(no subject)
Title: One Last Smoke
Author: rilo (me)
Rating: PG-13/R, for Leon's mouth
Pairing: D/Leon. (No heart attacks please.)
Warnings: Character death
Notes: Originally written and posted in my journal in December of '06. Betaed recently by the wonderful parallelpatriot, who's been trying to get me to post this ever since. Remaining mistakes are all mine. Like forgetting to post the warnings.
Leon was seventy-two when he saw D again. The winter in Russia had been a harsh one, and Leon had taken away from it a cough that just wouldn't go away.
That cough was the reason he was nursing a hot cup of tea instead of his usual beer, and even though his view of the Paris night sky was splendid, he didn't really see it. He never did. The Great Pyramids of Egypt and Central America, the sands of the desert and the snow of the mountains: all the sights, sounds and smells of the world blurred together in one indistinguishable mass.
All of them except one: the scent of the incense that D used to burn in the Petshop, against the odor of the animals. Just like the incense Leon was smelling right now, barely there under the reek of tobacco.
"Y'come for my immortal soul, D?" he asks, drawing a short drag off his cigarette before succumbing to a small coughing fit. Behind him, he could hear D's feet whisper against the carpet, and the band around his lungs grows looser as the scent of incense-Petshop-D increased.
"Does your immortal soul smoke, Detective?"
Leon manages a chuckle through his lessening coughs. "Hell. It probably does. Y'want one?"
"I think not, and you shouldn't be smoking either. The health risks-"
"Don't matter a damn bit D, I'm dying. Figure I'm entitled to enjoy myself until I do. Smoke?" Out of the corner of his eye, Leon sees the hand D had placed on the back of his chair stiffen, and the silence that follows is so complete that for a moment Leon wonders if the Count's stopped breathing. When he realizes there's no answer forthcoming, Leon shrugs and takes another drag off his cigarette. Ah, bliss.
"You've recently visited a doctor, then," D inquires softly, his tone turning the statement into something not quite a question. The question is answered a second later when Leon shakes his head emphatically. "Hell no. Haven't been to one since that quack in London tried to lock me up. I'm old D, and this cough ain't going away. Don't take a fucking genius to realize it, especially with you showing your face. I'm not gonna see sunrise am I?"
The marked silence on D's half is taken as a 'yes.'
"Figures. So, you come to rub it in my face? Nah-" he continues, cutting the Count off at a sharply inhaled breath, "Not your style. Too.. ah, fuck, what's the word? Crass. Too crass for you to taunt an old man; if you were gonna do that, you'd have done it while I was young. So why are you here?"
D's hand moved from the chair back to slightly rest on Leon's shoulder before he answers, the equilibrium in his voice a comforting reminder of days long ago gone. "You seem to have all the answers tonight Detective, why in the world should I disrupt such a dazzling display of intellect?"
"Thought so. I just wanna know, why now?" Leon asks, working around a lump in his throat that wasn't there a second ago and still wasn't, dammit. It was the incense, shit always choked him up. "Why waste fifty years if this was what you were gonna do all along? Why the hell did you shove me off that damn ship if you wanted me to stay?!"
In the midst of the ensuing coughing spell, Leon almost didn't hear the rustle of silk against wood as D moves closer to the chair, both hands now resting on the shriveled man's shoulders. "I could not," the kami nearly whispers, and he really must be right up on that chair because otherwise Leon wouldn't have had a chance of hearing him. "Humans are not the only beings with laws that dictate their behavior."
"Ok then," Leon answers roughly, taking a minute to catch his steady breath. "Laws, huh? Those laws of yours mean Chris'll have to go through the same shit I have?"
The kami's voice is all innocence and about as real as a porn spread's tits. "Pardon?"
"Don't fucking play games with me D!" Leon explodes, trying to haul himself out of his chair and finding it impossible under the sudden pressure on his shoulders. Damn, I really have gotten old. "You've fucking kept an eye on him just like I have, you know he disappeared years ago! Right after that asshole you call a father-"
"Brother."
"-Faked his death again-"
"Reincarnation doesn't quite-"
"-And is stringing Chris along just like he did to Howell-"
"Detective-"
"-And is probably setting up another fucking jungle freak show while he's leading my brother God knows where-"
"Detective-"
"-While you're standing aside and fucking letting him, you asshole! I know you hate humans but I thought you had enough fucking decency to at least-"
"LEON!"
