Part 17:


“Please, Doctor Cain, all I ask for is a few more weeks, he is making progress,
I assure you!”

“Nurse Bates, you have assured me that every week for the past few months. I 
know you have a good heart, but the boy is a helpless case. I am afraid that if
he does not show any kind of progress by Friday he will be taken to the asylum 
by Mr. Jeremy.”

“Mr. Jeremy!” Nurse Bates exclaimed, hurrying after the retreating form of Dr.
Cain, who had already considered the matter closed and was moving on to check 
other patients. The stout woman took the refined doctor by the shoulder and made
him face her. “But Doctor, you know Mr. Jeremy’s history! If he is allowed alone
with that boy…well…I do not even want to say aloud what I fear he will do!”

“Will you lower your voice please, Nurse Bates,” Dr. Cain hissed. He looked 
around to make sure that no one had overheard. The last thing he needed was the
reputation of his hospital being tarnished because one of the nurses had to go 
an talk about one of his staff taking liberties with some pretty little comatose
boy. He looked her squarely in the face, “I know Mortensen has been paying for
his room, but I need the space. So, as I said, You have the rest of the week. If
by that time that boy has not shown any more improvement and I mean visible 
improvement, then on Friday Mr. Jeremy will take him to the asylum. I don’t care
what Mortensen wants with him then, maybe he will still feel generous and get 
the boy a private room there.” Dr. Cain held her gaze a moment longer to make 
sure he was understood.

“Now, if you have nothing else for me, I have other patients to attend.” Doctor
Cain waited a moment longer before nodding curtly and turning to the next ward.

Nurse Bates watched his leave with pursed lips and anger in her eyes. She 
quickly made her way through the hallways and towards the solitary wing, looking
for a certain dark haired Irishman.



Colin slammed Orlando’s door open and burst in, crossing across the room in long
strides to the bed. Orlando did not flinch, as usual. He also did not flinch 
when Colin grabbed him by the upper arms and raised him up into a sitting 
position and shook him. “Come out of it Orlando!” he shouted. He waited for a 
second, but he saw nothing in Orlando’s eyes. The youth’s head turned and he 
looked at the Irishman, but his eyes were empty. 

“God damnit Orlando!” He shouted as he shook the youth again. “They are going to
lock you away in a damn asylum! They are going to throw away the key and let you
rot if you don’t just fucking say something!” 

Colin sat down on the bed in front of Orlando and held the boy in a sitting 
position. The took Orlando’s face in his hands and made him look at him. “Don’t
you care about what happens to you?”

He thought he saw a flicker in Orlando’s dark eyes at that. Colin’s own eyes 
widened in realization. “You don’t, do you? You don’t care at all what will 
happen. You can hear everything I say, you know you are going to the asylum…but
you don’t care. Why? Is it just because of Sean?” Colin released his hard grip 
on the youth and once again took him by the upper arms, this time much more 
gently. “You want them to put you away, don’t you? Orlando, I know that right 
now it seems that there is nothing else left in the world now that Sean and Lord
Lee are dead, but you are wrong. There are other things to live for. Don‘t waste
away and die in some asylum”

Orlando opened his mouth, and at first no words came out. When he finally found
his voice, it was cracked and hoarse from misuse. “I-I am already dead, Colin. I
feel dead inside…”

“No Orlando, no, you aren’t dead,” Colin assured him, pulling the youth’s head 
to rest against his chest and stroking his back. “Sean would not want you to say
that, Orlando. Sean would want you to live and be happy. Do you really think 
that anyone who loved you like he did would want to think of you laying on some
cold filthy asylum floor?”

Orlando sniffled into Colin’s chest and gripped the man’s shoulders for support.
Colin held the broken youth in his arms, waiting for Orlando to say the words 
that he needed to get out so desperately. Orlando shook in his arms, sobbing.

“I am sorry I caused you trouble, Colin.” the youth said. “I just…I just…”

“It’s alright, Orlando, you don’t have to explain.” Colin assured him as he 
ruffled the younger man’s short hair. 

“I miss him…I miss him so much.” the young Brit’s voice was no more than a 
whisper.

Colin continued to rock Orlando gently, trying to sooth him with his hands and 
words. He knew that he had to let Nurse Bates know that Orlando had finally 
rejoined the living. He felt bad about parting with the youth, but he knew that
the worried woman had the right to know.

