CSI: Miami Horatio Caine The Price of Immortality
Title: The Price of Immortality
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Claim: Horatio Caine
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,118
Prompt 3--Moon Over Bourbon Street--Sting
Summary: Horatio reflects on the price he has to pay for his immortality.
Disclaimer: I don't own the character nor am I making any money off of this story.
Author's Notes: I love vampires. I think they are pretty cool when they aren't made into buffoons or ravenous murderers. This fic is influence by the writings of bjjones. No kill me, boss.
There’s a moon over Bourbon Street tonight
I see faces as they pass beneath the pale lamplight
I’ve no choice but to follow that call
The bright lights, the people, and the moon and all
I stepped into the street as evening became night carefully shrouded from my potential prey.
A long, dark cloak hung from my shoulders while a black fedora rested on reddish-gold hair.
Blue eyes are hidden behind green spectacles taking in everything with a mere glance.
People bustled around me unaware of my true nature.
I followed a young man for several blocks before I pulled him into a dark corner and took what I needed.
I wanted to drain him, but I refrained from doing so. I sent him back into the crowd with a vague memory of having a good time at some house of ill repute.
I pray everyday to be strong
For I know what I do must be wrong
Oh you’ll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While there’s a moon over Bourbon Street
Another block and I found myself standing across the street from Saint Louis Cathedral. I smirked and made my way toward the church knowing that all of the talismans given out by the Church to hunters of my kind are of no avail. We are immune to the so called power of the Church.
I silently entered the church and settled down in the back to pray and hopefully find the strength I need to keep the beast within in check for another night.
It was many years ago that I became what I am
I was trapped in this life like an innocent lamb
Now I can only show my face at noon
And you’ll only see me walking by the light of the moon
The priest made a motion for me to remove my hat as he walked past and I acknowledged his presence with a brief nod. I know it is rude to leave my hat on, but amenity is a precious commodity for my kind. The fewer mortals know of my existence the fewer hunters I would be forced to face.
The brim of my hat hides the eye of a beast
I’ve the face of a sinner but the hands of a priest
Oh you’ll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While there’s a moon over Bourbon Street
Mass is ended and I bypassed the confessional as I make my way back out into the night. My sins are well known to me and no amount of penance will ever cleanse my murderous soul.
I have come to accept this fact as the centuries have gone by.
She walks everyday through the streets of New Orleans
She’s innocent and young from a family of means
I have stood many times outside her window at night
To struggle with my instinct in the pale moon light
I strolled down Decatur Street to purchase a café au lait from the Café du Monde and chat with one of my children.
I smiled as I find her sitting at our usual table. I admired her from a distance before finally joining her. Her clothes are modern chic allowing her to blend in without the use of mind tricks.
I kissed her on her pale cheek. “Hello, ma cherie.”
“Hello, Papa,” she greeted me in turn. “Have you dined tonight?”
“I have,” I answered as I divested myself of my cloak and hat.
My daughter knew of my struggle to not kill indiscriminately for food since I fought my conscience for days before granting her wish and making her like me. I do not regret turning such a sweet creature into a beast because it would have broken my heart to have killed her.
You must understand dear reader that for my kind discovery by a mortal can lead to a very painful death and I am quite fond of where my head rests.
How could I be this way when I pray to God above
I must love what I destroy and destroy the thing I love
Oh you’ll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While there’s a moon over Bourbon Street
I sipped at my drink as I relaxed back into my chair. I watched with parental pleasure as my golden haired beauty became engaged in a lively conversation with some of the late night tourists.
I could be out at anytime of the day or night since sunlight was not my enemy as many mortals are trained to believe. I preferred the night and I have spent many of them being entertained by mortals and my own kind in this café by the Mississippi.
A few hours later, one young gentleman asked her to join him in his hotel room and I am forced to turn away to hide the devilish smirk my lips curled into. The beast had chosen that moment to rear its ugly head and I had to battle it with everything I had to keep it under wraps.
I felt her hand on my shoulder. I looked at her and smiled. I knew she was asking my permission and I gave it willingly, because as much as she was my child she was also her own person.
“Goodnight, Horatio,” she whispered in my ear.
“Goodnight, Calleigh,” I answered her just as softly.
I allowed them to leave safe in the knowledge that the young man would be found in the morning in his hotel room recovering from a hangover while cherishing the memory of a pleasant evening spent in the arms of a beautiful stranger.
I slipped on my cloak and donned my hat as I paid our bill. The dark haired waiter smiled at me and I winked back.
It was our signal for you see he was a hunter and I was his prey, but we had an agreement. He would leave me alone if I only took from his kind just what I needed and no more.
It was an exacting agreement and one I vowed to keep despite the fatigue it caused.
I returned to my faded yet still elegant home exhausted from my night. I was ready to spend the day resting, but my lover had other plans.
I watched him walk up to me. I allowed him to draw me into his arms. I greeted him with a formal, “Good morning, Timothy.”
“Good morning, Horatio,” he said in turn and then he drew me close for a soft kiss.
