Another Few Nights In Paradise

Disclaimers: I don't own these characters, Anne Rice does. I make no money off of this.

Warning: Rape, slash

Spoilers: TotB

Other Info: Yes, this includes rape. Comments welcome. Flames also, but flamers be advised that I can be very cruel and terrible in the defense of my position. Criticize me, and I just might write a completely offensive spec in retaliation.

Clouds obscured the entire sky, blocking out the dark moon and all the stars surrounding it. In this part of town, there was a little pile of glass underneath every street lamp where the glass had been broken out. The stores were all closed and no one was foolish enough to drive down the streets. Lestat had to stagger along in absolute darkness, stumbling over the cracks in the sidewalk and broken curbs. The throbbing in his head was only getting worse, making it impossible to keep his eyes open for very long. The dim silhouettes he could make out were constantly warping and twisted around, as if the laws of physics had been repealed for one night.

So hot, he thought to himself. Why must it be so hot? And damp, I'm breathing water. I'm drowning in this heat. He hated the summers in New Orleans, he felt like he was walking through a boiling ocean, a lake of fire. He only stayed here because Louis wanted to. If Lestat had his way, they'd both be living somewhere up north, somewhere on the coast or near the Great Lakes.

But Louis has such a need of warmth and heat, Lestat thought, doing his best to ignore the sharp pains in his head. He must be kept safe and warm and comfortable.

He looked down the street, the pavement metamorphosing into a raging river. "Why did he have to be a drug addict?" he asked no one out loud. "I hate LSD..." With a despairing sigh, he forced himself to ascend into the air. His flight was far too fast, as if he was throwing himself through the air, and he rapidly lost altitude, descending to the ground miles away from where he'd began. Lestat hit the ground hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. He wiped them away and stood up, looking around. This neighborhood was well lit.

"Thank God," he mumbled. He was only a few houses away from his. Lestat continued walking, hugging himself despite how hot he was. His body was sore from the fall, it would probably be bruised the next night. The street suddenly tilted to the left and he did his best to compensate. He leaned hard to his right and instead fell into his yard. "Almost there."

Bent over in deliriums, he swayed unsteadily, somehow making it to the door and opening it. He stumbled inside, not caring if he locked the door or not, and collapsed at the foot of the staircase. The steps looked like a mountain to his blurred eyes. Digging his claws through the carpet into the wood, he dragged himself up the stairs and into his bedroom, where he finally crumpled onto the bed. He lay on his stomach, facing away from the door, and shut his eyes to try to stop the pain.

Only a few moments later, the front door was opened again. Louis locked the door behind himself, surprised that it had been open, and headed upstairs. He didn't notice the damage done to the stairs or the scratches on the bottom of the door, where Lestat had forced it open.

Lestat looked fast asleep on the bed, arms caught underneath himself, flung carelessly on the blankets. Louis gave a little smile and started to undress. Lestat had surprised him in bed so often, and now here was his chance to repay him. He dropped his shirt on the floor with his jeans, kicked off his boots, and silently crept across the carpet, hoping he wouldn't wake his lover up.

Lestat heard nothing. All he could think of was that he felt like he was suffocating, as if he was caged in this painfully delusional body. His muscles were sore, all he wanted was to fall asleep, but the pounding in his head wouldn't let him. He tried to adjust himself, but he was too tired and high.

Without any warning, a heavy weight fell on him, holding him in place. Someone's arm pinned him down on the mattress, pushing his face down in the pillow, while another hand tore his shirt away. His pants were stripped off of him, and whoever was on top of him now forced his legs apart one at a time, preparing him for what was coming next.

No, stop, no, don't do this, he tried to say, but he couldn't make his mouth work. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't speak, couldn't make his body move. He tried to scream and only made a congenial moan, urging the aggressor on. He lay still, unwillingly yielding his body up as an offering. A soft hand played over his skin, mocking his helplessness and reinforcing his vulnerability. Lestat started to panic, he couldn't breathe, he was suffocating, he was in pain...and this person didn't know or didn't care.

Suddenly there was a violent tear into him, violating his body, making him groan again as if in pleasure. He shut his eyes as tight as he could, but he still saw bursts of light exploding in his vision. His hips were pushed against the blankets, impaled completely as he was ravaged. He tried to beg his attacker to stop, to scream for help, to even whimper. All he could do was moan, wordlessly begging for more abuse.

