Chapter Text
Noé stood on his balcony, watching the morning sun gently touch the Paris rooftops, slowly lighting them up with a soft glow. For some reason, he just couldn't stay away. The streets, the sounds, even the very feel of the air here brought back memories. For all the pain those memories sometimes brought him, they also were full of joy and the happy moments that he clung to.
He took a deep breath stepping back into his flat to gather his bag of art supplies and set out. He ducked into his favorite boulangerie and warmly greeted the cashier as they handed him a chocolate croissant and almond pastry. As he strode down the familiar streets, he couldn't help glancing at familiar locations: a rooftop where they had shared breakfast, a café where they liked to get coffee and cakes. There was a bridge where they had yelled at each other until an old lady told them to take their lover's quarrel elsewhere and just rolled her eyes when Vanitas had exploded, yelling at her to not make idiotic assumptions.
He had travelled all over the world, often with Jeanne and or Dominique, sometimes alone. Everywhere he went, the sights, the foods, and the people inspired him. At first he had written about his experiences, publishing columns and memoirs. Then he tried his hand at painting. Jeanne had been the one to encourage him in spite of his early efforts. It took time and practice, but that was something he had no shortage of. As his skills improved he found joy in capturing the world around him on a canvas. The bright colors and cheerful scenes spoke of a love of life that carried him onward in spite of the pain.
Yet, underneath it all, there always remained a quiet ache, that subtle emptiness of regret. He knew it had been unavoidable; Vanitas had made the choice and nothing Noé had tried was able to change that destiny. In the end, his friend had even thanked him as the life faded from his eyes. That did nothing to soften the pain so sharp. It followed him everywhere, still stinging years later.
Noé wandered the streets, waiting for inspiration. Paris was still recovering from the great war. Everyone seemed a little too eager to enjoy every minute, unable to forget the many who were no longer there. Noé chatted with the owner of a flower shop, wandered the narrow streets near the riverfront, gave candy to two girls whose mother had that look of the war widow, all too common in 1920 France. Eventually, he found himself sitting in a café for hours watching the people pass. Somehow, before he knew it, the sun was setting on another day and his painting supplies were untouched.
The vampire left a generous tip for the server and sighed as he rose to make his way back to his small apartment. He cut through a small plaza, not far from his flat, watching a male pigeon strut and pose for an uninterested female when he heard the sound of motors overhead.
He glanced up to see the elegant lines of La Baleine. The familiar old airship still graced the skies alongside dozens of newer ships and hundreds of the smaller aeroplanes. The whirling of the engines had a familiar and soothing cadence while he admired the setting sun sparkling off the many windows. He was glad that ship, the place they had first met, was still soaring in the skies over Paris. Perhaps he should go for a ride for old time's sake.
Noé thought back to that fateful night and the stunning view of Paris when he followed that idiot overboard. The sky that night had been so vast, so beautiful, he had almost lost himself before remembering to lessen gravity enough so that he and that frustrating man could survive the fall.
The sky overhead had darkened to a midnight blue, while the last rays of the setting sun illuminated the clouds with brilliant pinks and oranges. Noé wondered if he could possibly do justice to the scene, considering the best way to paint the glittering lights on the airship overhead when he spotted something that shouldn't, couldn't be there.
At first, he thought he was hallucinating the strangely familiar figure streaking through the sky, a dark loose coat flapping around it. But, no, that was a person and they were falling much too fast.
Noé didn't have time to think. He ran across the park and leapt towards the figure jumping to the upper branches of a tree to grab for him. He looked up in time to see the figure fast approaching, surrounded by sparkling shards of glass that looked almost like constellations swirling around him. He glimpsed a startled expression on the man's pale face as he tried to catch him. He grasped the man's leg, but the fall was simply too fast and he barely managed to slow the figure’s momentum before it slipped from his grasp. Again. Noé was momentarily overwhelmed as memories, spurred by the feeling of the fabric slipping from his hand, tried to overtake him. He barely processed the sound of the man crashing through the branches and landing HARD in the shrubs below.
Noé was afraid to even check, terrified he had been too late. Again. But the figure gasped, and coughed, wheezing, “Goddammit, why does it hurt so much?” with a barely audible groan before he sagged to the ground, unconscious.
