Foster Fledgling
Chapter Fourteen
"Holy shit," Daniel whispered.
"Indeed," David looked back to Gabrielle, nodding.
"It makes perfect sense," she agreed.
Louis looked from one to another of them. "No. This is madness." He pulled François closer, stroking his hair. "You don't know what you're saying, p'tit, you're very upset."
"No, Louis," François gazed up at him, shaking his head. "I'm not, not really."
"But François," Louis said, "you told me you don't remember anything."
"I didn't, not until now." The boy shook his head a few times, as if the physical action would clear the mental confusion. "But now I know it. I know his voice. It was the voice of my angel."
"Angel?" Louis asked. "What angel?"
"The angel that I saw in the cemetery," François explained. "I only remembered it tonight, when Armand went into my head. He told me that it was a vampire, but he didn't know who it was, either."
"You let Boss inside your head?" Daniel asked, incredulous. "You didn't tell me that."
"You didn't ask," François shrugged.
"If we could get back to the point at hand -" David began
"The point at hand is that you have no reason to think that Lestat did this," Louis interrupted. He took François's hand. "P'tit, I know that right now, you think this is true, but you must be mistaken. You've been frightened, it's very confusing."
"Why are you so insistent that he is wrong?" David inquired. "He seems very certain to me. François, if you please, let me see your thoughts -"
"No!" Louis hissed. "You will not. He has had enough disturbance tonight, I won't allow you to go mucking around in his mind." He pulled François closer, wrapping his arms protectively around him.
"It's okay, Louis," François said softly. "I'm not afraid . . . exactly." The words were brave, but his voice betrayed his discomfort. He clung to Louis, as much to give as to receive comfort.
"Pah!" Gabrielle waved a hand dismissively. "I don't need to be inside the child's mind to know that he speaks the truth. God knows, Lestat is capable of almost anything."
"How can you say that?" Louis demanded. "Your own son?" He looked at the others, now standing around them. "Lestat would not do such a thing! Am I the only one who has faith in him?"
"It isn't that, Lou," Daniel placated. "Lestat is a great guy, everybody loves him. But he's been on acid for God knows how long, and that stuff can screw up your mind but good."
"It's completely understandable," David added. "It is entirely in character, after all." He smiled ruefully. "I should know of what I speak."
"This is a different situation entirely!" Louis protested vehemently. "I will not believe this. I will not."
"It's okay, Louis," François slipped his arms around Louis's neck, and now buried his face in Louis's chest. "You don't have to be mad about it. I'm sorry. You're right. I got it all wrong." His tone was placating, his gaze imploring as they met his protector's eyes. It was a skill he had honed to perfection through years of practice, calming an angry parent, diffusing a volatile situation before it blew up in his face. "I didn't remember it before, maybe I'm just mixed up now. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it. It's okay. It don't matter. Really, it's okay." He moved away from Louis, walking to the door. "I want to go home, if that's okay. Can we go home?" He looked back at the others, hoping that they would not press the matter further.
Louis looked at the fledgling, and realized how frightened he was. François was frightened of him, afraid of his anger. Inwardly, Louis cursed himself. This was how he'd often felt, terrified of Lestat's rages. It was unacceptable. This child was not at fault. Regardless of what had happened this evening, despite the reactions his announcement had produced, François had not done anything wrong. He did not deserve this pain.
Louis had to get control of himself. He forced himself to calm, swallowed his anger and fear and frustration. This near rage was not helping anyone; it would not remove the chains that bound Lestat, it was terrifying François, and it was sure to open himself to ridicule from the others. God knew, he already had a reputation for rampant emotionalism, no need to fuel the rumor mill any further. And Daniel looked about to make yet another joke about his fiery temper, too, and tonight he simply was not in the mood to be a good sport. Instead, he smiled politely to the others; always the proper Victorian gentleman, he would do the right thing, disguise his own discomfort. Besides, he had a child to think of, it was very late, and François needed to get home.
"François is right," Louis said, his manner mild and meek as usual, despite the seething emotions inside. "It is getting late. There's nothing more I can do here this morning. We should be going home." He followed François to the door.
They stepped out into the cool night air, and shut the door behind them. Louis leaned against the door, drawing several deep breaths. François stood on the sidewalk for a moment, chewing his lip, then stepped back up and threw his arms around Louis, embracing him tightly, and again burying his face in Louis's chest.
