| Title: Mistake Author: Jo Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Cate Blanchett; Ian McKellen Rating: PG Summary: An overheard phone call. Disclaimer: Absolute, complete, 100% fiction. In other words, I made up the whole thing. Notes: For the Furor Scribendi 3 POV challenge. Not what I originally was planning on doing, but this is what happened. And yes, Brenda, I do indeed still plan on writing the original idea.
Silence dragged out, broken only by the faint hum of static on the line. Then: "You didn't used to think so." "That was a long time ago." And an entire world away. But she didn't say that. Couldn't say that. "Not so long ago." His soft chuckle drifted to her ear. "Besides, age is just a number." "A rather important one, don't you think?" The words were short, the tone sharp. She couldn't help it, much as she tried to. And she could tell that he'd heard it, too, by his next words. "Maybe to you." Cate could almost see him shrug. "I don't really care about it." Very well, time for a different tactic. "You have a girlfriend." "And you have a husband." A softly indrawn breath followed that, accompanied by a quiet crackle. She was positive she knew his next words. "This isn't about them." And he didn't disappoint her. Sometimes, she was convinced she knew him too well. Better than she should at any rate. "So…you're saying we should pretend they don't exist?" "No!" Now the realization that this might be more than just words, more than just the moment. Finally, a sense – a feeling – that this was really happening. "But this is about us. Not them." "They're as much a part of this as we are." God…how to make him see? They couldn't keep on like this. "Only if you drag them into it," he replied in a soft, gentle voice that she recognized all too well. Cate had to close her eyes again and take several deep breaths, trying to keep his words, his voice, from wrapping around her. She had only one defense against it. "I love him." "And I love her. Doesn't change how I feel about you." "That's enough reason to hurt them?" Don't. Just…don't. Keep the desperation out; stay calm, cool, relaxed. "No one has to get hurt." She almost laughed at that. How like him to say that, to even think it. "Hell, they never even need to know about us." "There isn't an us." "Cate –" "No." She cut him off, dreaded his next words. "We can't keep doing this. I can't keep doing this." A minute passed in silence. Then another. Cate could hear him breathing, wondered what he was thinking. Then he spoke again, and she couldn't help the tiny jab of pain that hit her. "Are you telling me it's over?" "No," Cate said, so softly she knew he'd have to strain to hear her. "I'm telling you it should have never even gotten started." A sharp breath, almost a gasp, greeted her statement. Cate found herself reaching for a chair, easing into it as she gripped the phone with fingers that had gone white. "Those are harsh words," he finally said. "They're true." That's it. Stick with it and don't waver. You can do this. "We can change that." "Don't." She knew what was coming. Knew it from the depths of her soul. Knew it as well as she knew how he tasted, how he smelled. "Catie, love…we were good together," he murmured. Soft, silky words caressed her, sent a tiny thrill up her spine. But she had to stay strong. "Please," she said, knowing she was close to begging. "Don't." "At least wait 'til I'm there to do this." And now the desperation, the urgency – the almost sense of something lost before it was ever found – was in his voice. "I can't," she said, simply. "Cate –" She cut him off before he could say another word. And smiled through the tears that crept down her cheeks. "You'll always be my favorite mistake." "Christ, Cate. Don't do this." "I have to go now." "Cate, please –" Yes, definitely desperate now. She hated doing this to him, to herself…to them. "I have to." A long silence. Then, voice full of regret, resignation, he said, "Will I see you again?" "I don't know," she whispered, wishing the sharp ache inside would just go away. "Perhaps." Before he could say anything else, Cate's finger moved, hit the end button on her phone. Ended the call. Ended his words. Ended something that should have never been. And all she could do was curl up in the chair and cry. "You're too young." Too young? What the hell was she talking about? Orlando stared at the phone in disbelief, then said, "You didn't used to think so." "That was a long time ago." Ah, okay. She was feeling nostalgic. Okay, okay. He could deal with this. "Not so long ago." He laughed, stretching out on the bed, one arm tucked behind his head. "Besides, age is just a number." "A rather important one, don't you think?" He blinked. Whoa. That was a bit sharp. "Maybe to you. I don't really care about it." "You have a girlfriend." The sudden shift threw him for a moment. His brain had to scramble to come up with a suitable reply. "And you have a husband," Orlando said, taking a few deep breaths as the phone popped and hissed quietly. "This isn't about them." Her next words stunned him into silence. "So…you're saying we should pretend they don't exist?" "No!" Christ…could she really think that of him? That he'd be so callous as to…. And where had all this come from, anyway? "But this is about us. Not them." "They're as much a part of this as we are." What the hell? They'd never been a part of it all. Orlando had made sure of that. He'd thought Cate had as well. "Only if you drag them into it," he told her, trying to defuse the situation. "I love him." Ah, Cate…that had never been an issue. Not for Orlando. He'd accepted that a long time ago. "And I love her," he replied, meaning every word. "Doesn't change how I feel about you." "That's enough reason to hurt them?" What? Orlando frowned, not liking how she sounded. And wishing like hell he wasn't stuck in Spain. "No one has to get hurt. Hell, they never even need to know about us." "There isn't an us." Did she really mean that? She couldn't. Not after everything that had happened between them, after everything that had been said between them. "Cate –" "No. We can't keep doing this. I