Disclaimer: This story is for fun only, no profit being made. All
characters belong to Anne Rice and Co.,

Spoilers: After TVA
 

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Louis had been sitting on the cold hard floor for hours now, alone, shivering, with his arms wrapped around his body. Gabrielle had gone out to
feed, Marius had taken Armand's young ones home. David and Armand had
wandered off also. He was alone in his vigil, in his nightly penitence of
guarding his maker.

It was deathly still. As it should be Louis pondered. There was only death
within these walls, and Louis was part of it. He stared across the other
side of the chapel, to the statues of the saints, with their sad eyes and
beckoning arms. They were his only company. He shivered again. It was
cold, and his thin garments offered little warmth. He rubbed his arms with
his hands trying to warm up.

The rubbing didn't work so he rested his head against the stone wall behind
him, almost loving the feel of the roughness. It made him feel as it he were
alive. He shut his eyes, let his mind drift. The only sound now was his
own shallow breathing, and the low thrum of traffic in the nearby street.
He was starving but he couldn't leave him now, someone had to watch over
him. He hoped Gabrielle would return soon.

He heard a soft moan, then a cough. Startled he opened his eyes and peered
into the darkness. The candles on the walls were flickering and casting
dancing shadows over the floor. The saints appeared to be looming over
Lestat's prone body on the floor.

Had he moved slightly? Louis stood up slowly, and quietly walked out of his
dark corner into the centre of the room to where he lay.
A flicker of movement...another soft moan. Louis' heart was beating fast.
He knelt down beside his maker and touched him gently on the cheek. He
moved...brought his hand up to his own face and touched Louis' fingers.
Louis jumped back, unsure of what to do. He watched and waited.

Lestat's eyelids flickered slightly and his hand quivered. Another soft
moan. Louis looked about him, wondering whether to call out to anyone. He
chose to stay quiet, not wanting one of the persistent ferals to come
charging in. Louis could feel the perspiration running down his back. He
was no longer cold. His shivering was now due to his nervousness.

Steel grey eyes peered at him from under a mop of unruly golden hair.
Lestat's mouth contorted slightly as he groaned, then he turned fully on his
side. Louis knelt down again, afraid to touch him, but also afraid not to.
Was this an hallucination?

Tentatively Louis reached out and touched his maker's shoulder. He was
rewarded with a whack of Lestat's hand that sent him flying backwards.
Louis hit the floor hard, the wind knocked out of him. He stayed still for
a couple of seconds, looking at the curling shadows on the ceiling. Louis
slowly stood up to find himself face to face with a wobbly and seemingly
confused Lestat.

Lestat's eyes appeared to be glazed, there was a thin veil of blood covering
his irises, his hair had fallen across his face. His clothes, that had
become shabby and tattered, were also covered in dust. Small particles were
floating away from his body in a tiny whirlwind.

Louis took one slow step towards him, and Lestat took a step back. Louis
put out his hands, hoping that Lestat would fall into his arms, but he
showed no recognition what-so-ever.

Louis whispered his name softly..."Lestat"...but he seemed to be staring
past him to some other place. He put once step in front of the other,
appearing to become steadier with each forward motion. Louis made one
further attempt to gain his attention, but he failed miserably. Lestat
seemed intent on something beyond his reach, beyond Louis' hearing, and
comprehension.

With a heart that was breaking into a thousands pieces, Louis watched as
Lestat walked straight past him, barely acknowledging he was there, and
disappeared into the night. He followed him to the doorway to the chapel
and watched his retreating back, as he made his way up the street. Everyone
now and then Lestat would stop, hold himself up against a wall or a fence,
then continue onwards.

Louis considered following him, but something held him back. It was as
though there were an invisible field separating him from the moving figure.
He felt something wet on his cheek and realised that he was weeping.
Suddenly another figure loomed in front of him , anger sweeping across her
features. For a minute Louis thought it was him returning, but it was only
his mother, Gabrielle.

She had already seen that Lestat's body was no longer on the floor.

"Where is he Louis?'

"Gone!"

"What do you mean he's gone? Where...how...when?"

"Leave me." Louis cried to her, and tried to shove her out of the way.

"No, God dammit. Where is he?" she swore at him loudly.

"Gone, up the street. I couldn't stop him."

"You idiot." she screamed at him, and pushed him with full force up against
the wall, holding him there firmly.

He tried to push her off, but with her anger and extra strength she was a
formidable adversary.

"How could you just let him go? He could be in trouble. Which direction
did he walk in?"

Louis was winded for the second time that evening, and his answer came out
in short sharp gasps. "That...way." he managed to squeeze out of his
throat, and he pointed up the street.

Gabrielle let him go suddenly and he sunk to the ground.

Angry with himself, hurt beyond recognition and very weary, he decided to
wend his way home slowly.

