Summary: Orlando is bored with all the blonde chicks that throw themselves at him and while he works on a play in London he runs into a girl that works at the theatre. She shies away from him, even though it turns out she is his sister's neighbour. What is her secret, and if Orlando finds out, will he still pursue her?

Chapter One - Fan Girls Galore

Drawing his coat closer around his lean body, Orlando Bloom ducked his head as he neared the theatre off Leicester Sq. After the warmth of California returning to merry cold England, he was constantly shivering and it wasn't even the dead of winter yet, just the normal October drizzle with some gale-like winds thrown in for good measure.

With a sigh he tried to ignore the throngs of girls who waited near the stage entrance. Even here in the alleyway that led to the theatres work rooms they kept lurking and he was sick of it. Sick of it all. His fame had come quickly, almost over night and although at first he had revelled in the recognition he got he had slowly but steadily grown sick of it. Most of the time he had gotten movie parts because of his looks and not because he was a good actor, his agent Fiona saying as much.

'Just for once I want to get recognized for my acting,' he told himself silently. That was the reason why he was back in London. He needed the stage again, to touch his roots.

Hunching over and pulling the beanie more into his face, he hurried on towards the side door to the work rooms of the Ambassador theatre.

She was late ... again. Bronwyn quickly changed sides of the road and rushed on by either weaving through the throngs of people also on their way to work or wherever or dodging tourists who stood gakwing on their way to the British Museum. This was her first week at work as a assistant costume designer and painter rather than as an intern and she didn't want to make a bad impression - not after she needed the job so badly after the accident two years back. That was her one chance to combine her love for colours and painting with an actual job and she didn't want to mess it up by just being late. She had already made an intern at the theatre and its associated design company, so she knew her way around.

Hurrying on, she broke into a jog as she turned a corner. 'Made it,' she told herself but grimaced when she ran straight into a dark cloaked figure.

"Fuck!" the man exclaimed.

"Shit!" Bronwyn mumbled.

In the tangle of flailing arms and legs, the impact itself onto the hard cement floor in front of the work rooms door didn't register too strongly. Or so Bronwyn thought before she tried to move her right leg.

"Ouch!" she breathed and was glad that the person she had run into removed whichever limb had been against her leg; she couldn't tell if it had been an arm or another leg. Sitting up on the cold floor, she gingerly examined her leg, then moved it cautiously.

"You alright, love?" the man beside her asked and for the first time Bronwyn looked up.

"Yes, sure, no harm done," she mumbled, before trying to stand up with a frown. The leg held her when she reluctantly put some of her weight onto it. "Sorry about that." She flashed the young man an apologetic smile and cursing the broken strap of her backpack, she slipped into the side entrance.

Orlando shook his head and bit back a grin. "Yeah I'm alright, too, love, thanks for asking."

He brushed off his coat and winced when he felt the chaffed palm of his right hand. With a shrug he opened the door and followed the woman in her wake.

After her early morning tumble, Bronwyn found herself in the work studios and Jim who had hired her in the first place cuaght up with her.

"Hey, Bronwyn, glad you could make it," he said sarcastically and she gave him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry I'm late," she said with a sigh. "It was choc-a-bloc on the streets..."

"Whatever," Jim said and waved her impatiently to follow him. "We have a staff meeting with the crew, no cast."

Bronwyn shrugged, she didn't care much about the cast anyway though she had been milked by two friends over the past week after she had announced that she had scored a job with a big production starring some young hot actors. All she was interested in was to get a foot into the business so she could make ends meet.

"You are not one of those fan girls, right?" Jim asked while she stored her bag and jacket into a battered locker.

"I beg your pardon?" Bronwyn asked indignantly.

"You know, fan girls ... those screaming teens that flock at the stage entrance almost hourly to get a glimpse of their favourite actor of the moment."

Bronwyn knew she looked younger than her 25 years but this was ridiculous. "No, I'm not, in fact the only favourite actor I have is actually a woman," she said. Pulling an overall over her jeans and T-shirt she buttoned up and Jim accompanied her to the huge matte hall where she was starting out to work.

She had been meticulously applying layer after layer of blue, whites and grey for hours when Lynn, the main set and costume designer called out to her.

"Bron, I need you to pick up some clothes, do you have a minute?" Lynn asked and watched the huge canvas carefully. Bronwyn wiped her hands on a paint-stained cloth and made a beeline over to Lynn.

"Sure, the paint has to dry up anyway," Bronwyn shrugged. "What do you want me to do?"

