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melethen - my love

Gohen: Redemption

Beta: Ilye, Fimbrethiel

chapter eleven

Erestor listened to the soft, even breathing of his two lovers, watching the room lighten as dawn broke over the city. He had lain awake for hours, wondering about this Man and what he had glimpsed when looking into his mind. The vampire slipped from the warm embrace of Maglor, carefully lifting his hand from David's hip so as not to wake the Man.

He had not yet spoken to Maglor about the final image he had seen in David's mind. There had been moments that he himself had forgotten about it. But here, in the stillness of morning, it all flooded back to him. These watchers were more dangerous than he could have imagined. He knew that he had to find them, and despite his hatred of the thought, Erestor was almost convinced he would have to kill them.

He picked up David's jeans from the floor and pulled out the wallet that the Man had foolishly carried with him. He slipped the driver's license out and memorized the address. He was hoping to find some way to locate the others, and David's home would be the place to start. Flipping casually through the credit cards and pictures, though, Erestor suddenly froze. There, captured on film, was a face that he never thought to see again. The same face he'd seen in David's mind now looked up from a small photo marked "Me and Dad, '92". It was a face he'd seen a thousand times, a face he'd seen grow into maturity.

And then Erestor knew.

The clamor in the kitchen finally woke Maglor. He lay in the bed listening to the sounds of pots clanging and water boiling. He was dreading the awful concoction that Erestor was no doubt about to surprise him with, and then he heard a strange man's voice. No, a strange Man's voice.

"Shit!"

The curse was followed by the sound of a pan clattering to the floor and water, presumably boiling, splashing across the hot stovetop. Maglor's initial shock at hearing the unfamiliar voice decrescendoed into an amused frustration. Ah, yes, the mortal was still here.

David chose that moment to appear in the doorway. 'Speak of the devil,' Maglor mused. 'Or rather, spoken of by a devil.'

"I don't suppose the two immortals would have something as banal as a first-aid kit around here?" David's left hand was wrapped in a towel, and he was cradling it gingerly against his chest.

Maglor tried to stifle the wicked grin that threatened to burst across his face. The best he could do was to keep it to a sarcastic smirk. "There is an aloe plant in the library. Just break off the tip of one of the fatter leaves and squeeze it out onto your burn. And use the potholders next time."

"Most people buy pots with insulated handles."

"Vincent bought them. He said that this way he could put them in the oven as well. Why one would ever need to put a stock pot into an oven is beyond me, but he seemed to think it was terribly important."

David chuckled. "Where is he, anyway? He was already gone when I woke up."

"Your guess is as good as mine," Maglor said with a shrug. He pulled himself from the bed, unflinchingly immodest in his nakedness. He disappeared into the large walk-in closet, calling back over his shoulder, "He said nothing to me about going anywhere."

David caught himself staring at Marcus' body, and felt the heat rising in his cheeks when the vampire noticed and winked at him. He hurried to the library, ostensibly to put some aloe on his blistering skin, but also to spare himself further embarrassment in front of the ancient creature.

Erestor still had not returned by the time Maglor had finished cleaning away the mess in the kitchen and preparing David and himself a nice breakfast. The meal consisted of poached eggs, English muffins with marmalade, and a passable version of black pudding that he had purchased from a British goods store downtown.

Of all the various cultures he had lived in throughout the long years, Maglor had to admit that, their other faults notwithstanding, the British made spectacular food. The French and Italian foods were too high-class and delicate, Spanish and German were simply too heavy and blunt. British, though, was a perfect balance, even though Erestor tended to turn his nose up at it. What did he know, anyway?

David finished the meal and sat back from the table with a satisfied sigh. He'd had his doubts about the pudding (which turned out to be a sausage), but it was really surprisingly good. He swallowed the last of his tea and sighed, leaning back against the sofa. "So, since Vincent hasn't come back, perhaps you could humor me a little more with another tale?"

Maglor cursed Erestor for simply disappearing. This was his responsibility, not Maglor's, and entertaining the human was the last thing on his 'To Do' list for the day. But, he could not very well leave David here to his own devices, and what did he truly need to accomplish this morning? "Very well. Did you have something in mind?"

