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rugbytackleThis story has been hard to write at times but I am happy with it and I hope you like it as well. This one means a lot to me...an awful lot...and I would love to know if you've liked it. Your support throughout has been a real blessing.
*hugs*
-Shegollum
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Title: Green Dark by shegollum -- Part 22/22
Author: shegollum
Pairing: Viggo/Bean; includes Orlando, too.
Rating: R - NC17
Summary: Morning after the night before...where are they in this strange new space?
Warnings: Angst; mental cruelty/instability; possibly non-con; cutting; substance abuse -- you name it...we've probably got it.
Disclaimer: No truth in it at all.
Archive: Viggo-Cursive and rugbytackle eventually
A/N: Not beta'd. All errors are completely mine and mine alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An extra special thank you to the wonderful Amanda (![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
legomyarrow)for the banner.
“I need to do this by myself, Sean.”
The Englishman busied himself making tea, filling the kettle in the sink.
“How can you think that’s a good idea?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t know what is a good idea about any of this, Sean. Honest to God, I don’t. But I never got my chance to confront him – to face him and nail him to the wall for what he did – for what he still does – to me. Maybe it’s what I need. To be done with it once and for all.”
Sean turned from the stove, moving closer to where Viggo sat on one of the barstools at the counter.
“I’m afraid for you,” he said gently.
Viggo looked at him, thinking.
“He can’t do anything worse than what he’s already done.”
“Except tear out your heart all over again, Viggo. Make things come to the surface that will torment you more!” Sean’s concern manifested itself in anger and he strode around the kitchen as he spoke. “You loved him, Viggo. It wasn’t an anonymous rape. This was a man you cared for. Seeing him…that is going to be so hard. I don’t know that I could do it were I in your shoes.” His voice trailed off and he stopped his pacing, leaning back against the refrigerator door, his arms crossed in from of him.
“God, Sean, you can’t think I still feel anything for him? Anything other than rage and hate?”
“Not for him…but maybe for what you thought he was once. I just don’t want to see you hit in the face with more emotion than you can handle. Than anyone can handle.”
“Even more reason for me to go alone then.”
“Vig...”
“I mean it, Sean! I’m tired of this shit. I want to be done with it!”
“And you think this will do it, love?” Sean frowned and then leaned close to kiss Viggo’s temple. “This will somehow give you something you need?”
The other man sighed deeply, shaking his head slowly side to side.
“I don’t know. I really don’t. I only know that I’ve been ashamed not to have confronted him. Ashamed that I didn’t do something. It would be nice to not feel ashamed, Sean.” His last sentence was barely a whisper.
“But you know that you have nothing to be ashamed of, yes?! You didn’t do anything then because you couldn’t do anything. If you could have removed Henry from the picture – could have known for sure that he’d be safe – what would you have done then, Viggo?”
“Prosecuted his sorry ass!” Viggo looked up then, blue eyes flashing in anger. “I would have kicked the shit out of him. After I’d found out why.” Lightening quick, his fist pounded hard into the countertop and then he dropped his face into his hands, rubbing viciously as though to erase his thoughts.
Sean rubbed at his shoulder, leaning close to press against his back as he whispered into his ear.
“You know that you’ll never have an answer, right Viggo? He’s never going to be able to give you a reason that explains it. Or justifies it. He’s never going to be able to explain why he turned out to be the lowest type of scum on God’s green earth.”
Viggo sighed and leaned back against Sean, squeezing at the arms that now wrapped around him. He stayed silent, his brow crinkled, his eyes pained.
“Let me go with you, Viggo,” Sean asked again.
The American drew a deep breath and spoke slowly. “No, Sean. No. Understand that I need to look him in the eye on my own. I love you so much and you’ve become everything good to me. And in all honesty I don’t want to associate you with any of this. No.. It was my battle – has always been my battle. Alone.”
“So what will you do, Viggo, when – if – he opens the door?”
The other man grinned ruefully. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“And that is what scares me the most, Vig. For everything between us – for all that I want going forward – let me go as well. I want to be your support and I want you to be mine. I want you know that I’ve got your back now and always. Let’s start now, love. From this day forward.” Green eyes glimmered with tears as Sean held Viggo’s hand in his own.
Viggo looked up at him and a smile flashed briefly across his face as the words and all of their meaning flooded through him.
“Okay,” he finally said. “Okay.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Viggo was silent as he drove down the tree-shaded street, his brow wrinkled with thought. Sean watched him furtively, wondering what thoughts must be going through his mind. He reached over and squeezed the other man’s thigh, just wanting to remind him that he was there, would be there, for whatever came next.
Finally Viggo slowed the car and turned onto a side street. “Here,” he said quietly. “The end of this road.”
They didn’t speak and Viggo pulled up in front of a large gray and white house that crouched under the trees and overlooked the canyon below. No cars were in the drive and all seemed quiet.
Viggo looked over at Sean, and then pulled him close for a soft kiss.
“Let me, okay? I’ll know you’re right here.”
Sean met his gaze and then nodded slowly, agreeing reluctantly. He watched as his lover walked up the driveway and onto the small porch. Viggo bent his head and seemed to steel himself before ringing the doorbell. Sean saw him try again and again and then saw him knocking sharply on the door, finally slamming his fist into it in frustration. Sean’s heart broke for him and he started to get out of the car, noticing as he did so that a car was headed slowly toward them, passing all the other houses before finally stopping behind their car.
