Pet Shop Of Horrors Fan Fiction ❯ Unwilling Sleep ❯ Epilogue: Felix Culpa ( Chapter 14 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Warnings, disclaimers, etc., can all be found in the Prologue.

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Unwilling Sleep, Epilogue: Felix Culpa

D adjusted the floppy brim of his hat against the glare of the setting sun. It was the end of summer, and a welcome cool breeze stirred the air. D continued packing the soil in firmly around his pansies, and then picked up the basket so he could gather the last of the season's tomatoes. He'd make a sauce out of them that should yield some rather spectacular vegetarian lasagna. There were a few straggling snowpeas as well. He hummed.

The back door was open, covered by the screen. Over the gentle buzz of insects and the wind in the trees, D could hear Leon inside, talking to someone animatedly on the phone. After so many years, he hardly needed to give Leon his full attention in order to assess his mood. Leon sounded surprised, perhaps even shocked, but not unhappy. D pricked his ears up when he heard the words "Bye, Chris."

D rose to his feet, brushing the dirt from his knees. A moment later, Leon came out the back door, phone still dangling loosely from his hand. He looked to be in some sort of shock. Worry, unbidden and unwanted, choked D's throat. "What's wrong?" he demanded.

"Huh?" Leon shook his head rapidly, and his eyes seemed to clear. "Huh? Oh. No, nothing's wrong. It's just -- sort of -- Chris is coming."

The warmth of the sun was no longer so oppressive; the breeze suddenly even more refreshing. D clasped his hands to his breast and beamed. "How wonderful! We have not seen him since March! When is he coming?"

"Um...he said...in about ten minutes."

D blinked.

"What?" he asked blankly.

"Ten minutes. That's what he said."

D blinked again. "He lives in California," he said carefully, just to make sure.

Leon finally seemed to snap out of it. "I know that, you idiot," he snapped. "He's already in New York. He's got a car and he's driving here now. He says he's bringing somebody to visit. Somebody special."

"What?!" D yelped, yanking the hat off his head as he moved, full speed, for the door. "And he didn't think to tell us in advance -- bringing a visitor no less -- what do you mean, someone special? What does that mean? Why wouldn't he have said -- "

Leon caught him by the shoulder as he prepared to hurtle past. He kicked the door shut behind them both and they stood in the kitchen, staring at each other and breathing harshly. "He probably didn't tell us about the Special Someone," Leon said with that exaggerated patience D hated, "because between us, we have driven all his other Special Someones away as soon as they meet us. Especially," he poked D in the chest, "you."

D huffed. "If you are referring to that last little trollop to hang off his arm and pull the wool over his eyes, you agreed with me, you knew full well she was bad news and completely unsuitable -- "

"Yeah. And the one before that, and the one before that. Hell, D, it's nothing short of a miracle that he's still speaking to us, let alone bringing another one by. And it's more than just another one." Leon took a deep breath. "D, he said he's found the one."

D stared at him, his mouth opening and closing. Then he whispered, "I can't do this. I can't think about this right now. They're coming in ten minutes and the house is a wreck, oh my goodness -- "

"D, the house looks fine. It ALWAYS looks fine. Don't tell me I can't see dirt, I hate it when you do that!"

"And, and -- do we have any food? What on earth are we going to cook? What does she like to eat, did he say?"

"I think we can go out, don't you?" Now Leon's patience sounded genuine, and it reached D. So did Leon's hands, which fastened lightly on his shoulders. "Look, don't worry about the house, don't worry about the food -- don't. Worry. Just go change your clothes and clean up a little. I'll keep an eye out for 'em."

They stood in silence for a moment, before D managed, "Did he really say -- the one?"

"Yeah. He really did."

"Well, what does he know!" D exploded. "He's only a child, going around thinking he's ready to make decisions like that -- "

"No, D," Leon said, in that voice that meant he wasn't putting up with anything. D knew it well, by now. "He's twenty-eight years old. Got that? He's a grown man. He's two years older than I was when we hooked up. Okay? He's not a little kid anymore. I tell you this and I tell you this and it never sinks in -- "

D had to look down at the floor for a moment to compose himself. There were some weaknesses one never showed, no matter how beloved the opponent.

"You are right, of course," he finally said, his voice even. "You're right. We shall...behave...ourselves." He pushed the hair out of his eyes. "What is her name?"

"He didn't say," Leon said. "Look…Chris has a good head on his shoulders. Uh, most of the time. And you know how he gets when he's dead set on something..." He trailed off, and they looked at each other with mounting apprehension.

"Have Phil and Eileen met her?" D ventured.

"I doubt it," Leon said. "Eileen's never mentioned anybody like that to me. And I think she would have. We'll probably like her," he added, sounding less confident.

"I'm sure," D said faintly. "Oh...excuse me, they'll be here any minute, I had better wash up."

"Okay. Hey." Leon caught him again, and kissed him. Sometimes, D had to admit, Leon did know the right thing to do. Sometimes. "We're okay. It'll work out. We're okay."

And, D had to admit as he changed his clothes and washed his face, that was the important thing. That they were okay. He loved Chris more than his own life -- but he did not live for him, he did not feel that Chris was the other half of himself. That position belonged to Leon, and to Leon alone. And Leon, he knew, felt the same way. If they were 'okay,' he knew the rest of the world could get along, painful and addled though it might be. Even Chris.

It was selfish, and insular, but it was the most important thing he had ever known, as well. He wanted Chris to know this too. Oh, how he wanted that.