Noé stood on the upper branch, too stunned to do anything until he heard a shout and sharp crack from the ship above followed by a crunch of a branch being shattered by a bullet. Glancing up, he saw angry figures in uniforms leaning out of a broken window on the airship and yelling.
Finally, he leapt into motion. Injured or not, the man was still in danger. Noé had to hide him before the soldiers found a way off the airship to pursue.
“I'm sorry.” Noé gently rolled the man preparing to lift him, when he was struck by shock again. That face! It was only natural that he would have imagined those features in a figure falling from the sky, but now he could see them clearly. The delicate cheekbones, the mouth that he knew would twist into an infuriating grin at the least appropriate times, the dark lashes under the unruly mop of raven hair. It couldn't be. It just wasn't possible.
Noé shook himself. A coincidence, nothing more. He needed to take this man somewhere safe. Somewhere he could recover. His flat here in Paris was tiny, and if the soldiers started searching nearby, he couldn't risk being found.
No, he would hide somewhere that nobody would ever think to look, and there he could figure out if there was a reason for the striking resemblance. He only knew one place where he could hide safely. He would go to Averoigne.
He scooped the man into his arms and prayed that he wasn't making the injuries worse. He was so light, his thin form barely a burden to carry. Noé pressed the man in his arms close to his chest. Noé was struck, thinking how long it had been since he had felt the warmth of another person's body pressed against his own. Since he had been close enough to anyone to feel their gentle breath tickling in his hair. But there was no time for such stray thoughts right now. Glancing around for pursuit, he ran towards the closest boundary to Altus, the forgotten satchel of supplies awkwardly bouncing off his thigh. His childhood home had been empty for years. Teacher would vanish for years at a time and nobody else went there now except some caretakers who checked in once every month or two.
The border to Averoigne was inside a mausoleum in the back of a small cemetery. Noé quickly carried his charge through the ornate wrought-iron gates through the tall stone wall surrounding the cemetery. He hurried through the dark cemetery along a rough cobbled path that wound between elaborate monuments. The dim light from the crescent moon outlined the many crosses and angels with an unearthly glow. Only his vampire sight helped him navigate the winding path without tripping. His destination looked much like the many other tombs in its row, only notable for the pattern on the stained glass in its door: a web-like red pattern of world formulae. He pushed open the door and stepped inside only to stumble a bit at the awkwardness of carrying another person inside such a cramped space.
“For pity’s sake..!” he muttered, fumbling to get the key-card out of his pocket while his arms were full. Groaning, he shifted the man onto one arm, pressing him against his chest. He was surprised when the man’s arms grasped his shoulders, holding onto him tightly and resting his head against Noé’s neck. Blushing at the sudden closeness, Noé shoved the key into a lock that was hidden behind an angel sculpture and the back of the tomb parted as the hidden door opened to reveal the space between worlds. He hesitated for only a moment, the purple glow bathing the stone interior in shifting light, before crossing the threshold.
As he entered the border, colors and energies swirling around, the man in his arms stirred, moaning faintly from the pain. Noé picked up his pace, trying not to jostle his charge, and burst from the gate next to the old church ruin. It was fully night by now and Averiogne was dimly lit by the red night sky. He ran along the dark road through the forest, glad that no-one was likely to see him pass, and quickly arrived at the familiar old estate.
He had avoided this place for years and seeing it now brought back more memories from his childhood. The white walls of the castle were turned pink by the dim illumination, and the courtyard was now overgrown with a variety of rangy weeds instead of the flowers from his childhood. This place always reminded him of his happy time with the DeSade twins, but those thoughts had also turned too bittersweet. First Louis, then Vanitas. Why was everything in his life a repeating series of finding companionship, only to have it violently ripped away? This is why he had been drifting for so long, avoiding any deeper connections with people who were there one day and gone the next.
─── ･ ★ ･ ☆ *. ☽ .* ☆ ･ ★ ───
Thankfully, Noé found the castle reasonably clean, beds ready, even the pantry had some food stores of non-perishable goods in case of the master arriving unexpectedly. He really hoped that wouldn't happen until his patient could be moved. He gently lay the injured man in bed in one of the guest rooms, very carefully removing his outer coat and checking him for any serious wounds. Thankfully, it seemed that the same coat had protected him some from the tree branches, so the injuries appeared to be mostly bruises along with cuts on the hands and face, although there might be some fractured bones or internal injuries he didn't know how to diagnose.