Colin gently lowered Orlando back down onto the mattress and moved him so he lay
comfortably. Colin tenderly wiped away the tears that ran down the young man’s 
soft cheeks with his thumbs. Orlando’s lower lip trembled as he gazed at the 
Irishman, unshed tears filling his eyes. Colin leaned down close to him and 
stroked his hair again, gently pulling out of Orlando’s grip. “Listen, why don’t
you try and get some rest, you look exhausted, ok?”

Orlando nodded and rested his head against the pillow, yet his hands still 
reached for Colin’s.

Colin stood from the bed and began to walk away but Orlando’s head shot up and 
the boy shouted out to him, “Please don’t leave me!” he cried.

“I will be back soon, I promise,” Colin said as he walked to the door.

“No!” Orlando cried out, drawing the sheets from his body and swinging his bare
legs over the edge of the bed. He pushed himself up to a standing position and
took one step before his legs gave out beneath him, weak from disuse. Orlando 
crumbled to the floor, his hospital shirt riding up around his thighs.

Colin turned at the sound of Orlando’s body hitting the floor, and immediately 
raced back to the fallen youth. Orlando was struggling to stand, desperately 
crying out his friend’s name. “Please, don’t leave me, I don’t want to be alone”
Orlando sobbed, not caring that he sounded like a child. He needed to feel the 
comfort of another person, needed their closeness. He needed to know that 
something would stay after everything had been taken from him.

Colin knelt and pulled Orlando into his arms. Orlando clutched to him as his 
legs could not support him. “Please…” Orlando begged, his big doe eyes boring 
into Colin’s. The Irishman could do naught but fulfill the request. 

“It’s alright,” he said softly as he all but carried Orlando back to bed. “It’s
alright, I am here. I promise not to go anywhere…” Colin laid his charge down 
onto the hospital bed and made sure he was covered completely by the sheet and 
coarse but warm blanket. He went to go sit on the edge of the bed, but Orlando 
took the edge of the blanket and pulled it back, managing to scoot his body back
to allow room. Colin took the hint and lay down on the bed beside Orlando, 
pulling the blanket over himself as well.

“Is this ok?” He asked Orlando, making sure the boy was alright. The response 
was a simple nod before those big eyes looked at him again. Orlando lay still 
for a moment, and then finally he could not take it any more and the young Brit
rolled over to nestle himself against Colin’s chest. Colin was surprised at the
younger man’s actions, and it took him a moment to react. When he finally was 
able to move again though, he wrapped his arms around Orlando, holding the 
trembling youth close and offering the comfort he so desperately.




The next morning Viggo looked down the hall and was delighted to not see the 
bastard Irishman guarding Orlando’s door. If that man actually thought he could
keep Viggo away from his lovely prize he was thoroughly mistaken.

Viggo was about to go down the hall when he was stopped by nurse Bates. That 
infernal woman…

“Lord Mortensen…a word,” she said cryptically, beckoning him with a finger away
from Orlando’s ward. Mortensen groaned in frustration before heading over to 
her. Before she could speak a word he raised a hand to silence her. “Please, 
Nurse Bates, a word.”

She nodded her concession before he began.

“I have been trying to see my ward for the past two weeks. Either that bloody 
Irishman is there blocking the door and hounding me during my visit, or you seem
to require my attention to keep me away. I have had enough of it. I am going to
see the boy today, and neither of you are going to stop me, is that in any way 
unclear?” Viggo held her gaze sternly letting her know that his words held no 
room for sway.

Nurse Bates pursed her lips disagreeably but nodded. “Of course it is clear sir.
I shall take you to him when I am done, and perhaps you would like to join me 
while I go in for his checkup. It is about Orlando though that I must speak to 
you.” Her tone was grave, and Viggo was beginning to worry that he would not be
able to claim his pretty little prize after all.

“What is wrong with Orlando? Has he regressed in his condition?”

Nurse Bates sighed and shifted her weight to her other leg. “I wish it were such
a thing. The poor boy has had no progress either way. I am afraid that if by 
Friday Orlando has continued to not show progress, the doctor is having him sent
to the asylum.”

Viggo’s eyes widened for a split second. His mind began to work as to how he 
could get around it. He was paying for Orlando’s medical bills because he 
figured the boy would wake out of this state…and then he could have him. It 
seemed though, that the youth was about to become a pointless expense. After all
the trouble he had gone through to acquire the boy though, he would hate to have
to give him up…

“Is there any way that perhaps I could take him and let him be cared for on my 
estates?” Lord Mortensen asked.

Nurse Bates’ eyes widened n shock. “Take him to your estate?” she asked in 
dismay. “Lord Mortensen, Orlando is a very sick young man. He needs expert 
attention that can only be provided in a hospital or at a private asylum.”

