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 Five - Solas agús dorchadas - Light And Darkness

Chapter Five - Solas agús dorchadas - Light And Darkness

It was the third morning that Orlando accompanied Bronwyn on her tube ride. The first morning they had shared awkward silences that had extended on the ride home. The second morning Orlando had brought a Spiderman comic and had read the comic out loud, complete with sound effects, continuing to do so whenever he saw her in the theatre. By the time they were heading home, they talked animatedly like old friends. On the third morning in a row, Orlando had knocked on Bronwyn's door and waited for her to come out. Samantha had teased him, but had not warned him off again, for which he had been grateful. Now they were sitting side by side on a Central Line tube riding towards Tottenham Court Road to change lines.

They had been chatting for ten minutes when Orlando grew restless suddenly.

"What is it, Orlando?" Bronwyn asked after he had slumped deeper into his seat, shooting awkward glances to three school girls in their uniforms who sat giggling a few seats down the row.

"Umm... fan-girls," Orli mumbled and buried the lower half of his face inside his scarf.

"Where?" Bron asked and Orlando yanked her back, when she leant out of her seat.

"Bron, please!" Orlando hissed and turned in his seat to face her. "Would you do me a favour?"

"Depends on the favour, Bloom," Bron retorted and couldn't suppress the small grin at his almost panicky voice.

Orlando noticed the twitch of her lips and he grimaced. "Sure, Bronwyn, make fun of me. You are not the one who gets their clothes ripped off ..."

"And you would love every minute of it," Bronwyn cut in and received a mock-glare from the actor. "Okay, I'll stop ... so what is the favour?"

"Kiss me," Orlando said, serious.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Kiss me ... do as if we are snuggling, Bron," Orlando said with a sheepish grin. Bronwyn shook her head.

"And what does it have to do with these fans of yours?" she inquired.

"They normally stay away when I'm with a girl-friend," Orlando replied softly. "Please Bronwyn, just snuggling and holding hands."

Staring at Orlando, Bronwyn's mind reeled. He can't be serious? she asked herself but from the pleading look he gave her he sure was. Shaking her head slightly to clear her thoughts, she sighed.

"Oh-kay," Bron said slowly and moved her left hand palm upward towards Orlando and she winced when Orlando grabbed it as if it was some sort of life-line.

"Thank you," he whispered near her ear, while he pretended to nuzzle there ... or was he? For Bronwyn it felt more like he was nibbling, and irritated she wanted to move her head away when she saw the girls standing up and slowly advancing towards where they sat.

"Here they come," she whispered, trying to ignore the warm breath on the side of her neck as well as the warm feeling it generated inside her. She closed her eyes momentarily when his lips moved up her jaw, then putting feathery kisses on her cheek and the corner of her mouth.

The kiss was nothing more than a momentary touch, lips against lips but it shook Bronwyn to her deepest roots and before she knew what was happening, she slightly opened her mouth when she felt his tongue brushing over her lips. Her brain froze after that. She could hear Orlando's soft groan as his tongue delved into the soft hollow of her mouth, teasing her own tongue with his.

His nerve endings were hitting the roof of the tube, when she invited him into her soft mouth and without thinking he delved in, deepening the kiss, his fans all forgotten. She tasted like honey, and coffee and it was like a drug to him. Putting his hand onto the side of her head, he angled it to get better access.

"Excuse me, Mr ... Bloom?" A voice was heard and Bronwyn's eyes snapped open and as if she had been bitten by something she drew back from Orlando who was staring at her in shock. He shook his head and slowly turned to the three teenagers who were giggling with flushed faces.

"Hello," Orlando greeted them, his voice husky. "Can I help you, love?"

"We wondered if you could sign something?" a ring block with several cuttings of Legolas glued on the front was shoved into his lap and Orlando smirked when his blonde Elven alter ego stared back at him.

"Sure, love," he answered and took the pink pen and scribbled his name with 'All the best' on one corner of the book.

"Thank you Orli," one of the girls giggled while another one shot Bronwyn an interested glance. "Could we .. kind of hug you? Only if your girl-friend doesn't mind, that is?"

Acting for all he was worth, Orlando turned towards Bronwyn, giving her a shaky smile. "Would you mind, honey?" he asked and Bronwyn had to blink twice.

'Shit, that sounded almost genuine,' she thought before she nodded, remembering she was posing as his girl-friend only.

"Sure, babe, go ahead," she replied, giving the girls a smile not noticing how Orlando stared at her and a shiver ran down his spine at her husky pronunciation of the endearment.

