Home / Fan Fiction / V(cough) C(cough) fic / VC Sins of the Past
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. 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."
The Beginning (Part 2: Louis). Year 1. A 'tweener spec.
by the Brat Queen
They were gone now, and with them went their pressure,
their persistence, their questions and the looks they gave
to one another that they thought he couldn't see. He lay in
bed, staring at the ceiling, a let himself enjoy the quiet
that came now that the buzzing of their minds was gone. He
He was tired, too, and this came upon him in a rush,
moving throughout his body, creating a great lassitude until
even the forming of a single thought seemed too daunting a
task. He closed his eyes, feeling the slight pain that came
from stretching the scarred tissue, and the exhaustion he
felt doubled. He was falling asleep, though he didn't want
to. He didn't want to see it again, see the dream that had
haunted him since his return home, but he was no longer
capable of opening his eyes and the dark memories that had
been held back from his conscious mind now flowed forward,
dark clouds seeping through the horizon.
He saw these clouds looming over him and, as he
watched, they grew larger and darker as though they fed on
his vision alone. He wanted to look away, but could not. He
could only watch as the clouds grew bigger and the thunder
rolled and lighting flashed within them, promising
illumination that could only blind. He tried to run away,
but his feet would not move. The storm became angry then,
sharp claps of thunder deafening him and the clouds filled
No! He wanted to shout. Please no! But the words
died in his throat, his dream lips unable to form the sounds.
He knelt down on the ground, helpless, as the wind ripped
around him with enough strength to carry him off into the
nothingness beyond the clouds, caring little for his cries.
Please, no! I will be lost!
:I will not let that happen.: a voice spoke, one so
familiar to him that it could have come from his own soul and
with the voice came a light that grew from both within him
and from all around him. It was a soft, purple light that
surrounded him with its warm glow. It grew brighter with
each passing moment until he could no longer see the dark
storm. The storm became angrier still at this, and lashed
out at the light, but the light did not falter. He watched
as it protected him from the lightening and the wind,
surrounding him with its gentle warmth and keeping him safe
within its embrace. The storm could not hurt him here.
The beauty of this was such a palpable thing that he
wanted to reach out and touch it to see if it was real. He
tried and instantly regretted it. The dream faded and with
it faded the soft purple light. He was awake, lying in his
own room which was so dark that the shadows in the corners
only reminded him of the clouds in his dream. He could no
longer see the light.
He lay there and tried to make sense of the change in
his dream when he became aware of another change. Lestat was
lying in the bed beside him, Louis could feel it. As if
waiting for him to wake up, Lestat turned on his side and
looked at Louis, his grey eyes watching him, but not judging
as the others had done. Louis had become so accustomed to
seeing the others standing over him that he did not know what
to make of this. He blinked and ran his hand through his
hair, trying to see better and assure himself that it was not
Lestat reached over and lightly touched Louis' lips
with one finger. Louis sat up, and leaned forward so that
his hair fell over his face and he could no longer see
Lestat. The blanket that had been over him slid down around
his waist and he could feel the cool air of the room on his
"Does it still hurt?" Lestat asked.
Louis shrugged, wishing Lestat had not said the
question. He did not want to acknowledge the darkness with
words. "It's better," he replied.
Lestat rolled off of the bed and stood up. "Come on
downstairs," he said. "There's no one else here, remember?
David's out, just now."
Louis looked around the dark, cold room then thought of
the rooms downstairs. "All right," he said. He began to try
to untangle himself from the blanket when Lestat came around
to his side of the bed and picked him up in his strong arms,
the blanket falling back onto the mattress. Louis' heart
leapt into his throat. Lestat was closer to him now than he
had perhaps ever been and he did not know what to do.
"Lestat, really!" he said, when he thought of it, "I
don't need you to..."
"Hush," Lestat said, gently. "I know that."
He carried Louis out into the hallway. Louis winced
as the light hit his eyes and he felt Lestat's arms tighten
around him almost involuntarily at this. He looked at
Lestat, his grey eyes now almost violet in the hallway light,
and remembered his dream. He relaxed, putting his arms
around Lestat's neck and laid his head against his chest. He
didn't protest further as Lestat carried him downstairs.
