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silent darrow

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He's been here too long.

Eddie doesn't know how long, if it's been days or as long as a week, he just knows it's been too long. His face is streaked with ash, his hair dirty and tangled, and there's blood on the t-shirt he'd been wearing to work the day he'd ended up here. His blood maybe. Or the blood of those weird little children that had attacked him at some point.

That's how he'd ended up with the knife in his hand. He'd taken it from one of them, stabbed them back, stabbed them over and over, chopping at their grabbing hands. Their blood is on his shirt and his hands and he hasn't slept in way too long, but he's afraid to let himself rest in this place. All he wants is to get back to Darrow, back to his familiar bedroom and his friends and his band and his job.

He's tucked into a small corner in what he thinks is some fucked up version of Petros High. Eventually he'll have to move. He keeps hearing things shifting out there in the dark, skittering on a thousand legs like a bug, but bigger. Too big.

Big enough to hurt, he knows.

It's just that he's terrified. Broken. Something inside him is unravelling, because when he was in the Upside Down, at least he was never alone, and now he's by himself. He's found and lost people, seeing them just ahead before they disappear into the ash. Right now, he thinks it's likely he'll die down here, die again, and no one will ever know what happened to him.

Hawkins can go on thinking he's some kind of devil worshipper, he doesn't care, but he wants Darrow to think better of him. He wants people to know he didn't just leave.

The skittering gets closer and Eddie forces himself to move. He leads with the knife, the blade trembling in his hand, then hurries to the door of the office he's hidden himself inside. Behind him in the dark, the bugs get closer and he throws open the door, then rushes down the hall toward the exit.

Outside, the ash keeps falling. It never lets up.

Eddie inhales too deeply, breathes some in, and starts to cough. It's too loud, he's drawing too much attention to himself and he tries to step back into the school, but something has closed the door behind him and locked him out. Something else screams overhead and Eddie goes still, frozen in terror, as a shape materializes from the sky. It's not a bird. Not a bat, and not one of the awful bats that had followed him to Darrow. It's bigger than that, razor sharp talons on the ends of its feet, and they're coming right for Eddie.

At the last second, he thinks to raise the knife, but he just barely nicks the thing. It screams again, awful and loud, and dives for him, talons ripping at his upraised arm, his shoulder, across his neck. Eddie can feel hot blood coursing down his arm, soaking his t-shirt, and he stumbles back, then falls down the front steps of the shitty Petros High.

He's going to die here. He's going to take his last breath on this ashy sidewalk in another version of hell.

The flying monster shrieks and dives again, talons slashing, one cutting across his chest. He alternates between hot and cold as he stabs with the knife, still trying to defend himself, but the talons just keep coming, keep tearing at him, ripping into skin and muscle, sending more blood cascading down his front.

"No," he whimpers. "No, please."

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It isn't the first time Lestat has bitten him. The first, back at the train, it had hurt and yet somehow the pain had been easy to overlook. Because he knew it was necessary? Because he wanted to help? He doesn't know, not really, he only knows this time it doesn't hurt, not in the same way.

Because you're dying, his mind supplies and he thinks that must be true. He feels Lestat pull away from him, but even then, the pain is a shadow of what he might have expected. Nothing feels the same as he slips away, not even the ground beneath him, and Eddie's head lolls back against Lestat's arm just as something hot and bitter floods his mouth. He can feel the last of his blood moving in him, or maybe it's that he feels it moving in Lestat, he can't keep track of anything. It all feels confused, the ash floating down on them muffling the world, muffling every action.

Anything else that happens is purely his body acting on some long forgotten instinct. The will to keep himself from dying. He swallows, the blood coppery and warm, then manages to lift one arm, curling weak fingers over Lestat's wrist pressed to his mouth. Without opening his eyes, without moving, Eddie does as Lestat tells him and drinks.

Lestat encouraged the boy to drink until his own body began to weaken, while life, such as it was, began to return to Eddie's. Skin no longer grey, a flush stained Eddie's cheeks, and eyes that had once been clouded began to clear.

"Alright, alright," Lestat murmured, as if soothing a child. "That's enough, mon cher."

Eddie blinks up at the ashen sky, seeing again, stunned by the colours even in this colour leeched world. The blacks are the blackest he's ever seen and when he shifts his gaze to Lestat, he stares in wonder, at the blue of his eyes and the red of the blood.

And it's so loud. Everything is so damn loud.

"I... I..." He can hear something moving blocks away. He can hear the sound of a breeze stirring ash. He can hear blood moving in Lestat.

He lifts one hand and touches Lestat's face, still with that sense of wonder.

In this moment, watching Eddie taken in the world with new eyes, he could feel nothing but pride.

"It is alright. Let it happen," Lestat murmured, helping the younger man to sit up. The change could be overwhelming, a painful transition from living to something more. His body would expel fluids it no longer needed, which Lestat recalled to be an unpleasant, frightening experience. He'd been terribly alone for all of it, however.

Eddie would not.