Finally finishing, the rapist withdrew, leaving Lestat horrifically empty inside. He felt as if he'd been hollowed out with nothing worth anything left. There was a soft kiss on his cheek, a frighteningly gentle voice. "I love you." And then the weight was gone, and Lestat was left alone again, his world shattered in half a minute.

For a long time Lestat merely lay there, broken into pieces. The drugs wore off, but the pain didn't leave. He'd recognized that voice. With the awful clarity that anguish brought, he knew he'd only encouraged Louis, never struggling, never saying no, moaning for more. A vampire as strong as Lestat could never be hurt like that, not by a vampire as weak as Louis. Lestat had asked for it. He couldn't say he'd been raped. No one would ever believe him.

Lestat started to cry. He didn't wail or scream in torment. Tears merely flowed down his face as he softly sobbed. He put his hands over his face to muffle even that slight noise. He could hear Louis downstairs, occasionally turning a page in his book. When Lestat had cried himself dry, he reluctantly sat up on the edge of the bed. He shivered, then wondered why he was cold. He'd been burning only a few minutes ago. But now he was freezing. He gathered the sheet around his shoulders and wrapped it around himself like a shroud, then went to the window.

Lestat opened the window and sat down on the sill, cooling down in the night air. A soft breeze wafted over his face and through his hair, and somehow it calmed him down, although he still felt empty. He pulled the sheet closer around his body. The clouds had broken up a bit, allowing him a glimpse of the crescent moon. Stars twinkled in the rising heat.

The bedroom door opened again and Louis came in, smiling when he saw Lestat nude beneath his thin sheet, apparently stargazing. Lestat looked blankly at him, those deceptively weak arms and fragile strength, and tears returned to his eyes, spilling from his eyes without any change in his expression. Concerned, Louis rushed to his side and sat opposite from him, grabbing one of his hands and stroking it comfortingly. Lestat looked down at it and sobbed harder.

"Lestat, what's wrong?" Louis asked, laying his hand on Lestat's cheek. Lestat allowed his head to lay against the cupped palm, but he only shook his head.

"Please, I know something is wrong," Louis insisted. "Something is hurting you."

Lestat nodded once, still silent.

"Then tell me," Louis whispered. He could see the unrestrained hurt in Lestat's eyes, red from crying. "Let me help you."

"Do...you love...me?" Lestat murmured, his voice raw as if he had screamed for days.

"With all my heart. I love you, Lestat." Louis was confused, what did that have to do with anything?

Lestat smiled in unbelievable sadness. "And I love you."

"Mon amor, what is wrong?"

Lestat sighed and stood up, squeezing Louis' hand before he let go and went to the closet. He pulled on a white shirt and gray pants, then looked back at his lover. "Don't ask me. I can't tell you." He slipped on a ratty pair of sneakers, then went downstairs and out the backdoor.

Louis watched him from the window, then jumped out and followed a block behind. He had no idea where Lestat was headed, and after a moment he was sure Lestat didn't know, either. His maker wandered aimlessly along streets and alleys, staring alternatively at the sky and the ground. They crossed through residential areas until they started to pass by a children's park. Lestat nearly went by without stopping, but he paused, looking it over, and then went closer. Louis hid behind a large oak and watched Lestat sit down in a swing. They stayed there for over an hour. When Lestat seemed to have his fill of just sitting, he got back up and went straight back home, moving so fast that Louis had a hard time following after him. Louis came into the bedroom just as Lestat was climbing into bed.

Louis disrobed and joined Lestat beneath the sheets, surprised when Lestat didn't reach out to hold him. Terribly perplexed, he wondered what on earth had happened. Lestat hadn't even kissed him goodnight. He sighed and closed his eyes. Whatever it was, Lestat would certainly feel better in a few nights. He always did.

Two weeks later, Lestat was not feeling better. He had developed a routine of waking up, feeding, returning home for a few minutes for no reason at all and then hiding in that same park for hours on end. Louis had often caught him in his room, crying at the window and trying to hide his weeping. So unlike Lestat, to conceal his feelings. And every time Louis asked him what was wrong, Lestat would just ask if he loved him, and once he got the desired answer, he'd respond "Don't ask me. I can't tell you."

