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[interviewee]

This is Louis de Pointe du Lac. Leave a message.

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[interviewee]

Fuck.

[Louis isn't sure how much more of this he can take.]

Five years old. I took a five year old into the battlefields of the European Theatre? What is wrong with me?

[unwillingdevil]

I don't know. I -- the dress, it did not look like our era.

[Lestat's seen the outfit in the image, and it did not look like a dress of the 1940s. It looked like something of the 19th century, the frills and puffed skirts of the Second Empire or of Reconstruction times.]

I think she might be of an older time. Or perhaps all of us are.

[So hey maybe you didn't make that mistake at least.]

[interviewee]

[That doesn't exactly make Louis any happier.]

Older time, newer time, five years old.

[unwillingdevil]

Five years old.

[Louis isn't wrong, it's no real comfort. Just a small example of one way it could have been worse, he supposes. It doesn't change that she was too young, too small.

And it doesn't change how it all ended, though he refuses to picture a child so small standing there in the sun, the light searing her skin...no. No. He can't let himself picture that.

With a bleary, wry tone to his voice, he adds:]

Claudia said that must mean the two of us had much more sense.

[Not that he actually believes that.]

[interviewee]

[Louis can't even imagine carrying a five-year old girl with him through the European Theatre, doesn't want to. It was hard enough bringing a fourteen-year old through the harshest conditions a vampire can survive.

Only to not be able to reach her at the end.

No amount of sense will change that.]

Are you out with her now?

[unwillingdevil]

No -- no, I am not.

[He's coming down a bit from his frenzy, his head spinning less. It's easier to settle himself with Louis sharing in his horror, with someone to talk to who can fully grasp the situation and all its insanities.]

I saw her ad on the Finder and replied to her there and we spoke. That was only a few moments ago. And then I called you.

[interviewee]

Come home.

[The request is simple, quiet, and full of a yearning need.]

[unwillingdevil]

All right. Give me but a moment.

[It strikes him that it isn't a question or a request, just a simple, plain statement of need. He obeys it without question, setting out for the house, his head still light and whirling as he strides through the city.

It'll be for the best if they're in the same room. If they can each be around the only person that could fully grasp the odd guilt and confusion and grief of it all. Fifteen or so minutes later, the front door opens, and Lestat enters.]

[interviewee]

[Louis is sitting in the living room, pinching the bridge of his nose when he hears the front door open. He looks up at Lestat before rising and making his way slowly to him. He curls his arms around Lestat and draws him in.

All in silence.]

[unwillingdevil]

[Lestat folds into Louis' embrace, pliant and wordless, letting himself sink into it. His arms wrap around Louis' waist in turn, tugging him in, the two of them melding together in silent understanding.

Some part of him feels as if this is wrong, that someone should be furious and screaming at him. He so often did things that were selfish or foolish, and people would be angry with him for it, a natural consequence of his own choices. It feels as if there should be something, some repercussion for what he's learned, for what some shadow of him did once many years ago.

But Louis is quiet and comforting, and Claudia had been only confused and sad and hurt. And he hadn't done this -- or had he? He doesn't know, doesn't understand, it was him and not him all at once, and the truth of it was that he still turned a young girl once a long time ago and that it had blown up for all of them ever since.

Leaning his forehead to Louis' shoulder, he murmurs:]

Tell me what is in your head, cher. Do not leave me alone to my own thoughts.

[It's easier, he thinks, if he can focus on Louis, if he can tears himself from his own flurry of regrets.]

[interviewee]

[Louis curls around Lestat, holds him to himself as he struggles with the information he's been told. Like Lestat, he wonders how this other version of him could curse a five-year-old girl to immortality. But then he thinks of their Claudia, how could fourteen have been much better? Just on the cusp of adulthood, wanting for more than anyone could ever give her.

He remembers being in their sitting room and her screaming at them, then who's gonna fuck me?

He remembers her leaving not long after, taking a journey of her own into an adulthood her body would never reach.

When Lestat speaks, Louis replies softly,] I'm thinking of our Claudia. How reckless we were.

[unwillingdevil]

[Gently, he strokes Louis' lower back, listening in quiet contemplation. His own thoughts wander similar roads, at how all of it had been so rash and so thoughtless. She'd been so small then, and imagining her in an even younger form knots his stomach.

They'd been reckless, but Lestat had known better. He's not entirely sure which is worse, acting out of blind panic as Louis had, or knowing the consequences and doing it anyway. At least he'd heard of those damned Great Laws before then, had seen what could happen when someone too fragile was given the gift.]

For all our carelessness, she was stronger than we could have ever guessed. She did more with it than most vampires with twice her advantages.

[It doesn't absolve them, he knows that, but there is a sad sense of admiration for the vampiress they'd both known.]

[interviewee]

She was like you in many ways. [Louis replies wistfully. He'd been disappointed and frustrated at the time, but now he wished he'd handled her differently.

And maybe she would not have suffered a terrible fate.] It frustrated me at the time.

