Rating: R to be safe
Genre: Angst, rape, slash, tons of tears
Disclaimer: I don't own Orlando, Viggo or any of the other persons you recognise.
Summary: Can Viggo make the aching go away?
Author’s Note: This entire story popped into my head because of this line from the song Mandy: Well you kissed me and stopped me from shaking
. First angsty thing I wrote. This isn't gonna be a very long story, but I've always wanted to write this kinda thing, so.. :)



Here the first bit :)



Shattered but not broken


The night is cool and all warmth you ever possessed has vanished the seconds he started touching you. Filthy hands are travelling roughly down your body and you’re paralysed, unable to think of a way to get out of here, unable to think at all. Your mind is clouded, your fingers are freezing and the smell of garbage lying a few feet away makes you sick with disgust.

A sense of resignation has replaced the sheer panic you felt in the beginning and your weak sounds of protest cause sniggers from the person belonging to the hands that are claiming things that will never be his. You gave up the struggling a long time ago already, knowing it was to no avail, knowing that you are all alone in the cold of the night and that there’s no one who could hear you, no one who could help.

Desperately you try to fill your mind with memories of a time that seems so long ago now, in a world that seems to be in a universe so far from here, but you discover that you can’t focus on anything but his hands, those greedy needy hands that are getting more demanding with every second that ticks away.

You feel the last shreds of dignity slipping away, ripping away, cruelly taken from you just like he’s taking your oxygen now, his fingers digging into your neck, the stench of his breath on your face. The last thing you hear when you fall into the safety of nothingness is his laugh: wicked and piercing through the chilly October night.

:cry:

oh right... I can't read this stuff without crying... great...
but it's brilliant! Really good...

can't say more now...

sorry


hug
laila

that was so good!!
I can't wait to read more!!

Ahw, thank you both!

Am currently writing more, and it's so sad! :cry: :D

:eek:
Now I need to know whose POV that was from! :cry:

You'll find out soon enough..

~*~

According to Viggo, there wasn’t a better way to spend a free night than taking a hot bath with a good book of poetry in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, preferably with soft music playing in the background. So when he got home after a long and exhausting day of shooting, the fifth one in a row, it was the first thing he did.

When the tub was completely filled with water that was so hot that the mirrors in the bathroom were condensed, he gingerly lowered himself into it, humming along with an old Marvin Gaye song that was echoing through the quiet place. Lazily he stretched out and rested his head against the edge of the bath, closing his eyes and nipping his wine absently, drifting into his own private world.

The combination of the gentle sound of the music in his ears, the quite tasty wine and the relaxing warmth of the water was enough to lull him into a slumber and it wasn’t until the phone rang a couple of minutes later that he woke with a start, the water splashing violently over the rim as he sat up rapidly, reaching for the cordless phone he had placed right beside him just in case anyone would call.

“Yeah?” he said into the receiver, leaning back and rubbing his eyes with his dripping hands.

“Vig, you have to come. Now,” a strained voice replied, making Viggo sit up straight in alarm, causing water to splatter onto the floor again.

“Dom? What’s going on?”

The sound of his usually so cheerful co-star and friend worried him to no extend and he was already getting up, stepping out of the bath and grabbing a towel and awkwardly trying to dry himself with one hand.

“Something’s wrong with Orlando,” came the reply, apprehension clearly audible.

Viggo froze on the spot, feeling a tight knot of fear settling in the pit of his stomach as a wave of nausea swept over him.

“O-Orlando?” he repeated, his throat impossibly dry as visions of wrecked cars and burning houses flashed through his brain.

“I don’t know what to do Vig, he won’t talk to me but something’s horribly wrong,” Dom said incoherently, obviously as distressed as Viggo was at the moment.

“Dom, can you please calm down and tell me what’s going on?” he asked calmer than he actually felt, clumsily hopping on one leg to get into his trousers, the phone pressed between his ear and shoulder.

“I have no fucking idea what’s going on!” Dom practically yelled, then added in a softer voice: “He was suddenly standing in front of my door and he’s looking awfully pale and he isn’t his usual self at all. I’ve asked a dozen times what’s happened but he’s hardly said a thing. I thought maybe he would open up to you, since the two of you are so close.”

“Alright. Keep him there, I’m on my way,” Viggo said, and threw the phone aside, dashing through his house in search for his shoes and car-keys.

:cry: Not Orlando...