He changed into his best cheongsam, the one he and Leon liked the most -- a rare moment of perfect accord. He drew a brush through his hair, pausing to marvel, as always, at the increasing strands of silver in it. His skin was still remarkably pure of imperfections, his eyes still as bright as they had always been, his gait light and steady. But he was aging. He had a human body, and it had its limits.

He heard the front door open and close. His heart skipped a beat. Chris had arrived. No -- they had arrived. Chris had found 'the one' and, if that was true, then D and Leon must let him go. D would rather have undergone another surgery for his stab wound, this time without anesthetic. But it was natural. Animal children left the parent; so it was with humankind. And he must, he must accept that.

As he opened the bedroom door, he realized there was a rather surprising silence coming from the living room. And as he headed down the hallway, growing more and more curious -- perhaps, he thought dryly, she was very beautiful and Leon couldn't stop drooling -- he heard Leon's voice. It was low, and deathly cold, and it stopped him in his tracks.

"What the hell is this?" Leon's voice demanded.

D froze only for a moment; then, with his heart beating ever faster, he hurried into the living room to see what could have induced Leon to say such a thing, to such a guest. Or had he said it to Chris? What on earth --

He stopped dead, and his breath stopped in his chest as well. Chris was standing in the open doorway. Just in front of him, nearly touching him, was...was the living image of D's old self. Or, to be accurate, of D's father. The youth, hair clipped short to his head, stood in a shining blue silk garment, looking around the house with curiosity evident in his violet eyes. Leon stood statue-like in the middle of the room and appeared to be having some sort of silent face-off with Chris. And D still could not breathe.

Then the youth's gaze alighted on D, and his eyes widened. His mouth parted slightly, but before he could speak, D gasped, "What -- ?"

The sound seemed to jolt everybody out of their frozen positions. Next thing D knew, Leon was standing directly between him and the newcomer, with his arms spread wide open in a protective gesture. "What do you want?" he snarled. "Gramps finally decided to make another play for D? Tough luck, kiddo -- he stays here, and you're getting out of my house."

"Leon, no!" Chris snapped, coming in and finally closing the door. "It's not like that! He isn't -- "

"How the hell could you?" Leon roared at him. "We trusted you -- we told you about his family, and you still -- "

"Will you shut up and listen?" Chris yelled.

"Please," the young D murmured, looking both startled and distressed, "I -- "

"Shut the hell up!" Leon snapped at him. "Not a word out of you, or -- "

"What the hell is wrong with you, Leon? He's not here to take the Count, he's okay, don't talk to him that way!"

D saw, as if he were watching a dream, the way the smooth, slim D-child moved back towards Chris, a slow, subtle leaning into his bulk, as if seeking protection or warmth, or both. He did not look curious anymore; he looked frightened, and...disappointed?

D raised a trembling hand to Leon's shoulder. "Calm down, Leon," he said, as evenly as he could. "It's all right. If Chris says we are not in danger, then I believe him. Don't you? Shush, now." Leon looked down at him, his angry, anguished blue eyes wide with protest. "Please," D whispered, "please, dear love, calm down."

Under any other circumstances, he would have been amused to see the young D patting Chris's arm in a similar way. As it was now, it only made him feel vaguely ill.

However, public endearments were always a guaranteed way to reduce Leon to blushing speechlessness, even in a crisis. They did so now, and Leon subsided, turning red. D stepped out from behind him, but kept a hand on his arm. "Please forgive our rudeness," he said, sliding easily -- so easily -- back into that empty politeness he'd perfected at the petshop. He saw young D's eyes widen in recognition of the tone. "When Chris mentioned he was bringing a guest...we could not have expected you."

Young D recovered himself, and made a short, smooth bow. D returned it, noting with some shock how easy it was to put his old face back on, that unperturbed countenance, the graceful shifting of limbs -- the delicacy and emotion one tiny nod could convey, to the properly-trained onlooker. He was quite sure his successor was properly trained.

But, he had to admit, he could feel the slight creaking in his bones, as he sat firmly astride human middle age. The young D would have no such creaking, would have no idea what it meant to age or grow old; his face was unlined, his hair smooth and dark, and he was so beautiful.

"Please, do sit down," he murmured. "Make yourselves comfortable. I will make some tea for all of us, and we will sit and talk. Leon, will you help me, please?"

"Sure," Leon muttered, still glaring at Chris and the new D, but he let his D tug him into the kitchen. As the kitchen door closed behind them, D caught a glimpse of Chris and the young Count seating themselves hesitantly on the sofa, quite close together.

"What the hell?!" Leon burst out in an enraged whisper that undoubtedly carried into the living room. "I mean -- seriously -- what the hell?"

D sighed as he filled the kettle. "You must work on expanding your vocabulary, Leon," he said calmly. "Our young friend is going to think you know only the one phrase."

"What? Wake up, D!" Leon hissed. "Don't you know who's in there? Do you know what he wants? And don't give me the calm act, either, I know better than that. I know how rattled you are!"

"Do you?" D asked, his voice low and cool. "I doubt it, Mr. Detective. And yes -- I believe I know what he wants. I believe I know quite well."

"Well, what is that?!" Leon exploded, as D took out a canister of tea.

D paused before measuring the crushed leaves into the tea-press. Chris had given it to him on his last birthday. A wonderful little device, really... "He wants Chris," he said, in what he hoped was a neutral voice, though he knew it throbbed underneath with rage and fear.

There was a silence, and then Leon sucked in his breath. D turned around just in time to seize him by the arm before he went barrelling back into the living room. "Stop!"

