vigorli

TITLE: Out of the Darkness...Light (30/??)
AUTHOR: DS
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 THIRTY

Viggo

The lights were dimmed, the room quiet. That was the first thing to hit Viggo as he entered slowly and quietly, not wanting to startle the occupant. Letting the door close behind him, Viggo took several steps towards the bed--and Orlando, who appeared to be sleeping.
            A slight smile on his face, Viggo stopped next to the bed and allowed himself to study the young man. The bruises were beginning to fade and his friend looked much improved from the last time he'd seen him. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully and Viggo was reluctant to wake him. Instead, he stepped quietly over to the chair sitting next to the bed and lowered himself into it, content to just sit and observe. With a sudden thrill, Viggo realized that he'd never get enough of just gazing at the young man--he was beautiful, he was Orlando.
‘I want him to be mine,’ came the unbidden though, immediately pushed back to the recesses of the older man's mind. Small steps, he reminded himself. He'd have to take it one step at a time. And the first thing he'd have to do would be to see what the young man's reaction to him was going to be. He hoped it was a positive one.
            Leaning back, he decided to be patient, to wait. Starting with the mop of curls, he swept his gaze over his friend, drinking in the sight of him. The forehead, creased slightly, as if with worry.   The long lashes, dark against the pale skin of his face. The mouth, relaxed now in sleep, moving ever so slightly with each shallow breath. One hand lying on the covers, limp and still. The other clutching the blanket over his chest almost protectively.
            Not for the first time, Viggo contemplated the wisdom of pursuing the young man. Especially now, after all Orli had been through this last week...and before. The boy needed time to recover, to get his life back on track. Was it fair to saddle him with the fawnings of an old—well, older—man at a time like this? Or was it a timely blessing? What if they’d been brought together at this moment in time for a specific reason? What if he was here to help Orli? To help him recover from his horrible ordeal…ordeals?
            Looking at the boy sleeping quietly in the bed, Viggo continued contemplating his position in the young man’s life. Or the position he wanted to have, at any rate. He wanted to be with Orlando, by his side through thick and thin, as the saying went. It was sad that he didn’t realize how he felt about the young man until this tragedy almost made a future for them impossible. He hoped that they did have a future. Together.
            A slight stirring from the bed interrupted his reverie. The dark head moved slightly, the curls appearing even darker against the white pillow. As Viggo watched, the eyelids began to flutter as Orlando made his way from sleep to wakefulness.
‘I guess I’ll find out soon what’s in store for us,’ Viggo thought, but then reminded himself, one step at a time. Take it slow.
            When Orlando’s eyes finally opened, his questioning gaze was met with a tremulous smile. Viggo could feel his heart fluttering madly in his chest and silently cursed himself for acting like a love-starved teenager. He should be beyond all that—but he wasn’t. So all he could manage at the moment was a half-hearted, emotion-filled, lopsided smile.

