Waking Nightmare Chapter Eight
Nov. 24th, 2006 04:50 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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vigorliTitle: Waking Nightmare
Author: Greenleaf
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: OB/VM
Summary: Strange things are happening to Orlando. At first he thinks it is just a joke of his friends, but things start to get even scarier with time and he painfully experiences, that this weren't jokes.......
Will Viggo be able to help him after his waking nightmare?
*Warnings* Angst, Violence, Rape
Feedback: Yes pleaaaaaaaaaaaase *holds up starving author sign* I love feedback even more than getting presents
Disclaimer: None of them belongs to me (sadly), nothing of this did really happen
Beta: The wonderful and awesome slashfairy. Thank you *hug*
I want to take his eyes out
Just for looking at you
Yes I do
I want to take his hands off
Just for touching you
Yes I do
And I want to rip his heart out
Just for hurting you
And I want to break his mind down
Yes I do
And I want to make him
Regret life since the day he met you
Yes I do
And I want to make him
Take back all that he took from you
Yes I do
Chapter Eight - Guilt
“You know what love? I just had a great idea.“
Jeff smiled cheerfully but Orlando didn’t see it. He had turned his face away. He couldn’t stand to see Jeff anymore. He felt the mattress dip when his torturer sat down.
“Nah don’t look so sad love, this will be fun.” He already knew Jeff’s sick way of fun and was sure that everything fun for this man meant more pain for himself.
“You know I really think that red suits you.” Jeff straddled Orlando under him and the Brit was able to see something metallic in his hand. Jeff took his hand and turned it. Moments later Orlando felt a sharp sting when the knife cut through the skin of his inner arm. Warm blood ran over his arm. The pain didn’t end and it was only when Jeff murmured “Oh yes you are mine” that Orlando dared to look down. Nausea washed over him. MINE. Blood red letters on his skin. Warm blood ran over his arm and dripped on the sheet where red blotches formed. Orlando didn’t know what hurt more: the deep cuts on his arm or that fact what was written there now.
“Isn’t that nice?” Jeff looked at the bleeding cuts in satisfaction.
“You really thought that Mortensen was coming to rescue you, little whore huh? Why are things so hard for you to understand Orlando? You are mine, mine alone and no one other will ever see you again or touch you again. Do you hear me? NO ONE! I’ve come back for you and oh it was so easy. Mortensen is a fool. You did really think that he could protect you, didn’t you? Dreaming of the white knight that comes to rescue you, like little, stupid girls do! Well if you really did you were wrong. Your lovely white knight is dead. He was fast asleep when I came in. It was so simple; I just had to slash his throat. I thought you would like his head served on a silver plate although red doesn’t suit him nearly as well as you.”
Orlando screamed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Viggo shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Something had startled him from the light sleep he had finally drifted into but he didn’t know exactly what. His eyes darted through the room but he couldn’t make out anything in the darkness. With a sigh he leaned back in the chair. For a few seconds everything was silent until a sound caught Viggo’s attention. He sat up straight in the chair; a cold feeling crept into his stomach. He listened carefully; his gaze now lingered on the thin frame in the bed which shivered. Orlando seemed restless. The Dane went over to the bed and cautious sat on the edge. The young man moaned in his sleep, clutching his right forearm. Viggo stretched out his hand and lightly touched Orlando’s shoulder when he got even more restless and squeezed his eyes shut tighter.
A scream pierced the air and made Viggo jump to his feet, startled. Orlando’s breathing had gone rash, his chest heaving rapidly. Even in the darkness the older actor could make out that the brown eyes of Orlando were widely open, fearfully staring into the darkness.
“Orlando?” Viggo tried to touch the Brit again but he jerked away immediately, clutched the blanked tight. He muttered something under his breath Viggo could not understand. Tears streamed over his cheeks.
“Orlando?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Red doesn’t suit him nearly as well as you…red doesn’t suit him nearly as well as you.“ Orlando felt so sick. Jeff had killed Viggo and it was his fault. His own fault. When Jeff reached for a silver tablet on the floor Orlando screamed, only the imagination of what might be on it made him sick. Jeff touched his cheek.
“Why do you scream Orlando?” Orlando’s breathing got rash, his lungs burned while tears dampened his cheeks. He jerked away from Jeff’s touch, staring into the darkness.
“Orlando?” This time it was a gentle voice, followed by a light touch on his cheeks. Gentle and warm, not cold and possessive. Orlando seemed to become conscious again, came out of his paralyzed state just to realize that it was Viggo next to him, not Jeff. Viggo was alive and Jeff was not here. He closed his eyes for some brief seconds, body still shaking. A sob escaped his lips and he was crying so hard that he had problems to breathe. Viggo carefully gathered Orlando in his arms, one hand rubbing soothingly over his back.
“Shhh angel it is okay. It was just a dream. Do you hear me? Just a dream…” He murmured softly. He felt so helpless but at least this time Orlando didn’t push him away. He could feel the tears dampen his shirt and the hitched breath against his neck. Orlando’s fingers clasped his shirt and only slowly the violent shaking of his body stopped.
Orlando’ fingers contracted because he clasped the piece of fabric so violently, pressed himself against the other body in desperate need of something that would hold him in this world.
