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Flying With Eagles	By : Zar Category: Individual Celebrities > Orlando Bloom Views: 10191 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Orlando Bloom. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Title: Flying with Eagles
Author: Zar
Email: zarakan@hotmail.com
LJ: http://www.livejournal.com/users/squishypiglet/
Warnings: This is slash. Don't like it? Don't read it!
Pairings: Viggorli with special guest Eric Bana.
Disclaimer: This is not true, despite all my wishes.
Summary: The leopard’s true colours are shining through…

I had promised a teary Chapt 30...I have it all planned to induce the waterworks...but Eric decided he wasn't going to be denied. And that too many of you were upset after Chapt 29 anyway, so here is one that isn't that heart wrenching. Though be warned, there is a good tear jerker coming up soon! =)

Chapter 30

I don't know why I insist on torturing myself like this. I really don't. Maybe I am masochistic or something.

Kurt has stayed behind in London to help pack the belongings that Eric and my god left in their hurry to leave. And I offered to help, like the idiot that I am.

We're digging around the huge luxurious apartment known as the 'Leopard'. How odd that the first time I visit his place, Eric's not even here to greet me. It's oddly pleasing though to look around his 'den' without fear of stepping on any sensitive leopard toes. Plus, I have free reign to snoop, or shall I say, 'help with the packing'.

From the moment you step into the front door, you know that this apartment belongs to a man. It could only belong to a man - no woman would have chosen such colours or lighting. The place is dark and sleek, with masculine lines and bold textures - much like the man himself. I can imagine him prowling around this dark leather couch and it's hard to resist a guffaw, much to Kurt's consternation.

The place is rather devoid of any sentimental value, though the possessions in here are far from cheap. Huge black leather sofas which face...nothing. Well, except an sinister-looking oil painting mounted on the wall.

"Does Leop-Eric," it's hard to suddenly address him with a normal human name, "not watch TV?" I ask Kurt.

Maybe I have found a kindred soul in him. Though I own one of those high-tech plasma TV system things, it was only at the goading of one insistent Beanie. And we all remember how I reacted to the 'total destruction of one baby seal' the last time I turned on that electronic device.

Kurt gives me a smirk out of the corner of his mouth and claps his hands, saying in a clear voice,

"Entertainment system."

Is he talking to me? Does he want me to turn it on or something? Or does he mean a TV is known as an Entertainment System? Why is he speaking so loudly?

I get my answer in two seconds as the lights dim themselves and a huge black...sheet of paper thing comes descending down from the ceiling, removing from my view that insane painting of black and reds.

"Ummm...?"

Kurt waves at it carelessly before heading towards the kitchen with two boxes.

"There's your...TV."

Wow.

“Take a look around,’ he continues, looking back at me, “Eric has labelled some of the bulkier items he wants shipped over. See if you can spot any and bring them out to the living room and I’ll pack them into boxes. The rest of the stuff is going to stay in storage here till he needs it.”

I am barely listening anymore, already intent on investigating the dark monstrosity up close. It's some kind of screen, though the size makes me want to use it as a canvas for painting. Wouldn't the Leopard kill me if I really did splash out my kiddy paints on this huge black (and obviously very expensive) screen?

Turning around, there's a little box with lights projecting onto it dangling from the ceiling. Hell. He doesn't spare any expenses does he? I wouldn't know what to do with a thing like this if you gave it to me, but evidently, Leopard is a man very much into techno stuff.

Geek. Leopard geek.

I don't know how to make the screen go back up or the lights brighten again, and the commands, "No Entertainment System," "Go Away," "Lights On" don't seem to evoke any response. So I just leave it and decide to help look for the little labels in his bedroom.

Hehe. I am a shameless snoop. Just want to see what he's got around.

Ironically, it's not all leather, bondage and suede or super-expensive materials in his bedroom. Not even the cage I expected. And unlike the living room (I can't stop thinking of it as his 'den'), it's bright and airy.

