he’d been freer with his affections, had hugged and kissed Mark without reserve, without fear but something had gone wrong, whether it was at the damn Reunion party, or not, Mark couldn’t honestly say but Orlando had been withdrawn after the party, and Mark had begun questioning their relationship, feeling horribly inadequate against the uber-perfect Viggo Mortensen, had seen him as the ghost in their relationship, and maybe, over time his actions had done just that. Whatever it was, Mark had become dangerously jealous. He wasn’t proud of how he’d treated Orlando, he had never set out to hurt Orlando (not that anyone would believe him) but his ‘friends’, how they’d baited him over Orlando’s affectionate nature…those photos of premieres, Orlando’s gushing interviews of his co-stars, how those fucking Midgets had tried to pull them apart. He never should’ve listened to those ‘friends’ of his.

He’d told them about Orlando in hospital in a last ditch attempt to actually get them to reclaim the title of ‘friends’ but to no avail, thought it was funny, told Mark he really couldn’t expect more from his delicate lover, always getting over-emotional and weepy. They’d sat and told him to his face, it didn’t matter, that Orlando wasn’t dead and certainly not worth stressing over, that Orlando would soon come back shamefaced, tail between his legs, and if for some reason he didn’t, so what? Mark could find a real man who could take a joke, knew how to keep him happy, not some 'pussyfied pansy'.

It was at that point he’d walked out leaving his ‘friends’ flabbergasted. They’d called after him, but he’d ignored them, suddenly feeling sick being in their presence. They didn’t understand, to them Orlando was a pretty fuck-toy. Something that looked good on your arm or in the bed and little else and therefore easily replaceable. That was the problem. Orlando wasn’t replaceable, Mark didn’t want anyone else. He didn’t want to forget Orlando amidst faceless one-night stands, he wanted to be able to come back home to Orlando each day, to be secure in Orlando’s love, to share his life with Orlando. They didn’t understand that, they never had. It was somewhat of a surprise to him how easy the break had been, he’d known some of these guys since school, or university, he found himself wondering why he hadn’t ridded himself of them years ago. He preferred solitude to their company. It gave him a chance to mull over the mess his life was, to reflect on what he’d lost, and would probably never regain.

Such a though made Mark ache. Orlando lost to him, the very fact that Orlando would have willingly embraced death than stayed with Mark was like a kick in the gut and he knew, deep down, beneath all the anger, suspicions and accusations that it was his fault. He was under no illusions of that, the shame welling up within him. He loved Orlando, regardless of what others thought but he’d hurt Orlando so much that death was a welcome release. He could remember every bruise, swelling and cut he’d inflicted on Orlando, every tear that had been shed because of him. He could recall how he’d made Orlando tremble with threats and punishments, seen Orlando shaking on the floor, flinching even when the anger had subsided and Mark tried to comfort him, tried to apologise. He’d watched how with each day Orlando’s eyes had dimmed, how he’d turned in on himself, turned away from the world and Mark had no one to blame for that but himself.

Viggo had scarred Orlando’s heart, of that, Mark had no doubts but he’s took it one step further and scarred Orlando’s body, his mind. All those reasons, justifications were now null and void. There was no excuse he could give in his defence. All he could do was try to make amends. It was unlikely that Orlando would forgive him, he knew that but equally he knew Mortensen trod a similarly thorny path with Orlando.

The chances were that Mortensen would leave, he hadn’t been lying to Orlando about that, and then Orlando would remember Mark, that out of everyone he’d never left, that he could depend on Mark and only then would Orlando consider retuning to Mark albeit even more broken than when he’d left, and that would never do. If he was to have Orlando back, he wanted the full package, with no ghosts. He knew what a valuable commodity a heart and would never seek to break or abuse Orlando’s trust again, whatever it took he would win Orlando back, be the recipient of that amazing smile and the receptor of his unconditional love.

Frowning he looked at the assorted pictures in the tabloids. His eyes narrowed as t gazed at Mortensen’s arm wrapping around Orlando, of him leaning over the small table, of Orlando’s eyes closed when Mark talked to him. That had to change.