Viggo tried to force back the sneer that desperately wanted to break free. He 
was at a loss for what to do. A room in a private asylum was quite expensive. It
was not that Mortensen did not have the finances to pay for it…he did. He got a
sort of grim satisfaction in the thought that he could use the money he was 
inheriting from Lord Lee to pay for the room in the asylum if he had to.

Collecting himself into the pristine looking gentleman that he was, Viggo fixed
his cool blue eyes on the portly Nurse and gave her a cold smile. “Well, then we
better hope for a speedy recovery, hadn’t we?”

Nurse Bates did not at all like the look in the man’s eyes, it gave her the 
shivers. She nodded though, not wanting to appear put off by him. 

The Lord straightened himself up, placing his hands behind his back and slightly
leaning forward in a stance that he knew to be particularly intimidating. “Now,
as I have heard what you had to tell me, I would appreciate it if you would lead
me to the young Mr. Bloom’s room so I may have a look at him.”

Nurse Bates knew that there was no way out of it and so she grudgingly smiled 
and gestured down the hall, indicating that he should follow her. Both of them 
knew that Lord Mortensen knew where the room was, and both were very aware that
he was making a definite point in having Nurse Bates lead him. There was no
question as to who in the end was in charge, and Viggo wanted every second he 
could get to gloat. 

Nurse Bates opened the door and stepped back, allowing Lord Mortensen to enter 
before her. He did so with a curt nod…and was greeting to a most infuriating 
sight…

There was that damned Irishman…Farrell…he had abandoned his post in the hall and
taken up in the room instead. Viggo looked about with a disapproving eye and saw
Orlando facing away from him, and the sheets rumpled where someone had gotten 
out from under them. Farrell’s shirt was also laying across the vacant side of 
Orlando’s bed. The Irishman was washing under his arms with a rag from the basin
at the foot of Orlando’s bed, as free as he pleased.

“Just what do you think you are doing?” Viggo asked, his gravelly voice sounding
like a territorial growl.

“Having a bath…I was beginning to get a bit ripe after wearing my same 
shirt…sir,” Colin explained as though it were the most simple thing in the 
world.

Viggo turned to Nurse Bates in growing irritation. “What is he doing in here?”

Nurse Bates stepped forward, raising a hand to the agitated Lord’s shoulder to 
try and ease him. “Mr. Farrell has come on as a sort of helper. He has aided me
in caring for Orlando, as recently I have been most busy fulfilling my other 
duties. Mr. Farrell has done an excellent job, I assure you milord.” 

Viggo did not seem to be much soothed by the news. He did not like that for the
last two weeks he had been kept from the room while this servant did as he 
pleased…Viggo stepped forward, his voice growing in volume as he told Colin off.
“Now you listen to me you Irish…”

Colin raised his finger to his lips to silence the man in the most disrespectful
and infuriating way Viggo had ever seen. “Best to keep your voice down, sir, he
just went to sleep not too long ago, and I would hate to wake him.”

Nurse Bates pushed forward. “Do you mean he is conscious?” she asked excitedly,
rushing over to the bed and trying her best to not reach out and wake the boy. 
She could not believe that he had finally become conscious…come out of the shock
at long last, so near the end of his time at the hospital. 

Colin smiled and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “He came out of it last
night…I don’t really remember what I said to him…but he came out of it. I talked
to him for a little while, then put him to bed. He was awake this morning, but 
really tired. He went back to sleep less than an hour ago.”

“The poor dear…” Nurse Bates said lovingly, unable to resist from reaching out 
and brushing his baby soft hair with her fingertips. She looked up at Colin with
unshed tears in her eyes. “Oh…I can’t help it…I need to see it for myself.” 

Colin and Lord Mortensen watched as Nurse Bates slowly eased Orlando onto his 
back and then gently began to shake his shoulders. “Orlando…” she said in a soft
voice so as not to startle him. “Orlando…wake up…”

Everyone held their breath as they waited for Orlando to open his chocolate 
eyes…

Viggo leaned forward and for a second worried that Farrell had been wring, but 
then there was a little moan from Orlando’s cupid bow lips before his head 
lolled to the side. 

“Colin…?” he moaned tentatively before opening his eyes slowly against the harsh
light of day. 

Nurse Bates cried out in happiness and pulled Orlando up against her breast,
holding him close and rocking him. “Oh, my dear boy…you are finally awake…Mr. 
Farrell and I were so worried!”