His house is his personality personified. Sleek and impersonal, cold, dark and pretentious on the outside...but behind closed doors, he's all light, bright colours and open space. There is even a damned teddy bear sitting by the window. I would not have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. I see it now and I still don't believe it! There’s no label by it though. Hmm, Eric, not interested in having the teddy shipped?

There are beautiful silver framed pics pls placed all around the room and some cause me to be more than a little jealous. He’s got an arm around Orlando, and there’s one I can’t resist picking up and to take a closer look. The black and white picture makes me sigh, and my heart instantly fills with yearning for the missing half of my soul.

My god is captured casually sprawled on white sheets, though they don’t cover much and his well-formed chest is exposed. He has a teasing smile on his face as he rests on his side, facing the camera. The eyes I love are extremely dark in this black and white picture, though I can clearly see in my head, the gorgeous hazel hues in their depths when he’s grinning so brilliantly. The curls are rumpled, and I imagine he has only just woken up; Johnson is sticking straight up, along with his other curly friends. My god must have fallen asleep face down on the pillow to flatten his hair into such a style. It’s such a shame I hadn’t been with him long enough to witness his rest and repose in person, although Leopard-man was granted the pleasure I crave.

One of those beautiful hands is outstretched towards the camera, palms up as if in a plea. Though on second thoughts, he’s probably asking Eric to let him take pictures. My mind is filled with situations and scenarios of such an event taking place if he were still wie ane and my heart grows even heavier.

I miss him so much.

Trying not to make myself feel worse, I replace the photo, only to notice some kind of smaller box behind the frames. It’s one of those old wooden ones with the clasps on the front but it is the little note on the front of it that catches my attention.

‘Kurt, please have this box and the pictures sent to me. Don’t open it.’

Interesting.

Being the curious bastard that I am, I immediately heave the box over to the bed so it’s easier to pry and examine the goodies it will reveal. Maybe Eric’s got some secret sex toys in here or something. Wonder what the cat toys are like.

Well. This was not what I expected to find.

The box is chockfull of pictures of him and another boy. Well, and some other people are there as well, but the majority feature the other boy.

Eric was truly the most gorgeous cub. That much is apparent immediately: all huge innocent eyes, slender body and a grin a mile wide. His parents must have doted on him incessantly, and all he need do was bat those lashes.

The other boy next to him in the pictures provides a much more complex riddle. The similarities between them are startling, although this other boy is taller and more tanned, they must be related. The same brown hair and crinkly eyes when they smile – which they appear to do a lot in these photos, they must be very close judging by how close they’re standing and their postures are relaxed and at ease around each other.

Eric’s parents must be one of those couples who have a twisted sense of humour – I am laughing out loud at the matching outfits Eric and the unknown boy are sporting. I would have unleashed the same humiliation on Henry if he had had a sibling, but he was let off the hook, being an only child. Don’t worry, I more than made up for it by matching my own outfit with his – from little suits to matching cowboy outfits on Halloween, we’ve done them all.

Henry’s still mortified when I take out the pictures, much to Exene’s delight so I do it whenever he has friends over. It’s hard trying to wring a reaction from the otherwise ‘cool’ and ‘whatever, dude’ boy, but this is one way that will never fail to produce a response. You can’t deny that I am a fantastic father.

But these. These show me a more relaxed and smiley Eric – probably the one that Orlando is familiar with, but this is real photographic evidence of the phenomenon. Hmm. Maybe Kurt can enlighten me.

I put the photos back into the box the way I found them, even taking the time to carefully wipe off the fingerprints on the glass (don’t want a big furry cat coming after my feathered butt!), though I leave one of the pictures out to show Kurt.

Placing a few of the photos Eric requested on top of the box to bring outside, it takes me a second to balance it all…and it was during that one second that I stole for the first time in my life. I am ashamed to say I couldn’t help putting the beautiful smiling picture of Orlando inside my jacket.

He probably won’t miss it…right? Besides, I don’t have a single photo of Orlando, and he has the genuine article with him all the way in Australia. I am justified…in my mind.

