Harry poked his head around the doorframe, careful of what shards remained of the door, while Benjamin waited safely on his other side. It didn’t take long. In fact, to say that his return was prompt would be a shameful understatement. He took a moment to compose his features before he addressed Benjamin.
“Remi’s work is... holistic.”
Benjamin’s face displayed squeamish understanding. They both spent several long moments fixing their clothes and pretending they weren’t edging away from the doorway. Harry checked the knots on his cravat.
“You know, if really has been absolutely thrilling to be back, but you do understand that I despise you.”
Benjamin nodded, re-folding his cuffs, “Yes, old boy, wonderful to get the mind working again, but your very presence soils my clothes.”
“At the beginning, I had rather hoped we depart amiably and mutually disgusted, as usual, but then you began this thing...”
Benjamin most delicately ruffled a curl into place, “... ah, you mean chasing your chaste little obsession over there?”
Harry nodded, more neatly tucking away his handkerchief, “Indeed. And to give fair play, you may very well have ruined things.”
Their gazes met, and Harry’s spoke of how seriously he was displeased (it was said in the far East there were weapons of jade, sharper than steel and most desperately deadly, and they served as an apt metaphor), while Benjamin’s spoke of how amusing he found the ruining of Harry’s goals (indeed, the skies of a summer’s day both bright and clear could hardly spread more joy to the Earth than Benjamin now displayed).
“But of course,” Harry stiffened his collar, “should he actually come to harm, I will earnestly turn out my best effort to kill you.”
“Ah, you always are so passionate.” Benjamin attended to his vest and gazed steadily back, “Always with some dire and sincere emotion! ‘Why should we kill unnecessarily’, ‘Mortals have a right to life, too’, ‘I’ve fallen desperately in love completely ignoring the fact that I’m immortal and he’s not and he means to eventually kill me, anyway’. If only you took your unlife easier, you’d save yourself much unnecessary strain.”
Harry frowned, though his dress was now immaculate (he did hope his coat had survived), “Perhaps the strain is part of the joy of life, my friend.”
Benjamin chuckled and they heard the rustle of broken and shattered furniture that meant the battle on the other side of the wall was likely coming to an end. Harry was certain Remi was alright (if he strained his ears, he could hear him breathing- it was heavy breathing but not wounded breathing), so there wasn’t much left to do.
“You’d think,” Benjamin satisfied himself that he, too, had approached a state of optimum dress, and proceeded to make himself comfortably disheveled after his own fashion, “coming from where you did, you’d be rather tired of the struggle.”
“As you so kindly remind me, at every opportunity, -and indeed, should you mention it again, I may lose my temper- my origins are something from which I cannot be freed,” and Harry bowed his head in acknowledgment.
Benjamin pretended a conciliatory look, “You are still the most articulate urchin I’ve ever met, if that makes you feel better. And at this point I’ve met quite a lot,” he grinned with all of his teeth, “just doing my part to relieve the overpopulation of the rookeries.”
The wall creaked noisily and they both waited rather nervously a few moments to see if it would fall. Though masonry and beams crumbled, it held. Artfully coughing away their nerves, their discussion continued.
“So what now?” Harry asked.
“What now?” Benjamin let the question linger like the taste of a fine wine. It was, after all, a statement to be savored, “I suspect Remi will come back in here, and likely abandon you for the godless unrepentant sinner that you are. I, of course, will with my greatest regrets encourage exactly that action, and offer such conciliatory gestures as are appropriate. It is after this point, that the question truly becomes ‘what now’, for it depends on what direction your friend takes.”
Harry stayed silent, biting his tongue to remain so.
“You see, it largely depends on whether I think I can bed him tonight. Should I be able to, why then we’ll put off turning him for a while. I’m just uncomfortable with the idea of having a slayer about; it ruins the neighborhood, you know, though he was certainly frightfully useful tonight- do remind me to thank him for clearing my tab. But I also think some existential guilt and questioning will make the actual seduction that much easier. Everyone’s so vulnerable when they’re new to things,” he smiled again, “and so forgiving of passionate ‘accidents’.”
He breathed a little laugh, “Whoops, I seem to have drained all you blood and rendered you undead! How about I make you breakfast? Amazing how well that works...”