Orlando was still groggy but coming to, and he allowed himself to nuzzle 
comfortably against the woman’s ample bosom and cushioning. Colin went and sat 
on the bed next to Nurse Bates and Orlando, placing a hand of comfort on the 
youth’s back. He then grabbed his shirt and checked to make sure it was dry 
before donning it. It was such a nice moment, after all their weeks of care and
worry, to finally see Orlando getting better.

It would have been sweet at least, if Mortensen had not been a looming presence
over them the whole time, watching them handle Orlando with the same edginess of
a woman watching strangers handle her prized diamond necklace. More than 
anything, Viggo wanted the two to get out so he cold have a few moments along 
with Orlando.

Mortensen had finally had enough, and he cleared his throat, getting their 
attention. “Mr. Farrell,” he said in his most aristocratic voice, “Why don’t you
go and fetch Doctor Cain, I am sure he would like to know his wards changed 
status.”

Colin flashed a look over to Nurse Bates, and she nodded to him as she helped 
Orlando to properly sit upright, propping pillows behind him. Orlando had caught
sight of Viggo, and it was obvious that the man made him a little uneasy. Bates
however did not notice, and she continued helping Orlando and speaking to Colin.
“Would you please, Mr. Farrell? I am sure a great weight would be lifted for Dr.
Cain to know that Mr. Bloom was no longer a worry for him.”

“Of course mum,” Colin said, rising from his seat on the couch. Orlando feebly
reached out a hand to him and Colin caught it gently in his own, smoothing his 
thumb over the soft skin on top of the younger man’s hand in soothing circles. 
“I shall be right back, Orlando, I promise you.”

Colin cast Viggo a fiery look of defiance before he walked out the door to look
for Dr. Cain.

Viggo took the opportunity to step closer to the bed, where Nurse Bates was busy
fussing over the young man. Orlando was telling her he was fine, and did not 
need any help, but she would have none of it. Lord Mortensen sidled up to 
Orlando’s bedside with a wide grin on his face. “So good to see you looking 
well, Orlando,” he said, his voice low.

“Good to see you in good spirits…my Lord…” Orlando managed to say. His voice was
still hoarse and dry from lack of use, and he raised a hand to massage his 
scratchy throat. He kept his eyes downcast as he spoke, not able to look into 
the man’s self assured eyes.

Mortensen was pleased with Orlando’s meek demeanor. It was refreshing after 
Farrell’s countless acts of defiance. He noted how it was a little difficult for
his delicate flower to talk…and he could not have that. “I think he needs some
water,” Viggo told the nurse in a tone that told her he expected her to fetch 
the youth some water.

Nurse Bates did not even bother to look at him as she felt Orlando’s cheeks and
forehead with the back of her hand to check for fever. She was checking the back
of his neck when Viggo spoke to her, and she did not even so much as look at 
him. “Fetch that jug of water on the table by the door.” she commanded as though
she were speaking to one of the other nurses. 

Viggo was not one to take orders, from anyone, and he stood his ground instead 
of doing what she asked as he did not much like her tone. When Nurse Bates 
noticed he had not moved, she turned to look at him. Lord Mortensen stood before
her in all his stubborn glory, obviously irritated. 

“Pardon?” he practically sneered. 

Nurse Bates turned to him and pointed to the table by the door. “Would you 
please be so kind as to fetch that pitcher of water and a glass from that table
there, milord?”

Mortensen’s face softened instantly and he nodded his agreement, causally making
his way over to the table and poured a glass of water as though he were pouring
sherry in his drawing room. The then tucked one hand into his pocket as he made
his way back over to the bed, extending the glass to Orlando for the youth to 
accept. 

Orlando took it tentatively and murmured a slight ‘thank you, sir’ before taking
a drink. Nurse Bates watched him to make sure he did not drop the glass. “There
you go…” she said as he finished the contents. She tested his cheeks and 
forehead again before feeling his pulse. 

The door opened and Viggo saw Dr. Cain and Mr. Farrell step inside. Dr. Cain’s 
face lit up when he saw Viggo standing them and he rushed forward, his hand 
extended. “Oh, Lord Mortensen, it is a pleasure to see you again. How are you 
faring?”

“Very well,” Viggo said with a smile, glad that someone finally knew how to 
treat those above their station. “I can to check on young Orlando again today, 
and it seems like I chose just the right time…” the blonde haired lord looked
stepped aside to show the young man who was propped up in bed, nursing his glass
of water.

