Home / Fan Fiction / V(cough) C(cough) fic / Dagger of the Mind / Undeniable Truth Part 2

DISCLAIMER: The following stories are all non-profit, amateur efforts not intended to infringe on the rights of Tom Cruise Malpother IV, William Bradley Pitt, Antonio Banderas, David Geffen, Warner Brothers, Geffen Pictures, Knopf, Randomhouse, the city of New Orleans, the U.S. Consititution, any copyright holders that I might not have thought of or even a certain author who shall remain nameless but who has a set of initials which are, coincidentally enough, just one letter off from spelling "B.S."

Undeniable Truth Part 2
A Dagger of the Mind Spec
by: The Brat Queen and Lady Black Death

DISCLAIMER: This is a spec story based off of the characters in the universe of the Dagger of the Mind RPG. It was written using only some of the concepts, characterizations and plotlines that appear in parts of Dagger as a starting point and putting what I hope will be an interesting "What if...?" spin on them. It is not and should not be taken as a true continuation of the story and abandon all hope ye who would find spoilers here. Some of it's based on Dagger canon, some of it definitely is not. And I ain't telling which.

Part Two: Lightening

Lestat looked stricken. "Non."

"You can't go after him, right? But there's no rule that says I can't."

"Yes there is. He wanted to be left alone Tom. That means alone. He'll come back when he's ready."

"I don't want him to come back," he said reasonably. "I just want to talk to him."

"What about?"

"Life."

"Now who's giving cryptic answers?"

"There's nothing I can say that won't upset you, I think." He settled back in his chair, eyes hard. "I also think this is the only thing that will help you."

"Leaving me."

"What?"

"Nothing," Lestat stood. "Leave Louis alone, please. If you are my friend, then I ask this favor."

"Wait a second." Tom stood up as well, head swimming, muscles bunching. "Why the Hell does it have to be this hard to talk to you?"

"Because it hurts, Tom. I thought you understood that. It hurts, I hurt, I -" he stopped, suddenly, his mouth snapping shut as though he only just realized what he'd said.

"What hurts?" He reached out to take Lestat by the shoulders. "I don't understand any of this. I don't understand why you've chosen to be alone, or why you think he'll die. I don't get pushing me away when I want to help you. I don't understand a single assumption you've made about Louis, because the guy you just described and the guy I know have nothing in common. So what in Hell hurts you so much about it all?"

Lestat swallowed, one hand resting against Tom's arm. "You know," he said, his voice far too light, "I think I'm not meant to care about anyone."

"I don't know that. You've searched for it. You want it. Why not just take it?"

"You pushed me away."

He blinked. "Just now?"

Grey eyes locked on his. "Yes."

What else could he do? He moved in, the kiss hard, searing, on the verge of violence.

There was only a pause before Lestat shoved him away. "Was that supposed to be funny?"

"No. It was supposed to demonstrate." He stared hard at him. "Don't judge an entire relationship on a single action."

"What should I judge it on? Everytime I've tried to be honest with you, or understand you push me away. This seems a clear message, Tom. And a cruel one."

"I don't consider a single kiss a conclusive answer to any question."

"What's the question?"

Tom stared at the ceiling. "You're trying to make me cry, right? Barbara Walters couldn't do it, you won't.

A spark of humor flared in his expression. "I didn't know you could."

His reply was far more serious than it should have been. "I'm not sure I can."

The French accent made the words soft and easy on the ear. "I'm sorry."

Tom shrugged. "It's not important right now. But thanks."

"I'm not a talker." Lestat tried for a smile. "I can weep at any moment, but I cannot talk. It's far easier to write it all out and hope someone sees."

"I'm not sure I have time to wait for your next novel." Tom shook his head. "I really think I should talk to Louis. It's not nearly as threatening as all that - you may not be big on talking, but I kind of like it."

"With me?"

"Sure, if you'll talk back."

Lestat licked his lips, his eyes going over Tom's face studiously. There was a twitch of a nervous grin. "I... may have to. I don't think I could write this book."

"I feel like I've cornered you. Talk to me or I'll kill Louis." He looked suddenly tired. "Tell me I'm wrong. Please."

Lestat shook his head. "Non. Talk to you or you'll leave. Which is fair." Lestat stared at him suddenly. Slowly, realization dawning, he said. "God, I haven't been very kind to you, have I?"

Tom shrugged. "I didn't expect this to be easy"

Lestat looked as though he had been slapped. He held up a hand to forestall Tom's reaction as he stepped back, once again looking at him. He stepped away even further, circling Tom a bit as he continued to stare. Behind the grey eyes wheels were working.

A feeling of sudden paranoia tightened his muscles into knots. In spite of that Tom forced himself to be still, to endure the eyes as they swept over him.

Finally it stopped. Lestat broke away from the scrutiny to stand before Tom. His voice was hoarse, still, but strong. "I'm not making the same mistakes twice. I'm in love with you, I want to be with you, I'm terrified of loosing Louis but I don't want you to go." And then, with a smile that was somewhere between giddy and sheer terror he added, "How was that?"

