Breathing Room (18/?)
Feb. 14th, 2005 06:47 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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vigorliTitle: Breathing Room (18/?)
Author: Rainweaver13
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Summary: Monteverde VIII: Volcanic Rumblings
Rating/Warnings: PG-13. Some ANGST, as issues are finally faced. All made up. Fiction. There's not a lick of truth in it.
Disclaimer: Don't own them; don't know anything about them - they are their own. I mean no disrespect and I'm certainly not profiting from this.
A/N: I realize that Orlando is shaking his painkiller addiction too quickly to be strictly realistic, but sometimes things have to bend a little bit in the interest of fiction. Note that he is not stopping the pills entirely, but working back to a barely minimal dosage. Apologies for the digression from a fic I've tried to keep otherwise fairly realistic. Also, this chapter wreaks havoc once more with Costa Rican roads, as all the info I found was contradictory. So I just made it up. Hey, it's fiction. Mount Arenal is real, though, and has been erupting since 1968. Cool. As always, thanks so much for your helpful feedback.
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Previous Chapters Look under Personal Fics
January 2005, Day 11
Orlando woke to a lazy rhythmic drumming on his door.
"Orlando, time to get up."
Orlando struggled up onto his elbows and yawned, blinking into the dark room. "What the fuck?" he called to the offending door.
"Get up, lazy. Time to eat, pack. We got places to go."
Pack? Orlando mouthed to himself. For the love of god, what now? He pulled himself off the bed, stacked himself up into something resembling upright and slumped to the door, pulling it open to an eye-demolishing stab of morning sunlight. Squinting out at the offending silhouette, he scowled. "What are you on about?"
"We're burning daylight. Got a long drive today."
"Was I drunk last night?"
"No." The silhouette had developed dark blue eyes that danced wretchedly with merriment. "You just don't do morning. Want me to pack for you while you eat?"
Orlando considered losing his temper, considered arguing, considered just crawling back into bed and flatly refusing whatever insanity this was.
"You can sleep in the car," Viggo said gently, and the wash of tenderness through the words took the wind out of all Orlando's sails of resistance.
"Okay," he surrendered, and wandered out into the living room toward food on the coffee table.
"Nice wood," Viggo called from behind him, voice smirking.
Orlando glanced down and sighed at the pup tent in his pajamas. "You crazy fuck."
"Not yet," came the voice from inside Orlando's room. "But you never know."
Orlando plopped down to eat, not even bothering to try to keep the grin off his face.
-----
The second time Orlando woke, he was curled in a surprisingly comfortable cocoon of blankets and pillows in the passenger seat of the now-familiar cruiser. Some ethnic-sounding music, heavy on the percussion, played softly and Viggo tapped accompaniment on the steering wheel. Orlando stayed still, gaining a few minutes to study his old friend, former lover undisturbed.
He did look older, undeniably. The gray touches that were just beginning to show at his temples in New Zealand were full-fledged streaks now. The Alatriste mustache was liberally peppered. There were more smile lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth, and sadly, new lines on his brow. But he was still Viggo, still cleancut and looking nowhere near his age.
With a mild sense of wonder, Orlando realized he wanted to see Viggo grow older. He wanted to keep track of gray hairs and rub the ache out of abused joints. He wanted to be there when he finally had to give up and get reading glasses - a capitulation that wasn't far in the future. Orlando had been watching in amusement as the morning crossword moved farther and farther out Viggo's thigh. He wanted to be there for all that, beside this man, being driven crazy by him, and loving him the best way he could.
With a small smile on his face, he shifted to a more upright position and reached a hand over to brush fingertips across Viggo's cheek. "G'morning."
"That's more like it." Viggo chuckled, grinning over at him. "Sleep well?"
"Like a baby."
"Good. It's been a challenge a few times to keep the bumps from waking you up. You must have good luck on your side."
"I'm beginning to think so. How long did I sleep?" Orlando stretched his neck and took a first look around at their surroundings. "Holy shit."
"About three hours." Another quiet laugh. "Nice, isn't it?"
"Wow."
On the left, thick jungle marched right up to the gravel roadway, occasionally breaking to show a long drop down into endless green valleys. On the right, a breathtakingly blue lake stretched away to the horizon. The road rose barely above the level of the lake, which was rimmed by emerald on all sides.
"Lake Arenal."
"Have you told me where we're going and I just forgot?"
"Nope. You never asked. Awfully trusting, actually."
"Ah, well... Gotta trust my ranger." Orlando shot a grin across the seat and was delighted to see Viggo grin back.
"We're going to a volcano."
"What, a dormant one?"
"No, a live one."
"You're shitting me."
Viggo snickered. "No. Mount Arenal. It's been active since 1968."
"Active as in blowing up?"
"Umhmm."
"Fire. Lava. Blazing boulders through the air?"
"From what I read."
"And we're going there why?"
"Why not?"
"You are one seriously bent motherfuc- oh! Look at that!" Orlando gasped as they came around a curve and startled a flock of dozens of blue-white heron-like birds. They lifted en masse from the wide mud flat they were inhabiting, rose a few feet into the air, then apparently decided the cruiser was no danger and began settling back down to their feeding. "They're so beautiful," Orlando murmured. "Look at the curve, that incredible curve from head to tail feathers."
"Sinuous."
"Almost sexual."
"A curve hands were meant to follow," Viggo mused, forced to look away from the birds to make sure the cruiser didn't end up either in the lake or at the bottom of some valley. "But we can't touch them. Maybe that's why we ache for them so much."
Orlando looked at Viggo for an almost blank moment, then started scrabbling in the glove compartment and center console, muttering French profanity under his breath. "Aha!" he announced, as Viggo glanced over with interest now and then. "A pencil! A napkin! Now what did you just say?"
"What?"
"About the curve... a curve hands were... what?" Orlando was writing carefully on the napkin.
"Uhhhh....A curve hands were meant to follow." Viggo kept a sideways look at the note-taking, watching as Orlando wrote for a while, folded the napkin neatly and put it on the dashboard, then tucked the pencil in an easily accessible spot on the console. Orlando sat back in his seat, pulled a blanket up over his lap and smiled to himself.
"What's that about?" Viggo asked, curiosity getting the best of him.
"Viggo Mortensen does not stop writing, my king," Orlando said, turning a blazing smile across the front seat. "Not on my watch. If you're not writing, I'll just have to listen and write for you. For a while. Til you're back up to speed."
Viggo stared at him with a mixture of emotions that Orlando couldn't begin to read, opened his mouth, then closed it and looked away, back at the road. Orlando fixed his attention back on the beautiful surroundings and felt a warm glow of contentment. Several miles later, Viggo whispered, "Thank you," his voice choked and ragged. Orlando glanced sideways long enough to see tear tracks disappearing into the mustache, but left him his privacy.
