vigorli

Title: Mea Culpa
Author: Imogen
Disclaimer: Don’t know them. Completely made up. No profit made
Rating NC-17 (eventually)
Pairing VigOrli (central pairing); Orlando/OC; Orlando/Kate
Summary: Abuse ruins everyone’s lives. Who picks up the pieces?
Warnings: Domestic abuse, rape, violence, attempted suicide
Feedback Please feed a starving author!

Elijah tapped his foot impatiently as Dom rang the bell again waiting for a response from Viggo's house. Mark had made Elijah dread waiting; waiting meant something was being hidden. Ever since he'd heard about Orlando's breakdown to Viggo he'd been worried, the fact that he'd been worried prior to this was a moot point to Elijah. The 'tell all' had clearly done Orlando some good, their friend was finally beginning to open up.

Yesterday, Orlando actually laughed his eyes crinkled up and teeth showing. It had been such a shock that he'd almost choked on his drink. How many years had it been since he heard that sound? A real laugh, not the hideous fake sound he'd come to endure over the years.

While he was delighted that Orlando seemed to be slowly taking his life back, Elijah couldn't help but feel rather resentful. No, not resentful, betrayed. Betrayed that it had to be be Viggo. Not Dom. Not him. Not them. Why couldn’t Orlando turn to them?

It was something Viggo had done, or said - neither had told him what had happened but whatever it was, it seemed to have worked wonders. He knew he should be grateful to Viggo for all his help but a small part of him hated it, hated that Viggo had been cast, yet again, however inadvertently in the role of White Knight.

What had Viggo done that they couldn't?

Hearing the door finally open Elijah plastered on a wide smile as he wrapped Orlando tightly in his arms, planting a kiss on his cheek. Viggo appeared at the door, apron secured around his waist. They almost looked like a married couple Elijah mused sadly, as he watched Orlando greet Dom and then immediately go back to Viggo's side. He cursed internally, the fantasy shattered slightly. Looking at them, he could almost pretend Viggo and Orlando were together again, were happy. If it hadn't been for the littlest signs he could've convinced himself, but no amount of wishing changed things, he knew that the hard way.

He watched at how Orlando still started at loud noises, saw the unconscious tendrils of tension rise at every unexpected noise. He could still read the pain in his friend's eyes even when smiling, despite all Viggo's miracle working, Elijah had a horrible feeling that they were only scratching the surface of Orlando's recovery.

"Smells great Viggo," exclaimed Dom, an easy smile on his face as he poured some wine for them all. Viggo had dismissed Dominic’s compliment with a wave of his hand claiming it was nothing special, "an old family recipe,"

The small talk was pleasant, Elijah actually noticed himself laughing a few times. Everything was comforting, familiar yet somehow not.

Elijah glanced at his friend, wondering if Dom thought Orlando was 'cured' or if this was simply his way of dealing: acting normal. How many times had they done this, what was once a familiar and comforting event, now seemed stilted somehow.

Sterile.

For the first time, Elijah suddenly felt like an outsider, watching an event unfold. They all went through the motions, smiled and made the expected noises but something was missing, and Elijah internally wept for that loss that could never be regained

Over the past few weeks they'd seen precious little of Orlando or Viggo. It hadn't been easy for either of them, having been Orlando's sole support system for so many years, Elijah was finding extremely difficult to be 'out of the loop', so to speak. He didn't like not being in daily contact with Orlando, to be there whenever Orlando needed him, he felt as if his nose had been shoved out of joint. He hated it. Elijah knew such feelings were selfish and petty, but he didn’t seem unable to stop them. It’d been him and Dom who’d had to watch Orlando slowly disappear, to hold their shaking friend, listen to the heart-wrenching sobs. Viggo hadn’t seen that, hadn’t known, in the end, they had been on their own relying on each other, it had become a way of life almost, and now everything had suddenly changed. No, it wasn’t easy

Viggo hadn't stopped them from seeing Orlando, Elijah would've kicked Viggo's ass if he'd dared suggested 'time out' from their friend, it had been Orlando. That had been a hard blow, more so than Elijah was willing to admit. Orlando had decided, if Mark was somehow ‘watching’ (Elijah had almost asked if they thought Mark owned a massive telescope but bit his tongue.), Orlando argued it would draw less attention if Dom and Elijah limited their visits. Right now, Mark didn't know where Viggo lived, hence the point of Orlando's current residence and they intended to keep it that way. That didn't mean Elijah had to like it.

The dinner had been overall, rather pleasant, Elijah being reminded of Viggo’s talents as a chef, all the while his heart aching for the times lost that could never be regained. For a while afterwards, they’d simply sat and talked. Consciously, Elijah’s eyes had kept flickering towards Orlando, trying to gauge signs that would indicate his companion’s state of mind, but his friend’s features and posture showed nothing; it was almost as if any discernable meaning had been wiped from there. The one sign that seemed to confirm Elijah’s worry was when Viggo unconsciously draped his arm over the sofa, and his fingers had brushed Orlando’s shoulder.

What should’ve been a barely noticeable gesture made Orlando flinch, to Viggo’s obvious mortification, and the hand had been immediately withdrawn, to Elijah’s disappointment the conversation had strained on as if nothing had happened. Orlando barely blinked as Elijah’s brief gaze. They obviously all had a role to play in tonight’s performance.

The event seemed unnoticed by Dominic, as Orlando seemed to relax again, and Elijah found himself wondering if his friend was so desperate to see their Orlando back that he would grasp at straws to see that become a reality.

