Title: Even Angels Fall: To Crash, To Burn Author: Jo Rating: NC17 Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Viggo Mortensen Summary: When fame is overwhelming, even angels fall. Warnings: this one isn't going to be pretty...there's going to be language, violence, drug/alcohol abuse, and angst up the wazoo. If that ain't your thing, hit the delete button now Author's Notes: Inspired by "Let Her Cry" by Hootie & The Blowfish, lyrics have been tweaked here. MAJOR thanks to Wendy for emotional support, beta work, and research on this thing. Takes place roughly 1-2 years in the future. For Wendy for her 'inspiration' in matters of dialogue and nosebleeds and for Carnaline for the vision of angelic demons Disclaimers: They're not mine, I don't own them, this didn't happen...well, it could have, but they didn't tell me about it...any resemblance to real life events is strictly coincidental and no implications should be drawn because this is a work of FICTION An hour later, washed and clean and with hair still damp from the shower, we walked into the hotel restaurant. As always, Orlando was immediately surrounded by a small group of giggling teenagers, all of whom wanted an autograph and "just one picture, please." Orlando, being Orlando, obliged with his usual shy grace. A few looked curiously at his bruise and he just smiled and shrugged sheepishly, telling them that he walked into something. I stood back, watching it all with fond amusement, politely speaking to the ones who wandered over for my autograph. After the release of the first movie, it had become hard for us to go out without being noticed. The novelty of it all was fun at first, but after a few weeks it got old. Sometimes I thought it was harder on Orlando than on the rest of us because he had had no experience with that sort of thing. Finally we were seated with menus in front of us. I had to smile at the way he kept nibbling on the side of his thumb as he decided on what to order. His cigarettes sat on the dresser in our room and I could tell he wanted one badly. After watching him for several minutes, I reached over and grabbed his wrist. He watched as I brought his hand to my mouth and gently bit the tip of his thumb. His eyes rounded and his breath hissed between his teeth. "Viggo," he said softly, his voice only a trifle shaky. "I'm going to pounce you." "Breakfast first," I said, laughing. He made a face at me, a tiny wrinkling across the bridge of his nose, and then turned his attention back to his menu. This time, it was a finger that found its way between his teeth and I just shook my head as the waitress arrived. So normal. Sitting there like that, ordering food. I leaned back in my chair and watched him fidget with his silverware. He glanced up and, seeing my amused smile, set the fork aside and calmly folded his hands in front of him. I counted. To his credit, I made it all the way to thirty before one hand crept sideways and captured his knife. I just laughed and looked around the restaurant. Shouldn't have. Ian and Sean sat at a table across the room, watching me with disapproving looks. I just returned it with a calm look of my own. After several minutes, Sean shook his head and turned to Ian, his lips moving as he talked. Let him talk. Let them both talk. I didn't really care. A few tables away sat our dear hobbits. Or rather, three of our dear hobbits sat there. Astin was nowhere in sight. That didn't surprise me considering his wife was with him. Dom and Billy kept looking towards us, tiny furtive little glances that I presumably wasn't supposed to see. When caught, Dom had the grace to blush. Billy just smiled nervously and looked away. No doubt the ugly scene in Peter's suite the night before was still on everyone's mind. And Lij.... Poor thing. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days. Chain smoking. One cigarette right after another. He kept his eyes on the table, one finger drawing patterns on the tablecloth. I watched as the waitress delivered their order, not really surprised to see that he just had coffee. Poor kid was going to give himself an ulcer with the way he took everything so personally. Then our food was set in front of us and I brought my attention back to Orlando. We talked quietly through breakfast, keeping the conversation light. I loved the way his eyes sparkled when he mentioned the flight to London the next morning. I knew he was looking forward to spending some time with his family while we were there. Soft clicks of his fork against the plate. Blueberry pancakes. I wasn't surprised. I was, however, surprised to see that he had eaten very little, instead just pushing the cut bites around on his plate. "Orlando, you need to eat," I said softly. He looked up and gave me a small, wan smile. "I know," he said and then shrugged. So graceful. "I guess I'm not as hungry as I thought I was." Still, to please me, he managed to eat a little over a third of his meal, finally pushing it away and sipping his juice. I finished my own meal, swallowed the last of my coffee, and pulled him to his feet. He looked at me, a little startled, and I couldn't resist. I kissed him and smiled when he laughed delightedly. Ignoring the dark looks from Ian and Sean, still sitting across the room, I threw a handful of bills on the table that I knew would more than cover the price of breakfast and led Orlando out of the restaurant. Weak December sunlight filtering through the curtains. Warmth flooding the room. Orlando, so graceful as he walked towards me, t-shirt stretched tight over his chest, loose jeans slung low on his slim hips, bare feet whispering across the carpet. I sat on the edge of the bed and watched him, smiling a little as his exhibitionistic side took over for a few