Leon shut up.
For several long minutes the only sounds in the air were the two men breathing; D's breath heavier than Leon's for once as the Chinese man collects himself and the American fights the urge to gloat. "My father is dead, Detective. The child born that night resembles him in more than the physical, but he's not my father and I doubt he will ever become him. Nor would I idly stand by and allow Christopher to be engaged in a fool's errand."
"You're sayin' he's gonna find your whatever-the-fuck-he-is? And wait just a god-damned minute, what about those rules you were talking about?! What the hell's gonna happen to them for breaking 'em?"
"Calm yourself, Detective. Despite my grandfather's best efforts to culture the gifts passed onto him, my brother was born and will always be essentially human. He isn't bound by our contract and cannot be punished for breaking a rule that doesn't apply to him. I imagine he and Chris will find each other shortly, if they haven't already."
Leon lets out a relieved sigh before settling back in his chair, reaching for his neglected cigarette. Silence reigns as the elderly Orcot and his guest both stare out the window, the former enjoying his cigarette and the latter taking more pleasure in the view. For such a distasteful hotel, the place did have a wonderful view of the sky.
The American breaks the silence first. "One more question for you, D."
"My heart is aquiver with anticipation," the kami retorts in a voice laden with sarcasm.
"Asshole. I'm gonna die tonight, right? So when'm I supposed to kick the bucket?"
The Count pauses before answering, the tightening of his hands on Leon's shoulders a warning. "Ten minutes ago."
"Huh," is Leon's eerily calm answer, before the man punctuates it with a last draw on his cigarette. "Letting me have one last smoke, then? You're getting sentimental in your old age, D."
"Everything changes Detective, even I."
"I suppose so," said Detective answers, studying what remains of his cigarette as though it contains an immortal secret. A minute later the butt is snuffed out beneath his shoe, and Leon's brushing D's hands aside to stand under his own power. "Guess we better be going then. I wouldn't want to be late to my own funeral."
A soft laugh is the last thing the Detective hears before finally turning to face the god standing behind him.
Author: rilo (me)
Rating: PG-13/R, for Leon's mouth
Pairing: D/Leon. (No heart attacks please.)
Warnings: Character death
Notes: Originally written and posted in my journal in December of '06. Betaed recently by the wonderful parallelpatriot, who's been trying to get me to post this ever since. Remaining mistakes are all mine. Like forgetting to post the warnings.
Leon was seventy-two when he saw D again. The winter in Russia had been a harsh one, and Leon had taken away from it a cough that just wouldn't go away.
That cough was the reason he was nursing a hot cup of tea instead of his usual beer, and even though his view of the Paris night sky was splendid, he didn't really see it. He never did. The Great Pyramids of Egypt and Central America, the sands of the desert and the snow of the mountains: all the sights, sounds and smells of the world blurred together in one indistinguishable mass.
All of them except one: the scent of the incense that D used to burn in the Petshop, against the odor of the animals. Just like the incense Leon was smelling right now, barely there under the reek of tobacco.
"Y'come for my immortal soul, D?" he asks, drawing a short drag off his cigarette before succumbing to a small coughing fit. Behind him, he could hear D's feet whisper against the carpet, and the band around his lungs grows looser as the scent of incense-Petshop-D increased.
"Does your immortal soul smoke, Detective?"
Leon manages a chuckle through his lessening coughs. "Hell. It probably does. Y'want one?"
"I think not, and you shouldn't be smoking either. The health risks-"
"Don't matter a damn bit D, I'm dying. Figure I'm entitled to enjoy myself until I do. Smoke?" Out of the corner of his eye, Leon sees the hand D had placed on the back of his chair stiffen, and the silence that follows is so complete that for a moment Leon wonders if the Count's stopped breathing. When he realizes there's no answer forthcoming, Leon shrugs and takes another drag off his cigarette. Ah, bliss.
"You've recently visited a doctor, then," D inquires softly, his tone turning the statement into something not quite a question. The question is answered a second later when Leon shakes his head emphatically. "Hell no. Haven't been to one since that quack in London tried to lock me up. I'm old D, and this cough ain't going away. Don't take a fucking genius to realize it, especially with you showing your face. I'm not gonna see sunrise am I?"