Despite Dominic’s sudden U-turn like behaviour regarding Viggo and especially Orlando. Elijah still retained a healthy scepticism. Yes, he would give anything to see Orlando happy again, to firmly put Mark in the past (although he’d prefer his grave), to find someone to really love him, be that Viggo or someone else, but he wasn’t going to blind himself to the obvious, no matter how much Dom wanted to.

The abuse Orlando had endured had gone on for years, and by his way of thinking it would take years for Orlando to fully recover, although he didn’t share his thoughts with either Dom or Viggo. The two men, despite their relaxed appearances had had rather trying weeks. He hadn’t heard much from Viggo about Orlando’s behaviour of the past few weeks, but Elijah could guess Orlando hadn’t been willing to welcome his ex back into his life with open arms.

After noticing Orlando’s eyes practically drooping, they had made their excuses and left the two. As they were walking home, Dom had been more animated on the journey home than he had in the last few years, claiming Viggo would make things OK, it reminded Elijah of that old rhyme from that CS Lewis story with the lion he’d read in school, his overwrought mind trying to image Viggo as the majestic lion, which rather disturbingly, was actually quite easy. He decided it must be the hair.

Wrong will be right when Viggo comes in sight, at the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more…

Did Dom really believe Viggo was like Aslan that by his mere presence their old Orli would be ‘restored’ to them, surely Dom wasn’t that short-sighted?

Viggo could certainly help, but to Elijah it seemed a more professional kind of help would be needed to sort out some of Orlando’s problems. It wasn’t a reflection on Viggo, but the man simply wasn’t a councillor, nor was he a miracle worker, despite what Dommie seemed willing to portray him as. But for all his love towards his friend, Elijah couldn’t help but feel annoyed at this easy acceptance.

Dom had accepted both Kate and Mark with a minimum of fuss or suspicion, happy that Orli was happy. He’d made Elijah feel like a bad friend, and that hurt. With Kate, his wariness had been over-done, he could admit that, but with Mark, he'd felt something was off, Dom had dismissed his worries first with amusement then later with annoyance; he hadn’t seen the signs, the subtle ones, when they still could’ve helped Orlando. No, dear Dom had to wait for a big fucking neon sign accompanied with bruises and Mark’s ‘teachings’ firmly lodged in Orlando’s mind before he’d twigged on.

Of course, Dom was now chagrined by his dismissal of Elijah’s worries towards Mark, something which, to Elijah’s mind, Dom had never really forgiven himself for, so why didn’t he take his concerns over Orlando’s wellbeing seriously now? When Elijah had voiced his concerns over Orlando’s progress to Dominic on the way home, Dominic told Elijah wasn’t he being a bit paranoid, after all Orlando was smiling but they could hardly expect Orlando to be ‘all singing and dancing’ right now could they. As logical as Dominic’s reasoning was, it was beginning to irritate him; did Dominic really think that he would make up problems for them to worry about? And since when had Dom become the voice of all reason?

As he lay in bed he sighed and punched his pillow into shape again. His mind was still playing over the night’s events, the previous week’s even. Maybe it was paranoia, certainly they all had reason after the recent events in their lives, but something at the back of his mind told him this wasn’t the end Orlando’s recovery.

****

In the next few days that followed the dinner, Elijah stubbornly clung to his private belief that Orlando needed to see a specialist, the one time he’d mentioned it to Dom, he’d accused Elijah of giving up on Orlando. That had hurt, and inevitably lead to an argument between them. He couldn’t understand why they’d started fighting so much. Dom was one of the most important people in his life, why couldn’t they trust each other’s instincts any more, they’d always been so close, what had gone wrong?

Elijah quickly scanned the papers, skipping past the main news stories warning him of the dangers of a brand of toothpaste, that a Senator was being put on trial for embezzlement and bribery, that a monkey appeared to be able to write the periodic table - and a whole host of other crap he couldn’t care less about. It was only when he got to the fourth page that he found something that caught his eye: Orlando. More specifically Orlando and Viggo, having dinner together, it couldn’t have been taken more than a few days ago, and it somewhat amazed Elijah that Orlando was actually out in the open. Rolling his eyes at the particularly bad pun Seeds of Love Blooming he scanned the article, telling it’s audience, in gushy tones that:

“…Oscar winning heartthrob Orlando Bloom was seen last night cuddling up to old ‘pal’ Viggo Mortensen during a quiet dinner. The pair seemed to have little qualms about displaying their budding romance, one eager eyewitness reported:‘they only had eyes for each other all evening, they were completely oblivious to anyone else. Poor Orli looked a bit tired and Viggo kept checking if he was alright. It was really sweet.’ It appears that Mr. Bloom’s relationship with his long term boyfriend Mark is officially over; of course the million dollar question is, does Orlando’s now-ex know this?”

Elijah took in the photo of Viggo and Orlando in a dimly lit restaurant, both at opposite ends of the small table, but Viggo leaning forward, whispering something into Orlando’s ear. To an outsider it could look as if Viggo was flirting with Orlando, although Elijah suspected Viggo’s words had more to do with comfort than any form of seduction.

His attention was drawn away from the article by an inelegant snort, as a sleepy looking Dom took in the article over Elijah’s shoulder.

“Looks like they had a good time there. Bloody paparazzi, Orlando’s first trip out and they have to snap him. God don’t they have anything better to do?” Dom demanded to no one in particular, shaking his head.

“Gossip sells,” Elijah shrugged. “’sides, like you said, Orli’s been gone a while from the public eye, I guess Ted and the rest of the vultures missed him.”

“I still think you’re being paranoid Lij. Look at Orlando, he’s outside for God sake, he’s barely been out since he was released from St Mary’s. I don’t know what Viggo's said or done, but it’s worked. He’s getting better Lij, it’ll take time I know that, but look at him,” Dom said, his voice becoming softer.