minutes and his hips twitched seductively while his hands slid under the hem of shirt and eased it up, teasing me with glimpses of his bare stomach. He stopped in front of me, standing between my knees, that wonderful Orlando-grin that showed his dimples so well on his face. "You're such a tease," I said. He laughed and rested his hands on my shoulders, the fingers of one toying with the ends of my hair. "You love it," he said, still grinning. I shrugged and ran my hands up his legs to his hips, the soft worn denim only slightly rough beneath my fingers. His body, so warm. I could feel the heat of his skin through the fabric. Even in the coldest depths of winter, Orlando was always warm. "I love you," I said, my voice mingling with the soft hiss of the heater. His expression changed, becoming more serious, almost wistful. The smile remained, but it, too, altered. Melancholy almost. His lashes swept down, hiding his eyes for a moment before he looked at me again. Those dark, dark eyes. So expressive. "I love you," he whispered, his fingers tangling in my hair as I pulled him close, my arms around his hips, my cheek pressed against his warm, flat stomach. I held him tightly, needing his closeness just then. I thought he needed it, too, because he made no effort to move at all. Instead, his hands drifted through my hair, stroking it softly and rubbing the back of my neck. We remained like that for a long time. Just holding him, not speaking, savoring the moment. "Viggo," he said, finally breaking the silence. "About last night --" I waited, not moving. I didn't want to hear it. But part of me...God, help me, a part of me wanted to know. Call it morbid curiousity or sadism. He shifted his weight slightly, sure sign that he was nervous. One hand rested on my shoulder, branding me through the shirt I wore. The other toyed with my hair again. Always moving. Always, always those tiny little motions as if some cosmic force prevented him from staying still, even if only for a second. Then he took a deep breath. "About last night," he said again, his voice soft but calm. "I want to apologize." "Orlando," I said, lifting my head. He placed one finger over my lips and smiled softly at me. "Please, love, let me finish." He waited until I nodded and then gently pulled my head back to rest against his stomach. "I want to apologize. I was.... Horrid doesn't even begin to describe my behavior last night. I don't have an excuse for it. There isn't an excuse for it. I was unbelievably cruel. I know you were angry with me and I don't blame you." I pulled back slightly, my hands resting on his hips, my eyes staring at the pattern on his shirt without seeing it. Tried to gather my thoughts, to make some sense out of everything jumbled in my head. I knew I loved him. Probably more than was good for either of us at that moment, but it wasn't something I could control. I had loved this beautiful, magical creature since the first moment I laid eyes on him. Finally, I looked up at him. "I was angry," I said quietly. "Angry and hurt. That's why I said what I did about sleeping with Sean. I...I wanted to hurt you in return. I regret that so much now. And I'm sorry." He stood there silently, watching me, not moving. His eyes, like pools of rich, dark melted chocolate. I could feel his fingers moving on my shoulder. Tiny twitches. Then he lifted that hand and trailed his fingers along my jaw, moving up to trace my bottom lip. "You have nothing to be sorry for, love," he murmured. I caught his fingers and kissed the tip of each one, my eyes locked with his. "I do. I deliberately lied to you just to hurt you. Regardless of what you said or did," I said, holding his hand and pulling it to rest against my chest, directly over my heart. "There is no excuse for what I did. We both reacted to the moment and that was wrong." He looked at me steadily, and I could see the suspicious liquidy shimmer in his eyes. "I love you so much," he said in a near whisper, his voice ragged with emotion. As I watched, one tear slipped free, quickly followed by another. His hand lifted, swiping them away as he blinked rapidly. That hand trembled slightly as he lowered it to my shoulder again. I absently realized that he hadn't had a cigarette all morning. "Orlando, I have to know something," I said, not quite believing the words that were coming out of my mouth. He looked at me. "What you said last night. Was it true?" His eyes studied mine for a moment and then he sighed, dropping his gaze to where his hand still rested against my chest. He nodded. "Yes," he said in a very small voice. So small and fragile. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard before looking at him once more. "You slept with someone else." It wasn't a question and he knew it. I knew it. I cringed inside at the flat, toneless quality of my voice. He continued to look at his hand against my chest. "Yes," he whispered. I closed my eyes and turned my head away. Struggled to breathe as I sat there. Wanting the numbness to come back and reclaim me. Slowly, he dropped his hands to hang at his sides. A soft intake of breath, then a slow release. His hand moved, almost as if he wanted to touch me. "I will understand," he said slowly, softly, painfully, "If you hate me. And I will understand if my doing that means the end for us and you wish to leave. I have loved you for so long, it will...will hurt to let you go, but I will not hold you if...if you can not love me any more because --" His words froze on his tongue when my head snapped around. A startled squeak escaped him when I grabbed his arms and jerked, twisting at the same time so that he fell to the bed, pinned there by my body. Wide eyes stared up at me as I held his wrists above his head, keeping them there