“Ah…young Mr. Bloom finally rejoins us.” Dr. Cain said, stepping forward and 
taking Orlando’s face by the chin, lifting it to inspect his pupils and 
complexion. “You look a little pale young man but nothing a good meal and hot 
bath will not cure.” the white haired man gestured for Mortensen to draw near. 
He then turned back to Orlando and spoke in a slow clear voice as though he 
thought the boy had lost his ability with the English language as well as his 
wits for a while. 

“I do believe you are acquainted with the man that saved your life,” the doctor
said, putting an approving hand on Lord Mortensen’s shoulder. “Lord Mortensen it
seems has decided to be your guardian angel, my boy. He has been taking care of
your medical expenses while you have been at this hospital.”

Orlando was confused, his brows furrowing as he tried to grasp what was going
on. Why would Lord Mortensen be paying for his bills? Why did the doctor say 
that Mortensen had saved him?

“But…” Orlando said, his voice shaky. “It was Sean that saved me from the fire…”

Colin walked over beside Orlando’s bed and put his hands on te youth’s trembling
shoulders as the memories poured into his mind. He swore that he would not cry 
in front of the two cold men before him. 

Dr. Cain saw the look of anger that crossed Lord Mortensen’s face at the youth’s
words, and he quickly spoke to ease the mind of the investor. “Do not sound 
ungrateful, child…it was Lord Mortensen who carried you from the danger of the 
collapsing house and all the way to safety. It was Lord Mortensen who in his 
kindness brought you to this hospital and has made it possible that you were 
cared for this long. We do not give such special care to everyone. If it were 
not for his Lordship’s kind investments, you would have been sent to an asylum 
several weeks ago.”

Colin could feel Orlando’s shoulders tense at the words beneath his hands. Dr. 
Cain watched the young man with hard eyes to see if he would say anything else,
but the boy remained silent, a slight blush painting his pretty cheeks the only
thing that gave away his emotions. Cain smiled and slightly nodded to himself, 
pleased at the youth’s submissiveness and turned back to Lord Mortensen. “Is 
there anything else that you would require then today sir? Can I interest you in
a tour of our facilities? It would be no trouble for Nurse Bates…”

“No thank you Doctor, though it was a most generous offer. I actually came today
to pay a visit to young Orlando. I have tried several times in the past weeks,
and each time was denied access for various reasons.” Viggo kept his eyes 
focused on Mr. Farrell as he spoke coolly and evenly. 

Dr. Cain’s face darkened at this and he turned to Nurse Bates in irritation. “Is
that so madam? Lord Mortensen is a leading member of society, and as such should
be treated with respect. From now on, you shall heed his every request, is that
clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Nurse Bates complied with a slight nod of her head. “Very clear.”

Dr. Cain nodded pleased at her acquiescence. He then turned to Lord Mortensen 
once again and held out his hand for the aristocrat to shake. “Well, I leave you
then to visit with the patient. You need not but leave the door open when you 
leave, and I promise that none will bother you during your time.” He turned his
attention once again to the Nurse and in a much more firm tone, “I am sure that
you have some other duties that require your attention while his Lordship 
conducts his visit.” His tone suggested there was no room for discussion. 

The white haired doctor then looked to Colin with pursed lips and a disagreeable
crinkle at the corners of his eyes. “And as for you, Mr…”

“Farrell,” the Irishman said shortly. 

“Ah yes…Mr. Ferrell. I do believe you could be put to use in aiding good nurse
Bates in her rounds. I know she could always use an extra hand and I am sure 
young Bloom does not require your presence while he has a guest.”

Colin now was the one to tense. He badly wanted to curtly tell the doctor that 
it was with this guest that Orlando needed his presence was most required, but 
it was clear as to whose side the doctor would take. A poor man knew the 
preference even more than most wealthy men. He could not voice his surrender, 
but he did manage a short nod, trying not to look at Mortensen to see the smirk
that he was sure was there. He did not know how well he could be able to control
himself if he did in fact come in contact with the other man’s expression. 

Colin squeezed Orlando’s shoulders gently to reassure him before calmly crossing
over to Nurse Bates, determined to not show any emotion to the wolfish Lord 
Mortensen, though in his mind he was roaring in anger.

Doctor Cain smiled in approval of the situation and addressed Lord Mortensen one
last time. “Good day to you then sir. I do hope your visit today may make up for
the blunders of the past weeks.”

“Indeed it shall,” Mortensen smirked. 

