Title: The Conspiracy Theory
Author: fazy
Email: chopstickssg@yahoo.com
Pairing: Haldir/ Elrond.
Rating: G
Archive: any, just tell me.
Summary: In the dark of the night, Haldir takes Elrond's conspiracy theory one step further. Set after Elrond returns home from the London conference that almost ended with him assasinated.
Genre: angst? depression?
Warnings: angst? depression?

A/N: Characters based on the Bagenders (www.bagenders.stormpages.com) idea that Elrond in the 21st century is a filthy rich guy who owns half of Scotland, and that Haldir is currently staying with him. Soulshadow Diamond and I have taken it upon ourselves to assume that they have some sort of relationship going. In our version of the story, Haldir was initially sent by BADGER to infiltrate Elrond's mansion and send quarterly reports back to headquarters.

Haldir, as everyone knows, is the slut-of-Lorien-turned-social-escort. (read: professional high-charging gigolo).

'The Conspiracy Theory' is part of a series of vignettes that Soulshadow and I are in the midst of compiling. A complete version of the series should (might?) be up in late July. In the meantime, snippets are available at http://msnmadness.blogspot.com/

Disclaimer: Erm... do we even NEED disclaimers? Isn't it a given that fan fiction is written by poor college/ high school students who don't own a damn thing and don't make any money out of their writing? Isn't that what fan fiction is all *about*?!?

c",)


***

(snippet from soulshadow's piece on Elrond's conspiracy theory)

A small but persistent voice at the back of his mind kept pushing forward the second Elf-related theory. That this wasn't really to do with BADGER at all. That this was to do with one very influential golden-haired Elf with a furious reason-blinding vendetta who knew, Valar damn him, what a week or more of forced non-contact without explanation would to do the fragile dynamic in the relationship between Elrond and Haldir. 'If you want to recall him, gods damn you,' Elrond thought furiously into the already-buzzing early-morning air, 'then don't play around, for goodness' sodding sake just do it, but I'll fight you to the bloody finish. Unless...' He stopped the thought there and bit his lip worriedly. 'Unless you know,' he finished to himself, 'that the only way you'll get him out is to make him hate me...'


***


Haldir couldn't sleep. He lay awake tossing and turning restlessly as a thought replayed itself over and over again in his mind. He bit his lip. Hate Elrond...? No, Haldir knew he could never do that. It was, quite frankly, impossible. He had never hated any of his previous lovers, not during and not after the relationship ended, and he knew without a doubt that he would not start now with Elrond. No, it simply wasn't in him.

Nothing BADGER-- or rather, Glorfindel-- could do would ever make him hate Elrond. But he didn't have to, did he? No... if Glorfindel knew him well enough, he would know how easily Haldir despaired. He *knew* Glorfindel knew. He could feel it in the cold, analytical looks the Eldar gave him.

And Galadrial... why was she in this? And she was in this, that much he was certain. The two of them were in cahoots. And Galadrial... Galadrial knew him intimately, knew him inside out, knew his strengths, his weaknesses, his motivations. If Glorfindel had not figured it out yet, the Lady would surely have told him.

He was doomed.

Together they would break him. And Glorfindel... Glorfindel will be laughing in the background at the brilliance and simplicity of the plan... the plan to break him to break Elrond. He shuddered. Glorfindel might have a personal vendetta against the Peredhil, but what had Galadrial to gain from this? Surely she would not act unless out of self-interest? What was in it for her?

Dimly he remembered reading a report about a secret outpost in the middle of Africa. Why? Why Africa? What was it for? Haldir didn't know. But it was small, just a single colonial house staffed by about eleven employees... of whom only about 4 were BADGER operatives. Did she truly intend to move him there? Why? Was she dissatisfied with the work he did here?

"Of course she is," he whispered softly. Even he would be dissatisfied with his level of work. He wasn't doing his job. He had failed them. No wonder they wanted him out.

Haldir buried his head under the pillow and moaned. Well, how could he be expected to do his job for goodness sake! He couldn't very well just betray his lover's trust! He might as well just simply hand over the keys to the mansion and told them to take what they wanted. It was just...so...wrong!

