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comanchero
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Not so easy - a new orlando Bloom story.
Hello to you all,
Here's my first installment of my story, called "Not so easy."
Hope you all like it. Any and all comments are appreciated.
Love, Comanchero.
Disclaimer: Though we all wish to own him, we don't. Darcy and all characters you don't recognize are mine 
Prologue
“I broke my back and for a moment it was pretty unclear if I would ever walk again, but thanks to some extensive surgery and quite the amount of luck, I walked out of the hospital again on my own not even two weeks later.”
The young actor stopped talking while the journalist nodded and scribbled things down on a notepad. Orlando decided he liked this man, just because of his old school journalism skills. No scary laptops, not even a recorder, but just the two of them and a paper notepad, which was by now stained brown with the coffee that was knocked over by Orlando himself while (as was his habit) gesticulating wildly to emphasize some part of his story.
What Orlando didn’t like and found very hard to get used to, was answering the same questions over and over again. He guessed it was okay as long as people wanted to know what his favorite animal was, or his favorite color or beverage or whatever…but not that question. Not THE question. It would never seize to amaze him why people were so fascinated to read about just the part of his history that wasn’t the least bit glamorous and which he’d rather forgotten about himself. So because he couldn’t seem to avoid it, he always answered in the same laidback manner, like it had been nothing more than stubbing your toe.
He had no other way to deal with it than keeping up a façade. Because as casual as it sounded every time he recalled it, the experience itself had been anything but. In fact, he would have easily given up the struggle, if it hadn’t been for one factor…a rather deciding factor, which made his whole experience with near-death worthwhile.
Chapter 1
Funny…he always thought rehabilitation clinics were supposed to have some poetic name, like “Rose Hill”, or “Shady Glades”, or something equally cavity invoking. But the West Chelsea Rehab Center was named just that. Nothing fancy, nothing remotely soothing to the ears or nerves. It was simply named after its function and location. Effective, to the point…and scary.
Orlando, closely flanked on either side by his mom and sister, very carefully and very slowly wheeled himself inside. A big nurse that looked like the Hulk in the middle of a sex change (or was it the lighting that made her look green and bulky?) held some forms underneath his nose for him to sign and without ado showed him to the Spartan room that was to be his home for the time being.
He was acutely and irrevocably aware of the smallest details. No thresholds anywhere. Slopes next to staircases, door handles on sitting level, closet shelves and bathroom facilities on sitting level. Grips and alarm bells everywhere you looked. Cardboard sheets and pillowcases of pure white cotton. It was all so sterile he desperately wanted to cry. But he wouldn’t. Too many tears had been shed over this situation already and he refused to add to the flood and increase his mother’s heartache for her youngest child..
Nine days. Nine days he would have to stay here, to actually learn how to walk again. Sure, he’d been lucky, very lucky he had gotten away with just nine days after his fall from a three story window at one of his friend’s buildings. What had he been thinking, people had asked him? Especially Sam, his sister and conscience. She had almost shaken him awake just to be able to strangle him when she heard about the latest trick of her always accident prone daredevil little brother.
Well, of course he hadn’t been thinking at all. Would he have landed himself in a wheelchair had he been using his one working brain cell? But what did it matter anyway? Accident prone as he was, he always had Lady luck right with him and she always made sure he would come out alive and kicking. Well, the kicking part needed some work this time, but that’s why he was here, right?
He managed to keep up a brave face while his family was still there, but as soon as they had him installed and left him to his own devices, after a great many hugs and kisses, doubt set in. Big time.
Of any and all stupid things happening to him so far, this was by far the most serious one. And if he were honest, he wasn’t quite sure if those nine days would be enough to get him literally back on his feet. He couldn’t even tie his own shoelaces, for Pete’s sake!
Feeling quite depressed and utterly alone, he managed to flop from his hospital bed back into his wheelchair and decided to take a look around.
The hallway was quiet while he wheeled down the smooth tile corridors. Not a soul seemed to be around. Just as he was convinced he had somehow entered the Adams family version of rehab centers, and Lurch might be lurking around the next corner, a blurry of movement passed him right before he heard the words “Look out” and his means of transportation collided solidly with another vehicle, practically launching its occupant in the aftershock.
“Whoa there.”
His lower body might be in a tangle, his torso still did as he ordered and so did his reflexes. His arms shot out to halt the momentum that would otherwise have caused the little traffic offender to tumble out of her ride.
When he was sure the girl was out of immediate danger, he gently lowered her body back into the chair, not letting go until he made sure all was secure.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah…no harm done, or as I should say, no extended damage.”
“Thank God for that…what happened?”
The girl shrugged. “They must have polished the floors again today. I swear they do it on purpose just to keep you here. I lost grip on my wheels and I slipped. I’m sorry…are you okay by the way?”
“Like you said…no extended damage done here either.”
“Good. And thank you for stopping my glide toward nowhere.”
“You’re welcome, but it wasn’t like I had much of a choice, your speed was incredible.”
“Don’t remind me, I was almost reminded what I had eaten for breakfast in a most unpleasant way.”
He scrunched his nose and she giggled.
“Gross. Just promise me you’ll bump into something else next time, okay? You scared the **** out of me.”
“Hey…I’d rather bump into something as tasteful as you than into the next ex-KGB agent with a syringe thank you very much.”
The girl looked up at him, smiling, not the least bit ashamed by her last comment. Equally shameless, Orlando leaned back in his own chair to take in the sight in front of him, deciding it was quite worthwhile.
His collision partner turned out to be a about his own age, maybe a little younger. He couldn’t make out her height as she was sitting, but he guessed her to be tiny, 5’4” at the most, and pretty skinny, though she had nicely developed arms shown off by the tank-top she was wearing. Her baggy hooded jacket had slid off her shoulders, showing enough well-toned, slightly tanned skin.
She had a mass of mahogany unruly curls, haphazardly pulled together with an elastic band. He saw a glistening in clear green eyes and she had some cute freckles on her nose. All in all, she seemed very pretty and one hell of a lot of fun. Of the dangerous kind. The kind he was into.