can't keep doing this." Orlando could hear the pain, the loss, in her voice. And wondered what the hell had triggered this. The silence dragged out, and he knew he had to say something. "Are you telling me it's over?" he finally asked, closing his eyes as he waited for her answer. "No," she said, and Orlando had to strain to hear her. "I'm telling you it should have never even gotten started." A brief, white-hot pain stabbed through him at those words, and it was all he could do to keep breathing. Ouch. Could she really mean that? "Those are harsh words," Orlando said, when he found his breath again.. "They're true." He couldn't believe he was hearing this, couldn't believe that she believed this. "We can change that." "Don't." "Catie, love…we were good together." Orlando dropped his voice, trying his best to hold on, to convince her not to do this. "Please." Don't, Cate. Don't beg…please. Never that. "Don't." "At least wait 'til I'm there to do this." Scrambling, desperate for something, anything that would put this off…even if it was only for a few weeks. Just…not over the phone. Not like this. "I can't," she said, simply. "Cate –" His next words were cut off, and he could see her smile, taste the tears that he knew were staining her face. "You'll always be my favorite mistake." Orlando felt his world crumble, felt something shatter deep inside. "Christ, Cate. Don't do this." "I have to go now." No. Don't hang up. How could she do this to them? "Cate, please –" "I have to." He let the silence fill the space between them again, only because he had no clue what to say. His voice was thick, the taste of resignation like wet ashes in his mouth when he said, "Will I see you again?" "I don't know," she whispered, and he felt the knife inside twist again. "Perhaps." Before he could say anything else, the line went dead. And Orlando threw the phone across the room. The sharp crunch of it against the wall did nothing to soothe the ache in his soul. "You're too young." The quiet sentence, uttered in a voice filled with pain, brought Ian to a halt. Cate. Wondering who she was talking to, he put one hand on the partly open door. And stopped at her next words. "That was a long time ago." Curious. He knew he shouldn't stay there, shouldn't eavesdrop like this. But the old queen inside wouldn't let him leave. "A rather important one, don't you think?" Well, now…it seemed as if the lovely Ms. Blanchett had some claws to her after all. Ian was positive he'd never heard that tone of voice from her before. "You have a girlfriend." Ah. Now he knew. Orlando. Ian closed his eyes, pressed his palm flat against the door. He knew he should move on and give her some privacy, but he felt rooted to the floor. So this was it. After close to four years. He wondered what had brought her to this decision. Knew he'd never ask. "So…you're saying we should pretend they don't exist?" So the boy was putting up a fight. Good for him. Shame, really. Ian had always thought that Cate was good for Orlando. Just as Orlando was good for Cate. "They're as much a part of this as we are." Part of him wished he could hear the other half of the conversation. It was so frustrating hearing only bits and pieces. But he couldn't ask her. Hell, he couldn't even acknowledge he'd overheard this. "I love him." He cringed at the pain in Cate's voice. That's enough, Ian. Move along. Give the poor girl her privacy for God's sake. But he didn't. Knew he wouldn't until it was over. "That's enough reason to hurt them?" Desperation colored her voice, and Ian knew she was wavering, wondered if Orlando would be able to talk her around. He doubted it. Not this time. "There isn't an us." Ah, but there had been. And everyone had known it. Everyone, that is, except their respective significant others. Cate and Orlando had always been very careful to keep it from them. And, much as Ian disliked cheating on one's partner, he had to silently commend them for their efforts. "No. We can't keep doing this. I can't keep doing this." Several minutes passed with no words spoken inside the room. So many minutes, in fact, that Ian had to wonder if Cate had ended the call. Then: "No." Ian had to take a step closer to the door and practically press his ear against it to hear her. "I'm telling you it should have never even gotten started." Christ. Poor Orlando. Ian wasn't even a part of this and that had hurt. He could only imagine how Orlando was handling it. Not very well if Cate's voice was any indication. "They're true." Perhaps. But that didn't change what was. Nor, Ian suspected, did it change the feelings on either side of the equation. "Don't." Orlando was once again trying to talk her around. Ian hoped he succeeded. Almost as much as he hoped Orlando failed. But then, he'd always been of two minds about what the entire cast had come to call the elven affair. "Please. Don't." Cate was begging. Ian could hear it, knew Orlando could hear it. And he suddenly wished to God that the boy wasn't off filming. "I can't," she said, simply. Ian was left wondering what Orlando had asked of her. He started to pull his hand from the door, and her next words froze him in his tracks. "You'll always be my favorite mistake." God. To hear something like that…. Ian bowed his head, wept inside for the two of them. "I have to go now." The finality in her voice made the world just a bit dimmer. This wasn't the way to handle this. But then, Ian supposed, Cate hadn't been strong enough to handle it face to face. Not where Orlando had been concerned. She'd always had a weakness for him, just as he'd had one for her. "I have to." And now it was Orlando's turn to beg. Or so it seemed. Don't hang up on him, Cate. Ian shook his head, started to leave. Stopped when Cate whispered, "I don't know. Perhaps." Her muffled sobs shredded Ian's soul, bowed his shoulders. He knew there wasn't a damn thing he could do for her. Or Orlando. Not now. Perhaps not ever. He gently pulled her door shut, knowing she'd never hear the latch catching, and started back down the hall with heavy steps, and even heavier heart.
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