vigorli

TITLE: Out of the Darkness...Light (13/?)
AUTHOR: Heidi
E-MAIL: lotr58@bellsouth.net
RATING: R--Violence, Angst
PAIRING: Orli/Viggo
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these guys (though I wish I did). No money is being
made from this endeavor and no disrespect is intended. It's all for fun!
And thanks so much to those of you looking it over for me:) Your time and
comments are much appreciated.
FEEDBACK: Yes, but be kind, gulp:)
ARCHIVE: Anywhere, just let me know. Thanks.

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

On the ride back to the hospital, both men were quiet, engrossed in their own private thoughts regarding everything that had occurred in the last several days, as well as the new information they’d learned earlier that day. It was almost too much to take in at one time. He didn’t know about Sean, but Viggo felt as if he were on sensory overload.

He decided that he was not going to bring up his conversation with Samantha and her mother. Not yet. The time for that would come, but this was not it. No, he was going to be very low-key and leave the pace up to Orli. Now was not the time to bring up the horrible events of the young man’s childhood. He just wanted to be there, by his side. Just…there.

Once they arrived at the hospital, Sean let him off in front, reminding him that he was going over to see PJ and would be back in a couple of hours. Just as Viggo was ready to close the door of the car, he heard his name called. Bending down, he looked through the open car window to see Sean holding up a white paper bag.

“Hey, Vig. Margaret wanted Orlando to have these. Chocolate chip cookies made especially for him.”

Nodding at the woman’s thoughtfulness, Viggo took the bag, eager to get back to Orlando.

Once inside, he hurried upstairs, trying to will the elevator to move faster. Finally, he arrived at Orlando’s floor and exited the elevator, making his way down the hall towards the boy’s room. Samantha, eyes red and swollen, stood just outside the door.

“Hullo, Viggo,” she said, nodding her head towards him.

“Samantha,” he replied.

“Viggo, we…we didn’t say anything to Orli. About what I told you earlier. He has no idea that we know.” Nodding, Viggo agreed that he, too, would say nothing.

"Hey, you awake?"

Pushing the door open a tiny bit and poking his head through, Viggo looked over at the lone occupant of the room. Though the brown eyes were closed, and there was no response, the older man could tell his friend wasn't sleeping. Stepping softly in full Aragon-in-the-forest mode, Viggo approached the bed.

"I brought you something, but you'll have to open your eyes to see what it is."

One eye twitched ever so slightly, but remained closed. But Viggo had faith, and knew that his offering might bring some much needed cheer to the young man, if he could get him to actually open his eyes and rejoin the world of the living.

Lifting the white bag he carried, he ever-so-slowly held it out until it was just beneath Orlando's nose. He swung it back and forth, listening to the crinkling sound the paper made as it dangled from his fingers like a pendulum. Momentarily, Viggo caught a whiff of the contents and held the bag even closer to the young man--almost touching.

"Mmmmm...doesn't that smell good?"

Finally, success. Brown eyes opened slowly and gazed up at him with an expression somewhere between exasperation and anger, with just a hint of curiosity thrown in. All Viggo saw, however, was the look--quickly hidden--of fear and sorrow. That was the look that cut straight to Viggo's heart and made him want to wrap the young man in his arms and protect him from all the unpleasant things in the world around them. Hopefully, he’d get his chance to do just that. Now, though, the expressive brown eyes were open and the patient was fully aware.

“Aren’t you curious?” Viggo asked with a slight smile.

A half-hearted shrug, although the older man could see the boy eyeing the bag curiously.

“Well, Margaret in the mess tent sent these especially for you. Made them for you, in fact. Said they were your favorites.”

No move was forthcoming towards the bag, although Viggo could see Orlando’s eyes following its movement as it swung back and forth in front of his face. With a small smile, Viggo let go and watched the bag fall into his friend’s lap.

“Go ahead. Dig in. The doctor said it’s all right.”

Looking up at the older man, Orlando hesitated, then reached down and opened the bag. Peering into it, he allowed a tiny smile to flit across his face, ever so briefly. It warmed Viggo’s heart to see the expression linger for a moment before disappearing. He watched with pleasure as Orlando lifted the bag to his nose and inhaled deeply, the smile returning to his face once more. Viggo chuckled to himself. Margaret’s chocolate chip cookies did have that effect on people—especially Orlando. They were his absolute favorite.