****

Viggo grumbled as the doorbell rang for perhaps the tenth time that minute, didn’t people have any sense of time? Glancing at the clock he suppressed a yawn, the idea of his age finally catching up with him was an appalling one, and one he tried to ignore whenever possible. He’d hadn’t had the best night sleep, his mind still reeling from yesterday’s events and didn’t appreciate being harangued at this time in the morning. Letting the door swing open and fully intending to tell the caller to polity sod off, he was puzzled to find a very agitated Dominic and Elijah standing on his doorstep, clutching what appeared to be a paper in Elijah’s hand.

“God they’re such fucking wankers, who writes all this crap??” bristled Elijah as he pushed past Viggo without an invite, followed closing on his heals by a worried looking Dominic.

“Please come in” offered Viggo dryly.

“Sorry to barge in but God have you seen this?” Dominic asked, his voice rising as Elijah waved the coloured sheet frantically in front of Viggo’s nose so it was little more than a blur. Viggo pinched the bridge of his nose, repressing a sigh. Taking the crumpled sheet he bade them follow him into the kitchen, ware Orlando was already sitting, quietly absorbed in a book, absently drinking from a steaming mug. Hearing the coffee boil, Dominic and Elijah shifted uncomfortable at the scene of domestic tranquillity, so similar to that displayed at the dinner. So believable and yet so heartbreaking. As Viggo indicated for the two men to sit down they were struck with the tranquillity emitting between Viggo and Orlando. The tension Orlando had been exhibiting virtually non stop since his release, was seemingly gone and both men suddenly felt a little awkward about their unannounced arrival and more than a bit puzzled at their calm demeanours and could only summarise that they hadn’t read the papers yet. Looking up Orlando offered them both a surprised, yet warm smile. The shadows that had long marred his face were, gradually, being lifted. “I’m assuming this isn’t a social call” Orlando offered glancing at both the two men. Elijah shifted uncomfortable and threw a glance at Dom.

“OK, without a lot of cryptic bullshit would one of you kindly tell me what you’re both rattling on about?” Viggo asked, handing them both a mug of tea. Glancing at Dom, who shrugged helplessly Elijah glarred at his friend. It's been Dominic's idea to come here in the first, a little back-up would be appreciated!

“We wanted to show you this” Elijah offered somewhat lamely, as he indicated to the paper in Viggo’s hands.

Spreading the offending item on the table so Orlando could read it too, the next few minutes were spent in silence as they took in the latest media take on recent events. Orlando slumped back down in his chair, sighing in vague irritation, running a hand through his hand before he picked up his book again and continued reading. Viggo’s reaction consisted of a couple of snorts and rolling his eyes. There was no explosion from either man, no death threats and accusations of privacy, just an annoyed acceptance.

“Didn’t you read what it said?” burst out Elijah, anger and confusion colouring his tone. This time it was Viggo’s turn to shrug.

“What are we supposed to do about it Lij? It’s not like it can do much more damage right now” sighed Viggo, glancing at the picture then shrugging dismissively.

That was definitely not the response he’d expected. “But aren’t you…pissed off or something, I mean Mark could-”

“Mark can’t do anything, he doesn’t know where I live, the hospital report didn’t mention me, so he’s got nothing to go on” Viggo stated firmly. “He didn’t follow us, I checked. It was a fluke meeting, I get the feeling this isn't the sort of thing he'd plan. Ex’s meet, it happens and you get over it. Besides he knows it’s over between him and Orli. I can’t think that it’ll happen again, not in public”

Inwardly Viggo cringed at his almost blasé acceptance of events and as for ‘pissed off’ that didn’t really cover it, only it wasn’t so much with the tabloids as with the cause of all this, namely Mark. He hated that man with every fibre of his being. Years ago, Viggo would have insisted that ‘hate’ was too strong a term to use for anyone, that it’s meaning had become corrupted over time and devalued, but now Viggo found there was someone in the world he could truly apply that term to. He hated Mark. Hated the man for so many, many things; not just for hurting Orlando beyond measure, for betraying his trust, his love but for the scars that would remain, some for years, some for forever. That infinite joy, the infectious laughter were gone, buried beneath endless layers of sorrow and fear, a fear that had never existed before Mark. To Viggo’s mind what Mark had done was worse than any murder; he had destroyed a soul.