Bronwyn watched as Orlando got up and hugged every girl in turn, kissing them on their cheeks. After another round of thank you's they left and Orlando sat back down beside Bronwyn.

Bronwyn had gotten a grip on herself enough to work up a good amount of indignation. "You know for someone who is known to be such a good actor, that was cheap, Bloom," Bronwyn commented tersely and Orlando's head snapped around to face her.

"Huh?"

"That whole spiel about them leaving you alone ... that was just a cheap trick to cop a feel," Bronwyn said and looked up into his shocked expression.

"I'm sorry... Bronwyn ... I didn't ..." Orlando shut his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. 'Aww fuck,' he thought. 'Sam was right, I'm a stupid prick when it comes to women.'

Silently they resumed their ride, both deeply engrossed in their own thoughts. Bronwyn bit her lower lip, worrying about what had happened. From time to time she shot him awkward glances before looking back down on her feet as they trudged through the throngs of people that already clotted the streets at Leicester Square until they reached the theatre.

With less than a 'bye' she ducked into the work rooms and tried to put the soft, short kiss behind her.

Orlando was confused. The kiss had been less than some of the film kisses he had shared on the movie set to Deed Poll and yet more than the usual peck on the cheek. It had felt right, her lips warm beneath his own and he would have loved to taste more of her. But then his fans had disturbed them and he had a hard time concentrating on their babble.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly, today the rehearsals were tedious and he was glad when the director called for lunch. Trudging down the narrow stairs toward the cafeteria, Orlando still couldn't believe he had been so foolish as to kiss her. Wonderingly, he touched his lips, and with a sigh that sounded more like a groan he replayed the kiss, the softness, the warmth, the rightness.

"If I didn't know better, my dear boy, I would venture you are pining away for someone," an amused voice called up from behind and Orlando was yanked out of his reverie.

"Ian, has anyone told you yet that it is dangerous to sneak up on people like that?" Orli replied and the older actor chuckled.

"Of course, my dear boy, that is why I do it all the time," Ian commented and gently pushed Orlando towards the queue for food. "Tell me what ails you, Orlando. You have been unusually distracted during your scenes."

Orlando was glad to share his thoughts with someone as close as Ian. If it had not been for Bronwyn he would have sought out Sean, but he didn't think Sean would appreciate him gushing about having kissed her.

As they had grabbed something to eat, they seated themselves in a remote corner of the dining room and Ian looked at Orlando expectantly.

"I kissed her, Ian," Orlando blurted out and blushed when Ian chuckled, immediately knowing whom he was referring to.

"I wondered when this would happen, you never could resist a pretty face," McKellen replied gently. "And Bronwyn is exceptionally pretty."

Orlando frowned. "She is not just a pretty face, Ian," he gritted out tersely and Ian watched his younger friend out of quiet eyes, for once the customary mirth missing from the blue depths.

"She is special and fragile, Orlando," Ian said softly and Orlando watched him in surprise.

"Don't you think I know that? Sometimes I think a small breeze can flatten her, she is in so much pain every time she stands too long and yet she still moves on..."

"That is not what I mean, my boy," Ian said and shook his head. "When you mentioned the boxes the other day, it got me thinking. I knew there had been some sort of scandal at the end of her career, and I nipped onto the internet last night," with this Ian drew out some print outs and placed them in front of Orlando. "That is her life story, you should read it. And if you want to deepen your relationship with her, you should think well about it and the implications, perhaps even contact your agent over it."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Orlando demanded.

"Orlando, I'm just giving you some advice, read it tonight and then make your decision."

Ian McKellen stood up and after he had trashed his lunch scrapings went back to the auditorium. Orlando stared at the sheets of paper, not daring to touch them. For the rest of the day, the print outs weighed heavily in his back pocket.

During the whole day at work, Bronwyn had tried to shrug the kiss off, trying to persuade herself that she had not been affected by it, but somehow her work wasn't taking her mind off the issue at hand.

Her lips still tingled every time she thought about the kiss she had shared with Orlando. Leaning against the work table she did not hear the door opening and closing behind her and when a shadow from behind fell on her, she whirled around.

"I didn't want to startle you, Bronnie, I'm sorry," Sean Bean beamed at her, his blue eyes sparkling.

"Oh, it is okay," Bronwyn managed a smile and moved around the table, trying to busy her hands on some pieces of fabrics. "What can I do for you, Sean?"

Sean shrugged and sat down on the table, fingering the cloth beside him. "I just wanted to see you ... you haven't been to the cafeteria this morning."

Bronwyn stopped in what she was doing and looked up. Has Orlando told him what happened? she thought then she wagged a mental finger at herself.

