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Flying With Eagles	By : Zar Category: Individual Celebrities > Orlando Bloom Views: 10192 -:- 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.

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About the previous locked chapter: I've received a lot of comments and emails about it being locked, and most of it is not very complimentary, so I thought it's necessary to explain.

First off, it's not actually locked because of the rating, and the subject content as much as it is about how I feel. If you've read all the chapters so far, you'll know that this if the first time I've EVER written them doing any thing more than chaste kisses. I guess for one, it's my own lack of confidence writing what should be a 'sexy' scene and to me, it still falls short. I didn't want it open to everyone who just happens to stroll along my page because it was hard to write for me...

Second, the subject matter also played a part. I can't (or I won't tell you yet!!) tell you what's wrong with Orlando, but I've been through something similar like that myself and writing it was hard...I didn't want anyone that I know in real life to even accidentally stumble across it, so to save myself that worry, if I 'locked' it, I have the illusion that I am still in control of who is reading and getting access to it. Which is a relief, trust me. Now, it only feels like I am sharing it with a few friends who I KNOW are not going to flame me or say hurtful things about what happened, because these people are the REAL fans, who would bother to either email me or 'friend' me to get to this chapter.

I've already had so many angry/annoyed people writing to me, and demanding I unlock it...which serves to show that I was probably right to private post it since I wouldn't have wanted those rude and demanding people reading such a personal and close to my heart chapter.

If anyone is interested in reading the earlier chapter, feel free to either contact me on my LJ squishypiglet, comment here with your email or simply email me. I'll be more than happy to make a new friend and share my work.

Title: Flying with Eagles
Author: Zar
Email: squishypiglet@hotmail.co.uk
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: A man Viggo didn’t expect to see again, makes an appearance in an unexpected place…

Woah, I think a lot of questions are answered for once...though not all, but we're on our way!

Dedicated to Tien on her birthday, though I know I am very very late. Happy happy birthday, sweetie!!! And mucho mucho love to her and Tul (absolute sweethearts!) who made me a banner for this crazy story. Now I have something beautiful to gaze at while I think up new ways to torture the boys...*muah*!!

Chapter 55

Do you know how long it takes for an ambulance to arrive after your boyfriend breaks into convulsions and urinates all over himself? I don’t know how long it is in minutes, but it took them over six thousand seven hundred forty-five heartbeats to make it to my door with a stretcher. That’s about six thousand seven hundred heartbeats too many as I pawed over Orlando and tried to get a reaction, any reaction.

Hopefully a smile, and possible reassurance, but at that point, even a wail or cry of pain would do.

But nothing.

Nothing at all.

He stopped shaking after a while and just lay still while I did everything I could think of, from laying a cold damp towel against his forehead to slapping his face as they do in the movies. Squeezing at his arms and legs to try and keep circulation going or something else I remember reading somewhere. Putting him on his side in case he threw up, though I learned that was for people who passed out after imbibing too much alcohol – whatever I could think of, I tried to do for my prince.

But then the men in white came, bringing with them a stench of hospital, disease and medicines into the heart of our haven.

That feeling of helplessness and despair that welled up within me is incomparable to anything I have ever experienced, and will never want to undergo again. I ignored the looks one of them gave me at the large king size bed two men obviously share, the signs of intimacy and our unclothed states. It doesn’t take a genius to work out what we’d been doing before the ‘accident’ occurred, and under normal circumstances, I would shy away and offer excuses, but there was nothing I could say or do to make things better. Nothing came to mind.

I felt no embarrassment, no shame – only the need to help my god, and since I can’t do it, I am forced to depend on others.

I can’t remember very clearly what happens next, no matter how hard I focus on that day, though I try not to think about it too much. Perhaps my brain has subconsciously erased it from my memory, or I was in a daze at that time and nothing filtered into my mind.

I can’t remember much from that night, but I do recall very vividly, the way my prince’s eyes finally opened again to reveal slightly unfocused eyes at me while we were riding together in the back of the ambulance. He was stretched out still, and had an unusually pale tint to his normally glowing olive skin.

The rocking of the vehicle calms me a little – at last, we’re on our way to getting Orlando some help and I make myself as small as I can so as not to hinder the EMT from checking my god over, looking at his eyes, gauging his reactions or whatever he’s doing with the tubes and things. The paramedic is talking softly to him, and to my immense relief, I think my boy is responding, even laughing gently.

Cautiously, I try to edge closer to get a better look.

It seems things are okay now and the fist tightly gripping my heart finally eases a little when the paramedic backs away and allows me my rightful place by Orlando’s side.

“He’ll be fine, Viggo, just keep calm and we’ll be at the hospital soon.”

I can barely feel the supportive hand squeeze my shoulder before it is withdrawn, so distracted am I by Orlando. Wait a second…

I twist my head back so quickly it almost wrenches my neck off but it is indeed exactly who I thought I heard.

“Kurt??”

My prince’s former bodyguard gives me a smile. I hadn’t even recognised him dressed in his paramedic’s outfit and not following Orlando.

“How are you doing, Viggo? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

I can only stare blankly first at him and then at Orlando.