with one hand, the other sliding down his side to massage his hip. "You are not going anywhere," I said softly. Touch of steel there. His eyes widened even further. "You are mine, Orlando, and I will love you until the day I die. I don't want to leave you, you wicked little creature. My soul would die the day that happened." And then I kissed him. There was nothing terribly gentle about the kiss. It was hot and fierce and passionate, and I tried my best to pour my very soul into it. I wanted to erase the memory of that other man from his mind, from his skin. It was jealousy, pure and simple. I knew it. But I could do nothing to control it. And then he whimpered softly against my mouth. Quickly, I drew back, only then remembering Sean's fist crashing into him. I stared, agahst, at the tiny trickle of blood that leaked from the reopened split and I cursed myself. I immediately sat up, releasing his wrists and watching as one hand crept to his mouth, his fingers touching the blood. "Ouch," he said with a soft, shaky laugh. He tried to smile, but grimaced when the movement pulled at his lip. "I'm sorry, angel," I said quietly as he lifted the bottom of his shirt to dab at the blood. He looked at me and shrugged. "It'll heal," he said, tentatively touching his tongue to the split and making a face. "But I don't think you should be kissing me like that for a few days." "Probably a good idea," I said, nodding and smiling faintly. He sat up and looked at me for a moment before reaching out to touch the bruise on my jaw. His fingers, so warm and gentle against my skin. His eyes, full of regret and love. "The walking wounded," he whispered as he brought his other hand up to touch his own bruise. Then he leaned over and softly kissed the exact spot his fingers had touched. "It look worse than it feels," I assured him. He gave me a skeptical look. Almost laughed. Sometimes he knew me better than I knew myself. "I put that there. I can't --" He looked startled when he yawned in mid-sentence. I did laugh then. After a few seconds, he joined in, sounding a bit sheepish. "I'm sorry." "Don't be." Reached out and cupped his face in my hand, my thumb brushing over his cheekbone as he turned his head slightly to nuzzle my palm. "You're exhausted." He nodded. "You don't look too chipper yourself." With another soft laugh, I pulled my shirt over my head and dropped it to the floor. Reaching out, I did the same with his. He smiled and tried to cover a second yawn with his hand as my hands dropped to the button of his jeans. "What would you say to spending the rest of the day in bed?" I asked, urging him to his feet. Those long legs encased in denim. Watching as his jeans slowly slid down his legs to pool on the floor, forgotten as he stepped out of them. "I think I'd like that," he said softly, crawling under the covers. I stood and he watched as I shed my own jeans, kicking them aside before joining him. Soft contented sigh from him as I rolled him to his side and spooned against his back, my arm wrapped tightly around his waist. Another happy little sound when I kissed his shoulder. Everything seemed to slow down as we lay there like that, drowsy and content to just be with each other. It was one of those small, crystalline perfect moments in time that some people spend their entire lives searching for. And at some point, we drifted off to sleep together, curled together under the blankets, the rest of the world locked out for a few precious hours. + + + mid-December 2002 somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean The plane was warm and I was about a fourth of the way through the book I was reading. Orlando was warmer and he was asleep. I glanced down at him and smiled fondly, taking a second to move his hand from the painful looking angle he had it stuck in. His head rested on my shoulder, his mouth partially open as he slept. Tiny little twitches from time to time as he dreamed. He looked so peaceful and innocent. Without glancing around the cabin of the plane, I returned my attention to my book. Somehow, Peter had thought it would be a good idea for everyone to share the same flight from New York to London. I had my suspicions as to who suggested that to him, but I kept them to myself. At least he had the good sense to stick us all in first class. Though even first class can become cramped after four hours of a twelve hour flight. Orlando had insisted on the window seat and, since I hadn't really had a preference, had happily ensconced himself there with his nose pressed against the window during take-off. To my eternal delight, Sean had ended up directly across the aisle from me with Lij on his other side, staring morosely out his own window. Astin, his wife, Dom, and Billy had filled up the row directly in front of us, while Liv and John sat behind me. To my even greater delight, Ian had settled into the seat behind Sean, with Peter occupying the last seat in that row. Sometimes I truly believed that some higher being was playing one enormous cosmic joke on me. Hence the reason my nose was stuck in my book. Soft muttering from my left drew my attention and I looked at Sean from the corner of my eye. Apparently Lij was fidgeting. If I knew Sean, that wouldn't last for long. Orlando shifted and mumbled in his sleep. Right on cue, two hobbit heads popped up over the backs of their seats and I was looking at Dom and Billy. They looked at Orlando, then at me, then smiled and vanished back into their seats. At least I think those were smiles. Seconds later, I heard muffled whispering that wasn't quite muffled enough as I could distinctly pick out both my name and Orlando's. So I stretched. Wasn't my fault I kicked the back of Dom's seat in the process. Silence. A soft snicker from over my