A/N: God's voice is in all caps.



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Chapter Two
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Sean landed in a silent flutter of strong wings and approached God silently. He had been summoned, so he knew his arrival wouldn't intrude. God sat on a high bluff overlooking the pounding gray ocean. He embodied an old man, weary and tired with life. Sean sat a short distance away and waited.

HE CAN BE SO STUBBORN. I LOVED HIM TOO MUCH.

Sean didn't need a name to know to whom he was referring. "We have choices just like mortals. How many times have you told me that there is no such thing as too much love? Love is only bad when it is corrupted by fear, jealously, possession, guilt. It is their love that has to straighten itself out to fix this, not yours."

God raised solemn eyes to the golden angel. YOU ARE ALL REFLECTIONS OF ME, JUST LIKE EVERY DROP OF THIS OCEAN IS A PART OF THE WHOLE, BUT EACH OF YOU HAS A DIFFERENT CONCENTRATION OF VIRTUES, A SPECIALTY IF YOU WILL.

Sean pondered that analogy for a while. "Interesting. So what is my 'specialty'?"

LOYALTY.

"And his?"

LOVE. THAT IS WHY THE WORLD IS AS IT IS. FEAR, HATE, THESE THINGS CANNOT EXIST IN THE PRESENCE OF LOVE. LOVE HAS BEEN MISSING FROM THIS WORLD FOR FAR TOO LONG.

Sean leaned back against a rock, crossing his legs at the ankle. "So what are you going to do about it?"

NOTHING. THERE IS NOTHING I *CAN* DO. HE HAS TO DO IT.

"Why am I here?" Sean asked.

I NEED YOU TO WATCH OVER ORLANDO. THERE IS A CHANCE LUCIFER REALLY WILL STAY AWAY FROM THE BOY AND I WANT TO MAKE SURE ORLANDO IS SAFE.

Sean nodded his head in understanding. "I'll watch over him."

~~~~~

Lucifer was pacing again. It had been four months since the attack, and he hadn't produced one painting. Painting was the one pure creative joy he stilled allowed himself and not being able to indulge in it was making him very frustrated. He could feel Orlando's despondency with every breath he took.

The young man had completely retreated from his life in fear. He'd locked himself away. There had been a city-wide search for both the assailants and the rescuer. Orlando himself had made a public plea that the person who helped him come forward. He even offered a reward. The more time that passed with no resolution, the further he withdrew inside himself.

Lucifer swallowed the last of his scotch and threw the crystal tumbler against the wall, relishing the shattering sound. He might not be able to create, but he could still destruct. "I don't fucking care!" he shouted to the empty room. And then he was gone.

The well dressed woman motioned the dark man into her office. His very presence made her shiver and after a moment's pause, she left the door open. Taking a seat behind the highly polished desk, she tented her fingers and focused on him. "So you have information about Mr. Bloom's attack."

"Not exactly," Lucifer said. "I told your assistant that if Orlando really wanted to talk to the person who stopped his attack, I could help."

"How can you do that, Mr. …?"

"Mortensen. Viggo Mortensen, and *I* am the person who stopped the attack in the alley." Lucifer had used the name before, but never so often that it would be come recognized or associated with him in any way.

The woman looked at the man in front of her disbelievingly. There had been a stream of people through her office since Orlando's attack, all claiming to be his savior. Some wanted to claim the reward, others just wanted to have the famous Orlando Bloom in their debt. "Well Mr. Mortensen, I'm sure you understand that there are many people making this claim. If you could tell me your version of what occurred that night and allow me to take your picture to show to Orlando, we'll get back in touch with you."

Lucifer rose from his seat, one side of his mouth quirking up. "I'd prefer not to be photographed, but tell Orlando that his 'Angel' was here." Turning, he left the office and the stunned woman behind him.

He hadn't even reached the elevator when he heard the woman calling out for him, "Mr. Mortensen! Please, wait!"

Lucifer smiled at how easily people of presumed importance were brought to their knees.

~~~~~

A large black car transported him across town to Orlando's estate. 'Viggo' amused himself with the experience. He told himself that the only way to return to the peace of his existence without the constant interruption of Orlando's feelings was to try and help the young man past this. He could have appeared to the actor in the blink of an eye, but he didn't think that experience would help settle the actor's out of control feelings of fear and insecurity, so he'd play their game…for a while. The car glided smoothly to a stop in front of a large house.

An unseeing chauffer opened the door, his eyes focused on the bushes to the right of Lucifer. By the time the angel had stopped in front of the heavy oak doors, the man had driven silently away, no doubt to wait patiently for his next summons. 'What an existence," he thought.