Viggo was alive and Jeff was not here. It was just a dream. He repeated those words over and over again in his head and slowly he calmed. He could breathe again although it was a rapid kind of breathing, and his tears dried. Viggo was still rubbing calming circles on his back, whispering sweet nonsense to calm the brunette. At the moment it didn’t matter if Viggo saw him in a state like that, all that truly mattered was that Jeff was not here and Viggo was alive. Orlando could not think of such a thing like love now but he had been in love with Viggo before and even now after all that had happened he was without knowing it. It just showed in the way he still cared, in the way the nightmare had scared him not only because part of it was true but because of the very thought of Viggo being dead.
When Viggo realized that the other man’s tension lessened his hand rested on Orlando’s back.
“Whatever it was Orlando, it was just a dream.” He repeated once more before he loosened his hold on Orlando’s back so he could see the young man’s face. The young man refused to look at him.
“Should I turn the light on?” Viggo asked, still holding Orlando in his arms while the grip of the young man on his shirt only loosened a bit.
Orlando shook his head.
“Do you want some tea?” Viggo tried again. He just wanted to do something to calm Orlando but again his only answer was a headshake. For some seconds they sat there on the bed in silence. Orlando seemed even more tired now than before, his eyes red and his face pale. Viggo could even see it in the darkness and it worried him. Everything about Orlando worried him right now. Seeing him in such pain, in such fear, tortured him. This was so hard and he didn’t know how he could possibly help. Right now it would be the best thing to get Orlando to sleep again. Viggo subsided a bit more in the bed, arranged the blanket over the thin body in his arms.
“Try to sleep again angel.”
He ran his hand soothingly over Orlando’s back one last time. The young man still held his shirt and Viggo took it as a sign that he shouldn’t leave. It took Orlando some time before he was able to close his eyes again without seeing horrible images before his inner eye. The warmth of the body next to him, the safety the arms around him offered and the even breathing he could feel with his head resting on the other man’s chest finally lulled him into sleep. Viggo lay awake for much longer. His gaze lingered on the sleeping face. Why had something like this had to happen to his Orlando? And why had he agreed to wait? If only he had been at Orlando’s house earlier. How much pain would he have spared the young man if he had just listened to his heart telling him that he should go and check the house? A wave of guilt washed over him until sleep finally claimed him in the early hours of the morning.
When Orlando awoke the next morning it took him some time to get fully conscious. He blinked sleepily before his gaze rested on the body next to him. Viggo was still holding him and Orlando felt warm and okay for a few seconds before reality hit him again and the warmth turned into freezing cold. He was not worthy of that here, he was dirty and Viggo deserved better. Of course he wanted to be comforted and Viggo’s arm gave him safety but an instinct he could not name forced him to distance himself, let him despise every act of closeness. He couldn’t stand it. He just couldn’t stand it no matter how desperatly he longed for comfort, warmth, and safety again, he just couldn’t let it happen. He still felt so dirty and used, cold deep within, and dreadfully ashamed. So he rolled over and curled up, pulling the blanket up higher. His back was turned to Viggo so he couldn’t see the older man anymore. He couldn’t stand it. Viggo was great, self-confident, loving, caring, creative, liked and wonderful while he, Orlando, was used, dirty, unconfident, vulnerable and humiliated. Never would have happened something like the nightmare he had gone through, and was still in, to Viggo. He wouldn’t have let it happen because he was strong while Orlando was weak. Why would he want someone so frail like the Brit? Why would he want to look after him? Because he pitied him. Yes, this was the only reason. The great and strong Viggo Mortensen pitied the feeble Orlando Bloom. He didn’t want pity. He didn’t want Viggo to think that way. He wanted Viggo to love him although he felt not worthy of that love. The older man deserved better. He deserved someone clean who could love him back. Someone he could share intimacy with, not someone with issues like Orlando.
Orlando stared blankly at the wall while dark thoughts clouded his mind. His body still ached but he lay completely still, just like he had done the past days. Only this time there was no chain around his neck, but the bruises remained. He felt so rotten and scared. Jeff was still out there. He shivered and curled up even more, not able to close his eyes and find sleep again.
The first thing Viggo realized when he woke up was that the warm body in his arms was gone. He sat up immediately to look around worriedly. A silent sigh of relief came over his lips when he spotted Orlando still in the bed, lying as far away from him as possible. The young man had turned his back at him and was curled up under the blanket. Viggo felt his heart ache. He had thought that after last night the barrier between them was broken and Orlando would let Viggo comfort him. He had obviously been wrong. He felt more helpless with every second and the pain within him grew. He was so worried about Orlando. This was not his Orlando anymore. It was a scared and broken young man and Viggo wanted to help him. He wanted to bring Orlando back. This would be a hard task and with each second he spent with the Brit he knew just exactly how hard. It worried him how still Orlando was. He had never been that way he was always bouncy and outgoing. Even when he had fallen asleep on the floor or the sofa when they all had spent the evening together he had been moving around in his sleep, much to everyone’s amusement. He had never lain so still.
“Orlando?” Viggo finally asked. The only reaction he received was that the Brit tensed even more. At least he knew now that Orlando was awake.
“What do you want for breakfast?” He asked after seconds of silence just to say anything. But again no answer.
“Some tea like always?” He tried again and this time there was a slight nod.
“Yes please.” Only a whisper but after all a reaction and Viggo was glad for it. Orlando would have to eat something too.