left shoulder. At least Ian was amused. I tried my best to avoid looking at anyone sitting on the left side of the plane. Considering how long I was going to be stuck that close to them, it wasn't easy. Several times, I had caught Ian watching me thoughtfully. And Sean made no secret of his study. If he wasn't looking at me with this odd expression on his face, he was brooding silently. More whispering from the seats in front of me. That time, I kicked Billy's seat. A second later, Dom's face peeped around the side of his seat. He looked at Sean, then at Ian. Blatantly refused to look at me. I was tempted to kick his seat again but refrained. It was hard to resist the temptation though. "Lij, stop squirming," Sean said through gritted teeth. "Sorry." Lij sounded as bad as he looked. I wondered when he had last slept. Without needing to look directly at them, I could tell that he lasted about twenty seconds before he was squirming again. Poor kid was probably going nuts wanting a cigarette. Luckily, I had had the foresight to slap a patch on Orlando's upper arm as he got dressed that morning. We definitely didn't need two hyper, fidgety people on the flight with us. Nerves were frayed enough as it was. "Lij, do you have to go to the loo?" That was almost enough to make me laugh. Almost. "Huh? Oh. No. Sorry." I was tempted to put my book down and enjoy the show that was seemingly imminent. Tempted. But then I'd have no reason to continue ignoring the speculative and appraising looks I was receiving. So I continued to stare at my book. Didn't matter that I had read the same paragraph about eight times and still didn't know what it said. Orlando shifted again, his head falling forward. He woke with a jerk, sitting up abruptly and blinking as he looked around. "Where are we?" He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. I laughed and pointed to the window. "Somewhere over the ocean, angel," I said. He looked out and sighed. "How boring." I wasn't surprised. Orlando had never been one who liked being cooped up inside. Given half a chance, the little demon would have probably strapped on a parachute and jumped out of the plane. I wondered at times if he enjoyed giving me random heart attacks with his love for insane acts. I watched as he fished the book he had been reading out from beside him and opened it to the slip of paper he was using for a bookmark. My book lay forgotten in my lap as I continued to watch him, the way his long fingers held his book, the way one leg shifted so that his foot was in the seat. "You're staring at me," he murmured, never taking his eyes off the page. I grinned. "You're right," I said. "I am. Got a problem with it?" He looked at me and smiled. "I don't," he said quietly, "But your friend over there probably does." "Well then, that's his problem to deal with," I said, leaning over to kiss him lightly. "Not mine, and certainly not yours." "I suppose you're right," he said and shifted to lean against me, his head on my shoulder once more as he turned his attention back to his book. Just then, all hell broke loose across the aisle. "God damn it, Elijah! Would you fucking sit still? You act like you've got ants in your bloody pants!" Sean's voice seemed to thunder through the cabin and it drew everyone's attention. Orlando jumped and his hand on my thigh tightened almost painfully. A quick glance showed his face was ashen and I cursed softly. There had been enough fighting in the last few days for all of us. "Sean, please --" "Shut up, Orlando!" Sean's voice was like a whip crack. Orlando flinched and dropped his eyes to his book. Without moving, he seemed to curl in on himself and I couldn't help myself. I exploded. "Don't tell him to shut up!" I yelled as I came out of my seat. Silence so loud it was deafening. And then Sean was on his feet and we glared at each other across the narrow aisle. Orlando's fingers on my arm, urging me to sit back down. Lij in his seat, watching us all with wide, miserable eyes. Hobbit heads watching over the backs of their seats, Liv staring in disbelief. Peter shaking his head, John with a newspaper pulled up in front of his face as if he could pretend we weren't there if he didn't look at us. And Ian just sat there taking it all in with a thoughtful look. "Why not?" Sean asked, his eyes narrowed. "Oh, that's right. I forgot that no one is allowed to say anything mean to Orlando. God forbid he hear the truth." "Don't go there, Sean," I said, ignoring Orlando's soft pleas. "Or what? What else can you possibly do to me, Viggo?" "Just leave him alone," I said quietly. "He was only trying to stop a fight before it got started." "Oh, well then, by all means," Sean said. So snide. My hand itched to slap him. "I wouldn't dream of doing anything to upset poor, dear Orlando." "The part of the jealous bitch doesn't suit you, Sean." Shocked gasps echoed through the cabin at my words. Sean's eyes widened and he looked as if I actually had slapped him. Then his eyes narrowed again and moved from me to Orlando and back again. "And the part of the pussy whipped little kiss ass doesn't suit you, Viggo." Before I could say anything, Ian was there between us, his hands gently pushing us apart. I let Orlando capture my hand and pull me down into my seat, my eyes never leaving Sean. So much anger in the air. So much frustration and pain. So much of everything that should never come between friends. "Viggo," Orlando whispered, sounding near tears. "Please, love, don't let him get to you." I patted his hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, pulling him close and tucking his head beneath my chin. His hand with those long, slender fingers, curled around the amulet hanging from my throat and I could feel him trembling against