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Home / Fan Fiction / V(cough) C(cough) fic / VC Sins of the Past The Beginning

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 was alone.

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 the sky.

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 a dream.

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 bare chest.

"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 his last.

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 speak.

"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 his hair.

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 good-bye?

"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 mind."

"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 his.

"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 them.

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, wolfishly.

Louis smiled, slyly. He pulled Lestat closer and let his hand run down Lestat's back. "Perhaps you should tell me then?"

"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 more?"

"I think so," Louis purred. "In fact, I don't think I can hear enough."

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