Pensive (PG-13)
Posted: Sat Mar 20, 2010 7:36 pm
Disclaimer: Yeah, I believe I’ve said this once or twice before, but if you recognize it from your tv, I don’t own it. Okay?
Pensive
Josef poured himself a fresh drink and thought that one of the down sides of being nocturnal, was that there came that hour almost every night, somewhere around four or five a.m., when the whole world seemed to be shut down, when the loneliness set in with dull claws, working on him in a way that was entirely without pity. When business, parties, and books palled and he was left with ghosts and thoughts.
On the whole, he was happy to be what he was, who he was. He’d said it before, he wouldn’t go back to being human, if he had the choice.
Suppose his sire hadn’t seen potential in him? Suppose he’d been left to live out a mortal life? He’d made it through the uncertainties of disease and war to reach the middle of his twenties. How much longer could he really have expected? Ten years, fifteen perhaps, before the frost of age blighted him. If he had the good fortune to avoid other forms of death. And then what? The inevitable slide into decay. He’d have taken a wife, he supposed. Maybe more. Women died in childbirth with distressing regularity. He might have had a mistress or six; it was almost expected. But chances were he’d never have found women as beautiful, as clever, as loving as the ones he’d fed from and bedded, these four hundred years.
Which made him turn his thoughts toward human women. Sometimes he called one of his freshies, about now. A little pick-me-up, or a nightcap, more accurately. He did a quick mental scroll down the list of availables, but none especially appealed. He wanted, well, he might as well be honest about what he wanted. He pulled his phone out, and called.
Lucky came in a few minutes later, tousled and sleepy, flowing into his arms for a kiss. “It’s been awhile since you called me for night duty, Josef.”
He ran his hands over her bare arms, the satin covering her body. “Do you mind? I really only wanted some company.”
Lucky pulled in a deep breath. “Not at all. Perhaps I could sit on your lap and discuss literature. We haven’t done that in a long time.”
“Do you miss those days?”
“Now you’re being silly. Do you remember all the teasing I put you through?”
“Fondly.”
“You didn’t always seem so thrilled, at the time.”
“Of course not. How else was I going to spur you on to greater effort?” He was laughing at her she knew, but it was gentle.
“Pfft.”
He had moved them, as they talked, close to the couch, and sat down, guiding her onto his lap. She sighed, content.
Josef was disinclined to talk, and Lucky was willing to follow that lead, silently resting against his broad chest. For his part, he was thinking back on the centuries of humans, the many hearts he’d listened to, as they beat out the quick tattoo of their mortality.
And the one heartbeat that he thought mattered. The one he had shaped his whole life around, these past fifty-five years. He’d told Mick once, that when he met Sarah, that he’d thought it was the whole reason he’d become a vampire, to live long enough to meet her. And he still loved her, despite the circumstances that separated them. But it was coming to him, gradually, that before Sarah, and after, there had been others. Not so loved, never so loved, but remembered, regarded.
They had come to him in every shade of emotion, from abject fear to heated desire, from need to indifference, to love. And he had received them all, used some, cherished others. Faces blurred in time, events blended and collapsed together, even names were lost. Blood remembered blood, and they were all with him, these long lonely nights.
Lucky stirred slightly in his arms, settling closer, her warm weight comforting. He wondered. What would happen, if his phone rang, right now, with news that Sarah had awakened from her long sleep?
He would go to her, of course. Fly to her side, cursing the slowness of his private jet with every moment that dragged by. Probably pacing so fast he’d walk all the way from L.A. to New York. He’d always had a fantasy that she would awaken like a princess in a fairy tale, at the touch of his cool lips on hers, but he’d take any waking that brought her back to him. And then, what? He would teach her how to feed, how to live in his world, and they would build a life together, forever.
Wasn’t that the point? The way he’d lived his life since she slipped away between? So that he could drop everything without a moment’s notice, and without a pang of regret. Even now, he had identities created, for both of them. All it would take would be a word from Sarah, and a new life awaited, in London, in Sydney, in Paris. Even in New York, if that’s what she preferred. Hell, he didn’t care if she wanted to move to Smolensk, as long as she was with him, and he could hear her laughter, feel her kiss again.