Benjamin shrugged, rocking back on his heels and forward again. Harry almost gasped, almost let go of his tongue, but, with the grace of God (or something- egad! but he was starting to talk like Remi, too), he kept his trap shut.
“I suppose after a week or so I’ll be bored again and you can have him back if you wish to hang around. You see, Harry,” Benjamin patted his shoulder in a most comforting manner that nearly induced Harry to bite it off, “this ‘giving them time’ idea you have -and I don’t know where you got it, old boy, but it’s just droll- is simply no way to go about things. While you dither about ‘respecting wishes’ and ‘treating him uprightly’ or however you call it, I’ll let him know what he wants. And I’ll, temporarily, get what I want, and, in the end, if he’s still in any fit state, you can thank me for getting you what you wanted, too.”
Harry had, until this moment, remained silent, if only because his outbursts would only amuse Benjamin further. He had no intention of being amusing. If, indeed, Remi came back and repudiated him- well, he would have to accept. He’d begun this accepting (though, rather, not knowing he’d been doing that precisely, he’d somewhat hurriedly decided this evening that that’s what he’d been doing with the celibacy and waiting and being so damn careful about things. The celibacy, though, was mostly accidental), and he would end it so. He would not, however, allow Benjamin free reign. Not when he’d gotten Remi into this mess.
“Benjamin, I shall tell you now, and never warn you again- whatever choice he makes, this evening, I will not allow you to turn him. I will wait here for however long it takes your attentions to wander if I must, but that you shall not do. Not if he doesn’t wish it. That is no one’s choice to make but his own. I may not have many principles, but that is one I must enforce. Even our own maker gave us that choice...”
Harry and Benjamin both winced together, and Harry amended, “After a fashion. My point stands.”
“My dear Harry,” Benjamin smiled his toothy smile, “you make a pretty threat but, I must say; since when did what anyone else wanted matter to me? Especially a mortal! Mortals are food, mon frère de sang! Food will be treated as such- and unlike you, I just so happen to like playing with it first.”
He finished with a ‘thump’ as around four inches of cherrywood slid neatly out of Benjamin’s jugular notch. More or less. Perhaps five.
Harry froze, mouth not even opened for his next rebuttal. Benjamin, needless to say, slumped on the floor as he so instantly became, fared slightly worse. Remi stared down at the corpse and sniffed loudly. Harry could not articulate words. With great relief of spirit, Remi rubbed his nose with a part of his sleeve left miraculously unbloodied.
“I’ve been waiting to sniff for ages. Always get an itchy nose at just the wrong time.”
Harry stared, and Remi stared back- frighteningly clear and intentional. The copper-haired vampire began to say something, and reconsidered (forming words seemed difficult, and standing there stuttering was undignified). The slayer’s look became somewhat apologetic, “Uh... I know that, um, there were some people that I was strictly not to stab, but...uh...”
“I...” Harry stared downward again, “I understand. Totally. How long... Just when did you get behind him?”
Remi shrugged, “Verily, uh, I mean, I was pretty winded, and I leaned against the wall there because I heard you two talking and I figured I ought not interrupt, and I needed a rest anyway, and, uhm...” Remi shifted from foot to foot, a guilty flush coming into his face, “I...er... I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but.. Uh... you know... I... I heard my name...” he shrugged.
Without all the stakes strapped to him, the gesture was much more fluid. Harry resisted the urge to hug him desperately for having perfect timing. It was an easy urge to resist as he was still working out whether or not he should become horrified and flee for his life. Unlife. Something.
Flight from Remi at this point was dreadfully even in terms of both the prudence of the idea and Harry’s persistent reluctance to do so. As much as they disagreed, a hundred years of habit connecting himself and Benjamin in his head was not going to be ended by some year or two of pleasant infatuation. ...Extraordinarily pleasant infatuation (not including the unforseen and inexplicable chastity it had involved- that was still unpleasant, or at least, could be improved upon considerably). Of course, forcible though it was, the removal of the obstacle of chastity had been what Benjamin was talking about when Remi had forcibly interrupted his ability to interrupt said inadvertent virtuous streak. Fantasizing about persuading Remi into bed was hardly appropriate at this time. However, on the subject of chastity: Remi’s post-battle state was something to be marveled at...
Harry realized that he ought to talk, lest he lose the ability (either by dying or by devoting his faculties to licentious observation that may very well lead to dying).