"Actually, I did. There is an image in a Chicago newspaper, during the Great Chicago Fire, where you are running from one of the burning buildings with a child in your arms. Tell me about that child and why you saved her," David said, gazing levelly at the vampire.

Of all the events the human could have asked about, he had to ask about that one specifically. Maglor was certain this mortal had a book of questions, and these were the least intrusive to David's mind. He let out a long breath and crossed his legs. "That girl was Vincent's daughter. She and her mother had been in their home. Vincent ran in to find Fran, his wife, and asked me to seek out Violet in the blaze. She could not have been more than ten years old at the time."

David's brow creased. "Vincent had a wife?"

Maglor chuckled. "Come now, David. In all these centuries, do you not think that the art of marriage and childrearing would appeal to one such as our Vincent? He wooed Fran for two years; they wed in the autumn in a lovely little church. Violet came within a year of the wedding." The vampire's eyes became distant, as if he were mentally scanning photo albums in his mind. A sad, wistful smile appeared, and he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. "Violet was a lovely child. I adored her the moment Vincent placed her in my arms. We both spoiled her, loved her."

"Were you and Vincent--" David began, but stopped as Maglor shook his head.

"No. The moment he began to court her, we ceased being lovers. It was a very long fifteen years for me without him as mine, but I understood his motives. He wanted to be like all the other bankers with wives and families." Maglor pierced David with his sharp gaze. "What he forgot was that he is not like all the others. Wives and children are for the living, the aging, and he is not among those." Maglor deliberately returned to the grim tale of Erestor's lost wife and daughter. "Violet was in her bedroom, hiding in a closet..."

Chicago, 1871

"Come now, Violet!" Maglor cried, raising his voice above the roar of the fire that crept closer to the small closet. The dark-haired child's eyes were closed, and he swore as he gathered her into his arms. His eyes watered with the heat and the smoke, and he clumsily made his way through the home and out into the fresh air of the late night street.

Erestor had told him to save her, to run from the burning buildings, and Maglor did just that. He ran with the crowds, still trying to rouse the child. If Violet died in his arms, neither he nor Erestor would forgive him. No, he would not let her go! He stopped running, taking refuge under the awning of a building, and crouched on the pavement. He rested her head in his lap. "Violet?" he called. "Violet, you wake this instant! Your Papa will be so worried, child. You must wake."

Maglor sobbed as he held her to him. Oh, Violet.

A flash went off as Maglor glanced up. The newspaperman winked and rushed away, leaving him alone once more with Erestor's precious flower. He bowed his head again, his tears slipping down his soot covered face.

"Uncle Marcell?"

The soft, sweet voice, roughed slightly, was like a douse of cold water on his burned flesh. "Violet!" he said, hugging her close. "Oh, doll, you're all right!"

"Uncle Marcell?" she repeated, disoriented and slowly taking in their surroundings with her onyx-like eyes. "Where are Papa and Mama?"

"Your Papa is bringing your Mama, doll." Maglor cradled her close, never wanting to let her go. "He will find us soon."

Violet cuddled close, twining her fingers in his long hair, and Maglor picked her up. He slowly walked toward the area of the city where his apartment home was, knowing Erestor would come for them there. He had to take Violet away from the shrieking panic in the crowded streets.

Erestor did not come.

Fran did not come.

But, the ladies from the orphanage did.

They took Violet from him. It was not proper, they told Maglor, for a single man to be looking after a child. No, he was not her relative, but he was a very close friend of the family. No, he did not care what the laws were, they could not take Violet from him!

But they did.

A week after Violet was taken away; they found Fran's remains in the burned home. It was assumed that, since Maglor had said Erestor had gone in after his wife, Erestor must have perished with her. The state declared Vachel and Fran Belden deceased and their daughter, Violet Belden, a ward of the state. All communication with the orphanage and Maglor ceased.

It was in the dead of night, after Maglor had drunk himself into a stupor, that Erestor returned to him.

"Where is she, Maglor?" Erestor demanded, his eyes wide and wild.