The thinner man's face was pale, and Noé wondered how much of that was normal and how much was due to his condition. Several scrapes and cuts still marked it, even after Noé had gently cleaned all of the blood and applied bandages to the worst injuries. That blood: it had smelled so good, it made it hard to concentrate on his task, but he forced himself to ignore it. He would never again drink anyone's blood without explicit permission, no matter how tantalizing.
Noé stood to go and check for food, but the younger man whimpered slightly and shivered when he moved to leave. Noé smiled faintly and tucked him under a blanket, remembering times that Vanitas had been the same way. He never wanted anyone around him, but sometimes at night Noé would add an extra blanket after noticing how often he got cold and he always sighed in contentment and fell into a peaceful sleep on those nights.
Noé washed up himself and found a change of clothing in his old room. Then, his stomach reminded him that he had completely missed supper, so he went to the kitchen and was grateful when he discovered some easy to prepare meals. He took out a can of soup, something even he knew how to warm up properly. He wondered if he should bring some to his patient, but the man had just seemed to fall properly asleep and he didn’t want to disturb him. Noé had a little himself for dinner, and filled a glass with water to take in case his guest woke up thirsty.
Noé peered into the guest room, half expecting the stranger to be gone, merely a figment of his overactive imagination. Seeing that annoyingly handsome face still soundly asleep, he breathed a sign of relief. He set the glass down on the nightstand, he leaned down to check on the man's breathing and was encouraged that it seemed steadier now. His face was still damp with sweat, however, and black hair lay in dark streaks in every direction across the pillow. Noé had so seldom seen Vanitas actually sleeping, that it was strange to watch the familiar features looking so unguarded. He found himself staring, noticing little details like those delicate eyelashes that fluttered slightly against his cheeks, and the way his mouth was slightly crooked, as if that lopsided smirk had become permanently etched into his features.
Noé was so fixated, he jumped when the young man's eyes snapped open. He gasped to see an intense red color, so different than the striking blue that haunted his memory. He had almost convinced himself that, by some miracle, this might really be him, but that was impossible. Surely the resemblance was just a strange coincidence. It didn't matter. The black-haired man needed help, and Noé would give it.
“Relax. You’re safe here,” he reassured as their eyes met. That color… this young man had to be a vampire. Which was a very good thing since a human would probably not have survived that fall. “Can I get you some soup? A drink? Or…” Noé trailed off. The vampire did not appear to be suffering from bloodlust, but given his injuries, some blood would be the most effective way to help him heal faster.
His patient groaned and closed his eyes. When he reopened them to fix them on the white-haired stranger, they were a deep blue. Not the brilliant cerulean from Noé’s memories, but a darker shade that was no less intense in spite of the confusion that filled them. “Who are you?”
Noé blanched. That voice hit him with all the force of recognition that twenty years had done nothing to soften. The same voice that he couldn't stop hearing in fragments of memory, right down to the suspicious tone.
The blue-eyed man's expression tightened with annoyance. “Well? What's wrong? You can speak, can't you? Where am I?”
Even the man's snarky attitude was exactly the same. It just didn't make sense.
“Noé. My name is Noé, and we are in Aveniogne.”
His patient's eyes widened in concern, “Aveniogne. In Altus? No… I have to…” he started to push his covers aside, as if he would just get up and leave.
“Wait. Relax.” Noé put a hand on the other man's shoulder to keep him in the bed. “Nobody will find you here. You're far too injured to go anywhere.” His patient stilled, too weak to actively resist. “What were you thinking, jumping from that airship? Why were those men chasing you?”
“That is none of your concern,” the blue-eyed man snapped.
“You nearly died! Men were shooting at you while you were passed out on the ground! It became my concern when I almost got hit by a bullet meant for you!” Noé exclaimed, “You jumped from an airship like a madman!”
The young man winced. “It's not like I had much choice,” he groaned, "It didn't seem quite that high.”
“Why were you even on an airship with those men chasing you?”
