Coming Home (OB/SB) PG-13

[mimm]

Title: Coming Home
Author: darkie
Pairing: Orlando Bloom / Sean Bean
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Of course. Good or bad.
Summary: Orlando's POV. He comes home.
Disclaimer: Didn't happen. Is fiction.
Author's Notes: Sequel to Before Tomorrow. Can be read by itself.
Thanks: To empy, my faithful and honest beta.


Coming Home

I had come home, but only in body, not in mind. My mind was still restless. I would not find peace until I had really come home. Until I had laid eyes on Sean and heard from him that everything was going to be all right.

After all those numbing hours of sitting on the place I finally set foot on solid, British ground. After getting my luggage I walked outside. Nobody was waiting for me. I hadn't told anyone I was coming because I wanted to be by myself. Sort my things out. I would see my family and friends later, when I was ready to meet them. I was sure that one day they would understand why I had to do it my way.

So, there I was, standing on the pavement, breathing the familiar air I had missed almost as much as him. I had several questions in my mind but only one of them seemed important enough to be asked.

Where would I go now that I was in London?

I could feel a wide smile appearing on my face as I answered my own question. Sean. I had made a promise to him to come look for him after the shooting was over. That was a promise I had no intention of breaking. I had counted months, weeks, days, even hours, until I would be freed from my duties to look for him. To be with him.

To be his. For life, if he would take me.

We never called each other after that one afternoon almost a year ago. I don't really know why. Perhaps he wanted me to fully concentrate on my work. Perhaps he didn't dare to believe I would care. I respected his way and didn't phone him. Maybe I was afraid myself, as well. That the perfect picture, the perfect moment, would be ruined with the cold, mechanical voices spoken on the phone. Maybe I wanted our second time to be perfect.

Now the second time was finally at hand. I had made a few phone calls to confirm that he indeed was in London at the time of my arrival. I knew where he was staying. What a pleasant surprise it would be when I suddenly appeared on his doorstep without any notification beforehand. I could only imagine the expression on his face.

I knew he would be delighted because I was certain he had waited for me, just like I had waited for him. Of course I had had my doubts. What if he found someone else while I was still trapped in New Zealand? What if he forgot me the moment he got on the plane? What if?

Those were dangerous thoughts and I soon learned to avoid them. He had made me swear an oath that I would look for him if I was still interested. It all depended on me. He would wait. He would be there, hoping I wouldn't change my mind.

And I didn't.

It took me a while to walk downtown. I was only a few blocks away from his place when I suddenly saw him. There, in the street, of all the places.

At first I just looked at him. All the faded images I had of him became clearer. He looked just as handsome as I remembered. Maybe even more so. He was talking to some woman in front of him. I couldn't make out who it was because I could only see her back. Sean, on the other hand, I could see. He was smiling so warmly I had to smile myself.

Taking a tighter grip on my bags I began to push my way through the crowd. I could hardly breathe, I was so happy. The woman in front of him wrapped her arms around him. My man. They shared a kiss. His hands were around her. Right there, in front of me. He looked very happy. When the woman let go of him and turned a little I could see who it was. My insides screamed as the truth sank in. Sean wasn't my man alone. He was her man, as well. The woman was one of Sean's ex-wives.

I stopped right then and there, unable to move a limb. It was like a scene from a movie; all that was missing was the camera, circling me, showing me in the middle of the crowd, devastated. I must have looked ridiculous. But I didn't care. All I could think of was Sean and that woman. Kissing.

You didn't wait, Sean. You didn't wait!

Why? Why didn't you wait? I promised to come back and look for you. I kept my promise. I lived all those lonely months in New Zealand, knowing I would come home to you. And you didn't keep your promise. You broke your promise. You broke it!

Fighting the tears and regaining control of my body, I started to walk away from the crowd. As I was about to cross the street I turned to look at Sean for the very last time. It hurt but I wanted to see his face. His happy face.

He saw me. I gave him the finger as I turned to walk away, for good.

I felt betrayed. All those months I kept thinking of him. Every time I started to miss him - and that was often - I thought about calling him. But every time I was reaching for the phone I remembered the promise. No calls. It had to be perfect. Stupid me expected him to wait for ages without hearing a word from me. Now I had to pay the price. The highest price there was.

I hastened my steps as I hurried down the street, trying to think of a place to go when I heard heavy, regular steps behind me, getting closer and closer. Someone was running after me. Soon a hand grabbed my arm, turning me around, only to make me face Sean.

"Orlando. You're home!" he panted heavily, trying to get his voice even. He was so close that I almost forgot what I had just seen.

"Fuck you! Leave me alone!" I yelled at him, not caring what people around us were thinking. I tore myself away from him and continued walking, staring at the street in front of me. I would not cry. I would not show how much it hurt.