She had been so accepting of his nature. But she’d never seen him with freshies like the ones he had now, people he’d learned affection for, women he cared for, who cared for him. If she knew what had passed between him and this mortal woman in his arms, what would she say? Would she learn to be accepting of it all? He wondered what he’d think about her holding a young man in her arms, drinking his blood. He’d always thought that he would share his mortal pets with Sarah; he’d done as much without thought, in the past, with friends and vampire lovers.
He leaned his cheek against Lucky’s red hair, thought of her white neck, thought of the idea of any other fangs piercing that skin. He didn’t like it. It was a sobering thought. If Sarah awoke, he knew he would have to put Lucky far away from him. She would never be unprotected, never alone, but for everyone’s sake, he would have to break her heart. It was the pragmatic solution. The “do what’s best for Josef Kostan” solution. And he wondered when that had ceased to be the most favored option. She was not Sarah, not even close, but she’d come to be something more than another human pet. He’d walk away, and he tried to tell himself, it would be with no remorse. Everyone lies, he thought with a sour smile, but he really shouldn’t be working so hard at lying to himself. Although maybe it was less of a regret than he thought at the moment.
After all, Lucky was human. And however much she was willing, warm and delicious now, it was temporary. Everything human was temporary. They would part, of course, in any event. A few brief years, and Lucky would want to leave him. He knew that. He’d seen it. The desire for a normal relationship. A family. The increasing estrangement from his other freshies, as he acquired younger donors. It was part of the good reason for building a wall around his heart, for not letting a human close. He’d well and truly blown that, this time. His arm tightened a little around Lucky. He wasn’t letting go of this one. Not yet. Not yet, no matter what. The idea of making a choice…well, there was no choice, when Sarah was involved. He scoffed a little, a small noise in the back of his throat.
Lucky stirred a little and reached up to graze her fingertips across his cheek. “It’s all right,” she said.
“What?”
“Whatever.”
“How do you figure that?” His voice was a low rumble in his chest, amused.
“Because I’m here, and you’re here, and the night is almost over,” she said. “Right now, we have each other, and that’s all we need. For now.”
Not for the first time, Josef wished that time would stop, and the dawn would never come.
Pensive
Josef poured himself a fresh drink and thought that one of the down sides of being nocturnal, was that there came that hour almost every night, somewhere around four or five a.m., when the whole world seemed to be shut down, when the loneliness set in with dull claws, working on him in a way that was entirely without pity. When business, parties, and books palled and he was left with ghosts and thoughts.
On the whole, he was happy to be what he was, who he was. He’d said it before, he wouldn’t go back to being human, if he had the choice.
Suppose his sire hadn’t seen potential in him? Suppose he’d been left to live out a mortal life? He’d made it through the uncertainties of disease and war to reach the middle of his twenties. How much longer could he really have expected? Ten years, fifteen perhaps, before the frost of age blighted him. If he had the good fortune to avoid other forms of death. And then what? The inevitable slide into decay. He’d have taken a wife, he supposed. Maybe more. Women died in childbirth with distressing regularity. He might have had a mistress or six; it was almost expected. But chances were he’d never have found women as beautiful, as clever, as loving as the ones he’d fed from and bedded, these four hundred years.
Which made him turn his thoughts toward human women. Sometimes he called one of his freshies, about now. A little pick-me-up, or a nightcap, more accurately. He did a quick mental scroll down the list of availables, but none especially appealed. He wanted, well, he might as well be honest about what he wanted. He pulled his phone out, and called.
Lucky came in a few minutes later, tousled and sleepy, flowing into his arms for a kiss. “It’s been awhile since you called me for night duty, Josef.”
He ran his hands over her bare arms, the satin covering her body. “Do you mind? I really only wanted some company.”
Lucky pulled in a deep breath. “Not at all. Perhaps I could sit on your lap and discuss literature. We haven’t done that in a long time.”
“Do you miss those days?”
“Now you’re being silly. Do you remember all the teasing I put you through?”
“Fondly.”
“You didn’t always seem so thrilled, at the time.”
“Of course not. How else was I going to spur you on to greater effort?” He was laughing at her she knew, but it was gentle.