"I have ordered some dresses and I need to get them to the fitting studio. Can you pick them up?"

"Sure, no problem," Bronwyn answered. "The canvas has to dry overnight so I can't work on it further today anyway." Bronwyn nodded while Lynn gave her the directions.

"That's it really," Lynn concluded. "Just drop off the clothes and you can go home."

Bronwyn nodded to that and after she had shrugged out of her overall, she grabbed her backpack and went off.

She had never known that a couple of costumes could be this heavy. Balancing the suit bags and the boxes on her arms she wove her way slowly through the streets. She could have taken the bus but ever since her accident, she kept away from automobiles, let alone riding in one. Besides, taking one of the buses around London, especially around Bloomsbury would have taken just as long as by foot. With a sigh she hoisted the costumes tighter to her chest, rushing up the few steps to the main entrance of the fitting shop.

Unfortunately, she almost overlooked the throng of young girls that were huddling at the stage door. Shifting the packages and suit bags onto one arm she fumbled with her other hand on the doorknob but two very recalcitrant girls wouldn't budge.

"Excuse me," Bronwyn said for the third time when the heavy steel door was shoved open from the inside. The heavy steel frame caught Bronwyn unawares and with a thud and a flare of boxes and costume cases she fell down on her butt, her leg twisting and crunching which made her wince.

"Fuck!" she gritted through clenched teeth and watched as the girls almost trampled over her to reach the two actors who had emerged from the stage entrance.

"ORLI!!!"

"SEAN!!"

Bronwyn shook her head and scrambled slowly to her feet, inspecting the mess around her that had been perfectly clean costumes before the mishap with the door and also trying to ignore the throbbing that started on her lower leg bone and went all the way up to her hip.

"Shit, shit, double shit!" She mumbled underneath her breath. She couldn't believe that she would find herself on the floor twice in a day. She cursed again when she tried to stuff the dresses and costumes back into the boxes. She was so immersed in her work that she completely missed the two porters who herded the fan girls off the premises and almost missed the man squatting down beside her.

"Can I help you, luv?" a soft smooth voice, laced with a distinct Geordie accent, asked, and Bronwyn looked up.

"Thank you, Mr... Bean, and no, I don't need help, thank you," Bronwyn breathed out softly. She had known Sean Bean was with the prestigious production, she had read the news about the play featuring three of the original Fellowship actors, but meeting him face to face, she couldn't stop from blushing.

The fact that she had had a major crush on him when she had been in her teens didn't help either.

"You are Lynn's new assistant, right, luv?" Sean Bean asked, ducking his head so he could see her flushing face. "The girl with the grace of a Ballerina and the soul of an Irish bard."

Bronwyn winced and her head shot up, meeting Bean's steady gaze with a troubled one of her own. "Better make that the grace of one of CuChulain's Hounds," she replied tersely, the mention of a ballerina was making her tense and bitchy. She didn't want to be reminded of her life before the accident, before the trial ... that was all long gone.

Pushing herself to her feet, she hoisted the boxes up into her arms again only to step backwards and onto Orlando Bloom's toes. Whirling around to apologise, she tripped and not a second later, she almost lay sprawled on the hard pavement again. But this time, Orlando was quicker and had hooked his arms beneath her armpits, holding her close.

"You really do like to fall for me, don't you, love?" Orli mumbled with a grin and put her back on her two feet.

"I'm sorry," Bronwyn said and looking up met chocolate brown eyes. Flushing slightly, she quickly averted her eyes. "Sorry for this morning too, normally I'm not this clumsy."

"It's alright, no harm done," Orlando explained and bent to pick up the various boxes while Sean had retrieved the sealed costume bags.

"Thank you," Bronwyn had regained enough of her composure to thank both men. Without embarrassing herself further, she managed to get all the costumes into the theatre.

Sean watched as the heavy steel door closed shut behind the young woman and chuckled. Somehow her face was familiar, he just couldn't place it.

"I know her from somewhere," he mumbled and Orlando looked at him with a questioning gaze.

"Well, she knew you ... even called you by your name," Orli said and grinned. He had not missed the faint blush on the girl's face when she had seen his friend and colleague. Totally different from this morning where she had just shrugged and apologised before she had been on her way into the depth of the theatre. Even though he was sick of the numerous fan girls, and quite terrified he had to admit, it irked him that she had ignored him, her eyes glued to Sean's face.

'Gee, he is older than her by what ... twenty years,' he thought and shook himself mentally. 'Great now I begrudge him some fun. The dark haired man looked up when he saw Sean's wry grin.