“It’s quite alright, Remi, I...” Harry’s foot touched Benjamin’s slumped body and again he reeled back, “Is he really dead?”
Remi shook his head, shedding a small smile of pride, “Oh, no, of course not. Almost certainly not- you can do amazing things to the human neck. You can paralyze, shock, cause wracking spasms and such, and being basically similar, it works upon unholy undead nearly as well. Except of course, provided you don’t sever it, the vampiric neck will heal up after some few weeks.” He began to make illustrative gestures, “It’s all complex nerves, you see...”
Seeing Harry’s somewhat shocked horror, gratifying though it was, also prompted Remi to dampen his enthusiastic explanation. He smiled uneasily, “Almost... almost certainly still fine.”
Harry blinked. Numerous appropriate responses failed to come to mind, sending in their stead the repeated and incomplete inquiry, ‘Remi can do that?’ This persisted a moment. He tried again to collect his wits, but they seemed sadly in absolute rout. “Almost...”
“Almost certainly,” Remi glanced down again and for a moment, a deep frown cut across his face. “I could’ve missed,” he returned his gaze upward to shrug sheepishly, “I was mad.”
Harry quite reasonably thought the quiet and unhelpful thought: ‘oh, well, he was mad’. Remi paused.
“Worried I wouldn’t have time, but luckily he did go on for some time. I had to scrounge a bit to find a stake.”
Harry stared, hoping it was an elegant and reasonable stare, but in reality not much in control of that right now. Of course he had utmost confidence in Remi’s skills. Suicidally dangerous as his job was, he still managed to do it, and do it well, and Harry didn’t doubt that he was capable... (Ha! The number of times he’d... well, not watched, but been dilly-dallying somewhere nearby while Remi ran around doing... things to numerous foes. Ha!) Harry just... forgot... sometimes, apparently... what exactly ‘capable’ meant. And now, Benjamin... Well, he’d imagined Benjamin dead, but having the thought actually presented to him... and, of course, it was Remi... but Remi was also, now, well informed of Harry’s own plans and predilections... and well, at the moment, Harry felt more akin to Benjamin than he normally liked to admit.
It had been a long time since Harry had felt as if anyone were truly holding him under examination. Indeed, he doubted if he’d ever even believed any of his mentors, elders and professors could do that. Remi, however...
Remi stood awash in slaughter, cooled of all fervency but that of the deep and vivid burn of his eyes. Most of his visible arsenal expended, his clothes tattered and what remained stained with undead blood, all that glittered through his dark and decrepit portrait was the crucifix around his neck and the sheen of his own fresh wounds. He stood having conquered, the righteous survivor of an hour-long outnumbered battle. He stood as the building fell apart around them, ready to bury its sickening dead. He stood having ended the evening’s light entertainment by sneaking up on a vampire. Remi rubbed his nose again.
“Erm... Look, Harry...” He began.
Harry suddenly came to himself. He tugged his weskit. He tried not to be so damned impressed. He tried not to think about how much he wished things had gone differently. It was as close as he’d ever been to regret and he very strictly forbade himself thinking of it, lest he come any closer. Also, it was closer than he’d been in some time to thinking he was going to die. The two feelings in such close proximity made him unhappy, but it would make him unhappier still if he had to listen to Remi tell him to leave, or, still worse, inform him that he was going to die. He really didn’t want to hear that one. He held up a hand.
“Remi, it’s been a pleasure. Of course, I understand. It was rather doomed from the start, of course, but I hope I didn’t come out any more damned at the end than I was at the beginning,” he attempted a smile that seemed to go over poorly, given how Remi’s brow contracted, but plowed on, “I...er...”
Actually there was little to plow on with. He thought about extending a hand and eventually did it, “...It’s been a pleasure,” glancing around, he did come up with one more thing, “You could give me a running start, I hope?”
Remi’s frown deepened and Harry almost used his urge to turn tail and run. (Benjamin had been right, after all, he was terribly romantic at heart, however, Byronic sentimentality aside, continuing to live was still very high on his agenda). It took some moments of nervous silence before Harry realized that what had crossed Remi’s face was a frown of hurt. He took back his hand.
“Remi...?”
“...Well, if you want to leave, I won’t... I won’t stop you.”
