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If Only One Night	By : IosPillowBook Category: Individual Celebrities > Orlando Bloom Views: 2061 -:- 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
- 6
- 7
White light.

He is drifting. Floating. Far away from it all.

His body feels weightless.

"Hello? Hello."

The brightest blue eyes he's ever seen and a smile like a spring morning. No reason to be worried, no reason to be afraid. Even if she said, "I'm sorry, Orlando, but you're dead," he wouldn't mind. There is nothing but peace around him and blessed silence. Her eyes would be full of gentleness when she'd take his hand and say, "It's not so bad being dead. You'll see."

And then he'd understand at last.

This woman is so beautiful that she can't be real. He half expects to see wings stirring somewhere behind and above her ebony hair and hear faint sounds of swishflutter, barely audible.

But wait, there's something not quite right here. Do angels wear name plates with 'Liv' on it?

Orlando blinks and gradually the whiteness dispels. Little by little everything comes back to him. No, he isn't dead, of course, not. But he could easily be, if it hadn't been for Viggo.

The last thing he remembers was that something hit him. Sharpblack pain shot through his body, he fell and then …

When he regained consciousness - minutes, hours later? he couldn't say - Viggo was bent over him, one hand on Orlando's forehead. Viggo looked somehow grey and exhausted, but a small smile flitted over his face when Orlando opened his eyes.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Orlando nodded, but as soon as he tried to move a dull pain throbbed through his head. Viggo helped him to sit up and steadied him.

"Slowly, slowly. I'm afraid you have a mild concussion".

Pressing a hand to his head, Orlando tried to look around the room. There was blood on the carpet, but not much, and they were alone again.

"Where's Sean?"

"Gone. Fortunately, I was a quicker shot than him or we'd both be dead now."

"Is he …?"

"I don't know. Can't have missed him, but I've no idea how seriously wounded he is. At least he was still able to rush out of the house. I heard the front door close, but I didn't follow him. Didn't want to kill him. It was pure self-defence that I shot."

"But how could you shoot at him?"

"Have you forgotten? Your pistol was lying under the bed; it was still where you dropped it."

"I'm, huh, … surprised that you know how to handle a gun."

"Well, obviously there are a few things about me that you don't know either. But come on, that's not important now. D'you think you can get up? We have to leave this place."

"Leave?"

"We can't risk Sean or his men coming back for us. And, as things are, calling the police isn’t an option either; don't you agree, Orlando?"

Cautiously, Orlando lifted the hands off his forehead. He still felt confused, somewhat shaky too, and his head hurt like mad. He winced when he got up from the bed, looking down at his body. There was no blood on his hands or anywhere else on him.

"He missed me." Orlando whispered quietly, as if he couldn't believe it.

"Yeah, but you didn't miss the bed pole when I pushed you aside. Now come on. We have no time to lose."

"How late is it?"

"A quarter past seven."

"More than enough time for me. My flight's scheduled for 10:50. I checked in the luggage before I came to your gallery last night. All I need is my passport and my ticket. I hope both are still in my jacket."

"They should still be there, no one has taken them. Quick, let's get going."

So that's how it came that he's neither in heaven nor in hell, but on this plane with this lovely woman, Liv, smiling down on him.

"Welcome back to the land of the living. Are you alright, sir?" the fairy-like woman asks, and there are neat little wrinkles on her forehead. "I'm sorry I have to wake you, but we're landing in Wellington in about 20 minutes. It's time to fasten your seatbelts again."

"Of course. Thanks, I'm fine. Only feel a bit baffled after sleeping for so long."

"Well, good for you, you had a short flight then. But could you do me a favour, please? Could you wake up the gentleman sitting next to you?" She giggles as a fairy would probably giggle; it's like the tingling of tiny silver bells. "He sleeps like a groundhog and he's still wearing his headphones."

"Sure. No problem."

Liv gives him a last dazzling smile before moving on to look after the passengers in the next row. Orlando glances at his right hand, and, wow, from one second to the next, his heart skips a beat.

Sitting next to him is Viggo, still soundly asleep, still holding Orlando's hand.

Viggo's wearing the same beige pin-striped suit as the evening before. The suit is crumpled, his chin is all stubbly now and his hair's quite a mess, but his features are serene. He looks utterly relaxed. At peace. His hands are warm.

Orlando swallows hard because all of a sudden there is this huge lump in his throat, as if a muddle of tenderness was welling up from within combined with something else, something indescribable that makes him feel like laughing and crying at the same time.

Snippets of his former life flash up before him, Kate's empty smile, Sean's cruel laughter, but it's like everything was covered under thick gauze stripes, opaque, yet impermeable. He can see it so clearly now that the veils of indifference are gone. He could have made other choices. He could have led a different life. And if something like universal justice existed, Orlando thinks, he should be dead now. He would have deserved to die. Yet he's here and it's as if, against all odds, he's been given a second chance.

Orlando bites his lip hard. He doesn't want to miss that chance.

Cautiously, he pulls down Viggo's headphones and touches Viggo's cheek very lightly.

"Hi there. Viggo. Wake up."

Viggo's eyelids flutter open. First his gaze seems a bit clouded, but then he recognizes Orlando.

"Hey. We're almost there."

"Really? Can't be."

"You slept since we finished dinner. We're landing in about 20 minutes."

"Yeah. Guess I needed a break. Last night was quite overwhelming. In every aspect." He meets Orlando's gaze openly, truebluesincere look, that would pull Orlando's legs away from under him if he wasn't sitting.

'Why do you look at me like this?' Orlando wonders and suddenly he's very aware of the fact that there's nothing but eight thousand miles of air between him and the ground. And only a tiny fraction of that distance separates him from Viggo's lips. He clears his throat.

"Yes."

Outside the windows the clouds fly apart as the machine starts to descend. And suddenly they both see the open sea stretching and behind it the silhouette of a large town.

"Wow, Wellington. Looks fine."

"I have an old friend there, PJ, quite a freak, but a brilliant freak. We'll contact him. Later."

"Is there any place on earth where you don't have friends?"

Viggo chuckles. "Guess it'd be wise to keep a low profile for a start. First, we have to check how things are, back in London. Then take it from there."

Orlando shakes his head. "I still can't believe it. It's … like I've been given a second chance."

"Maybe you have."

"Maybe". Orlando shrugs his shoulders. "But tell me one thing, why are you doing this? Why are you here? With me."

Viggo looks down on his hands before he continues. "Maybe I've been given second chance, too."

"So is this a happy ending, Viggo?"

"I don't know. I only know that this is not yet the end." He closes his hands around Orlando's and presses tight. "This is just the beginning."

*** The End ***
- 6
- 7
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