“He looks more relaxed,” Elijah conceded, stiffly. He hated admitting he might’ve been wrong over this, it’d been so hard to see his claims about Mark be dismissed,
Elijah loathed the idea of being cast as the paranoid over-protective friend, not something Dom would ever do deliberately but it grated. The truth was Orlando did look happy, he looked different from that dinner at Viggo’s, his expression wasn’t forced. Elijah wondered if things were getting better, that he was so worried that he refused to see the obvious, right now he wasn’t too sure who was right.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Viggo, but he didn’t like putting such faith in just one man to aid Orlando’s recovery, he didn’t want that false hope, couldn’t deal with it, he was pretty sure none of them could. That night at Viggo’s had been nice, relaxed – everything Orlando needed but it had grated with Elijah somehow.

Dom was happy to take Orlando’s rehabilitation at face value, as he had been with Mark’s seeming ‘pleasant’ personality (not that he held that against Dominic. Mark, he was forced to concede, could be very charming) until the reality of the situation had all but slapped Dom in the face. Even thinking the phrase made Elijah want to wince, why did so many words and phrases have violent connotations?

Looking closer at the picture, Elijah was surprised to notice that a small smile was creeping across Orlando’s face as Viggo whispered those words in his ear. Orlando never smiled in public anymore. Mark had taken it as ‘flirting’, and that would never do, Orlando’s smile was supposed to be just for him. How anyone could have such skewed logic in the guise of love, he couldn’t understand and to see Orlando smile openly, even if somewhat hidden was almost cathartic to Elijah.

Letting out a long suffering sigh he turned to Dom who was already helping himself to his third piece of toast. “You never tire of being right do you?”

“Nope,” came the muffled reply as Dom tried to speak through a mouthful of toast, although Elijah could detect a distinct smugness from his friend that had been lost over the past years. Unable to stop himself, Elijah let out a reluctant laugh, things were like they had been years ago, was that too much to ask, that they could have their past back?

In all honesty, Elijah couldn’t seem to explain his recent paranoia. The phone call from last week seemed apparently non squinter, as Mark hadn’t bothered to call since, or feel any need to make his presence known in any other manner, which had relived them all. Orlando had been almost terrified out of his wits for the following two days before he had eventually calmed to Viggo’s rationale. What Elijah couldn’t understand was why. Why make a threatening phone call and not follow up. It had been over a month since Orlando was realised and apart from that one phone call, nothing. It just didn’t make sense. Dominic hadn’t cared to examine the reasoning like Elijah did, putting it down to Mark’s warped logic. The man was a psychopath (something which Elijah actually agreed with) and by the extension, how much ‘logic’ did the man need?

While Elijah had to agree with that, it didn’t explain the man’s strange behaviour. Certainly the Mark he had seen had not had any patience to speak of, so why had he waited for so long? Frankly whatever his reason was, Elijah didn’t give a damn as long as he was far away. And hopefully rotting somewhere, but he didn’t hold out much hope for his second wish.

Dom smiled reassuringly at him. “Things are getting better I promise, you don’t need to keep worrying about Orli everyday Lij, Viggo’s helping him, this is a good sign. Trust me.” Slowly Elijah nodded. Orlando had looked happy in that photo that was the most important thing. Looking at Dom’s encouraging smile, Elijah offered one back. Perhaps things would turn out OK, after all, what was the worst this photo could do?

****

He looked at the picture and headline with rising fury and disbelief, as he glanced back at the now crumpled sheet in his hand. He’d almost believed all those lies whispered to him, it made him sick. How many times he’d looked at this article he couldn’t recall, not that it mattered now, he knew the information by heart, each sentence committed to memory.

All his suspicions had been confirmed in that one photograph. How foolish he’d been to ever have believed Orlando, how easily he’d believed the tearing eyes, the trembling posture, what a fool he’d been, he knew this would happen, that didn’t mean it didn’t still rip at his heart. Yes beneath the rage was a deep soul-aching pain. He loved Orlando, and that love was leaching his very life, his sanity away from him. Why couldn’t he control himself where his lover was concerned? No one else had ever effected him like this. Why did he have to be cursed in this way, to love so desperately a man that he knew would never love him back.

He should’ve known given half a chance that bastard would come between them, that had always been the problem, that shadow lurking, the one who Orlando still yearned for. He’d long ago decided the heart was a sadistic tool, love wasn’t meant to hurt so much. He gazed at Orlando’s expression and felt his blood boil. Not once had Orlando ever looked like that towards him and the man leaning towards him…Mark felt sick. Sick with rage, envy and indignation. Orlando was his. His boyfriend. Viggo had lost him years ago, abandoned him. The man was a fool. To a man like Viggo Mortensen love, beauty was to look at, to wonder over but never to touch, not to capture and keep.

He could still remember the gauntlet of emotions when he’s discovered about Orlando’s collapse on the news. They called it ‘heat exhaustion combined with over work’, his agent, Robin he vaguely re-called, giving a tight smile as she relayed carefully crafted information. The media had swallowed it whole-heartedly. He had to give credit where it was due, she was good. Fortunately however, he was no fool, and had been able to ‘charm’ the true details out of the insipid desk girl who had happily handed over the necessary details. Although the hospital report dressed it up in technical language, it was plain to Mark what had happened. Orlando had tried to leave him, by the most drastic, and permanent route possible. He tried to kill himself, almost twice. The agonizing terror and despair he’d felt at the idea of how close he’d come to truly losing Orlando had faded, as the reality of the matter had settled into his mind, the cold logic had followed: Orlando had abandoned him.