It wasn't always this way, that he felt repulsed by the idea. It was just... recently. Recently when the dynamic changed. Elrond had always know that he was a BADGER spy, hadn't he, so whatever knowledge Haldir had of the Peredhil Estate was knowledge Elrond was willing to have passed on. And Haldir would always know that the information he passes on was the information that Elrond meant for him passed on. He wouldn't have trusted Haldir with anything more, and Haldir knew and respected that.

Only thing was that... well... Haldir had stopped pushing... had stopped spying. In a sense he didn't need to spy anymore; Elrond opened up to him much more freely now. Well... maybe not so much on personal stuff, but he had direct access to most of Elrond's bank accounts, unlimited use of his platinum cards and codes to most, well, coded...things. Including his phone and persocom. And free reign of the house. Inclusive of the study. And the secret vaulted study nobody was supposed to know about. He wondered if Elrond wondered whether BADGER knew about the vaulted study.

But these priveledges were for Haldir the Lover, not Haldir the Spy. To turn over the information to the organization, even his sworn organization, felt like a betrayal. He felt like he was an ant sandwitched between two enormous boulders. How could his loyalties lie both ways? How could he not betray the both of them, simply by being in the position he was in?

Elrond was understanding. It hurt even worse that Elrond was understanding. He felt awful. Sometimes he wished Elrond would kick up a fuss, or protest, or frown, or well... something. To just... be accusing. At least that way he wouldn't feel so guilty.

The flipside of their arrangement however was that Elrond didn't trust him. Not completely. Not with information he absolutely couldn't afford to be passed on, and that pained Haldir. He knew it was the only logical, the only prudent thing to do. And for the sake of Elrond's own safety, Haldir himself wouldn't have had it any other way. Still, it hurt not to have Elrond's trust. He couldn't blame the Peredhil or course, but it hurt all the same.

He had sworn-- entirely voluntarily of course-- that BADGER will never know about the vaulted study. At least not from him. Elrond wouldn't have demanded the promise, but Haldir did so anyway. It felt right. It felt *moral*.

It hurt to withhold information from BADGER, but it hurt even more to disclose it. It killed him. Those damned reports were killing him.

Haldir sighed. Was it no wonder that the Double Gs were displeased. Haldir's reports had grown shorter and shorter, skimpier and skimpier... and much, much more vague over the past months. The last few had been turned in late, and the very latest had not been submitted at all. Haldir flipped back onto his back and stared miserably at the ceiling, feeling his eyes clouding up with the mistiness of tears. He should have paid more attention to his work. After all, Elrond had practically given his unspoken consent. He shouldn't have allowed his silly romantic notions to get in the way of getting his job done. But he had. Oh, he had...

And now he had dug his own grave.

What was it that Elrond had said earlier? That he thought Glorfindel wanted to make him hate the Peredhil? Why? To get him out of the house? That would make sense. It would satisfy the blonde bastard's revenge, while at the same time being practical enough for Galadrial to have a vested interest in. After all, once he was removed she could always send another operative in, this time an operative that was throughly loyal to BADGER and completely subjective at that. He had no doubt in hell that his relationship with Elrond had clouded his subjectivity.

He shuddered and curled up on his side, his nails digging into the soft pillows. They knew... they knew... they...

"Elrond?" he whispered tentatively. There was no movement beside him. The peredhil was fast asleep. "Elrond?" he said again, louder this time, and more urgently, but still his lover slept soundly. Haldir for one wasn't surprised. It had been a long, hard day for Elrond. He must be exhausted, both mentally and emotionally...

Sighing in resignation, Haldir flopped back onto his side of the bed and traced out the intricate patterns on the ceiling's wallpaper. They would break him. They would-- could -- do it so easily. The relationship was, well the *serious* relationship at least, was new, still in it's infant stages, and they were still in the process of exploration. They were insecure, the both of them. Or was it just him that was insecure while the Peredhil slept soundly? Perhaps. Perhaps not.