The marked silence on D's half is taken as a 'yes.'
"Figures. So, you come to rub it in my face? Nah-" he continues, cutting the Count off at a sharply inhaled breath, "Not your style. Too.. ah, fuck, what's the word? Crass. Too crass for you to taunt an old man; if you were gonna do that, you'd have done it while I was young. So why are you here?"
D's hand moved from the chair back to slightly rest on Leon's shoulder before he answers, the equilibrium in his voice a comforting reminder of days long ago gone. "You seem to have all the answers tonight Detective, why in the world should I disrupt such a dazzling display of intellect?"
"Thought so. I just wanna know, why now?" Leon asks, working around a lump in his throat that wasn't there a second ago and still wasn't, dammit. It was the incense, shit always choked him up. "Why waste fifty years if this was what you were gonna do all along? Why the hell did you shove me off that damn ship if you wanted me to stay?!"
In the midst of the ensuing coughing spell, Leon almost didn't hear the rustle of silk against wood as D moves closer to the chair, both hands now resting on the shriveled man's shoulders. "I could not," the kami nearly whispers, and he really must be right up on that chair because otherwise Leon wouldn't have had a chance of hearing him. "Humans are not the only beings with laws that dictate their behavior."
"Ok then," Leon answers roughly, taking a minute to catch his steady breath. "Laws, huh? Those laws of yours mean Chris'll have to go through the same shit I have?"
The kami's voice is all innocence and about as real as a porn spread's tits. "Pardon?"
"Don't fucking play games with me D!" Leon explodes, trying to haul himself out of his chair and finding it impossible under the sudden pressure on his shoulders. Damn, I really have gotten old. "You've fucking kept an eye on him just like I have, you know he disappeared years ago! Right after that asshole you call a father-"
"Brother."
"-Faked his death again-"
"Reincarnation doesn't quite-"
"-And is stringing Chris along just like he did to Howell-"
"Detective-"
"-And is probably setting up another fucking jungle freak show while he's leading my brother God knows where-"
"Detective-"
"-While you're standing aside and fucking letting him, you asshole! I know you hate humans but I thought you had enough fucking decency to at least-"
"LEON!"
Leon shut up.
For several long minutes the only sounds in the air were the two men breathing; D's breath heavier than Leon's for once as the Chinese man collects himself and the American fights the urge to gloat. "My father is dead, Detective. The child born that night resembles him in more than the physical, but he's not my father and I doubt he will ever become him. Nor would I idly stand by and allow Christopher to be engaged in a fool's errand."
"You're sayin' he's gonna find your whatever-the-fuck-he-is? And wait just a god-damned minute, what about those rules you were talking about?! What the hell's gonna happen to them for breaking 'em?"
"Calm yourself, Detective. Despite my grandfather's best efforts to culture the gifts passed onto him, my brother was born and will always be essentially human. He isn't bound by our contract and cannot be punished for breaking a rule that doesn't apply to him. I imagine he and Chris will find each other shortly, if they haven't already."
Leon lets out a relieved sigh before settling back in his chair, reaching for his neglected cigarette. Silence reigns as the elderly Orcot and his guest both stare out the window, the former enjoying his cigarette and the latter taking more pleasure in the view. For such a distasteful hotel, the place did have a wonderful view of the sky.
The American breaks the silence first. "One more question for you, D."
"My heart is aquiver with anticipation," the kami retorts in a voice laden with sarcasm.
"Asshole. I'm gonna die tonight, right? So when'm I supposed to kick the bucket?"
The Count pauses before answering, the tightening of his hands on Leon's shoulders a warning. "Ten minutes ago."
"Huh," is Leon's eerily calm answer, before the man punctuates it with a last draw on his cigarette. "Letting me have one last smoke, then? You're getting sentimental in your old age, D."
"Everything changes Detective, even I."
"I suppose so," said Detective answers, studying what remains of his cigarette as though it contains an immortal secret. A minute later the butt is snuffed out beneath his shoe, and Leon's brushing D's hands aside to stand under his own power. "Guess we better be going then. I wouldn't want to be late to my own funeral."
A soft laugh is the last thing the Detective hears before finally turning to face the god standing behind him.