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fellowshippers2002-09-01 05:27 pm
cheeky-duckie.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2002-09-01 05:27 pm
"For Your Safety"
Title: For Your Safety
Author: Ashes (Ashes_1361@hotmail.com)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Orlando/Elijah
Summary: Orlando turns to Elijah after being beaten around by a nameless, faceless "she."
Disclaimer: Didnt happen. I doubt Orlando would take such shit anyway. And Domestic abuse sucks. I dont support it.
Feedback: I'd love you forever!!
Warnings: mentioned domestic abuse, and, um, yea, that's it.
Notes: Domos to Aniko and Purple Punkie, who helped greatly.
--
Orlando walked down the street, the hood of his sweatshirt draping shadows around his sullen face. People passed him on the streets as though he was just a normal person, and he liked the feeling of anonymity at the moment. The rain fell thickly but softly, making the street shine a brilliant black. A car or two occasionally passed, but there was otherwise very little traffic that night.
She had hit him again.
He ran through all the usual stories of violence in relationships through his head, but none fit him. He couldn't say, "She only does it when she drinks," because she didn't drink. He couldn't say that, "She does it to keep me in line," because he never did anything to need to be put back in line. He couldn't claim, "I make her do it," because he did everything in his power to make her happy. He couldn't state, "I know that I can change her," because he had no urge to change her. He couldn't even say, "I know she loves me," because he wasn't entirely sure that she did.
What did that leave him with? A 5-foot-nothing, 120-pound, angelic-looking woman who could beat the shit out of him at will. For all intents and purposes, she was a sadistic bitch who got off beating him senseless for no reason. And he couldn't muster the courage to leave her. She never threatened him into staying, and there certainly wasn't a lack of women who would gladly jump into his pants. He had great friends, and he had not a degree of loneliness in his soul. She did nothing good for him; there was nothing financially, socially, security... hell, there were hardly any sexual benefits to the relationship he had with her. He just never could leave her, no matter how badly beaten and bruised he was, no matter how bad things got.
He had needed to leave tonight though. It was too much, and she had been way too riled for him to be able to stay and bear it. With any luck, he could return at midnight and she would be sound asleep. He could go in, put some ice on his eye, and then sneaked into bed and get some sleep before morning. He looked at his watch. It was 9:42 PM, which left him with 2 hours or so to waste. He instinctively went to Elijah, like he always did when the beatings got too rough. Of course, it had been a couple of weeks before it had been so bad, but they both knew that there was a breaking point in which Orlando would need a temporary shelter, sanctuary from the storm.
Orlando looked to the sky as he walked, blinking against the harsh yellow of the streetlights. He almost smiled at the rain, feeling as though a thousand angels might be up there, all weeping for his predicament. It may have been egomaniacal of him, to think that thousand of angels would cry on his behalf, but it made him feel good to know that someone was able to cry when he could not.
When he knocked on Elijah's door the first time, no one answered. He knocked again, almost panicking that he would have no where to turn, when a light came on and the door opened. Elijah looked at him and said, "Jesus, again?" There was obvious sorrow and anger present in his features, and he led Orlando in, to the couch. "Let's take a look."
"It's not that bad," Orlando insisted. "She was just really pissed."
"If she's still hitting you, it's bad. Now let me see," Elijah demanded softly. At moments like present, he was never too harsh with Orlando. Orlando slowly pulled back his hood, and he saw the look on Elijah's face as he revealed the extent of the damage. He looked angry, frightened, hateful, and loving all in one moment, and Orlando wasn't sure whether to be relieved or to be scared by how much his friend cared. Elijah then sat beside Orlando, the tenderness returning to his face, all other emotions hidden for Orlando's sake. "How did this happen?" Elijah asked softly, referring to a small path of dried blood down the side of Orlando's face.
"She was wearing a ring of some sort when she punched me," Orlando admitted. Elijah stood and went to the bathroom. He returned with a wash cloth and some antibacterial cream. He slowly began t wash the blood from Orlando's face. "It's not like the other time."
"Of course not. If that happens again, it'll be a coroner cleaning you off, not me."
"It wasn't that bad."