:cry: :cry: :cry:
Oh god... amazing writing...
SOOO GOOD!

more?

hugs
Laila

Laila: thanks so much! ^_^
Peiyu: yes, Orlando, I'm sorry :(
Lurking readers: REPLYYYY! :P

~*~

While it normally took him about twenty minutes to get to Dom, it took him merely ten minutes this time, the dread in his heart making him excess the speed limit numerous times. Thoughts were deliriously whirling through his head and his body was shaking with apprehension, a zillion possible explanations for Orlando’s behaviour going through his mind, one stranger than the other. When he finally arrived at Dom’s, he practically flew out of his car and hurried toward the front door, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. Dom had probably already seen him because he opened the door before he had even reached it.

“He’s in the…” he started, but the older man had already walked past him, going straight to the living room without slowing his pace. Viggo could already make out the figure sitting hunched up on Dom’s couch, arms wrapped around his knees, rocking back and forth slowly with an uncharacteristic blank expression on his face.

“Hey honey,” Viggo said gently, kneeling down in front of his friend and brushing away the dark locks of hair from his eyes. “Are you alright?”

No answer, not even a glimmer of acknowledgement in the eyes that were intensely fixed onto the floor. Viggo exchanged looks with Dom, who was standing with his arms crossed behind the couch, shrugging helplessly as to show he didn’t know what to do. Viggo couldn’t believe that this was Orlando, that this was the same person who was always teasing him, who was always cheerful and smiling. The one sitting on the couch was but a shadow of the person Viggo knew and it killed him to see his friend like this.

“Orlando? Can you tell me what’s wrong?” he asked, making sure that he sounded gentle and kind. He stroked the Brit’s hair lovingly with one hand and grabbed one of Orlando’s with the other, squeezing it softly to let him know he was there for him. But Orlando kept quiet, his gentle rocking the only reply Viggo received.

Despair flooded the older man. It was obvious that something or someone had hurt him bad, but it seemed Orlando wasn’t going to tell him the reason for the state he was in. Viggo wished he could take all of his pain and fears away, that he would talk to him so he could do everything he possibly could just to help him, yet he knew that the younger man wouldn’t open up to him. Not in front of Dom.

Slowly he stood up and looked at the aforementioned person, whose face was a mixture of worry and desperation as he rubbed his upper arms with his hands, something he always did when he didn’t know what to do. “He’s been like this all the time. Do you reckon we should call a doctor?” he softly said, but Viggo shook his head immediately.

“No, I think it’s better to take him home with me,” Viggo replied thoughtfully, his hand never stopping the caressing movements on Orlando’s hair. “We can’t send him home like this and I think he’d sooner talk to me than to you.”

Dom nodded, not in the slightest offended by what Viggo had said. It was well-known that Orlando and Viggo had something special: they always hung out together and they shared everything. The only thing they didn’t share, however, was a bed, but Billy had joked once that that probably wouldn’t last long anymore. Viggo and Orlando had both raised an eyebrow at his words and had then exploded in a fit of giggles, as if it was the funniest thing they had ever heard. In fact it probably was the funniest thing they had ever heard. They were great friends, but neither of them was looking for more than that.

“Yeah, that’s probably the best,” Dom agreed, sighing deeply.

Viggo knelt down next to Orlando again, his thumb fondling the pale cheek of his friend. “Do you want stay with me tonight?” he asked carefully, hoping to be able to penetrate the fog that surrounded the younger man on the couch.

For the first time since Viggo’s arrival, the eyes of the Brit moved up to slowly lock with Viggo’s, and the second it happened, the older man felt his stomach lurch. The eyes that were usually sparkling with joy and laughter were now as empty as they could possibly be, and the sadness that shined through them made him want to kill whatever it was that had done this to him.

Slowly he nodded and avoided his eyes again as his lip started to tremble violently. In all those months they had spent together, Viggo had never seen Orlando cry, and now that he was about to do so, he wanted to wrap his arms around him and tell him it was going to be alright. The only thing that kept him from doing so however, was that he could see that Orlando was struggling to keep his tears inside, probably because he would feel uncomfortable to let himself go in front of two silent and watching people. Instead, Viggo firmly pressed his lips against the younger man’s temple and whispered softly in his ear.

“Let’s go then.”