The man averted his gaze, staring at the window. “It's better if you don't know.”
“Fine, keep your secrets,” Noé snapped, “Can I at least have your name?”
The man turned his steely blue gaze back on the taller vampire. He hesitated so long that Noé thought he wouldn't answer this either, but then he exhaled, “Victor. And yours?”
Noé smiled, brightly, “I am Noé. Glad to meet you, Victor.” He put his hands out to shake.
Victor stared at the hand for a few seconds before grudgingly taking it for a quick handshake. “Thanks, I guess.” His eyes strayed to Noé’s neck where they lingered just a moment too long. He quickly looked away but not before Noé saw the sparks of red in those blue eyes.
Noé sighed, and turned his wrist to extend his arm in front of Victor's face. “Bite me. You need blood to help you recover.”
Victor flinched back. “I’m fine.” he stared, peevishly, at the far wall, “I will heal fast enough without more of your charity.”
“Why are you always so stubborn???” Noé exclaimed in frustration.
“Always?” Victor narrowed his eyes, locking them back onto the older vampire, “How do you know me? We just met.”
“I…” Noé panicked. Why had he said that? “I just meant you remind me of someone really annoying who I used to know.”
“If I annoy you so much, why did you abduct me?” Victor made to get up again, but Noé pushed him back down more firmly this time.
“You are free to leave any time you want, but it will inconvenience me if you collapse before reaching the doorway and I have to carry you back.” Noé glared. Somehow the years had softened his memory, but Vanitas had also been just this infuriating. This man had the exact same expression of smug irritation, like a hissing, angry kitten. “If you are really going to be too stupid and stubborn to accept blood for the extra life-energy, then I will have to nurse you back to health the slow way.”
“I never asked for your help!” Victor grumbled.
“No, you just fell out of the sky on top of me, got me shot at when I checked to see that you weren't okay, and are now going out of your way to be as impossible as possible!” Noé leaned forward, getting right in this jerk's smug face.
“Fine! You want it so badly?” Victor grabbed Noé's shirt roughly and yanked his collar open. Noé barely registered the cool air on his chest before fangs bit roughly into the base of his neck. He gasped, knees hitting the bed beside the younger vampire as a warm sensation coursed through his body, completely washing away the sting.
He had momentarily slipped into the past; arguing with Victor had felt so much like arguing with Vanitas, so it came as a shock to be forcibly reminded that this couldn't possibly be the same human. Yet, he felt an unexplainable connection to the other man, much too intense for a random stranger.
He fought to keep his hands to himself as those soft, hot lips pressed against his skin. The bite had been harder than necessary, fueled by temper, but the pain had quickly subsided, replaced by the soft, warm wetness of his mouth as the other man seemed to be carried away by the sensation.
Noé felt the hands on his shoulders absently pulling him closer. A moan escaped Victor's lips, the vibration against his neck sending a tingle down Noé's spine. He desperately wanted to hold the other man against his chest, but feared any sudden touch would break the spell. Instead he used one hand to muffle his own moans as his body reacted to their chemistry.
All too soon Victor pulled away, yanking his hands back as if he had just realized he was holding a venomous snake. He stared at Noé, eyes wide in shock.
“Why do I know you? What’s going on??” Victor dropped his face into his hands, peering at Noé from between his fingers. “First the lab and now this. I… who am…” he stopped himself and glared back at the other vampire, “No, who are you really??”
Noé chose to answer the unspoken question instead, “Vanitas?” He knew it wasn't possible, but somehow… against all odds, he felt it: this man was the companion, the friend he had missed for so long.
Victor flinched at the name, jerking away as if he had been physically struck. “No…. No!” His eyes became glazed and unfocused, overwhelmed by memories. Noé reached for him only for the youth to slip from his grasp again, slumping back onto the bed, unconscious.
─── ･ ★ ･ ☆ *. ☽ .* ☆ ･ ★ ───
“It isn't possible.” Noé paced around the room, occasionally glancing at Victor-Vanitas. “It has to be a weird mistake.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’ll call Domi. She'll know what to do.” But Domi and Jeanne had been in the human world on a trip to see China and he couldn't call them from Altus. He couldn't just leave the man in this state. What if he woke up even more disoriented? He had no idea if or when any servants, or if Teacher might come to the house, nor whether their presence would be a good or bad thing.