Scrunching her nose at his scrutiny in the same manner he had done moments before, but refusing to yield, she held out her hand. “Darcy Meehan. Nice to bump into you, my knight in shining wheelchair.”
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19/Jul/2007, 3:40
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comanchero
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Re: Not so easy - a new orlando Bloom story.
Chapter 1 - continued
He grinned easily. His situation was suddenly looking up if she would be around.
“Orlando Bloom, and believe me, milady, the pleasure is all mine.” He managed to make the word ‘pleasure’ come out in such a sexy, husky way, he almost saw the blush creeping up her cheeks. Just to add fuel to the fire, he placed a sweet kiss on her knuckles. However, she was not to be reeled in by his charm that easily.
“Wouldn’t count on it, mister Bloom. Pleasure is not to be expected at this particular place. The nurses’ social skills were picked up during the cold war and I’m not to sure what stuff they put in those damn pills and needles.”
Orlando raised one eyebrow at her description, finding he couldn’t disagree with her. If his one woman welcome party was anything to go by…
“So…how long have you been here?”
Her features turned sour for a couple of seconds, shoulders drooping, making her look like the epitome of sadness.
“Way too long, ” she sighed.
Taken aback by her sudden change in attitude, Orlando was quick to apologize. “I’m sorry, Darcy. I had no right to ask.”
She shrugged. “That’s okay, how could you know? I’ll answer your question. I’ve been here two hundred and eighty three days. I was involved in a shooting between some members of rivaling gangs here in London. I’m from this hole in the earth kind of place close to Aldbourne, I had just arrived in London a week before to start art school, and apart from some shopping trips, I’d never been here before. So I got myself lost in a bad part of Soho, but how was I supposed to know there were gangs active there?
Anyway, some guys popped up out of nowhere and just started shooting. It was pure chaos and somehow I found myself right in the middle. One of the bullets hit me in the back just as I stepped out of the subway. I had gotten out at the wrong station. The guys ran and I blacked out. Next thing I know, it was nearly three months later and I was told I was a damn paraplegic. The bullet is lodged between two of my lower vertebrae and they don’t dare to take it out.”
Stunned into silence, Orlando’s mind raced a hundred miles a minute. So many questions popped into his head, but he didn’t dare give voice to any of them. Was this a permanent situation, would she be stuck in a wheelchair forever? If the bullet was still in her body, could it do more damage? Could she die from this? Had they ever caught the bastards who did this to her?
A small hand squeezed his, snapping him out of his stupor. He shook his head like a wet dog. “I’m sorry, I kind of zoned out. That’s some story.”
She nodded, giving him a rueful smile, all the while letter her hand rest on his. “I know, and to be honest, it’s all I can piece together myself from my own memory and the media. I have little recollection of that day myself, just blurs of images and sounds, like snapshots. The police caught two fifteen year old boys, but since I couldn’t positively identify them and because they were minors, they got off with some weeks juvenile detention.”
“There must have been more people around if it was close to a subway station.”
“People must have been too scared to testify, because nobody came forward.”
“So in the end, they got away. That highly sounds fair.”
“It isn’t, but I couldn’t take the risk of putting them behind bars if I wasn’t sure it was them. What if it wasn’t?”
“What if it was?”
“I don’t know…being a gang member seems to be a very hard thing to prove. They won’t betray their own. And I can’t allow myself to think about it much longer, I have to save my energy for myself, for getting my life back together.”
“How long do you have to stay here?”
Another shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’m stuck to this chair for possibly the rest of my life, but at least they’re teaching me to make use of it, become as self-sufficient as I can get.”
“And once you get out? Where will you be going from here?”
Sigh. “Nowhere for now. I have no place to go. I could pick up my study, but the student dorms are not really accessible for the disabled. And I’m reluctant to go home. My mom’s dead, my dad’s remarried, I can’t stand my step mom and she won’t even allow me to come close to my 6-year old half-brother. My grandparents are sweethearts, but they’re both way too old to deal with a handicapped grandchild and I have no other living relatives.”
“Boyfriend?” Why did he secretly hope there was no such guy?
Her face contorted into an odd mixture of disgust and sadness and he scolded himself for asking. Even if he was physically unable to stick his foot in his mouth, he certainly knew how to do it the proverbial way. He hadn’t really expected her to answer, but she did, sounding…detached, for a lack of better description.
“Not any more. Dad told me Cody, that’s his name by the way, walked into the ICU, saw me with tubes sticking out of my body, cursed and made a beeline for the exit, never to be seen or heard from again. I guess he was never a very strong man, just a kid. Couldn’t handle it.”
Knowing that whatever comment he would supply now would somehow be wrong, he only nodded, though inwardly he wanted to hunt the bastard down and shake some sense into him. Instead, he returned to their previous topic of conversation.
“What about any other friends?” He couldn’t imagine her being lonely.
“Left them all at home and I hadn’t had any time to make new ones here. And my old friends… they’re kind of spooked by the new me. They can’t handle seeing me like this any more than Cody could.”
“Sounds like an excuse to me.”
“Maybe it is, but I can’t blame them. I am spooked by the new me too. And I couldn’t deal with their I-told-you-so looks if I were to see them again. They proclaimed me certifiably mad when I told them I’d be going to the big city.”
He raised his eyebrow at that.
“London’s a scary place for kids who haven’t ventured further away from their home than Aldbourne itself. To them, a population of more than a few thousand people is unthinkable, let alone a few million.”
She leaned over to him like a conspirator before whispering: “I think someone forgot to inform them that the rest of England has left the middle ages behind them some centuries ago. They still think the black death could come out at any time and kill me.”
Orlando shook his head at that, biting back a smile at her description.
“I guess they think the whole bullet-story is nothing but a figment of your imagination. It’s the plague that got you in that chair…though you look pretty flawless to me.”
She blushed again, obviously not used to flirting while in a wheelchair.
“Flawless my backside, literally. You haven’t seen the scar.”
“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” came his way too quick retort.
