REFLECTIONS: 
I Remember You (Daniel)
By Vanessa DelValle  (delvalle@sju.edu)


****
To Stephanie and Torch
(c) V.  DelValle, 1996

"Woke up to the sound of		And all the tears you cried
 Pouring rain				That called my name
 The wind would whisper and		And when you needed me I
 I'd think of you 			Came through..."

-Skid Row-

**SPOILER WARNING**  This spec contains spoilers to all vampire chronicles,
including Memnoch the Devil.

--

	Death. You would think than once you've lived around 
death long enough you would become accustomed to his 
presence; that you would no longer worry about its dark 
claws slashing you away from a so called life, no longer 
fear the loss of  your loved ones.  That's what I thought.  
I was wrong.
	I thought we were invincible.  Nothing could take us down.
We were together forever and that's all that mattered.  For 
the first time, I was sure that nothing would go wrong.  Life
seemed so easy now that I was immortal.  I was quickly 
getting used to the dark ways. Following his lead, I became 
an avid hunter.  The art of seduction was my first lesson, 
the first lesson of the many that would follow.  I was his 
pupil as he was mine.  We complimented each other 
in every way.   I was his link to the new era, and he
was my guide through the dark path that we both walked.
	But as the years went by,  walking by his side was no 
longer enough to satisfy my desires, my cravings for life, my
hunger for adventure. I wanted to fly.  We were fallen angels 
after all; I felt the urge to spread my dark wings and fly on my 
own. He agreed to let me go, for he knew I would eventually 
come back to him, as I always did. And if I didn't come back,
then he would surely track me down! Just the way he always
did.  He knew how to find me.  But there was no need to play
our usual hide and seek games this time. Nothing could keep
us apart.  But life is full of surprises...as I found out.  

	I remember the early days, my little escapades, my fear of 
death, my fascination for everything immortal, but more than 
anything, my passion and my love for the auburn haired child that 
haunted my every night.  I was  both, fascinated and frightened by 
him.  He was my savior, and my nightmare. He would come in and 
out of my life as the wind came through the windows.  There were 
nights when I wished he would vanish away and never return.  
Yet, some other nights, I longed for his company and prayed so that 
he would come to me.  I remember the night I ended up in jail after 
being arrested for drunkenness.  He came to bail me out; was I glad 
to see him that night! As I write these words down, I feel my laughter
being suppressed, and the crimson tears rolling down my cheeks,
for these memories are all too vivid.  I remember his laughter, 
his voice, the deep dark eyes caressing my soul.  I was born to 
darkness because of the great love that existed between us and 
that will never change.  The years have gone by, and I still feel 
the same way.  I live to love his memory.
	Armand taught me many things.  He showed me a side of 
humanity I did not know.  The ugly side of humanity, if you want
to think about it that way.  I prefer to think of it as the loss of 
our innocence, our fall from grace.  He would talk about technology
and war, about history and literature, politics and nature. He constantly
contrasted his era to ours.  And in his every word, there was innocence.  
The dark gift had been given to him at a very early age. Seventeen 
years old, for Christ sake! Just a child.  Perhaps not a child in the 
terms of our contemporary society, where the so called "children" 
start growing beards at age thirteen.  I think I started getting stubble 
when I was twelve; smoked my first cigarette on my fourteenth birthday, 
and that same night, had my first sexual experience.  But we're not 
talking about me here. We're talking about my maker. A child of the 
dark ages, a child in every sense of the word. And children are innocent, 
are they not? At least that's what I was taught by my parents.  Those 
were the teachings of our Christian faith, and most religions hold this
same belief.  Mind you, these are only theories that the churches have 
made throughout the years. Whether I accept their doctrine or not, is 
irrelevant at this moment.  It's simply that this "children are innocent" 
concept comes very handy right now.  Armand had been brought over 
in a stage of innocence and purity. No matter what his background was, 
or the shameful conditions in which he'd spent some of his mortal years.  
Whatever happened to him was his fault, just as much as it is the fault 
of the valley flowers to be stepped over and tainted.
	Contrary to what many may believe, Armand was not evil. 
He killed night after night, but this was done mostly by instinct, 
because the scent of the blood was irresistible, and because he 
needed the human warmth, just like all vampires do,  to relieve 
the coldness of our limbs, to warm our souls.  In his eyes,
there never was a hidden desire to kill or torture humans.  
It was always a seduction, never a hunt. 
	Evil was not a part of his nature, for he never fully understood 
the ways of men.  He was aware of the concepts of "evil" and "good",
yet he could not comprehend the difference.  This is perhaps the 
reason of his remorseless and serene existence.  An angel of Death,
he was, calling the sinners and the sufferers to be redeemed in his
embrace.
	The last time I saw him was in the spring. I don't remember
the exact date, but the date is not important--- or at least it wasn't
back then.  How could I have known that it was our last time 
together?  We had plans to meet again in the winter; to travel together
and catch up on everything we had missed while being apart.  
	I remember his angelic face, every delicate detail of his 
expression. It feels like yesterday when I last heard his voice. He had 
lost his thick Mediterranean accent and was the perfect image of an American 
youth, wearing ripped jeans and a leather jacket...