"You never think it is," Elijah retorted sharply, gently rubbing the cream onto the small cut. It stung, but Orlando didn't move; he had developed a high threshold of pain. "For fuck's sake, Orlando, she could have beaten you with a goddamn baseball bat and you would still tell me that it wasn't as bad as it seemed. It was awful that one time, and it's awful now!" Elijah looked as though he regretted his last statement, and then, going back to his gentler tone, said, "I'm going to get you some ice." Elijah stood again, left Orlando. He returned with a small plastic Ziploc bag of ice wrapped in a clean dishtowel.
"Thanks," Orlando murmured, looking down and away from Elijah as he applied it to his eye. He hated showing up in the night like this, but he always knew that this was where he could turn and not be turned away-or worse, where no one would call the cops.
"You need to get out of those clothes before you get a cold; we don't need to add to your list of problems. I'll get you a blanket." For the third time, Elijah left Orlando alone as he went to retrieve something. Orlando didn't deny the fact that he was shivering, but he was resistant to the idea of removing his clothing, exposing that much to Elijah. He made no move to remove his clothing. When Elijah returned with a blanket, he looked annoyed that Orlando was still clothed. He sat beside Orlando, setting the blanket on the floor. "You can't just sit there in those wet clothes all night. I refuse to let you. I'm not going to remove them by force, but I am going to pester you straight to hell until you take them off." Orlando sighed and set down the ice, complying with Elijah's wishes. He pulled his shirt over his head. He kept his eyes closed, and he couldn't see Elijah, but he could hear the sharp intake of breath as the bruises that littered Orlando's shoulders and back were revealed. Some bruises were worse than others, but the sheer magnitude of them left the severity unimportant.
"It's-"
"Don't you dare even say it!" Elijah snapped. "She did all this tonight?"
"No," Orlando admitted.
"I thought it was just once every couple of weeks."
"No. It's only so bad once every couple of weeks."
"Oh my god."
Orlando finished disrobing, and Elijah handed him the blanket. He cocooned himself in it, needing the safety and security of it at that moment. Elijah paced in front of the couch.
"How?" he demanded, not bothering to be gentle with Orlando.
"Various things." Orlando didn't want to rehash the horrible details with Elijah. "Look, I only need somewhere to stay until midnight or so-"
"You're not going home."
"What?"
"I'm not letting you leave here tonight."
"But I-"
"No. Either you stay willingly or I'll keep you be force, but you're nothing going back to that house tonight. Okay?"
Orlando looked around helplessly, weighed his optioned, and sighed heavily. "Fine. I'll stay."
"Good," Elijah nodded. "Upstairs." Elijah turned off the light and led Orlando into his room, and Orlando laid down in the bed. Elijah closed the door and got into the bed beside Orlando, pulling the covers over the both of them. Orlando was secretly relieved by the security he felt: the closed off, dark room; the blankets; his proximity to Elijah... it all put him at ease.
"Thank you," Orlando admitted softly.
"What happened tonight?"
Orlando swallowed slowly, taking a deep breath. "I'm not sure. I had just got out of the shower, and she was just there when I opened the door. I don't know if she was there, waiting for me, or if it just happened by some cruel twist of fate. Either way, she was pissed about something. I wasn't dressed-hell, I wasn't even completely dry yet." Elijah touched the side of Orlando's face, and something shone in his eyes that moved Orlando more than anything ever had. He felt the first tear fall. "I just got dressed and got the fuck out of there as soon as I could." Another tear fell, and for the first time in all the months he had endured, all the things that had happened, he began to cry. His tears were silent, but his body shook as he covered his face, almost ashamed that he was breaking down suddenly. Elijah made a shushing noise, pulling Orlando close to him. Orlando curled close to Elijah, feeding off the warmth and safely Elijah was offering.
Before long, Orlando's tears subsided into soft sniffles, and those to occasional sighs, and very soon he was asleep beside Elijah, looking calmer than he had in a long time. Elijah almost wept to see his friend in so much pain, but his eyes remained dry. He placed a soft kiss on Orlando's sleeping lips, and stood going to the nearest phone.
He paused only for a moment. In one hand, he had his friend's wishes and the wrath he would receive if he called the cops. However, on the other hand he had his friend's safety, and that turned out to be much more important.
Without another thought he dialed the number.