"What's the matter? Please, don't go," he pleaded but I would not listen. No way I was going to have a discussion with a traitor. The sooner I got away from him the better it would be and I could start to heal my wounds. Maybe I could even forget him in a month or two? I wasn't feeling too hopeful.

Sean had other plans. He ran in front of me, stopping me with his body. I tried to go past him but he was ahead of me, predicting every movement I made.

"What do you want from me? I kept my promise but apparently you didn't. So if you'll excuse me, I have to go now. Before I kill you right here, you piece of shit!" I hissed at him, noticing people had started to gather up around us, looking at us with great interest.

Sean was stunned and didn't stop me when I continued marching along the street. An old lady and a man I think was her husband were looking at us. The lady was shaking her head like I was a little anarchistic teenager with an attitude problem. I felt like saying something nasty to her but stopped myself just in time. This was between Sean and me. And his woman. God, how did I ever convince myself it could work?

"You loved me!"

I could hear the shout as clearly as if there hadn't been a single soul there, apart from me and the one who shouted. Had Sean finally lost it? Why was he doing something like that in front of the crowd? In front of his woman?

"Orlando, you loved me!" he insisted. I stopped and turned to look at him. The people were talking but I couldn't hear what it was they were saying. Great. That was just what I needed, a free audience. Nothing special at stake. Just my life.

"So what? What good does it do anymore? It's over now!" I yelled back, bitterness in my voice. People wanted a show? Well, let's give it to them, then. Were actors really any good for anything else, anyway?

"A lovers' quarrel," the old man said to his wife, amusement in his voice. Both Sean and I turned to look at him, and he was smiling at us. His wife didn't seem to agree with him at all and pulled him by his arm. She mumbled something to him as they walked away. I was still looking at him, wondering what he had meant, when Sean distracted me.

"Is it?" Sean asked in a tired, barely audible voice.

"Is it what? A lovers' quarrel? How should I know?"

"No. Is it over between you and me? That's what I want to know," he cleared up my confusion.

What was I to answer to that? I could always choose to lie to him. Say it was really over. That I didn't love him anymore. That I didn't have any feelings for him. None, whatsoever. Or, I could make a confession. Tell him how much he meant to me. Then I remembered the incident between him and his wife.

"It is. It's over Sean. The show's over and we both know it. You once feared you'd hurt me. Guess you were right," I said to him. I took my bags and walked away. That time, he didn't follow me.

* * * * *

One would think it's not a hard thing to do, at all, letting go of the flimsy flings in your life. But it is. I guess it was love, after all. That, or very persistent lust. In any case, I learned to live with my loss and get on with my life.

Weeks passed, and I slowly started to get used to the idea of a life without Sean. Then, one day, I was walking down the familiar street, concentrating on my thoughts, when I heard a voice I recognized. I looked up and Sean was standing in front of me, uncertainty all over his face.

"Hello, Sean," I greeted him. No point in starting a fight. No reason to get melodramatic. It was good to see him again. Even if it would only be for a few moments.

"Good afternoon yourself. Fancy running into you here," he answered. Only to look uncomfortable as he realized what he had just said. The last visit to this place hadn't gone too well for either one of us.

"Yeah. How's your life? How's your wife?"

I could have bitten my tongue after saying that. Why did I insist on being bitchy, even when everything was over and dealt with? When we had both learned to let go. Or at least fake that we had.

"I'm fine. She's fine. Listen... Could we go somewhere and talk?" he shifted from one foot to another, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

I pointed at the nearby park. I was sure there was a bench somewhere. We could go there, sit down, and have a nice, long talk. Or something similar. He made a slight "after you" movement with his hand and I started to walk, Sean right behind me. Eyes closed, I prayed to God to let it all end well.

I don't want to fuck this up twice.

Before we reached the park Sean asked me a question. A question I had hoped neither one of us would ever ask again.

"It was love, wasn't it?"

Fuck. No, Sean. You don't ask things like that. You tell me about your life with your pretty wife. A wife who is good and kind and loving. He could have chosen worse, I thought to myself ironically. He could have chosen me, for example.

"What difference does it make? You're with her now," I stated, every muscle in my body tensing up at the thought of being with Sean, talking to him. Finally, we were together, even if it wasn't permanent. Even if it was only a casual, random meeting downtown.

"It was," he continued, obviously not getting the hint.

I turned to look at him. His eyes were only a few inches away from mine and I could almost feel his breathing on my face. Definitely not a good thing. This called for a cool and calm approach. Having Sean's lips so close to mine wasn't helping at all.

"Sean. Don't. I have a good life, now. I'm happy. Don't do that. Don't talk about things that are beyond our control."