“Alright. I’ll be downstairs and if you feel like it come down too, otherwise I’ll bring your breakfast up.” He offered, silently hoping that Orlando would come down while he knew that he wouldn’t.
“Thanks.” Orlando didn’t move and only when he heard the door closing behind Viggo he let his tears flow freely.
Viggo was lost in his thoughts while preparing the breakfast for Orlando. Still he could not figure out what to do and how to act. He couldn’t understand the feelings of the young man. Of course he could not, it was impossible for him to imagine how Orlando felt and he didn’t blame the brunette but one second he wanted closeness and the next he practically fled from the Dane. Viggo didn’t know how to break down this barrier between them. And he felt so guilty. He had been upset when Orlando hadn’t come for dinner; yes he had been angry at the young man who in truth had not been messing around with him but being held prisoner! He had waited; he had delivered Orlando to endless hours of torture. If the Brit knew Viggo was sure he would hate him. Hate him for not being there when Orlando had truly needed him. The Dane swallowed hard, tried to banish the guilt from his thoughts. He hadn’t been there for Orlando earlier so he should at least be there for him now. He could deal with his self-hate later.
He found himself standing in front of his bedroom for seconds, the tray with a cup of tea, toast, fruit and even chocolate in his hands. He just wanted Orlando to eat something but he just couldn’t bring himself to enter the room. He feared what he would see in the brown eyes, what the broken body would tell him.
“Mortensen you are a fool.” He scolded before he finally opened the door and entered. Viggo felt a sharp pain going through his body when he found Orlando still lying like he had done when Viggo had left. This stiffness scared the sandy-blonde more then he could say.
“Hey. Breakfast is ready.” Viggo managed to say, his voice soft. Orlando shifted a bit in the bed and the Dane had the impression that he was wiping away some tears before he slowly turned around. The red eyes confirmed Viggo’s suspect but he didn’t say anything to it. Instead he sat down on the bed and put the tablet down next to the Brit.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat.” Viggo smiled and suppressed the urge to help Orlando when the young man tried to sit up. It was clear that he was in pain but Viggo didn’t want to start fussing over him like a mother would with her sick child. He was pretty sure that Orlando would feel even more uncomfortable. He watched Orlando who straightened the food on the tablet before he took the cup of tea. He held it with both hands and took a small sip, his eyes fixed on the blanket. The silence continued while the two men seemed lost in their thoughts. It was Viggo who finally broke the silence.
“Do you want to take a bath?” He could only imagine that the warmth of a bad would make Orlando a little more comfortable. The young man hesitated for a brief moment before he nodded. He wanted a bath but not because of the reasons Viggo would assume.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Viggo wanted to give Orlando the time and space he needed, yes he really wanted to. But when Orlando was still in the bathroom after a full hour he couldn’t wait any longer. He had left the young man alone to give him the privacy he needed and hadn’t intended to enter the bathroom but now he stood in front of the door. There were no sounds coming from inside the room. A sick feeling crept up inside his stomach. Viggo swallowed hard before he raised a shaking hand to knock on the door.
“Orlando?”
No answer. Viggo knocked again and waited. Nothing. No sound, no answer. Fear wrapped around him, a cold fist seized his heart. He had felt uncomfortable from the moment he had left Orlando alone. He wanted so desperately to give the youth safety and help but at the same time he knew that what Orlando needed the most was time. He took a deep breathe before he opened the door. What he saw was beyond anything he had expected and the fist around his heart tightened the grip.
Orlando was still sitting in the bathtub, shivering in the meanwhile cold water. His eyes were red and slightly swollen from crying, his skin partly red. He had removed the bandages before the bath, which lay forgotten on the floor. Some of the wounds on his arms and chest were bleeding again. Viggo watched in shock when the nails of Orlando’s hand scratched over his inner arm. Desperation was written in the handsome face.
When Viggo was finally able to surpass his stiffness he hurried towards the bathtub and took Orlando’s hand.
“Dear, what are you doing?” It was very hard for Viggo to keep his voice steady. Brown eyes looked up at him, the hopelessness in them overwhelming.
“It doesn’t go away.” Orlando whispered, this time not jerking away from Viggo’s touch. Like the night before the need for comfort and help was much too overwhelming.
“What? What doesn’t go away?” Viggo asked confused, still holding Orlando’s hand. What was Orlando talking about? He oppressed the sick feeling which washed over him when he saw the word cut into the skin of Orlando’s forearm. The Brit looked at him, tears still streaming from his eyes.
Orlando had welcomed the warmth of the bath at first, yes. But it wasn’t like he had imagined. Water could wash dirt away, right? So why was he still feeling so dirty and used? Why didn’t the water wash it away? He had been scrubbing his skin, at first only lightly but when he still didn’t feel any better more harshly. Nails dug into skin and reopened the wounds but he didn’t care. Why didn’t it work?! Why didn’t the dirt go away? When his skin was already red despair overwhelmed him and he started to cry. His movements slowed down but got stronger all the same because of the dazzling wave of despair. His nails dug deeper into skin, scratching over the word written on his inner forearm. ‘Mine’. Orlando sobbed. He wanted it to go away just like the dirt but it stayed, red letters mocking him. He could hear Jeff laughing.
“Everything.” Orlando finally wept.
“It won’t vanish…the dirt won’t go away.”
Although Orlando’s words were muffled and abstruse Viggo understood what he meant. He didn’t care that his shirt got wet when he pulled Orlando into his arms.