"I was late, that is why I skipped morning tea," she replied and picked up a pair of scissors. "Can I help you, Sean?"

"Well," Sean Bean smiled mischievously at her. "I heard you helped Orlando with his lines and wondered if you could help me too?"

Bronwyn knew that she had not even so much as helped him and had just listened, but she shrugged it off. If Orlando wanted to portray her as his line coach so be it.

"Well I only listen .. so if you want to learn your lines here, be my guest," she replied with a small smile.

Sean returned her smile but was momentarily disappointed when she resumed her work. Not wanting to look like a fool, he started pacing and reciting his lines.

Bronwyn listened to the steady tide and swell of Sean Bean's voice, his Geordie accent now completely gone as his voice now sounded more like the Queen's English. Soon she felt herself lulled into the poetic lines, the rhythm and she closed her eyes more than once, in her mind's eye seeing the scene he was reciting.

In her mind she added Orlando's voice as she recognised the scene. She smiled when she remembered that Orlando had tried different tracks, sometimes even with different accents to deepen his character. It was different from the cool professionalism with which Bean did his lines. He was all business while Orlando had played with the words, moulded them to fit him rather than allowing them to dictate his acting. She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she at first did not notice Sean's voice had changed.

"Yes?" she asked bewildered.

"You were miles away, Bronnie," Sean smiled and picked up her hand and squeezed it. "Thinking about me?"

Bronwyn blushed. She did not want to tell him that he had been the farthest thing from her thoughts. Slowly but steadily she retracted her hand and looked up.

"I'm sorry, I always get engrossed in my own world when I listen to you and Orlando."

"Oh ..." Sean said and took a step backward. "Well then I guess I will leave you alone to your work."

Bronwyn nodded silently as she watched him leave. She wondered why he had come, why he had sought her out when the theatre had a speech coach anyway?

With a shrug she bent over her work again, but somehow she couldn't concentrate. Thinking about Sean Bean brought back thoughts of Orlando and their kiss.

'Why did I do it?' she asked herself for she knew she had been the one who had invited him to deepen the kiss. It could have been so easy, a peck here a nuzzle there and the make believe would have been just that.

'But no, you had to open your damn lips,' Bronwyn berated herself and threw the scissors down onto the work table with a grunt of disgust. 'Stupid, stupid,' she rubbed with her thumb over her creased forehead. She was at a loss why she had allowed Orlando to kiss her so thoroughly. She had wanted it and she didn't know why. She wasn't attracted to Orlando, was she?

The young woman frowned and covered her face with her hands. "God no!" she mumbled, taking a deep breath. 'I can't let that happen. He is Sam's brother, and my working colleague ...'

She shifted slightly and the pain in her leg increased, making her bite down on her lips and slumping onto a stool nearby.

Rubbing her hurting leg, she tried to sort through her jumbled thoughts. 'I can't let it happen, I can't! What if it were to happen again?'

Her hands balled into fists. "It won't happen, I just have to ignore any feelings for him. I don't need love."

The flat was empty when Orlando came home. He had waited at their usual meeting point for Bronwyn for the ride home but she had not turned up and when he had checked the work rooms, they had been deserted.

He was annoyed and irritated and although a large part of his mind wanted to blame Bronwyn for it, he knew it had been his fault. If he had scared her away then it was all his fault.

A small notice on the fridge caught his gaze, and picking it up it told him that his sister was away for the weekend with some friends from Guildhall. With a shrug, he made himself a sandwich, before he settled himself on the couch.

While eating he watched the sheets of paper in front of him on the coffee table. Every time he tried to ignore them, his gaze was riveted back to them, drawing him, bidding him to pick them up.

With a sigh, he put his half-eaten sandwich onto the plate and brushing his hands on his jeans, he picked up the papers. He slowly skimmed the headlines, frowning as the meaning sunk in. Ian had dated the snippets, so Orli started with the earliest. The article was small but with a black and white picture of Bronwyn. She looked young as she smiled into the camera.

Probably taken from her folio, Orlando thought and had to smile. A smile that soon faded when he started to read the article:

Ballerina in car crash
Late last night Royal Opera stars A. Dmitrjov and B. McKinnon were involved in a car crash en route to their Chiswick home. Alex Dmitrjov was pronounced dead on arrival of medical team. Ms. McKinnon, who starred with great success in Stravinsky's 'Firebird' last night, has been submitted to St. Martin's Hospital with several severe injuries. It is believed that Ms. McKinnon's car lost its way on the rain wet street.
The Guardian Oct. 14th 1999

Orlando stared at the paper in his hands and slowly put it back on the table. 'So this is what happened,' Orli thought and rubbed his eyes wearily, trying to ban the images that his mind conjured up. Twisted metal, smoke, probably a smouldering fire ... blood and somewhere in the wreckage Bronwyn, torn, bruised, hurt and in pain.