The man inside didn’t get out. He rolled his window down slightly and asked Sean if he could help him. Sean stared at him, his heart pounding. Behind him he heard Viggo call his name but he wasn’t listening, couldn’t hear over the blood rushing in his head. He lurched toward the car, rage overcoming him, and then he felt Viggo grabbing his arm and calling to him again. “It’s not him, Sean! That’s not Alan!”
Sean stopped, shaking his head as he tried to process Viggo’s words. “Not him. Then who?” His words were stuttered, his brain not yet caught up with him.
“I don’t know, but it’s not him. It’s okay.”
Viggo smiled faintly, painfully and walked toward the car, his hands clearly in front of him. A quick glance told him what he should have seen before. The name on the mailbox wasn’t Reynolds. Alan no longer owned the house. He felt sick, nausea washing over him and leaving behind cold sweat.
“Sir,” he said in a clear, normal voice that sounded unreal to him. “I’m sorry, sir. We were looking for someone who used to own this place. Alan Reynolds? Do you know him?”
The man looked at them suspiciously but finally got out of his car, holding his cell phone in his hand and looked ready to call the cops at any false move.
“Alan Reynolds is dead. I bought this house from his estate.”
The words hit Viggo like a fist. His eyes widened and he stepped back, mumbling the automatic, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He felt Sean’s hand on his shoulder, holding him steady and then he heard the other man take over.
“How long ago?”
“I don’t recall exactly. Three – no, I guess it’s been almost four years now – since I bought it. I understand that it wasn’t on the market long so I’ve always assumed that the owner had died not long before I bought it. Hey, is your friend alright? I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. Really. I never met the man.”
Sean looked at Viggo, saw the disbelief on his face, saw the paleness beneath the stubbled cheeks. Behind him he heard the man again.
“Hey, isn’t that—“
Sean cut him off with a glance. “It’s a shock to us both,” he said quietly. “Thank you for the information. We’ll leave you alone then. Thank you.”
Sean led Viggo to the car, wanting to be somewhere, anywhere other than here.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
For a long while, Viggo didn’t speak and Sean just drove, wanting like hell to be home so that they could talk, so that he could look into Viggo’s eyes and know that he would be okay. The American sat almost completely still, his few motions wooden and tightly controlled. Sean murmured a few things: “It will be alright, Vig” and “Are you okay, love?” but he could muster no more than that, knowing that they were only hollow words.
Viggo got out of the car quickly, Sean right behind him, but just inside the door, he stopped. The Englishman could see his struggle to maintain control, saw it in the tightly clenched fists and the closed eyes.
“Come on, Viggo. Come on. Let’s sit. Talk. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Vig.”
Viggo shook his head, offering only a terse, “I’ll be okay” as he started down the hall, knuckles of one fist scraping along the wall as though for support. He moved slowly and tiredly and Sean watched him go into the studio, his heart beating in triple time.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Viggo came to him later, finding him outside in the swing, distractedly looking for stars in the sky overly lit by the city below.
“Sean,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I shut you out.”
The Englishman looked at him and held out his hand, scooting over on the swing and pulling Viggo to sit behind him. He nestled himself in the corner and then pulled his lover back against his chest, holding him tight and breathing in the scent of his hair, the remnants of paint and the faint bite of scotch.
“It’s okay, love. It’s okay. Just remember to lean on me when you need it. I’m here and I’m not going to let you fall. I’ll always be here.”
He heard and felt Viggo draw in a shaky breath, heard and felt a soft kiss against his hands where they clasped across his chest. When Viggo spoke, his voice was horrible…flat and anguished.
“I found his obituary. Online. He died in July four years ago, Sean. A wreck on the freeway. I guess a few people died…there was a whole story about a 10 car pileup. He must have died quickly from the looks of what was left of the cars. They spelled his name wrong in the story but it was right in the funeral notice. I wonder who went. Who cared.”
Sean leaned until his forehead touched the soft silkiness of the other man’s hair, breathing in his scent as he fought back tears. The brokenness in the words tore his heart out and his rage fought with his sorrow, all of it impotent.
“The bastard deserved worse. Deserved a horrific, suffering death, Viggo. He can’t hurt anyone else. Can’t ever threaten you or Henry or anyone else. It’s good that he’s gone.”
“I needed to see him. Wanted to hurt him somehow, Sean.”
“I know, Vig,” Sean murmured, hugging him closer. “I’m so sorry for that. I’m not sorry he’s dead, but I am sorry that you were denied that.”
“We were in New Zealand then. Four years ago. I wonder if I would have seen it in the paper if I’d been here.”
“What would you have felt if you had, love? Do you know?”
Viggo sighed and pulled away. “No. Relief…anger…”
“Closure. Vig? I’ve never understood that term. Doesn’t mean a fucking thing to me, but would it somehow have finished it for you? Let you go on and leave it behind you for good?”
“No. It wouldn’t have done that. Doesn’t do it for me now. Knowing he’s dead – that he had the dignity of dying with no one knowing the truth about him – is not a comfort. And I will carry what he did forever. There is no end to it. So no, I don’t understand closure either.”