Colin’s nostrils flared at the vulgar undertones of the statement. Nurse Bates 
noticed his unease and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder to sooth him and 
quickly announced there departure. “Good day to you, sir,” she said to Lord 
Mortensen, nodding respectfully. Lord Mortensen looked to Colin for such 
protocol, but the man did not appease him, meeting his cold eyes with a hard 
look of his own. Mortensen smirked at the other man’s fiery spirit, looking 
forward to the time when that spirit would be trampled, and the Irishman would
finally know his place very well.

With the last farewells, the others left the room, and the Doctor closed the 
heavy door behind him, leaving the Lord and the young servant finally alone.

Orlando bit his lower lip, trying not to show his unease. Mortensen loomed over
him, looking down upon him with hot eyes and making Orlando feel very small 
indeed. The young man could no longer bare the booming silence of the room, and
in a hoarse voice said, “It was most kind of you to look after me, my Lord. I am
forever in your debt.”

“Yes…indeed.” Mortensen said quietly, surveying the flushed face of the 
beautiful youth. “It was no trouble at all my boy. My bank accounts are most 
extensive, so this charity was in no way a hindrance.” 

Orlando kept his eyes on his hands in his lap, but he could hear Mortensen step
forward towards him, and he felt the man’s shadow fall over him, engulfing him 
in darkness. The youth could not hold back the shiver that passed through him, 
and his mouth felt suddenly very dry. His eyes closed when Mortensen’s cold 
finger ran down his cheek in a manner that should have been affectionate.

“It is so good to see you in recovery, Orlando.” Lord Mortensen said, his voice
raspy and deep as he spoke. “I have been most concerned for your welfare in 
these past weeks.”

Orlando managed to collect his voice again and quietly said, “That is very kind
of you, but you need not have, my lord. I was very well attended to by Nurse 
Bates and Mr. Farrell.”

Lord Mortensen curled his finger under Orlando’s chin and tilted it up so that 
he could properly gaze into the young man’s eyes, bending slightly down so he 
was more level. “I could not help but worry…I have the up most care for your 
well-being…surely you know that, don’t you sweet boy?…” Viggo leaned in kissed 
Orlando faintly on the lips. Orlando turned his head, coughing delicately. 

“Is something the matter, boy?” Lord Mortensen asked, his voice on the edge of 
being brisque. 

“Forgive me my lord,” Orlando asked meekly. “My throat is most dry. I need a 
glass of water…” The young man made to stand, but Lord Mortensen placed a firm 
hand upon his chest and pushed him back down onto the bed, urging him to recline
and letting his hand stroke the clothed chest slightly as he removed it. “It 
would please me to wait on you in your weak state, my young beauty.”

The man offered Orlando a hot glance before slowly making his way over to the 
table which held the pitcher and glass. He poured Orlando a fresh glass of water
and then turned back to the reclining youth. Orlando raised his hands to accept
the glass, but Lord Mortensen gently brushed them away, pushing them back 
against the boy’s chest and holding the glass himself to the pink lips. 

Orlando blushed as he was given the drink as though he were but an infant, but 
knew that it would be very rude to refuse. He did not know where the man’s 
interest in him came from, nor why it was so very great. He was a little afraid
to question it.

Mortensen watched the boy shyly drink and could feel a tightening in his loins.
He knew he would have to be patient though, for if he frightened the boy now he
could ruin everything. He reached out a finger and caught a stray drop that had
slipped from the side of the glass and was trying to fall down Orlando’s chin.
He rubbed the wetness between his thumb and pointer finger, savoring the feel. 
In his mind, he saw himself wiping not water, but his own essence after the boy
had pleasured him with his mouth. He had no doubt that he would be brought to 
the throes of ecstasy from those exquisite lips alone, much less the rosy pucker
between his slender thighs. 

Orlando’s eyes were downcast, so he did not see the look of dark lust that 
passed over Lord Mortensen’s face, but he could sense a change in the atmosphere
about them. 

“Tell me what you desire, Orlando. Tell me anything that you want and I shall
bring it to you.”

Orlando wanted to request him to return his lost love to him, but knew it was 
not only impossible but foolish to do so. He thought for a moment before quietly
answering, “I would desperately like to know what has become of the others.” 

Mortensen’s lips tightened for a second, unsure of what he had wanted to hear 
but sure it was not that. He nodded though, and said, “On my honor, sweet boy, I
shall fulfill your desire with the greatest haste.”

“I thank you my lord” Orlando said. “You are most kind.”

Lord Mortensen offered Orlando the glass again and once again the youth 
accepted, taking another sip before backing away. Mortensen leaned down and 
placed the glass on the floor before sitting again. He took Orlando’s smaller 
hand in his own and caressed the soft skin of the younger man’s hand with the 
tips of his fingers. Mortensen’s hands were so different than Sean’s. They were
cold and smooth, attesting to the life of luxury the aristocrat had led. 

