'Well, there were all these. And then there was Deus Misereatur.' This fic spanned about a year in the making, and is my longest effort so far. After the whole fuss, all I can say is : some parts are terribly awkward and contrived, and the fic mostly wrote itself. The planning is a little loose, mainly because I'm not in the habit of note-taking, and things disappear in the course of a year. In many ways, it's terribly flawed, and I like to think I've developed a little past that. But the fic can't be denied. It was written, and it's just something else. *shakes head* Can't really describe what I mean. But it's here, for better or worse.

The chapter notes are kept mostly intact from their original posts, and so follow the news of the time.

Three chapters in two days. I intend to finish this before the week is out. *hopes* This fic was what you could call commissioned by Mae [my sister - not Vaerys/Fuyukawa Mae-san!]. Basically, she drew a couple of character/poster pics, plonked them in front of me, and said : "I want you to write this series for me." [She can't write angst to save her life. ^.^;;] With the premise that Fujima's a vampire and Hanagata's a priest back in the 18 to 1900s and some sketchy idea of an ending, I rabidly plunged into the story without much thought, desperate to escape my schoolwork and all thoughts of the stupid International Friendship Day presentation [which now confronts me. ^.^;;]. I had some idea of what would happen in the five chapters I planned, but no idea ofhow it would progress. In a way, this fic kinda wrote itself. I have mixed feelings about this, really, but the ending is haunting my mind [can barely wait to get there, but still got a couple of thousand more words to go], so I'll think that one over.

The one thing about Deus Misereatur, though, is that I kinda think of it as having a theme song. ^.^;; I was listening to Luna Sea's 'Gravity' when I was presented with the pictures, and the melancholic feel of the song stuck. Interestingly, at that time I didn't even know what the song was called, much less what it meant. To my immense relief, the meaning quite fits. If you, for one, are interested in knowing, the translation can be found here. The rest of the site, by the way, is just as good. I'm thinking of ripping the mp3 for those interested, but, hey, I don't think anyone is.

Technical Notes : Alternate universe, historical setting [likely Victorian]. Language can be a little arcane in parts, but nothing incomprehendable.

Deus Misereatur
by Djinn

Chapter One - A Cruce Salus

He could hear the sound of heavy footsteps behind him, the distant enraged shouts of the villagers.

He didn't have much time.

The houses around him were all shut and bolted, obstinately dark and silent - with a vampire on the loose, none of the women would risk an unwelcome visitor while their husbands were out hunting.

And there were so many of them.

He looked up at the sky, stared desperately at the starless twilight. The moon was out though, a luminescent wound that cast its cold rays upon the streets like a frozen silver monarch.

His eyes fell upon the steeple of the church, the only building tall enough to stand a shadow in the beams.

How ironic...and yet.

With a soundless curse, he hurried towards the heavy oak doors. The anointed wood burned against his flesh, but even as he hissed in pain, he could feel the swift slice of a stake passing easily into his unbeating heart. That would hurt more, he knew, and for a much longer eternity.

The doors were locked.

He contemplated fleeing once more, but he could hear them coming closer, not just behind him, but all around him. They were closing in.

He considered surrender - only briefly, considered a suicide of sorts, contemplated many things, till he decided that he would fight - or die fighting upon these very chapel steps.

The witty side of him grinned fiercely at that - a fitting tribute to poetic justice.

Till the doors, with a smooth slide, opened.

"Who goes there?"

The voice was low, soft, laced, like fine wine with the slightest hint of bitter almonds, with a deep and permeating sadness.

It was music to his ears.

The figure was in darkness - all he could see of it was an immense height, slivers of a clear, pale skin, sleek black hair in a neat cascade.

He smiled charmingly, looked up into the shadowed face.

"I need help, kind father. Please let me in."

There was a pregnant pause. Finally.

"Your eyes are wild. Have you come for confession?"

A faint panic sparked his undead heart. This priest was taking too much time.

"You could say so."

He could hear the mob, their voices louder, clearer.

Closer.

The priest could hear them too.

He raised his head, tilting an ear out to he darkness, his face revealed in moonlight.

A prim, sombre face. Dark eyes, its lashes half-lowered, haunted behind a pair of severe black frames. Thus so did he see the face of his might-be slayer or saviour, and absently found it beautiful in an austere fashion.

The eyes turned back to him now, still hooded, but with a deep intensity.