“Sounds like made up shit to me then, mate,” Sean snorted.
The American laughed ruefully and Sean thought a sound had never before been so precious. He rubbed the other man’s back and waited.
“I need to go away, Sean.”
The Englishman was stunned, his hand stopping its gentle motion.
“What do you mean?”
“I need time to think, to put this in it’s place in my head somehow.”
“Let’s go together.”
“No. Not this time, Sean.”
Viggo stood, the conversation almost at an end.
“I love you, Sean. Completely. But I need some time. You’ve got to give me time to let this go. I need to be by myself. I packed a bag already and I’m going. I’m sorry.”
He looked so lost, so miserable that Sean stood to hug him, resigned to what he knew he could not argue.
“Why are you sorry?” he whispered into his lover’s ear.
Viggo’s voice shook as he answered. “I’m letting you down, Sean. I know I should be stronger…but I…I just need to think.”
Sean pulled back, sorrow and concern marked on his face. He took the other man’s head between his hands and locked green eyes onto blue, his gaze laser like in intensity. “No, Viggo. No guilt between us. Ever. Do you think I don’t know that this is a part of who you are? This need to sometimes be alone? You can’t help it anymore than I can help the worrying I’ll be doing. Take what you need, but know that I have to know that you are okay. You will call me?”
Viggo nodded and finally tears broke free, his blue eyes closing against his pain. Sean held him through it, never letting him fall.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
He drove through the long night, knowing as he left where he was going.
He made only one stop, purchasing supplies he thought he would need. The scotch and the razor blades rattled together on the floorboard as he moved on again.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sean wanted a call that night but knew he might not get one and he didn’t. He tried to distract himself, puttering around the house, calling his girls, but Viggo stayed foremost in his thoughts and he began to wonder if he’d made a mistake. His heart was heavy and he slept only fitfully, holding Viggo’s pillow against himself through the night.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When morning came and there was still no call, his worry increased.
When noon came, he couldn’t take it any longer and he called Viggo on his cell phone. He was heartbroken to get only the invitation to leave a message.
He called Exene then but she and Henry had heard nothing from him. Viggo’s ex-wife detected something in his voice though and asked Sean if everything was okay. His mind kept screaming at him that nothing was okay but he calmly reassured her, jokingly offering a promise to have Viggo call when he resurfaced.
Next on his list was Orlando. As soon as he asked the younger man if he’d heard from Viggo, he was bombarded with questions.
“What’s going on, Sean? Have you two had a fight? Where is he? Have you tried Exene? Is he okay?”
“I don’t know anything, Orlando. We didn’t have a fight but he needed time alone. We agreed that was good – for him – but he promised to call and he hasn’t.”
“What happened to make him need time alone? Oh God – did he see--?”
“No. Not exactly, Orli. We went to his old house, but he wasn’t there. Didn’t live there. We found out that he died years ago – in a car crash -- which was better than what he deserved.”
He heard a long sigh through the phone. “Oh God, Sean. That must have blown Viggo away. After all this time of needing that…God, to have it snatched away from you…”
“It hit him hard. Very hard.”
“Sean! Did he hurt himself?”
“No…he got very quiet. Very silent and withdrawn and went into his studio. But no cutting.”
“What did he do in the studio? Have you looked?”
“Oh, fuck no! I should have looked. Hang on.”
Orlando heard footsteps and then a clatter as the phone was set down. The next sound was a broken exclamation from Sean. “Fuck! How could I have been so bloody stupid?! Fuck!”
He came back on the line, his voice breathy and urgent. “Orlando—Fuck! It’s got pictures of Alan…from the story online. His face…and then a picture of the car crash. There’s a picture of the hotel they’d gone to – it’s sick – it’s like a tourist snapshot. All pastels and soft pictures while the photos of Alan are all grainy newsprint. And there are razor blades, Orlando. Razor blades framing a photo Viggo took of himself. Oh God…I’ve got to find him.”
Orlando couldn’t think of anything to say…couldn’t control his fear. The panic in Sean’s voice terrified him.
“Stay there. I’m coming there.”
“Orlando.” The sudden resignation in Sean’s voice sent a chill through the younger man. “Oh God, Orlando, he must have gone there. The Last Resort. I need to get there. I’m going. I’ve got to go.”
“Sean…give me two minutes and let me make a call. I’ll get a plane. We can get there faster.”
Sean swallowed as tears constricted his voice. He’d never felt cold with fear before and he abstractedly realized that he now knew what that phrase meant. He set down the phone and waited, his footsteps echoing in the open space.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
An idea struck him as he waited and when Orlando rang the doorbell, Sean was on the phone.
“No one under that name? Okay. How about Peter Grace?” Orlando recognized that as one of Viggo’s pseudonyms – a combination of his middle name and his mother’s first name. He watched Sean put on a performance, sliding into his most seductive voice as he continued. “No, I understand, love, I do. But this is so important. It’s a friend that we’re very worried about and we desperately need to get in touch with him. Could you just check one more name for me then? Thank you so much.” Orlando closed his eyes as he realized precisely what name he would hear next. “Alan Reynolds?” Sean looked sick as he nodded, thanking the person on the other end of the line one more time before hanging up.
