On the Edge of Despair
Adriann Tusitala, 1998Disclaimer: The characters belong to others, not me. Don't sue. Please. I'm broke.
Spoilers: All of the Vamp Chron that are currently available. No, that disincludes Memnoch. Memnoch is a figment of your imagination.
"It's not worth it."The words echoed in Lestat's head as he rested on the ebony silk sheet that was casually draped across the edge of the cliff. Two centuries of hurt and angst were kept deep in his heart, which now threatened to shatter under the constant pressure. The last fight had been so brutal, so vicious, that it had been he who had been stabbed through the heart when it had ended. His lover had taken on such fury in his molten emerald pools that for once in his hundreds of years, Lestat had backed down. The act was unique, it was never to have been, let alone to be duplicated. Strangely enough, Lestat had merely slipped out the door as Louis had lifted the entire sofa to throw at him.
And now he stood at the edge of his misery. He looked around, eyeing his surroundings. Yes, this would be the place. A narrow cliff, thousands of feet of open space between it and the ground, and hundreds of feet of solid stone beneath the few inches of lightly packed soil. There would be no escape, this time.
Once upon a time he had tested his immortality, just to see if he could die. He had flown to the sun over the Gobi desert, and had retained a horrible burn. There were no scars left from that excursion, just his smooth and silky parchment white skin. In a few hours it would be dead, perhaps ashes, perhaps nothing.
It did not matter anymore. Louis hated him. His fledgling had screamed the words over and over, while slashing at Lestat's face and arms. And so hurt had he been, that he had not even find the strength within himself to fight back. He could not bring himself to raise his hand in anger or self defense against the one with the most shining of emeralds for eyes. Oh, his eyes. That would be the memory that Lestat would take with him to the grave. So bright and beautiful, even when they brimmed with tears that spoke of his broken heart.
"It was never meant to be."
It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered, and nothing lasted. He would die with tears in his eyes and the memory of Louis de Pointe du Lac's hatred for Lestat de Lioncourt. It wouldn't matter in a few hours. Nothing would. Lestat was on the edge of Despair, and was ready to jump.
Slowly, he stripped off his beloved green silk shirt, the one Louis had given to him for Christmas so many years ago. Back when they were still lovers, back when his heart had not been dashed like glass into a million tiny shards, never to be put back together. Back before the fight... Oddly enough, Lestat couldn't even recall what the arguement was about. This would be the end of it, though. No more fighting, no more hurting. It wouldn't matter. All he had left to do was weaken himself enough so that when dawn came in all it's splendor...
"A wise man once said that hate was the strongest power in the universe, second only to love itself."
The wise man was wrong. He should have been dragged into the street and shot for ever believing that. It once held true for Lestat, but never more. He let the silk shirt hang in his hand for but a moment, symbolizing the time he had with Louis, then let the garment drop into the chasm beneath. It was gone in an instant. Just like Louis' love. Only two hours to wait until he would be free of hurt...
Wait a moment. Who the hell was talking? It wasn't Lestat, he had been all too lost in thought to have spoken such words.
"Lestat." The blonde vampire spun around, his golden tresses whipping over his flashing yet dead gray eyes.
"Armand." The expression of the auburn hared youth matched that of his more powerful aquaintance. No emotion.
"I've brought you a gift." A white hand held out the emerald green shirt, but it was not Armand's. The hand belonged to the taller, more powerful looking figure behind him. Even in this darkness, Louis' eyes shone like the stars.
"Louis..." Lestat breathed, tears forming in his eyes and flowing down his cheeks without hesitation. "Louis, I'm so sorry... Je le regrete beaucoup..." Single finger to his lips, shining eyes meeting his, white hand teasingly stripping off the black silk shirt...
"I'm glad you like him." The urchin with the face of a choir boy smiled softly, then disappeared into the darkest shadows of the night.
"I'm sorry I hurt you, Lestat."
"How did you find me? I thought that--"
"Shh, Lestat, I need to tell you something."
"Louis..."
"Lestat, I love you with all my heart."
"But just hours ago, you said--"
"Je le regrete. I did not mean it. Lestat, why did you come here?"
"To die."
"Lestat, I need you. I love you. And I cannot live without you." The softest and sweetest of smiles crossed Lestat's mouth, which was originally designed for broad grins.
"You complete me."
And they embraced, the love hidden behind two centuries of angst and regret finally coming through and pushing Lestat back from the Edge of Despair.
"I love you, mon chere." Lestat whispered, feeling his feldgling's head resting on his neck in the full moon's light.
"I love you too, Lestat." Louis and Lestat, basking in the last light of the pale moon, lying on a bed of silk, and wrapped in each other's arms. Together forever.
FINIS.