"I didn't mean to do it," he said softly. "I didn't mean to make you mad. I won't do it again, Louis, I promise. I'll be good."
"François, I am not angry with you," Louis said, wrapping his arms around the boy.
"I didn't mean to lie," François looked up at Louis, his eyes wide. "I swear, it was an accident."
"P'tit, I know you didn't lie to me," Louis noticed that François was shivering, despite still wearing Armand's coat. "I'm not at all angry with you."
"You really aren't?" François seemed unable or unwilling to believe him.
"No, mon cher petit. Not at all." He stroked François's hair, and kissed him. Gradually, the boy seemed to calm down, and the shivering ceased. "There, that's better. That's my Feu Follet." He saw that this brought a small smile from François, and smiled back at him.
"Um, Louis?" François asked, timidly. "If you aren't mad at me, what's wrong? Why were you so upset?"
"It's difficult to explain," Louis sighed. "Lestat is not well right now, and is not able to defend himself." He drew a deep breath, and waited for his heart to stop pounding so hard before continuing. Control it. Push it down. "The others, Maharet and Marius, they think he's mad, they say he'll hurt himself, or hurt someone else. They -" Louis drew a few more deep breaths, and despite his best efforts, felt his hands begin to tremble. Calm yourself. Hide the fear. "Maharet said it was either chain him, or - or -" No. Don't think about it. I cannot happen. He took another deep, shuddering breath. "She said she would destroy him."
Once said, the unthinkable jumped to the front of his consciousness, and steadfastly refused to leave. His knees suddenly felt weak, and Louis sat down quickly on the stone step. He put his head in his hands, and the dam burst, quiet sobs pouring forth in great gasps.
"I don't want to live without him," he wept, "never again. I can't go on with this, night after night, not if he's gone. He's all that's left, the only thing that has made it bearable. I don't want to be all alone."
François stood before his protector, his rescuer, and felt utterly helpless. This wasn't supposed to happen. Louis was the one with all the right answers, not him. What could he do? He thought that Gabrielle was probably right, Lestat was mad, or at least, temporarily insane. François had seen it plenty of times before. It was a bad trip, a chemical reaction from the massive amounts of drugs he'd ingested, second hand through the blood of his victims. This, at least, François knew about. But what to do? Lacking a better plan, François sat beside him, and did what he thought Louis would do, if their positions were reversed.
"It's okay, Louis," François said gently, slipping his arms around the quaking form, and holding him tightly. "Everything is going to be alright. It's just a bad trip, that's all. I seen lots of them. He'll be okay." He lay his head on Louis's shoulder, speaking softly, keeping his voice gentle and calming. "He's gonna be sick for awhile, but you won't lose him, you won't lose Lestat. He won't leave you. He'll get better. They always get better."
"I'm so frightened," Louis whispered hoarsely. "I love him, I always have. He doesn't believe me, I know, but I do."
"I know," François soothed, feeling his own tears roll down his face. "He loves you, everybody knows that. Even me, he wrote it in his books."
"They don't care about him, they think he causes too much trouble," Louis didn't bother to wipe the tears from his face, so François gently brushed them away. "I think they'd be just as happy if he were gone."
"No, I don't believe that." François had run out of things to say. They sat there in the quiet of the pre dawn, the silence when the night creatures have quieted and the day creatures had not yet risen. Dawn could not be far away. He didn't know what to do.
Suddenly, the stillness was shattered by a loud cry, probably unnoticed by the surrounding mortals, but quite audible to preternatural hearing. With a feeling of dread, François realized it was Lestat, far below them in the cellars of the old orphanage, bound with chains, railing against the demons that only his drug-laced mind could see. François knew what he was suffering; the knowledge of his maker was not the only part of his lost past he'd recovered. The memories had come flooding back, including his own death, in the throes of drug-induced delirium that almost, but not quite, managed to block out the agony of his last hours.
Over the past few weeks, François had often wondered how he would feel when he finally knew his maker, the one who'd taken his life and abandoned him to his fate. Now, he was surprised to find that he didn't feel at all as he'd expected.
Louis had also heard Lestat's cries, and it had a strangely calming effect upon him. He searched through his pockets for his ever-present handkerchief, and even smiled when François handed him the starched white square from his own breast pocket.
