Imperative Alteration (Complete)

Dr. Bec planted his feet and stood, slightly trembling, before the Bad Hat Man whose name he had forgotten. Aster? Usher? Esther? Wracking his mind for the correct name provided a welcome distraction from the gnawing dread that slowly, surely hollowed out his chest, a persistent horror that only took and gave nothing back.

No, he had no need to run.

But...why not?

He was frightened. This unreasonably tall man--this vampire--had frightened him before. Done something to him. He didn't understand why he was still standing there if he was so frightened.

And yet, no need to run.

Maybe...maybe the Bad Hat Man was explaining that to him right now? Why he didn't need to run? Bec tried to focus on his words. Focus. He'd just said something about focus. It was hard to focus. It had been hard to focus for a while, harder than usual. Even he knew this. It wasn't always so hard. His mind would wander and he would forget what he'd been doing, but now the Bad Hat Man was taking off his coat and tossing it to Gloria, and it was a nice coat that reminded him a bit of Gauthier in its cut and style though it was a boring color by comparison, and--

Focus. Fix? How fix, fix what? Fix him? Lost mental connections. What lost mental connections?

Oh, connections. With abrupt clarity, he recalled a time when Gauthier had explained to him his connections, how he could close his eyes and feel his childeren wherever they were, wherever he was, and how it only worked for family, but sometimes another vampire would come along who had lost their family, and Gauthier would make them family, and a new connection would be forged, and...

Wait.

"No," he blurted, speaking his thoughts the instant they passed through his mind, unfiltered, spilling all at once like an overturned bucket. "No, I haven't lost any mental connections. I have mine. I have my family. I don't see them all the time because they come and go from the chateau, they don't have to stay there like I do, but they were all there when--" A twitch, a pivot. "--Oh, the chateau. It...it burned. They...oh. Oh, n-no." He shuddered briefly. "But...but Gauthier. My connection. His connection. I haven't lost him. I would know. I would know if he was...I would know."

But even as he tried to convince himself of this as much as the Bad Hat Man, he realized he didn't know. He couldn't feel Gauthier, not the way he used to. He felt nothing. No whispers. No gentle reminders. No concerned checkups. No love. Nothing.

"I would know," he mumbled uncertainly to the gnawing thing in his chest.

No need to run. No need to run.

He didn't like it, these intrusive hands methodically peeling off pieces of him until there was nothing left to protect him. His mask gone, his face exposed. No barrier. Vulnerable.

But no need to run?

He still couldn't understand it, but it was becoming too distressing to dwell on any further. He retreated from that particular complication and tried to listen to what the other vampire said to him, only to realize it was at least as upsetting as the disconnect between his needs and his emotions--such as they were. Everything that passed through the Bad Hat Man's lips seemed intent on upsetting him. Everything, every bit of it, sounded wrong.

So, despite his creeping dread, he offered a counterpoint. "No," he said, almost sharply and with more resolve than he knew he possessed. "No, I have to wait for Gauthier. He'll find me. He always comes back when he leaves, so he'll find me and he'll fix the conn..." He realized what he'd been about to say, and clumsily attempted to rectify his words. "No. The connection, mental connection. It isn't broken or lost or any of that. He just...I just...it...he...I-I would know," he repeated hopelessly, falling back on that familiar phrase when he could no longer verbalize the point he wished to make. Something about Gauthier. Something important. Everything and nothing to do with the emptiness in his chest, the silence in his mind. "I would."

The mental bonds between Dr. Bec and Gauthier had been so firm and fixed that to reinforce their connection in a more physical, sanguinary fashion over the centuries had always felt superfluous to the older vampire. Passing time in each other's company sufficed; no need to subject themselves to the unpleasantness of the cool, tasteless congealed slime that passed for their own blood. Gauthier didn't care for it, and he didn't wish to confuse his childe with the disagreeable sensation. Bec, after all, did not remember the moment of his siring. Gauthier had checked time and again, but that memory, as well as those from his living years, was either lost to the ages or hidden so deep in the fog of his damaged mind that it was all but irretrievable. He'd told Bec a sanitized version of his siring story--more palatable, less frightening than having to remember it.

Perhaps it had never occurred to him that a taste might be all his childe needed to stir up the sediment of old, buried memories.

This...Master certainly liked to smile. Had he always smiled so much, so wide it strained his anatomy? Surely not. Perhaps. Emotions were challenging to pinpoint. Maybe he simply hadn't noticed it before? He forgot things so easily, after all. Even now, mind brimming with a strange sort of clarity he hadn't enjoyed in weeks, he felt some things were still shrouded in a fog.

This Master. That Master. Not Master. Masthier? Masher.

Always smiling. Happy, he supposed. Very happy. That was good. Yes, happy was good.

Bec decided to return the smile.