Chapter Text
New Orleans, 2021.
Louis would later remember that night as too quiet to be ordinary. The kind of quiet that makes you uneasy, the storm outside feeling like a bad omen — the kind of silence that makes you check the clock twice, as if time itself might be misbehaving.
Grace has promised a call before bed. She always calls on Thursdays.
But when the phone rings, it’s not his sister’s voice on the other end.
The air stings. Louis feels a sharp, sterile bite at the back of his throat, the smell of the hospital too clean to be comforting. His head pounds as the doctor speaks. There has been an accident. Your niece is alive.
But how can these words exist in the same sentence?
Alive implies the opposite as well, doesn’t it? It suggests something else has been taken to make room for it. Louis waits for the rest — for the clarification that would make all of this make sense — but the doctor’s mouth keeps moving without offering anything, any hope at all.
Grace’s name is said carefully. Levi’s even more so. Your sister and your brother-in-law didn’t make it.
Didn’t make it.
There is a social worker. “You’re listed here,” are the words Louis would remember later. “Is this correct?” The woman asks, tapping the page.
He nods — Louis remembers nodding a lot that night. Stupidly nodding at all the information thrown at him, feeling like his soul is suddenly not trapped inside his body, but flying somewhere far, far away. Anywhere but here.
Godparent, the form reads. His name first. Lestat’s right after. Then Grace’s signature, written in her careful handwriting. Levi’s next to it.
Louis doesn’t remember calling Lestat. His friend is simply there, the presence he always has been throughout most of Louis’ life, a firm and warm hand against the small of his back as if he’d decided that Louis might float away otherwise.
He might have, really.
Because what else is there to lose?
His mother passed away due to old age. He lost his brother years prior. His father died when he was just a kid.
It's just been Louis and Grace for years now.
All the loss had brought them closer, and she is… Was? She was all Louis had. All the family he had left.
Well, Grace and Claudia. Claudia, who is probably so confused, asking for her parents… Is she even conscious at all?
“Where’s my niece? Can I see her?” He asks, disoriented, his voice sounding strange to his own ears.
“You can see her soon,” the doctor says. “We’re just running a few tests. But she’s awake. This is good news, Mr. du Lac.”
Lestat’s relieved exhale makes Louis’ insides twist unpleasantly, sharp and sudden. He feels it too, the relief — but it presses against grief too soon, too carelessly. Lestat grabs his hand then, as if reading his exact thoughts, holding it so tightly— and Louis knows what he is trying to say. It is okay to feel this too.
He turns to his friend, knowing his own face is a picture of quiet devastation: eyes bright with unshed tears, mouth set as if holding himself together by the thinnest thread. Lestat’s broken heart is written all over his face, too.
His thumb brushes once over Louis’ knuckles, grounding, deliberate. I’m here. His deep blue eyes might as well hold all the pain in the world.
Louis holds on like that might be enough to keep the rest of his life from slipping through his fingers. Then he throws himself on his friend’s arms and sobs on his shoulder, the heaviness on his chest finally taking over.
Grace had laughed when she asked them.
You two already act like it anyway, she’d said, waving a hand between them and laughing joyfully, her whole face lit up. Lestat had spinned her in the air, saying yes a million times as if she was asking his hand in marriage, and Louis had kissed his sister’s face with happy tears in his eyes. Lestat was already family, that much wasn’t new, but it became official then.
Godfathers. In Louis’ catholic family that means a whole lot, and Lestat has always been fully aware. He accepted the invitation without a single second of hesitation.
Had Grace known? Did she feel it somehow, that her and Levi wouldn’t be able to raise Claudia? Is that why she picked Louis as the godfather? Is that why she had prepared that document the social worker showed him earlier— a will? Who even does that? Why wouldn’t she have asked Louis and Lestat first, why— why didn’t she have a conversation with them about being Claudia’s legal guardians in case something happened to her and Levi? Claudia is only three years-old, why was Grace thinking about who would raise her if she and her husband couldn’t?
And why the hell did Grace pick Lestat too? Because— in all honesty, while he is an excellent friend, he is also… Lestat. Rockstar Lestat, their internationally famous best friend. Extremely famous. Probably has a bit of a drug problem. Definitely has a sex problem. In sum, Louis thinks, not exactly a father figure.
Louis doesn't expect Lestat to suddenly… What, step in? Help Louis raise their goddaughter?
God. He is going to raise Claudia, isn’t he?
As surreal as it feels now, Lestat has joked about it before. The day Claudia was born.
“You know, mon cher, if Grace and Levi ever—” he tilted his head and made a slicing motion across his throat. Louis laughed. “Claudia could technically be ours.”
Louis was holding her for the first time ever, Lestat standing behind them. He remembers thinking she was small, so small.
“I say we do it. You murder Levi, I take care of Grace, we incinerate the bodies and steal her. We’d be fantastic platonic co-parents.”
Louis had to hold back the laughter that wanted to come out of his throat not to scare the newborn.
The doctor walks up to them at that moment, interrupting Louis’ thoughts. He comes back to his senses quickly, Lestat’s hand still in his. Somehow, the warmth of Lestat’s presence makes Louis feel grounded.
“You can see her now,” the doctor announces. “She has a broken arm and a few scratches on her face. Internally, though, everything seems to be perfectly fine. I have no reason to keep her here for the night.”
Lestat lets out a sigh. Louis nods. Again. His head still pounds angrily.
“I don’t say this a lot to my patients, Mr. du Lac, but I must admit— this feels like a miracle.”