Grinning, not the least bit modest, she pulled up her top and jacket to reveal a rounded indentation on her lower back where the bullet had entered. Gasping despite of himself he tentatively reached out his hand and circled her skin with soft fingertips only, thinking how much worse her situation was compared to his own. At least he had nothing but his own stupidity to blame for what had happened to him. She had been led to her downfall like an innocent lamb by sheer bad luck and some criminal thugs. The wrong place at the wrong time.
At least he would be leaving this place on his own two feet.
She shivered underneath his touch, but never said a word. “Does it hurt?”
“Funny thing is, it never did. I never felt a thing, I just couldn’t move. I was more panicked than hurt I guess.”
She sounded close to tears, but hid a sob with a cough. He pretended not to notice, didn’t want her to get hurt even more by his acknowledgement of what she obviously considered as weakness.
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19/Jul/2007, 3:42
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comanchero
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Re: Not so easy - a new orlando Bloom story.
chapter 1 continued
Her voice came out raspy (and rather sexy, he had to admit) when she turned to him again.
“So, mister Bloom, let me see yours.”
She winked and for that moment, the tables were turned and he felt a blush creeping up his cheekbones. He quickly hid it by simply pulling up the shirt he was wearing and bending over so she could see the thin line running over quite some length of his back.
She mirrored his action by tracing the line with a delicate caress. He too shuddered and bit his lip until he tasted blood to prevent himself from whimpering. How could such an innocent touch effect him so much?
“Are you in any pain?”
“A little. Feels stiff, feels sore. But at least I’m feeling. I guess it’s both blessing and curse.”
“Make that a blessing. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like the thought of you hurting, but you’re right. You’ll get out of here, relatively soon and intact. It’s a lot more than some of us can say.”
Her words hit him hard. The truth of her fate sank in. They’d only been talking for about half an hour and already she’d made an impact on him. She was strong, funny and caring. She seemed to accept her handicap for what it was and move on, but yet, she was so…vulnerable. So alone and lost.
He knew better than to tell her what was going through his mind. Already he had learned that feelings of pity were as lethal for one’s soul as any bullet could be. If she wanted to keep up a happy face, he should allow her to do just that. Until she felt comfortable enough around him to let her guard down.
Than and there he decided he would do just about everything to make that happen. He would see her through, he would stand (or for now, sit) by her, be the friend she needed.
Just as much as he needed her.
“Darcy?”
She looked up into his soulful brown eyes. “Yes, Orlando?”
“I’d like us to become friends. I think I need one in this house of horrors.”
“And here I thought we already were. But okay, let’s make it official. We’re friends.”
She held out a hand for him to shake, but instead, he spontaneously leaned forward and wrapped the tiny body in a tight hug. He held on to her for a long while, just enjoying the sensation of being close to her. Before he let her go, he whispered softly: “My friends call me Orli.”
She softly pulled herself upright, smiling at him, a genuine smile that seemed to brighten her eyes.
“Orli…I like it. You may now call me Wheels.”
“You’re insane.”
“I know. The bullet must have traveled up to my brain.”
“Couldn’t have done that much damage.”
“Better watch it, pretty boy. I can handle this kind of vehicle a lot better than you.”
“Of course, doesn’t take a rocket scientist, so you should do just fine. Though your little crash should be an indication to the contrary…”
“Orli dearest…better start wheeling for your life.”
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19/Jul/2007, 3:42
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Re: Not so easy - a new orlando Bloom story.
Chapter 2
The following days were an odd combination of lots of fun and hell on earth. The regime was maddening and his therapists relentless. The first afternoon and night of his arrival they’d left him alone while Darcy gave him the grand tour of the place and explained in her own wicked way all about the doctors, nursing staff, therapist and torture devices he would encounter while he enjoyed their hospitality.
She had joined him for dinner at the cafeteria, where she had introduced him to some more of the “inmates”, who were there for various reasons and lengths of time. It surprised him how well most of them got along, egging each other on and joking about their injuries.
He was glad to make some new friends, for once glad making friends had always come easy for him, though in this situation he wasn’t as careless as he could sometimes be. All of the people surrounding him had their own story to tell as to what led them there and not for the first time did he realize just how fortunate he was.
Unlike Dennis for instant, or better, Lieutenant Dennis Murphies, Royal Air Force, who had lost his leg after his plane crashed during what was supposed to be a routine test flight two months before. He took his injury like a real trooper, but it was obvious he was crushed by the thoughts his military career was probably over, at least the flying part, even before he had even seen any real combat. Being third generation aviator had meant the world to him, but now…every time he said he was just glad to come out alive, Orlando felt his heart contract at the sight of him. There was absolutely nothing glad about his expression. But, as he had done with Darcy, he was very careful not to break the man’s façade.
Darcy. She had become his lifeline. Somehow she succeeded in always being there whenever he was up for another round of torture. She even once showed up with scarf, banner and horn, cheering him on like she was watching a soccer match instead of him taking a few steps between solid bars, with clenched teeth and drenched in sweat. But it did somehow help.
She was the one he turned to when the tears of pride and joy were streaming unabashedly over his cheeks when he took his first steps with only crutches. Her own face sported the same expression and he was oddly flattered by her obvious pride in him. Not a trace of jealousy was found, while, if roles had been reversed, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t feel green with envy at seeing someone make the progress he himself could not.
She was the one who laughed in his face as he showed off his skills and promptly stumbled and fell face forward to the floor. She was the one who gave him one of her own little teddy bear to keep him company at night.
But she was also the one to wipe his brow after his struggles, who had asked for him to move into the room next to hers and almost physically attacked the administrative office who wanted to make it as hard to get it done as possible. She became his constant companion, his personal cheerleader. His savior, if you will.
One desperately bad night, somewhere halfway through his ‘sentence’, his back was killing him in relentless spasms and cramps. He couldn’t reach his emergency button either, which he wasn’t sure he wanted. They would probably just sedate him into a stupor and he hated the lala-land the drugs took him to. But he soon reached a point where he couldn’t stop himself from whimpering with the agony.