All Glorfindel had to do was to make him loose hope. It had almost worked, that time at the London conference. Well, assuming the delay had been Glorfindel's doing. First Haldir had pined for his lover, then had grown frustrated when Elrond refused to answer his mobile. The frustration had fast graduated into anxiety and worry, before gradually being replaced by a choking sense of helplessness.

By the fifth day, Haldir was absolutely frantic, swinging wildly between... but no, it wasn't swinging... it was more like a pattern, wasn't it... a repeating pattern setting him off on a downward spiral. He was highstrung by then, like somebody on a perpetual sugar high, and the very smallest thing would trigger off a violent response. The anger would come first, a blinding frustration that filled him with howling rage, that left him shouting and smashing things like a thing posessed... it often didn't last long, just a few seconds, but it was a few seconds too many... Haldir would always wrest himself back under control and force himself to calm down, but as soon as the cloud of fury faded, it was replaced by the most mind-numbing, searing pain imaginable.

He collapsed from it, once or twice, and had to be carried up to his room. And even when he didn't, it left him weak. It was as if something had attached itself to him and was sucking out his life's essence... his strength, his energy, his hope.

His hope.

By the eighth day, he had despaired of ever seeing his love again, had resigned himself to the idea that Elrond had left with no intention of ever returning. He lay in bed, not eating, unmoving, robbed of even the strength to cry anymore. Thinking back, he had almost died. Thank goodness Elrond had returned when he did... by then Haldir had more than half faded. Having him close helped Haldir regain some of his strength back, but he was still week. Still devoid of hope. Most likely still fading, albeit much, much more gradually. Still disparing until earlier in the day, when he discovered the reasons behind Elrond's disappearance.

Two more weeks. Maybe less. If Glorfindel had kept Elrond two more weeks... Haldir shuddered to think of what would have happened.

This was the second time, no, third, that Haldir had thoroughly abandoned all hope that Elrond still cared for him, and had started to fade. Fourth. Fifth. No, sixth. It wasn't always that serious... but sometimes when he was too upset, he felt a tingling in his fingertips, which if ignored spread it's frosty numbness up his hands and arms, and later up his legs if it went on unchecked.

If ever the day came where it spread to his torso, and up his neck to encase his whole body in it's chilly embrace, he would die. Because the coldness didn't come from an encroaching Outsider... it came from his life light gradually leaving his limbs.

It was so simple. All they had to do was make him loose hope. Make Elrond hurt him. Push Elrond into a corner, checkmate him so that whatever move the peredhil made would end up crushing Haldir's admittedly oversensitive heart. And in his desperation, in his despair, Haldir would leave. He had already run away before, countless times, only to be coaxed back by friends or family, by his own need, his own pining and longing, or sometimes even by Elrond himself. But it had happened before. And he knew it will happen again.

And this time, if Glorfindel had orchestrated it, there would be no turning back. It was the Eldar's style. He would surely arrange it such that there was no way Haldir could ever make it back, even if he wanted to. Glorfindel's victory, once achieved, would be absolute.

Truning to lie on his side, he propped his head up on his elbow as he gazed wretchedly at his lover. Elrond looked so peaceful as he slept. He was so beautiful... Biting his lip to muffle any sounds that might disturb his lover's sleep, Haldir wept as he studied the peredhil, committing the face to memory, burning, searing each and every feature into his mind.

Haldir would not sleep tonight. Now that their hours together here were numbered, there would be no more sleep for him. He would lie here, watching his lover as he slept, watching lovingly, longingly, resigned to his fate until the sun arouse. Then he would rise and love the peredhil as he awoke, and spend every possible waking moment with him through the day. And when night came, he would watch, adoringly as Elrond drifted to sleep in his arms, relaxed and content after their lovemaking.

And once the peredhil's eyes dimmed in sleep, his tears would fall. Tears of hopelessness, tears of resignation, tears of love. And so it would continue until the dreaded day came. Until then, Halidr would get no sleep. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Possibly not ever again.