So, he stayed and watched, his mind racing in circles, trying to make sense of anything. He knew that there were theories about reincarnation, but it was the sort of thing that just couldn’t be proven one way or the other, and thus was generally dismissed as wishful thinking or delusion. Even if it was real, how ridiculously implausible would it be for people to actually find each other again in a future life, given the billions of people in the world? It was utterly ridiculous to get his hopes up. But why had Victor reacted that way to him? Why had he been so shocked by just hearing him utter the name of Vanitas?
Eventually, Noé sat in an armchair next to the bed and just stared. V's visible scratches had noticeably faded, which only further emphasized his familiar beauty. Noé sat there, ignoring both his exhaustion, his hunger, and his increased thirst after having given up so much blood. All of that could wait. He needed answers and he would get them when the man awakened again. He would watch him until then…
─── ･ ★ ･ ☆ *. ☽ .* ☆ ･ ★ ───
Noé woke with a stiff neck and an extremely dry throat. He blinked a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes before noticing the sunlight shining on an empty bed before him. He jumped from the chair in a panic. How long had he slept? The bed was neatly made and there was no trace of the other man in the room. Had he dreamed up the whole thing? But… he recognized the room. He was in Averoigne. Why would he have come here otherwise?
Then he noticed a smell so delicious, it set his stomach grumbling. Afraid to hope, Noé followed his nose, finding his way to the kitchen. He entered to see V standing near the stove, pouring sauce over two plates of steaming pasta.
“You're still here! I'm so relieved!” Noé's eyes watered with tears of joy.
“Idiot! Don't start crying over something so stupid!” Victor glared at him. “I stayed because I need some answers and you are going to give them to me.”
“Answers?” Noé supposed that V must be as eager to figure out what was going on as he himself was. “Okay… I will tell you what I can.”
“Good. Now take these plates to the dining room, while I find the silverware. And do NOT make a mess! I don't even want to know what happened in this kitchen, but I am certain some sort of atrocity was committed against an innocent can of soup. If it had not been used for evil, I would have been amazed to see how there were three cans worth of soup all over when there is only one actual open container.”
Noé smiled, sheepishly, taking in the utterly spotless stove and counters, that he might have left a tiny bit of spilled soup on. He shrugged in apology before reaching for the plates when he saw that V was frozen in place, staring.
“Is something wrong?” Noé asked, nervously.
“What the hell is that??” Victor's hand shook as he pointed in the vicinity of Noé’s neck.
Noé tried to look down, but could only see his rumpled shirt, with the collar half open from where V had ripped off some of his buttons. “The shirt? I'm not angry. I can get the buttons fixed.”
“Who cares about your buttons? What is that thing on your neck?” Victor stalked over and pulled the collar open again, only to groan loudly. “There is just no way… why me??”
“What's wrong with my neck?” Noé reached up to touch the skin, but nothing felt weird.
“We'll deal with that later.” V jerked the collar back in place and spun away from the other vampire. “Take the pasta. We need to talk.”
─── ･ ★ ･ ☆ *. ☽ .* ☆ ･ ★ ───
The pasta was absolutely delicious. Noé had known he was hungry, but simple hunger didn’t explain just how perfectly the tangy sauce complimented the noodles that had just the right texture. Noé devoured his portion so fast he nearly choked and had to stop to take a drink. He looked up and saw V—Victor watching him intently, his own meal barely touched as he poked at the noodles with his fork.
“So… you have questions?” Noé started cautiously.
Victor looked away, taking a deep breath to steel himself as he stared at the wall. “Who is Vanitas?”
Noé took a deep breath, “Vanitas was…” He closed his eyes, seeking composure. In spite of thinking about that man day, he hadn’t spoken about him for years. “He was my friend.” Noé opened his eyes and found Victor staring at him intensely. “He was a human, who bore the mark of the Blue Moon. He was a reckless jerk with a hero complex. And he died to save us all.” Noé heard his voice breaking.
