vigorli

TITLE: Out of the Darkness...Light (33??)
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.

Thank you again to everyone who replied and commented on the last chapter. I appreciate what you have to say and am glad you're enjoying the story:) Thanks!!!
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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

            A sharp, strangled gasp was all that could be heard in the sudden silence. Viggo felt as if he was frozen, totally unable to move. Orlando looked like he’d seen a ghost. Face as white as snow, eyes as large as saucers. Liquid brown eyes that were filled with disbelief--and hurt. Eyes that were moving back and forth between his mother and Viggo. Eyes that were imploring them to stop. Eyes that were asking the question--please say this isn’t the truth?
            Hearing the sound, Sonia’s attention immediately focused on her son. Realizing that he’d heard at least part of their conversation, she took several steps towards him, her arms outstretched as if to enfold him into her embrace. Viggo also moved forward, but Orlando was having none of it. Looking at his mother as if he’d never seen her before, he uttered only one word...only one word, so soft it could barely be heard. “No.”
            "Orlando please," his mother begged.
            But he was gone. Before either of them quite realized what had happened, he was gone, down the hall and into the elevator. A shocked silence followed. Viggo and Sonia stared at each other, and then at the elevator doors as they closed behind the retreating figure of Orlando.
            "What happened?" Ian asked from the still open door. Behind him, the rest of the Fellowship--and Hugo--were crowding in, attempting to see what the commotion was about.
            "He’s gone," Sonia Bloom replied numbly. As the others filed out of the room and into the hall, she looked for her daughter. Finding her, she reached out. "Oh, Samantha!" But seeing the look of shock and horror on her daughter’s face, she faltered, unsure how to continue.
            "Mum, is that true? Did you really do that?"
            The expression on Sonia Bloom’s face answered her question and Samantha stifled a sob.
            "Oh mum. How could you?"
            "Samantha, no! Please. You don’t understand. I didn’t have a choice!"
            Samantha moved towards her mother where she stopped, staring at her with something akin to hatred in her eyes, as if she were looking at a stranger.
            "Mum. What’s to understand? We were children! He was just a little boy. Your son!"
            Looking around frantically, her eyes tear-filled, the young woman took in the faces around her, horror-filled, sorrowful, in shock. All of the emotions were present and accounted for. She was feeling all of them but mostly, as she stared at the woman in front of her, she was feeling the presence of a stranger. She was looking at someone she’d never seen before. Turning, she ran after her brother, without a backwards glance at any of them.
            Viggo took off after her, Beanie hot on his heels. He could vaguely hear the commotion beginning behind them, but didn’t look back.
            Watching them go and putting out a restraining arm to keep Dom and Elijah from following, Ian shook his head in sorrow. Looking down at the younger men, he attempted a small smile.
            "He won’t get far. He’s barefoot and wearing a robe. He’ll be back. Viggo and Bean will find him. Don’t worry."
            He sounded like he was trying to reassure himself as much as the others. There was a look of infinite sadness in his eyes that couldn’t be disguised by the lightness of his words.

Viggo

            He was frantic. In shock. Not wanting to believe what he’d heard, but knowing in his heart it was true. And with that knowledge came the horror. The horror of knowing that not only had Orlando gone through hell for years, but that his own mother had condoned--and allowed--that hell to occur. But he didn’t have time to dwell on that now. He had to find young man.
            Punching the first floor button for the fifth time in as many seconds, he looked up to see what floor they were on. Two more to go and they’d be on the ground level. Glancing over at Sean, he saw the same look of intensity and horror on his face that he knew was mirrored on his own. There was also an expression of concern marring his handsome features. The young man they both cared about was out there--somewhere--distraught and hurt.
            "Don’t worry, Viggo. We’ll find him."
            Glancing over at his friend as the elevator doors opened, Viggo mustered a semi-smile.
            "I hope so, Sean. I hope so."
            Entering the downstairs lobby from the elevator, the two men stopped, having no idea where they were going.
            Unwittingly repeating Ian’s words, Viggo muttered, “He can’t have gone far. He’s barefoot and wearing a hospital robe."
            "Very true. But where do you think he went?"
            Viggo stood still and silent, mulling the question over in his mind.
            "I don’t think he’d leave the hospital. He’s not ready for that yet. Not on his own, anyway."
            "So somewhere here, then."
            "Yes, somewhere here. But where?"
            "I know," a quiet voice said, causing both men to refocus their attention.
            Samantha Bloom walked towards them, her tear-stained face filled with sorrow.
            "When we were little, and Orlando was upset, he always went to the neighborhood chapel. Said he felt safe there. He’s probably here in the hospital, in the hospital chapel."
            "All right, then. Let’s go." Sean replied matter-of-factly, leading the way down a corridor, with arrows pointing to the chapel. The other two followed.
            Viggo was still frantic with worry, but felt himself calming somewhat. He just needed to find Orli, to see him with his own eyes and make sure he was all right.
            Not three minutes later, they found themselves standing outside the door marked “Chapel.” Peering through the window in the door, Viggo could see a lone figure sitting in the front pew. A solitary being with dark brown curls. Breathing a sigh of relief, he looked over at Sean and Samantha, who both nodded towards the door, sending the silent message that he should go on in. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Viggo reached out and pushed the door open.
            The young man in the front pew didn’t acknowledge his presence, didn’t even move. Even when Viggo moved to sit on the bench behind him, Orlando still remained motionless. But then the older man realized that he wasn’t, not really. Barely perceptible were the tiny shudders that shook the thin frame with each silent sob. Stretching forward to look at him, Viggo could see that the boy’s eyes were red and swollen, the tears continuing to fall.
            Reaching out, Viggo placed a steady hand on the shoulder in front of him, ignoring the barely discernible flinch as he did so. He didn’t move his hand, but kept it there, his touch so light it was like a feather.
            “Orlando,” he began. No response, though he hadn’t really expected any. Trying again. “Orli, look at me, please.” Still nothing. Then, “Orlando. It’s going to be all right. I promise.”
            The curly head lifted and turned, and Viggo found himself looking into the saddest eyes he’d ever seen. Red-rimmed and swollen, they were filled with more anguish than Viggo was used to seeing. And they were looking directly at him.

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