Kurt is outside wrapping cutlery in newspaper and pauses to smile at me when I enter the kitchen.

“What do you have there, Mr Mortensen?”

I can’t believe after all this time, I am still Mr Mortensen.

“Viggo…call me Viggo. I already call you Kurt!”

He ducks his head as if shyly and nods.

“If you insist…Viggo.”

A gesture of his head at the cargo in my arms reminds me of the mystery boy and I carefully deposit the box onto the kitchen counter behind him, handing him the little labelled note.

“Hey Kurt…I found these pictures Eric wants sent to him. Do you want me to wrap them?”

He lookem oem over briefly and stands over by my side, browsing through them.

“Hmm…there’s one that Eric told me to leave for you, but…I don’t think it’s here.”

“What?”

“There’s a black and white photo of Orlando he wanted you to have…he mentioned that he didn’t think you had any pictures of Orlando in one of their few truly happy times as a couple. It’s one that he took before Orlando had his accident and the whole trauma and the storm with going into hospital and the crutches…” Kurt is shaking his head as if to dispel all the negativity before going back to the subject. “Eric normally isn’t too good at taking pictures, has trouble even keeping the subject within the frame. But that one picture…I think he really caught a piece of Orlando’s soul in it.”

Oh my god. I can’t believe he would do such a kind gesture. Maybe I really had misjudged him earlier on. I am starting to regret that I hadn’t spent the time or energy getting to know him better. And now, I can freely walk out with the picture, without feeling like a thief. The frame inside my jacket feels lighter suddenly and the sharp corner isn’t digging against my rib anymore – the oppressive weight of guilt has been lifted.

“Wait a moment…where did you find this, Viggo? I’ve never seen this before.”

Kurt is looking puzzled from me to the framed glossy picture of child-Eric beaming alongside his friend.

Crap. Now, for the lying. Guilt has just returned full force, but my curiosity demands that I know who the boy is.

“It was right there, along with the others…though it was further back. Maybe you never noticed it, that’s all,” I suggested slyly.

There’s no way in hell I am admitting I went through the box with the instructions stating specifically not to open it.

“I don’t kno – ” he ends suddenly in mid-sentence and he suddenly squints harder at it, holding the picture so close that he’s almost cross-eyed.

“Kurt?”

“I can’t believe I didn’t realise right away, they’re almost identical. This…this must be…oh my god. This is Klaus.”

Klaus? Who’s Klaus?

“Who?”

The man is still engrossed in the photo, running a finger gently along the frame.

“Klaus…Eric’s older brother. Eric never mentioned his brother to me at all, but he spoke a great deal about him to Orlando when they together, and Orli told me. But, the brothers were very very close, as you can tell in this picture.”

That’s really sweet. I hadn’t known he had a brother.

“Well, they’re very cute together. I never realised Eric was able to feel so much happiness, considering his normal growling ways. So, are they still in touch? Will he visit Klaus in Melbourne?”

I remember my god mentioning that Eric’s family still lived in Australia and I assumed that they were all going to meet up at some point.

“No, Viggo. Did I not mention? Klaus…died ten years ago.”

Oh, shit. This is such a classic Viggo foot-in-mouth moment.

I repeat, ‘shit’.

TBC...

Well...I thought it was time to introduce a new twist. Come on, I know you guys were starting to get bored, so I had to do this to spice things up. Yep, all for your sakes. Haha...

Oh, the black screen thing - they're better than the white because on white screens, you can never achieve the perfect 'darkness' of black, no matter how sophisticated your projecter is. I just wanted to show that Eric is a little know-it-all about techno stuff and gadgets. And how oblivious Viggo is to the stuff. *Cuddles them all*

BTW, Eric's real life brother is called Anthony, but I took the name Klaus for another reason. See if you can figure it out...

Special thanks to Gurg and Amy for reviewing - thanks so much, it's so sweet you took the time out to let me know you're enjoying my story! *MUAH*
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Flying With Eagles