The next time the cruiser came around a curve that opened onto a brilliant view of the lake and the hundreds of waterfowl that called it home, Orlando slid his hand lightly onto Viggo's thigh. A few minutes later, Viggo readjusted his driving arm and dropped a warm hand atop Orlando's, clasping the long fingers lightly, giving a gentle squeeze.
They rode that way in contented silence, drinking in the surrounding beauty, until stomachs started rumbling and it was time to stop for lunch.
-----
After lunch, provided by the Heliconia kitchen staff which had clearly decided to spoil them, Viggo stretched out on one of their blankets for a nap. Orlando walked for a while around the small clearing where they'd stopped, then stood and looked eastward across the deep blue of the lake to the volcano, smoking in the distance. Viggo had explained that even though they were closer to the volcano on a northeasterly route from Monteverde, there were no roads that way. The jungle was simply too thick; the slopes too steep. So their trip had to take them all the way around Lake Arenal, a large loop to the west. About a five to six hour drive, Viggo said. There's paved road starting soon, he added.
Orlando stretched luxuriously then turned back to where Viggo was asleep, not quite snoring, but breathing deeply. Careful not to wake the older man, he lay down beside him, last thing laying his head on Viggo's shoulder as he'd done so many times in the past. As he'd hoped, Viggo didn't wake. Instead, he automatically wrapped an arm up around Orlando's back. Safe in the middle of nowhere in a Central American jungle, Orlando took his own nap.
-----
Not long after lunch, the ever-present drifting clouds accumulated and worked themselves up into a rainstorm. Inside the cruiser, Orlando wrapped himself in a blanket and enjoyed the unworldly feel of total seclusion caused by driving in the rain. A glance over showed that a small smile teased across Viggo's face as he focused out into the falling water.
"You really like this, don't you?" Orlando asked.
"Like what?"
"Being out like this, middle of nowhere, nobody around..."
A thoughtful pause. "It's peaceful."
"Why don't you like parties?"
"I like parties."
"I don't mean parties, like, small parties with friends. I mean... y'know... Hollywood parties. Premieres. Openings. Galas. That stuff."
Silence stretched out long but not uncomfortable, not any more. Now Orlando understood that Viggo's silences weren't avoidance or dismissal, they were simply thinking. If a person wanted to converse with him, you learned to wait.
"They're all noise, no content," Viggo said finally. "People fly at you like bugs. They don't see you. They don't hear you. They just buzz by, annoy you, then leave. It's impossible to communicate anything of any value."
Orlando considered that. "But the intent isn't to communicate or provide content. It's to see and be seen."
Viggo shrugged. "I've just never seen any sense in that. Tends to piss me off more than anything else. Somebody showing off some $100,000 gown or $3,000 tie, and all I can think about is how much better that money could be spent elsewhere. I can't be around that kind of crap for long. I get unsociable." Viggo graced Orlando with a wry crooked grin.
Orlando sat and thought for a while, hugging the blanket up to his chin.
"Look at it this way," Viggo said quietly. "Who do you go to see?"
"Ummm... other performers, directors, producers..."
"Why?"
"It's a sort of... informal networking for jobs, really. Keeping your face in play."
"So why all the flash? Do you want them to remember how pretty you are or how well you can act?"
"Hmmm... Never really thought about that."
"Who do you go to be seen by?"
"Same people. Same reasons."
"But who else are you often seen by?"
Orlando looked over, brows drawn together. "Don't know what you're shooting for, Vig."
"You end up in magazines, newspapers, on entertainment shows, on the internet..."
"Yeah...."
"Being seen by a lot of ordinary people."
"True."
"Who can rightfully only feel one thing when they look at this glamourous, extravagant lifestyle..."
"...." Orlando lifted a brow.
"Envy."
"Envy's not so bad."
"Hatred is active and envy passive dislike; there is but one step from envy to hate."
"Who said that?"
"Goethe. I tend to agree. I don't like to cause envy, if I can help it. Seems a dangerous thing to me."
They rode on in comfortable silence, each mulling his own thoughts.
"I've missed this," Orlando said finally. Outside the rain began to ease up slightly.
"Driving in the rain?"
"Pfffftt." Orlando smacked Viggo's shoulder and Viggo chuckled. "Talking. Really talking. About... real things. Ideas. I haven't been doing a lot of that, the last year or so."
"Never a good idea to let your mind go to mush, babe."
"I know. It was just... so easy."
"Most of the roads you don't need to take are."
The clouds broke apart and suddenly Arenal was much closer, spewing gray smoke into the air. "Not far now," Viggo said.
-----
They arrived at Tabacon Resort in the late afternoon, and spent a leisurely while settling in to their luxurious room. Orlando noted that while they had a single room, it had two double beds. The impatient part of him growled a bit at that, but he reminded himself that he had a lot to prove this time around, and laid claim to the bed farthest from the window with good grace.
Viggo tossed his pack on the other bed and stood at the double doors, looking out at the volcano belching smoke and the occasional solid chunk miles away. It looked too damn close to Orlando. "I think you'll like what I've booked," Viggo murmured softly.
"Will it bite me?" Orlando teased.
"Not as long as you behave," Viggo said, absolutely deadpan.
Orlando blinked, taken aback for a moment. Good god, surely it really wasn't something that would...
Viggo laughed quietly. "Calm down, elf boy. Freshen up, then change into your swim trunks and a tee."
"I don't have any swim trunks."
"Yeah, you do." Viggo grinned, then turned to open his pack and started pulling stuff out onto the bed, finally locating his blue trunks. Orlando gave up and started checking his smallest bag, which had made the trip with them. Somehow he wasn't really surprised when he found a pair of swim trunks inside. He was, however, a bit taken aback by the item itself.
"Orange, green and yellow?" he asked, disbelieving. "And is this dayglo? Do they even make dayglo colors any more?"
"Apparently so." Viggo pulled the button-down shirt over his head and replaced it with one of the molas, this one in shades of blue and green. "You gonna change in the bathroom, or should I?"
In the bathroom? As many times as they'd seen each other naked? Orlando started to pull off his clothes and Viggo simply nodded, walked past him into the bathroom and closed the door. Orlando blinked at the door stupidly, then slowly changed into the eye-injuring trunks and a yellow tee. Viggo ambled out and opened the outer door, bowing slightly with a small grin.
"C'mon, I think you'll like this."
-----
"This" turned out to be a full-body massage performed by a short gray-haired man with magic hands. Viggo's masseuse was taller, with thick straight black hair and a faintly Asian look, and neither of them found anything to complain about.
In fact, by the time the massages were over, they were both reduced pretty much to putty. Happy, speechless putty.
-----
Next on the menu of treats was a short SUV trip to what turned out to be the resort's own personal hot springs, in a fresh-running river warmed by the volcano upstream.
