India: bazaar in New Delhi.

"The way across is not painful for one who is willing and in need�"

Orlando looked around quickly, wondering who'd said that, but the voice in his ear was lost to a crowd of sweaty, gaudily colored natives. It had been his idea to do this, he reminded himself. No Lij to drive him to distraction or Dom or Billy to goad him on�not even Viggo to impress. Not that he was in the business of impressing Viggo. No, he definitely was not. That was a stupid method and... why was he thinking about that now anyway?

�Oh yes. The fire.

Orlando had heard the screaming in the bazaar, the sounds of a crowd gathered around a walk of coal. Still glowing a bright demon's eye orange and sending up an occasional tongue of flame curling into the air. People were paying to walk through it. With the announcer�the owner of the screaming voice that had attracted his attention, though he had not understood the heavily accented English�encouraging them on, telling of how it was important. It called to him somehow. Differently than the snow-boarding, sky-diving and bungee jumping had. Similar, but different all the same. He had decided he needed to do it. So he was here now. Waiting. In a surprisingly long line.

And he needed to remind himself why he'd decided to do this, but he wasn't sure why. It was some vague notion he couldn't remember; not before with the coals glowing at him seemingly in anger, and not now with memories of grey-blue eyes holding the clear cold water that would quench the thirsty flames.

Viggo could do it.

But Viggo wouldn't be doing it. He doesn't go seeking insane self-destructive thrills like Orlando. Unless it's something mild like surfing, and there's a lot of begging and pouting and bribing involved� But he was Orlando, wasn't he? Not Viggo. Though he would walk across anything if it were for Viggo.

He would walk across more than that path of burning coals if it were for Viggo.

He wondered why he'd never admitted that to himself before. He felt a slow warmth coursing through him, and it was akin to elation.

The sun had been beating down on him since he'd stepped out of the hotel that morning and there had been rare shade. Not that it had protected him from the humidity and the sweat-inducing heat of the Indian sun in any way.

But the warmth inside of him right now was pleasant, having nothing to do with the sweat and cruelty of the too-close sun and close proximity to too many people.

There was sweetness in it.

He decided he liked it, letting the corner of his lips curl up slightly. Love, huh? He supposed that wasn't as bad a thing as he'd feared.

It would be his little secret.