At last, Louis couldn't take it anymore. Seeing Lestat in pain was frustrating him to no ends. He waited for Lestat to leave for the park once more, then picked up the phone. He needed to call someone who was nearby, someone that might be able to make Lestat open up and reveal what was wrong. He listened to the phone ring on the other end of the line, wishing Gabrielle was close by. Unfortunately, she was lost somewhere in the Australian outback. Finally the phone picked up.

"Hello?"

Louis twisted the cord nervously around his fingers. "Hello, Marius? It's me, Louis."

"Louis?" Marius asked, puzzled. "What are you--? Sorry. I sometimes forget you prefer to speak on the phone than mentally. So, what's Lestat done this time?"

Louis sighed apologetically. "I'm really sorry, I seem to call only when we need help--"

"Nonsense," Marius laughed. "He gets into trouble so often you don't get a chance, and besides, it's not like we're very social creatures in the first place. Speaking of which, what problem has Lestat gotten you into?"

"To be honest, I don't think he's done anything wrong," Louis said. "He's...well, he's worrying me. He's been crying uncontrollably, and every night he goes off by himself to a secluded park and just...sits there. He won't tell me what's wrong, but I know he's hurting inside."

"How long has this gone on?"

"Around two weeks now. I've tried to get him to talk to me, but he only asks if I love him, and then says he can't tell me. And I didn't know what to do until I remembered you were in Louisiana on business..."

"Calm down. I'll be down there tomorrow night, there's simply no way I can get there today. Just make sure he doesn't hurt himself. Lestat doesn't have many qualms about self-inflicted injury."

Louis nodded dismally, even though Marius couldn't see him. "I understand. Thank you, I really appreciate this."

"It's no problem," the elder reassured him. "Without the brat, the centuries would become rather boring."

After a few more minutes of idle talk, Louis hung up and leaned back in the sofa, about to take a nap when Lestat suddenly came back inside, holding one wrist tightly. He tried to hide it from Louis and ignored his questions, instead hurrying upstairs to the bathroom. Louis followed quietly after, creeping along the hallway towards the door, which had been carelessly left open. He peered in and barely held in his cry of alarm.

Lestat was leaning over the sink, struggling desperately to wrap gauze over his wrist tight enough to stop the bleeding. Already half the porcelain was red with lost blood. Lestat seemed to be caught up in panic and unable to handle the bandages in his red hands. Louis took a step inside, and Lestat whirled in surprise, his eyes wide open. He turned back to his wrist and tried like mad to cover up the damage, starting to cry as he did so.

Louis sat down next to him at the edge of the tub and gently put his fingers around the sliced wrist, turning it up to examine it. Lestat didn't struggle, meekly allowing his touch. Louis knew Lestat had done this himself, but he didn't chastise him at all. Instead he ran warm water and washed the excess blood away, then took the clean bandages and dressed the slash properly. It should have been healed already, but his maker seemed to have lost much of his energy recently.

Louis stared into Lestat's eyes. "Vampires lose strength and power when they lose their confidence," he whispered softly. He put his hand on Lestat's cheek, wiping away his tears with his thumb. "Please tell me what's wrong. I can't see you suffer like this."

Lestat shook his head and made a move for the door, but Louis seized his shoulders firmly.

"Lestat, you are hurting yourself. If I was doing the same, would you stand idly by?"

"I can't tell you," Lestat protested in a weak voice.

"Then can you promise me you won't do this again?" Louis asked, still holding him. "I can't bear to lose you."

Lestat hesitated, then nodded once. Knowing he wasn't going to get an answer, Louis let him go and watched him disappear back into the bedroom, presumably to cry again. He sighed and headed for the living room, but he stopped on the steps. He sat down on the stairs and leaned against the wall. It would be a long wait for Marius to arrive. He could hear Lestat sobbing right now, which made him start sniffling in sympathy. They both cried until it was daytime, and even then, Lestat was still weeping in bed, crying himself to sleep.

The next night, Lestat was wandering down his familiar path, idly scratching the bandages on his wrist. His cut had still not healed, and the unusual sensation of being wounded was bothering him. He walked up the crumbling sidewalk to the park, heading for the swings, then suddenly stopped.

Marius was already there, leaning against the metal frame. He looked up as Lestat stood a short distance away, and remained silent.

