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“You shouldn’t be here,” Louis said quietly, not even looking up from where he was sweeping dust into a pan.
Rashid stood a little straighter, putting his hands behind his back and squeezing them together. He’d almost made it to the airport, and he’d been sure that Louis wouldn’t follow him, but… The thought of leaving Louis alone as Daniel Molloy’s nuclear fallout settled in the penthouse made him feel sick to his stomach. Besides, he was around 60% sure that Louis wouldn’t kill him.
“I feel I should be here, Sir.”
Louis hummed. “That so?”
“Yes, Sir. I… The other staff have fled, and I thought-“
“He turned Daniel, you know. In the car downstairs. He didn’t even make it out of the building. You should go.”
Rashid studied Louis. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes distant even where he watched his own progress in tidying up after his fight with Armand. Even his voice was slow, like it took great effort even to speak.
“I will not leave you, Sir,” he said, quiet but firm.
Louis finally looked up at him, pausing his sweeping. “You’re not here for me. You’re here for them. Those… Talomoscow guys.”
It took great effort not to correct him on the pronunciation. “As far as they know, I most likely died by Armand’s hand after giving Mr Molloy the papers. They do not know that I am here. And a week not knowing will not hurt them.”
“Won’t they tell your family that you’re dead?”
“I don’t have any, Sir,” Rashid answered, it only hurting a little.
Louis swallowed hard. Nodded. “Neither do I.”
“Sir,” Rashid felt like his heart was tearing in two, his voice coming out anguished. “Please, let me stay with you. For a few days.”
“Not gonna be good company.”
“I did not come here for stimulating conversation, Sir.”
Louis smiled humourlessly. “Alright. Alright, Rashid, you can stay.”
“Very good, Sir,” Rashid nodded, the tension in his back and hands bleeding out. “Shall I call the plasterer to fix this… Dent?”
“Nah,” Louis said, looking at the hole in the wall thoughtfully. “I might do it myself.”
Rashid arched his eyebrow. “Sir?”
“Been getting lazy, these years with Armand. Got a guy to do everything for me. It made me feel like a doll. Time I started doing shit for myself again. You think?”
“That could have a positive impact on your mental health, Sir, yes.”
Louis chuckled, fondness in his eyes when he looked over his shoulder at Rashid. “You’re really worried I’m going to kill myself, aren’t you?”
Rashid hesitated, but didn’t fidget. He was too well trained for that. “Are you not planning to, Sir?”
“No,” Louis answered with a sigh. “In a strange way, I feel free. Just wish it hadn’t taken me 70 years to figure it all out.”
Rashid let the silence hang for a moment. What could he say? It had been hard enough, losing his parents. He couldn’t fathom the pain of losing a child, especially not in the circumstances that Louis had lost Claudia. He looked around for a job, something he could do to help Louis clean up. He settled for fetching a mop to wash the dusty floors as Louis swept the debris away. The two of them worked in silence for a few minutes.
“Did you know what he’d done, this whole time?” Louis asked quietly.
“My superiors kept me in the dark for much of my time here. It was only when I was briefed on Mr Molloy ahead of his arrival that they saw fit to tell me about The Vampire Sam and their belief that Armand had deceived you,” Rashid answered, “so no, Sir. I only knew these past few weeks.”
Louis nodded. “Would you have told me?”
Rashid sighed. “I would have wanted to.”
“Honestly I don’t think that I would’ve believed you if you did,” Louis admitted, his eyes on the sweeping brush. He stopped, sniffed. When he sniffed again and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, Rashid froze.
A soft, stifled sob seemed to echo in the room. Rashid glanced at Louis, unsure whether he wanted Rashid to have noticed, given how much he was trying to keep it in.
“He killed her. And he knew he killed her all these years. I just…” He shook his head, whimpering in the back of his throat as he struggled to hold it in. “I had a life with him. For years, I-I’ve talked about her. Mourned her. And he’s been my shoulder to cry on, every time. All the times I felt r-rage that Lestat would do that to her, Armand was there. And he knew. And everytime we fucked, he knew. Every birthday, New Year, every summer, every gallery opening, every evening we woke up together. He knew. And I just can’t even begin to-”
Rashid stepped forwards to hug him as Louis voice fractured and he began to let out fast, hyperventilating sobs that made his whole frame heave. Louis’ fingers curled into his perfectly pressed black shirt, and he wept. Rashid couldn’t really remember the last time he’d held anyone like this, the last time he’d had someone who cried in his arms. Had he ever let anyone this close?
“I’m sorry,” Louis gasped wetly, and Rashid had to bite his lip hard to keep himself from getting emotional, too.
“Nothing to be sorry for, Sir,” Rashid assured him, squeezing him a little tighter.
It was all Louis needed to hear, apparently, because he buried his face in Rashid’s chest and gave himself over to it, his grief and regret and sadness soaking through Rashid’s shirt.
They stood there for some time, the two of them - Louis crying and Rashid holding him silently. At some point, Rashid had begun rubbing his back, slow and soothing, and eventually Louis calmed. His sobs gave way to hiccups, and sniffles, and at long last Louis pulled away, his eyes red and sore-looking.
“I’m sorry, Rashid,” he murmured.
Rashid shook his head fiercely. “Like I said, nothing to be sorry for, Sir.”
Louis nodded, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “Thank you,” he said, meeting Rashid’s eyes, “for coming back.”
“Given my failure to protect you from the explosive, inappropriate manner that Mr Molloy broke the news to you,” Rashid hoped that at least most of the bitterness wasn’t audible in his voice, “I couldn’t in good conscience just abandon you. Although you were an assignment, I have enjoyed my years working in this house, Sir. Genuinely. You have been a gracious employer. Much more gracious than those I had grown used to serving before.”
Louis smiled, tilting his head to the side a little. “It’s very sweet that you wanted to protect me, Rashid. But I needed to hear it. And like I said, I don’t think I would’ve believed you.”
Rashid could feel himself blushing. “Well…” He cleared his throat, his fingers twitching. “Would you care for a favoured donor, Sir? I can see if Damek is available this evening.”
“I’d like that, thank you, Rashid.”
Rashid gave a polite little nod, and went to leave. Except… While Louis’ walls were down, he knew he wanted to say something. “Sir?”
“Yes?”
His training told him that he should leave it alone. But looking at Louis de Pointe du Lac, the vampire whom the Talamasca had told him was erratic, dangerous and more predatory than average, raw from crying, tired and drained, he knew that he had to put his training aside, just for a moment. Rashid had been lied to about him, and if he was ever going to move on from this assignment with a clear conscience, he had to give Louis the last little piece of the puzzle.
“I believe that there is someone who would be very glad to hear from you, Sir, and who I think might be able to understand exactly what you’re going through. And he still lives in New Orleans.”
Louis’ eyes widened a little, and he blinked rapidly. “Still?”
Rashid nodded. “Armand also concealed something from him. As far as we know, he believes that you perished in San Francisco in September 1973. Armand never told him that you survived.”
Louis’ hand went to his chest. “He thinks I’m dead?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Louis looked disturbed. He frowned deeply. “Thank you, Rashid.”
“Any time, Sir. I will go and try to get hold of Damek.”
“Yes,” Louis agreed, moving towards the cupboard where Rashid knew Louis kept the suitcases, “please do.”