Despite his outwardly controlled demeanour there was a cold fury dancing within him. That Orlando would dare to betray him, to leave him, no matter what method he chose. Perhaps it had all been planned, Orlando taking the pills, Dominic and Elijah rushing in to save their friend and Mortensen sweeping in to nurse poor Orlando back to health.

It wouldn’t matter though, he would let them savour their victory, in the end he would win because Orlando would let him, because Mortensen didn’t need him. He recalled that broken promise over a year ago as he begged him not to hurt Elijah. He’d broken that promise he made the day Orlando returned to him, and Orlando would pay for that, he would see to that. Mark took promises very seriously and Orlando had promised to be his. Orlando wouldn’t break his promises to Mark.

****

Orlando looked along the rows of brightly coloured paints and fabrics, feeling freer than he had in days. He was almost glad Viggo had cajoled him into coming, certainly Viggo looked in his element, a contented smile playing along the older man’s face. He was busy discussing with the store vendor the merits of some form of acrylic paint, fortunately the vendor actually knew what he was talking about.

It had been Viggo’s idea that Orlando needed to do something ‘creative’. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d picked up a camera or used a pottery wheel. When he was living with Mark, such things were filtered to the back of his mind. What was the use of sculpting when his primary goal was trying to make it through a day without another bruise? Besides, even at the beginning of their relationship, before all the hurt began, Mark had never cared for art. He didn’t see beauty in the mundane, the everyday, not like Viggo did. Orlando hadn’t had time to reflect on all that he had lost, not until…until he tried to ‘end it’, that was how it was referred to, couldn’t say the word ‘suicide’ could you, it was too nasty a word, too direct.

He still thought about it occasionally, not wishing, just thinking. He took care not to try to not do this when around knives or pills, he’d already seen Viggo’s stricken face when he’d been lost in a day dream while holding a knife, he didn’t want to cause Viggo such anguish. But it still hurt, the knowledge that he wasn’t trusted he’s tried once, what’s to stop him trying again? that was what they thought.

It seemed every time one of those thoughts popped into his head someone was there, gently coaxing him back to the land of the living, telling him to put the knife down, that he only needed one pill…and he obeyed. He was good at that, and his friends relaxed. For that sight, the pain was worth it.

How many weeks had it been? Five or six – he’d lost count. At least over a month since Mark had apparently disappeared from his life and Viggo had re-entered it. He still wasn’t sure about some things, well most things if he was honest. His mind couldn’t accept that Mark wasn’t here, that every time a door opened, the same cold face would greet him but it was easy to pretend, that’s what actors did, they portrayed emotions, thoughts that weren’t their own. That’s what he was doing inside. A part of him felt insidious for betraying his friends, but he couldn’t let them see how close he was to falling, to breaking. They were all trying so hard, and Viggo…the man had been so riddled with guilt that Orlando was pretty sure Viggo would happily hand over his soul to take away Orlando’s pain.

The guilt had seemed worse after Orlando had told him details of Mark’s abuse. He hadn’t meant to tell him, to tell anyone, but so much had spilled forth from his lips that day that Orlando was unable to stop it. He could remember how Viggo had held him so tightly afterwards, Orlando had feared he would never be able to let go and terrified by the same prospect. In that moment, Orlando had realized that Viggo still loved him, perhaps always had. He didn’t understand why and didn’t seek to examine Viggo’s reasoning, but it had hit him right then. It had been obvious in the tears dancing in the older man’s eyes, the deep, clutching embrace, the barely concealed anger as stories of Mark flew from Orlando’s lips, it was all there.

That was why he was doing this, why he was here, because despite everything that had happened, he still loved Viggo. If that involved lying, for now, so be it. There had been such looks of hope between Viggo and his friends, Orlando couldn’t shatter that illusion to them, didn’t want to. He would bury his pain and smile, go out and act. Be professional. Because he loved them, he would live his life, push Mark to the back of his mind, he would survive.

Forcing his morbid thoughts to the back of his mind he concentrated on the table in front of him, noting the prices of various items. He wasn’t sure he was ready to do this, what on earth could he put on a canvas, how could he possibly use it to illustrate the maelstrom of emotions he felt, half of which he couldn’t even give names to.

“Those are a dollar ninety-five, want to try them?” the vendor smiled, offered as he fingered some pastels

“Thanks, I’m just looking,” he murmured snatching his hand away as if he was a child caught fingering something he shouldn’t. Seeing the sudden tension in the younger man Viggo stepped forward. Orlando shot the vendor a smile as he walked away, seemingly lost in thought.

“You OK Orlando?” he murmured in the man’s ear. He got a tentative nod in reply.
Glancing at Orlando’s slight tension, Viggo wondered if he was pushing Orlando too fast, what with the dinner and now the market, although Orlando had been amenable to both, he now began to wonder if it was all a bit too much for Orlando right now.

“Do you want to go?” Viggo offered. So far they’d been lucky, Orlando seemed to have dealt with crowds quite well, only tensing a few times but he couldn’t expect that to last. He still couldn’t handle loud noises, whether voices or objects, they made him freeze. Certainly a market had no shortage of either.

“Uh, yeah. It’s just a bit…crowded,” he whispered, eyes firmly fixed on the floor, trying to keep his breathing under control. He’d been doing so well, did he have to ruin it now. Viggo was going to be so disappointed in him!

Gently guiding Orlando away from the numerous stalls to a little way further down, while there were still a fair number of people nearby, it wasn’t as loud and compact, he noticed Orlando seemed to visibly relax.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled, indicating a vague hand back to the market. “It didn’t mean to let it get to me, I think I just…need a bit of quiet right now,”

“It’s OK. What have I told you about apologizing? You stop. To me and everyone else.” Viggo scolded gently “Did you get anything?”

“No…I wanted to but I…didn’t,” he finished lamely. How could he explain to Viggo why he had stopped, what made him put back those objects he had longed to buy.