"How do you find these places?" Orlando asked, sliding into crystal clear water running at 99 degrees and resting his head on a rock that had clearly pillowed many heads before.
"Reading." Viggo eeled into place nearby, settling into position with a contented sigh.
"When do you have the time?" Orlando let his arms float, savoring the partial weightlessness.
"Don't spend a lot of time at brainless parties."
Ouch. Okay. He deserved that one. Water rippled past whispering a constant stream of secrets, while all around a slightly manicured version of the ever-present jungle hugged the edges of the river. In the distance - not nearly far enough, in Orlando's opinion - the volcano boiled steadily. Viggo rested with his eyes closed, probably listening to what the river was saying. Orlando couldn't make it out. Wasn't sure he'd want to.
"How's Henry?"
"Seventeen."
"Seventeen!"
"Umhmm."
"Wow. He was just... a kid."
"Still a kid, just a bigger one. Drives now. Doing college applications."
"Henry, to college."
"Yep."
"Fuck. It just doesn't seem that long..."
"Kids grow fast, Lan. A year and a half, two years... that's a lot of time in a kid's life. You can't just walk away and leave them and expect them to stay the same."
"I didn't expect he'd stay-"
"What did you expect? When you walked out on me, you walked out on him, too. Did you ever stop to think about that? He adored you, Orlando."
He'd never thought about Henry at all, to be honest. Not once. Christ. How much more of an ass could he possibly be? "I suppose he hates me now."
Viggo shifted position, turned so he could look up at the volcano, away from Orlando. "I don't think so," he said quietly. "I tried to keep him from that. He's not real happy with you, though." Viggo rolled his head to look over at Orlando. "If you want to try again, you'll have to win him back, too. We're a package deal. You know that."
"Yeah. I know that." Christ, how did you win over a 17-year-old? Orlando had a feeling that video games and obscure band t-shirts weren't going to be enough to cut it any more.
Viggo had gone back to pondering the volcano. Orlando didn't find it nearly as interesting, and focused instead on the colorful birds in the riverside foliage.
The warm river whispered more secrets.
"Do you think it's possible for us to be together again, Vig?"
A cool breeze blew downriver, shaking cold droplets from overhanging branches.
"A lot depends on you, I think." Viggo's answer was quiet and almost sad, aimed at the sky. "I can't do this again. Not like last time."
"I didn't know it meant so much," Orlando barely more than whispered.
"I'm not casual with my heart."
"I never meant to hurt you."
"You never meant anything, did you? You never thought. You just did. Whatever you wanted. And you never thought about the repercussions." Viggo's voice grew harder, harsher, with a trembling edge of anger. "Did you ever think about me, Orlando? Did you ever consider what it cost for me to lay my fucking life, my heart out on the line like that for you and just get it slapped back in my face like it meant nothing?" He clamped his mouth shut, lips thin, and breathed hard through his nose, trying to force his way back into some calm. The volcano was too inspirational.
Orlando lay limp in the water, slack and battered. Never. Never had Viggo been angry with him, not like this. He was always so calm, so steady ... "What do you want, Viggo? An apology? Do you want me to say I'm sorry?"
Viggo drew in a deep breath and let it out slow, then let his head slide under the water, bobbing back up with sleeked-back hair and a calmer look. "It wouldn't be a bad place to start," he said almost gently. "But not right now. Think about it a little."
"Why?"
"I'm pruned and starving. Let's eat."
The man could send you into emotional whiplash, Orlando decided. But as he followed the familiar leanly muscled back out of the river, he began to understand something. This was real. This man was true. He was worth keeping, and worth fighting for, and Orlando had come within a thin whisker of losing him entirely. He wouldn't lose him this time. No matter how much crow he had to eat... and how well deserved it was.
-----
"An Italian restaurant at the foot of a volcano in a jungle in Central America." Orlando laughed. "Y'know, it's so wrong it's almost right."
A platter of seafood pasta rested between them, with a bowl of salad and a loaf of crusty bread to share. Each of them had a single glass of wine, rather than the bottle they normally would have gotten, after Viggo made a sheepish admission before ordering.
"I'm actually not supposed to drink alcohol while taking the ... um... medicine."
"Oh really?" Orlando gave him a look. "So what was all that you were knocking back when you were playing Mr. Jazz Man the other night?"
"Sin. Evil. Lawbreaking. Couldn't stand to look at you any more because I wanted you too much." Viggo leveled a look across at him. "Ergo, drunk."
Orlando nodded, carefully not allowing any expression to show at the statement that Viggo wanted him. "I'm actually not supposed to mix alcohol and the pain killers, either."
"Why don't we be good, then?"
"No wine?" Orlando tried not to whine, but really, Italian food with no wine?
"One glass each."
Orlando sighed. "If you can be tough, I can be tough."
"Tough guys. That's us."
-----
Dark had settled in firmly by the time they finished dinner. They got their raspberry cheesecake and tiramisu desserts to go and headed up to their room, massaged, boiled and well-fed. Opening the room door, Viggo said, "Now, for the piece de resistance..." Turning on only a single lamp, he led the way to the double doors and out onto the balcony, where two lounge chairs flanked a small table. He smiled, and heard Orlando, behind him, draw in a breath.
Mount Arenal, in the darkness, glowed. Rivulets of lava flow, invisible during the day, undulated down the mountainside. Each thudding explosion, along with the smoke that was visible by day, also brought huge sprays of sparks and sometimes enormous fireballs that arced through the air to crash far down the slopes.
"It's amazing," Orlando whispered.
"Looks like it's alive." Viggo set the sweets down on the table and held an arm out to Orlando. Orlando moved against his side as if they'd been built to fit that way.
"This is all going on during the day, too?"
"Umhmm. Takes darkness to bring out the true beauty, though."
They stood, swaying slightly, watching the natural fireworks, smelling the occasional drifts of sulphur in the air.
"Viggo?"
"Hmmm?"
"I'm sorry I hurt you. If I'd stopped to think, I'd never have done it. But you're right, I never thought. Not once. Not about anybody but me. And it just got me in a world of shit."
"Lan-"
Orlando laid a finger on Viggo's lips. "Let me finish. I never appreciated what I had with you until it was gone. I thought I was such hot shit, I could handle anything, everything. I didn't need anybody. But I was wrong, Vig. I needed something real, something true. And that was you. It has been ever since we met. I apologize for how I treated you, my king. I am so very sorry. I hope you can forgive me."
Viggo pulled Orlando in for a hug, letting his face rest on the riot of chocolate curls as he had so many times in the past, then touched foreheads, holding that for a long moment before letting go.
"You want cheesecake or tiramisu?"
Orlando watched Viggo warily, eyes wide. The older man picked a chair and slid into place, sighing in contentment. "You don't pick, I will."
"Go ahead." Orlando claimed the other chair, wondering if there was going to be a response to his apology.
"Cheesecake for me, then."