"You noticed?" he asked and winked. "But she is too young ... probably just turned 20, if ever..."

Orlando shrugged. "Well, why not, Sean? Go for it!" he replied and watched as Sean gave him a feral grin which left Orlando chilled. For the first time in their friendship, Orlando doubted if he really wanted his friend to score with a lady.

"Dammit!" Bronwyn exhaled softly after she had taken in the damage in the costume work room of the theatre. Two costumes were crumpled while another one was soiled. Rubbing her hip and leg, Bronwyn decided to iron out at least the two costumes. After she was done, she left a note for Lynn, explaining what had happened and that she was taking the one costume to the dry cleaners.

By the time Bronwyn left the theatre, it had considerably grown dark and with an ever increasing limp she made her way home. After she had been emitted from the hospital and had picked up her life again, her choice of accommodation had to meet several important points. It had to be affordable, it had to be easily accessible by tube and she needed any flat or apartment that was either ground or first floor. She had found one tiny flat that met all but one of these points after excessive searching, just two streets off an Islington tube station and in a neighbourhood that was less expensive than others but could still be considered fashionable.

The tube ride didn't take long and once she had left the draughty station and emerged into the early night, Bronwyn turned warily towards her home. Her leg was killing her and she hobbled and crawled more than walked and the young woman was relieved when she rounded a corner and saw the small Georgian house where her flat was.

The young woman grimaced after she had conquered the last of the stairs to her second floor apartment and resting her brow against the door, she rummaged through her backpack to retrieve her keys. Behind her she heard the soft thud of a door and without bothering to turn around she greeted her neighbour.

"Hi, Sam," Bronwyn breathed and heaved a sigh of relief when she found her key and opened the door to her flat.

"Had a hard day, Bron?" the other woman asked and Bronwyn turned after she had hobbled into her apartment.

"I ran someone over today and then got banged around a bit by some fan girls who waited at the stage entrance but other than that, I'm fine," Bron said and watched her neighbour. Samantha was tall, almost 5'8 and had soft brown hair reaching her shoulders as well as beautiful brown eyes. She was dressed for a night out, black pants hugging her well defined figure and a green top with the black jeans jacket. She looked stunning and Bronwyn felt dwarfed beside her.

"You should have reported them, Bron," Sam said and took a step nearer. "I'm sure if you had told Orli he would have done something ..."

Bronwyn frowned then it clicked. 'Oh yes, her brother,' she thought and then shrugged. 'The one I bumped into today! Twice.'

"He was there, he was even the one I almost ran over this morning and then later with Sean Bean ... he helped me up ..." Bron said with a slight flush.

Sam grinned at that. "He is cute, right? Just be careful, my brother can charm your socks off if you are not careful..."

"Huh?" Bronwyn burrowed her brow, then shook her head with a laugh. "I meant Sean Bean ... he is something. But then I always had a thing for him when he was Sharpe."

Sam tried not to gawk at her, but then again in the one year she had gotten to know Bronwyn, the young woman had always surprised her. Sam tried to suppress a chuckle. 'At least someone who doesn't swoon over my brother just because he is Mr. Sex God extraordinaire', she thought to herself.

"Well I need to dash," Sam said with a smile. "I'm meeting up with my brother, would you like to come along ... after all, you are working on the same project ... ?"

"Thanks, but no thanks, Sam," Bronwyn snapped then smiled to take the sting out of her tone. "I'm sorry, my boss said that crew and cast at the theatre shouldn't mingle, you go and have fun, Sam."

"Well if you say so," Sam replied, shooting her another curious glance. "You know Orli said something of Sean coming along ..."

Bronwyn had to smile. "Ms Bloom, are you trying to set me up?"

"Of course not, Ms MacKinnon," Sam replied sassily. The two women said their good-byes and then Sam waved and went down the stairs.

With a sigh of relief, Bronwyn almost crumbled against the door of her apartment after she had hobbled in. All she wanted now was a hot bath to get the kinks out of her leg again and then a good night's sleep. After she had gotten herself a large glass of juice she ran her bath tub, watching the mirror steam up while she undressed herself slowly. When her gaze caught her right leg, she winced. Even after a whole year she had not gotten used to the still severely scared skin which served as a grotesque reminder of the accident two years ago.

Bronwyn flinched. 'Stop calling it an accident, woman,' she berated herself firmly. 'Call it what it was, murder! People died while you drove that car stright into a wall.'

* Conchubhar = Irish-Gaelic for Connor, legendary Celtic hero from the Tuathá Dé Dànann cycle.