“I… I’m sorry for your loss." The soft tone in Victor’s voice sounded so completely out of character for the man he resembled. Noé suspected that he had been living a far easier life than his counterpart. The silence between them lingered as the younger man seemed unsure what else he was supposed to say or do, but Noé could tell he was bursting with frustrated confusion. Finally, he asked, “When did Vanitas die?”
“Thirty years ago.”
Victor’s eyes grew wide. “Then there’s no way I could have possibly known him. But why… why do I remember things?” Victor massaged his temples. “Memories that aren’t mine?”
“Memories?” Noé asked, gently. He would remain calm. He had to remain calm because the young man unravelling in front of him needed him to be steady and not push. At the same time, he was frantically, desperately trying to keep his own hopes and expectations in check. “What sort of memories?”
"I don’t even know. It’s flashes and fragments of things that I’ve never seen before in my life. A book. A tower. A parade of masks. It all started when I found those files.” Victor rumpled his hair in frustration. “Aarg, this makes less and less sense the more I try to make sense of it! Everything is all jumbled together.”
Noé struggled to keep his excitement in check, “Ok. Let's start one thing at a time. What did you remember first?” Noé pressed.
“I remember falling. But you caught me, didn’t you? When I fell from the La Baleine?”
“I tried…” Noé apologized, “I think I slowed your fall enough so most of your injuries came from hitting the tree branches.”
“Then why do I remember you falling with me?”
“That was Vanitas. I caught Vanitas. At least I caught him that time…” Noé winced, shoving back the later memory. He studied the younger vampire. “That was him, not you.”
Victor's mouth quirked into something between a smile and a grimace, “When I jumped yesterday, I somehow knew it would work out. That I would survive it. Because of you. How could I know that?”
Noé felt the man’s scrutiny on him, but he hesitated to reply, since he had no real answer.
“Then, later, so many memories…” His eyes narrowed again, “What did you do to me when I bit you? Did you force me to mark you?”
“What mark?” Noé wondered. Had Victor left a mark of possession? He would have noticed, wouldn't he? He forcibly held himself back from dashing off to look for a mirror. The situation was too tense to interrupt.
“The mark on your neck. It wasn’t there before. When I bit you, more and more visions flooded my mind. I had the sense that we knew each other… but somehow I lost you.”
“V–Vanitas used to get lost pretty often.”
Victor continued, seemingly absorbed in the memories. “I wanted… needed to make sure that wouldn't happen again.” His voice cracked a little, confusion and emotion warring with each other, a raw intensity in his stormy blue eyes. “I don't know why, but I feel like you were someone very important to me.”
“You mean that?” It seemed so strange to hear those words actually spoken out loud. Noé couldn’t help himself, being told, even in such a roundabout and uncertain way, that he was important to Vanitas-Victor, made his eyes water with barely restrained tears. “Wait, you actually marked me?” Noé wondered what would Jeanne… but no, that was a question for later.
“It appears so,” Victor made a sour expression. “Why would I do something so ridiculous? Today is the first time I’ve even seen you. So what is this connection??”
“I don’t know how, or why but…” Noé stood up, abruptly, “Come.”
He walked to the large archway leading from the dining room to the parlor, checking that the other man was following before proceeding down the hall. On his way, he paused to glance at his reflection in a mirror. Sure enough, there was a cerulean mark poking out from his collar, a shape that might be a butterfly wing. He should have expected nothing less when he brought that man here. His look-alike had a master's degree in causing chaos and aggravation everywhere he went. Noé felt a little satisfaction seeing that physical representation of their connection. He had always been a little jealous… But, that was also a train of thought for later.
Halfway down the hall Noé paused and opened the door to a smaller study. It was a cozy room with a desk flanked by bookshelves and a small settee against one wall. He stepped inside and turned to look at something on the wall beside the door.
Victor followed him, turned to look and froze. “What is this??” he gasped.
“That’s Vanitas.” There was a portrait of the man whose memory still haunted Noé. He sat on a rooftop, looking out over Paris, a distant look in his eyes, the book of Vanitas in his hand. Noé had painted that man a hundred times over the years, but this was one of the best. Most of the paintings were stored away. He had poured his heart into them, determined that his sacrifice would not be forgotten, trying to capture not just the details of his features, but the essence of the man himself. Sometimes, it was hard to look at that face and know that he could only ever see it on a canvas or in his dreams. Until now. He looked from Victor to the painting and the likeness was even more uncanny when compared side by side. “And you look exactly like him. You even ACT like him, which is all the more unsettling.”