Author: Ashes (Ashes_1361@hotmail.com)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Orlando/Elijah
Summary: Orlando turns to Elijah after being beaten around by a nameless, faceless "she."
Disclaimer: Didnt happen. I doubt Orlando would take such shit anyway. And Domestic abuse sucks. I dont support it.
Feedback: I'd love you forever!!
Warnings: mentioned domestic abuse, and, um, yea, that's it.
Notes: Domos to Aniko and Purple Punkie, who helped greatly.
--
Orlando walked down the street, the hood of his sweatshirt draping shadows around his sullen face. People passed him on the streets as though he was just a normal person, and he liked the feeling of anonymity at the moment. The rain fell thickly but softly, making the street shine a brilliant black. A car or two occasionally passed, but there was otherwise very little traffic that night.
She had hit him again.
He ran through all the usual stories of violence in relationships through his head, but none fit him. He couldn't say, "She only does it when she drinks," because she didn't drink. He couldn't say that, "She does it to keep me in line," because he never did anything to need to be put back in line. He couldn't claim, "I make her do it," because he did everything in his power to make her happy. He couldn't state, "I know that I can change her," because he had no urge to change her. He couldn't even say, "I know she loves me," because he wasn't entirely sure that she did.
What did that leave him with? A 5-foot-nothing, 120-pound, angelic-looking woman who could beat the shit out of him at will. For all intents and purposes, she was a sadistic bitch who got off beating him senseless for no reason. And he couldn't muster the courage to leave her. She never threatened him into staying, and there certainly wasn't a lack of women who would gladly jump into his pants. He had great friends, and he had not a degree of loneliness in his soul. She did nothing good for him; there was nothing financially, socially, security... hell, there were hardly any sexual benefits to the relationship he had with her. He just never could leave her, no matter how badly beaten and bruised he was, no matter how bad things got.
He had needed to leave tonight though. It was too much, and she had been way too riled for him to be able to stay and bear it. With any luck, he could return at midnight and she would be sound asleep. He could go in, put some ice on his eye, and then sneaked into bed and get some sleep before morning. He looked at his watch. It was 9:42 PM, which left him with 2 hours or so to waste. He instinctively went to Elijah, like he always did when the beatings got too rough. Of course, it had been a couple of weeks before it had been so bad, but they both knew that there was a breaking point in which Orlando would need a temporary shelter, sanctuary from the storm.
Orlando looked to the sky as he walked, blinking against the harsh yellow of the streetlights. He almost smiled at the rain, feeling as though a thousand angels might be up there, all weeping for his predicament. It may have been egomaniacal of him, to think that thousand of angels would cry on his behalf, but it made him feel good to know that someone was able to cry when he could not.
When he knocked on Elijah's door the first time, no one answered. He knocked again, almost panicking that he would have no where to turn, when a light came on and the door opened. Elijah looked at him and said, "Jesus, again?" There was obvious sorrow and anger present in his features, and he led Orlando in, to the couch. "Let's take a look."
"It's not that bad," Orlando insisted. "She was just really pissed."
"If she's still hitting you, it's bad. Now let me see," Elijah demanded softly. At moments like present, he was never too harsh with Orlando. Orlando slowly pulled back his hood, and he saw the look on Elijah's face as he revealed the extent of the damage. He looked angry, frightened, hateful, and loving all in one moment, and Orlando wasn't sure whether to be relieved or to be scared by how much his friend cared. Elijah then sat beside Orlando, the tenderness returning to his face, all other emotions hidden for Orlando's sake. "How did this happen?" Elijah asked softly, referring to a small path of dried blood down the side of Orlando's face.
"She was wearing a ring of some sort when she punched me," Orlando admitted. Elijah stood and went to the bathroom. He returned with a wash cloth and some antibacterial cream. He slowly began t wash the blood from Orlando's face. "It's not like the other time."
"Of course not. If that happens again, it'll be a coroner cleaning you off, not me."
"It wasn't that bad."
"You never think it is," Elijah retorted sharply, gently rubbing the cream onto the small cut. It stung, but Orlando didn't move; he had developed a high threshold of pain. "For fuck's sake, Orlando, she could have beaten you with a goddamn baseball bat and you would still tell me that it wasn't as bad as it seemed. It was awful that one time, and it's awful now!" Elijah looked as though he regretted his last statement, and then, going back to his gentler tone, said, "I'm going to get you some ice." Elijah stood again, left Orlando. He returned with a small plastic Ziploc bag of ice wrapped in a clean dishtowel.