"Stop?" Leon choked. "I'll kill him. I'll -- "

"I will talk to him," D whispered fiercely. "Won't you THINK, Leon? He might be of my kind -- that is, my former kind -- but he is twenty years old. A child. Truly a child, especially as we -- they -- reckon age. He wants Chris, but I do not believe he intends harm to him."

"How do you know?" Leon snapped. "You can read minds again, or something?"

"I can read bodies," D said, stung. "And the bodies of the D have a very special language, one impossible to forget. Besides," he continued, "what exactly do you intend to achieve, going in there with your guns blazing? Do you think Chris will not leap to his defense -- and then walk out of here and never come back?"

"Are you on their side?" Leon demanded, eyes narrowing. "Just because you and I made a go of it -- "

"Are you an IDIOT?" D cried, somehow managing to whisper and shriek at the same time. "This distresses me as much as it does you, the difference is I have the brains not to..." The kettle screamed, and they both jumped. "Oh, for heaven's sake," D muttered, hurrying over and fussing over the tea things before the water boiled over. "Just help me get this ready, please? I can't do it all -- I can't -- "

He pressed his hands to his temples. Behind him, he heard Leon take a deep breath, and then Leon lifted the kettle off the range. "I got it," he mumbled. "So...so, okay. What're we gonna do?"

D took a deep, shaking breath. When he was sure his voice would be steady, he said, "We will have tea, I suppose. And then you will talk to Chris without losing your head. And I will talk to...him."

"Right," Leon said, looking a little happier now that there was a plan, however rudimentary, in place. "Right."

They silently loaded the tea tray, this one an anniversary present from Chuck and Ranjeet, with cups and saucers and sugar and tea. D led the way into the living room, plastering a pleasant expression on his face, and Leon followed him, carrying the tray. It only rattled a little in his hands.

As they entered the living room, Chris and the young D watched them apprehensively. They were not holding hands, exactly, but their hands were so close together on the sofa that their little fingers touched. D felt his own clasped hands tighten until the knuckles were white. "I have your favorite white tea," he said, smiling at Chris and hoping it didn't look forced. Chris's smile looked a little forced in return, and D's heart ached to see it. It was not the boy's fault -- few humans could resist the charm of his family. If one of the D wanted to snare a mortal...and yet, how could D blame his young relative either, for falling in love with an Orcot? If indeed it was love, and not some twisted game orchestrated by Grandfather.

D took some comfort in the pouring of the tea, in the delicate administration of sugar to each cup -- two for his, one for Chris, none for Leon, and -- "Four?" he asked the young D.

The child smiled shyly and nodded. "Thank you." He could not seem to stop looking at D -- no doubt horrified by the ravages time had inflicted, D thought sourly. If he truly did want Chris, then this little meeting might cause him to think twice about things.

"Well!" he said brightly when they were all settled with their cups and saucers. "I can see that we all have a great deal to talk about."

Leon growled into his cup, but they all ignored it. "I guess we do," Chris said, with a sheepish smile. "I mean...that's why we came. We wanted you two to know, first."

"Know what?" Leon demanded, glaring at the younger D.

Chris frowned at him, a hard look coming into his eyes. D felt his heart plunge into his stomach. "Know that we met," Chris said, his voice low and even: a trick he had learned from D himself, that Leon had never managed to master. "And...know that we're together, I guess." Now his hand did move to cover the young one's; the young D -- this was getting confusing -- clasped it back, his pale face a little paler.

"You 'guess'?" D asked lightly, smiling as he sipped his tea. "Are you not certain?" The other D shot a quick glance at him, which he ignored in favor of closing his eyes and inhaling the aroma of the tea. Oh yes, my young one, he thought, I can play this game better than you. Even as I am.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Chris rubbing the back of his neck -- a gesture he had inherited from Leon -- and went pink. "C'mon, Count," he said with a halting laugh. At the word 'Count,' the other D looked at him quickly. "You know what I mean. I know it's kind of weird, but -- jeez. If anybody could understand, it ought to be you two."

Leon opened his mouth, undoubtedly to say something rude, but D cut him off with, "Well, perhaps we would, if we knew more about what it is that we are meant to understand. How did you two ever meet? And Chris, why did you not tell us before? Certainly I would have been interested to know that you have been in contact with my family."

Now Chris looked guilty. As well he should. "Well...god, now I feel like a teenager," he muttered. "I wasn't...we weren't...sure you'd approve, and...hell, Count, half the time, whenever I'd ask about your family, you'd look all upset. I wanted to see what was going on before I told anyone."

"And what IS going on?" Leon burst out, apparently unable to contain himself any longer. "Let's hear from you, kid. How's your grandpa doing?"

Chris glared at him fiercely, but this time D said nothing in response to Leon's rudeness. Detective Orcot might be tactless, but he had a knack for asking the right questions at the right time. D watched carefully as the younger D's spine straightened.

"Grandfather is traveling abroad," he said coolly. "I have not seen him in three months -- since he left the shop in my care."

Oh, no. D rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "I see," he said neutrally. "And you have the run of the shop to yourself?"

"I am very good at it," his relative said defiantly. So young! So terribly young!

"I am sure you are," D said mildly. "But it must get lonely."

"I would not say that," Young D said, with a small smile at Chris. "Mr. F.B.I. comes to visit me nearly every day."

"Of course he does," D said, smiling. "Chris has always been most thoughtful and attentive. And of course, you have the animals to keep you company." Against his will, his heart wrenched in his chest.

"Tet-chan's still there!" Chris broke in, his eyes shining. "He remembered me! He's huge now, though -- bigger than a Great Dane, but he still likes having his belly rubbed." He grinned. "He didn't forget me. Or you. He asked me about you after I came to the shop for the first time."