Standing up slowly, he helped Orlando getting up as well, his arms supporting the slender figure of the young man. He was so fragile, so frail, so very much the opposite of the person he normally was that Viggo was almost afraid that he might break.

“Can you walk?” Viggo asked him, trying to make eye-contact only to discover that Orlando kept on staring at something only he could see. Again he nodded, and Viggo guided him to the door, the two of them followed by Dom, who quickly walked past them to let them out.

“Thanks for calling. I’ll call you tomorrow, alright?” Viggo smiled to Dom after helping Orlando put on his jacket. “Oh, and Dom? Don’t tell the others.”

“I won’t. And thanks. Take good care of him, would you?” Dom replied, forcing a smile. “Hey buddy, take care,” he said to Orlando, and patted him softly on the shoulder, watching their retreating backs with a sad expression on his face before going inside.

:cry: :cry: :cry:

Man poor Orlando...

he needs some help... *hugs*
But hell if anyone can help then Viggo...
I mean with everything...

It will be good, right?
Tell me it will be good...


huggles
Laila

(I thought I replied?)

Guh, sad that Orlando has turned into this... But he would open up to Viggo. Right?

Ah yes, Viggo's the perfect psychiatrist really.
Unfortunately I didn't have much time to write today. *grumbles*
More in a few days.

aww...poor Orli!!
:cry:
I hope viggo cheers his up!!
That was great!!!!
^_^

Poor Orlando! :cry:

He's gonna be ok, right? Right??? RIGHT????? :unsure:

Is Orli gonna make it Doc... Errr.... Viggo?

Pwease? :cry: :cry: :cry:

Who did that to my *cough* our Orli? :angry: Big trouble.

B)

The ride back home was a quiet one. Viggo had tried to make small-talk, but when the younger man hadn’t given a single reaction, he had decided to stop his efforts. It was almost as though Orlando was stupefied, as though he had no notion whatsoever of what was going on around him. Viggo wished that he could reach him, that he could tear down the walls that surrounded him, that Orlando knew he could use his shoulder to cry on.

The younger man was looking out of the window of the car, gazing at the landscape without actually seeing it, and he looked so lonely that Viggo couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. Carefully, he placed his hand atop of the one Orlando had rested on his knee, and squeezed it lightly, interlocking their fingers. He instantly felt the soft pressure the Brit applied to their entwined hands and he was happy to finally get a reaction, small as it might be.

They reached his house only moments later and Viggo got out of the car, quickly making his way over to the passenger door to help Orlando get out, who let Viggo without protesting.

“Come on, let’s get in,” Viggo said, supporting the fragile frame in his arms whilst fumbling with the keys.

Once inside, he helped Orlando remove his jacket and noticed that the Brit’s hands were not only trembling, but also quite dirty. Under any other circumstances he might have considered making a joke about Elves having dirt under their fingernails, but this wasn’t the right time to be teasing and fooling around.

Instead, he led him over to the couch, feeling as though he was dealing with a little child. It pained him greatly to see this other side of Orlando, a side he hoped he would never see again for as long as he would live. It wasn’t the first time for him to see Orlando vulnerable, after all they had spent many nights talking about their lives and whatnot, but it was the first time that he wouldn’t describe this vulnerability as ‘cute’. There was nothing cute about him: he looked broken, like a china doll that had shattered into pieces, and he wondered for the umpteenth time what the cause of this all was.

“Shall I make you some tea?” he asked, rubbing his back affectionately, eyes filled with concern as they gazed upon the frail creature.

“Hold me.”

The request came in a whisper that was almost too soft to hear, and Viggo wasn’t even sure he had heard it right in the first place, so he bent over to the dark-haired man, making sure their eyes were on the same level.

“What did you say?” he asked kindly, at which Orlando slowly, very slowly, turned his head to look him in the eye.

“Hold me,” he repeated, his voice cracking with tears still unshed.

“Oh Orli…” Viggo sighed, scooping him up in his arms, feeling Orlando clutching onto him for dear life. Right there, right in Viggo’s arms, Orlando finally gave up all resistance as he spilled all the tears that had gathered inside him, breaking down completely while his entire body trembled against Viggo’s.

Viggo wrapped his arms around him tightly, trying to provide him of all the comfort he could give. In languid strokes his hands moved up and down the Brit’s spine and he whispered sweet little nothings in his ear, rocking him gently to ease his pain.