Lestat set him down on one of the velvet lounges and
Louis curled up in the corner of it while Lestat went to make
a fire. He watched as Lestat took great care in the
placement of the logs then used two sticks to try to start
the blaze. A smile twitched at the corners of Louis' lips
when he saw that Lestat, unable to make the sticks spark,
used the power of his mind to correct the problem, turning
his back so that Louis would not see the shortcut. Louis hid
his reaction when Lestat faced him again, knowing Lestat
would be crushed to know that Louis had seen this small
display of pride.
"Are you cold?" Lestat asked.
Louis nodded and Lestat disappeared upstairs, leaving
Louis behind to watch the fire. He stared at it, watching
the flames grow higher and did not look to the side of it
where he could see the shadows it created, the dark shadows
that looked so much like the clouds of his dream.
A soft moan escaped from him and he bit his lip to
silence himself. Why did it have to be this way? Why did
this have to happen? He had hoped, however dimly, that he
and Lestat would come together as lovers in Rio, but those
plans had gone awry and now all Louis had were the memories
he did not want to face.
And Lestat? Lestat could not want him now, Louis was
sure of it. Why would he? Lestat would leave him, Louis
knew that now. Louis would be left alone.
The fire popped and blazed brighter. Louis watched it,
trancelike, and wondered what it would be like to be inside
of it. There would be pain, of course, but what was there
beyond it? Was there a place that was beyond the pain?
Peacefulness came over Louis as he thought of this. It
seemed so right. Just go into the fire and let it all go
away. Then he could finally sleep.
A slight feeling at the back of his mind broke through
this thought and Louis turned to see that Lestat had come
back, carrying one of his sweaters. He gave this to Louis
and Louis put it on gratefully. It was one of his favorites,
old and worn in just the right places to be comfortable next
to his skin and its long sleeves covered up the scars that
remained on his body.
Lestat sat down next to Louis. He put his strong arms
around him and drew him closer. Too painful to recognize
this, Louis said nothing.
"It's just me," Lestat said. "It's all right."
Lestat then took a hairbrush that he had brought down
with him and used it to carefully untangle Louis' hair, the
brush gently stroking him. Louis wanted to cry in earnest
then. Every touch was an agony, not knowing which one was
Louis felt Lestat gather his hair back from his face
and look at him. He knew Lestat wanted him to respond. He
did, finally, looking into his handsome grey eyes which
looked back at him with such affection--and there had always
been that affection, hadn't there? Louis understood, then,
that he had to let Lestat go. He would set him free, Lestat
would not go otherwise.
He reached out and touched Lestat's hair and his face
and looked at him so that he might freeze the image of him in
his mind. And only when he was sure he had done this did he
"It's over, Lestat. It's over. It's all right."
Lestat pulled him closer and Louis allowed himself the
guilty pleasure of allowing himself to put his arms around
him and relax against him. Lestat kissed him then, laying
soft, gentle kisses along his face and whispered, his lips
still touching him, "Beautiful one."
Louis opened his mouth to reply to this and Lestat
brought his mouth to his, letting his tongue slide between
his lips and kissing him so deeply that Louis thought he must
be sharing his very breath with him.
"My beautiful Louis," Lestat whispered. He settled
back in the lounge so that Louis' head was against his chest.
Louis could feel Lestat's heart beating next to his ear. He
wrapped his arms tighter around Lestat so that he might hear
his heart better. Lestat kissed him again, softly, then lay
back, one hand against Louis' back, the other gently stroking
Confused, Louis lay there. Why did Lestat stay?
These were not the actions of a man who wanted to leave.
Wasn't that what Lestat wanted to do? Wasn't Lestat saying
"Don't you have to go?" Louis asked, when he could not
bear the uncertainty any longer.
"Hmm?" Lestat said sleepily. "No, no. I hunted
earlier." He yawned, like a great cat. "I'm in for the
night, Louis. Just the two of us. That is, if you don't
"That's fine," Louis said, a small feeling of
excitement rising within him. "And tomorrow?"
Lestat shrugged. "More of the same I suppose. I'm
feeling quite the homebody I'm afraid."