"I tried all I could, Erestor! They took her from me. You are dead to the mortal world, as is your wife, and I am not a blood relative!" Maglor pushed Erestor away from him, swaying on his feet as he stood from his chair. "I tried, Erestor. They came with police and snatched her from my arms." He lifted his eyes to his friend's face, his tears reflected on Erestor's pale cheeks. "I am sorry, melethen. She is lost to us."

Seattle, 2004

Maglor wiped away the few stray tears on his lashes. "She remained in the orphanage five years," he said, his voice hushed. "A wealthy older gentleman came seeking a wife and chose Violet. After that, we lost all track of her. She just... disappeared."

"Did he ever find her?" David asked softly.

"No. We did not know the man, and if he did marry her as we think he did, her last name would have changed. I wouldn't be surprised if he also changed her first name, since 'Violet' was a very common, plain name." Maglor uncrossed his legs. "Now you know the story behind the image in that clipping. I was holding Violet in my arms just before she woke and the photographer caught me off-guard, which is why there is no name associated with the image."

It was quiet in the room, the hand on the clock ticking slowly as the seconds passed. "Did he ever marry again?" David finally asked.

Maglor cleared his throat. "No. He never married, and he has never been sexually involved with a woman since."

"How is it he could have a child?" The man turned to face Maglor. "I mean, I thought you were dead and therefore would not be able to impregnate a woman."

"You amuse me, David," Maglor said, chuckling. "You think of Man's fictions. This is a curse, but not one that prevents us from siring our own progeny outside of a bite."

"Then why do you not do either? You are alone, lovers to each other, but no one else." David felt himself drawn into the stormy depths of Maglor's intense gaze.

Maglor leaned closer, cupping David's cheek with his palm. "All I need is Vincent, dear child."

David blinked, realizing for the first time that he was not here due to a mutual need of him. He was here because Vincent wanted him to be. "But, are you all he needs?" he whispered. A muscle twitched in Maglor's jaw and his eyes seemed to flash dangerously. "He needs something, Marcus, but it isn't you," David finished.