me. "Sean," Ian said calmly. So calm. Always so fucking calm. "Why don't you take my seat for the rest of the flight and I'll sit next to Elijah? I'm sure I can get him to calm down." With a snarled curse, Sean threw himself into Ian's just vacated seat and glared at the back of the seat he had previously occupied. Ian seated himself and, after a mild glance at me, turned his attention to Lij, speaking to him softly and touching him frequently. It seemed to work. I hoped it would last for the rest of the flight. I wasn't going to hold my breath, though. So much for the good sense of sticking us all in first class. Soon, Orlando drifted back off to sleep, his book closed in his lap. My arm curled around his shoulders protectively as I tried to lose myself in my book again. It was hopeless. I could feel Sean's eyes boring into me, but I studiously ignored him, refusing to turn around. Something told me it was going to be a long flight. + + + mid-December, 2002 London, England The Two Towers premiere "I'm impressed." "What?" I turned with a frown. Sean behind me, his eyes on Orlando as he flitted around the room. I followed his gaze and smiled. All smiles and gesturing hands, Orlando had been more like himself all evening than he had been in the past few months. Clear, bright eyes turned to look at me and he grinned, dimples flashing, his hand lifting in a tiny wave. "Yes, he is impressive, isn't he?" I asked quietly. Sean just made a rude noise. "Actually, I'm impressed that he's been sober for three days now. I didn't think he had it in him." "Sean, don't start," I said. So tired of arguing with him. "Not tonight." He shrugged and took a swallow of his drink. I caught a glimpse of Ian through the crowd and muttered something vile under my breath when I realized he was moving in our direction. It wasn't that I didn't like his company. Or Sean's. It was just that I wasn't sure I could deal with any more of the thinly vieled comments or knowing looks. So I walked away. I knew it was the coward's way out, but I didn't care just then. I wanted to find Orlando. A drink was pressed into my hand as I walked. I sipped at it, moving through the crowd easily, spotting Orlando across the room with Dom and Billy, his hands moving excitedly as always. Setting the glass down on the nearest waiter's tray, I snuck up behind him and pressed a kiss to his neck just below his ear. I laughed softly when he let out a startled yip and shivered. "Don't do that!" He said, spinning to face me and throwing his arms around my neck before kissing me soundly. I just laughed and pressed my forehead against his, my arms going around his waist. "Mmm...what'll you do if I keep doing it?" His lashes swept down to cover his eyes and then he gave me a slow, sultry smile. "Anything you wish, love," he whispered. "Anything at all." "I'll hold you to that," I said and his fingers stroked the back of my neck. "I'm counting on it." + + + We parted again, letting the crowd pull us in opposite directions. Several times I saw Ian and Sean standing with their heads together, watching me, watching Orlando. Always watching. In an effort to get away from their eyes, I stepped outside. Probably not the smartest thing I could have done. It was snowing. I shivered slightly and shoved my hands deep in my pockets, watching the fat, white flakes drift down to cover everything in a fleecy blanket. And then I heard it. Somewhere, off to my right, someone was crying. Not loudly. A low, continuous sound of despair. As I headed in that general direction, I wondered who the poor girl was and why she was outside crying in the snow. There, around the corner of the pub. A small figure seated on a bench, snow dusting the slender form. I slowly walked closer, stopping in surprise when I realized it was Lij sitting there. "Lij," I said softly, gently touching his shoulder. "What's wrong?" He jerked away, trembling, scrubbing at his eyes with one hand. "N-nothing," he stammered, his voice thick and hoarse with tears. "Then why are you crying?" I sat beside him, brushing the snow from his hair, holding his arm when he would have pulled away again. I thought his lips were blue, but I couldn't tell in the dark. "N-no r-reason," he said. His trembling increased. So cold. I wondered how long he had sat out there. "You can't be sitting out here in the snow and crying for no reason, Lij," I said with a soft laugh. "Something's bothering you." He shook his head violently, refusing to look at me. Still trembling. I wondered if all the fighting recently had affected him more than he had let on. We had all been so close just three short years ago. And now it seemed like we were all at each other's throats constantly. I was amazed that any of us were holding up as well as we had and I was starting to dread the premiere of the third movie the following year. "Come on, Lij," I urged softly, sliding closer and putting an arm around his shaking shoulders. "You can tell me what's wrong." "N-no, I c-can't," he choked out, wiping away fresh tears. His teeth chattered from the cold. "There was a time, Lij, when you said you felt you could talk to me about anything," I reminded him, stroking his back and pulling him close. "Th-that w-was b-before," he said, his voice soft. "Before what?" I prompted when it was clear he didn't plan on continuing. "B-before Or-Orlando," he whispered. Cold fingers brushing my spine, creeping up my back. Suddenly everything was so incredibly bright. I tried to smile. "Before I was with Orlando? But that was --" "N-no," he said, lifting his head and looking at me. The raw anguish in his eyes took my breath away. "I-it w-was m-me." So bright. So very, very cold. I tried to smile again. Couldn't with Lij looking at me that way. Hard to think with