Just as he contemplated simply screaming bloody murder to get some kind of attention, his savior silently wheeled herself in. Laying on his right side, facing the wall, he hadn’t seen or heard her come in until she stopped at his bedside. Without as much as a word, she hitched up his shirt and rubbed some lotion over his lower back in soft soothing motions. While the pain lessened to the point of a dull ache, he felt himself melt down. All the pent up frustration, all the fear came out in giant sobs. Stubbornly, he gnawed his lower lip, hoping against hope she didn’t notice so he could maintain some sample of masculinity.
Her left hand continued its travel up and down his spine, but her right hand gently brushed some of his curls away, ending in a soft stroking of his wet cheek. Leaning forward, she laid her own cheek against the hollow between his shoulder blades, still saying nothing. Orlando just let the walls slam down and cried himself into a fitful sleep.
She waited until his breath evened out before returning to her own room. He felt so much better the next morning. He thanked her with silently mouthed words the next morning at the breakfast table. And by snatching a rose from one of the abundant bushes in the garden while trying to hobble a few yards on his crutches. She kissed his cheek and smiled. Nobody would ever find out what had transpired between them the night before. It was too precious to share.
And now…now it was time for him to leave. He could walk again, be it on crutches. But if he kept up the work, he could ditch those within the next few weeks.
When his sister had wheeled him in there, his only thought had been how fast he could get out of there. Now, it was truly a mixed blessing. Darcy and Dennis, or “Mayhem and Menace” as Orlando had dubbed them had thrown him a farewell party he was unlikely to forget, since they had decorated everything within their reach with endless yards of toilet paper and had made some kind of Christmas tree with syringes as ornaments.
He had tried to pay them back by feigning a call to Darcy’s friends at home to let them know they were absolutely right about her: She was mad. Completely cuckoo, twisted as a doorknob. She almost bought it. Orlando just gave her the sweetest innocent smile he could muster, praying his acting skills wouldn’t let him down.
Next thing he knew a bedpan was emptied over his head. And he was convinced that even after several showers, he still stunk.
Last edited by comanchero, 19/Jul/2007, 4:01
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19/Jul/2007, 3:50
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comanchero
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Re: Not so easy - a new orlando Bloom story.
Chapter 2 continued
Now, his mother and sister were waiting for him outside. He’d asked them to wait until he had said his goodbyes and since they had both witnessed his close bond with the young redhead, they had only nodded before leaving him alone with his friends in the hallway.
He hugged Tina first; the youngest of their circle of friends who had gotten brain damage after a bout of meningitis, leaving her slightly spastic. Frank was next, he’d suffered from bone cancer and was now missing his left leg. He still wasn’t sure he would survive, but trying to be positive.
At long last only “M&M” remained.
Dennis remained the soldier, giving him a man hug that could have easily put him right back in traction, thanking him for his friendship in a booming voice and ordering him to come back for a visit. Orlando mock saluted him and made a mental note to himself to follow the direct order of his lieutenant friend.
He turned to Darcy, let go of his crutches and shaking heavily, knelt down in front of her, wrapping her equally shivering body in a tight embrace. He felt her tears soaking his shirt and his heart contracted painfully at the thought of their separation.
At long last, after prolonging the inevitable for as long as they both could, he knew he had to let go of her then and there before he would injure himself on purpose just to stay. He couldn’t do that to his mom and sister, though, they’d been way too supportive to deserve a rash action like that. Slowly and reluctantly, he pulled away, cupping her blotched cheek with a soft hand.
“Don’t cry, Wheels. If you start, then I’m lost. Please be strong, please?” The nickname she had given herself had stuck, only just between the two of them. She mercilessly punched anybody else who dared to use it. She gave him a watery smile, hanging on by a thread, but not wanting to let him down.
“I’ll miss you Orli, but I’m still glad to see you get out of here.”
“I’m gonna miss you too, love. But please allow me to try and find you a decent place to stay.”
She grunted at him while trying to give him her most scary glare. It had been a constant battle between them ever since he had first brushed the subject of finding her a home. She adamantly refused his offer to help, giving him plausible (according to her) and idiot (according to him) reasons why he shouldn’t meddle. Up till now, he had effectively brushed every argument aside. And since he wasn’t about to give up, she was almost ready to cave. Almost.
“Orli…we’ve been over this before.”
“I know, and each and every time you failed to give me one good reason why I shouldn’t help you. It’s not like I offer to pay rent for you. It’s not charity or something. I just want to see if I can find a decent place for you to live, somewhere where you have easy access to whatever you need.”
“And how do you suppose I pay for this? My insurance money will run out soon and all that’ll be left are unemployment benefits and some minimal disabled allowances. Face it, cutie pie, I’m dangling at the very bottom of the food chain here and can’t hoist myself up.”
“You still got your brains, don’t you, or whatever it is that makes you seem to function like a human being at first sight. You should be able to get a job. Or maybe you could actually try and sell your comic.”
Again, she scowled. Her comic, called “Wendy and her wonder wheels” had started out as a personal outlet, depicting a girl in a wheelchair which had superpowers. Wendy would fight monsters and crime all over the world. Orlando had found them accidentally and loved them instantly. He refused to hand them back and kept insisting on reading each and every new one she made, making up silly adventures and moronic plots. To him, they looked professional enough to try and sell it to publishers. There must be somebody interested, especially if it helped children with handicaps to accept themselves and be accepted. If a little girl in a wheelchair could become a role model, wouldn’t that be a major step forward into understanding?
“I won’t sell Wendy. She’s mine, and I’m not ready to show her to the rest of the world.”
“It’s a shame. You’ve got real talent and I’m not just sucking up to you. I think Wendy deserves her chance in the real world and that world should have the unique opportunity to meet her. Think about the bridges you could build between handicapped and non-handicapped people. And if you could actually make a living off of it, all the better!”
“And why do you think it’s good enough to get published? I just…I couldn’t deal with another setback in my life right now, Orli.”
“Orlando…it’s really time to go…”
He hadn’t heard his sister coming in. Reluctantly, he dropped the subject for now, making a mental note to start looking for a place for her to live the next week and a publisher too, just to see if there would be any interest whatsoever. She would kill him if she found out, but if they said no, he simply wouldn’t tell her. If they said yes…he hoped she wouldn’t be too mad. Or that he could outrun her.