“I’m s-s-scared,” Orlando sobbed uncontrollably, his voice as shaky as his body was, hands grasping Viggo’s shirt tightly.

“Shh,” Viggo cooed, kissing the top of his head. “You don’t have to be afraid, I’m right here. I’m right here…”

His last words got lost in another outburst of tears as his body convulsed and as much as Viggo needed to know why Orlando was crying, he decided to give him more time, to let him talk when he was ready to do so. He had never seen him like this before and it was hard for him to stay strong, to be the tower of strength he wanted to be. Normally he didn’t get that affected by other people’s emotions, but this was Orlando, this was practically his best friend, and Orlando’s sadness was so overwhelming that he could feel his heart wrench with misery by the mere sight of it.

Yet as difficult it was to see his friend like this, Viggo was glad that he was crying, that he let it all out instead of gazing numbly to the floor the way he had done before. It had scared him to see that lifeless expression on his face and the void in his eyes. It had scared him because it was as far from Orlando as it could possibly be: it had almost seemed as though someone had took his spirit away from him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked tentatively, stroking his hair tenderly when the intensity of the crying had lessened a bit.

“I can’t… I can’t,” Orlando mumbled weakly, his head still buried in Viggo’s shoulder as though he was afraid to leave the warmth he was surrounded with, the warmth he had missed so much.

“It’s okay, shh,” Viggo hushed quietly, his hands continuing its gentle movements. “Orli, please look at me,” he whispered, forcing the young man to raise his head to look at him. When his eyes met those dark and teary ones, which were quite hesitant in their gaze, he remembered a promise he once made: a promise to watch over Orlando, to make sure nothing would ever happen to him.

But something had happened to him now, which meant that Viggo had broken that promise. In a way he felt responsible for whatever had occurred, because it was Orlando, it was his friend, his Orlando, and no one could ever touch Orlando, no one could harm him. Not as long as he was around.


------

Oh my, is it a crime to fall in love with one of your characters? ^_^ *hearts Viggo*

:love: Orlando :love: Viggo :love: (isn't it pretty?)

:cry: Gah, I love that chapter... And true about crying being better than keeping stuff in yourself... *shrugs*

Thanks girlie ^_^

~*~

He cupped his chin, still wet from tears, in his hands, his gaze searching for something in his eyes, something that could give him a clue as to what had happened. But he found nothing, nothing but pure fright and loneliness.

“You’re not alone, Orli,” he told him softly, never allowing Orlando to look away. “You can trust me, you know that, don’t you?”

He could see the slightest quivering of his lip before the dark-haired man nodded, a tad more uncertain this time.

“And you also know that I will always be there for you, right?”

Another nod, eyes brimming with fresh tears. “Good,” Viggo said with a faint smile, removing his hands slowly.

And then, suddenly, his eyes lowered, instantly widening in alarm when he noticed bruises covering the smooth skin on Orlando’s neck. His jaw dropped open in bewilderment and he reached out a hand to touch the dark marks, not fully comprehending what this meant yet.

His eyes, open wide in perplexity, darted up to Orlando’s, who was looking at him in shock and horror before covering his neck with his hands, his head lowering as though he was ashamed.

“Don’t hide for me,” Viggo whispered, and he brought up his hands to the younger man’s face, forcing him to look up, forcing him to stop hiding. The power to protest had slipped away from Orlando, and he let his head be lifted, let the bruises be met by eyes that were filled with disbelief.

“Who has done this to you?” Viggo asked, his voice incredulous, his lungs feeling as though he had lost the ability to breathe.

“Please, don’t…” Orlando pleaded vainly, his fingers feebly trying to pull away the ones of Viggo, the ones that were ever so carefully touching the sensitive spots as if testing if they were real. When Orlando flinched at the contact, Viggo could feel the blood pounding in his ears, a wave of bewilderment and anger rushing through him.

Briskly he stood up, his hands clenched to fists as he paced the living room, trying to control the frustration and helplessness that were reigning over him. But it was to no avail: he could feel fury rising inside him, his mind spiralling out of control.

“Who has done this to you?” he asked again, his voice sounding strange even to his own ears. “Goddammit Orlando, talk to me!” he almost yelled when he didn’t get an answer, slamming his fist against the wall angrily. “Tell me who has done this to you!”

Black spots were dancing in front of his eyes and he knew that he had gone too far, that the last thing he should have done was shout at Orlando, shout at the one who was cowering right in front of his very eyes. Scolding himself for letting himself go like that, he made his way over to him, his eyes misty with regret.