those tear-filled luminous blue eyes watching me. "What was you, Lij?" Coldness all around, inside and out. Icy fingers curling around my spine, touching my heart. That loud roaring in my ears again. "I w-was th-the one Orlando ch-cheated on y-you w-with," he said. So much misery in his voice. I stared out into the night. He hadn't said that. I couldn't have heard him say that. Couldn't be true. Couldn't possibly be true. "You, Lijah?" My voice so quiet and calm. So dead sounding. "You slept with my angel?" He nodded and sniffled softly, looking down once more. So hard to breathe, to think. So very, very hard. Terrible ripping pain in my chest. Hot. Cold. No. Frozen. Frozen inside. Sick feeling. "W-we d-didn't m-mean f-for it t-to h-happen, V-viggo," he said. I heard him as if from a distance. Each word like a lance through me. "W-we'd b-been dr-drinking a-and it j-just f-fucking h-happened." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "It w-was j-just th-the one t-time, I sw-swear. J-just th-the once and w-we d-didn't m-mean t-to d-do it and G-god, V-viggo.... It's dr-driving m-me cr-crazy and I j-just c-can't st-stand it anym-more. I am s-so s-sorry." Just the one time. I presumed that was supposed to make me feel better. It didn't. In fact, I didn't feel anything at all. And Lij just sat there, watching me, shaking with cold and misery. "Where?" I forced the word out through lips that felt frozen. Couldn't look at him. "Y-your h-house," he said, sounding so young and small then. "Where, Elijah? Where did you let him fuck you?" My voice rose with each word until I was nearly screaming. Lij flinched, pulling away from me once more. No. Had to control myself. "Y-your b-bed," he whispered. I stood. Icy again. Dead inside. Everything was so bright, so loud. Snow falling on me, catching in my lashes. So cold. So unbelievably, achingly cold. "V-viggo?" Turned away. Couldn't look at Lij again. One foot in front of the other. Walking. Where? I didn't know. I could hear Lij behind me, but I wouldn't stop. Couldn't stop. So I walked, leaving him behind me. Leaving them all behind me in the light and the warmth. + + + Darkness. Surrounding me. Enveloping me. Cradling me within its velvet touch. Filling me until nothing else was left. Emptiness. Numb frost rimming the edges of my soul. Waiting. Always waiting. Seemed like an eternity had passed. But I could still hear his voice in my ears, still see his tear stained face in my mind. His stammered confession, forced out through chattering teeth, had been torn my soul to shreds, each word a painful razor slicing through me. So I sat and waited. In the silent dark. The door opened, showing a silhouette framed by the bright light of the hallway. I didn't need to see his face to know it was him. I would know that form until my dying day. Always remember how it felt in my arms, in my bed. And always, always remember the bitter taste of betrayal. Even then I could taste it on my tongue. Watching as he walked slowly into the room, that graceful hand reaching for the lamp. "Viggo? Love, are you in here?" That soft, richly accented voice that I loved so much. That voice that had called my name more nights than I could remember. So many times I had heard it beg for release, cry out with ecstasy, laugh in delight at some new thing. Never once had I ever imagined it crying out someone else's name. Never. The light from the lamp flooded the room. His eyes, so concerned, studied me as I sat in the chair. "Viggo, what happened? You vanished and I was worried," he said as he drew nearer. "Lijah was a silly git and stayed outside too long and almost got hypothermia. Billy and Dom found him and he was just a mess. And then we tried to find you and Lij said --" "I talked to him," I said. So dead sounding. So much despair. Had they all known? Surely Dom had. He was always with Lij. Betrayal everywhere I looked. He hesitated, his brow wrinkling in confusion. "You talked to who?" Two steps closer. Slowly. "Elijah." He stopped. More confusion. His hand moved and then.... Then I could see the realization spread across his beautiful, beautiful features. "He told you," he whispered. Soft and full of pain. That voice. Loved that voice so much. I didn't need to answer. He could see everything he needed to see without my ever saying a word. I watched the blood slowly drain from his face and he swayed. Slowly sank down, his knees giving out and depositing him on the edge of the bed as he stared at me. The bruise on his chin standing out in stark relief against his now ashen skin. The walking wounded, he had said. Only God knew how right he had been. "Oh, God...." "In our bed, Orlando?" I rose slowly, moving to stand over him. His eyes closed, his mouth tightening in pain. They opened again and he looked up at me. "Viggo, I am so, so sorry," he whispered. "We didn't mean for it to happen. It just did. You had been gone for a couple weeks and I was so lonely and...and we were drunk and it just happened. Afterwards, I felt sick and I hated myself for doing that to you. If I could go back and change things, I would. God...I am so sorry." "In our bed? In our fucking bed, Orlando?" I didn't care that I was screaming. Didn't care who heard us. All the rage and anger and hopelessness I had bottled up inside over the last year came boiling out. He dropped his head and brought his hands to his face. "Oh, God, please...I am so sorry," he said, his voice muffled. "I love you so much, Viggo, and I never, never meant to hurt you. I would kill myself before intentionally hurting you." "You love me," I said, fists clenched at my sides. Couldn't touch him. Wouldn't be able to stop if I did. Wouldn't be able to walk away. "You love me, but you fucked another man -- a friend -- in our