“That is not true Orlando.” He replied softly. “You are not dirty so there is nothing that could vanish.”
Orlando shook his head violently but leaned into the embrace. Viggo was wrong. He was dirty and the older man knew that. He just said the opposite out of kindness.
“Now come on, first of all we will get you out of the cold water.” Viggo said. The thin body in his arms was shivering violently and he could feel through the fabric of his shirt that the water was ice cold by now. Carefully he stood up again to get one of the big towels from the shelf. He could imagine that Orlando would feel even more uncomfortable if he had to step out of the bathtub naked. When he turned around again he saw that Orlando was hugging himself, violently shaking. Viggo suppressed the hurt he felt every time he saw the brunette suffering like that. Instead he tried to smile and took the other’s hand again, to pull Orlando up slightly and enwrapped the trembling body in the towel. When the brunette didn’t move and just stood there Viggo lifted him up carefully. The slender form in his arms tensed. Orlando clasped the towel tightly. The older man had been nothing but kind to him and still he was afraid. Afraid of so many things. Afraid of what would be tomorrow, afraid that Viggo’s help was just an act of pity. Afraid that Viggo and all the others would despise him. Afraid that Jeff would return.
At those thoughts his body shivered even more and he barely realized that Viggo gently placed him in the bed before he sat down and gathered Orlando gently in his arms.
“It’s alright.” The Dane muttered, desperately searching for the right words. What could he do; what could he say? Nothing seemed right so he just held to young man close until the trembling body relaxed a bit.
“How about I get you some warm clothes?” Viggo suggested when he still felt a light shivering. Orlando had been sitting far too long in the cold water. A calm nod was the response. Only when Viggo was sure that the brunette lay comfortably against one of the pillows he stood up and returned some minutes later with the ointment the doctor had given them for Orlando’s wounds, a pair of sweatpants, and a warm pullover. It didn’t surprise the Dane anymore that the young man had curled into a ball.
“Orlando?” he asked gently.
“We have to apply the ointment before we get you dressed and warm, okay?” He knew that this wouldn’t be pleasant for Orlando, but after all nothing of all that was pleasant. The brown eyes widened and the towel was clutched even tighter. It was obvious how ill at ease Orlando felt.
“C-can’t we do that later?” He had lowered his gaze again. Viggo had realized that he did that very often. He barely looked him in the eyes.
“We could yes, but it would be better now so we have it done, don’t you think?” Viggo paused for a brief moment.
“I know that this is very uncomfortable Orlando, and really I want nothing more for you than to feel comfortable again, but this is necessary.”
Orlando played with the edge of the towel, nervous and uneasy. He knew that Viggo was right but he already felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment. It had already been horrible to be so exposed before Doctor Lenoir and with Viggo it was even worse. It already hurt him that the older one saw him like that, weak and vulnerable but one step more would mean that Viggo would see and know everything. A sob escaped his chapped, dry lips.
“Please…”
Viggo would have expected many things but nothing like this. Orlando seemed to be afraid of him, afraid that Viggo would actually force him!
“No, no angel, don’t. If you don’t want to it’s okay.” He hasted to say, his thumb gently stroking over Orlando’s cheek.
“Don’t be afraid.” Viggo whispered, for the first time not only in his eyes but also in his voice obvious how tortured he really was.
“Orlando, don’t be afraid. I will do nothing that makes you uncomfortable, alright?”
Brown eyes looked shyly up again, blurred with tears.
“Alright.” It was barely audible.
“Good. But we still have to apply the ointment. I can leave you alone if you want and if you think that you are able to do that on your own.” Viggo carefully returned to the topic although his face still spoke of the hurt he felt. But he had to be strong. Strong for Orlando. He cleared his throat in order to let all the concerned feelings vanish and sound reassuring.
“How about that: I go and get your bandages while you apply that ointment and get into the trousers. When I am back we bandage the wounds on your back.” Viggo smiled lightly and stroked one last time gently over Orlando’s cheek when the young man nodded.
When Viggo had left the room Orlando struggled to sit up and tossed away the wet towel. His hands were shaking when he reached for the tube of ointment and applied some of it carelessly to the wounds on his upper tights. He quickly put on the sweatpants but still felt very exposed and hugged himself.
He was so confused. The look in Viggo’s face had made his stomach flip. Maybe it was not only pity the Dane felt? But even if it wasn’t he had no idea how his life should go on. He just felt empty and cold, nothing meant anything anymore. What had he left in his life? Nothing. Viggo would grow tired of taking care of him and he would be all alone once that happened. Orlando felt that he didn’t belong to this world anymore and that he would be an outcast for forever. Death still seemed like a good choice.
His train of thought was interrupted when Viggo entered the room again.
Orlando found that Viggo seeing his wounds was just as embarrassing as he had thought. The older man had been very gentle, applied the ointment before he bandaged the wounds again and helped Orlando to put on the pullover. It held the unique scent of Viggo, which Orlando had always noticed. Through all his confused thoughts such a simple thing still gave him a bit of warmth and he snuggled closer into the slightly too big pullover.
Viggo meanwhile had figured that the best thing he could do at the moment was to distract Orlando from his thoughts.
“What do you think of another cup of tea and watching a movie?”
Orlando shrugged. He didn’t really care. Nothing he could do made any sense. He was already succumbing to his world of darkness again where he was alone with his thoughts.