"Just tell me and I'll leave you. If you want," he said, cocking his head to look at me from under his lashes. Shit. I wanted to back out but I didn't want to seem like a coward. I let out a long sigh.

"I already said it in New Zealand. You didn't believe it at first. I'm beginning to think you never did. If you did you sure as hell never cared. Otherwise you wouldn't be doing this."

"Orlando," he offered in a friendly tone.

"Sean," I repeated like a parrot, not taking the friendliness. Being friendly wasn't an option when your heart had been broken into little pieces and then stepped on. Twice. It was bad enough he hurt me once. To open those wounds again felt even worse. If only he would have stayed away. Would have left me alone, by myself.

"Please, Orlando."

"Please what? And stop repeating my name like it means something to you."

"It does."

"What? What does it mean to you? A person whose life you wanted to turn upside down just for the fun of it? A person you wanted to shag before you got cold feet and went for the ladies instead? What does my name mean to you? What has it ever meant to you?"

"It was the name of a person who said he loved me. A person I happened to love, too. A person to whom I made a promise."

I looked him straight into those green eyes. Not backing out. Not now. Not anymore. If he wanted to tear the wounds open, then by all means, I didn't want to be the one stopping him.

"A promise you didn't have the decency to keep. A promise you broke as soon as you got rid of me and came here."

"No. A promise I made and kept. A promise I will keep until he says he still loves me."

What kind of a game was he playing? What was he talking about? What did it mean? I didn't understand anything anymore. I forgot to be angry because the anger was replaced by confusion. Was he really that cruel? The Sean I had learned to know in New Zealand was never cruel to anyone. Not intentionally. Not like this. There had to be something behind all the words he said with such persistence.

"Sean, you know I love you. Why else would I have come looking for you? But we both know it doesn't matter anymore because you're back with your wife. There. May I please leave now? I can't take this anymore," I asked, nearly breaking down. I was tired. I wanted to go home and sleep. Get drunk. Anything to make me forget the past couple of years and preferably the coming months, as well.

"I'm not back with anyone. My wife... my ex-wife, has a new man in her life. It's not me. She was just visiting me. I did wait," Sean said, voice soft and sad. "Orlando, I still wait."

"I still wait. Please, tell me I don't have to wait any longer."

I was speechless. I stared at his mouth and turned away.

"I have to. Please, Sean, I have to go now," I muttered, my hand brushing through my hair. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. I couldn't *anything*. I had to walk away. I needed fresh air or I would have suffocated. It was the worst nightmare I had ever had. So vivid, so real. So hopeful. But it had to be a dream. I had eyes. I saw how Sean and his wife kissed, how they embraced each other.

"Stop!" Sean shouted, voice so rough and determined I couldn't but comply. He marched to me, took me by my shoulders and raised my head with his hand. His eyes were getting wet. He looked desperate. Lost, somehow.

"Stop, Orlando. Don't run away all the time. I'm too old for that," he said in a strange sarcastic way, his voice warm and soft. And sad. So sad it hurt me.

"But... I saw you together. If that wasn't love then I don't know what is," I said, frowning, looking him in the eye, trying to look for the truth. I couldn't get away from his grip. I was too tired. I would have to try to survive the nightmare, right to the bitter end where I'd find myself waking up in an empty bed.

"It is love. Love for an ex. My love for you is something completely different. Haven't you realized that by now, you thick-headed fool?" he smiled at me.

"Are you saying you really waited? That all the months I spent in New Zealand, not hearing from you, you waited? And didn't get someone else?"

"Yes. And you have very helpful friends who kept me informed on what was going on while I wasn't around," he answered, his hand finding its way to the side of my neck. I had missed that tickling feeling more than anything. I couldn't stop the chuckle.

"You've been spying on me, haven't you? You Men, you are all the same. Even when you die you have your spies doing the work for you."

His eyes became brighter than ever before. The tears intensified the glimmer even more. The smile I had loved so very dearly came back. I knew it wasn't a nightmare. If it was, I would have woken up right then. But I didn't wake up. Sean was really there. And he was looking at me, smiling like an idiot. Like an idiot in love. I realized that now.

"Are you saying I don't have to wait anymore?" Sean asked, sounding hopeful.

"If you'll take me home, I'm all yours," I said, leaning slowly forward in his grip, my lips touching his.

He was very eager to welcome me home. I didn't have to imagine how his hands would feel around my neck because they were already there. I wouldn't have to try to remember what his kisses tasted like because he was already showing me. I wouldn't have to fear losing him since he was there, not willing to let go of me any time soon.

That. That was the moment when I knew I had finally come home. Home to him. And I'm still here.

The End.