god damn bed!" "It didn't mean anything!" Looking up at me again, tears streaking down that perfect olive skin. "It just happened. You weren't there and he was and we'd been drinking and it just happened and I am so fucking sorry, Viggo. You've got to believe me!" "I could have forgiven you anything," I said. Hating my voice, the way it sounded. His tears wrenching at the tiny part of my soul that could still feel. "Anything, Orlando, but that." "Viggo, please! I sw--" "Don't, Orlando," I said, holding up my hand. He flinched. Dear God, did he think I could actually hit him? "Don't make any more promises." "Viggo, I love you," he said, tears rolling down his face, one hand held out to me. "Please...I am so sorry." My inner eye cried at the vision of this, my angelic demon -- beautiful, even in his rage, his grief, even high.... High. Oh, sweet Jesus. High. I stared at him in silence as my world crumbled to pieces around me. High. I could hear his tears, his voice calling me, begging me to stop. And I just walked away without looking back. + + + I didn't know who was more surprised to find me at his door -- him or me. He stood there, green eyes betraying nothing as they studied my face for a moment. I didn't speak. To be honest, I wasn't sure I could. So many emotions inside me, so many memories rolling around in my head. Like water raging through a broken dam. So we stood there facing each other, neither of us speaking. "Somehow, I don't think this is a social call," Sean said quietly as he stepped back. "Come in." I entered his room, my arm brushing his chest as I walked past him. No surprise to see Ian sitting there, 2 glasses on the small table. One foot in front of the other. Everything was so surreal. Voices in my head. Blue eyes swimming in front of me, turning into brown, but always crying. Always the tears. Ian gesturing as he stood, concern etched on his face. Sean's arms around me as my knees gave out, catching me before I hit the floor. Soft voices. Then darkness. When I came to, I was lying on Sean's bed. I could hear them talking softly somewhere in the room. And then Ian was there, Sean just behind his shoulder. I sat up and closed my eyes tightly as the room spun. Maybe that hadn't been such a good idea. The bed dipped beside me and a hand touched my arm. Sean. I opened my eyes to see Ian in front of me, sitting in a chair. "How are you feeling?" He asked softly. Sean's hand moved up to my shoulder, steadying me. "Sick," I mumbled, closing my eyes again. "Have you been drinking?" Ian's voice again. So calm. I shook my head. "Viggo," Sean said quietly, gentle strength lacing his voice. "What happened?" I looked at him, feeling hot prickles behind my eyelids. No judgement in his eyes, only concern. And love. At that moment, I would have preferred the judgements. "Orlando," I whispered. "He and...and Lijah...they --" I choked on the words then, closing my eyes tightly against the sudden understanding on Sean's face. Small sound from Ian. "Oh shit," Sean said quietly. "Lij was the one Orlando slept with." There it was. Out in the open. All I could do was nod, my eyes still closed, tears threatening. Sean's hand, warm on my shoulder. I could hear Ian say something softly but the words themselves didn't register. Only the resounding echo of Orlando's confessed betrayal rang in my ears. "Viggo," Sean said, his fingers tightening on my shoulder. "Don't pass out again. Stay with us, come on." "It was in our bed," I said, my voice breaking on the last word. A soft curse and then Sean's arms were around me again, holding me close, enfolding me in his warmth. Accepting and comforting as I gave in and let the tears come. Couldn't move. Couldn't hardly breathe for the sobs wracking my body. And through it all he held me, stroking my hair, whispering softly in my ear. Little nonsense words in a soothing voice. That lovely, lovely accent. So like Orlando's, yet not. Those hands, so strong, yet gentle. The tears gradually tapered off, leaving me feeling weak and wrung out, my emotions flayed and as raw as if they'd been rubbed with sandpaper. "Feel better?" He asked, then chuckled wryly. "No, of course you don't. That was a rather stupid question." I didn't move, just sat there and rested limply against his chest. When did my arm wrap around his waist? So much pain inside. So much I hadn't seen for so long. But I had seen it. I knew it. They all knew it. So much self-destruction and lying and broken promises and denial. I squeezed my eyes shut. "Viggo, what happened?" Ian asked. No censure in his voice, only acceptance and concern. Sean's arms still around me, holding me as if he had no intentions of ever letting go. My hand clutched the back of his shirt tightly. So much. Too much. I felt as if I was in a waking nightmare. "I don't...talked to Lij and...and he told me," I said. Sean's heartbeat, strong and steady under my ear. "And Orlando...God.... He said they --" "It's alright," Sean said quietly, one hand soft in my hair. "Take your time." I drew in a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm down before I spoke again. Minutes passed, neither of them pressuring me to talk. Giving me time to compose myself. That was almost laughable. I wasn't sure I'd ever be composed again. Liquid brown eyes, filled with tears, swam in my vision again and I had to fight back my own tears. Almost as if he knew, Sean tightened his arms around me. Slowly, stumbling over my words, I managed to choke out what had happened. Lij's tearful confession in the snow. Orlando's confirmation in our room, the way he had apologized over and over, telling me it had meant nothing to him. It was like ripping off a newly formed scab and prodding at the wound. Every word that left my mouth tore another tiny