“I don't even know if that is an insult or a compliment.” Victor grumbled. “That book. I’ve seen that book before.” He stared intently, concentrating as if trying to pin down a memory that was eluding him.
“Yes, that was the book of Vanitas. Vanitas inherited the book and the power from the vampire of the blue moon.”
“He even has the same haircut! I cut it this way on a whim and then it just felt right.” Victor continued to analyze every detail of the painting. “Those eyes are too bright. Artistic choice?”
“No. His eyes were such vibrant cerulean. They sometimes looked unnatural. I believe that was the influence of the blue moon's power. That power was too much, but it was lost when he…” Noé broke off with a choke. He took a steadying breath and turned to face Victor, “And now you are here with memories you shouldn’t have, as if you’re Vanitas but as a vampire.”
“You mean reincarnation. I would have laughed at the very notion a week ago. Is it even real?” V mused.
“What do your memories tell you?” Noé prompted.
“Ugh! I told you already! They're a confused jumble, a useless mess.” Victor sprawled onto the settee, groaning while he stared at the ceiling. “I don't even know where to look for answers. There’s probably more information in the Oriflamme lab, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to try to go back there.”
“Oriflamme? Is that who was chasing you?” Noé cringed. No wonder Victor had been upset to find he was back in Altus. Thankfully, this was probably one of the last places any Oriflamme agent would think to look for him.
“Yes, those incompetent fools.” Victor grinned, his smile saturated with smug mischievousness, resting his arms insolently on the back of the settee. “It seems they didn’t appreciate me taking some of their classified documents.”
“What were you even doing with classified documents??” Noé questioned.
“I was supposed to be filing them away, like a good research intern. But…” His smug expression wavered a bit, “There were things in those files that I needed to learn more about.” He pulled out a small packet of paper from an inner pocket of his vest. He leaned forward, unfolding the paper to show an image of the same book that was in the painting.
“The Book of Vanitas. I see.” Noé studied the stolen papers.
“That’s when the memories started. If only I hadn't been caught. After seeing these, I tried to get into the vault to get the more detailed dossier,” V scowled. “I never expected them to get violent over a little healthy curiosity. I thought interns were there to learn things!”
“I don’t believe breaking into classified files is what they wanted you to learn.” Noé found himself chuckling in spite of himself. This V was every bit as much trouble as the last one.
Victor shrugged, “Well, do you have a better idea to jog my memories then?”
Noé opened his mouth and closed it again. The bite earlier seemed to have sparked some memories and that wasn't even using his ability as an Achiviste. If he… Was it even a good idea to suggest it? After how hard Vanitas had fought to protect his blood and memories, it felt like cheating to casually proposition Victor for his.
You looked into my memories without permission. That's creepy.
The words of that village boy from so many years ago still haunted him when he thought about using his powers.
You're a vampire with a rather unique power. It means you'll have to exercise more caution than those around you.
Teacher had warned him to be careful about it.
“You know something. Out with it.” Victor's sharp eyes appeared mere inches from Noé's own, the man having stood back up to face him while Noé was lost in his thoughts.
“I don’t know if it will even work,” He hedged.
“Stop holding back and tell me already.”
“Through blood,” Noé spoke softly, “I might be able to retrieve more of your memories..”
“And how is that? As tasty as you were, I don’t think I want to just keep biting you in the hopes that the slide show of random visions might eventually show me something useful.”
Noé blushed, “That’s not it. I could bite you.”
“Oh my, are you sure you’re not trying to seduce me now?” V gasped. Noé recognized that infuriating expression from Vanitas’ habit of deflecting whenever a conversation involving himself got too close to anything real.
“Of course not!! I’m an Archiviste. I can see the memories of people through their blood. Maybe I could see something useful. Hopefully it could help trigger more memories for you too. That is, if you want me to try..” Noé’s face reddened further. How did this just keep getting more embarrassing?
“An Archiviste? Really… I recall they had a file on the Archivistes too.” Victor looked pensive. “I wonder if I could get into the lab after all. It was all just so interesting.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Noé cautioned, “Please don’t be as reckless as Vanitas was!”