Wide eyed, Tom could only stare for a time. Finally he managed "So that's what it feels like to be hit by a boulder."

Lestat nodded. "I was thinking the exact same thing."

"Great." He finally remembered to blink. "Wow. Ok. I think I'd better sit." He sat.

Lestat remained standing, clearly riding a wave of adrenaline that radiated from him in nervous energy. "You can see why I couldn't put that in a book."

Tom stood slowly, facing him. He opened his arms, but did not touch him, almost asking permission.

Lestat nodded, standing uncertainly where he was.

Tom slowly drew him into his arms, not attempting to caress him, certainly not to kiss him, but just holding him, feeling a tension which matched his own.

Lestat wrapped his arms around Tom lightly, not sure of their placement. "I ... I just didn't want to do to you what I did to Louis. Two hundred years is a long time to wait for the truth. Whatever you want to make of it."

His voice was soft, whispered just under his ear. "I love you too."

"In what way?"

Tom laughed softly. "I'm not a poet. What do you mean, what way?"

Lestat stepped back to press his fingers against his eyes. "This is not easy Cruise, I hope you know that." He looked up to take any sting out of his words, his expression making it clear he spoke with affection, albeit terrified. He took a deep breath. "Alright, what if I do poetry and you nod?"

Tom searched his face. "Christ, why are you in love with me? I never meant for that to happen. I really didn't. I didn't want to complicate your life... just to make things a little easier."

A slow grin spread across Lestat's face. "And then, years later in New Orleans, I fell..." he considered the words, "desperately in love with a young actor named Tom. In hair and eye he reminded me of my Louis, but his personality, his fire, his strength were so much different from that."

With a comic shriek Tom dove for the sofa and buried himself under the pillows in a desperate move to escape.

Lestat laughed - and now it truly sounded like him laughing. Something warm, and golden. The laugh stayed in his voice as he continued. "I did not prefer him over Louis, but could not help be attracted to his staunchly American sense of humor, his chivalry, fierce loyalty and..." there was a significant pause. "Well-formed derriere."

In response Tom threw a well aimed pillow, boffing him in the head.

Lestat's now-dry hair fell in a cascade over his face from the attack. He wiped it back with one hand. "How am I doing?"

Tom looked up. "Not bad, actually." He followed through by sitting up amid the pillows. "Now what?"

The nervous energy was back again. "Now you."

"Now What?"

There was a flicker of a smile. "Now you work with me so I know how you feel and do not die of humiliation right on this floor. Or, if I am to die of humiliation, I can at least do it much faster than if we just stand here staring at each other."

"Humiliation?" Tom shook his head. "That was about the bravest thing I've ever seen."

"Thank you," Lestat smiled, arms folded, the energy radiating higher. "But allow me to say once again that the time for 'just friends, thanks' really is now or I shall die."

Tom moved aside so that there was plenty of room to sit beside him. "Would you at least sit down? You're making me too nervous to think straight."

"I could make a pun, but I shan't," Lestat said. He sat sideways beside Tom, one knee resting against the seat of the couch. He took his scarf off and toyed with it in his lap, waiting.

"I've never wanted to be just friends with you. But," he cautioned, "there's no way I'm going to do anything to hurt what you've got with Louis. Frankly," he shook his head, searching for inspiration which never came, "I'm not sure where to go. But for what it may be worth, I think you're probably the single most important person in my entire life."

Lestat let out a long breath of air. "Alright. This is a start." He blinked. "I am?"

"You are."

A slow smile spread across Lestat's lips. "Thank you."

Tom shrugged, trying hard not to blush. "Just the truth."

Lestat met his eyes, his voice calm and serious. "Tom, do you want to be with me?"

He didn't even hesitate. "Yes."

"Like this?" a gesture of his hand indicated both physical and emotional proximity.

Voice softer, just a little breathless. "Yes. But not at the cost of Louis."

Lestat nodded, considering this. "What about Brad?"

It felt as though a bucket of ice water splashed over him. "Ooh, Brad." The emotions came hard and fast, but Tom tried to convey something that made sense. "He's... in California. He's not with me, in other words. By his own choice. He won't be happy if you and I have a relationship, but he's also lost the right to cast a vote."

Lestat nodded, taking this in as well. "So we are in the same boat."

"I don't know. Louis still matters in your life."

"But I think that Brad still matters to you. And in the meanwhile we are both alone."

"In that case, you're right." He took a deep breath. "And I still want to talk to Louis."

"Why?"

"Just to see what's going on with him."

"Why?"

Tom shrugged. "To find out when he's coming back, mostly."

"I know I'm repeating myself, but why?"

He looked at him. "It involves me. I'd like to know."

Lestat looked confused. "What does?"

"Arg. Louis does. He's a part of your life. You're a huge part of mine. Get it?"

Lestat grew quiet, thinking about this. "I don't want him to be hurt."

"Why would I hurt him?"