Chapter 2

The apartment was dark and cold, locked up tight. He flicked on the switch,
but nothing happened. He went into the next room and tried again. Still
nothing. He pressed the button on the television. Black! The power was
obviously out, or turned off. He couldn't remember if he had paid the power
bill. He found a couple of candles and lit them, the wisp of smoke from the
match floating gently into the air. Holding one in his hand he made his
way into his bedroom.

The room smelt dusty, or maybe it was just his clothes. He set the candle
down onto his bedside table and took them off. They almost fell apart in
his hands. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he had dressed
so carefully for him, to sit by his side holding his hand as he told his
dreadful story to David.

In the dim light he gasped when he looked down at his emaciated body. His
ribs were protruding, his stomach sunken, even his legs looked spindly and
weak. He fell back onto the bed drew the quilt up over him and shut his
eyes. No sleep was forthcoming, only visions of Lestat's death mask as he
walked past him, unresponsive, unknowing. Gone!

The next evening Louis awoke, rose slowly, showered even more slowly and
dressed himself casually. Tattered jeans, scruffy jumper, old sneakers. He
was only going to have a quick feed then spend the rest of the night alone.
He saw no-one he knew in the streets, so he wandered home alone. There
was a message on his telephone from David when he returned.

"Louis, Lestat is at Marius' house. He seems all right, we will keep an eye
on him. Do you want to come around?"

He breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully he was all right, and David seemed
to think he was well. He decided not to visit. There would be so many of
them there already, as Armand was staying there with his young ones. Lestat
would not miss him. He was sure of this, if his reaction to him in the
chapel had been any indication.

He lit the fire, gathered all the cushions together and put them on the
floor, turned on some soft music, and sat down to meditate. He had been
reading about this in his current book. They said it was good for the soul,
and his certainly needed all the help it could get. He shut his eyes, tried
to relax, let his mind wander. The music was gentle and soothing, the fire
was beginning to warm his face and hands, the blood from his meal made him
feel comfortable. But he just couldn't relax. He kept seeing Lestat's face
staring straight through him, his eyes glazed. Had there been a tiny flicker
of awareness in them?

He tried to remember. He found that his thoughts constantly returned to
those few minutes when he had risen up from his coma. Why didn't he try
harder to stop him? Why didn't he call out his name? Why didn't Lestat
recognise him? He felt the sob rising throughout his body, it seemed to
start from his toes and welled and bubbled out through his head. It
startled him. He brought his knees up, rested his arms on them, and lowered
his head.

The next evening he found himself still on the cushions by the now stone
cold fire. He looked around himself, surprised and confused. How could he
just doze off like that? He restarted the fire, grabbed a book, and stayed
there for the a few hours. He read two entire pages. Every time he thought
he was concentrating on the book, he realised he was staring into the
flames, seeing his face, his golden hair, his steel grey eyes.

He would come to see him when he wanted to, or when he remembered him.
Maybe that would be never. Louis didn't cry again, there were no more tears
left. Perhaps he should ring David again and check up on him.

Marius answered the telephone, and was quite pleased when he heard Louis'
voice.

"Is he still there Marius?"

"No, Louis. He's just disappeared. He was sleeping on the couch , but when
I came down this evening he was gone. Armand and David are out looking for
him. Have you seen him Louis?"

"Oh God!" Louis exclaimed. "No, I haven't seen him. Marius, did he seem
all right to you?"

"Well not exactly Louis. He was very vague. I'm not sure if he remembers
who we are. I think that's why he just wandered off."

"How could you just let him wander off?" Louis growled at Marius, very angry
and worried by now.

"I locked all the doors Louis. They are heavy armour plated steel, but he
just broke through them. Why didn't you come around to see him?" he added,
almost as an afterthought.

"Wha...what... Oh, I thought he would be fine with you all. I didn't want
to intrude... He didn't seem to know me Marius. I didn't think he wanted
to."

"Oh Louis. It wasn't just you he didn't remember. He was like a lost soul.
His eyes...they were still far away...somewhere...he was so.... I'm
afraid he might have gone insane."

"Marius, I'm sorry...I've been stupid. I was hurt. I thought he didn't
want to know me. What shall I do..."

The telephone fell to the ground....
 

Chapter 3

Lestat was at the door, looking like a lost soul, just staring. Louis
walked over to him, pulled him gently in through the doorway, checking
outside to see if anyone was with him. He was completely alone, and Louis
breathed a sigh of relief as he ushered him over to the couch.

Louis knelt down in front of him, trying to catch his eye. Lestat seemed
completely oblivious to Louis for a few minutes. He was staring into space,
twisting his hands nervously.

"Lestat...Lestat...it's me. Please say something."

Lestat blinked a couple of times as though it was helping to clear his
vision and stared at Louis. "You are beautiful."