Sean’s fingers had been rough from his daily labors, but his touch had always 
been gentle and soothing. Orlando knew every callous on the older man’s hands 
and fingers. He loved the feel of the roughened skin against his flesh. The
touch of them against his sensitive skin awakened his senses and brought him the
greatest pleasure. Sean could make his body sing with the slightest glide of his
finger or brush of his lips against his skin. 

Orlando knew he had to tear his mind from such thoughts or he would cry again. 
He could already feel the sting of tears in his eys, and he blinked them tightly
twice to hold them back. 

“If there was only something I could do to ease your pain…” Lord Mortensen’s 
voice could almost be described as sing-song as he spoke. The man’s cold hand
raised to run his fingers though the youth’s soft hair. He then remembered his 
conversation the previous week with Mr. Farrell in the hall. What were the 
servants names…

“I do believe that Mr. Farrell knows the well being of your fellows from the 
manor house. I remember him speaking of two of the ladies…I believe Miss 
Tyler…and Miss…Winsett?”

“Miss Winslet?” Orlando offered softly.

“Yes, the red headed woman. She was burned in the fire but was released. I do
believe Farrell had said they were living together with another of the servants.
I do not recall his name at all though.” He did not see the look of alarm that 
passed the youth’s face at the news of Miss Winslet’s injuries.

“Could it be Dom?” Orlando said quietly to himself, not really realizing he had
spoken aloud. 

“That is the name!” Mortensen said with pleasure. “I do not recall him, I only 
really remember the curly haired boy with the blue eyes…the one that was buried
in the rubble.”

Orlando cringed at the cool nature of the man’s voice when he spoke of Elijah’s
death. He obviously did not care about the unfortunate youth, or the others for
that matter. Orlando’s heart went out to them. He only wished he could do 
something to ease their pain and hardship…but what could he possibly to.

“What of Miss Dench?” he asked, worry creeping into his voice. 

“Old Dench? The surly housekeeper?” Viggo asked with a soft chuckle. “That I do
not know, but I shall inquire for you.”

“Many thanks, my Lord.”

Viggo looked at the pale face and red eyes of the youth before him. “You look 
most haggard, little one. You should get some rest now. I will leave you to your
sleep, but I shall return tomorrow. Perhaps after a night of rest your spirits 
will be raised.”

Orlando nodded but said nothing. He was a bit relieved when Lord Mortensen 
removed his hands and stood, straightening his clothes and adjusting his 
posture. Viggo ran his fingers through the young man’s hair one last time before
calmly ordering him to lie down and rest. Orlando complied to appease the man 
and lay down. Rolling over onto his side and curling his knees up to his chest.
He closed his eyes and waited to hear the man’s retreating steps, but only the 
sounds of their quiet breath filled the room. 

The faint touch of the man’s fingers against his body startled Orlando, but he 
did not move. He felt the man caress his shoulder and trace a line down his 
side, the long fingers ending at the first swell of his hip. Orlando’s breath 
caught in his throat until the hand was removed, and he heard Mortensen whisper
his farewell. The door was kept open, and Orlando listened to the sounds of the
hospital to take his mind off of thoughts of other things.



Sean moved his arm tentatively as he had done for the past few weeks every 
morning, seeing how it healed. The wound had been sealing well, without sign of
infection. Marton would take a look at it every few days, prodding it with his 
pointer finger and judging the rate of healing by how much Sean flinched. Every
time, the Russian would chuckle and say, “You will live,” before he recovered 
the wound. 

His arm was still a bit stiff, but at least the pain was going down, and the 
redness was all but gone. It was starting to scab over, though still quite 
delicate. He would help Marton around the small house. He had cooked a few 
meals, which Marton had said were “almost good enough to eat.” 

Sean had never met a man that laughed as frequently or as heartily as the 
Russian, but it was quite refreshing and most needed. Sean had only been able to
keep his mind off of Orlando and Christopher because of Marton’s near constant 
conversation. Nights were the hardest, as he was left to his own thoughts. He 
could see Orlando’s face so clearly in his mind when he closed it eyes that it 
almost hurt his heart. He treasured those moments at night though, when he would
lay in bed, close his eyes, and see Orlando laughing. He had spoken to Marton 
several times of the golden youth. Marton had listened attentively, trying to 
picture this beautiful youth who had so captivated his English friend. 