D could not speak. Leon, seeming to sense this, asked with a squint, "He asked...? But you couldn't hear them anymore, I thought -- "

Chris shook his head. "I can't see their human forms. But I can hear them, and talk to them."

"Many of the animals remember you fondly," Young D said softly. "They were very pleased when Chris was able to give word of you. They'd had no news for so long...and of course, all my life, I have been so curious about you. Grandfather would never answer all my questions -- "

"Ah. Yes. Grandfather," D said thickly, raising his head from his lap. He knew there were tears in his eyes, but they were not falling, and so it was all right. "Tell me, my child...do you have a personal pet? One that is all your own, your constant companion, whom you do not see in human form?"

Leon reached over and roughly slung his arm around D's shoulders, pulling him in close with a gruff "humph" sound. Young D blinked, looking both thrown by D's sorrow and his question. "Why, yes," he said, looking puzzled. "A small black mouse, with wings. Grandfather sent it to me shortly after he left."

Leon stiffened next to D. Chris turned to stare at the younger D with his mouth open. "What?" he managed. "You -- I never saw it. You've got a -- "

Young D's laughter was light and tinkling. "A mouse with wings, yes, Chris. Surely you have seen stranger things in my shop than that?"

"You have never seen it?" D asked Chris quickly.

"Well..." young D replied, looking uncomfortable, though he still smiled. "I can't explain it...I really cannot...but I always send O-chan away when Chris comes by. I don't know why I do it. It just seems...wise. Perhaps O-chan would be jealous," he added meditatively.

"But what about that first time I came by?" Chris demanded. "I mean sure, I call now, but you couldn't have known I was coming then -- "

"I did not have O-chan then," young D explained. "You arrived practically on the heels of Grandfather's departure. So far as I know, O-chan has never seen you...though he may have heard of you from the other pets, of course."

"Of course," D murmured, rubbing his nose again. It was a little embarrassing, that the younger generation had better instincts. But then again -- this young D knew that he loved Chris, or seemed to, and D had remained ignorant of his own feelings for Leon for far too long. He had known, at the time, that Q-chan had never approved of Leon's visits. If he'd understood why, perhaps he too would have been more circumspect. "Young one, listen to me closely. Beware your pet -- beware O-chan. And you must especially beware him, Chris."

"No kidding," Chris said. "Do you think he's -- " he glanced quickly at young D, who looked very confused.

"Oh, I am sure of it," D said. "Young one, this will seem hard to believe, but it is true, nevertheless. O-chan is Grandfather."

A dead silence fell. Leon's arm tightened around D's shoulders until the circulation was cut off. "Excuse me?" Young D asked blankly.

"It's true," Chris said urgently. "God, if I'd known before -- see, Count D had this pet called Q-chan -- "

"I am Count D," young D snapped, his eyes narrowing, "and I have no idea what you are all talking about. What do you mean, O-chan is Grandfather? He sits on my shoulder! He sleeps on my pillow!"

"Your pillow?" Chris squawked. "But he didn't when -- " Then his mouth clamped shut and he turned beet-red. Leon sat bolt upright on the sofa, and D had to clap a hand over his mouth before he began shouting.

"Of course he didn't then," Young D said, turning pink himself. "I told you, I send him away! And...and I hardly wanted an audience -- "

"I think we all need to calm down," D said quickly, hoping he wouldn't need to climb into Leon's lap to keep him seated. "Chris is right, I'm afraid. I did have a pet, called Q-chan. A Valvertinger rabbit, with bat wings. He was with me always, though I did not know to send him away when Leon was near, as you did. Very prudent," he added, deciding a little flattery couldn't hurt. Young D looked a little less annoyed. "Leon, may I trust you to hold your temper?"

"Mmm," Leon said, and D removed his hand. "Now," D continued, "I did not learn until too late that Q-chan was, in fact, Grandfather in disguise. Like you, I received him shortly after Grandfather left me in charge of the shop...he was on 'business travels,' he said. I thought I was gaining a companion -- I did not know that I was gaining a spy, because Grandfather was not fully confident of my abilities."

Young D's eyes widened. "But...that can't be," his voice soft and almost plaintive. "When Grandfather left, he said I had his absolute trust -- "

D closed his eyes in pain. "Grandfather says a great many things, my child. You may be sure he cares for you...undoubtedly part of the reason he assumes these forms is to watch over us and protect us. But it is still a deception, nevertheless. And it could place Chris in serious danger. You must know the truth."

"How do you think he'd like the idea of you getting off with a human? Think about it," Leon added. "I'd like my brother to stay in one piece, if that's okay with you."

The young D's face was ashen. Chris hesitantly patted his arm. "It's okay," he said. "Now we know, we can..."

"We can what?" Young D whispered. "They are right. If this is true -- he will find out eventually -- "

"He would have anyway," D reminded him gently, "whether he was in the shop or not. Did you intend to hide your relationship forever? What did you intend, precisely?" Leon folded his arms and looked smug as he nodded his agreement.

"I -- I -- " young D looked lost. "Well, I thought I would -- I just...I did have a plan, but not so soon, not so -- "

D shook his head. "You wanted him, and that was all you knew." There was no condemnation in his voice. Chris was right: if he could not understand this, who could?

But the young Count raised his head angrily. "As if you can talk," he said. "I have never wished for harm to come to Chris. From the moment we met, I felt -- a connection, and I knew -- I don't know what I knew, but I knew it. And if that is all I know, then so be it!"

To everyone's surprise, it was Leon who said, "Hold your horses, kid. Calm the fuck down. He wasn't trying to insult you or anything -- no need to talk to him that way."