Orlando

            Silence. Intense silence was the first thing he noticed upon opening his eyes. And stillness. The second thing he noticed was that he was not alone in the room. Someone else was there.   He could sense the presence of another person nearby—very close, in fact.
            Turning his head on the pillow he forced himself to stifle a gasp of surprise.   There was someone else in the room, but not his mother or Samantha, as he’d thought it would be. It was Viggo. After all these days of staying away, why was Viggo here? Why now?
Though he was immensely happy to see the man, he was also confused and not a little hurt. While he had been thrilled to see the others, he’d been downhearted by the absence of one. Viggo. Well, two actually, because he’d missed Bean, as well. But Viggo. He’d really thought Viggo cared about him—at least a little. The older man’s absence had shown him just how wrong he was. Because he knew that if Viggo did care for him, have any sort of feelings at all, he’d have been there, at the hospital, with him.
Now, looking up at the man, Orlando wasn’t sure how to react. He could feel his heart fluttering in anticipation, happiness, but he knew he had to be guarded. After all, why show up now, after all this time?
When Viggo gave him something that resembled a smile, Orlando just looked at him, feeling his own heart slowing down. Viggo’s smile didn’t look like a happy one. So that must mean that he didn’t want to be here. Maybe he was forced to come and was just putting on a good face about it. That was it; Ian and the others had probably tracked Viggo down and made him come visit.
And if he was completely honest with himself, Orlando realized he couldn’t blame the man. Why would he want to stay? What would he be getting? Used goods, that’s what. Well, he could put on a good face about it, as well.
“Hullo,” he said, his voice low and guarded.
He watched as Viggo leaned closer to the bed, another small smile on his face.
“Hi there. How are you doing?”
Orlando shrugged in reply. He didn’t really know what to say. Should he tell Viggo that he was not doing well at all, that he felt like the lowest of the low, the dirt beneath the dirt? Or should he tell him what he obviously wanted to hear?
“All right,” he finally replied. “Better.” What a liar he was. But he must be a good one; he seemed to be fooling everybody around him, making them all think he was getting better, when he was really…
He watched without watching as Viggo smiled again and leaned back to sit in his chair, relaxing slightly.
“I’m glad to hear that. We’ve all been pretty worried about you.”
What could he say to that? If Viggo had been so worried about him, why wasn’t he here? Why did it take him so many days to come back to visit? And even at that, he was dragged in by the others, obviously unwilling to come on his own. While he realized that Viggo—and Bean, too for that matter—had probably been disgusted by what they’d learned of his past, and his reaction to it, it still hurt to think they would abandon him because of it. But maybe it was times like this when you learned who your friends really were. With this thought, he sighed deeply, a frown marring his features.
“You sure you’re okay?” Viggo asked, a concerned look on his face.
He shrugged again. Why did the man have to keep pretending? Why was he even here? Everything he’d wanted to say to Viggo—before—no longer applied. Everything had changed. He had changed. He knew Viggo could see it. That’s why he hadn’t been coming around. That’s why he hadn’t been there for him…no, not for him, with him. He didn’t need anyone to be there for him. He was pretty good at handling things on his own. Viggo was speaking again.
“I really missed seeing you. I wanted to be here but…”
Orlando’s attention was drawn to the other man as he trailed off, his mournful train of thought interrupted by Viggo’s declaration. Why would he say that? He didn’t mean it. But…he had to know why Viggo was lying to him.
“What…what do you mean you missed seeing me?” So softly he was barely heard by the other man.
Viggo looked confused for a moment, but then smiled again and nodded his head.
“I did miss you, Orli. Very much.”
He couldn’t take it any more. No more pretense. No more pretending. He just couldn’t go on with it.
“Why are you saying that? Why are you lying to me?”
He watched in satisfaction as Viggo’s mouth nearly dropped open and his eyes widened in what seemed to be surprise.
“What are you talking about, Orli? What do you mean? I’m not lying about anything!
Orlando snorted and shook his head in disgust, both at Viggo and at himself as he felt the tears threatened to well and fall. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—give the other man the satisfaction.

Viggo

            In shock, he watched as the other man shook his head in what appeared to be disgust. And he could see the tears that were there, but not quite falling. What had he said? What had he done? Leaning forward, he tried to console the young man, who was now staring down at his the bed.
            “Orli, I’m sorry. Please, look at me.”
When the young man kept looking at the bed sheets, Viggo rose from his chair and in half a step was beside him. Leaning down, he reached out to grasp the nearest shoulder. The reaction was instantaneous. The young man jerked away, a strangled cry caught in his throat as he did so. Viggo moved his hand away.
“Orli, please. I’m not lying about anything. I’m not.”
His mind was whirling in confusion as he wondered what—and how much—he should tell the young man. Should he tell him how much he’d wanted to be here, by his side, for the last five days? Should he tell him how painful it was being separated from him, knowing he was suffering, knowing he was alone—to a large extent? Or—and this was the crux of it—should he tell him why he hadn’t been here for the last five days? Should he tell the young man that it was his own mother who had forbidden him to even enter the hospital?
Viggo sighed in frustration, causing the boy to look over at him questioningly. No, as much as he wanted to tell Orlando the truth behind his absence, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t point the finger of blame at Sonia Bloom, even if she was the one responsible for the situation. She was Orlando’s mother and the boy loved her. He couldn’t be responsible for creating a rift between them, even though he was furious with her himself.
So he sat, silent for the moment, as he contemplated his next words. But just as he had decided how to explain himself, the door opened and Billy poked his head in.
“Pssst, Viggo. Orli’s mother just got off the elevator. She’s headed this way!”

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