† The Brat Queen †

DISCLAIMER: The following stories are all non-profit, amateur efforts not intended to infringe on the rights of Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt, David Geffen, Warner Brothers, Geffen Pictures, Knopf, Randomhouse, the city of New Orleans, the U.S. Constitution, 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."

In Another Time
by The Brat Queen

Disclaimer: Not mine. No, really.
Spoilers: None.
Dedicated to: Cathy, the Goddess of Jesse
Summary: Lestat thinks about his options.

It is not, I think, a matter of doubt that I adore my chosen companion, my Louis. But, as they say, there are always options.

Not serious options, not planned-upon options, options which are not, by any means, considered necessarily better.

Just interesting.

For example…

"Your life gets stranger by the moment, Lestat," Jesse said. She was perched on the fence that surrounded the tropical garden that made up Louis' and my backyard. Her faded blue jeans were slightly covered in dust from the stones.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said. I was standing in front of her, one hand resting on the fence. A light wind kicked up and filled the yard with a salty ocean scent.

She grinned, folding her arms and looking down at me. In one of her hands she held the evening paper, an article inside had been the cause of this conversation. "You don't think this is strange? I thought the Vampire Lestat had died years ago. Now he gets nominated for an award?"

I laughed. "Not my fault. If someone re-releases the CD on some movie soundtrack I can hardly be held accountable for anyone wanting to award it."

"I'll buy that in a heartbeat," she said, making a mocking face at me. "Unlike some vampires I could mention, I happen to know on good authority that you retained the rights to everything you ever made."

"Except my name on certain movie star's marquees."

"There is that."

We both laughed. I pulled the paper out of her hand and read the article in question. True enough, one of my old songs - one I had agreed to put on a soundtrack - had somehow managed to get nominated for an award. Not a Grammy, certainly, but amusing nonetheless. I wondered if this was somehow Armand's doing.

"Going to go to the ceremony?" Jesse asked.

"God no," I said. I turned around to lean against the edge of the fence. "The Vampire Lestat is dead and buried. Or as dead and buried as he can be, given that he's nearly forty and thus tragically unhip."

"He'd be over forty, actually," Jesse pointed out helpfully. "He was a young twentysomething two decades ago, now."

I puzzled this over, then shrugged. "Just proves my point even moreso."

"Unlike you," Jesse continued as though she hadn't heard me and reached out to scruff my hair, "who is a mere babe out of the woods, Monsieur whatever you're calling yourself now."

"Louis' husband," I said, ducking out of her reach, "and you can just stop that 'elder than thou' act right now. I know who you got that from and believe me he does it better than you do."

She laughed, a sound that was wholly cheerful. "Maybe, but it's still fun."

I grumbled politely.

"Poor Lestat," she said, pursing her lips in a small moue of false sympathy. "How rough your life is. Trapped on this island paradise - " she gestured around to the Caribbean home Louis and I had created for ourselves " - with no one but the most beautiful man on earth and your dogs to keep you company. How the nonstop lovemaking must bore you."

"The dogs seem to get frustrated after a while. And Louis still won't stay in his kennel."

She hit me on the arm for that one.

I laughed.

She folded her arms again and pouted. "Laugh now, but Louis will kill you if he ever heard you say that."

"Contrary to popular belief he does have a sense of humor."

"Explains the relationship with you then, doesn't it?"

"Did you get your lip from your Aunt Maharet or is this just some charming American female trait I'm unaware of?"

In response she made a fist and motioned in such a way as to indicate giving me a fat lip in return.

I held up my hands in surrender. "Fair enough, fair enough. So what happens now? What brings you to this 'island paradise' anyway? Surely not the article?"

She shrugged, a surprisingly French-looking gesture. "Just passing by."

It was now my turn to make a face. "Right. And how is Aunt Maharet these days?"

A light, ironic smile crossed her lips. "Oh just fine."

I understood this circumvention better than most. "And Mael?"

That prompted her to roll her eyes.

"Right," I said, then sighed. This had been a point of some contention between us - as much as there was an "us" with Jesse and myself - before. In truth I had no part or place in the little circle that she, the Twins, Khayman and Mael composed. That did not, however, prevent me from forming an opinion about it.

Particularly with regards to Mael's attempts at cradle robbing.

"Come on now," Jesse said, waving her small hand in front of my face to try to distract me. "Let us quote the great Marius: it's no big thing."

"Of course," I said, "which is why you are now living the roaming life of my mother. So how long did it last this time?"

"Nearly a year," Jesse said. Her pose became more relaxed. She folded her legs up underneath her in some intricate manner. "Even Maharet wasn't too bad. But then Mael came back from doing something or other with Eric and…" she shrugged again.

I shook my head. "I'd lecture you about it all except that you wouldn't listen and it'd be hypocritical besides."

"Very true," she said, arching her fine, copper eyebrows at me.

"But even still," I said, matching her look for look, "I'm older and know better. Take care of yourself."

"I know, I know," she said dismissively. "But you honestly worry too much. I am a big girl, Lestat." She gave me a teasing look once more. "Older than you, even."

"Don't start that again," I said, making a face at her. I pushed away from the fence to stand in front of her once more. "Will you stay, at least? We've plenty of room inside. Louis isn't here right now but he certainly wouldn't mind."

"And at least he would act like a gentleman," she said, grinning in a manner which said that I, on the other hand, wouldn't. "Thanks but no. I'm feeling a little restless right now. I think I'm going to travel a bit. Maybe even say hi to Gabrielle if I pass by her. Want me to give her a message?"

"No," I said. "I'm alive, she's alive. That's enough for us both." I met Jesse's apple-green eyes with my own serious ones. "Are you sure about this?"

She looked back at me honestly. "Yes," she said. "I'm sure. It'll be OK, really."

I shrugged, stepping back. "It's not as though I could stop you."

She laughed, slipping off of the fence. "I could promise to call in every night if that would make you happy, Dad."

"I just worry about you hanging around with strange boys," I replied, joining in on the joke.

"Can't be any stranger than you," she said, sticking her tongue out at me. I was about to respond when suddenly my arms were full with her. She pressed her thin body against mine and kissed me on the ear. "Take care of yourself, Brat. Congratulations on the award."

I held her for a moment longer when she would have pulled away. "You too," I said, meeting her eyes again. We were close enough to kiss, if either of us had wanted to. I looked down at her pale lips and remembered the quick sensation of them from years before. "Promise?"

She smiled, a hint of color touching her cheeks as though she knew my thoughts, or at least understood them. "Promise," she said. Then, impulsively, she did kiss me. Firm, but friendly. I returned in kind, not even thinking about passion. It lasted a moment before I let go and she stepped away. She smiled again, tucking the now-forgotten newspaper into her coat pocket. "Say hi to Louis for me."

"I will," I promised, then waved to her as she hopped the fence and vanished into the distance.

It was, as I said, interesting.

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