Epilogue Interlude
KC
Warning: Adult content
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, Anne Rice does.
Spoilers: Interview with the Vampire, The Fresco series
Louis was walking through the cemetery again, all alone. The pebbles crunched noisily under his feet, even though he was trying not to make a sound. The tombstones were crooked, bent at an angle and pointed, as if they were cat's teeth jutting out from the ground. All around him, the great sepulchers were round and warped, and their doors were mere facades painted on to make them look real. He passed one, then another, and this night, as it happened every night, he was surprised, attacked, thrown down and pinned by a hundred bodies.
Lestat was back in his bedroom, his old bedroom in France, on a flea-infested mattress with a moth bitten blanket. The candle has burned down to nearly nothing, and tenuously clung to the wick. He scratched a flea away from his body, pinching it with his youthful fingers. There was nothing else in the room save for the bed, himself, and the candle that seemed to float in the darkness. Then he heard a door open, heavy footsteps enter, and a weight settle on the side of his bed. A large hand reached out and seized the back of his neck, pushing him down against the flat pillow.
Louis' clothes were torn. His frayed jeans, the seams and cloth already ragged with continous wear, gave easily in the rough hands. There were dense weights on his arms and legs, and on his back as well, and someone pushed his face into the dirt to silence him. A pain in his arm as it was rendered useless. Where was Lestat? A cruel agony as he was invaded, taken unwillingly, and he tried to scream. Someone says to hurry. No, don't hurry. Just stop.
Lestat knew better than to scream or cry for help. It would only earn him a beating now, and a beating tomorrow, and maybe again the next night. His father's arm pushed like a massive anchor over shoulders, he almost couldn't breathe. He'd made the mistake of wearing his nightclothes. They were shredded away. Stronger legs over his own, spreading him out and then one last adjustment. Oh God, no no no, it hurts, it hurts, make it stop..."Shut up." Why won't it stop?
Louis is crying now, he can't do anything else. Then his face is kicked up, he can scream. "Lestat, Lestat!" over and over, where is he? Is someone coming, someone must be, the weight is gone. His screams tear his throat and all he can do is cry. Is Lestat here? Where is he? Why hasn't he come yet? Yes, yes, there he is! There! He's here, he's--"you little fool."
Lestat wants to scream, he can't, it'll just hurt more. Finally his father evaporates into nothing, and Lestat can't hurt him now. Never could do that. He cries a little longer, then sits up. It's so lonely in the darkness, where's Louis? Louis always takes care of him, Louis always makes it right. A glimmer by the candle, yes, his bracelet, his--"to Louis, my sensual angel, love Alan."
Louis backs away, Lestat looks so angry. He's covered in scars and flames. "Not so strong without a handy lamp of fire, no? You don't deserve someone as good as me. Shall I leave you in the swamp?" "Please, Lestat, I'm sorry, don't hate me..." Love me.
Lestat looks up, Louis is in bed with another man, a mortal. They move like lovers, real lovers, the way he could never satisfy Louis. His fledgling deserved so much better than himself. Louis looks up, barely gives him a glance, and lays back down.
Louis takes a step back, too late, Lestat strikes him, slapping him aside. Louis hits the wall and falls to the ground with a groan. "But I love you..."
Lestat is crying. "But Louis, I love you..." Louis laughs derisively at him, pulls off the golden ring around his finger and flings it back at him.
Louis covers his face with his hands. "No, no..."
Lestat can't lift his head anymore. He wants to die so badly...
"Don't leave me, don't abandon me..."
Louis' eyes snap open, and he gasps for air as he sits up. The rich, plush blankets fall from his chest, and he looks around himself. It is night time. The window is closed with velvet curtains that match the white carpet and oriental rugs. There is a mahogany nightstand beside him, with a porcelain lamp.
He lights it and looks down on the blonde vampire beside him.
His lover is still asleep, caught fast in his nightmares. Lestat winces, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He whimpers, and vermilion tears squeeze out onto the scarlet pillows, made that tint intentionally. It's time consuming to keep buying new pillow cases when they're stained. Lestat is huddled tight, facing toward Louis but at least a foot away. Sometimes that's just too far.
Louis puts his hands on Lestat's shoulders, not at all worried that he may be attacked. It's never happened before, and besides, he's strong enough to handle that now. "Lestat. Lestat, mon amor, wake up. Wake up, it's just a nightmare. Wake up!" I need you.
Lestat's eyes open hesitantly, as if he's afraid to find himself in the past. Then he sees he is not alone, and he smiles, straightening out and rising to put his arms around his lover. It feels so good to have him there, real, and the nightmare is past.
"Bad dreams?" Louis asks, already knowing the answer. He feels Lestat nod quietly, and they both cry a little on each other's shoulder.
"And you, too," Lestat whispers, and it isn't a question. They've been waking up like this for a while now. Bad memories and mistakes.
"Why won't they stop?" Louis mumbles, breaking away slightly.
"I don't know..." Lestat sighs. "It's like a cycle I can't break. We can't break."
Louis gazes down at the patterned covers. It had been over a decade since his rape, and almost four years since the affair. But the guilt and the shame...
Lestat just holds onto his fledgling even tighter. Nearly two centuries had passed since his father had hurt him. "I wish I could have killed him," he sniffles.
Louis smiles sadly and kisses him. "If I had known then, chere, if I had only known, I would never have made you forgive him."
"I know." Lestat allows himself to be held, it's so rare when he lets himself be comforted. "I wish I had never hurt you, never made any of those mistakes with you. I loved you then, but I was so scared to show it...even that night with the fire, I still loved you. I understood why."
Louis looks into his eyes. Lestat never talks about this. Not without crying. "You did?"
Lestat nods. "You didn't hate me, I gave you no choice but to run. I only wanted you to survive. I didn't think I could change enough to be kind. I wanted you to have someone better than me."
Louis shakes his head. "No, I could never have anyone better than you. You are near perfection, you are my darling angel. I was afraid you hated me. I've done such terrible things to you, awful choices I made...I was so certain I would lose you, it was heaven knowing I was still yours."
"You love me, yes?"
"Yes, with all my heart. And you?"
"I love you, Louis."
A long moment passes, and nothing is said. Neither of them move. Then Lestat glances at the German clock in the corner. "We seemed to have slept in. It's almost eleven. We'll have to feed soon."
"Not tonight, Lestat."
He looks up curiously. "What?"
"We can both go without blood for tonight. I...don't want to leave the bed. I feel better here."
Lestat smiles and wraps his arms tight around Louis, and they both lay down together. "Very well, my love. Perhaps we can fall asleep again, without the nightmares this time." He kisses his fledgling, sighing in pleasure as Louis holds him again.
"Just never leave me," Louis whispers, his eyes closing. They are both still tired, neither of them had any rest.
"What, leave my best friend and lover? I never would." Lestat pulls the blankets back up, and a moment later they are back asleep, but this time in a deep embrace. Their bodies almost form a heart shape, and they smile unconsciously. It is their most natural position, and they do not slip from each other's grip this time. They spend the night and the next day this way, not once moving.
And there are no more nightmares.
The End