at my doorstep

chapter 1

Warning: I'm sure that no one who reads this fic is actually going to be this dumb but here goes-- this is a work of FICTION. Meaning the situation is NOT real. There'll be an extension of this warning at the end of the first chapter to prevent spoilers.

Do you know that in the Netherlands, instead of Father Christmas leaving presents under the tree, the kids are told to leave shoes filled with straw on their doorstep? Then "Sinterklaas" comes by and fills it up with goodies.

I've had tonnes of things left in my doorstep: some good, some not so good, some downright disturbing. Lij always gets a kick out of those, let me tell you. LA is a strange, strange place. It's almost like an alien world. The trick is to keep yourself from being assimilated by the pod people.

They are, however, damn good pod people. They don't sneak up behind you and whack you on the head, oh no. They're much craftier than that, mate. They string you along, convince you that it's the best decision to wander down the primrose path and Bam! Before you know it, you've fallen into their pit.

But I digress… this story is about doorsteps.

Lij called me just after noon as I was finishing up a photo shoot. I'm starting to hate those, you know. All they seem to want to do is to see me with as little clothing as possible. I don't know if anyone else has noticed, but I can't put on much muscle. Has nothing to do with being a vegetarian; I think I'm just an ectomorph. The photographer had more muscles than I did, and she was female.

"Orlando!" her assistant called out. "Your cell phone's ringing."

I'd been through enough of these shoots to know that I shouldn't move a muscle until the boss says so. There could be a nuclear disaster and I still shouldn't move. Might ruin the wrinkles of my shirt.

"I don't think I'll be doing any more," she relented. "Go ahead and clean up."

"Thanks, love." I bounded up to the phone. It had a normal shrill ring like the one on the phone back home in Kent. Yeah, yeah, sappy. Bugger off.

"Hello?"

"Hey there, Elfboy. Think you can find some time in your extensive social schedule to meet a couple of lowly hobbits?"

My mouth widened into a grin. The sound of Elijah's voice always does that. The scamp. "I don't know, mate. I've got a horribly important date with my dirty laundry."

He snorted. "That's what housekeepers are for, buddy. Hello? You're in LA."

"Easy for you to say. You still live with your mother."

"This better not be leading to bad talk about my mother, Pointy Ears. I've got pictures I know you don't want the public to have."

"Ah, sod off." Another assistant came up to ask me for the shirt. I nodded, and shrugged out of it, still not letting go of the phone. "What other hobbits? Who else is there?"

"Billy," replied Elijah. "He was getting sick of the rain up in Scotland and decided he wanted to work on his tan."

Fan-bloody-tastic! Billy was the best mate to have around for larks. All I have to do is take a look at him and I explode into guffaws. "Happy days then! I'll definitely be there."

Since it had been a couple of months since we'd seen Billy--ages as far as we were concerned-- we decided to do the town up right. Lij knew all the good places around town where the music was loud enough to drown out extraneous conversation, the drinks were kept pouring, and the fans were appreciative but not obsessive.

We wasted quite a few rounds of beers between us before we got enough guts to hit the dance floor. None of us can dance. A Jamaican friend of mine up in London calls it the White Man Shuffle Syndrome. It's when a white man (natch) tries to dance like he's hip and fails miserably, ending up with only a shuffle and shoulder-shrugging that's not even in time with the beat.

"Oi! Oi, OB!" Billy shouted over a couple of women's heads. "Try this!" He hunched over and did this truly bizarre shoulder-shrugging thing that made his head look like it was about to separate from his body. Then, he flapped his arms and walked around with his knees bent. "I call i' the improved chicken dance."

Lij let out that crazy laugh of his and joined in. I had to take another swig of beer before I could. Yeah, White Man Shuffle Syndrome. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

When that had garnered enough attention, we went our separate ways, each with a girl on the arm, all blondes. I think they must clone them here, three dozens every week. I'd bet even Sweden doesn't have as many blondes per capita as LA.

"You're that totally sexy elf in Lord of the Rings, aren't you?" she shouted in my ear. She tried to make it seductive by biting the lobe afterwards.

"That's me," I said, swinging her closer so that talking wouldn't be so awkward.

"I've watched that and Black Hawk Down just to see you in it." She did the ear-biting thing again. Why do people think that's sexy? If you think about it, ears are one of the last things that should be sexy. They're right down there with armpits. They've got earwax and that smudgy dirt between all the whorls and cracks and funny little hairs growing out of 'em. If you've got multiple piercings, nibbling on them could just get dangerous. This second time, the blonde was thoughtful enough to add a hefty grab to my rear to cancel out the ear-biting.