For a moment, Lestat considered just leaving and finding another place. Louis had clearly contacted the older vampire hoping he could help, but Lestat didn't want any help. He almost turned away, then decided he wouldn't allow himself to be chased away from one of the few places in the city he really liked. He purposely veered away from the swings and sat down on the edge of the merry-go-round, looking away like a sullen child. Of course he heard the gravel crunching as Marius approached, but he didn't glance up. Stubbornly, he pushed the merry-go-round so that he stopped on the other side, away from the elder.

Marius smiled despite the situation. Leaning down, he took hold of one of the bars and turned it back the other way, until Lestat was in front of him again. He sat down next to him, but didn't try to touch him.

"Louis called me."

"Obviously."

"He's very worried about you."

Lestat didn't answer.

"He says you've been crying and hurting yourself, but that you won't tell him what's wrong."

"I can't," Lestat whispered.

"He's says you always ask him if he loves you when he asks." Marius looked sideways at him. "And that you seem a little sadder when he says yes. He's frightened that you don't want him anymore."

Lestat looked at him in wonder. "But...that's not true!"

"Louis doesn't know that. He thinks he's hurt you somehow."

Lestat met his eyes, then looked back down at the mud. He gave an imperceptible nod.

"Was it bad?"

Lestat nodded again. "Terrible."

"Then why doesn't he know?"

A tear slipped from Lestat's eye, striking the ground. "He...doesn't. It wasn't his fault. He couldn't have known..."

"Can you talk about it?"

Lestat shook his head.

"Even if it means losing Louis?"

"What...what do you mean?" he asked, trying to breathe regularly.

"He believes that you want him to leave." Marius looked up at the sky. "He thinks that he's hurt you, and the only way to make it right again is to go away."

"But...no..." Lestat cried, tears coming faster. "He can't...he has to stay...I don't want him to go..."

"Then you have to talk to him," Marius said firmly. "Go home and at least tell him that."

"What can I say to make him want to stay?"

"Tell him that you can't talk about it now, but that you still need him and love him. If you don't do that much, you will lose him, who knows for how long."

Lestat nodded and got up, immediately heading for home without another word to Marius, who sighed to himself and headed back to his apartment. Likely he would get an update from Louis in a few nights. He wondered how these fledglings managed to complicate their lives so much.

Meanwhile, Lestat was already standing in front of the house, somewhat afraid to go inside. Louis was inside, he could hear him breathing. He was afraid to talk, afraid to tell him what had happened. Would Louis even believe him? Maybe he could just say what Marius had suggested, but he shook his head. No, Louis would need a more detailed explanation. Louis wanted to help so much, he had absolutely no idea what was wrong.

Louis looked up as Lestat cautiously came in, glancing around as if he was afraid there was a dragon inside waiting to bite him. The house was silent as Lestat shut the door and sat on the same sofa Louis was on. Only the fire kept the room from total darkness.

"Louis..." Lestat started nervously.

"Lestat," Louis tried, but Lestat waved him down.

"No, listen to me. I...I know you want to know, but I can't tell you, and you mustn't leave, please, you have to stay, I need you here. With me."

Louis watched as Lestat grabbed his hands in his own, stroking them nervously. "Lestat...it's all right. If you want me to stay, I will. I love you." He leaned forward in his seat. "But chere, you need to tell me what's hurting you. This not-knowing is eating me up inside, I want to help you but you won't let me."

"I don't want you to know," Lestat whispered faintly.

"I need to know. Lestat, I love you. You have to trust me."

Lestat stared at the fire for a long time, trying to think it over but only able to think about Louis' gorgeous green eyes. Strange, the things that kept running through his head right them. Beautiful emerald jade, like perfect jewels, sparkling in the firelight, kind eyes that would never lie to him...never hurt him...

"Will you promise you won't leave me?" he asked, weariness strong in his voice.

"I promise," Louis said, relieved that Lestat had finally relented. "I won't leave you, ever."

Lestat wouldn't take his eyes off of the fire. "I...it was...I...I don't know how to start," he murmured.

"At the beginning," Louis helped. "When did it happen?"

"Two weeks ago," Lestat said. "I...had just...fed...it was a drug addict...high on LSD, I think, or maybe PCP. Something strong. It hurt. My head hurt, and I couldn't walk right. It was so dark, and I couldn't see. I tried to fly home...I crashed a few houses down...and I dragged myself to bed, literally. I fell on the mattress. I couldn't move. I felt so hot, like I was suffocating, I couldn't make myself move."