Eddie moves slowly, sitting up with Lestat's help, and he puts one palm down in a puddle of warm, sticky blood. His own, he realizes, before something turns over unpleasantly in his stomach and he turns away from Lestat to be sick.

It feels like it goes on forever, losing what little he'd had in his stomach, half digested crackers he'd looted from a broken vending machine, bile and saliva hanging in strings from his lips before he finally feels like it might be over. Eddie wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then looks back to Lestat. He's afraid, a little, and he gropes blindly for one of Lestat's hands again, and feels better.

"What happens now?" he asks in a rough voice, distracted still by the sounds, by the vividness of the world, even one buried in ash.

Rubbing gently at Eddie's back, Lestat held him close, largely unaffected by his sickness. It happened to all of them, and he felt the violence of it could be greatly assuaged by the presence of one's maker.

He liked to hope so, anyway.

"Now, we get you home. And you begin your new life."

His mind was a chaos of thoughts– desires and regrets for a decision made largely on impulse. However, he could not find it in him to feel remorse for saving this boy's life. Deep down, Lestat had always known that eventually he would offer him the Dark Gift. He'd only wished the circumstances had been better.

There are still things moving around in this world and Eddie feels like he can hear them all. There are words in their chaos, too, but nothing that makes sense, nothing that feels human, and he realizes with a lurch that includes him now, too.

But he feels no regret. None. He's confused and things feel too loud and too big and too much, but when he searches himself, there's not a bit of regret for having said yes.

Still on the ground, he presses into Lestat, buries himself against him, wraps his arms around his waist and holds tight. "Thank you," he says.

Lestat tilted his head inquisitively, clawed fingers carding through Eddie's curls, and bent to press a chaste kiss to the boy's lips.

"You are very welcome," he murmured, pressing another kiss to Eddie's forehead. Then, gathering the boy into his arms, Lestat rose smoothly to his feet, carrying the newly made vampire as if he weighed nothing.

"Let's find our way home, shall we?"

Eddie wants to make a joke about being carried home like a bride, but it feels good. Safe. He feels protected with Lestat and while he has no idea how they're going to get back or how things are really going to change going forward, he still nods.

"I..." He pauses, swallows. "You'll have to teach me. I don't know what to do."

"You'll do well," Lestat assured him, though he'd seen a bit of Louis in the boy, from the moment they'd met. A bit of Nicki. They perhaps were not alike, on the surface, but there was a light and good-heartedness in Eddie Munson– a sensitivity that could prove difficult for an immortal to bear.

"Soon, you will need blood, but I do not recommend eating any of the poisonous creatures in this place."

He'd known this. Lestat had fed from him, after all, and he's read the book. He'd known about the blood and yet it still surprises him to hear. It can't apply to him, that doesn't make any sense, but the world still rushes at him from all angles, sounds and scents and colour, and he realizes again that yes, this is something new.

He's different now.

"Am I gonna ralph more?" he asks, the idea of barfing a bit easier to focus on. "Because that was pretty gross, man."

"Let's hope not," Lestat said, with a smile that was warmer than such an evil creature should have been capable.

"Would you care to walk, or are you enjoying being swept off your feet?"

Already, he mourned the loss of Eddie's thoughts, which had always been bright and beautiful and so alive. Instead, he would have to hope for honesty, and attempt to provide the same.

Which had not always been his strong suit.

Eddie doesn't know if it's the relief at just not being dead, but he actually manages a hoarse laugh and nuzzles in closer to Lestat for a moment, almost playful despite the blood and gore and yeah, a bit of vomit.

"I can walk," he says, even though he feels oddly weak and somehow strong at the same time. Trauma, his mind supplies, but fuck it, he's been through plenty of that and he's still walking.

Carefully, he shifts in Lestat's arms and then sets his feet down. He tests his weight, then says, "I feel weird. But not in a bad way."

"It has been a long time, but I seem to recall sobbing uncontrollably for hours after my transformation. You are taking it quite well," Lestat said, keeping a protective hand against Eddie's back.

"We will have time to test your limits when we are home."

"Maybe the sobbing comes later," Eddie suggests, in a weird, almost hopeful way. Because Lestat is right. He feels... lighter than he thinks he should, but maybe that's just the delirium and the adrenaline or being almost dead and then suddenly not being dead. The intimacy of having someone he loves give him life back, even if it's in a different way.

"Maybe I'm in shock," he adds helpfully.

"Maybe you are insufferable," Lestat said affectionately, finding himself unable to look away from the amber fire of Eddie's vampire eyes. He had always been beautiful. Now, he was magnificent.

"Come. I believe we might have some luck here," he said, leading his newly made fledgling into what should have been Petros Park. "The air is different. Can you see it?" He pointed to a shimmering in the distance which would have been nearly invisible to the human eye.

Eddie nods and even though he can walk well enough, even though he's covered in blood and gore, he gropes blindly for Lestat's hand to hold. Everything looks different. The entire world, even one as shitty as this, but Lestat points and Eddie can see the tear in the world.