Harry very slowly rested his hands on his coat. Remi swayed slightly in place, kicking his foot back and forth. If the air hadn’t been so thick with blood, it may well have been full-to-brimming with awkwardness. Harry wasn’t used to awkwardness. At least, his own awkwardness; he no longer acknowledged having such an emotion if he could get away with it. Now, he could not get away with it. Even the building crumbled awkwardly about them.
Harry shifted his weight. The ceiling sent bits of thatch down. A body slumped off of a table, making a pitiful wet ‘smack’ upon the ground. Remi rubbed his nose again and stared determinedly at the floor.
Harry moved his foot and Remi panicked.
“Sorry! I’m sorry...” Remi spoke forcefully enough that Harry froze, foot not quite on the ground. Remi rubbed his nose again, blushed, and looked out a shattered window, “I didn’t mean...” He threw his hand out towards the cold figure of Benjamin on the ground. “I mean... I did, of course, but I’m sorry... I’m sorry I killed your friend. Please don’t be mad.”
Harry’s mouth failed to operate, and like a broken gate, merely swung half-open.
Remi scratched his head (getting God knows what in his hair, and knocking loose some dust), and looked up at him pitifully, with beseeching brown eyes, “Just... I’m sorry if I upset you. I...er... well, if it matters, he should be alright.”
“I rather hope not,” Harry said, frowning.
Remi continued to look at him. He finally blinked very cautiously. Harry shrugged, “My dear, if that was friendship, then Russia has merely been playing hard-to-get with Napoleon.”
Remi blinked again, “Well, but... I mean, he was...er, close to you? I thought...”
Harry held up a hand and shook his head, “We were gentlemen, Remi; it’s just a very structured hatred. Often gets confusing. Very English, really, now that I think on it. Like sandwiches. All the benefits of lunch and no dirty cards.”
Remi ricked a flitting smile, and finally, a broader one, “So.. You aren’t upset?” He poked Benjamin’s body with his toe.
Harry shrugged elegantly, “I’d known him for a hundred years. After all that time, the only thing that kept me from killing him myself was force of habit.” Harry looked rather nervously down, adding on in his head, ‘and the fact that I might not succeed.’
Remi nodded, “And that you might not succeed, I imagine.” Harry’s face shot up so quickly, he would’ve feared neck damage had he a proper working knowledge of the complex nerves. But Remi didn’t appear to be looking up. He was curiously pushing Benjamin’s head up with his toe to scrutinize his own handiwork. “You should both be of comparable ability, being of the same stock,” he continued, oblivious to Harry’s discomfort, “Though... hmm...”
“I hope you’re a little bit more cautious, Harry,” Remi frowned at him, but it was more a look of scolding concern, “Decently aged or not, you don’t need to go putting yourself at risk.”
Harry wasn’t sure how to respond. He thought, maybe, that he was being reprimanded. It had been nigh a hundred years since anyone had honestly tried to reprimand him, though, so he couldn’t trust that this was the sensation. Habit told him to be insolent, but he felt that might be a rather knee-jerk reaction. The potential of the moment, being what it was, he would be foolish to let such habits ruin it. Change was daring, and the gods loved those who dared.
He adopted instead a bemused smile, and ventured upon that rarely tried medicinal, ‘Honesty’: “Remi... I’ll tell you, I was rather more concerned that, well... now you know for certain. Being possessed of both sinful ways and a cursed existence, I worried you would decide to end our acquaintance.”
“Because...?” Remi’s brow contracted. Harry helpfully spread his hand downward to the corpse.
“Oh...er, well, I suspected, a bit...” Remi cleared his throat, “but, that’s why I thought you’d be upset. He seemed to indicate... I mean, it seemed as if there was... er... ‘history’.”
He said it about as loaded as you could. It almost made Harry smile.
No- hell with it. He did smile.
Remi only blushed, “I thought... I thought, maybe, there were some... er... feelings, you know... left...”
Harry laughed, before he even had time to think of how dangerous it might be. He laughed full and heartily. He laughed so much it almost forced tears out of his eyes and he had to lean over his knees to re-coordinate all of his limbs. It would’ve been alright to die then, but when he looked up, Remi was smiling, embarrassed flush still raised on his cheeks, trying to casually scratch his head. Harry dreadfully contained a hiccup. He was... relieved.