That meeting in the park, perhaps it had been accidental, but he had little doubt that Mark’s ‘speech’ to Orlando had been given ad-hoc, it would’ve prayed on Orlando’s every weakness and insecurity and had almost worked. Would’ve worked. Such a thought terrified Viggo. The idea that Orlando would go back and endure such treatment under the guise of love, it sickened Viggo, but what terrified Viggo more was that knowledge, that to Orlando’s mind, even Mark’s abuse, his ‘violent love’ was a better alternative than the crushing loneliness he’d known, that Viggo had caused him. What had happened to his Orlando?

Viggo sometimes wondered it Mark held an almost thrall over Orlando. How many times would Mark have promised to ‘get better’ that he’d never hurt Orlando again. A man like Mark didn’t change. Every since Orlando’s release from hospital, Viggo had been researching; anything he could find on the ‘net, TV, books, leaflets about abuse, abusive relationships, specifically at men although it appeared to be rather thin on the ground, and raised a few eyebrows from other patrons at his choices. He didn’t care, he’d become too self conscious over his love for Orlando had to pay for Viggo’s foolishness very dearly, and any embarrassment or ridicule he had to endure from bigots or small-mindedness was a worth it if it would help Orlando.

Dom raised his eyebrows at the calm assessment of the situation. Maybe they could all stand to learn something from Viggo’s demeanour. But of course, that was easier said than done. After several years of learning to suspect the worst and attempting to deal with it, a knee jerk reaction to any potential problem could hardly be ridiculed. He knew Elijah wouldn’t take this situation well, it was chafing his friend to be relegated to simply ‘best friend’ again, after almost being co-dependant to both him and Dominic. Not that it was any easier for him, that was something Elijah tended to forget. It was hurting Dominic just as much to see Orlando struggle through life, to stand back and watch him fall, make mistakes that were seemingly screaming in his face but at the end of the day, that was all any of them could do.

He wasn’t blind, despite what Elijah seemed to think, and that hurt. He knew things were far from perfect, that Orlando wasn’t better and now with the re-entrance of Mark things could decline very rapidly but that didn’t mean he couldn’t pretend. After all, wasn’t that what they were all doing. All of them were actors, each trying to convince the others of actions and beliefs that weren’t necessarily true. Not that Dom was out rightly lying to them, he’d never do that, but maybe his outlook was a tad too optimistic for logic but in all honesty he couldn’t think of any other way to act. This wasn’t a film where things could be re-edited, where the credits rolled and everything was alright, this was real life. There were no re-takes or margins of error allowed here.

So he pretended that things would work out because he couldn’t face the alternatives. That didn’t mean he believed in the fairy tale with the happy ending, after what had happened, what was undoubtedly to come, Dominic felt deep down that there would be no happy ending to this tale. The ‘happily ever after’ was for Hollywood, what audiences loved to see, they knew real life wasn’t like that and it was a comfort to know that just once the villain was defeated and love triumphed over all. It was nice to pretend, at least until reality forced you to pay attention. Up until now the vague threat of Mark had been just that: vague. Always lurking in the background yet never appearing it had been easy for them to ignore or dismiss altogether, after all ‘out of sight, out of mind’, right, and as usual it had been Elijah who had objected to such a short-sighted approach to things, if Dominic was forcing himself to be overly optimistic, Elijah had enough scepticism for them both, it was almost becoming a well worn routine – the sceptic and the believer. It seemed they all had their roles to play in this.