"I don't know," Lestat said, throwing a hand up in defeat. "Not on purpose, you wouldn't. At least I don't think you would. I just don't want him hurt with things about me when he asked for just that thing to never happen."

"He doesn't want to see you, right?"

"He doesn't want company of any kind. He especially doesn't want me coming after him somehow."

"You're not coming. I am. And I'm not going to talk about you, only him." Tom shrugged. "Your name won't even come up."

Lestat looked away, putting his scarf around his neck once more. "There's nothing I can do to stop you."

He drew his legs up onto the sofa and looked across the room. Outside the snow continued to gently drift to earth. "What would you do if I stayed?"

"I don't know."

He nodded. "That's what I thought." Sighing Tom stood, facing him. "Your life is in limbo. And suddenly you want to start something between us?" He shook his head. "I do love you. But there's nowhere for us to go when so much is in the air. If we have any chance to be involved, some loose ends have got to be tied up. At least that's how I see things."

Slowly, as though he had not heard correctly. "You want to be involved with me?"

Tom forced his fists not to clench. "Why does that surprise you?"

"Most people don't."

His voice was quiet, intense. "I'm not most people."

That brought a faint smile. "So I've heard."

"So don't sell me short." He crossed his arms. "You either, for that matter."

"Alright," Lestat sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "So what do you wish to do? You want to go try to find Louis. And then what?"

"I'm not sure. If I find out he has no plans to return for a few decades it's a little different from he's coming home next week."

One eyebrow raised. "And if he is not coming home next week?"

Tom sighed. "You tell me. It's up to you."

"I find myself too tempted to be with you no matter what the option."

His voice became softer, more intimate. "No matter what the cost?"

"Ah," he said, looking up at him. His eyes said a lot more than the words that followed. "That, I find, is when my heart starts to pound."

It was probably the wrong thing to do, but Tom found himself settling onto the sofa next to Lestat. "I still want to know what price you'll pay in all this."

"I don't know," he said. He moved as though to adjust his glasses then remembered at the last moment he wasn't wearing any. "I honestly don't, Tom. I feel I shouldn't, I feel I should, I have no idea what Louis would think about all of this. Who knows? Perhaps you're right. I'm too much in limbo to say anything, or drag you down with me."

Tom fought the urge to draw his knees up, to wrap his arms around them in a posture of defensive comfort. Damn, why did everything involving this guy need to be this tough? "You're not dragging me down. I'm not being dragged anywhere."

"I know," Lestat said, not looking at him. "Sometimes I say things I don't mean."

Almost on it's own, Tom's hand reached up to brush Lestat's hair away from his face. "It's ok. This isn't easy for you either. I know."

Lestat moved into the touch only a fraction. "I love Louis," he said, his body tense from the effort of holding still. "I want to be with him, I want him with me. But I cannot deny this."

He looked to the ceiling a moment before concentrating on Lestat's face. "This... doesn't have to be this dangerous you know. We can spend time together in ways that won't betray him, right?"

Now Lestat moved against his hand, turning to look at him curiously at the same time he increased the touch. "How?"

In answer Tom moved closer, drawing Lestat forward into a light embrace.

Lestat responded by moving closer, slipping an arm around him as well. "And is this what you want? What you could live with?" He spoke near Tom's ear, as though the words were not meant to be heard by anyone else.

It was so tempting to turn his head, to take his lips in the kiss which hung so heavy between them. But he wouldn't. Momentary pleasure, followed by years of guilt and pain, at least on Lestat's part. No way. "More would hurt you too much."

Lestat pulled back, but not too far. Just enough to meet his eyes. "And if it didn't hurt me?"

Simple, restrained. "I'd kiss you."

Lestat nodded, as though satisfied by this. "Alright," he said, sitting back. "You're going to find him, then?"

A tension in his chest eased just slightly. "Yeah, I am."

"Alright," he said again. He stood, slipping on his coat and picking up his gloves. "You know where I am, in the meanwhile. I don't anticipate leaving."

Tom looked at him curiously. "That's it, then?"

He shrugged. "What else is there?"

"I'm... not sure." He grimaced. "I came out tonight to kill Gregory. Somehow, I don't think that's what happened."

Lestat grinned a little. "Look, I like him, even if you don't." More seriously, he added. "What do you think happened?"

He considered, then grinned. "I think I got a boyfriend. Hopefully."

Both eyebrows raised this time. And there was no denying the pleasure in his eyes, even if Lestat pretended to be calm. "Hopefully?"

"If the price is right."

"And what's the price?"

"You."

He shifted his gloves from one hand to the other. "My happiness."

"Your happiness, your well being, and ultimately, just you. I'm not willing to sacrifice you to have you, if that makes any sense."

He nodded, putting the gloves on finally. "Oui," he smiled at Tom. "A great deal. I'll be here, when you get back."

Tom watched as he slipped away then continued to stare at the door. He started out this night to murder a man who didn't exist. He ended up committing to a quest in search of a man he barely knew. Sometimes his life was strange, even by Hollywood standards.

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