They ate dessert and watched the volcano, and later went to bed - one to each bed. By mid-morning the next day, they were on the road back toward Monteverde.
-----
Day 12, Evening
The balcony was a familiar place now, the darkness not so frightening since Orlando knew what was out there - at least in general.
"Kinda miss the volcano, though," he said, tinkling the ice in his fruit juice. He leaned over the railing to look down at the few people still swimming in the bright aqua pool this late. Too much sitting while driving had left him with little desire to use the deck chairs.
Viggo had laid claim to one end of the balcony and was working steadily through a routine that looked like a weird marriage of tai chi, yoga, pilates and Karate Kid. Orlando, to be honest, was forcing himself not to watch because it was making him damned horny.
"Don't forget wax on, wax off, old man," he suggested, hiding a grin behind his glass.
"Don't forget fuck you, grasshopper," Viggo muttered cheerfully, flipping him a bird with the next hand that came his direction. "See how you keep in shape when you're bucking 50."
"Did you work out when you were 28?"
"I was working two and three jobs and part-time roadie for a punk band when I was 28. Didn't have time to work out." He rolled down onto the blanket he'd spread on the flagstones and began doing sit-ups. And doing sit-ups. And doing sit-ups.
"How many of those are you gonna do?" Orlando asked, bemusedly interested.
"Dunno.... Never... count."
"You never count."
"Nope." Huff. Huff. Huff. Huff.
"You are the weirdest human I've ever known."
"Bet you... say that... to all... the girls..." Huff. Huff. Huff. Huff.
Orlando just laughed and turned away from the sight of that sweat-sheened body before he humiliated himself by running over there and just jumping the man, pure and simple. Breathing deep of the clean, cool air, he pondered the fact that three weeks ago he'd been lost in a haze of sparkly, self-induced pain, with no idea how to get out of it. Or even that he had to get out of it. Looked at now, from this cleaner, saner place, he could see that he was heading toward something abrupt and painful, maybe shattering. He'd been given a second chance.
What he did with it was up to him, Orlando. No one else. And he couldn't count on a third.
Absently he became aware that the sit-ups had finally stopped, and glanced over to see Viggo sitting, Mr. Zen, all cross-legged and hands on knees, facing outward between the boards of the railing. Breathing deep and steady, a tremor of some unidentifiable emotion wavering across his features with each breath.
"Orlando, I need to apologize to you," he said abruptly, the words stiff with the feeling of much internal rehearsal. He didn't look at Orlando, who turned to lean a hip against the railing and watched, intrigued. What the hell could Viggo have to apologize about?
"The last time we were-," Viggo drew in a deep breath, seemed to steel himself. "Together. In LA, after the King premiere. The way I treated you... it was ... wrong. I should never have gone to your room that night. I was just ... so... angry." He paused to lick his lips, swallowing hard, unable to look at Orlando. "You'd left me and it hurt so goddamn bad."
"Vig-"
"Let me finish. Let me say this, or I'm never gonna be able to get past it." He ran both hands through his hair and dropped his elbows to his knees, head on hands. Hunched over in protection, he continued, not quite as clearly as before. "I was pissed with myself for letting it hurt me so bad when I'd seen it coming all along. I should've been smarter. Stronger. But..." A tired headshake. "A heart's an unruly thing. And there I was with all that hurt, and you were so fucking beautiful. You glowed, Lan. You were a fucking bonfire, a supernova, and I just... I just needed you to hurt, at least for a little while, like I was."
He looked up, finally, meeting Orlando's gaze without flinching. "I wanted to hurt you. Physically. Since I couldn't hurt you otherwise. I damnear raped you, and then walked off and left you, and I've hated myself for it ever since. I'm so sorry, Orlando. I hope you can forgive me for that."
Orlando just stood and let this flood of information wash over him. The incident Viggo was so upset about had been shitty, yes. He'd been pissed and his feelings had been hurt. And maybe for a while he'd nursed a grudge toward Viggo about it, along the lines of "Who the hell does he think he is?" But he'd long since buried it under a wallowing mound of distraction. And the truth was, he'd been glad Viggo had come to him that night. Even if it was painful, even if it was ugly, he'd gotten one more night in those arms and if he admitted it to himself, that was something he'd really wanted.
He moved around the deck chairs, leaving his juice on the table, and knelt in front of Viggo. Carefully, he rested both hands on Viggo's shoulders and lock brown eyes with blue. "Of course I forgive you," he said, gentle but firm. "Vig, it wasn't the best night we ever had together, but I was so glad just to be with you ... I would have accepted anything." He lifted on hand to brush back a lock of hair that had fallen into Viggo's face. "I never said no that night. I never asked you to stop. Maybe..." A shrug. "Maybe on some level I knew I was in the middle of throwing away the best thing that ever happened to me, and thought I deserved to be punished. But I forgive you. With all my heart."
"And I forgive you," Viggo said quietly. He reached up to place one hand tenderly on Orlando's face, thumb brushing the cheekbone.
Orlando laid his hand over Viggo's and smiled, a much older, more learned smile than his old boisterous grins. "What now, my king?"
"I guess we start over."
"But this time we make some decisions on the front end."
"Time enough for that tomorrow." Viggo raised up, unfolded his legs into a kneel and leaned toward Orlando. Orlando abruptly found his heart hammering like a teen-ager on a first date.
Their lips touched gently, tenderly, and melded into a kiss of surpassing softness. Viggo's hand remained on Orlando's face and Orlando's hand on Viggo's shoulder, but somehow barriers began to melt anyway. The kiss broke, they smiled, someone said, "Do that again," so they did.
While night birds sang in the jungle darkness and the hotel went to sleep around them, two men knelt on a balcony and shared chaste kisses until their lips were sore. When they woke up damp and sore on the hard flagstones sometime later, they shared a laugh and one last kiss before heading to two beds with four days left in paradise.
---------------
Viggo is a gentle man. When asked what his one wish would be, he's said it would be to be able to know, immediately after if not during, that he's offended someone. He can't stand the thought of causing harm intentionally, and it bothers him to cause it unintentionally.
On the rare occasions when his anger gets out of his control and is turned outward, he scares himself. He does damage that he then moves heaven and earth to try to repair. Mostly, he works hard to keep that anger from moving outward. He puts much of it into art. The rest he turns inward.
He's beginning to understand that it's the anger turned inward that's driving the depressions, in large part. It seems an unsolveable quandary to such a gentle man, that in order to save himself he must risk turning his anger outward.
He hasn't come up with any solutions for this problem yet, but then he's only been working on it for a few months. Give him time. Viggo is nothing if not patient.
Author: Rainweaver13
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Summary: Monteverde VIII: Volcanic Rumblings
Rating/Warnings: PG-13. Some ANGST, as issues are finally faced. All made up. Fiction. There's not a lick of truth in it.