Reaching in, Orlando pulled out a mouthwatering, melt-on-your palate, chocolate chip cookie-made especially for him by Margaret. Viggo watched with pleasure as the boy's mouth quirked in a small smile as he contemplated the chocolate chip wonder he now held in his hand.

"Margaret made these for me?"

"Yep. Just for you."

Viggo allowed himself to smile as he looked down at his friend, who was—finally—looking back at him, a look of confusion on his face.

"But why? Why would she do that?"

"What do you mean, why?"

"Why would she go to all that trouble? For me?"

Viggo chuckled. Orlando was oblivious to the effect he had on people. He honestly had no idea how many people cared about him, and he found that especially endearing.

Shaking his head slightly, he replied, "Because she cares about you. Said you remind her of her son. And..." Viggo hesitated to continue, but did nevertheless. "And she wanted to cheer you up. Make you smile. She said that it's about time you did that again."

The younger man nodded as he nibbled an edge of the chocolate delight. Then, without warning, he looked up at the older man, an intense expression on his face, and asked the question Viggo had been expecting—and dreading.

"Why are you here?"

"What do you mean?" Playing dumb. He was a master at it.

Orlando looked him directly in the eye, seeming, for the moment anyway, more like himself than he had since this whole nightmare had begun.

"I mean, why are you here? Now? Yesterday. Today. Every day since..." he trailed off, seemingly unable to continue, but Viggo knew exactly what he meant, and found his stomach churning because of it.

The older man's mind whirled as he wondered frantically how much to say...decided to start slow...very slow.

"I wanted...I wanted to be here."

"But why?" Orlando wanted more.

"Because..." Viggo suddenly found himself at a loss for words. Very uncharacteristic for him. Momentarily, he wondered what to say, how truthful he should be. Not knowing how Orlando felt, he didn't want to upset the young man's delicately balanced equilibrium even more than it already had been. At the same time, though, he wanted to be totally honest with the young man. He really didn't want to hold back. Taking a deep breath, he decided to take the plunge and see what would happen.

Looking deeply into Orlando's eyes in an effort to garner his full attention, he took another deep breath and blurted out his answer.

"Because I care about you...for you. I want to be here for you because I care about you a lot."

There, that wasn't so hard. But then Viggo was taken aback when Orlando laughed softly, but it was not a sound of happiness. Rather, to Viggo's ears, it was a sound of deep self-loathing.

"You should probably find someone else to care about, Viggo."

Gazing at the downcast eyes and forlorn expression on his companion's pale, bruised face, Viggo asked in confusion, "why would you say that?"

"Because...I'm just not worth it."

The older man had to strain to hear the last words and when he realized what Orlando had actually said, he looked at the boy in bewilderment.

"What do you mean, you're 'not worth it'?"

Small shrug, barely noticed. Small voice, barely heard.

"I'm just not. That's all."

Viggo leaned down in an effort to get closer to the young man, pulling back slightly when Orlando moved away almost imperceptibly.

"What would make you say that? Surely you don't believe that." He tried again.

Small shrug.

"What's changed since Sunday night?"

Orlando finally looked up at him, an expression of disbelief on his face.

"How can you say that? Everything's changed!"

The last word was almost choked out and Viggo could see that the younger man was fighting back tears. The chocolate brown eyes were filled, but not yet overflowing.

Viggo hesitated only a moment before moving to sit on the side of the bed. Again, Orlando stiffened visibly, but this time didn't try to move away. The older man breathed a sweet sigh of relief, but made no further move towards his friend. He wanted to, though.

"Orlando," he said, keeping his voice as gentle as possible, "nothing has changed."

He forged ahead when the boy started to shake his head.

"Nothing has changed. You're still the same person you were Sunday, and the day before, and always."

When he saw that he had his friend's attention and was not going to be interrupted—for the moment, anyway—he took a deep breath and continued.

"You're Orlando Bloom—my friend—and someone I care about very deeply. Nothing that could happen would ever change that."

When Orlando started to shake his head in denial once again, Viggo shushed him, shaking his own head.

"No, Orlando. It's all right. You're going to be all right...and I'm going to be right here beside you...all the way."

"But...Viggo...you just don't know...I'm..."the young man's voice was full of anguish and he trailed off, falling silent.

Suddenly alert, Viggo listened carefully, hoping to discover a little more of the boy's past...more than he knew already. But nothing more was forthcoming. Deciding to try again, Viggo continued.

"Orlando. I want to be there for you. Will you let me?"

Unconsciously holding his breath, he waited for an answer.