Everyone relaxed a little, though the young D looked at Leon with a raised eyebrow before turning to D. "I admit, I have always been curious," he said, "about what kind of man could have induced you to give up the animals, the shop -- I pictured him as someone like Chris." He coughed delicately. "I see he is, ah, a little different. How interesting."

"There's a guy named Zhou who lives in Chinatown," Leon said dryly. "You two'd get along real well, I bet."

Young D blinked. D elbowed Leon. "I think it might be best if we talked apart," he said. "Chris, I'm sure Leon has some big-brotherly advice for you on how to deal with a D." He smiled self-deprecatingly and pretended not to notice that Leon was rolling his eyes. "And Count D, I would very much enjoy the chance to speak to you in private. And to show off my garden, of course." He rose to his feet and gestured towards the kitchen door, still smiling. Young D and Chris exchanged a glance; then young D nodded, rose, and followed D through the kitchen and out the back door.

They emerged into the back yard, where a row of carefully-maintained hedges provided privacy from the neighbors. D took a deep breath, trying to decide what he should say first, when his young relative startled him by grabbing at his sleeve. His eyes were wide and shining with curiosity. "I have so much to say, now we are alone," he breathed. "So much to ask you. I've wondered about you my whole life, and Grandfather wouldn't tell me -- except to say -- "

"Except to say what?" D demanded.

Young D bowed his head. "Except to say that you were the perfect example of why we must despise humans," he said, his voice low and subdued. "He said…a human had seduced you away from your natural way of life, and that you now lived in…in misery with him, always regretting your choice."

D stared at him. "Misery?"

"He told me you were always fighting with your human," young D explained, raising his head at last. "Yelling and throwing things. It sounded dreadful."

"Oh," said D, feeling unaccountably awkward. "Well -- "

"But then Chris came, and I learned a little bit," young D continued blithely. "He said that perhaps you and Mr. Orcot fought a great deal, but that you were happy nevertheless. I could feel his truthfulness, as I can feel so many things about him. I was forced to accept that Grandfather had…" Lied, D thought. "Exaggerated," young D finished. "So -- please tell me everything. What made you do it. What your life is like, now."

D sighed, and then gestured at the stone bench that he'd placed beneath the rose trellis a few years ago. "Please, sit down," he said. "It is such a pleasant day, and I would love to hear what you think of my garden."

Young D blinked at him, and then colored in the cheeks, as if realizing his own impetuousness. "It is a very beautiful garden," he said respectfully. "You have not lost your touch with plants, I see." He seated himself on the bench and folded his hands nervously in his lap.

D sat next to him, amused to see how their postures copied each other exactly. He had never permitted himself to begin slouching as Leon always did. "No," he agreed. "I do not have my magic, but I suppose I do have what Leon calls a green thumb."

"And…animals?" the new Count asked hesitantly. "Do you still…" his voice trailed off.

D looked into his own lap for a moment. "Not at first," he said eventually, surprised that the words came so easily. "Not at first, and not always, now. It took me a while to understand what had happened. Shortly after I became human, I was attacked by a dog." He shuddered at the memory, and young D's eyes went wide with shock. "And for nearly a year, their speech was lost to me. I heard only chitters, squeaks, barks. It was not as unbearable as it sounds…we lived in the city then, and it was easy to tune out the animal-noises and try to concentrate on human sounds. But one day…" He smiled then. "One day, I remembered. How to stop thinking about myself and just listen. Other humans, I reasoned, could hear animals sometimes…why not I? And I concentrated and tried to understand, and it came back. I could hear the rats in the streets crying out to each other, I could hear the toms in the alleyways issuing their challenges to one another. And I understood…" he took a deep breath, "that they, the animals, knew what I had done. They knew what I used to be, and what I had become, and some of them have never forgiven me for it. They view me as a traitor, you see."

"I suppose they would," young D murmured. "I mean -- "

"Quite," D said, with a little smile. "I was once their friend and protector; then I joined the ranks of their oppressors. It was little wonder they did not want to speak to me, and I did not blame them for it." But more than once he had lain awake in the middle of the night, next to a snoring Leon, while his heart pierced itself with pain. "You cannot have everything," he added, speaking more to himself now. "Each happiness demands a sacrifice."

"Yes," young D said, in the voice of a child who has never had to make a sacrifice. "I suppose so."

"Well…well," D said. "As I said, the situation improved. I can speak to most creatures now, and most of them will be civil, if not friendly, in return. And a few love me as they did before. Including our cat."

Young D smiled. "Chris did not mention you had a cat."

"Did he not? He named it," D said. "Mr. Buttons is asleep upstairs, I believe. He is a very old Siamese."

Young D tittered gently into his palm. "That sounds like the sort of name Chris would choose," he said fondly. "He told me a little bit about your former home in Chinatown. The apartment. He said you were so happy there…" he cocked his head to the side, looking curious. "Why did you leave?" he asked. "I suppose it must have been when your books were making money…but if you enjoyed your home…"

"You know about my books?" D asked, surprised.

"I have only read the first one," Young D admitted. "Mr. Orcot should know that I have already heard of Shao Chun Zhou…you two have produced many wonderful stories together. Even before I met Chris, when I found a copy of your first book and read it in secret, I thought that humans could not be all bad, if they appreciated the old stories so much."

D smiled modestly. "The first two books sold well enough that they allowed me to purchase my antiques store from Mr. Shen, who was then the owner," he explained. "And then the antiques store did well enough, combined with Leon's promotions, that we could afford to move out here." He politically did not mention that under his guidance, the Red Dragon had quickly fought its way out of debt and into the realm of a genuinely profitable business. "We like it here. We own the property, instead of being dependent on friends. We are not yet old, but neither are we young, and we wanted the quiet and the privacy."