Disclaimer: Don't own them; don't know anything about them - they are their own. I mean no disrespect and I'm certainly not profiting from this.
A/N: I realize that Orlando is shaking his painkiller addiction too quickly to be strictly realistic, but sometimes things have to bend a little bit in the interest of fiction. Note that he is not stopping the pills entirely, but working back to a barely minimal dosage. Apologies for the digression from a fic I've tried to keep otherwise fairly realistic. Also, this chapter wreaks havoc once more with Costa Rican roads, as all the info I found was contradictory. So I just made it up. Hey, it's fiction. Mount Arenal is real, though, and has been erupting since 1968. Cool. As always, thanks so much for your helpful feedback.
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Previous Chapters Look under Personal Fics
January 2005, Day 11
Orlando woke to a lazy rhythmic drumming on his door.
"Orlando, time to get up."
Orlando struggled up onto his elbows and yawned, blinking into the dark room. "What the fuck?" he called to the offending door.
"Get up, lazy. Time to eat, pack. We got places to go."
Pack? Orlando mouthed to himself. For the love of god, what now? He pulled himself off the bed, stacked himself up into something resembling upright and slumped to the door, pulling it open to an eye-demolishing stab of morning sunlight. Squinting out at the offending silhouette, he scowled. "What are you on about?"
"We're burning daylight. Got a long drive today."
"Was I drunk last night?"
"No." The silhouette had developed dark blue eyes that danced wretchedly with merriment. "You just don't do morning. Want me to pack for you while you eat?"
Orlando considered losing his temper, considered arguing, considered just crawling back into bed and flatly refusing whatever insanity this was.
"You can sleep in the car," Viggo said gently, and the wash of tenderness through the words took the wind out of all Orlando's sails of resistance.
"Okay," he surrendered, and wandered out into the living room toward food on the coffee table.
"Nice wood," Viggo called from behind him, voice smirking.
Orlando glanced down and sighed at the pup tent in his pajamas. "You crazy fuck."
"Not yet," came the voice from inside Orlando's room. "But you never know."
Orlando plopped down to eat, not even bothering to try to keep the grin off his face.
-----
The second time Orlando woke, he was curled in a surprisingly comfortable cocoon of blankets and pillows in the passenger seat of the now-familiar cruiser. Some ethnic-sounding music, heavy on the percussion, played softly and Viggo tapped accompaniment on the steering wheel. Orlando stayed still, gaining a few minutes to study his old friend, former lover undisturbed.
He did look older, undeniably. The gray touches that were just beginning to show at his temples in New Zealand were full-fledged streaks now. The Alatriste mustache was liberally peppered. There were more smile lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth, and sadly, new lines on his brow. But he was still Viggo, still cleancut and looking nowhere near his age.
With a mild sense of wonder, Orlando realized he wanted to see Viggo grow older. He wanted to keep track of gray hairs and rub the ache out of abused joints. He wanted to be there when he finally had to give up and get reading glasses - a capitulation that wasn't far in the future. Orlando had been watching in amusement as the morning crossword moved farther and farther out Viggo's thigh. He wanted to be there for all that, beside this man, being driven crazy by him, and loving him the best way he could.
With a small smile on his face, he shifted to a more upright position and reached a hand over to brush fingertips across Viggo's cheek. "G'morning."
"That's more like it." Viggo chuckled, grinning over at him. "Sleep well?"
"Like a baby."
"Good. It's been a challenge a few times to keep the bumps from waking you up. You must have good luck on your side."
"I'm beginning to think so. How long did I sleep?" Orlando stretched his neck and took a first look around at their surroundings. "Holy shit."
"About three hours." Another quiet laugh. "Nice, isn't it?"
"Wow."
On the left, thick jungle marched right up to the gravel roadway, occasionally breaking to show a long drop down into endless green valleys. On the right, a breathtakingly blue lake stretched away to the horizon. The road rose barely above the level of the lake, which was rimmed by emerald on all sides.
"Lake Arenal."
"Have you told me where we're going and I just forgot?"
"Nope. You never asked. Awfully trusting, actually."
"Ah, well... Gotta trust my ranger." Orlando shot a grin across the seat and was delighted to see Viggo grin back.
"We're going to a volcano."
"What, a dormant one?"
"No, a live one."
"You're shitting me."
Viggo snickered. "No. Mount Arenal. It's been active since 1968."
"Active as in blowing up?"
"Umhmm."
"Fire. Lava. Blazing boulders through the air?"
"From what I read."
"And we're going there why?"
"Why not?"
"You are one seriously bent motherfuc- oh! Look at that!" Orlando gasped as they came around a curve and startled a flock of dozens of blue-white heron-like birds. They lifted en masse from the wide mud flat they were inhabiting, rose a few feet into the air, then apparently decided the cruiser was no danger and began settling back down to their feeding. "They're so beautiful," Orlando murmured. "Look at the curve, that incredible curve from head to tail feathers."
"Sinuous."
"Almost sexual."
"A curve hands were meant to follow," Viggo mused, forced to look away from the birds to make sure the cruiser didn't end up either in the lake or at the bottom of some valley. "But we can't touch them. Maybe that's why we ache for them so much."
Orlando looked at Viggo for an almost blank moment, then started scrabbling in the glove compartment and center console, muttering French profanity under his breath. "Aha!" he announced, as Viggo glanced over with interest now and then. "A pencil! A napkin! Now what did you just say?"
"What?"
"About the curve... a curve hands were... what?" Orlando was writing carefully on the napkin.
"Uhhhh....A curve hands were meant to follow." Viggo kept a sideways look at the note-taking, watching as Orlando wrote for a while, folded the napkin neatly and put it on the dashboard, then tucked the pencil in an easily accessible spot on the console. Orlando sat back in his seat, pulled a blanket up over his lap and smiled to himself.
"What's that about?" Viggo asked, curiosity getting the best of him.
"Viggo Mortensen does not stop writing, my king," Orlando said, turning a blazing smile across the front seat. "Not on my watch. If you're not writing, I'll just have to listen and write for you. For a while. Til you're back up to speed."
Viggo stared at him with a mixture of emotions that Orlando couldn't begin to read, opened his mouth, then closed it and looked away, back at the road. Orlando fixed his attention back on the beautiful surroundings and felt a warm glow of contentment. Several miles later, Viggo whispered, "Thank you," his voice choked and ragged. Orlando glanced sideways long enough to see tear tracks disappearing into the mustache, but left him his privacy.
The next time the cruiser came around a curve that opened onto a brilliant view of the lake and the hundreds of waterfowl that called it home, Orlando slid his hand lightly onto Viggo's thigh. A few minutes later, Viggo readjusted his driving arm and dropped a warm hand atop Orlando's, clasping the long fingers lightly, giving a gentle squeeze.