	Navigation multi-story arcs previous next Translations melethen - my love		Gohen: Redemption Beta: Ilye, Fimbrethiel chapter eleven Erestor listened to the soft, even breathing of his two lovers, watching the room lighten as dawn broke over the city. He had lain awake for hours, wondering about this Man and what he had glimpsed when looking into his mind. The vampire slipped from the warm embrace of Maglor, carefully lifting his hand from David's hip so as not to wake the Man. He had not yet spoken to Maglor about the final image he had seen in David's mind. There had been moments that he himself had forgotten about it. But here, in the stillness of morning, it all flooded back to him. These watchers were more dangerous than he could have imagined. He knew that he had to find them, and despite his hatred of the thought, Erestor was almost convinced he would have to kill them. He picked up David's jeans from the floor and pulled out the wallet that the Man had foolishly carried with him. He slipped the driver's license out and memorized the address. He was hoping to find some way to locate the others, and David's home would be the place to start. Flipping casually through the credit cards and pictures, though, Erestor suddenly froze. There, captured on film, was a face that he never thought to see again. The same face he'd seen in David's mind now looked up from a small photo marked "Me and Dad, '92". It was a face he'd seen a thousand times, a face he'd seen grow into maturity. And then Erestor knew. The clamor in the kitchen finally woke Maglor. He lay in the bed listening to the sounds of pots clanging and water boiling. He was dreading the awful concoction that Erestor was no doubt about to surprise him with, and then he heard a strange man's voice. No, a strange Man's voice. "Shit!" The curse was followed by the sound of a pan clattering to the floor and water, presumably boiling, splashing across the hot stovetop. Maglor's initial shock at hearing the unfamiliar voice decrescendoed into an amused frustration. Ah, yes, the mortal was still here. David chose that moment to appear in the doorway. 'Speak of the devil,' Maglor mused. 'Or rather, spoken of by a devil.' "I don't suppose the two immortals would have something as banal as a first-aid kit around here?" David's left hand was wrapped in a towel, and he was cradling it gingerly against his chest. Maglor tried to stifle the wicked grin that threatened to burst across his face. The best he could do was to keep it to a sarcastic smirk. "There is an aloe plant in the library. Just break off the tip of one of the fatter leaves and squeeze it out onto your burn. And use the potholders next time." "Most people buy pots with insulated handles." "Vincent bought them. He said that this way he could put them in the oven as well. Why one would ever need to put a stock pot into an oven is beyond me, but he seemed to think it was terribly important." David chuckled. "Where is he, anyway? He was already gone when I woke up." "Your guess is as good as mine," Maglor said with a shrug. He pulled himself from the bed, unflinchingly immodest in his nakedness. He disappeared into the large walk-in closet, calling back over his shoulder, "He said nothing to me about going anywhere." David caught himself staring at Marcus' body, and felt the heat rising in his cheeks when the vampire noticed and winked at him. He hurried to the library, ostensibly to put some aloe on his blistering skin, but also to spare himself further embarrassment in front of the ancient creature. Erestor still had not returned by the time Maglor had finished cleaning away the mess in the kitchen and preparing David and himself a nice breakfast. The meal consisted of poached eggs, English muffins with marmalade, and a passable version of black pudding that he had purchased from a British goods store downtown. Of all the various cultures he had lived in throughout the long years, Maglor had to admit that, their other faults notwithstanding, the British made spectacular food. The French and Italian foods were too high-class and delicate, Spanish and German were simply too heavy and blunt. British, though, was a perfect balance, even though Erestor tended to turn his nose up at it. What did he know, anyway? David finished the meal and sat back from the table with a satisfied sigh. He'd had his doubts about the pudding (which turned out to be a sausage), but it was really surprisingly good. He swallowed the last of his tea and sighed, leaning back against the sofa. "So, since Vincent hasn't come back, perhaps you could humor me a little more with another tale?" Maglor cursed Erestor for simply disappearing. This was his responsibility, not Maglor's, and entertaining the human was the last thing on his 'To Do' list for the day. But, he could not very well leave David here to his own devices, and what did he truly need to accomplish this morning? "Very well. Did you have something in mind?" "Actually, I did. There is an image in a Chicago newspaper, during the Great Chicago Fire, where you are running from one of the burning buildings with a child in your arms. Tell me about that child and why you saved her," David said, gazing levelly at the vampire. Of all the events the human could have asked about, he had to ask about that one specifically. Maglor was certain this mortal had a book of questions, and these were the least intrusive to David's mind. He let out a long breath and crossed his legs. "That girl was Vincent's daughter. She and her mother had been in their home. Vincent ran in to find Fran, his wife, and asked me to seek out Violet in the blaze. She could not have been more than ten years old at the time." David's brow creased. "Vincent had a wife?" Maglor chuckled. "Come now, David. In all these centuries, do you not think that the art of marriage and childrearing would appeal to one such as our Vincent? He wooed Fran for two years; they wed in the autumn in a lovely little