TBC
Author: Greenleaf
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: OB/VM
Summary: Strange things are happening to Orlando. At first he thinks it is just a joke of his friends, but things start to get even scarier with time and he painfully experiences, that this weren't jokes.......
Will Viggo be able to help him after his waking nightmare?
*Warnings* Angst, Violence, Rape
Feedback: Yes pleaaaaaaaaaaaase *holds up starving author sign* I love feedback even more than getting presents
Disclaimer: None of them belongs to me (sadly), nothing of this did really happen
Beta: The wonderful and awesome slashfairy. Thank you *hug*
I want to take his eyes out
Just for looking at you
Yes I do
I want to take his hands off
Just for touching you
Yes I do
And I want to rip his heart out
Just for hurting you
And I want to break his mind down
Yes I do
And I want to make him
Regret life since the day he met you
Yes I do
And I want to make him
Take back all that he took from you
Yes I do
Chapter Eight - Guilt
“You know what love? I just had a great idea.“
Jeff smiled cheerfully but Orlando didn’t see it. He had turned his face away. He couldn’t stand to see Jeff anymore. He felt the mattress dip when his torturer sat down.
“Nah don’t look so sad love, this will be fun.” He already knew Jeff’s sick way of fun and was sure that everything fun for this man meant more pain for himself.
“You know I really think that red suits you.” Jeff straddled Orlando under him and the Brit was able to see something metallic in his hand. Jeff took his hand and turned it. Moments later Orlando felt a sharp sting when the knife cut through the skin of his inner arm. Warm blood ran over his arm. The pain didn’t end and it was only when Jeff murmured “Oh yes you are mine” that Orlando dared to look down. Nausea washed over him. MINE. Blood red letters on his skin. Warm blood ran over his arm and dripped on the sheet where red blotches formed. Orlando didn’t know what hurt more: the deep cuts on his arm or that fact what was written there now.
“Isn’t that nice?” Jeff looked at the bleeding cuts in satisfaction.
“You really thought that Mortensen was coming to rescue you, little whore huh? Why are things so hard for you to understand Orlando? You are mine, mine alone and no one other will ever see you again or touch you again. Do you hear me? NO ONE! I’ve come back for you and oh it was so easy. Mortensen is a fool. You did really think that he could protect you, didn’t you? Dreaming of the white knight that comes to rescue you, like little, stupid girls do! Well if you really did you were wrong. Your lovely white knight is dead. He was fast asleep when I came in. It was so simple; I just had to slash his throat. I thought you would like his head served on a silver plate although red doesn’t suit him nearly as well as you.”
Orlando screamed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Viggo shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Something had startled him from the light sleep he had finally drifted into but he didn’t know exactly what. His eyes darted through the room but he couldn’t make out anything in the darkness. With a sigh he leaned back in the chair. For a few seconds everything was silent until a sound caught Viggo’s attention. He sat up straight in the chair; a cold feeling crept into his stomach. He listened carefully; his gaze now lingered on the thin frame in the bed which shivered. Orlando seemed restless. The Dane went over to the bed and cautious sat on the edge. The young man moaned in his sleep, clutching his right forearm. Viggo stretched out his hand and lightly touched Orlando’s shoulder when he got even more restless and squeezed his eyes shut tighter.
A scream pierced the air and made Viggo jump to his feet, startled. Orlando’s breathing had gone rash, his chest heaving rapidly. Even in the darkness the older actor could make out that the brown eyes of Orlando were widely open, fearfully staring into the darkness.
“Orlando?” Viggo tried to touch the Brit again but he jerked away immediately, clutched the blanked tight. He muttered something under his breath Viggo could not understand. Tears streamed over his cheeks.
“Orlando?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Red doesn’t suit him nearly as well as you…red doesn’t suit him nearly as well as you.“ Orlando felt so sick. Jeff had killed Viggo and it was his fault. His own fault. When Jeff reached for a silver tablet on the floor Orlando screamed, only the imagination of what might be on it made him sick. Jeff touched his cheek.
“Why do you scream Orlando?” Orlando’s breathing got rash, his lungs burned while tears dampened his cheeks. He jerked away from Jeff’s touch, staring into the darkness.
“Orlando?” This time it was a gentle voice, followed by a light touch on his cheeks. Gentle and warm, not cold and possessive. Orlando seemed to become conscious again, came out of his paralyzed state just to realize that it was Viggo next to him, not Jeff. Viggo was alive and Jeff was not here. He closed his eyes for some brief seconds, body still shaking. A sob escaped his lips and he was crying so hard that he had problems to breathe. Viggo carefully gathered Orlando in his arms, one hand rubbing soothingly over his back.
“Shhh angel it is okay. It was just a dream. Do you hear me? Just a dream…” He murmured softly. He felt so helpless but at least this time Orlando didn’t push him away. He could feel the tears dampen his shirt and the hitched breath against his neck. Orlando’s fingers clasped his shirt and only slowly the violent shaking of his body stopped.
Orlando’ fingers contracted because he clasped the piece of fabric so violently, pressed himself against the other body in desperate need of something that would hold him in this world.