"I thought you were sooooo sexy," she breathed. "Is it true you know how to French kiss two people at the same time?"

"It's one of my acquired talents," I admitted. Her fingers were wandering in places only soapsuds knew about. When this first happened to me, I jumped. Now, I only thanked God that she wasn't giving me a blow job on the spot.

Just then, the DJ switched to a slow song filled with a heavy bass and lyrics you couldn't possibly sing aloud without getting arrested. She slid closer one leg between mine then wrapped her arms around my neck so that I had to carry most of her weight in the one hand. My other one was still holding my beer. Two layers of clothes were all that were preventing us from being fodder for good porn film.

Anyone will tell you that I'm not the most conservative person in the world. There is, however, a line between liberated and skanky. We weren't there yet but give us a few minutes and we would be. I decided that this evening needed a less orgy-like scenario. At the very least, she should give me her name, right?

Using my hips, I guided her to back towards our table. She smiled. No, "smiled" was the wrong word: she leered. Women are getting exceedingly good at leering.

"What should I call you, love?" I leaned down to ask, giving her cheek a soft peck.

"Sherryl."

"Can I buy you a drink then, Sherryl?"

Her hands brushed through the curls at the nape of my neck. I shivered. She found my weakness. I swear to God there must be a direct line of electricity between the nape of my neck and my penis. "I'd love a Muff Diver."

I blinked. "A what?"

Remember the few minutes that would push us over to skanky? That was now.

A muff diver is as follows: pour half an ounce of Kahlua and half an ounce of Bailey's Irish Cream in a shot glass. Place shot glass in a martini glass. Fill remaining space with whipped cream until shot glass is covered and there is a small mountain of whipped cream to mirror the shape of the martini glass. Place the precariously loaded martini glass between a person's legs--male or female, it doesn't matter; it's the twenty-first century, some people swing that way. Lace hands behind your back and bend down to find the shot glass through the whipped-cream-covered martini glass. Without using your hands or your teeth, tilt your head back and swallow the whole bit in one gulp. There's also the option of getting the whipped cream licked from your face by the person holding the martini glass between the knees.

The hobbits and I went through countless rounds of these, sometimes with each other, most of the time with various females. The first few times, I had too wash down the sickly sweetness with the heaviest beer in the bar. By two o' clock, I was actually starting to like the taste, Billy had two girls licking either side of his face and Elijah was telling everyone he came in contact with that he loved them.

"No really," he said through bleary eyes, "I totally love you, man. You are cuntilicious."

Billy giggled. "Cuntastic!"

"Specuntular!" I added.

"The specuntialestest!" Billy agreed with great gusto. He raised both arms up, a bottle in each hand, and almost brained the two girls with the over-zealous licking abilities. They only laughed and started to kiss each other.

Somehow, we managed to stumble into a cab. I'm not sure who gave the driver my address as I was busy trying to keep Sherryl from unzipping my pants. It was probably Billy, bless his Scottish soul. He could out-drink the lot of us.

"Gerrof," I muttered when Lij's leg came a little too close to kicking my assets.

He giggled. "Sorry, man. Di'in mean t'steal your mojo."

Billy came up for air long enough to say, "Groovy, baby!" His impression of Austin Powers left much to be desired. That set us off into a whole other peal of laughter. I don't think Sherryl was too happy about that. Neither was her friend, currently on Billy's lap.

It was all elbows and jelly-legs coming out of the car. I'm pretty sure I had lost all feeling in my legs but fortunately, Sherryl kept me from falling. The thought flew through my head that she was probably completely disgusted with me right now and was only smiling in order to get me in bed. Then the thought met with the alcohol that was running through my bloodstream. Sorry to say, the thought was completely obliterated.

Of Sherryl wanted me, my pickled brain insisted. I am Orlando Bloom! I am a superstar! I am hung like a bloody Clydesdale! Sherryl wanted my body so badly she had to puke!

"I'm not kidding; I have to puke," she moaned just before falling over to the curbside.

Being that she was my only weapon against gravity, I too was forced on my hands and knees, just missing her puddle of goop. That started a whole domino effect. Lij tripped over me, Billy's companion tripped over Lij and Billy was dragged down on top of her. Hope no one fell in the goop.

"Argh--oof!"

"Ow, bleeding hell!"

"My arm, my arm!"

