Chapter Text
"They really gotta claim I'm dead, huh?" Daniel watched as the coverage of the latest fucking disaster played on television. No one actually thought it was vampires, not in the mainstream at least, but lots of people were claiming terrorists and environmental collapse.
The world was on edge as all of these little disasters start to stack up and up and up.
Daniel was pretty sure various governments were just rolling with it and hoping it would go away.
He suspected maybe the Talamasca was helping with that. Surely, he thought, they must have some connections that they didn't advertise. He couldn't imagine they were just sitting in bunkers watching.
"I believe you are technically among the missing," Armand clarified. "I would be as well if I were not non-existent to the mortal world."
Daniel was realizing that he was one of the few who actually still registered as a human. Lestat might by virtue of the whole rock star thing, though Jarda had helped take some pressure off that.
It meant along with the long list of random people who were at the same location, Daniel Molloy was missing and presumed dead at this point.
"I gotta call the girls."
"Beloved…"
"No, I can't…this isn't how I'm letting them think I went out."
"Why not?" Armand's tone was even. He was attempting to be patient. He thought it was very makerly of him.
"I wanna say goodbye, Armand."
Armand was quiet. He licked his lips, considering his words. He knew that it was likely better to stay silent, but that wasn't always the option that he inevitably took.
"So you will tell them you live now and if that should cease being true in the coming weeks, what then?" Armand questioned. "And if not, when this is over and you must die anyhow, will they accept your call when you try to say goodbye?"
"Fuck you."
Even Daniel realized that it wasn't Armand's fault just because he said it, but at the same time, he was the one in front of him so he was the one who was going to hear it.
He wanted to believe his daughters would care that he was dead.
"I am only suggesting," Armand was still doing his very best to choose his words carefully. "That perhaps this turn of events gives them closure that a phone call from you could not and it removes the need to address the situation later when you enter an eternity into which they cannot follow."
Daniel looked like he might actually be considering it, like he might actually be listening to Armand. There could be letters. Armand could play attorney and tell them things with a Mind Gift support that might make them feel at ease.
Then he shook his head.
"I'm sorry. I can't."
Daniel kept thinking about Kate's graduation. Rice Stadium was huge. The graduation ceremony went on and on and on. He had told himself that it would all be worth it when he got to talk to Kate, when he got to congratulate her. He was even going to offer to buy her whatever she wanted - new car, new laptop, trip to Europe? - it would be on her old man.
He hadn't even been able to get those words out.
He hadn't even been allowed to fully approach her.
He'd sent an email after the fact with the same offer.
Kate never responded.
Lenora was a little more receptive. Daniel had been a different sort of fucked up during her childhood. He was high less of the time. He was still absent, but the terrible memories were probably less terrible.
Child support checks to her mother had never bounced.
That didn't stop her from outgrowing an inconsistent father.
There was less hate, but just as much silence from Lenora.
Daniel had always let himself think he had time to win them over. Before his Parkinson's diagnosis, he had assumed that meant decades. Kate and Lenora had their own kids now. Surely, they knew it was just fucking normal to hate your father. After his diagnosis, the timeline all felt more rushed and he'd thought money could fix it.
Then, he got turned.
And, of course, Armand was right.
He should've let them think he was dead back when the news reported it. They'd have closure. Maybe he'd have closure.
Now, he was creepily following them around their apparent favorite dinner spot looking like a complete stranger. The stranger part helped. They couldn't recognize him. He could nurse a glass of Scotch or a martini that tasted like sawdust and eavesdrop.
Armand had kind of done a number on them. He couldn't fault the guy given, well, everything. They were trying to figure out how to get in touch with Daniel. They were theorizing maybe he'd lost his mind and was shut up in some home. Maybe the KGB had him. Maybe he had just fucked off and all the things the lawyer said were true.
They wanted to figure out when and how he'd sold the apartment.
Daniel soon realized it was because they wanted the money.
Just the money.
It wasn't concern about Daniel.
It hurt.
He wouldn't have thought after fucking everything that would still hurt.
He didn't think he could convince Armand to let go of the apartment, but maybe they could get them more money. Maybe tell them some sob story. Armand said he was funneling money to them. Daniel had no reason to doubt that.
"I need not tell you that you should not be here."
Daniel looked up as Armand sat down opposite him, "Why? You believe I am who I say I am?"
"No," Armand folded his arms, expression as cold and distant as ever. "I fear you are less Daniel in this moment than I have before. I will not allow them to be hurt."
"Yeah? Then you wouldn't let 'Daniel' near them either," He couldn't help putting the airquotes around his own name. He was getting exhausted by this whole fucking thing. "That's all he ever fucking did."
"I am here only to ensure that you do not approach them," Armand looked up at the waiter who approached and promptly dismissed him with a thought. "Whoever you are."
Daniel couldn't hide his annoyance. He hadn't done that much with Armand since his sudden reappearance. He hadn't wanted to risk fighting with Armand in a way that did result in Armand disappearing or Daniel's open invitation being revoked.
He took a few bucks out of his wallet and dropped it on the table before leaving the restaurant and storming off home.
Armand lingered in his restaurant. The Molloy girls did speak of their father. Indifference had replaced contempt as of late. Armand thought he might well be responsible for that shift.
It would be wrong to say he followed Daniel. He had surely let too much time pass between Daniel leaving and his own leave-taking at the restaurant to classify it as following him. Still, he did walk to the apartment, lingering outside on the curb. He could not see Daniel's mind, but he could find his heartbeat even from the street. He could see his movements in the apartment.
There had been a small part of Armand that feared that he would have run somewhere else, run away from Armand.
The fear of that possibility lingered in his chest despite all of his doubts.
He couldn't bring himself to believe or to let go. It was a terrible position to be in.