Young D peered at him shrewdly. "And it put you closer to Chris, did it not? He lived with his other family in Long Island."

"Yes," D said, unashamed. "That was certainly a benefit, although we moved only a year or two before he left to go to college." He huffed. "All the way across the country! He does take after his brother rather to an extreme. Oh, we miss him terribly, even now. Ten years later." He leveled a gaze at the young D. "Make no mistake, I have his best interests at heart," he added mildly.

Young D stiffened next to him, his perfect posture going even more rigid. "As do I," he said, a trace of heat underneath his voice. "That is why I had to see you. I can see now that you love your human -- though I may not understand why. Do you not understand? That is how I feel about Chris. I have been aching to speak to someone about it. And there is no one to speak to. No one but you," he finished pleadingly.

D thought, uncharitably, that he had muddled along for over twenty years without anyone to speak to on the subject of his feelings for Leon. But then, he had not really wanted to speak of them. This young one was not like him, nor like Father or Grandfather; he was sincere, gentle, quietly passionate, frighteningly innocent. And suffering a kind of agony that D knew very well: having what he wanted, right in front of him, and not yet able to embrace it wholly. "Very well," he said, fighting to keep the sigh out of his voice. "You must tell me how it all began."

---

"I kept my eyes open for that shop ever since I joined the FBI," Chris explained. "And then one day, we got a report…and I ran out to check, and there it was."

Leon shook his head and stared down into his teacup. He hadn't wanted a smoke this bad in twenty years. "I can't believe you didn't tell us," he said. "D's grandfather probably has it out for you and me, because of what D did. You knew that. We told you."

"Yeah, but it wasn't the Count's grandfather," Chris pointed out.

"And you knew that going in, did you?" Leon asked, his eyes narrowed. "You ain't reckless, Chris. Not like I am, anyway. That's not like you, to just charge in all blind."

Chris rubbed his head and sighed, staring at the carpet in chagrin. "I know," he admitted. "I didn't say it was smart, Leon. I thought, if it was his granddad…he wouldn't recognize me, after twenty years. But see, I didn't even think it was him. The reports didn't sound like anything you guys ever told me about him."

Leon gave that some thought. When he and D had decided, years ago, that they should tell Chris what exactly had gone down, they'd made real sure to fill him in on the particulars of Grandpa's human-hatred. D's consuming fear had been that his grandfather might try, one day, to take out his revenge on an unsuspecting Chris: that had been one of the prime motivations for telling Chris the truth in the first place. Forewarned was forearmed, and all. Except it didn't seem to have worked. "What did the reports say?" he asked.

"Well, for a start, nobody was dead," Chris said. "People got maimed or hurt, or sometimes totally humiliated in public -- " he smiled a little at that, "but not dead. Not yet, anyway. I thought that had to be a good sign. People in the Bureau thought I was crazy, but I ran down to check it out right away."

"Okay," Leon said. "So what happened then?"

Chris shrugged. "What do you think happened? I brought a cake, he answered the door all smiling and sweet and polite -- he seemed to know who I was right away. He had so many questions for me. At first he wanted to know about Count D, and about you. But soon enough he wanted to know about me instead. And I sure as hell wanted to know about him."

"You've slept with him," Leon said bluntly.

Chris turned red. "Jeez, Leon."

"Look, I've stayed out of your sex life pretty good, haven't I?" Leon asked. "I left all that up to D and Phil and Eileen. Thought you ought to have one person who could level with you. I just want to say that it looks like you're in pretty deep, and you still don't know him, do you?"

Chris rubbed his eyes. "I really didn't want to play this card," he said, "but who are you to talk, Leon? I know you and the Count have been together practically forever now, but when Count D gave up everything for you…how much did you two really know about each other back then?"

"Not the point," Leon said, even though it sort of was. "At least D was human, then." Chris's shoulders drooped. "That's not going to go away," Leon pointed out. "What the hell are you two going to do? He's not going to get old, he's not going to die…is he going to do the same thing D did?"

"I don't want him to," Chris said. "The world needs people like D…like my D. What he does -- what he means -- it's so big I can't wrap my head around it. If I get old and he gets tired of me…I'll just have to get over it. He's not mine. He should belong to the world." He shrugged. "I know that sounds fruity, but there it is."

Leon's cheeks burned. Chris hadn't meant it that way, but he could still hear the implied critique: that Leon and D had been too selfish, too invested in each other to see the larger picture. Leon knew that was true. He wouldn't change a damned thing about his life, especially not the last twenty years. D belonged to him, not the world, and if the rest of the world had to go rot just so they could be together, those were the breaks. Besides, Leon didn't really see what selling homicidal pets was doing to keep the world turning in an orderly way. "He agrees to this?" he asked.

"So far," Chris said, only looking a little bit uneasy.

"That's probably all that's keeping Grandpa off your backs," Leon said. "Even if he's just a plushie, I'll bet dollars to doughnuts he knows about you coming around by now. The pets talk. And he's got no soul. Every few years he sends D nightmares, the asshole, just as his way of saying 'hi.'" And those nights…never knowing when they were coming, never knowing when Grandpa was feeling particularly bitter or vengeful -- just waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of D screaming or sobbing, and Leon knowing there was no way to kill the old bastard, no means within his reach…and Gramps could do worse. Much worse, if he wanted.

"I can take care of myself," Chris said.

"That's the dumbest thing you've said since you came through that door. Maybe ever."