“Please don’t be mad,” Orlando begged, an edge of panic to his voice, his eyes gazing into nothingness as he curled into a ball on the couch, arms slung around his knees
tightly once again.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” Viggo whispered, desperately trying to make everything alright. “I’m not mad, sweetheart, I’m sorry…”

Feeling horrible for making things worse instead of better, he wrapped his arms around the younger man, placing kisses on top of his head. Hot bitter tears fell from his eyes, tears out of regret, of compassion, of anger and despair, and they mingled with the wet beads on Orlando’s cheek.

Together they sat like that for what seemed to be hours before Viggo slowly disentangled himself from their embrace, lowering his head to make eye-contact.

“Can I get you anything? Something to drink, or eat, or something else?”

Orlando shook his head and swallowed before he opened his mouth to speak, his voice sounding like that of a child that was scared of getting punished for doing something it wasn’t allowed to.

“Can I take a shower?”

“Of course,” Viggo smiled warmly, helping him to stand up and leading him toward his bathroom, every now and then casting a worried sideways glance at the one walking beside him.

Once in the bathroom, he quickly grabbed a towel and hung it across the rim of the bath that was still slightly wet from earlier that evening, his arm never leaving Orlando’s back in the process.

“I’ll get you something to wear, alright? I’ll be right back,” he said, leaving Orlando standing there in the middle of the place, looking as helpless as a child lost in a forest.

Viggo dashed into his bedroom, swinging open the door of his closet in order to find something suitable for Orlando to wear. Deciding a slightly oversized pair of sweatpants would do, he hastily returned to the bathroom, politely knocking on the ajar door to let Orlando know he was coming inside.

What he saw the second he stepped into the room made his eyes widen in shock, and his throat felt painfully tight and dry, disabling him to breathe properly. Right in front of him stood a bare-chested Orlando, his shirt discarded on the floor as he silently examined himself in the mirror attached to the wall, his hand slowly running across his chest, eyes showing no emotion whatsoever.

“Oh God…”

:cry: One word: Shit.

Shitshitshitshitshit!!!

*huggles fictional Orlando*



:no:

OH MY GOD!! Hurry hurry hurry, I want more!! :)

:lalala: *Walks away quietly in a straightjacket* hmmhmmmhmm...

:cry:

This is so horrible...
But they are so cute together... so...
mixed feelings... very very...
Orlando can be so happy to have viggo, though...
really...


oh mplease more more more... PLEASE! ;)

hug
Laila

Hey! New reader! Yay! :P

Laila, thanks! Can't help feeling slightly honoured that you read this ^_^


~*~

Viggo’s knees started to tremble and he felt tears well up at the sight, knowing he would never be able to forget the presented vision for the rest of his life. Orlando’s back was plastered with bruises, his shoulder-blades covered with small red wounds that marked the normally smooth skin.

But it wasn’t all. When he neared him in slow and careful steps, horror clearly distinguishable on his face, eyes fixed on the body of his friend, he noticed similar bruises on his arms and several long red marks across the chest, tainting the gracious perfection it once possessed. These weren’t accidental grazes, this was the work of someone who had deliberately tried to hurt him, who had intentionally done him harm.

Even though Viggo wasn’t sure whether he could cope with more injuries, he forced his eyes to wander over the rest of that wrecked body, feeling new surges of nausea washing over him with each new bruise he discovered. His wrists seemed to be worst of all. They were frighteningly red and when Viggo looked closer he could almost make out the imprint of fingers.

“Oh Jesus,” Viggo whispered incredulously, his eyes darting up to Orlando’s face, which was still blank and impassive. Gingerly he reached out his hand to touch the sore skin on his back, causing Orlando to flinch in pain.

The thought of what might have happened to him was too revolting to think of, and Viggo tried to push back the images that started to appear, images of someone doing the unthinkable, of someone slamming Orlando roughly against a wall, forcefully grabbing his wrists, pinching them violently until Orlando had whimpered in pain, calling for help he knew he wouldn’t get.

Feeling sick, he put an abrupt halt to this trail of thought and looked into the mirror. Sad eyes met even sadder ones and Viggo felt as though someone had just kicked him in the stomach. He turned Orlando around, carefully wrapping his arms around him, trying to give and take consolation at the same time whilst making sure not to touch any bruises, which was quite hard when they seemed to be everywhere.