He hugged her again. “Sorry, love, I didn’t wanna fight with you while saying goodbye. I couldn’t stand the thought of you hating my guts.”
“Not a chance, Orli love. Take care of yourself and don’t forget about us. But the next time I’ll be seeing you, you’d better come in without those crutches, or you’ll be leaving in a chair again, got it?”
“Got it. And I promise. You hang in there now and don’t miss me too much.”
“Miss you? I’m thrilled to see you go.”
“Bull.”
“That’s what you think.”
One last time she smiled at him, before Sam dragged him over to the front door and installed him in the backseat of the car, where his mother was already waiting. She turned to give her son a warm smile, glad to have him back with them. When he didn’t fully return her smile, she sighed and placed a warm hand over his.
“Are you okay honey?”
He shrugged, unsure if his mother’s concern wasn’t gonna reduce him to a sobbing mess yet again. He’d tried so hard to get out of this place on his own two feet and now that he was there, he just wasn’t happy.
He was only a few yards away from her and he missed her already. How had she managed to crawl under his skin like that?
“You’ll miss Darcy, won’t you?”
His expression was one of utter astonishment. His mom and Sam had both visited him only once, both busy with their work and their own lives in Canterbury to take the time and just hop over every day. Orlando had convinced them they didn’t need to watch his every move literally. That he was a big boy now and could take care of himself. Of course that last statement only raised his mother’s eyebrow as she none too gently reminded him why exactly it was he was staying there in the first place. But he had insisted they shouldn’t suffer the consequences of his mistake and ordered them to limit the visits. Of course he didn’t wanna tell them he feared that by seeing them too often he’d grow homesick…they knew anyway.
So how come that, with just one visit and daily phone calls (that was the deal; daily phone calls if they weren’t “allowed” to visit him), which were made in private, his mom somehow knew about his closeness to his “Wheels”?
Reading the question before he could voice it, Sonia explained to obvious to her son. “I saw the way you two behaved toward each other when I was finally granted permission to see my boy. You were so perfectly at ease with her, a blind man would have seen it.”
He hadn’t known it showed, wasn’t sure what it was himself, so how could she be so all-knowing? Was this what was meant by maternal instincts? He guessed he would never know. For a moment things were quiet as Sam led the car through the busy streets of London, cursing under her breath for not just taking the highway instead. Orlando dozed off a little, until his mother’s next question woke him with the subtlety of a tidal wave.
“Darling…are you in love with this girl?”
“What?! NO!” He spluttered and gasped in his hurry to deny the presumptuous idea. Wherever did she come up with this…this…whatever it was. He wanted to laugh in her face. He wanted to get pissed of at the invasion of his privacy, the privacy he hadn’t had for way too long in that stupid hospital. He wanted to…he wanted to tell her to butt off, but then again, he wanted quite the opposite.
What he really wanted to do was to admit.
Oh boy. Where did that come from? Shocked by his own confusion, he opened his mouth to tell her and closed it again when he couldn’t find the right words, making him look like a fish out of water.
Why did he want to admit he was in love with Darcy? Was he?
Last edited by comanchero, 19/Jul/2007, 4:05
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19/Jul/2007, 3:52
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comanchero
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Re: Not so easy - a new orlando Bloom story.
Chapter 2 continued
He honestly didn’t know. Sure, she was pretty, feisty, strong and caring and he wondered if he would have even survived these passed days and nights without her silent companionship, her unwavering support. But how many of those multitude of qualities were really hers and how many of them were born from the situation she was in? How much of her bravura was just an act? How would she turn out to be once she got back to the reality of day to day life, or rather, her limited, complicated version of it.
He knew she was strong enough to cope and should be doing just fine in a normal routine. But how about the emotional stuff? Since their rather candid conversation the first time, he had never heard her mention any other future plans besides from getting a job and a place to live. But when it came to the more personal stuff, the emotional baggage he was completely left in the dark. She had never mentioned anything that would indicate she even envisioned having a personal life again. It had hurt him to realize that, even now, she wasn’t ready to talk about it with him. But then again…she was still a woman and buddy or not, she was entitled to have some female secrets, he guessed.
However, nothing that shot through his racing mind brought him any closer to the answer, making him wonder why he had never seen it coming.
Liar, liar, an annoying voice in his head said. Not only could and did you see the question coming from miles away, though maybe not from your mom, you averted your eyes the moment you did just so you wouldn’t have to answer. Because you do know the answer. And you’re scared ****less of it.
Yes. He had fallen in love with Darcy Meehan. Probably the moment she had helped him through his darkest night. If he closed his eyes, he could still imagine how her light, calm touch had drawn away the vicious pain, both in his body and his mind. Still…there had been nothing arousing in that touch.
Wait…what was that supposed to mean? Was he such a superficial bastard that he had to turn this into something sexual? Hadn’t his mom thought him anything? Sure, being in love had a physical aspect, but there was so much more to it. And the fact he had fallen for the girl complete with injuries and insecurities should be a good sign, shouldn’t it?
Good God, he was getting a headache thinking about it. With the answer to one question, he had opened a great big old fashioned can of worms and one problem after another complication forced itself into his fogged brain.
How did she feel about him? And even if she returned the depth of his feelings, could they work out? Could he watch her struggle to move around every day for the rest of his life? Could she watch him make a full recovery without resenting him at some point? How about the future? Could they have any children together? Could she even enjoy any sexual activity? And why on earth was he allowing his thoughts to go there when the first question wasn’t even answered yet?
All the while, his mom hadn’t said a word, knowing she purposefully opened Pandora’s box. But she knew her son very well and figured he might as well deal with these feelings head-on, less this would eat him alive.
Just when she thought he wasn’t about to answer her, she heard him rasp his throat and watched him rub his neck in his signature nervous gesture.
“It’s terrifying mom. I’m scared to fall in love with her, scared that I already have, scared that she might not love me too, scared that she might…it might be shallow to say that those wheels of her complicate things, but truth is, they do. Being in that situation, even if it’s just for a while, like with me, it changes you forever. It shows you how to cope with a handicap, but it can’t totally prepare you mentally. I have no idea about Darcy’s dreams and wishes before the shooting and I have even less clues about what she wants to do with her life from here on. She doesn’t even accept my help in looking for a place to stay…how can I untangle this situation enough to know what it is exactly that I’m feeling for her?”