A bloody damp jacket. One single dirty shoe. Broken glasses. And Claudia.
The things that stay. It can’t be all bad, Louis thinks, if he gets to keep her.
She looks so pale, so tiny and still under the hospital blankets, in a bed that seems impossibly big for her. She’s awake. And God bless her— she smiles when she sees them walking in the room.
“Uncle Lou!” She stretches her tiny arms towards him, tiredly. “Parrain Les!”
Louis cries. He can’t help it. He practically sprints up to his niece, hugs her and cries. He immediately feels bad for confusing her— but he has just lost his sister and his brother-in-law. And Claudia is alive.
“Uncle Lou is sad,” she says as they pull apart, making Louis let out a wet, weak laugh. “Why?”
“I’m just happy to see you, baby girl,” he breathes out. Then, carefully: “you understand what happened tonight, Claudia?”
“Uh-huh,” she says proudly. “I got hurt. Mommy and daddy too. We go to the hospital.”
“Precisely, ma petite,” Lestat jumps in, his voice a soft, trembling whisper. “The brightest, as usual.”
Louis sits closer to her. “How do you feel about coming home with uncle Lou tonight?” He tries, nerves suddenly kicking in. This is how it starts, isn’t it? “We can play dress up, and I’ll even let you do my hair if you’re good.”
“I wanna do Parrain Les’ hair!”
They both smile down at her. There is something about her innocence — something about her not grasping the gravity of what happened that brings some ease and lightness to this impossible situation.
Louis turns around to look up at Lestat. “I guess you’ll have to come with,” he says.
“You’re insane to think I would go anywhere else tonight.” His voice is firm but soft, and his eyes always carry such intensity, but tonight… Tonight it makes Louis’ entire body shiver.
It is easy to tuck Claudia in. The pain meds are still making her groggy, so she falls asleep quite easily. It feels strangely healing to see his niece peacefully sleeping on his immense guest bed, her little chest moving as she breathes, her tiny fingers wrapped around her old teddy bear — the one Louis keeps in his house, something familiar for her to cuddle with every time he babysits. She is breathing. She is okay. Alive and safe.
They wouldn’t even let Louis see the bodies. Which, frankly, is probably for the best. He is extremely unsure he would have had the emotional capacity to be strong for Claudia if he had seen his dead sister’s body that night. And Levi. God…
Louis is putting on a clean shirt after taking a warm shower while his brain goes to all these different places. Lestat stops by the door then, his long hair tied in a low ponytail, his eyes red and tired. He has two mugs on his hands.
“I made tea,” Lestat shrugs, his voice sad— so sad. It’s as if he finally lets that composed mask fall off now that Claudia is asleep. Now that it is just them. “Let’s sit for a bit?”
Louis follows him to the living room. They sit side by side on his sofa. It’s still raining heavily outside, and the TV is on but muted, and it is finally silent again. The fireplace is lit, crackling, though Louis doesn’t remember lighting it. Lestat probably did while he was showering, he thinks.
Their eyes meet.
“You don’t need to do this alone,” Lestat starts, suddenly. He’s nervously playing with the bracelet on his left wrist, and Louis’ heart breaks all over again. “I’ll help. I’ll be by your side, Louis.”
Louis feels his chest tighten, his muscles harden. “Lestat, she will need structure now. More than ever. She’s three years-old…”
“And I am… Well, I am me,” he says with a little sigh, almost theatrical. “I know that very well, trust me. But my name is on that will too, Louis… And you have to believe Grace knew what she was doing. She… If she put my name there too, right next to yours, there must be a reason.” His eyes are so wide, glimmering with sorrow and insecurity. “I know you believe that too. You must, Louis.”
Louis pauses, knowing fully well his friend is right. This is Grace’s choice. It does not matter that Louis can’t for the life of him understand why she would give custody to both of them and not just him, Claudia’s uncle and Godfather, but—
But Lestat is family. He is… Lestat. And that means a million things at the same time, but most of all, it means he loves Louis’ family. Loves Claudia. And Lestat loves fiercely.
He would do anything to ensure she is raised right.
Louis nods. He knows it is right. It is his sister’s wish. Her husband’s too.
“How the hell are we gonna raise a child, Lestat?” He lets out a quiet, sad laugh. “And Grace… Oh God. Grace is dead, Les.”
Lestat doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes a sip out of his mug and takes Louis’ with his free hand, putting both hot cups on the coffee table in front of them. He turns towards Louis and gently, slowly, cups his jaw. His thumb rubs against the tear that falls down Louis’ cheek, and he can suddenly see every color on Lestat’s eyes. Strangely enough, it became easier to breathe, not harder.
“You are my family, Louis.” He says, his voice hoarse, almost a whisper. “Your family is not over. You have been my friend, my lifeline, my constant… For as long as I can remember.” He pauses. “And now, let me be yours. Let me be what you need, what she needs. What we must be together.”
Whatever that means, Louis thinks. He clicks his tongue, overwhelmed with emotion but also trying not to let Lestat’s words get to him too much, because—
Because Lestat is dramatic, God only knows just how much, but he also means every word he says when he speaks like this, doesn’t he? And Louis knows his friend isn’t lying but— but it is all just too much. It is too much for one night.
“Can you just…” He whispers, stubborn tears still falling down his face. “Can you just sit here with me a bit longer?”
Lestat sniffles, his eyes shining, a small, sad smile curving the corners of his mouth. His voice is soft when he speaks again.
“Of course, mon cher. Of course.”