“Please let me help you,” he almost sighed, wishing with all his might that Orlando would share his pain with him, that he would give him access to his world.

“Make it stop…” Orlando murmured weakly against his neck, breaking his heart in hundreds of pieces. “Make it go away…”

“Make what go away?” Viggo asked, the gentle sound of his voice masking the dread that was making his stomach clench almost painfully. He realised that there was no point in running away from reality, to hide himself from the truth. He needed to know if his fears were justified, if those images he was so desperately trying to push away were actually real. But when he heard the short and shallow intakes of breaths from the one he held in his arms, he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

“Hurt, it hurts… everything hurts… it’s too much…” Orlando whined quietly, clutching Viggo’s shirt tightly in his fists, almost as though he was afraid that Viggo would leave him, that he would let him behind in the dark.

“Tell me what I have to do to make the hurting stop, baby. Tell me and I’ll do it,” Viggo whispered soothingly.

A dim voice in the back of his head told him that Billy probably would have been delighted to hear Viggo call Orlando ‘baby’, but soon all other thoughts but that of Orlando faded, and in a compassionate gesture he kissed the top of his head, the unruly curls brushing against his lips as he did so.

“Just stay here, don’t leave…” Orlando replied in a puny voice, his face buried still.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go away,” Viggo spoke softly, a sad smile lingering on his features.

With one hand protectively wrapped around the younger man’s lower back, he brought up the other, slowly moving it across the muscles on Orlando’s upper arm down to his wrist, making sure not to apply too much pressure on the fresh bruises. He rested his hand atop of Orlando’s, which was still firmly grasping his shirt, and gently ran his fingers along the tight muscles, tenderly yet firmly unclenching his fist finger by finger until it lay flatly against his chest, its radiating warmth burning through the fabric of his shirt. Leisurely he moved to the other hand and repeated the action, and he could feel Orlando crawl even closer to him, his body starting to relax, the cascade of tears starting to dry.

Viggo’s thoughts drifted off to the afternoon, which seemed a lifetime away already. He and Orlando had gone out lunching, seeing they weren’t required on set just yet. They’d had a wonderful time, like they always had together, and he could perfectly recall the gentle smile the young man had sent him just before they left. It came out of nowhere really, just like everything about Orlando seemed to be spontaneous and unplanned.

If only he could see that smile again. The smile that seemed to light up even the darkest night, the smile that told more than words ever could, the smile that was always accompanied by a pair of twinkling eyes that held a shimmer of mystery that even Viggo himself hadn’t unravelled yet.

As he held Orlando close to him, Viggo made a vow, one he wouldn’t break, not this time. He would make him smile again.

:cry: :cry: :cry2: :cry2:

Man how sad is that???
But so beautiful... really...

And you shouldn't feel honoured... really...
I love this story so I am honoured to have to possibility to read it!

hugs
Laila

:cry: Love the descriptions of the bruises on Orlando......

?! :huh:

oook....


;)
:P

*sigh*

what an extremely good story!

:cry: I'm a big fan of angst fics and too imagine such a vunerable Orli and sweet Viggo :cry:

Pwease update soon!

“Make it stop…” Orlando murmured weakly against his neck, breaking his heart in hundreds of pieces. “Make it go away…”

:cry: :cry: :cry: Too beautiful!

Wheeeeh! You're reading this! So, so cool! Thank youuu!

Oh hell, I planned on writing more for Be Your Guide but now I desperately want to continue this! Aargh! :D

OMG!

I don't know where to start!!!

This is AMAZING Aurora! It's incredible! I absolutely adore this.

I've wanted to cry in every chapter. Everything about this is simply brilliant.

Your talent is ne to be envied m'dear.

Ah... I really think I'm going to cry... That last bit was perfect. I'm so impressed.

BRAVO!!!

- Jessity B)

Oh sweet sweet Jessy, good to have you back as a reader again! (hmm.. this sentence didn't come out right :s :D)

Thank you ever so much, dahlin'... can't believe I call you that after that horrifying pic you sent me.. :huh: ;)

By the way: MENA? *looks around* Nope, no Mena's here...^_^

LOL!!! *Hangs head*. I'm very sorry to have scarred you like that! Those were some terrifying pictures. *Shudders*.