“Don’t worry about it, we can go back another time, when you’re ready,” he offered, a careless shrug, although he briefly touched Orlando’s cheek, not quite turning it into a caress. Inside Viggo felt a potential victory slip away. He had been sure this is what Orlando needed, but now he wasn’t so sure.

“Now isn’t this a pretty picture,” came a drawling voice right behind him. Unconsciously Orlando gripped Viggo’s lower arm as he felt each individual hair stand up. This had to be a nightmare, he wasn’t here, it was all his imagination but feeling how Viggo immediately tensed at the voice and spun around, Orlando was guessing he heard the voice too, which significantly reduced the chances of this being a dream. Slowly, his heart pounding in his ears, Orlando turned to face his worst nightmare, his voice robbed of breath.

Less than a meter away stood Mark.

“What are you doing here?” snarled Viggo, it appeared Viggo had no such problem with his voice. Despite the palpable anger, Viggo kept his voice tightly controlled, ever mindful of passers-by. The last thing Orlando needed was an audience. Seemingly having the same thought, Mark moved closer, almost pleased when he noticed Orlando visibly flinch.

Mark seemed unperturbed by Viggo’s tone and raised an eyebrow. “Probably the same thing you are. You forget Viggo this is a public place, I have every right to be here as you do,” Viggo clearly read the double meaning in Mark’s words as his eyes seemed to darken.

“Seems I was right about my assumptions at any rate, I like that you’re so predictable Orlando. Guess we can always count on your white knight can’t we?” he purred, he seemed to be so close to him, Orlando could virtually feel his breath on his neck. Orlando was torn between crumbling in a heap and running as far as he could, the only thing that grounded him was Viggo’s presence. His grip on Viggo’s jacket tightened as fear flooded through him. Making a move forward, Viggo stopped him, palm on chest, daring the man to push past him.

“Keep away from him,” warned Viggo, his tone low “or I’ll make you’ll regret it,” the threat wasn’t remotely idle, as he looked at the man’s face Viggo fought every instinct to beat Mark to a bloody pulp. He could still hear Orlando’s broken voice that night kept playing around his head.

….give me to his friends…wanted to teach me a lesson…

After all that had happened, everything Mark had done, Orlando had still defended him, feared Mark hurting himself. How Orlando could bring himself to care over Mark’s wellbeing was beyond Viggo, but then if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be Orlando.
He wasn’t someone who left another in pain, no matter how deserved. Viggo, however had no such problems in this case. He had once sworn he would never intentionally hurt another, but that vow was receding very rapidly in this…man’s presence.

“Don’t worry Mortensen, I actually just want to talk to him – no harm in that is there?”

“You had your chance, and if you think I’m letting you go anywhere near him. Just do yourself a favour and leave, walk away right now before things turn ugly,”

“Are you threatening me?” Mark asked, almost amused by the suggestion.

Keep your temper Vig, don’t rise to his bait you’re smarter than that he warned himself, unfortunately his curling fist didn’t want to listen, although it remained at his side. “I’ve heard what your…talking does, you think I’m going to let you go near him?” Viggo demanded, rage in ever inch of his face.

“Ten minutes, no more,” offered Mark. “Orlando, I just want to talk nothing else, I promise, your white knight can keep an eye on us,”

“No way!” growled Viggo, stepping forward, all but ready to push the man. His nerves were frayed beyond breaking point and to suddenly be confronted with the cause of all Orlando’s misery, Viggo so badly wanted Mark to suffer, to see a look of pain and aguish in his face.

“Five minutes,” came Orlando’s voice, offering no argument to either. Both men started, seemingly have forgotten Orlando’s actual presence.

“You can’t be serious!” choked Viggo, looking horrified at the prospect. “I won’t let you go near him, not after what he’s done! He’ll hurt you again,”

“I am serious, I have to do this Viggo. Mark knows better than to hurt me in public” his last comment was directed at Mark, and would’ve come out as a taunt if not for the soft tone encased in sadness. Mark had always been careful in public. Not giving Viggo a chance to object he moved past him slightly, before laying an arm on Viggo’s.

“I’ll be OK, promise” he whispered. “Trust me, please?” he added, eyes pleading.

Stiffly Viggo nodded, pretending not to notice Mark’s smirk as he moved away. “Five minutes, and I’m not moving from here,” he warned as he grabbed Mark’s arm in a vice-like grip. “If you so much as touch him, I’ll kill you, I swear to God,” whispered Viggo before releasing him, resisting the urge to crush the man’s hand.

Silently, he began counting down the seconds.

True to his word, Mark and Orlando stopped less than twenty yards in front of Viggo.
“What do you want?” Orlando demanded, yes his precious little Orlando actually demanded, his voice still quiet, soft, but now with the slightest steel to it, it had been so long since Orlando held any fire that Mark was impressed. That had to be Mortensen’s doing, or possibly the Midgets, they had that type of faith in Orlando. Before answering he took a moment to take in Orlando.

Had it really been five weeks since he’d last seen him? Mark often wondered how he had survived that long. The dark fabrics were still there, not quiet as shapeless as before, but still rather baggy. His face was regaining colour but he was still too thin, but it was his eyes Mark noticed most, they seemed more at peace. There were flashes of worry, doubt creeping in, but they were happier, his posture more relaxed than since Mark could remember. God Mark had missed his beautiful Orlando.