"Leon, look," Chris said, his voice low and urgent. "I don't want to fight with you. We've never fought a lot. I'm not asking you to stick your neck out for me or protect me. I'm not a little boy. I'm trying to get you to understand how important this is to me. So -- it took you a long time to realize how you felt about the Count. It didn't take me long at all. I know our lifespans don't mesh, I know we're not even the same species, I know all that stuff. We talked about it, that first night." He turned pink. "You've got to understand -- you've got to -- we know it can't last. We're taking it while we can. And I think I'm better off than he is, frankly."

Yeah -- Chris wasn't the one who'd be living on for centuries after his partner died, Leon thought grimly. He felt kinda sorry for the young Count D now. At the same time, he'd never seen that kind of light in Chris's eyes before. He tried to find the right words, and then settled for trying to find any words at all. "You know D and I have always just wanted you to be happy," he began. "But…but…" Something finally occurred to him. "Have you told your parents?"

"Er…no," Chris said, turning pink again. "That is, we, um…I don't know how…oh, hell." He buried his face in his hands. "There's no way I can explain," he said, his voice muffled. "Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. This is the love of my life, and he's a he, except that he's not really human. It's okay, we can still have grandkids, but they won't be what you ever expected…"

"You can -- oh, right," Leon mumbled, feeling the old sick pit of regret open up inside him. That was the only thing he felt sad about, with D; as Leon had gotten older, he'd thought it would be kind of nice to have kids. D had told him once that, in his old body, he could have had children -- a survival mechanism deliberately cultivated and engineered by a species on the verge of extinction. That avenue was closed to them forever now, of course. That was one thing they never really talked about. They'd looked into adopting, off and on, but D just didn't seem all that keen on kids who weren't his (or who weren't Chris), and the laws were still pretty iffy on gay couples adopting anyway. No sense in regretting, but sometimes… "Well, heck…I'd play with 'em, if your dad wouldn't."

"I know you would," Chris said quietly. Leon had never talked about his one regret with Chris, or with anybody. Voicing it aloud would give it power, and he knew it would have killed D to hear it. But Chris had seemed to know, all the same. "You gonna back me up, Leon?"

"Of course I will," Leon growled, glad to snap himself out of the gloomy thoughts. "Ain't I always looked out for my kid brother?" That was another wrencher. Leon and D could both stand by Chris through any fit Phil and Eileen cared to throw -- and there would be a fit. A huge one. But Leon couldn't look out for Chris when it came to D's grandpa. Nobody could, except maybe D the younger himself. "Can he protect you, your D?" he asked. "From Gramps?"

Chris sighed. "I don't know. He's determined. You know, the hell of it is, before we knew about O-chan -- we'd worked out a plan, sort of. He was going to tell his grandfather that, if I was left alone, then D wouldn't become mortal, and he'd keep up his work after I'd…gone. I guess…" his shoulders hunched. "I guess we'll have to have that discussion sooner than we thought."

"Guess so," Leon said dryly. "Bet Gramps'll be thrilled by some half-human offspring."

"Don't jump the gun there, Leon," Chris said quickly. "I mean, sure, someday we want it -- but not right now -- I mean, we're still young -- "

Leon chuckled and shook his head. He wasn't going to say it, but he was happy that Chris wasn't ready to dive in totally headfirst. "You know, man, this tea isn't cutting it for me."

"Still have some of that Negro Modelo I bought last time? I can't -- "

" -- stand Bud Light, I know already. Relax, D never touches the stuff and neither do I. It's in the fridge." Leon stretched back on the couch. "Get a Bud for your big bro while you're up, will ya, shrimp?"

"I'm taller than you," Chris pointed out, for at least the fiftieth time, but he got up and got the beers, so Leon didn't care. Beer was long past being called for, this afternoon. When Chris returned, Leon took a long, cool draught and sighed with pleasure. Oh, yeah, he'd needed that.

"Wonder if D'll ever stop you drinking," Chris said with a little smile.

"Hasn't yet," Leon said, and belched. "What 'bout you? Does yours get all fussy?"

"Eh, sometimes," Chris said. "But I don't drink a lot. It doesn't matter much."

"Mister Perfect," Leon said, but the words were bursting with fondness and pride. Chris had made straight A's in school, gotten into Berkeley and excelled there, and was fast becoming respected in his department in the FBI. And he was such a decent guy, willing to help anybody, and never taking credit for it or trying to puff himself up. Leon sometimes wondered how he got his job done, with his gentle nature -- but under that softness was the Orcot soul, he suspected, the kind of personality that would do what needed to be done, even if it hurt. Even if it meant dying and leaving somebody behind…

Leon realized, yet again, that he and D couldn't take care of Chris, couldn't shield him from life anymore, if they ever could've. It never stopped hurting, though. Chris had said he didn't want Leon to stick his neck out for him -- but did he really think Leon wanted to do anything else? Or D? "Come to us if you need anything," he said, the words full of a low, terrible urgency he didn't know how to express, or even if he should. "Anything."

Chris nodded. "I know," he said. "It'll work out, Leon. One way or the other, it has to." His hands tightened on the squat beer bottle, and a determined, hard look came into his eyes. "I'm not letting him go. Not while there's a chance for us. He's incredible. He's -- as soon as I met him, I knew this was meant to happen. You know I've always liked girls. Hell, so did you, before. But this is it. Like I said on the phone…he's the one." He smiled at Leon again, but this time his smile was a little bleak. "I remember, when I was a kid and you tore off all over the country looking for the Count -- I was worried you'd gone crazy. So was everybody else. But now I get it. It's just what you have to do."