Viggo was alive and Jeff was not here. It was just a dream. He repeated those words over and over again in his head and slowly he calmed. He could breathe again although it was a rapid kind of breathing, and his tears dried. Viggo was still rubbing calming circles on his back, whispering sweet nonsense to calm the brunette. At the moment it didn’t matter if Viggo saw him in a state like that, all that truly mattered was that Jeff was not here and Viggo was alive. Orlando could not think of such a thing like love now but he had been in love with Viggo before and even now after all that had happened he was without knowing it. It just showed in the way he still cared, in the way the nightmare had scared him not only because part of it was true but because of the very thought of Viggo being dead.
When Viggo realized that the other man’s tension lessened his hand rested on Orlando’s back.
“Whatever it was Orlando, it was just a dream.” He repeated once more before he loosened his hold on Orlando’s back so he could see the young man’s face. The young man refused to look at him.
“Should I turn the light on?” Viggo asked, still holding Orlando in his arms while the grip of the young man on his shirt only loosened a bit.
Orlando shook his head.
“Do you want some tea?” Viggo tried again. He just wanted to do something to calm Orlando but again his only answer was a headshake. For some seconds they sat there on the bed in silence. Orlando seemed even more tired now than before, his eyes red and his face pale. Viggo could even see it in the darkness and it worried him. Everything about Orlando worried him right now. Seeing him in such pain, in such fear, tortured him. This was so hard and he didn’t know how he could possibly help. Right now it would be the best thing to get Orlando to sleep again. Viggo subsided a bit more in the bed, arranged the blanket over the thin body in his arms.
“Try to sleep again angel.”
He ran his hand soothingly over Orlando’s back one last time. The young man still held his shirt and Viggo took it as a sign that he shouldn’t leave. It took Orlando some time before he was able to close his eyes again without seeing horrible images before his inner eye. The warmth of the body next to him, the safety the arms around him offered and the even breathing he could feel with his head resting on the other man’s chest finally lulled him into sleep. Viggo lay awake for much longer. His gaze lingered on the sleeping face. Why had something like this had to happen to his Orlando? And why had he agreed to wait? If only he had been at Orlando’s house earlier. How much pain would he have spared the young man if he had just listened to his heart telling him that he should go and check the house? A wave of guilt washed over him until sleep finally claimed him in the early hours of the morning.
When Orlando awoke the next morning it took him some time to get fully conscious. He blinked sleepily before his gaze rested on the body next to him. Viggo was still holding him and Orlando felt warm and okay for a few seconds before reality hit him again and the warmth turned into freezing cold. He was not worthy of that here, he was dirty and Viggo deserved better. Of course he wanted to be comforted and Viggo’s arm gave him safety but an instinct he could not name forced him to distance himself, let him despise every act of closeness. He couldn’t stand it. He just couldn’t stand it no matter how desperatly he longed for comfort, warmth, and safety again, he just couldn’t let it happen. He still felt so dirty and used, cold deep within, and dreadfully ashamed. So he rolled over and curled up, pulling the blanket up higher. His back was turned to Viggo so he couldn’t see the older man anymore. He couldn’t stand it. Viggo was great, self-confident, loving, caring, creative, liked and wonderful while he, Orlando, was used, dirty, unconfident, vulnerable and humiliated. Never would have happened something like the nightmare he had gone through, and was still in, to Viggo. He wouldn’t have let it happen because he was strong while Orlando was weak. Why would he want someone so frail like the Brit? Why would he want to look after him? Because he pitied him. Yes, this was the only reason. The great and strong Viggo Mortensen pitied the feeble Orlando Bloom. He didn’t want pity. He didn’t want Viggo to think that way. He wanted Viggo to love him although he felt not worthy of that love. The older man deserved better. He deserved someone clean who could love him back. Someone he could share intimacy with, not someone with issues like Orlando.
Orlando stared blankly at the wall while dark thoughts clouded his mind. His body still ached but he lay completely still, just like he had done the past days. Only this time there was no chain around his neck, but the bruises remained. He felt so rotten and scared. Jeff was still out there. He shivered and curled up even more, not able to close his eyes and find sleep again.
The first thing Viggo realized when he woke up was that the warm body in his arms was gone. He sat up immediately to look around worriedly. A silent sigh of relief came over his lips when he spotted Orlando still in the bed, lying as far away from him as possible. The young man had turned his back at him and was curled up under the blanket. Viggo felt his heart ache. He had thought that after last night the barrier between them was broken and Orlando would let Viggo comfort him. He had obviously been wrong. He felt more helpless with every second and the pain within him grew. He was so worried about Orlando. This was not his Orlando anymore. It was a scared and broken young man and Viggo wanted to help him. He wanted to bring Orlando back. This would be a hard task and with each second he spent with the Brit he knew just exactly how hard. It worried him how still Orlando was. He had never been that way he was always bouncy and outgoing. Even when he had fallen asleep on the floor or the sofa when they all had spent the evening together he had been moving around in his sleep, much to everyone’s amusement. He had never lain so still.
“Orlando?” Viggo finally asked. The only reaction he received was that the Brit tensed even more. At least he knew now that Orlando was awake.
“What do you want for breakfast?” He asked after seconds of silence just to say anything. But again no answer.
“Some tea like always?” He tried again and this time there was a slight nod.
“Yes please.” Only a whisper but after all a reaction and Viggo was glad for it. Orlando would have to eat something too.
“Alright. I’ll be downstairs and if you feel like it come down too, otherwise I’ll bring your breakfast up.” He offered, silently hoping that Orlando would come down while he knew that he wouldn’t.