“I wanted to see how you are, I heard about the hospital,” Mark shifted slightly, all his previous confidence gone. “I…I know it was my fault you were there-“

“I tried to kill myself Mark,” he replied, his voice suddenly sounding dull. “You didn’t make me do that, that was my choice,”

“I know but…I drove you to it, I’m aware of that, and…I’m sorry. I really am, you don’t have to believe me, but I just wanted you to know that. I know it won’t ever make things right but…I am”

“You’re…sorry…” Orlando repeated, eyes widening in disbelief and astonishment. Mark had never said those words to him before. “You hurt me Mark, so much…I don’t know if I can forgive you-”

“I don’t expect you to. I know I’ll never forgive myself for what I did. When I heard about you at St Mary’s…I…something in me broke Orlando. I couldn’t face the idea of loosing you, not permanently, not like that. I was so scared, I heard about you collapsing on the news, and I had to find out more…I went to the hospital and found out what really happened. You scared me Orlando, no one’s ever done that. I just got so scared at the thought of what you tried to…to…kill yourself,” Mark trailed off slightly, not able to look Orlando in the eyes, afraid of what he’d see if he did.

Orlando felt his throat constrict as he listened to Mark’s speech. Never had Mark opened up so much to him, or looked so desolate. Every trace of guile and smugness was gone, every wall was down. This was the Mark he became friends with, that he had come to trust and love.

“Mark…I…” words stuck in his throat, what was he supposed to say right then. Mark shook his head, indicating he hadn’t finished.

“I still love you Orlando, I know I always will. I just… wanted to know if we had a chance, no matter how small. I just…I need you back Orlando, I’m so scared without you. You make things better. I can’t explain it but…please just come back. I’ll do whatever you want I promise, just come back please…please?” he begged, any pretences of pride gone.

Mark had begged him. He never begged, would never lower himself to such base levels, but for Orlando he had, for Orlando he had abandoned his pride. Orlando felt his heart constrict.

What are you doing, you bloody fool?! A voice in his head yelled at him. He beat you, raped you, terrified you and you feel sorry for him, are you aiming for sainthood, or an asylum? He feeds you some sob story wrapped in poetry and you fall for it. Elijah was right, you really are like his dog, why don’t you lick his shoes while you’re at it. You should be ashamed of yourself!

Orlando almost flinched at the voice, but managed to push it back. Now wasn’t the time for self recriminations, he had to get this over with.

“I can’t,” he whispered, his voice soft, as if breaking the news to a tearful child. “I… we...can’t do this, what we have…had…it’s not healthy, some time you’ll hurt me again, you won’t mean to but you will, and things will get bad…I can’t do that again.”

“I won’t hurt you, I promise. I’ll go to a specialist, have my head shrunk, take a prescription, take up chanting - whatever you want I’ll do. I’ll jump around on a fucking pogo stick if it helps, just tell me you’ll come back, that we have a chance,”

“It’s too late Mark. I…I still love you, but we’ve got to move on,” Orlando desperately brushed away the tears forming in his eyes. He had to be strong with Mark, had to do this for both of them. No matter what anyone said, he knew Mark was hurting, until that hurt was gone, there was no future, not with Orlando, or with anyone else.

“Is it about Mortensen?” Mark demanded, gazing hatefully at the man, his voice thick with emotion, tears threatening to prick his eyes. The gaze was met with equal venom, it was almost impossible to believe two men who’d barely met could hold such hatred towards each other. Turning his gaze back to Orlando, his eyes softened slightly.

“Vig…go is nothing to do with it. We’re not together Mark so don’t assume things,”

“But you want to be, you haven’t changed.”

This time the words were gentle, tinged with sadness, as if he suddenly realised nothing he could ever say or do would alter that irrevocable fact

“You know he doesn’t love you right? He feels guilty, a sense of duty. He dumped you Orlando, wouldn’t even talk to you, you really think he’s going to stick around this time? He won’t wait for you Orlando…I would…I will…I’d wait forever for you, he doesn’t need you, he needs his freedom, give him six months and he’ll leave you, shatter you heart all over again. Is that what you want Orlando, because that’s what he’ll do,”

Orlando almost physically recoiled from the words, hating the truth spilling softly from his lips. There was no anger in the tone, no malice directed at him, which made it so much harder to hear.

It simply confirmed everything his head told him about Viggo. Although Viggo loved him, in some form, was it simply guilt, was it enough to make Viggo stay when everything was finished…when he no longer had nightmares, when the last bruise had faded, when everything seemed alright. What would stop Viggo from leaving again?

“Remember how he broke your heart Orlando, do you want to go through that again, he left you before, and he’ll do it again just like Shannon did, and Kate – they all left you Orlando, each one of them. They didn’t want you, not like you wanted them. I stayed Orlando, you don’t have be to alone if you don’t want, I know that scares you, being alone, being abandoned, I understand that, I understand you,”

“But you hurt me,” whispered Orlando, his voice trembling more than Viggo ever did. “I can’t let you do that again…I can’t go through that again,”

“I know, and I’ll never forgive myself for that, I swear, but I can get better I promise, I know I can! We’re good together Orlando, we understand each other, Mortensen will never understand you like I do, you know that, deep down, he can’t, he isn’t capable of it. You’re the first person who’s looked after me Orlando, I know I did a lot of terrible things to you, but you always stuck by me, I don’t know anyone else who would do that, you’re amazing Orlando, you know that right?”
The voice was so soft, unusually gentle that it shocked him. How long had it been since he’d heard Mark speak like that? That he’d even talked to Orlando without a snarl or the help of his fists/boots. Mark was praising him. That had to mean something didn’t it? He could still remember how Mark was years ago, how he’d made him laugh, feel special, made him feel important...needed. Mark was right, Viggo had never needed him in the same way.

Just like he’s never needed to hit you, is that was makes Mark so ‘special’ that you get to nurse him after he attacks you, God you *are* fucked up! You really think that is worth saving, worth fighting for when you could have Viggo back? You’ve felt safer these last weeks than in years, and you’re ready to throw it all back. You’re a bigger fool than I gave you credit for.