We parted. I led him upstairs intent on spending the day worshiping his body.
The End
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Claim: Horatio Caine
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,118
Prompt 3--Moon Over Bourbon Street--Sting
Summary: Horatio reflects on the price he has to pay for his immortality.
Disclaimer: I don't own the character nor am I making any money off of this story.
Author's Notes: I love vampires. I think they are pretty cool when they aren't made into buffoons or ravenous murderers. This fic is influence by the writings of bjjones. No kill me, boss.
There’s a moon over Bourbon Street tonight
I see faces as they pass beneath the pale lamplight
I’ve no choice but to follow that call
The bright lights, the people, and the moon and all
I stepped into the street as evening became night carefully shrouded from my potential prey.
A long, dark cloak hung from my shoulders while a black fedora rested on reddish-gold hair.
Blue eyes are hidden behind green spectacles taking in everything with a mere glance.
People bustled around me unaware of my true nature.
I followed a young man for several blocks before I pulled him into a dark corner and took what I needed.
I wanted to drain him, but I refrained from doing so. I sent him back into the crowd with a vague memory of having a good time at some house of ill repute.
I pray everyday to be strong
For I know what I do must be wrong
Oh you’ll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While there’s a moon over Bourbon Street
Another block and I found myself standing across the street from Saint Louis Cathedral. I smirked and made my way toward the church knowing that all of the talismans given out by the Church to hunters of my kind are of no avail. We are immune to the so called power of the Church.
I silently entered the church and settled down in the back to pray and hopefully find the strength I need to keep the beast within in check for another night.
It was many years ago that I became what I am
I was trapped in this life like an innocent lamb
Now I can only show my face at noon
And you’ll only see me walking by the light of the moon
The priest made a motion for me to remove my hat as he walked past and I acknowledged his presence with a brief nod. I know it is rude to leave my hat on, but amenity is a precious commodity for my kind. The fewer mortals know of my existence the fewer hunters I would be forced to face.
The brim of my hat hides the eye of a beast
I’ve the face of a sinner but the hands of a priest
Oh you’ll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While there’s a moon over Bourbon Street
Mass is ended and I bypassed the confessional as I make my way back out into the night. My sins are well known to me and no amount of penance will ever cleanse my murderous soul.
I have come to accept this fact as the centuries have gone by.
She walks everyday through the streets of New Orleans
She’s innocent and young from a family of means
I have stood many times outside her window at night
To struggle with my instinct in the pale moon light
I strolled down Decatur Street to purchase a café au lait from the Café du Monde and chat with one of my children.
I smiled as I find her sitting at our usual table. I admired her from a distance before finally joining her. Her clothes are modern chic allowing her to blend in without the use of mind tricks.
I kissed her on her pale cheek. “Hello, ma cherie.”
“Hello, Papa,” she greeted me in turn. “Have you dined tonight?”
“I have,” I answered as I divested myself of my cloak and hat.
My daughter knew of my struggle to not kill indiscriminately for food since I fought my conscience for days before granting her wish and making her like me. I do not regret turning such a sweet creature into a beast because it would have broken my heart to have killed her.
You must understand dear reader that for my kind discovery by a mortal can lead to a very painful death and I am quite fond of where my head rests.
How could I be this way when I pray to God above
I must love what I destroy and destroy the thing I love
Oh you’ll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While there’s a moon over Bourbon Street
I sipped at my drink as I relaxed back into my chair. I watched with parental pleasure as my golden haired beauty became engaged in a lively conversation with some of the late night tourists.
I could be out at anytime of the day or night since sunlight was not my enemy as many mortals are trained to believe. I preferred the night and I have spent many of them being entertained by mortals and my own kind in this café by the Mississippi.
A few hours later, one young gentleman asked her to join him in his hotel room and I am forced to turn away to hide the devilish smirk my lips curled into. The beast had chosen that moment to rear its ugly head and I had to battle it with everything I had to keep it under wraps.
I felt her hand on my shoulder. I looked at her and smiled. I knew she was asking my permission and I gave it willingly, because as much as she was my child she was also her own person.
“Goodnight, Horatio,” she whispered in my ear.
“Goodnight, Calleigh,” I answered her just as softly.
I allowed them to leave safe in the knowledge that the young man would be found in the morning in his hotel room recovering from a hangover while cherishing the memory of a pleasant evening spent in the arms of a beautiful stranger.
I slipped on my cloak and donned my hat as I paid our bill. The dark haired waiter smiled at me and I winked back.
It was our signal for you see he was a hunter and I was his prey, but we had an agreement. He would leave me alone if I only took from his kind just what I needed and no more.
It was an exacting agreement and one I vowed to keep despite the fatigue it caused.
I returned to my faded yet still elegant home exhausted from my night. I was ready to spend the day resting, but my lover had other plans.
I watched him walk up to me. I allowed him to draw me into his arms. I greeted him with a formal, “Good morning, Timothy.”
“Good morning, Horatio,” he said in turn and then he drew me close for a soft kiss.
We parted. I led him upstairs intent on spending the day worshiping his body.
The End