“Thanks.” Orlando didn’t move and only when he heard the door closing behind Viggo he let his tears flow freely.
Viggo was lost in his thoughts while preparing the breakfast for Orlando. Still he could not figure out what to do and how to act. He couldn’t understand the feelings of the young man. Of course he could not, it was impossible for him to imagine how Orlando felt and he didn’t blame the brunette but one second he wanted closeness and the next he practically fled from the Dane. Viggo didn’t know how to break down this barrier between them. And he felt so guilty. He had been upset when Orlando hadn’t come for dinner; yes he had been angry at the young man who in truth had not been messing around with him but being held prisoner! He had waited; he had delivered Orlando to endless hours of torture. If the Brit knew Viggo was sure he would hate him. Hate him for not being there when Orlando had truly needed him. The Dane swallowed hard, tried to banish the guilt from his thoughts. He hadn’t been there for Orlando earlier so he should at least be there for him now. He could deal with his self-hate later.
He found himself standing in front of his bedroom for seconds, the tray with a cup of tea, toast, fruit and even chocolate in his hands. He just wanted Orlando to eat something but he just couldn’t bring himself to enter the room. He feared what he would see in the brown eyes, what the broken body would tell him.
“Mortensen you are a fool.” He scolded before he finally opened the door and entered. Viggo felt a sharp pain going through his body when he found Orlando still lying like he had done when Viggo had left. This stiffness scared the sandy-blonde more then he could say.
“Hey. Breakfast is ready.” Viggo managed to say, his voice soft. Orlando shifted a bit in the bed and the Dane had the impression that he was wiping away some tears before he slowly turned around. The red eyes confirmed Viggo’s suspect but he didn’t say anything to it. Instead he sat down on the bed and put the tablet down next to the Brit.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat.” Viggo smiled and suppressed the urge to help Orlando when the young man tried to sit up. It was clear that he was in pain but Viggo didn’t want to start fussing over him like a mother would with her sick child. He was pretty sure that Orlando would feel even more uncomfortable. He watched Orlando who straightened the food on the tablet before he took the cup of tea. He held it with both hands and took a small sip, his eyes fixed on the blanket. The silence continued while the two men seemed lost in their thoughts. It was Viggo who finally broke the silence.
“Do you want to take a bath?” He could only imagine that the warmth of a bad would make Orlando a little more comfortable. The young man hesitated for a brief moment before he nodded. He wanted a bath but not because of the reasons Viggo would assume.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Viggo wanted to give Orlando the time and space he needed, yes he really wanted to. But when Orlando was still in the bathroom after a full hour he couldn’t wait any longer. He had left the young man alone to give him the privacy he needed and hadn’t intended to enter the bathroom but now he stood in front of the door. There were no sounds coming from inside the room. A sick feeling crept up inside his stomach. Viggo swallowed hard before he raised a shaking hand to knock on the door.
“Orlando?”
No answer. Viggo knocked again and waited. Nothing. No sound, no answer. Fear wrapped around him, a cold fist seized his heart. He had felt uncomfortable from the moment he had left Orlando alone. He wanted so desperately to give the youth safety and help but at the same time he knew that what Orlando needed the most was time. He took a deep breathe before he opened the door. What he saw was beyond anything he had expected and the fist around his heart tightened the grip.
Orlando was still sitting in the bathtub, shivering in the meanwhile cold water. His eyes were red and slightly swollen from crying, his skin partly red. He had removed the bandages before the bath, which lay forgotten on the floor. Some of the wounds on his arms and chest were bleeding again. Viggo watched in shock when the nails of Orlando’s hand scratched over his inner arm. Desperation was written in the handsome face.
When Viggo was finally able to surpass his stiffness he hurried towards the bathtub and took Orlando’s hand.
“Dear, what are you doing?” It was very hard for Viggo to keep his voice steady. Brown eyes looked up at him, the hopelessness in them overwhelming.
“It doesn’t go away.” Orlando whispered, this time not jerking away from Viggo’s touch. Like the night before the need for comfort and help was much too overwhelming.
“What? What doesn’t go away?” Viggo asked confused, still holding Orlando’s hand. What was Orlando talking about? He oppressed the sick feeling which washed over him when he saw the word cut into the skin of Orlando’s forearm. The Brit looked at him, tears still streaming from his eyes.
Orlando had welcomed the warmth of the bath at first, yes. But it wasn’t like he had imagined. Water could wash dirt away, right? So why was he still feeling so dirty and used? Why didn’t the water wash it away? He had been scrubbing his skin, at first only lightly but when he still didn’t feel any better more harshly. Nails dug into skin and reopened the wounds but he didn’t care. Why didn’t it work?! Why didn’t the dirt go away? When his skin was already red despair overwhelmed him and he started to cry. His movements slowed down but got stronger all the same because of the dazzling wave of despair. His nails dug deeper into skin, scratching over the word written on his inner forearm. ‘Mine’. Orlando sobbed. He wanted it to go away just like the dirt but it stayed, red letters mocking him. He could hear Jeff laughing.
“Everything.” Orlando finally wept.
“It won’t vanish…the dirt won’t go away.”
Although Orlando’s words were muffled and abstruse Viggo understood what he meant. He didn’t care that his shirt got wet when he pulled Orlando into his arms.