"Merci, mon amour. So are you." Louis replied softly, bringing his hand up
to caress the side of Lestat's face.

"Who are you?" Lestat said to him, confusion and concern on his face.

Louis' heart sank, he didn't quite know what to say so he just stared at him
and began to weep.

"Don't cry beautiful one. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry, should I
know you?" Lestat was upset as well, not knowing quite how to placate this
beautiful creature weeping in front of him.

"If you don't know who I am, how did you find me here?" Louis questioned
him, sitting beside him on the couch now and holding his hand.

"Something drew me here. I was walking, just drifting through the
darkness...I didn't know where I was going. I...I don't know who I am.
There was a dim light coming from this house... It was like it was beckoning
for me to enter..."

Lestat looked at Louis carefully then, and brought his own hand up to rest
against Louis' cheek. "You were there weren't you? In that cold dark
place...you were watching me?"

"Oui, I was...I saw when you awoke. Why did you wander off like you did?"

"It was the music...I could hear it...over and over...beautiful...almost as
beautiful as you are. It was drawing me to that place where the others
were. Should I know them as well?"

"Oui, you should. And I am sure that you will remember them, and me in
time, Lestat. Why don't you just relax? I will get your room ready for
you."

"My room? You mean this is where I live?"

"If you want to. I mean all your things are still here. You can stay...I
want you to stay."

Lestat stood up slowly and began to walk around the room. He fingered the
velvet of the curtains, touched the delicate china and silver ornaments on
the side-board, looked at the photograph nestled in its silver frame on the
mantle. "This is you and me, isn't it? " he said softly, as he picked up
the photo and took in its minute details.

"Are we a couple ?" He said to him, holding the picture frame up against
his heart.

"Perhaps more companions...friends...Lestat..although..."

"Although??"

Louis stood up and walked over to him, taking the picture from his hands and
placing it back in its pride of place in the centre of the mantle. "My name
is Louis." He said sadly. "And I think that I would like to be more than a
companion to you."

Lestat seemed lost for a second or two, then Louis realised that he was
looking deep into his eyes. He could see his own reflection in them, and
realised he was still weeping. Lestat wiped away the tears with his
fingers, then leant down and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. Louis turned
his face and took Lestat's lips in his. They kissed forever, enjoying the
taste of each other, the tenderness, the love.

"Come with me Lestat, there is something I would like you to do for me. Or
rather, I need you to do for me." and he took him by the hand and led him
into the bedroom. Slowly and gently Louis removed all of Lestat's clothes,
then stripped himself. He pulled him into the bed, bringing the crisp
cotton sheets up around them.

Lestat's hands began to caress Louis' back, and he shivered a little. He
nestled into his strong arms and just laid there for a while, enjoying the
sound of Lestat's strong heart beating against his ear.
"Would you like to remember Lestat? Would you like to know me?"
Louis' voice was shaking when he said this.

"You sound afraid."

"I am Lestat. You may not like the memories." he said sadly.
 

"Louis, I am sure that I have loved you. I am sure that I will love you.
Could the memories be that bad? I am drawn to you, even though I don't
remember you. You are like a flame and I am the moth, ready and willing to
fly into the fire for you."

Louis pulled his hair back from his neck, touched the vein on his white
throat and putting his hand behind Lestat's head, pulled him towards it. He
flinched as Lestat sunk his fangs into it, and moaned as he felt his blood
being drawn strongly but lovingly into Lestat's cold but sensuous mouth.
He felt Lestat's arms come about him in an embrace, and could feel him
shudder and spasm against him as the blood flowed, as Louis opened his heart
and his soul for him.

All strength was leaving Louis' body, as he tried with all his will to
allow Lestat free range of his thoughts. He opened his mind completely,
hiding nothing, especially the love he felt and had always felt for his
maker. He let him see his daughter, their times together as a happy family,
he let him see the bad times, the rejection, the bitterness, the betrayal.
He let him feel the deep abiding affection he had for him, and how he would
die alongside of him if need be. He let him see his steadfastness in
protecting him during his long months languishing on the chapel floor. He
let him feel the sorrow in his heart at seeing him in despair and need.

As all strength was drained from his body, so was all his love, it flowed as
a languid river into Lestat's being. He eventually felt himself being
released, and his body being gently laid back. He felt the warm flow of his
maker's blood, soothing his parched lips, and cascading like a stream of
liquid gold down his throat. He opened his eyes to see the tears running
down Lestat's cheeks, and hear the soft sob coming from his lips.

For a long while, after Louis had finished drinking they merely held each
other, loving the feel of flesh against flesh, but more importantly loving
just being together, close and warm and secure.

"Was it painful Lestat?" Louis finally asked him.

"Painful, and overwhelming and wonderful. You are no longer my beautiful
stranger." he said, and kissed Louis forever.