Orlando didn’t like the voice, it wasn’t the insidious whispers of Mark’s taunts, but a cold logic offering Orlando no warmth just fact. It hurt him. Mark’s eyes kept darting between Orlando’s face and the ground, never quiet sure where they should rest, he knew that feeling, God he knew it so well. Those eyes… Orlando could barely look at them, they looked so full of pain, anguish, desperation – so like his own. A small part of Orlando desperately wanted to believe Mark, to go home with him, to let Mark take care of him

Until the next kick or punch comes, and it will, just give it time

Could things ever actually work between them, he still couldn’t work out what had gone wrong at first, everything had seemed generally OK until the reunion party. At least Mark had never hurt him before then. It had been meeting Viggo that made him snap, if Viggo was gone this time, truly gone, would they stand a chance – was it even worth it? Sensing Orlando’s resolve weakening, Mark continued.

“I can change Orlando, remember when things were good between us, how great things were, how happy you were? We can have that again, start over. No baggage this time, things would be different, we would be different.”

“You can’t promise anything Mark,”

“I can promise you I love you more than that crater-chined artistic bastard does! He hasn’t given a toss about you for six years then suddenly turns up and decides to play the hero. He’s not in some fairytale Orlando, he can’t make you better by kissing you, or carrying you around everywhere, that’s not real, not what you need. I know you’re scared of trusting me, but you think you’ll be safer with Mortensen? He doesn’t know you, not like I do, he’ll be too busy trying to capture you in a canvas to ever really see you. You need someone who’ll stand by you, who’s not ashamed to be seen with you, he could never give you that,” Mark whispered, his voice no more than a caress.

Bowing his head, Orlando felt a shudder run through him, as Mark traced a cheek bone gently. “You’re so beautiful Orlando, I need you back…I can’t do anything without you, it hurts too much, you’re the only one who can make it stop. I need you! Please??”

“Mark…” stumbled Orlando, not stopping Mark’s touch but not leaning in. He couldn’t do this, wouldn’t…he knew better than to trust Mark, why didn’t he just leave, pull away, why was he so damn weak? Orlando closed his eyes, whether in pain or pleasure he wasn’t sure as he felt Mark’s fingers dance over his skin, such a gentle touch it made him shiver. Those same hands that had bruised and broken skin now felt so different, almost warm, gentle and inviting. His touch felt…good. “I…I…”

Suddenly Viggo was there, behind him. A warm, solid presence that stopped his knees buckling. Orlando wasn’t sure whether he was happy about that or not.

“Five minutes” Viggo said, his voice tinged in a suspicious innocence. In fact it’d been closer to ten minutes. Viggo had watched every act with ever mounting jealousy, fury and worry. He’d watched the two grow closer, at least physically, seen Mark whisper in his ear, how Orlando’s eyes closed…it had been like a knife in the chest, like the reunion party all over again, but this time so much worse.

It was that last move, watching Mark parody a gesture of love and affection was too much, he felt sick as he could only imagine what Mark had been whispering in Orlando’s ear, he mentally shuddered at the thought. The idea of Mark being anywhere near Orlando made his skin crawl.

His felt his heart clutch when Orlando hadn’t moved away from Mark’s touch, surely Orlando wouldn’t go back, he wasn’t a masochist. What sort of hold did that bastard have over him. It was obvious Orlando had been crumbling, and it would’ve only been a matter of time before Orlando caved and returned.

Mark would’ve only needed a few more hours, a few more minutes, and Orlando would’ve been his again. If he hadn’t been here, stepped in…no he wasn’t even going to let his mind wander down that route, because it was never going to happen, because he wasn’t going to leave Orlando’s side again, at least until Orlando ordered him away, on that day he’d leave, but not before then.

Pulling Orlando slightly towards him, Viggo eyed Mark with supreme distaste. “See no touching, he’s in one piece just like I promised,” Mark offered, his voice low, eyes locked with Viggo.

“Just as well, since I now don’t have to remove your knee caps,” snarled Viggo, his voice barely audible.

“It was good to see you Orlando. Just think about what I said. I meant it. Every word,” he offered quietly.

Orlando nodded, a lump forming in his throat, barely able to see Mark through the tears forming in his eyes. There seemed to be too many to brush away. Viggo’s arm wrapped around him, was he shaking? He hadn’t noticed.

“We better get going Orli,” offered Viggo, turning his gaze towards Orlando, and gently ran a thumb over his eyelids, brushing away the tears forming there, as much for Mark’s benefit as anyone’s. Orlando nodded slightly, seemingly too shaken to form coherent words.

Before they could turn to leave, Mark grabbed Viggo’s arm, placing his lips close to his ear. “Make the most of the pretty little whore Mortensen…he’ll be running back to me, tail between his legs before you know it, he’ll always be mine, he knows that. Oh some advice? He likes pain,”

At the comment Viggo’s eyes narrowed and before Orlando could stop him or Mark could react, face twisted in a snarl, Viggo balled his fist and punched Mark squarely in the face, relishing the crunching sound. Weeks of fury and horror went into that punch, for everything Orlando had suffered through, for everything that was yet to come. Horrified Orlando pulled Viggo’s hand back as blood dripped down Mark’s nose, which was clearly broken. Neither man seemed to care.

Viggo felt a sense of deep satisfaction flowing through him, until Mark sneered at him, teeth bloodied. Lifting his fist to punch the man again, wanting no more than to increase the man’s suffering but Mark’s slightly slurred words stopped him.