Sean now sat at the table with Marton as they shared the silence of the morning.
The day was foggy with mist, but Sean was sure it would clear up as the day wore
on. Marton had been making him walk every day, and every day they went a little
bit further. The Russian had said that it was to help Sean regain his strength,
but Sean was also grateful for it meant he did not stay idle. 

Marton always carried his rifle, and as they walked, he would sometimes shoot 
rabbits or other small animals for food. Sean would carry the carcasses over his
good arm as they walked, giving Marton the use of both arms. They had shot 
several things the previous day, so there was no need to hunt again. Marton was
smoking a rough cut pipe and relaxing, taking in deep breaths of the morning. 
“We will walk today.” he told Sean.

“I do not know, I do not really feel like walking today,” Sean said 
absentmindedly, playing with a spoon that had been left on the table.

Marton made a little snort and repeated himself, “We will walk today.” 

Sean chuckled lightly and raised his hand to play with the collar of his 
scratchy shirt. Marton pointed at him with his pipe. “It is good we are off the
same size, no? I only like to make clothes when absolutely necessary, and for 
you, it is not so.”

Sean let himself laugh this time, his lips parting to expose teeth and the skin
about his eyes crinkling in merriment. “Then it is a good thing indeed, for I 
would hate to have to traipse about naked.”

Marton nodded in eager agreement. “One time was too many to see your white skin,
English. Most unappealing to me.”

They chuckled for a moment, and Marton watched Sean carefully, glad when he did
not see signs of gloom on his face anymore. He hated to bring up the subject he
was about to, but he figured that now was as good a time as any. “So, did you 
loose all in the fire? You have nothing left?”

Sean shook his head. “No, I did not keep my things in the house. I lived in the
gamekeeper’s cottage, and so all of my things are still there…”

Marton noticed how the man’s voice trailed off as he spoke, as though he had 
remembered something of great importance. 

“It is all there…all…” Sean bolted from his chair, making Marton start from his
comfortable position. Sean paced briefly for a second, before turning to Marton.
“I will have that walk after all, are you ready?”

“You are leaving now?” Marton asked, a little curious as to the man’s urgency. 
Surely he was not this anxious to go and get all of his old clothes back…

“Yes, this second. Are you coming with me or not?” Sean had an urgency in his 
voice that almost alarmed the Russian. He immediately got to his feet and 
grabbed his tattered coat as well as the coat he had allowed Sean to wear, for 
the man had no intention it seemed to get it himself. Marton had to run out of 
the door to catch up, and decided that Englishmen must be mad to have such 
irregular impulses. 

He managed to get the blonde man to don the shabby coat as they walked. The 
other man strode with such determination that Marton did not so much as bother
to ask where they were going, but he soon recognized the entrance onto the late
Lord Lee’s lands. Marton then figured that they were headed to the cottage Sean
had been remembering before this little sudden expedition. 

His assumptions were only proved correct when he saw a little shabby cottage 
they were approaching. He followed Sean to the door and inside when the man 
pushed the door open. 

The place was fairly dark and smelled of earth. It was coolly moist and the air
was a little dense in a sort of sweet manner. Marton looked around and saw that
things were kept in a neat manner, put away and shelved. It would not have 
mattered all the same, for there were too few items to make a clutter. Marton 
was wandering aimlessly as Sean went over to his simple bed and took up a flat 
wooden piece that rested on a chair. 

Marton saw the man gaze upon the piece of wood lovingly before he became aware 
that he was being watched. He raised his emerald eyes to Marton and walked over
to him, turning the slate so that Marton could see the picture that was 
carefully fastened to it. 

It was a young man, a boy freshly into his adulthood if he had yet reached it. 
The boy was nude, resting on his back on a small couch. A blanket had slipped
down his hips and exposed his slender sex. His arms lay over his smooth belly 
and behind his head as he slept. His dark hair giving hint that his skin would 
be golden.

“This is Orlando…” Sean said softly. “Well, it was Orlando, before he died. This
is all I have to remember him now…”

Marton saw the man’s green eyes glass over with tears as he looked on the pure 
visage of his lost love. He genuinely felt for the other man, but knew he needed
his space. Marton settled to look at the picture more closely, taking in the 
youth’s breathtaking features. He remembered the picture of the youth that had 
been posted in the town paper after he had died in the fire. How different he 
had looked there…how…

Marton stopped and froze in place, studying the picture a moment longer and 
moving his discerning eyes over the face and hair. Finally he spoke.

“This is not the boy.”

TBC…
please review sweety darlings