He looked at Orlando. “There is an Alan Reynolds in Bungalow Four. That’s precisely where Viggo told us it happened. Fuck! Why didn’t I think? I should have known before he left!”
“You couldn’t have known what he was going to do, Sean. We still don’t know. We’re going now. Right now, mate. There a plane waiting for us.”
They made it the airport in record time. As promised, a small plane was waiting for them on the tarmac. Orlando made quick introductions and then they were away. Sean’s face was stony and cold in the faint light of the cabin and he rarely met Orlando’s gaze.
“It will be okay, Sean,” the younger man tried. “This is Viggo we’re talking about. He’s always okay. He’s stronger than any of us.” The older man squeezed his hand then, tears glimmering in his eyes as he turned to face the window in silence.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The hotel looked so benign that it was unsettling, surreal to them both. They could hear the surf crashing against the rocks in the distance, could see the phosphorescence on the crests of waves. Trees shaded the property, hovering over small cabins scattered here and there away from the main building. A few Mercedes and a BMW could be seen by three of the cabins, but Sean and Orlando saw only Viggo’s truck where it had been parked crookedly in front of the most remote bungalow.
Sean turned to look at Orlando, his eyes pleading and his friend knew at once what he would ask. He stopped him short. “Go, Sean. I’m here – right here – if you need me.” He held up his cell phone as he spoke and Sean gave a terse nod in reply, showing his phone as well.
Moonlight lit his way as he headed toward what had to be Bungalow Four. He stopped to take only a quick look in the truck, seeing Viggo’s bag and phone on the passenger seat. He’d not bothered to take them with him.
His heart racing, Sean knocked on the door, waiting for the response he already knew wouldn’t come. He called Viggo’s name, softly, then louder as panic swept through him. When there was still no response, he circled the cabin, looking for a window, stopping short at the sight of French doors that swung open onto the night, sheer curtains billowing in the breeze in time with the ocean.
He called his name once more at the door and then he went in, his body shaking with fear. At once he saw the items on the table – a bottle of scotch and a small box. Knowing precisely what it held, he moved closer, silently making promises and offers to a God long forgotten.
Razors. Shiny blades encased in cardboard sleeves to keep them from hurting anyone. They were all there. He realized this in a rush that made him feel weak in the knees. All twelve of them were in the box, wrapped and unused. The scotch bottle was open, an empty highball glass beside it that rose to the height of the liquor still in the bottle.
Sean’s gaze raced around the room, but he found no other sign of Viggo. The bed hadn’t been slept in, the soaps in the bathroom were untouched. Suddenly he spun around, looking at the beach, his eyes scanning and searching, his heart pounding as though to break free of his chest.
He bolted out the doors and down to the water, stopping at once at the sight before him. A body huddled against the rocks, no jacket against the cool night air, no shoes on bare feet. Sean felt sick, scared beyond anything he’d ever felt before as he moved closer, tentatively at first and then in a run.
“Viggo!” he shouted. “Viggo!”
Never had he felt anything like the relief that washed over him when the other man looked up at him, tears glittering on his anguished face.
Dropping to his knees in the cold, wet sand, Sean pulled him against himself, feeling him shivering. He pulled back to remove his own jacket and put it around the other man, crying his name over and over as he sought to look into his face. Viggo wouldn’t look at him again, his eyes focused on some faraway point on the waves. He spoke in a whisper.
“I let him go, Sean. I let it go.”
Tears broke free as Sean heard him. He waited, knowing that he needed to speak.
“It’s over, Sean. I’m never going to be free of it, but he can’t have any more of my life.” He looked at Sean then and a faint, relieved smile came though the sadness on his face. “I want you, Sean. I want to be with you forever. And I don’t want any part of him or what he did to take any of our time away. I put it all into a painting—“
“I know. I saw. I saw it, Viggo.”
“—and that’s where it has to stay. That’s my choice, Sean. He can’t take that choice away from me. He can’t take you away from me. Or Henry. Or me. He can’t take me away any more either. He’s gone.”
Sean pulled him to him fiercely. “I love you so much, Viggo. I will love you forever.” Tears streamed down his face and he could feel them breaking free to drop onto Viggo’s sandy hair. He kissed their tracks, feeling the softness beneath his lips in contrast to the feel of the strong back and muscled arms against him. “There’s only you now. Only us, Viggo.”
Viggo looked up at him in the moonlight. His face was worried. “I’ll do everything I can, Sean. Forever. I won’t let him cause you any hurt anymore.”
Sean kissed him, his thumbs smoothing away tears at the corners of closed blue eyes.
“We’ll help each other, Vig. Now and always.”
He stood then, holding his hand out and pulling the other man up to him. He smiled at the softness of Viggo’s face, tension finally gone, tired happiness finally taking over.
“Now and always,” Viggo agreed as he leaned to kiss him, laughing with sheer delight at the freedom – the simple joy -- he felt for the first time in so long.
*hugs*
-Shegollum
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Title: Green Dark by shegollum -- Part 22/22
Author: shegollum
Pairing: Viggo/Bean; includes Orlando, too.
Rating: R - NC17
Summary: Morning after the night before...where are they in this strange new space?