No, no, Harry was of course relieved but so was he. So was Remi. He was relieved and — Oh, the dawn of sudden realization— not relieved that Harry wasn’t upset, not all of it—
“So... you don’t still want to leave, do you?”
Remi brought his shoulders up and shrugged, as if it meant very little to him, and Harry had to question all of his faculties as to wether or not Remi was doing it on purpose, moving that way, looking at him like that, whole new thoughts welcoming themselves into Harry’s mind made it buzz with suspicion, “Not at all- unless you desire it. I had thought that, well, knowing as you do now...”
Remi nodded, waving a hand in some apparently self-meaningful pattern, “I... er... well, I think I understand, maybe, personally, a little... the whole... ‘cursed existence’ thing.”
Harry had meant his vampirism to be the ‘cursed existence’, but with new hope buoying him towards a horizon that seemed to lack celibacy, the deep personal issues that must necessarily exist to give rise to Remi’s confusion of terms hardly seemed consequential.
“I’m...er... I’m sort of already atoning for that... you know, even though it’s a-black-spot-condemning-my-soul-to-eternal-damnation,” appending the dutiful phrase with a well practiced tongue, he glanced around at the devastation. The ceiling let a chunk fall at just precisely the right dramatic moment, “I think I can atone for you, too. ...If you want to go on.”
Harry drew himself up, and put on a more wicked smile than he’d managed in ages, “How could I leave now? I said I’d give you a tour. I have promised many more dens of sin and ravaging therein, haven’t I?”
Remi missed it by the longest mile yet, “Technically this was Benjamin’s den of sin that I ravaged. Are there many dens of sin in Cambridge?”
Harry took the defeat on the chin. Remi, sensing something wrong, promised to stop talking about going to London again. Before he could make his rejoinder, the building outwitted Harry by means of a near-miss with a rafter and a horrifying, shuddering creak.
Remi looked at Benjamin. Harry look at the roof. Remi looked slightly more sternly towards Benjamin. Harry very decidedly looked disdainfully upon his own cravat. Remi knitted his brows and looked unhappily up at him and Harry helped him drag Benjamin from the building. The interior of the public house continued to tremor and shift eerily upon its abused supports. Dragging the corpse in the street outside, they watched it settle slantwise, resting gently against the building across the alley next to it, unhappily weeping wattle-and-daub upon the cobblestones.
Harry stretched, trying to look casual for the night-folk that had begun to creep out and see the spectacle of the falling building. It was surprisingly easy, even with Remi un-wedging his stake from Benjamin at his feet, “Right, let’s head back to the apartments.”
Remi packed the still-bloody instrument back into his belt and, frowned at him, “We can’t leave him here and then go take the rooms he’s paying for.. He was paying for? He might still be paying for, should he be still un-living.”
Harry, who had not just slaughtered room full of monsters, decided to let that grammar lie, “He was going to seduce and kill you!”
Remi blushed, but returned with a stern frown.
Harry scoffed, “I wouldn’t -kill- you afterwards.”
Remi blushed more, “That’s not the point! I’m not staying in the rooms of somebody re-dead! Especially if I helped.”
“But the landlord already likes you; I doubt he’d be too fussed about the trade,” Harry sighed. The contingent of commentators on the redesigned architecture of their neighborhood grew steadily. Remi’s frown turned obstinate, and he maintained his grip on Benjamin’s arm. Harry let his displeasure be known with a very drawn-out sigh.
But what could he do? Say no to that face? The trick was finding a place suitably out of the way so he could either heal or rot at his leisure, pleasantly out of everyone’s way. They both cast about for suitable quarters.
Harry thought it perfect. Remi thought it would do. Sure, he didn’t really mean to kill Benjamin, but he still wasn’t feeling exactly sentimental about the guy.
Harry lifted the drain cover and Remi stuffed Benjamin a small ways down the sewer until certain the sun had no possibility of finding him. As at their backs, the crowds screamed and shied away from the tavern, which now loomed forward, they discussed plans. Prudence and the potentially accurate repots of witnesses advised their quick departure, but there was no need to begin tonight. Tomorrow, they would head to Cambridge, where Harry would show Remi his old neighborhood (and presumably allow him to destroy bits of it). Strolling back to the apartments, they spoke of hellfire and fashion, whichever was more appropriate at the time.
It was, perhaps, the most romantic conclusion that Harry had ever had.