“That is not true Orlando.” He replied softly. “You are not dirty so there is nothing that could vanish.”
Orlando shook his head violently but leaned into the embrace. Viggo was wrong. He was dirty and the older man knew that. He just said the opposite out of kindness.
“Now come on, first of all we will get you out of the cold water.” Viggo said. The thin body in his arms was shivering violently and he could feel through the fabric of his shirt that the water was ice cold by now. Carefully he stood up again to get one of the big towels from the shelf. He could imagine that Orlando would feel even more uncomfortable if he had to step out of the bathtub naked. When he turned around again he saw that Orlando was hugging himself, violently shaking. Viggo suppressed the hurt he felt every time he saw the brunette suffering like that. Instead he tried to smile and took the other’s hand again, to pull Orlando up slightly and enwrapped the trembling body in the towel. When the brunette didn’t move and just stood there Viggo lifted him up carefully. The slender form in his arms tensed. Orlando clasped the towel tightly. The older man had been nothing but kind to him and still he was afraid. Afraid of so many things. Afraid of what would be tomorrow, afraid that Viggo’s help was just an act of pity. Afraid that Viggo and all the others would despise him. Afraid that Jeff would return.
At those thoughts his body shivered even more and he barely realized that Viggo gently placed him in the bed before he sat down and gathered Orlando gently in his arms.
“It’s alright.” The Dane muttered, desperately searching for the right words. What could he do; what could he say? Nothing seemed right so he just held to young man close until the trembling body relaxed a bit.
“How about I get you some warm clothes?” Viggo suggested when he still felt a light shivering. Orlando had been sitting far too long in the cold water. A calm nod was the response. Only when Viggo was sure that the brunette lay comfortably against one of the pillows he stood up and returned some minutes later with the ointment the doctor had given them for Orlando’s wounds, a pair of sweatpants, and a warm pullover. It didn’t surprise the Dane anymore that the young man had curled into a ball.
“Orlando?” he asked gently.
“We have to apply the ointment before we get you dressed and warm, okay?” He knew that this wouldn’t be pleasant for Orlando, but after all nothing of all that was pleasant. The brown eyes widened and the towel was clutched even tighter. It was obvious how ill at ease Orlando felt.
“C-can’t we do that later?” He had lowered his gaze again. Viggo had realized that he did that very often. He barely looked him in the eyes.
“We could yes, but it would be better now so we have it done, don’t you think?” Viggo paused for a brief moment.
“I know that this is very uncomfortable Orlando, and really I want nothing more for you than to feel comfortable again, but this is necessary.”
Orlando played with the edge of the towel, nervous and uneasy. He knew that Viggo was right but he already felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment. It had already been horrible to be so exposed before Doctor Lenoir and with Viggo it was even worse. It already hurt him that the older one saw him like that, weak and vulnerable but one step more would mean that Viggo would see and know everything. A sob escaped his chapped, dry lips.
“Please…”
Viggo would have expected many things but nothing like this. Orlando seemed to be afraid of him, afraid that Viggo would actually force him!
“No, no angel, don’t. If you don’t want to it’s okay.” He hasted to say, his thumb gently stroking over Orlando’s cheek.
“Don’t be afraid.” Viggo whispered, for the first time not only in his eyes but also in his voice obvious how tortured he really was.
“Orlando, don’t be afraid. I will do nothing that makes you uncomfortable, alright?”
Brown eyes looked shyly up again, blurred with tears.
“Alright.” It was barely audible.
“Good. But we still have to apply the ointment. I can leave you alone if you want and if you think that you are able to do that on your own.” Viggo carefully returned to the topic although his face still spoke of the hurt he felt. But he had to be strong. Strong for Orlando. He cleared his throat in order to let all the concerned feelings vanish and sound reassuring.
“How about that: I go and get your bandages while you apply that ointment and get into the trousers. When I am back we bandage the wounds on your back.” Viggo smiled lightly and stroked one last time gently over Orlando’s cheek when the young man nodded.
When Viggo had left the room Orlando struggled to sit up and tossed away the wet towel. His hands were shaking when he reached for the tube of ointment and applied some of it carelessly to the wounds on his upper tights. He quickly put on the sweatpants but still felt very exposed and hugged himself.
He was so confused. The look in Viggo’s face had made his stomach flip. Maybe it was not only pity the Dane felt? But even if it wasn’t he had no idea how his life should go on. He just felt empty and cold, nothing meant anything anymore. What had he left in his life? Nothing. Viggo would grow tired of taking care of him and he would be all alone once that happened. Orlando felt that he didn’t belong to this world anymore and that he would be an outcast for forever. Death still seemed like a good choice.
His train of thought was interrupted when Viggo entered the room again.
Orlando found that Viggo seeing his wounds was just as embarrassing as he had thought. The older man had been very gentle, applied the ointment before he bandaged the wounds again and helped Orlando to put on the pullover. It held the unique scent of Viggo, which Orlando had always noticed. Through all his confused thoughts such a simple thing still gave him a bit of warmth and he snuggled closer into the slightly too big pullover.
Viggo meanwhile had figured that the best thing he could do at the moment was to distract Orlando from his thoughts.
“What do you think of another cup of tea and watching a movie?”
Orlando shrugged. He didn’t really care. Nothing he could do made any sense. He was already succumbing to his world of darkness again where he was alone with his thoughts.
TBC
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