Warnings: Angst; mental cruelty/instability; possibly non-con; cutting; substance abuse -- you name it...we've probably got it.
Disclaimer: No truth in it at all.
Archive: Viggo-Cursive and rugbytackle eventually
A/N: Not beta'd. All errors are completely mine and mine alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
legomyarrow)for the banner. “I need to do this by myself, Sean.”
The Englishman busied himself making tea, filling the kettle in the sink.
“How can you think that’s a good idea?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t know what is a good idea about any of this, Sean. Honest to God, I don’t. But I never got my chance to confront him – to face him and nail him to the wall for what he did – for what he still does – to me. Maybe it’s what I need. To be done with it once and for all.”
Sean turned from the stove, moving closer to where Viggo sat on one of the barstools at the counter.
“I’m afraid for you,” he said gently.
Viggo looked at him, thinking.
“He can’t do anything worse than what he’s already done.”
“Except tear out your heart all over again, Viggo. Make things come to the surface that will torment you more!” Sean’s concern manifested itself in anger and he strode around the kitchen as he spoke. “You loved him, Viggo. It wasn’t an anonymous rape. This was a man you cared for. Seeing him…that is going to be so hard. I don’t know that I could do it were I in your shoes.” His voice trailed off and he stopped his pacing, leaning back against the refrigerator door, his arms crossed in from of him.
“God, Sean, you can’t think I still feel anything for him? Anything other than rage and hate?”
“Not for him…but maybe for what you thought he was once. I just don’t want to see you hit in the face with more emotion than you can handle. Than anyone can handle.”
“Even more reason for me to go alone then.”
“Vig...”
“I mean it, Sean! I’m tired of this shit. I want to be done with it!”
“And you think this will do it, love?” Sean frowned and then leaned close to kiss Viggo’s temple. “This will somehow give you something you need?”
The other man sighed deeply, shaking his head slowly side to side.
“I don’t know. I really don’t. I only know that I’ve been ashamed not to have confronted him. Ashamed that I didn’t do something. It would be nice to not feel ashamed, Sean.” His last sentence was barely a whisper.
“But you know that you have nothing to be ashamed of, yes?! You didn’t do anything then because you couldn’t do anything. If you could have removed Henry from the picture – could have known for sure that he’d be safe – what would you have done then, Viggo?”
“Prosecuted his sorry ass!” Viggo looked up then, blue eyes flashing in anger. “I would have kicked the shit out of him. After I’d found out why.” Lightening quick, his fist pounded hard into the countertop and then he dropped his face into his hands, rubbing viciously as though to erase his thoughts.
Sean rubbed at his shoulder, leaning close to press against his back as he whispered into his ear.
“You know that you’ll never have an answer, right Viggo? He’s never going to be able to give you a reason that explains it. Or justifies it. He’s never going to be able to explain why he turned out to be the lowest type of scum on God’s green earth.”
Viggo sighed and leaned back against Sean, squeezing at the arms that now wrapped around him. He stayed silent, his brow crinkled, his eyes pained.
“Let me go with you, Viggo,” Sean asked again.
The American drew a deep breath and spoke slowly. “No, Sean. No. Understand that I need to look him in the eye on my own. I love you so much and you’ve become everything good to me. And in all honesty I don’t want to associate you with any of this. No.. It was my battle – has always been my battle. Alone.”
“So what will you do, Viggo, when – if – he opens the door?”
The other man grinned ruefully. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“And that is what scares me the most, Vig. For everything between us – for all that I want going forward – let me go as well. I want to be your support and I want you to be mine. I want you know that I’ve got your back now and always. Let’s start now, love. From this day forward.” Green eyes glimmered with tears as Sean held Viggo’s hand in his own.
Viggo looked up at him and a smile flashed briefly across his face as the words and all of their meaning flooded through him.
“Okay,” he finally said. “Okay.”
Viggo was silent as he drove down the tree-shaded street, his brow wrinkled with thought. Sean watched him furtively, wondering what thoughts must be going through his mind. He reached over and squeezed the other man’s thigh, just wanting to remind him that he was there, would be there, for whatever came next.
Finally Viggo slowed the car and turned onto a side street. “Here,” he said quietly. “The end of this road.”
They didn’t speak and Viggo pulled up in front of a large gray and white house that crouched under the trees and overlooked the canyon below. No cars were in the drive and all seemed quiet.
Viggo looked over at Sean, and then pulled him close for a soft kiss.
“Let me, okay? I’ll know you’re right here.”
Sean met his gaze and then nodded slowly, agreeing reluctantly. He watched as his lover walked up the driveway and onto the small porch. Viggo bent his head and seemed to steel himself before ringing the doorbell. Sean saw him try again and again and then saw him knocking sharply on the door, finally slamming his fist into it in frustration. Sean’s heart broke for him and he started to get out of the car, noticing as he did so that a car was headed slowly toward them, passing all the other houses before finally stopping behind their car.
The man inside didn’t get out. He rolled his window down slightly and asked Sean if he could help him. Sean stared at him, his heart pounding. Behind him he heard Viggo call his name but he wasn’t listening, couldn’t hear over the blood rushing in his head. He lurched toward the car, rage overcoming him, and then he felt Viggo grabbing his arm and calling to him again. “It’s not him, Sean! That’s not Alan!”