He had somewhere to be all the same. He had to look away and hope Daniel was not gathering his things to leave.
It would have taken thirty minutes to travel by car or train to LaGuardia Airport from Daniel's apartment. Armand was able to do it in just over fifteen. He rarely flew such distances, but time was of the essence.
He arrived at the VIP terminal at LaGuardia four minutes before Louis' jet landed and twenty minutes before he deplaned.
Louis' health seemed improved from the last time that Armand had seen him. Much like Armand's eye, the options for repairing his lost leg were minimal, at least beyond what was possible for a mortal. Still, it was clear he was coping well enough with it.
"A part of me wondered if you would truly come," Armand admitted.
"Said I would," Louis shrugged. "Not sure that I should 've."
Armand tensed. He wondered if Louis had come all this way simply to have their latest altercation, to change his mind and leave Armand with nothing. Armand knew that he had done certain things to deserve that. He also thought that Louis was well aware that Louis had also done many things to deserve some of the misdeeds that befell him.
Armand thought that perhaps they were on even footing.
Now, he feared betrayal.
"You have forgiven Lestat all of his transgressions," Armand's tone was hushed only because he feared if he spoke too loud this would turn into the sort of argument that ended poorly for his spine. "I do not expect similar treatment, but I saved your life once in San Francisco."
"I'm pretty sure I've kept your head on your shoulders once or twice too," Louis pointed out. "I ain't talkin' 'bout the past. I mean it, Arun. Lestat meants it when he says he has regrets when it comes to Dan. I mean it."
"What then? What is your objection?"
"Don't know that doing this bullshit in secret has ever served either of us well," Louis shrugged. "You not tellin' him what we're up to. Me not tellin' Lestat."
"I will defer to you on who needs to know what when we are done," It would be difficult. Armand could not help but fear what Lestat might do. "If this is Daniel, we must help him. If he is not, I must destroy him and whoever put him in my line of vision. I will not be beholden to Lestat's court if I need to rip his fledgling's body apart."
"Again," Louis smirked.
"Again," Armand confirmed. "I know that you have been put through situations like this before. I know I can trust you for that reason to tell me the truth."
"Like I said, regrets when it comes to Dan. I'm not here to fuck you over. If it's not him? Don't count me out on helping you fuck shit up."
The human mind was a maze. Lestat had once told Louis that all mortals thought about three things: home, food, and sex. That did hold true in many ways, but those thoughts weren't always easy to make sense of. Those thoughts came into existence in strange combinations that were frequently only truly knowable to the person thinking them.
A vampire's mind wasn't terribly different.
Those three lines of thought were often the same with a heavy through line of blood.
It wasn't hard to zero in on Daniel's mind even from the alley between his apartment building and the one next to it. His current thoughts were nothing to write home about.
"Anything?"
"He thinks Keith Morrison is a hack," Louis offered. "Guessin' he's watchin' Dateline, which…tracks."
"Or it is conveniently on," Armand was not going to be convinced by something as simple as that. "I am going to need more than disliking the presenting style of Keith Morrison."
"Well, gimme a fucking minute and I'll get you more," Louis rolled his eyes. Armand hated having to be in the passenger's seat for this, to not be able to dictate just what Louis was looking for.
Louis dug deeper, probing into Daniel's long-term memory beyond his surface thoughts. His daughters were there. Armand was there (in somewhat graphic detail). San Francisco. Modesto.
"Armand, it's him," Louis turned his face to look at Armand. "It's all there - you, Alice, Polynesian Mary's…If this ain't Daniel someone is doing a hell of a job to make it seem like it is."
"You are sure?"
Louis nodded, "I'm sure, Arun. You're there. Exactly what you were to him."
Armand felt dizzy, lightheaded. He had to lean against the wall behind him to stop himself from falling over.
Armand had been in this exact hospital before.
Daniel's youngest daughter had called an ambulance believing her father to have had a heart attack when it was, in fact, an overdose, then. No one had ever clarified that for her.
Now, it was the early days of a pandemic that served as cover for why no family was in attendance at Daniel's bedside. He had fallen. There was a concussion. His doctors wanted to discuss the risks if his Parkinson's continued to progress.
Armand was sitting at the foot of the bed, the space he so frequently filled, the space where he had watched their boy become the man he was meant to be. It was not acceptable that it should end like this.
Louis, Armand reached out across the voices of the many to find Louis. He needs us. Please, we are running out of time.
He could not let go of Daniel.
Could Louis understand that one day? Would he give Daniel to Armand and let their horrible dance end after all of these years?
There wasn't much night left. Daniel thought he probably should have done more than rot on the couch sulking about Armand and watching Dateline, but what was there really to do? Maybe he'd earned having more than a bit of a sulk given fucking everything.
He was back among the not-quite-living.
This was supposed to be a fucking celebration.
Instead, he was more alone than ever.
And Daniel Molloy didn't do so well alone.
He sat up from where he was sitting on the couch. Maybe an early night was a good idea. Extra sleep wouldn't hurt. Maybe he might even try to write, not that he'd done much of that since —
"I was fearful you would not be here."
The door had flown open with enough force that the top hinge was probably going to need some attention to keep the door standing upright. Daniel looked at Armand a little dumbfounded.
"Yeah, boss," Daniel threw up his arms. "You gave me a whole fucking lecture about how leaving would be proof that I wasn't me so…Whatever I did to piss you off this time, can we just…not?"
Armand rushed in front of him with full vampiric speed, hands on Daniel's forearms. Daniel wondered if this was it.
"You said you loved me."
"Um, yeah," Daniel swallowed. "You weren't so happy about that."
"But you said it," Armand clarified. He reached up to cradle Daniel's cheek. It wasn't his cheek, but it was him. "It is you, beloved."