It's beautiful.

"How do we know if it's night back over in Darrow?" he asks suddenly. "Is the time the same here and there?"

"Hm."

It was a problem he had not considered.

Stripping out of his long duster, Lestat draped it over Eddie's shoulders. "Shield yourself with this. If we step into the sun, it should be enough to protect you for the few moments it would take to dash to safety." Then, with a dismissive gesture, he added, "I will be fine."

"If you die, I won't know what the fuck to do," Eddie points out, looking at Lestat very seriously, and seeing so many parts of him as if for the first time. The edge of his jaw looks sharper, his eyes bluer, the colour of his hair shining like gold.

Still, he takes the coat and pulls it over his shoulders, up over his gore matted hair, then nods.

"I'll go first," he decides. Because then, at the very least, he'll be able to warn Lestat. Without waiting for permission, he steps through and, blessedly, into the night.

Lestat was so taken aback by Eddie's conviction, hurtling himself through the breach, and Lestat, with all his supernatural speed, could stop him.

Horrified, Lestat rushed to meet him on the other side, gripping Eddie's forearms with startling strength. They stood under the brightness of the moon, but Lestat hardly seemed to notice.

"How could you be so stupid? I would not die, you fool! I wouldn't," he insisted, gripping Eddie by the arm and dragging him in the direction of his home. "Never do that again! Or are you so willing to throw away this gift I have given you?"

"What?" Eddie asks, gasping when Lestat grabs him. "I have the coat! You said it would be safe enough to get somewhere sheltered! I wasn't-"

He digs his heels into, shocked to realize he can actually resist Lestat now. Before, if Lestat wanted him to go somewhere, Eddie wouldn't have had a choice, and he'd known it. But now, he's stronger. Not as strong as Lestat, not by far, but stronger.

"Stop," he says, dropping the coat. "That's not what I was doing. I know what you did for me." He thumps a fist on Lestat's chest gently. "I know, okay? I'm not trying to waste that, but you gave me the coat to cover myself, so I thought... I could check. I could warn you if the sun was still up."

"You could warn me by going up in flames, is that it?" Clucking his tongue as his coat fell to the ground, he bent to quickly snatch it up. "This would shield you, yes, but you cannot move as quickly as I can. Not yet. Your senses are not what they will be. Until you settle into all that you will become, we go together, yes?"

He shoved the coat against Eddie's chest, though he no longer needed it.

"Okay," Eddie agrees as he takes the coat, even though there's no sun. It had all happened so quickly, he hasn't had a moment to realize they're back in their own Darrow and he pauses suddenly, looking around in the night.

"I can see... way better," he says, voice awed. "Wow. I... everything is so clear."

It didn't look like it would have, were the sun up, but it still looked like more.

Rolling his eyes, Lestat understood now that Eddie would be no less distractable than he'd been as a mere human. In his experience, everything about a person became heightened when they were given The Dark Gift. Their beauty and strength, yes, but also their personality.

"It's a bit like a drug. Or so I've heard."

"No," Eddie says and shakes his head. "Well, maybe, I guess, I haven't tried heroin, but it sure as shit isn't like weed or acid."

Everything is more, but it's clear, too. His head feels free, lighter, like he understands things better, even though that isn't the case. In fact, Eddie is fairly certain he understands less.

"What do you mean so you've heard?" he asks, turning to look at Lestat again. "You've never been on drugs?"

"Through the blood, from time to time, but never directly. I died in 1794, barely more than a pauper. I had tasted ale and cheap wine, and a very indulgent glass of champagne or two. Nothing more."

Lestat reached out, his fingertips touching the halo of Eddie's hair. "Substances do little for us now, unless consumed through the blood. Food will have lost its taste. Now, you will be consumed by other vices."

"Like what?" Eddie asks.

Other vices is so vague and it makes him weirdly nervous, like Lestat might tell him he's suddenly going to be super into completely bizarre. More bizarre than having to drink blood just to survive.

Booze and weed he can give up, he thinks. Not having to eat feels weird, something he's a little worried about navigating with Chrissy, but he can deal with that when he comes to it.

"Is the blood not enough?" Lestat said, amused. "I cannot tell you how you might fill your days. Or how you might find pleasure. That is up to you to decide."

Lestat rested a firm hand between Eddie's shoulder blades.

"Time no longer limits you as it once did. It may be a surprise how such freedom changes you."

Eddie doesn't know what to make of that, how he can turn it into something that applies to his own life, because time is never limitless. There is always an end. Every story has its proper conclusion, the one that fits.

But then, for the second time, Eddie has gone a different way from what he thought was his own ending, so maybe he has no idea what the hell he's talking about.

"Shit," he says, breathing out slowly. "Everything is different."

"Yes, it is," Lestat said, "In wondrous and terrible ways."

The next words he spoke were for himself as much as they were for Eddie. "You are not alone."

Lestat could only hope that Eddie would not wish to be, for loneliness was the greatest agony he could conceive of.

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