Her hand on his cheek triggered the urge to just crawl on her lap like an infant and let mummy take care of the big bad world for a while. But he was supposed to be a man now and he kept himself in check.
“Give it some time, love. Get yourself settled back home again and try and pick up your studies later on. I know it’s hard, but maybe some distance between you and her might bring things into perspective again.”
“And what if I am in love with her mom?”
“Then you’re gonna have to find out if the both of you are willing to put in the effort to make it work and before you say it; I know how much more effort it’s gonna take to live with someone handicapped. Now, let’s just get you settled back in and we’ll talk some more about it later. You’re dead on your feet.”
He was. He felt it when Sam parked the car in front of the house and took his bags from the trunk. With a gentle hand, Sonia helped her youngest child out of the backseat and handed him his crutches. Slowly they moved into the living room where Orlando gratefully let himself fall on the well worn couch and kicked off his shoes.
For once, there was no scolding, no reaction whatsoever as he stretched out his sore limbs, occupying all three seats the comfy couch provided. With a nod of her mother, Sam (God bless her) brought his luggage to his room and came downstairs again. In the kitchen, she helped her mother make some hot tea and bring out the pastries they had bought earlier to celebrate Orlando’s homecoming. Too bad he really didn’t seem to be in a festive mood.
When his mom and sister emerged from the kitchen, he reluctantly sat up straight and tried to participate in what they had planned to be a party. He was genuinely happy and surprised to see his grandparents arrive, knowing how hard it was nowadays for the elderly couple to travel. Setting all thoughts about leaving Darcy behind firmly out of his mind, he allowed his granny to spoil him in a way only grannies could.
Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow he would find a place for Darcy to stay. And he would find a publisher for her comics if it would kill him. If she would kill him.
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19/Jul/2007, 4:06
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comanchero
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Re: Not so easy - a new orlando Bloom story.
40 hits in a few weeks time, it's not too bad. So I'll add a new chapter and see what'll happen...
Chapter three
She’d beaten him to it. Stubborn as ever, Darcy decided to take the only other chance she had rather than asking Orlando for help. She went home.
Taking the advice of her therapists she would go that same week on a trial bases. She knew that her physical challenges were not her biggest hurdle this time. Right now, reconnecting with her old home and friends would be the wall to climb.
Frankly, she had no clue how to handle her mixed emotions. And there had always been many regarding her childhood, even before landing herself in this situation. Still, she was convinced she needed to try, though when being asked directly, she wouldn’t have an explanations as to why she felt that way.
She packed an overnight bag and hugged her friends goodbye. If this trial worked out, she was ready to go home for good.
Spencer, her father, was waiting impatiently next to his car. That wasn’t anything new, it was just who he was. Darcy registered the look of pity and helplessness on his face and swallowed. Combined with his aforementioned impatience, that look didn’t promise anything good.
Spencer Meehan needed to be in control. Over himself, his surroundings, his family. When Darcy’s mother, his pretty wife Helen had died from a stroke at the early age of 38, he was left with an 11-year old daughter and no control whatsoever. It had been such a scary period for both of them, since he had come this close to facing one’s mortality. He couldn’t even promise the weeping girl he would not leave her like her mother had.
After a while of grieving, he had found himself missing a home life more than his wife. Helen had been a good wife, a good homemaker and a good mother. He missed someone who could make him feel at home, someone who looked after him after a long day’s work and helped him raise an increasingly more difficult teenaged daughter, starting to ask questions he didn’t feel comfortable answering. Why couldn’t he have had a son instead?
Just than he met Claudia. At the age of 28, she might be a little young to mother over his now almost 14 year old child, but she was kind and level-headed and obviously infatuated with the still handsome 45 year old businessman.
Within a year they were married and another year later, a 16-year old Darcy first saw her kid brother Jason. She loved him instantly and would have done anything her stepmother asked her to do gladly. Only Claudia never asked for anything, at least, not from her.
God only knew why, but with the birth of her own child, she pushed her stepdaughter to the very bottom of the food-chain and with her father back to work as senior manager of one of the biggest banks in town, he never even noticed the tension around the house. When he did, he took the easy way out. He blamed the difficult, obviously jealous adolescent in the house. Puberty, that was the explanation he was most comfortable with. So that’s what it had to be. Darcy was acting out her puberty. End of discussion. Oh…and better not allow her to play with Jason all that much…one could never know what damage she could do to a fragile toddler’s mind or body.
The summer after she turned eighteen, Cody Kirkland came into her life like an unexpected ray of sunshine. The fair haired, happy-go-lucky boy was a breath of fresh air to the secluded and insecure girl she had become. Like her, he still lived with his parents, but instead of her tiny room, he had a nice big loft all by himself and with his parents out and about at all times (the Kirklands seemed to have a very busy social life), they didn’t care much about their son’s activities as long as they weren’t illegal.
For two years they spent every possible free moment together while going to college. Cody, who loved anything that had plugs on it, of course chose to become an electrical engineer and Darcy tried her hand at becoming a teacher. She really wanted to do anything with her passion for cartoon drawings, but it was the one thing she and her father had agreed on: it would probably never amount to anything. And Spencer never paid good money for something he didn’t believe in.
Darcy took on a job as soon as Claudia started whining about how much a three year old boy costs. Her baby brother would start pre-school soon and not just any school was good enough (though it had been good enough for her in the past). So yes, the tuition for the most prestigious school in the entire county swallowed up so much of the Meehan’s income, there was precariously little left for Darcy’s school funds.
She barely made it, but her as financial independence grew, she gained more self esteem and early 1997 a now almost twenty-one year old Darcy made up her mind. She packed up her belongings and left to follow her dream in London. She was going to study art and there was no stopping her this time. Not her dad’s outrage, not her friends’ pleas, not even Cody’s begging. She was done with them all.
