AN}-- As usual, I want to apologize since this story has been EXTREMELY slow but I never really realized how incomplete the story was in my head. Anyways, here's what I've been able to come up with though it heads on a completely different detour. (That would be thanks to Kat, the towel girl from two chapters ago. =) ) I would have no qualms on you guys completely flaming me. I know I'd so deserve it for putting this story out so prematurely. Either way you can check out my more active fics. And maybe the 'Things Change' Sequel! Yea. I finally got it started. =) AND 'My Immortal'., =)

Chapter 09:

Will looked at Serena who hadn't said a word since they'd left the pier. She threw her keys to the counter and just proceeded to lead Will to the spare room. He couldn't help but feel like had severely disappointed Serena.

"You can sleep here..." Serena murmured. She took out some clothing and handed it to him. "Here are some clothes you can use for sleeping... I'll be in the next room if you need anything."

"Did I do something wrong?" Will asked Serena's retreating back.

"You... I could understand that YOU aren't from here. I, miraculously enough, accepted that you came here out of nowhere and me never even questioning HOW... I just didn't really realize it, you know?" Will shook his head. "That's what I mean... you don't know... and I don't think I understood THAT..." Serena looked away. "I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow..."

"Good night," Will called. He bit his lip and just watched as she walked away.

In a trailer, the next morning, south of the Mexican border.

Orlando took a seat in the make up chair. Diane Kruger, his costar, was already in her own chair, her hair being done by the make up artists.

"Morning, Diane," Orlando yawned. "Don't you hate early calls?"

"Hate them with a passion," Diane grimaced. Orlando forced a laugh and just relaxed, hoping that make up would be shorter than usual since it didn't really take much to change his look for this role. A few moments later, he felt a tap on his shoulder. His eyes opened and saw Brad staring down at him.

"What's up, mate?" Orlando greeted. "You must have been up a hella lot earlier than I was." Brad was already dressed in his Achilles costume. The only out of character object was the newspaper in his hand.

"Umm... Can I talk to you, Orlando? Outside?" Brad asked.

"Sure... Can I go, Leese?" Orlando turned to his make up artist.

"... Sure... one second," the man said. A couple more brushes to make Orlando perfect for the camera and he nodded. Orlando stepped up and followed Brad out of the trailer.

"Soooo..." Orlando stuffed his hands into his pockets. "What's going on?"

"Where were you last night?"

"Umm... in my hotel room with Kate?" Orlando frowned, immediately not liking where this was going.

"Not by this," Brad said shaking his head handing Orlando an early edition of a tabloid. "It was in Wolfgang's office this morning and I picked it up... That's not you, is it?"

Orlando looked at the pictures in the magazine shell-shocked. The headline read: 'Violent Secrets of Our Favorite Elf'. Beneath it was an article and several pictures of someone that looked uncannily similar to himself. It was a series of photos and it was obvious what was happening. At first, he was about to hit some black girl... no older than fifteen maybe. Then, another girl came up and took him aside. Afterwards, the one who took him aside spoke with the one he was about to hit. Then the man and the girl left.

Some of the photos were close up and Orlando would have almost said that it was him but it couldn't possibly be him. The article said that the photos were taken the night before at the Santa Monica pier. The girl that was about to get hit was interviewed and said that the man had called her 'slave girl' and was about to hit her on the grounds that he wanted to get ahead in the line for some ride. She went on to explain that the man's friend had apologized to her, excusing his behaviour for 'being wrong in the head.'

"Hell, this isn't me!" Orlando cried out, indignant. "I was with Kate all night! I'm not racist, I'm not bloody mad AND I wasn't anywhere NEAR Santa Monica last night! What the hell is this?!" He turned it over wondering maybe if the answers were hidden in some other part of the magazine. "This HAS to be doctored..."

"Orli, those are some pretty serious allegations... Plus the photos were taken pretty well..." Brad said, worriedly. "And I don't think it's just this tabloid... I saw some others and they said the same thing."

"Then, I'll sue for fucking libel!" Orlando snapped.

"Call up your agent first," Brad advised. "Fiona will want you to make a statement, and you might have some more information to who took the pictures."

"Right..." Orlando agreed, taking out his cellphone from his jeans, and dialing Fiona Weir's number.

Eh... Short... but it's a start to getting back on the Prophecy horse!! I do have to apologize again... I hate being so frigging roadblocked on this story... I apologize more and grovel at your feet for forgiveness.