"Ugly, lyin', wee-wankered, shite-eatin' cunt!"

Almost choral, wasn't it? Yet through all this, the angry wails of a baby managed to penetrate. As one, our heads jerked up to look for the source of the crying. It was too close to be any of the neighbours' kids and it didn't seem to be muffled by walls. Furthermore, there was something dark and lumpy in front of my door.

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh! Ngraaah, ngraaah, waaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!"

The crying was coming from that dark and lumpy thing sitting in front of my door.

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh! Ngraaah, ngraaaaaaaaahhhhhh!"

There was… some one had… it couldn't possibly be a…

"Orli," said Lij shakily. "What's a baby doing on your doorstep?"

I've read somewhere that humans are genetically programmed to react to a baby crying. Our brains are hard-wired to find the crying baby and figure out a way--any way!-- to get it to stop and we can't rest until it does. A self-preserving mechanism to keep parents from throwing in the towel when the colicky nights get too rough or the nappies too smelly. It was the best reason I could come up with to explain how the three of us suddenly went sober as a judge pumped full of depressants at the angry wails.

I couldn't speak. My tongue was paralyzed.

"Orli," Lij repeated more frantically. "Orli, there's a baby on your doorstep."

Yeah, tongue still out of order.

"Orli," Lij repeated.

"I know! There's a baby on my doorstep!" I screamed. "Fuckin' hell, Lij, I'm not bloody deaf!"

One by one, the hobbits rolled off of my back and scrambled to their feet. Billy and Elijah resembled bug-eyed chihuahuas. I probably looked about the same.

"What are we gaen tae do?" Billy asked.

"I don't know!" I said. "I've never had to take care of a baby. Lij?"

The younger man shook his head frantically. "Nuh-uh. All I know about babies is that they break if you hold them wrong. Billy?"

"I have nae been near a bairn since I was a bairn meself."

We stood there, a good twelve feet away, staring at the shabby little carrier in front of my mint-green double doors. The baby had lulled down since we'd gotten ourselves untangled. However, it soon became apparent that it was only getting its second wind.

"NGRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

I cringed and put my hands up to my ears. "Well, someone pick it up!" I commanded.

"I'm not picking it up!" said Elijah.

"No' me either!" Billy seconded. He turned to Sherryl's friend but before he could get a word out, she backed off wide-eyed, like we were the incarnation of everything she'd ever feared. Hastily grabbing her drunken friend by the arm, she chased down the cab, shoved Sherryl in and roared off in directions unknown.

""WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

We cringed away again.

"We cannae just let i' cry!" Billy said.

"My mom!" suggested Lij. "I'll call my mom. She'll know what to do, right?"

He let the phone ring for a minute before jabbing the end button. "I forgot! She's not here, she's visiting Zach down in San Diego."

"Try Sean," I said.

"British or American?"

"American!" Billy and I chorused a bit bitingly.

"All right, all right, yeesh." I held my breath until Elijah said, "Hello?"

Salvation!

"Sean, Christine, if you guys are there, please, please, please pick up!" Lij continued. My shoulders slumped. "Sean, this is an emergency, answer the phone. Come on, Sean, I'm not drunk, I swear-- dammit!"

"British Sean!" Billy said, jumping up and down maniacally.

"He's in Britain!"

"Who cares?" I said. "He has kids. He'll know what to do."

Elijah consulted his speed dial once more. This time we met with success. "Hello, Sean? It's Lij. Um, about four in the morning… Uh, yeah, as a matter of fact, that is a baby you're hearing… Where is it?" He glanced back at the carrier. "Right now, it's in front of Orli's house… No, we don't know how it got there… No, this isn't a crank call, I swear, Sean. Someone left a baby at Orli's house!"

Was it my imagination or was the crying starting to sound really weak? How long had the baby been there? What if it was starving? What if it was sick? What if it died? Panic engulfed me. I grabbed Lij's mobile.

"Sean? It's Orli."

"What's this talk about a baby in your house?" said Sean with a hint of a smile in his voice. "Is there something you've forgotten to tell us?"

"Sean, I know later on we'll look back on this night and laugh it off but this baby hasn't stopped crying since we got here and we can't get in the house--"

"Why not?"

I actually didn't have quick answer for that. "Well," I said after collecting my thoughts, "We'd have to pick up the baby."

"So pick it up, Orlando." Sean was using a tone that people reserved for lunatics.

"I can't pick it up! I don't know how to pick up babies."