church. Violet came within a year of the wedding." The vampire's eyes became distant, as if he were mentally scanning photo albums in his mind. A sad, wistful smile appeared, and he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. "Violet was a lovely child. I adored her the moment Vincent placed her in my arms. We both spoiled her, loved her." "Were you and Vincent--" David began, but stopped as Maglor shook his head. "No. The moment he began to court her, we ceased being lovers. It was a very long fifteen years for me without him as mine, but I understood his motives. He wanted to be like all the other bankers with wives and families." Maglor pierced David with his sharp gaze. "What he forgot was that he is not like all the others. Wives and children are for the living, the aging, and he is not among those." Maglor deliberately returned to the grim tale of Erestor's lost wife and daughter. "Violet was in her bedroom, hiding in a closet..." Chicago, 1871 "Come now, Violet!" Maglor cried, raising his voice above the roar of the fire that crept closer to the small closet. The dark-haired child's eyes were closed, and he swore as he gathered her into his arms. His eyes watered with the heat and the smoke, and he clumsily made his way through the home and out into the fresh air of the late night street. Erestor had told him to save her, to run from the burning buildings, and Maglor did just that. He ran with the crowds, still trying to rouse the child. If Violet died in his arms, neither he nor Erestor would forgive him. No, he would not let her go! He stopped running, taking refuge under the awning of a building, and crouched on the pavement. He rested her head in his lap. "Violet?" he called. "Violet, you wake this instant! Your Papa will be so worried, child. You must wake." Maglor sobbed as he held her to him. Oh, Violet. A flash went off as Maglor glanced up. The newspaperman winked and rushed away, leaving him alone once more with Erestor's precious flower. He bowed his head again, his tears slipping down his soot covered face. "Uncle Marcell?" The soft, sweet voice, roughed slightly, was like a douse of cold water on his burned flesh. "Violet!" he said, hugging her close. "Oh, doll, you're all right!" "Uncle Marcell?" she repeated, disoriented and slowly taking in their surroundings with her onyx-like eyes. "Where are Papa and Mama?" "Your Papa is bringing your Mama, doll." Maglor cradled her close, never wanting to let her go. "He will find us soon." Violet cuddled close, twining her fingers in his long hair, and Maglor picked her up. He slowly walked toward the area of the city where his apartment home was, knowing Erestor would come for them there. He had to take Violet away from the shrieking panic in the crowded streets. Erestor did not come. Fran did not come. But, the ladies from the orphanage did. They took Violet from him. It was not proper, they told Maglor, for a single man to be looking after a child. No, he was not her relative, but he was a very close friend of the family. No, he did not care what the laws were, they could not take Violet from him! But they did. A week after Violet was taken away; they found Fran's remains in the burned home. It was assumed that, since Maglor had said Erestor had gone in after his wife, Erestor must have perished with her. The state declared Vachel and Fran Belden deceased and their daughter, Violet Belden, a ward of the state. All communication with the orphanage and Maglor ceased. It was in the dead of night, after Maglor had drunk himself into a stupor, that Erestor returned to him. "Where is she, Maglor?" Erestor demanded, his eyes wide and wild. "I tried all I could, Erestor! They took her from me. You are dead to the mortal world, as is your wife, and I am not a blood relative!" Maglor pushed Erestor away from him, swaying on his feet as he stood from his chair. "I tried, Erestor. They came with police and snatched her from my arms." He lifted his eyes to his friend's face, his tears reflected on Erestor's pale cheeks. "I am sorry, melethen. She is lost to us." Seattle, 2004 Maglor wiped away the few stray tears on his lashes. "She remained in the orphanage five years," he said, his voice hushed. "A wealthy older gentleman came seeking a wife and chose Violet. After that, we lost all track of her. She just... disappeared." "Did he ever find her?" David asked softly. "No. We did not know the man, and if he did marry her as we think he did, her last name would have changed. I wouldn't be surprised if he also changed her first name, since 'Violet' was a very common, plain name." Maglor uncrossed his legs. "Now you know the story behind the image in that clipping. I was holding Violet in my arms just before she woke and the photographer caught me off-guard, which is why there is no name associated with the image." It was quiet in the room, the hand on the clock ticking slowly as the seconds passed. "Did he ever marry again?" David finally asked. Maglor cleared his throat. "No. He never married, and he has never been sexually involved with a woman since." "How is it he could have a child?" The man turned to face Maglor. "I mean, I thought you were dead and therefore would not be able to impregnate a woman." "You amuse me, David," Maglor said, chuckling. "You think of Man's fictions. This is a curse, but not one that prevents us from siring our own progeny outside of a bite." "Then why do you not do either? You are alone, lovers to each other, but no one else." David felt himself drawn into the stormy depths of Maglor's intense gaze. Maglor leaned closer, cupping David's cheek with his palm. "All I need is Vincent, dear child." David blinked, realizing for the first time that he was not here due to a mutual need of him. He was here because Vincent wanted him to be. "But, are you all he needs?" he whispered. A muscle twitched in Maglor's jaw and his eyes seemed to flash dangerously. "He needs something, Marcus, but it isn't you," David finished.