"Thanks," Orlando murmured, looking down and away from Elijah as he applied it to his eye. He hated showing up in the night like this, but he always knew that this was where he could turn and not be turned away-or worse, where no one would call the cops.
"You need to get out of those clothes before you get a cold; we don't need to add to your list of problems. I'll get you a blanket." For the third time, Elijah left Orlando alone as he went to retrieve something. Orlando didn't deny the fact that he was shivering, but he was resistant to the idea of removing his clothing, exposing that much to Elijah. He made no move to remove his clothing. When Elijah returned with a blanket, he looked annoyed that Orlando was still clothed. He sat beside Orlando, setting the blanket on the floor. "You can't just sit there in those wet clothes all night. I refuse to let you. I'm not going to remove them by force, but I am going to pester you straight to hell until you take them off." Orlando sighed and set down the ice, complying with Elijah's wishes. He pulled his shirt over his head. He kept his eyes closed, and he couldn't see Elijah, but he could hear the sharp intake of breath as the bruises that littered Orlando's shoulders and back were revealed. Some bruises were worse than others, but the sheer magnitude of them left the severity unimportant.
"It's-"
"Don't you dare even say it!" Elijah snapped. "She did all this tonight?"
"No," Orlando admitted.
"I thought it was just once every couple of weeks."
"No. It's only so bad once every couple of weeks."
"Oh my god."
Orlando finished disrobing, and Elijah handed him the blanket. He cocooned himself in it, needing the safety and security of it at that moment. Elijah paced in front of the couch.
"How?" he demanded, not bothering to be gentle with Orlando.
"Various things." Orlando didn't want to rehash the horrible details with Elijah. "Look, I only need somewhere to stay until midnight or so-"
"You're not going home."
"What?"
"I'm not letting you leave here tonight."
"But I-"
"No. Either you stay willingly or I'll keep you be force, but you're nothing going back to that house tonight. Okay?"
Orlando looked around helplessly, weighed his optioned, and sighed heavily. "Fine. I'll stay."
"Good," Elijah nodded. "Upstairs." Elijah turned off the light and led Orlando into his room, and Orlando laid down in the bed. Elijah closed the door and got into the bed beside Orlando, pulling the covers over the both of them. Orlando was secretly relieved by the security he felt: the closed off, dark room; the blankets; his proximity to Elijah... it all put him at ease.
"Thank you," Orlando admitted softly.
"What happened tonight?"
Orlando swallowed slowly, taking a deep breath. "I'm not sure. I had just got out of the shower, and she was just there when I opened the door. I don't know if she was there, waiting for me, or if it just happened by some cruel twist of fate. Either way, she was pissed about something. I wasn't dressed-hell, I wasn't even completely dry yet." Elijah touched the side of Orlando's face, and something shone in his eyes that moved Orlando more than anything ever had. He felt the first tear fall. "I just got dressed and got the fuck out of there as soon as I could." Another tear fell, and for the first time in all the months he had endured, all the things that had happened, he began to cry. His tears were silent, but his body shook as he covered his face, almost ashamed that he was breaking down suddenly. Elijah made a shushing noise, pulling Orlando close to him. Orlando curled close to Elijah, feeding off the warmth and safely Elijah was offering.
Before long, Orlando's tears subsided into soft sniffles, and those to occasional sighs, and very soon he was asleep beside Elijah, looking calmer than he had in a long time. Elijah almost wept to see his friend in so much pain, but his eyes remained dry. He placed a soft kiss on Orlando's sleeping lips, and stood going to the nearest phone.
He paused only for a moment. In one hand, he had his friend's wishes and the wrath he would receive if he called the cops. However, on the other hand he had his friend's safety, and that turned out to be much more important.
Without another thought he dialed the number.
no subject
Write more. gimmiegimmie. Wanna make sure everything turns out ok.
great job! I needed a late night read.
:)
Domo.
Am debating writing more to this. Havent decided yet.
no subject
Re:
Am working on it.