"Babies are very supple," Sean assured me. "As long as you don't drop it or shake it, it'll be fine. Is it a boy or a girl?"

I tried to guess at the sex from where I was standing. "Er… we haven't exactly gotten close enough to see."

A long-suffering sigh came through the line. "Do you think you can manage to walk to your door despite the fact that there's a vicious, man-eating baby in front of it and unlock it so you all can get in and we can discuss this in a more suitable place?"

"Take the baby inside?"

"Yes, Orli, take the baby inside."

I smiled weakly. "Yeah, I can do that." I punched Billy's arm "Pick up the baby so we can get inside."

Billy stared at me, shocked. "Why do I have tae pick i' up?"

"'Cause you're the oldest."

Turning to Elijah, Billy said, "Ye pick up one end, I'll take the other."

They carried that carrier in like it was a load of C4. With just as much care, they placed it on the floor of my living room. Then we all stared down at it.

"Well?" Sean demanded over the phone. "How does it look?"

"Wrinkly," I replied. "Kind of… I don't know, Sean, it's a pretty ugly mite."

"Wrinkly and ugly?" Sean sounded disapproving. "Is it thin as well?"

Seeing as how Lij and Billy brought it in, I thought it only fair that I check for thinness. Keeping a good arm's length away, I flipped the blanket over. The baby was wearing nothing but a diaper.

"Holy shit!" Elijah drew back, holding his nose. "That's so gross!"

"Nothin' holy abou' this." Billy fanned the air in front of his face. "How does somethin' tha' scrawny make such a big mess?"

My own nose wrinkled as I answered Sean's question. "Yeah, it's on the thin side. There's this black goop all over its legs."

"That's the baby's biggie, my friend. It's probably only a few days old then." His condemnation was now more apparent. "You should call the police."

Now why didn't I think of that in the first place? My finger was poised to jab the speed dial on the house line when Elijah called out, "Wait!"

Sean and I both went, "What?"

Lij held up a piece of paper folded into quarters. "There's a note for you."

I nipped it from his hand, dropping the mobile on his lap as I did so. It was normal ruled paper, the type all the students in North America used. My full name was written on one side in blue ink.

"Dinna just stare at it, man," said Billy, "Read the damned thing!"

"Dear Orlando," it began.

"I am one of your biggest fans. I watched all your movies and I read about you on tons of internet sites. I really think that your going to be a good dad for my baby. I can't keep her but I want her to have a good life. There's some extra diapers in the plastic bag and a bottle. Please make her life happy."

"No signature," I ended. I looked back at the baby who was now feebly waving her fists. "At least we know it's a girl."

"Call the police, Orli," Sean repeated. "They can take care of her."

I was just about to hang up on him so I could do his bidding when the baby started crying again. This time, there was no mistaking the fact that it was weaker. My primitive circuitry shoved so much guilt at my throat that I couldn't breathe.

"Lij?"

"Yeah?" he answered shakily.

"Do you think you can run down to the grocery and buy some food for her?"

He was out of the door in a blink. I'm not entirely sure if his alacrity was mostly out of concern for the baby or avoidance of any further contact.

"I didnae see any plastic bags when we came in," Billy said. "I'll gae double check." And he disappeared, too.

I was abandoned. The baby waved her fist around a bit more. Then a strange thing happened. At that moment, the baby managed to turn her head in my direction and look straight at me.

She had the most incredible blue, blue eyes. She'd give Lij a run for his money. There was a patch of pale fuzz above her forehead, just enough to be visible when light struck it. My fingers curled, wanting to know of her head was as soft and fuzzy as it looked but I was literally shaking in fear of the damage my untrained hands could inflict. She was such a scrawny thing. I could see her ribs and veins through her translucent skin. And she had the most incredible blue, blue eyes.

Damn.

I think she just made me fall in love with her.

Warning, part II: Okay, now you know what happens but I'll reiterate. This is NOT real. It's not even ideal. There are laws in most states in the US and provinces in Canada that protect the identity of mothers who, for various reasons, cannot keep their child as well as organisations who are discrete and can help place the baby in a good home. I'm not sure about other countries but whatever the case may be please never ever, ever leave a baby alone even in the entrance of a hospital. They can, and usually do, die.
As to leaving them for your favourite actor to raise, chances are they'll call Social Services and put the kid in an orphanage, a foster home or, if they're lucky, get it adopted. I'm sure your favourite actor, Orli included, is a lovely person just brimming with good intentions but it's unrealistic that they'd take in a kid left on their doorstep.