Sean stopped, shaking his head as he tried to process Viggo’s words. “Not him. Then who?” His words were stuttered, his brain not yet caught up with him.
“I don’t know, but it’s not him. It’s okay.”
Viggo smiled faintly, painfully and walked toward the car, his hands clearly in front of him. A quick glance told him what he should have seen before. The name on the mailbox wasn’t Reynolds. Alan no longer owned the house. He felt sick, nausea washing over him and leaving behind cold sweat.
“Sir,” he said in a clear, normal voice that sounded unreal to him. “I’m sorry, sir. We were looking for someone who used to own this place. Alan Reynolds? Do you know him?”
The man looked at them suspiciously but finally got out of his car, holding his cell phone in his hand and looked ready to call the cops at any false move.
“Alan Reynolds is dead. I bought this house from his estate.”
The words hit Viggo like a fist. His eyes widened and he stepped back, mumbling the automatic, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He felt Sean’s hand on his shoulder, holding him steady and then he heard the other man take over.
“How long ago?”
“I don’t recall exactly. Three – no, I guess it’s been almost four years now – since I bought it. I understand that it wasn’t on the market long so I’ve always assumed that the owner had died not long before I bought it. Hey, is your friend alright? I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. Really. I never met the man.”
Sean looked at Viggo, saw the disbelief on his face, saw the paleness beneath the stubbled cheeks. Behind him he heard the man again.
“Hey, isn’t that—“
Sean cut him off with a glance. “It’s a shock to us both,” he said quietly. “Thank you for the information. We’ll leave you alone then. Thank you.”
Sean led Viggo to the car, wanting to be somewhere, anywhere other than here.
For a long while, Viggo didn’t speak and Sean just drove, wanting like hell to be home so that they could talk, so that he could look into Viggo’s eyes and know that he would be okay. The American sat almost completely still, his few motions wooden and tightly controlled. Sean murmured a few things: “It will be alright, Vig” and “Are you okay, love?” but he could muster no more than that, knowing that they were only hollow words.
Viggo got out of the car quickly, Sean right behind him, but just inside the door, he stopped. The Englishman could see his struggle to maintain control, saw it in the tightly clenched fists and the closed eyes.
“Come on, Viggo. Come on. Let’s sit. Talk. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Vig.”
Viggo shook his head, offering only a terse, “I’ll be okay” as he started down the hall, knuckles of one fist scraping along the wall as though for support. He moved slowly and tiredly and Sean watched him go into the studio, his heart beating in triple time.
Viggo came to him later, finding him outside in the swing, distractedly looking for stars in the sky overly lit by the city below.
“Sean,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I shut you out.”
The Englishman looked at him and held out his hand, scooting over on the swing and pulling Viggo to sit behind him. He nestled himself in the corner and then pulled his lover back against his chest, holding him tight and breathing in the scent of his hair, the remnants of paint and the faint bite of scotch.
“It’s okay, love. It’s okay. Just remember to lean on me when you need it. I’m here and I’m not going to let you fall. I’ll always be here.”
He heard and felt Viggo draw in a shaky breath, heard and felt a soft kiss against his hands where they clasped across his chest. When Viggo spoke, his voice was horrible…flat and anguished.
“I found his obituary. Online. He died in July four years ago, Sean. A wreck on the freeway. I guess a few people died…there was a whole story about a 10 car pileup. He must have died quickly from the looks of what was left of the cars. They spelled his name wrong in the story but it was right in the funeral notice. I wonder who went. Who cared.”
Sean leaned until his forehead touched the soft silkiness of the other man’s hair, breathing in his scent as he fought back tears. The brokenness in the words tore his heart out and his rage fought with his sorrow, all of it impotent.
“The bastard deserved worse. Deserved a horrific, suffering death, Viggo. He can’t hurt anyone else. Can’t ever threaten you or Henry or anyone else. It’s good that he’s gone.”
“I needed to see him. Wanted to hurt him somehow, Sean.”
“I know, Vig,” Sean murmured, hugging him closer. “I’m so sorry for that. I’m not sorry he’s dead, but I am sorry that you were denied that.”
“We were in New Zealand then. Four years ago. I wonder if I would have seen it in the paper if I’d been here.”
“What would you have felt if you had, love? Do you know?”
Viggo sighed and pulled away. “No. Relief…anger…”
“Closure. Vig? I’ve never understood that term. Doesn’t mean a fucking thing to me, but would it somehow have finished it for you? Let you go on and leave it behind you for good?”
“No. It wouldn’t have done that. Doesn’t do it for me now. Knowing he’s dead – that he had the dignity of dying with no one knowing the truth about him – is not a comfort. And I will carry what he did forever. There is no end to it. So no, I don’t understand closure either.”
“Sounds like made up shit to me then, mate,” Sean snorted.
The American laughed ruefully and Sean thought a sound had never before been so precious. He rubbed the other man’s back and waited.
“I need to go away, Sean.”
The Englishman was stunned, his hand stopping its gentle motion.
“What do you mean?”
“I need time to think, to put this in it’s place in my head somehow.”
“Let’s go together.”
“No. Not this time, Sean.”
Viggo stood, the conversation almost at an end.