They rode that way in contented silence, drinking in the surrounding beauty, until stomachs started rumbling and it was time to stop for lunch.
-----
After lunch, provided by the Heliconia kitchen staff which had clearly decided to spoil them, Viggo stretched out on one of their blankets for a nap. Orlando walked for a while around the small clearing where they'd stopped, then stood and looked eastward across the deep blue of the lake to the volcano, smoking in the distance. Viggo had explained that even though they were closer to the volcano on a northeasterly route from Monteverde, there were no roads that way. The jungle was simply too thick; the slopes too steep. So their trip had to take them all the way around Lake Arenal, a large loop to the west. About a five to six hour drive, Viggo said. There's paved road starting soon, he added.
Orlando stretched luxuriously then turned back to where Viggo was asleep, not quite snoring, but breathing deeply. Careful not to wake the older man, he lay down beside him, last thing laying his head on Viggo's shoulder as he'd done so many times in the past. As he'd hoped, Viggo didn't wake. Instead, he automatically wrapped an arm up around Orlando's back. Safe in the middle of nowhere in a Central American jungle, Orlando took his own nap.
-----
Not long after lunch, the ever-present drifting clouds accumulated and worked themselves up into a rainstorm. Inside the cruiser, Orlando wrapped himself in a blanket and enjoyed the unworldly feel of total seclusion caused by driving in the rain. A glance over showed that a small smile teased across Viggo's face as he focused out into the falling water.
"You really like this, don't you?" Orlando asked.
"Like what?"
"Being out like this, middle of nowhere, nobody around..."
A thoughtful pause. "It's peaceful."
"Why don't you like parties?"
"I like parties."
"I don't mean parties, like, small parties with friends. I mean... y'know... Hollywood parties. Premieres. Openings. Galas. That stuff."
Silence stretched out long but not uncomfortable, not any more. Now Orlando understood that Viggo's silences weren't avoidance or dismissal, they were simply thinking. If a person wanted to converse with him, you learned to wait.
"They're all noise, no content," Viggo said finally. "People fly at you like bugs. They don't see you. They don't hear you. They just buzz by, annoy you, then leave. It's impossible to communicate anything of any value."
Orlando considered that. "But the intent isn't to communicate or provide content. It's to see and be seen."
Viggo shrugged. "I've just never seen any sense in that. Tends to piss me off more than anything else. Somebody showing off some $100,000 gown or $3,000 tie, and all I can think about is how much better that money could be spent elsewhere. I can't be around that kind of crap for long. I get unsociable." Viggo graced Orlando with a wry crooked grin.
Orlando sat and thought for a while, hugging the blanket up to his chin.
"Look at it this way," Viggo said quietly. "Who do you go to see?"
"Ummm... other performers, directors, producers..."
"Why?"
"It's a sort of... informal networking for jobs, really. Keeping your face in play."
"So why all the flash? Do you want them to remember how pretty you are or how well you can act?"
"Hmmm... Never really thought about that."
"Who do you go to be seen by?"
"Same people. Same reasons."
"But who else are you often seen by?"
Orlando looked over, brows drawn together. "Don't know what you're shooting for, Vig."
"You end up in magazines, newspapers, on entertainment shows, on the internet..."
"Yeah...."
"Being seen by a lot of ordinary people."
"True."
"Who can rightfully only feel one thing when they look at this glamourous, extravagant lifestyle..."
"...." Orlando lifted a brow.
"Envy."
"Envy's not so bad."
"Hatred is active and envy passive dislike; there is but one step from envy to hate."
"Who said that?"
"Goethe. I tend to agree. I don't like to cause envy, if I can help it. Seems a dangerous thing to me."
They rode on in comfortable silence, each mulling his own thoughts.
"I've missed this," Orlando said finally. Outside the rain began to ease up slightly.
"Driving in the rain?"
"Pfffftt." Orlando smacked Viggo's shoulder and Viggo chuckled. "Talking. Really talking. About... real things. Ideas. I haven't been doing a lot of that, the last year or so."
"Never a good idea to let your mind go to mush, babe."
"I know. It was just... so easy."
"Most of the roads you don't need to take are."
The clouds broke apart and suddenly Arenal was much closer, spewing gray smoke into the air. "Not far now," Viggo said.
-----
They arrived at Tabacon Resort in the late afternoon, and spent a leisurely while settling in to their luxurious room. Orlando noted that while they had a single room, it had two double beds. The impatient part of him growled a bit at that, but he reminded himself that he had a lot to prove this time around, and laid claim to the bed farthest from the window with good grace.
Viggo tossed his pack on the other bed and stood at the double doors, looking out at the volcano belching smoke and the occasional solid chunk miles away. It looked too damn close to Orlando. "I think you'll like what I've booked," Viggo murmured softly.
"Will it bite me?" Orlando teased.
"Not as long as you behave," Viggo said, absolutely deadpan.
Orlando blinked, taken aback for a moment. Good god, surely it really wasn't something that would...
Viggo laughed quietly. "Calm down, elf boy. Freshen up, then change into your swim trunks and a tee."
"I don't have any swim trunks."
"Yeah, you do." Viggo grinned, then turned to open his pack and started pulling stuff out onto the bed, finally locating his blue trunks. Orlando gave up and started checking his smallest bag, which had made the trip with them. Somehow he wasn't really surprised when he found a pair of swim trunks inside. He was, however, a bit taken aback by the item itself.
"Orange, green and yellow?" he asked, disbelieving. "And is this dayglo? Do they even make dayglo colors any more?"
"Apparently so." Viggo pulled the button-down shirt over his head and replaced it with one of the molas, this one in shades of blue and green. "You gonna change in the bathroom, or should I?"
In the bathroom? As many times as they'd seen each other naked? Orlando started to pull off his clothes and Viggo simply nodded, walked past him into the bathroom and closed the door. Orlando blinked at the door stupidly, then slowly changed into the eye-injuring trunks and a yellow tee. Viggo ambled out and opened the outer door, bowing slightly with a small grin.
"C'mon, I think you'll like this."
-----
"This" turned out to be a full-body massage performed by a short gray-haired man with magic hands. Viggo's masseuse was taller, with thick straight black hair and a faintly Asian look, and neither of them found anything to complain about.
In fact, by the time the massages were over, they were both reduced pretty much to putty. Happy, speechless putty.
-----
Next on the menu of treats was a short SUV trip to what turned out to be the resort's own personal hot springs, in a fresh-running river warmed by the volcano upstream.
"How do you find these places?" Orlando asked, sliding into crystal clear water running at 99 degrees and resting his head on a rock that had clearly pillowed many heads before.
"Reading." Viggo eeled into place nearby, settling into position with a contented sigh.
"When do you have the time?" Orlando let his arms float, savoring the partial weightlessness.
"Don't spend a lot of time at brainless parties."