Taking a deep breath, Lucifer buried himself inside the persona of Viggo. Raising his hand, he knocked.

On the other side of the door, Orlando was pacing the foyer, waiting for that exact sound. It still made him jump. Robin had called and told him to expect Viggo. "Viggo," Orlando tried the name on his tongue. Finally, a name to go with the face that haunted his dreams. A long line of psychiatrists had found it hard to believe that Orlando's recurring dreams had been filled with the face of his savior and that not being able to find the man was distressing him far more than his attackers never being caught. Running his hands down his freshly ironed shirt, he placed his hand on the door knob and turned.

Viggo looked up at the nervous looking young man on the other side of the door. Blue eyes met brown and both men were lost to their own thoughts for a long moment. Viggo recovered first. After all, he was the one with complete knowledge of their relationship, past and present. "I'm sorry. I guess I wasn't expecting you to answer the door." He offered Orlando a smile to put the young actor at ease.

It worked and Orlando shyly returned the smile with an upturning of his own lips. It felt strange to smile… to even have the desire to smile. "I don't do house servants. They make me uncomfortable, not the way I was raised. I have a lady who comes in and cleans on Mondays and Thursdays."

Viggo nodded, shifting from foot to foot. Orlando noticed the movement and swung the door wider. "Now I'm sorry. I'm not being much of a host, leaving you standing on the stoop. Please, come in." Orlando motioned with his hand.

"The lady at the office didn't seem to think this was a very good idea," he said as he brushed past Orlando, looking around the comfortable great room. "I kind of expected her to rush here by a different route and be waiting for my arrival dressed up as you, like the wolf in 'Little Red Riding Hood'."

At that comment, Orlando did more than smile, he threw back his head and laughed. "What a perfect description of Robin, and you are absolutely right. She wanted to come, but I told her in no uncertain terms to stay put. I reminded her that of all people, I should be able to trust you."

The quiet confidence in Orlando's voice made Viggo uneasy. He stopped, pretending to examine a painting. The boy was far too trusting. "How can you be sure? Maybe I'm here to take advantage of you."

"You're not," Orlando soft voice came from just behind Viggo's shoulder, startling him.

Viggo turned and faced man that meant everything to him… everything he could never have. "Maybe I'm just here for the reward or to get my picture in the paper."

"You would have come forward sooner," Orlando answered with alacrity.

"I was hoping you'd raise the amount," Viggo threw out.

"I'd gladly pay any sum you'd demand." Orlando's eyes never wavered from Viggo's.

Looking away first, Viggo cursed, "Fuck, Orlando, it's not about the money. I have no use for money."

"So why *are* you here?" Orlando asked, moving to sit on the couch, satisfied that he'd gotten Viggo to admit that.

"I… well I…" Viggo ran a nervous hand through his long hair, pushing it back off of his face. "You seemed to need… I have no fucking clue. What do you want from me, Orlando?" Viggo asked sinking into an arm chair across from the actor. This was not going as he had expected. He had underestimated the affect Orlando's presence had on him.

"I want to be your friend," Orlando stated simply. "I already feel bonded to you in a way I've never experienced before and I just want to spend some more time with you."

Lucifer stared, slipping out of Viggo for a moment. 'Orlando could feel the bond, too.' Pulling Viggo back around him like a cloak, he argued, "What you are feeling is just gratitude. It was the right thing to do and I would have done it for anyone. You don't need to feel like you owe me anything."

Orlando shook his head. "You wouldn't have done it for just anybody. I can feel in my heart that you were there for the sole purpose of saving me. I want to know why? I want to know you."

Viggo bit back the angry denial that rose in his throat. 'No you don't. You wouldn't like what you'd find.'

Orlando continued, "I'm supposed to leave to film on location in eight weeks. All I'm asking is for a chance to spend some time together before I leave. I need to start getting out… doing normal things, and I want to do it with you. Will you help me, please?"

Viggo blinked slowly trying to school his thoughts and his features. Eight weeks. Nothing more than a blink in time. He could do that. Orlando would resume his normal life and Lucifer could reestablish that happy feeling of indifference he had come to enjoy. "Okay," he relented.

The joy radiating from Orlando's smile stopped his heart and breath. "Brilliant! So do you have a job or something we have to work around?"

Viggo couldn't help but smile at Orlando's enthusiasm. "No, not really, I'm an artist, poet and photographer. I pretty much set my own hours. I doubt very seriously if anyone will notice the absence of my work."

Silently he added, 'This is a very bad idea.'

Read Chapter Three of Fifteen of When Worlds Collide