“Pfft.”
He had moved them, as they talked, close to the couch, and sat down, guiding her onto his lap. She sighed, content.
Josef was disinclined to talk, and Lucky was willing to follow that lead, silently resting against his broad chest. For his part, he was thinking back on the centuries of humans, the many hearts he’d listened to, as they beat out the quick tattoo of their mortality.
And the one heartbeat that he thought mattered. The one he had shaped his whole life around, these past fifty-five years. He’d told Mick once, that when he met Sarah, that he’d thought it was the whole reason he’d become a vampire, to live long enough to meet her. And he still loved her, despite the circumstances that separated them. But it was coming to him, gradually, that before Sarah, and after, there had been others. Not so loved, never so loved, but remembered, regarded.
They had come to him in every shade of emotion, from abject fear to heated desire, from need to indifference, to love. And he had received them all, used some, cherished others. Faces blurred in time, events blended and collapsed together, even names were lost. Blood remembered blood, and they were all with him, these long lonely nights.
Lucky stirred slightly in his arms, settling closer, her warm weight comforting. He wondered. What would happen, if his phone rang, right now, with news that Sarah had awakened from her long sleep?
He would go to her, of course. Fly to her side, cursing the slowness of his private jet with every moment that dragged by. Probably pacing so fast he’d walk all the way from L.A. to New York. He’d always had a fantasy that she would awaken like a princess in a fairy tale, at the touch of his cool lips on hers, but he’d take any waking that brought her back to him. And then, what? He would teach her how to feed, how to live in his world, and they would build a life together, forever.
Wasn’t that the point? The way he’d lived his life since she slipped away between? So that he could drop everything without a moment’s notice, and without a pang of regret. Even now, he had identities created, for both of them. All it would take would be a word from Sarah, and a new life awaited, in London, in Sydney, in Paris. Even in New York, if that’s what she preferred. Hell, he didn’t care if she wanted to move to Smolensk, as long as she was with him, and he could hear her laughter, feel her kiss again.
She had been so accepting of his nature. But she’d never seen him with freshies like the ones he had now, people he’d learned affection for, women he cared for, who cared for him. If she knew what had passed between him and this mortal woman in his arms, what would she say? Would she learn to be accepting of it all? He wondered what he’d think about her holding a young man in her arms, drinking his blood. He’d always thought that he would share his mortal pets with Sarah; he’d done as much without thought, in the past, with friends and vampire lovers.
He leaned his cheek against Lucky’s red hair, thought of her white neck, thought of the idea of any other fangs piercing that skin. He didn’t like it. It was a sobering thought. If Sarah awoke, he knew he would have to put Lucky far away from him. She would never be unprotected, never alone, but for everyone’s sake, he would have to break her heart. It was the pragmatic solution. The “do what’s best for Josef Kostan” solution. And he wondered when that had ceased to be the most favored option. She was not Sarah, not even close, but she’d come to be something more than another human pet. He’d walk away, and he tried to tell himself, it would be with no remorse. Everyone lies, he thought with a sour smile, but he really shouldn’t be working so hard at lying to himself. Although maybe it was less of a regret than he thought at the moment.
After all, Lucky was human. And however much she was willing, warm and delicious now, it was temporary. Everything human was temporary. They would part, of course, in any event. A few brief years, and Lucky would want to leave him. He knew that. He’d seen it. The desire for a normal relationship. A family. The increasing estrangement from his other freshies, as he acquired younger donors. It was part of the good reason for building a wall around his heart, for not letting a human close. He’d well and truly blown that, this time. His arm tightened a little around Lucky. He wasn’t letting go of this one. Not yet. Not yet, no matter what. The idea of making a choice…well, there was no choice, when Sarah was involved. He scoffed a little, a small noise in the back of his throat.
Lucky stirred a little and reached up to graze her fingertips across his cheek. “It’s all right,” she said.
“What?”
“Whatever.”
“How do you figure that?” His voice was a low rumble in his chest, amused.
“Because I’m here, and you’re here, and the night is almost over,” she said. “Right now, we have each other, and that’s all we need. For now.”
Not for the first time, Josef wished that time would stop, and the dawn would never come.