(It's kind of ridiculous that I'm posting here considering that I'm talking to you on MSN at this very moment).

I remember back in the AIEDO thread. *Sigh*. First thread that I was really a part of, you know? You got mad at Tash and I for over-posting!!! *Blushes*.

I edited! I edited! See! I meant AURORA! What is wrong with me...

- Jessity B)

I wasn't mad! I was just a tiny bit annoyed.. :blush: ^_^

*sighs* Good times...

Alright. Enough off-topic blabbering from my part ;)

Absolutely loving this. Please right more soon, you are very talented.

xxxxx

Wow thank you so much! Can't believe I got 3 new readers in one day! ^_^

Here the next bit, with a horrible end. My inspiration was running dry yet again..

~*~


Viggo had placed Orlando under the shower, trying not to look at those sickening scratches on his thighs that had only confirmed what he had been thinking, what he had been fearing from the second he had seen him sitting on Dom’s couch. He had blocked those thoughts and worries out then, though, refusing to believe that something like that could ever happen to him. But apparently it had, and the mere thought of it disgusted him to no extend.

He had pretended he hadn’t seen Orlando cover the nasty marks on the inside of his legs: he wanted to save him from the embarrassment he knew he would feel. He had decided to let Orlando deal with this at his own pace, in his own way. He wouldn’t bring anything up until Orlando did, and he didn’t think it would last long anymore. The young Brit had always been the kind of person who never kept things inside, at least not for him, and he always shared his feelings and fears instead of locking them away in his heart.

Viggo wondered if he should call Peter to tell what was going on, but he decided against it, seeing they had a day off tomorrow anyway. On top of that, he suspected that Orlando wouldn’t be happy with him informing Pete of what had happened, of what he thought had happened. But there was hardly any room for doubt left: every sign pointed in the direction of rape. Rape. He rolled the word around in his head, trying to familiarise himself with it, forcing himself to repeat it until he couldn’t elude it anymore, until the truth fully and inescapably penetrated him.

And it hurt. It hurt a terrible lot, and when he tried to imagine himself how Orlando must feel right then, how he must have been feeling earlier that night, he found out that he couldn’t. It was impossible to think of all the pain he must be in, it went beyond his mind's eye, and the fact that he couldn’t share in Orlando’s ache only added to the feeling of frustration and plain hurt that filled his heart.

With shaking hands he made the bed in one of his guestrooms, taking his time in the process to keep his mind off Orlando for awhile, all the while hearing the continuous running of water. It reminded him of the times that Orlando had stayed over at him because he wouldn’t allow him to return home while being drunk. In the morning he would always take a shower, loudly singing an off-key song, something that never failed to make Viggo laugh. This time, however, it was awfully quiet. This time there wasn’t any cheerful singing, not even the absent humming that every now and then would sound from behind the closed bathroom-door.

In his mind an image of Orlando appeared, an image of Orlando showering, his tears merging with the water streaming down his broken body. It was too much. Too much to think of, too much to deal with, it was simply more than Viggo could take. Letting out a strangled cry, he kicked the bed he had so carefully been preparing for Orlando to sleep in, hitting the piece of furniture with all the power he could muster.

Months later he would remember this moment, compelling himself to recall every ounce of frustration he had felt, every bit of animosity and bitterness, using it to show Aragorn’s anger, his hurt when he thought they had lost the halflings. He would kick a helmet in the same way he had kicked the bed, but this time he wouldn’t restrain himself: he would give everything he had, vent every bit of anger that was still there. Peter would love it, would praise him for his splendid performance, unaware that the broad-shouldered man had broken two toes in the process, unaware of the memories the entire scene would bring. Viggo would smile modestly, would accept the compliments of Pete and the others without actually hearing them, his mind taking a leap back in time as he would remember the night that would forever be carved into his memory.

Right now, however, Viggo wasn’t aware of all that, wasn’t aware of anything but the monotonous sound of the shower, thundering almost threateningly in his ears. He focussed on that sound, concentrated on it until his entire being was filled with it, until his anger faded together with the violent pulsing of blood through his veins. Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand and silently descended the stairs, making his way over to the kitchen to make Orlando some tea.

This is the first chapter that I actually grin in this story...
I loved the renmark to the extended edition *lol*


and the rest so sad again... i mean... so sad sososoo sad!!!

:(

more soon?

hug
Laila

In the morning he would always take a shower, loudly singing an off-key song, something that never failed to make Viggo laugh.