[unwillingdevil]

[His chest clenches at that, and for a moment he leans into Louis' shoulder, fighting back the rising swell of memories. Lestat remembers that first night with Claudia, remembers saying the words 'Who was it that she takes after?'. He'd said them almost out of pique, after a long evening of fraught emotions, but time seemed to have borne them out as truth.

As for Louis finding that frustrating, well. That didn't surprise him, not really, not given how it had all come to be in the first place. Not when Louis still clung so tightly to humanity while Claudia embraced her new life with abandon, not when Claudia was brought to them in the afterglow of one of their worst arguments.

After a moment, Lestat murmurs:]

She inherited the pieces that best helped her survive, I'd like to think. She took to the gift and thrived. And she did what she needed to be strong through all of it.

[It had been for the best that she took from him the will to keep going, the ability to endure and overcome. Not his temper or vanities or wild swings of emotion, just the aspects that would help her in her afterlife. At least, he'd like to think those came from him.]

[interviewee]

She was stronger than both of us. Substantially.

[And her true crime had been wanting to be away from both of them, to find love in her own way. Was it fair that Louis had been spared, but Claudia burned alive? No. It was a cruelty to turn her and an even crueler measure to kill her for her needs and curiosities.]

Stay here tonight.

[unwillingdevil]

She was. Perhaps one of the strongest vampires I've ever seen.

[He could picture her roaming the ages with that ferocity in her spirit, living out the centuries without hesitation, perhaps with her French
compagne. Lestat thinks of Gabriella, striding through mountains and deserts in gleeful undeath and wonders if Claudia might well have been similar. Perhaps she might have met her own grandmother in the wilds and caught on like a house on fire. Perhaps many things could have happened.

And instead she had been put through a trial and put on stage and put to task for a murder that had not ended in death. And perhaps Lestat could have saved her, but he had saved Louis and had been frozen in place as he watched her crumble to dust with her fledgling at her feet.

At Louis' command, he nods numbly against his shoulder. His thoughts are in disarray and he does not wish to be alone. He can only imagine Louis is much the same.]

All right. I will, cher.

[interviewee]

[Louis runs his hands up Lestat's back before he nods and steps back just enough to place one hand at Lestat's waist. He's not hungry, but he knows both of them need to eat in the face of this news.]

How about something to eat? Won't help anyone starving ourselves.

[unwillingdevil]

[Lestat nods at that, a pang of warmth and affection searing his chest at the question. It's still an new feeling at times, the sensation of being looked after. He's not sure he's ever had anyone else pay attention to whether he ate or looked after himself the way Louis has, not even when he was a child. All the more reason to love him as intently as he does.]

All right. Though I hope you have something besides rats.

[He's only really half-teasing as he says it, the rats Louis eats are vile.]

[interviewee]

I've a few bags. [Louis leads the way back to the kitchen. He retrieves a bag of blood for each of them and pulls down two glasses.]

Better than rats.

[He knows Lestat hates the rats, so Louis reserves the bags for when Lestat is around.]

[unwillingdevil]

[He feels a pang of affection, seeing that Louis has a few bags on hand that look untouched, that are presumably for his benefit. The sight of them, as well as Louis looking after him so attentively, glasses in hand, is heartwarming in its mindfulness.

As Louis puts down the glasses, Lestat steps behind him, wrapping his arms around Louis' waist and burying his face into his shoulder.]

You are so very good to me, mon mari.

It makes me love you so very impossibly.

[interviewee]

[Louis pauses when Lestat wraps around him. He lets out a pleased hum and leans back into Lestat.]

Don't want you to starve is all.

[But that's not the point and he knows it too.]

Love you too, my husband.

[unwillingdevil]

Ah, but that alone is still so very lovely to me.

[After all, before Louis, who would have thought to keep blood for him, would have worried that he might go unfed? It's a thought that could make him weep of love and gratitude. Instead, his arms wrap Louis in closer, letting him lean in against him as he wishes.

Everything about the day feels so raw, grief and regret and horror and sadness kicked up by what they'd learned. Which is why it is so soothing to have each other in all this, to have Louis in his arms and to be embraced in turn.

After a moment, he nods softly before murmuring:]

Let us drink, then.

[interviewee]

[Louis enjoys the embrace, leans into Lestat enough to feel grounded after conversations about loss and grief. When Lestat suggests they drink, Louis nods. He leans up and settles the glasses and the bags of blood on the table. He takes the seat beside the head of the table and nods for Lestat to take the spot at the head of the table.]

Let's drink.

[unwillingdevil]

All right. [He nods at that, feeling a soft another soft pang as Louis encourages him to the head of the table. Lestat takes a blood bag and glass and starts to pour, watching it pour out slowly and keeping an eye that Louis does the same before he drinks.]

[interviewee]

[Louis follows suit, piercing the bag with a sharp finger and allowing it to pour into his glass. He looks over at Lestat and realize they're doing the same thing. They both want to watch the other take care of themselves.

Louis sets the bag to the side and begins to drink his fill.]