Title: Caravaggio´s Painting / Orlanso´s Epiphany
Author: klatschmohn and Ashlyn K. Toliver
E-Mail: KTR525@yahoo.com
Rating: PG 13
Characters: Sean B./Viggo M., Orlando B.
Warning: Strong BDSM at play, Violence
Disclaimer: All fiction!
Summary: Orlando´s thinking it over… and…?


Chapter eight – Orlando’s Epiphany


So there you have it, dear reader.

I’m certain that many of you are more than pleased with how things turned 
out for me – that I deserved it – and perhaps you are right.

The irony wasn’t lost on me that in the middle of filming a Greek tragedy 
about the destruction that ensued when one lusts for someone who belongs 
to another,  I was actually living my own.  

Unlike Paris, I don’t get to slay the hero.

In my own defence, however, I never lied as far as what my desires had 
been.  I had loved Viggo Mortensen – or at least the image of him I’d built 
up in my mind.

Was it so wrong to love heedlessly?  How many of you can honestly say you 
haven’t felt the same?

Or would have done the same if in similar circumstances?

Would I have done anything different?  Perhaps.

What hurts the most is that I don’t know if I’ll ever find a love like theirs, 
and sometimes in my darker moments I wonder if I deserve it.

But love, as it’s said, makes fools of us all.

To my credit, I had never deluded myself into thinking I was a saint or 
something.

Unlike Viggo, I was honest enough to know that I could be swayed by my 
baser instincts.

I would have never taken Sean’s love for granted.

Then again, perhaps I needed this lesson – to remind me that some things 
in life cannot be had for the taking.

Humility is a bitter pill to swallow.

Worse, I have come to realize that instead of gaining a lover, I’ve lost two of 
the best friends anyone could have had.

Maybe one day I’ll muster up the courage to face them – to apologize for 
what I’ve done.

Until then, I’ve moved out of the apartment I shared with Kate.  I couldn’t 
live under the same roof any longer, knowing that I didn’t love her.  
Thankfully, she merely took it in stride, sparing me any histrionics and 
wished me well.

Well is a relative term considering what I’d done to myself.

Solitude has been good for me.  

I’m starting to reflect more on my career now and plan on making more 
active choices as to the types of roles I want to take.  I can’t be cast as the 
‘pretty boy’ forever.

My past behaviour certainly could lend itself to one hell of a film.

Wonder who they’d get to play me…

There’s just one more little incident left in this sordid tale that might interest 
you…at least I find some interest in it…


We still had some filming on Malta to do, not much just pickups and some 
last-minute script changes.  I was glad of the work, for it left me with no 
chance to brood or to sink into depression.

Because my thoughts of late had been dark, I was in no hurry to leave the 
set.  All I’d been doing since that disastrous confrontation on the beach was 
going back to my hotel room, sometimes drinking myself into a stupor in the 
hopes that the alcohol would kill any lingering memories of that day, and 
falling asleep.  I no longer sought the company of the two young men – 
Andreas and Alexion – who’d been my sexual companions when I thought 
my plans would bear fruit.

That day, Eric approached me and without further ado asked me, friendly 
and quietly, if I was ok.

I nodded slowly, and assured him as best I could, that I was.

I could tell he didn’t believe me, but seemed to accept my answer.  “Rumour 
has it that you’ve had some problems with Viggo and Sean, but you know 
how people like to make dramas out of even the smallest incidents.  If you 
ever want to talk though…”

Eric was not the guy to beat about the bush, but his genuine honesty was 
never intrusive.  

I looked up at him, the light of the evening sun in his face, the wind playing 
with his short dark hair.

I murmured something about turbulent times being over now, but had left 
me a worn out and tired. 

“So – everything nice n’ easy now,” he asked, smiling at me.

I wasn’t sure if I could exactly call it that.

“Uhhh…sort of…in a way, I guess…” My reply was ambiguous at best.

Eric only nodded with a twinkle in his eyes that promised he’d be patient and 
that his offer of a sympathetic ear was still on the table.

“Fancy a drink later,” he asked, his warm brown eyes resting com-
passionately on me.  “No confessions needed, just a friendly round of 
whatever they have on tap?”

I gave the biggest sigh of relief in my life. I had the feeling a demon escaped 
my lips with the long, deep breath I exhaled.

“Yes,” I smiled up at him.

Yes. Definitely yes.


~Finis~