“I love you, Sean. Completely. But I need some time. You’ve got to give me time to let this go. I need to be by myself. I packed a bag already and I’m going. I’m sorry.”
He looked so lost, so miserable that Sean stood to hug him, resigned to what he knew he could not argue.
“Why are you sorry?” he whispered into his lover’s ear.
Viggo’s voice shook as he answered. “I’m letting you down, Sean. I know I should be stronger…but I…I just need to think.”
Sean pulled back, sorrow and concern marked on his face. He took the other man’s head between his hands and locked green eyes onto blue, his gaze laser like in intensity. “No, Viggo. No guilt between us. Ever. Do you think I don’t know that this is a part of who you are? This need to sometimes be alone? You can’t help it anymore than I can help the worrying I’ll be doing. Take what you need, but know that I have to know that you are okay. You will call me?”
Viggo nodded and finally tears broke free, his blue eyes closing against his pain. Sean held him through it, never letting him fall.
He drove through the long night, knowing as he left where he was going.
He made only one stop, purchasing supplies he thought he would need. The scotch and the razor blades rattled together on the floorboard as he moved on again.
Sean wanted a call that night but knew he might not get one and he didn’t. He tried to distract himself, puttering around the house, calling his girls, but Viggo stayed foremost in his thoughts and he began to wonder if he’d made a mistake. His heart was heavy and he slept only fitfully, holding Viggo’s pillow against himself through the night.
When morning came and there was still no call, his worry increased.
When noon came, he couldn’t take it any longer and he called Viggo on his cell phone. He was heartbroken to get only the invitation to leave a message.
He called Exene then but she and Henry had heard nothing from him. Viggo’s ex-wife detected something in his voice though and asked Sean if everything was okay. His mind kept screaming at him that nothing was okay but he calmly reassured her, jokingly offering a promise to have Viggo call when he resurfaced.
Next on his list was Orlando. As soon as he asked the younger man if he’d heard from Viggo, he was bombarded with questions.
“What’s going on, Sean? Have you two had a fight? Where is he? Have you tried Exene? Is he okay?”
“I don’t know anything, Orlando. We didn’t have a fight but he needed time alone. We agreed that was good – for him – but he promised to call and he hasn’t.”
“What happened to make him need time alone? Oh God – did he see--?”
“No. Not exactly, Orli. We went to his old house, but he wasn’t there. Didn’t live there. We found out that he died years ago – in a car crash -- which was better than what he deserved.”
He heard a long sigh through the phone. “Oh God, Sean. That must have blown Viggo away. After all this time of needing that…God, to have it snatched away from you…”
“It hit him hard. Very hard.”
“Sean! Did he hurt himself?”
“No…he got very quiet. Very silent and withdrawn and went into his studio. But no cutting.”
“What did he do in the studio? Have you looked?”
“Oh, fuck no! I should have looked. Hang on.”
Orlando heard footsteps and then a clatter as the phone was set down. The next sound was a broken exclamation from Sean. “Fuck! How could I have been so bloody stupid?! Fuck!”
He came back on the line, his voice breathy and urgent. “Orlando—Fuck! It’s got pictures of Alan…from the story online. His face…and then a picture of the car crash. There’s a picture of the hotel they’d gone to – it’s sick – it’s like a tourist snapshot. All pastels and soft pictures while the photos of Alan are all grainy newsprint. And there are razor blades, Orlando. Razor blades framing a photo Viggo took of himself. Oh God…I’ve got to find him.”
Orlando couldn’t think of anything to say…couldn’t control his fear. The panic in Sean’s voice terrified him.
“Stay there. I’m coming there.”
“Orlando.” The sudden resignation in Sean’s voice sent a chill through the younger man. “Oh God, Orlando, he must have gone there. The Last Resort. I need to get there. I’m going. I’ve got to go.”
“Sean…give me two minutes and let me make a call. I’ll get a plane. We can get there faster.”
Sean swallowed as tears constricted his voice. He’d never felt cold with fear before and he abstractedly realized that he now knew what that phrase meant. He set down the phone and waited, his footsteps echoing in the open space.
An idea struck him as he waited and when Orlando rang the doorbell, Sean was on the phone.
“No one under that name? Okay. How about Peter Grace?” Orlando recognized that as one of Viggo’s pseudonyms – a combination of his middle name and his mother’s first name. He watched Sean put on a performance, sliding into his most seductive voice as he continued. “No, I understand, love, I do. But this is so important. It’s a friend that we’re very worried about and we desperately need to get in touch with him. Could you just check one more name for me then? Thank you so much.” Orlando closed his eyes as he realized precisely what name he would hear next. “Alan Reynolds?” Sean looked sick as he nodded, thanking the person on the other end of the line one more time before hanging up.
He looked at Orlando. “There is an Alan Reynolds in Bungalow Four. That’s precisely where Viggo told us it happened. Fuck! Why didn’t I think? I should have known before he left!”
“You couldn’t have known what he was going to do, Sean. We still don’t know. We’re going now. Right now, mate. There a plane waiting for us.”
They made it the airport in record time. As promised, a small plane was waiting for them on the tarmac. Orlando made quick introductions and then they were away. Sean’s face was stony and cold in the faint light of the cabin and he rarely met Orlando’s gaze.