Orlando looked between Viggo and his friends with interest as to how the event was unfolding, to see the righteous anger and indignation burn in their faces and to just as quickly see it deflate had been a strange sensation. He’d seen his friends get angry so often on his behalf, he sometimes found himself wondering if he was emotionally crippled. Shouldn’t he be feeling that sort of anger at seeing his life, his pain being turned into a national joke. They thought it was funny, that being caught between Mark and Viggo was great entertainment. Perhaps for them it was. Who gave a damn anymore. His love life had always been public property. The rumours that had flown around with Viggo, then the endless speculations with Kate and Mark. He wanted to be angry with the press, to yell at them for turning his personal hell into a public forum but the anger wouldn’t come anymore. After a few spats with Viggo, and then the soul-sucking meeting with Mark, Orlando felt strangely deadened to all emotion.

After three failed relationships, Orlando’s insecurities had slowly risen: why couldn’t he keep a lover, why did they all leave him – Shannon, Viggo, Kate. All said they loved him, all left. Admittedly with Kate it hadn’t been so painful as Shannon’s betrayal then to be followed with her carefully crafted ‘we’re still friends right?’ speech leaving him feeling as if he’d be sucker-punched, at the time Orlando was positive nothing could’ve hurt so much, but as with most things, he’d been proved wrong. Shannon had really hurt, but Viggo…nothing had ever quite topped that, he truly stood in a class of his own. Not when Mark grabbed him or kicked him, not even when he’d forced himself on Orlando those times. That wasn’t to say it hadn’t been agony. Every punch, kick, twist, every snarled word, yanking back of the head. It had burned, hurt and wrenched at him in ways he never thought possible but even when he was sobbing, every muscle throbbing with agony, his flesh burning from innumerable tortures, it was still easier to take than Viggo’s desertion.

With Mark, it could be justified, forgiven even because Orlando would convince himself it wasn’t really Mark, that he simply lost control and this was all a nightmare, the bruises would fade and his Mark would come back, tears spilling, apologies tumbling and he could pretend, but with Viggo…that had been the real Viggo. Every reason, every word and justification had been Viggo because it had been real. Of course, he would never tell Viggo that, and who would believe him anyway, who in their right mind would say that a simple break-up could hurt more than years of abuse?

“So, we just basically sit tight, wait for him to make the first move is that it?” Elijah demanded, arms folded, looking every inch the hostile over-protective friend. He felt he was becoming a caricature of himself, he could almost hear the mocking voices:

Poor silly little Lijy, always worrying, never trusting, poor thing he’s become so paranoid, don’t worry Lijah, big strong Viggo’s here now he can take care of everything, your friendship isn’t required anymore, but thanks so much for the years you stood by Orlando, we’ll be sure to send you a fruit basket but Dom and Vig can handle things now. We need rational people Elijah, and let’s face facts, you do take things a bit personally don’t you?

An instant sarcastic denial burned up in Dominic’s mouth but he swallowed it convulsively. He hated acting this way towards Elijah, making Elijah seem the paranoid friend didn’t make Dominic feel superior and self-knowing. It made him feel small and rather sick. He didn’t want to be rational about the situation, was indeed struggling to be. What was rational when someone you loved was hurt so badly, when your friends were all hurting because of one sick man’s actions. How the hell was he supposed to act? Taking an axe to Mark and going all ‘pyscho’ on him wasn’t without appeal, he was the first to admit if he thought he could get away with it, he would kill the man, that had been no lie. The feeling of craving another man’s death (no matter how inhuman the man in question) was a horrific thought, but one that he wasn't going to feel guilty over. After all, wishing and doing were both very differant,

Did Elijah think it didn’t hurt him to see Orlando in this state, to know that after everything they’d been through he expected things to snap back to normal. How could he explain to Elijah the fear ripping at his gut. He knew Mark wasn’t going to let this lie, he’d seen a fire in the man, a drive within him that rivalled Orlando. Mark was used to success, and that meant never backing down, never giving up. Armed with that knowledge, how was he supposed to act? Let Mark wreak havoc on Orlando’s life again, watch as his friend succumbed to Mark’s persuasive charms and violent whims?

