Chapter 2

Viggo heard muffled voices coming from the other room as he regained consciousness. He felt the bed move beside him. "Orlando?" he whispered, his eyes closed.

The uncertainty in his voice tugged at Liv's heart. She reached for his hand and stroked it soothingly. "No, Vig. It's Liv." The room was almost completely dark as night had drawn in, but she didn't need light to know the look of alarm that crossed his face when she heard his sharp intake of breath. She wanted to ask how he was feeling, but knew she would sound utterly stupid. How could you possibly feel when confronted with such a catastrophe?

"Liv?" She felt him sit up in the bed and she rested her hand on his arm. "Has there been any more news?" he asked, his voice shaky.

"We've not heard anything else, Viggo. We're still praying and waiting." She felt him shudder. "Are you cold?"

"Nothing that having the love of my life back next to me won't fix," he stated, his voice forlorn. Liv turned her face from his to shield her tears, even though she knew he couldn't see her.

The phone next to Viggo's bed rang, causing them both to jump. Viggo reached for it hesitantly. "Hello?"

"May I speak with Mr. Mortensen please?" a gruff voice on the other end asked.

"This is him," Viggo realized his throat was closing up.

"Mr. Mortensen, this is Deputy Arnold with Monroe County Sheriff's Department." 'Oh God, it's starting,' Viggo thought, his eyes becoming larger as he listened. "Your name and number are listed as emergency contact information for a Mr. Orlando Bloom." A choking noise came from Viggo's throat and he looked up to see his friends in the doorway. Someone had turned on the bedside lamp. "Are you familiar with the gentleman?"

"Yes, Deputy, I am," he croaked, his eyes on the bedspread now. He couldn't try to look at his friends; too much pity and empathy there. He traced his finger over the pattern on the bedspread as he continued to listen. "Yes, sir." he replied. A few more 'uh-huh's'. "Yes, I understand. I'll be there tomorrow." He hung the phone back in its cradle and turned towards his friends who were now impatiently waiting for the news. Liv was still sitting beside him on the bed.

He reached up and touched her face, marveling at the beauty he saw there. Her striking blue eyes were begging him for an answer to the group's unspoken question: what news? "Umm," he began, not sure exactly how to begin. "That was a Deputy in Florida. It seems they have recovered a body from the ocean." Viggo stopped speaking, trying to catch his breath. The word 'body' suddenly knocked the wind out of him. A similar reaction was made by the rest of the group. It sounded like all the air being sucked out of the room.

Viggo ran his hands through his hair, grasping the back of his neck. Was he feverish? Oh God, he couldn't get sick now. Orlando was depending on him to stay strong - to keep the faith. He covered his forehead with the palms of his hands and rested his elbows on his knees. He mumbled, "I have to confirm identification." Liv touched his arm in what she hoped was comfort.

Ian stepped to the side of the bed and rested his hand upon Viggo's shoulder. "I will go with you. This is not a journey you should make alone."

Viggo looked up, appreciation in his eyes. "Shouldn't someone call Sonia? She has to have heard the news by now." How he was managing to think rationally at this moment, Viggo had no idea. He seemed to be functioning on auto-pilot. The irony of that thought didn't escape him completely.

Sean nodded. "I'll get in touch with her right now. You have her number handy?"

"Speed dial 7." Viggo replied, as Sean left to use the kitchen phone. He tried to get his legs to move, but they felt like lead pipes. Ian gave him a hand up and he stood, albeit shakily at first. "Shit, Ian, this is going to be the longest flight of my life." He pinched the top of his nasal bridge. He felt a good headache coming on, but he would have to knock it out before it got out of control. Ian wrapped his arms around him, giving him a comforting hug.

Viggo quickly gave one back and pushed away from him. "No offense, Ian, but I can't lose it right yet. And a hug like you were trying to give really would have toppled me over the edge." Viggo tried to smile but it faltered on his lips.

"You don't need to explain your actions to me, Viggo. I understand fully."

Liv looked up from where she was sitting, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. "I don't know how you men are coping with this so calmly. I've got to go home, though. I need to get back to Roy." She started fumbling about nervously, as if her faculties had left her suddenly.

Elijah, who had been standing mutely by, walked over to her and took hold of her arm, helping her rise. "C'mon Liv. I'll take you home." He looked at Ian. "Call me when you know something." As he passed closer to Ian, he whispered, "One way or the other."

Ian nodded as Elijah and Liv left the room.

Viggo remained standing beside the bed, his arms crossed over his chest. The temperature seemed to have dropped significantly in the room. He was studying the design on the comforter again, but his mind was anywhere but in that room.

Images came to him of various nights spent in that very bed, arms and legs entangled, substantial heat emissions from two sweat-soaked bodies evaporating in the air. His breath hitched as a vision of Orlando, sprawled and satiated on top of the covers, beckoned him with wanton eyes. He felt a gentle hand grasp his arm and he startled from the memory.

Ian was still at his side, his eyes consumed with pain. "We should see how Sean is doing with Sonia," he spoke quietly. Viggo nodded, not trusting his voice to have recovered from its constriction, and led the way into the kitchen.

When they got there, they found Sean sitting at the table clutching the top of his head in one hand while the other cradled the receiver at his ear. His face was hidden in the shadows, but his voice carried softly in the room. "Yes, Sam. Thank you. Give Sonia our love." There was a long pause, and Viggo sat down at the table beside Sean. Ian moved to Sean's other side, laying a hand upon his shoulder. "God bless you, Sam." His last words were choked back as a sob threatened to take control. Viggo realized the man was crying. He had been trying not to hear anything, but the sound of agony coming from Sean was too much to ignore.

Sean mumbled a goodbye into the phone and set it on the table, looking at his two friends. "Sonia won't speak. She's virtually catatonic. She sits in front of the TV and watches the news. Sam can't get her to eat or even acknowledge her presence." He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to banish the tears. He looked over at Viggo. "Sam said to do whatever you had to. They will go along with whatever arrangements you make."

The finality of it all struck Viggo like a freight train. He stared at Sean, his eyes becoming angry and his voice returning to match it. "Arrangements? They want ME to make the arrangements?" He rose quickly from the chair, knocking it backwards in the process. "There aren't going to be any fucking arrangements, Sean! Orlando is not dead! I haven't even gone to confirm the I.D.! Arrangements? Jesus!"

He turned like a whip and strode out of the room, bumping into the end table by the couch and knocking a small vase onto the floor. It shattered when it hit, but Viggo didn't turn to look back. The bedroom door slamming was the end of the show for Sean and Ian.

Sean looked up at Ian. "I suppose one of us should clean that up before he gets a sliver in those bare feet of his."

"That would be most wise," Ian conceded, a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth. Nothing about this situation was the least bit funny, but the image of Viggo cursing and hopping around on one foot was amusing in the simplest way.

As Sean and Ian cleaned up the mess created by him, Viggo stood in the center of his bedroom, looking at his hands. They were hard hands. Used roughly. Callused. Scarred. Viggo could never have realized he was describing the man he would soon become.

Read Chapter Three of Fifty of Tularia's Antithesis