“You’re…here? You work here?”

He laughs softly at me and pushes me closer to the stretcher.

“Later. Talk to Orlando – it will calm you down, you can talk to me later.”

It isn’t until much later that it occurred to me, that I was probably a lot more nervous and shocked than the man lying in the stretcher and everyone but me realised it.

Regardless, I took his advice and gently clasped a clammy cold hand in mine.

“Are you okay, muffin?”

His eyes are closed, but my brave prince gives me a feeble smile nonetheless.

“Yeah, just really tired.” His voice is weak as if he can’t find the energy or breath to speak, but I had to hear from him that he’ll be alright.

“Sure?”

A slightly more convincing smile this time, and a long-suffering, “Of course, old man. Like I would leave you.”

We don’t speak again, I am content to just watch him breathe in and out, convincing myself that his heart and lungs haven’t suddenly collapsed and given up.

What should be a five minute drive feels like a lifetime as I hang on to the one thing that means more to me than life itself. But Orlando remains oddly calm and gives my hand gentle squeezes from time to time when he can predictably feel me tensing up.

“You didn’t need to call me an ambulance, Vig.”

The incredulous stare I give him stops him from saying anything else.

“Not call you an ambulance?? You passed out and were in some kind of a fit!”

He sighs and closes his eyes tiredly. A pang of remorse floods over me; how can I dream of shouting at him when he’s already going through so much? But I feel so confused, worried and still terrified over what happened, words and things seem too much for me right now.

“Ask for Doctor Burke for me, okay, Viggo?”

I glance down quickly again at my god, not really registering what he’s telling me.

“Dr Burke?”

“Yeah…Tim Burke. He won’t be happy I am back, but he’ll know what to do. And tell the EMTs I don’t need to go to emergency, just let me lie down for a while longer, get me something hot to drink and I’ll be fine.”

I scramble out when the doors are swung open and watch them lift Orlando out.

Please let things be okay.

He has to be okay.

~~~

‘Dr Burke’ as I soon find out, is a tall slender blonde man who impatiently looks over Orlando and without a look at me, starts scribbling on his clipboard.

“What happened this time, Orlando?”

Orlando shoots me a look that I can clearly interpret meaning ‘please leave the room,’ but no way am I not listening to this. I cross my arms over my chest and resolutely stare back at him. I need to know what’s wrong and how to help.

“Mr Bloom?” the more formal title elicits a reluctant response.

I can’t really make sense of the mumbling coming from Orlando, and evidently neither can the good doctor who leans closer.

“Could you repeat that?”

“…didn’t take medication.”

I am still confused, but Dr Burke nods his head and scrawls something else across his sheet of notes.

“How many times?”

“Only once, this morning.”

“You know better than to forget, Orlando.”

Already, I find myself disliking this doctor. No matter how well you know each other, that is no way to admonish a patient – yes, maybe Orlando made a mistake, but what’s done is done, he has no right to speak to him in such a derogatory manner.

My god flushes red with embarrassment and rolls over on his hospital bed, mumbling once again.

“…I didn’t forget.”

Dr Burke heaves a sigh. “Then why didn’t you take your pills? You knew that if you didn’t take them the chances of a seizure increase dramatically. We’ve been over this before.”

Have we? This is all news to me. Seizures? That Orlando knew about?

Apparently, the doctor hadn’t finished his lecture yet.

“And against my advice, you dismissed Kurt. If he were with you tonight, things wouldn’t have escalated to you coming to hospital again, Orlando. I told you the risks and you ignored me.”

I am not clear about what he’s saying, but one thing is clear – my god is hurt, uncomfortable and embarrassed and he definitely does not need a talking down to right now. I’ll be damned if this man is going to make Orlando cry, which judging by the way my muffin is sniffling with his head turned away, is a likely possibility. I want to get the doctor out of the way before he agitates my prince any further, and instead, discuss Orlando’s problem with him later.

“Doctor,” I cut in loudly, “thank you for your…concern. Is there anything you can do for Orlando now?”

He raises an eyebrow at me.

“No, he didn’t hurt himself during the seizure and is unscathed. In fact, he didn’t need any medical attention and for future references, an ambulance is generally not required.”

“Thank you. Will I be able to contact you later with any other questions?” I look pointedly at the door and thankfully, he can take a hint.

“I’ll be on this floor for the rest of tonight. If at any other time, I can be contacted through the nurses.”

With a sweep of his white coat, he was gone.

I pull a chair closer to the bed and look at the lump that is my muffin on the bed.

How did things come to this? And how much has he been hiding from me?

From what I’ve seen tonight, apparently a lot.

TBC...

Anyone figured out the deal with Kurt yet? Or have I just messed you all up a lot more?

Ps. Big cookie to anyone who recognises who Tim Burke is!!! *Laughing*

PPs. It's now 6 am. I have to get up in 2 hours, so forgive me for all the mistakes in this chapter! I've had it planned in my head for weeks, and I just forced myself to sit down and type it all out. There will be mistakes...and I will correct and edit in future, but you can enjoy it for now. =)
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Flying With Eagles