He's back! After that sad fic he left my thoughts for a minute, but now the happy, loudly singing Orlando under a shower is back in my head... I'm not complaining :lalala:

I love it. I think it's really a sign of brilliance to put that toes breaking thing in your story.

Poor poor Orlando!

Ahahah a sign of brilliance? :laugh:
Yeh, felt like putting it in, don't know why though ^_^

Thanks, both!

And another new reader :)

What a wonderful gift youhave for describing things, feelings, angst... It's amazing. This story is fantastic.

Wow. Oh my wow.

Poor Orli... :cry: Who would do that to our boy? :cry: :no: :angry: Grrr... big trouble...

Wow. Again.

Aurora: Your descriptions are amazing (albeit sooo sad... :cry: *sniff sniff*), and your writing is excellent. Keep it up, as always.

B)

Wow, that was so intense AURORA... Lol...

Seriously though, your talent has grown so much. Your writing becomes more magnficent with every sentence.

I loved the extended version reference! Very clever.

Oh by the way. Did you talk to Mark again when I left?

- Jessity B)

Er, now that I re-read that, it sounds so wrong :blush:

Anyway, gorgeous chapter... And yes, love that reference too. I'm just gonna sit here and hope that Orlando would open up to Viggo soon :cry:

Darkness embraced Viggo as he tossed and turned in his bed, accompanied only by the wind that was violently blowing outside. There was no way he could end the state of awakening he found himself in, not when he knew that Orlando was lying in the room next to his, all by himself. He wished with all his heart that the young Brit had found peace in sleep, in the safe net of oblivion, if only for a while.

His mind wandered off to a moment nearly two hours before, when he had carefully tucked Orlando in, in the way he always used to do with Henry when he was still young. The image of Orlando’s dilated eyes, staring at him from right above the edge of the blankets was something he couldn’t wipe from his mind, and with every second that ticked away he felt increasingly guilty for having returned to his own bedroom.

He felt as though he had left Orlando alone, not just literally but also in a figurative sense. Orlando needed someone beside him now, someone to look after him. And yet, despite the nagging little voice in his head that told Viggo to go check on Orlando, he kept on blankly staring into the darkness of the room, trying to keep himself from recalling the bruises on Orlando’s body, the damage done to him. He failed. Time and time again, he failed, and he knew that sleep probably wouldn’t come for a few more hours.

A desperate sigh escaped his lips as he took a look at the alarm-clock standing on his nightstand, which flashed a red and bright 3.17AM. Groaning slightly, he turned on his side once more, the deafening sound of silence nearly pushing him to the brink of madness. Normally, Viggo loved silence. Cherished silence. Sought silence. But where it normally brought him peace, it now merely made him restless. He became all too aware of the beating of his heart, coinciding with the drops of rain that started to splatter against the windows, which would have been a welcome break from the continuous silence if it weren’t for the fact that it was so terribly monotonous that it only added to his frustration.

And then, suddenly, a soft noise caught his attention, and he turned with squinted eyes to see the source of it. In the doorway stood a shy Orlando, looking more vulnerable and lost than ever before. His head was lowered, his rebellious curls falling across his forehead, and his gaze searched Viggo’s, blue eyes meeting brown.

Without saying a word, the older man pulled back the blankets, revealing the empty space beside him. With careful steps, Orlando made his way over to the bed, and the relieved and grateful expression on his face was visible even in the dark. Quietly and slightly shivering he slipped under the blankets, instinctually crawling closer to the warmth and comfort Viggo’s body offered him. The older man wrapped his arms around Orlando’s waist to pull him closer, and the Brit buried his face in Viggo’s chest with a soft murmur. Dark curls brushed against the blonde’s cheek, and he carefully stroked the young man’s back through the fabric of his shirt, every so often placing a kiss on the mass of curls.

Words wouldn’t be able to express the forceful feeling of protection that came over him, and Viggo tightened his grip around the fragile creature in his arms. He cared so much about him that he would gladly swap places if he had the chance. Nothing would be too much to make him forget, to relieve him from the burden he was carrying. No words were spoken between the two of them, but then, no words were needed.

In the darkness, Viggo held Orlando and listened to his breathing, silently providing him of the solace he needed, and it wasn’t until he’d made sure that Orlando was fast asleep that he allowed himself to drift away into a light sleep as well.