But that was then, this was now. And now, she had no other choice but to go back home. Spencer immediately walked over, wanting to help her but not knowing how to. The rift between them that had started when he remarried was deepened when she left for London and as they let the first hair fractures deteriorate into canyons by both stubbornly refusing to build the bridge, they now both knew it was way too late. Even if they needed each other more now than ever since Helen’s death had knocked their world from its axis.
Deciding that, for now, it was best to ignore Spencer’s attempt to help her, Darcy hefted herself out of the wheelchair and onto the front seat of her dad’s Bentley. He had already shoved her bag in the boot of the car and was now struggling to fold her chair. Silently she showed him how and with a nod of thanks he put the chair behind her on the backseat.
Silence can be both very comfortable and very strenuous. The one descending on father and child was one of the last kind. At long last, her dad bent over and fiddled with his radio until some light classical music filled the interior. Both knew it was only to mask the fact they didn’t know what to say to the other one.
Darcy was the first to break, she just couldn’t take it anymore. This was the only parent she had left for crying out loud! At this point, she was choking and she much, much rather have a full blow-out fight with him than let this continue lest you would suffocate.
“Dad?”
Spencer turned slightly and for a fleeting moment, real concern was clearly visible on his face. It was a strangely comforting site for her, but unfortunately, it didn’t last very long. As usual, within seconds, he had his facial features under control.
“Yes, Darcy?”
She hadn’t planned on what she was going to say. In the end, she settled for a simple: “Thanks for picking me up.”
She got a curt nod as response and for one moment, she wanted to strangle him. Why couldn’t he simply show some kind of emotion? What was he so afraid of? She shivered slightly. Her father must have seen it.
“There’s a blanket on the backseat if you’re cold.”
She raised an eyebrow, half understanding and half annoyed.
“I can’t reach over, dad.”
As if stung, he looked at her. First at her face and then letting his gaze travel down to see, really see the total stillness of her lower extremities. His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. Spencer Meehan finally really understood what had happened. His child was a paraplegic, confined to the life of a disabled person. For the rest of her life. Why had that happened? Why did God punish him like this? To first take his wife and than turn his firstborn into a cripple? All his fear came out at once.
Last edited by comanchero, 8/Aug/2007, 3:19
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8/Aug/2007, 3:10
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comanchero
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Re: Not so easy - a new orlando Bloom story.
Chapter 3, part 2
“You should never have gone to London!”
Sigh. Was there a way to escape from this car without any further damage?
“Don’t you think that’s water under the bridge now, dad? I did go to London, I got shot, I ended up in a wheelchair. And I did it all on purpose, just to spite you!”
“Watch your tongue, young lady! I am still your father!”
“Gee, thanks for pointing that out! Here I thought you were just a hired chauffeur. You might as well be, for all the real interest you have shown me in the past let’s say…nine years!”
“How dare you? Didn’t I offer to put you through college? Didn’t I get you the clothes on your back and food on the table? Helped us get back on our feet after your mom died?”
If he hadn’t been driving, she would have gladly slapped him right in the face.
“Oh that’s just rich dad, really. You wanted to put me through a college of your own choice, as long as I did something you deemed sensible. And only until you needed the cold hard cash to stuff poor little Jason into some snobbish pre-school. Tell me something: does he already have his own bank-account? Trust fund maybe?”
“That’s…”
“I wasn’t done yet.” Not by a long shot, she was on fire now.
“Don’t you ever dare bring mom into the equation again. She would have laughed at the pathetic little man you have become and she would have been sickened by the way you make distinction between your children. I adore little Jason, it’s not his fault you’re both so screwed up, but I’ve been put on the backburner ever since the little tike was born, by both you and Claudia. You did nothing to help us get back on our feet. You got married out of your own convenience. I had no say in the matter.”
For what it was worth, Spencer seemed white faced and defeated, his bulky body showing all classic signs of defeat. Suddenly he looked older than his 53 years. But Darcy couldn’t feel much sympathy for him yet. Too much had happened, the gap was too wide to cross.
“Than what was I supposed to do, Darcy? Stay together just with you? Never fall in love again? Don’t you think I ever thought for a moment I would be able to find someone again? That nobody would be good enough after your mom? I did love her you know. I just…I’m not a homemaker and I desperately wanted a family. Was that so wrong of me? To want to have someone again? To want you to have a mother?”
“Of course not dad, you’re missing the point. I was eleven years old and I missed my mom terribly. Then when Claudia came along she was so much younger, so little equipped to deal with a teenager, so little…mom. The more she tried in the beginning, the less I wanted to like her. She was an intruder to me. And when she got pregnant with Jason I hoped it would somehow make us closer, but than when he was born, she seemed to be afraid to let me near him, as if I would harm him on purpose.”
Was it her or was he genuinely surprised by her statements? Had he really been misreading the situation like that? Had he been so blind?
“I never even knew that Darcy.”
She sighed. Now they’d come to the bulls-eye. The heart of the matter.
“I know you didn’t. That’s the real problem dad. As soon as you could, you were back at work, letting the bank take precedence over your family again and I was left with Claudia who guarded her baby like a hawk, turning me into the enemy. Jason has learned to be afraid of me and that hurts dad, cause I never did anything to warrant such fear.
And all this time, you never saw anything until we barely even knew how to communicate. I never went to London to spite you, I just needed to get away from everyone. I was choking there. Not just because of you or Claudia or her preoccupation with Jason, but also by my narrow minded friends and even Cody.”
“I thought you were in love with Cody.”
This was so much like her dad, grabbing onto the one thing he thought could redirect the conversation. If this wasn’t so unbelievably sad, she would have laughed out loud. As for now, she might as well follow the detour, since it was clear this whole sordid conversation would take them nowhere. She felt a splitting headache coming up.
“I thought I was too, dad. But in hindsight he was just another means to an end. Another way to escape home. We weren’t mature enough to make it work, we were both there for all the wrong reasons. He simply wanted a girlfriend for the sake of having a girlfriend and I wanted to be anywhere but home.”
“Is that still true now?”
She sighed heavily. It was. “It’s not like I have much choice, right?”