Faced with this -- the power of Chris's feelings, and the purity of Chris's heart -- all Leon could think to say was, "Good luck."

"I'll need it," Chris said feelingly, and just then, the kitchen door opened. He and Leon both sat up straight at attention, eyes glued to D and New D as they walked into the room. Now that he was more or less thinking straight, now that he wasn't scared that this was all some sinister plot to take D away from him, Leon could relax -- fractionally -- and compare the two. It almost hurt to look at the newest Count D. He looked so much like D, back when he and Leon had met in LA; practically a clone, except for those eyes. For a second, the longing for the old days was back. It came back every so often. The thrill of adrenaline Leon had felt when he'd visited D, the jolt of the always-unexpected, when now their days together were comfortable and familiar. Well, as comfortable as it was possible to get with D…Leon supposed it was nice that, after twenty years, someone could still surprise the hell out of you once in a while.

But New D was the surprise of the day, no question about that. The two brothers stood next to each other, each dressed in his finest, but one of them was so hauntingly beautiful, so mysterious and inexplicable that it could drive a guy crazy, that the other one seemed dimmed, diminished, somehow. Lesser.

Leon felt kind of sorry for Chris, that he might have a D, but he didn't have the D. D didn't have that icy perfection anymore; instead he had age and grace and dignity and wisdom, and happiness, and everything that made him so much more beautiful than the new Count could ever hope to be. It wasn't until D's eyes lighted on Leon, and his cheeks blushed, that Leon realized all that stuff had been right out there on his face. Well, maybe that wasn't so bad. Just so long's I've got you.

Yeah. Everything could fall into place after that.

"We have just been talking," D said, sitting on the sofa while Chris and New D sat near to each other again. D kept his eyes on the two of them, but his hand sought out Leon's, clasped it tight. "And…well…as you must know, Leon and I wish you both well, and hope you will call on us if needed -- or even if we are not needed," he added pointedly to Chris, who looked sheepish. His calls, always regular, had been falling off in the last couple of months. Leon guessed they knew why, now.

Chris rubbed the back of his neck. "Then…I guess…nothing left to say, huh?" He looked a little glum. "I guess -- I hoped -- "

Young D reached out to clasp Chris's hand, and for a moment, Leon wondered what kind of mirror they made for each other. "He wanted your blessing," he said sharply. "We both did, but he most of all."

"And you have it," D said gently, "though you know the hard road that lies ahead. Or perhaps you don't. It will still be hard, regardless."

"The things most worth doing are always difficult," New D said defiantly, tossing his head back. "I am not afraid of Grandfather. I can protect Chris, and I can do my job. He tried to raise me, to train me to be like him…but I never have been. Please believe this," he added entreatingly.

Finally, something about him reminded Leon of D's father, besides the purple eyes. Papa D had been pretty big on being different from Gramps, too -- but maybe this new D had all his good aspects, like a spine and a mind of his own, without the bad ones, like being a complete lunatic. It was just possible. They could hope, anyway. And do their best to shield Chris from the fallout if they were wrong. God, if they were wrong…Leon shuddered.

"Well, I know it's late," Chris said. "Listen…it's been a crazy afternoon. And D and I are hungry. I bet you two are, too. Let me take you all out to dinner. It's the least I can do, and maybe we can talk about…something else…for a little while?"

Leon was pretty good at hearing the real issues underneath what people were saying. Chris wasn't asking for dinner: he was asking for a family dinner, for all of this to be okay, or at least for it all to start being okay. For a grown man, he still had a lot of faith in his "other" set of parents to make things right.

Leon and D looked at each other. They'd never let him down yet.

"I know just the place," D said brightly, and Leon groaned inwardly, knowing just what he was going to suggest. "There's a divine new little vegan place that's opened up a few blocks away, and…" he glanced at New D, "they have an impressive dessert menu as well…"

New D and Chris smiled with gratitude that seemed way out of proportion to a simple meal. Leon didn't mind the place, D had dragged him there plenty of times, it was just…whenever Chris came over, he got to eat actual meat. Now that New D was in the picture, Leon supposed that was out of the question for good. Back to sneaking burgers at McDonalds it was, then…

While Chris and New D prepared to go, Leon went to fetch his wallet, and D's favorite beaded purse, from their bedroom. It was nice outside; they wouldn't need any jackets, although D did look good in that embroidered shawl. Nah -- just one more thing to keep up with. In the room, he paused again to look around, trying to orient himself in surroundings that were comforting and familiar, when the world outside had just gone topsy-turvy. The king-sized bed that he helped D make up every morning. The Chinese prints D had on the wall -- Chris's drawing right by the bureau. Photos on the dresser, of Chris, and of the two of them -- on vacation in Montana a year after they'd gotten together, when Leon had surprised D with a trip, not to some tacky beach or city, but to cliffs and canyons and wildflowers. A photo of them sitting in the nice restaurant where Chuck and Ranjeet had celebrated their fifteenth anniversary. The re-opening of the Red Dragon, after D had taken it over. And others, each showing a tiny moment out of time, proving they had something, that they'd made it this far…worth more than a thousand words, Leon reckoned.

He got the wallet and the purse, stuffing one in his back pocket and holding the other out to D, who smiled graciously. Then he looked at Chris, who was saying something in a low voice to New D, gazing into his eyes. New D was staring right back with a dreamy little smile. No guarantees. No telling. But they might…

Leon put his arm around D's waist. "We ready to go?" he asked the room at large.

Chris and New D preceded them out the door. Leon and D were a moment behind in following them, because D had paused for a moment to rest his head on Leon's shoulder, and sigh.

The End