Lestat started to cry again, and he leaned against Louis, putting his face against his chest. "And then you came in, only I didn't know it was you at first. And you held me down and stripped me...I tried to tell you no, to stop, that it hurt, but I couldn't make my voice work. My body wouldn't move. I tried to scream, and I only moaned. I knew it made it look like I wanted it...and you thought I did...and I felt so trapped and scared...and I didn't want it..."

Louis sat still in shock, tears flowing from his own eyes. "I...raped...you," he whispered. "Oh God, no...I thought...no, I couldn't...I thought...no..."

"And afterward you said you loved me, and kissed me, and I knew you didn't mean to hurt me...and I tried to...I don't know...but I couldn't stop crying...I felt so empty..." Lestat put his arms around Louis for support, gratified when he felt the same. "And then you wanted to know, and I couldn't tell you...I didn't want to hurt you..."

"Me?" Louis almost laughed bitterly. "Hurt me? After what I did to you, you still worried what I felt? Oh, my poor, poor Lestat..." He tightened his hold, as if he could make it all go away just by hugging him. "I'm sorry...so, so sorry..."

"You didn't know," Lestat tried to say through his sobs. "But it hurt so bad...and every time you said you loved me, it made it harder to tell you..."

Louis wanted to break down at what he'd done, tear himself to pieces, but he could see that Lestat was already dissolving into tears. He needed Louis to be strong for him. Louis caressed his hair and face, stroking his arms and back, making the harsh crying a little less violent even while he fought his own sorrow down.

"How do you forgive me so quickly?" he wondered to himself, cradling Lestat like a child as he adjusted his body.

"I love you," Lestat said simply.

"Even then?"

Lestat nodded. "Mm-hmm...I felt so cold afterward, like I was freezing. I'd been so scared, I felt like I was a sacrifice..."

Louis took out his handkerchief and dabbed away the bloody tears, cleaning off both of their faces. "You still feel cold. Let me put you to bed."

Lestat shakily agreed, and Louis put his around Lestat's shoulders, guiding him upstairs even while Lestat continued to weep. They got to the bedroom where Lestat sat down, and Louis was about to undress him when he suddenly stopped.

"Are you sure you want this?" Louis asked. "I love you, but it...might be too soon for me to...touch you like this."

"It's all right," Lestat answered. "I've been sharing the bed with your for the last two weeks...I'm not afraid of you, I just...it left me so empty inside...and I know you love me, you never meant for it...to...to...I want you to hold me," he finished simply.

Louis wordlessly pulled the shirt off of Lestat, then made him lay down so he could remove his pants and shoes. Lestat lay still, resting on the pillows as he was stripped. When he was nude, Louis pulled the blankets over his body up to his throat. Lestat watched as his fledgling took off his own clothes, making the small pile already on the floor larger, and then raised the blankets so Louis could slip in easily. Once Louis was in, Lestat eased over and cuddled up against his body. Louis put his arms around him, drawing him near.

"I love you," he said softly.

"I know," Lestat smiled. He snuggled even closer until he was thoroughly wrapped up in Louis' embrace. "That's why I'm still sane."

Louis knew it would probably be several months, if not years, before they made love again, but just being able to hold Lestat was wonderful enough. "Lestat?"

"Yes?"

"You won't...harm yourself again?"

"No. I promise."

"And you don't want me to leave?"

"If you love me, you'll stay with me forever."

"Even after this?"

Lestat nodded. "Just...be strong for me. Just for a little longer."

Louis smiled sadly and kissed his forehead. "For as long as you need me. No one will ever hurt you again. Not even me. Now go to sleep. We both need our rest."

Lestat didn't answer, already drifting off in his arms. Now Louis allowed himself the luxury of mourning his actions, silently weeping as he held his fragile lover tight and thanking his lucky stars that Lestat still loved him. He reminded himself that he needed to call Marius and thank him. If Lestat had kept this bottled up for much longer...that his own beloved fledgling had...Louis shook his head and kissed Lestat again.

"I'll keep you safe, forever," he whispered. "I love you. Sweet dreams."

And he nestled down in the blankets, rest his head on Lestat's, and closed his eyes.

The End