“It will be okay, Sean,” the younger man tried. “This is Viggo we’re talking about. He’s always okay. He’s stronger than any of us.” The older man squeezed his hand then, tears glimmering in his eyes as he turned to face the window in silence.
The hotel looked so benign that it was unsettling, surreal to them both. They could hear the surf crashing against the rocks in the distance, could see the phosphorescence on the crests of waves. Trees shaded the property, hovering over small cabins scattered here and there away from the main building. A few Mercedes and a BMW could be seen by three of the cabins, but Sean and Orlando saw only Viggo’s truck where it had been parked crookedly in front of the most remote bungalow.
Sean turned to look at Orlando, his eyes pleading and his friend knew at once what he would ask. He stopped him short. “Go, Sean. I’m here – right here – if you need me.” He held up his cell phone as he spoke and Sean gave a terse nod in reply, showing his phone as well.
Moonlight lit his way as he headed toward what had to be Bungalow Four. He stopped to take only a quick look in the truck, seeing Viggo’s bag and phone on the passenger seat. He’d not bothered to take them with him.
His heart racing, Sean knocked on the door, waiting for the response he already knew wouldn’t come. He called Viggo’s name, softly, then louder as panic swept through him. When there was still no response, he circled the cabin, looking for a window, stopping short at the sight of French doors that swung open onto the night, sheer curtains billowing in the breeze in time with the ocean.
He called his name once more at the door and then he went in, his body shaking with fear. At once he saw the items on the table – a bottle of scotch and a small box. Knowing precisely what it held, he moved closer, silently making promises and offers to a God long forgotten.
Razors. Shiny blades encased in cardboard sleeves to keep them from hurting anyone. They were all there. He realized this in a rush that made him feel weak in the knees. All twelve of them were in the box, wrapped and unused. The scotch bottle was open, an empty highball glass beside it that rose to the height of the liquor still in the bottle.
Sean’s gaze raced around the room, but he found no other sign of Viggo. The bed hadn’t been slept in, the soaps in the bathroom were untouched. Suddenly he spun around, looking at the beach, his eyes scanning and searching, his heart pounding as though to break free of his chest.
He bolted out the doors and down to the water, stopping at once at the sight before him. A body huddled against the rocks, no jacket against the cool night air, no shoes on bare feet. Sean felt sick, scared beyond anything he’d ever felt before as he moved closer, tentatively at first and then in a run.
“Viggo!” he shouted. “Viggo!”
Never had he felt anything like the relief that washed over him when the other man looked up at him, tears glittering on his anguished face.
Dropping to his knees in the cold, wet sand, Sean pulled him against himself, feeling him shivering. He pulled back to remove his own jacket and put it around the other man, crying his name over and over as he sought to look into his face. Viggo wouldn’t look at him again, his eyes focused on some faraway point on the waves. He spoke in a whisper.
“I let him go, Sean. I let it go.”
Tears broke free as Sean heard him. He waited, knowing that he needed to speak.
“It’s over, Sean. I’m never going to be free of it, but he can’t have any more of my life.” He looked at Sean then and a faint, relieved smile came though the sadness on his face. “I want you, Sean. I want to be with you forever. And I don’t want any part of him or what he did to take any of our time away. I put it all into a painting—“
“I know. I saw. I saw it, Viggo.”
“—and that’s where it has to stay. That’s my choice, Sean. He can’t take that choice away from me. He can’t take you away from me. Or Henry. Or me. He can’t take me away any more either. He’s gone.”
Sean pulled him to him fiercely. “I love you so much, Viggo. I will love you forever.” Tears streamed down his face and he could feel them breaking free to drop onto Viggo’s sandy hair. He kissed their tracks, feeling the softness beneath his lips in contrast to the feel of the strong back and muscled arms against him. “There’s only you now. Only us, Viggo.”
Viggo looked up at him in the moonlight. His face was worried. “I’ll do everything I can, Sean. Forever. I won’t let him cause you any hurt anymore.”
Sean kissed him, his thumbs smoothing away tears at the corners of closed blue eyes.
“We’ll help each other, Vig. Now and always.”
He stood then, holding his hand out and pulling the other man up to him. He smiled at the softness of Viggo’s face, tension finally gone, tired happiness finally taking over.
“Now and always,” Viggo agreed as he leaned to kiss him, laughing with sheer delight at the freedom – the simple joy -- he felt for the first time in so long.
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Date: 2005-12-24 07:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-24 08:32 pm (UTC)I appreciate the fb so much.
Merry Christmas!
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Date: 2005-12-24 08:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-26 04:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-25 03:28 am (UTC)It's a good fic,thank you for sharing!
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Date: 2005-12-26 04:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-25 09:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-26 04:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-25 09:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-26 04:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-26 04:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-26 04:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-28 02:43 am (UTC)Nice touch, Viggo putting all his dark stuff into the painting. Had to go somewhere, and that's a healthy solution. And Orlando coming along to the rescue is rather gratifying, since he was in there with them when all the trouble started between them. Well done indeed!
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Date: 2005-12-28 08:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-02 03:37 pm (UTC)xxx
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Date: 2006-01-02 04:53 pm (UTC)