“Darcy…all I can say is that we’re all trying, okay? Me, Claudia…we can’t undo the past, can’t correct the wrongs we’ve made by you, but we’ll try. Cause whether you believe it or not, I do still love you. You’re my child, my blood and you do have a place called home. So please…can’t we all just try?”
Darcy nodded, too tired to talk back. So they’d try. And she guessed it was the most she could expect from them.
For the next days, all of them did, but all the looks cast in her direction, all the walking on eggshells around her, all the words that weren’t being spoken, all the decisions that were made for her because people have a tendency to think you’re mentally retarded when your legs don’t function properly…
Within as little as two days, Darcy was ready to get herself shot again, preferably in the head. She was going stark-raving mad! Oh…and Jason was still afraid of her and even more of her wheelchair.
Before coming home she couldn’t wait to see her friends again, hoping against hope that her rather dark premonition toward Orlando would not come true. It didn’t. It was worse. First she found out Cody had hooked up with Lauren, one of her supposedly best friends whom she had known since elementary school. Even though she absolutely didn’t want to get back together with him, it kind of hurt her ego to find out she was so replaceable so damn fast.
The moment she wheeled herself into the old pub where they had always gathered from the moment they could legally drink beer, she was bombarded with goodwill and questions. While none of them had ever taken the time to venture out to London to come see her, they were now the epitome of help and support. That was, until they wanted to go dancing. Lauren, pretty but a bubble-head, looked at her like she had just grown a second head and came to the marvelous conclusion she couldn’t dance anymore.
No freakin’ sh*t!
If she could have kicked them out, she would have gladly done so, but she settled for a simple shrug, claiming she was tired anyway and that they should just go without her. Not even a minute later, they were gone, relief etched on all of their faces as they quickly gathered their belongings, tripping over their own feet in their hurry to get away from their friend who now made them feel so uncomfortable by having the guts to get blown to pieces. One would have thought they assumed her condition was contagious. Only Cody mumbled a hasty “Sorry”, before being dragged out by his new girlfriend.
So it was safe to say that she didn’t need the entire week to come to the sad conclusion this was all so damn ****ed up. She went to the annex her father had built a few years before which was now her bedroom and carefully packed her bag again. The phone rang, but she shrugged. She hadn’t seen her friends since the other day and she was certain she would never see them again.
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8/Aug/2007, 3:12
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comanchero
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Re: Not so easy - a new orlando Bloom story.
Chapter 3, part 3
Her surprise was evident in her eyes when Jason obligingly scampered over to hand her the cordless phone, muttering “It’s for you”, than hurrying back out before she could thank him.
For her? Who could this be? Maybe Lauren anyway? She was a ditz, but a nice girl at heart. Oh well, only one way to find out.
“Hello?”
“Wheels? That you?”
Orlando? Since when did he have this number? She couldn’t recall giving it to him.
“It is. Hey Orli”
“Hey sweetheart. I wasn’t sure this was the right number but I only found one Meehan listed in the Aldbourne phone book. I hope you don’t mind me calling you, but I…”
He faltered, which was not like him. She urged him on. “You what Orli? Is there something wrong? Are you okay?”
Orlando almost stumbled over his words in his hurry to reassure her. “I’m fine, don’t worry, it’s nothing like that. I just…I miss you okay? I wanted to hear your voice, wanted to know how you’re doing. They told me at the center you were home, but they didn’t wanna give me your number, something with patients confidentiality. So…does this mean you’re out of there for good?”
The silence hung in the air like a cloud, as if admitting it out loud would verify her defeat. But then again…this was Orlando. If anybody would understand, she was sure it would be him.
“Nope…going back there tomorrow. I was only home on a trial bases anyway.”
He clearly heard all she wasn’t saying, so he just softly acknowledged the obvious pain in her voice.
“Not a big success then?”
“Much like I envisioned: they treated me like a retard one moment, a porcelain doll the next and proceeded to forgetting me as soon as the opportunity presented itself.”
Ouch. God, how horrible that must feel, even if she clearly tried to bypass her pain by sarcasm.
“That sucks, cutie pie. You deserve better than that.”
“Well, that’s why I have you now, right?”
“You better believe it.”
Growing suddenly serious, she sniffled to get the tears away. He was such a wonderful guy.
“I do believe it. Thanks Orlando.”
“No thanks needed, you’re doing the same for me Darcy love.”
A silence descended between them, but unlike those she’d experienced in the house, this one was comfortable, almost warm. She felt as if he had reached out to her from the other side of the line and was holding her hand securely in his own. He was the one who broke the lull in their conversation first.
“Heading back tomorrow then? Guess that means we’ll have to celebrate your birthday in the center, right?”
She shot upright.
“You remembered my birthday?!”
Affronted, he let out a snort. “Of course I did! What kind of friend would it make me if I didn’t?”
“Sorry, I just…I thought that maybe you wouldn’t want to come celebrate with me, at the clinic that is. Since you’re so glad to get out of there as fast as you did.”
“I am glad to get out of there intact, but that doesn’t mean I would simply forget about the friends I made there, especially you. In case you haven’t noticed yet, sweetie, I kind of like you, you grew on me and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now what would the lady like to have as a gift?”
“God, Orli, you don’t have to get me anything. Just you showing up sounds amazing to me as it is.”
“Bull. Birthday girls get gifts, like they’re supposed to.”
“Suit yourself, I just can’t think of anything.”
“Than I’ll just have to use my imagination.”
She grinned suddenly, feeling elated as they made plans.
“Please don’t do that. I so don’t wanna be the victim of your sordid mind.”
“I’m offended.”
“Deal with it.”
“Now I’m aghast. I’m flabbergasted, I’m deeply wounded.”
“Wounded you say? I happen to know this clinic…”
“I know which one you mean. I’ll meet you there on the 25th. Look, gotta go, Sam’s getting annoyed with me hogging the phone. You just hang in there, okay?”
“Will do. See you later Orli.”
“Later, Wheels.”
I'd really, really, really like to know what you think of my story so far. Please review. Thanks.
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8/Aug/2007, 3:14
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