“The way you talk about this Vanitas, did you even actually like him?” Victor smiled, crookedly.
“Yes. No… I mean…” Noé blushed, unsure how he was even supposed to answer that question.
“I see,” Victor laughed, “I guess it’s worth a try. And only fair, since I bit you.” Victor’s voice took on a warning tone, “You’re not trying to mark me back, are you? Wait, did you mark Vanitas?”
“No. Vanitas never let me bite him. He had secrets he wanted to keep,” Noé sighed.
“And now you’re wondering if you can get those secrets from me,” Victor tsked, “I see how it is. So be it.” He held up his arm in invitation.
Noé’s eyes burned red. Was he really going to bite Vani—V after all this time? To taste that blood that he had craved so badly? Victor even smelled like Vanitas and now that he had permission, his fangs immediately elongated. He walked to the settee and sat on the far end from V, hesitantly taking the younger vampire’s arm. “You’re sure?”
Victor scoffed, “Not if you’re going to make a big deal out of it! This is just to get information, right? Let’s get it over with.”
Noé bent over the offered wrist and inhaled the intoxicating smell before licking the skin, right over the rapid pulse. Victor was trying so hard to act nonchalant about it, but his heart was racing, matching Noé's own.
The white-haired vampire heard a gasp when he pressed his lips to the warm skin. His fangs brushed the skin, eliciting a soft moan from his partner, before he sunk his teeth into the vein. The sharp intake of breath, the desperate sigh, the sounds coming from the lips of the blue-eyed man excited him more than he expected.
But Noé could not lose focus. Already, he felt himself sinking into the blood and the memories within. He saw La Baleine, the recent memory overlaying the older one where he could see himself, so many years ago. He saw the Oriflamme lab, the strange tanks, automatons and strange equipment that looked like the work of Varney-Machina. He caught glimpses of Victor as a child, happy moments as he played, quiet times where he read every book he could find, and devious grins when his curiosity would often get him in trouble.
And bubbling up from further in the past he saw them. Memories that had been locked away until recently, but were now rising to the surface. Memories from Vanitas. So many memories. He was no longer unsettled when he saw visions of himself through other's eyes, which was good as he was in so many of those memories, alongside Dominique, Jeanne, Dante and the rest. He shied away from the memories of the end, not sure he would ever be prepared to see those final moments. Going deeper, he also shied away from the times with Jeanne, that was too complicated to get into and he needed to sort out some feelings first.
He was tempted to dig all the way back to find the secrets that Vanitas had nearly killed him to protect. He wanted to know, in the same way that a person inevitably wants to peek at a gift simply because they are told not to. Those hidden truths that had eaten him up with curiosity. The parts of his past that Vanitas had wanted to bury forever.
And that was when he realized that he really didn’t need to know. V had asked him for help, to verify and clarify. Those old memories would help with neither. That secret was something that he had no right to take through deception, or omission. It should be up to Victor-Vanitas to decide if he deemed it important to share, after becoming truly aware of the significance. And Noé realized that he was at peace with the possibility that might never happen.
Noé slowly pulled himself back from the memories, withdrawing his fangs as well. He licked the last delectable drops of blood from the wrist before him, as the punctures were already closing. A choking sound beside him broke through his daze. Worried, he released the arm and looked to see V with his other hand covering his mouth in a failed attempt to stay quiet. Tears streaked the younger vampire's cheeks, a haunted look in his eyes.
“I'm sorry!” Noé panicked, “Are you ok? What’s wrong?”
Victor covered his face, looking away. “I… I'm perfectly fine.” He took a deep, calming breath. “I'm fine.” His voice was far too uncertain for the words, as if he hoped that repeating them would convince himself. “So that proves it. However this happened, I remember being Vanitas of the Blue Moon. Luna. Misha. The fight with Naenia.” V wiped his face, breathing deeply as he composed himself. “This is a lot to take in,” He turned to face his friend, “but I suppose I am glad you are here with me now.”
Noé grinned. “Welcome back.” With that, Noé wrapped his friend into a tight hug. V squawked loudly, squirmed, but was unable to break free. After a moment he sighed and, somewhat stiffly, hugged Noé back.