piece out of my soul. I thought I cried some more as I talked, but I wasn't sure. Slowly, Sean's warmth seeped into me and I drew strength from his quiet presence. "Viggo," Ian said softly, leaning forward in his chair. "Was Orlando sober when you confronted him?" I looked at him dully. Didn't want to think about that. Didn't want to picture his crying face in my mind again. Those beautiful, expressive eyes that I loved so much, full of tears because of me. But they had been clear and lucid. No frenzied brightness or clouded haze had lurked in their dark depths. "Yes," I whispered, feeling fresh agony tear through me again. "Well, that's something at least," Sean said, his voice rumbling through his chest beneath my ear. "Sean, please," Ian said with a faintly chiding tone. "No, go ahead and say it," I said. So tired. I felt as if all my energy had been drained from my body. "Say what?" Curious note in Sean's voice. Couldn't imagine he didn't know what I meant. "Go ahead and say 'I told you so.' It's the least I deserve. I've got to be the biggest idiot on the damn planet." "Neither of us has any intention of saying that," Ian said gently. "And while you may be an idiot where Orlando is concerned, you are certainly not the biggest one on the planet." "Thanks," I mumbled, closing my eyes. "I think." "Love makes people do stupid things, Viggo," Ian said quietly. "Not the least of which is the failure to see or admit that the person you love is flawed." "He's not flawed," I said, a bit more heatedly than I intended. "How long has he had a drug problem?" Ian countered. I stared at him from the haven of Sean's embrace. "He...." I trailed off as a sudden, crystal clear image of Orlando in the bathroom, the shattered mirror and white powder on the floor around his feet, formed in my mind. How could I have failed to realize? No. I had realized, but I had been too scared to admit it to myself. "Viggo," Sean said softly, his hands moving down my back in light strokes. "How long has Orlando been taking drugs?" "Months," I whispered, hating myself for condemning him. "Since early summer. Maybe longer." Ian nodded as if he had expected nothing less. Maybe he hadn't. Maybe I had just been too close, too love in with Orlando to see it for myself. "Seven or eight months or longer," Sean said. He sounded tired. "So this isn't something he's started recently because of guilt over his indiscretions with Elijah," Ian said. "Both boys claimed they had been drinking and it just happened. If Orlando has indeed had a problem for months, it's likely that he had consumed more than just alcohol that night. Elijah as well." "Probably," Sean said. So soft. The accents in his voice, so soothing. "Do you have any idea what he's been taking?" "Pot." I shrugged. Tried to, anyway. I was too tired to move. "Alcohol. He's been drinking a lot the past few months. Acid." I tried to think. So hard to focus my thoughts. "Maybe pills of some sort. I don't know. Cocaine." "Viggo, he needs help," Ian said. So calmly. Just like that. I almost shook my head. No. "I...I can --" "No," Sean said a little sharply. Then more gently, "You're part of the problem, Viggo. By refusing to make him take responsiblity for what he's been doing, you've enabled him to continue and grow worse." "Sean's right," Ian said before I could speak. "You may have walked out on him tonight and you may be angry with him, but do you have it in you to continue to be hard where he's concerned? Can you honestly be with him and look in his eyes and make him take responsibility for his own actions?" "I...." Honestly, I didn't know. I closed my eyes and rubbed a hand over my face. So tired. "Viggo, I think," Sean said very quietly, "That you should leave him. At least for a little while," he said hurriedly when I started to protest. "He's got to see that what he's doing is wrong and that you're not going to accept his behavior any longer." "I don't know if I can," I whispered. Sean's arms tightened around me again. "I told you the other night that I don't want to have to hold you up at his funeral, Viggo," Sean said. "You have to make a decision. You can either make him take full responsibility for what he does or you can watch him slowly kill himself." "Again, Sean is right," Ian said, his hand gently patting my knee. "However, I don't think you should be making such decisions tonight. You're exhausted and in no condition whatsoever to decide the best course of action for you and for Orlando. The best thing for you right now is sleep." "He can stay here," Sean said. Ian nodded. "I think that's a splendid idea. He really doesn't need to be alone right now. And neither," Ian said thoughtfully, "Does Orlando. Take care of him, Sean, and I'll go check on Elijah and then Orlando. I'll see if I can get Dominic or Billy to stay with him tonight." Just like that, Ian was gone. I wanted desperately to go with him. I knew Orlando would still be in our room, still be crying. Never before, not once in the entire time we had been together, had I walked away from his tears. It was tearing me up inside to think of him in tears and me not there to hold him. I closed my eyes against the pain, wishing I could erase all the ugliness and lies and betrayal. I wondered if the pain would ever go away. Sean's hands, so strong, so gentle, urging me to stand. Calmly undressing me, his voice talking softly to me the whole time. Tucking me into bed, blanket snug under my chin. My eyes, dry now, stared into the darkness when he shut off the lamp. Soft sounds let me know he was undressing. The bed dipped once more under his weight and then he was there, beside me, pulling me close, wrapping his arms around me, holding me until exhaustion overcame my defenses and sleep claimed me. continue...