“Course we don’t just sit here! We…we could…” Dominic paused. What the hell did they do? Short of organizing a vigilanty group (which he was sure he would have no trouble in assembling) they didn’t have many options. Orlando would never forgive them if they made his abuse public, and to get the police involved would make it public. There was already too much speculation about Orlando in the tabloids, to have the most intimate details of his relationship, of his abuse known by a stranger, no matter how professional. Then of course, that didn’t even discount blackmail. If some homophobic officer or crooked cop found out and threatened to go to the press, it was too much of a risk. Of course, that left Orlando a sitting duck for Mark’s macabre machinations.

Despite all their vocal and silent reassurances and up-beat attitude, it was painfully obvious no one really felt it, they knew the reality of the situation, if only deeply buried inside their heads. Considering his almost insanely jealousy attitude to Orlando during their relationship, the fact that his ex lover was now living with Viggo would not bode well. It wouldn’t matter to Mark if they were involved or not, to his mind, Viggo might as well stolen Orlando from under his nose and there was no doubt in any of their minds that Mark would use any method, any weapon to reclaim Orlando back at his side. Who needed 1000 ships when you had the ability to wield fear?

“We call the police, get a restraining order – we make the first move,” stated Viggo firmly. Orlando shook his head, a look of horror covering his face. Police meant people knowing, that his abuse would become public knowledge…God if his mum or Sam found out, or Bast…that would be too much. They couldn’t ever know what had happened to him, that their ‘baby boy’ was so broken. It was the last vestige of pride he clung to, that he could appear happy and strong for them. If they found out…they would blame themselves, just as Elijah and Dominic did, as Viggo did. He couldn’t handle seeing their tears, too many tears over someone who didn’t deserve them. Their overwhelming sorrow would be too much. They didn’t deserve that, and if nothing else Orlando was an actor, his family would be protected from the truth.

“No…no police. Please?” Orlando begged, his voice sounding scratchy a desperate look at the three men. Judge, jury and executioner. “People will know, I'd have to tell them...things that happened, they'd need evidence, to see...I can't face that, it's too humilating-"

"Orlando, they won't judge you," Viggo argued

"Yes they, you know that. They'll think it's funny dealing with an 'abused faggot', that's how half of them probably still think. They'll want to know why I couldn't protect myself. They get embarressed and won't knwo how to deal with me and send in some woman who'll either patronise or pity me. I don't want that, can't you see that? They'd want to know every detail...want proof...I can't let them see Viggo there was such a desperation in his voice it probably would have moved the Devil himself. Unfortunately, Viggo knew the Devil wasn’t renowned for his pity. He was beginning to release why he had been chosen for the role in Prophecy because his actions now made him feel he was being truly evil.

Letting a sigh escape his body, Viggo glanced at the two men, a silent warning in them. “OK, we’ll have to do something though” Viggo agreed and Orlando seemed to relax, trusting Viggo to keep his promise. He hated lying to Orlando, even if it was ‘for his own good’, he knew Mark wouldn’t be swayed from Orlando, the man was insane, jealous and dangerous. From what Viggo had heard, he had no compunction about hurting others to get to Orlando, and Viggo knew that if anything ever happened to Dominic, Elijah, or even himself because of Mark, Orlando would never forgive himself. He couldn’t let Orlando face such a burden. So he had to lie to Orlando, and he hated it. As much as he sympathised with Orlando’s desire to not make his abuse public, a restraining order would keep Mark at bay, after all, to a man like Mark, image was everything and how would it look if he was caught stalking his ex boyfriend? He knew Elijah and Dominic would keep silent on this matter to Orlando, after all it was for their friend’s protection. That didn’t salve Viggo’s conscience though.