"I see you have learned that, at least," Louis said, taking the cloth. He dabbed at his eyes, and wiped his face. "It seems I have succeeded, at least in some small way."
"Oh, Louis," François shook his head, grinning just slightly. He yawned, and noticed that his eyes seemed to be watering. "I'm tired," he said, yawning again.
"Mon dieu!" Louis jumped to his feet, and pulled out his watch. "Oh, my. François, we must go, now! There's no time!" He grabbed François's arm, and turned around, pulling open the door and dragging the boy inside.
"What is it?" François asked, as Louis literally swept him up in his arms, and ran through the building.
"The dawn, the dawn is coming, we must seek shelter," Louis answered, as he tore down the steps to the basement crypt. They reached the room with the rows of coffins that François had seen earlier, and found Daniel.
"Hey, I thought you guys went home," he smiled. He was sitting in an elegant coffin of polished, intricately polished wood. He had a book in one hand, and a lit cigarette in the other. As they entered, he quickly snuffed out the smoke.
"We were delayed," Louis stood François on the richly carpeted floor. "There's no time to go home now, we'll need to rest here."
"Oh, sure, take your pick," Daniel shrugged. "Gabby is going outside in just a minute. Maharet is going to stand watch, uh, that is -" he coughed self-consciously. There had been some concern that Louis might attempt a rescue, and the elders thought it best to keep a guard on the small room where Lestat lay. Daniel had been given decoy duty, just in case. So much for that. Oh, well, it was only a precaution, anyway. No one really expected Louis to try anything. He gave Louis an apologetic smile. "Anyway, Granddad and Davy, I guess they headed out to Marius's place in Metairie." He gestured around the room. "You pays your money and you takes your choice."
"Good," Louis nodded distractedly. He quickly examined the available choices, and chose one. "Come, François, it's late."
"I ain't getting in no box," François balked. "I had enough of them little places in the cemetery." He tried to back out of the room, but Louis caught him by the hand.
"François, " Louis said, gently but firmly pulling the boy to him and picking him up again. "This is not a time to argue. You will rest here. It's necessary. You will be fine. I promise you." He gave him a reassuring squeeze.
"I don't want to get in a box," François shook his head vehemently. "I'll suffocate or something." He tried to pull away from Louis, but could not.
"Don't worry, kid," Daniel said, serious for once. "You won't even notice it. It freaked me the first time, but after that, piece of cake. Trust me. Watch." Tossing aside his book, he lay down among the silky comforter that lined his coffin, and pulled the lid firmly shut. There was a barely audible click, and then, a muffled but still cheerful voice. "See? I'm fine. It's okay, really. See you in the evening, right?"
François looked at Daniel's box for a moment, and then met Louis's gaze square in the eyes, the barest hint of a quiver on his lower lip. "You sure?" he asked.
"Yes, I am sure," Louis said, lifting him into the coffin, and made to shut the lid.
"I don't want to be alone," François said, reaching up to stop him. "Can't I sleep with you?"
Louis sighed. "Will you cooperate if I say yes?" It was getting very late. He could feel the heaviness settling into his limbs.
"Yeah," François nodded, weakly at first, and then with more certainty. "Yes, if I'm with you, I can do it."
Louis nodded, understandingly. "Move over, then," he carefully climbed in beside François, and pulled the lid shut, securing the latches. There was more than enough room, although Louis knew he'd wake the next night with cramped muscles. Still, it was better than fighting with the child. True to his word, François made no further fuss, but curled into his arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Louis was suddenly hit by a wave of nostalgia, a memory of another shared coffin, only then, he'd been the one frightened.
Funny thing was, he was still frightened, and the source was the same.
"It's okay, he'll be fine," François said, sleepily. "Don't worry, he'll pull through it."
Louis's eyes were heavy, but he knew his ears were wide awake. "What did you say?"
"I said, he'll be fine," François yawned again, and shifted slightly to slip one arm beneath Louis's neck.
"But, I didn't - " Louis stopped. Of course. François had done it again. He smiled to himself. "Thank you, Feu Follet, I'm sure you're right. Now relax, and go to sleep. It will be sunset before you know it." He pulled François close, and waited for the dawn.
Foster Fledgling - Chapter Fifteen
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