Ouch. Okay. He deserved that one. Water rippled past whispering a constant stream of secrets, while all around a slightly manicured version of the ever-present jungle hugged the edges of the river. In the distance - not nearly far enough, in Orlando's opinion - the volcano boiled steadily. Viggo rested with his eyes closed, probably listening to what the river was saying. Orlando couldn't make it out. Wasn't sure he'd want to.
"How's Henry?"
"Seventeen."
"Seventeen!"
"Umhmm."
"Wow. He was just... a kid."
"Still a kid, just a bigger one. Drives now. Doing college applications."
"Henry, to college."
"Yep."
"Fuck. It just doesn't seem that long..."
"Kids grow fast, Lan. A year and a half, two years... that's a lot of time in a kid's life. You can't just walk away and leave them and expect them to stay the same."
"I didn't expect he'd stay-"
"What did you expect? When you walked out on me, you walked out on him, too. Did you ever stop to think about that? He adored you, Orlando."
He'd never thought about Henry at all, to be honest. Not once. Christ. How much more of an ass could he possibly be? "I suppose he hates me now."
Viggo shifted position, turned so he could look up at the volcano, away from Orlando. "I don't think so," he said quietly. "I tried to keep him from that. He's not real happy with you, though." Viggo rolled his head to look over at Orlando. "If you want to try again, you'll have to win him back, too. We're a package deal. You know that."
"Yeah. I know that." Christ, how did you win over a 17-year-old? Orlando had a feeling that video games and obscure band t-shirts weren't going to be enough to cut it any more.
Viggo had gone back to pondering the volcano. Orlando didn't find it nearly as interesting, and focused instead on the colorful birds in the riverside foliage.
The warm river whispered more secrets.
"Do you think it's possible for us to be together again, Vig?"
A cool breeze blew downriver, shaking cold droplets from overhanging branches.
"A lot depends on you, I think." Viggo's answer was quiet and almost sad, aimed at the sky. "I can't do this again. Not like last time."
"I didn't know it meant so much," Orlando barely more than whispered.
"I'm not casual with my heart."
"I never meant to hurt you."
"You never meant anything, did you? You never thought. You just did. Whatever you wanted. And you never thought about the repercussions." Viggo's voice grew harder, harsher, with a trembling edge of anger. "Did you ever think about me, Orlando? Did you ever consider what it cost for me to lay my fucking life, my heart out on the line like that for you and just get it slapped back in my face like it meant nothing?" He clamped his mouth shut, lips thin, and breathed hard through his nose, trying to force his way back into some calm. The volcano was too inspirational.
Orlando lay limp in the water, slack and battered. Never. Never had Viggo been angry with him, not like this. He was always so calm, so steady ... "What do you want, Viggo? An apology? Do you want me to say I'm sorry?"
Viggo drew in a deep breath and let it out slow, then let his head slide under the water, bobbing back up with sleeked-back hair and a calmer look. "It wouldn't be a bad place to start," he said almost gently. "But not right now. Think about it a little."
"Why?"
"I'm pruned and starving. Let's eat."
The man could send you into emotional whiplash, Orlando decided. But as he followed the familiar leanly muscled back out of the river, he began to understand something. This was real. This man was true. He was worth keeping, and worth fighting for, and Orlando had come within a thin whisker of losing him entirely. He wouldn't lose him this time. No matter how much crow he had to eat... and how well deserved it was.
-----
"An Italian restaurant at the foot of a volcano in a jungle in Central America." Orlando laughed. "Y'know, it's so wrong it's almost right."
A platter of seafood pasta rested between them, with a bowl of salad and a loaf of crusty bread to share. Each of them had a single glass of wine, rather than the bottle they normally would have gotten, after Viggo made a sheepish admission before ordering.
"I'm actually not supposed to drink alcohol while taking the ... um... medicine."
"Oh really?" Orlando gave him a look. "So what was all that you were knocking back when you were playing Mr. Jazz Man the other night?"
"Sin. Evil. Lawbreaking. Couldn't stand to look at you any more because I wanted you too much." Viggo leveled a look across at him. "Ergo, drunk."
Orlando nodded, carefully not allowing any expression to show at the statement that Viggo wanted him. "I'm actually not supposed to mix alcohol and the pain killers, either."
"Why don't we be good, then?"
"No wine?" Orlando tried not to whine, but really, Italian food with no wine?
"One glass each."
Orlando sighed. "If you can be tough, I can be tough."
"Tough guys. That's us."
-----
Dark had settled in firmly by the time they finished dinner. They got their raspberry cheesecake and tiramisu desserts to go and headed up to their room, massaged, boiled and well-fed. Opening the room door, Viggo said, "Now, for the piece de resistance..." Turning on only a single lamp, he led the way to the double doors and out onto the balcony, where two lounge chairs flanked a small table. He smiled, and heard Orlando, behind him, draw in a breath.
Mount Arenal, in the darkness, glowed. Rivulets of lava flow, invisible during the day, undulated down the mountainside. Each thudding explosion, along with the smoke that was visible by day, also brought huge sprays of sparks and sometimes enormous fireballs that arced through the air to crash far down the slopes.
"It's amazing," Orlando whispered.
"Looks like it's alive." Viggo set the sweets down on the table and held an arm out to Orlando. Orlando moved against his side as if they'd been built to fit that way.
"This is all going on during the day, too?"
"Umhmm. Takes darkness to bring out the true beauty, though."
They stood, swaying slightly, watching the natural fireworks, smelling the occasional drifts of sulphur in the air.
"Viggo?"
"Hmmm?"
"I'm sorry I hurt you. If I'd stopped to think, I'd never have done it. But you're right, I never thought. Not once. Not about anybody but me. And it just got me in a world of shit."
"Lan-"
Orlando laid a finger on Viggo's lips. "Let me finish. I never appreciated what I had with you until it was gone. I thought I was such hot shit, I could handle anything, everything. I didn't need anybody. But I was wrong, Vig. I needed something real, something true. And that was you. It has been ever since we met. I apologize for how I treated you, my king. I am so very sorry. I hope you can forgive me."
Viggo pulled Orlando in for a hug, letting his face rest on the riot of chocolate curls as he had so many times in the past, then touched foreheads, holding that for a long moment before letting go.
"You want cheesecake or tiramisu?"
Orlando watched Viggo warily, eyes wide. The older man picked a chair and slid into place, sighing in contentment. "You don't pick, I will."
"Go ahead." Orlando claimed the other chair, wondering if there was going to be a response to his apology.
"Cheesecake for me, then."
They ate dessert and watched the volcano, and later went to bed - one to each bed. By mid-morning the next day, they were on the road back toward Monteverde.
-----
Day 12, Evening
The balcony was a familiar place now, the darkness not so frightening since Orlando knew what was out there - at least in general.