	Today, I'd rather be dead than living the way I live. When I lost 
him, I lost a part of myself.  Every little detail of the world evolving 
around me reminds me of him. The fallen autumn leaves, a summer sunset, 
and his auburn curls; the serene night sky and his deep dark eyes.  
Everywhere I go, his memory follows.  The howling wind calls his name; the 
red roses bleed his death, and the heavens weep for him in the form of rain.
	Life as it is, holds no meaning for me anymore; yet everything around
me holds a mystery and tells a story of its own.  The sweet woman walking 
down the street, with her swollen womb. I can hear the heartbeat of the 
little being growing inside her.  The simplicity of the human existence 
makes me love my vampiric nature even more.  I can do the unthinkable!  
And I owe it all to him. He brought me over and I had been drunk on the liquor 
of my dark existence... until the day he left me.

	Six years have passed since the night I returned to America to meet 
him, and it was Louis who met me instead.  He related the sad tale and we both
wept that night.  It was the second time I had seen Louis cry and I was full
of surprise.  I never thought I would see him cry again, no since that first 
time we met.  I still can't comprehend _why_ or _how_ it all came to be.
	Armand always told me to remember the lessons he taught me, but it 
seems to me he forgot the most important of them all: "There's no God and I 
know nothing of Heaven or Hell!"  How dare he forget his own doctrine? If it 
had not been for Louis, I'd have ended my life the next day.  Louis had saved 
me from hell with his calm, serene words, his tender touch.  He was my only 
refuge that dark night; he was my solace.  I've survived. 
	And so I live; I wait for him to return night after night, because 
something inside of me tells me that he's not really gone.  One night, when I 
less expect it, he will walk through the door and come back to my life.  
The others think I'm a fool. 
	"That's what we all want to believe, young one," says Marius, "but 
we must face the sad true. My Armand has left us."   He only says that, but he 
doesn't believe it!  I know that Marius' heart is as full of hope as mine is. 
	Lestat lives with remorse, he thinks that in one way or another he's 
responsible for Armand's death.  Louis says that Armand haunts the Brat 
Prince's dreams just the way Claudia did. Armand and Claudia, both tormenting 
Lestat in his sleep. I think of it, and I can't help laughing.  No one ever 
mentions the name of my master around Lestat.  When I told Lestat about my 
hopes he laughed and cried, and then asked me to go away. I did as I was
told; I went away... 
	Night after night, when I'm alone in my room, I hear his voice 
whispering in my ear.  I know he's close to me.  He's coming back.  
The others are the fools!. How can they even think that he's left for good? 
	I shall wait for his return...