"You're a vampire."

He didn't reply, keeping his wild blue eyes on the sad, dark ones.

The lashes flickered briefly, something seemed to wilt in this tall pale lily of a priest.

"Come in."

With a muttered word of gratitude, he slipped past the slender frame, trying not to shudder at the innate holiness of the sanctuary.

Terrible, but bearable.

"Behind the altar," the priest told him softly, never turning back to look at him more, "hurry. They are upon you."

He slid gracefully into the tight alcove, trying to keep the dizzying nausea from overpowering him.

Once again, reliving the stake. An agony for eternity.

They were on the doorstep.

"Beggin' your pardon, father," their rough, coarse - hateful - voices, "have you seen the evil one tonight?"

"I have seen none," the sedate, sad voice of the priest, even in its lie.

"Then what may you be doing, standing out here alone, father?"

"I heard your voices, gentlemen. I came forth to offer my assistance. Do you require it?"

A faint smile graced his face, despite the encroaching darkness.

Indeed dependable. My pretty pawn.

...The blood of this one would be sweet.

"You shouldn't meddle where you're not wanted, father."

An edge of hostility?

And here, he'd thought he was the common enemy.

"I will remember that. Goodnight, gentlemen."

The same smooth slide of earlier echoed in its silence. There was a click of soft closing doors.

"You can come out now."

He acquiesced, stepping out thankfully.

"It is almost dawn. My room lies behind the chapel proper. No light falls there. They will not find you."

He stayed silent, studying the careful face of this young priest.

"You're not European." He pronounced.

"Neither are you. Not truly."

"Very astute."

"Thank you."

"What is your name?"

For the first time it came, a wry, wistful half-smile that made his sombre features blossom.

"Will you be returning, sir? After you leave at morrow's dusk?"

"Perhaps."

"And perhaps not. My name is of no consequence."

"But then," he parried smoothly, intrigued, "I would like to know the name of my benefactor."

A quiet laugh.

"Benefactor for this moment, but prey in the next."

He applauded silently.

"You seem to know a lot about vampires."

"More than I should, sir. More than I should."

The priest turned back towards the doors, glancing out the high, clear glass windows.

"The mob is dying away. The first light is almost upon us. You should retire."

"First, your name."

"If you do not hurry, you will burn."

"Then I will burn if I do not have your name." Charming. Seductive. As always.

The priest cocked his head ever so slightly, that same half-smile lighting up his dark eyes.

"Is it my concern if you burn, then?"

"Perhaps it should be."

The priest laughed again, true mirth in his voice this time.

"My name, then, is Hanagata Touru. What, sir, then, is yours?"

"A Japanese."

"Indeed."

"How fortunate. Mine is Fujima. Fujima Kenji."

He looked truly surprised. A slow smile found its way upon his face then, a genuine smile.

"Aa. O-genki desu ka? Fujima-san."

"Genki desu. Okage-sama de…Hana-chan." A quick, sly grin.

Another laugh, freer now.

"I still do." He glided up to the priest, taking the opportunity to caress a flash of bare skin, peeking out from beneath a cassock sleeve.

The priest abruptly turned away, casting a once-more hooded eye towards the windows.

"Rest now, Fujima-san. I may be able to protect you from them, but I cannot save you from yourself."

He nodded, eyeing the faint glow of daybreak.

"Thank you for your kindness."

The priest did not reply, back to him, a melancholy gaze at the sky reflected in the glass. He shrugged, turned to seek the room spoken of. He was weary, no doubt of that, fatigue from a night of flight.

He had nearly left the chapel when the priest spoke up once more.

"God bless you."

God bless you.

Why, he could only laugh at that.

But it was a haunting phrase, an echoing phrase that followed him into his dreamless not-sleep. It was a haunting voice, a wistful, yearning voice that sighed into his ear.

God bless you.

And as he slipped into oblivion, he wondered.

He wondered.

to be continued...

Coming up next : Chapter 2 - Confiteor
A long talk between two unlikely companions.

The jury's still out on this one. :\ Hope you like it anyway. ^.^;;

Translations/Explanations :

Deus Misereatur - May God have Mercy

A Cruce Salus - Salvation from the Cross

O-genki desu ka? - [Don't trust my Japanese!!!] Are you well? A common Japanese greeting.

Genki desu. Okage-sama de. - I am well. By your grace, I am well.