He shuddered and took a deep breath to steady himself. His gaze fell on two sheets that Ian had tagged together, there were a lot of pictures in this article and Orlando proceeded to read.

It showed several black and white photographs of a small child with huge eyes wearing a tutu and posing for the camera. Reading the caption Orlando knew it showed Bronwyn when she was six years old. Several others showed a petite, almost skinny Bronwyn, serious face in concentration and on pointe. Much like the photographs he had retrieved from the trash. The article itself told the reader about Bronwyn McKinnon, her family and friends and a little about the background she was coming from.

'Middle-class, father a retired doctor, mum a housewife, grandmother ...' Orlando mused. 'Almost the same background as me.' The young actor smiled when he reached a part where a young Bronwyn was quoted why she wanted to become a ballerina 'because of the boys, they don't bother me at the ballet'. Orli chuckled and read further and the more he read, the more he had the feeling he was getting to know Bronwyn, how she ticked and also felt the great love she had for the ballet and how hard her education was. He had never known the students had to take music classes as well as arts and production classes. It reminded him of his years at the Guildhall, his speech classes and the directing classes he had to take during his three there.

"Bronwyn, like it or not, we have more in common than you think," Orlando muttered beneath his breath before he picked up another piece of paper. From the way the article was written he immediately noticed that these were rainbow press snippets.

Dancing Killer?!

"What the fuck?" he exclaimed and shook his head as he resumed reading.

Did Bronwyn McKinnon, former Royal Ballet star, kill her fiancé? As we have been informed from a source close to the victim it is said that Alex Dmitrjov had plans to go abroad with his new love and upcoming ballet star Sylvie Nitreau. Ms. Nitreau has been reported as saying that she was confident that McKinnon killed her fiancé as he wanted to leave her. No comment was brought forth from the defendant Ms. Bronwyn McKinnon or her solicitors upon request.

However, new evidence points in just this direction. No brake signs were found at the site of the supposed accident, due to the heavy rain on the night of the alleged accident and Metropolitan Police has started an official inquiry upon Ms Nitreau's allegations.
Sunday Mirror Nov. 21st 1999

"I don't believe it," Orli whispered under his breath. "They didn't put her on trial, did they? She was injured, lost her fiancé and then they open an inquiry just because some bitch couldn't keep her mouth shut?"

He grabbed the last sheet and started reading, his frown deepening: Royal Ballet star on trial. He skimmed the article, mostly it showed several pictures of Bron in casual attire in front of the Old Bailey with her solicitors as well as a bigger picture of her and her fiancé, a photo taken at their last performance together. He read that Bronwyn remained silent, giving no evidence to the night of the accident, claiming amnesia. It didn't look good as her stoic silence could be interpreted either way.

Orli rubbed his temples warily, and although he knew that this had happened three years ago, he knew that going through such an ordeal left scars. He continued to the last article, Ian had printed out.

Acquittal for McKinnon
Today, Bronwyn McKinnon, former star of the prestigious Royal Ballet, was acquitted of all charges concerning delinquency in the death of Ballet star Alex Dmitrjov. The trial had been going on for six months now, and during that time, Ms. McKinnon has remained silent, claiming amnesia due to her severe injuries. However, psychologist Paul Ferguson M.D. who had been called in on the case to corroborate Ms. McKinnon's claim, doesn't believe that she suffers from amnesia.
Today the Right Honourable Judge Peter Collinsworth pronounced judgement. The sentence was one of acquittal.
The Guardian July 26th 2000

For a long time Orlando stared at the papers in his hands before he angrily balled them in his fist. "That is all shit, Bronwyn would have never deliberately killed her fiancé."

He paced the living room, rubbing his neck while he digested the information. 'Lord, it must have been awful for her,' he thought and remembered what she had told him about dating Sean Bean.

"...he deserves someone who wouldn't put him into a clinch with the media..." Orlando whispered, remembering. "Yeah, figures. The press would have a field day if Sean was associated with her ..." 'Or she with me,' he added silently.

'Why does it have to be so complicated? Why can't I just for once meet a girl without a past that I can love?' Suddenly, Orlando stopped dead in his tracks around the apartment.

'Love?'

Orlando shook his head, trying to get rid of the thought, but try as he might, every time he closed his eyes, he could feel her soft lips on his and he knew he was falling for the quiet woman.