"Kinda miss the volcano, though," he said, tinkling the ice in his fruit juice. He leaned over the railing to look down at the few people still swimming in the bright aqua pool this late. Too much sitting while driving had left him with little desire to use the deck chairs.
Viggo had laid claim to one end of the balcony and was working steadily through a routine that looked like a weird marriage of tai chi, yoga, pilates and Karate Kid. Orlando, to be honest, was forcing himself not to watch because it was making him damned horny.
"Don't forget wax on, wax off, old man," he suggested, hiding a grin behind his glass.
"Don't forget fuck you, grasshopper," Viggo muttered cheerfully, flipping him a bird with the next hand that came his direction. "See how you keep in shape when you're bucking 50."
"Did you work out when you were 28?"
"I was working two and three jobs and part-time roadie for a punk band when I was 28. Didn't have time to work out." He rolled down onto the blanket he'd spread on the flagstones and began doing sit-ups. And doing sit-ups. And doing sit-ups.
"How many of those are you gonna do?" Orlando asked, bemusedly interested.
"Dunno.... Never... count."
"You never count."
"Nope." Huff. Huff. Huff. Huff.
"You are the weirdest human I've ever known."
"Bet you... say that... to all... the girls..." Huff. Huff. Huff. Huff.
Orlando just laughed and turned away from the sight of that sweat-sheened body before he humiliated himself by running over there and just jumping the man, pure and simple. Breathing deep of the clean, cool air, he pondered the fact that three weeks ago he'd been lost in a haze of sparkly, self-induced pain, with no idea how to get out of it. Or even that he had to get out of it. Looked at now, from this cleaner, saner place, he could see that he was heading toward something abrupt and painful, maybe shattering. He'd been given a second chance.
What he did with it was up to him, Orlando. No one else. And he couldn't count on a third.
Absently he became aware that the sit-ups had finally stopped, and glanced over to see Viggo sitting, Mr. Zen, all cross-legged and hands on knees, facing outward between the boards of the railing. Breathing deep and steady, a tremor of some unidentifiable emotion wavering across his features with each breath.
"Orlando, I need to apologize to you," he said abruptly, the words stiff with the feeling of much internal rehearsal. He didn't look at Orlando, who turned to lean a hip against the railing and watched, intrigued. What the hell could Viggo have to apologize about?
"The last time we were-," Viggo drew in a deep breath, seemed to steel himself. "Together. In LA, after the King premiere. The way I treated you... it was ... wrong. I should never have gone to your room that night. I was just ... so... angry." He paused to lick his lips, swallowing hard, unable to look at Orlando. "You'd left me and it hurt so goddamn bad."
"Vig-"
"Let me finish. Let me say this, or I'm never gonna be able to get past it." He ran both hands through his hair and dropped his elbows to his knees, head on hands. Hunched over in protection, he continued, not quite as clearly as before. "I was pissed with myself for letting it hurt me so bad when I'd seen it coming all along. I should've been smarter. Stronger. But..." A tired headshake. "A heart's an unruly thing. And there I was with all that hurt, and you were so fucking beautiful. You glowed, Lan. You were a fucking bonfire, a supernova, and I just... I just needed you to hurt, at least for a little while, like I was."
He looked up, finally, meeting Orlando's gaze without flinching. "I wanted to hurt you. Physically. Since I couldn't hurt you otherwise. I damnear raped you, and then walked off and left you, and I've hated myself for it ever since. I'm so sorry, Orlando. I hope you can forgive me for that."
Orlando just stood and let this flood of information wash over him. The incident Viggo was so upset about had been shitty, yes. He'd been pissed and his feelings had been hurt. And maybe for a while he'd nursed a grudge toward Viggo about it, along the lines of "Who the hell does he think he is?" But he'd long since buried it under a wallowing mound of distraction. And the truth was, he'd been glad Viggo had come to him that night. Even if it was painful, even if it was ugly, he'd gotten one more night in those arms and if he admitted it to himself, that was something he'd really wanted.
He moved around the deck chairs, leaving his juice on the table, and knelt in front of Viggo. Carefully, he rested both hands on Viggo's shoulders and lock brown eyes with blue. "Of course I forgive you," he said, gentle but firm. "Vig, it wasn't the best night we ever had together, but I was so glad just to be with you ... I would have accepted anything." He lifted on hand to brush back a lock of hair that had fallen into Viggo's face. "I never said no that night. I never asked you to stop. Maybe..." A shrug. "Maybe on some level I knew I was in the middle of throwing away the best thing that ever happened to me, and thought I deserved to be punished. But I forgive you. With all my heart."
"And I forgive you," Viggo said quietly. He reached up to place one hand tenderly on Orlando's face, thumb brushing the cheekbone.
Orlando laid his hand over Viggo's and smiled, a much older, more learned smile than his old boisterous grins. "What now, my king?"
"I guess we start over."
"But this time we make some decisions on the front end."
"Time enough for that tomorrow." Viggo raised up, unfolded his legs into a kneel and leaned toward Orlando. Orlando abruptly found his heart hammering like a teen-ager on a first date.
Their lips touched gently, tenderly, and melded into a kiss of surpassing softness. Viggo's hand remained on Orlando's face and Orlando's hand on Viggo's shoulder, but somehow barriers began to melt anyway. The kiss broke, they smiled, someone said, "Do that again," so they did.
While night birds sang in the jungle darkness and the hotel went to sleep around them, two men knelt on a balcony and shared chaste kisses until their lips were sore. When they woke up damp and sore on the hard flagstones sometime later, they shared a laugh and one last kiss before heading to two beds with four days left in paradise.
---------------
Viggo is a gentle man. When asked what his one wish would be, he's said it would be to be able to know, immediately after if not during, that he's offended someone. He can't stand the thought of causing harm intentionally, and it bothers him to cause it unintentionally.
On the rare occasions when his anger gets out of his control and is turned outward, he scares himself. He does damage that he then moves heaven and earth to try to repair. Mostly, he works hard to keep that anger from moving outward. He puts much of it into art. The rest he turns inward.
He's beginning to understand that it's the anger turned inward that's driving the depressions, in large part. It seems an unsolveable quandary to such a gentle man, that in order to save himself he must risk turning his anger outward.
He hasn't come up with any solutions for this problem yet, but then he's only been working on it for a few months. Give him time. Viggo is nothing if not patient.
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Date: 2005-02-15 06:31 pm (UTC)http://www.livejournal.com/users/louisdance/322.html
God knows if that'll work. If not, let me know and I'll see if maybe I can find somebody who knows more about this LJ puppy to whip something into shape for me.
Thanks for reading, though. ::wry smile:: Sorry I'm unintentionally making it hard for you.
Rain
Lamebrain sometimes
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Date: 2005-02-15 06:39 pm (UTC)But it looks like all chapters are linked to either
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Date: 2005-02-15 11:46 pm (UTC)