Louis kissed him then, holding him tightly in his arms
and kissing him with all the passion and feeling he had.
Lestat did not want to leave him! Lestat was staying!
"Louis!" Lestat said, looking at him with pleased
curiosity. Louis silenced him with another kiss. He felt
Lestat move closer to him, his body aligned perfectly with
"Louis," Lestat said, breathlessly, "I don't want to
sound like I'm complaining but--"
"Then don't," Louis replied. He kissed him once again,
then lay beside him quietly. This felt so nice, he thought.
It felt so wonderful to have Lestat curled up next to him,
his lips brushing his cheek, his leg between his.
Distracting too. It was so hard to keep a coherent thought
with Lestat's hand tracing lazy circles on Louis' thigh. And
when Lestat nibbled along his ear it was impossible for Louis
to think of anything at all even--
Louis bolted upright, his heart pounding. This was it,
he realized. This was what his dream had meant. He did not
have to face the storm at all. He could stay here with
Lestat and forget that it had ever happened. Yes, he
thought, yes. No pain, only pleasure. Only him and Lestat
and the here and now. There was no past, there was no storm.
"Louis?" Lestat sat up and looked at him, his grey eyes
puzzled. "Are you ok?"
Louis turned to Lestat and smiled. "Yes," he replied,
pushing Lestat back against the lounge. "Very much so." He
nestled next to Lestat and closed his eyes. The storm
threatened to appear again, but he would not let it. He
pushed it away and concentrated on the feel of Lestat's body
next to his.
"Good," Lestat whispered. He kissed Louis gently and
settled down beside him.
Louis could hear Lestat's heartbeat again which, along
with the warmth of the fire, lulled him into a dreamy
half-sleep. A new sound came to him then. A pleasant one.
Louis focused on it and realized that it was a song. In his
dream, Lestat was singing him a song.
He opened his dream eyes and saw Lestat. He was
sitting by a stream, a guitar in his hands, and singing, his
tenor voice hitting the notes perfectly.
Louis knelt beside the dream of Lestat and listened to
the song. It was a new song, he realized. One that Lestat
himself had created and that only Louis had ever heard. A
song for Louis, sung in the French of their time.
The song ended. Lestat let the last note hang in the
air before putting the guitar down, his fingers lightly
caressing the strings as he let it go.
Louis could see him better now. He was wearing a silk
shirt, the buttons only done halfway, and a pair of tight
leather pants that molded around the muscles of his legs
quite nicely. Louis liked him like this. He leaned forward
and pressed his lips to Lestat's, his tongue gently tracing
Lestat slid his hands into Louis' hair and Louis kissed
him harder still. They lay in the grass together, bodies
entwined as Louis unbuttoned the rest of Lestat's shirt,
tugged it out of his pants, then let his hand slip down to
where, perhaps, Lestat could still be sensitive.
"I never thought you were the prude you pretended to
be," Lestat said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Louis' eyes flew open. Lestat lay beside him, his head
propped up on one hand and a smile was on his lips.
"What are you--you mean... you saw it?" Louis asked,
feeling his cheeks redden.
"You and me by the stream? Yes. I don't know how, but
yes." Lestat grinned. "Not bad, Louis. I disagree a little
with the choice of outfit but we can work on that."
"But how? The dream I mean."
Lestat shrugged. "I don't know, Louis. But it's not
just the dream. I can feel you now, a little. I could do it
before when I was out of the room."
"Yes," Louis said, thinking back to it. "I knew when
you were back, even before I saw you. I felt it, somehow."
Lestat frowned and was silent for a minute. "Oh well,"
he said. "It would appear that I cannot hear your thoughts
while we are awake. Probably just as well. You might get
embarrassed to hear what I'm thinking about you right now.
But then again, maybe you wouldn't." He grinned again,
Louis smiled, slyly. He pulled Lestat closer and let
his hand run down Lestat's back. "Perhaps you should tell me
"Alright," Lestat said, kissing Louis along his neck.
"Let's just say that it involved silk and leather, but
strangely enough I'm not wearing any of it. Care to hear
"I think so," Louis purred. "In fact, I don't think I
can hear enough."