“So much for your peace loving outlook, you fucking hypocrite, you’re as bad as me. For all your protests, you’re just the same, you crave violence, he brings it out doesn’t he, he brings it out in everyone. It’ll happen to you, I promise, one day you’ll step over that line, he’ll make you do it, and on that day you’ll see we’re more alike than you think,”

“I’m nothing like you” he spat, disgust colouring each word

“You are, you just don’t know it” Mark grinned, wheezing as he spat out some blood. Viggo felt his insides freeze as Mark’s words hit him, hard…

“…Viggo?” came Orlando voice, slightly confused. Viggo looked around, Orlando’s face looked concerned, Mark’s looked hateful, but with no bloodied nose…but he just….had he just imagined that, did Mark really whisper that to him? Viggo began to wonder if he was going crazy. He could still feel the pure satisfaction of looking at Mark’s bloodied face, but that wasn’t who he was. He wasn’t Mark, he would never harm Orlando. He didn’t like violence, never had, always believed there was an alternative route, so why, in his mind at least, did he enjoy hurting Mark? It wasn’t a thought Viggo wanted to examine very closely.

“Bye Mark,” whispered Orlando, offering the tiniest of smiles, although he stayed plastered to Viggo’s side. Viggo didn’t smile, he wanted to throw up.

“I’ll wait Orlando, remember that,” Mark offered an indefinable look in his eyes, before somewhat to Viggo’s astonishment, Mark turned away walking past the gate.

“Viggo? You OK, you seemed to space out for a moment just now.” The voice was whispered, but no less concerned.

“I’m…fine,” Viggo rasped. Viggo had a strange faraway look in his eyes that Orlando wasn’t sure he liked, but he didn’t try to press the issue, years with Mark had taught him to never push things, as he wouldn’t like the results.

Glancing at Viggo, Orlando was almost startled to notice the expression on Viggo’s face. He was clearly distracted, but there was something else…fear. Why, he couldn’t think, Viggo was never scared, it was one of the things Orlando had always admired about him, even slightly envied. He hated the idea that his talk with Mark had caused this sudden change in demeanour. Was Viggo angry with him?

Unable to stop himself, Orlando felt himself sag slightly on Viggo, he suddenly felt so heavy, barely able to hold up his own body weight, burying his head against the older man’s arm as the afternoon’s event threatened to overwhelm him. His mind was still struggling to process what had actually just happened. Mark had been here. Mark. Mark who wanted him back, was sorry for all the pain he’d caused. He’d seen it again, that suffering, the desperation in his pleas that had always won out over Orlando’s common sense, that made him stay, almost as much as the fear had. Then there was Viggo. Viggo who’d offered nothing but support and understanding, who ripped his heart the shreds without realising…

Everything was so confusing at the moment, he just wanted to stop, wanted to wash his hands of the whole business. He was so sick of being Orlando Bloom, just so very tired. Tired of Mark, of Viggo, just the every mounting confusion and despair that kept threatening to eclipse him. He’d been close, so close to fooling everyone of getting on with his life and then Mark showed up. It was just too much. He didn’t want to break down here, he just wanted to be home, to forget everything, be in Viggo’s arms, be safe…

“Could…could you take me home?” Orlando asked, hugging himself unconsciously, eyes darting around nervously, half of him still believing Mark was watching them, he promised to wait after all, but just what that entailed scared Orlando. Snapping out of his thoughts Viggo nodded vigorously. That sounded like the best idea he’d heard all day.

“Sure,” he whispered, slipping his hand into Orlando’s, not caring if anyone saw them as he navigated them towards home.

Home…

Orlando had called his house ‘home’ and Viggo couldn’t help a little smile even as worries clouded his mind.

***

“BLOODY HELL!!!” yelled Dom as he practically dropped the paper the following morning. Elijah skidded into the kitchen, fearing the kitchen on fire, or worse, they had run out of Coco Pops. He was greeted by a seething Dominic, furiously scanning the front page of the paper, his face a mixture of worry and resignation, and maybe a little shame, Elijah was surprised to note. Elijah suddenly had a sinking feeling

“What the hell is going on?” demanded Elijah. “You scared the crap out of me!” Groaning Dom handed him the newspaper. Elijah took one glance at the headline then the picture, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“I don’t fucking believe it,” he muttered. “I fucking knew this would happen. Bloody vultures, couldn’t they leave him alone for ten minutes?” he growled, throwing the paper on the table, as the paper gleefully exclaimed:

Lucky boy Orlando Bloom is clearly not content with two Oscars, trying to juggle two boyfriends! In apparent surprise meeting his current ex Mark and new/old ‘playmate’ (and you can read into that whatever you want *wink wink*) Viggo Mortensen yesterday afternoon in Hyton Park. After some chit-chat between the ménage à trois, spies reported the gorgeous Orlando had a private talk with Mark and at leaving time couldn’t decide who to walk home with! Not that we blame him of course. There are some choices a person shouldn’t have to make!

Beneath that was a massive picture of Viggo, Orlando and Mark at the park the previous afternoon. There was more gushing and speculation that Elijah didn’t bother to read the rest of the article as it lay abandoned on the table.

“Those bloody bastards, everything’s a joke to them!” Elijah seethed as he grabbed his coat, checking his phone. He only prayed the confrontation hadn’t messed up his friend too much, but then since when did any of their prayers get answered?

“What are we going to do?” sighed Dom, not so much a question as rather a worn statement.

Shrugging on a jacket, Elijah ran a hand through his hair, not caring enough to properly brush it.

“Be there for him. It’s what we do,” he sighed, grabbing the keys fro the table. Dom nodded briskly as they headed for the car.

Oh yes, things weren’t over. Not by a long shot. Mr. Shit, meet Mr. Fan…

TBC