Needing some time to think he got up, leaving the three younger men in the kitchen. Elijah cast him a sideways glance but Viggo shook his head. He wasn’t sure if he was in the mood for company right now. Not sure where else to go, he headed for his room, the hobbits would look after Orlando, try to keep him distracted. Hopefully they wouldn’t ask too many questions when he came down, because he simply didn’t have any answers. Suddenly he felt old, so old and tired.

Carefully placing the tea cup down Viggo looked around the room, unstoppable feelings of anger rose to the surface as all that had happened in those past days seemed to finally catch up with him as he slumped down on the bed, running his hand through his hair, unconsciously pulling on the strands as he did so, perhaps in an attempt to try to make sense of the mess his thoughts were in. He had no idea what was going on with Orlando, or indeed how to reach him. This was different from the sullenness of the previous days, it was something to do with Mark (although wasn’t everything?) something at that…meeting had happened, something muted. Viggo had watched every second of Orlando and Mark’s ‘talk’, there hadn’t been any profound gesture, or Mark falling to his knees begging for forgiveness, no it had been much subtler than that. Just what had Mark whispered to him in those minutes alone, what had made Orlando almost buckle? What bothered him the most about that meeting was just that – that it was bothering him. He knew the meeting was evitable. A man like Mark didn’t just give up a ‘prize’ like Orlando. Mark’s pride had been wounded by Orlando’s disappearance (abandonment Mark would call it), and this type of break up wouldn’t be pleasant or quick.

There would be no ‘still friends’ no cups of coffee or true closure with this, it would be brutal, it was the only way Orlando would survive through it. Survive. A hideous word. He didn't want Orlando to 'survive', he wanted him to live and love, o see the love of living sparkling in those eyes again instead of the dul, frightened edge they had gained over the years. Everything always seemed so out of reach, that just as the possibility of Orlando's recovery was in sight something happened. Mark had made his move and now they were left to wonder, pray, silently rage to the highier powers for the strength to get through the coming months, even years.

The thoughts ran round his head offering no answers as he finally, allowing his weariness to wash over him, Viggo succumbed sleep and silent hopes.

TBC…

Comments

Hi!

[sweetebonyrose.livejournal.com]

Hey, this is actually my first post here (I'm a lurker). I just wanted to say that this story is truely amazing and that I'm hoping for more updates soon. I understand that studies come first (I'm at college too), but here's to hoping. I'm just wondering, how many chapters do you think are left in this story. When it comes to good stories, I'm really antsy for it to continue and to find out what happens at the end (especially if I'm waiting for updates)

Re: Hi!

[imogen-lily.livejournal.com]

Hi

thanks for your feedback I really appreciate it, and in all honesty I'm a lurker myself a lot of the time! I'm glad your enjoying it. I'm going to update whenever I can, I hate leaving huge gaps between updates.

As to your question, there will be about 32 chapters, including an epologue, as there's still a lot of stuff I want to deal with, so there's still quite a lot of the story to go!

But I promise I'm not abandoning the story, my muses won't let me. I'm too fond of it to ever stop writting!

thanks again for the feedback!

take care
Imogen

[sperblovorlando.livejournal.com]

Oh good!! An update! I love this story and hope that Viggo and Orli get together soon so that they can fight that PIG mark! Great story. Hope yoo update soon!
Linda
sperbl@parknicollet.cocm

[shaan-lien.livejournal.com]

Another good chapter. Now I'm becoming more worried about Vig.

[christa-charlie.livejournal.com]

It took me 3 days to start at the beginning and read all the chapters because I just joined the community, but I'm so glad I took that time. In fact, I didn't do anything else with my spare time... you should see the condition of my house right now..

Anyways, you've totally captured how abuse affects everyone. The story is so sad right now, but I've been hooked and I can't think about anything else.

I'm totally concerned about Orlando, and you've made it so clear how hard it would be for him to trust anyone right now, even Viggo..

can't wait for the next chapter.

[sweetebonyrose.livejournal.com]

It's good to here from someone else about how a story can stick to you. Sometimes I think that I'm going crazy whenever I read an excellent story like this and I keep thinking about it constantly, even during class!